Salem

24 | digital diary and writing | mdni | requests always open!

[salemspit]

welcome to my blog!

i'm salem, a mid-20s hobbyist writer from canada! this is my safe space to babble and write about the things i enjoy <3

content on my page may contain suggestive and nsfw content, so:

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if your account states you are under 18/age unlisted, i implore you to respect my wishes and do not interact with this account. i reserve the right to block accounts that i believe are associated with minors.

view my masterlist here

thank you for stopping by!

[salemspit]

I’ve been so busy with my first couple weeks of my new job I miss tumblr so much

[salemspit]

finally back to brainstorming for barrage of noise!!

[always-anxious612]

This movie has taken over my brain. Onto the book.

[salemspit]

will be continuing working on barrage of noise soon, i’ve had a crazy few days and as much as i miss it, writing hasn’t been the priority :(

[salemspit]

I GOT IT I GOT THE JOB THEY HIRED ME ON THE SPOT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[salemspit]

got a job interview tomorrow… please wish me luck i need this so bad guys

[salemspit]

Salem hii, just checking in on you

Hi Robyn!! I hope you’re doing okay! I spent the day in the city with my bf for our anniversary so I’m absolutely pooped but I’m doing great!!

[salemspit]

found a spider in my towel after my shower call me naked and afraid

[salemspit]

ＢＡＲＲＡＧＥ ＯＦ ＮＯＩＳＥ

| 18+ | 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐 | 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 | 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 | 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 | 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 | 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 |

wc: 952

a song written out of spite. a creative plateau leads to mob mentality as those who praised you begin to ridicule you instead. a song created from frustration with yourself as well as the insistence that your fans' happiness means more than yours.

track 2: mic check (sophie hunter)

i do not look good / i have not been on my grind / i wish a bitch would not please

two years after writing casual, having just graduated on the dean's list from your university and moving into your first real apartment, you feel stuck. your entire life up until this point was bound by an impending semester, and for the first time you feel as though, even with the hours of work you put into your music, your goals are farther from reach than they had been four years ago. you work a part time job at a music store downtown to make rent, but your writing has come to a screeching halt. you have a small social media following who adore your covers, but the burning question is suspended in the space of your phone screen:

when are you going to post more original stuff?

i need one valid reason not to end it all (chemicals!) / that's a good point to piggyback where are my edibles? mommy's medicine

you drift away from your university friends. you envy their easy career paths; an office job, a researcher, god you're even jealous of your failed first relationship because he had secured a cushy job making jingles. jingles for christ sake! you waste away your days off with weed and a hand down your pants. when even your fingers can't make you feel something anymore you pick up your beaten acoustic guitar and riff, quickly becoming frustrated with the way the melody becomes stunted after a few chords.

mic check / i think i need a factory reset / been swinging for the fence since recess / waiting outside with the rejects / but no one's coming to pick me up

you're in that frustrating plateau of creativity that every artist thinks they'll never fall into. you want to write something, but before you can settle on one idea your brain switches lanes. you're in a constant loop of wanting to write, getting stuck, scolding yourself, and leaving the project all together. scraps of paper litter your room; discarded rhythms and scratched out verses create a cocoon of dread that insulate your self pity. the words are in your head, but you just can't articulate them onto a page.

meanwhile, i turn my throat to an exhaust pipe / meanwhile, i take the bait i rage until i'm cross-eyed / meanwhile, i'm gagging on an apple like i'm hogtied / i'm boiling in a deep fryer trying to win a cockfight

while you're still posting covers and regurgitating your first viral demo online, the videos are coming fewer and farther between. your fans are getting restless, and even though they try to be respectful, the constant probing for any signs of new music grates on your nerves.

"love the cover! any teasers for new stuff?"

"we need more stuff like casual!!!"

"how long until new music?"

you try to switch gears; post more content about your life, avoid questions about your writing like the plague, talk about the backstory of your first big hit.

the comments get less respectful.

"as a fan i understand not wanting to talk about new drafts, but give us something!!"

"one hit wonder"

"no one cares about what you ate for lunch. give us music!!"

you continue to avoid the questions that force you to confront your writing block. you post another cover and power off your phone.

bitch i still do it for the vine / i do it for the personal essay i'm boutta write / i do it cause my personality is bad vibes / i don't like myself and i don't like you either

your rut is broadcasted by other creators. tiktoks narrate your creative downfall, musicians speculate whether your first song was really written by you, and people who used to praise you in your comments accuse you of being an industry plant. people love you, until it's trendy to hate you.

you're doomscrolling one day, reading hate comments and blocking people making halfhearted threats unless you release something new, when you get a dm.

rin.s: people want to watch you crash and burn. don't give them the satisfaction.

you click on their profile. another musician with a slightly larger following than you. most of his videos are of him riffing on a sleek red fender. every once in a while you come across one of him singing. his voice is low and breathy, but you can tell there's a power behind it that he keeps under check.

one post catches your eye. it's just a photo of him flipping off a hate comment. you snort. then, an idea forms.

no i'm not doing well / i'm not looking good / if i'm just being honest / i got one foot in the grave and i got one in the comments / i got a devil on my shoulder / in my details, in my commas

the words come more easily than anything has in months. it's rougher and edgier than the cloying heartbreak of casual, but it holds just as much emotion, if not more, than your first song. it's a song for everyone who thought they knew you better than you did. hell, maybe they do, but you're not letting them see you break.

mic check / think i got a jacked up preset / been feeling myself start to regress / all i want to be is decent / yeah i need a pick-me-up

it takes two hours to write and another 45 minutes to record. the video is simple. you sit on a curb in a parking lot and lip-sync your long-winded fuck you to the world.

i encourage y'all to listen to all of the songs in this fic at some point!! i love them all <3

taglist:

@katsunoir

[salemspit]

ＢＡＲＲＡＧＥ ＯＦ ＮＯＩＳＥ

| 18+ | 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐 | 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘬𝘪𝘱 | 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨(?) | 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 | 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 |

wc: 890

a song born from a broken heart and written within the confines of your university dorm room. a song that derived from the bloody mourning of your cracked heart. a song about the downfall of a confusing situationship that left you feeling raw and unwanted.

track 1: casual (chappell roan)

my friends call me a loser / 'cause i'm still hanging around / i've heard so many rumors / that i'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

at the beginning of the third year of your university career, you met him. he was in two of your classes, and he knew how to make you laugh. you didn't miss the way he glanced at you when you weren't looking, and he noticed the way your body would unconsciously lean in towards him. you were friends, until you weren't.

a couple weeks into the semester he finally kissed you. he dominated your lips in a way you thought meant he really liked you. you thought the way he guided your body was an extent of how much he wanted you too. you yearned for him in a way that made you naive. you craved his touch so much that you were willing to keep your budding relationship on the down low, even though you didn't like the way the secrecy made your gut twist.

i thought you thought of me better / someone you couldn't lose / you said, "we're not together" / so now when we kiss, i have anger issues

it didn't take long for whispers of his reputation to reach you. he was a player, a cheat, a no good, womanizing boy. you hated the way your friends looked at you when he came up in conversation; pitying smiles and quick subject changes. they walked on eggshells around you, and even though you hated yourself for enduring the treatment, being around him just felt so good. carnal desires overclouded your better judgement every time.

the late night hookups, the blown-off plans, even the way your number was saved under a different name in an attempt to keep up his ruse of being a genuinely nice guy, it all made your blood boil. but every time he'd get you back, wrapping you around his finger with false promises that never seemed to be truly attainable.

knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out / is it casual now? / two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on long beach / is it casual now? / i know what you tell your friends / it's casual, if it's casual now / then, baby, get me off again / if it's casual, it's casual now

once, after another late hookup in the dimly lit parking lot of the nearby mall, you fought. you wanted more. he said he "wasn't ready."

"let's just keep things casual for now. i want to be with you for real, i just don't know how yet."

he'd kissed your temple. such an intimate act from a boy who didn't want intimacy, not the real kind anyway.

and in the end who were you to want more in a world where what you were getting was deemed good enough?

dumb love, i love being stupid / dream of us in a year / maybe we'd have an apartment / and you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

you were desperately, hopelessly clinging onto the possibility of something more. you daydreamed of holding his hand in public, of date nights in the city, of some semblance of normalcy.

you'd met his family once. it was just after reading week ended and you ran into him with his parents as they dropped him off. you chatted, and he introduced you as his study buddy. not a friend, because even calling you that would mean you meant something to him.

you were fraying, but you clung to those broken edges in the hopes that you would be rewarded for your hard work.

and i try to be the chill girl / that holds her tongue and gives you space / i try to be the chill girl / but honestly, i'm not

around him you were still quiet, obedient, subservient to his whims. but something inside you had cracked, and while you still held on to promises of someday, your patience was beginning to wear thin. you didn't have the energy to warp every conversation into a delusion of the future. you were finally starting to see this relationship from a new lens.

bragging to your friends, i get off when you hit it / i hate to tell the truth, but i'm sorry, dude, you didn't / i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself / hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

at the time it felt like it took everything in you to finally break things off. you didn't want to be a secret, and you were done acting like one. it was messy and emotional, but when you closed the door behind him for the final time you felt something you hadn't in months: peace.

looking back you laugh at yourself, young and naive and so in love with the idea of being in love. while you would've been happy without the memories of being kept behind closed doors, you can't bring yourself to be mad at 20 year old you. you were still learning about the world, and now you knew that you deserved better.

you deserved more than casual.

thank you for reading casual! please keep in mind that this series will be touching on a number of topics, so please make sure to read the content warnings before each chapter <3

taglist:

@katsunoir

[salemspit]

ＢＡＲＲＡＧＥ ＯＦ ＮＯＩＳＥ

yn gained popularity online posting covers and demos to her devoted followers. after being signed, she works with the help of her new beau (and fellow label up-and-comer) to create her debut album. this is the exclusive story behind each track.

meet the artists:

i can't wait to share what's been rattling around in my brain lately. stay tuned! if you want to be a part of the taglist feel free to leave a comment!

[salemspit]

ＢＡＲＲＡＧＥ ＯＦ ＮＯＩＳＥ

popstar yn's debut album and the breakdown of each song and the writing process...

the opener.

Casual (Chappell Roan)

Mic Check (Sophie Hunter)

crushcrushcrush (Paramore)

Strange Love (Halsey)

You Make Me Sick! (Ashnikko)

Do It (Emma Harner)

Crack a Deal (Aunty Social)

Brick By Boring Brick (Paramore)

Microplastics (Ashnikko)

Disconnected (5 Seconds of Summer)

this fic will contain adult themes and is 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

[salemspit]

working on an album breakdown fic and i'm so excited about it!! trying to decide the love interest though...

[salemspit]

my teenage years are being romanticized on tiktok and i don’t like how it’s making me feel

[salemspit]

glamour; miya atsumu

| MDNI | 18+ | post-timeskip | fem!reader | suggestive language |

part 1.

when atsumu was given his official invitation for the end of season gala held by the japan volleyball association, there was no hesitation in the flick of his pen in the plus one attending box on the rsvp slip.

the banquet was a chance for the association to raise funds for various children's volleyball clubs throughout the country as well as for potential sponsors to scout favourable players, but it was also a glorified pissing contest for the players to show off their relationships. it wasn't anything malicious, but who could blame a guy for wanting to show off their partner at the most glamorous event in the sports world?

it wasn't a question of whether or not you would attend with him, but rather what you would wear.

this was your first time attending the gala, and, competitive till the day you died, you were planning on winning, as stupid and immaterial the whole thing was.

when atsumu picked you up, clad in an all black tux and gold tie and blonde hair slicked and styled, the poor, smitten man nearly came in his pants when you opened the door.

a gown of golden satin that hugged your curves and made your chest swell flowed elegantly to the ground, hiding your matching strapped heels. nails manicured and makeup simple but striking, you were radiant.

atsumu tried—and failed—to inconspicuously readjust himself in his pants. you looked like sex on legs, and the man was practically panting for you.

arriving at the gala, you were struck by the scene in front of you. atsumu had told you the event was a big deal, but this? this was a big deal.

the gala was held in a grand hall that dripped with class. Tall columns that seemed to lead to nowhere framed the entrance of the building, and a long path draped in an actual red carpet was packed with press on either side. nervous butterflies flitted around your stomach as the importance of this night began to fully sink in.

before you could properly freak out, atsumu reached across the front console and took one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers and squeezing reassuringly. he looked over at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"you'll be incredible. it'll be a few stops for obligatory pictures and then we'll be inside. you say the word and we'll go home, 'kay?"

you managed a small nod and blew out a breath. you could do this. for atsumu and for the ultimate unofficial jva contest bragging rights, you could do this.

atsumu got out and walked around the car, opening your door and offering his hand. he could barely give his keys to the valet before the flashes began.

atsumu's arm slipped around your waist, steading you and pressing your body close to him as he led you towards the crowd. his thumb traced idle circles on your hip in an attempt to soothe the tension pulling your body taut.

you slowly made your way along the path, pausing every few moments to pose for a group of cameras. atsumu could feel your grip on the back of his jacket, and a quick glance at your face showed how desperately you were trying to act natural.

and in typical atsumu fashion, he had a dumb idea to loosen you up.

tipping his head down to your level, atsumu's lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, barely loud enough for even you to hear:

how d'ya think they'd react if i ripped that pretty dress off an' fucked you right here?

you barked out a strangled laugh before you could smack a hand over your mouth, your ears and neck burning. atsumu nuzzled into your hair, trying to hide his own laughter.

"you're doing amazing love, we're almost done."

atsumu pressed a soft kiss to your temple as you blushed, your posture growing more relaxed and smile less tense. your heart was still beating a mile a minute, but atsumu's arm never wavered from your waist, keeping you grounded.

will hopefully be finishing part 2 tomorrow! stay tuned!!!

[littleprawntoast]

thinking about doll fest Enjin (ᵕ—ᴗ—)