#so please feel free to comment/reblog with more advice for anon
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I want to spin but shipping anything here is really expensive. Would it be possible to just spin the big rolls of cotton like the kind they use in hospitals
It's definitely possible to spin cotton! I haven't tried it before, but I had a look around and found a video that demonstrates making cotton slivers/punis for spinning from surgical cotton:
youtube
Cotton is a very short fiber, and that can make it more difficult to spin than wool, especially if you're just starting out: It needs a lot of twist to hold together, and it breaks very easily if you put too much weight/pull too hard on it before it's properly twisted. You may want to look into using a supported spindle rather than a drop spindle (both should be easy to make yourself and to find tutorials for). The channel above also has a tutorial for spinning a single with just a pencil.
The only cotton I have in the house right now (that isn't yarn or fabric) is cotton pads, so as a quick experiment I just tore one up, floofed it up a bit, and spun directly from the floof with a supported spindle. Definitely not the ideal fiber preparation, but it can make a thread:
(Here I was using the lid of my mini scale to set the spindle in - normally you would use a little bowl.)
Alternatively, if you rather want to look for wool to spin: Depending on where you live, sometimes you can find wool for felting at craft stores - any wool like that also works fine for spinning. I've also seen people spin from very thick unspun yarns (wool/acrylic) that were sold for arm knitting, but I've never seen those yarns in a store where I live. And if you happen to have sheep nearby, you can sometimes buy unprocessed wool directly from the shepherd for relatively little money (but then you would need to wash and prepare it yourself, of course).
Good luck, and happy spinning!
#hand spinning#spinning cotton#brarb talks#fiber crafts#i don't normally spin supported or cotton#so please feel free to comment/reblog with more advice for anon#long post
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so you’re new to tumblr/qsmpblr? hello!! heres a short guide
- unlike twitter we don’t have any main updates accounts instead to keep up with whats going on in the smp a lot of us simply read through the qsmp tag as thats where the majority of liveblogging will be at. a lot of bloggers tend to do summary/update posts for cc’s:) however the quackityupdates blog is here as well and tends to posts updates on tweets !
- do not crosstag anything unnecessary. do not tag minecraft under any qsmp post. that tag is used by mineblr and people specifically talking about the game. instead the main tag you should always use for posting about qsmp is simply “qsmp”. if you post fanart then you can use the tag “qsmp fanart” :D some general advice is try not to clog up your posts with incorrect tags or too many tags. for instance if you’re liveblogging a philza stream do not do #qsmp #philza qsmp #philza minecraft #qsmp liveblogging ❌ instead you can do #qsmp #philza #liveblogging ✅ (using philza as an example because if you tag #philza minecraft it will get into the mineblr tag so please avoid using that tag)
- how to make mutuals.. the age old question. on tumblr we don’t do the whole List of Interests follow me thing. a lot of us simply post our silliest thoughts into the main tag and you’ll eventually gain followers and maybe make mutuals! its all based on vibes and if somebody thinks you’re cool enough to follow back!
- since tumblr doesn’t have the same algorithm like twitter and is instead very self curated following people is important as is reblogging! reblogging helps boost posts and get more people to see stuff!!! so remember reblogging is vital to our ecosystem. a lot of us leave funny comments and thoughts in the tags of reblogs not the replies!! so keep that in mind:D
- block liberally. if you see a post you don’t like simply block and move on. sending anon hate/death threats is immature. the best way to handle that is to avoid engaging with it! like previously mentioned tumblr is a self curated experience. you have control over what you see and don’t see. you can also filter content and tags you may want to avoid coming across in settings!
- anonymity is a privilege. nobody here owes anybody anything. if you so choose use fake names, hide your age, etc. bloggers here thrive on privacy. nobody is entitled to know anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing! everybody is different not every blogger wants to share a lot on their intro posts and thats okay. remember to be respectful and treat everybody with kindness!
- tag neg and critical posts. for instance instead of tagging #qsmp #neg ❌ do #qsmp neg ✅ as the majority of people who filter those tags do it as #(word) neg or #(word) crit !
if any other qsmp blogger wants to add on to this feel free AND if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask <3
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WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA
this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.
summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret?
wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)
cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.
dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛
Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.
It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.
An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.
The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.
You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up.
It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?
Nothing from Tadashi.
You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.
Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.
But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.
Again.
Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”
“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“
“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?”
Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”
“Baji.”
The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”
You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”
Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—
“I’m outside.”
Fuck.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”
“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”
Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”
Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”
You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”
Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…
You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.
“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”
Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—
By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.
When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.
You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.
Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms.
You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you.
Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”
“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”
“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.
But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.
He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”
Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely.
“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.
“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”
Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.
You almost do.
Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”
The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.
Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.
That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.
It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.
“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.
“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”
He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?
Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—
“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.
“Asshole.”
Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.
“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.
He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.
Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours.
You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm.
But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.
Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.
You can’t remember when things got so complicated.
When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.
Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.
Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.
So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.
And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.
Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.
Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.
Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”
“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”
He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”
The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—
“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.
He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”
You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’
He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.
If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…
Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.
The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.
“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.
It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.
One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.
So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.
“Did it hurt?”
Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”
It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”
Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”
You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.
But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.
You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.
Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.
You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.
At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.
The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you.
“What’s… wrong with me?”
Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.
But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.”
Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—
But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.
You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck you, Keisuke.”
“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”
“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—”
This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.
“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”
“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“
“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“
“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”
“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”
“They don’t deserve you—”
“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”
“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”
The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“
“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”
“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“
“Because they let me stand in the way!”
The world stills.
You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”
He doesn’t respond. He can’t.
He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…
He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.
He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.
Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.
Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”
You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.
It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.
You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you.
When your gazes meet, you wait.
“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”
“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”
“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.
You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”
When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.
“I stopped them.”
For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.
“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”
He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?
Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.
“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”
Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”
You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”
Then you lean forward and kiss him.
In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—
Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—
Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.
“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”
A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.
“Say it again.”
It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“
“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”
“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.
“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”
“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”
He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.
You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real.
For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”
“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.
You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.
“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.
“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”
There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago.
“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”
He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.
Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.
You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“
“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”
Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”
Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.
“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”
He doesn’t need more encouragement.
Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.
“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.”
Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.
“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.
“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.
You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—
But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.
Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.
You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.
Loudly.
Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.
“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”
“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”
“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes.
You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“
You gasp when his teeth break skin.
Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.
You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.
“M’sorry…”
A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”
Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”
He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.
“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”
“Ididntmakeit.”
You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).
This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.
Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.
Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.
Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”
“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.
Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”
“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.
“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.
“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”
“I’ve never had sex before.”
You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that?
The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.
So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?
You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face.
“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth.
But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”
He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”
You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”
Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth.
He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”
The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.
So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”
This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”
Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face.
“I’d like that.”
He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.
“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”
“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”
You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.
“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.
“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”
“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.
He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.
“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.
“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.
“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“
“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”
“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”
He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”
You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”
Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway.
“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.”
You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.
The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold.
You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.
“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”
“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”
“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”
He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.
“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”
“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”
“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”
Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.
Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.
None so… blatant. So unmistakable.
Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.
“You’re… in love with me?”
Keisuke blinks.
For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”
You kiss him.
The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.
There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”
Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.
He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.
He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?
“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.
He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist.
“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”
You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—
The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.
Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”
Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.
Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name.
“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“
“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”
His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.
It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.
“Kei?”
He doesn’t look up.
His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”
You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.
You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“
“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”
Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.
Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt.
Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.
“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?”
You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you.
He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”
“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.
There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.
He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.
When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.
Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”
It sends you over the edge.
With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“
“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”
You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.
The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.
Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.
“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”
A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.
Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.”
“I love you too, Kei.”
He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.
He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.
“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”
He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.
When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”
Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along.
The answer comes easily.
“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”
“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”
Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”
“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.
Your face scrunches when he adds a second.
“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.
You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”
He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.
They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.
“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.
Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”
“Then how—“
“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.
You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.”
It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.
“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”
“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.
“Too much?”
Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”
Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”
If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.
When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”
With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”
You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.
“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.
“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.
He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.
You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.
His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.
“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.
The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.
Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.
Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it.
A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.
“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“
“You’re big.”
Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”
You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”
Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”
Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.
You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”
It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.
He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.
“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”
You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”
With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”
He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.
“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.
You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?”
His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.
“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.
“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.
“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.
He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can.
He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot.
Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped.
The world is only real for the two of you.
He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.
He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.
“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.
It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—
“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”
You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.
“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.
Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all.
You never realized how empty you were.
Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.
“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”
Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.
Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“
“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”
You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“
“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“
You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.
You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.
You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.
He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.
The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.
Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.
Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you.
Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.
His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.
“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.
You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”
Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.
You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”
You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”
He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”
“For me?”
He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”
With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”
He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”
“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”
Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.
“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.
So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!
hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!
#baji#keisuke baji x reader#baji x reader#baji smut#keisuke baji smut#baji x reader smut#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers x reader#keisuke baji x reader smut#tokyo rev smut
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Do you have any advice for those who feel like they’re unintentionally falling away from the craft? Like for example I just completely forgot the last full moon that happened and felt so disappointed in myself for not doing anything that night. I usually charge crystals and make moon water at the very least, but I just didn’t think of it. I don’t think I’ve even cast a spell in a month and a half. The last witchy thing I did was set my Yule altar (before putting it all in a glass box because cats lol, but I think that’s part of it because my altar makes me feel so connected to my practice, and with it closed off, it feels weird…) I just don’t know how to get myself back into my practice again and I’m feeling very discouraged. I feel like a bad witch.
Ok hear me out: you don't have to do witchcraft all the time. Your life does not need to revolve around witchcraft for you to be a witch. You're still a witch even if you don't do witchy things all the time.
But I feel you, it's hard when you feel like you're falling away from something you truly enjoy.
For you personally, if your altar makes you feel more connected to your magic then try to interact with your altar more. It may take more effort but setting it up outside of the box and then putting it away when you're done is one way you can interact with your altar without worrying about your cats knocking it over.
Here's what I do if I'm stuck in a witchcraft block.
Have you considered switching it up? Learn something new OR relearn something even if you're proficient at it!
Try writing a spell without worrying about casting it. Just write it down, think about it, and plan it out, but don't pressure yourself to cast it! Without a deadline, you can feel free to take the time you need to make the spell at its top performance.
Talk to your deities/spirits if applicable. Just say hi if you can't think of anything else to say. Hell, ask them if they have any suggestions on reconnecting with your craft!
Make a potion out of tea, coffee, or alcohol if you're of age. Potions are just liquids made with various herbs, spices, liquors, etc that correspond to your intent. It's a spell bottle you can drink, essentially.
Read a witchy book! Specifically, read one that reflects the author's way of practicing magic so you can get a feel for other people's crafts. It's not always beneficial from an academic standpoint to read these kinds of books but we aren't going for academic here! We're going for witchcraft!!! And learning more about others' craft!!!
Those are just a few ideas that I have and the things that I tend to do when I feel disconnected from my craft.
If anyone has any tips or suggestions for anon please pop them into a reblog or comment! <3
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i recently discovered objectum, i used to date a plush of mine in middle school, felt like a freak, and ended up stopping over it feeling too real and like that made me a bad person. so... i think i might be objectum?
i also tend to be attracted to loofas, blankets, dolls, broken things, and probly other stuff ive repressed?
but this feels very... freeing, does anyone have advice or resources i could use to learn more?
hi anon!!!! first of all, yay im so glad you found the objectum community and i hope you'll learn how to fully accept and embrace your obj attraction <3 if anyone has anything that can help anon, please leave it in the comments or reblog! i might compile some links i find useful and add it to my pinned so people looking for guidance can find it more easily
#confession#advice request#objectum#i also started dating one of my stuffies before i knew what objectum was (it was almost 5 yrs ago now......)
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bff help 😭😭😭😭 i look up to you so much (and a lot of other royai/riza fan artists, but you seem the most friendly) and i wanna start posting my own riza art, but im scared ill be booed off the app 😭 any advice for first time fma artists? 🥺 i mostly plan on just making riza fanarts, a little riza x oc, stuff like that. thank you 💕
WAAAHH anon you're so sweet!! First and foremost GRABS YOU you should absolutely post your Riza art! Everyone should post Riza art forever because I'm starving and slurp it up. But you should ALSO post it because it's fun to create and share with people! No one is going to boo you off of the platform, and frankly if anyone tries to they probably need to take a long walk in nature and say hi to some people they pass on the street.
As far as advice, the biggest thing is to try to avoid the "# notes = success/good quality" thinking. It's totally natural to want feedback, and Internet Validation Numbers is encouraging! But if you post something and it doesn't immediately get attention, don't beat yourself up about the quality of your work. Some of my favorite pieces (drawings and writing) are "flops", but I try not to let that discourage me or sour how I feel about them. Sometimes it's just bad luck with timing; or good luck, oppositely
Okay now for more technical advice:
Schedule your posts on tumblr. I usually schedule my art to post at 7:30pm EST kind of arbitrarily, it feels like a good compromise of time zones. Please do know that you might flashbang yourself with your art every time (I do lmfao)
Reblog your work again the next day; mix up your timing and don't be afraid to do a few self-reblogs.
Tag your posts thoughtfully but not excessively, afaik only the first 5 tags are will be where it shows up (EDIT: apparently I'm thinking of 2014 tumblr and it's now the first 30 tags! But I would also posit you absolutely will never fucking need 30 tags. Over tagging will not help, so only tag what's relevant). Series name and acronyms, character name(s), and ship name are good. Also include a tag that you put on all your art so you and others can find it easily!
Comedy usually has more reach. People love silly memes and shitposts and frankly who can blame them! That's not to say serious posts don't also get attention, but just something I noticed
HAVE FUN!!!! this sounds so patronizing, but honestly it's best to do things that appeal to you and have fun with likeminded people. Your passion and enjoyment with telegraph through your work and it will make people smile!!!
I also just want to say that a lot of other Rizalikers are super friendly!!! It can be intimidating to talk to people, but we're all just freaks on the internet rotating a fictional character in our heads. The best way to get to know people is just to reach out and comment on their art/writing/silly posts. It doesn't need to be anything crazy! You can also join fandom discord servers to talk to them on a more casual (and frankly easier) platform, with less pressure because it's less 1-on-1. If you want to DM them (discord or tumblr) def go for it, but I would recommend against just saying "hi!" and then not following it up with anything else, because then I just go "hi!" and then I don't know how to push the conversation forward lol
I would love to see your creations and hear your Rizathoughts, Anon! I believe in you! I hope you decide to come play with us in this rizaspace. Feel free to message me off anon or send me a DM if you want to chat :]
#answered asks#everyone is formally invited to talk with me about riza!!!#not even just 'invited'. perhaps im just grabbing you and sitting you down and staring at you with my Big Green Eyes. you WILL rizapost#the power of yapping about a shared interest in Character is so strong. Pack bonding.
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200 CELEBRATION!!! 💐✨💌💫
Hi everyone it's Kay!!
I just reached over 200 followers on my blog and WOW WOW WOW!!!!! Thank you guys so much for showing me appreciation, kindness, and love...I'm wishing each and every single one of you all a wonderful new year full of happiness and growth 🤓🌱❤️
To celebrate this surreal accomplishment I've decided to open up my asks (though they are ALWAYS open) so that we can get a little more interactive and you all can get to know me better <3 I'm not too familiar with these kinds of things so please excuse me if some of these don't make any sense. Below I've listed different requests/prompts that you all can slide into my asks with and I will be doing my best to reply to all of them and feel free to send in as many as you'd like and ask any other questions that aren't on this list as well!! You can also send them in as anon or not, which ever you are comfortable with 😊
Request #1: Stranger Things x Taylor Swift
｡･ﾟﾟ･ send me any stranger things character and I will tell you what taylor swift song(s) I associate them with 🎶👤
Request #2: Rant
｡･ﾟﾟ･ need to get something off your chest and desk? take this opportunity to rant about anything and you can either ask for advice or simply words of encouragement. sometimes we just want to be heard and do not need unsolicited advice so please let me know if you want either or both!! 🔊🤗
Request #3: Chit Chat
｡･ﾟﾟ･ ask me some random questions, I literally do not care how many you ask me hahaha I will try to answer all the ones I feel the most comfortable asking! Ex: coffee order, favorite dilf, current playlist, ect. 📩☕️
Request #4: What's To Come
｡･ﾟﾟ･ send this in if you want a random sentence from one of my wips with no context 💻🤓
Request #5: Blurb x Stranger Things
｡･ﾟﾟ･ send me brief prompt or saying (angst, fluff, or smut) and I'll write a short blurb for a Stranger Things character you pick out of Eddie, Steve, Robin, or Nancy📝📺
I'm so excited to interact with you all and I can't wait!!! Last, I want to thank each and every single one of you guys who has liked, reblogged, and left comments/tags on my stories. It truly means the world to me and you guys put a smile on my face everyday...so thank you so so so much 😭💘🌎
Mutuals are tagged below, but please don't feel pressured to participate, however your reblog to spread the word would mean a lot if you are able to!! thank you all 🌟💘 : @tvserie-s-world @esme-viridian @translatemunson @ur-local-geek-fest @maddipoof @mediocre-daydreams @hopelessromantic87 @mapleransom-blog @zariaskz @deliriousleyserious @rvdsxmz @hstoria @tasmbestspdrman @moonxxlight @sillypurplemurple @munsonswhore86 @john-joong @str4ngerthingshavehappenedhere @chervbs @sodapop182 @wordsbymae @eddieandbird
#MunsonsReputation#MunsonsReputation200Celebration#200Celebration#eddie munson#steve harrington stranger things#eddie munson stranger things#robin buckley stranger things#nancy wheeler stranger things#steve harrington#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#stranger things#stranger things blurb#taylor swift x stranger things
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Hey cat how have you been ? I just read what you wrote earlier today and it broke my heart... I'm so sorry on behalf of the anon. I do know that it might have been a year but it's for your own good you took your time for healing please forgive me because I also have asked you once or twice about the chapter thing and i feel a really big hole in my heart right now.... I always hated cyber bullying but today I kind of became a part of it by unknowingly hurting you and for that I'm so sorry I hope you can forgive me and all of us.. I don't know what else shitty things that anon said but I'm sorry you had to go through this just know that there might be some bad people to judge and hurt you but we are here with you please share with us what you feel cause we are here for you and I hope you can forgive all of us especially me for even hurting you a slightest bit and I wish you nothing but good and happiness in life and again ilysm cat and can you please answer my ask because I wanna know if you forgave me or not 💔❤️🩹🙏
Hi rukuk!! I'm sorry if I seem straightforward in the recent Q&A that I did and it's ok, I forgive you and everyone else. 😭💙
Regarding how I feel right now, I don't feel any ill intentions towards anyone or anything like that. I've always wanted to address something like that ever since I kept getting those types of messages the more people keep reading it. And I've always wanted to put everyone's needs first. That was my mentality back then. However, I realized that I don't mind people commenting about the story, but demanding for a chapter made me feel a bit over pressured. Even for me, since I try to balance school and I try to find a free slot to post and talk to you guys again, along with other IRL things that's been going on in my life. It was also a time for me to clear my head again because I also had a writer's block too. I couldn't think straight since I wanted to escape, in a way.
However, I don't feel any negative emotions anymore and I'm ready to get back into writing, reblogging, and most importantly, talking to you guys. 💞 Those negative emotions that I felt were just temporary, so it's all good! No need to worry about it. 👍🏽 I'm really sorry if that made all of you feel taken aback from what I said. Of course, I love all of you guys and the Lookism community on here. Very much! 💝 I try not to be so demanding either, because I want everyone to be comfortable and to express themselves however they want because we all have the right to do so on here. It's a safe community, and we welcome anyone with open arms. 🙌🏽 Feel free to always message me whenever you guys want to. Whether that be to chat, or to ask for advice on something. I'll always wish you guys with nothing but the best, and with secure happiness. Stay safe out there too! ❤️❤️❤️
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PLEASE CHECK MY CARRD: ----->♥
~~CURRENT EVENT----> ⭐𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭⭐
~🫧𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞🫧~
⋆You can call me Hebi, I'm 19 and I really love listening to music and writing.
⋆My personal blog is @hebimoonlight, so here I'll talk only about what I'm going to do with this blog. You only have to know that my DMs are always open. Feel free to text me anytime you want to :D
⋆My Instagram is: hebimoonlightwrites
⋆My Discord is: hebimoon
⋆My secret drawing box: leave me a drawing or message if you want to ^^♥
⋆I'll write about 𝗛𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗰, 𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭 and PΛЯΛDӨX ᄂIVΣ. I'm pretty interested in them!
⋆I'll update the masterlist step by step with links for each character
♥200 followers reached ♥
If you're interested in reading more, please, check these other writers' works out! They're amazing!♥
~🫧𝗥𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀🫧~
I will accept requests like:
⋆scenarios
⋆headcanons
⋆one-shots
with any ship among the characters or between them and any OCs (please, NOT incest).
⋆You can request a maximum of 3 characters if you want headcanons or scenarios
⋆BUT only one or a ship if you want a story or one-shot.
!!!Please, give me a request in each message.. Don't send me a message containing more requests because I could easily getting confused with requests counting qwq♥ (I'm dumb, sweethearts haha)!!!
I will also write NSFW stories/scenarios, and post them with a warning message as an introduction. I will write also Yandere themes!!
In case you want to request a story with your OCs, please feel free to give me a detailed description of him/her/them in private.
⋆I will try to satisfy your expectations, so sorry if I don’t manage. It’s my first time as a writer here on Tumblr, so please help me improving and feel free to give me any advice!⋆
⋆Also, don't take my headcanons seriously, guys! They're only from my point of view. Anyway, feel free to share yours! I'm interested to know what people think about characters too!!⋆
I will NOT accept requests with:
-R4p3
-non-cons3nsu4l s3x
-Inc3st
or this kind of things with minors (Jiro and Saburo, for example).
⋆!!!!!Please, be respectful towards me and especially in comments and among you all. English is not my native language, so feel free to correct my mistakes :D Respect others’ tastes and spread joy and support here on my blog!!!!! ⋆
⋆CREDITS for pics used in requests: I’ve edited every picture here using Picsart. Even if it’s clear, though, I DO NOT own any character here! All rights are reserved to the creators and owners!!! I DO NOT own any images either!
⋆CREDITS FOR FANDOMS:
⋆ Twisted Wonderland (ENG): Official english website of Disney Twisted-Wonderland (disneytwistedwonderland.com)
⋆Twisted Wonderland (JAP): 【公式】ディズニー ツイステッドワンダーランド（ツイステ） (aniplex.co.jp)
⋆Paradox Live: Paradox Live Official Website
⋆Hypnosis Mic: 音楽原作キャラクターラッププロジェクト『ヒプノシスマイク』オフィシャルサイト (hypnosismic.com)
~🫧𝐌𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬🫧~
⋆𝗛𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗰
⋆PΛЯΛDӨX ᄂIVΣ
⋆𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭
(If you don't see some characters there, then it doesn't mean I won't write about them.. It's just that nobody has already asked me to~ Feel free to ask me if I will write about any, though.. I will upload these masterlists step by step~)
⋆ANON LIST⋆: if you want to be an anon in this blog, check it out!!⋆
REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED~
~🫧𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫.𝐚𝐢 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🫧~
Paralive BAE---->♥
Paralive Cozmez---->♥
Paralive AKYR---->♥
Paralive FEM!Iori Suiseki from AKYR---->♥
Paralive The Cat's Whiskers---->♥
Paralive FEM!Yohei Kanbayashi from The Cat's Whiskers---->♥
Paralive FEM!Ryu Natsume from The Cat's Whiskers---->♥
Paralive 獄Luck(Gokuluck)---->♥
Paralive FEM!Shion Kaida from 獄Luck(Gokuluck)---->♥
Paralive VISTY---->♥
Paralive 1Nm8---->♥
Paralive Amprule---->♥
Paralive 武雷管 (BURAIKAN)---->♥
...
©hebimoonlightwrites_tumblr Please, do not copy my contents nor repost it without my permission.
#masterlist#hypmic#hypnosis mic#hypnosis microphone#hypmic x reader#hypmic headcanons#paradox live#paradox live x reader#paradox live headcanons#my blog#writing
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For what it's worth, I want to read your writing! lack of audience can really get to a writer but I feel sometimes one needs to be reminded of why they write? Are you writing for yourself or to please strangers, which I get is obviously important for motivation and as a professional worker but I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be too down about it. I appreciate your hard work and amazing stories.
For what it's worth, I want to read your writing!
Thank you, anon, that means a lot to me!
I agree with "write for yourself", because you'll never please other people/have to select who you want to please, and that's never going to end well. You can't please everyone. I used to be in the Tales series fandom, and I'd have mixed feelings about some of the games that contradicted the way others felt. I liked some of the lesser known/older games for the same reasons people hated them. So as a creator, you have to think about what feels right to yourself. It's good advice, but I have seen it taken out of context. (For the record, I don't see that happening here, because you do clarify that it's harder when you're stepping into the profession. I'll get into that in a minute, if that's okay!)
That said, I think there needs to be a distinction between writing and sharing. Writing is a process for myself, but the career aspect is stressful and straining and honestly feels hopeless most days. I hate the idea that every single part of a story needs to be about the plot, because the formulaic ways of the publishing industry don't work for every story, every writer. I think the existence of fanfic is proof enough of that, actually! So many of us love fics that cover what might have happened behind the scenes or just… we'll read fifteen different stories of the same tropes for a single ship. And tbh, I think a lot of writers - including myself - really prefer to have more canon included than the publishing industry has room for.
I'm trying to find a middle balance, personally. I want to share! I'm an avid reader, and if no one had shared, what would I have read growing up? Plus the want of financial stability, which is pressure I sincerely despise. I'd happily share everything for free if I had $100k-$120k a year for the rest of my life so I could have my house, healthcare, 3-5 cats, garden, video games, and home library. xD
Sharing is actually pretty difficult for me. I barely showed anyone my work until I was in my mid-twenties. I started writing stories down at age seven. I'm now in my thirties. But sharing is something I want to do and it doesn't get easier after all this time of trying to spread my work. Past the perfectionism (I am definitely working on this and have already made improvements) and the history of bullying I've had over my writing (of which there's been a lot). Overcoming all of that is tough. Which means I feel a little extra sensitive to the idea that if something of mine isn't getting traction, it's confirmation of all the times someone mocked my writing or vaguetweeted by a BNF to make fun of fics I'd just posted. And while I'm starting to realize that some of that likely comes from jealousy - not necessarily that I'm a great writer that poses a threat, but just that my writing means that I might take attention from them in the fandom (which is not how that works) - it's still so hard to stop thinking, "What if they were right?" when I don't get any or very few likes/reblogs or kudos/comments, etc.
I have worked very hard to be a better writer, thinking I could escape that. Now I'm beginning to recognize that that hard work has paid off, but I was also never as bad as everyone made me feel (including myself). I want to keep working hard, because my standards for myself are high.
My writing makes me so happy, I can't describe how much. So even through all the pain above? I still do it. I just think that maybe there needs to be more separation between writing and the results of that ever reaching the public eye. (Most of my writing doesn't. I write a lot. XD)
Sorry to get a little real there. And so lengthy, ugh! I never can say things briefly.
Thank you for reading out, though, and thank you for reading my writing. There are more people reading my works than I know, but sometimes I fear that I'm the only one who will want what I'm making.
I've had IRL and health issues bringing me down too, which overlapped with stressing out over the editing of the next chapter of the story I've been posting. That chapter wasn't making me happy, so I'm taking a break, ignoring it a few days, and going back with fresh eyes later. So that all was knocking down my mood, and seeing only one person comment on the latest chapter, I was like, "Oh, maybe I'm just making a big old mess of this story"… perhaps because I see the mess in my head? Every possible path I threw out, every scene I want to write but won't fit in the story, every part I feel is lacking, every bit of character and world info, etc. Is that translating into something coherent on the page, I wonder, and… it's a lot to think about.
Sorry for TL;DR on this answer, and again: thank you. ;A;
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any advice for someone who just started writing and posting here?
my biggest advice is don't be afraid to post. Post that fic, that headcannon, whatever it is, post it. We all have to start somewhere so never be ashamed of your writing! If you want constructive criticism or feedback don't be afraid to ask for it! In the event that you get anon hate, either troll them, tell them to fuck off, or just block them. There's always gonna be haters when you're a writer, but don't let their bullshit get to you-especially because most of the time those same anons don't even write-they just like to bitch and complain.
If you want to interact with other writers, don't be afraid to slide into their inboxes or messages-and if they don't respond don't beat yourself up over it-everyone has lives outside of this hellsite and 99% of the time they just havent seen your message or ask yet.
Also TAG YOUR FICS PROPERLY!! if you want more people to see them, tag them! Also don't be afraid to reblog your own fics as a signal boost or a time zone rb. If your favorite writers have said they'd love to read their followers fics-then send them to them or ask if you can tag them in fics, like i always say if you guys write please feel free to tag me I'd love to read your work!.
Don't equate notes (as in likes, comments, and reblogs) to the quality of your work. For the longest time I was in my flop era and yes you can lose motivation to write-but your sole motivation to write shouldn't be external validation-KEEP WRITING! KEEP POSTING! you'll find people who LOVE your works, you just have to put yourself out there!
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hey. big fan of yours and may’s works, your fics lay the foundation to so many of my maladaptive daydreams you don’t even understand. the tgm fandom and this friendship you’ve got going makes me want to belong, share my stupid fics with you and send crack asks and not feel like a leech lol. i don’t really use tumblr and starting feels scary, can i ask for your advice? sorry this is snippy, trying to stay within the word limit. i don’t mean to be rude or presumptuous. all the love. xx
Hello sweet sweet anon!!!
I completely get the feeling, I know when I first (re)joined tumblr a year or so back I was just indulging in a lot of different fandoms and read fics of all sorts, and I didn't really have a sense of belongingness until tgm. I've managed to cultivate friendships with my mutuals truly just by interacting - reblogging and commenting and reaching out to authors helped me feel connected with the community.
Honestly it just takes time and patience and you gotta put yourself out there - there are so many wonderful people in this fandom and just know you're so so welcome here <3 I hope this was helpful but please feel free to ask more questions if you have any specifics you want to get into, my ask is open!
Please also feel free to send ur crack asks bestie I get a kick out of them
#sol says 🗣#sorry I honestly think I sound so awkward answering asks but ily#I really hope this helps :(
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Hi Sam! I’m glad you’re home safe after a good visit. I have a question I hope you and your readership might help with. I have a very difficult relationship with food (maybe a super taster, I’ve always had problems and not eaten enough, and I’m almost 30). I’m intimidated about seeing a nutritionist or doctor, and I like to research in preparation. Do you have suggestions for good sources to read about nutrition needs, supplement efficacy, and workarounds? I know this is a big ask.
Honestly, Anon, I know very little about nutrition or supplements, and my workarounds are mostly personal -- the supertaster tag on my tumblr will have the best discussion of those (both mine, as a supertaster, and my brother's, as an eater with autism). And wellness culture has absolutely infected every corner of the internet, making differentiation between "knowledge" and "garbage" online very difficult when it comes to food. But...well, that's why we go to experts like doctors and nutritionists!
I think the urge to research beforehand is admirable, and if it's driven by anxiety it's not something I want to dismiss because that's a coping mechanism that may actually get you in front of someone who can help. But I think if you don't even know where to start, the best possible thing you can do is make a list of questions...and then take them to someone with a degree in Answering Those Questions.
You don't actually have to take any of their advice; with doctors this can be a bit daunting because often they want to immediately create a plan to solve something, and sometimes you're not ready for the plan and have to assert that a bit. But it's absolutely okay to go to a professional and ask some questions and then say, "I need to think about this some more" before you get a prescription or a meal plan or anything like that.
So if it were me, I would prepare by writing up a little paragraph about what my issues truly are (taste, texture, some psychological fuckery around diets/weight, etc) and what I want to do about them; I would also set some barriers ahead of time, like "I just want information, I don't want to take any action today" or "I'd like to explore three options and no more than three" or similar. If you have any issues at all surrounding weight, definitely be ready to set a boundary of "I'm not interested in weight loss diets" or "I'm looking to improve my nutrition at my current weight". If you have specific questions, make a list of those, as well. (My company currently, with most of the lung health/covid safety/etc kits we give out, includes a pad of sheets where you can record symptoms, onset, how they make you feel, and what questions you have about them, to hand to your doctor, and I LOVE that we do that.)
Even if you do all that and then find you're still unwilling to speak to a professional, which is totally understandable, at least then you have a better idea of where to look. Particularly when it comes to food and nutrition, I couldn't even begin to make recommendations without knowing what you're looking for more specifically, and unless it's directly to do with flavor I'm still of very, very little help.
But if readers have recommendations for sites with good evidence-based resources surrounding nutrition for people with food issues, please feel free to share! Remember to reblog or comment, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.
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For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.
I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.
First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.
1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.
(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)
2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.
Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.
(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.
For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).
3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.
(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.
*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING
Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?
*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope
Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)
4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.
(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)
5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.
(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)
Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.
This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.
Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive
Academic books and articles about SPN
A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)
SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)
Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)
Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)
Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.
for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.
need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.
Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).
As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.
6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.
(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)
7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)
(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)
8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).
And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...
This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.
Remember the paradox of tolerance.
It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”
(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)
I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.
(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)
(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)
(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)
***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:
The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.
-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).
(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.
Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)
-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.
(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)
-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.
Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.
(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)
There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.
Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D
So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.
#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems#kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol#long post#now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom#thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested#meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you#if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you
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so twitter is here now huh
welcome! twitter is hell so glad to have you guys. im doing the same thiing everyone else is doing, tumblr advice for new people under the cut, if you dont feel like reading it all the most important things are in bold (click keep reading):
- since its relevant, if a post is very long use one of those things ^ so that its more comfortable for people scrolling! its the one on the right below. theres no character limit on here so please use this when necessary lol
- reblogging stuff you like is important, especially art and writing! thats really the only way to push content on here and the like to rb ratio on mcytblr tends to be terrible so its very appreciated. if you REALLY like it you can leave nice comments in the reply section or in the tags as well! people appreciate them a lot :] if you want to rb something but dont want it appearing on your blog right now, theres a little arrow next to the post button and if you click on it, you’ll get the option to queue the post, meaning it appears on your blog later (you can adjust exactly when in the queue settings, found under the little profile icon)
- you can choose how private you want to be. ive seen so many people be like “dont say your name. dont say your age. dont make an intro post.” or “put your entire medical history in your carrd” but i feel like you can choose how you want to present yourself on here! you dont have to say anything about yourself if you want, or you can make a fun intro post/carrd with the things you like, or you can just say your name (or moniker), whether youre a minor or not, and pronouns, or anything else! its up to you, and here you dont really have to worry about getting doxxed so. obviously dont give out your address or anything but yeah :]
- ^kind of going off what i just said, if you want friends on here, you can make an intro/looking for mutuals post and put your interests in the tag section! thats how i found lots of my mutuals. honestly just use the tags in general, because its the only way to get your posts out there other than rbs and its much better than speaking into the void. dont put tags unrelated to the post itself though, people dont really like it. tumblr prioritizes the first 5 tags on a post ive heard, so be mindful of that, especially if youre an artist or writer!
- on the subject of tags, if youre going to critique a dsmp character, feel free to do so, just tag it appropriately! for example, if youre making a post that criticizes c!philza, tag it as #c!philza critical. also, please dont tag dsmp/mcyt posts as mine//craft or mine//blr (censoring it so it doesnt appear in the search), people who just want to hear about the game dont appreciate it. also, please dont tag or1gin smp (censoring again) for posts about the hybrid smp with tommy, ranboo, tubbo, etc because an active fandom already uses that tag, use osmp instead :]
- discourse isnt really common on here, but if youre going to talk about it, tag it as #discourse so that people can blacklist it. oh yeah i forgot to talk about that, you can blacklist tags in settings, which is great for triggers or anything you just dont want to see. id suggest blacklisting all forms of whatever the tag is (for example, dont just blacklist #tw gore, blacklist #gore tw, #gore cw, #cw gore, and #gore as well). lots of blogs (like mine) operate on an ask to tag basis, meaning that if you send them an ask asking to tag a specific thing, they will!
- speaking of asks, people love them! ive never met someone who doesnt like getting an ask, regardless of how random it is. if you like someones content or want to be their friend, feel free to send an ask, anonymous or not! i think this goes without saying but just in case, sending anon hate is heavily frowned upon, its kind of a pussy move as well tbh so dont do it
- other than the occasional weirdo mcytblr/dsmpblr is pretty chill, so try not to start fights in main tags for no reason lol please i dont want to have to migrate to linkedin or some shit. if you see something you dont like, the best move is to just block them and move on. literally just block anyone you dont like itll make everything so much more pleasant i promise. however if you do want to start a fight my asks are always open <3333
overall, just dont be an asshole and have fun!! here are some blogs id recommend following:
mine lol pls give me clout, @relaxxationattack, @cyani07, @night-and-dae, @otteritos, @esclapo, @periwinklemoonlight, @minecraftsz, @timedeo, @poorlydrawndsmp, @tittybitch, @lnniter, @girlbossinnit, @trickszie (if youre on here we’re mutuals and/or i think you’re really cool so hiiii)
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Hello! I was wondering if you have any tips or advice on starting to write fanfiction on Tumblr? I have written a story a long time ago and I want to post it as well as start writing again since I stopped because of my mental health(long story) I have always loved writing but I have been put down a lot because of my learning disability so I stopped because of my self-confidence...I want to put out my writing again but have no clue where to start...
By the way, I LOVE your Rose Among the Briars ( Love me some Vergil lol) it actually inspired me to write again! Thank you and I hope I'm not being a bother.
Why hello there! So sorry if I'm answering this way late...tumblr never likes to notify me whenever I get asks 🙄
But anyway! Congrats on wanting to write again! You're not a bother at all. I'm not the most experienced writer but I'm more than happy to share what I've learned from my own experience from posting my fics on tumblr 🌹🥰🌹
It can be a little scary to put yourself out there after so long. I was in the exact same position when I posted my fic here. And the best advice I have is...be passionate about what you write about. That passion will catch readers that have the same exact interests as you and make the fandom very enjoyable as well as bouncing ideas and inspiration. And it may give way to some joyous friendships as well.
Now, there will be a few assholes that may try to tear you down with anon hate. I had a few of those and I best advice I have for that is just delete their ask/comment, completely ignore them, and block them. Attention is all they want and they hope to get that by getting a rise out of you...don't give them the satisfaction. Block 'em and let them stew in their hatred.
Posting on tumblr has its technical challenges as well. For instance, putting links on your post will sometimes not have it show up in the tags. And putting any tags that tumblr deems nsfw on the post does the same thing too. I stopped linking my AO3 and tagging my posts "nsfw" because of this. Instead, I just put a rating and any relevant warnings if my fic is nsfw at the top of the post. That way people know what they're getting into as well as showing up in the tags.
Oh! And don't be afraid to reblog your own writing! People live in different time zones and may not see your post if they're following you. The tagging system is pretty much "ehhhh" at best, so a couple reblogs helps your fic get seen a lil better if it shows up sooner on the dashboard.
That's all I can think of at the moment. If any of my fellow writers see this, please feel free add some advice of your own! Everyone's experience is different and its always good to hear different advice based on those experiences.
And thank you so much for your kind words! A Rose Among the Briars is very close my heart. It always makes so giddy and gleeful to hear others enjoying my flowery fic. I literally teared up a little when I read that it inspired you to write again. I don't know how to describe it, but it's just...one of the best feelings in the world 💖
#I can't tell you...how much gushing I did before mulling over some advice#I was a lil hesitant of posting my first dmc fic#mostly because I wrote it while really drunk 🙈#but in the morning after rereading I said fuck it#made a tumblr and posted my fic#never looked back after that#it takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there#I was terrified but seeing the positive response just pushed me to write more#you may come across some mean peeps here#but finding a few like minded writers and friends with the same interests#its totally worth it#they'll have your back and feed your inspiration in ways you never knew#harlot speaks
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