a/n: this fic is a result of wine and rewatching the force awakens. honestly my brain always short circuits whenever oscar isaac comes on screen. so i had to do something. it was meant to be small, but i literally couldn't stop writing so it became this. it's an idea that has been lingering in my head for awhile, i just had to let it simmer for a bit. and now it's fully cooked.
summary: you and poe were inevitable. two asteroids set on a course to crash into one another. a celestial event that would happen whether you wanted it or not. you just never expected it to happen so soon.
word count: 3.4k+
pairing: poe dameron x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption, love confessions sort of??, poe being romantic as fuck, p in v sex, guided masturbation, biting, sex in an x-wing, sex in a public place, unedited but we live and die by the fucking pen.
Intoxicating.
That was the only way you’d describe him. The only word that ever did him justice. He was the human embodiment of an Antakarian Fire Dancer. You got hammered on it one year after two glasses of the amber liquid, proceeding to forget half the night yet eager for more. Nothing could describe the man before you better. It simply wouldn’t do him justice. He was the itch beneath your skin that you could never satisfy, the reason you stood there now.
A glass of that amber liquid in both hands.
He’d disappeared from the celebration. An hour in from congratulations and happy faces, you watched him leave when no one was looking. And you did nothing to stop it. You knew he wasn’t one to relish in the joys of battle well done. Always intent on focusing towards the next thing—the next fight. It’s how you knew Leia would make him General, why he was so good at leading, at keeping the people he loved safe.
“Leaving without saying goodbye is rude, you know.”
He jumped slightly where he stood, his back to you, a holopad in one hand and a tool in the other. Of course he’d be here, fixing his X-Wing in silence. His own little ritual. You couldn’t count how many times you found him here after a fight, finalizing the last few checks before he caught some sleep. If he slept at all. Poe always seemed to be on the move no matter the time of day—a constant in the Resistance even when everyone else seemed to have lost faith.
“I said goodbye,” he joked, head turning slightly to see you come around, the holopad getting traded for a glass. “Just couldn’t see you in the crowd.”
You smiled. “You’re a shit liar Dameron.”
“I know.” He took a sip, winced, and laughed—the sound practically lighting you up inside. Igniting you like a fucking lightsaber.
“What’s the damage report?”
“Nothing I can’t fix.” He glanced back at the scraped up hunk of metal he loved more than anything. The amount of care he put into keeping her going was admirable—if a little insane at times.
But he was right. The damage was nothing he couldn’t fix.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smile still played on your lips, eyes alight and aiming to start something you wanted him to finish.
Poe caught onto it quicker than you expected. He could see it before you followed him out of the celebration. A promise that lingered in the air from months of longing looks and timid words. Something inevitable and real. So much so that you were willing to bet everything that he felt exactly the same way you did.
You wanted each other. That was clear from day one. But doing something about it became difficult when war was a constant and lives were put in peril on the daily. Poe didn’t want to leave you broken beyond repair if he never made it back. Just as you didn’t want to do the same to him.
The fucked up thing about it though was Poe would mourn you either way. He’d live his life half a man if you never graced him with your presence again. If you weren’t around to smile at him from across rooms and laugh at his shitty jokes. He was pretty sure he’d already started. Being away from you was like a poison he constantly had to take, a pain he didn’t want to endure. And if it were up to him…he’d choose you every time.
No matter the consequences.
“You ever been in an X-Wing before?” he asked, trying to see past the bits and pieces of the ache that hurt you both.
You rolled your eyes and Poe felt his chest tighten. “You know I haven’t. I’m not pilot material.”
“Sounds like bantha shit to me starlight.”
The name you’d heard so many times before echoed differently to you now. You wanted to break through its meaning and find the promise within. The antidote to this fucking ache that stuck to your chest. You wanted to rip it out and grind it up. You wanted to finally take what you desired, relish in the feel of calling him yours without the pain of knowing what came next. The both of you were trying to save your emotions—protect yourselves—but there was no use.
Poe had found a home in your heart and he was there to stay.
“Come with me.”
When it came to him you had no choice but to listen, following dutifully behind in a haze of want. He climbed up the ladder on the side of his ship, plopping down into the seat with the grace of a pilot who’d done it a million times before. The movement now muscle memory at this point. Whereas you clambered up—buzzed on one drink—nearly falling into the cockpit. He grabbed your arm at the last minute, helping you slowly maneuver your way in, until you were perched on this lap.
The seat was barely big enough to fit him let alone you as well. And yet…you’d never felt more comfortable. He pulled you back slightly, hands pressed to your hips, chest snugly placed against your back. With every intake and exhale of breath, you felt him move. Felt his body shift. If you focused, you knew you would be able to feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump you’d grown accustomed to.
“Now—“ He precariously balanced his glass on the dash. “Your hands go here.” Covering your hands with his, he showed you how he’d position himself if he were flying. The cold touch of the buttons and knobs beneath your fingers sent electricity up your spine. “These are to shoot.” Another shift. “And this is to aim.”
You sucked in a breath. “Seems complicated.”
“Not at all.” His fingers slid up your arm, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You tried to remember how to take a single breath. “You just have to understand how the ship works. How she moves, what she likes.”
Your breath hitched, body leaning into him more, and finally you felt it. The wall holding both of you back crumbled to the ground. All that remained now was the will to finally do something about it. So you let his hands guide you, watching in anticipation as they moved to your own body, pressing your palms into your stomach.
“There’s always a heart of a ship,” he murmured, moving your hand down. “A pilot guiding the way.”
“Poe…”
"After all, we've got to guide the ship back home." A soft whimper left your lips, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs to contain yourself. If the cockpit of his ship wasn't so fucking small, you had no doubt you'd be spread on his lap, lips connected to his already.
He grinned, his lips brushing across the back of your neck. “For me…” He stopped right above the hem of your pants, your fingers aching to finally delve down further. “That’s always been you.”
The alcohol had all but burned out of your system from how warm you were. His touch guiding yours seemed to have lit something in the base of your stomach, causing it to spread outwards. And you needed more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed your hand beneath the coarse fabric of your pants. The feeling of him cupping your mound—using you all the while—sent a jolt across your body; a soft moan falling free past your lips.
“Maker starlight,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.”
He wasn't wrong. You could feel yourself dripping the longer he spoke, his words affecting you more than you anticipated. Ever since you first met, Poe always held a power over you. A reminder that no matter how many times you tried to rid yourself of him, no matter what you did...he would remain burned into your soul. He'd be part of you until you drew your final breath in this galaxy.
"It's cause of you," you gasped, your fingers and his sliding through your slick. Running along the lips of your cunt, skimming past your clit entirely. "Oh—"
The scrape of his teeth along your neck nearly did you in entirely, the plea hanging off the tip of your tongue in anticipation. He was toying with you. Playing you like a fucking instrument and listening to your melody. Drowning in the sounds you made—the ones he dreamed of. If there was a life after this, a fated place he could go to rest, he'd want it to be here. Crammed into this cockpit with you on his lap, the feel of you sliding through his fingers and the echo of your voice breathing his name sweeter than the alcohol you had handed him earlier.
Poe would do whatever he could to make this moment last just a minute longer.
"Need you."
He kissed the junction where your neck and shoulder met, fingers still guiding yours through your own heat. "I know you do starlight. But you're gonna cum for me like this first." Your sweet little gasp ripped him a part. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off nearly coming in his pants. "Let me guide you."
You nodded and spread your legs as wide as they could go in the cramped space. It wasn't very far, nor did it give him space to do what he really wanted to do to you, but it would have to do for now. The noise of the celebration in the distance only grew louder as people consumed more alcohol, the joy bleeding into the air. But you couldn't give a shit at that moment about why they were happy, or even what occurred before today.
You were lost to the depths that Poe pulled you into.
Heat spilled between your fingertips, a sticky mess starting between the two of you, but that seemed to only drive him forward. He pressed down, sliding your fingers into you with ease, his delving in right beside you—stretching you in a way that had your back arching. Wrapped his arm around your waist, he kept you still, his chin set on your shoulder and chest heaving with controlled breaths. A way for him to keep the last bits of his sanity as he felt your walls clamp around his fingers.
"Fuck baby," he grit between clenched teeth. "You really did need me huh?"
Nodding, you felt him press even further, fingers searching for something.
"You're gonna make a mess on me." Pumping his hand, he felt your body shudder—your mouth falling open as a ragged moan echoed in the ship. "Gonna take me so easily. I'll slip right in."
You burned from the inside out. A searing heat pulling tight across your body until you could nothing but fall into it. There was no fighting against that aching bliss, no running from what you wanted, what you dreamed of. Poe was intent on breaking you apart right there on his lap, and he'd watch with a smile on his face as you spilled yourself between the rough pads of his fingers. As you made a fucking mess on his lap.
"C'mon baby," he muttered, curling his fingers forward and nudging against something blinding. You cried out, hand grasping at his wrist to either pull him away or keep him right there. You couldn't tell at this point. And he smiled. "Is that it?" Rubbing against the spongy patch along your walls, he felt your entire body lock up, a whimpered sob breaking from your chest. "Yeah. That's fucking it."
You tried to warn him, his name a garbled echo of nonsensical letters on your tongue. But he already knew. His hand sped up, practically pushing your fingers out of the way as he gave you everything you wanted. Poe was certain that he wanted this more than you, that deep down he needed to know that you came because of him. That he was capable of turning you into a sobbing mess.
The echo of his pained grunt was loud in your ears, his hips pressing up into you to relieve the pressure of need he felt, and that's what did it. The knowledge that he was as gone as you were. That he had always wanted you.
Your walls fluttered around his fingers, a splintered moan falling past your parted lips as the pleasure spilled over. And he buried his face into your neck, a broken sound of his own muffled by your warm skin. He fought against finishing, biting into your shoulder as he worked you through your release. Adamant to make this last for you—to drag you to the Maker and back with a sated smile on your face.
Eventually you couldn't take it anymore, pleasure bleeding into pain, and you dragged his hand away. A breathless sigh of his name shooting right to his cock.
Without knowing it you had broken him for anyone else. Obliterated his ability to ever see someone the way he saw you.
You and your beauty. Your ability to render him speechless, breathless, and at your fucking mercy. For so long he was the ship lost in space with no sense of direction to lead him back to something real, a purpose. But then you settled into his heart. You became his pilot, guiding him through the never-ending void of space. You kept him afloat even as the weight of the galaxy threatened to drag him down, happy to watch him crash and burn in as so many others had done before.
"That was new," you giggled, hand reaching back to run through his hair.
He smiled, his heart twisting in his chest and fingers still covered in your slick coming to grip at your hips. "To think..." Pressing your ass down against his hard cock, he felt the breath hitch in your chest. "We could have been doing this the whole time."
"W-What a loss," you breathed, that now familiar all encompassing need filling your veins once more.
As if he knew your body so well already, he began to pull at your pants, helping you strip yourself to the best of your ability. The soft clinking of his belt echoed loudly in the cockpit and for a moment you were sure that people in the distance could hear it. But that thought quickly left your mind the second you felt the hot skin of his cock pressing against your lower back—his precum wet and sticky now smeared against your skin. Saliva filled your mouth, the ache pulling at your chest, clawing its way to the surface.
You didn't simply want him. That was too small of a word to explain the feeling in your body. You breathed for him. You lived for him. Poe was the blood that streamed in your veins, the reason your heart beat the way it did. Because it beat for him.
"Say you want this," he grunted, grinding against your skin, his fingers digging in harder than before. Until blood nearly pricked at the surface.
"Yes." The word was out of your mouth before he could even finish speaking. "Maker, I've wanted this for so long."
A growl hit your ears, his nose pressed into your back as he lifted you slightly, and you felt like you would rip to shreds if he didn't hurry. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding into you with slippery ease. And you pressed back against him, desperate to feel him sink into you fully. To be stretched out around his cock. Poe choked on his breath when your warm heat encompassed his throbbing length so suddenly, nearly throwing him off the edge entirely.
"Fuck starlight. You're gonna have to give me a second."
Your lips curled up into a grin. "Yes, General."
For a moment Poe could only process the breaths he took, the word entering his already blank mind. It wasn't until a searing heat shot up his spine at the sound of his title leaving your lips, did he fully understand. His hips pushed up into you, forcing him to sink just a bit deeper. You clutched at the side of the ship, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. The position had him pressing right along your walls, the underside of his cock grinding blissfully against you.
"I used to think you had no idea." He pushed you up slightly until his cock was halfway out and he glanced down, moaning at the sight of him covered in your slick. Only to pull you back down hard. Your choked cry was like music to his ears. "Didn't know what you do to me. How my whole fucking body belonged to you."
"Poe—"
He repeated the movement, smiling at the noises that came free. "But I was wrong."
A pressure quickly built in the base of your stomach, threatening to destroy you. And you chased it. Meeting his thrusts, you fucked yourself on his cock, hands pressed to the dash in front of you and back arched to find the perfect angle that made your toes curl in your boots. Ragged breaths filled the space, accompanied by broken moans and stunted grunts. Each one louder than the last as you both took and took and took, until the very edge of bliss mounted in your bodies.
He gripped the back of your neck, hand fisting at your hair as he pulled you back roughly against his chest. And you fell into it. Whining his name when he grinded up slowly, your walls clamped down around his cock. You could barely see straight through the burn of tears that glazed your eyes, a fucked out expression painted perfectly on your face. And Poe wished he could see you from where he was, catch a glimpse of the way your eyes rolled back, neck on display for him to bite.
"You know exactly what you do to me, starlight." His mouth fell open in a silent moan when his balls drew up painfully, cock throbbing along your walls. He quickly shoved his hand into your slick, fingers locating your clit with ease.
"Maker—" You heard him bite out your name like a prayer he couldn't get out fast enough. A plea for you to give him everything you had, everything that made you who you were. "I'm— Fuck I-I'm—"
"Yes," he groaned, using his other hand to cup your chin and pull your lips to his. Finally kissing you after years of dreaming it would happen. "Fucking give it to me baby."
His tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing every sound you made with ease. The feel of his lips against yours shoved you towards your release. A muffled cry of his name echoing in his mouth as your body went taut, thighs quaking as you gushed on his cock. He choked, mouth open and panting against yours, following you instantly and spilling into your cunt—filling you until you were sure it was dripping out of you and gathering at the base of him.
"Yours," he sighed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. "'M yours."
The twist of your heart brought you down from your high, your eyes fluttering open as he stared at your kiss swollen lips, the way his spit smeared along your bottom one. You expected him to take it back once he slipped out of you. Surely this was nothing but a dream, a moment in time that may never happen again. But in his eyes you saw devotion. You saw the inevitable future that was always bound to happen.
"Me too."
He smiled, nose brushing against yours. "Guess we're stuck with each other starlight."
"That doesn't sound too bad to me, General."
He tsked under his breath, fingers coming to grip your chin—brown eyes flashing up to meet your gaze. "You're causing trouble."
You grinned, grinding on his softened cock that was still buried deep in you. "And if I am?"
The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, slowly growing hard with interest. "Hands on the controls baby." He nipped at your bottom lip. "You know what to do."
A soft flutter filled your stomach as you followed his direction. Taking the lead in a dance that you were now familiar with. With Poe everything came with ease, as if you'd gone through it with him hundreds of times over. And guiding him home was just the beginning.
1. Transcreva um diálogo: Escolha uma entrevista de rádio, televisão ou até de vídeos na internet e transcreva aquele diálogo. Tente pontuar corretamente, usando um dicionário se for preciso. Além de aprender as formas de pontuação utilizadas em um diálogo, você poderá se preparar para as próximas dicas que virão.
2. Escreva um diário: Por mais bobo que isso possa parecer, escrever um diário proporciona um autoconhecimento como te ajuda a perder o medo da escrita. Escrevendo somente para você, o medo de escrever errado e ser criticado somem, deixando você livre para se expressar verdadeiramente. Sem contar que, no futuro, você irá me agradecer por essa dica! ;)
3. Escolha um local, uma foto ou um quadro: Focalizando na imagem, tente descrever o ambiente em que a imagem foi inserida. Por exemplo: se for a imagem de uma cadeira, descreva o material que ela é feita, o local onde ela foi colocada, a iluminação que entrava pela janela, ou a iluminação artificial que fez com que a imagem aparecesse. Descreva o clima: estava frio? Era inverno, verão, primavera ou outono? Tente se imaginar como um mero observador da cena. A descrição permite que o leitor entre na história. Nunca subestime o poder da sugestão.
4. Siga o exemplo do twitter: Descreva o seu quarto (ambiente com a tua cara) em 140 palavras. Saber enxugar o texto é fundamental, principalmente quando você precisa demonstrar conhecimento em poucas palavras, como é o caso de redações de vestibular. Tente tirar proveito dessa técnica em outras mídias, seja um texto, uma redação ou até em pequenos contos. Se você não vê muito sentido nisso, veja como Eça de Queiroz descreve o Primo Basílio num dos primeiros parágrafos do livro:
“A sala esteirada, alegrava, com o seu teto de madeira pintado a branco, o seu papel claro de ramagens verdes. Era em julho, um domingo; fazia um grande calor; as duas janelas estavam cerradas, mas sentia-se fora o sol faiscar nas vidraças, escaldar a pedra da varanda; havia o silêncio recolhido e sonolento de manhã de missa; uma vaga quebreira amolentava, trazia desejos de sesta, ou de sombras fofas debaixo de arvoredos, no campo, ao pé d’água; nas duas gaiolas, entre as bambinelas de cretone azulado, os canários dormiam; um zumbido monótono de moscas arrastava-se por cima da mesa, pousava no fundo das chávenas sobre o açúcar mal derretido, enchia toda a sala dum rumor dormente.”
Esse parágrafo descreve como Luísa se sente; trancada em seu mundo, sem muita perspectiva de futuro. Quem leu, sabe que esse sentimento é que dá base para todo o livro. Enfim, Eça de Queiroz era um Gênio da descrição; portanto, sigam-no os bons.
5. Escolha um texto científico: Escolha um texto científico e monte uma tabela sobre os pontos abordados. Foque nas ideias principais e veja como o autor estabelece a ligação das ideias para a conclusão do texto, o velho: A + B = C. Essa prática ajudará na formulação de futuros textos mais críticos. Pois, além de te fornecer novos pontos de vista, você poderá utilizar a estrutura das conclusões em textos futuros. Não pense que na escrita tudo deve ser novo e original.
6. Entreviste uma pessoa: Monte uma lista com perguntas, como naqueles cadernos de enquete do colégio, sem ser infantil. Tente fazer a lista como se cada resposta fosse um gancho para outra pergunta. Esse mecanismo ajuda tanto o entrevistado quanto os leitores, mantendo uma sequência lógica e temporal do que está sendo dito e lido. Teste com seus familiares, amigos e com você mesmo!
7. Seja um observador: Muitas histórias surgem de um simples acontecimento, como por exemplo, uma bola sobre o telhado, um tombo na rua, uma batida de carro, uma chuva de sapos. Enfim, tudo que está ao seu redor faz parte de uma história, portanto, se quiser ser um bom contador de histórias, seja, antes de tudo, um bom observador. Observe o mundo, as pessoas, os animais, os comportamentos humanos e o balanço das árvores. Deixe sua mente fluir naquelas histórias e volte pra casa repleto de novos acontecimentos e histórias para contar.
There is no right or wrong way to experience grief. Just as there is no right or wrong way to write it. Everyone is different, each set of circumstances are different.
The point of this post is to show you how different people react in different ways, and give points on how you might write that, depending on your character and story.
Reactions to Grief
Numbness: Your character may go into auto-pilot and be unable to process the events that have unfolded.
Anger: This can be aimed at other people, at a Higher Being, or at nothing in particular.
Unsteady: Your characters may be unsteady. For example, unable to stop their voice from shaking or they may find it difficult to stand.
Focusing on Others: Your character may disregard their own feelings because they are so overwhelmed and instead concentrate on someone else’s well-being.
Seek out routines: Amid upheavals, your character may seek comfort in tasks that are familiar and “safe,” such as working, cleaning, making their bed, making absurd amounts of tea or taking a morning walk.
Pretending that Everything Is Okay: Grief is viewed as an emotion that should cease or be concealed once the funeral is over. So people mention the news in an offhand comment, then talk and laugh as if all is right with the world.
Denial: Some people deny the reality of death and convince themselves that the news is a joke or can’t be true.
Reactions from people surrounding your character:
People may avoid your character as they do not know what to say or simply can’t find the right words.
Some may even go as far as to cross the street when they notice your character approaching.
Even people that the character has known for years may act strange or standoff-ish, simply because they don’t know what to say.
On the other side of that, some people may be overly helpful and friendly.
It is not uncommon for estranged friends, family or others to suddenly reappear in a person’s life after they have experienced grief.
Either because those people want to offer their support and love or because they’re being nosy and they want to be kept up to date on the “drama”.
Most people will move on from the event fairly quickly if they weren’t emotionally invested.
Some people may even get annoyed at your character for still being upset weeks or months later.
When talking about the person they have lost:
Your character may recall a memory or tell a story about their loved one, these are possible reactions. (I have encountered all of them.)
Your character may being to cry or get upset at the thought of the person they have lost.
The person they are talking to may become awkward and avert eye contact when your character brings up the person they have lost.
Others may ask or tell your character to stop talking about the person they have lost. They may roll their eyes, cough awkwardly, or cut off your character mid sentences so that they can change the subject.
Some people may ask inappropriate questions about the circumstances in which the character’s loved one passed away. Depending on the personality of your character then may react differently.
Other things to note:
Grief is not constrained by time.
One of the main problems with grief in fiction is that a character is typically heartbroken for a couple scenes and then happy again. But grief does not evaporate because the world needs saving.
Allow your character to wrestle with their grief.
Your character may feel guilty. Your character may feel a twinge of guilt when they laugh or have a good time with someone else; when they do something to remind them that they’re alive, and their loved one isn’t.
Grief is a game changer. A previously outgoing character may withdraw and isolate themselves. Some people may take grief and/or bereavement as a sign that life is too short; they may make big decisions in an attempt to make themselves feel better and grow away from their pain.
Sometimes grief can help you find your purpose.
At first grief can be all consuming. It hurts and you can’t really control it. It may seem unrelenting. Eventually the grief will become easier to deal with, your character may find the days to be better, but that doesn’t mean that when the grief hits it doesn’t hurt any less.
For most people, grief never really goes away. “Sometimes you have to accept the fact that certain things will never go back to how they used to be.”
It is rare that a person will ever give a long speech about their feelings, a lot of people struggle to even find the words. But that’s okay. Show the reader how your character feels, rather than just telling them.
Don’t pause the plot to deal with the aspect of grief. This could overwhelm the readers and drag the pace down. In reality, life doesn’t just stop due to grief, the world keeps spinning and things still need to be done. Use the character’s grief as a backdrop for the story’s events.
Yes, grief affects the character’s day-to-day life, goals, and relationships. But it shouldn’t drive readers away or stagnate the story. Instead, should engage readers and produce empathy that keeps them turning pages.
You don’t need to tell your readers that everything will be fine. You don’t need to provide all of the answers.
“Skirting grief and treating it lightly is easy. But by realistically portraying it through a variety of responses and its lasting effects on the character’s life, readers will form a connection with your characters.“
Sometimes I feel myself getting stuck in a CAS rut and a lot of my sims end up looking very similar. I’ve seen these types of click and drag generators often as writing resources, or as silly games to predict the “future” and thought it might be interesting to tailor it and incorporate it directly into the sims so I’ve thrown a quick one together. Everything is still quite open-ended so it’s all up for personal interpretation, it’s just a push to get you started.
*Note: I included alien and vampire under gender. If you get one of these options, feel free to drag again until you get male/female to determine the gender, or choose it yourself. Like I said this isn’t set in stone and is more for inspiration than hardcore rules. If you don’t have the vampire pack, just pull a different result. No biggie.
By no means do I take any form of credit for this idea, I’m sure it’s probably even been done on simblr in the past, I just wanted to throw my hat in the ring and thought I’d share it with all you lovelies as well. x
Might make a fun challenge too? tag your creations as #clickanddragcas or something and see what this prompts us all to make maybe idk!! just have fun nd make cute sims
hi! I'm really interested in starting a simblr but idk where to begin and stuff. like how to get HD pictures and editing. do you have any advice for taking pictures or even for just starting the simblr? thank you! :)
Hi! I made a post once before about tips for starting simblr so I’ll just copy & paste that to here. :)
1. Make your simblr it’s own account, rather than a side blog from another account. Just trust me when I say it’ll be a little easier in the long run. It’s easier to manage and keep up with and won’t have your main blog as the host of everything.
2.Post things that you like. Tag them with things like “ts3″ or “sims 3″ (or whichever game you plan on posting) to kind of get them out there. But don’t post just for notes or whatever. Post because you like it. And if you like it, other people will too!
3. Maybe talk to people on here. (I know this can be extremely difficult and it’s something I definitely struggle with because I’m actually super shy and awkward and my social anxiety is a little shit.) BUUUUUT everybody on here is usually pretty nice if you’re nice to them. I’ve met some really cool people on here that I adore and have become good friends with!
4. If you can, edit your pictures. Photoshop/Gimp can work wonders and you can do some really cool stuff with those programs. (Or just be lazy with it like I am, lolol.)
5. TAG YOUR STUFF. If you’re posting smut, tag it as nsfw. If you’re posting triggering topics, slap a trigger warning on it. (Also, to block said things, use tumblr savior or some sort of blacklist extension.)
6. DO NOT be mean. Don’t try to dictate what others should post. Don’t send hate. Don’t be a butt, basically. If the message you’re sending is not a message you’d like to receive, don’t send it. Just imagine being on the other end of it. It’s not fun. It’s not cute. DON’T DO IT.
As for editing & pictures, I’ll offer what little I can.
If your PC can handle it, make your settings go as high as they can for better quality. :)
For pictures, use Tab mode! Don’t know what that is? Look here under Movie Making Mode. :)
Use Gimp or Photoshop to edit your pictures!
If you use Photoshop, maybe consider using Topaz Clean. Also, some websites & cc finds blogs offer Photoshop actions that help make editing easier.
I really can’t offer many editing tips, I’m always trying new things. Just find things that you like! Experiment a little bit and have fun with it!
When you create your simblr, send me a message! I would LOVE to follow you!
baratheonpilled
ellievsbear
titsay
stormborns
