Male or gender neutral readers only MINORS DNI! 24/m/pisces Requests OPEN /rules for mobile here's my ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/neptunesnothere Backgrounds by Lovendors
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
i have a few unfinished drafts, mostly shigaraki x reader and benimaru x reader, and a few gaara x reader (most difficult bc he was my og awakening as a kid lol)
feels weird saying this but i prefer the wimpy crusty shigaraki vs the trim muscular version u ^ u
which is better? flimsy shigaraki or beefed up post test tube shigaraki
early loser shigaraki
later muscular shigaraki (still a loser but now with muscles)
Folks, friends, y’all…. esk*mo is a slur. I understand a lot of people don’t know that, I don’t want to be a dick about it, but I’ve been seeing it in fics. Wanna write “esk*mo kisses”? Just say “nuzzled noses” or something.
I’m not here to call anybody out, it’s been in multiple fics, I’m not vague posting. This is just a psa. 👍🏻
[Text Description: “Hey! Reminder: Eskimo is a slur. It means ‘snow eaters’ in Cree and is a slur against Inuit . Also don’t use ‘Eskimo kisses’. It’s called Kunik. It is a greeting mostly used for family… Kunik was how I’d greet my mom and grandmother as a small child.” /TD]
Summary: You're Chapter 7's secretary and Central issues out new uniforms. I wrote this over a year ago, no proofreading
Tags: NotSFW, m x m, reader in a skirt, handjobs, cumeating, vanilla and gentle, there's a bit of a build up
“Central is issuing new uniforms,” Maki handed you a small package, “they said that even though you’re not going out on missions, appearance is an important part,” she gave a reassuring smile at that, but it did little to soothe your unease about the situation. Part of why you picked the seventh was the lack of adherence to company policy or standards. They were a little more liberal in their application of those mandates, but it seemed not even you could escape the crushing hand of central. You thanked Maki, shutting the door to your small home and tearing into it on the table. You doubted it would be as comfortable as your loose pants and soft shirts but there was no point in fighting it.
Benimaru rarely had time to sit around the station, he had his morning routine, part of which included checking in on the townspeople and making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. If he had the time he’d settle in for a cup of tea and a light breakfast, maybe some light training. Today he was a bit ahead of schedule, sitting in a spare room and window watching. There was still some paper work that needed to be filled out about the most recent incident, but he had to wait for you to get here in order to submit it officially. Ever since the first sent over a Secretary his days had been peaceful, all that loathsome paperwork was no longer his problem.
You unlocked the front door, taking careful steps and trying to stick the landing with each one. The package included tea party heels, something you’d never tried before. You turned on the lights and began opening the blinds as you went from room to room, the station was always quiet in the morning. Guessing from the time, you still had half an hour before the young master Benimaru would be in. Your estimation was dashed when you opened the sliding room to your ‘office’, a spare room that overlooked a small garden,
“Young master,” you greeted, surprised, “did you already finish your morning walk?” Benimaru gave you a thorough look, stopping back down at your thighs. expressionless.
“What are you wearing?” It came out harsher than intended. You shifted self consciously.
“Maki stopped by to drop off the central issued uniform for secretaries. She assured me that this was the correct one,” you responded, watching him carefully for a response. Aside from the heels you were in a short mini pencil skirt with matching slits in the side, so high up you had to find new a pair of boxer briefs that wouldn’t peak out from under it. A well fitting button up that had ruffles lining the button column. The fabric laid smooth over your flat chest. You supposed male secretaries were rare, and were on the fence on sending a message to central asking for an alternate outfit. A heavy silence fell over the room and you wished you had. “I could ask for a replacement if you would find that more acceptable.” Benimaru finally broke his state, turning towards the window and setting his tea cup on the table.
“That won’t be necessary. This one should do the job just fine.”
You sighed in relief at that sign of approval and finally set foot in the room itself, setting your bag next to the table and checking the filing cabinet for yesterday’s unfinished business. You sat across from him, working quietly, enjoying the gentle breeze and fresh air for the neighboring window. It was beautiful outside. You’d have to take your lunch outside. Every now and then you felt a pair of eyes on you, drinking you in, but whenever you looked he’d be focused on something else. Must have been your imagination. Perhaps an hour into your shift, the young master left.
Several hours later you were wrapping up, setting aside your current stack of documents and stretching back. With all the destruction, you had a lot of filing to do. Notification of damages, repairs, associate costs and outcomes. You had to attach dated photos and make sure to send a copy. But for now, lunch. As if on cue Benimaru appeared in the doorway,
“Are you taking your lunch break?”
You nodded, holding onto the table as you struggled to stand. You almost got a handle on the heels on your walk over but after a long time sitting down you had to get readjusted. You legs wobbled with each request forward, struggling to stay upright as you bent over to pick up your bag,
“Yeah, I think I’ll sit outside today. Do you need me for anything?” You shakily adjusted your bag over your shoulder, reaching the edge of the table and spreading your hands out as you walked in case you needed to catch yourself. Benimaru watched you, amused with the scene in front of him. By the time you got to the door, you felt as if you had just ran an entire yard. Not the small stretch of a room. You gripped the wall.
“No, I think I’ll go out with you.”
“Oh, cool,” you said, not really listening. It took all your attention to focus on staying upright. You wobbled on ahead, hand on the wall, before hearing an exasperated sigh. And suddenly, your feet were off the ground.
“By the time you get outside, your break will be over,” a deep voice explained. You felt the rumbling of his chest vibrate against your back, warm and soothing. You tensed, holding your bag on your stomach like an otter and not trusting yourself to say anything for fear of your voice cracking. He set you down on a partially shaded bench like a sensitive house plant. This was a much gentler side that you rarely saw. You cleared your throat to regain some composure,
“Thank you,” you smiled, hands shaking slightly.Your legs warmed in the sun, not used to getting this much exposure and finding that you quite liked it. The heels could stay too if that meant your young master would carry you from place to place.
“Don’t mention it. Mind if I sit with you?” He was sitting before you could answer, spreading out as if on habit alone, before noticing you scrunched to one side and reeling it in. He scratched at the side of his head, “so this is the new secretary outfit then?”
“Mhm,” you muffled between bites of rice and veggies.
“I won’t tell if you choose not to wear this. You should know by now that we don’t play by central’s rules.”
“I know, but I don’t want to cause anymore trouble for you guys. You already have enough on your hands, and I doubt you could find a secretary as flexible as me.” You definitely picked up way more of the report writing than was required, but Benimaru made up for it where he could. He’d bring you food, mostly, and if he saw you working too hard he’d send you home. Even though you technically worked for central and not just the seventh, he was a pretty cool supervisor.
“That’s why I want to make sure we keep you around. Seriously, you don’t have to wear... that.” You rested your utensil on the edge of your lunch box.
“If you don’t like it, I can change. I don’t mind either way.”
“No! - no it’s not that, I just thought,” he trailed off, leaning away from you now. You usually didn’t see him so impassioned. Or uncomfortable. Desperate to fix the situation you offered your lunch to him,
“Would you like a bite?” You held out your chopsticks, the sharp look of surprise on his face making you wish you didn’t. This was just getting worse. This look was something completely different and unknown, he seemed almost- flustered? You felt the heat rise to your face. With you leaned over your skirt had ridden up further, exposing the bulk of your thighs. You watched as he looked down at the food, catching sight of your thighs, and eyes widening. You blushed, pulling the skirt in vain as the fabric remained taut and unchanged. You gave up, accepting it for what it is. To your surprised he leaned over and took the bite you offered.
The rest of your lunch was eaten in silence, and when it was time for you to wrap up he lead you carefully along the stone path back to your office. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, there was no additional reports to submit so you spent it on some housekeeping. Organizing the space, tidying up lose ends. By the end of the day, you propped yourself up on the edge of the table and took of your shoes, feet throbbing. This new uniform might take some getting use to. The warm orange glow of the sunset cast a loving light on the room and garden in front of you. You enjoyed the peace while you could. You straightened when you heard the door slide open, Benimaru stepping in. He took pleasure seeing you wrapped up in the golden light, propped up against the table. He stepped forward.
“You’re free to leave,” he stated. He tilted his head when he noticed your shoes on there floor, your feet dangling free.
“I’m a little sore,” you explained, shifting to slide off the table. Before you could finish the movement you were cut off by his large body in front of yours, towering over you. You froze in place.
“For all you work you shouldn’t have to walk home in pain,”
“Its really no problem, I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” you smiled, already aware that the young master wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Still you were startled when he dropped to his knees, taking one of your feet in his hands and beginning to rub deep circles into your arch. Once again you stiffened. Before melting completely on the table, slouching and reaching your foot out more for his ease. After the day you had you weren’t going to complain. He repeated the process on your other foot, and then began worked on your calves. Rubbing the muscle and relaxing the tense tissue into something more malleable. You laid back on the table, closing your eyes. Maybe this uniform wasn’t so bad.
He rubbed his hands over your meaty thighs, giving a test squeeze and enjoying the way his fingers dipped into the soft flesh. He was thankful you were on your back to avoid so you didn’t see the excited gleam in his eye. He stood up, settling himself between your legs. His hands ventured up from the sides of your legs to the side of your stomach, pressing in and massaging circles on your stomach with his thumbs. You shuddering, and without much thought you felt yourself get hard. You arched off the table when one of his hands pressed against the small of your back, the buttons on your shirt straining to hold. You couldn’t resist hooking your calves around the back of his legs, pulling him closer and slowly shifting against him. To your pleasure you felt him beginning to grow excited as well, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. Embolden you pulled him in tighter, pressing your erections together firmly as you rocked against him. Bravely you reached out, running a hand over his clothed abs and feeling the muscle definition underneath it.
He hooked his arm under your back and pulled you upright, reaching his free hand under your skirt and playing with your cock through the thin almost sheer like boxers underneath. Your fingers dug into his back, unable to avoid gasping and a small moan spilling out. Your legs tightened around him, hiking your skirt up more and allowing him to slip your cock out of your boxer briefs. He wrapped his other arm around you fully, supporting you and keeping you from wriggling.
Your threaded your fingers in his hair, dipping him down for a kiss. You felt his breath on your cheek, hot and needy, intoxicatingly so. Reluctantly you separate your mouth from his, pressing your foreheads together and fumbling to get your hand in his pants, a deep hunger settling over you. Too hazed to figure it out you made a noise of displeasure,
“Help,” you pleaded.
You felt him let out a hushed, amused laugh. He let go of you for the first time since his entering the room, slipping his thick penis out of his pants. Embarrassingly, you felt your mouth water, feeling the weight of it in your hands and the soft skin. He nestled back between your legs, feeling at home between them despite being a new sensation all together. The two of you felt each other, stroking in unison and nuzzling into the crook of the others neck. A comforting warmth settled over you, feeling his dick throbbing in your hand and his grip on you tightening as he came on your thighs. Not long after you came into his hand, moaning and body jerking to life under his guidance. The two of you stayed, stilled and holding onto one another for a lengthy amount of time. When you finally let go, you heard a groggy, gravelly voice speak up,
“Sorry about the mess,” he gestured to your thighs.
“Oh, uh, don’t wor-“ you choked on the last word as he returned to his knees, licking the cum off the insides of your thighs. You let out a pathetic whine, overstimulated and your half hard cock twitching with interest. You allowed him to lap up his mess before pushing him back, flushed, “I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admitted. He nodded, a softness in his eyes. On wobbly legs you hopped down, this time there was no heels to blame. You really didn’t want to shove your aching feet back into that tight shoe, even after the massage. Sensing your hesitation, Benimaru picked up your shoes.
“I’ll take you home. Or, you could spend the night in the station. With me.”
The idea of not having to leave sounded enticing, and after considering it you gave a nod,
“I think I will,” you lifted your legs and he scooped you up, taking a lesser travelled path to his small captains room, and setting you down in the entry way. It wasn’t decorated beyond what was needed. Dark blue sheets and bedspread, a dresser, just the essentials. Still it looked inviting and you found yourself curled up in his bed before you realized what was happening. You made a mental note to expand your work wardrobe.
Warnings: sharp nails, sharp teeth, blood (not a lot and definitely not the focus)
Tags: male reader, demon shigaraki, reader tends to a garden in the mountains, not like an enemies to lovers thing but I guess like an opposing threats to lovers
woke up this morning to a comment on a fic saying they hoped I didn’t mind them commenting on such an old fic, and the fic isn’t even a year old, so I’m going to reiterate: I can’t speak for every single fanfic writer in the world, but I don’t know a single one myself who wouldn’t be thrilled to get comments on years-old fanfic! there is no deadline! it honestly made my day
There’s a fic on fanfiction(.)net that I’ve kept tabs on for years to see if it’s been updated or not. While I’m no longer even in the fandom it’s written for, it just has one of the greatest storylines I’ve ever read. Last time it was updated was 2011.
The other day, I decided to reread the entire thing and leave a very in-depth review of what I thought of each chapter. I also mentioned how I started reading it when I was 13 and am now 21, but always came back to see if it was ever finished because I loved it so dearly.
Today, said author sent me a private message saying that her analytics showed that the story was still getting views even after all these years, but no one ever bothered to leave reviews other than “update soon!!!”, so she never felt motivated enough to finish it. She said that me reviewing every single chapter with lengthy paragraphs made her cry and meant the world to her. She also mentioned that she felt encouraged to write the two remaining chapters needed to complete the story and that she would send me a message the night before she updates the fic.
I’m literally sobbing. I’m so excited :’)
Please always remember to leave a review when reading fanfiction!!! It means a lot to a writer.
it makes me so sad to see so many creators talking in the tags about how they’re not creating as much because less and less people are interacting. this is proof that interaction is vital. this is proof that a lack of interaction leads to discouraged creators and leads to less creations. liking—and only liking—does not encourage creators.
and that’s because (1) the purpose of this website is to share things that bring us joy and (2) likes don’t share things or ensure something is seen by more people, not like they do on other sites. so, when so many people decide to only like a post and not share it (i.e. not reblog it), that tells the creator that those people didn’t think their hard work was worth sharing with others. that’s discouraging.
and the creator isn’t the only one that gets something out of that. you get something, too. you get the joy of sharing something you like; that’s a meaningful experience for both you and for the creator. and that experience—that interaction—encourages the creator to create more, and so there’s more joy to be had for both you and the creator.
long story short, interaction (i.e., reblogging, which is interaction in its simplest form on this site) brings joy. it’s literally all about the joy, people. the joy in discovering and sharing and appreciating and marveling at creations. so please reblog—for everyone’s sake, including your own.
People will stop making art and edits and funny videos and all that if y'all don't even give the slightest indication that you want to see it. Reblog shit for the love of god. It's the only valid primary engagement. Add tags or don't. Reblog it multiple times if you want! Bonus points if you DM/send an ask to a creator saying how much you love their shit. But that won't mean anything if you don't reblog it.
Reminder that jkr basically funds a large portion of the terf movement in the UK and promoting harry potter and actively giving her money is helping fund that movement and is actively encouraging her and her followers because they see this as support
Stop adding in the tags for ways for people to engage in this content without giving her money when i explicitly stated that promoting harry potter also helps support this movement its really shitty to see people turn around and go “okay but you can still engage and promote this content but this way because were only helping it stay relevant and not giving her money”
Since I apparently wasn’t clear enough JKR will not be deplatformed as long as Harry Potter continues to remain relevant and people are still reblogging this with tags with ways to promote the series it’s really disheartening that a fucking book series is more important than the safety of trans people
JKR claims that the number of Harry Potter fans is proof of how many people support her transphobic views. Literally, any time you post HP content, JKR considers it a statement that you're "team terf." Do what you will with this information.
She claims that people who oppose trans rights live in a "climate of fear" in a clumsy attempt to paint them as victims...
I know it’s traditional for writers to take on gendered pen names for marketing reasons but I still find it incredibly funny that Queen Terf chooses to write under an explicitly male name.
I saw some people had a few questions about alternatives, so I thought I would throw a few out there! In my opinion, here are some ways to portray shyness, attraction, and being flustered without using terms like “turning red” or blushing, as these indicate having light skin or being pale.
Averting eyes, or looking askance
Feeling your face heat up
The term “Visibly flustered”, which can imply a whole lot!
Chest thumping, heart fluttering
Butterflies in the stomach
Peeking through lashes
Covering face or mouth with hands
These are just a couple I like to read/use. It’s good to think about these things so that we have writing that not only doesn’t break immersion, but also writing that doesn’t lean into whiteness as the default. Hope this helps anyone who might have been curious!
