#shouting speaks
if i post the 3rd life scarian poem i wrote today will u all promise to be nice about it
Hello again scarian nation i was admittedly a little shy about posting this but i come to yall with offerings of gay kisses<3
For context this is for @sparxwrites who wrote the FANTASTIC series there’s something wrong with the boatem holewhich is the universe where this snippet technically takes place. This can be understood more or less without the context i think but it pairs best with reading Found first :] enjoy!!
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Do you trust me?” Scar asks, sudden and easy as breathing.
Grian’s shoulders hunch. “As much as I trust anyone, I suppose,” he says, but that’s not quite true. Scar is Scar, and everyone else is… he trusts them, of course he trusts them, but Scar is different. Scar is special. A tier above the rest. “I do,” he amends, “trust you. You’re very trustworthy, Scar, even though you swindle me half the time.”
Scar doesn’t rise to the lighthearted invitation to banter. His eyes are void-dark, pupils swirling with stars– slowly, so slow Grian can track each individual movement, he reaches up to the space right above Grian’s head, hovering both hands there.
Grian blinks, and his vision doubles, triples, multiplies by numbers he cannot name until he’s dizzy with it, drunken reeling at the surge of multifaceted points of view. From the corner of his vision he spots his wings puffing, mantling– eyespots blinking, glowing soft and lilac in the shadows of the Swaggon.
Scar’s hands drop, grazing over Grian’s ears– he shivers– before gently plucking at the straps of Grian’s face mask.
Alarm thrills through Grian’s stomach. “Scar, what are you doing.”
“You said you trust me, right?” Scar replies.
“I–” Grian’s throat closes. “Well I– Scar, I didn’t think that meant–”
“So trust me.” Scar’s voice is a murmur, low and melodical. He peels away Grian’s face mask, slow enough that Grian could stop him if he wanted to.
He doesn’t.
The face mask drops between them with a leaden rustle. Grian shivers again; this strange vulnerability Scar is asking of him leaves him raw, exposed– his soft underbelly, for all the world to see.
Except it isn’t the whole world. It’s just Scar.
Maybe that’s the same difference.
If Scar notices how Grian trembles, he doesn’t comment on it. Just rests his hands at the nape of Grian’s neck, curling his fingers into the short hair there. Flexing them, thumb brushing against the shell of Grian’s ear in absent sweeps.
Scar grins, then, a crooked little quirk of his lips. “Still trust me?” he asks.
The words have been stolen off his tongue. Breathless, Grian can only nod his head in one sharp, staccato burst.
“Good,” Scar says, quiet into the fragile space between them, and slides his hands forward to cup Grian’s jaw. Gentle and slow, coaxing him closer, tilting his head up and at an angle as Scar leans down–
Scar’s lips press against his own, somewhat chapped, warm all over, and Grian’s breath shudders to a jagged halt in his chest.
It’s a firm, confident slide of lips over his; Scar angles his head, nudging Grian with one hand, and blindly Grian follows. Parts his lips in a soundless, shaky exhale, drinking in the warmth surrounding him as his eyes flutter shut. His wings fall limp at his back, dragging on the floorboards– he’s not sure what to do with them, or his arms for that matter. Hesitant, he wraps his hands around Scar’s biceps, holding on for dear life as Scar pulls him even closer, tilting his head further and deepening the kiss. Teeth flash over Grian’s bottom lip– the barest of pinpricks in between the molasses rising up to muddy his thoughts.
Grian sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, even as Scar runs one hand through his hair, weaving his fingers through the strands. For this small eternity, rationality doesn’t exist; what he’s left with is the tingle of his lips, the calculated capture of his cupid’s bow, the mindful scrape of Scar’s blunt nails against the side of his neck. Grian shudders, flutters his hand to rest on Scar’s cheek, and lets himself drift.
hello scarian nation i am desperate for prompts for these guys and also more friends to brainrot with so this is me casting smoke signals to yall if anyone wants to throw me a bone here
Chapter 2 of when the night cries, my time-traveling phantommy fic, is out!!! Go take a look!!!
haunt
verb
gerund or present participle: haunting
(of a ghost) manifest itself at (a place) regularly.
“a ghost who haunts the farmhouse”
(of a person or animal) frequent (a place).
“he haunts the barn”
be persistently in the mind of (someone).
“the sight has haunted me for years”
be persistently and disturbingly present in (something).
“I am haunted by his shadow”
What is the definition of a haunting?
It begins like this: between one day and the next, an intruder appears in their house. It begins like this: their home, between rolling hills and poppies, is now haunted.
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Come check out chapter one of my time traveling ghost fic!! Right now it’s soft, but heed those tags!
Wow i havent updated here in forever but haha check it out new fic snippets, im calling this one the haunted house fic as a working title. Its about 5k right now and going strong!!
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“You ever feel really watched, Phil?” Wilbur asks, eyes swinging around to bore into Phil’s. They’re shadowed. Haunted. “Like. Really watched. Like someone who knows every inch of you, all your deepest secrets, is just staring? Because–” and finally his voice begins to shake– “I felt like that, and then I swear I heard my name, and it sounded like– like–”
“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Phil says, jerking forward, hands outstretched. Wilbur falls into his arms with a shaky, choked breath; not quite a sob, but close enough that Phil’s heart jackrabbits in his chest. “Wil, Wilbur, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
Hello all! Just a reminder that editing commissions are open, and this time I have a carrd!! All information about my commissions can be found inside, so please click the link and check it out!
As always, I reserve the right to refuse any commission I am personally uncomfortable with. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me either via dms or the email found inside my carrd!
So uh…. did. Did somebody rec my bnha fic???
Rules: write the latest line from a WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.
Tagged by @athina-blaine !! Also im breaking the rules and doing a full paragraph
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That’s it, isn’t it? Wil’s guitar. The final, missing piece to his ironic, unfinished symphony. His personal memorial. Tommy pictures it now: leather strap slung over his shoulder, hands hovering over well-worn wood. Not quite touching– Wilbur never had gotten around to teaching him– but reverent fingers tracing the strings, fluttering over the fret. Tapping out the off-beat rhythm of a song Wilbur had sung, back when loneliness grew over their home with the tenacity of jungle vines.
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Tagging@misterghostfrog@eeveecat1248@sailingthenightsea@nervousn8@bellovebug and anyone else who wants to do this!!
Whenever i beta a fic it becomes like, my godchild. Mentally i am taking it out to lunch and spoiling it senseless at the build a bear factory
Hello friends! Me and a few other authors (sailingthenightsea, misterghostfrog, nervousn8, bellovebug, eeveecat1248) made a discord server where we share snippets/behind the scenes info on our projects, and just in general hang out! If you like any of our stuff, please feel free to join it!!
