So know the kindness of the universe ✨

Simone/Mizu | She/her | 32 | Find me on AO3 | Semi-active on Tumblr atm

[mizuirokandeya]

i've never had hands before

This was part of the larger project as well and is again unbetaed. Also I just realized I missed uploading another scene from this project to tumblr. But you can find it in the series over on AO3 for now. I'll try to remember to upload it here as well at some point.

1100~ words | Read on AO3

Set at the end of 9x03 after Dean tells Cas he can't stay

Castiel's stomach hurts, rolls with something akin to anger — he knows that one now but it's not quite that. It's different, deeper. Colder, too. Still, he follows Dean wordlessly through the Bunker.

You can't stay, rings in his head, pitches higher and higher and he doesn't understand, doesn't know what he did wrong — hadn’t Dean just saved his life and had looked at him like it was a miracle that he was breathing? And yet he's asking him to leave, no explanation given. Forcing him out of another space he thought safe.

He can feel his lips tremble.

He knows Dean keeps looking back at him, eyes alight with something. Though Castiel has no idea with what. Because he is human. He can't read Dean like he used to. His Grace being a support to understanding words left unsaid isn’t news, of course, but it hit him differently when he realized that it includes Dean as well. That there’s no nonverbal feedback when he looks at Dean for too long, nothing resembling a prayer directed at him. It makes Castiel feel helpless all over. He doesn't know what to do with this new side of Dean. Of course, he still knows him. But there is something missing. Not there to help piece parts of the puzzle together like before.

Dean leads him to his own room. The door stays wide open and Castiel stops on the threshold, feet barely crossing into Dean’s space. He doesn’t want to assume he’s allowed any further when he’s not allowed to stay here in the first place. So he watches. Watches as Dean picks up a few things from all over the space. Watches as Dean places them into a bag. Watches, until he seems content with whatever he’s accumulated. The zipper is loud in the silence and Dean’s steps, when he brings the bag over to Castiel, are too. He holds it out, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn.

The human part of Castiel thinks he doesn’t want it. The strategist part thinks he might not survive without it.

There’s a stark difference between his heart and his head and he wishes they would both be easy on him, so he could figure out a way to ask to stay without having to ask. But all that comes out is a cracking, “I don’t-”

He feels the desperation of not getting out his words mount within him. Of losing the warmth surrounding him so soon again, of losing a roof and food supplies, of losing the safety of friends. Of someone who will explain all these strange new things to him without treating him differently. Of family. He’s just been found by them. He’s just basked in the gentle feeling of Dean steering him around the bunker by his shoulders, showing him the showers and the supplies, and answering whatever thing Castiel would trip over. And now he’s already supposed to give it back up.

He’s used to being on his own. But he’s not used to being truly alone. Feeling like there’s no one there. There’s no connection to his siblings left. None at all. And if there was, he thinks, they’d still want to kill me, and rightfully so. And he’s so used to hearing prayers — Dean’s for the most part but still some here and there from people he never knew the faces of — that he’s never had to get used to the quiet buzz of his own head, the twisting mess his own thoughts have become ever since he started messing up.

He steps forward, into Dean’s room and his space. He reaches past the bag and it ends up on Dean’s elbow, slipping to his upper arm. They are too close, nearly bumping into each other but Castiel needs him to understand. He can be useful. There are things he can still do. Whatever he's asked to do, he can. He can earn his keep if necessary. He opens his mouth but again nothing comes out. He can barely imagine what he must look like, wide-eyed and mouth shaping nothing but air. Useless. There is the odd sensation of a lump in his throat.

Dean looks down at Castiel’s hand, then back up. His eyes are wild with something — his grace surely could tell, it’s such an integral part to reading Dean but it’s not there and he can’t do anything — and then Dean huffs a laugh but it sounds wrong, awkward almost.

Castiel realizes that he’s made Dean uncomfortable the same moment Dean steps back, says, "Slow down, cowboy."

Castiel has no experience of being hit with a brick. At least none that came with the human pain he imagines adequate for the sensation. He’s sure it would feel like this. Feel like hearing words said to him in the same way they were years back and yet with a much different emotional weight behind them. Feel like losing his balance and the floor all at once. His heart stutters with the bleak reminder of a fond if secret memory he keeps tucked away for quiet and peaceful moments that so rarely come.

Now though he fumbles, pulls back, but still can’t get out a full sentence, "I'm- That's not-"

He doesn't know what Dean is thinking. If he’s even thinking the same thing Castiel is. He doesn't know and he hates that he can't even take care of this. Solve this simple problem that is the reason he has to leave. Though maybe that’s exactly why he can’t stay here. He is nothing without his grace but a mere human. Flawed and breakable. And wasn’t he already damaged as an angel? Wasn’t he already screwing up left and right then?

So what use would he be now then? Why would Dean want him around then?

An extra mouth to feed, to cloth, to shelter. They already have Kevin to watch after and while the bunker has plenty of space, their resources are finite. And at least Kevin can offer them something in turn. Something Castiel can not.

He blinks and finds his resolve then. If Dean wants him to leave, Castiel will. He has survived worse — and if he won’t this time then that is that. He can’t say he doesn’t deserve what is coming for him. He’s done enough wrong in this world. More so in heaven. He should do his penance. And if this is what is chosen for him, he’ll take it with his head held high.

So he takes the bag from Dean, holds his gaze, and says, “Thank you.”

And with Dean watching him silently, he turns and leaves the one place he wishes he could stay.

[tokyostreetphoto]

Black Shoes, Shinjuku 新宿

[marertossss]

ฅ(ᵔ꒳ ᵔマ two kittens :з

[ohcashewart]

[kuroononeko]

Redraw chibi Kuroo from some manga panels that I personally like!

[keikoyue]

I am currently learning to draw and this is the first decent drawing I was able to make.

It's a scene from @mizuirokandeya's fanfic

tastes like apple juice and peach

Go read it!

[mizuirokandeya]

Thank you so much for this lovely piece of art ♥️ I'm so happy that my writing inspires you to create as well and so incredibly lucky that I get to see some of my writing brought to life <3

[hidefdoritos]

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:

Go for the bigger blanket.

Are you thinking of making or buying a blanket? There is no universe in which you will want a smaller blanket. Meanwhile, you have free will, and you can choose this universe to have a bigger blanket. Your potential to snuggle will unlimited by the boundaries of simple cloth.

Go for the bigger blanket.

[mayprilayunely]

handsy

[dalniente]

it is honestly amazing how much of writing and editing is just. logistics. like... do i use a name here or a pronoun? if i move this dialogue tag to the middle of this line and break it in half, does the end of the line hit harder that way? what if i move the tag to the front? what if i remove it entirely? ...wait, whose point of view am i in; can i reasonably say this character is appalled, or must i say they look or seem or sound appalled? is this a deliberate action or a step-removed one; is her hand closing on his shoulder, or is she closing her hand on his shoulder? environment environment environment, we need to break all this dialogue up with some narration, the scene is coming untethered. what! are! they doing! with! the rest of their bodies that are not hands! fuck fuck fuck FUCK i forgot we covered this two chapters ago and now i either need to cut this whole chunk or find a reason to reprise the conversation from earlier. name or pronoun? name or pronoun? name or pronoun? move this clause around in this sentence? oh i'll add this phrase-- nope, never mind, past!me added the same phrase two lines down. okay, if i add too much environmental narration it's going to take away from this bit, but not enough and it won't feel grounded. what if i move this to its own line? where the FUCK are their hands?

[kialovesreki]

Nighty night ahh kuroken

[ashenesart]

training days

[ashenesart]

kuroken school days

[ashenesart]

doomscrolling kenma

[thecaffeinebookwarrior-deactiva]

How To Write A Kiss Scene:  An Illustrated Guide

Anonymous Asked:

Can you maybe do a post on the elements of a kiss scene? 

Certainly, and I’m sorry it took so long – I have several post requests I’m working on, and thankfully, I finally have a bit of spare time to answer them. 

If you’d like my tips on how to write a healthy romance, or how to write a killer sex scene, go right ahead and click the links here.

For the time being, here goes!

1.  Keep things understated (especially in regards to tongues.)  

“Our tongues tangled and went to war in our locked mouths, battling madly for dominance.”

No.  Okay?  Just no.  The thought of my tongue “tangling” with someone else’s is an image I would really prefer to unsee, yet I have seen it and countless variants in both published literature and fics.  

Similarly, ask anyone whose ever had an unsolicited tongue jammed down their throat:  it’s not pleasant, and readers shouldn’t be lead to believe it is.  

My advice with kissing scenes is to focus predominantly on lips, and maybe add a little tongue as an afterthought.  Like so:

“His lips were warm and soft.  They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside.”

If you want something a bit more passionate:

“Our bodies pressed together heatedly against the wall, breathing heavily as our lips pressed together.  I could taste our shared breath, feel the thud of our combined heartbeat as we fumbled to take off one another’s clothes.”  

You could even try, “His tongue pressed between parted lips in ticklish kitten licks,” which, granted, sounds a little awkward without context, but isn’t nearly as wince-worthy as the image of it being jammed in like a tongue depressor.

Literally and metaphorically, tone down the tongue.

2.  Don’t get overly floral about taste.

“Her lips tasted like peaches and honey.”

No, they didn’t.  And her pussy didn’t taste like coconut cream pie, either, or anything else your quintessential sub par male author or pre-teen smut writer might dream up.  

Unless she’s literally just been eating peaches and honey, or she’s using some kind of fancy lubricant, her lips are going to taste like lips, and her pussy is going to taste like pussy.  Full stop.

Granted, that isn’t very romantic, which is why I like to focus on other sensations besides taste.  For example:

“Her lips were soft, almost silken, and pillowy against my own.  I could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath my nose, fingers carding through her hair as we breathed each other in.”

I occasionally actually will have my characters be eating or drinking something before hand, also, just to add an extra layer of sensation play to the scene.

For example:

“His lips were still sweet with milk and honey from his afternoon tea as Alexander kissed his husband goodbye.”

But my advice is keep these instances short and sweet:  nothing can kill the mood like a good dose of purple prose.

3.  Focus on how the characters are feeling.

Here’s the thing: as I understand it, kissing someone you’re not all that into at the moment is awkward.  

You don’t know what to do with your hands, your hyper aware of everything your body is doing, and you’re really concerned with how you might taste.  You’re also a lot more prone to noticing unseemly things about your partner, like bad morning breath, bad skin, weird grunting breathing, et cetera.

The same goes for writing:  too much physicality can make a kissing scene feel painfully awkward, whereas, just as in real life, a good kiss will be one in which the best part is how your partner makes you feel.

Focus on how your POV character is feeling, and add physical details here and there to make the scene feel grounded:

“Warmth blossomed in Luna’s chest, sparks igniting as Artemis leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time.  The smell of her perfume, of the soft, peachy scent of her conditioner, was dizzying, butterflies dancing in her stomach.  But warmth consumed her as she leaned into the kiss, Arty’s lips impossibly soft against her own.”

I find this approach much more effective than describing each motion in painstaking detail.

Bonus:  Learn from the masters.

I don’t claim to be the paramount expert on writing, kissing, or any combination of the two.  

So without further ado, here are what are considered to be some of literature’s finest makeout scenes for your benefit and inspiration:  

“It was like that. Almost the last thing I remember was standing with Daisy and watching the moving-picture director and his Star. They were still under the white-plum tree and their faces were touching except for a pale, thin ray of moonlight between. It occurred to me that he had been very slowly bending toward her all evening to attain this proximity, and even while I watched I saw him stoop one ultimate degree and kiss at her cheek.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby    

“I turned around and found her face, and her mouth was already waiting like a question. I’m not gonna make it out to be something that it wasn’t: It was perfect—Coley’s soft lips against the bite of the liquor and sugary Coke still on our tongues. She did more than just not stop me. She kissed me back.”

-  Emily M. Danforth, The Miseducation of Cameron Post

“She drew him toward her with her eyes, he inclined his face toward hers and lay his mouth on her mouth, which was like a freshly split-open fig. For a long time he kissed Kamala, and Siddhartha was filled with deep astonishment as she taught him how wise she was, how she ruled him, put him off, lured him back… each one different from the other, still awaiting him. Breathing deeply, he remained standing and at this moment he was like a child astonished by the abundance of knowledge and things worth learning opening up before his eyes.”

- Hermanne Hesse, Siddhartha 

“Cath closed the book and let it fall on Levi’s chest, not sure what happened next. Not sure she was awake, all things considered.The moment it fell he pulled her into him. Onto him. With both arms. Her chest pressed against his, and the paperback slid between their stomachs.

Cath’s eyes were half closed, and so were Levi’s and his lips only looked small from afar, she realized, because of their doll-like pucker. They were perfectly big, really, now that she had a good look at them. Perfectly something. He nudged his nose against hers, and their mouths fell sleepily together, already soft and open. When Cath’s eyes closed, her eyelids stuck. She wanted to open them. She wanted to get a better look at Levi’s too-dark eyebrows, she wanted to admire his crazy, vampire hairline—she had a feeling this was never going to happen again and that it might even ruin what was left of her life, so she wanted to open her eyes and bear some witness.

But she was so tired. And his mouth was so soft.And nobody had ever kissed Cath like this before. Only Abel had kissed her before, and that was like getting pushed squarely on the mouth and pushing back.

Levi’s kisses were all taking. Like he was drawing something out of her with soft little jabs of his chin. She brought her fingers up to his hair, and she couldn’t open her eyes.”

-Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl  

ROMEO

If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

ROMEO Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

ROMEO Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

JULIET You kiss by the book.

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

I hope this helps, and happy writing!  <3

[petricorah]

happy (belated) birthday, Kuroo!

[petricorah]

i don't think i posted this here, but uhhh happy birthday, kuroo? [ids in alt]

[fushiguro]

— Deleted monologue from Haikyuu!! The Dumpster Battle (2024)

[goldennika]

STFUUUUUUU

ARE Y’ALL SEEING THIS @monocotyledons @mazeinthemoon 😭😭😭😭