#if you don't like how I engage with content I like

[chuluoyi]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and his fingers—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

[minipuppyofmadness]

Hey y'all! Wanted to take a sec for some real talk, so if you're interested and are able to seperate me from the persona that this blog embodies, read under the cut!!

So! In light of my Domme to Diapers pipeline post and folks reactions to it, I wanted to air some stuff out!

First off, thankyou for the supportive that's been given 🩵🩵🩵

Secondly, I am still and will always be a switch. Clearly I love being humiliated and teased, and take very naturally to being a sub. But regardless of how pathetic or submissive or regressed I can be, I was actually a professional Domme, and haven't lost that skillset. Part of why I switch is that I get to experience both ends, and learning how to Domme made me a much better sub, and vice versa!!

Now, this blog is NOT a dominant one and never will be. I come to this blog to embrace my little space and engage in some fun humiliation. More to the point, teasing me in character for going from Domme to baby is all well and good! Love that shit.

But goading me into still trying to Domme while pointing out how I never will be able to is not fun. I don't like feeling as though I'm doing a shitty job. It's also very disingenuous. You don't actually want me to be dominant, you want another reason to try and humiliate me. But frankly I have given so many options for that already that don't make me feel like shit.

And if you genuinely do want me to be dominant, then prove it! I'm not about that power struggle stuff and will simply not engage if you try and turn the tables on me. Learn to behave or find someone that's into fighting over being in charge.

Many thankyous for anyone who took the time to read this ramble. I genuinely love this community and the majority of interactions, and am excited to keep making content and meeting new friends!! But if you're part of the influx of people challenging me to try and be a Domme or prive that I was or still could, please ease off? A few times is fun, dozens in a few days does bad things to my mental health.

Love you all, thankyou for your time, remember to hydrate 🩵🩵🩵

[anamericangirl]

This is just something I've noticed when in spaces surrounding my interests:

A lot of leftists genuinely can't fathom how conservatives can and do enjoy content created by someone they disagree with. Often, posts will pop up that are along the lines of, "How can conservatives say they like this music or TV show or book series when the people behind these things (or the characters within the fictional content) would hate their guts and they're pro things conservatives aren't? There's no logic in that and it just shows how dumb the right is."

In reality, I think it just shows how close-minded the left can be. Many of the things I enjoy were created by left-leaning people, but that doesn't mean it's not good content. I keep my political views out of these spaces mostly because they're not relevant, y'know? (I'm also just introverted/shy lol - I barely interact as is). For example, my favorite genre of music is grunge. 99% of grunge musicians were openly left-leaning, but guess what? I don't care and I still like the music. The left puts so much weight on the opinions of celebrities and politicians (while trying to act like they're rebels/punk) that they think you have to agree with these completely disconnected strangers on everything.

"This celebrity/character would hate you," is such an odd argument to make, in my opinion. It's like - okay, and?

Which is why it's always the left that are trying to cancel people. They can't separate politics from anything, which is why they are always unhappy, there's always a problem, they never enjoy anything and are impossible to please.

They can't appreciate art from other perspectives because everyone on earth has to have their exact positions on all issues or they are Bad People. So much for their "diversity is our strength" nonsense lmao.

I actively try to avoid hearing political takes from any artist I appreciate because I'm not here for a political or moral guide, I'm here for entertainment. And when you look to celebrities for guidance you are looking in the wrong place because no one is more out of touch than they are lol.

I just assume the artists I enjoy are all woke leftists because most people in those industries are and if they're not then I can be pleasantly surprised.

But if if I get told "you know so-and-so is a leftist and would probably hate you, right?" I literally could not care less because I'm not trying to be their friend. I find most of them, personality wise, to be pretty annoying myself.

It just demonstrates a real flaw with leftists that they cannot comprehend how someone could engage with or appreciate anything about someone that has different perspectives and opinions. Sounds like an absolutely miserable existence always having to be outraged about something and making sure every artist you like has the Right Opinions.

[athletearrhythmia]

Needles coming up again

First wanted to reference back my thoughts on this from awhile ago:

but I also wanted to say some of the comments I'm seeing around aren't oriented to harm reduction, they're just tearing down people who engage in needle play and post it. Which is not going to save anyone. It's going to galvanize and sequester folks which will cascade into riskier behavior.

I guess what gets my goat about it especially is why I've pulled back from a good number of folks, which is engaging in dark cardio play as a means or extension of self harm. People know this stuff is dangerous and stupid, you don't need to remind them. That's not going to "wake them up". Some people by comparison just... like doing it. Neither case will respond to this approach.

I don't offer a definitive solution, i just don't vibe with yelling at people. I appreciate things like folks declaring that they'll disengage from the content: that I think does something.

So here's my additional thoughts to tack on to my last post:

If your perception of reckless behavior is that it doesn't matter because your life is so bad or meaningless that the consequences can't make it worse, you're depressed and you need help. Getting help isn't easy. But you need it.

If you feel a strong desire or need to do this for sexual gratification, you need to find healthier outlets. I struggle with this immensely myself. I'm open about liking and engaging with this content and some of its creators. The best I can do for myself is dark roleplay or using already existing content, and playing with generally safer dark play (which will always carry its own risk). The ideal would be to not find it gratifying. I don't know how to.

You should never engage with someone whose relationship to you is conditional on risking your health-- people you actually talk to or "fans" of your content. Anyone pressuring you to play with needles, especially when you're on the fence or have expressed you don't want to, doesn't have your best interests in mind. If you walk back wanting to do it, regardless of if you ever have done it, avoid the people who don't support your decision.

I'm never not going to end a public discussion of needle play without reemphasizing its danger. The possible bad outcomes are catastrophic and there's almost no way to mitigate the risk.

I'll add as well that the community has an obligation (IMO) to make sure newer or younger participants know how dangerous this kind of play is. Don't allow people to stay naive.

[sailorrhansol]

Baby | Teaser | ksy (m)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Teaser Word Count: 478

Genre: Mafia, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Teaser Warnings: Very mild angst but mostly just affection :)

A/N: I want to emphasize that in this fic, everyone is associated with criminal behavior and deeply ingrained in a Syndicate culture in which illegal activity, violence and drug use is the norm. If you cannot handle that - especially because I make no attempt to moralize their behavior - this isn’t the fic for you. Additionally, there are violent scenes. It is a violent story. That’s okay if this isn’t for you, just skip this one. I don't lean into gore and I keep it short and specific as possible.

A/N 2:  I have been working on this specific fic for months - I really hope you like it. It is dark in a lot of places but it's also deeply emotional and touching as well. I think this will be one of my favorite works I've done in recent years, so I hope at least someone enjoys it!

Coming January 1, 2025

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask | Playlist

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Join the Tag List | Ask

-

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 0

Thank you @caffedrine for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

True love–for me, it’s the worst curse imaginable.

Azel: High Priest… Please��� Stop it…

The whip gouges into human flesh, and the screams of my beloved brothers echo.

Blood drips from their torn-off nails, staining the cold floor crimson, forever burned into my eyes, once called mystical.

In this hideous scene, like a compilation of all the nightmares in the world, the powerless God could only cry out until his voice gave out.

Azel: Please, I'll do anything you say.

Azel: It's because I was a bad boy, because I didn't behave.

Azel: I won't ever run away again, so please stop.

Azel: Please, please, please, please…

Clinging to the High Priest’s clothes shamelessly, repeating words like a broken doll.

Being a God worshipped by people sounds nice, but the reality is different.

Head Priest: Living God… I apologize. It’s not that I want to torment you.

The High Priest gently strokes the God’s head with compassion and smiles soothingly.

In this nightmarish landscape, he alone is kind and gentle.

Head Priest: This is also love.

Azel: …Love?

Head Priest: The Living God is a special being. It would be too late if something were to happen.

Head Priest: To ensure your noble self makes no mistakes, I must punish you severely like this.

Head Priest: All of this is because I care for you. Please understand.

The whip cracks again.

My brothers, suspended from the ceiling, gradually lose their life force and become like dolls.

If this is what is called "love" – I am disgusted by its hideousness.

Azel: … I under…stand…

Azel: I understand… so… please stop…

-

Matias: Do you guys know the trending romance novel in Acroite lately?

The three kingdom's princes gather regularly, changing locations, and occasionally engage in small talk.

The content of their conversations varies from day to day, but on this particular day, the most unwelcome topic was brought up.

Kagari: I don't.

Azel: Not interested.

Matias: Then let me lend you my book.

Azel: Only Kagari can have it.

Kagari: No way. When it comes to this kind of story, Matias is uncontrollable.

Azel: Unfortunately, I'm allergic to romance.

Matias: Oh, is that so?

Azel: Yes, so—.......

Matias: Then let me read it aloud.

(…Hell just got even more hellish, give me a break)

Matias doesn't seem to want to back down and places the book in question on the table.

It was a very ordinary-looking book with no extravagance.

Matias: This book is so detailed in depicting the process of love's development that it's called the beginner's bible for romance.

Matias: I've read through it, and it's truly a treasure trove of information.

Matias: For example, there's a scene about a first date on page 32, and according to this bible—.....

While tuning out the rambling that has begun, I casually pull the book closer and flip through it.

(Ugh… what is this)

Just as Matias praised it, the content was a graphic depiction of the process of love.

There were many unnecessary parts for a story, and most of it was filled with idle chatter between the lovers.

Kagari: Was the allergy a lie?

Azel: It's not a lie. Look at these goosebumps.

Kagari: They certainly are real.

Azel: Matias might be yearning for love, but I'm the complete opposite.

Azel: Just hearing about love and romance makes me feel sick.

*remembering the past*

I recall the "love" preached to me that day with a merciful smile.

Just seeing the word makes me nauseous, and the aversion makes me dizzy to the point that I can't accept "love."

(Well, besides that crazy old geezer, there were plenty of people who preached about love with their crappy reasoning.)

(I wonder how Matias can believe in love so innocently…)

Matias: You're strange. There's no one who hates being loved, is there?

Azel: I'm a God, so maybe I'm different from humans.

Azel: … At the very least, I don't want to be loved by anyone, nor do I want to love anyone.

Azel: I know firsthand that love is a terrible thing.

I close the book and thrust it back at Matias.

There's no doubt that this is the kind of book I never want to open again.

Matias: There's no need to return it. This book is a present for you.

Azel: I don't want it, I refuse.

Matias: Don't say that. You might detest love and romance now, but you might change your mind.

Matias: Perhaps you'll meet your ideal princess in a scorching desert, on the verge of collapse, and after nursing her back to health, you'll become intimate—

Azel: Matias, please come back to reality.

Matias: Ahem. Anyway, it doesn't hurt to have a beginner's bible.

Matias: It covers everything from how to ask someone out on a date to how to handle relationships at night. You should study it diligently.

I can't help but glare at the book that Matias pushed back to me.

(Is it too much trouble to refuse?)

(Well, whatever. It's fine as long as I never open it.)

(Or… maybe I could sell it to Akatsuki.)

(I've had enough of being loved.)

-

(...Hm?)

Suddenly, I awaken to consciousness.

A landscape I've never seen before spreads out before me.

(Is this a rose garden? It's rather desolate for one, though.)

I've experienced the sensation of entering "someone else's dream" several times before.

I don't remember all of them, but I'm sure I've never met the owner of a dream with a rose garden.

(At least it's not the kind of dream someone from the desert would have.)

An oak table is placed where several paths intersect.

On top of it, there's a single book.

As I casually pick it up and follow the letters with my eyes, the story of the dream's owner vaguely flows into my mind.

Although it's an incomplete and fragmented story, the dream owner's "wish" is conveyed to me.

Azel: I see, I see…

Azel: How truly comical.

(A strong yearning for love… Are they the same kind of person as Matias?)

Someone approaches.

Glancing to the side, I see an unfamiliar woman standing there.

???: What is…?

Azel: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and desires to know it.

Azel: Love isn't all that great.

Azel: Sometimes, it's better to live your life and die as the innocent, unknowing you that you are now.

(I don't intend to force my views on others, but…)

The woman looks genuinely kind; the type who would be the first to be taken advantage of by a swindler.

Precisely because I had that impression, the God, unusually, offered mercy.

Azel: I've seen the "love" of many people. Not in stories, but the raw, real love that exists in reality…

Azel: Many of them are people who believe they can do anything using "love" as an excuse.

Azel: It's a miserable thing, a human driven mad by love.

Azel: No matter how rational a person is, once they're driven mad by love, they can no longer live without it.

Azel: Like a curse.

(This woman who doesn't know love might become a different person if she does.)

(…I pray that won't happen.)

May the ugly curse of love not turn her into a beast—

The God, who can only pray, was as powerless as that day.

.

.

.

Chapter 1

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[leeny-leens]

Finals Week or Final Week? | B.Z. x Reader

Pairing: bsf!Blaise Zabini x fem!Reader

Summary: Studying for your finals with your best friend takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: Reader has anxiety about exams, swearing, mention of wanting to marry rich and murder your husband

Content: oblivious Reader to some extent, lots of fluff, Blaise is Italian, they're in love your honour, Blaise being an attentive king, not proofread or edited

WC: 3k

AN: My first time writing for Blaise and I low-key hate the end?? but oh well. Interaction of any kind is super appreciated <3

“That's it,” you declared firmly “I'm dropping out.”

“No.”

“Fuck you mean no?”

“You wanna hear it in Italian? No,” Blaise didn’t even bother looking up from his desk when he answered your question, having had this conversation 14 times and counting in the last three hours.

“But Blaise,” you whined, getting up from your desk and flopping on your bed dramatically. “I can't do this shit anymore! I'm too young to be suffering like this.”

At that, he finally gives you a silver of his attention, briefly looking up from his Arithmancy textbook to raise his eyebrows at your theatrics. “Relax, you're gonna be fine,” his words did absolutely nothing to comfort you, and you found yourself sighing in defeat. “What if I marry a rich old man and kill him for his money?” you mumbled, already imagining how you could pull it off. Pansy would surely help you hide the body, and Draco or Theodore could set you up with some rich, pureblood asshole in need of a wife. Lorenzo and Mattheo would probably be down to aid you in the murder plot, so really there wasn't much that could go wrong here.

Blaise finally put his book aside, his full attention on you as he turned your words around in his mind. “Really? You're gonna let the last seven years go to waste and marry rich instead?”

It was a rhetorical question, you knew that, but it was a welcome opening to procrastinate on your studies so you opted to engage in this silly argument with your best friend.

“Absolutely, it's less exhausting and sets me up for life,” you replied, your voice harbouring an edge of challenge, as if beckoning him to counter your statement.

Blaise wasn't one to entertain bullshit, not with his friends, not with his acquaintances. He found it to be a waste of time and energy, energy he could be using on far more efficient things like himself. But somehow, somewhere along his time here at Hogwarts by your side, he found that entertaining your bullshit wasn't quite as bad as he thought. The absurd thought of you going through with the marriage and murder scheme drew a chuckle out of him, the sound low and rich as it pleasantly echoed in your otherwise desolate room.

“What? Are you making fun of my future career Zabini?” you asked, clutching your chest dramatically as you sat up in your bed. He shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. “No, never” he replied, sarcasm dripping so heavily from his voice it was basically a slipping hazard.

“I’m just surprised you think getting married, killing someone and hiding it is somehow less exhausting than studying for your finals,” the mention of your fast approaching finals exams immediately killed whatever inkling of joy you'd fostered with the light banter between you, your head falling against the headboard with a groan.

“Don't remind me,” you grumbled “’Mso fucked Blaise, ‘m gonna fail and repeat the year.” When he realized that there was some sort of conviction in your tone, he stood up from the desk, approaching you on the bed. You had closed your eyes, mumbling to yourself about how worried you were about the exams and all the things you had to finish until then.

You could feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sat down, and you instinctively moved to make place for him. It was a habit really, you were so used to make space for Blaise in your life that you never had to think about it. When you walked in the hallway, you always left enough space for him to walk beside you. At dinner, there was always enough space for him to sit, just like in the library or in classes or even the common room. You couldn't quite remember how life was before you started making space for Blaise Zabini in it, but you weren't about to change that. You liked the way he took up so much of your attention, even with his quiet demeanor and biting remarks, and there was nothing quite like watching him sprawl out on your bed on a Friday night when you were hanging out together, just the two of you.

And just like you had learned to make place for him, he had learned to make exceptions for you. He didn't tolerate bullshit unless it was you, he didn't bother entertaining people unless it was you and he most definitely didn't initiate physical touch, unless it was, of course, you. Just like that, you felt his warm hand capture your chin, tilting your head to the side so you were facing one another. “*Principessa*,” another exception he made for you; the petname he'd given you after you forced him to watch every single Barbie movie with you back in third year had stuck all the way until now. “Open your eyes and look at me,” his voice held no bite and no anger, yet you couldn't shake the anxiety that settled in your stomach as you cracked your eyes open to look at him.

The darkness in his eyes was all-consuming, like a black hole sucking you in and leaving you breathless, unable to think about anything but him. Any thoughts of school or exams were banished in the close proximity of him, the warmth of his body seeping beyond the thin layers of your clothing and settling deep into your bones.

“You're going to be okay,” he said after a few beats of silence. Each word came out slowly over his lips, yet he said it with so much trust and belief, as if it was a fact he knew wouldn't change. “You're going to pass, and you're not going to get bad grades in any subject,” his hand released your chin and settled atop your hand instead. He was perceptive, too perceptive for his own good, so of course he'd noticed you pulling at the flesh around your nails, a nervous habit you'd had ever since you were a child. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb tracing over your knuckles in a soothing motion that almost brought tears to your eyes.

“Really?” you asked, your voice shaking more than you'd like. You thought it was stupid to get upset about this, dramatic even, but you couldn't help yourself, not when he was looking at you with such warmth and affection. It was like all your defenses melted under his gaze, reducing you into a gooey, emotional mess that you couldn't control.

A small smile tugged on his lips, and briefly you wondered how it'd feel to have them moving against your own, but you quickly threw that thought away. Now wasn't the time to wonder how kissing your best friend would feel like, not when you've known said best friend for the last seven years of your life and had the best friendship at stake along side your sanity and your entire academic career.

“Yes, really,” he said, in that warm tone that made your heart stutter and your brain fuzzy in the best way possible.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, absentmindedly biting it as you tried to even out your breathing. You couldn't cry, not tonight when you already had a stressful day behind you. Crying would only fuel your misery -and the murderous headache building up behind your temples- and there was no way you'd try to make it any worse.

Blaise’s eyes focused on your lips, and as if possessed by something else, his free hand came up to your mouth to gently pull your lip free from the destruction of your teeth. “Don't do that,” he murmured, “Your lips are too pretty."

You stared at him wide eyed, unable to process what he just said. Did he mean it in a friendly way? Or was he thinking about you the same way you'd been thinking about him for months now, wondering what your lips felt on his?

The silence between you two was tension filled and heavy, not a word spoken as you relished the warmth and proximity. Schoolwork was the last of your worries when Blaise was eyeing your lips with such fixation and hunger. Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could swear that he leaned down just a bit, enough for the scent of citrus and musk to envelope your senses.

His hand cupped your cheek, the touch tender and uncharacteristically unsure, as if he was scared you'd pull away at any moment. Blaise was the most confident person you've ever known, his words carefully chosen, his actions well thought out and never faltering in the face of the unknown. But this? This was completely new to him, something he'd never thought he'd actually do, there wasn't an an ounce of his usual self assured demeanor behind the feather light touches. To his surprise however, you leaned into his hand, your eyes staring up at him with the same hunger he displayed. You'd never once shyed away from him, too entranced by the enegamyic allure he exuded, and you found yourself pulled into his orbit once more.

His face was closer now, so close you could see the gold specks in his eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and affection in a way that had your heart aching for him. His eyes flickered from your lips up to your eyes, searching for any hint of protest or dissatisfaction in your expression. When you managed to give him a light nod, answering the unspoken question for your consent, it was all he needed before he closed the gap between you, his lips tenderly pressing against yours.

The kiss was tentative and light, as if the both of you were in disbelief about this. It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, yet when he pulled away, you could swear hours had passed by, any sense for time malfunctioning from what you just experienced.

“Blaise, I-”

“I like you,” he cut off, not giving you any time to make excuses or apologies like he knew you would. “I like you so much more than I should like my best friend and it's driving me insane.”

Your throat went dry at that, your mouth falling open and closing again as if you were a fish on land. Could this be real? Or were you just hallucinating from the stress?

“Is this my finals week or my final week? Am I hallucinating?” you whispered suddenly, completely catching him off-guard. He blinked at you, once, twice, before throwing his head back with laughter.

Just then you realized that your response to his confession was completely ill fitting and the blood rushed to your face. “Don't laugh!” you exclaimed, hitting his shoulder with mortification “It's a reasonable deduction when you're suddenly confessing to me!”

To his credit, he tried to calm down from his sudden outburst quickly, his eyes staring at you with clear amusement. “It isn't sudden when you think about it,” he mused “I've always liked you, always gave you special treatment that no one else gets, principessa.”

Your mind cycled through all the instances Blaise had gone out of his way, and out of his comfort zone, to do something for you; too many to count you just realized. He was a well-mannered person overall, yet his words and action around you had always been just a bit kinder, a bit more vulnerable, reserved for you alone.

Your face burned brighter at the realization. God how could you have been so oblivious? You were sure everyone else had seen it, but you were too stuck in your head to see the way he looked at you, to notice the way his touch lingered just a bit too long.

“God I'm so stupid sometimes,” you mumbled in response, eliciting a chuckle from him. “That's okay,” he said with a teasing edge “I like it when you're stupid like that, makes it more fun to bully you about it.”

Any sort of protest or reply died in your throat when you felt him lean into you again, his lips brushing against yours gently. “May I?” his voice was low and quiet, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment.

Instead of replying, you set your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer to crash your lips against eachother, satisfied at the surprised noise you drew out of him.

The kiss this time was firmer, more steady with a simmering heat below the surface. The awkwardness of teeth and lips clashing against one another didn't bother you one bit, it only made it more exciting when you finally found a rhythm that you both followed as your lips moved in tandem against one another.

Both of his hands settled on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin through your clothes in soothing circles that had you blanking out. He was everywhere; his scent, his warmth, his lips and his hands driving your mind into a maddening blank state with not a single coherent thought left in it.

It could've been a few seconds or an eternity, but when you pulled apart, you were both gasping for air, eyes wide open at what had just transpired.

“I like you too,” you suddenly said, realising you'd never replied to his statement. “So much that I don't know what to do with it,” the hint of vulnerability in your voice didn't go unnoticed by him, his expression immediately softening. This was uncharted territory for the both of you, the promise of what you could be staked against what you already had.

“It's okay,” he whispered, his voice nothing but warm and affection filled as he took your hand and held it to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles. “We can take it slow, do it our own way yeah?”

“Even if I wanna go out with you but ‘m too stressed to think about anything right now?” you asked, causing Blaise to shake his head in amusement. “Then don't think about it yet, I'm not going anywhere,” you couldn't help the smile that overtook your features, grinning at him with glowing happiness.

“You're so fucking sappy sometimes,” nudging his shoulder playfully, you half shoved him off the bed to get up, laughing at the dramatic protests as he faked a fall to the floor.

“Only for you, ungrateful wench,” he huffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the floor with him. You landed on top of him, shrieking and thrashing in protest as you demanded he let you go.

You tried to escape his grasp, yet there was no use struggling against him, his arms wrapped too tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly against him.

“I need to get back to studying,” you mumbled once you ceased your protests, sighing contently when he bang rubbing your back gently. “Actually, you need a nap,” he chided. You eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he would suggest a nap when you had mountains of study material to get through. There was too much to do, and too little time, you couldn't afford slacking off now. “You have a headache, a really bad one at that,” he clarified, causing your eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

“How the hell-”

“Your eyebrows,” he added with a smile, gently massaging the spot between them, “You always furrow them when you're having a headache and you've been doing that more and more for the last hour.”

No words left your mouth at that revelation, at the sheer amount of attention he paid to you. You didn't even know you did that, yet here he was, paying attention to every detail about you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You expected the gesture to make butterflies flutter in your stomach, but instead you felt a sense of calm wash over you, secure in the knowledge that Blaise had always known you, always seem through you even when you tried to hide.

There was no use arguing with him about this, he allowed you to move away from him before tugging you on your feet and gently pushing you towards your bed.

“C’mon,” he said “I'll sleep with you if you want, that way we're both taking a break.” At that, you did settle into your bed with a little less grumbling, moving over to allow him to lay down beside you.

It wasn't the first time you both shared a bed; it had become a routine for you, sharing your space together no matter where. So the moment he settled into it behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

His warmth and scent, coupled with the quiet sound of his breathe, were the perfect way to lull you into sleep, the pounding in your head becoming nothing but a dull ache as your eyelids grew heavier.

The last you felt before slipping into a pleasant sleep was the press of his lips against the crown of your head,the chase kiss warming you from head to toe as you sighed blissfully.

Perhaps Blaise was right; you wouldn't fail your exams after all. When you woke up, you'd get back to studying and trying your best, and while you weren't sure if this was the last of your emotional outbursts surrounding the academic stress, you were sure Blaise would be there by your side. That thought was what accompanied you into your dreams, pleasant and warm sensations easing your mind.

[tahbhie]

How to Stay Motivated as a Writer.

I ran a poll to celebrate reaching 50 reblogs because you guys are amazing, and this topic won the poll.

(This is a bit lengthy, but I advise you to read to the very end. These are the kind of tips you rarely find without a fee, but for your amazing support so far, you get this from me for free.)

Let's dive in!

Before I became a writing coach, lack of motivation was something I battled with. Writing started to feel like a waste of my time, but whenever I stopped, I still found my way back somehow.

After a few more months of struggling and finding a clear routine that worked for me, I became a writing coach. Believe me when I say that it was such a commitment, and you'd never know until you get your first student.

I only knew how to stay motivated as an individual. After two students, I realized that motivation was also something they struggled with, and as their coach, it became my duty to offer solutions. In fact, nine out of ten writers struggle with this same problem, so I came up with the 'why and what' technique.

What is the 'why and what' technique?

This technique is a template to figure out the main reason a writer isn't motivated at the current time, which allows for the provision of tailored and personalized solutions to solve the specific problem. In other words: Understanding the why (the main reason for the lack of motivation at the time) to figure out the what (effective solution to solve the main reason).

Lack of motivation is pretty subjective and varies widely. Giving a particular piece of advice may work for some and not for others, which is why I ensured my technique benefits all.

I'll give examples of common reasons writers lack motivation for writing using the template. If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

1. Lack of Inspiration

Why:

- Feeling uninspired by current projects.

- Overwhelmed by the vastness of ideas.

- Stuck in a creative rut.

What:

- Change your environment: Sometimes a new setting can spark creativity. Try writing in a different location, like a park or a café.

- Consume creative content: Read books, watch movies, or listen to music that inspires you.

- Engage in Free Writing: Set a timer for 10 minutes and write whatever comes to mind without worrying about structure or grammar.

- Take a step back: You are no less of a writer if you decide to take a break and watch other writers from afar. Personally, it's difficult to write when I'm not inspired. I find myself editing more than usual and, at times, discarding the piece I spent hours on. So for a little while, I only engaged online and learned other ways to improve my skills with the time on my hands.

2. Fear of Failure

Why:

- Worrying that your writing isn't good enough.

- Comparing yourself to other writers.

- Fear of negative feedback.

What:

- Set small goals: Break down your writing project into manageable tasks to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

- Seek constructive feedback: Share your work with trusted friends or writing groups who can provide supportive and constructive criticism.

- Celebrate small wins: Acknowledge and celebrate your progress, no matter how small. Always remember that our writing styles differ from one another, and that is what makes us unique as writers. 

3. Lack of Time

Why:

- Busy schedules and other commitments.

- Difficulty prioritizing writing.

What:

- Create a writing schedule: Dedicate specific times in your day or week for writing and stick to it.

- Use writing prompts: Short prompts can help you get started quickly and make the most of limited time.

- Eliminate distractions: Find a quiet space and turn off notifications to focus solely on writing.

- Create or join writing challenges: Activities like the 3-day writing challenge, writing a novel in 6 months, the 7-day character creation challenge, the fantasy writers challenge, etc., have specific guidelines tailored to helping writers stay motivated and at the same time productive in limited times.

4. Perfectionism

Why:

- Striving for perfection in every sentence.

- Reluctance to move forward until everything is perfect.

What:

- Embrace the draft: Accept that your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Focus on getting your ideas down first.

- Set time limits: Give yourself a set amount of time to write and then move on, even if it's not perfect.

- Practice self-compassion: Remind yourself that it's okay to make mistakes and that writing is a process.

-Listen to writing podcasts or join a valuable writing newsletter: You will learn more about the writing industry and writing processes of other established writers, their wins, struggles, difficulties, appreciations, etc., which can serve as an assurance that you are facing the processes of a typical writer. 

Here's a podcast and newsletter for writers I totally recommend—The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. You can listen to The Shit No One Tells You About Writing on platforms like Apple Podcasts and Spotify or sign up for their newsletter.

5. Burnout

Why:

- Writing too much without breaks.

- Feeling exhausted and mentally drained.

- Stressed out from other engagements 

What:

- Take regular breaks: Schedule breaks during your writing sessions to rest and recharge.

- Engage in other hobbies: Spend time on activities you enjoy outside of writing to refresh your mind.

- Practice mindfulness: Techniques like meditation or deep breathing can help reduce stress and improve focus.

- Listen to music: It's an amazing mind therapy. 

6. Lack of Support

Why:

- Feeling isolated in your writing journey.

- Lack of encouragement from others.

What:

- Join writing communities: Connect with other writers through online forums, local writing groups, or social media.

- Find a writing buddy: Partner with another writer to share progress, provide feedback, and offer mutual support.

- Attend workshops and events: Participate in writing workshops, conferences, or webinars to learn and network with others.

- Get a writing coach: Find a coach that will dedicate their time assisting you through your writing processes. 

7. Working on Too Many Drafts Simultaneously

Why:

- Overwhelmed by multiple projects.

- Difficulty prioritizing which story to focus on.

- Constantly switching between drafts, leading to a lack of progress.

What:

- Prioritize projects: Choose one or two main projects to focus on and set the others aside temporarily. This helps you concentrate your efforts and make significant progress.

- Create a project schedule: Allocate specific times or days for each project. For example, work on one story in the mornings and another in the afternoons.

- Set clear milestones: Break each project into bit-sized, manageable tasks with deadlines. Celebrate when you reach these milestones to stay motivated.

- Limit new ideas: Keep a notebook or digital file for new ideas, but resist the urge to start new projects until you complete your current ones.

- Use a timer: Work on one project for a set amount of time (e.g., 25 minutes using the Pomodoro Technique) before taking a break or switching to another task.

8. Frustration of Not Completing Any Stories

Why:

- Feeling stuck or losing interest in projects.

- Perfectionism preventing you from finishing.

- Lack of a clear plan or direction.

What:

- Set realistic goals: Define what "completion" means for each project (e.g., finishing a first draft, reaching a certain word count) and work towards that.

- Embrace imperfection: Accept that your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Focus on getting the story down, and you can revise it later.

- Find accountability: Share your goals with a writing buddy or group who can help keep you on track and provide encouragement.

- Reward yourself: Plan small rewards for completing sections of your work. This can be anything from a favorite snack to a relaxing activity.

- Reflect on your progress: Regularly review what you've accomplished to remind yourself of your progress and stay motivated.

- Set a clear outline for your story: Having a clear and detailed outline for a story makes it difficult to run out of ideas. 

- Share your achievements with others: Achievement posts are one of the posts that receive more engagement from people. I'm quite aware of Substack. The notes with the highest engagement have to do with achievements. People find those notes empowering and inspiring. Share your wins with others and let them celebrate with you. 

9. Working on Too Many Drafts

Why:

- Perfectionism leading to endless revisions.

- Difficulty deciding when a draft is "good enough."

- Fear of publishing an imperfect work.

What:

- Set a draft limit: Decide on a maximum number of drafts (e.g., three to five) before moving on to the next stage.

- Establish clear goals for each draft: Define what you want to achieve with each draft (e.g., plot consistency, character development, grammar).

- Seek external feedback: Get input from beta readers or a professional editor after a set number of drafts to gain fresh perspectives.

- Create a timeline: Set deadlines for each draft to avoid getting stuck in a cycle of endless revisions.

10. Trying to Earn with Your Writing

Why:

- Financial pressure to monetize your writing.

- Balancing creative passion with commercial viability.

- Navigating the competitive market.

What:

- Diversify income streams: Explore various ways to earn from your writing, such as freelancing, self-publishing, blogging, or offering writing services.

- Build an online presence: Use social media, a personal blog, or platforms like Tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram to showcase your work and connect with potential readers and clients.

Remember, If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

- Offer exclusive content: Create special content or giveaways for your audience to increase engagement and loyalty.

- Learn marketing skills: Invest time in learning about book marketing, SEO, and social media strategies to effectively promote your work.

- Network with other writers: Join writing communities and attend workshops or conferences to learn from others and find opportunities for collaboration.

Remember, If you don't find any that relate to you, write it in the comments and get a personalized solution from me.

Reblog to save for later 😉. Once again thank you for supporting my blog!

[keepmovinjunior]

i just wanted to talk about something (under a read more bc it is out of character)

everyone is here for their own reasons, and that's cool. i totally get that. i'm not about to tell anyone how to spend their time or operate on their own blog.

i, personally, am here for fun and that's it. i'm here to write. i'm here to ramble about fictional characters and have silly little interactions on the dash / expand on my character's relationship with your character's. my real life has its own stressors (i have a great life but obviously not everything is peachy keen and being someone who is politically informed and inclined, i want to have a safe space in which i am not interacting with that type of content that i can retreat to for my own relaxation). at the end of the day this is, as i said, playing tumblr barbies for me (and most likely for most people). it's a game and it's not that serious. in fact, it's like. not serious at all.

some people are here for community and friendships and that's totally fine. i'm not against making friends, either, and i do really like and appreciate a lot of the people i interact with often and on a daily basis, even if i don't know most of you well at all. we engage in the same hobby and we're all aliases behind a screen but i really do enjoy talking to many of you. however, at the end of the day, if i don't make friends here, that's fine, too. i'm just chilling!

having said that, i've been around for a long time and have, of course, made friendships, had relationships, gone in and out of certain blogs, etc. and this is not a hobby i think i will ever outgrow (probably will just have less time for during certain periods of my life - and most people probably will experience that). i've had falling outs, i've had moments of being uncomfortable with certain people, i have had headcanons and sometimes even some of my own graphics lifted from my blog by others of the same muse, i've even had whole ass relationships with other writers in which i was very hurt. but here's the damn thing, ok: i never, ever, not even once, had a public DNI that other people had to adhere to to write with me, tried to call someone out or incite community wide drama by dragging other unrelated people into what happened over my own personal experiences, or tried to control anyone else over it. i always understood that not everyone is going to feel the same way, or have the same experience, with another person. i understood that dealing with my feelings about the situation was on me, and it was in my own best interest to learn how to move past or live with what happened. if i felt uncomfortable with seeing that other person around, it was my own responsibility to handle my own feelings as i saw fit, and no one else needed to do that for me. this is just good philosophy toward life in general, but, as it applies to tumblr: if i couldn't handle seeing someone on this platform and co-existing in this space, i would leave, sign out, or just. literally do anything else. i knew that my own friends and my own fun is what i should focus on.

there is a feature on tumblr called filtering. you can blacklist tags and users. you can filter things that make you uncomfortable if you want to stay but don't want to see those things. you can unfollow. you can block. you can literally do anything else, and you don't owe explanations for that. or, if you can't handle it even with those things done, you can sign out and leave and invest your time in something healthier and more relaxing. this is a hobby.

by all means, have your DNIs, make your call outs (leave me out of those, though, because i guarantee you that unless this person is a sexual predator, groomer, or scam artist, i am not going to care, especially if i have no relationship with anyone else involved in said drama) and will think you're ridiculous for it. just know that the moment you start to try to control how other people operate, you will lose out on a lot of really good experiences and just make this a more miserable place for you to be.

the best healing is exposure and love and support. it's not focusing on what other people do or seeking out spaces in which you will be triggered because you enjoy being a victim.

take it from me, a 30 year old queer woman who has gone through my fair share of loss in life: it's not that serious. it's really not.

[verdantwyrm]

I heard many arguments about how mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom because they doesn't get the story's point and "fandomize" said characters

I'm kinda agree with them? Since I doesn't like how the Fandom actively ignores Jimmy and yeah the Jimmy hate train was funny but it gets annoying sometimes

People say mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom not because of the fandomizing of the characters but more how they don't understand that you can ship, write fanfics, make happy endings or au's because they cannot comprehend someone doing all of that and then also engaging with the content in a proper, informed and literate way.

I talked more about that over here, but thats not the point of your ask. I think it's fine to be annoyed with how Jimmy, as a character, is routinely ignored. It's not that I don't think people can dislike him or that i'm saying people have to like him, its neither of those things, but outwardly removing him intentionally can sometimes come off like you don't want to comprehend him at all and the massive role he plays in the story. He is the villain, the fallout, and the why and how of Mouthwashing as a story and a piece of literature. You don't have to analyze him or write some deep thought-provoking piece every time you mention Jimmy, but it can come off definitely as very shallow when you simply write him to be completely nonexistent for no other reason than to ignore the whole plot of the game, the story and especially the other characters.

But you're not agreeing with the people that say Mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom because of this reason alone, because even if it didn't have a fandom this would happen regardless, and almost everything in the existence of for-fucking-ever has always had a "fandom" so trying to say that this one instance, this one singular game shouldn't is hilariously naive and very silly.

Things, for as long as they exist, no matter how they're made, will always have a fandom, and thus, will always have annoying people. It's up to you wether or not you let them dictate how much fun you have in that fandom. Create your own echo chamber, who's going to stop you?

[missmistborn]

Being trans right now is a lose in every way scenario. There's a couple of avenues you can take, and they all result in being fucked in one way or another. Say you want to create content and/or become a public figure. You're immediately starting far behind anybody else because a large portion of the population will just refuse to engage with anything you do. If you don't publicize that you're trans (which frankly is something that only some trans people can do in the first place), you'll be attacked for not using your platform to support other trans people. If you don't want a platform, you have to deal with being steamrolled by the current political climate, and having your right to exist as you are be a constant battleground. If you have it in you to speak out, there's only so much you can do and it feels like a losing battle. Depending on what you can and/or want to look/sound like, you may not ever get the chance to speak out or be immediately batted down if you do. If you want to cite sources, you have to practically get a degree in public speaking and know how to actually study papers or else you'll be spoken over and around. If you do all that, you'll be viewed as less trustworthy because you must be inherently biased, and thus even the people who are on the fence can be easily convinced to throw out anything you say.

Right now, I can't be me and fight for my rights without at absolute best a significant mental toll. This is why now more than ever, we need allies. This is a fight we cannot win alone. If you care about trans people--- maybe you have somebody in your life, or you just think that we are human and deserve the right to live without hatred being spewed at us all the time--- then please donate what you can whether that be your time, your love, your energy, or anything else that would help.

[turnitsysclusive]

Tumblr is very, VERY finecky so if you saw our first response, no you didn't. This response will cover a few key points here, but we would like to acknowledge that this post spreads misinformation. Ironically enough.

A note before we begin: when a post discussing a blogs behavior doesn't feature evidence, proceed with caution. We also ask that no harassment is sent towards both sides.

"These posts blatantly plagiarize specifically talked specifically talked about symptoms of DID, trauma involved with DID, and the disorder itself"

While it is true that we do edit posts discussing DID, we do NOT edit symptoms, trauma, or the disorder itself. Down below is all our posts that specifically name DID / Include DID.

Along with: One , Two , Three , Four , and Five

We take out anti-endo sentiments and make it Endo safe-- not necessarily ABOUT Endogenics. We do our best to avoid personal vents and go towards things everyone can experience because you can have a CDD while also being endogenic, someone who identifies as endogenic may also later find out they have a CDD , etc. We also do not plagiarize, but more on that later.

"Putting aside the disrespect towards mine and others boundaries for only wanting our posts to be shared to a CDD audience for a moment..."

Our blog doesn't actively engage with yours , or any other anti endos , post. We do not follow you, we do not like your posts, we do not reblog your posts. Ultimately you are removed from the equation entirely. You don't see Endogenics, they don't interact with someone they know doesn't like them.

Endogenics and the like will see those posts regardless. They will share it either in screenshots or through reblogging and not reading the banner. They will witness it prior to hitting the block button and they may see it afterwards. You cannot control the audience that views your content that unless you have blocked them. It is worth noting, At this moment of typing, you have not blocked us. Us block evading would be going beyond sharing posts with a different audience. We Apologies if this is paranoia inducing as that is not the intention.

"Endogenics do not have DID."

Now, this is a blanket statement. It is impossible to know whether or not someone has a disorder due to their label. Endogenic is an origin term for systems/alters who are not formed from trauma, but more importantly: it isn't a medical term, it is community based and a wide umbrella. That means anyone, system or alter, can identify endogenic and be endogenic. There is someone in the community who has said they've been diagnosed, underwent final fusion, and now identify as endogenic and partake in willogenic practices. We are most likely are disorder system (most likely due to not having a diagnosis and not desiring one. If this is an issue then we shall make a PayPal and you may donate funds for diagnosis) but still refer to ourselves as endogenic regardless on whether or not we would be, more accurately, labeled as a OSDD system.

Whether or not someone is endogenic or "actually" disorder or uses micro labels doesn't matter and is irrelevant to the DSM and to this blog. More importantly, what a label means to someone isnt for you or anyone else to define. It is impossible for one person to say EVERY endogenic doesn't have a CDD.

The rest of these responses shall be paraphrasing arguments and discussing issues/themes in this post.

"Turnitsysclusive is plagiarizing"

We do not claim any of the posts under the "#Whablam! Now safe for endos" tag as our own. When we rewrite things, it is highlighted in blue. When we make original posts, we tag it as such. In order to plagiarize, you have to claim the posts as your own.

We do not.

How our gimmick blog works is also in our pinned post. We are parodying your posts. But not for comic effect. We do not claim ownership to our text posts that are under the "#Whablam! Now safe for endos" tag.

Why we consider the people we parody Ableists

In order to be Anti-Endo , you have to be against an entire group of people's experience. Most anti Endo arguments I see are claiming that they do not exists, are faking, are delusional, making the community look bad, etc.

In other words, an amount of fakeclaiming must be present in order to be anti Endo. And fakeclaiming is ableist because you must believe that only x experience is valid and possible and looks exactly like x (stereotyping).

Now, that being said, while a post might be Endo neutral, we still edit out anti Endo statements such as statements against mixed origins and micro labels.

"Turnitsysclusive sets back the movement"

All we do is edit posts. We barely post along with not harassing. People who view us and decide that our blogs justification is enough reason to hate on Endogenics is, ultimately, not our fault.

Furthermore, if the only time you support Endogenics is when they're all nice then...well, that's weird. I might recommend looking into that. People should know better than to generalize an entire group.

Anyways, that is all for now. While looking for a source, we saw you responded to a previous too early sent response, we will respond to that individually if necessary.

But if you are uncomfortable with our content, then I suggest blocking us.

Recently I had been alerted that there was an account who would take the posts I make for CDD systems and make them safe for endogenics to interact with.

These posts they blatantly plagiarize specifically talked about symptoms of DID, trauma involved with DID and the disorder itself. Putting aside the disrespect to mine and others boundaries for only wanting our posts to be shared to a CDD audience for a moment, I want to talk about the genuine issue here that harms endogenics.

Endogenics do not have DID. They don't. Endogenics experience another form of plurality that is not caused by trauma. Which is, perfectly okay? You don't need to have a disorder for your plurality to be recognized and for you to be treated with respect.

But when you "make" posts so that are so blatantly about CDD systems specifically for endogenics whilst calling the blogs you stole the posts from "ableists" you are making the entire community look like fools. It honestly makes me feel bad for the endogenics who are just living their life being plural and not bothering anything, I feel bad because they have to be lumped with idiots like that blog. You are singlehandedly setting the movement back and causing systems to favour the side of being anti-endogenic because you're literally turning the meaning of endogenic into "faking DID" which is NOT what it means. You're spreading misinformation and harming YOUR OWN COMMUNITY!!!!

@turnitsysclusive do better.

[getvalentined]

Ah. I think the issue is that people see criticism as hate? This isn't the case at all; I hold things I like to a higher standard, I'm more critical of things like I like than things that I don't. I get how this can come off as abrasive to a lot of people, but I believe that it's impossible to appreciate the true depth of anything if you only engage with the positive aspects and reject any impression of negativity.

If I don't like something, I generally don't really bother unless it's something that is impacting my quality of life. (ie: if someone is being a piece of shit to me I'm gonna talk about it, this is not fiction, this is different.) It takes a lot of energy to dig into a character or a work of fiction this deeply, and it's not worth it to do for something I don't like.

I've said repeatedly that I don't like this character as a person, but that I love him as a character. I talk a lot about how I think he's got one of the best-written stories in the entire series.

That story shows a wonderfully flawed human being whose flaws build up until the facade he's been hiding behind for his whole life breaks under the weight. That's part of the beauty of it, that's part of the tragedy of it, that's what makes his story so good.

The problem is that he's a liar, and some of his fans would rather believe the lies than actually get to know the character for who he is. But he's genuinely a wonderful character. I don't just admit this, I will die on this hill—he's such a good character. He's so well-written. He's so consistent, and this newer presentation is spot-on.

[inkskinned]

im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[aaronstveit]

people who are saying 'no' on that "is listening to an audiobook the same as reading?" poll are super annoying and i hate that we have this same discourse every couple of weeks but it's reallyyyyyy interesting to me that so many people are saying that you aren't 'interacting' with the story in the same way because, the inherent ableism of that aside, you absolutely can analyze and think critically about a story even if you don't physically read it. you can listen to a story and think deeply about it and i think you're all very very weird to believe you can't. just because you only half-listen to things doesn't mean the rest of us don't pay attention and think deeply about it.