Pictures Of Us 📸🎞️

How about Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi and “Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.” I just SOOO want Tsukishima to interrupt Yams mid-ramble with that sentence.

hhh yeah 

Tadashi is rambling about the weather. It’s stupidly cliché, rambling on about the weather when there’s an awkward moment between people trying to avoid confrontation, and it’s annoying. It’s understandable why Tadashi, his stupid gay brain more than definitely malfunctioning with their thighs touching as they study together in Kei’s bed, would be so flustered but Kei is absolutely losing it. He’d been hinting at things for months. Subtly upping the casual touches. Flirting. Doting more on his friend, even if he’d grown far more independent over the years. 

Hell, he’d even said he’d date Yamaguchi if he had the chance- they were drunk, and Yamaguchi had laughed afterwards, even though he’d been telling the truth. Kei wonders, sometimes, how different things would be if Yamaguchi had taken him up on his offer that night. They’d been dancing around it for months now, and there’s no way Yamaguchi doesn’t know how Kei feels. How much he wants to kiss him right now. How he wants to kiss him all the time, actually. Among other things. 

“..nyway, I’m excited for cherry blossom season, even though that means graduation, because they’re always so pretty. But then again, my allergies always act u-” 

“Yamaguchi, you talk a lot.” 

Yamaguchi blinks, his mouth falling shut before it opens and closes, silent, a few times. “I- I mean, yeah. That’s kind of our whole deal, Tsukki.” 

“True.” Kei murmurs. He doesn’t know where he was going, interrupting Yamaguchi like that. He usually has some quip prepared, but really he’d just wanted to get Yamaguchi to shut up and that was the only way he could think of that didn’t involve pinning him down and making him. Which. Why didn’t he? It wouldn’t hurt. Could it? “...Maybe...” He trails off, losing his confidence the moment the word leaves his mouth. 

“Hm? Maybe what, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks, and he’s looking at Kei with those absolutely killer doe eyes, remnants of day-old eyeliner smudged under them giving the illusion that his eye bags are worse than they are, and Kei almost groans. God, he’s too fucking hot. What the fuck. 

“... Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense. If you’re up to it.” 

Kei ducks his head, embarrassed that he’s being so brazen. He’s too busy looking anywhere but Yamaguchi to see his reaction, but he’s only able to assume it’s somewhere near horror or maybe even confusion. Maybe Kei had been too discreet trying to hint to Yamaguchi that he liked him. Maybe he’d gotten the wrong idea, and the ‘dancing around’ they’ve been doing has just been something called ‘friendship.’ Maybe- 

“...Tsukki, did you really just ask me to suck your dick while we’re working on our stats homework?” 

There’s laughter in Yamaguchi’s voice, and Kei makes a weak noise in the back of his throat, completely embarrassed. He’s such a fucking prick, holy shit. “I- Uh- Sorry. Sorry, I, uh- I’ve been thinking about it all day honestly, and- wait, no, that- that’s bad, uh. I. Uh.” 

Yamaguchi snorts, and he sets his textbook down, lifting Kei’s face with gentle hands on his cheeks. “Tsukki, that is honestly so fucking hot, but if I don’t pass stats I’m not getting into SU, and then we can’t go to uni together. So maybe, if you help me cheat on this take home test, I’ll suck your dick then. Deal?” 

Kei chokes. “No problem. I can do that easy.”  

Post without tags?

Yes, m*therf*cker, post without tags!

Rainy day yams

The two boyfriends wish you a happy Pride!🏳️‍🌈

Today’s Tsukki and Yams: all our teammates are MORONS!!!!! (My art)

Study 🍟📖

“I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn. Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu). Milton wrote Bible fanfic, and everyone and their mom spent the Middle Ages writing King Arthur fanfic. In the sixteenth century you and another dude could translate the same Petrarchan sonnet and somehow have it count as two separate poems, and no one gave a fuck. Shakespeare doesn’t have a single original plot—although much of it would be more rightly termed RPF—and then John Fletcher and Mary Cowden Clarke and Gloria Naylor and Jane Smiley and Stephen Sondheim wrote Shakespeare fanfic. Guys like Pope and Dryden took old narratives and rewrote them to make fun of people they didn’t like, because the eighteenth century was basically high school. And Spenser! Don’t even get me started on Spenser. Here’s what fanfic authors/fans need to remember when anyone gives them shit: the idea that originality is somehow a good thing, an innately preferable thing, is a completely modern notion. Until about three hundred years ago, a good writer, by and large, was someone who could take a tried-and-true story and make it even more awesome. (If you want to sound fancy, the technical term is imitatio.) People were like, why would I wanna read something about some dude I’ve never heard of? There’s a new Sir Gawain story out, man! (As to when and how that changed, I tend to blame Daniel Defoe, or the Modernists, or reality television, depending on my mood.) I also find fanfic fascinating because it takes all the barriers that keep people from professional authorship—barriers that have weakened over the centuries but are nevertheless still very real—and blows right past them. Producing literature, much less circulating it, was something that was well nigh impossible for the vast majority of people for most of human history. First you had to live in a culture where people thought it was acceptable for you to even want to be literate in the first place. And then you had to find someone who could teach you how to read and write (the two didn’t necessarily go together). And you needed sufficient leisure time to learn. And be able to afford books, or at least be friends with someone rich enough to own books who would lend them to you. Good writers are usually well-read and professional writing is a full-time job, so you needed a lot of books, and a lot of leisure time both for reading and writing. And then you had to be in a high enough social position that someone would take you seriously and want to read your work—to have access to circulation/publication in addition to education and leisure time. A very tiny percentage of the population fit those parameters (in England, which is the only place I can speak of with some authority, that meant from 500-1000 A.D.: monks; 1000-1500: aristocratic men and the very occasional aristocratic woman; 1500-1800: aristocratic men, some middle-class men, a few aristocratic women; 1800-on, some middle-class women as well). What’s amazing is how many people who didn’t fit those parameters kept writing in spite of the constant message they got from society that no one cared about what they had to say, writing letters and diaries and stories and poems that often weren’t discovered until hundreds of years later. Humans have an urge to express themselves, to tell stories, and fanfic lets them. If you’ve got access to a computer and an hour or two to while away of an evening, you can create something that people will see and respond to instantly, with a built-in community of people who care about what you have to say. I do write the occasional fic; I wish I had the time and mental energy to write more. I’ll admit I don’t read a lot of fic these days because most of it is not—and I know how snobbish this sounds—particularly well-written. That doesn’t mean it’s “not good”—there are a lot of reasons people read fic and not all of them have to do with wanting to read finely crafted prose. That’s why fic is awesome—it creates a place for all kinds of storytelling. But for me personally, now that my job entails reading about 1500 pages of undergraduate writing per year, when I have time to read for enjoyment I want it to be by someone who really knows what they’re doing. There’s tons of high-quality fic, of course, but I no longer have the time and patience to go searching for it that I had ten years ago. But whether I’m reading it or not, I love that fanfiction exists. Because without people doing what fanfiction writers do, literature wouldn’t exist. (And then I’d be out of a job and, frankly, I don’t know how to do anything else.)”

— “As a professor, may I ask you what you think about fanfiction?” (via meiringens)

Birthday boiiiiii 🎂

I love how they can read each other mind and same thoughts in canon