#edit: it turns out the way to 'make it stop without blocking people' it just to politely ask them to add a tag to something

[trh0d3s]

Manager in the making!

Saja boys x human manager reader

chap 5! (Beta read and edited by Moonie)

I want a fucking nap right now. I’m back at my apartment after escaping crazy fans for the last three blocks—never thought I could be so athletic...

I managed to lose them by diving behind a food stand selling fried treats. Ended up walking away paying for something because I scared the owner. Might be the only thing I eat until later, but it was good, so no regrets!

I stretch, popping something in my shoulder, and close the door with a kick, taking in the blessed air conditioning. My phone’s been blowing up—the feed is all about the Saja boys. The dancing, the music, even the clothes—they’re taking over the media by storm. Everything I see is just... them.

I giggle, looking at the charts. The song’s gaining traction—meaning more money for me! Plus, I’m rising the ranks in social networking as a manager. Now I just have to wait for my agency to call me, begging me to come back.

Nope. These boys are all mine now—can’t escape me no matter how far they run. Doesn’t matter if they do things without running it by me first, I’ll find out whether they like it or not.

I called up a cleanup crew while escaping, so they should be returning the camera soon. I trudge into the kitchen, grabbing my computer sitting on the counter. I have to clip together, edit the feed, and upload it to their accounts before the variety show. People will flock to a professional take on the entire performance—more traction for the accounts.

I’m clicking away at my computer, different tabs open for different accounts, also checking in on the crew. It was a last-minute call, but a good one at that. Can’t go back in case those girls start chasing me again.

A peppy knock comes from my door, followed by the click of a key turning. I didn’t give anyone a key. I shoot up from my seat, grabbing a knife from the holder beside me, ready to throw it at the intruder. Better to throw first than ask later in these types of situations.

“Honey, I’m homeee!”

Thunk.

The knife embeds itself in the wall right next to Romance’s head, his heart-shaped bangs moving with the force.

I stand there at the dining room table, hand outstretched from my chair, face frozen in shock. I lower my arm, the shock fading from my face.

“When did you get a key, you lunatic?!”

“Me, the lunatic?! You threw a knife at me!”

Romance yells, pointing at the knife stuck in the wall, inches from giving him a new haircut.

“I thought you were the crazy fans chasing me?!”

“Why would you throw a knife at a fan?!”

Yelling back and forth with him, I dig in my pockets for my keys, checking the ring to see if the extra was gone. Those fucking losers. Stealing my keys—to what?!

Baby pushes Romance out of the way, laughing at the chaos, eyes fixed on the knife on the wall. This is amazing. He’s laughing so hard he has to go back outside and drag Abby in to see.

“They threw a knife at Romance!”

Abby’s mad as he’s dragged up from the hall, but the anger fades when he sees the scene. He points at Romance, who’s yelling at me, then to me yelling back. He looks at Baby, who just nods, giggling his ass off.

“This is the funniest shit I’ve ever seen!”

If he’d run to my door first, that would’ve been him! He wipes away a stray tear from laughing so hard. The knife wouldn’t have killed him, but it would be hard to explain. His laughter fades as he shakes his head with a happy sigh. He’s starting to like me.

Jinu walks up the steps, laughter echoing down the hall. Mystery is ahead of him, speed-walking, wanting to run but holding back in front of Jinu. As he gets closer, he sees his bandmates sprawled on the floor—well, two of the three annoying ones—because Romance is still yelling at me.

Jinu leans into the doorframe, curious, before catching sight of metal glinting near the door. Oh—OH.

He looks away, snorting into his fist. He shouldn’t be laughing. He wants to stop, but he can’t. This shit is too funny.

Turning away, he fans his face before stepping into the apartment and yanking the knife out of the wall. It was embedded in there. He peers through the small slit I made in the door frame, showing how cheap this apartment building is—not even his home broke down this easily. He chuckles, comparing the two before freezing. Did he just compare this to so long ago…

He turns around with an unreadable expression before forcing a smile and setting the discarded knife on the counter. He was originally here to mess with me, finding it fun too. His thoughts are cut off by my laugh, tired of arguing with Romance.

“Okay, your face, though,” I chuckle, walking past Jinu to grab the knife and put it back in the holder. I don’t pay any attention to his inner turmoil—I wanted to be mad at him earlier. But right now, I don’t want to ruin the moment. Maybe that’s why I never got so far. Is it better to take it than do anything?

I hum to myself, but the buzzing of my phone keeps going off. My face brightens, and I run to the table, grabbing my phone to show them.

“You guys blew up so fast! I’m actually shocked.”

The boys laughing outside filter in, standing next to a ticked-off Romance. Abby slaps his back a little too hard. I shove my phone in their faces, showing the feed. It looks like my smile is contagious. They lean in to see as well, but for a whole other reason than me.

Pulling it back, I run back to my computer, pulling up the web pages.

“I already had your accounts made—just need some photos to start and direct the flow to them.”

Mystery leans in behind you, confused at what he’s looking at, tilting his head. You look up—you could almost see under his bangs at this angle if you could just…

Your fingers twitch. Just a little. Maybe you’re curious—just want a better look, that’s all. Your arm lifts slowly, almost without thinking.

Mystery pokes at your computer, head still tilted. One more inch and you’d see—

A loud, dry cough cuts through the air.

You flinch. Jinu’s standing just behind you both, coughing into his hand like he’s hacking up a lung. It sounds forced. Way too forced.

You drop your hand and shift in your seat like nothing happened. Definitely not about to peek behind Mystery’s hair. Nope. Not at all.

Jinu says nothing. Just watches for a second too long before looking away, face unreadable.

“You said you needed something for this… account.” He says it like it’s the first time in this context, voice wavering with uncertainty.

I drop my hand and get up with a smile, phone already in camera mode.

“Yes, I do, thank you!” I giggle to myself, running around the boys, taking various photos. Moving them into poses as I wish, going for group photos first. I can get to the individual later with different clothing. I move Abby’s arms, touch Mystery’s waist to turn him in one direction, fix Baby’s hair, move Romance’s feet, and adjust Jinu’s clothes. I don’t pay attention to how close I get to some, trying to put my vision into reality. But they do.

Satisfied, I step back, looking at my phone, scrolling through them, leaving them to their thoughts.

“Are you staying?” I hum mid-swipe, expecting a yes with how they are, and I think I hear the beginning of it from Abby.

“No. We need to prepare for tonight.”

Jinu cuts in, his thoughts elsewhere, but his tone is firm. Well, it’s reasonable—he wants to prepare. But have they eaten yet?

“I could order some food, and you all could prepare here?”

I go online, swiping through menus, about to turn my phone around to show the closest option to Baby.

“Any preferences—”

“Thank you, Manager, but we have to go prepare.”

There’s that feeling again. The feeling of being inferior.

I set down my phone, staring up at him, eyebrow quirked—wondering what’s up his ass.

“As your manager, I have to know what you’re doing exactly.” He’s probably hungry—that must be why he’s grumpy.

He steps forward, leaning down only slightly. Was the room always this silent? I can feel myself tense, remembering how cornered I am.

“No. I pay you, don’t I? It’s none of your concern.”

I look up at him, lips pressing into a thin line. He’s right—but details can be crucial. Doesn’t he know that? I open my mouth, trying to say something, but I’m left a gaping fish. I know I can’t control him—only do my best and work around.

He steps back, satisfied with my silence, turning to open the front door. Beckoning the others to follow him, leaving no room to argue. Not even Abby has something to say. As they file out the door, he says something to them—I can’t help but catch.

“Don’t forget why you’re here.”

Baby has to pull Mystery along, dragging his feet, trying to stay a little longer. He looks back at my rigid form, standing there watching him go. He can’t forget why he was here. Turning away, letting Baby push him outside with those words running like a mantra in his mind.

Jinu has his hand on the knob, ready to close the door.

“See you, Manager.”

He closes the door without another word.

I stare at the door for a moment, flexing my fingers in and out. Holding them into fists until indents of crescents kiss my palms. I should be mad. I should be furious. How dare he talk to me like that!

I grab the nearest thing to me and throw it at the door, letting out an angry cry. The banana falls to the floor with a soft thud, only bruising the outside—but it’s enough for now.

I press my hands against my face, hoping the pressure will ease the growing headache.

“This is what you worked for.”

I leave the banana on the welcome mat, sitting back down at my dining room table. Head still in my hands before I pull my fingers away to set them on my keyboard.

I’m just the manager.

The photos were edited and uploaded to their social media platforms, which, of course, I manage. God forbid one of them posts something stupid.

I dive into work after getting the camera back from the hired hand, plugging the footage into my computer, and scrubbing through every second to snip and clip it together. I try to catch the spot where I saw the body glitter, but no matter how much I tweak the footage, nothing shows up. Maybe the camera couldn’t pick it up. Maybe the lighting was off. Or maybe I imagined it—but if that glitter caught, it could’ve been gold for their aesthetic.

I lean back in my chair as a new thought hits me. I still don’t have the boys’ numbers—just that one damn email. Never once have I seen a phone come out of their pockets. Ever. It could be polite behavior, not using their phones around me… but I wouldn’t give them that much credit. Well, most of them.

I snap my laptop shut. I’ve got to get to the site a few hours early, but first? A shower. I desperately need one. After all that running, I’m basically marinating in my own dried sweat. Gross.

My hand hovers over my phone, debating whether to email Jinu and let him know I’ll be arriving early. I really need to get his damn number, but at this rate, I’m doomed to be stuck with email forever.

I shuffle past the walkway, kicking off my shoes without a care. Phone on silent for fifteen minutes—that’s all I need. Fifteen minutes for a dramatic inner monologue in the shower. And to actually wash myself. Can’t forget that.

I nudge the bathroom door open and toss my accessories and phone onto the counter. I consider putting on music, but I know I’d waste five whole minutes picking a song. No time for that. This has to be quick. Under an hour. No sulking.

I turn the faucet and stare at the water as it hits the tile, waiting for it to warm. It swirls down the drain, and my brain immediately checks out, drifting into a fog until the steam snaps me back. I strip down and get in. Maybe this is what sleep deprivation feels like—finally catching up to me in the most annoying way possible.

I scrub every bit of sweat and grime off while humming some random tune. My hair sticks to my face as I close my eyes, letting the water pelt me. It’s… kind of therapeutic. Right up until I remember I have to get out and deal with their nonsense again.

I don’t hear my phone vibrating over the rush of water. Unknown number. Voicemail gets it.

I step out and towel-dry my hair, making a quick trip to my room. I throw on something semi-professional—still manager-chic—but this time with sneakers. Just in case I need to run again. Preferably with unblistered feet and dignity intact.

I type the studio’s address into my phone while hopping to the door, trying to shove my feet into my shoes as I move. Timing is everything. I need to show up early, sharp, and composed. No screw-ups.

I step outside, work bag in hand. Deep breath.

Inhale. Pause. Exhale.

I’m going to kick fucking ass.

The metro’s the move—faster than walking, less sweat involved. I power-walk toward the station, triple-checking my route and hyping myself up the entire way.

Card tapped. I step into an empty car and immediately sit as far away from everyone as possible. I pop in one earbud and pull out my laptop, trying to radiate “productive commuter” vibes.

I hear people enter, talking loud enough to cut through my music, but I ignore it—until everything suddenly goes quiet.

I glance left and freeze.

Three of the most famous people in Korea. HUNTRIX. Head to toe in leather. Staring at me like I just slapped their grandma.

Why is HUNTRIX on the same metro as me?

I slowly look away—breaking eye contact first—and return to my computer. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. I turn up my music. They could be doing their own thing. No need to freak out.

…Zoey’s pointing at me.

She looks to her trio. Then back at me.

Mira’s glaring, trying and failing to look normal. Chill. Unbothered.

“Demon…”

“DEMON!”

Zoey’s full-on pointing now—and all three stand like they’re ready to pounce.

I don’t even fully look up before a sword swings down at me. I roll sideways, clutching my laptop.

“WHAT THE FREAK—?!”

The sword embeds itself in the seat where I just was.

I stare, horrified. That was way too close.

“WHAT DID I DO?! I JUST LOOKED AT YOU!”

Rumi is now struggling to yank her sword out of the upholstery. The other two saunter up—also armed. From where?! Who knows!

Is this some weird, magical sacrifice? Is HUNTRIX a cult? Or—God help me—the cult?

I slam my laptop shut and back away, shielding it with my body. My baby will not die today.

“Demon, you will tell us why you’re here.”

There’s a glowing spear inches from my face. I blink. That’s definitely magic. There are cameras in here, right? Or am I actually about to be New Yorker metro’d in real time?

Mira inches the spear closer. I lean away. Zoey flashes glowing daggers. Rumi finally yanks out her sword, also glowing.

“I’m just a lowly manager! I don’t want to be in your cult!”

That actually makes them pause. They look at each other, confused. Mira lowers her spear.

I don’t wait. I roll onto the floor, laptop clutched to my chest. Next stop’s only one away—I thank the heavens I wore my sneakers.

I land hard, using one hand to break the fall, then spring up and sprint toward the doors. The moment jars them out of their confusion—they’re on my heels.

“We are not a cult!” Rumi yells behind me.

“Not very believable right now!”

I run, hurdling over stray luggage and dodging seats. Glittering daggers whiz past, stabbing into the wall beside me. I scream and stumble back, only to get nearly impaled by a spear.

The intercom calmly asks me to exit.

I am not calm.

THIS IS NOT CALM.

The doors creak open—I don’t wait. I squeeze through, tripping over the gap and catching myself before I faceplant. No time to look back.

More daggers clatter to the floor behind me. Zoey’s yelling at me to stop. I glance back—mistake—and see all three of them comically jammed in the door, trying to push through at once.

Looney Tunes-level chaos. I’d laugh if I weren’t sprinting for my life.

I turn the corner, hearing them unstick and hit the ground. I don’t look back. I bolt into the streets. I may be running from a magical girl group cult, but I am not missing my job.

I get to the studio, breath heaving, legs burning. I might’ve dunked my head in a fountain five minutes away to cool off—jury’s still out.

By the time I reach the doors marked “employees only,” my hair’s dry and I look semi-put-together. People bustle past with mics, clipboards, and caffeine-fueled urgency.

I glance down at my phone, pulling up the documents I’ll need. This is big. I cannot fuck this up.

I walk up to the security guy posted at the side entrance. He zeroes in on me—no lanyard in sight—and shifts like he’s about to block my way.

“Ah, excuse me, I’m the manager for the Saja Boys,” I say with a smile. The broad shoulders should intimidate me, but after Abby, this guy’s tame. I hand him my phone, screen already pulled up.

I see my reflection in his sunglasses—exhausted, wild-eyed, but here.

He looks down at the phone, back up at me, then pulls a lanyard out of his back pocket. Hands it over without a word. Nod of approval.

Respect.

I clip on the lanyard and step inside. Cool air hits me instantly.

Here we go again, Manager in the making.

—————————loser ave——————————

I just got a beta reader and editor and their work is amazing <3😭😭😭

I’m going to go back and update the rest of my chapters on tumblr it will take a second cause my phone hates me.

Thank you so much jay!

[a-lonely-dunedain]

.

[onsomenewsht]

Silencio en la biblioteca, los ángeles también pecan

About when people slide in Alexia's DMs, she forgets about it, and you find it way too funny

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 2k

》 to slide into someone DMs [Internet slang]: to confidently send a direct message to someone via social media, mostly with romantic or sexual intentions

“Most famous person on your phone?”

Alexia’s cheeks redden slightly under the studio’s lights and the playful tone of the host’s voice.

It’s predictable enough, part of the game of rapid-fire questions. It’s innocent enough, intended to tease the interview on social media later on. It’s not bad, but she is.

She thinks of you immediately, her heart skipping a beat.

It’s not strange for her, you crossing her mind unprompted at the most inappropriate times. But Alexia can blame Vicky for this one.

The younger girl sent her a TikTok edit yesterday.

Footage of you with a sparkling toy microphone, dressed in a princess gown as a kid, or you writing and recording in a tiny studio, meeting people and doing press tours. A voice-over, some dude on a podcast, saying that you will never make it, that singers like you don’t fill stadiums. The video cuts, with impressive editing skills, to clips of your last tour.

A tour that sold out the Bernabeu.

Twice.

She blocks Vicky after the third teasing text, and if the video gets saved in a dedicated gallery is just for her to know.

“I don’t know, probably some other athlete”, Alexia lies, more worried of saying your name out of instinct than giving a proper answer.

“Messi? The Queen of Spain, maybe?”

“The Queen? Do they even have a phone?”

“You could probably have their number if they do”, he says with a grin.

“I don’t think so”

Moving on to the next question turns out to be nothing more than wishful thinking, as the host decides this is a topic interesting enough to keep exploring.

“I bet you’ve got big names in there somewhere”

“I really don’t”, Alexia dismisses, trying to downplay the whole thing, “It mostly happens on Instagram nowadays, doesn’t it?”

“You mean people slide on your DMs”

“That’s not what I said”, she retorts, her cheeks turning a shade of red that could rival the flush she gets after an exhausting game.

There’s not a real reason for her to be so embarrassed. She faced way more uncomfortable conversation and way better than this.

It’s your fault, actually.

The Catalan can’t stop thinking about the way you smoothly added your contact on her phone after you had met just a handful of times.

Your first encounter was at a Barça’s victory party. You’d been invited to sing, genuinely excited to celebrate yet another award with the women’s team. Jana had dragged her captain along to congratulate you on the album you’d released just a couple of weeks earlier. The blonde didn’t say much, but when she did, her words were always spot-on, carefully considered.

The second time was at a charity event for her foundation. Alexia made sure to thank you for your generous donation, and you joked that it was for a good cause – helping young girls and adding an invaluable piece to your wardrobe. But Alexia saw the sincerity in your eyes and knew you meant every word.

The third time was the lucky one. You both talked for what felt like hours, ignoring the demands of others, hidden away in a secluded corner of the obnoxious rooftop terrace, crowded with music and laughter, that a mutual friend had rented for their birthday party. Just before leaving, far later than you both had intended, you asked for her phone to save your number under a silly nickname. That same night, the footballer texted you as soon as she got home.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Three years later, your contact’s still saved under the same nickname.

“So, no A-list celeb likes your old pics?”

Apparently, the host isn’t going to save her from herself. Alexia realizes she has to dig herself out of this hole without making it worse.

“I mean we all comment people’s posts or text on Instagram now, you know, it’s just easier”

“Nice save”, he remarks, clearly amused, finally moving on to the next question.

~

The weeks after the interview pass in such an erratic blur that Alexia forgets about it entirely.

You are in London to co-produce an album and her schedule is getting a bit more intense now that the Champions League is in full swing. It’s not easy juggling the endless work trips, media days, and the demanding commitments that clutter your shared calendar, but it’s worth it.

The nights hidden in a studio are worth the way you alway get inspired when talking the days away, curled into the footballer’s side. The dates you take each other on, planned in advantage of months or improvised last minute, are worth every single time you have to delay your reunion. The long video calls, the flowers sent from different countries, the red-eye flights, the supportive texts that never quite compare to a comforting hug. It’s all worth it.

After a month apart, you finally have a couple of quiet days to spend together, free from distractions. Alexia doesn’t think about that interview, and that’s a mistake.

She has a session with the team’s physio when they release it, a session that Vicky interrupts abruptly. As soon as the younger girl storms into the room, with a shit-eating smirk on her face, the blonde knows it is not going to be pleasant for her.

“Oh, you’re so done”, she teases, her grin widening as she waves the phone in front of Alexia’s face, “You’re not going to like this”

She doesn’t show her a clip from the damn interview.

Oh, no. It’s much worse.

Vicky’s already saved dozens of video edits, all of them capturing the awkward moment when Alexia tries, and fails miserably, to dodge the question about her phonebook.

“What was I supposed to say?”, the midfielder complains, dropping her head onto the massage bed, while even the physio can’t hold back a smile.

“Anything else? You basically bragged about people sliding in your DMs, you idiot”

“I didn’t say that�� and I wasn’t bragging!”

Vicky raises an eyebrow at the older woman’s defense, always surprised by the genuine self-consciousness of a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, “Sometimes I wonder if you know they call you Reina for more than just your football skills”

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Alexia asks, her voice dripping with resignation.

The physio pats her shoulder, offering support and signaling she can go home. Tomorrow is a day off and, suddenly, the idea of spending it rotting in bed sounds so appealing.

“Just wait until your girlfriend sees this”, Vicky murmurs, her grin widening as she bolts from the pissed captain.

~

You have seen the interview.

Of course you have.

Alexia may not keep up with her media appearances, but you do. First and foremost because you truly love her, and second, because you adore that dorky side of her that shows up in the most unexpected moments

Like in her latest commercial. She’s posing for the camera, drenched in water to look badass, but blushing, almost embarrassed, as a list of her career accomplishments is given to her. Or in that sponsored video, where she’s in the background, annoyed and teased by her younger teammates for her most listened songs of the year to be all by the same artist.

Barcelona’s media team had to cut most of it out, but you know the whole story. And you absolutely love it.

The loudest sign of her coming home is the soft thud of her kit bag hitting the floor as soon as the door opens. You’ve given her endless shit for leaving her sport gear all over the shared apartment.

Her big hands and warm arms wrapping you from behind come second, “What are you doing here?”

Alexia kisses your shoulder, burying her face in the crook of your neck. Wet hair drips down your shirt, almost enough to annoy you into pushing her away. Almost.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you too”, you reply, smiling as you stir the sauce you've been working on for the past hour.

“Idiot”, she giggles, not moving an inch, “You had dinner with that producer tonight, no?”

“Yeah, but he had an ‘enlightening revelation’ about a track he’s working on, so he’s stuck in studio and couldn’t make it”

“You artists are wired”

“You missed a date once ‘cus you lost track of time working on a drill you ‘absolutely had to master’ that day”

The older woman doesn’t argue, knowing she wouldn’t win this one, so she just turns you around to gently, but firmly, kiss you.

It feels like the comfort of a safe space, like the certainty of a kept promise.

It may be too soon for other kinds of promises, you know that, but the future ahead looks a lot like an older, even more in-love version of the two of you. If a carefully picked ring is tucked away in an otherwise-empty guitar case, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet, at least.

“What?”, she asks, taking in your wandering gaze.

“Just thinking”

“About?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, “That I love you”

“I love you too”

“And you better clean the mess you left at the doorway before dinner’s ready”

Alexia laughs, playfully rolling her eyes, but retreating her steps back to do exactly that.

She knows something is flipping back and forth in your mind, but she also knows when to press and when to let you tidy up your own thoughts before opening up.

The sauce cooks perfectly, creamy and spiced up enough to make the footballer forget the planned dish for the day consisted of plain rice and vegetables. When the pasta is presented on the table and you sit in front of her, it truly looks like a perfect dinner.

You two talk between bites, forgetting manners as the story of a songwriter arriving at the studio with too-personal lyrics about cheating hits its peak. She’s not above good gossip, you know that, and teasing about not revealing names of the people involved is too much fun.

“Speaking of cheating”, you grin as Alexia nearly chokes on the food, shaking your head, “Your football-daughter send me a video”

“Which one?”

“Which daughter, or which video?”

She can’t hide a smile, heading to the kitchen with the empty dishes. You follow, sitting on the counter to keep enjoying each other’s company and the playful banter while she cleans up.

“Vicky sent–”

“I told you to block her”

“Don’t be mean, the videos she share are cute”, you retort, “Most of the times, at least”

“Amor–”

“You have to worry about Jana, actually. She’s ruthless”

“What does that even mean?”

The pure disbelief in her eyes almost makes you second-guess the teasing.

Almost.

“Let’s get back to the point”

“Is there a point?”

“Yes, this video of you– wait, no! Alexia!”

Before you can even finish the sentence, the midfielder decides the dishes can wait. She lifts you off the counter, cutting your words short as she tosses you onto the couch with ease.

The unexpected display of strength overshadows how her soapy hands soak your shirt. It’s an old oversized tee she used to train in, not really something that will be irremediably ruined by the gesture, but it’s the principle of it.

“You watched the interview”, she states, towering above without weighing on you.

“What interview?”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. One of her hands moving under your shirt. It’s a warning, her fingers trailing across your hip.

“I watch all you interviews”, you admit, shifting slightly to caress her cheek, “It was a good video, you’re cute when you get embarrassed”

“I panicked!”, she complains, dropping her body on top of yours to hide her face.

“I bet, with all those people sliding in your DMs–”

The room fills with laughter as she starts tickling you, and your chuckles become too infectious to hold back herself.

[doumadono]

sorry if this sounds rude 😢 but you haven’t been posting a lot of stories lately and that’s like the only thing you have to do? just post something it’s not that big of a deal? dygwim? i think fanfic writers especially on the anime side like to exaggerate things too much and if you don’t post then just deactivate? there’s no point in staying if you’re not gonna do anything but reblog silly content all the time? i don't understand how so many ppl can follow you when you are not even trying to be grateful and you only write not what people request but what you find interesting (which is not, like vampier Shigaraki???? viking Dabi???? so silly stupid ideas imo 😒)? whoever finds your writing or you as a person nice is either blind or stupid. and even if you write something chaptered it takes you literally months to update which isn't fair to people?? but I guess you don't care at all. you must be a freaking entitled white woman to treat otherz the way you do.

(again sorry, didn't mean to sound rude) 😔

When I first read your message, I was completely speechless for a minute or two, anon.

Firstly, it seems there’s a misconception about what fanfiction writers, or any creative individuals for that matter, have to do. Let me clarify something important: creativity isn’t a tap that one can simply turn on and off at will. It’s a complex, often unpredictable process that cannot be rushed without compromising the integrity and quality of the work. Quality stories often require research, plotting, editing, and revising before they’re ready to share. My creative process isn’t a fast food joint, nonnie, and I'm not here to serve up reheated ideas just to fill the silence.

My blog belongs to no one but me. I post what I want, when I want. As for the content of my stories, I believe every writer has the right to explore subjects that excite them the most - even if that means delving into topics or settings others may find odd, like vampires or vikings. My goal is to write stories I’m passionate about and then offer them freely to anyone who might find them entertaining. Some people will, others won’t, and that’s absolutely okay.

Contrary to your belief, I don't exist solely to churn out stories at the speed you dictate. I write on my own time and for my own pleasure. The notion that I should be a content machine is, frankly, laughable. Writing takes time, creative energy, and often real-life circumstances can slow the process. I post when I’m ready, and if that doesn’t align with your desired schedule, you’re free to unfollow or seek out other writers who update more frequently. Suggesting I deactivate because I’m not constantly posting or because I reblog content I enjoy is dismissive at best. I'm not a streaming service like Netflix, darling🙄

Calling me an entitled white woman or implying I’m ungrateful crosses a line. You know nothing of my background or personal circumstances, and bringing race or entitlement into the conversation is neither accurate nor constructive. My ethnicity or personal identity, whatever it may be, does not diminish the value of my creative output, nor does it affect my commitment to my followers. I appreciate every person who visits my page - whether they come to enjoy what I reblog, to read stories I post or to offer critique.

It's also laughable that you think my followers are stupid. Just because their tastes don't align with yours doesn't make them any less intelligent. Diversity in fandoms exists because creativity resonates differently with everyone, something you seem incapable of recognizing.

In the end, I won’t apologize for taking the time I need to create or for following my own interests - that’s part of being a writer. I do, however, expect basic respect in return. If you can’t extend that courtesy, I hope you'll block me, step away from my blog, and never interact with any of my content again.

With all this in mind, it's precisely why I've stopped taking regular requests. Last year, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of requests and the rudeness in many messages, pushing me to my limits. That's why I've decided to concentrate on my own projects and only accept commissioned work.

I'm taking a few days off to gather my thoughts and concentrate on my writing projects.

[heartavenue]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThings To Script: Parenting Edition 🍼

Long awaited request from anon, I got two requests that were very similar so I decided to combine the two. This "things to script" will be very lengthy so just bare with me. So sorry that it took me so long to finally make this but I hope that you like it anon(s)!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBaby's Health & Development

╰┈➤. 2 Months

Calms down when spoken to or picked up 

Looks at your face 

Seems happy to see you when you walk up to them

Smiles when you talk to or smile at them

Makes sounds other than crying 

Reacts to loud sounds 

Watches you as you move 

Looks at a toy for several seconds 

Holds head up when on tummy 

Moves both arms and both legs 

Opens hands briefly 

╰┈➤. 4 Months

Smiles on their own to get your attention 

Chuckles (not yet a full laugh) when you try to make them laugh 

Looks at you, moves, or makes sounds to get or keep your attention

Makes sounds like “oooo”, “aahh” (cooing) 

Makes sounds back when you talk to them

Turns head towards the sound of your voice 

If hungry, opens mouth when their sees breast or bottle

Looks at their hands with interest 

Holds head steady without support when you are holding them

Holds a toy when you put it in his hand 

Uses their arm to swing at toys 

Brings hands to mouth 

Pushes up onto elbows/forearms when on tummy

╰┈➤. 6 Months

Knows familiar people

Likes to look at self in a mirror

Laughs

Takes turns making sounds with you 

Blows “raspberries” (sticks tongue out and blows) 

Makes squealing noises 

Puts things in their mouth to explore them

Reaches to grab a toy they wants

Closes lips to show they doesn’t want more food 

Rolls from tummy to back 

Pushes up with straight arms when on tummy

Leans on hands to support herself when sitting

╰┈➤. 9 Months

Is shy, clingy, or fearful around strangers 

Shows several facial expressions, like happy, sad, angry, and surprised

Looks when you call their name 

Reacts when you leave (looks, reaches for you, or cries) 

Smiles or laughs when you play peek-a-boo

Makes a lot of different sounds like “mamamama” and “bababababa” 

Lifts arms up to be picked up 

Looks for objects when dropped out of sight (like his spoon or toy) 

Bangs two things together 

Gets to a sitting position by themselves

Moves things from one hand to her other hand

Uses fingers to “rake” food towards themseleves

Sits without support

╰┈➤. 1 Year

Plays games with you, like pat-a-cake 

Waves “bye-bye” 

Calls a parent “mama” or “dada” or another special name 

Understands “no” (pauses briefly or stops when you say it) 

Puts something in a container, like a block in a cup 

Looks for things he sees you hide, like a toy under a blanket 

Pulls up to stand

Walks, holding on to furniture 

Drinks from a cup without a lid, as you hold it 

Picks things up between thumb and pointer finger, like small bits of food 

╰┈➤. 15 Months

Copies other children while playing, like taking toys out of a container when another child does

Shows you an object they like

Claps when excited 

Hugs stuffed doll or other toy

Shows you affection (hugs, cuddles, or kisses you)

Tries to say one or two words besides “mama” or “dada,” like “ba” for ball or “da” for dog 

Looks at a familiar object when you name it 

Follows directions given with both a gesture and words. For example, they gives you a toy when you hold out your hand and say, “Give me the toy.” 

Points to ask for something or to get help.

Tries to use things the right way, like a phone, cup, or book

Stacks at least two small objects, like blocks 

Takes a few steps on his own

Uses fingers to feed herself some food 

╰┈➤. 18 Months

Moves away from you, but looks to make sure you are close by 

Points to show you something interesting

Puts hands out for you to wash them

Looks at a few pages in a book with you

Helps you dress them by pushing arm through sleeve or lifting up foot 

Tries to say three or more words besides “mama” or “dada” 

Follows one-step directions without any gestures, like giving you the toy when you say, “Give it to me.” 

Copies you doing chores, like sweeping with a broom 

Plays with toys in a simple way, like pushing a toy car

Walks without holding on to anyone or anything 

Scribbles

Drinks from a cup without a lid and may spill sometimes

Feeds himself with their fingers

Tries to use a spoon

Climbs on and off a couch or chair without help

╰┈➤. 2 Year

Notices when others are hurt or upset, like pausing or looking sad when someone is crying

Looks at your face to see how to react in a new situation

Points to things in a book when you ask, like “Where is the bear?” 

Says at least two words together, like “More milk.” 

Points to at least two body parts when you ask them to show you 

Uses more gestures than just waving and pointing, like blowing a kiss or nodding yes 

Holds something in one hand while using the other hand; for example, holding a container and taking the lid off 

Tries to use switches, knobs, or buttons on a toy

Plays with more than one toy at the same time, like putting toy food on a toy plate

Kicks a ball

Runs 

Walks (not climbs) up a few stairs with or without help

Eats with a spoon

╰┈➤. 30 Months

Plays next to other children and sometimes plays with them 

Shows you what they can do by saying, “Look at me!” 

Follows simple routines when told, like helping to pick up toys when you say, “It’s clean-up time.” 

Says about 50 words 

Says two or more words together, with one action word, like “Doggie run” 

Names things in a book when you point and ask, “What is this?” 

Says words like “I,” “me,” or “we” 

Uses things to pretend, like feeding a block to a doll as if it were food 

Shows simple problem-solving skills, like standing on a small stool to reach something 

Follows two-step instructions like “Put the toy down and close the door.” 

Shows they know at least one color, like pointing to a red crayon when you ask, “Which one is red?” 

Uses hands to twist things, like turning doorknobs or unscrewing lids

Takes some clothes off by themselves, like loose pants or an open jacket

Jumps off the ground with both feet 

Turns book pages, one at a time, when you read to them

╰┈➤. 3 Year

Calms down within 10 minutes after you leave them, like at a childcare drop off 

Notices other children and joins them to play 

Talks with you in conversation using at least two back-and-forth exchanges 

Asks “who,” “what,” “where,” or “why” questions, like “Where is mommy/daddy?” 

Says what action is happening in a picture or book when asked, like “running,” “eating,” or “playing” 

Says first name, when asked 

Talks well enough for others to understand, most of the time 

Draws a circle, when you show them how 

Avoids touching hot objects, like a stove, when you warn them

Strings items together, like large beads or macaroni

Puts on some clothes by themselves, like loose pants or a jacket

Uses a fork

╰┈➤. 4 Year

Pretends to be something else during play (teacher, superhero, dog) 

Asks to go play with children if none are around, like “Can I play with Alex?” 

Comforts others who are hurt or sad, like hugging a crying friend

Avoids danger, like not jumping from tall heights at the playground 

Likes to be a “helper” 

Changes behavior based on where she is (place of worship, library, playground) 

Says sentences with four or more words 

Says some words from a song, story, or nursery rhyme 

Talks about at least one thing that happened during her day, like “I played soccer.” 

Answers simple questions like “What is a coat for?” or “What is a crayon for?” 

Names a few colors of items 

Tells what comes next in a well-known story 

Draws a person with three or more body parts

Catches a large ball most of the time

Serves themselves food or pours water, with adult supervision

Unbuttons some buttons 

Holds crayon or pencil between fingers and thumb (not a fist)

╰┈➤. 5 Year

Follows rules or takes turns when playing games with other children

Sings, dances, or acts for you 

Does simple chores at home, like matching socks or clearing the table after eating

Tells a story they heard or made up with at least two events. For example, a cat was stuck in a tree and a firefighter saved it 

Answers simple questions about a book or story after you read or tell it to him 

Keeps a conversation going with more than three back-and-forth exchanges 

Uses or recognizes simple rhymes (bat-cat, ball-tall) 

Counts to 10 

Names some numbers between 1 and 5 when you point to them 

Uses words about time, like “yesterday,” “tomorrow,” “morning,” or “night” 

Pays attention for 5 to 10 minutes during activities. For example, during story time or making arts and crafts (screen time does not count) 

Writes some letters in her name 

Names some letters when you point to them 

Buttons some buttons 

Hops on one foot

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDuring Child's Life

Your child gets accepted into the best schools.

Doctor visits always go well with your child, the doctor is sweet and listens to all of your concerns.

Your child sleeps soundly throughout the night.

Your child does not get any nightmares.

They don't throw temper tantrums.

They don't go through the "terrible twos."

They can't poop, pee, or vomit on you.

They can't spit on you.

They don't always ask for your food when you're eating (unless you want them to them sure!)

They understand when they need to give you some space.

Other children, hell even adults, can't bully them.

Your child is free to express themselves however they like without judgement.

They don't throw things like food and toys (especially at other children)

They don't get into fights with other children.

They always make you cute crafts from school!

They don't mess up their hair for picture day.

People are kind and respectful to you and your child.

Random people (or people you do know) don't kiss your child and pick them up without your consent.

There are a multitude of educational and fun programs for kids to enjoy (think of PBS and Sprout) that CANNOT get cancelled or defunded.

There are activities in your area that are meant for kids (fairs, carnivals, etc)

People don't hate children and make it their entire personality.

Your child is great at communicating how they feel.

Your child can't bully other children.

Okay I did my best, but I will continue to add to this as I think of things. For this things to script I used this website from the CDC, and this website by the "girl with the list" (@/yuniquethoughts on tiktok)

[defiant-dandylion]

the oddworld fandom don’t really want to interact with you because you don’t care about oddworld. compared to other fandoms we’re tiny and the games don’t get enough love anyway so it feels borderline disrespectful. if it’s not your thing why are you even making ocs for it?

I literally made a post saying not to pull this shit, I said I would be taking anon asks as long as people were kind. Yet once again I'm being met with being pushed out of a community I was wanting to get to know about. Being told I don't care when I'm literally still new and learning things. So people apparently can only partake in a community if they only know every little detail about it?

Look if you have an issue with me I'd rather you not be hiding behind anon, it feels incredibly uncomfortable and disrespectful that you would cross a boundary I set in place. The anon asks was to allow people to send asks comfortably, but you keep ruining it for everyone with me needing to turn them off because you don't have the balls to come out and say stuff without hiding behind anon. You make me believe the community is unkind and unwelcoming, when I don't want to believe that because some of the people I have interacted with have been wonderful.

You don't get to dictate what I take interest in and how I enjoy those things. So just leave me alone or at least stop hiding behind anon, it isn't fair on anyone else that you keep doing this. I won't be switching anon off because I put it on to allow people to be comfortable. I didn't put it on to allow you to feel comfortable being unwelcoming, if your going to stand up for what you love then stop hiding. Or are you afraid that if people knew who was doing it that they wouldn't like you as much anymore, since it's a small community alot of people seem to know each other. I doubt it would be fun to find out that someone was going out of Thier way to shun people from a community they apparently care about.

If you love something wouldn't you rather want to share it and talk about it, not being hateful and pushing people away from it.

I'm tired of this, this was a shitty thing to just wake up to.

Edit: anon has apologised for their behaviour however decided not to post a response to that because I don't want to give them more attention than necessary. This will be the last thing I'll be adding to this situation. I've blocked them from being able to send anon asks anymore, this is because they broke a couple of boundaries and have done things that I'm really not comfortable with. Also just didn't enjoy the vibes being brought to the table. Just hope a lesson has been learnt here.

Thank you for all the kindness that everyone has shown to me, I was a little surprised by the amount of responses, but I'm glad the community seems to take these things seriously. Don't worry I'm not going anywhere and my asks are still open and yous are free to send asks as anons. Just be kind and respectful<3 eventually I may make a post with all the ocs on it that are available for asks once I've brushed up more on lore. I look forward to doing more with yous <3

[headsplit2008]

writing thing where jamie and santiago wait for the bus at night. contextually i guess this takes place pre-redacted pre-headsplit ok. thx mari for editing it so my weird writing habits (like run on sentences and no caps and 'these quotes') are gone and its actually readable.

The streetlight reflects off the bus stop glass, the beads of water left over from the light showers glinting like sequins. Santiago sighs. Jamie had already thrown up, emptying his stomach outside the bus stop in a way the commuters the following morning were sure to appreciate. He leans against Santiago’s shoulder, now, too wasted to even sit up on his own. Santiago glances down the street as if the bus’ll appear at the exact moment he looks. His phone had died, so it’s not like he could check to know when the next one was coming. The night buses always came much less frequently, anyways… they should’ve brought the car. But it isn’t like Santiago is exactly sober, either.

Jamie lets out a little huff of a sigh as he leans more against Santiago.

“Mnnnghh… when’s that bus gonna come…” he grumbles.

“You think I know?” Santiago says back tiredly. He instinctively goes to turn on his phone to look at the time, but, yep, it’s still dead.

“Ughhhhh…. this blowssss….” Jamie groans as he rolls his head a bit to Santiago’s chest. Santiago watches to make sure he doesn’t fall over.

“Yup.” he agrees.

There’s another bit of silence, the pit-pit-pit of the restarted rain hitting the glass softly.

It’s a beautiful night. But it’s always a bit of a beautiful night— one of Santiago’s favorite things about going out is seeing the quiet, empty city when they have to make their way home. Something about the lack of people calms his nerves. Nobody watching, nobody caring what they get up to all alone and anonymous in the night. Something something enjoying the freedom of youth, he supposes. The stoplight the next block over turns from red to green, but there’s no one to cross the street.

“Santi… you know, you’re a great guy, man…” Jamie mumbles, apropos of nothing. He always gets weirdly sappy the drunker he is, the more alone they are. Not that Santiago minds. It makes him feel really nice, actually, to know that even without his wits, Jamie still likes him.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Santiago dismisses, “Sure.”

Jamie blinks open his eyes halfway, obviously woozy. “I’m serious, dude… you’re so…” And Santiago can almost see the gears in his brain turning, him reaching for whatever big word he’s too out of it to recall.

��So what?” Santiago lets out a little huf-laugh.

“…cool.” Jamie settles on.

Santiago can’t help but snort unconvincedly to that. “Cool? Yeah, right.” And he looks at his phone in his hand, absentmindedly turns it over and back, “Not sure what wires are crossed in your brain right now, but I’m gonna take what you say with grains of salt.”

“I’m soooo serious, dude,” Jamie leans up a bit to look at him more. Santiago smiles skeptically. “I mean, like, you totally killed it back there. You always do.”

Okay, now he knows Jamie is REALLY out of it. Santiago never “kills it” anywhere he goes, unless “killing it” is to be taken literally. Santiago feels like he sucks the life out of whatever room he enters. Like a candle snuffer.

“Alright, dude.” Santiago waves Jamie’s comment off, tries to think of a way to direct the conversation away from himself.

“I’m serious…” Jamie says, looking at him, tilting his head a bit. He just sort of stares, like he’s expecting something. Santiago has no idea what.

“…what?” he asks.

“…?” and Jamie leans closer to him.

“Hey, dude—” Santiago leans away a bit, looks around nervously. Jamie tilts his head more, leans closer. Santiago’s trying not to get uncomfortable, but Jamie’s a bit of an enigma in general. Not that everybody isn’t, to him.

“I’m… I’m, like, telling you, dude. You’re way cool.” Jamie’s words trip over each other in leaving his mouth.

“I’m really not,” Santiago smiles grimacingly, “no clue where you got that idea from.” A car drives past, the whsshhhh of the tires over the damp street, the flash of the headlights passing over Jamie’s face from back to front illuminating him momentarily in 3d. He’s a handsome guy, Santiago supposes subconsciously. Just as an observation, not a compliment.

“Why do you always say that ssort of stuff, dude…” Jamie looks so sad hearing the self-deprecation.

Santiago looks away, anywhere but at his face. “Gh, I dunno…”

“You’re super great, dude. You do- all kinds of great stuff.” Jamie’s vocabulary is limited by his inebriation. It’s almost a bit funny.

Santiago scoffs. “Like what?”

“Mn… like, you… you go places… you do stuff…” Jamie shrugs a bit while talking, his eyes wandering.

“Wow, how specific.” Santiago snorts.

“You know what I mean, yeah…? You, you… come with me. you… you come with me. to things.” And he scratches at his chin disorientedly. Brings his hand to his mouth and runs his teeth under his nail absentmindedly.

“Alright, whatever, man.” Santiago gives a little shake of his head, trying to put the topic to rest.

“I’m serious…!” Jamie looks over to him, stops biting the other nails on his hand, “…why do you think I’d say that? …if… I wasn’t?”

“Jeez, god! I don’t know!” Santiago doesn’t want to play this guessing game with him right now. It’s hard enough to tell what people want. He doesn’t need to start missing the mark socially and making Jamie hate him.

Jamie looks away, hurt. “…alright…” he mumbles.

Santiago sighs and rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “Listen. I-…” And Jamie looks at him again, “I- I like you, man. You’re-” and he realizes how that sounds, “NOT LIKE THAT! I just… like,” And he runs his thumb over his phone nervously, taps out a little rhythm with his index finger, “You’re… nice, I guess. To me.”

Jamie looks confused. “…Yeah? …Why wouldn’t …someone be.” “I don’t know!” Santiago raises his shoulders stiltedly, “Just- you… are!” Jamie cocks his head, the follow-through of the motion a bit too heavy. He’s obviously still very drunk. He leans closer to Santiago again. Santiago inhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening. “…Why don’t you think people like you?” Jamie asks in a simple, soft tone. “KHHAH- DUDE-” Santiago anxiously laughs, “You can’t just ask a guy that ??” “Why not…?” Jamie tilts his head to the side, confused, but not backing away. Santiago stares at him for a moment, trying to think of how best to respond, his mouth a pressed line. “You… can’t just go up to someone and start asking them personal questions!” God, he feels like he’s explaining something to a baby. The rain picks up speed outside.

“Why not…?” Jamie asks again. and Santiago knows it’s not out of malice but can’t help feeling frustrated. Jamie just doesn’t get stuff sometimes. Another car drives past and Santiago notices the way Jamie’s hair haloes in the headlight-glow. “You just….” Santiago tries to find a way to explain what he means in a way Jamie will understand. But Jamie leans up to him and kisses him on the lips softly. Santiago isn’t as taken aback by it as he’d expect. He lets it happen. And when Jamie pulls away Santiago looks at him angrily. “…” Jamie looks at him half-focused. Like it doesn’t even register to him what he just did, what it could come across as, what most people would think of the act. “Sorry.” he says after an awkward pause, like his brain catches up to itself. But he doesn’t seem very sorry. “Yeah, yeah, what- whatever.” Santiago mutters out, looking away embarrassedly. Jamie shrugs limply. “I didn’t… mean it like …that.” And he states it so plainly, with so little anything, that it pisses Santiago off. He knows Jamie didn’t mean it “like that”. He wouldn’t even want him to. It’s just… he’s always so impulsive. And he’s always making it Santiago’s problem. Leaving Santiago to pick up the pieces, keep up appearances.

“…yeah. I know.” Santiago says, trying not to look mad. “Do you wanna have quesadillas when we get back…” Jamie asks, leaning against Santiago’s shoulder and closing his eyes again. And Santiago wants to stay angry at him, but he can’t. He puts his arm around Jamie’s shoulders and holds him closer. The rain slows back down, pit-pit-pit-pit rippling the reflection of the stoplight as it turns red again.

“Not really.” he says.

[nanowrimo]

12 Tips for Drafting Forward During NaNoWriMo (And Beyond!)

To accomplish your big writing goals, you have to focus on drafting forward. The team over at Freewrite knows how to do that better than most! Freewrite, a 2023 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is a dedicated distraction-free drafting device designed just for writers to separate the drafting from the editing process and get words on the page. Today, the Freewrite team is here to share their top 12 tips for doing just that:

Here at Freewrite, we love when NaNoWriMo comes around, because we’re all about helping writers set their stories free. We’re big proponents of the “write now, edit later” method of writing to help writers reach writing flow and increase productivity. The goal of drafting forward (and NaNoWriMo!) is to get a first draft recorded and translate your thoughts into writing on the page.

We’re going to share the top tips we recommend to writers who want to try this method but don’t know where to start. Try these out during your next writing session to see how they help you ditch the distractions and make serious progress!

1. Save research for later. (Or start with it!)

Yes, research is important. But it can also quickly turn into a form of procrastination. Complete the bulk of your research before you start writing, or, if it’s a topic you know well, commit to doing any research after. When you’re drafting and come to a place where you need to fact-check or gather information, simply leave a note to yourself right there in the text and continue drafting. 

2. Plan well.

With a timed challenge like NaNoWriMo, it helps to plan out your daily benchmarks in order to finish on time. Consider setting a daily word count goal or making a schedule for the month so you know exactly where you stand each day. Make an outline if you’re a plotter, or if you’re a pantser, spend some time getting into the world of your story.

3. Decide you’re going to write a messy first draft.

We recommend stating it outright to yourself, or maybe writing it down on a Post-It where you can see it each day: My goal is to write a messy first draft. Embrace that imperfection so that you can write more freely!

4. Silence your inner critic.

As you write, revisit your messy first draft goal and resist the urge to critique or edit your work as you go along. Instead, concentrate on getting your thoughts down without judgment. This means not overanalyzing each sentence. Did that last sentence sound ridiculous? Who cares?! Anything goes in a messy first draft. You’ll refine and revise later!

5. Turn off your inner spell-check.

Freewrite devices have no spell-check or grammar checker for a reason. Every squiggly line is a distraction, a moment that your writing flow is broken and you have to resist going back to fix typos. Even if your eyes recognize a typo, train your brain to fix it later! Remember: we’re focusing on getting out thoughts and ideas in the first draft, not grammar.

6. Eliminate external distractions.

We’ve done the hard work for you by creating Freewrite. 😉 Now, put your phone in the other room, turn off the TV, and start writing.

7. Write quickly.

This is just another way to trick your brain into writing from that deep, creative place that can’t be reached when you’re overthinking. Strive for a flow state where you’re typing at the speed that your thoughts come to you.

8. Use placeholders.

If you can’t think of the right word or need to look up a source, just insert a placeholder and keep writing. Our favorite placeholder is “xx” because that can easily be searched in editing software later. Other people like the more straightforward “[INSERT SOMETHING FUNNY]” or “[CHECK SOURCE]”. You can fill in those gaps during the editing phase.

9. Keep moving forward.

If you encounter writer’s block or a difficult section, resist the temptation to stop and dwell on it. Skip to another part in your story and return to the challenging section later. We like to add a note to ourselves right there in the draft to remind us to come back to that spot when editing.

10. No back-tracking.

Often while drafting, a brilliant sentence will come to us. But it’s describing something we just described. What to do? Do not go back, delete the first sentence, and replace it. Simply keep writing the new sentence! These redundancies are easy to correct later.

11. Experiment.

Try different styles and approaches without judgement. You can compare and contrast and pick the best one later, during the editing stage.

12. Write!

Relish in the creative flow and the freedom of having one job to do: writing. Don’t worry about grammar or story structure. Focus on the joy of creating.

With a few tweaks in how you draft, we hope you’ll be surprised by how much you write, the creative ideas your imagination comes up with, and how much fun you have while writing.

And if you try the above rules of forward drafting, we’d love to hear your experience!

Reminder: NaNoWriMo 2023 participants are eligible for a special Freewrite offer. Find all the details here. 

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

I Promise You, Bonnie, It's Okay (Part 1)

Ex-Catholic!John MacTavish x Ex-Catholic!Reader

A/N: I don’t know if this is canon, but I’ve seen a lot of people talk about Johnny being Catholic and it gave me this idea. This is extremely cathartic and self-indulgent, so I totally get if this isn’t up your alley. Just be nice if you leave a comment, please. Basically, this is ex-Catholic Johnny and ex-Catholic Reader. Johnny left the church a long time ago and he’s had time to heal, but the reader is just leaving. She’s trying to mend her relationship with sex and Johnny is there to help her work through it.  Update: I made the teeniest tiniest edit that added a small detail about the reader. Trying to help the next part make more sense!

Original Imagine/Summary Thingy: Catholic Guilt is one hell of a Beast to Bear

Warnings: 18+, No Minors, Mature Themes and Discussions*✨if you’re younger than 18 or have no age in your bio, I will not hesitate to block you.✨ Allusions to Religion (it's barely there in the actual story, but I want to put that warning here just in case), Discussing Sex (not explicitly), Guilt Associated with Sex, Johnny being the softest, gentlest person on the face of the earth.

*While this part doesn't contain explicit sex, there are still mature themes and discussion about sex. I'm also labelling this as 18+ since Part 2 will be sexually explicit

Word Count: 739 / Divider By: @cafekitsune

Masterlist / Next Part (1.5) >

“It’s okay to want this.” Johnny says, stepping toward you so he can take your hands in his, gently entwining your fingers together.

You huff out a sort of sarcastic laugh, “It feels like it’s not. I mean, I know, logically, that this is fine. Sex is fine and it’s natural and there’s nothing wrong with it,” You pause, swallowing the lump that’s starting to build in the back of your throat. “But in practice, it’s…different.” 

“I know what you mean, bonnie. I remember that feeling; after I left.”

“It's just…any other time I’ve had sex, I just…there’s this horrible guilt that feels like it’s eating me alive. I feel like I’m not allowed to enjoy it. Like I’m not allowed to want it. So I have hook-ups and one-night-stands and don’t ever sleep with the same person twice. I don’t have to stop and think about it that way. It’s just a quick fuck and that’s it.” You stop to breathe, taking a moment to collect yourself before continuing, “But anytime I hook up with someone, no matter how good the sex is, or how good of an orgasm I get, in the end, I’m left alone, in some stranger’s sheets, looking up at a ceiling that isn’t mine, listening to the sound of a running sink and at this point, turning on my own sink makes me feel guilty.” You stop for a moment to figure out what you’re trying to say.

Johnny just holds your hands and listens, letting you vent everything that’s been on your mind the past few weeks. He rubs his thumbs across the backs of your hands and hopes that the small gesture provides you with some sort of comfort.

You heave a sigh, “I’m tired, Johnny. I want more than quick, rebellious fucks with people I don’t know. I’m tired of burning out and fighting off tears. I'm tired of never making the first move. I’m tired of feeling guilty for something as stupid as sex. I just want….” You take a stuttering breath, squeezing Johnny’s hands. “I just want to be okay with it. I just wanna have sex without feeling like a terrible person.” 

Johnny’s brows crease and before you can notice his expression, he’s pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Yer not a terrible person. Not in a million years. I know that’s what it feels like. I know all your life you’ve been told that you’ll burn for wanting anything close to sex. But I swear to you—I promise you, bonnie, it’s okay.” Johnny has to stop to take his own shuddering breath before continuing, “You’ll never be a bad person for wanting sex. Or enjoying sex, or thinking about sex or experimenting with sex. It’s not a moral thing - not the way the church thinks of it. Wanting sex doesn’t decide whether you’re a good person or a bad person. It just means you’re a person. One who happens to want sex. That’s all.” 

Johnny can feel you nod against his chest, but that’s not quite enough for him. He pulls back a little, just enough to tilt your head up and meet you eye-to-eye. There’s a heavy resolve in his eyes, something serious – something personal. 

“Make me a promise bonnie.” 

You nod, staring deep into his endless ocean eyes. 

“Promise me that if you ever feel bad for wanting sex, you’ll tell me; If the guilt starts eating at you, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it's in the middle of the day, or right after a hookup at three am. Call me. You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of guilt. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t.”

You nod, but again, it’s not enough. 

“I need to hear you say it bonnie. Promise me. Promise you’ll call.” 

Johnny’s eyes are so wide. He looks almost…scared? But at the same time his face says that this is the most important thing he’s ever asked of anyone. So, with a quiet understanding of the weight this holds for Johnny, you answer him. 

“I will Johnny. I promise. I’ll call.” 

Johnny rests his forehead against yours, content with your answer. He fiddles with your fingers, feeling how they bend at the joints and how soft your skin is.

“Johnny?”

“Yes bonnie?”  

You cradle Johnny’s face with your own hand. 

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that kind of guilt either.” 

[bahja-blix]

😐💀 A Dumbass Appeared (Ask Edition) A post regarding Viv Stans (Part 2)

Before we begin I want to say that I will absolutely not be censoring the person in this for valid reasons. I'll however censor the people who are just regular visitors.

What brilliance unfolds in my ask box? They put themselves out there on purpose "because reason"... I guess?

Reminder This is the Internet, you put yourself out there, your out there forever and if you do something stupid or say something stupid, your idiocy might go viral enough where you get called out so don't expect people to cover you up when YOU did this To Yourself

When I changed my bio to say "Bored ASF, Ask a Goth" I didn't mean be a god damn loser and make up shit on purpose for Bait reasons.

Yes this is real and Yes these were sent by a Viv Stan and it's OBVIOUSLY Bait but I still wanted to review it just for fun because I was literally laughing my ass off and I ain't even high!! 🤣 that And the actual person was Serious about deleting their profile along with taking the time to remove one by one every like and post from their profile which is hilarious. I didn't even make a post at the time and they disappear Anyway 😂. So I had absolutely no option to respond regardless. Lol you didn't think I'd see that but I did LMAO. You took the time to send me this but couldn't take a couple seconds to block me right after so I don't see your profile disappear but I guess you're just that stupid. What stopped you from just deleting your account without going through lengths to type this shit up?

We start with Kona, a boot lickin Viv stan living in denial over the fact that their obviously a Viv Stan. I said I wasn't going to answer this but this is HORRIBLE 😂 How could I Not share!

I love how you literally sat here and took the time to go ""Anonymous"" on the first ask you sent me showing your name and profile only to turn around and send me Another ask and Then another begging to me down on your knees basically telling me to forget I saw your ass 🤣🤣🤣

Omfgfgfggg🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely applaud how you "went out of your way to ALL these critics" like your some kinda Big Dawg white knighting for Viv telling us to "Listen up" because God Damnit "This town ain't Big Enough for the two of us" only to completely disappear off the face of the earth because you knew I saw your ass and you got scared.

I'm assuming you saw my last post where I said "Stick it" when referring to someone else that didn't agree with the helluva boss and hazbin hotel critical community...so you took it to heart and used it in the ask!? Did my post offend you 🥺🥺🥺? Omg I'm terribly sorry that I'm not a boot licking Viv Stan... I truly am (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

So... you attack Showtoonz for no reason other than *Double Checks Notes* ahh here we go "Having valid opinions" fresh off the table *chef kiss excuse* lol

LMAO they really said "Ass takes" omg no wayyy 😂

I also applaud how you basically said that the entirety of the helluva boss and hazbin hotel critical community an "embarrassment to our democracy" lol where that come from? and that the best argument you can come up with is that "*ughhh* your all "cOnSeRvAtIvEs" like did you travel across time and space through the Internet, see my page, and pretend to get triggered over the fact that I'm p***tically balanced in every direction?? Open minded if you will!? What does critiquing a show have to do with what's going on outside in the world? You do realize a lot of these people critiquing Viv Are in fact Democrats (me included in that spectrum) that Were fans of Viv and don't agree with Viv because she messes shit up on purpose 😂

Love how your one of those people that's obviously too far on the edge who are an actual embarrassment to society because this is the shit you put out there along with the

"YoUr NoT oNe Of Us" argument because what else would you pull out of your ass like legit your literally the type of person that likes to sniff your own fucking farts... Geez

I can't stop laughing 🤣

"One of Us! One of Us! Gooble gobble, Gooble gobble, One of Us! One of Us!" Like I can't. We Dems ain't gonna bow down to you and kiss your ass like your some kind of King so you might as well get over it buttercup

Regarding the last one for Bait reasons you decided to bring janky brained Joe into this... What a legend! You really showed us Dems the middle finger and went "Fuck ALL of You" 😂 Hey pal I'm NGL, but all I'm saying is that maybe you shouldn't be so into your own p***tical fart clouds so much because all that methane n shit will clog up your thinking.

"OMG I've been exposed by my own "Brilliance" in taking down these critics, please don't expose me"

W H E E Z E !!!

this last bits my favorite part

"*Clears throat* "If you disagree with me I'm going to "delete my account"

(Welp I guess I disagree with you :D, have a nice day ^^ Adios!! 🤣) Wait? You were actually Serious??? 🤣🤣🤣

"run to Twitter" with all my problems (because of course your one of those losers) and "bitch" to my two followers that "Will raise all hell" down onto those "Antis" who are so Mean and Negative where my post is sure to go viral enough to take down the entire critical community and reap their rights away from them"

Without any proof, but instead your tail tucked between your legs as you run and hide.

PA THETIC

Managed to get this on the way out. A Viv Stan in denial who's also a hypocrite. Oh but we "anti Viv Stan critics" have "ass takes" and "no valid criticism" You blindly support woomy... The same person who attacked multiple people in our communities for having valid opinions!

Fucking Cringe dude

[catboyloon]

PINNED POST READ THIS HELLO HI

THIS IS A NSFW BLOG. THEREFORE 18+!!!! so if you're a minor or an ageless blog either get the fuck out or block this blog. or i will block YOU on sight. nothing personal its just for the safety of us both.

also i'm 18, my bday is in septummyber- i mean september. also some weight info:

starting weight: 133lbs current weight: 137.4lbs goal weight: more and more until it's a lot harder to get up, then maaaybe i'll stop :3

anyway. rest my dni is the same as my main blog, no proshippers (i hate incest!! :D and pedophilia!! i hate them both!!!) no xenophobes or bigots etc etc you get the idea.

also this should go without saying but their body, their choice. respect people even if they're hot or not hot. if someone wants to lose weight, let them. if someone doesnt wanna do kink anymore, respect that. don't be a creep. don't fetizhize and objectify random people just because their body appeals to a kink you have.

id prefer if people don't mention/say my main blog on here, just feels like i should keep them separate but if you're here, you can ask me privately for it or you already know my main soooo

the rest of this is optional but will probably be useful. have fun but also i like asks and talking so feel free to hit me up

anyway things you will likely see here:

Inflation (belly & body, also SAFE/NON-FATAL popping. maybe some breast/ass/etc expansion but mainly tums & their whole bods. also like, being inflated with anything almost. air, water, just pump me man make me Round and Full)

Weight gain/feedism (feeding/eating a lot, rapidly gaining weight, forcefeeding, just being fat as fuck as a sex thing)

Burping/hiccups (burps are hot as fuck to me and hiccups are cute)

other things that i'm not into but can't go on my main because they're nsfw; usually just things i find really funny or interesting. like weird kinks that i'm not into (if not turn me off)

also only gonna tag stuff i'm not into as "#not my thing but still cool" so. im not gonna organize THAT much for reblogging things, sorry

things you likely will not see:

pregnancy (not into it)

vore (i don't think i'm into it but it might be good I DON'T KNOW. but i mainly am not into it)

farting (actual turn off sorry)

anything permanent in a forced way (but "permanent" as in "they're choosing to keep themselves like this" is fine)

noncon/dubious consent (I think consent is hot because i mean. the fact they actually WANT something makes them getting it hotter i think. free use can be hot but i think that's different)

oviposition/eggs i think

uneven/specific bodypart expansion (e.g. no really huge feet or lips or anything)

head inflation/uber (i think the puffy eyes are scary. sorry)

unsafe/fatal/permanent popping (also kinda scary but also like. why would you want that)

healthplay/anything fatal at all (i think the words morbidly obese are hot but i 1. do not believe that the fat itself causes health issues but rather your diet does that, and 2. i would rather actually not have health issues from being fat. i just wanna take up a room then a house then a parking lot with my flab man i don't wanna do that in a hospital room)

as for the tags!

crrk.txt for text posts/just me talking, may not always be kinky crrk.png for art i post to here not my thing but still cool for anything nsfw i reblog to here that i'm not into (so, not inflation or fat) but find neat anyway tummy tuesday for, well, what do you think bellypix for, obviously, pics i take of my tummy :3 irl for anything irl, like a video of me blowing up like the balloon i am afterdark-shitposts for nsfw memes/shitposts i make, not always made to be horny but always nsfw (or too suggestive for my main) also probably gonna tag stuff with a video or audio as "video"/"videos" and "audio" like my main. same for asks, "asks" and "anon asks" just for sorting

okay that's it. enough yapping from me, anyway like my main blog you can see when this was last edited by looking in the tags

[zharizard666]

I am so sorry for the confusion. I was just so in shock when I found out about this. I was actually talking about winter melona. She worked with that lord Leone guy and drew nsfw of ness and Lucas for one of his fan fictions and when I saw it I was so upset finding out people would want to make something so cute so dirty. I don’t know if this is true but I also heard she drew Mpreg of Lucas and claus and I really hope that’s not true.

Nah its all good.

I don't really associate with nsfw accounts because that content isn't my cup of tea, so I don't find that stuff around either. Hearing about people drawing that stuff in the middle of 2024 is shocking though.

Have a nice week anon ✌️✨

EDIT:

I just remembered who WinterMelons is. Y'all coming for people who drew shit in the early 2010s, the edgy 2010s, are insufferable. Don't ever send me stuff like this again, I dislike people like you.

This is the only polarizing thing I'm deciding to share with y'all: You need to let go, you need to live in the fucking present, you need to get better hobbies.

Being the internet morale police doesn't make you great, it gives you negative aura. It makes you the target of an avoiding game.

I don't know how to make this clearer, acting this way is so fucking abhorrent. You can be 100% right and I'll still dislike you.

None of y'all are doing these call-outs because you care, you just wanna be the one who "did things right" first.

The block button exists, turning off your phone exists, for fucks sake: shunning is a thing.

You hate something someone's doing? But it's not actively harming anyone, it's just immoral? We all can do like the forum era of the internet and actively ignore that person until they go away. We can report the account of that individual collectively too, without making a fucking circus out of it.

Are they doing something actually fucking illegal? Call the authorities! It's not our job to punish criminals, IT'S THE POLICE JOB.

You're so desperate to point and shame people you didn't even CHECK if the person I was defending was the one you actively hate. How is their URL anywhere close to WinterMelons???

So I retract my good wishes, begone. Don't text me, don't tag me, don't message me, don't even think about me when y'all are playing your witch-hunt game.

You said you were surprised to find nsfw art in nsfw fanfiction. Are you reading what you just wrote?

You can be surprised all you want about who drew that is, but be for real: what the hell were y'all doing looking up nsfw fanfiction when you don't like it. Do y'all hate-watch stuff? Are y'all that bored?

I didn't know about that because I DIDN'T ENGAGE WITH IT.

See how your life is easier when you don't engage with awful shit? You wanna stop seeing shit in your fandom? Then don't dip your hands in it.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Writetober/Jotober

Hiya! I’ll be drabbling a short bit of WTNV fanfic based on the Inktober prompts but turning them into writetober/jotober things instead! Block #writetober and #jotober if you don’t wanna see them!

Personal rules:

No less than 500 words featuring the prompt word or eluding to it. No more than 1000 words. Just write what comes to me and don’t go back and edit. Day 14: Roam Character focus: Lauren Mallard

Just a short while ago Lauren Mallard had had everything. She had risen the ranks of StrexCorp at an exponential rate. Of course she had. She'd given her entire life to StrexCorp. She'd taken on the viciously thankless job of handling Kevin - he'd resisted them till the very last moment and that made him dangerous even without his seemingly high ranking within a religion that held power and sway over Desert Bluffs like no other.

She put up with his passive-aggression and only enjoyed retraining him a little - just a little. Still she'd had her sights set higher. Now she could barely stand to lift her head. There suns here were numbing. Suns. Plural.

The Old Oak Door had opened in front of her and Lauren had jumped through. The armed child militia had not followed. Children. Urgh.

Lauren looked around. She had no idea where she was. If not for the two suns she would never have guessed that she wasn't in the same desert any more. Somewhere in the distance there was a mountain and on top of that mountain there was a light. Something told her to keep away from it. Lauren turned and started to hobble forward again.

She was nearing exhaustion. She didn't know where she was going. She only knew that she must keep moving. Stopping for too long would surely kill her. Bake her in the sun.

Night Vale…what a waste of a town. They could have made so much money. Now she would have killed just for a chance to be back in Desert Bluffs. Those people had been much easier to control and make money off of. Well except for Kevin. What a pain of a man. She hoped he was roaming around here too, just as lost and helpless as she was.

Helpless? No. She couldn't be helpless. She couldn't afford to be helpless. Lauren arched her back and threw her face into the glare of the sun, eyes closed, mouth stretched in a grim defiant smile. She was not helpless. Look how confident she was. Look how she could Smile.

Even with her eyes closed they began to stream the moisture running in rivulets down her cheeks and making her eyeballs throb. Still she beamed and when she turned away she did so slowly. Lights danced in her eyes. Lauren took another step, shook, continued to move. She bit into her lower lip until blood gushed down her chin. The metallic taste and warmth kept her from completely spiralling.

Against all the strong impulses she was experiencing which told her to avoid this place, Lauren turned towards the moutain and started to head directly for it. It had been weeks (she thought) and she was still circling the mountain. It was time to discover what was making that light. It was time to take control again.

Whatever was up there would be hers. She would find a way out and she would restart Strex herself if she had to.

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 18

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It’s spring when you start your Master’s degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: romance, no condom, v*ginal sex, FLUFF

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 16.5  17

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

The library glows with fluorescent lights and the warmth of heaters running. There's a few other students reading in the annex, but for the most part people are out and about today. You skim the questions in your document, reviewing the spacing you had meticulously input between each question, ensuring that the instructions in each section are clear and direct, and that the rows of possible multiple choice answers are perfectly aligned. 

You switch to the other tab. The corresponding answer sheet is just as neat and thorough from your hours of painstaking work outlining example answers and partial credit rubrics. At least the multiple choice key had been relatively quick to build. 

Although the example test isn’t due until the end of break, with how much time you’ve spent editing and reviewing, there can’t be many more changes you can make to improve on what you’ve done already. Plus, you’d like to enjoy the night without thinking of an assignment hanging over your head. With one final scan of the assignment outline, you confidently upload the document and hit submit. 

You shrug on your coat and bundle on the soft scarf on top before heading out. The blustery day feels even more frigid and gray outside after the near stuffy heat inside the library. You start at a brisk pace across campus. 

Even though it is cold, Tokyo in December may be your favorite time of year. The sky is gray with clouds, the late afternoon sun breaking through every so often to flare across the ground. Snow flutters between the buildings and across the frosty lawns, but the movement keeps you warm as you trek across the university grounds. 

You can’t keep the smile from your face as you approach the metro station and hop on.

Christmas Eve is the most romantic day of the year, and for the first time you have someone to spend it with. 

Just a few weeks ago, you’d celebrated Satoru’s birthday quietly, the two of you and a cake from his favorite bakery, (because apparently he eats enough sweets to have a favorite). Birthdays in Japan are usually small affairs and usually spent with family or closest friends, and he wanted to spend his time with you.

You exit the train to make a quick stop before heading to Satoru's apartment- the city is alive and beautiful. Many couples are out, on their way to fancy dinners or to walk amongst the city lights. When the sun sets, entire street blocks are radiant with lights that hang from the trees that line nearly every street.

While the holiday is celebrated differently here than your home, seeing everyone else so cheerful and excited fills your heart with a joy that can only happen during the holidays. 

You had predicted having to wait to pick up your box, and there is a short line at the storefront. You check your phone, still plenty of time, and pick up your box quickly. 

When you jump back onto the metro with your parcel, you just have to ride a couple more stops. Small flurries still wisp through the air when you exit the train and begin the short walk to Satoru’s apartment, the sun nearly set. Instead of going out or ordering fried chicken, he’d insisted on having you over for a chill home date to relax. 

As you approach, you can see Gojo is already waiting outside. His coat is nearly too short for his long legs, but his face lights up when he sees you approach, peeking over his glasses. You greet him warmly and he hurries you towards the entrance. 

Even though your walk was short, tension melts out of your body when you step into the warm foyer of the building. 

“You get it done?” Satoru asks as you step into the elevator.

“Yup! Finished and turned in. I didn’t want to worry about it the rest of the week.”

“Can’t believe we have a winter break assignment, who does that?” he complains. 

“It wasn’t that bad, if I got it done in a couple hours it’ll be nothing for you.” 

“It’s the principle, we should get at least some time off.”

He huffs as he unlocks the door and lets you in. Since he hasn’t been away traveling so much recently, the space has become more and more lived in- several pairs of shoes kicked off at the door, a couple books sprawled out on the low table near the couch. Maybe you’re just more comfortable existing in his space. 

You privately agree with Gojo about the winter assignment, even your students at the Eikaiwa school have a complete week off for the holidays, but the demands are great in a Graduate program. After next year, you’ll never have to worry about assignments over breaks, just grading them afterwards.  

You set down the parcel and your bag and smile at the thought of your students. When you do reconvene after the break, you’ve prepared a cultural lesson on how different English speaking countries celebrate the holidays. 

“So I made dinner, not sure how it turned out.”

As much as you hate to admit it, in your time together you’ve yet to find something Satoru doesn’t excel at. He seems naturally good at everything. The apartment smells delicious and you can see multiple pans steaming on the stovetop.

“It looks good! You didn’t have to do everything yourself though,” you reply. 

“I think it needs more time to reduce down, wanna take a walk?”

While you don’t relish going back out in the cold, you grew up looking at lights on Christmas, and Tokyo does have some beautiful decorations. 

“That could be nice.”

Before your warmed through you're back out in the early evening. The city was beautiful earlier, but the multi-colored lights and trees are truly magnificent in the dark of night. Different sections of the city are known for their particular displays, and the Tokyo Skytree is close enough to Satoru’s apartment that you can walk there. 

The air is crisp and chill on your face, but the excitement of the night keeps you warm. Gojo slows his long strides to walk alongside you and you slow down to take in 

It’s a dream of a night, a true winter wonderland in the heart of the biggest city in the world. The needle shoots into the sky and shimmers with the rainbow of colors. When you turn to face Satoru, the luminescence is reflected in his eyes a hundredfold. The warm golden glow from fairy lights on the street color his face.

“It’s beautiful. All the lights always remind me of back home.”

“It looks like this?”

That makes you laugh. “No, not quite. But Christmas was always really special. I like having a piece of that here.”

He looks back around at the decorations strung up, maybe imagining what it would be like to see the lights in your home. Perhaps you’ll take him there one day. 

The two of you walk around the base of the Skytree, chatting mildly about your plans for the rest of the week. By the time you’ve circled the Skytree and up and down the surrounding streets, your breath clouds in front of you and the cold has sunk into your bones.

“It’s getting kind of chilly.”

“Let's head back. Dinner should be ready now.”

You agree, and begin the short walk back to the coziness of his home. 

Satoru has prepared a savory stew for dinner- hearty mushrooms and veggies in a creamy roux sauce over rice. He serves you each a bowl and you hold the sides, letting the heat soak into your fingers. 

The meal is fantastic, rich and warming to the bone without being too heavy. You’re thankful Gojo took the day to cook instead of working on the assigned test design. 

In the last few months of dating, you've also found out that Satoru is always hungry- it doesn’t matter if you’ve just eaten, and that goes double when there’s dessert involved. 

You sigh. “It is nice having the week off. I haven’t gotten the texts for the Leadership in Education class yet.”

“Well, you can’t borrow mine,” Gojo smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Most of us don’t have the option to get out of classes,” you grumble. 

“It's my reward for ‘inspiring future educators’ at the symposiums. Besides,” he rolls his eyes and gets himself another portion of dinner, “you know they’re not letting me skip student teaching.”

“Yeah, because it’s one of the most critical parts of the program. You can't graduate without doing any actual teaching.”

“It'll make things busier. Will you still be taking Eikaiwa shifts when we start student teaching?”

You pause. The year has gone by so quickly, you hadn't put much thought into when you'll stop teaching English and step into your specialty. 

“Um, I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to stretch myself too thin. Planning lessons and grading for two different schools might be too much. I don’t know how you even manage classes with conferences.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad. I’ve already written the stuff, they just want me to talk about it.”

You finish your bowl and clean up the dishes from dinner, you can’t finish the night without something sweet though. You unwrap the parcel you picked up on the way over, revealing the Christmas Cake. 

It’s exquisite- all whipped cream and fresh strawberries on a soft sponge cake. Satoru kisses your cheek and grabs another knife to cut into the confection. You serve yourself a slice, and Gojo makes a serious dent in the remainder with his own piece. The cake is just sweet enough, light and balanced and fresh in a way that brightens the winter day. 

“Ugh, I think I want another slice,” Gojo says. 

You look at him- if he takes another piece as big as the first, there will be hardly half left. And frankly, you’re not sure how he could still be hungry after two servings of dinner. He sighs.

“Actually, maybe I want something else instead.” He walks over to you with a devilish glint in his eye and kisses you. “Mmmm, so much better.” 

Normally a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but Satoru is so playful and the night has been so pleasant so far, you can’t help but bring your lips to his. 

When you taste his lips, it’s comforting and exhilarating all at once. You know that he likes when you’re soft and gentle, and that he loves it more when you take control.  Every time your bodies meet there’s still a thrill that runs through you, an electrifying current that pulses in your veins and makes your heart sing. 

Satoru continues kissing you, keeping the touches light and chaste, but he begins walking you backwards towards the bedroom. 

You reach the doorway and when you reach under his shirt and press your hands into the warm skin of Satoru’s stomach, his chest, you feel the intoxicating rush of wanting and being wanted in return.

He takes his time running his hands over your shirt, down your arms, around your shoulders and back. The heat of his hands sinks into your skin through the fabric and heats your blood underneath. 

But the way his lips move against your own is ravenous, and when you open your mouth for more, his tongue slides into your mouth. He tastes you and consumes you, like any amount of you will never be enough.

Your blood is running hot now, but Satoru continues to just barely touch you, making no moves to feel underneath your clothes. If he’s not going to do anything, you will. You grab the bottom of your shirt and shimmy it up to your chest, breaking off the kiss to pull it over your head. 

Satoru pulls you right back into his arms, but you’ve had enough of his leisurely pace. You nip his earlobe and kiss down to the sweet spot on his neck, taking the time to run your hands over his clothes. When you reach his hips you slowly inch your hand around to his front to cup his hardening erection. You squeeze and suck on his neck at the same time and he melts in your hands. 

He’s wined and dined you, and now you’d like him naked. You quickly undo the belt of his pants and shove them down his legs before tugging the hem of his sweater up. Gojo grabs your wrist before you can pull it off though, and reaches around you back to pull off your bra. 

Satoru takes a moment to savor your topless form and then returns the favor, sensually dragging your pants off of you. He then pushes you onto the low bed and topples after you. Before you can catch your breath again his mouth is back on yours and his hands are everywhere on your body.

You’re overhot and understimulated, desperate for him to give you just a little more. As you trail kisses along his shoulder blade, you shove the boxers down and grasp him, moving your wrist just slightly. He sighs and swears into your hair. 

“You want me?” His voice is breathy and strained, and you can tell that he’s aching just as much for you as you are for him. 

“Please.”

He pulls back, slides his large hands down the length of your body, and pulls off your underwear. He takes his time coming back up to meet you, leaving open kisses on your calves, thighs, stomach and chest until you’re nearly writhing with need. 

At last, he stops at your face, kissing you once more before a low moan escapes as he slides into you. He’s spent so much time warming you up and teasing that you nearly sigh in relief too. 

His strokes are slow and easy, he doesn’t change his page as he kisses you deeply. Satoru looks into your eyes and brushes your nose with his own, soft and affectionate. While he props himself on one arm, the other wanders your waist and up to your breasts, where Gojo pays special attention to each one. He caresses the flesh there and rolls the nipples between his long fingers.

It’s not the lust filled sex you’ve had before, but a slow and amorous lovemaking. Satoru’s attention to your body and the tender way he’s looking at you make the experience even more erotic. You’re still spun up and haven’t had any relief yet, but you can feel the peak growing closer every time your hips meet. 

“Satoru, please,” you beg. 

This time, he acquiesces, and rubs small circles on your clit with the tip of his thumb. You can’t hold back a moan as the pressure climbs and climbs. When he kisses you again, the pressure reaches its peak, wracking your body. Your nails dig into his back the way you know he likes and you gasp out his name. 

Something about you seems him careening over the edge with you, like elements combining, the sum of your pleasure grows and becomes greater than its parts. You lay together in the afterglow, pressed against his stomach. 

He leans his head against you and sighs. “Love you.”

You flinch away from him and turn to stare.

“What?”

Satoru kisses you on the nose and repeats himself. Your heart stutters and it feels like the world stops. Not only did Satoru throw out this admission naturally, but he’s said it in English. 

“I said I love you,” he switches back to Japanese, “maybe you need to get your ears checked.” His mouth stretches into a smug smile.

Satoru hasn’t left you speechless in a long time, but as you stare at him now, you can’t quite force yourself to form any words. Too many thoughts run through your mind, clouding anything you could want to say to him. 

You know that outright declarations aren’t common. It's a big deal that he's just said this to you, and in your own language. 

“You’re not gonna say anything back? You’re hurting my feelings,” he fake pouts. 

“No, I do. I love you too. I just-” you scramble a reply in Japanese, and you use aishiteru, the deepest, most profound word for love. You flush a bit, not sure if that’s the level of love that he was talking about. 

Satoru rolls you onto your back and leans over you again.

“You do?” His eyes crinkle at the corners. He leans back over and kisses you again. You'd felt spent moments ago, but the admission sets heat simmering back through your blood. 

The second round of lovemaking is more passionate and frenzied than the first, but no less romantic. 

Satoru pulls you close again and you feel his heart beat slow. The night is dark outside the blinds of his window, and it must be close to Christmas day now. In the past that's meant days of preparation wrapping presents and gift exchanges. Laying in Satoru’s arms, thinking about the set of classes to come, you can’t find that you’re lacking anything.

[hungharrington]

Regarding your ducks, maybe there are a few points you can clarify for me. 

You know that we write porn, right? So when you say support, you realize that these fics aren’t paying anyone's bills? Do you think readers are going from blog to blog seeing how many pro-Palestine posts people make before choosing which fic to masturbate to?

If a reader doesn’t want to interact with a certain author. That’s okay. They’ll both be fine. They still aren’t owed any information. No authors on here have pinned a checklist of every social and political belief they hold, and it would be ridiculous to expect that. 

Most of the actors have stayed silent on their opinions including Joe Keery, but you’re still writing about them. How do you condemn other blogs for remaining neutral but think that’s fine? If you feel so strongly maybe you should stop being the one with one foot on each side of the road. It’s almost as if you recognize that a TV show isn’t going to sway the outcome of this horrible war. It’s almost like this is an excuse to have a beef with someone you have a problem with.

there is no telling another person how they run their blog or how they should be an activist - all those things change wildly from person to person and imposing a 'standard' does not take into account the range of things people may be dealing with.

I know you are only twenty-two, but that’s old enough to understand the hypocrisy in saying that you wouldn’t impose a standard for activism but then go right on to outline your expectations. Why are you comparing yourself to her? You keep saying this is the internet you are allowed to assume and judge, but do you think that’s good? That should be the standard.

Lastly, you point out that Emmy has been harassed in the past, but can’t fathom why she’d be on the defensive with the tone you chose to use. Baffled was the word, right? Think about it. Maybe you should sit with the question. I bet you could come up with an answer. I believe in you, buddy. 

I think you should take a turn being a grown-up, and when anons come in your ask box to complain about someone you have blocked, ignore them and move on with your day.  

I know it’s going to be tempting to come back with a whole slew of what-about-isms and to hand wave this all away, saying that I’m just another one of Emmy’s fans. But actually, I’m just a fan of having a few days without all this drama that is clearly rooted in the Autumn stuff that should have died off a long time ago. 

it’s not about how many posts someone has reblogged regarding palestine, if any at all. that would be imposing a standard. it’s about, if someone asks your stance to check that you’re not a zionist, understanding that they have every right to assume you are a zionist if you choose not to answer.

true, no one is owed information. refusing to talk about this in the slightest manner, however, even just to clarify that you don’t support the genocide of an entire people, i, personally, believe makes you an asshole.

edit to add on: further more, i do believe people are entitled to know if they are following and supporting a zionist.

i cannot talk to joe keery and co about their views on palestine, like i can on here.

“It’s almost as if you recognize that a TV show isn’t going to sway the outcome of this horrible war.” one. it’s a genocide, not a war. two. this is an abysmally shitty way to view the situation and it attempts to removes any responsibility that you have as someone in a position of privilege (you know, to have the time to be engaging with fanfiction). if everyone thought this way, would any awareness be raised at all? would zionist’s experience zero consequences?

my ‘expectations’ are shared by many to be the bare minimum, considering we all come from a place of privilege to be online, having time to read and write fics at all and we partake in a fandom that gives many zionist’s platforms.

i was baffled that she couldn’t see it as a reasonable ask and instead took it as mindless hate.

the autumn drama was first brought by up by emmy herself, where she made another snide comment six months after the situation. i came on too heated, i can admit that, and it took away from my argument but ultimately my point stands: that autumn situation came about through speculation and i speculated back. i want her to leave autumn’s name alone once and for all.

[knowledgeoverknives]

08. Having S3x with Dead Bodies: Things Nigerians, Jamaicans and Europeans have in common. (!nc3st/C0CS@ edition)

..And also.. Unaliving people, unaliving women and watching people be unalived.. Most times for.. spiritual purposes and financial advances.

S3x With The D3@d..

I had to check myself first.

So.. When I first had this thought.. . I grabbed(clutched??) my pearls. ..Sleeping with d3äd bodies and..Un@liv!ng women/children.. I thought can’t be.. But then it made me realise.. I am sooo.. ignorant. Out of the loop., and privileged.. (

So.. Sleeping with d3äd bodi3s and..Un@liv!ng women/children.. When I first thought of this. I grabbed(clutched??) my pearls. I was shooketh. But then it made me realise.. I am sooo.. Out of the loop.. .. I’m privileged to not have experienced this type of abuse in childhood. (in this lifetime anyway.. But erm.. Due to my past lives definitely. But yeah.. Still probably not the same.. obviously not the same.. ok shut up.. am I making sense??) I understand this is a heavy topic and Something many of you.. Still engage in. I type without judgement, but with some understanding and knowledge.. Hoping you know.. You can change and overcome.. These urges or fantasies. Mwah. And have more control over your freedom.

Handling This Topic With Compassion, Care And Clear Understanding

..This type of s3xu@l relationship can be very sensitive… and I want you to know I’m not judging you, but you need to work on this. ..Our childhood gives us interesting interests. And the topic of death & sex is a fascinating one… Personally.. I do not fear death. I think the cycle of life is beautiful. But.. Also I’m very sheltered individual.. I’m a cry baby.. Moreover, I’m overly sensitive of ‘dead bodies’.. It’s almost unnatural about how afraid of it I am.. So I discuss this topic without judgement, but with ..Urgency.

I Always Thought.. Jail.. After Everything You’ve Built?

Honestly… some of you need to stay institutionalised.. We may be family n all but.. Respectfully no. Yes your childhood experiences and your living standards was not fit for a healthy developing child, but.. if you are a threat to society. You gotta stay home.

Some of our families members get away with it and way worse and it doesn’t make it right. It is the ♒️ Age Of Aquarius ♒️ ..

Childhood Patterns Don’t Just Fade Away, We Have To Work On Them

Seeing this type of abuse from as young as 3 .. can really change and morph your thoughts on s3x and d3@d bodies.. It’s very disturbing for a child to view.. Especially if your exposed to it frequently.. Your innocent brain was probably horrified and fascinated.. Most of our abusers know the spiritual benefits of ritu@ls involving the dead.. So showing it to us from young and then associating it with s3x leaves you with a life long.. Battle between deviant sexual urges and societal morals.

You May Enjoy It Now.. But What About You At 6 Years Old?

If you do engage..Virtually, physically, spiritual.. And it gives you s3xuäl gratification.. It’s usually because blocking out the moments you were scared or disgusted in yourself. You’ve turned them into moments you feel powerful and now when you do it to someone else you feel powerful… But what about the early memories.. They must pop up.. You were 4 h@v!ng s3x with a lifeless body. You were confused, you didn’t know what to do. You were copying or doing what you were told. You wanted someone to hold you. To tell you your okay. To make it stop. You wanted to play and have fun. To feel safe.. You may have had to literally had to fight for you life, it was you or them. And you were rewarded when you ‘won’.

But I Don’t Have S3X with d3@d bodies.. It does turn me on a little bit though..

This can also manifest in not always h@v!ng s3x with the bodies but a s3xu@l associating to k!ll!ng.. For example.. Through low income individuals and gang violence.. Is this person in jail because their angry or h0rny? Haha.. No seriously.. Anger does play a huge part. We all need to work on our anger.. Our childhood makes us angry, a bit on edge and quick to react.. I understand.. But your anger leads to dangerous situations. That you feel powerful in… Blocking out the bad memories and constantly putting your freedom at risk.

The richer and upper class family members.. May do magic on you/lower income people to spiritually encourage them to unalive each-other… They already live in environments which make it easy to make those choices. Still gaining a3xu@l arousal from a far. But what really happens to the b0di3s of those people who are st@bb3d and shot?

Every Continent Engages In It.. It’s More Spiritual Than Physical

I’ve come to realise.. British, Indian, Jamaican, Nigerian, Scottish people.. All races of people.. Have spiritual or religious knowledge know of necrophillia & necromancy. You must need to have some authority, status or finances to have access to these bodies and perform rituals with them.. Before their burried.. So I’m sure you know what is happening with these bodies or are you yourself engaging in it?

But It Gets Deeper Of Course Inner Child Healing And What Not..

Ok I have a secret.. I wanted to work on my intrusive thoughts.. Then.. I wanted to look at a dead animal or something.. then say haaaa I did it and I survived so so can you.. But uh.. My brain is absolutely over processed give me two weeks and I will start something. Anyways. So am I a huge hypocrite for trying to approach this topic.. Maybe. But what do we say here? We be curious. Maybe she’s just typing for typing sake.. But I’m here now.. So let’s see what’s her solution. 😁

—————

My Final Thoughts

This topic is heavy, but it made me reflect on my past lives. In the beginning of my spiritual journey I found out very quickly.. That I’ve only existed Earth.. At the hands of the same select.. Male family members reincarnations..

My Past Life Memories..

So I have a more natural or bias lUnderstanding… I guess. Like yes I know I’ve been murdered before. Many lifetimes. This why in this one… I’ve got to use my brain, not my trauma. It makes me reflect on a deeper level.. That although trauma to do with r@p3, mûrd3r, ch0kong etc can be worked on.. Urge control and overcoming is possible… If they choose not to you or them could end someone forever. I don’t do danger. And I don’t baby grown men, especially not at the expense of my own livelihood. And that person could be you.

Certain family members I’ll never come into contact with.. You can bring a cow to the water but you can’t make it drink.. There’s more to life then fantasies that re-enact our trauma.. Is there family members around you that regardless of your ‘bond’ their reckless behaviour may endure your life?

Dont Stop Out Of Fear Of Exposure, Stop Because Your Doing It Because You Were S3xu@lly Abused And Forc3d.. Your An Adult Now. Break The Cycle. What doing having s3x with the dead do for you.