#writing movement

[luna-azzurra]

Character Movements #1

╰ Sighing

Not just “he sighed.” That’s lazy. Give us the why behind the air. Is it the kind of sigh that deflates their whole chest, like they’ve been holding the world on their lungs? Or one sharp exhale through the nose, all frustration and fed-up energy? Maybe it’s quiet—barely audible. Maybe they don’t even realize they’re doing it. But the room shifts a little when they do. Sighs can mean “I give up,” or “finally,” or “not this sh*t again.” Just depends on what’s dragging at their ribs.

╰ Shivering

This isn’t just about cold. A character can shiver in a warm room if they’re scared enough. Maybe their skin prickles before it starts, like tiny goosebumps racing up their arms. Maybe it hits in a full-body tremble, their breath catching like something primal in them just screamed “danger.” Or maybe it’s subtle, like a soft internal quake they’re trying not to show. It’s the kind of movement that betrays the truth they won’t say out loud.

╰ Trembling Hands

Shaking hands are so intimate. They’re not dramatic—they’re revealing. It’s the way their fingers fumble to light a cigarette. The way they have to tuck their hands under their thighs so no one sees. Maybe they keep reaching for the glass but can’t quite get a grip. Or maybe they do grip and the tremor runs through the whole glass like a warning. It’s not about the shake. It’s about the fact they wish they weren’t shaking at all.

╰ Clenching Fists

This one? Its tension incarnate. And it doesn’t always mean someone’s about to punch something. Sometimes they ball their fists just to keep from crying. Or because they’re trying so hard not to say something they’ll regret. Look for the subtleties: white knuckles, nails digging into palms, fists flexing open and closed like they’re trying to wring out emotion. It’s control. Rage. Determination. Or the act of stuffing all that inside a cage of fingers.

╰ Biting Nails

It’s more than “they’re nervous.” It’s compulsion. Habit. A survival tic. They might not even realize they’re doing it—just fingers to mouth, chewing down without looking, like their body’s trying to chew through the waiting. Maybe their nails are ragged. Maybe they flinch when they bite too deep. Maybe it’s the sound, the soft click of teeth and nail in a dead-silent room. It’s vulnerability dressed up as fidgeting.

╰ Tapping Fingers

This is the soundtrack of a restless mind. Is the rhythm sharp? Fast? Jittery? Are they tapping with one finger like a countdown—or all five, like a rainstorm on the table? They might not even notice. But other people do. Someone asks them to stop, and they bristle. Or they stop mid-tap when someone says the wrong thing, and that silence? That silence is loud. Tapping fingers are rarely idle. They’re keeping time with the character’s thoughts.

╰ Pacing

Pacing isn’t just walking back and forth—it’s the body trying to outrun a thought. They stand. They sit. They stand again. They move because stillness feels like being buried alive. Maybe their footsteps are soft, barefoot across carpet. Or hard-soled and echoing through a hallway like a threat. Maybe they walk a perfect loop, over and over. Maybe it’s erratic, jerking toward the door, away, toward again. Their mind is spinning, and their body’s just trying to keep up.

╰ Slumping Shoulders

This isn’t just a posture change—it’s the moment the weight wins. Shoulders that sag say “I lost.” Or “I’m done.” Or “Please don’t ask me to care anymore.” Maybe they slump in a chair and stare at the floor. Maybe they’re standing, but something in them folds anyway. Their spine’s still straight, but their shoulders fall like scaffolding giving way.

╰ Tilting Head

Simple movement—loaded meaning. They tilt their head when someone says something that doesn’t quite click. Or when they’re trying to listen harder, like angling their body will help them hear the truth under the words. Maybe the tilt is sharp and skeptical, like “You sure about that?” Or soft and curious, like “I’m trying to understand.” Or just a little too slow, too drawn out—like a predator sizing up prey. It’s instinctual. And it always means they’re paying attention.

╰ Rubbing Temples

This one screams I’m trying to hold it together. It might be frustration. Migraine. Bone-deep exhaustion. They press fingers to their temples like they’re physically trying to squash the problem before it leaks further into their head. Maybe their fingers circle gently, trying to soothe themselves. Maybe it’s two fingers, firm pressure, eyes closed, jaw clenched. It’s the gesture of someone whose brain won’t shut up—and whose body knows it.

[elinordash]

“As far as the police report goes, the “matter has been closed,” a spokesperson says. Gaiman’s career, meanwhile, has been marginally affected. A few pending adaptations of his novels and comics have been put on hold or cancelled. But the second season of The Sandman is set to premiere on Netflix this year, as is Anansi Boys on Amazon Prime.”

– Lila Shapiro, There Is No Safe Word: How the best-selling fantasy author Neil Gaiman hid the darkest parts of himself for decades

[and Good Omens starts filming later this month]

THAT’s why we should be boycotting him. That’s why we should be pressuring every studio and every actor to stop working with him. We can’t do anything about the judicial part, but his career should not have just been “marginally affected”; it should have crumbled to pieces.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How do I write basic movements, I'm not a native speaker so it gets hard for me to define basic bodily movements. Even if it's as simple as reaching out and taking something off the counter

Facial expressions, gestures, and eye gaze are often identified as the 3 major types of body language, but other aspects such as posture and personal distance can also be used to convey information.

A few common gestures & their possible meanings:

Pursed lips. Tightening the lips might be an indicator of distaste, disapproval, or distrust.

Lip biting. People sometimes bite their lips when they are worried, anxious, or stressed.

Covering the mouth. When people want to hide an emotional reaction, they might cover their mouths in order to avoid displaying smiles or smirks.

Turned up or down. Slight changes in the mouth can also be subtle indicators of what a person is feeling. When the mouth is slightly turned up, it might mean that the person is feeling happy or optimistic. On the other hand, a slightly down-turned mouth can be an indicator of sadness, disapproval, or even an outright grimace.

A clenched fist can indicate anger in some situations or solidarity in others.

A thumbs up and thumbs down are often used as gestures of approval and disapproval.

The "okay" gesture, made by touching together the thumb and index finger in a circle while extending the other three fingers can be used to mean "okay" or "all right." In some parts of Europe, however, the same signal is used to imply you are nothing. In some South American countries, the symbol is actually a vulgar gesture.

The V sign, created by lifting the index and middle finger and separating them to create a V-shape, means peace or victory in some countries. In the United Kingdom and Australia, the symbol takes on an offensive meaning when the back of the hand is facing outward.

Crossed arms might indicate that a person feels defensive, self-protective, or closed-off.

Standing with hands placed on the hips can be an indication that a person is ready and in control, or it can also possibly be a sign of aggressiveness.

Clasping the hands behind the back might indicate that a person is feeling bored, anxious, or even angry.

Rapidly tapping fingers or fidgeting can be a sign that a person is bored, impatient, or frustrated.

Crossed legs can indicate that a person is feeling closed-off or in need of privacy.

Open posture involves keeping the trunk of the body open and exposed. This type of posture indicates friendliness, openness, and willingness.

Closed posture involves hiding the trunk of the body often by hunching forward and keeping the arms and legs crossed. This type of posture can be an indicator of hostility, unfriendliness, and anxiety.

The term proxemics, coined by anthropologist Edward T. Hall, refers to the distance between people as they interact.

Just as body movements and facial expressions can communicate a great deal of nonverbal information, so can the physical space between individuals.

Hall described 4 levels of social distance that occur in different situations:

Intimate Distance: 6 to 18 inches. This level of physical distance often indicates a closer relationship or greater comfort between individuals. It usually occurs during intimate contact such as hugging, whispering, or touching.

Personal Distance: 1.5 to 4 feet. Physical distance at this level usually occurs between people who are family members or close friends. The closer the people can comfortably stand while interacting can be an indicator of the level of intimacy in their relationship.

Social Distance: 4 to 12 feet. This level of physical distance is often used with individuals who are acquaintances. With someone you know fairly well, such as a co-worker you see several times a week, you might feel more comfortable interacting at a closer distance. In cases where you do not know the other person well, such as a postal delivery driver you only see once a month, a distance of 10 to 12 feet may feel more comfortable.

Public Distance: 12 to 25 feet. Physical distance at this level is often used in public speaking situations. Talking in front of a class full of students or giving a presentation at work are good examples of such situations.

Source ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Some Additional Resources:

Anatomical Movements

Types of Body Movements

Human Body Movements

Hope this helps with your writing! Definitely have trouble with this at times as well.

[veryintricaterituals]

When I was in school I went to a friend's house to work on a project on a Friday afternoon. At about 6 or 6:30 when the sun was about to set her mom called us over to the livingroom. She lit two candles with my friend and then they proceeded to put the lit candles inside of a little cupboard so no one could see them. Me, a young jewish teenager asked her, my catholic friend, why they did that and she shrugged, said it was a family tradition to bring peace and prosperity, that the women of the family did it every friday evening and then hid the candles. They were very catholic, so I bit my tongue and we went back to her room to study.

This is just one of many, many, crypto jewish traditions that still exist in my hometown of Medellín, Colombia and I want to share a little bit about them with you.

Medellín is the capital city of a region called Antioquia and it is currently the second biggest city in my country. Now the weird thing about my region and my city more specifically is that it is in the middle of fucking nowhere, like we are in a valley in the middle of the andean mountains and it would take over two weeks by river, horse and river, and dunkey and mule to even get here before the invention of cars or trains.

Now Medellín was founded over 400 years ago, and families had been coming to the region for way before then, so that means that for centuries getting to my city from the sea or from the other big cities in the country was incredibly hard. This was by design, because Medellín itself was founded by about 28 families and we know for a fact that alteast half of them were crypto jews hidding from the Spanish Inquisition, and both before and the foundation more and more jewish families arrived to the region.

This is a known fact, the DNA of the people from the region has a lot of sepharadic jewish mixed in there. Early Colombian literature dating up to the 1845 would call the people of my region the Neogranadine Jews or the Colombian Jews. But because they were crypto jews the religion and most of the traditions were lost during the 400 years that have passed, now over 90% of the population is catholic and don't really know about their origins.

But some things stuck. And I want to tell you about them.

On the 7th night of December there is this pre-christmas festival called "El día de las velitas" or the little candle night that started and was unique to Antioquia. It's supposed to commemorate the candles that people had in the streets and the windows on the night Jesus was born and that helped Mary and Joseph to find their way. Do you know how this unique festival is celebrated in my city? People take to the streets to light candles, small colorful candles that they put in wooden planks or directly on the streets, it's the night that people decorate and turn on the christmas lights and it is so important and popular that we have an actual day off on the 8th of december.

Let me show you a few pictures

I don't think I need to explain this one. Even most goyim will know about Hannukah. But it is the weirdest thing when the dates coincide and we are all lighting candles together.

My dad was in the Jewish community board and we needed to rent a place to put our jewish daycare. They found this beautiful old house that had belonged to a family in colonial times but needed a little TLC. We had them remove some wooden floors because they were too old and rotting and found a huge Magen David made out stones in the center of the floor. The house also happened to have two separate kitchens and a mikveh or immersion bath in one of the rooms. These a very traditional things that colonial houses have in my region.

My grandmother converted to Judaism so I have a side from my family that is 100% from here and didn't arrive during the 20th century. I had the pleasure to meet both of my great grandparents from that side though they died when I was young. My grandma tells me that my greatgrandmother used to have one of these immersion baths in her house when she was growing up. Women were supposed to bathe in them after their periods had ended, my catholic great grandmother respected the mikveh traddition more than I ever have.

(I wish I had photos from that specific house but this happened over ten years ago, I'll show you some immersion baths from a different colonial houses that are also in my city)

Now how about we talk about traditional clothes. I'm sure most of you have heard of Ponchos, which are traditional in the Andean region, well the one from Antioquia is a little different and it's always supposed to be worn with a hat. Let's see if you can spot what I mean.

A few years ago Spain decided to grant citizenship to the descendants of the Jewish people that they had exiled in 1492. To get it you had to prove through family trees that your family had been Jewish. My city got the most ammount of passports out of everyone in the world, more than Israel. I could have applied from both my family that came from Egypt in the 20th century (we still have the keys to our house in Spain) or through my catholic side, as both of my grandmother's last names applied. I didn't but I could have.

I don't really know why I decided to finally write this post. I have so many more stories. I just think it's both incredibly sad that so much Jewish culture and people were lost but also it's a little heartwarming to see what survived even centuries down the line.

[musicalmoritz]

Came here to tell all my fellow ao3 writers to write that thing you think no one else wants to read. I’ve been writing a fic that I was so sure no one would gaf about and the whole time I was working on it I was internally like “yeah this sucks,” only to get the sweetest compliment on my writing style after posting it. I promise you there is someone out there who will match your freak with whatever it is you’re hesitating to post

[dresshistorynerd]

I'm so fucking tired of every book on William Morris or Arts & Crafts Movement in general being like: "William Morris said he's a socialist and yet he ran his design business successfully! Curious! Wasn't it kinda hypocritical to criticise society but also live in society?? Hmm! A lot to think about!"

And they are always soo smug about it. Like he didn't realize that everyone has to still participate in capitalism to survive? Like if you read the things he actually said and wrote he didn't talk about how frustrated he was about the material reality of capitalism, which he had to live in? And like that being a major reason why he in the first place was anti-capitalist????

[jesuistrestriste]

hihi i hope you’re doing well!! tis me.. mommy issues!art anon.. >:3

mommy issues!art who is just so needy. he can’t help but melt into your touch after a long day, he’s completely pliable in your hands. he just wants mommy to hold him!! it’s not his fault that being cuddled by you leads to him eagerly shoving his tongue down your throat!! he just missed you!!

then he’s breaking away to beg, “please- mommy, can i?” while he paws at the neckline of your top. his desperate, wet eyes are too much, how could you ever say no? not that you’d ever pass up a nursing handjob, anyway…

(p.s. may i claim 🍼 anon… seemed fitting lol)

mommy issues!art anon hii:3 love to see you in my inbox again; this is so yummy.. also 🍼 is yours!

cw (18+) : sub!art, mommy kink, messy nursing hj, desperation/neediness

art immediately pushes your top up and over your breasts as soon as you give him permission, his blue eyes glazing over with unfiltered arousal. his cheeks are flushed the prettiest pink you’ve ever seen, and then you notice that his bottom lip is wobbling like he’s about to cry. it wouldn’t be the first time that tears were shed down his cheeks when faced with your nurturing dominance. you feel both sets of his fingers squeeze at your chest—thumbs rubbing circles over your pebbling nipples, whimpering when you stroke your fingers through his blonde curls. he’s stuck in a trance of some kind, it seems.

“go on, i said you could.”

those simple words of encouragement are all that he needs to be snapped out of his stupor and surge forward to take one of your tits into his warm, open mouth. he slathers your bud in his sweet spit, moaning with pinched-up brows and suckling like he’s expecting something to come out. it’s hard not to stick a hand down into your panties at the feeling of him working his tongue so greedily over your flesh.. and his whimpers aren’t helping. your touch tightens in his strands and pulls a high-pitched keen from his chest. he unlatches and looks up to you, pouting, afraid you’re about to cut him off.

“are you going to be a good boy for me, art?”

he shudders, his legs tensing.

“yes, mommy. whatever you want..”

“you want help?” your fingers tease the waistband of his sweats before dipping down into them and his boxer briefs, playing with the base of his swollen length. his eyes roll back the instant you make contact with him there, and you laugh breathily in response. he’s always this easy with you. you drag your nail against the pulsing vein that you feel bulging from the underside.

“ye—yeah, help—help me, please,” he mewls, lifting his hips to press further into your palm, “be good, ‘m gonna be so good, i need it..”

your hand moves and wraps around his cock without further pleading from the blonde curled against you. he’s already filthily covered in his own juices, so it’s easy to stroke him without feeling like you’re hurting him. he gives confirmation of that in the form of a instantaneous, shattered cry and an arching back. he clutches your tit harder before burying his face back into the other one, trying to muffle his pathetic sounds as you jerk him off in time with the hollowing of his cheeks around your bud. he laps at you for another minute before his pelvis starts to stutter and roll up into your fist. it’s normal for him to try to take what he needs, even if you’re already giving it to him exactly the way he likes it. you smirk.

“you wanna do it yourself?”

he sobs around your flesh, shaking his head and letting his eyes flutter open to look up to you. “nmph—mmm-mn—“

“okay, then calm down and let me finish you off. have some faith in me,” you tease.

art’s mouth parts into a slackened ‘O’ around your sensitive skin when you twist your wrist and begin working his aching tip, the wet sounds emanating from your motions only heightening his pleasure. his toes start to curl, his legs clamp shut, his breathing picks up rapidly. he nearly squeals at the sensation of your thumb playing with his glossy slit. he hates (loves) it when you do that.

“mmm-my—mmm-my—! mmmngh!”

it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what lewd nickname he’s murmuring around the mouthful of your plush breast. you bite your lower lip, letting out a stream of breathy moans to accompany his sounds, and stroke him faster. his eyes fly open wide before squeezing shut so tight that wrinkles appear at the outer corners. reaching your free hand up, you move to lightly trace his cheek, his brow, the bridge of his nose. such a pretty little toy.

“are you close?”

he nods.

“are you gonna come?”

he suckles harder, wails louder against you.

“you can come for me, baby. give me a big load.. show me how much you’ve been wanting this..”

three more flicks of your closed hand around his throbbing appendage and he’s gone—his lips detaching from you with a sharp, trembling gasp, a string of spit connecting to your body; his head falls into your lap as he bucks into your touch and feels several viscous streams of fluid spray from him and into his clothing, as well as between your moving fingers. it sticks between your digits like glue. he wails like he’s being taken apart by you, praying that you’ll put him back together afterwards, and you closely watch his abdomen flex with each orgasmic contraction—every single one followed by a puny whine of ecstasy.

you don’t stop pumping him until he begins to wheeze and jolt. it’d be unfair to expect him to vocalize his overstimulation, given how wrecked he is. your ministrations slow and then rest in a pause at the base. he catches his breath as best he can and winces when you accidentally force an aftershock from his spent dick. tugging your touch from his soiled bottoms, you look down to your hand that has become creamy with his frothed-up release.

“such a mess, artie,” you croon, showing it to him as he pants and gazes up to you with an unfocused stare, “did that feel good?”

a single nod is all that he can manage. his lips part a few moments later, trying to muster up the energy to tell you exactly what he wants to say.

thank you. i love you. i needed that. i needed you. please hold me.

but none of it comes.

he leans in and kisses your breast, giving one more languid lick over your nipple in hopes that it’ll get his point of gratitude across. once he’s got his bearings back, he’ll give you everything he has.

now, though, he just needs a moment in your arms.

“mommy,” he whispers. he swallows thickly after and tries to blink away the wetness stinging his vision. it'd be embarrassing if he was with anyone but you.

you caress his jaw, give him a soft smile.

that’s all you really need to hear.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist @tacobacoyeet

[ryllen]

and some extra unused stuff while they are in affectionate mood

[luna-azzurra]

Character Movements — When They’re in Love (and Probably Don’t Want to Admit It)

Love doesn’t just blush and flutter. It aches. It stumbles. It leaks through the cracks, even when a character is trying to play it cool. Here’s what love looks like when it’s happening in the body before the character’s brave enough to say it.

╰ They lean in—and don’t realize it.

It’s instinct. Subconscious. Like their body is quietly screaming, closer. A slow drift during conversation. A head tilted slightly too far. A step forward they don’t take back.

╰ They can’t quite make eye contact—but they can’t stop looking.

They glance. Look away. Glance again. Maybe their gaze drops to the mouth. Maybe it hovers on the hands. Eye contact is too dangerous, it sees too much, but looking away entirely? Impossible.

╰ They fidget in specific, revealing ways.

Tugging sleeves. Adjusting jewelry. Touching their mouth when the other person talks. These aren’t nervous tics, they’re little release valves for all the don’t-say-it-don’t-feel-it energy.

╰ They mirror the other person.

Their gestures sync. Their laughs overlap. They cross their arms a beat after the other person does, and don’t even notice. Their body’s doing the bonding for them.

╰ They hover instead of touching.

The space between two people in love-but-not-there-yet is holy. Brushing hands. Shared drinks. Standing so close their shoulders almost touch, but never quite. Like if they make contact, it’s game over.

[wifeiy]

dry humping with akaashi has been plaguing my mind i mean what who said that

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, pet names, playful makeout sesh, dry-humping, reader straddles him, a Little nipple play, no beta we ride and die alone and unchecked

haha. i said it #ghostwriter nia wifeiy his gf

You raise a brow as Keiji's hand on your waist slowly slides to your lower hip. "Can I help you?"

He lifts his gaze from your phone to your face, fingers gently squeezing you. It's feigned innocence—the way he tilts his head and barely raises his brows with a soft smile—barely concealed, tempting. "What do you mean?"

"Keiji."

"Hm?"

"Babe, you're so—" You can't help laughing even as his attention teases a warmth in your chest and up your neck, making you reposition to deal with the one in your core. "You're so obvious."

Meeting your eyes, he asks, "Is that bad?"

The question comes so easily it's almost more annoying than hot.

Almost.

"I mean, if you aren't gonna do anything about it, yes," you test, pulling back as much as you can with his arm around you.

It's a short-lived escape attempt; his hand is quick to bring you back while the other pulls your thigh over his legs so you straddle him. Your phone slips out of your hand onto the rug below the bed. "Oh my god, Keiji!"

Keiji's mouth wobbles as he tries to stifle a laugh. "Sorry. Is this okay, then?"

Whatever retort you think of falls apart as soon as his grip slides from your hips to your ass where his thumbs run slow circles over your sweatpants. You huff to conceal the deep breath you need. It's a game, you think, one with no repercussions (at least, that are unwanted)—seeing who'll crumble first.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ask, "What? Is this it?"

Before he can reply, you press closer. Keiji's breath hitches as you press into him, and you feel him twitch the same time you see the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"You don't want anything else, baby?" you ask, tone languid as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Fuck," your boyfriend softly laughs, biting his bottom lip. He looks up at you and this time it's your turn to tilt your head, raise your brows, smile. Feigned innocence—a failure compared to the satisfaction on your face.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks, anything but nonchalance in his voice.

You barely nod before his lips find yours, so quick that your noses bump and you almost reflexively pull away.

Keiji's lips are soft as he presses hard into you, grip keeping you in place above him. A citrus floral scent swirls, and you breathe it, him, in.

He hums into the kiss, steady unlike his hands that knead heat up and down your back like he could mold you even closer. One rises to cup your face while the other plays with the band of your pants, fingers traveling to rest just underneath. You let out a quiet moan at the sensation and Keiji brightens, his teeth meeting your lips as he snickers.

Still close enough you can count his lashes, you pull away to complain, "Don't laugh at me."

His eyes open, blown out and heavy-lidded. "Sorry," he says, half-apologetic if you're lucky. Then he looks at your lips again before pressing a chaste kiss. Two.

The third is deeper, and when his tongue prods your lips apart you forget why you pulled away in the first place.

Your mind starts turning to static as Keiji's tongue moves against yours, hot and addictive. It's subconscious, the way you're grinding into him. It's fully aware that Keiji rocks back. The movement steadies—back and forth, up into you—until you finally notice the hard outline of his cock through his pajama pants and start rutting against it. Keiji moans, and your core heats at the sound as he sneaks his fingers lower in your sweatpants to hold your ass.

He's needy, almost embarrassingly so. He remembers when he used to be shy about wanting you, keeping it to the privacy of his bedroom and hand. But now, as you run over his bottom teeth with your tongue and drag your fingers down his chest to circle his nipple, he can barely think to take your shirt off fast enough to placate himself.

Instead of returning to your lips, he targets their corner. His laugh at your whine escapes breathy, hot against your skin as he moves to your jaw. You tilt your head to give him access and he takes it greedily. Wet kisses travel down to your neck and you grin, giddy and needy for Keiji's disheveled state and how he's bucking into you.

"Do you wanna take your pants off?" you ask, keeping your hips square and inviting the pressure of his hard-on against you.

"No," he murmurs, kisses moving lower.

"You sure?"

"Mm."

"You almost came in them last time," you tease.

"It's fine. Doesn't matter." he reassures before latching onto your chest and running his tongue around your nipple. His hand slides up your torso to play with the other, thumb gentle and teasing.

You sigh in contentment and let yourself relax in his grip. Keiji looks up, sucking the pebbled nub. He presses one last kiss before parting, and his voice is raspy as he asks, "Wanna take off yours?"

Something coils in your stomach at the sight of his face flushed against you. Collecting whatever composure you have left, you tease, "Oh, you wanna take my pants off?"

His smile is lopsided, loving and heady. "Always."

The coil in your stomach tightens. "Gross."

You move to pull them off anyway.

"Think I can make you cum with your underwear on?" he asks while maneuvering to help.

"Oh my god." You almost fall, sweatpants getting stuck on the back of your knees.

Keiji laughs as he keeps you upright, pulling the fabric down and off before laying the both of you back onto the bed, him between your legs. He plants his hands next to your head. "Didn't answer my question."

"Because you're gross," you retort, no disgust in how you laugh and push his bangs out of his face.

"Am not."

"Are." You hold and squish his cheeks, earning a scrunched nose and furrowed brows. "Horny and gross—oh, fuck—"

Keiji drops to his forearms the same time his hips grind into you, the movement familiar and practiced whether with layers of fabric between you or none.

You shift to meet his weight more than you already are chest-to-chest, but he keeps still. You groan, "Keiji."

He puffs a breath of laughter before leaning close. "Gross," he teases and bites your earlobe before capturing your lips once more.

His eyes close almost immediately, but for a second or two you let yourself watch him. Keiji's pretty on his worst days, and this any other. You softly moan and let your eyes fall shut while his tongue dances with yours, the sensation intoxicating. Your hands travel his back, wrinkling his shirt with every clench. Distantly, you're aware that you're nearly naked while your boyfriend's still fully clothed, but you can't bring yourself to care for it more than sliding your touch beneath the fabric.

As soon as your fingers meet his spine, Keiji ruts against you harder, groaning into your mouth, impatient. You mirror his movement, rocking to meet his thrusts and moaning at the friction between layers of cotton. Brain foggy, his cock throbs beneath his sweatpants, tip leaking precum against his abdomen. It isn't enough, but at the same time something about the fabric boundary only makes him harder. (But nothing stops him from thinking about how you feel with it gone, how wet you are beneath, and how fucking good it'd be to tease your opening and fuck you later.)

Again and again Keiji grinds into you as your kisses grow more desperate. He presses himself close, trapping you beneath his body, and you return the favour by tugging his hair and letting your nails rake his back. He grunts at the sting and pulls your hips up to meet his. As he thrusts, the head of his cock catches on the opening of your underwear, pulling an embarrassing whine spills from your throat that's swallowed greedily by Keiji's mouth. You mumble against his lips, "Gonna cum."

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement before speeding his pace against you. Detaching from your lips, he pants next to your ear, brows furrowed as he focuses on you and your pleasure. While he doesn't doubt he's about to cum himself, sweatpants be damned, he keeps his pace steady against the places you like and need him most.

"Baby," you whine and hold him closer, the wetness in your underwear becoming more and more apparent. Your voice only spurs him on as he deepens his movement and starts whispering praise into your ear. All your senses are overwhelmed by him; there's nothing but Keiji and the tightening in your core. Whatever he's saying blurs together and you can only focus on a few words at a time—so good to me, so good, please, fuck, cum for me.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto anything, everything from his shoulders to groping his ass, unable to escape the pleasure from beneath him (not that you want to anyway). You can't help bucking your hips up, earning a whine from Keiji who sneaks his arms beneath your shoulders to steady himself.

Your release builds quicker than you expect and your breath hitches in your throat. You stop breathing as it washes over you in waves, coil in your stomach finally coming undone. "Ah, fuck, fuck—"

Keiji's pace falls apart as he follows you. He tucks his face into your neck to muffle his moans, but you can feel his member throbbing and the warmth of his release against you as you press into him and hold the back of his head. Both of you twitch and cling to each other, sweat rolling down your temples and back.

The room is quiet besides your heavy breathing, and the bed sheets shifting as Keiji tangles his legs with yours. Your eyes are closed as he lifts his head enough to kiss the corner of your lips. "Gross," he parrots again, a satisfied smile pressed to your cheek as he pants.

Still holding his head, you smack his back and half-groan half-laugh, "I hate you."

Keiji falls back to the crook of your neck and nuzzles, black wisps of hair tickling you. "Because I'm gross?"

You comb his hair behind his ear. "Because you're annoying."

He giggles, and with his softening member pressed against your abdomen, you wish it wasn't as endearing of a noise. Before you can comment, Keiji lands one more chaste kiss to your skin. His voice is quiet, warm, as he replies, "Love you."

soz if this is weirdly paced or awkward or i forgot to move ur hands etc etc. have not written a makeout sesh before. hashtag try new things take risks be brave eeuyhhhhghghhgh

[thatsitso]

Orb sketches 🌍

[polinsated]

[arsenicflame]

for the first time ever, i have actual cool pictures of a costume i made! these were taken during the cosplay competition at The New Uni-Con by the wonderful Jace (who captured the entire event!) & even though i was probably on stage all of 10 seconds they managed to capture my costume in the best possible light!!!!

I dont feel like this costume is done by a long shot, but looking at these pictures i cant help but feel incredibly proud of what i achieved, especially considering how much of this was completely new ground for me!

...I really do need to style a wig properly, though ''':)

[unboundprompts]

How do I make something happen in my story? I’m writing a murder mystery where they are all stuck in a theater. all the characters have been just sitting around talking for two chapters now and it’s getting boring. How do I add action or movement without derailing the story?

How to Add Movement to a Murder Mystery without Derailing the Story

Here are some ideas for you to consider!

1. Introduce a New Clue or Discovery

Unexpected Evidence: Have a character stumble upon a crucial piece of evidence. This could be a hidden note, a strange item, or an overlooked detail that propels the investigation forward.

Surprising Revelation: Perhaps someone finds a hidden compartment in the theater with items related to the murder. This could spark new theories and discussions among the characters.

2. Create a Disruption

Theatrical Effect: Use the theater setting to your advantage. For example, the lights could suddenly go out, or there could be an unexpected sound or event (like a prop falling) that causes chaos and forces the characters to act quickly.

Power Outage: A sudden blackout could create confusion and force the characters to rely on each other, which could reveal new dynamics and secrets.

3. Introduce Conflict

Accusations and Tension: Allow tensions to rise by having characters confront each other with accusations or suspicions. This could lead to heated arguments or confrontations that reveal more about each character's motives.

Personal Conflicts: Bring underlying personal conflicts or grudges to the surface. This could create drama and reveal new aspects of the characters that influence their behavior and decisions.

4. Add a Time Crunch

Imminent Threat: Introduce a sense of urgency by suggesting that the murderer might strike again or that there’s a time limit for solving the crime before a more severe consequence occurs (e.g., a ticking clock or a scheduled event).

Urgent Action: Characters could discover that they need to find a specific clue or solve a puzzle before the theater is locked down or before someone else arrives.

5. Dynamic Character Actions

Shifting Alliances: Characters might decide to split up to search the theater more effectively. This could lead to new discoveries and interactions.

Personal Goals: Characters could pursue personal objectives or hidden agendas that complicate the investigation and create movement in the story.

6. Revelatory Dialogue

New Information: Characters could reveal previously hidden motives or secrets in their conversations, adding new layers to the mystery and prompting action.

Unexpected Accusation: A character might make a surprising accusation that causes everyone to reevaluate their theories and actions.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

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[victusinveritas]

I welcome Comrade David Brooks into La Resistance, but also some of the current situation is his fault somehow.

[luna-azzurra]

Character Movements (Eyes) Part 3

Gazing: The character's eyes move slowly across a scene or object, taking in the details. This movement can indicate curiosity, interest, or observation.

Darting: The character's eyes quickly shift from one point to another, often indicating nervousness, suspicion, or alertness.

Winking: One eye briefly closes while the other remains open, often used to convey playfulness, flirtation, or a shared secret.

Rolling eyes: The character's eyes move upward or to the side, indicating annoyance, disbelief, or sarcasm.

Narrowing eyes: The character's eyes become slits or squinted, suggesting suspicion, scrutiny, or concentration.

Widening eyes: The character's eyes open wider than usual, indicating surprise, shock, or fear.

Glancing: The character's eyes quickly move in a specific direction, often used to check for danger or to communicate a message without words.

Staring: The character's eyes fixate on a specific point or person for an extended period, often indicating intensity, fascination, or intimidation.

Flickering eyes: The character's eyes flicker rapidly between different objects or individuals, suggesting indecisiveness, confusion, or distraction.

Blinking: The character's eyes momentarily close and open, mimicking a natural blinking pattern. This movement helps to convey realism and prevent the eyes from appearing static.