#five senses tag

[the-golden-comet]

✨🧞‍♂️Five Senses Tag🧞‍♂️✨

Thanknyoy for the open tag, @dyrewrites ! 💛✨

Here is a scene that encorporates all five senses from my current WIP YWIMC 🧞‍♂️✨

Smell, Touch, Taste, See, Sound

Instead, a heatwave flushed over his cheeks. A bright sun permeated his pores, and soaked into his eyelids. A light, bright and warm. The sounds of people conversing in a foreign language, and ocean waves. The smell of the sea and fish wafted by his nostrils. The taste of salt on his tongue, to mix with the sweet syrup he consumed just moments prior.

Finally, he opened his eyes. Sand and beach shacks hung their straw awnings over raised wooden decks. The waters on the coast had three different hues of blue: sapphire, cyan, and cerulean. A tinge of teal tickled the tops of the waves, where white suds washed upon the sandy shore.

Going to also leave this tag +open and gently alert my tag list 💛✨

✨👇 Tag list for writing snippets below. DM me if you’d like to be added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@autism-purgatory , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @ragin-cajun-fangirl , @wyked-ao3 , @eccaiia

@glasshouses-and-stones , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @tragedycoded , @deanwax ,

@honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes , @rhikasa

@thatuselesshuman , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such ,

@finickyfelix , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @houseplantblank , @far-cry-from-finality ,

@froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @topazadine , @thecoolerlucky ,

@theaistired , @willtheweaver , @rivenantiqnerd @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin ,

@leahnardo-da-veggie , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @illarian-rambling , @mysticstarlightduck , @the-letterbox-archives ,

@ominous-feychild , @saturnine-saturneight , @words-after-midnight , @sableglass , @cowboybrunch ,

@yourpenpaldee , @moltenwrites , @pixies-love-envy , @davycoquette , @writeahurricane ,

@nczaversnick , @greenfinchwriter , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees ,

@aintgonnatakethis , @thecomfywriter , @pluppsauthor , @michellekarnold , @flurrysahin ,

@authorcoledipalo , @jadeglas , @spookyceph , @astramachina , @48lexr ,

@inseasofgreen , @agirlandherquill , @saebasanart , @leatafandom , @justabigoldnerd ,

@pippinoftheshire , @just-emis-blog, @aalinaaaaa , @badscientist , @dearunreliablenarrator

@worlds-tallest-fairy , @swordslord

[tabswrites]

Five Senses Tag

I’m not sure if this has been done yet but go forth, my friends!

Tagging: @willtheweaver @the-golden-comet @pandoras-comment-box @dyrewrites @writingrosesonneptune

@winterandwords @sleepy-night-child @space-writes @lychhiker-writes @kaylinalexanderbooks

Rules: Share a snippet to represent each of the five senses! (Taste, Touch, Smell, Sight and Sound)

Taste

The baker sprinkled a handful of sugar into a large mortar and pestle and set to work grinding it into a fine powder. Milvar leaned across the counter towards her.

“You make the whole world sweet, you beautiful lass. Never stop,” he murmured as Adrin grabbed his arm and tugged him away.

Indeed, as Adrin smacked his lips together he could taste the sugar and for a moment the throbbing pain in his wrist vanished–but only for a moment.

Touch

“I am a felisquama.” Their smooth tail beat gently against his legs.

“You say that like it’s a normal word.” He hesitantly reached down to scratch their ears. The scales were soft, as expected, but also bumpy. Their body was squishy but had the hardness of toned muscle. All in all, it wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as he had imagined.

Smell/Sound

The air was stale, so unlike the berries and cream sweetness of Eternity–but the most chilling thing Mara noted was the absence of sound. It was as if the entire city had been frozen at its point of ruin, and the world had not dared to breathe since.

Sight

The leaves that dangled overhead were now white instead of yellowish green. One of them broke free from its branch and floated gently down to land on the side of Hettie’s face. The pale pink light looked ethereal on her skin, and Mara knew at last the reason she had struggled to find any beauty in the world during her exile–it lived there, in the depths of those deep brown eyes.

[winterandwords]

Five senses tag

Thanks to @tabswrites for the tag!

📝 Share a snippet to represent each of the five senses! (Taste, Touch, Smell, Sight and Sound)

These are from Spin Cylinder...

TASTE (Noah's POV)

Iron warmth floods my tongue, your pulse racing against my hand. Blood never held any interest for me until yours.

TOUCH (Brett's POV)

You watch me like an experiment and you touch me like you’re ending my life and saving it all at once.

SMELL (Noah's POV)

I’m immersed in the cardamom and oakmoss warmth of your skin and how achingly, violently, alive you are.

SIGHT (Brett's POV)

Determined to be the most appealing subject of focus in the room, I give him a look that never fails to hold anyone’s attention.

SOUND (Noah's POV)

Your words drift raw and hypnotic. “Keep doing that and I’ll start making more ill-advised choices.”

Tagging @chayscribbles, @clairelsonao3 and @comicgoblinwrites if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in 💙

Reblogs, replies etc on my tag posts are always welcome, but if you're doing this tag yourself, please make your own post instead of using mine to start a reblog chain.

[dyrewrites]

Five Senses Tag

From @tabswrites over here

Rules: Share a snippet to represent each of the five senses! (Taste, Touch, Smell, Sight and Sound)

I am leaving this one OPEN, because it is sharing snippets and I demand snippets. Share your words!

Mine are from 'Before Deluca';

Sight, Sound and (almost)Touch -- all in one!

But that ethereal beauty followed me, alone, watching me with as much interest as I watched him. At the railing, clinging to it as any stranded man would a life preserver, all the confidence I could have claimed at the inn—my haven for such interests—drained at his approach. He weaved through the smattering of dockworkers, navigating uneven planks and misplaced barrels, never losing my gaze. And what a gaze to keep, so bright his eyes, in stark contrast to the orange-red lanterns around him they shined in silvery-blues—soft and pale as moonlight. His hand stopped too close to mine on the railing, purposeful that distance, allowing the chill of his skin without its touch and I lost my breath in it. “Buona sera, signore,” His voice sang so rich, deeper than his youthful face—or slender frame—suggested him capable, but his accent threw me.

Taste

Leaning to silence the whimper that took me, he forced his tongue between my lips and it…it tasted different. The odd cool of it had drowned in something hot and salt-sweet that dripped onto my own. And with it faded the pains in my sides and I drew it deeper, suckling that oddly sweet tongue, losing the words he had said—the worrisome, worrisome words—in the taste of him.

Scent

Sea spray, he smelled of saltwater and something else...dirt, flowers? It mesmerized whatever it was—I would reconsider when I learned—and he caught me sniffing him. Face flushing with the grin he gave, and more times in an hour than it had all that year; I hurried to my room for my bag.

→Before Deluca Taglist<-

// feel free to ask to be added or removed ^.- //

@watermeezer @starbuds-and-rosedust @thespacelizard

@your-absent-father @mr-orion @cowboybrunch @olliexwrites

@rowanmgrey-author @the-golden-comet @wyked-ao3 @leahnardo-da-veggie

@lychhiker-writes @aziz-reads @mthollowell-writes

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @somethingclevermahogony!

Five Senses Tag

Rules: share a snippet to represent each of the five senses (sight, sound, taste, touch, smell)

Let's see if Secrets of Salis (MG book 2) has anything good!

.

Sight:

Well, slather me in radium and call me a sorcerer…. Astra’s eyes grew wide as she took in the spotless streets and sculpted stucco columns. It was like stepping from hell into heaven. Fountains made flowing music on every corner and there were even decorative pines in planters along the sidewalks. Every window frame was plated in brass, turned luminous by the wrought iron gaslamps.

And the people! For once in her life, Astra saw no humans, goblins, or selkies to balance things out—just a sea of white and gray faces framed with donkey-like ears. The elves here dressed in delicate pastels, not even the ash from the foundries beyond daring to cross the inner wall. Most walked at a stately pace, shooting her vardo the sort of well-bred glares the witch was accustomed to in Yewbury.

“This place is fuuuucked,” she whispered.

Sound:

The shades giggled as she tried to breathe heavily, but the air wouldn’t come. This time, they sounded like little Agri and Twayun who’d lived at the end of her street.

At the end of this street though, Vermir could finally see her destination. She hadn’t been certain of the location, hence why she’d set down the door a ways away. It wasn’t like she’d really been in Unity for that long, despite haunting it for nearly a year. Even so, getting the directions wrong galled her.

Taste:

Astra awoke slowly and miserably. The first sensation that came back to her was, unfortunately, taste. This was unfortunate because her mouth tasted like a week-dead mushroom.

Touch:

The second sensation to return was touch. This was even more unfortunate for two reasons. One, she was tied to a chair. Two, she was dressed in the itchiest, most unflattering shift known to man.

Smell:

Mashal gave a lungless sigh. “We’re getting close…”

Astra laughed from her place within the vardo. “Sure are! When you can smell the pig shit, you’re officially within the city limits of Nakaow. I’m pretty sure that’s the law, at least.”

“I don’t have a sense of smell.” Mashal tapped his sculpted bronze and steel nose for emphasis.

The witch winced at her misstep, then suddenly took on a thoughtful expression. “You know, I could try n’ build ya one. I fixed you up with those temperature sensors and that new arm on the way down—I reckon smell wouldn’t be too much of a bother after alla’ that.”

Briefly, Mashal actually considered it, before shaking his head. “No, I think we have bigger things to focus on right now. And I though I don’t remember what pig shit smells like, I’m pretty keen on keeping it that way.”

This was surprisingly difficult with one of my two protags missing three of his five senses

I'll tag @mysticstarlightduck @abalonetea @elizaellwrites and anyone else who wants in :)

[keziasorro]

Forgot to show my other old Arti comic from Twitter. Aint sad this time :)

[percycoolguy]

tucker voice Haha woah hey ladies am i interrupting something haha nah its cool you two get back to your lovers quarrel ill just stand right here and enjoy the view

[teddybeartoji]

o wait before i start posting any pics.. i was thinking that maybe.. you guys could help me liquify this gender some more by switching up what you call me.... DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE . LOVE LOVE LOVE WHEN YOU USE HE/HIM AND JUST OVERALL LIKE MORE MASC STUFF THAT'S SOOO MMMMMMMMMSO FUCKING GOOD like i don't get to feel that irl at all so it really does make me so happy but i've just been thinking abt TRYING to switch it up more yk? does this even make sense...... . hhhh anyway i might won't even like it and i'll want to just go back to hehim but i wanna try... JUST TO SWITCH IT UP.

[lepitorus]

what's the matter, will?

[rolandkaros]

forever hilarious to me that tennis is promoted as this prestigious highbrow big-brain sport when most tennis fans these days are like. yeah this is my favorite player. yeah i don't know why they're like that. yes they are stupid. no i will not choose somebody else.

[akkivee]

cute bad ass

[jeanne-de-valois]

we're all reaching out for something

[enjoythesilentworld]

Simon's Month - Senses

day 14! @youngroyals-events

Simon receives some gifts. Five gifts, to be exact.

read below or on ao3 (M, 1.8k) (cw: almost sexual content, light petting, almost choking like almost but not quite)

Simon receives some gifts. Five gifts, to be exact.

“It was good!” Simon calls over his shoulder, heading down the hallway, pulling his sticky T-shirt over his head. Work had not been good today, in fact it had been insane, and he is exhausted, but Linda doesn’t need to know that. He knows saving up for money the summer before heading off to university is important, but he could only handle so much on an already hot day, and he did not want to add fighting off concerned mother to the list.

Simon doesn’t even bother going to his room first to drop off his stuff, just immediately strips down in the bathroom to wash off the sweat from running around like a crazy person all day. A cursory wash will at least get the smell of grease out of his hair, and the warm water does help loosen his muscles a bit.

The mirror has barely even begun to fog up when he steps out of the shower a few minutes later, quickly scrubbing his hair with the towel and wrapping it around his waist. After being on his feet for so many hours, he just wants to lie in his bed and not think about grinning at rude customers or mopping up yet another spilled drink.

When he opens the door to his bedroom, though, he finds his bed already occupied. Occupied by his boyfriend, who’s sitting on the sheets with a bright grin that falters slightly as Simon enters. Wille’s eyes flit over Simon’s bare, still damp chest, then snap back up to Simon’s face, and his smile grows again.

“Hi,” Wille says, standing from the bed.

“Hi,” Simon smiles softly, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

Wille’s hands skim over Simon’s shoulders, then down his arms, to his hands, and he laces their fingers together, leaning over to press an innocent kiss to Simon’s lips. “I missed you.”

“Oh?” Simon hums, standing up straighter to steal another kiss, lingering longer this time.  He pulls his hands free and lets them roam up the front of Wille’s broad chest, then runs a thumb across his jawline. “Did you now?”

Wille nods, eyelashes fluttering as he chases after Simon’s mouth, wrapping two large hands around Simon’s waist to pull him closer. Simon smiles at the dopey expression on Wille’s face, pleased that it’s still so easy to get his boyfriend like this, then lets his own eyes close. Wille’s tongue soothes over his bottom lip and Simon sighs, fingertips pressing into the back of his neck, urging Wille to lean down further. He does, and Simon begins walking forward, guiding Wille back towards the bed.

Suddenly, he’s kissing air, and Wille’s using his grip on Simon’s hips to push him away.

“Hey,” Simon pouts.

Wille takes a deep, tortured breath, staring down at Simon with wide eyes. “Hold on.”

Simon drops his hands, confused, and waits as Wille takes another few deep breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

Wille shakes his head. “Nothing! Nothing. I just— Well,” he looks down at his feet, sheepishly. “I got you something. A few somethings. I know our anniversary is still a few weeks away but—”

“Wille!”

“—I know, I know. I just finished it early and I couldn’t wait so…” He trails off and he’s biting on his lip nervously, but his mouth has grown into a tiny smile. Wille steps to the side and sweeps his arm, drawing Simon’s attention to the five boxes of various sizes sitting on his bed.

Each one is neatly wrapped in brown paper and has a little, folded white card stuck on top. They sit down across from each other, the boxes between them. Wille picks one up, one of the bigger ones, and hands it over. Inside the card, it reads ‘1. Taste.’ in Wille’s careful handwriting.

Simon’s heart melts at the tiny little doodle of a smiley face with its tongue sticking out. He pouts again, but this time instead of a Why did you stop kissing me? pout, it’s a How and why are you so sweet? pout. He looks up Wille, who nods encouragingly, a proud smile on his face, so Simon carefully tears away the paper. Inside, there’s a clear plastic container holding stacks and stacks of lightly browned cookies with white, orange-dusted frosting.

“They’re like a lemon bar, but if it was a cookie. And if it was made with oranges instead of lemons,” Wille blurts, still grinning. “Felice helped me. Get it? Taste!”

Simon giggles. “I get it. These look delicious. I can’t wait to try one.”

“Not yet!” Wille says, picking up the next package. It’s a small and skinny rectangle, and the note says ‘2. Smell.’ “The rest first.”

Before Simon can even pull all the paper away, Wille’s launching into a rambling explanation.

“I asked Linda because— Well, you know how you’ve said before that you have this, like, really strong memory of the smell at your grandma’s house, and so I asked and, apparently, it’s this particular brand of incense. It was actually kind of hard to get my hands on because they only sell it in Venezuela, so I hope you don’t mind I might’ve used a few princely perks. But, I thought it might be nice to have in our apartment—”

Wille doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Simon is surging forward other the remaining packages to pull him into a searing kiss.

Holding the man’s face, Simon pulls back an inch and grins through the mist in his eyes. “Thank you.”

A bright, blinding smile comes across Wille’s face, cheeks flushed and lips red. “Well don’t thank me yet, you’re not done.”

Simon nods, sitting back in his original spot and taking a deep inhale of the incense box. It’s perfect, exactly how he remembers his grandmother’s house. He deposits the box carefully on the floor and turns to the next package. It’s actually not a box, but an envelope. ‘3. Sound.’

He pulls out a card, displaying a scannable Spotify code and another short note: ‘about my Simon’.

“It’s a playlist,” Wille mumbles, looking shy again. “It’s all the songs that remind me of you, or, of us. I started making it last summer when we were apart so much.”

Simon’s heart clenches again, at the gesture, and at the reminder of last summer.

“I can’t wait to listen to it,” Simon smiles, reaching out to skim a hand across Wille’s cheek.

The second to last package is bigger, the note reading ‘4. Sight.’ Inside, a small, but thick book. Simon opens to the first page and gasps, looking up at Wille, who’s blushing and staring down at his lap.

Every page has a new collection of pictures, collected over the past few years and collaged together into a little memory book. A picture of them in the backseat of Sara’s car on that day a few years ago, cheek to cheek and grinning, pasted next to a photo of them at a Valborg celebration last month, lying next to each other in the grass. A polaroid from Wille’s birthday last May, another from a snow day two Decembers ago. A blurry selfie of them flushed and bare-chested in Simon’s bed, a portrait of them posing in the graduation caps they’d received a few weeks ago. Simon, by the lake, looking over his shoulder at the setting sun. Wille, in a canoe, head tilted all the way back to grin upside down at the camera.

“Wait, don’t cry!” Wille exclaims, pulling Simon into his lap. Simon hadn’t even realized a few tears had started to run down his cheeks.

“This is just…” Simon sniffs and blinks as Wille wipes the tears away. “This is so beautiful. I can’t believe you made this. We have so many good memories together.”

“We do.” He presses a kiss to Simon’s bare shoulder. “And many more to come.”

They sit there a while, thumbing through the picture book and reminiscing. Giggling at the goofy selfies and memories that went along with each snapshot.

“Wait!” Simon drops the book. “There’s still one more.”

“Oh, you don’t—” Wille stutters, hands releasing where they’d been placed on Simon, who is incidentally still in only a towel.

“What’s left? Touch?” Simon chuckles and pokes at Wille. “Oh my God, did you do something horny for touch? Is that why you’re being all blushy?”

Wille dodges Simon’s finger. “I mean— I don’t—”

Simon laughs, “You totally did! Gimme!”

They both scramble for the box, but Simon gets it first, his towel only coming slightly undone in the struggle. Sure enough, the final card reads ‘5. Touch.’ with one tiny, crude doodle of a hand.

He tears away the paper on the small package and finds a smooth, cardboard box. The fancy kind of cardboard, like there might be a nice piece of jewelry inside. It is not jewelry that Simon finds in the box. The box is empty.

Simon’s eyes flicker up to meet Wille’s. He’s fidgeting with his fingers but watching Simon intensely. Simon drops the box onto the floor with the other gifts, keeping eye contact with Wille. He raises one eyebrow.

Ever so slowly, Wille places his hands back on Simon, pinkies just barely brushing the towel around Simon’s hips. Then, he pushes gently, shifting Simon to lie back onto the sheets. Wille settles, hovering over him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Simon. His fingertips twitch, pressing deeper into the soft skin of Simon’s hips in a random pattern. Leisurely, deliberately, Wille’s hands skim up Simon’s sides, fingers bumping over ribs, then skirting over his chest. When one hand wraps loosely around Simon’s neck, the other dipping into his hair to tangle in the curls there, Simon tilts his head back to expose more of his throat. A breath escapes his mouth. The temperature in the room has quickly gone up at least a hundred degrees. Wille’s fingertips twitch again, this time pressing gently into the rapid pulse on Simon’s neck. Simon’s hips jerk up once, but Wille’s too far away to make contact.

“So pretty,” Wille whispers. “An angel. Unreal.”

“Wille,” Simon mumbles, eyes locked with the man’s above him, mesmerized by the dark, hungry gaze. Wille tugs lightly at his curls, squeezes gently at his throat once, then lets his hands glide down over Simon’s chest again. Rough palms brushing over sensitive skin, goosebumps arise quickly, and Simon squirms at the electricity that sparks to life in his stomach and scatters out towards his fingers and toes.

“Wille,” he repeats, this time it comes out even breathier, even more desperate, as Wille drags his thumbs across the thin skin of his lower stomach, starting right under his bellybutton and slowly moving out until they bump over hipbones.

When both of Wille’s pointer fingers slip under the towel, Simon whines softly and lifts his hips. Wille grins, pulling away the fluffy cotton fabric.

[blubberwhalebelly]

Sorry about kicking over the camera in the previous one. I took it from the top!

[justabigoldnerd]

Five Senses Tag

Oooooo I love this idea

Rules: Share a snippet to represent each of the five senses! (Taste, Touch, Smell, Sight and Sound)

My entries are under the cut for length reasons lol 💕

Taste: "An American Werewolf in London"

Solo was skilled in the kitchen. He never made a dish he couldn't stomach, and if it was any less than perfect, he'd practice until it was. Now, however, everything he made tasted bland at best and nauseating at worst. The strangest thing was that Illya and Gaby didn't seem to notice a difference. They enjoyed his meals as always, rarely leaving leftovers, while Solo hadn't eaten in a week. And he was starving. Late one night, as Solo's stomach ate itself with hunger, he scoured through every ingredient in their apartment in London, throwing together any and every concoction he could come up with. Still, he couldn't get it right. His knees sent sharp pain through his legs by the time he finally sat in a chair, facing the open refrigerator. It was almost empty now, the cold light it was emitting cast in a sharp angle over his form. Solo held his head in his hands, trying to ignore the throbbing in his arm and head. What was wrong with him? Nothing worked, nothing would fix this. Nothing would satiate the intense craving for…. For….what?  Solo's line of sight followed the light, his hearing focused on the electricity buzzing from inside. On the top shelf was a cut of meat wrapped in butcher paper. It was lamb; the star of the dinner he didn't have all the ingredients for yet. His stomach growled. Maybe he could whip something up. Just sear it with some herbs he had left. Solo stood and retrieved the lambchop, unwrapping the butcher paper as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake his partners. A tingling sensation started up in his jaw, and before he realized what he was doing, he sat back heavily in the chair. The meat was frigid and soft in his hands. Applying just the slightest pressure yielded an oozing trail of myoglobin down his forearm. Solo brought it closer to his face, his heart thundering. Some primal part of his mind knew what he needed to do, but the thought of it made him nauseous– more so than anything he had cooked. Despite the disgust he felt towards the instinct, he didn't have the strength to fight it. He needed to feed. The buzzing sound grew louder as Solo screwed his eyes shut and gingerly sunk his teeth into the flesh of the lamb. Effortlessly, he tore from it, separating it from the bone and swallowing it down like a ravenous animal. Solo didn't vomit. His stomach didn't even churn. In fact, he enjoyed the taste of the raw meat on his tongue, the feeling of rending its flesh with nothing but too-sharp canines. That was what sickened him. But he was just so hungry. The lambchop was gone in less than five minutes. The kitchen looked like a murder scene, and Solo the homicidal beast. His hands shook, and revulsion twisted in his chest. Notably, his head had stopped pounding, and his arm was painless.  What the fuck?

Touch: "The Most Dangerous Game" [Expanded]

Illya's eyes fluttered open and he was met with an extraordinary sight. Water soaked Solo's hair, gradually freeing his curls from their pomade prison, it dripped from his nose, and fell in sheets over his chest and shoulders, making his skin glisten. Mouth parted, Illya brushed his fingertips along Solo's ribcage. He dragged his hand over the curve of his pectoral muscle, noting old and new scars partially hidden by the spattering of black hair there, then let it come to rest on the back of Solo's neck. Like magnets, they drew each other in, indulging in a more delicate kiss that had them both smiling into it. The horrible question that had hovered over his head for the entire journey back was answered in earnest with that kiss. Illya felt something click into place in his chest.

Smell: "The X-Men From U.N.C.L.E."

Somewhere deep in the wretched fumes of suffering, an impossible thing broke through. As Charles pulled Erik aside to talk, the sunlight of hope began to shine through the fog. “You seem uncertain,” Illya rumbled quietly. “Not uncertain,” Solo amended, “Just….piecing things together. How's Ms. Teller?” “Mm,” Illya hummed and crossed his arms defensively. Solo wished he could see what he was thinking. “Shaken. Better now that I am not near her.” “To be fair, you are six feet of wrath. But she's not afraid of you, if that's what you think.” “How do you know?” “Remember the airport?” Solo prompted, then at Illya's questioning silence, he continued, “Fear has a very….prominent pallet. It smells like death, tastes like rot. It's everywhere, right now, but before? On the plane? The only thing I sensed from her was amusement. You were the one who reeked of fear.”

Sight: "Nanites Library AU"

It doesn't take long for Solo to spot Illya in the crowd. He is smiling, which is a rare treat in and of itself. But he's also at a table of children, presumably walking them through how to put together whatever plastic contraption they have between them. The kids are laughing with him, having a blast, and though Solo cannot hear what he's saying over the drone, he can imagine the velvet of his voice in gentle tones as he entertains them. Butterflies fill Solo's stomach and a lopsided grin spreads across his face. He stuffs his hand in his pockets and leans against the doorway, just watching this grizzled giant grow soft around the edges. Solo had never wanted kids in his life, and the CIA was certainly not the place for it, but in the moment, if the Russian had asked him, he would've said yes.

Sound: "Scorching Out Thine Sovereignty"

Ultimately, that is what does it. It is brief, but he hears himself scream, hears the hissing pop of the machine short-circuiting, feels hot blood roll down his own face. Feels the hands of the nurses holding down his thrashing body. Hands aren't what binds Solo to the chair, Illya reminds himself in a desperate attempt to shake away the memory. “I never thought I'd say this,” the wrecked sound of Solo's voice, hoarse and breathy, snaps Illya out of it, “But I’m actually quite pleased to see you.”

Ahhhhh this was a HUNT lmao I'm sorry if I've already posted some of these ajdgsjskhdsj

Anyway, no pressure tagging @pippinoftheshire @the-golden-comet @huggiebird @yallwildinrn @too-young-to-fall-in-love

@times-up-alone-tonight @nicijones @cha-melodius @heytheredeann @thattripleabattery aaaaand anyone I've missed or anyone who sees this and wants to join!! 💕💕💕💕💕

[punctuation-completionist]

Have you seen the demicolon?

yeah, i mean i've heard of it but like. idk i am surprisingly neutral on the concept? i mean it's a fun idea but also it's not really viable in a writing context (formatting-wise at least) so it just. eh.

(demicolon thing for context)