#there isn’t anything for me to actively do about it but. i’m just saying

[purgaytorysupremacy]

as the grandchild of survivors of the Second World War on both sides, this has been a really hard thing for me to internalize. none of my grandparents (nor my parents) talked about WWII much. I don’t actually know that much about what my families were doing, only that it was bad. I have an entire branch of my family tree that’s just gone and (supposedly) no one knows why. where I grew up in Canada had a lot of Holocaust survivors because we had large Dutch and German communities already, and every year until I graduated high school, we were fortunate enough to hear firsthand stories from survivors.

the one thing my grandparents would say and those survivors would repeat in their talks, over and over, until it was seared in my brain: “Never look away. You can’t let this happen again. The least you can do is never look away.”

I took this lesson very seriously. I was plugged in to the news all the time. I felt so helpless and useless and hopeless, but I wasn’t going to do the people suffering through it the disservice of looking away. I donated my money and my time and hoped to get into international aid, even joined the military because Canada is the nation of peacekeepers (Listen, I was a kid lol) and Gen. Roméo Dallaire, the Canadian who led the peacekeeping mission in Rwanda, was my hero. (Even as it ruined his life.)

I don’t know if anyone reading this had this same experience. I don’t know many people IRL who had this message drilled in so completely. (Being a white first-generation Canadian as a millennial is like that sometimes.) And I ended up breaking. I just couldn’t keep watching everything and being utterly unable to do a damn thing about it. It made me feel like a bad person and like I failed not only my grandparents but all those who shared their stories, so few of them who are still alive to do so.

Thing is, my grandparents got their news from film reels and this new thing called radio. The photos and documentation they saw from the time, both now and contemporaneously, was sparse and edited and targeted, for better or worse. None thought we would someday live in a world where individual people can upload hours of no-context atrocities from anywhere at any time.

Obviously, the “Never Again” and “Don’t look away” aren’t literal, but the way we pay attention now is different than they would’ve in the 1940’s or 1970’s. No one taught me how to stay true to something that has become a core value while not collapsing into compassion and empathy fatigue to the point where I have to look away.

I don’t have an answer on that balance yet, but just understanding that there does need to be one has been incredibly helpful. That doomscrolling isn’t helping anyone. That paying attention doesn’t mean knowing everything about everything at all times. We have more information by orders of magnitude than even existed in my grandparents’ lifetimes. We have to choose what “not looking away” looks like for each of us in the cultural and activism environments we live in. No one is more virtuous or caring because they’ve exposed themselves to more trauma than someone else. It’s not sustainable. You’ve gotta keep your oxygen mask on.

A video that was really helpful in me noodling this out—it’s been a lifelong project, and I’m sure it will continue to be—was Hank Green’s vlog on Webs of Care.

None of us can do everything, but all of us can do anything.

Hi. Things are bleak, I know that. I know that we paid for Trump's last term with blood and it is likely the price will be blood again.

But listen to me. LISTEN.

You do not have to force yourself to witness horrors as an act of activism. It is not a form of activism. You can put your phone down, you can block that horrific video. We cannot win if you cannot fight and you will not be able to fight if you are hopeless.

Do not let them guilt you into this. People who are exhausted are easier to walk over. Take care of yourself, find community where you find joy.

[ilostyou]

.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i’m seeing relatives in a few days and they have a tendency to ask if i’ve made any new friends because i’ve moved to a new city but also i’m bad at socialising in general and i’m trying to figure out how to tell them that my best friend in the new city is a cat

[theamazingannie]

Kinda crazy how people will call out celebrities for not speaking up on political issues and then a celebrity WILL speak up on that political issue but doesn’t do it in exactly the way these people want so they’ll call THEM out too and it’s like why tf would anyone want to do anything these days if every action they take gets them called out???

[white-weasel]

Do…. Do people actually have an issue with stuff being written in present tense?

[darlinimamess]

thinking about how i was only in the hospital for a week bc i hated the staff so much i forgot to hate myself

[twistpixel]

Tbh the only thing I have to say abt uth is that winick kind of nailed it with “doing it because he took me away from you” because that is exactly the language Bruce uses when he’s talking about his grief and death the people (usually women) in his life are “taken away from him”

[lilgynt]

i’m limping bc i kicked my moms door yesterday which yippie yappo gonna pretend im spider man and got injured on idk patrol or some shit not that kicked my moms door bc i was angry that she got legitimately upset wit me for needing to use the restroom and couldn’t wait till i was done to do her hair dye stuff but my coworker noticed and now i gotta kill myself

[fingertipsmp3]

I swear to god everything from the weather to my equipment to my neighbours to my own fucking body is conspiring to make sure I don’t get a good run this week

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[goodluckdetective]

Look, this is what moral OCD is like for me:

I walk past a piece of paper. I don’t pick it up because I had a long day at work and it’s very cold outside. This then becomes my internal monologue:

I didn’t pick up that piece of paper, I should have. Don’t I care about the environment? It’s not my trash, I shouldn’t have to pick it up. But also that’s how these things happen right? We place the blame on others as our environment degrades. It was just a piece of paper, it’s not like it can do that much damage. But also how do I know: I’m not an environmental expert. Maybe stray paper scraps are killing the frogs. You’re literally killing the frogs. You should look up how many frogs die a year so you know how shitty you are-No stop it.

I care about the environment, and I recycle and I joined green activism movements but is that enough? I could be doing more. I should be doing more. I should donate my entire check to charity. But isn’t it self serving to think that my one check could help that much? Do I really think I’m that important, how self entitled and-no stop it, reset! You are obsessing and if you fall for it, you will not eat dinner. Let it go.

Okay it’s just a piece of paper. It’s okay you skipped it this once: it could have had something dangerous on it. Yeah that makes sense. But also, that means I’m putting my own safety over trying to help the environment, which is very selfish of me. I’m just one shitty person: god how could I be so self absorbed. I should have picked up the piece of paper. I’m so selfish, and shitty and-no, no, stop it! This is not helpful. It’s fine.

It’s been a long day and I’m cold, that’s not a crime- no that’s being selfish again, you’re making excuses. You’re just a lazy piece of shit who doesn’t care about others, and selfish and God the fact you’re thinking this much about one piece of paper shows how selfish you are, you care more about if you’re a good person than anything else, you’re a piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit, YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT.

I get home and open up Tumblr. The first post I see says “if you don’t reblog this post about the environment you’re as complicit as an oil billionaire.” I close my computer and resign myself to looking up the state frog populations until I go to bed.

I don’t eat dinner.

The amount of frogs that die a year is somewhere from 200 million to over 1 billion.

[obsesssedblerd]

oh, the idea of satoru attempting to get his hands on you numerous times throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted (bc y’know, he’s a busy sorcerer) and then finally snapping because he’s so pent up that he can’t think about anything other than fucking you makes me giggle. 

smut under the cut. MDNI. also, barely proof-read so sorry for mistakes lol.

----

You squeal with excitement when you hear the door to the apartment unlock. Satoru was home. Finally, he was back after spending two weeks away on business. The moment you see just a glimpse of his white hair, you rush towards him and wrap him in a tight hug, him lowering his Infinity just in time to scoop you off of your feet. You're hit with the scent of his cologne, the feel of his soft hair underneath your fingers, and you sigh in relief. Finally.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets with his usual smirk as your legs wrap around his waist. “Miss me?” 

He kisses you before you can respond, so you settle for humming into his mouth. He walks you both over to the living room, gently setting you on the couch before climbing on top of you. Your hands fumble with his jacket, and he helps you out by taking it off. He breaks away from your mouth to start doting messy kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Mmm, fuck. Missed you too,” he says, his voice deep with lust. “Been wanting this for so long, baby.” 

His phone vibrates, and he ignores it, deciding to focus on pulling your shirt up instead. When it continuously vibrates with multiple calls, he sighs irritatedly and pulls it from his pocket to see Yaga’s name on the screen.  

You giggle from underneath him, pulling your shirt back down and sitting up. “I think you should get that.” 

“This isn’t over,” he promises. He gets up and answers the phone, holding it up to his ear. “This better be important. …Huh?! I just got back from a mission, what the hell do you mean the higher-ups want to talk?!” 

— — — — 

“Alright, you all. That’s it for today,” you conclude your lesson with a clap, and the second years begin to gather their things. “Geto will meet you all in the field so you can have a lesson that’s a bit more active. Have fun!” 

They all express their excitement, then make their way outside of the classroom. They pass Satoru on the way out, who had just arrived only a few minutes before the end of your lesson. “Yeah, yeah, what she said. Hey, Okkotsu!” 

“Yes?” Yuta calls back. 

“Remember to—” 

“Work on that cursed energy control. Yeah, I got it,” the boy groans. 

You shake your head with a tiny laugh as Satoru shuts the door to the classroom. “I swear, Yuta is trying his best. He’s— Whoa!” 

Your back suddenly hits the wall, and Satoru is in front of you. His blindfold is raised, and you see the utter hunger pooling in his blue eyes before he’s kissing you, similar to the way he did that morning. You moan into his mouth, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “Mmm, fuck. T-Toru, we’re—” 

“Shhhhh,” he hushes against your lips. “Didn’t I tell you that this wasn’t over?” His hand begins to trail further down your body, eager fingers hurriedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Just try to be as quiet as possible, baby. I’ll be quick. Gonna make you feel so good—” 

He’s cut off with a knock at the door. “Gojo, are you in here?” 

Nanami.

“Busy!” He yells, a bit on the harsher side. 

“You’re with [Y/L/N] right now. Her lesson with the second years just ended. You do know that around this time, you’re supposed to be training the first years, right?” 

Satoru looks at the clock at the wall, then winces. It’s true, but still, he desperately needed you, otherwise he thought that he’d explode. “Just tell them I’m—” 

“Can’t. They’re right here with me,” Kento says flatly. “They’ve been waiting for at least half an hour.”

You hear Yuuji’s excited voice next. “Hey, Gojo-sensei! How was your mission?!” 

“Itadori, no need to shout. Seriously, we’re all right here,” Megumi grumbles.

“I’m with Fushiguro on this one,” Nobara comments. 

Satoru groans into your shoulder, and his fist hits the wall. Unable to take his strength, it caves, leaving a nice-sized hole next to the chalkboard. You stifle a laugh. Thank goodness that this wasn’t your classroom and you were only borrowing it.

He inhales sharply, then masks his annoyance and sexual frustration with a smile. “Alright! Be out in a second!” He calls out to them.

He sees you laughing into your hand, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Just wait ‘till later.”

— — — — 

‘Later’ was far later than Satoru had hoped. After training the first years, Yaga talked to him about the next exchange event and how they were behind on planning, and then he had to shadow the second years on a mission that lasted what felt like forever.

You’re back in the apartment, humming as you finish tidying up the living room. You grab the basket of laundry, sit down, and begin folding towels. It was close to eight in the evening. You’re about to grab your phone to check on Satoru when you hear the door opening. 

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that I’d have to come and help out,” you say without looking up. “I mean, yeah, the curse was lower-ranked, but sometimes the second years—” You cut yourself off with a surprised scream as Satoru effortlessly hoists you with one arm, puts you over his shoulder and walks in the direction of your bedroom. Once you’re in there, he lightly tosses you on the bed, then yanks off his blindfold. His eyes are dark with a mixture of the hunger you saw earlier, and frustration.

“No more bullshit,” he says as he climbs over you, gathering your wrists and pinning them above your head. “If someone else interrupts, I might just hollow purple them.” When he kisses you, it’s far more intense than he’s ever kissed you today. His tongue explores your mouth, and you moan from the dizzying, yet pleasurable sensation. It’s not long before you’re both panting. His hands grip your shirt, and the sound of fabric tearing fills your ears. You gasp, your mouth falling open in shock when the scraps of your shirt as well as your bra are tossed aside. 

Satoru is breathing hard above you, nearly drooling as he stares at your upper body, his white hair beautifully framing his face. He dives in and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back arches off of the bed when you feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud, and you whine his name needily. He moans, alternating between using his teeth to leave gentle love bites on your tits and using his tongue on your nipples. It’s messy, greedy, and you don’t ever want it to stop.

Finally, he kisses further down your stomach, pulling down your leggings along with your panties and tossing them to the bedroom floor. He spreads your thighs, then licks a long stripe up your pussy, a loud, shameless groan of relief escaping him when he finally tastes you. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he sighs, and he smiles devilishly up at you as he readjusts his hold on your thighs. “Think this pussy missed me just as much, if not more. She’s fucking soaked.” 

He only gives you a split second to take a breath to prepare yourself, then he’s devouring you as if he were poisoned and the antidote was inside of your pussy. His tongue swipes expertly across your folds, then it flicks against your clit. You bury your hands into your hair as pleasure zips through your body, the rest of the world fading away until all that’s left is you and Satoru. “Toru- Ohhhhh shit, baby. Fuck-” You gasp desperately when he gently sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s moaning loudly, drunk off of the taste of your pussy and from the feeling of you pulling his hair. 

You grind your hips against his face when you feel a knot beginning to form in your lower stomach, your breath stuttering as it tightens. You knew that this orgasm was going to blow any orgasm you gave yourself during the last two weeks while he was away on business completely out of the water. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you manage to tell him in between pants. “Oh, god, Toru, right there, right there, right there-” You feel your body begin to clench, ready to release. 

But then, Satoru stops. 

You whine frustratedly as your orgasm fades away before you could reach it, looking down at your boyfriend in between your thighs, who’s smiling deviously. “That was for laughing at me earlier,” he says after licking the rest of your juices off of his lips. “Not so funny now, is it?””

On a normal day, you’d be stubborn and attempt to piss him off, but today was different. Your head rests on the pillow, and your chest rises and falls with every pant, groaning in defeat. “Satoru, please,” you beg, keeping your voice as low as possible so he doesn’t hear the utter desperation. 

Satoru feigns confusion, and you see the pure delight in his eyes. Little shit. “Sorry, baby, what was that?” he asks. 

“Please,” you repeat louder. “Make me cum.” 

He hums as he pulls off his shirt. “I’ll think about it.” He stands up, and you sit up to help him with his pants, eager to taste him and take his cock down your throat. You pull his underwear down, and he stops you when he catches onto what you’re doing. “Another time, baby. Right now, I just really need to fuck you.” He kisses you once, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. “It’s been too long. Lay back.” 

You lie back on the mattress, and he grabs your legs to gently pull you towards the edge of the bed, then places them on his shoulders. He slides his cock in, and the both of you moan in relief. Satoru doesn’t waste any time and starts fucking you fast, which you two needed. Being separated for two weeks on top of the usual stress of missions and teaching was horrible for you both. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Satoru moans loudly, not caring if anyone else heard, his eyes practically rolling into his head from the pleasure. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.” 

He slows the speed of his thrusts, but intensifies them by going harder, the salacious sounds of his hips meeting yours filling the room. Satoru looks down at you, taking in the o-shape of your mouth, your closed eyes and the way you're gripping the bedsheets as you whimper his name. He has to bite the inside of his mouth so he doesn’t cum too quickly. 

“Sat- Satoru,” you moan out deliriously as you open your eyes, gasping when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- Ah- so deep.” Tears blur your vision, and your boyfriend chuckles as he leans down closer to you, his thrusts relentless. Satoru kisses your cheek, then uses a thumb to wipe away a tear. 

“Aw,” he coos condescendingly into your ear. “You cryin’?” 

Your nails drag down his back, and he reaches in between where your bodies are connected to rub gentle circles on your clit. You feel that knot begin to form again, far more intense than before since you were edged earlier. “F-Fuck, Toru, I-” You’re cut off when his mouth meets yours for another messy kiss. He continues rubbing your clit, and you whimper behind his lips. He groans when your pussy begins to tighten around his cock. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself as your breathing begins to come out in short bursts. 

“Let go, baby, it’s okay,” Satoru purrs into your ear. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.” 

Your legs tense, your toes curl, and stars fill your vision as your orgasm takes you by force. You’re screaming his name as your body trembles, and Satoru murmurs encouragement into your ear as he fucks you through it. “Thaaaat’s it, pretty girl,” you hear, then he groans, also so close to finishing, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuck, baby...”

Though you’re dizzy from your orgasm, you muster enough focus to kiss him. You stroke his face, lovingly run a hand through his hair, then wrap your legs around his waist to bring him in even closer, encouraging him to give everything to you. You wanted him to cum—needed him to. The kiss and the faint pulsing of your pussy pushes him over the edge, and Satoru moans loudly into your mouth as he stills, spilling his thick load deep within you and coating your walls. He cums hard, his grip on you tightening as he breathes heavily. Finally, he collapses, but is careful not to crush you with his weight. 

Both of you are silent for a moment, remaining with each other as you mellow in the aftershocks of your orgasms. “Shit,” Satoru breathes out with a small laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. I thought I blacked out for a second.” 

You laugh with him, then press a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.” 

“Happy to be back. Missed you like crazy. Can’t believe I had to wait all day for that.” 

“Missed you too, and same here, but you gotta admit, it was funny.” 

Satoru tenderly smiles down at you, and your heart stutters at the sight of it. You were always weak for that specific smile. “It was, but, uh… you wanna know something else that might be funny?” 

“Hm?” 

“We broke the bed.” 

“....What?”

----

a/n: I just had to add "the" line lol. I couldn't resist.

[icannotfeelanything]

Nearly lost my voice screaming angry about my crush. Didn’t loose it but now I sound like either I smoke 8 packs a day or as my coworker lovingly put “I’m transitioning”

[luveline]

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home 

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 

What kind of dinner my love  

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 

What’s wrong??? 

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You don’t have to rush over.” 

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 

“You’re always good company, you loon.” 

“You what?” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Spencer!” you laugh. 

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 

“It’s in my back.” 

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 

[moonstruckme]

the sleepy remus drabble was everything but what about sleepy james x reader just cuddling on the couch with remus and sirius teasing them omfgg

Thanks for requesting lovely! I realized halfway through writing this that I wasn't sure if you meant rem and sirius were there platonically or not, but I hope this is alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Even when you hear the voices, you pretend you don’t, too comfortable on the plush cushion of James’ hoodie. Opening your eyes isn’t worth the effort. 

“Is this what they do when we’re not home?” Sirius’ voice is low and ripe with faux outrage.

James hushes him, so he’s awake apparently. His thumb moves over your tummy, big hand tucked into the warmth between your sweatshirt and your bare skin. “You’ll wake her,” he says, voice still sticky with sleep.

“She ought to be awake, it’s five in the afternoon!” 

Remus’ voice is softer, skeptical. “I don’t see how either of you expect to sleep through the night if you nap like this during the day.”

“We manage,” James yawns. 

You hear Sirius huff. If the muscles in your face were more active you think you’d smile. “I thought we were going to Marlene’s thing tonight,” he complains. 

“Still planning on it.” James’ palm splays over your middle, warm and safe. “We’re resting up.” 

“This is how you prepare for Friday nights now? Fuck, we must be getting old.” 

You whine at his volume, nuzzling your face into James’ chest. 

“Oh, so she is awake. What, sweet thing, you don’t feel like saying hi?” 

This time James coos at your protesting sound. His hand slips from beneath your sweatshirt to wrap around your shoulders, shielding you from your pestering boyfriend. 

“Oh, let’s have a bit of sympathy,” Remus says, sounding amused, “she’s had a long, hard day of napping. She deserves a bit of rest.” 

You want to remind him it’s your day off, but speaking feels like giving into wakefulness, and that is something you are not inclined to do. Instead, you try to wriggle beneath the blanket halfway up James’ torso, curling in on yourself like a roly poly. He helps you out, pulling it up to cover your head and draping an arm over your balled-up form. 

“It’s her day off,” he says, your hero. “Why shouldn’t she get to rest?” 

“That’s fair enough,” Remus allows, “but why were you sleeping?”

James hesitates. “Well, I didn’t have anything to do after training and she…she lured me in.” 

It’s true. James after rugby training is like Remus after he spends all day reading; he’s all worn out and pliable, and you’d practically only had to open your arms for him to fall right into them and then a cuddle on the couch had turned into a two-hour nap. Terribly unfortunate. Certainly not your plan all along. 

You decide it’s your turn to protect James from the others, wriggling up on his chest and covering his head with the blanket. You see his smile through half-lidded eyes, and outside of your little cave, Remus chuckles. 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” 

“I think we should get in bed and have a cuddle they’re not invited to,” says Sirius. “See how they like it.” 

“I’m not sure we can leave them in good conscience.” The sound of Remus' smile makes you smile, your cheek smushing into James’ chest. “She’s just taken Jamie. If we let her go on like this, she’ll have them both sleeping ‘til tomorrow.” 

That actually sounds rather appealing. 

“They’re jealous of us,” James whispers. You hum your agreement, and he kisses the crown of your head. 

“We could go to all their favorite things,” Sirius proposes. “Make them remember the benefits of leaving the couch.” 

“Like what? Watch sports?” 

“And eat pastries. She loves a sweet.” 

“Mm, yeah. I could fancy a sweet.” 

“From the shop on sixth? They should still be open, yeah?” 

“Stay strong, angel,” James whispers. “Don’t let them break you.” 

“They ought to be. Oh, and the pub down that way will be showing the Manchester match tonight. We could stop and see that.” 

“Sick and twisted!” James throws the blanket off, uncovering you in the process. “You never watch football with me.” 

“I have,” Remus hedges, “that one time.” 

“Last year! And you were reading your book on the other side of the pillow!” 

He turns sheepish. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed that.” 

“But now you’re going to watch it just to spite me?” 

“No,” Sirius admits. “We were never going to watch football, Jamie, sorry.” James deflates, and you squeeze him tight around the middle in a show of solidarity. 

“But we can go by the bakery on our way to Marlene’s thing,” Remus says, adding when you perk up, “if we leave soon enough. They make those danishes you like on Fridays, don’t they?” 

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice croaky and hopeful. 

“That’s me, babe,” Sirius teases, “and I’m down to stop by, but only if I get what I’m owed.” At your blank look, he raises a dark brow. “My welcome home kiss?” 

Oh. “You’re gonna have to come down here,” you mumble. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but obliges you, bending at the waist to take your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours firmly. He does the same to James once you’re done, straightening with a satisfied look on his face. 

“Appeased?” Remus asks placidly. 

“Yes,” Sirius answers, “the evening may now continue. Up, you two. We’ve got places to be.” 

[vyva-melinkolya]

we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.