#so i'm rewriting it. second draft lets go

[yoonia]

Forgive me for the sudden dip into the abyss.

I've been dealing with some stuff (including self-loathing...but let's not get into it) and I decided to take a short break from the internet (mostly Tumblr).

But I'm still writing, and I've been doing some stuff offline that I'm particularly excited to share. You might see me active sporadically on Discord or X, and through my scheduled weekly updates on Wattpad, but that's about it.

I'm back (kind of) just to celebrate Yoongi's coming home and to say hi to all of you who are still here and whoever still noticing me. I was contemplating about posting an official break/hiatus post, but seeing that I am still working on a couple of things, It might seem ridiculous to post an announcement for my absence only to update a fic merely days later (this has happened before, so I'd rather not embarrass myself by doing a repeat).

So I decided to do something better, which is to give you a little sneak peek of what I've been doing while I'm away to show you that I'm not really gone (and to show you that I'm still alive lol):

Rewriting: Carousel (feat. Yoongi) This is currently my main focus, with updates coming on Saturday and Sunday on Wattpad. I'm on (what was previously) chapter 4, and I'm planning to start posting the new version on Tumblr once I've reached somewhere around (what was previously) chapter 5. Why am I putting this as top priority, you ask? Because I'm also working on releasing this story as an original novel, and I'm planning to post Hobi's spin-off once I'm done with this piece. Please be patient with me...

Crash Into Me (feat. Bambam) The second instalment of my GOT7 series that I was planning to post early this month. I've been in a slump lately so the process has been going a bit slow, and I keep switching between working on this one, Carousel, and a couple of other WIPs. I was supposed to be done with the fic this week, but good ol' me keep adding more scenes to add more drama, so here we are now...about 75%? done? I think?

Hot Mess (feat. Taehyung) A fic commission that I've been working on for a while now. It's been touch and go with this one because I had to change a ton of things from what was previously planned because I realised at one point that I was writing this Taehyung too similarly to another character that I wrote in a different fic, and I didn't like that. This was also planned to be posted this month, but things kept getting in the way for me to finish it. I'm almost done with this one, but Bambam's story might come out earlier depending on the editing process.

Patreon Exclusive: Street Spirit (feat. Yoongi) This was a WIP that I discarded years ago (was it 2017? 2018?). I wasn't planning on releasing it as a full fic, just like how I've been sharing my other discarded WIPs on my WIP Graveyard, where I simply posted the rough drafts or rough outlines and story premises that I had before I decided to discontinue them, but the story meant a lot to me that I might be posting this one as a series. I'll keep you updated once I'm done polishing this story and will put an excerpt of it here on Tumblr to let you see what to expect.

Patreon Exclusive: Ghosttown (feat. BTS OT7) This was also an old series that I discontinued a long time ago. Just like Street Spirit, I was planning to add this on my WIP Graveyard, but changed my mind after noticing that I've gotten a lot done on my old google drive. I'm currently working on polishing the story outlines, and will start posting the chapters once I'm done.

Patreon Exclusive: Writing Class In case you don't know, I have a writing class going on on my Patreon page. So far I have a couple of classes posted, each one with detailed theories and steps and downloadable booklets for you to read and use as writing practice. I've been working on a couple of more classes between writing, but sometimes the researching process can take some extra effort which takes away my time from writing. I hope I can balance the process starting next week.

That's all for now. I'll be sharing more updates soon, but this is what I'm currently focusing on and what I'm going to come back with soon. If you're curious to see my day to day writing progress and I'm currently working on, you can subscribe to my Patreon and gain access to my monthly Writing Journal. (ps: I also have freebies for all members and monthly gifts for exclusive members, so you won't regret hitting that subscribe button!)

[snazum]

ah fuck it i'm asking to the void but, does anyone know how many hours/days the events of HLVRAI span over? I might have to rewatch the series for this info ToT I do know they mention going to bed at the end of streams, so 4 days? fuck man i'm rambling cause i can

[artisimpossible]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[chdarling]

ok so, I can't, like, set a precedent for every time there is a catastrophic event in my country I post a TLE spoiler because let's be real, that's gonna be every day for the next four years at least and I only have so many non-major-spoilery TLE bits to share. But I'm making my way through an emergency bottle of prosecco and texting my friends about how in the face of the endless onslaught of late stage capitalism, fanfic -- a community built purely around love and joy and not a single drop of money being exchanged -- is in a small way something radical and precious and dare I say holy (did I mention I was drunk) and that should be honored on today of all fucking days, and ALSO we should all spend less time staring at gifs of that evil-ass motherfucker doing nazi salutes and more time crafting joy and creating community with each other so

here is a lil snippet from TLE3

as with all my spoiler snippets, I reserve the right to completely rewrite this before the final draft because honestly this was mostly an exercise in me learning how to craft sentences again mid-burnout, but!!!! here, have a lil moment of joy, maybe. i love you.

Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Marauders’ End

“So, what do you think?”

Sirius turned expectantly to his best mate, who stood beside him as the boys peered through the doorway of Sirius’s second bedroom. The room had been unoccupied at the time of Sirius moving into this flat a few weeks ago. Now…it decidedly was not.

“Er…” said James, who did not quite seem to know how to answer the question.

“Her name is Lola,” Sirius added in a reverent tone.

“She has a name, does she?”

“Of course she has a name, you pig.”

“Right,” said James. “Well, then frankly, I’m a bit hurt you moved out and left me for Lola.”

Sirius knocked his shoulder against James’s. “Come on. I didn’t leave you. We’ve been over this. I’m of age, I was going to have to get my own place eventually.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, but you barely made it a month before you shacked up with your new flatmate, Lola.”

Sirius grinned. “She’s sexy, isn’t she?”

“She’s…very shiny.”

“She’s the goddamn love of my life.”

“Okay, ‘she’ is a motorbike, mate. You’ve gone completely batty.”

Sirius laughed and strode further into the room where indeed the Muggle motorbike had been set up, dominating the space. It was a thing of beauty, all sleek lines and silver glint. The floor around the motorbike was haloed with the detritus of Sirius’s last few delicious days: all sorts of mechanical bits and bobs, empty beer bottles, an ashtray, a crumpled up bag of crisps, a few oily rags, and a confusion of Muggle tools, the names of which Sirius kept mixing up — a socket wrench, he thought that one was called. The spare bed that had once been the primary feature of this room — a springy mattress James had transfigured for the nights he was too pissed to apparate home (“Mum won’t mind, she put the security spells on your flat herself.”) — had been shoved into the corner to make room for this new sacred altar.

James did not seem as impressed with Sirius’s new acquisition as he felt his friend ought to be. “You’re just jealous,” Sirius told him, “that you’ve never known a love so true.”

“Ha. Touché.”

Sirius pulled a rag from his back pocket and began to lovingly polish a spot on the seat of the motorbike.

“You know,” said James, still observing from his post at the doorway, “I’m not sure it’s healthy, you spending so much time by yourself.”

“What time by myself?” laughed Sirius. “You’re here almost every day.”

This was true. Hardly a day had passed so far this summer that James hadn’t found a reason to come by. Not that Sirius minded. Though he’d never admit it, he liked living on his own rather less than he’d expected.

“Yeah, well…” James strode closer to inspect the motorbike. “Someone has to make sure you don’t go completely bonkers, all on your own here. Lola, I ask you. You know, if you start talking to the bike, mate, I’m hauling you off to St. Mungo’s too.”

Sirius leaned down and whispered to the handlebars: “Don’t listen to the mean man, Lola. I’d never leave you.”

James sat down on the spare bed with a mournful creak. “Besides,” he said, “Potter House is too quiet now, with you gone and dad all…entombed. Some days I think if I don’t get out, I’m the one who will go bonkers.”

Sirius turned back to his friend, suddenly somber. “Hey, you know I’m just joking, right? You’re always welcome over here. I love having you here.”

“Yeah,” said James, though the faintest tint of melancholy compromised his credulity. Sirius watched as James plucked an oil-stained rag from the bed, sniffed it, then tossed it aside with a wrinkled nose.

“How are things…?” Sirius ventured. “With your dad?” Fleamont Potter’s health had been in steady decline for years, but last Christmas things had taken a turn for the worse. The diagnosis seemed to be simply that he was old…though Sirius had a hard time wrapping his head around that. “Have things gotten any better?”

“No,” said James shortly. “And they’re not going to. It is what it is.” He glared at the wall for a brief moment, then sighed — a deep, intentional sigh, as though exhaling all his miseries in order to transform himself back to Sirius’s good-natured friend. “So…does she work?”

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘does she work?’”

“Well,” said James, “it hasn’t escaped my notice that the bike is in your spare bedroom, rather than, say, on the street. So either you and Lola have a far kinkier relationship than I care to know about…or she doesn’t work.”

A pause.

“She’s a work in progress, okay?”

“Knew it,” grinned James.

“Hey, have some respect,” said Sirius. “I’m fixing her up myself. It’s far cooler than just buying some shiny toy from a shop. This is my bike. Mine. I’ll make her fly, just you wait.” He stroked the bike handle. “Isn’t that right, Lola?”

“Yep,” sighed James. “Completely bonkers.”

[compressingsins]

|| Mismatched

Yandere Grimmjow x Chubby f!reader

Warnings : Insecure reader, obsessed Grimmjow, body worship, aftercare, very touchy Grimmjow, little plot, detailed nsfw, marking. This is a nsfw 18+ fic, minors please do not interact.

“I want you to be mine, woman.”

Hello all! So I’m back (I’m not dead!), but this is just my comeback post! I know I haven’t posted in an entire year, but now I’m back and I’m gonna try to post more! I have a bunch of drafts I need to finish, so this is just like a post to show I’m still posting! Even if it flops which it might, I wanted to post something and here it is! Grimmjow is a hottie with little recognition, so here ya go!

Please do not copy or rewrite my works without my permission. 🫥

How'd you end up in a cave in Huecho Mundo with an Espada, was a long story. You're a Soul Reaper, yet he hasn't tried attacking you, not even once even if you did attack him. You were previously injured and when the Espada took you away, he treated your wounds at the best of his abilities, which honestly confused you. You've seen this Espada in action before, Grimmjow, one of Aizens strongest subordinates.

He frightened you of course, and you were even more petrified as you didn't know what he was planning on doing with you. What's even weirder is that you could sense no intentions of harming you, from him, his body sitting across from yours seeming carefree. It's almost like the Espada was... protecting you, or whatever you honestly had no idea. You weren't going to let your guard down to him completely, still watching him closely from afar.

The light of your Kido spell displaying your shadows, both of you sitting on opposite sides of the cave you were in. There was no fear in your body, but you had kept your eyes on the cyan haired male, though he was looking at the ground in silence. With a low sigh, you gulped to question him but you were cautious and simply wanted to know one thing. Once you cleared your throat, Grimmjow looked up at you across from him.

"Why... why am I here?"

Your body tensed from the sharp glare he sent you, and your nerves went into overdrive once he stood up. Still sore and injured from your previous battle with a Hollow, you tried your best in just backing away from the Espada, unaware of what he was doing. You flinched and pulled your hands in front of your face, shielding yourself as he crouched inches before you.

You were surprised since he didn't do anything, slowly dropping your hands from your face to see him looking unexpectedly calm. When you've seen him, he was always loud and aggressive, energetic and dangerous but for whatever reason, you didn't feel in danger right now. Why he was being this way with you was so unknown, as you didn't dare question him for it may upset him.

"Put your hands down, I'm not gonna hurt you, woman."

Only being able to look at him, you slowly let your hands drop to your sides and eyed the male who continued staring into your eyes. There was something in his eyes, like a hint of peace, sadness and concern but it was odd to you. If he was feeling like this, why, you didn't know but still you didn't want to cut him off. He was inches away from you, though, and it didn't fail to make you flustered.

"What's your name?"

An arched eyebrow displayed your confusion, Grimmjow still waiting patiently for you to say something. That patience, however, quickly ran out as his aggressive voice rung in your ears.

"I said tell me your damn name, girl."

You jumped from that, your words almost instantly coming out but it didn't help the second of fear that penetrated your body, stuttering a bit over your words.

"It- it's ____..."

"____."

The way he repeated your name was... well something you didn't expect, something cute and honestly you wanted to hear him say it again. You weren't being weird with yourself or anything, but you just wanted to hear it again because he said it, like it meant something to him. Your name wasn't a name that was big or important, so that's why it made you feel the way it did.

You didn't want to upset him or anything but you had a question for him, biting your lip before your eyes trailed back to his face. The mask on his face interested you and it failed to scare you, and you found him particularly... sweet, in a way? He treated your wounds when he didn't have to, and with his clothes that he shredded to patch up the cuts amongst your skin.

Gulping harshly on your spit, swallowing the lump in your throat, you prepared yourself once more to question him.

"May I ask... why did you, bring me... here?"

An ice cold glare was shot at you, making your breath hitch and your body once again began to try and instinctively retreat. Once he saw that, his blue eyes softened and stared you down like before, calm and collected. Still, he didn't seem of a threat or like he was going to harm you so almost instantly, you relaxed.

"I want you to be mine, woman."

You couldn't believe how straight forward he was, a gasp of air escaping you a second after hearing his bold words. Was he serious, you're a Soul Reaper and he's an Espada, that was near impossible. Besides, you think you're basic and he's particularly handsome, so you didn't understand why he supposedly wanted you.

Also as a different race, you would expect him to want one of the same as him and not an enemy. You were honestly going to deny it but you didn't know how to, maybe he'd get upset and aggressive like he usually is when you see him in the World of the Living. You knew you couldn't match him at all, so you didn't want to risk that besides the fact that you're still injured.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not but you were all ears right now, curious as to why he wanted you to be his. You didn't know what he really wanted and maybe his words were true but it too made you think that it was all a trick, a trick to give up information. You really didn't have any but you had enough, some that would be very futile to give up.

"We're enemies, why? That doesn't seem... logical."

For a brief moment he was silent, observing your face that was slightly contorted in confusion. A growl emitted from his throat, overflowing through his mouth once it opened to speak.

"You interested me, when I first saw you. Originally, I was just supposed to bring you back with me but seeing you on multiple occasions made me fall for you. Aizen wants me to bring you back for information, but I don't give a shit what he wants. I want you here with me even if you or anyone else doesn't like it."

"Why me? I'm a Soul Reaper and you're-"

"I know what the hell I am!"

His outburst caused your entire body to shudder with slight fear, but he calmed once he saw how scared you looked after that.

"I can't explain it but when I first saw you, something about you attached me. That's never happened before, with anyone, and I hate myself for feeling this way about you. Can't even fucking focus... just because you're on my damn mind."

He seemed like he was dying to tell someone this, specifically you, and it was kinda nice knowing someone felt like this about you. Still you didn't know if it was real or not, but you found your heart warming from listening to him speak. He was kinda... cute acting like this, making your body heat up with comfort that unexpectedly indulged your body.

"You're staying here to live with me, ____."

That shot a dart of fear through your body, hoping he wasn't serious with his words. You didn't want to leave your home and live in a World full of Hollows, though he is an Espada, a strong one at that. That still didn't make a difference because you didn't know him, nor did you want to stay in this hell of a place, leaving your friends.

"But I have a life in the Soul Society and the World of the Living..."

Your words were quiet, shallow and it's obvious why they were. He seemed to have expected your timid and shy behavior, staring into your face with a sense of worry, worry that he'd have to force you to stay here with him. He didn't want to have to do that but he would, if you wouldn't willingly come. His question though, grabbed your attention...

"Come on, can you honestly say you're happy living there? Yeah, letting people talk shit and treat you any type of way isn't living. That's tolerating that shit..."

You could honestly say you agreed with him, gasping and looking into his eyes that shined with a certain sparkle your heart couldn't handle. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, like he actually wanted to be with you but you still couldn't trust it. He's of the enemy which makes it hard to believe anything he said to you.

His words seemed legit though, but that could've just been you being gullible and vulnerable to anyone, like most of the time. His face was unreadable and you didn't want to play yourself, just because he was the one responsible for some of your friends injuries. Nearly killing two of your friends was even worse, the thought tightening your chest.

You just couldn't come to terms with what was true and what was not, how could you trust an enemy? Even if he is telling the truth, how could you be with someone you've never acquainted with, let alone always fight when you saw him. You were surprised when his hand took a hold of your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze before he let his hand retreat back to his side.

"You're too damn stubborn, letting those people run all over you, ____. I wanna protect you from all their bullshit, keep you here... safe with me. Honestly, I'm fucking desperate... desperate for you and if you don't willingly stay, I'll force you to so make your choice."

His face was contorted in anger but you could tell he wasn't upset, no bad energy radiating off of him which relieved your tension just slightly. Maybe he was right, you were gullible, because you were honestly believing everything he was saying to you. Disappointed as you were in yourself just for believing him...

"Those damn idiots don't deserve you." You didn't understand why he was being this way, only seeming to want to kill everything he came across, "You fucking let them push you around, just because you're weaker than them. You shouldn't be scared of those pieces of shit..."

He wasn't lying when he said your supposed to be friends talked shit about you, but you always just thought it was on a joking level. Even if it occured nearly everyday, you still just took their words as jokes. When he called you weak though, it made you gasp out in shame and disappointment, though you do need more training.

Just haven't realized you were as weak as he made you seem caused a wave of embarrassment to flood your veins. A growl that emitted from his chest averted your gaze back to his face, seeing him a little closer to you, on both his knees with his face closer to yours. Your entire body tensed, your cheeks ghosting with crimson shades that changed your skin nearly entirely.

He didn't seem phased by how close he was to you, taking in your flushed face. You could easily forgive people but him, Grimmjow, he wrecked havoc on so many of your friends but... he also seemed genuine, and you didn't know if you were desperate but you were considering it. Now that he said what he said previously, you realize that you do get pushed around more than you thought.

Your eyes went to his face, hearing a slight uneasy breath escape him, his cheeks quickly fading as red faintly appeared. Maybe you weren't desperate, maybe he was meant to take you away for some reason, a reason you couldn't pinpoint. Your heart kept jolting for the male, the enemy and you didn't think you would feel for someone who's done so many bad things to you. Not specifically but to your... friends?

Were they really your friends, you didn't know because everything he said was true. Maybe you were just tolerating them since you really didn't have anyone else, though, you did have other friends that genuinely cared for you. Most of them do push you around, but then there is that one group that loves and cares for you.

That's why you didn't know if you should stay...

"Even if you're not as strong as most, I can protect you... keep you safe."

When his hands went to your body, you were surprised with how calm your mind and body seemed to be, practically inviting him to touch your figure. His hands were going to your thighs, just before slowly ghosting to your hips which brung your bodies close together. Your breath did catch in your throat, though.

He just let his hands rest on your hips though, softly sinking his claws in your flesh which finally made you tense. Still, he was looking into your face with that same expression but he wasn't mad, like it was his normal expression. You were practically being pulled to his chest only a few inches away, fortunately.

"So what, you gonna stay wimme or not woman?”

You bit your lip, letting your mind go into a frenzy of scrambled thoughts, trying its best to find the correct words for you to speak. You wanted to see your friends but you also didn't want to get hurt, considering how he confirmed that he'd force you if you don't. Maybe he'd even hurt your friends back home and you honestly didn't want that. You had your answer, the one you didn't think you'd pick, in the beginning...

"I'll... I'll stay with you... Grimmjow."

As you said his name, your eyes averted to his face that turned calm, a wicked grin spreading across his face before he latched his lips onto yours. It was so surprising that you barely took in a breath but easily melted into his lips that were somewhat rough, though, it drummed your heart. It wasn't a minute after until he let his long tongue slip into your mouth, letting his thicker muscle dance and caress your own that barely had any control.

Your hands instinctively went to the big set of shoulders before you, digging your nails in the flesh as your eyes shut to succumb into the kiss of Grimmjow. He was growling into the kiss, flushing his body with yours to maneuver his hands to your ass, grasping handfuls of it that made you flinch and push at his chest.

Almost instantly, Grimmjow released your soft cheeks to stare into your eyes, like he genuinely was concerned for your timid form.

"What's the problem?"

The way he acted was how he already was so it didn't really bother you, but you didn't want this to escalate far more than it should. It was obvious as to what he was trying to do and you didn't want to act on this so quickly, considering you've only just agreed to staying with him.

You didn't even get the chance to properly introduce each other, yet he was so determined to strip you and himself from your restraints. He was already half naked since he used his clothes to patch you up, earlier, thus leaving only his pants and footwear upon his body.

Your body was getting hotter from his touch, however, which he could physically feel underneath his fingertips. You were grateful that he was giving you a chance to speak to him, as it didn't seem like that's something he'd do in the beginning, just from his attitude you've previously observed.

"I'm just... this is moving too fast, for me. If you want me to stay with you, you can't just rush me to do this with you. We've only just properly met each other..."

A glare was shot at you, a growl submerging from him but his grip on your hips tightened, keeping your body still. He obviously didn't want to harm you, though, and you felt a sincere sense of warmth seek throughout your blood, flowing to your brain that was mushy from his feather touch.

"Your body says otherwise, baby. After all, I've been straining myself the entire time from just being near you. I can't really contain my want for you anymore..."

You couldn't lie, when his hands touched your body, a wave of heat ran through your body, sending shivers through you, pleasurable ones.

"It'll be a low thing to force you to have sex with me, so I'll let you decide. But, your scent is... intoxicating..."

His voice sounded strained, almost painful as he spoke those words to you. It's like he's literally been dying to do something with you, but you were still confused on what you really wanted and what you wanted to do. Besides, you've only partake in these kind of acts a few times, three to be exact, and you never got to finish...

Just because the guys you did it with only did it for their pleasure, as they didn't honestly want to stay with you. It hurts you to think about it, so you can't really make up your mind if you even want this or not. He seemed extremely desperate, though, and if that was the case being the person you are, you wanted to help him.

You couldn't even get a word out, before he snarled out something... extremely vulgar.

"I've been wanting to fuck you full of my cum, for a very long time, ____. Being in a rut without someone to fuck, is so fucking annoying..."

He looked so defeated and fed up with it, you just can't help but wonder how long he's been in a rut. But still, that wasn't as important as your decision for him, if you wanted to do this or not. It was an understatement to say that you weren't somewhat turned on from just his touch, and that kiss added fuel to the flames.

Your mind was telling you how much you wanted this and so was your body, but your heart had a trust barrier that he didn't break through yet, still not believing him all that much. You wanted to because he seemed so sincere, so you had to bite your lip to brace yourself for your answer. Looking at him and placing a hand on his arm, he looked up at you which caused a gasp to escape you, suddenly.

"Well, if it'll help you then... we can do it."

In the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath the bigger male, his lips latched onto yours as deep groans escaped him. Your eyes were wide, feeling as he grounded his hips with yours and began humping into your soft body, unintentional whimpers and moans escaping you.

His hands were gripping tightly around your wrists, holding you completely still against his warm body. Your eyes instinctively shut, melting into the warmth of his body, feeling your heat spasming around nothing. His lips on yours was taking your breath away, literally.

You didn't even realize you were panting into the air, until you heard a chuckle rumble from the male on top of you. Your eyes opened, seeing a smug smirk on his face as he stared down at your flushed crimson face. You could feel his heartbeat on your heat, the pulsing being violent that twitched tingles into your body.

He loved the way you squirmed underneath his body, you hardly realized his hands weren't on your wrists anymore. His voice grabbed your attention, though, your heart pounding from his words.

"Show me your neck, baby. I wanna mark you as mine."

You saw how sharp his teeth were already, so your body tensed just a bit and he saw this. His hands went to your plush hips, squeezing them in his hands to sooth your nerves. You gulped just before tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck that made Grimmjow lick his lips.

It wasn't even a minute after, until he latched his mouth onto your neck, really close to the lob of your ear and you nearly screamed once his teeth dug in. He was like a vampire, feeling a trickle of blood escaping from the punctured holes that were bubbling from your neck. His hands went back to your wrist to keep you still.

You bit your lip to conceal your shrieks, feeling his tongue working on the blood that was streaming from the mark he made. He seemed to be enjoying your taste quite well, for a minute you'd think he was actually a vampire. Though, his lips created suction around the mark, pulling at the flesh and the wound electrifying more than pain.

It was a pleasurable pain that made you broken-ly moan, your body shuddering and writhing underneath him, and it made Grimmjow smirk as you shifted your heat agaisnt the tent in the front of his pants. That movement electrified his hips back into motion, pressing himself harder agaisnt you as you felt his covered length slip between your folds.

A gasp escaped you, feeling how heavy and twitchy it felt, obviously he wasn't a small man. The thought nerved you, gasping and mewling due to the liquid you could feel streaming down your leg. Your own fluids escaping you and Grimmjow could feel it too.

Once he was sure he imprinted his mark into your neck, he pulled off of you with a popping wet sound, a string of saliva breaking off as he pulled away. You shivered when a breeze of air tickled the freshly made mark, Grimmjow grinning at your current state, flushed and trembling.

It wasn't long until he started tugging at his pants, your eyes widening in panick that he all to well seen. He didn't care, though, continuing to work on his confines that was tightened extremely around his length. He's never been this hard before, feeling like his cock would explode as soon as he grazed you with it.

"Wait, Grimmjow?"

"What now, woman? You wanna stop?"

In all honesty, you didn't, but you haven't done this in a while so you thought a little preparation would be necessary.

"It's just that, well... I haven't done this in a while, so can you prep me first?"

A growl emitted from his throat but he could understand, although he couldn't contain himself any longer. He just wanted to claim your body as his and that alone still brought tension in your veins, slightly shaking at the thought. You were confused when his hands went to your hips, lifting you up to suddenly be on your hands and knees.

He was behind you which made an sound akin to a herd of buffalo stomping in your ear. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, sending a warm chill to electrify throughout your veins. He was pressed up agaisnt you and hard too, you could feel the pulse of your cunt beating agaisnt his length that felt extremely thick.

"Just relax, baby. This'll feel good for the both of us and," He layed his chest agaisnt your back, placing his hands beside yours while his hips were now flushed with yours, "I know you haven't felt that delicious orgasm you've been craving, in years. But, I can bring you to that point.”

Your face heated from his words and it took you a moment to realize he was completely naked, and you could hear the smirk from his words. A shiver ran through you from his hot breath that fanned over the side of your face, his lips grazing your neck and back before he sat himself up. You tried so hard to look forward but you turned your head, trying to see what your body was in for.

You caught a glimpse of it, being so stiff and practically pouring thick substances of pre-cum. You didn't know but it looked like he was so hard that all the blood in the organ turned his length purple, enticing a harsh gulp in your throat. You nearly shrieked as his claws shredded your clothes, now being bare to his eyes, even your underwear tasting the same fate.

Your body tried balling up, since you were completely exposed to the handsome blue haired male, behind you. You thought he would stop here, until you felt his hands roaming your body, quiet praising coming from him.

"Damnit, so fucking sexy... so damn soft..!"

Instantly, your eyes beaded with tears that stung the corners, just because you've always wanted to hear those words from someone. At least something like that. His nails were digging into your skin, slightly letting them drag across to feel you shivering and tingling underneath him. A smack to your ass made you shudder, jolting forward from the sting behind it.

He grinned to himself, loving how your cheeks jiggled with every little movement he made you do. He wasn't one for preparing but he wanted you to feel good too, not only that, but he wanted to make you cum. He wanted your orgasm to be intense and that's what he's intending, as he knows he can give you that intense high you so desperately and obviously wanted.

"I'm more bigger than these average little shits, so you may wanna prepare yourself~"

"Grimm-"

Your words were short once you felt his tip sliding in, feeling quite thicker and bigger than it looked, when you saw it. Your chest fell to the ground, feeling Grimmjow lay his chest agaisnt your back, carefully thrusting his hips to get you to open up to him. You didn't know it, but Grimmjow was struggling to keep his composure, his eyes tightened shut and his teeth gritting the more he slid in.

"Shit..!"

His hands were now on yours, balling up and squeezing your smaller hands in his. You let out a hoarse cry of slight pain, feeling how wide you were being stretched from his thick length. Grimmjow was literally moaning agaisnt your neck, trying his best to latch onto you but failing as your walls struggled to let him in.

You were far tighter than he'd think you'd be but it was a bonus, tensing up his body as he tried to push himself into you. He couldn't though, your walls squeezing extremely tight around only the tip and some inches, his right hand going to your hip to pull you back on him. He didn't expect this extreme tightness, his eyes nearly tearing up from how good this felt.

"____! You needa... you gotta relax, damn..!"

You were trying your best to relax, pressing your arms on the ground and laying your head on top of both of them. That was kind of a mistake, now you could see him entering your body, being way bigger than he seemed to be a moment ago. This sight only made you tighten around him, vulgar moans escaping the both of you.

He rested his chin on the nape of your neck, placing both hands firmly on your hips before he naturally began prying your insides open. Instant near screams escaped you, and rumbling moans secreted pass his gritted teeth. You didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure, your noises only seeming to encourage the male to sink more wildly into you.

His pace was slow, but the thickness of his length made it all the more pleasurable feeling those pulsing veins dragging agaisnt your velvet walls. You tried suppressing your moans but his hips began snapping harshly into yours, now that he was fully inside of you, feeling how his balls lightly tapped your already drooling clit.

You wanted to scream, when his arms wrapped around your waist, quickly guiding his big fingers to your sweet neglected pussy, rubbing harsh circles into it. The obscene sound of his hips slamming agaisnt yours made your walls clench around his cock, almost trapping him inside of your overly wet insides. You couldn't believe the warmth trailing down your cheeks, hearing the deep growls and groans of the male fucking into you.

His arms were extremely tight around your body, making sure he pulled you back to meet his thrusts, feeling the full force of his cock that collided with your spongy sensitive spot. You couldn't help the lewd screams escaping you, feeling that bubbling heat boiling in your abdomen, ready to burst as he seemed to repeatedly began bashing into that spot.

Even with his cock hitting every pleasurable spot inside your soft walls, he still managed to find a spot that spilled tears from your eyelids, feeling his warm breath fanning the side of your face. He was moaning directly into your ear, his chest rubbing agaisnt your back which both were sweaty from the intense session.

Grimmjow, however, took note of your tightened insides, angling his hips to fuck you in an upward motion, making sure his cock kissed that spot each time. He didn't know he would but when he heard you let out a howling moan, you could feel your cervix give way to him, Grimmjow gritting his teeth as it clamped down on the head of his cock.

His blue locks were sticking to his forehead, layed out from this situation, though he didn't even know someone could give him this much pleasure. He could feel fluids escaping his slit, massive amount of pre-cum accidentally slipping out and into you which felt so good to him. You didn't notice it but he was still making you feel good, too good in fact as you felt that hot coil in your stomach wind way too tight.

It didn't want to break which annoyed you, causing you to move your hips back against his, meeting his thrusts that nearly broke you. He could feel how much tighter you were now, gradually picking up pace and force that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You didn't even realize his fingers weren't on your clit anymore, but you felt the pressure of his body removed from yours.

His voice snapped you back into reality, listening to his broken moans as he tried to speak through the pleasure and the loud clapping sound made between the both of you.

"Cum for me..! Cum for me, ____! Fucking cover me with your sweet juices..!"

His hands were on your hips, harshly pulling you back on his cock before your body took note of what was happening, almost instantly feeling that high you desperately wanted arising. His eyes were trained on where he was entering your soft body, loving how he could see your juices sloshing out and around his cock, dripping onto the ground beneath you.

"Scream out my name, woman! Let these fuckers know I'm claiming this pussy... ngh!"

Not even a second after, you screamed exactly what he demanded you say, feeling that delicious orgasm electrify your nerves, frying your brain nearly from how intense this was.

"GRIMMJOW!"

He smiled devilishly at this but that smile instantly went away from how much tighter you became, feeling his own orgasm approaching and quickly. He could tell you couldn't really take this, seeing as your body desperately tried retreating from his massive cock and thrusting hips. That made him wrap his arms around your body again, holding you tightly to his warm chest that rubbed agaisnt your back.

You wanted to scream feeling him hitting even deeper inside you, your pussy fluttering and quivering around his thick length. From the uneven breaths that came from Grimmjow, you could tell that he was extremely close. He was slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, in return, you could feel the twitching and throbbing of his cock.

"Fuuuck..! I'm gonna fucking cum in you, baby..! I want you to take it all for me, don't spill a drop..!"

"I can't... can't take it..! Anymore, Grimmjow..!"

Another knot formed in your abdomen from his methodical thrusts, slowly yet deeply pushing into you, clearly lost to his own pleasure. You felt a cool substance on your shoulder, Grimmjow drooling as he nearly became delirious from the orgasm that broke over him. The force behind his orgasm hit a bundle of nerves inside of you, causing your overly stimulated pussy to gush all over him again.

This orgasm was more intense than the first one and he could honestly say that his was more intense than any past fling he's ever had. You're not a fling, however, Grimmjow wanting to keep you more than anything. As his seed seeped throughout your body, he continued to slowly piston his hips in a circular motion that stirred your insides. You could only twitch, your body spasming with every movement.

You barely registered his tongue slowly stroking your neck, placing kisses agaisnt it before he plunged himself deeply inside you, staying stationary to make sure all of his fluids got into your body. Both yours and his juices were streaming down your leg, leaving you relaxed but concerned for one thing. You couldn't say it though, soft sobs escaping you that shot a gasp from Grimmjow before he stopped licking your neck.

Sitting up but still buried to the hilt inside of you, the little movement causing you to moan softly, feeling him pushing his cock inside of you to stay there. A growl came from him, before he once again placed his hands on the sides of your head and his abdomen agaisnt your ass.

"What's wrong?"

"This is it..?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're gonna leave me, after this... it's okay, I'm used to it..."

He could hear the pain in your voice, a snarl escaping him and a gasp of shock slipping past your lips, as he wrapped his arms back around your body to hold you close to him. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart agaisnt your back, listening to his words that seemed... real, for the first time.

"Fuck that, I'm staying with you and you're staying with me. You're mine, you're not going anywhere I've already told you this. Whatever those assholes did to you doesn't matter, you're only gonna be with me, no matter what."

Your heart jolted, listening to him. This was right, this choice was right there's no doubt in your mind, anymore. He seems to genuinely care for you, feeling his lips kiss your neck again before he slowly pulled himself from your abused core. You felt a pleasurable chill run through your body, suddenly being on your back with your legs hitched up around his hips.

He was looking down at you, smirking as he took in your confused expression. Entrap-ping your body with his hands, Grimmjow inched his face closer to yours as he enclosed on your lips. Both your eyes closed in a sweet and gentle kiss, him pulling away to look into your eyes. You could honestly say that you believe him, and your heart is expanding for him far faster than you'd thought.

"We're not done yet, baby. I want you to look in my eyes, while I pound into this tight pussy of yours. You may wanna save your voice, we'll be here for a while."

You tried denying him since your body was overly sensitive, but a harsh thrust of his hips cut you off, already feeling his cock bashing into your cervix. Your eyes sealed shut, but his was staring down at your lovely face, bottling up the cute expressions you made. He knew you didn't know but he honestly loved you, and he was determined to keep you safe.

He wouldn't let those 'friends' of yours come in tact with you, ever again, though he wasn't going to keep you locked away. He had a plan for everything, though, he wouldn't allow anyone to be near you as they used to be. He doesn't trust anyone with you, wanting to keep you by him forever.

Truth be told, he'd possibly quit all of his evilness just to keep you safe. Yes, you were mismatched, but you were meant to be.

[stellamancer]

sakura message (reader x yuta okkotsu)

notes: hello hello. this fic, despite is size was actually kind of challenging to write. i actually had three different drafts in addition to writing and rewriting... to the point i have doubts about the end product. anyway, this was requested be @princess-okkotsu for ffg. i'm sorry i took forever aleks and i really hope you like this fic!

contains: 2.2k words. f!reader (i attempted gender neutrality, however i fear there may be some implications toward it depending on how some bits are interpreted). established relationship and my fledging attempt at writing a lovesick couple. title comes from idolish7. proofread to the best of my ability.

The only time a jujutsu sorcerer is expected to dress for an occasion is a funeral. As such, the nicest clothes you own are plain and black, drab and boring compared to the bright and colorful kimono adorning you now. Honestly, you would have been fine wearing something more casual, but Yuta had asked, or rather begged, if you were willing to consider wearing something a little more traditional for the cherry blossom viewing date he's asked you out on.

You’re not sure if he knows, but when he comes at you with those big, round puppy dog eyes of his it’s very, very hard to refuse him. 

“But,” you’d said with a playful sort of seriousness, “if I’m dressing up, you’d better be too!” 

Your words had made Yuta pause, with some sort of hesitant surprise, like he didn't think that you’d want him to dress up too, but you waited patiently for him to respond, with an unwavering smile until he finally answered, gulping before he squeaked out, “O-of course! But… are you sure?” 

“Yeah? I mean, I, for one, think that you’d look particularly handsome all dressed up.” 

That comment had caused Yuta’s face to turn a lovely shade of pink, steam practically coming out of his ears as he nodded vigorously, agreeing to your terms. 

You were right too, you think, as he stands before you now, dressed to the nines in a plain baby blue kimono with a white haori draped over it. Yuta really does look—

“—so good!” He’s practically gushing at the sight of you, grinning so wide that it nearly splits his face. He’s actually more excited about this that you thought he would be, and you think that he realizes that too, because a second later, he averts his gaze, embarrassed. “...I’m glad you decided to dress up after all…”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He fiddles with the sleeve of his haori, still unable to meet your gaze. “...well, uh, I wasn’t too sure if you’d remember.”

As if you could forget a request from your adorable boyfriend. 

You tilt your head to the side and grin. “Speaking of, I’m glad you remembered to dress up too. And, as I expected, you do indeed look quite handsome."

The blush on his face changes from a bright pink to a deep shade of red, covering his entire face before it starts to creep down his neck. Obviously embarrassed, he stutters out a bumbling word of thanks. 

It’s so tempting to tease him some more, but you decide to hold back for the time being. There will be plenty of opportunities later. “So, where are we going?”

Yuta opens his mouth to answer, his lips wobbling ever so slightly before he says, resolute as he looks you in the eye. “It’s… it’s a surprise!”

You lift an eyebrow. “A surprise?” 

He nods and even though all you want to do is poke and prod him until he gives in and spills the beans, you decide that you’ll let him keep his surprise. You won’t even ask about that suspiciously large bag he’s carrying; you know it’s got a picnic blanket, but it’s so big and bulky that you can’t help but think there’s something else in there. Instead, you grab his free hand with one of your own and pull him gently as you say, “Well then, if that’s the case then lead the way!” 

When the two of you arrive at the park, it is absolutely packed, despite it still being fairly early in the morning. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Yuta’s worried expression; it’s obvious that he’s afraid the two of you have come too late. 

Before he can start apologizing or something like that, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll find a spot together. It’ll be fun.”

Yuta blinks at you, his wide eyed concern quickly giving way to his typical bashfulness. He squeezes your hand back and nods. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right!”

You grin and, this time, you take the lead, gently tugging on his hand as you pull him along the bustling walkway. The two of you pass other groups— couples, friends, families all chatting happily. This sort of normalcy is a far cry from what the both of you have grown used to as jujutsu sorcerers and, honestly, it’s actually kind of nice. There’s a part of you that wishes for it, craves the kind of mundane day-to-day life where it’s not do or die because, if anything, Yuta deserves it more than anything but—

“Oh, there’s a spot over there!” Yuta exclaims in your ear, leaning into your side as he points toward an open area on the grass. In his excitement, he starts to pull you toward it, eager to get there and stake your claims before anyone else snatches the spot up from beneath your noses. You match his pace when you notice another couple opposite the both of you making a beeline for the very same spot. 

You and Yuta manage to get there first, though it looks as if the other couple gave up once it was clear that they weren’t going to make it. Now that you’re here, you’ve come to realize how lucky the two of you are with the space you’ve found. It sits beneath a canopy of big, blossoming cherry blossom trees and the view is nothing short of fantastic. It’s honestly a surprise that no one else has claimed it yet, but then again, the two of you are pretty deep into the park now. 

With a spot claimed, the both of you start setting up your little are, or rather, Yuta does; pulling the large picnic blanket from his bag and spreading it across the grass. You straighten out the corners of the blanket and reach for the bag to finally see what else is in there, but Yuta manages to pull it from your grasp before you can. He gives you a smile, but you can tell it’s a nervous one. There is definitely something else in that bag. Fine. He can keep that surprise a little longer, you suppose.

You plop down on the blanket and when Yuta settles beside you, you automatically lean into his shoulder and sigh, content. He mirrors your action, leaning toward you and rests his head on yours. You can hear him breathe like this, in and out. 

“...thank you,” he murmurs. 

“For?”

“For coming out here with me,” he says softly. “For… dressing up, for… just for everything you do for me really.”

Yuta has never been hesitant when it comes to expressing his gratitude, always adamant in letting everyone know how truly thankful he is to them for just about anything. But right now there’s a weight to his words, laced with the sincerity he always comes at you with. It makes your chest feel tight; you don't really think you've done anything that warrants this sort of response— you're just doing your best as his partner.

You shift your head, tilting it up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Yuta lets out the tinest gasp, and you feel a warmth spread across his skin, a sure sign of the rosy blush that's spreading across his features.

"I think I should be the one thakning you," you murmur in his ear. "For planning all this."

Yuta squeaks and finally pulls away, his face as red as a tomato. He's so cute. Gaze averted, he reaches for the bag and says, his voice a slightly higher pitch than normal. "A-are you hungry?"

You'd skipped breakfast in favor of getting just a few more precious moments of sleep, especially since you were meeting up with Yuta super early. That said, you don't usually eat until lunch time and it's still pretty early, so you shouldn't—

Much to your horror, your stomach lets out a very embarrassingly timed grumble.

Yuta stares at you blankly before he laughs light-heartedly. Feeling sheepish, you look away and say, "Well… it seems I am."

He reaches into the bag and it occurs to you that he must have packed some food; he planned this whole date after all, so of course he'd thought about what you'd eat while viewing the flowers. Snacks, perhaps, with something to drink…

You're not expecting the full spread that Yuta pulls out.

The sight of the three tiered bento box causes your jaw to nearly unhinge itself from your skull. Riceballs, little skewers, sandwiches… any picnic food you could possibly want for is laid before you, neatly and lovingly packed into every crevice of the bento box. You gawk at the feast and then look up at Yuta.

"You… you didn't have to do all this!" you tell him. A couple rice balls or a few sandwiches would have sufficed. You would have been fine stopping at a convenience store too and picking out snacks together.

Yuta gives you a little bit of a nervous laugh. "Ah, well… I… only meant to make the rice balls, but I… kind of had trouble sleeping and I guess I got carried away."

Carried away feels like an understatement; this had to have taken at least a few hours. Just how late was he up?

"Oh! But I'm not tired or anything!" Yuta adds. You eye him warily but he just gives you another one of those nervous (but cute) laughs of his. "A-anyway! Why don't you try one of these meatball skewers? I got the recipe from Yuji— it's really good, I swear!"

He picks up one of the skewers in question and offers it to you. Just as you reach to for it, another idea pops in your head and you pull your hand back. Confusion flickers on Yuta's face, but you ignore it as you lean in and take a bite of the skewer he's offered you, murmuring a word of thanks as you do. He makes another one of those cute sounds of his and you lean back, savoring both the meatball in your mouth and the look on his face.

You make a show of licking your lips once you're done and you don't miss the way his eyes track the movement of your tongue, nor the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as he gulps. "It is really good; you did a great job."

"I—" He starts, but then then stops suddenly as if all thought has halted in his mind. His face slowly turns completely red when he finally responds, "…thank you."

You giggle a little. He is just so cute. You reach for one of the mini picnic forks he's packed and stab a piece of a rolled omelet before offering it to him, your other hand positioned beneath it, just in case it falls. "Here, why don't you have a bite of this?"

Yuta stares at it, and you think you might have caused yet another mental crash.

"…well, Yuta?"

"Ah! Yes! Thank you!" he squeaks and leans in to take the bite off your fork. He lingers as he chews, giving you time to admire his beautiful long eyelashes.

"Taste good?" you ask.

"Mmhm…" His voice is just slightly deeper than normal, but you decide to pay it no mind.

The rest of the meal continues in this way, both you and Yuta taking turns to feed one another until the food is gone and your bellies are full. As if it's second nature to him, Yuta starts to reach for the empty containers to put them away but you swat at his hands.

"Let me," you insist. You think it's only fair; he planned the date, he made your lunch, the least you can do is clean up afterwards. "You just relax over there, okay?"

Yuta looks at you like a dejected puppy and you almost fold instantly. Almost. What little willpower you do have is used to put everything away as fast as you can. Once all the empty containers are packed away, you stretch, arching your back as you raise your hands high above your head before you flop back onto the picnic blanket.

Yuta chuckles as he lays down next to you. "You can take a nap if you want."

You turn your head toward him to shoot Yuta a pointed look. "If anyone should be taking a nap it's you."

"It's okay! I'm not tired, really!" Yuta repeats, but you're already pulling him toward you. He automatically repositions himself into a more comfortable position, resting his head on your torso.

You absentmindedly start run your fingers through Yuta's soft hair as you stare at the cherry blossoms swaying above your heads. Like this, the two of you really do feel like your average couple on a date and not two jujutsu sorcerers trying to pass as normal people.

It would be nice if this moment could last forever; you know that it can't though. The most you can do right now is savor it.

"Yuta?"

The only response you get is a drowsy hum. Not tired, huh? You snicker quietly; the urge to tease him is strong, but you want to let him rest. Instead, you shift as carefully as you can so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. With your lips still pressed to his scalp, you murmur, "I love you…"

You don't expect Yuta to respond to you and yet he does, sleepy and barely coherent as he mumbles.

"…..love you too…."

[sysmedsaresexist]

what are your thoughts on the community theory that autism may cause more fictives?

I come to you, anon, a broken man. I am in shambles. My life has been ripped apart.

I just spent a straight hour writing a response. It was a beautiful response, with sources, and pretty colors, and oh, about 2k words.

And it's all gone.

BUT!!! I, Quill, am not one to be discouraged. I'm going to redo this. FROM THE TOP!!!! (and now saving draft every 5 seconds istg-)

TL;DR: I really genuinely love the theory and think it has a lot of merit. However, I also really disagree with how some parts of the community handle this theory, and the stereotypes of autistic systems that come from it.

Alright. Mod Quill here, yes, I am an autistic system, currently a bit itchy inside because I should've been almost done this post and nearly into my latest fixation (don't starve together), and instead I'm rewriting this all and delaying my gratification. I am being so strong and brave right now.

[EDIT, before I actually get started, now that I'm done my ramble: in the following essay, I discuss introjection as a whole, rather than just fictives. I personally only have fictional introjects, but we all absolutely despise the term fictive being used on our system, so we avoided the term.]

Let's start with the fact that introjection is incredibly normal. My GOAT, Piaget, discusses at length how schema develops, and that's based a lot in introjection. Introjection, as a concept, is the idea that we, as people, unconsciously take on the beliefs, personality traits, sometimes even emotions of those around us. This can be for a lot of reasons.

Introjection (Defense Mechanism) was an interesting article I found discussing this idea, especially as it discusses introjection VS internalization, identification, and incorporation. Basically, when y'all try to find good articles online about introjection, those other words are usually fair game as well. This article is largely setting out to define various types of introjection. It describes normal introjection (bringing up Piaget, love that guy, he's my main man as a teacher) and brings up how introjects (i.e. the emotions/traits/beliefs/etc) can be distorted via fantasy. When that happens, it's considered secondary identification, and (she cites Freud here but I am not going digging more for MORE research atm), "Such secondary identification aims to reduce feelings of separation and hostility, and increase feelings of closeness, between the self and the external object, and thus it is regarded as a defense mechanism." So, in basic terms, introjection as a coping mechanism is often meant to reduce separation and increase closeness between an individual and the object of their introjection.

This can be seen very readily in CDDs. For instance, a hypothetical child is seeking more secure attachment with an abusive parental figure; they then form a dissociative part that is literally that abusive parental figure, making that person a part of them. This is a highly pathological defense mechanism.

So where does autism come in? Well... It's a disorder featuring:

A constant feeling of loneliness or ostracization for many individuals (discussed here)

A feeling of requirement for masking or mimicry of others in order to fit in (discussed here)

Diagnostic criteria that clearly show an inability to connect with others, rigid thinking patterns (akin to a fixed-mindset, just musing here), and an inability to maintain healthy relationships.

So... autistic CDD systems would then be individuals with a dissociative disorder, who (due to their autism) often report feeling more disconnected with themselves than their peers, who already rely on imitation as a conscious form of survival in an attempt to achieve closeness...

So you mean to say, Autistic CDD Systems Introject More???? HUH.

It's spelled out right there. It's fairly blatantly obvious. And genuinely, I don't think anyone was really doubting this. I don't think anyone is really out here saying that autistic people don't experience significant dissociation/introjection.

However, there's a lot of people recently shouting to the hilltops that there's no proof that autistic systems experience higher amounts of introject alters. And...

Duh? Obviously? There's already a significant lack of research into introjects in CDD systems. Why on earth would they then skip forward to research into introjects in autistic CDD systems? The medical world isn't going to skip around like that -- particularly, well... because why would they even research this to begin with?

Genuinely, I think that's my frustration with the recent discourse about this topic. There really is no reason, in my eyes, why the medical world should focus on this topic. What benefit would it have for patients? Introjects are simply another form of alter, same as any other. I suppose, potentially, it could lead to more ideas on how to help autistic CDD systems with their introjects in particular, but... is it that much different than just treating autistic CDD systems as a whole?

There's really no reason to be so up in arms about this idea. You're not going to be getting proof that this theorized correlation is actually scientifically valid; that's just not going to be happening anytime soon, unless someone has a really invested interest in autistic CDD introjects.

However...

HOWEVER!!!!!

That also does not mean I necessarily agree that every autistic system is like this. Because, for instance, I am not like this.

If you don't know, hi, I'm Quill, a mixed-origin CDD system featuring 15 parts. The origins aren't really important to this conversation, but we like to use accurate labels. We have 4 introjects, all of whom are fictional in nature. One is very close to source, one is so separated we forget she's an introject, and the other two are somewhere in the middle. And, despite what most people would assume, as I am a level 2 autistic individual as well as a system...

Only one of those introjects is from a hyperfixation of ours -- one that was brief, lasting only about 2 days, and that has never caught me up again -- and she's the one who immediately source separated.

Now, I am someone who struggles with hyperfixations. I scream internally while I autistically click the next 5 hour FNAF marathon when I'm supposed to be grading. I know so much lore. But yet, despite the sheer number -- undertale, MLP, FNAF, Petscop, most recently DST -- I haven't split introjects from any of those fixations.

And, well, that makes sense. Because introjection isn't just about attachment to an object. It's about taking something you need from that object. And it's unconscious in most cases.

(Semantically, I suppose that means that introject isn't really the best term for created parts who are fictional in nature, but I do not care about semantics all that much when it comes to people's self-identified labels in a minority group).

So, in the cases of my introjects:

At a time when we felt incapable, angry, and confused, we split a confident, strong, and (healthily) angry part.

At a time when we felt we were at risk of losing everyone and everything because we couldn't keep them happy, we split a character who found her lost loved ones and kept everyone happy.

At a time when we felt we needed distance from our conflicting emotions, we split someone who canonically has never been conflicted.

At a time when we were in desperate need of love, we split someone we knew would seek that love out without fail.

It wasn't based on our hyperfixations; it was based on our needs.

I think that large swaths of the system community online forgets that CDDs are borne of childhood trauma. Splits in CDD systems are caused by trauma-responses* -- you're stressed out, so your brain puts what you need to handle that stress (such as the memory of the event, the feelings you need to handle it, the personality traits that would be helpful) into a new part. In the case of introjection, a CDD brain is still doing that -- it just relies on a blueprint provided by the world around them. In the cause of autistic systems, I think they find it especially easy to rely on those blueprints.

I mean, autism comes with its own difficulties with personhood, dissociation, and lack of feeling like oneself. There's evidence to indicate that, rather than an autobiographical sense of self based on seamless memories, autistic individuals lean toward a patchwork sense of self. Extend that to CDD systemhood, an inherently dissociative, traumatic experience that comes with memory problems that further prevent autobiographical self memory, and you've got a compelling reason why introjecting whole characters (with themes and narratives that fit the experiences trying to be integrated) might be more common in autistic systems.

And... all of that -- all of the nuance, all of the discussion of trauma and the inherent struggles of being autistic -- somehow has been boiled down repeatedly, on both sides of the argument, to "Autistic systems split more introjects because they hyperfixate."

This idea led to me feeling completely isolated in system communities. I found myself in groups with the following (incredibly limited) views on autism and systemhood:

Introjects are not more common with autism at all, and anyone saying so is spreading misinformation.

Introjects only split due to traumatic experiences, and autistic people experience more trauma than others, so they split more introjects.

Introjects split more frequently in autistic systems due to hyperfixations, so if you're really autistic, you have more introjects.

And... none of these are right. All of them lack nuance, and all of them patently ignore the facts about trauma and how it impacts the brain in CDDs.

Based on the community experiences I've seen, there is a blatant correlation between autism and introjects. To ignore that correlation is to be blind to the community entirely. However, to say the correlation is only due to hyperfixation is to ignore many, many other possible reasons why autistic systems split more introjects -- of which my post only addressed some potential reasons -- and, in doing so, isolates many systems. It also stereotypes autism to hyperfixation, which is only one of the thousands of potential sprinkles on someones autism sundae, and leaves some individuals (such as myself) feeling even further isolated.

(And to suggest that it is because autistic people experience "more trauma" than others is to begin the 2025 Trauma Olypmics, and I refuse to entertain a torch bearer for those particular games.)

I understand where many individuals are coming from when they express frustration over the theory; I've been in that exact position myself, demanding proof of the correlation due to my own isolation from the community. And, with a disorder that already, inherently, feels so isolating already, on top of another disorder with its own share of isolating feelings...

I just desperately hope that people can be open to others experiences. I think it's entirely possible that someone attaches so firmly to a hyperfixation that they split a new part from it. I also think the theory I presented here -- that autistic individuals introject more readily due to a propensity for introjection in part borne of trauma -- is also entirely possible. I think there's thousands of possible explanations, and I think there's thousands of "right answers."

And I also think that none of this matters beyond a simple intellectual curiosity, and coming to understand myself more. I wrote all of this up due to my passion for the subject. I am autistic, and I want to be seen, and heard, and I want people to understand it more. I want people to broaden their perspectives and maybe see someone else's shoes, even if they aren't comfortable wearing them yet.

If another system is like mine, yay! If another system is unlike mine, yay! Regardless, every system is unique -- just like how every representation of autism is unique. And I think we should find beauty in the theories that present themselves, and enjoy the ideas more than the outcomes.

Fun additional reading that came up in the process of my buzzing about this for multiple hours:

Experiencing Self and Others: Contributions From Studies of Autism to The Psychoanalytic Theory of Social Development -> According to a friend (paraphrasing a tiny bit), "the abstract, in my reading, is basically saying that comparing autistic and non-autistic kids can help us understand more about how theory of mind and mental modeling of others can develop, particularly in relevancy to concepts of internalization/introjection." They did read through the whole article (while also warning me to never use scihub) and indicated for me that this really doesn't discuss autism in correlation to introjection, and even seems to suggest that autistic people can't introject (in the non-pathological sense) due to their inability to connect to others. (I genuinely think this is in direct opposition to the first study I mentioned, about how introjection is a defense mechanism, especially as autistic people experience significant amounts of trauma due to their disorder anyways.)

Making the thought thinkable: On introjection and projection -> Can only access the first page, which discusses a bit about echlalia and inner worlds. However, the title makes me curious about what this could offer in terms of the Autistic System Introjects Debate(tm). I want to go digging a bit more to see if I can get around the paywalls on this. This is a complete wild card to me.

Whose memories are they and where do they go? Problems surrounding internalization in children on the autistic spectrum -> A very interesting article that came up while my friend was reading the Experiencing Self article. Again, I cannot access anything but the abstract myself (fucking pAYWALLS) but it's promising. Here's a quote: "The author suggests that, instead of internalizing shared experiences leading to growth, children with autism can feel that they add to themselves by taking over the qualities of others through the ‘annexation’ of physical properties that leads to a damaged object and can trigger a particular sort of negative therapeutic reaction." (Emphasis mine) Friend suggests full article is a goldmine. I'll leave that for you all to go digging for, if you'd like to know more.

(*Footnote: I mean splitting in the most basic, CDD medical understanding of the disorder way possible. Obviously, as a mixed-origin system, I understand there's more than one way to split a part than simply through traumatic/stressful experiences.)

[midnight-bay-if]

Happy New Year!

I know this post is a little delayed, but I've been a busy little bee recently, haha. I hope everyone enjoyed a wonderful new year and managed to unwind and have some fun.

So, first of all, good news; the rewrites of chapter 3 have been coming on better than I hoped. I found the missing ingredient, and the second half better serves the story now while adding some time to get to know a potential RO better. So, if I've been slacking on asks recently, it's because I've been hard at work on the IF when I can.

I have also been sneaking in rewrites here and there for the parts already in the demo, as well as a short scene at the end of where it ended. I'm not entirely sold on the scene remaining in the draft, but if it doesn't, I may add it as an extra on tumblr or patreon (if I decide to start one).

There's still a way to go before the second half of chapter 3 will be ready, but I'm much more confident with it now. Not to mention having a head start writing chapter 4, which will hopefully mean a quicker update next time.

Let's hope for a productive 2025 together ☺️

[carnalhaus]

I know people usually ask about your art, but I've fell in love with your writing ngl, whenever I see bits of it on here and tiktok. It's as if I'm reading extracts from some famous author, it sounds so professional. I guess it would be a harder question to answer but do you have any tips on how to improve storytelling/writing?

you caught me at a good time because i’ve been working on the second draft of long bright dark like a madman.

first of all, thank you berry much. that’s pretty surprising honestly because i always thought my writing came off pretty rushed and awkward, but i think everybody is their own worst critic.

now i’m probably the worst person to ask because nothing i ever do is about improving, but i can try and talk a little bit about what helps me generally. something i discovered relatively recently was that making friends with other writers helps a lot. i’m very reclusive so i was a bit nervous about it, but it’s a lot of fun. it’s good to surround yourself with people who inspire you and motivate you. it’s like parallel play, almost. bounce ideas around, send snippets and blurbs, talk. i read the first two chapters of my friends novel last night and it was like i took a shot of meth, and now it’s four in the morning and i’m still writing.

i would also say don’t be afraid to let it marinate. step away, stop looking at it for a little, and go look at other things instead. read other things, watch stuff, listen to music, go places. strings of words that’ve come to me while doing other things have ended up being some of my best lines. if you look at what you’re doing for too long, it gets all funhouse-y. while you’re reading other things, try not to compare either. structure, prose, and stylization is unique from person to person just like any other kind of art. have fun and play around with what you see instead, incorporate elements you find interesting and see how it fits in for you. literally just play.

don’t be afraid to rewrite things completely. i think most people think of this as draft 1 vs draft 2 etc etc, but i think it can really apply anywhere in the process. if i find myself getting stuck on a particular paragraph, i open up something completely new and start the portion from scratch, keeping in mind the lines that i liked, and trying to reword things that bothered me. i tend to get distracted with so many things on a page at once, and end up not being able to tell what’s irritating me when i’m stuck. working through it from the beginning without jumping around, but still having that original there to refer back to, makes it much easier to sort through.

this is a fun one, but the music you listen to while you write might be fucking you up. just the other day a friend of mine mentioned how she tends to listen to music without lyrics while she writes, because lyrics end up distracting her. turns out i focus much better when i don’t have words in my ears. i’m not that disciplined so i don’t stick to it always, but it definitely helps me focus.

similarly, i think your environment in general can really help. i tend to draft things on my phone because ideas come to me very quick and scrambled, and it’s the best way to get them out. i’ve started to sit down with a drink at my computer and transfer it into a proper document to sort of descramble. even silly stuff like the colors and format of the page can help. make it look fun. i like sitting down at my desktop when im able because i think my pink fancy keyboard helps me feel more professional.

if you have questions about anything specific, i can always try and answer. here’s an unedited lbd passage.

[peascrabbles]

So, as I've gotten deeper into writing as a hobby again, all the reasons that made me stop doing it years ago have shown themselves once again. Bafflingly enough, it's way more difficult for me right now than it was as a rusty beginner weeks ago. Something something the learning curve:

I am totally somewhere in the "This is hard!" or "I don't know s***" zones right now (and it's where I stopped last time.) On this second go-around, I won't let it defeat me, though! Been reading little advice tidbits here and there that have been really, really helpful.

A few gems from a great discussion about the purpose of a draft that spoke to me:

Q. What makes you keep writing your first draft even though it's a complete mess?

I. Being a complete mess is the one and only job of the first draft. Proof of life. Keep going. It's like moving, which is the world's single worst activity. You box up every fucking thing in your head, and set it all out in your new space, and it's the worst day of your life when you do. And the satisfaction of moving all those boxes and finishing the laborious work is fleeting because now your new space looks like absolute garbage, and it will keep looking like a cluttered unlivable mess for months and you know it and you wonder why you even bothered moving. But you slowly unpack and organize and hang things on the wall until one day you're living in the home you always imagined.

II. Think of the mess as a puzzle that you get to have fun solving.

III. It's only a mess compared to other things you've read. But other things you've read are finished.

Stop comparing your work in progress to finished works.

It takes months or even years to finish most stories (excepting short stories and maybe novelettes). You're not going to get there on your first draft, or your second, or even your third. So, according to the words of Save the Cat! Writes a Novel, "Don't be afraid to write crap. Crap makes great fertilizer."

IV. Writing anything is an accomplishment. So many people think about, talk about, post about writing… and never do. (shush, I know I'm guilty of that at this moment!!)

Set a daily goal (words, pages, whatever). Hit it each day and take pride in JUST THAT accomplishment. It will get easier each day to reach that goal it as it becomes a habit rather than a chore.

Your story can't just exist in your head, it has to be given form. Writing it will gradually, eventually reveal what you can keep, what you must refine, and what you need to mercilessly cast away. If it's only in your head, it ALL exists, good, bad, and mediocre. Putting it in words starts the process of separating it from your mind and ego, and will start to give you some detachment and perspective for further drafts. It might start as a mewling little lump of words that drools and vomits and shits itself but by GOD you are going to raise… er, revise… that story into a fine figure of a tale.

As the sayings go, all writing is good writing. And all writing is rewriting.

[riddles-n-games]

I Could Kiss You

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: A rewrite from Ch. 77 in TIG after they land and before Jameson's realization that Avery's birthday is also Emily's death date. Length: Short Story Type: Rewrite

Tag List: @hathorneheiress, @whatsamongus, @xoxo-lenah, @charsoamerican, @thecircularlibrary, @elif-in-wonderland

A/N: Hey guys, I haven't posted in a while but I found this in drafts and forgot how quickly I managed to write this so here it is. A very random but had to be done fic from the first book because I'm feeling homesick for it. BTW, always feel free to shoot me a message if you want to be added to the tag list!

By the time the copter touched down, I felt like I was getting ready to burst out of my skin. I hopped out before the blades had fully stopped, adrenaline-fueled and giddy.

    Eight. One. One. Zero.

    Jameson bounded toward me. “We did it, Heiress.” He stopped right in front of me, lifting his hands, palm up. Drunk on the high of the helicopter, I did the same, and his fingers locked through mine. “Four middle names. Four numbers.”

    His tone was infectious and there it was again. The buzz, the excitement. A new clue, another puzzle piece to put into place. Four numbers, a finished set but what did they mean? That was a mystery which meant-Game on. I could literally hear his voice in my head.

    Kissing him had been a mistake. Holding his hands now was a mistake—but I didn’t care. 

    “Eight, one, one, zero,” I said. “That’s the order we discovered the numbers in—and the order of the clues in the will.” Westbrook, Davenport, Winchester, and Blackwood, in that order. “A combination, maybe?”

    “There are at least a dozen safes in the House,” Jameson mused. “But there are other possibilities. An address… coordinates… and there’s no guarantee that the clue isn’t scrambled. To solve it, we may have to reorder the numbers.”

    An address. Coordinates. A combination. I closed my eyes, just for a second, just long enough for my brain to put another possibility into words. “A date?” All four clues were numbers; they were also single digits. For a combination lock or coordinates, I would have expected some two-digit entries. But a date…

    “Yes! That’s what I was about to say. You’re-” He laughed, a wide smile on his face while he contemplated whatever it was that he was thinking. Suddenly, he leaned down, cupped my cheeks and kissed me. I froze but before I could even protest or do anything, he was already pulling away, looking horrified, perhaps realizing what he just did. 

    His eyes were wide, the pupils so big they took over the green of his irises and his jaw was slack with disbelief. His hand went to his mouth and he turned to the side, running his other hand through his hair before he turned back to me.

    “Um, I’m-I’m sorry. I… I have no idea why I just did that. Sorry Heiress.” I wasn’t fully registering the apology or his actions but I felt my hand subconsciously going to my lips and my fingers grazing my lower one. “You can slap me if you want. I give you permission to do so.” For a long moment, I was very zoned out before I finally blinked and shook my head, snapping out of the trance and dropping my hand to my side.

    To my surprise, Jameson was still babbling, muttering something about consent and how he respected that but this was very spontaneous. Who knew that getting flustered like this made his inner Xander come out? On the outside, I kept my poker face but mentally I was smirking and dying of laughter. Confident Jameson Hawthorne, embarrassed and turning red in the ears must have been once in a lifetime opportunity.

    “Avery, I-” I walked up to him firmly and took hold of his tie, pulling him down and shutting him up with a kiss of my own to put him out of his misery. He stilled for a moment but that didn’t stop him for long as I felt one of his hands going to the back of my head, sliding against the intricate braid holding my hair together. 

    I let myself savor it for ten full seconds more before I let him go in a fit of hard panting. He looked only slightly affected but he let out a steadying breath before arching a brow. A question. What was that? What did that mean? 

    I forgave him; I knew that much but things couldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t get the best of me but we could still be partners until this, whatever this was, ended. I stuck out an open hand. “Game on.” 

    His brows furrowed. He was considering something.

    “Game on, Hawthorne,” I repeated. The moment he looked up again, a crooked smile graced his lips and the spark in his eyes lit them up against the dark of the night. “Game on, Heiress.” He reached forward and finally clasped my hand with his in agreement, giving a hearty squeeze as we shook on it. For a moment more, we just smiled at each other, knowing we were back on the same page. For now.

    That’s when he tilted his head in the general direction of the House. “Come on, let’s go.”

    “Where are we going?” 

    “You’ll see!” He grabbed my hand and we were running to somewhere, I didn’t know where but I was laughing, barely avoiding tripping over my dress, and Oren was probably trying to catch up but it didn’t matter. As we ran, Jameson’s grip sure on my hand, I looked up at the midnight sky and wondered what awaited us next.

[ranticore]

Helloo I have questions for you re: the author ask you reblogged recently!! If you'd like for Félix and Islin: 2, 3, 4, 12, 14, 19 (and 20 if you'd like!)

let's fucking GOOOOOOO!!!

2: How long was the process before the character reached its final version? (or a version that would be clearly recognizable as the character?)

F: day fucking one babey i knew his entire life story from the first second i drew him. the only things that changed are some minor appearance details. the FINAL final version has not arrived yet because i haven't finished writing the third book ;)

I: sure he looked different but in terms of personality and behaviour, the early him was very similar to what ended up in the books. what has changed is my understanding of him (<- that is to say, he always behaved the same, but i had to keep teasing out WHY he did that to reach what felt like a 'true' conclusion)

3: What was the first thing you decided on, the character's name, appearance, personality or their role in the story?

F: "oh I have to make a guy to be Jean's Twin Brother" so role in the story I guess

I: Absolutely the religiosity, there had to be a tension between his morals and what he did for a living (among the magpies). Personality I guess

4: And reverse, which one of the four things did you struggle with the most?

F: Name. I am TERRIBLE at naming

I: .... Name

12: Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

Both of them had separate playlists, but I hated how it crowded my spotify playlist window thingy to have so many, and there was a lot of overlap, so I consolidated their playlists into 1 big MVF draft one playlist with no rhyme or reason and no consistent anything

For songs, I can pick some random ones now just by hitting shuffle. It's a playlist I actually don't listen to much anymore (I made a new one for the rewrite) so this is a fun time capsule

Ok first Islin one i got was Devil Devil by MILCK, Point of Creation by Markéta Irglová, Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys OF COURSE, Judas by Lady Gaga... of course..., Los Ageless by St. Vincent, No Light No Light by Florence + The Machine, Without a Map by Markéta Irglová, and Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) by Florence + The Machine naturally

for Félix i got Heat Waves by Glass Animals, What's a Devil to Do by Harley Poe, A Mask of My Own Face by Lemon Demon hehe, Like a Prayer by Madonna, The Stolen Child - 2006 Remaster by the Waterboys (this is just. The Poem. yknow the one), Stalker's Tango by Autoheart, and finally Bad Believer by St. Vincent

14: Do you have any quotes tied to the character, either from the story itself or from another source that fit them?

Oh hmmm I don't think so? It would be hard to pick one line out of thousands except who am I kidding it's this line from the first draft of the book i'm writing right now

it's so dumb

19: What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

F: who's to say

I: i like how mean-spirited he can be at times despite all illusions to the contrary. huge fan personally

20: Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about

i got nothing lol i tried going to random spots in the document but i'm not feeling any excerpts rn

[agirlandherquill]

writeblr intro!

this has been a long time coming and i've finally gotten around to it after, what? 4 months of being a part of this delightfully and beautifully chaotic community known as writeblr,

so, about me - well, let's see, i'm A Girl and Her Quill - a moniker i'm adopting because who doesn't enjoy a little sense of mystery? now, what else is there to say about me? i love words, i adore stories, and i love books - my favourites are impossible to narrow down to a simple list so i'll just name a few off the top of my head: great expectations - shockingly fell in love and decided to study it for literature coursework (it paid off, 24/25 marks, best damn essay i have ever written), ready player one - this needs no explanation, the brilliance is clear in the title and i also love its sequel, and for the last of the few books i can think of i'm going to say outlander - i'm reading it at the minute and its beautiful (i've seen up to s2 of the show, so i will be rewatching once I finish the book, and start the second book probably, i just can't resist)

why am i here? - as aforementioned i love stories and i've been writing my whole life, (insert a respectful nod to the graveyard of childhood manuscripts long since abandoned) and i've been working on writing a novel for, well, about four years now? that novel being `Ruin's Reprisal, which has undergone one draft, a total rewrite, and now i'm on to edits - and that story has been with me through some of the most crucial years of my life and thankfully, it's almost done (small white lie, i'm editing chapter 20/roughly 40 at the moment, but i'm getting there); and as for why i'm on writeblr well, as the description of my blog states, it really was a dark night with rain battering the windows, and the mood of it so to speak gave me the courage to sign up to the wonderful world of chaos that is tumblr and to start sharing my writing with the world!

and speaking of sharing my writing, i signed up to ao3 as of this morning and i've been collecting all of the posts relating to my novel from tumblr on there, so if reading on ao3 is more your thing than Tumblr, you can find me as: agirlandherquill

so that's about it from me for now, if i think of anything else to add i'll update this post, and i just want to say a truly heartfelt thank you to everyone who has made me feel so welcome and enjoyed the little snippets i bestow from time to time (i do my best to post daily, reckon i've only slipped about 3 days in total so i'm rather impressed with myself)

signing off on the long overdue intro,

~ A Girl and Her Quill

[7ndipity]

"Love Me Again..."

Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Tae shows up at your door, trying to reconcile with you, but will you let him in?

Warnings: angst, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the anons who requested this! I actually had a draft with this title already, based on a different song, but then the album announcement happened, and... yeah, we had some rewrites. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"I wish you would love me again, no I don't want nobody else, I wish you would love me again, again..."

He sat staring off into the distance, watching as the blue stain of night began to fade from the landscape with the promise of dawn, his back resting against your front door.

He'd been here for hours, trying to get you to at least talk to him. He knew you were home, but you wouldn't answer the door.

He'd fucked up. He didn't know why he hadn't tried to stop you after that final fight, although to even call it a fight was generous. It'd felt more like the waving of a white flag, surrendering before the war had even begun. But he'd let it happen all the same, you both had.

He could still see you in the doorway, pausing before you left. For a moment, he'd foolishly thought you would turn back then, let it go, as you both had so many times before.

"Sorry."

One word, and you were gone.

And yet, you weren't. Traces of you were still scattered all around his apartment, memories that you'd forgotten to take with you in your haste to leave, things that weren't even technically yours, but were certainly no longer his.

The blue mug that you always used sat untouched in the cabinet. The pillows in his room still held your scent, to such an extent that he'd could hardly sleep in his own bed anymore. He couldn't stand it anymore, it felt like he was going out of his mind.

Not knowing what else to do, he pulled out his phone, planning to leave you a voice message and then go home, although what he would say he had clue.

"What is it?"

He froze, stunned at the sound of your voice on the other end of the line, not your answering machine.

Several seconds went by in silence. "Tae?" You prompted, shaking him out of daze.

"Sorry." He blurted. The same thing you'd said as you'd left now being echoed back at you.

"Is that all you have to say?" You asked. "You've sat outside my house half the night and that's it? One word?"

"Well you wouldn't answer the door." He said defensive

"Tae..." You sighed, he could practically see you shaking your head, pressing a hand over your eyes in frustration.

"Fine, I'll be honest," He said, before he could lose his nerve. "I think about you all the time. Where you are, who you're with.

I know I said I'd be alright, I'd be fine, but, I'm sorry, they're all lies.

"The truth is, I'm lost without you, baby..." His voice shook as he choked down the lump rising in his throat.

"You can yell and be mad at me, just please don't leave. Don't go."

You silence urged him onward, igniting a spark of hope that he was almost afraid to acknowledge.

"Let's just take it back, slowly. We can make it better, please."

"I can't just forget everything that happened." You said finally.

"That's not what I want." He said quickly.

"Then what do you want?"

"I...I just want you to love me again..." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Behind him, he heard a lock click, the door swinging open so fast that he almost fell backwards.

"Who said I stopped?"

[space-writes]

hey! what does your writing process look like? how do you take something from an idea to a draft to Done?

hello!

my process varies a bit depending on the project, but it goes a little something like this:

have Idea

scribble notes about Idea until it starts getting unwieldy

do some form of planning or outlining - for oneshots that's usually just a bullet point rough outline of events in the writing document; for novels it's anything from a document outline to multiple documents of planning and world/character building

write a rough draft as fast as humanly possible. square brackets everywhere. literally putting every thought possible on the page

then I usually like to let it sit for a bit - for small projects that's usually like a few days to a few weeks; for bigger ones i like to let it sit for a lot longer

the second draft is always a full rewrite: literally writing the Entire Thing, Word By Word, Again. I like doing this because it helps me not just get complacent about what I wrote 'ehhh it's good enough' and also helps me figure out re-ordering of things like scenes and story beats without feeling stressed about messing up what I've already written

(usually before I do a second draft I'll write some notes on what I want to change - again, for oneshots this is a small bullet list; for novels it's a fuckoff mchuge bullet list.)

then I enter the endless phase of 'read the thing, comment mark it with things I want to fix -> fix the comments -> repeat until I can't find any more mistakes'

then I'll leave it a bit (or not, if i'm impatient), and go in and do a pass for all the crutch words I lean on - and usually i have a list of ones that i've used too much in the particular project as well - and cut the ones that aren't doing anything useful

and then the final stage is spelling, grammar, and I used to read it aloud myself but now i found a TTS program that does it for me which has been EVEN BETTER than reading aloud, because I can read the thing with my eyes closed and thus 'see' all my words in a completely new light. seriously, this is maybe the thing that helps fix awkward phrasing the MOST

then, because my final stage is normally posting on AO3, i'll throw the story up, read it through in draft form on my phone one last time to catch any last minute fuck ups before i hit post

somewhere in there i'll do research if i need to for specific things, and if my beta is free i get them to look it over (usually they're busy so i just throw things at the internet anyway)

i do a lot of passes! it's kind of a lot of work, but I know my process well enough by now to know where things are in the pipeline, and if they need an extra redraft, or more structural work, or more prose polishing or whatever

with my novels I have a big list of things to look out for gleaned from various craft books as well, along with troubleshooting methods for when i get stuck, so if the story needs those I do those

(and then there's AQoT, which i had to leave marinating for almost a year while i chewed the Big Problem over in my brain four hundred times until i had enough distance from the frustration of the third draft to actually come back and fix it)

anyway that was. a lot. i hope it's vaguely interesting!

(and feel free to jump in with your process - as can anyone else reading this, i love seeing how people Work Differently. usually bc i'm looking for Methods To Steal)

[hyba]

I tried AI for the first time...

Hm.

I tried AI today for the first time, and gave it a prompt to outline an article, and then to draft the article. I've never generated any writing with AI before, other than a few bits of AI art back when it was a sparkly new thing, and even then it felt... odd. I've had very definite thoughts about it, and since someone wanted me to use it for a job-related task, I decided to try it out and see what everyone was so addicted to.

First thoughts:

It's surprisingly good at understanding complex prompts. I actually didn't expect it to pick up on a few things I put in the prompt, but it managed to touch upon every single point. I thought I might confuse it, but apparently not.

It provides a clear and concise draft, which I also didn't expect. It reads smoothly, and there's a logic to the way the information is presented.

I'm not really liking the final results, though, because they still feel a bit bare, and that's probably a good thing because at least it means that it could still benefit from the human touch.

It's painfully reminiscent of every single article I come across online these days, making me wonder just how many bloggers, magazines, and websites are using AI to generate their content.

Not only does it feel a bit bare-bones, it's also very surface-level in the content provided. I wonder if that's just the limitations of my prompt in the works, of if it's a legitimate concern with content generated by AI. Both would explain the dismal quality of some of the traffic-sucking AI-generated content out there in the web: people not knowing how to prompt the AI software well enough, and people just taking whatever it spouts out and copy-pasting it without any additional effort added.

The single most worrying thing for me, though, is that it used 3 sources. One of them was a book on Amazon; I still don't know if the AI had access to that whole book or if it just grabbed something from the summary. Another one was legit, as far as I could tell, and the author was an expert in his field. Unfortunately, his expertise wasn't in the subject area I was looking for. And the last one was interesting, because the author wasn't an expert, but the article anyway was more of an opinion piece. I don't know how I feel about this selection of sources; I don't think any teacher would have passed me if I wrote a paper using only these three sources in high school, let alone college.

All of that being said, I understand now the addiction of it. How quickly it wrote a whole article for me, and not a bad one, either - with a little more tweaking and a little more depth and analysis here and there, and some new sources, the article could be very good. I suppose that's essentially a rewrite... So you get a backbone/skeleton, generated in a matter of seconds, and I think the ideal approach is then to fix it up and add a lot more content, since it doesn't look like it really goes in much depth? I wonder if this is what the workflow looks like for someone who uses AI for their copywriting. Or if they just copy paste and call it a job well done. (That can't possibly work though, right? Like, people can tell, I think?)

I know my standpoint on this, but outside right/wrong, I'm afraid this isn't going to go away anytime soon, with capabilities like this. Which means... Well, I'm a little worried and a little unsure what this means. Already I'm seeing job posts for jobs that never included the term AI before, now placing it as a requirement. I think we're definitely entering a time where it won't be about whether or not you like or support it; it'll be something imposed upon you by your employers, so that you can churn out more, and be more productive, and positively impact their bottom line.

So, those were my immediate thoughts after using AI to generate a whole article.

...And then I asked it to write a story.

Specifically, I asked it to write Apartment as a short story.

Check it out.