
( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < How t'WRITE KISSIN!!!! (Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ💦) < Well settle in now, bless yer pumperfelt soul, ewe got the barest bones of a moment here...and that's worth recognizin'!!! Two souls findin' each other in the space between pumperstrikes. ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < I love it!!! I friggin' love it!!! This is the perfect parchment t'start pennin' yer adventerror, cartographers WISH they had a map this good t'topographically tip th'hat of where t'go and what to cover next!!!! ( Ꮚ‾̀ꈊ ‾̀Ꮚ); < But honey, we ain't just plantin' expired seed here, we're growin' a whole garden of feels. ALL the feels. Y'gotta feel 'em. Get a real feel FOR 'em. What do those lips feel like? When KRYQUS kryKISSES how 'r ewe s'pposed t'translate the indigonad stokin' ego affront 'o bein' kissed first? ᴗ(ᴗᏊᄒꈊᄒᏊ) < Some BARDIC INSPIRATION fer ewe, @hemoptysisCyanide !!! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < Check inventory. Ewe got that push-and-pull tension that makes a reader lean the hell in fer th'long haul. That's retention, babey!!!! Ewe wanna hook 'em early, 'n hooker 'em later!!! Don't blow yer entire load upfront, then there's nothin' to show don't tell!!!! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < The "pulled away before he could react" tells me there's history #BeenThereMaybeDoneThat here, maybe some hesitation, maybe some mighty fine fear. #Fearplay That's good storytelling instinct. ( Ꮚ‾̀ꈊ ‾̀Ꮚ); < And the progression from quick to "longer and more passionate" shows ewe understand escalation. Yer trustin' yer reader to feel the shift, and that's the mark of a natural-born narraterrorist. Whooooooweeeee!!!! Yer gettin' me jived with the honeyglow dancin' somethin' nice 'n frenzied down m'back! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < BUT!!! YER STUMPED!!!! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < As is, ewe 'r tellin' me it was passionate. But darlin', passion ain't a five letter word #ItHasSevenLetters and it's a sensation. It's the heat risin' off skin so thick ewe can taste it, it's the tremble in a hand hesitant t'cup a cheek 'n suggest somethin' #PALE, it's the world narrowin' down to just the taste of someone else ewe hate's breath #BLACK. Let's get into the five senses and let yer reader feel that kiss rather than just read about its implication, YEAH?!?! ( Ꮚ⚅ᨎ⚅Ꮚ) < KISSES AIN'T FIT T'BE CAMEOS! THEY'RE TH'LEAD ROLE!!! EWE BETTER PUT TH'SPOTLIGHT ON HOW THE LIPS CURL! IF THERE'S TONGUE OR NOT. WHAT TH'FEELIN'S BEHIND THE KISS ARE! WHO JOINED UP!!!! IF ANYONE!!!! ELSE!!! EXTRA!!! MAYBE!!! MORE TH'MERRIER, YEAH???? B-BUT BEYOND THAT!!! EWE BEST BE TELLIN' WHAT HAPPENED! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < Lil sample writing, how I'd do it. The Sorcerer's Spell-It-Out-For-Them. Show AND Tell. Bring all ewe got!!! KRYQUS barely had time to gasp a heated breath before the warmth was gone. Like a swift as all piddled-out hearth fire snatched away by an errant draft. Cold. That was how his lips felt. They daggum weren't before. But they sure were now. Without PHUNTR, KRYQUS was just KRYQUS. And as social as a KRYQUS IS...that was just about the worst thing he could become. Alone. But then, Mother Grub have mercy, but then, the bottom of the world fell out. Alternia lost its luster, its life, all bliss was challenged 'n contested 'n murdered as false mirthless heretical idolatry. PHUNTR's second kiss came slower, deliberate as honey scooped off a spoon, and the fucker melted into it. Glazed. As PHUNTR and KRYQUS always should be. Time unspooled. He licked spittle 'n courage, felt careless fingers whisper entreaty 'n thread through his hair like they were memorizin' the shape of his horns from the bend. Somewhere distant, the drums of war sounded, the CHUD SORCERORS would be needed, but here, now, there was only the wet heat of surrender and the thunder of two heartbeats syncin' up. They beat to the tune 'o their own war drum. And they would conquer themselves. They would conquer each other. So they did. They kissed. They kissed again. They kissed, leaving one another starin' at empty air straight through one another, bellowsacs burnin', pride stung beyond repair. Both felt cheated. Both felt fulfilled. Both knew fidelity that couldn't be placed into any one quadrant. But then a hand fisted in KRYQUS'S SORCEROBES, yankin' him close like a fish on a line, and the second kiss hit like a thunderclap. Instantaneous duration. CON save failed. Teeth clicked. Skin scraped. It wasn't gentle, this one, this time, this kiss, it was hungry, only dominated by desperate angles and greedy breath, the kind of kiss that leaves yer lips bruised and yer soul marked. He grabbed back, hard, because damned if he'd be the only one drownin' here. He was gonna take him down with him. He spoke. In a language older than COMMON, KRYQUS spoke...unhurried, deep, and angry. He felt the shiver run through the other man, matched it with his own, and somewhere in that endless, eclipsing dark, as the armies beset upon them, shields cracked open and somethin' tender took root. Blimey. Something tender took root, GYGAAX chronicled... ✧( Ꮚ¬_ ¬Ꮚ) < damn... #SWATTPAD #Vacillation #PaleMoirail #TheWholeParty #FullCampaign #NotEnoughInventorySpace #SFW #YouAreOverencumbered!!! #PHUNTR #KRYQUS #FriendFiction #CnC #CavernsAndCullbeasts #KRYQUSAGAIN #ImpliedAU #PALEMULTICLASS #AdventerrorsFieldGuide #CrossPosting #ScrawlThoughts #Drabbles #DubconPale #Polyquandary #TeamChud #GygaaxXEveryone #Palewhoring #Polyandary #WritingTips #WritingAdvice #WritingWorks #SpecificallyForOnePerson #( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ)

