#Spilled Stars' writing snippets

[spilledstars1234]

my new link click WIP, originally called "golden," has now been renamed to "golden hour", the reason being because of this scene that i cannot for the life of me remember writing (according to the google doc's history i had written this out at 3am haha...)

But honestly? This scene is very cracked lmao, (especially because of the "happy hour" bit lol). I don't know if i'll keep this scene or remove it as a result of the impulse taking over, but we'll see!

'golden hour' is going well so far, with only a few bumps along the way (also known as writer's block hahaha...that have surprisingly not lasted extremely long at all, thankfully!)

and soon enough, my ao3 will have 3 link click fics instead of 2! soon enough!!!

[angelscryinstardust]

Yesterday, I was sprinkled with his hues. Today, I am drenched in his color. Tomorrow, I shall be dissolved in him.

-Udeesha, I shall still gaze at my Moon

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Marble and Magic: snippet

A/N: long time no see!! In other news, the Stars have a personality!! Or, at least, Esumes does. Enjoy <3

---

The Highest Servant had little moments of peace. She was always surrounded by other servants, guards, people… And The Stars.

It would be improper and highly inadvisable to say that the last ones bothered her. But, objectively speaking, the Stars in their full immortality did not have a precise control of what time was and when was more or less appropriate to put their own voices in her head.

"I do believe that a few group prayers in my honor will not do any bad,'' was rambling Esumes for the tenth time in an hour. The girl pinched her nose, already sensing the terrible headache that would come once the deity decided that their chat was over.

She should be used to this by now: being elected Highest Servant at the prime age of five, the consequences of having a more direct link with the Stars. Headaches, nausea and even passing out if three or more Stars decided to call for her at the same time, her mind unable to resist the magic.

She should also be used to Esumes being the most… insecure of the Stars. He wasn't whiny or too demanding, but from time to time, and whenever his prayers decreased slightly, he was back in her head, wanting more. More devoted people, more rites, more altars… More.

The Stars always wanted more.

"I do not mean to interrupt, Sir," she definitely interrupted, tired of how the Star was now complaining about the lack of devotion the younger generations had and how she was meant to fix it. She was always meant to fix it all, as if everything was as easy as snapping her fingers to attention. "But have You talked about this with the Star of Vision?"

She heard Esumes scoff. "If I didn't know you I would assume you are starting to become tired of my demands. Arei is by no means my king or superior, insolent kid."

"I know but-"

"You will do as I told you, for I am your God and you are just a mortal. With more affinity than the rest, that I'll give you, but only a mortal."

And the Star left.

The Highest Servant was always surrounded by people, but her loneliness was deeper than anyone from Cheasya. Probably than anyone had ever felt in the whole Ground.

---

Marble and Magic Taglist (ask to be added or removed!):

@euphoniouspandemonium @fiercely-raging-writer @enchanted-lightning-aes @alexwritesfiction @zonnemaagd @the-writing-moon @bookish-galaxy @writing-is-a-martial-art @47crayons @indecentpause

[watermelonsugacry]

James corden and harry and yn pleeeeeeeaasee

The Final Late Late Show

A/N: how are you lovies?! its been a minute since I've posted but i just HAD to write about this as soon as I saw it! 💚

SUMMARY: For the final Late Late Show, YN and Harry are two of the three final guests. Here are some snippets from the final episode! (2.5k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry, famous!reader

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Joining us also, he’s the biggest superstar in the world. He’s a three-time Grammy winner. He’s your friend, he’s my friend. Harry Styles is here tonight!”

Harry’s dimple smile appears from the small window on the door. “Hi, mate! Man, terrible timing with this door thing, eh?...Cause it’s yeh last show.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” James dramatically sighs in frustration.

“I mean what are the chances, you know? Absolute disaster,” Harry humorously rolls his eyes with a smile. “...cause it’s yeh last show.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware that it’s my last show, Harry, thank you very much! I don’t need anybody to tell me that. Nobody knows that more than me. This is a disaster!” 

“James! James!” YN steps in next to her husband and peaks through the tiny window through the door. 

“YN! Oh, thank God!” The talk show host sighs in relief. “Also joining us tonight is the multi-talented mega star of the century. She’s another dear friend of mine and married to this guy right here. Everybody give it up for YN YLN-Styles!”

She gives a small wave before turning her attention back to the host. “Don't worry, James. V’got everything under control,” YN says with a confident nods of her head.

“Oh, that’s great to hear. So you’ve called security to get the doors unlocked then?”

“Umm...no.” Fans can see Harry’s lips tucked in frown, shaking his head along to his wife’s words. “But I’ve got this fire extinguisher that m’gonna use to bash in the window.”

The audience members yell and cheer excitedly as they see YN hold up the red object and ask everyone to stand back. But before she can take a swing, the voice on the intercom lets them know that the door issue has been resolved.

...

“Everyone, please give it up for the one and only, Mrs. YN YLN-Styles!”

When the curtains zip open, YN has her back to the crowd. She comically looks over her shoulder and playfully acts surprised at the screaming crowd. As she walks down the stairs, everyone is able to see her full outfit for the night. Her white skirt and top combo hug her curves in just the right places but her (and Harry’s) favorite part has to be the white stain roses that hold the slide slit of her dress in place.

She smiles and gives high fives to the audience members as she passes them by. When she gets to James’s parents in the audience, she gives them kisses on both of their cheeks. And once she’s reached the stage, she happily takes her husband’s outreached hand as he helps her up the short steps.

When the third guest of the night makes his way onto the stage, Harry puts a hand on YN’s back and shuffles them over to the corner at what’s to come. They watch as Will takes swing after swing at James’s desk with a sledgehammer, destroying it into pieces. While Harry’s face expresses one of remorse over the obliterated scene, YN puts a fist over her smile as she laughs.

...

“Then you and your former bandmate turned wife—” James presents the couple sitting next to each other on the couch with a grand hand swing of his hands as he looks out to the screaming audience. “—came on the show a few years ago as a band. Then again when Harry hosted for the first time where you, YN, were one of the featured guests for that night. And you guys even played a game of Spill Your Guts Or Fill Your Guts.”

With the mention of the atrocious food game, James mentions how Will Ferrell loves the game so much that he specifically requested for them to play it one more time. Each guest is given their own cards with their questions on them and an obscene food concoction to eat if they do not want to answer their question. 

Soon after, YN claps along with everyone else but her jaw is on the floor at the hefty scoop and bite Will takes from his nasty food arrangement despite not having to do so. 

“Yeh really enjoyed that didn’t yeh?” She teases.

“It’s like Thanksgiving,” Will responds around a mouth full of bug trifles. “Alright, your turn YN.”

“Okay, mine says...” She says as she slowly gets the card out. Harry leans over to her to get a peek at the question and immediately lets out a chuckle, trying to cover it up with a cough to his fist but fails. “Uh oh. When and where did you and Harry have your first kiss together?”

The crowd goes into a frantic frenzy at the possibility of getting official confirmation of the heavily researched and hypothesized answer. She wiggles her brows in a playful manner towards her husband and it only makes him laugh harder. 

She contemplates on revealing the answer, it is the last show after all...but where’s the fun in that?

“Umm...” She hides her smile behind the purple card before shrugging her shoulders. “Guess m’taking a bite out of a grasshopper.”

“I’ll do one with you,” Will generously offers, already reaching for one of the little bugs in the small bowl. They clink their grasshoppers together before plopping them past their lips. While Will happily reaches for seconds, YN puts on a strained, pained smile as she chews. 

“Mmm, yummy,” She sarcastically says, making James let out one of his high-pitched laughs. She gladly takes the mug from Harry’s giving hands to rinse her mouth of the odd taste.

When Harry reads his question asking if there will be a One Direction reunion, the crowd erupts in screams once again. The couple gives each other a humorous look, absolutely eating up the way the audience goes crazy at the mention of their band.

“I think if there was a time where we all felt that that was something we wanted to do—” Harry’s interrupted by Will mocking the crowd awing and cooing at the mention of their old band. It has the two former band members giggling before he continues. “Then I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”

“YN, this question kind of goes to you as well,” James offers.

“Yeah, I mean. I totally agree with everything he said. We’re definitely not opposed to it. If it happens, it happens.”

“I’ll take that as a yes!” James exclaims. “I mean, we already have a permanent, mini reunion with the two of you being married.”

“Wait, you guys are married?” Will dramatically questions with faux confusion that makes everyone in the room laugh. 

“Wait, wait, can we please get a close up of this really quick,” James frantically moves his hands as the couple holds up their hands to show their wedding rings. It’s in this moment that fans realize that the two of them aren’t wearing any of their regular set of rings across their fingers, solely the ones that signify their promise to love one another forevermore. 

...

“Who’s more talented? Will Farrell, YN YLN-Styles or Harry Styles?”

There’s no forethought or second guessing with the couple’s response to immediately vouch for Will. 

“Sustainable talent,” Harry points out with a sweep of his hand.

“There’s literally nothing this man can’t do,” YN compliments.

The couple breaks out in bright smiles when Will begins to sing a solemn version of As It Was. But what has YN turning into a fit of giggles, her head leaning back as she hovers her hands over her mouth is when the famous comedian begins to sing 34+35 with a strong vibrato. 

It’s then Will’s turn to let out a string of giddy chuckles when James then asks the married couple to do an impression of the comedic actor.

“Ladies first,” Harry quickly says with a tap on his wife’s hand.

“Hmm...Oh okay, ‘ve out it.” YN comically clears her throat and readjusts herself on the couch. “Yeh ready for this? I’m singing. I’m in a store and I’m singing. I’m in a store, and I’m singing!” 

Will doubles over in laughter, applauding along with everyone else at her spot-on impression. As The Roots plays a snippet of celebration music, YN stands from her seat and takes a grand bow. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, YN,” Will turns his attention to the pop star next to him. When she gives an encouraging nod of her head, he continues with a professionally acted sense of genuine curiosity, “What exactly does 34+35 mean?” 

While everyone else in the room breaks out into laughter, YN lifts her gaze to the ceiling as she contemplates how to explain the sexual song. She tries to hide her smile by tucking in her lips but it's really hard to keep it professional when there’s an iconic actor asking that type of question. Even Harry has his face in his hands, his shoulder bouncing as he laughs.

She clears her throat as she adjusts her skirt and places her clasped hands over her crossed legs. She goes to open her mouth to answer but instead leans over to whisper the answer in the actor’s ear with a cupped hand instead.

“So it’s not about solving a math problem?!” Will dramatically exclaims.

“Harry, what’s your impression of Will?” YN says through a laugh, playfully attempting to change the subject. 

Without saying a word, Harry gets up from his seat, grabs the sledgehammer, and smashes what’s left of James’s desk. YN puts her fingers in the corner of her mouth and blows a loud whistle at the sight before them as everyone else applauds with a mixture of cheering.

When it’s time for James to answer his question, he says, “So, we’ve known each other for quite some time, haven’t we? I would even go as far as to consider you both as family.” The married couple nods their heads in agreement. “But A, I watch Elf every year on Christmas. And B, I didn’t get an invitation to your wedding so,” James gives a shrug of his shoulders as the audience goes crazy.

...

In between a commercial break, fans and crew members record the interactions happening on the main stage. While James goes over to talk with Will, everybody else focuses on the married couple.

A cheeky sound technician plays Late Night Talking as background music. They watch as the two of them mouth along to the words and cheekily dance in their seats as they get lost in their own little world.

The fans watch them with hearts in their eyes. On some parts of the song, the couple will do the same little dance moves together, speculating that they do this behind closed doors as well: rolling their arms like they’re going to hit the woah, hands up and slicing the air in front of them as they move their upper bodies, and dramatically swiveling their heads to the funky beat—every move has them end up laughing quietly to one another. 

It reminds the OG fans of how the two would be on their third world tour with the band. They’re easily reminded of when the two of them would sit next to each other on the raised platforms on the humongous catwalk and get distracted from singing. They would lean into each other, talking in one another’s ears, and squeeze their eyes shut as laughter overtook them. Almost a decade later and the two still act like a couple of love-sick teenagers.

There’s even a part during the chorus where Harry gets up from his seat to move his hips with a swing of his elbow; YN does the same movements but from her sitting down position. 

When the couple turns their attention to the cheering crowd, Harry points to his wife and mouths, “She produced the song!” 

...

“And to add onto that,” YN places a hand on Harry’s arm after he complimented James. “I think I can speak for both of us in that we’re so grateful to have met yeh. You’ve been such a great friend to the both of us and I’m just super excited for what’s ahead of yeh.”

James pulls the both of them into a group hug from their spots on the couch and the audience laughs when Will scoots up to join the hug as well. YN can’t hold back the laugh that tumbles past her lips as the comedian reaches over her and her husband to pat James on the back.

When Will begins his mini speech to compliment the host on his hard work in the late night talk show industry, in the process he calls England a “shithole of a country.” While everyone knows he means it in a playful way and while the comment has James laughing, the married couple raise their eyebrows, purse their lips, and nod their head as they take the diss. 

And while Will tries to continue what he has to say, it's not long before Harry gets up from his seat and grabs the sledgehammer.

“Hold him down, lovie,” He tells his wife who's already playfully reaching her angry fingers toward Will. 

...

The Late Late music provided by The Roots mixes with the ear-piercing screams from the audience as they watch what’s happening backstage. Harry’s already sat in the photobooth’s seat and gently tugs his wife into his lap. She wraps an arm around the tops of his shoulders as they get ready for their picture to be taken. She tilts her head to touch his as he fully wraps his arms around her middle. 

Right before the countdown reaches its end, his fingers dig into the ticklish part in her side and she jolts up in a laugh. Just in time, the picture captures YN’s bright, open-mouthed smile, her eyes squeezed shut and her nose cutely scrunched up; her husband’s expression matches similarly to her own. 

In the end, the picture ends up in the middle of three pictures on the collaged wall: one of the band during their last Late Late interview as a four piece. YN is sitting in the middle of the group with a sly smile on her face as her long haired band mate has a hand on her shoulder. On the other side, one of Harry’s solo shots of when he first came on the show as a solo artist, and beside that one is one of YN when she came on the show when Harry hosted. At the time, her hair was barely below her ears, her naturally curly hair looked like a cloud on her head. She has one eye squinted shut, her tongue peaking out from between her teeth as she holds up a peace sign. 

Looking at the pictures in front of them, they reminisce on their shared history of being on this show. The Late Late studio has seen these two back when they were merely bandmates, secretly pining over one another with so many barriers in their way. It’s seen how they came back on the show as solo artists a few years later. It was a perfectly timed occasion for the both of them as they hid their secret relationship away from the public eye with a live audience and cameras in their faces. 

And now, as the last guests on the show, the studio sees the pair happily married and more in love with one another than they’ve ever been before.

.

.

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02 @fdl305 @tiaamberxx

[mothwingwritings]

Apologies

Reader X Welt Yang

I want to preface this little story snippet by saying I don’t really plan on regularly writing for Honkai Star Rail (this may be the only thing I write for HSR tbh) and I’ve not gotten super far into it (I only just recently got to Luofo) but I love Welt Yang with all my little beating heart and I get sad that he doesn’t seem to be as popular as the other dudes when it comes to fic content, so I wrote him a little something. :3

I really want to try and push myself out of my comfort zone and get more acclimated with writing nice characters through the yandere/dark fic lens. Mr. Yang has become one of my guinea pigs so bless him.

WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mentions of physical and mental abuse, yandere, dubcon kissing/touching.

Your first kiss with Welt was full of desperation.

His iron grip held you taut against his body, while ravenous lips pressed down firmly upon your own. It felt more like an attempt at suffocation than a kiss, and you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the ferocity at which he came for you. Was such unbridled desire always lying dormant in this reserved, kind, gentle man this whole time? The interaction happened so fast it was hard to process what was going on, let alone decipher the true intentions of the man who was perpetrating the act.

Discomfort bordering on pain-this was how you would remember his initial show of affection.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words followed his first tense love confession and succeeded each one thereafter. Every hold that lasted a beat too long, every kiss the was a tad too invasive, every moment he lost control of himself and ended up hurting you as a result of his unchecked passion, a fervent apology would follow shortly after. They would tumble from his lips in breathy whispers, spoken as if they were a prayer, peppered in with the delicate kisses he would litter over the wounds that he had inflicted upon you.

It didn’t matter how gingerly he’d treat you after, you’d wince at each unwanted kiss. The sear of his lips causing you more pain than any other touch ever could.

“I’m sorry.”

He said it so much it was becoming like a catch phrase. When he caught you crying alone in your room or when he felt you struggle against his overbearing affection, the words would spill from within him. His regrets would be relayed to you in hushed tones, mumbled against your skin, chanted to you over and over and over again, begging to be absolved of the sins he was committing against you.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words no longer held any meaning.

“I’m sorry.”

They were only spoken to make himself feel better.

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking himself into thinking he wasn’t hurting you, that by saying them he was making something right.

“I’m sorry.”

If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.

“I’M SORRY!”

You were, too.  Sorry that you believed he was a good man, sorry that you trusted him, and sorry that you were once naïve enough to ever have given your heart to him.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Thank you for the tags @secretly-of-course @childlikegoblinqueen @peachytea04 @slightecho ♥️♥️♥️♥️

No pressure tags: @litfeathers @ashanimus @princecharmingwinks @tails89 @nutellarghh @ash-mcj @greyhavenisback @lollytea @marimbles @avatarmerida @asarcasticwitch @daydreams-and-honeybees @sailahina @sapphic--kiwi @haystarlight @zyrafowe-sny and I think that's everyone I know who writes fic? I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag anyone, please consider yourself tagged if you'd like to join in!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. Since I got tagged by four people, I'll post four snippets from four different huntlow fics I've got in the works: Band/College/Coffeeshop AU: "Willow!" he practically shouts in reply, spilling iced coffee down the front of his apron. He attempts a casual lean against the counter, pretending there isn't coffee creamer dripping down his jeans or ice cubes melting in his apron pockets. "How— hey's it— how's it going?" Actor AU: Luz opens the paper with a rustling snap and reads the big bold headline aloud in a dramatic voice: "Co-stars Hunter Noceda and Willow Park seen cozying up at coffee shops and 24-hour diners all season, meeting in secret at each other's apartments every other weekend, and have been spotted side by side at many a red carpet event over the last year. With their characters rumored to finally be canon endgame, could romance be blossoming both on and off the screen?" Golden Garden AU: "Listen here, Golden Guard—" she growls, and oh, even her voice is cute. "Hunter," he supplies without thinking, wondering whether the force of being knocked into the wall has given him a concussion, if the most important thing to him in that moment is that she knows his name. A fic where Hunter writes Cosmic Frontier fan fiction: Every time he tries to bang out a coherent sentence, he ends up with something along the lines of "I LoVe yOU CaPTaiN" oBAiLeY COnfEsSeD TO WiLLow I mEAn QUaNDo oH fUCk hOw dO yOu deLeTe

[meimi-haneoka]

Cosmos - Akiho/Kaito one-shot

Once upon a time, when chapter 48 had definitively broken the cage to my admiration and support for the YunaAki pairing, I couldn't help but start imagining their future together.

And one of the first headcanons that came up to me was this one. Not in depth like you can see developed here, but the setting was definitely this one. An intimacy that didn't require for them to necessarily "jump on eachother". And for personal reasons, I needed to reclaim this headcanon so badly, write it down and release it to the world. Just because of that, I can already feel like this little thing spilled here will be one of my favorite writings.

I'm pretty sure this one, at more than 1600 words, is categorized as a fully fledged fic, right?

Now, this is another quite romantic one, but I managed to sneak in a tiny bit of delicious angst towards the end, just cause it's so much their element and I can't stand over-sugary stuff myself. I can't believe I also made actual research for this one. Get ready for some cosmic magic under the cut ✨

Genre: fluff, romance, a sprinkle of angst. Akiho is 17 years old. They haven't found a cure for Kaito yet, but! She has disclosed her true name to him. Snippet: "Akiho-san...do you know the origin of your name?" "...My name?" "Your true one."

All the curtains were closed tightly. The spacious living room was completely immersed in the darkness, except for a couple of scented candles on the ground, faintly illuminating the floor. Any hindrance out of the way. A generous number of soft cushions of all sizes was arranged on the floor, on top of a large camping mattress, right between the two candles.

Akiho threw herself enthusiastically on the pile of cushions, while Kaito lay down in a slower motion.

"....Ready?" Kaito whispered with a soft smile, while the girl next to him nodded excitedly, azure eyes shining in the dark.

One press on a button of the remote controller, and the whole ceiling turned into a sparkling planetarium.

Akiho gasped. "Oh my god....this is amazing!" She instinctively brought her hands to her face, covering partly her mouth while her voice was choking with emotion, a quirk that even at 17 years old she couldn't drop yet.

The starry vault rotated slowly, while some stars twinkled, giving a quite realistic effect to the scenery. Every now and then, a shooting star would appear randomly, inviting to make a wish.

Kaito looked to the side to check the reaction of the girl, pleased with himself. The star projector had been his present for Akiho's 17th birthday, but between study, book repairs and moving out to another country, they hadn't found a moment of quiet to put it in function. That perfect moment finally came this evening of December.

Of course he bought the most expensive model out there, and this one could even add sound effects to the experience, which he had set on sea waves through the remote control. The idea was "we're lying down on a deserted beach at night, in the early summer", instead of the chilling winter they were actually in.

"Kaito-san..." - Akiho moved her finger up in the air, "what constellation is that one?"

He had vaguely studied astronomy as part of his magic education, but he had forgotten a lot of it...for a moment he was tempted to use a magic spell, but then decided against it, not wanting to irritate the girl beside him. She always reprimanded him whenever he lazily tried to use his magic for the most mundane things. They hadn't found a cure for him yet, so she wanted him to keep the use of magic at the minimum, to avoid affecting his health. Therefore, he pulled himself up and went next to the star projector, changing the little disc with a different one.

The projection changed to a similar starry vault complete with the constellations map, and plopping down next to her, he said with a smile "Akiho-san, that seems to be Virgo!".

"Really?! That's my zodiac sign!!" Her brows furrowed for a moment, then "Indeed, with a bit of imagination that could look like a maiden...without a head". Kaito chuckled. "Wait, where's Pisces?"

Kaito checked the constellation map on his phone (which he had downloaded precisely for this occasion), and after a moment he indicated it, pointing his finger towards the ceiling. "Over there."

"....That one?! Oh....that looks more like a flower with two stems than actually two fishes, doesn't it?" she blurted out, laughing playfully.

"...Akiho-san..." Kaito couldn't help but chuckle again, reveling in the cheerfulness of his beloved. Nothing could send tingles to his heart like the sound of her laughter.

"Akiho-san...do you know the origin of your name?" "...My name?" "Your true one."

Akiho stared at him with curiosity, cheeks tinted slightly with a pink hue. The topic of their true names was usually off-limits. They didn't make a rule for it, but being both very well acquainted with the customs of the magic world, the unspoken agreement was to never bring them up...unless it was something serious.

"I was named after a flower, right?"

"Of course...but do you know why cosmos flowers were named that way?"

The girl stared at him, thinking for a moment about the question. She realized she never actually thought about why cosmos flowers bore that name. So, she shook her head slightly.

"Back in the 17th century, Spanish priests found the flowers in Mexico and cultivated them in their mission gardens."

He looked away from her, turning his gaze towards the starry sky.

"Originally, Kosmos is a Greek word that means 'order' or 'harmonious arrangement'. The priests were fascinated by those flowers' orderly arranged petals, they found them...." He paused.

"...Breathtakingly beautiful. And perfect." His eyes were now twinkling, still fixed on the firmament over their heads. "Just like the universe, the cosmos. So, they named those flowers after it."

Akiho's heartbeat quickened, and if she knew the man next to her well enough, his heart was doing just the same. They had spent enough time together for her to understand all too well what he was trying to say.

Kaito felt Akiho's hand searching for his, and they intertwined them silently.

"Thank you...I didn't know all of that. I've always thought that cosmos flowers were pretty, yes, but not particularly remarkable or unique... It is nice to know that the right people could see the true beauty and worth in them."

As if replying to her, she felt him squeezing her hand.

After a moment of silence, Akiho's right index finger moved up in the air once again. "Wait, what about that one? What is its name? It's big, but the stars don't look particularly bright"

"Hmm...Aquarius, apparently. This one would be basically impossible to see by naked eye, from an urban area."

Akiho made a face once again. "The water-bearer, hmmm... I can see his legs but...these constellations all seem to be missing their heads!", she blurted out, feigning annoyance.

Kaito couldn't hold it in, and burst out laughing, causing her to do the same.

Yes, she was just perfect the way she was.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Kaito groggily opened his eyes in the dim light of the candles, ceiling still covered with stars. The clock of the living room showed it was 2 am.

Clinging onto his right arm, Akiho was soundly asleep next to him. Consciousness rapidly washed over him, remembering what happened.

Akiho's exploration of the starry vault had gone on for more than an hour, but at some point her remarks and answers had become more and more absentminded, till he realized she had actually fallen asleep. Smiling tenderly at her slumbering form, he was ready to pull himself up to go pick up a blanket for her, and eventually arrange some cushions for himself farther away from the camping mattress (he didn't want to wake her up, but didn't want to leave her sleeping alone in the living room either), but he had quickly realized with dismay that she had turned on the side and literally latched onto his right arm.

He had frozen right there and then. He didn't want to wake her up, but he had started to overthink as usual - this is not appropriate, we shouldn't sleep together, what if-- The result was that the stress made him incredibly sleepy, and after a few minutes of ruminations, Morpheus had taken a hold of him too.

Now that he was fully awake, he mentally scolded himself for falling asleep, and proceeded to do what he didn't have the heart to do before: slowly, slowly, he tried to disentangle his arm from Akiho's grip. When he managed to slip away, he rose to go pick that blanket up, because he couldn't risk for Akiho to catch a cold due to his imprudence.

"Where are you going?"

Her tone made him stop in his tracks immediately. Turning around, what he saw made his heart drop.

Akiho was propped on her elbow, staring in his direction but not quite focused on him. She was clearly still half asleep, but what ripped Kaito's heart apart was her expression, halfway between a scowl and wanting to break into tears.

It didn't take him long to understand why she had that expression. Even after 4 years, the trauma he had caused to her resurfaced sometimes in her dreams, upsetting her when she woke up.

"I'm just going to get a blanket.....I'm not going anywhere." he answered, while painfully making sure to emphasize the last part.

Akiho blinked her eyes twice, awareness coming back to her. Her expression slowly turned into one of realization, then she looked briefly to her side, panicking. "Oh my god, I'm sorry...I didn't fall asleep on you, did I? ...I didn't want to bother you-"

"You've never bothered me once, Akiho-san."

The girl stared at him, misty-eyed. His expression was kind, but tinged with guilt. His figure against the starry ceiling reminded her of that fateful night, when he fought his stubborness and the monsters inside his head to go back to her.

The girl casted her eyes down and to the side, pink hue emerging on her cheeks once again. "Then...once you took that blanket...could you...could you get back here next to me?" she said softly, finding the courage to look up once again.

Kaito had already understood long time ago that he was done for. He knew that no matter how much he tried, he would've never been able to refuse anything to those blue eyes of hers. Especially if he wanted it himself, in the first place.

They stared at eachother for a moment, before Kaito breathed out the air he was unwittingly holding and said with a smile "I'd be happy to, Akiho-san."

Akiho beamed at him, sure more than ever that there wasn't any place on this Earth or in the entire cosmos where she could've felt safer, other than next to him.

[bakerstreethound]

Heart of a Poet

Relationship: Tolya Yul-Bataar x gender neutral reader

Warnings: fluff and hints of sadness

Summary: Nothing could come close to the home you’d been welcomed in as part of Stumhond’s crew. Tolya has been your longest and oldest friend, and with your birthday nigh, it makes your friend wonder what the future may hold. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: This story is a little birthday gift for my friend @novaracer since I managed to drag them into the Grishaverse with me (not sorry ahaha). I hope you like it, my friend and know Tolya will give you all the platonic forehead kisses that you desire. Just to reiterate I know and acknowledge Tolya is canonically aroace and I wanted to stay true to that aspect of him and hope I did it justice. The relationship depicted here is a purely platonic and caring friendship. Please enjoy! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

“Did you write anything new?” Toyla’s mouth quirks, softening his features more. That’s how it all started between you, the companionship, the bantering, all because of your shared love of poetry. Tamar couldn’t stand it when he burst out lines at the most inconvenient times, but he ended up reciting them to you in the wee hours of the night regardless. 

Sometimes you’d huddle against the wall, the oil lamp between you flickering, your shadows moving along the walls while you both scribbled away and murmured bouts of verse, exchanging suggestions and friendly banter. Those late nights you cherished, Tolya next to you reading away the sleepless nights or the occasional nightmare infiltrating your dreams, slaying them like a dragon. When they got worse, trying desperately to hold you captive, Tolya’s poetry, his light brought you out of the void, providing you with peace, comfort, and companionship. 

Other times, you’d find yourself on the bow of the ship, embracing the sea air, refreshing your mind. It had become your second home. Tolya more so in the times of torment when the nightmares threatened to take you down a time or two. Haunting eyes peering into your own not letting you go screaming terror and murder, dragging you down into the darkest depths. You forgot it all when embracing the sea, infinite, full of possibility. 

Poetry, the sea, Toyla, your privateer band of misfits. That was your life the past few years and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

You pull away from your thoughts, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “As a matter fact, I have a small snippet of something. Perhaps I might recite it to our benevolent captain.” A small smile graces your lips as you watch him bite into a piece of bread, crumbs falling on his shirt. The laugh escapes you before you can stop it, a bewildered look falling upon his face as you shake your head, thoroughly amused. Tolya won’t admit it aloud, but he likes the sound of your laughter, a poetry it’s own, comforting and familiar. 

“I didn’t spill that many did I?” He inquires after he finishes, taking a step closer to the mast you decided to lean up on. 

You shrug your shoulders, leaning your head back against the wood, “Nah not more than usual,”  you reply distracted by the sky. The vastness of it never ceases to amaze you, the stars winking in kind, welcoming you into their secret world one where you were finally free, free from expectations, free to choose your path. No one else to have a say in it but you. 

“What can I say, I get hungry late,” the slight humor in his voice falters at your expression, frozen on the horizon, eyes blank and glassy, lost in memories, another time. “Hey, come on back to me, what’s going through that sharp mind of yours?” 

“Nothing,” you swallow, pulled from the chasm of chaos you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall in again. “I’m fine. Can we stick to poetry for now?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, letting the matter slip away. “Of course,” he offers you his hand which you accept as he takes you to the other side of the main deck, settling by the railing on the side of the ship, his hands curling over it as he takes a deep breath. Everything is so calm and serene, Tolya’s presence makes you more assured, calm. He’s been nothing if not your most loyal friend through the years and the affection that has developed from it thrums through you, warming your heart. You’re sure he can tell by the way you look at him, when you stand beside him, inhaling the salty air, the silence comfortable between you. 

“You never did tell me it was your birthday again. I thought it happened once a year.” He chuckles and you’re grateful for the distraction. After all the years together, it is easy, both of you in tune to each other, when you need a comfort, a poem or distraction. 

You brush your hand along his gently, his eyes closing at the contact, before replying. “It comes every year and I still do not know why you insist on keeping track. I do not want to be reminded of my limited time here, though yours might be infinite compared to mine.” 

The silence passes longer, the ship groaning at the lapping waves. The rest of the ship is eerily quiet and you wonder what sort of spell has overcome it, the peacefulness of it all is almost unsettling. Yet, you can’t find yourself looking away from Tolya’s face bathed in the moonlight, the internal struggle he has within himself surfacing as he unclenches his jaw. He doesn’t move his hand from your touch.  “It reminds me not to take every day with you for granted. To know your days are more limited than mine. That there’s a lot left to live for while you’re here and I don’t want to think about what the world will be like when you’re not.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ll miss our poetry sessions that much,” you nudge him with your shoulder playfully, but he stands firm, his jaw twitching, taking his hand from under yours and clasping it against his chest. You can feel his heart rate, strong, steady and true. Never was there anyone more loyal to you than Tolya in your life you’ve been through countless adventures through the thick and thin. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him either, but he had many years, countless, almost fathomless compared to you. What mattered was that you made the most of your adventures together, your friendship cemented by your unbreakable loyalty to one another. 

No words will come to him, how could they now? His books and his faith have always been enough. When he looks into your eyes, your hand he holds pressed against his chest, he feels calmer, more surer of himself. You’re here. You’re not leaving and by the determined look in your eyes, you’re not giving in to the future, the unknown, or the what ifs. You’ll embrace the here and now, the thick and thin.

When you get back to your shared quarters, you settle against the corner where the pile of pillows are where you’d stay up to the late hours of the night practicing your word craft. He pulls you next to him, his hands stroking your hair softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You fall into his touch, drifting as you’re rocked to sleep by the sea and the sound of Tolya’s incandescent poetry, greeted with dreams of happier times, and a future of nothing but the eternal symphony of the sea.

******

[spilledstars1234]

my new link click fic, currently nicknamed "golden" as just a placeholder name, has reached around 5K words, though i'm still barely at the beginning, haha! Still unsure of whether it'll be a multi-chap fic or just a oneshot, but i'm leaning more towards the first option. though i'm not sure yet, so we'll see! it is one of my many WIPs i have for link click, but honestly? I'm having the time of my life with this one! i'm so excited to share it.

and just for fun, i'm just gonna drop a little snippet from it here!

i can tell this fic might take a long while to finish (perhaps even longer than how long my last LC fic, 'Thanatophobia', took), but it's been such a fun ride so far! So please, please wait for me!!!

[so-very-small]

A Late Night

A continuation of these two story snippets here and here, commissioned by the wonderful @belethlegwen ! I had such a fun time writing this!

ko-fi | patreon

--

The open bar doors did nothing to dissipate the heat in the air. The rural little town was never anything but hot and humid, even long after the sun went down and the bar fell empty. It was a late night, the weekends always had patrons lingering longer than usual, putting more work on the Bartender and the Barmaid's shoulders.

She was perched on the bar top, wiping down sticky puddles of spilled drinks, hauling old napkins across the polished wood to drop them in the trash. The soft sound of the cicadas outside kept her company, along with the Bartender. He was putting all the chairs up on the tables, reading the floor for a much needed mop. Despite trying to focus solely on her work, the Barmaid couldn't help but send over little glances, watching him lift chairs the size of entire buildings as if it weren't nothing.

(It was a little hypnotizing.)

(He was a little hypnotizing.)

The two always worked in tandem in a comfortable silence, as they always had since she moved there about six months ago. Giants had long since gone from intimidating to every day, but there was something specifically different about him. He made her nervous, but not in a bad way, not at all. She kept a careful watch of him from the corner of her eye, unable to deny the little buzz in her chest when he got a bit closer to the bar.

The Barmaid paused, lifting a hand to run a sleeve over her face. The day had been long. The heat was worse than it was back home, still sweltering even in the late hour. She took in a shaky breath, realizing just how long she had been working without a break. A small pang of dizziness hit her head, the foggy feeling reminding her Hey, hydration is important! A small thimble of water was on the other edge of the counter for that specific purpose, and she dropped the napkin in her hand so she could navigate over to it.

She made it about halfway.

Movement sent the dizziness into overdrive; stars burst in the corner of her vision, sweeping up into a black vignette. The bar grew hazy, and then she couldn't see at all, limbs failing her at the same second she went totally blind. She had the vague sensation of landing on something warm and calloused, and then all her senses went out entirely.

It could have been minutes, or seconds, but eventually her eyes did drift open. She blinked hazily a few times, a looming shadow blocking out the overhead lights of the bar. Two brown eyes took up her entire field of vision, staring down at her in intense scrutiny, worry making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

The Bartender's voice was low, intentionally soft, but it still felt overwhelming this close. She blinked once more, still returning to the waking world, putting her hands down by her sides to help prop herself up into a sitting position. Her small palms met warm, rough skin, and it's only then that she noticed the arch of his fingers over her, his pulse thrumming heavily underneath her in his palm.

(Another rush of dizziness fell over her, this one a bit different. This one prompted by the honey of his eyes, the closeness of his face.)

(Her heart skipped a beat or two.)

(He'd never held her before.)

"Yeah," she squeaked out, remembering he had asked a question, "Yes, sorry, I... I think the heat got to me."

The Bartender nodded, pulling her back from his face slightly. He frowned, eyes worriedly scanning her up and down, and she felt like a bug under a microscope. His gaze was damn near as overwhelming as the hot air. The man carefully pursed his lips, gently blowing over her. It was like a gentle gust of wind, chilly on her face and blowing back a few loose strands of her hair, slightly sweet with just the faintest hint of tobacco from his last smoke break. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and she told herself it was just from the chill, and nothing else.

"Did that help any?" he whispered.

The Barmaid couldn't help but smile at his concern.

"Thank you," she said, because it was all she could think to say.

The Bartender smiled, lips pulling up into that familiar crooked grin. He stood straight, hand cradling her coming near to his chest, and he quickly crossed the distance to the bar. He picked up the thimble of water carefully, and handed it over to her. Her small hands brushed his fingertips as she took it, and it felt like itty bitty sparks dancing across her skin.

"There's a lil’ breeze outside," he said, glancing at the door. "I think we're both overdue for a break."

Finishing her sip of water, she nodded. Today had been far too long, and a few moments of respite were needed. His hand shifted slightly under her, cupping her more carefully as he drifted out of the bar, into the marginally cooler air outside. The breeze helped, if just a little. He took a seat on an old crate in front of the building, taking in the dead streets around him. No one else was awake or out; it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"Would you rather my shoulder, or..?" he asked, not quite sure where to place the tiny woman.

"Is... is it alright if I stay in your hand?" she asked in turn, and quickly took another sip of water, hoping it'd conceal the flush in her cheeks.

The Bartender had no such thing to hide behind, and she saw the gentle pink that crossed his face. He nodded, smiling down at her, shifting his fingers lightly. She leaned back against them, never feeling more safe than she did in that moment.

"That's more than alright with me, darlin'."

[kiliofdurinsline]

I'm following the rules by sending you an ask but demon/vampire mb au????? idk why that's the "weirdest" thing I saw in your list

(ask me about my WIPs)

AHHH THAT ONE! :D

That fic was gonna be for a MB big bang like... a year ago? 2 years ago??? and i dropped the event bc i was so busy with school + zines and it was my lowest prio (plus was slipping out of sk8 writing at the time).

my initial idea inspo was one of those twitter "QRT with pics based on your zodiac/birthday/battery %" things, which gave me the prompt: Immortal AU | Mutual Pining | “Listen to me, just this once.” my essential idea: Kaoru is posessed by a demon (Carla) who grants him eternal health + youth + life in exchange for her getting to live in his body + occasionally use it as her own (gets her a "get out of Hell free" card). Kojiro is a vampire. The two meet in Venice, have an on-again-off-again situationship for a few centuries, until they meet up in modern day when Adam (a demon possessing the politician Ainosuke Shindo) appears and decides, hey, he really wants to be a dick to Carla, so why not get the pretty body she's got while he's at it?

featuring high drama from Kojiro, who refuses to let Kaoru be possessed by Adam, Kaoru who has a demon and a vampire as his forever family, Carla who is a snarky demon shit, and amateur demon hunter group comprised of Reki/Langa/Shadow/Miya who are investigating this super sus politician, Ainosuke Shindo.

Snippet below the cut (this is long but i legit forgot i wrote this and it *slaps*) cw for: threats of violence, blood drinking, loss of control of body due to demon possession

The moonlight shines on the water’s surface, and Kaoru breathes the salty air in deep. Venice reminds him of home, with the ocean air rolling in and the markets full of freshly caught fish. It’s been nearly sixty years since he left home, but Kaoru still finds himself most at peace by the ocean.

It’s far safer to travel in a group, Kaoru knows, but he slips away from the caravan of traders he’s travelled here with to explore the city for himself.

He looks up, losing himself in the stars as he walks along the waterfront. Gondolas drift by in his periphery, and Italian chatter spills out of open windows as he meanders along the walkway.

A hand on his arm startles Kaoru out of his reverie, and the shine of the moon on the water disappears as he’s pulled into a dark alley and a hand is slapped over his mouth.

“Just what the hell are you?” and Kaoru’s staring into angry wine-dark eyes with his own eyes open wide, and Carla says “Oh, fuck,” in his head, and then—

His mouth is moving but Kaoru’s not speaking. He can see his hands coming up to grip the stranger’s shirt tight, but he’s not moving them. He can feel his own face twist into a smirk and a leer but he’s not the one doing it, what is this—

Carla chuckles, deep and low, and the sound comes from Kaoru’s throat. “Oh, you are a pretty one, aren’t you? What are you? Werewolf? No, you’re far too cold for that. A lost soul, then, clinging to a life it has no claim of? Or,” and Carla leans in close and brushes the stranger’s hair away from their neck, revealing two light scars dotting the flesh just behind the jugular.

“Oh, how interesting,” Carla purrs with Kaoru’s tongue. “A vampire, here in Venice? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, your kind loves the waterfront—”

The vampire shoves Kaoru, no, Carla, into the stone wall behind them, and steps back. “Well, you know what I am. Now answer my damn question: what are you?”

Carla crosses Kaoru’s arms — and Kaoru does not like the feeling why can’t he control his limbs — and tilts Kaoru’s head. “My name is Carla. I’ve struck a deal with this mortal, so now I get to use his body.”

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “A demon, I should have known by your stink—”

Kaoru protests in his head, but the words never pass his lips. Carla cuts the stranger off with a laugh. “Oh, come now, love, the boy and I have our deal. He agreed to this, and he gets what he wants out of the bargain. There’s no need for such insults, especially not when I know every weakness your kind has.”

In a flurry of movement, Carla has the vampire pinned to the wall, Kaoru’s dagger held to his throat. “It’s made of steel, to be sure, but beheading works just as well as a stake through the heart. But I’m sure we’d both rather this not end in violence — surely, this city is big enough for the both of us, at least for the next few days? We’ve got enough problems from all the humans slinking about; if they catch onto either one of us, it’s bad news for us both. So, what do you say? Truce?”

The stranger grits his teeth and nods curtly. “Truce.”

Carla nods and pulls away, sheathing Kaoru’s dagger in one fluid motion. “I’ve told you my name already, and the boy’s name is Kaoru.”

“Kojiro,” the vampire says. He narrows his eyes as he looks Carla up and down.

“Let me out,” Kaoru says, but the words never pass his lips, and Carla’s voice resonates around him in his head. It rumbles in the dark space Kaoru is in, shaking every fiber of his soul as she croons, “Hush, now, all in due time.”

“Kojiro,” Carla says aloud, and she taps Kaoru’s lips with a finger in thought. “Well, in the name of our truce, what say I buy you a drink?”

Kojiro rolls his eyes. “And you claim to know so much about vampires.”

“Not alcohol, moron.” Carla turns back to the water and the moonlight shining on the river’s surface. “We demons have quite a network already established, one that can even benefit you vampires.”

They end up at a dingy pub. Kojiro claims a booth while Carla speaks with the bartender. She asks for two glasses of wine, “One red and one darker,” she says. The bartender pauses and looks at her, locks eyes with her for a moment, then nods and turns away. He comes back with two glasses, one with wine and one with a thicker, deep red liquid. Carla takes the glasses, and the thicker liquid clings to the side of the glass as it shifts. Kaoru realizes with horror that the liquid is blood.

Carla brings the glasses and slides the glass of blood over to Kojiro. He sniffs at it, eyes narrowed in suspicion. His eyes widen as he looks at it.

“Huh,” he says. “You actually got human blood.”

Carla lifts up her wine glass. “Like I said — connections. Alla tua.”

“Alla tua,” Kojiro says, and he clinks his glass against Carla’s before taking a deep sip. “So,” he says, “what brings a demon to Venice?”

[chosonore]

summary: a spilled box full of polaroids, ticket snippets and notes made you reminisce about your relationship with scaramouche and how much you loved him - he was your asshole and it would always stay that way. in the same universe as this piece

a/n: i don't know what possessed me, i really don't but maybe i'm getting into my groove of writing again (*¯︶¯*) if you've read any of these and thought oh man there is so much love in this - there is, i love scaramouche a lot lmao. everyone in the server has to listen to me crying about him

with a loud thud, the top most box of the pile that you were trying to balance on your way to your bedroom fell onto the ground. you cursed quietly, carefully moving to step over it in order to place the rest of the boxes on your bed. much to your dismay, the content of the boxes spilled onto the floor; polaroids upon polaroids and little tidbits such as receipts, cards and stickers were strewn across your carpet. you sighed, mourning the loss of your sleep over this. it had been a long day of moving, organizing and cleaning and you wanted nothing more than to be done with it as quickly as possible. you wanted the sweet and warm comfort of your bed, sleeping in until the sun was already high up in the sky.

you crouched down, attempting to pick up some photos before deciding that it was easier to just sit on the floor altogether. seeing the polaroids, you couldn’t help but smile - they documented the entirety of your relationship with scaramouche, from the early, hesitant beginnings to uncertainties up to when your relationship really took off. though it documented your relationship, it also showed him from your perspective, how you saw your lover through your eyes. sides of him that few understood, perhaps nobody even, sides that he showed only you, moments that you would treasure in your heart forever.

there was one where you’d managed to catch him off guard as he stared at you bewildered like a deer in headlights. it was when he’d shown you a sword dance that he had learned when he was younger, one of many unexpected facettes of him that he revealed to you. he looked so elegant and ethereal that it took your breath away, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. he carried himself with such a confidence that you could hardly believe when he looked at you in sheepishness once he was done, as if all of it dissipated within seconds. you couldn’t help but snap a photo: a slight flush on his cheeks, the attire he wore as well as the posture he maintained with his sword - it was one of your favourite photos of him.

from all tickets that you’d kept from your dates, the one from the summer festival was your favourite. it was shortly after he'd declared that you were in a relationship (without asking you because he was confident that you were but still made sure that you were on the same page), when you were unsure of how to navigate things. scaramouche never let anything shine through his facade, not even a slight crack, but you could tell that he took things slow and adapted to your pace. the way he laced his fingers with yours as you strolled through the streets and patiently waited when you couldn't decide on what food to get, the way he pulled you to his side when groups of people pushed their way past you so you wouldn't get hurt - he was thoughtful when it came to you. 

despite being a picky eater, scaramouche seemed to be very content with the sweet dango that you got him. a small smile found its way on his lips as he ate the sweet treats, eyes sparkling even more when you brought him another set. and yet, nothing could beat the sight of him staring at the fireworks in awe, looking so carefree and filled with so much child-like wonder as his eyes lit up like a thousand stars. feeling your stare in him, he'd turned to you to ask why you weren't watching the fireworks and were staring at him all creepily instead. "you just look so pretty right now," you'd replied honestly, earning an eye roll from him. to your surprise, you weren't met with a snarky response but were silenced with a kiss instead. 

shocked by his sudden display of affection and your first shared kiss at that, you forgot how to be - all thoughts and actions came to a crashing halt, you couldn't reciprocate, too shocked to act on your urges. "i- you- you! what the hell, i-" you stammered, face heating up as you processed what just happened.

"you what, huh? cat got your tongue?" scaramouche smirked at you, visibly proud that he was able to render you speechless. instead of wasting any more words, he leaned in to kiss you again, leaving you barely enough time to react. 

as you finally picked up the last item that you’d dropped, you couldn’t help but smile. it was a post-it note that scaramouche had left you that one time he made you upset. his handwriting was barely legible unless one was familiar with it, even more so when you could tell that he’d written it while he was in a hurry. you weren’t sure what the fight was about anymore, only remembering that he kept egging you on - one of his bad habits and negative traits, the fact that he couldn’t let things go and seemed to somehow enjoy making people agitated when he was pissed off as well. you’d been angry at him, retreating to your room without exchanging another word with him, incredibly disappointed in him.

scaramouche didn’t leave your apartment for a very long time, you could hear his footsteps in the living room as he wandered back and forth. only sometime later, you heard him frantically grab his bag and keys before the door slammed when he left - assuming that he hurried to his classes that he still had to attend the same afternoon. you peeked outside the room, making sure he wasn’t outside anymore as if you hadn’t heard him leave just minutes ago. through your puffy eyes and your attempt to focus on making yourself a cup of tea, you almost missed the bright yellow note that he’d stuck on one of the cupboards. you leaned up to grab it, inspecting it suspiciously.

slowly, your heart softened as you read the contents: scaramouche apologized for being an asshole, letting you know that he would come back later and grab some food. he wanted to talk again, he’d try his best to not be a dick. and he loved you, with a badly scribbled heart next to it. you sniffled quietly at the note, wiping your eyes. he was, undoubtedly, an asshole but he was your asshole.

the sound of footsteps grew louder and louder, announcing scaramouche’s arrival. he had been busy bringing up the rest of your boxes and placing them in the corresponding rooms. though it didn’t show on his face, he was elated to have you move in with him, to take another step in your relationship. he would never admit to it but it was a conclusion that he came to incredibly fast. he’d grown used to you being around, doing mundane things with him whether it be studying together, making dinner for you or late night snack runs. he’d grow restless when he wasn’t waking up to you, even more so when he wasn’t able to see you for an extended period of time. his thoughts always wandered to you, you were always on his mind. you were his favourite person and that meant a lot as someone who kept a small, close knit circle of friends.

seeing you stand there in his room and knowing that this time you’d stay, that this was your home now; scaramouche could hardly believe it. his heart was racing and it would probably take a while to calm down, he was just too happy. he watched as you grabbed some tape and stared at the wall trying to figure out where you wanted the photos to be placed.

“you wanna hang those photos?” scaramouche asked, taking a stack of polaroids from your hands and turning towards the wall you’d chosen for your endeavours. “need help?”

“what, you can reach up that far?” you snickered when your boyfriend sent you a glare, laughing loudly as you dodged the incoming kick and narrowly missing the slipper that came off his foot. he harrumphed, grabbing a roll of tape from your table.

“another word and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. don’t make me repeat myself.”

“aye aye, captain!”

“don’t call me that.”

[adickaboutspoons]

I just spent hours explaining myself to a stranger on the internet, and I'm kind of too bummed about last night's episodes to think about them too much anymore right now, but I just wanted to gloat that I apparently have mind-reading powers because I'm, uh, actually writing that Overboard AU I threatened in someone's tags back when ep 3 first aired, and I have a thing about a bit of string on a tray too.

So have an unsolicited WIP snippet!

So the premise is that Ed was moonlighting as a cabinet maker to stave off the boredom of piracy and took a job on Stede's Dad's ship and a recently married Stede was sent to oversee the work. Ed and Stede become friendly, and Ed takes more time with the job than he ought to have because he's enjoying Stede's company so much. So Father Bonnet decides to stiff Ed on the bill, and sends Stede to deliver the news with strict orders not to Take Any Guff From The Rabble. Stede is miserable but he does it (because he can’t v. well stand up to his father, can he?). Stede ends up getting accidentally knocked overboard when he tries to apologize, and the waves knock his head against the hull and he gets amnesia. Ed saves him, but decides to get back at the rich fucks who treated him like dirt by telling Stede he's a pirate under Ed's command and taking him back to the QAR. Things happen and now Ed is having Complicated Feelings, and at the time of the below snippet, Stede's turn on the rota to bring Ed dinner in his cabin has come up, and Stede has stubbornly spent over a week saying nothing but "Forgive me, Captain" to Ed whenever they have occasion to talk:

The next day Stede has a clean dishrag tucked behind his belt like an apron when he brings the tray through the door. Did he somehow charm Cookie into letting him help in the galley? Cookie is intensely territorial about his stocks and pots, and has been known to use his knives for more than just chopping veg when he feels someone might be encroaching. Still, if anyone could talk his way past Cookie's defenses, it would be Stede, wouldn’t it?

Stede whips the cloth from behind his belt and floats it over the papers on Ed’s desk before laying the tray on top of it. He pulls the chair back from the desk, angling it toward Ed, and holding on to the back of it. Ed sits down gingerly, and Stede helps guide the chair so he’s tucked up close. There’s another clean cloth on the tray folded up so it resembles a butterfly. Atop it there’s a bit of thin rope that’s been knotted into a little flower. Ed picks it up and traces a finger around the intricate interwoven strand. He looks up at Stede, who is standing just to his side with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes are soft as summer skies and his smile is warm and Ed feels his face warming in response.

He looks away quickly, throwing the knotwork flower back onto the tray. “Don’t waste the line,” he said around the tightness in his throat.

Stede’s smile falls. “Forgive me, Captain,” he murmurs dejectedly.

Fuck. The tightness in Ed’s throat gets worse. Reaches down into his stomach and squeezes. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore. He forces himself to tuck in.

“Dismissed,” he says, his mouth full. Some broth spills onto his beard, and he grabs the cloth on the tray to wipe it away. When he puts it back down, the butterfly’s wings are crumpled and asymmetrically stained.

Stede stares at it for a moment. His mouth moves, and Ed wonders if he’s finally going to say something. He doesn’t. Instead, he moves silently toward the door, his shoulders stooped. Ed’s stomach clenches harder.

When he’s alone, he picks up the flower again, tracing out the star at the center formed by the overlapping weave with his thumb. He thinks about the way Stede’s eyes sparkle.

He pushes away from the desk. Enough grub. Time for sleep. He looks at the flower in his hand again, then quickly tucks it away into the interior pocket of his jacket.

[the-lost-girl-in-the-tardis]

The thin line between realities.

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Reader. Tenth Doctor. Other doctors mentioned.

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song: Roslyn- Bon Iver & St. Vincent

Warnings: N/A

An: Is this good? Hell if I know lol.

"Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Somethings are to strange and strong to be coincidences."

-Emery Allen

There is a storm outside. It rages and cries out. Light echoed by thunder. Momentarily it lightens your dark room. Brings forth lengthened shadows. It was a melancholy happiness the storm brings.

The dark curtains to your window were drawn back. Letting you look out into the night. Cold air seemed to fall from the window. Washing over your body. Barely held back by the fire in your hearth and the blanket around your shoulders.

You could still taste honey on your lips. The remints of your chamomile tea. There is the smell of wood smoke and lavender. There is the sound of rain in your ears. The crackling of your fireplace and the rumbling of distant thunder.

It is calming. Soothing to your tired soul.

You shift. Mutter a curse as your journal falls from your lap and to the floor. Picking it up the ink filled pages spill open. You flick through them. Fingers ghosting over letters and scribbles of drawings. The majority of the time it is just grocery lists. A snippet of a song you heard that you wanted to search for later. Sometimes its a recipe. Long to be forgotten until you spill open the contents of this well loved journal.

Now it is filled with dreams. Each one you've been having for the past two weeks. Each of them more fantastical than the last. It felt as if though you have lived entire lifetimes in these dreams. Seeming as if days passed as you slumbered in your bed.

The first had been something of your childhood daydreams. Aliens, another planet. You had ran your hands through purple grass and gazed upon bright orange skies. You smelled sweet, almost syrupy air breathed out from silver trees.

Now the man hadn't been there at first. When he showed up it.

It was something between exhilarating and down right terrifying. He wore a different face each time. Some young. Others old. Entirely different personalities. Yet each time you knew. It was him. That it was that strange man and his blue box.

You've never been in that blue box. The Tardis he called it. You chalked it up to your mind not being able to make something semi reasonable. These were only dreams after all. And even you had to admit that your imagination could only go so far. Strange blue aliens and all.

The journal was slowly filling with every detail you could write about these dreams. With it were sketches of him. The Tardis. Sometimes you tried to draw others. The planets they lived on. It often slipped away from you. Leaving you unable to recall the shape of some ones eyes. The slope of their nose. Even whether or not they had two arms of four.

You sometimes spoke of these dreams to others. You were met with laughter. Being told that you should write a book about these dreams. Some said you've always had a fanciful imagination. That your head was always in the clouds.

They were just dreams. Right? It felt real sometimes. His smile. The laugh lines that formed around his eyes. Sometimes you thought you could see the stars in those eyes. That you could behold the entire universe if only you could look long enough.

Thunder roared and you jumped. Pulled away from your thoughts you laugh softly. You stood. Rising away from the warmth of your armchair you went to the window and drew the curtains closed.

With a yawn you stretch. Popping your back as you twist and turn. You glance over to your bed. The pillows and thick duvet on your bed looked inviting. You fed the fire one last time before crawling into bed and curling beneath the covers.

Sleep never came quickly for you. You could lay there for hours tossing and turning before the sandman would come. You tried a lot of things over the years. Every trick and grandmas remedies you could try. You found it best to focus on yourself. Let your body feel the covers around you. Feel the weight of them. You would listen to the ambience of your room. The movement of the night just outside your window.

Then you would focus your mind on just one thing. A movie you watched. A song. A story you wanted to write. Lately it has been that man and his blue box. A constant on your mind. You could see them. Hear them.

One moment you are lost in thought. The next you are opening your eyes to a golden sky.

You give yourself a moment. A small chunk of time. Breathe in salty air. Then sit up. Brush your hands against the ground. Against soft moss. Small white flowers dotted it. Smelling of something sweet and marshmallow like every time it was disturbed.

You look out onto the horizon of a vast ocean. Waves rose and crashed against a cliff face. Mist brushed your skin.

You stood wiping your hands against your thighs. The air was cool. Raising goosebumps against your skin. It moved your hair. The fabric of your clothes. It smelled of the sea and something akin to pine. Reminding you of home.

Unlike home, twin moons hung in the sky. Hues of silver splashed against a purpling sky as the sun began to rise.

With a grin you spun on the spot. Drinking in everything this planet had to offer.

These dreams. You loved these dreams.

There was little to do but explore. Still in awe as you found small tide pools. Strange little creature filling them. And out there in that too large ocean was something like the blue whales of Earth but so much larger. They called, cried out their music as they rose and fell with the waves.

No two dreams, no two places were alike.

Well. There was that one time you visited the same dream. Like you had picked up where you had left off on a movie. He had been ecstatic. Dragging you off to one of the small shops and getting you the sweetest pastry you ever had. It was both strawberry and vanilla with a hint of something close to almonds.

The look on his face had been a proud one when you bit into it. You were sure you had looked like a little kid eating cake for the first time. It felt like it. And you were damned if you couldn't find a recipe similar to it. Failed attempt after failed attempt left you with a cupcake tin you would never be able to clean.

You walked on a stick in hand. You swung it about like it was a sword. Lost in some childlike part of you as you fought of alien pirates and saved the day.

You stilled as you heard a familiar sound. The only way you could describe this sound is like air gliding against itself. And there was only one thing it could come from. One thing. One person. You could never forget.

A grin so big it hurt your cheeks graced your face. You wonder who it could be this time. The old Scotsman? The one with the leather jacket and slightly to big ears? Maybe it would be the bowtie and fez? He was always high energy and ready to go. You also swore that fez was glued to his head. He often left you feeling more tired than when you had fallen asleep.

The air seemed to split when the Tardis appeared. When she finally showed through it was with the smell of too sweet marshmallow as the white flowers where broke.

Then he stepped out from behind the blue door. You laughed. Called out.

Sandshoes.

"Ah! Fancy seeing you here!" He had a grin on his face that rivaled you own. The end of his coat whipped around his legs with the breeze. "Hello Doctor." You spoke with a smile.

He said a word you didn't understand. It carried away in the wind. Brown eyes looked over the landscape. Drank it in. Then landed on you.

"Sorry?" You ask. He laughs.

"Ahh. Don't worry about it. Alright?" He pulls out his sonic, something you wouldn't really understand, and waves at the air around you. You shrug, chalk it up to him being weird again, and pull him towards the ocean.

The two of you do very little. Speak about past events. It feels weird to catch up with a dream. How your mind could make up so much about a person that was not even real. Even though he felt real. His body heat leaching through his clothes and to you from where your shoulders were pressed together. You could smell something spiced and warm. Whatever cologne he may where.

It. It was strange.

You gasped as a large silver fish leaped up into the air. The light catching its scales and lighting up every color and hue of the rainbow.

You could see the Doctor from the corner of you eye. Watching you rather than the fish. Studying you like he often does. And mostly when he thinks that you're not paying attention. And hey, in your defense the fish was really cool.

As the day fades into the night the two of you travel back to the cliff you first woke up on. The two of you sit side by side. Shoulder to shoulder and drape your legs over the cliffs edge.

Slowly the sun dips into the sea. With a flash of red the sky lights up. Hues of colors that just beg for an artists brush. You drink it in. Etch every last moment of it to your memory.

Still you are in awe as the first stars begin to appear. Dotting along a darkening purple sky. Cool air brushes over you. Steals the breath from your lungs. Your teeth chatter when you shiver. The Doctor says nothing. Drapes his coat over your shoulders. Tucks your arms into the sleeves.

You laugh softly. Almost melancholic when you say. "You know. For a dream? They always seem so realistic." You look up. The Doctor still had a hold on the color of the coat. You catch his eyes with your own. His face, though soft, held a sadness. Like pulling forth memories of a lost loved one.

"After all this time. You still think this is a dream?" He spoke quietly. Mumbling as his hand fall. He pulls out the sonic. Fiddles with it. You tilt your head. Pull the coat tighter around you.

"Well. Yes?" More of a question than an answer. "I mean. Alien planets, a blue phone box that can materialize out of thin air and travel where ever. " You chuckle. "Sound's more like a cheesy sci-fi movie to me." You bump your shoulder against his. "Besides . All this only happens after I fall asleep." You lean on the world after. Emphasizing it.

"After you fall asleep?" The Doctor repeats your words. "After. Of course!" He springs up and pulls you to your feet. You laugh as he all but drags you towards the Tardis.

You would never get over this part. The inside of the Tardis. She seems to sing when you enter. You give your a joyful hello. Run you hands along guardrails and walls. You spin and turn. Ever happy to return to her. She's stunning. Beautiful. And every other word under the sun that would never do her justice.

You let the Doctor run about and mutter to himself. Turning knobs and dials. He speaks to her. Tells her to hush. Wait. Repeat that. He turns to you. Strides over and closes the space between you. His hands cradle your jaw. He looks over you intensely. Turns your head side to side.

"What do you do when you go back? How do you wake up?" You shrug.

"I don't know? I kinda just. Go back to sleep? Close my eyes?" You laugh. "Tap my heels three times and say there's no place like home." You get a chuckle from that.

"Well I need you to do that. Ok? I need you to do that and." He pauses. Pulls something out of the coat pocket that you are still wearing. Its oval like and softly glowing as he turns it about in his hands. He places it into your. closes your hands over it. "I need you to do just that and hold onto this." Gently he presses his lips to the crown of your hairline. "I'm going to find you. There is so much I want to show you."

He pulls away and looks at you pointedly. You just click your heels together. The Tardis lets out a loud sound at that. The Doctor calls back out to her.

As he turns his head you close your eyes. Focus on home. Your bed. Listen for the sound of thunder that you had fallen asleep to.

"Y/n?" His voice. Your name echoes in your ears.

You wake to the sound of rumbling thunder. You sigh. Curl tight against yourself. Your room was cold and dark. Well. You could restart the fire and fix yourself something to drink.

When you sat up something brushed against the bare skin of your thigh. You moved the blankets only to see the very same thing the Doctor had placed into your hands.

You picked it up. Confusion rolled over you. Complete and utter confusion. How? Where you still dreaming? You had to be. You hand to.

It changed hues. Stuttering between blue and green before flashing to a brilliant yellow. You closed your eyes against it it was so bright.

Thunder roared. Lightning cracked and briefly lit your bedroom even through your curtains.

Then that noise. That...

You had never risen from that bed more quickly in your life. Your feet stung as it hit the cold floor. You were shivering and shaking by the time you made it to the widow. The curtains so violently pulled apart they rattled the rails. Your window flew open as it caught the wind.

There. Lightning. The air pulled apart. Again lightning.

The Tardis. Briefly. Your poor garden. Oh your poor garden.

You didn't bother with a coat or shoes. Running out your front door as the sky lit up once again.

The rain fell heavily. Soaking both you and him. The Tardis closed her door quickly.

Tears welled and fell. A gasping breath. This. This can't be real. But you were home. Awake. You. Him. Everything.

"Hello Y/n." The Doctor spoke. A smile on his lips. "Do you mind if we go outside? It's a bit wet out here." A sob broke through your lips as you ran forward. You feet brushed along wet grass. The smell of petrichor was heavy in the air. Overpowered by the smell of spice and warmth as you hug him. Your head cradled into the crook of his neck.

You shiver and shake. The cold biting against your skin. You don't move. Just hold him tightly. And he lets you. His hand moves up and down your back. His body slightly curled over you as if it would keep the wind and rain off of you.

"You're real." You tell him. "Oh you're real." Your voice wavers and breaks.

"I am." The Doctor tells you. "We are."

[myfairkatiecat]

😂 , 😭, and ❓ for the ask game since you said you have a lot. I hope you’re having a lovely evening!

I do have a lot of WIPs! Hey you know how I often say “I should make a fic about that?” That translates to “BRB going to go start a fic about that.” So like. Some of these WIPs will NEVER be finished 😭 or maybe one day they all will! Who knows?

😂 a funny or crack WIP snippet

Okay, I’ve talked a LOT about how I’m making this AU, but have never put any snippets online, so here we go!! (I gave y’all a long one since it’s taking me forever and then another forever to write it.)

—

“Now that the nightmare is over,” Kate began.

“You are not going to sing,” Constance interrupted. Kate was silent. “That was meant to be a joke. An attempt at humor. But I now see that you were actually going to sing. DON’T.”

“Was it really a nightmare?” Nathaniel winced. “It was, you know, occasionally fun.”

“It was!” Nicholas said affirmingly. “Sometimes.”

“It was not,” Constance deadpanned.

Kate cleared her throat loudly. “As I was saying, now that the nightmare is over, Reynie and I have prepared one last special performance. I have expanded my piano repertoire from Chopsticks to A Few More Chords simply for this occasion!”

“But there’s no piano in here,” Sticky pointed out.

Constance’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you didn’t save one of the Buttons.”

“Those buttons are some of my finest inventions!” Nathaniel insisted.

“The way you told it to me, it was your associate’s invention,” Nicholas reminded him.

“Well, yes, Dr. Garrison made it, but it was my idea.”

“I’m not in the least surprised,” Nicholas said with a sigh.

Kate pulled out a small black-and-white button, threw it to the ground, and the illusion took over, the room appearing to now be a stage with familiar spotlights shining down. The button itself had expanded, and while it couldn’t quite replicate an acoustic piano, it was impressive that it made an instrument at all. “Piano was one of the hardest ones, but I insisted she figure it out,” Nathaniel informed everyone as Kate sat down at the piano.

Reynie made his way to the middle of the dance floor and, much to Constance’s annoyance, began to sing.

—

The song is I See Stars from Mean Girls, but y’all don’t get a preview of my rewritten version of that song quite yet! You’ll just have to wait for it to come out…….

😭 angst or sad WIP snippet

Oh boy oh boy do I have these.

So this particular snippet is actually from a different fandom (*gasp* Katie writing for her old fandoms???) so enjoy! (It’s also from a one-shot, so I kept the snippet short!)

—

Merlin bit down on his fingers as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. It had worked against the truth potion before, but he was too late this time.

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, “what exactly do you mean by treason?”

“You’re the king, I figured you would know at least that much,” Merlin evaded, even with the truth potion prompting him to spill every last treasonous action he’d committed.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was even, but his eyes were hard. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I was born,” he muttered bitterly. “But I guess I’ve done a lot of things besides that anyway.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Do I ever?”

“Merlin!”

“I’m a sorcerer!” The truth burst forth, and Merlin cursed the potion, still in his system. “Is that what you wanted to hear? No, of course it wasn’t. You wanted to hear that I was being over dramatic and that I did nothing against the law. Well, I was born with magic! There’s the big treasonous secret!”

—

Hehe angst.

And finally, ❓ any WIP snippet you want!

I actually got the idea from reading SOS 😉 you know exactly what scene I’m talking about

—

“She’s… she’s nice,” Nathaniel said somewhat hesitantly. “And I mean it. She doesn’t seem like it, but once you learn her language…”

“She has the same emotions as everyone else,” Nicholas finished. “She just expresses them differently.”

Nathaniel nodded and was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Like me.”

Nicholas looked surprised. “Yeah. Like you.”

“You weren’t expecting me to say that out loud.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Nathaniel said, “It’s why you adopted her. I understand… I did the same with SQ.”

—

Thank you for the ask! This was fun!

[vox-monstera]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @ghostoffuturespast for tagging me! I always enjoy reading your WIPs. <3

I actually have some stuff this week! Been trying so hard to get more writing done in my free time, and it's paying off.

Currently still working on filth, of course. But I'm really liking how it's turning out, so here's a couple of snippets from my PWP, featuring NC's best boy, @pozerjacket's Kauri.

No, I haven't figured out a way to tie the story together. Yes, I love it when Kauri manhandles Vox.

Edit: forgot to tag anyone cause I’m a clown, so feel free to post your wips and tag me! Consider yourself booped.

Explicit under the cut!

Excerpt 1:

A mischievous glint; she boldly toes the line. Chrome fingers take possession of his belt buckle, yanking with enough force to intimate her intention. Kauri eyes her with half-mast amber, scarred brow raised in provocation— he’s daring her to make another move, to lay it all out between them, right here, right now.

Vox takes that dare enthusiastically.

The aggression of her plump lips is a welcome surprise, a much-needed release of the adrenaline still buzzing between them. Teeth and tongue she explores his mouth, insatiable in her hunger, months of lustful pining spilling into one kiss. Her body molds into the planes of his, soft, hot flesh against straining muscle, heat exploding between her thighs at his touch. Kauri’s mouth leaves hers to mark the sensitive flesh of her exposed clavicle, tongue snaking out to savor the sweat still clinging to her skin.

“Better tell me now if this is what you really want,” he hisses against her neck, full lips traveling up to her jaw. There’s an implied threat in the steely tone of his voice, one that sends a thrill running down Vox’s spine. Her hand still hasn’t left his buckle so she merely tugs at it in response, mind too hazy with need to formulate words.

-----

Excerpt 2:

His middle finger grazes her swollen clit, cock twitching at the delicious slickness now coating his digit. Vox arches her hips up slightly, purring as the cool air hits her dripping pussy, slit sliding along the length of Kauri’s shaft. He grips her hip with chrome fingers, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as the head of his cock teases Vox’s entrance.

“Beg for it.”

Kauri punctuates his demand with a hard slap across her ass, leaving behind the bright imprint of heavy rings on her flesh. A sharp exhale manages to escape Vox’s lips, pussy fluttering at the impact, but she holds steady.

“Make–”

His hand is around her throat before she can finish her sentence, metal sweltering against her hickey-studded skin.

“Do I sound like I’m fucking playing, V?”

The sudden lack of air sends a rush to Vox’s head, euphoria threatening to crumble her. Carotid thumps wildly against Kauri’s grip as his other hand yanks at the neck of Vox’s top, exposing her plump, stiffened tits. He rolls a pierced nipple between rough fingertips, metal-tipped teeth buried in the flesh of her shoulder, the onslaught of sensations so sublime Vox can feel tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

“Please, Kauri…” she manages to choke out, stars dancing behind her eyelids. He loosens his grip on her throat, cock throbbing at that deep, raspy way she whispers his name.

“Gotta do better than that, gorgeous.”

Kauri smacks the swollen head of his cock against her ass a few times, leaving behind a smattering of precum across her flushed skin.