#those are all skewed numbers

[knifearo]

I've been enjoying all your posts lately, especially all the community engagement. It makes me think about posting more personal aroace content instead of just reblogging.

I'm full of feelings but not sure what I really have to contribute to the conversation. Aro-identified people skew young and I feel like nobody's going to care what a middle aged aroace has to say but now I'm like hang on, maybe all aro content is good content, I don't know, I'm thinking about it.

i am absolutely of the opinion that all aro content is good content! especially because a lot of us skew young, i think it's so important to have (first of all just aro content in General. there's always a lack of that. but especially) aro content from people who don't usually have their perspectives talked about. if you've got nothing to contribute to the conversation that's fine :) more than half the time i do not either, i just make a silly happy little lah di dah i love aromanticism post and chit chat with all the little aromantic people who live on my laptop. if you're aromantic and you're engaging with the community then everybody should be more than happy to have you there :) just like you said. all aro content is good content. your opinion is valuable and your presence is treasured <2

[antisocialxconstruct]

I posted 1,897 times in 2022

That's 1,030 more posts than 2021!

493 posts created (26%)

1,404 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@antisocialxconstruct

@yondamoegi

@starrypawz

@dorkousloris

@axperjan

I tagged 1,599 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#chuck says things - 129 posts

#ask - 116 posts

#charliecdraws - 113 posts

#maksim girard - 97 posts

#fhr - 77 posts

#ghost city - 67 posts

#gw2 - 65 posts

#anon - 60 posts

#shadowrun - 58 posts

#delete later - 53 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#spotify really coming for my life and hipster cred by dropping the sharpest lives in my weekly recs n forcing me to admit mcr kinda slaps😔

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Okay I think I've finally condensed my Stray Meta Analysis into a clear thesis but I can't really get into it without just going over the entire story right up to the ending and the final shot SO major spoilers ahead.

433 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#4

I’m feeling fine and normal about Stray by the way

1,363 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#3

So you made a neocities... now what?

Okay, here it is! So you’ve seen how web2 is becoming more and more corporatized and toxic, you know web3 will be a capitalist nightmare if it becomes reality, and people are rediscovering the nostalgic charm of the web1 era so you want in. You want to stake out your little corner of the internet, you made your neocities account, maybe a proboards to go with it...

Now what do you do with it?

This is a short(-ish) guide intended to give you some direction when populating your own site. This is not a technical guide for building a website, I am by no means qualified to teach you html or css, and besides those resources exist already. Think of this more as content inspiration, organized loosely based on what you already use social media for and what you’d be bringing with you to a new space.

If anyone has ideas I didn’t think of, feel free to add on!

1,750 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

#2

bucket collecting simulator :)

2,292 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

🐈🎶💕

10,980 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fabiansociety]

there's been a post going around in the last several days about how leftists need to stop demonizing men, and particularly young men, if they want to deradicalize them, and i honestly have no idea what the heck they're talking about. there are a ton of men in leftist spaces — a disproportionately large number of men in a lot of them. a lot of leftist movements aren't just skewed male, they're fairly aggressive towards even basic sorts of gender demography or timekeeping.

but even leaving that aside, i don't think i've seen any leftists bag on men as a class? on the patriarchy, sure, on toxic masculinity, absolutely, inasmuch as people talk about men at all, but criticizing the patriarchy or toxic masculinity isn't criticizing men, no matter how much MRAs and incels and the antifeminist crowd try to frame it that way. i'm deeply suspicious of people who frame calls for basic dignity for women, for queer people, for trans and intersex people, as attacks on men; that doesn't speak to a willingness to actually listen.

i think we really do need to acknowledge that many men are in favor of male supremacy, and vote accordingly, the same way that many white people are in favor of white supremacy and vote accordingly. they may not phrase it in those specific terms, but that's the effect of their choices. and those choices are rational enough: there's a big percentage of the country that is willing to accept increasingly severe income inequality rather than lose the privileges their race and gender accord them, because those privileges are concrete and economic.

this isn't to say this is inherent to men: male supremacy and white supremacy are both philosophies that are constantly and insistently propagandized. but whether you frame your concerns harshly or gently, it's not the tone that ultimately matters. there are lots of people who experience any criticism, no matter how mild or general, as an existential attack on their personal identity.

i don't know what you do with that, i really don't. but it's not just or even primarily a matter of tone. people choose systems of power.

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[mzzledmutt]

—BLIND DATE

starring.ᐟ katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis.ᐟ “a social engagement or date with a person one has not previously met.” After neglecting his personal life for so long, Pro-hero Dynamight, also known as Katsuki Bakugou, can no longer run form the inevitable. With the help of his nosy parents, Katsuki ends up on a blind date with you.

warnings.ᐟ SMUT, fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, first blind date, drinking, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, overstimulation, creampie, biting, marking, hair pulling, pet names (excessive use of princess), slight man handling, bakugou is a softie at heart, praise, slight softdom!katsuki, breeding

word count.ᐟ 4.8k words

m.mutt ���� please enjoy my brainrot!!

KATSUKI Bakugou was known for many things. His boisterous personality. His bulky, intimidating stature. His impressive and powerful quirk. His less than family-friendly language and his hatred of paparazzi.

You would think being in the spotlight since 15, he would be used to it at this point. Maybe even indulge from time to time but, it’s never been his thing. He makes that fact well-known, constantly. Written and spoken interviews, press conferences, and award ceremonies, he will remind everyone to mind their own business. Especially when it comes to his personal life.

New photos and videos always arrive of the hero, dressed in alleged disguise, flipping off and yelling at the paparazzi. Especially when they get too close to his family and friends. One of his most iconic videos is of his poor father attempting to calm down both his large, rowdy son and his equally rowdy, yet smaller wife.

This strong distaste for the prying eyes and cameras belonging to paparazzi, unfortunately, takes a hard toll on his love life.

Their obsession with publicizing his entire life has forced his hand in many situations. That and the exclusive life he is now forced to lead. One of the biggest downsides of being a hero is the increase in difficulty in your love life.

These few relationships he’s had have all ended one of two ways.

One, in a ball of fury and tears. As a pro hero, Katsuki is often spotted with many people. Typically, people he knows. In bars and restaurants, caught conversating and drinking. Those candid moments are always being televised, even without his knowledge.

Suddenly, his after-work drink with a few friends is skewed and Dynamight is allegedly dating pro-hero Uravity. Resulting in arguments and watching as his partners stormed away.

Two, the spark simmers out. Coming home to put on a front feels exhausting as the days tick by, they both know it. It’s only inevitable until someone’s bags are packed. They’ll cry, holding hands on his couch as he speaks. They’ll go for a hug, only to realize now isn’t the time and leaving is the better option. Soon his apartment is quiet again, leaving him alone.

All of it has turned him away from the dating scene. He’s young and green, with plenty of time to settle down. Except, the consistent pestering from peers, fans, and his own parents is draining. Balancing his hero life, personal and love life all at the same time, was nearly impossible.

“I’m not going out with some chick you designed a dress for!”

“Just give it a try, you brat.”

Katsuki groans, his head rolling back at Mitsuki’s pestering. They were currently sitting in his childhood kitchen, eating brunch as they usually did on Sundays. “You have no idea, you could find the love of your life!” His father chimed in, attempting to add support.

“Maybe you’ll finally give me a grandkid.” Katsuki cringes, shaking his head at his mother’s words. “Look, as your parents we just want what’s best for our little boy. Even if you’re a hulking mountain a man now.”

“I think you should give it a try, she was a sweet girl too. Very well mannered.” Masaru pipes up in Katsuki’s silence.

“Look, just give it a shot. I’ll give you her number and you two can work things out. If things don’t work out you can always try again.” She sips at her hot tea, eyes fluttering shut due to the steam.

“And if I say no?”

“Why do you have to be so incredibly difficult?” Mitsuki scolds as he swirls his spoon in his tea. “Why do you have to be so incredibly annoying?” He muttered followed by a swift pop to the head.

“Ow! Shit!”

That’s how he ended up in this high-end lounge, awaiting a random woman his parents vouched for. He nursed a glass of whiskey, looking over their messages on his phone. Their conversation was rather bland, nothing incredibly enticing but, everyone doesn’t connect over text.

After some time, from his spot at the bar, he sends her another text. It’s only fifteen minutes, there could be traffic. He closes the messenger, choosing to scroll through his social media feed. Occasionally, he lifted his head scanning the area.

It wasn’t a quiet night, the place was bustling with conversation and laughter. Twenty minutes late.

He sent another text.

Everyone is secluded in their worlds, eating snacks and conversing with their loved ones. Their loud conversations exceeded the confinements of their seats. Katsuki was growing impatient.

Thirty minutes late. He’s already attempted to call, being sent straight to voicemail. Was this a joke? Had his parents set him up for some reason?

Glowering red eyes linger across the bar, noticing a figure he had seen earlier. Dressed in a sleek, black dress and nursing a martini between manicured nails. And another text.

Each time he looked in search of his alleged date, his eyes wandered back over to you. Watching as you pitifully looked around, maybe in search of someone like him. His eyes shut as he grimaced watching you pout. Your full, glossed lips jutted out with sadness.

He goes to pick up his phone and sends another message before, shutting the device off. Nearly an hour and a half late, he wasn’t that desperate to pester someone who didn’t care.

“Excuse me.” He calls the bartender. It didn’t seem like this mystery woman would be appearing any time soon so, might as well take a chance. “Lady at the end of the bar,” He gestured toward you. “Another of what’s she’s having, from me.” The man nods, heading off to prepare the new drink.

Katsuki grins seeing your reaction. Confusion washed over your face for a moment before you were directed towards him. Eyes locking for the first time that night. You smile and wave, he reciprocates nonchalantly.

Soon, his whiskey is finished and another is placed before him. “From the lady.” The bartender smiles, pointing his gaze to you once more. You raise your glass in solidarity, your beautiful smile still on display. He raises his glass, as a sort of distant cheers, taking a swig right away.

He watches as your gaze falls to the background, peering around the dim bar before you rise from your seat. Katsuki anxiously shifted in his seat, unsure of where you were going but, his anxiety didn’t settle as you stride over to him.

“Hi.” One word and he’s hooked. Your melodic voice wrapping itself around his brain and heart. “Hey, care to sit?” He offers the seat beside him. “Gladly.” You’re nervous, curt responses give you away along with the slight tremble in your hand.

“What are you doin’ here, beautiful?” He’s starting bold, liquid courage providing him strength. “I was supposed to be on a date. He hasn’t shown.” He ashamedly smirks. “Funny enough, I got stood up too.” He down the rest of his drink.

“What’s your name?” You answer sweetly, a bright smile on your face. He shared it, almost subconsciously. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki—“

“I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. I’m surprised everyone is being so calm right now honestly.” You laugh and his heart skipped a beat, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

“Places like these are used to seeing pros, they get over it.” He replies, leaning against the bar top. “Not every day one-half of the wonder duo walks through those doors.” You reason, a smug smirk on your face as if knowing you’d won.

“Touché.” You giggle, a sweet sound he yearns to hear again. “Did you enjoy your martini?”

“It was delicious. Thank you, again.” Well-mannered and gorgeous. “Anything for a pretty girl like you.” You flush, thanking him profusely. He orders you both another round, choosing to carry on the conversation.

As you two spoke he fell deeper and deeper into infatuation. “I’m the newest assistant for your friend, Chargebolt. This is only my third month at the agency and I’m tired.” You sip at your drink. “Really? Been so busy I haven’t had a chance to make the trip. Can’t be an easy job though, knowin’ Kaminari.”

“It’s not the most difficult task in the world but, I do have to keep my eye on him like a toddler.” You share a laugh at the comparison.

The conversation shifts to your personal lives. Lamenting on your lack of a love life, work beginning to consume your free time. How your close friends and family have urged you to get out of your shell. Which led to this night.

His hand lays over yours as he showers you with compliments. Deflecting anytime your humble attitude attempted to shut him down. He complimented your dress, you tried to brush him off claiming that the piece was old and unflattering.

“Well, I think that dress is absolutely stunning.” His hand grasps yours, and you reciprocate. “I should know, my ma’s a designer.” He’s almost smug in saying that as if his association with a designer made him the judge of all fashion.

“I’m aware, I’ve browsed her catalog since I was little.” The way your eyes light up talking about particular garments his mother fashioned that she always dreamed of owning. “I think you’d look gorgeous in just about anything.”

“Are you flirting with me Katsuki Bakugou?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. The two of you leaning into each other's spaces unknowingly. He could smell your sweet perfume from her, the scent filling his senses. “I am, is that alright?”

“It is.” Your eyes flicker down to his lips as you lick your own before sitting back in your seat. Katsuki’s already hooked, still leaning into your space as if entranced by you. He leans back, stuck in an unfamiliar haze of attraction.

That haze seemed to slow the time as he checked his watch seeing he had been chatting with you for nearly four hours. It was dark outside, patrons still lingering in the lounge.

“Hey, it’s getting late.”

“Is there anything I can get you? A ride home? Maybe a nightcap?” The last part was slightly rushed as if he were embarrassed. “A nightcap sounds good, I’m off tomorrow anyway.” The wink you give him doesn’t go unnoticed making his stomach tighten. “Excuse me, can I close our tabs?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, let me. Besides that jerk should’ve been here paying anyway.” You sit in silence as he closes you both out of the night and thank him as he helps you to your feet. Bakugou drapes his big coat over your shoulders, holding out a hand which you graciously take.

The contrast of the warmth of the bar and the chilly night air flushes your cheeks. You’re thankful to the hero for his warm coat. “Your hands are really warm.” You mutter as you both stride down the sidewalk.

Katsuki’s notices before you. The stares. People turn to whisper to each other as he walks beside you. Soon, there are flashes and cheers of his name. He rolls his eyes out of annoyance, holding onto your hand tighter as he moves faster. “Can ya’ keep up, princess?”

A small swarm of fans and paparazzi crowd the couple, snapping photos and begging for an interview. He barks orders at them to leave you alone, keeping your face obscured from their ravenous gaze. You blindly follow, rather unphased by the crowd around you.

Before you, a sleek, exquisite sports car sat with flashing headlights. Katsuki opens the passenger door, still blocking you from view as he helps you inside. Once the door is shut, you’re concealed by his dark tint. “Can’t you guys just fuck off, for one night?” It was a rhetorical question, more to himself than the people around him.

He waves at fans along the street, ignoring the money-hungry reporters behind him as he opens his own door and settles into his vehicle.

“I’m so sorry.” He’s met with a soft laugh and a gentle touch to his hand. “Katsuki, I’m used to it. This is a part of my job too, I’m just more behind the scenes.”

“They’re just invasive,” The card engine roars to life, vibrating the interior. “Almost predatory. Going any length for a snippet of gossip.” He groans, leaning his messy blond head against the leather seats. “Bakugo—“ - “Katuski.” He speaks over you.

His head lulls to the side, his full attention on you. “Katsuki. I appreciate all you’ve done tonight.” Plump glossed lips upturned into a smile that melts his heart. “Consider it a late welcoming gift. You’re lucky, I usually send assistants gift cards to a spa.”

You both laugh, a break between the growing tension filling the cramped space of his car as you hold eye contact. His tongue darts to lick his chapped lips, teeth barely grazing the skin before he clears his throat and looks away.

“You sure you still wanna go back to mine?” He asks, buckling his seatbelt and you do the same. “Yeah, it’s just one drink.”

One drink.

Just one drink.

The phrase repeated in his mind almost the entire time. Your voice disrupting his thoughts the only thing keeping him from being completely silence. He drives you to his building. A large, clean structure. Covered in windows, and lights, and well decorated.

You don’t even need to enter the lobby. Katsuki leads you to an elevator activated with a special keycard.

After a short trip, the doors open to this grand place.

You find yourself in awe as you walk through his front hall. His apartment was massive and spotless yet, homey. Although he clearly preferred a more modernized look, it still managed to have the charm and personality of his childhood home.

“This place is ten times bigger than my apartment.” Katsuki laughs, taking his coat from you and hanging it beside the door. “I want to downsize, this was an impulse buy from when I first started. A financial disaster is what I refer to it as.” You giggle, he swoons.

The blond guides you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool for you to sit in at the island. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up.” He offers. “I thought I was just here for a nightcap, not dinner.” You joke, settling down in your seat.

“Well, I like a nice snack when I drink and a lady always deserves a nice dinner on the first date.”

“This is a date now?” You quirk a brow, still rather unsure of what to make of this evening.

“Wasn’t it always? We both had shitty dates who stood us up, we just found each other instead.”

“Yeah, then I guess it is.” You bat your lashes as silence falls over the kitchen for a moment. Katsuki clears his throat and smiles, moving away to gather something to eat. “What’re you making?” You ask seeing as he stands before the fridge. “Nothing.”

“Fresh bow of fruit, put it together today. I can get some crackers and wine, that work for you?” You nod.

“Could you grab the bottle off the counter? Don’t worry about a screw I’ve got one.” You help yourself to sort of peruse his kitchen, taking in little bits of his taste from the pictures and decor before returning the bottle to him.

Katsuki pops the bottle, pouring you both half glasses. You cheers, taking the first drink together and savoring the sweet taste. “I didn’t expect you to like sweet wines.”

“I indulge from time to time, besides it was a gift from my ma.”

“Aww, Dynamight the mama’s boy.” You giggle, grabbing a fresh strawberry and popping it into your mouth. “Oh hush, she gets these kinds of things for free and knows I’ll actually use them.” He’s close, using his elbows to lean on the counter.

“So don’t always do this?” You can smell his cologne.

“Do what?” He can smell your perfume.

“Being pretty girls to your apartment.” The scents colliding are an intoxicating concoction.

“Only pretty girls I like.” A strawberry is held cautiously between his fingertips, held between your space. “You like me, Katsuki?” A rather silly question on your part, he wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I do, princess.” He slowly bites into the juicy fruit, keeping his eyes on you.

The sudden bass and rap of his voice along with the intense eye contact fill you with a sudden wave of heat. The facade of small talk became harder to keep up.

It wasn’t long before Katsuki was brazen enough to lean over the counter and press his lips against yours. Your glasses of wine are soon abandoned, sloppily making out as you sit on his pristine countertop. He stood between your legs, hands crawling across your back and hips as you pant into each other mouths.

Soon, you’re both stumbling down his spacious corridor and into his dimly lit bedroom. He lets you go, turning to close the door as you take in your surroundings. Once the door is shut his attention is back to you, frantic hands roaming over each other skin, pulling at the almost offensive fabrics that keep your bodies apart.

Your clothes are eventually scattered among his own on the bedroom floor as Katsuki gently lowers your naked bodies into his fresh sheets. Cradling your head as he brushes his lips along your jaw and neck. You shiver under his touch, calloused hands running along your soft skin, cupping your breast, and rolling your hardening nipples.

You mewl under his touch, legs squeezing his hips to keep him in place. His teeth nip at your jaw, lowering to nip and suck marks into the skin of your neck. Your hips buck against each other, his hardening cock jumping against your dripping cunt.

It was becoming too much. you whine, pulling his attention away from your neck.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His words are followed by more gentle kisses. “Want you, ‘suki.” you pout, eyes watering dramatically. “You want more, baby?” You nod, lips still stuck in a pathetic-looking pout. His right hand moves to your jaw, pinching the bone between a few, thick fingers.

“Use your words.” His voice is strong, and commanding. Yet, loving and soft. “I want more, ‘suki.” He smiles at your muffled words and presses a wet kiss onto your puckered lips. “I’ll give you more then, princess.”

Your jaws sore when he lets go, the feeling of his fingers still remnant in their wake. Your legs fall slack as the blond kisses down your torso, from the valley of your breast to the bottom of your navel. He follows the trail back up and down once more, staring you in the eye.

His eyes shift down for a moment, a wolfish grin forming on his face. “You’re dripping, baby.” He cooes making your skin flush. another whine leaves your throat as you tear your gaze away, trying to focus on the ceiling above you. “No no, look at me.”

“Good. Look at me, baby.” His right hand moves from rubbing at your hips, to gently caressing your skin until his thumb lands on your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden contact, your gaze locked on him. Thumb lowers to collect the juices from your cunt, making a show as he brings the digit to his mouth to taste you.

You’re infatuated with the godly figure before you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, muscles unintentionally flexed as he lewdly moans around his fingers at your taste. “‘s so good, princess. You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He makes of show of it, wickedly at your already blissed-out appearance. “So damn sweet, soakin’ my sheets.”

Your eyes follow him as he descends between your legs once more, harshly biting the plump skin before soothing it with kisses.

You’re so caught in your own pleasure, the shock of his fingers prodding your cunt forces a gasp. His free hand moves your thighs onto his shoulders as he stares you down. “Can I?”

One thick finger breaches your cunny slowly, gently pushing in before pulling out. He follows the motions a few times, watching as you gush around his finger. Soon, another is added. Carefully, thrusting into your pussy as he presses kisses to your clit.

You writhe at his ministrations, fighting to keep your eyes focused on the man before you.

He sets a slow and mind-numbing pace, slowly thrusting in and out. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers and your breath moans a chorus to him.

“Yeah? Feel good, princess?” He teases, gaze fixed upon your pleasure-ridden face. Your mouth is agape as strained moans are pulled from your aching chest. He was breaking you apart in two fingers, stretching you open and preparing you for his cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, baby? ‘M gonna stretch you open like a good girl deserves.” He declares, mainly to himself. Too lost in how your walls greedily suctioned his fingers back in.

Bakugou carefully leans down to lap at your clit, eliciting a soft cry and an arch of your back. He shuts his eyes as he savors the taste he was beginning to yearn for, suckling your poor neglected clit.

“Katsuki!” You shout, digging your nails into the pillow behind you. “Katsu—fuckk! Please, fuck me, baby! I need you so badly, need your cock so bad!”

He’s devoted to searing your taste into his mind. Messily coating his face and your cunny with a thin layer of wetness. Soon, he’s haphazardly withdrawing his fingers from your salacious cunt, against your protests to taste you further.

Spikes of blond hair bob between your legs, his tongue delving between your folds making you whimper and writhe. His hands grab a hold of your ass, holding you close to his face so you wouldn’t escape. Your back arches from the comforter, keening into his touch.

“God!” You cry as you fall back onto the sheets, fingers grasping for anything to clutch. His pace never falters, gratefully drinking your slick that spilled into his awaiting tongue, then swirling it around your throbbing clit.

“Kat—fuck! Baby—Katsuki!” Your body felt electric, an almost buzzing sensation that erupted from your pelvis and spread through your body. Your wanton moans are loose into the air, eyes shut as your head is tossed back.

You were a gorgeous statuette of pleasure.

You felt as if you bit off more than you could chew. Going out with a pro hero was already anxiety-inducing enough, practical criminal, allowing him to lure you to his apartment with promises of a nightcap, and now naked and wriggling beneath him was driving you to insanity.

And he's not even inside of you yet.

The maddening way his tongue circled your aching clit, inscribing his name into the bud. His blunt nails digging into the meat of your ass, keeping you relatively grounded. His tongue unrelenting stimulating your soaked pussy pushed you to your first orgasm.

A sudden wave of pleasure and the ever-growing pit in your stomach unravels through your body. You grip his hair, keeping Katsuki’s mouth in place as your hips buck into the pleasure. You loudly cry out his name, and a few tears roll down your cheeks as you cum.

He groans into your cunt, eyes rolling at the sweet taste of your cum. His hands rub your skin, easing away any pain left behind by his grip. Slowly, you open your eyes, chest still heaving.

“‘Suki,”

He pulls away, the lower half of his face soaked with slick and spit.

“M’yeah?” You can’t even think of what to say, just laying your head back to catch your breath. “You alright, baby?” You nod, still returning from your high. Katsuki crawls up to face you, a soft smile on his lips. “You look so pretty.” He cups your cheek, running his thumb along the soft skin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He quirks a brow, a smirk on his face. “Yeah? I’ll fuck you, baby.”

“I promise, I’ll fuck you real good.” He captures your lips, sharing the taste of you once more. Your tongues are quick to entangle as you pant into each other's mouths.

Your fingers naturally gravitate to his blond hair, keeping him close as you kiss. Your bodies move together as you grind against one another, his hard cock leaking pre cum against your stomach. You’re both growing increasingly needier, rutting and panting like dogs in heat.

Katsuki breaks from the grinding, settling himself between your thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against your clit, spreading his precum as he teases you.

“You want it?”

“I want it, ‘suki.” His grin is wolfish at the nick, happily dragging his cock from your clit to press at your fluttering hole. He groans at the warmth and wetness, your dripping cunt already leaking onto him.

A pathetic high-pitched whine leaves your open mouth as his thick, heavy cock slowly bullies into your heat. Pushing deep into your plush, warm walls. Katsuki is slow, taking his time to ease you into the feeling. His lips are on your breast, kissing and nipping the soft skin.

“More, please.” You whine, your hands moving to hold onto his back. His hips increase in pace, still slow as you hiss once he draws back.

Katsuki slowly molds your tight pussy to his cock, stretching you open to only accommodate him. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his back only encourages him to thrust faster, making you cry out his name. Your cunt loudly gushes around his heavy cock, spilling syrupy juices down your skin.

“God damn, this pussy—fuck—you’re s’fuckin’ tight.” He grits out, grabbing your leg and pushing it back to the mattress. The change of angle causes you to lurch forward, your hands pushing at his shoulders. “Oh my god, Katsuki!” You shout, as his throbbing cockhead smushes against your cervix.

He’s back to sucking your tits, leaving spit-soaked freckled hickeys in his wake. You’re still adjusting to his size, the sudden change in position driving him deeper into your guts.

He’s pressed himself closer against you, his pelvis adding stimulation to your nice neglected clit. You throb around him and cry, fat tears slipping from your eyes. “Y’feel that, baby? I’m so deep in this pretty pussy. Y’feel me in yer tummy, does it feel good, baby?” You’re incoherent, only capable of breathless moans and sobs.

“You look so pretty, all fucked out ‘cause o’ me. Tell me, baby, do I feel good?” His hand cruelly comes down to press on the slight bulge in your stomach, causing your poor cunt to twitch around him. “‘s too much!” You cry out, pushing against him to no avail.

“Too much? You can take it, princess. Can’t ya’?” His pace suddenly grows rough, hips slamming into yours as he fucks into your cunny. He pressed your other leg to the mattress, forcing his cock all the way inside.

You’re mindless. Eyes rolled back into your skull, unintelligible moans and clawing at his skin. The rooms full of thick, humid air, the sounds of your squelching cunt, and a chorus of moans. Bakugou savors this image, in case he may never get the chance to see you again.

He caresses all of the right places inside of you, each thrust full of never-ending pleasure. His wicked tongue in your nipples and sinful roll of his hips push you to the edge. Like a burning fuse, slowly trailing all the way to a firework.

“Y’close baby? Don’t worry, you can cum for—fuck! You’re so fuckin’ wet—cum for me.”

Katsuki’s thrust increases to a maniacal speed, jostling you around his mattress without care. He was chasing his orgasm now, keeping you secure beneath he ruts into you. Heavy balls slapping against your asshole, the rough feeling of public hair against your soaked cunt. You can’t think let alone protest before he’s spilling his cum deep inside of your womb.

Katsuki keeps himself buried inside of you as he changes position, opting to hold you instead. You’re both panting as if you’ve run a marathon, hearts racing and skin coated in sex and sweat. You lay in silence, catching your breath for just a moment.

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ ’bout leavin’.” He mutters into your hair, rubbing your back. You breathlessly giggle against his chest, shaking your head. “I can’t feel my legs, Katsuki.” He smiles, cheering to himself.

“How about we clean up and get some rest? I’m beat.” A yawn cuts you off as you agree, alerting you to how exhausted you truly are. Katsuki kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep and tomorrow, we can continue this date. That sound nice?” You nod again, and slowly drift to sleep.

“Good. Stay here and look pretty, I’ll run a bath.”

[batnbreakfast]

Just go for it! Look at the tags, of course. Don’t read anything that is tagged with something you don’t like. Other than that: Start the fic.

I mean, seriously: What have you got to loose? The time it takes to read the first few paragraphs? On the other hand you could win a new favourite fic.

Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?

[smuttysabina]

"I am" a Bitch

(Rei x Male Reader, 3.3k Words) Tags: Pretty Little Risky Baddie, What A Brat, Wow She Is So Spoiled, I Sure Hope She Doesn't Get Her Butt Stretched Out, Anal Sex, Brat Taming, Lots Of Complaining, Rough Sex, Too Much Teasing, Chaebol Obliteration

Rei is a spoiled brat. Like most of IVE, she had been pampered until her pretentiousness had swollen to absurd heights; her every whim was to be fulfilled without worry of the consequences. She fully expected that her demands would be followed, especially those pertaining to the bedroom. Though Rei was not the worst of the bunch, her sexual appetites were still incredibly skewed in her favor; the pleasure of her partner was very much so beneath her notice. So she was rather unforgiving when her "lover" failed to satisfy her obnoxious orders, but not in an enjoyable way. Perhaps you should have known better, but truly, who could blame you for dumping the fattest load of your life balls-deep inside of Rae's precious asshole?

You had mostly known what you were getting into when you applied to work for IVE, every Kpop group had its own distinct quirks regarding the hired help. Itzy were renowned for their rapacity when dealing with the "interns", and their older sisters of Twice were famous for their fetishistic forced-breeding schedules. Le Sserafim were a popular choice, mostly due to their extremely laid-back and open attitude towards sex. Positions at Blackpink were the most sought after of course, though they remained permanently open, their turnover rate was less than a week. And IVE... well IVE were notorious for treating their employees like utter garbage. Which was hardly unusual if truth be told, except for the fact that this mindset extended to include most of the staff, not just the sex pets. It was by unwritten agreement amongst idols that the more integral staff members were to be left unravished; after all, it is difficult for a music company to function when their song writers are too busy pumping the idols full of cum all day to write anything. Most importantly however, the cleaning staff were to be left entirely unmolested; if not for those brave souls, the number of injuries caused by slipping in puddles of sex-fluids would skyrocket. Even that insatiable goddess Jennie, who would fuck almost anything with a pulse, would greet the janitors with a bemused smile before continuing to drain whatever meat-dildo she was currently sending to heaven.

Unfortunately, IVE had no such distinctions; if Gaeul wanted to have the producers lick her pussy all day, then that's what they did. It was a dark miracle that the group managed to continue putting out comebacks, let alone the sort that would be astoundingly popular. So to say that the atmosphere at the IVE mansion was a bit stressful would be an understatement. But all of that negativity was on the back of your mind when you showed up for orientation at the mansion; your adoration for IVE drowning out any concerns you may have felt reading up about them. Led through a tastelessly expensive entry hall, you and many other new hires were ushered into a drab side-room for your training. After only a perfunctory introduction though, you were seamlessly sorted into being an assistant for one of the girls; and sent on your way. You are directed to a large, stately bedroom, its footprint greater than most people's entire homes, its door embossed with its owner's name. The debris of an artist occupies an entire corner of the vast room, painting materials stashed haphazardly alongside expensive electronic drawing devices. The bathroom fills the rest of that half of the room, an opaque wall covering what looks to be a standing shower as well as a sizable hot tub. The sleeping area is conjoined with the living area, cluttered with clothes, books, and entertainment devices; with an enormous television planted in front of a deep couch. The bed is sturdy, dowered with an expensive mattress and covered with an eclectic collection of blankets; and laying upon it is the owner of this gilded cage: Rei.

The idol rests upon her stomach, delicate feet kicking in the air above her head, perusing her phone with every appearance of absolute boredom. She gives you unhappy glare as you approach, her heavily-lidded eyes showing you nothing but contempt as she takes in the details. Rei lets out a petulant sigh, "So you're my new assistant huh, why do I never get the cute ones? Whatever, drop your pants, let's see what we're working with here." You hesitate at this bizarre and sudden demand, only complying after she irritable motions for you to proceed, "Hmmph, I guess you'll do, at least you don't have a needle dick. Please tell me you aren't one of those premature guys, I swear most boys have zero endurance. What? Put that thing away, I'm tired of looking at it already!" Blushing furiously from Rei's barbs, you haul your pants back up and wait for further instructions. After several minutes of pointedly ignoring you, she finally deigns to glance back up in exasperation, "Well don't just stand there idiot, do something useful like... cleaning or something? This place is a mess!" Which, to be fair, it absolutely was. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly, towers of empty food cartons were everywhere, all manner of trash was scattered about, and sticky stains on the carpet were more common than clean portions.

So you get to work, while Rei lounges about on her bed, yelling dubious advice and shrill instructions at you while you labor. Her phone either blares annoying videos, except when she is video-chatting with her fellow idols; in which case she yammers away just as loudly as the bitches getting railed in the call. And of course, she masturbates constantly, her fingers squelching away beneath her sweatpants as she watches her friends engaging in all sorts of sexual activities. That or porn; and if you are honest with yourself it's difficult to tell the difference between the two. Not that Rei takes kindly to be watched during her "Private Time", nor the fact that the sight and scent of her pleasuring herself has an arousing effect on your own genitals, "You fucking pervert, stop watching me! Ugh what kind of assistant are you? And are you getting hard again? Stop that! I didn't say you could get horny, so stop looking and keep cleaning!" An attitude which was annoying in the extreme, especially since it was a touch difficult to bend over with a hardon bulging out of your pants. Your irritation only grows as Rei continues to rain abuse on you for doing what you're told, particularly when she went into hysterics when you got around to picking up and sorting the massive pile of underwear heaped against a dresser. You are starting to see why IVE had be having trouble retaining their staff...

After several grueling hours of labor, you finally finished restoring order to at least one portion of Rei's expansive living area; and so lay down to take a break on a couch. Not five minutes had passed before you were being poked awake by Rei, scowling down at you with her hands on her hips. Who haughtily announces that she was going to take a bath, and that she required assistance; now. You groan before hauling yourself after the idol to the bathroom section, where you are stunned to find her stripping carelessly in front of you. You stare at Rei in shock, your foul mood entirely dispelled by the magnificent sight before your eyes; she merely sniffs as you gaze at her. Her surprisingly moderate bust perks boldly outward, the soft curve of her hips descending towards a deliciously full ass, her lithe legs supported by her delicate feet. Now this made her earlier abuse almost worthwhile, surely such a goddess could be allowed a few flaws? Surely it was her due to be given such slavish attention, surely you had deserved such ill-treatment for not paying proper homage to Rei? The illusion of divinity is shattered however, when Rei responds to your adoration with scorn, "Ew, could you not look at me like that, it's weird. Also, get naked already, didn't I tell you to listen you moron?"

So you gingerly remove your clothes, wincing as you strain your sore muscles, and by the time you are finished Rei is already standing in the luxurious hot tub. With her hands on her hips, she gives you an exasperated look, and you scramble up into the bath to avoid another irritating tongue-lashing. You sit down with a sigh, decompressing in the soothing warm waters, water-jets massaging your aching back in a most pleasant fashion. Your momentary calm is cracked somewhat when Rei proceeds to plop down into your lap, her ample bottom squishing up against your groin as she reclines against you. You are rendered speechless by her sudden intimacy, and surprisingly, she is just as quiet. Rei seems content to use you as furniture as she relaxes, and in this moment of tranquility you take in your surroundings in more detail. A sprawling plethora of bottles precariously perch on the further edge of the hot tub, while the rim to your right is taken up entirely with sexual accessories. The bathroom area itself was relatively clean, but clutter was gradually overrunning every available surface; most noticeable was the trash can overflowing with condom wrappers, Rei was obviously a healthy girl...

Rei starts slightly as you harden, but otherwise seems content to ignore the fact that your cock is currently digging into her butt. She wriggles a little to reposition, then relaxes once more, until eventually she sighs and stands up out of the water. She glances back at you, "Your size?" Rei asks as she reaches towards the boxes of condoms. Nodding at your answer, she pulls out a string of them and tosses them at you before ordering you to close your eyes as she fiddles with some sort of tube. You hear Rei let out a soft curse, "Ugh, it's so cold..." then water churns and she grumbles at you, "Well, put it on already!" You open your eyes to find her scowling down at you, and you hurriedly hoist our crotch out of the water so you can slip a condom onto it. You reach towards Rei, only for her to slap your hands away, "Hey! No, sit back down! And don't you dare move, I hate it when guys act like they're not just dildos." With that out of the way, and giving you one final glare in warning, she turns around and lowers herself once more onto your crotch. But this time the burning heat of the water is replaced by the much more subdued warmth of Rei's insides, as she slowly slides your length into herself. Her plump ass squirms as she settles into her new perch, and she is soon gently rocking back and forth in your lap while her hands are busy between her thighs. Her pink hair tickles your face as she grinds on your bulging cock, teasing it endlessly as she pleasures herself. Rei's entire weight is pressed onto your cock as she lifts her legs, the roiling water supporting her as she precisely orients her body to force you as deep as possible. Then Rei lets out a sudden squeak, and she quivers against you, her hole clenching tight around your now painfully erect member.

Rei shudders, her asshole palpitating as she relaxes back against your chest, breathing heavily as she eases her weight off of your manhood. After resting against you for about a minute or so, oblivious to your cock as it throbs inside of her, she pushes herself up off of you in a cascade of water. You get a faceful of ass, and as she bends forward her slightly gaping brown anus is revealed, glistening wetly and flushed from use. Rei notices you staring and quickly turns around, covering herself as she does, "What, it's not like I would let you fuck my unused pussy, I'm saving it for my beloved!" You highly doubt that Rei's cunt had gone unstretched during her stint as a trainee, but you are far more focused on the fact that you had not been able to finish. The bratty idol gives you a confused look as she notices your demeanor, "Oh, did you not cum...? Feel free to jack off into the condom or something, just don't make a mess!" Humming cheerfully, she clambers out of the hot tub and is soon ensconced in an oversized fluffy towel; whereupon she putters off towards the living area, dripping water everywhere. Grumbling, and still staggeringly erect, you dry yourself off before following her, finding Rei sprawled on her couch flicking through channels. Not even deigning to glance at you, she reminds you to clean up all the water you got on the floor walking over there. Rolling your eyes you obey, though not without complaining under your breath, by the time you finished up and returned to your spoiled mistress she has already switched to watching porn. Loud moans and squeals blare from the enormous television as some woman is getting absolutely railed on screen. Rei is already masturbating shamelessly upon her discarded towel, her dark nipples starkly erect.

The idol glances over as you approach and nods in satisfaction as she notices that your dick is still hard, she scrambles around so that her plump posterior is pointed right at you, "Grab a condom, but follow my orders exactly, okay? My butt is very delicate." Sheathed once more in latex supplied from an ever-present condom box, you gently grasp her hips, "Okay, so put a lot of lube in, gently, then slowly ease your dick in, got it?" Instructions which you ignore entirely, as you simply shove your cock directly into Rei's vulnerable asshole. Whose back arches up as she shrieks in surprise, wailing as if she had just been poleaxed. The bitch was obviously exaggerating however, your dick had slid smoothly inside of her, only catching a little at the entrance, evidently Rei had squirted so much lube inside of herself earlier that she still had loads of it coating her insides. Not that she sees it that way, "YOU DUMB FUCK! TAKE IT OUT TAKE IT OUT!" she howls, clawing at the couch for support as her legs shudder. But you are done taking orders from this entitled brat, and pull back, dragging a solid inch of her insides along with you, Rei barely has time to gasp out "Oh thank-" before you slam your entire length back into her guts. This time she is only able to let out an outraged gasp, unable to comprehend how a lowly fan like you could possibly disobey a chaebol of IVE.

Of course, most other idols would not have stood for such treatment either, Yeji would have been clawing your back into bloody ribbons, Rose would have been beating you mercilessly, Jihyo would have pinned you down and firmly forced you inside the proper hole, Dami would have had you biting the couch as she pummeled you with a gargantuan strapon. Instead, Rei, scion of a renowned idol training program, promptly bursts into noisy tears. Normally a girl sobbing would have given you pause, and caused you to rush to give her comfort, but this bitch had been abusing you for hours now, and it seemed a bit of an overreaction; so you continue. Rei blubbers as loudly as the girl on screen, bemoaning her fate and tepidly demanding that you listen to her. But by now you were getting into the swing of things, and to be completely honest her asshole was practically sucking you inside after every thrust. Her thick ass-cheeks clap loudly as you slam yourself against them again and again, providing a meaty cushion that was almost begging for a thoroughly rough plowing. So you give it to them, violently pistoning your cock into her guts, causing her to squeak plaintively and writhe in your grasp as you firmly hold her steady. Then Rei starts to shake, her ass shivering in a familiar way, you don't stop moving though, even when she suddenly starts to scream shrilly, spittle flying onto the couch.

Something hot and wet slops onto your balls, sticking tight to it and smearing deep into its folds. Surprised, you pull out, leaving Rei's asshole gaping enough to show pink and sputtering foully, and beneath that, a shaven pussy absolutely slathered with cunt cream, connected her sex to yours with glistening streamers. She whines in embarrassment, looking back at you in disbelief at the mess she had made, her squeezable cheeks flushing bright red. Before Rei could make any excuses however you had crammed your cock back into her sloppy ass, causing her to groan and bite the fabric. A glow with satisfaction with yourself, you fall back into your rough rhythm, plowing away with enough force to make her ass-cheeks jiggle with every thrust. The steady slap of skin fills the room as you relentlessly fuck Rei, drowning out the depravities taking place on the TV, (by this point the woman appeared to be taking four cocks at once). But Rei wasn't an idol for nothing, and even after such ungentle treatment her butt still devoured your manhood voraciously; squeezing it tightly without any sign of tiring. Your tip grows warmer as you continue to pound away at her hole, it even starts to feel a bit wet within the rubber. The added stimulation is enough to make your heartily sore balls finally start to pulse, and you feel pleasure emanating from the base of your cock, urging you to go deeper. Groaning loudly, you haul Rei back as hard as you can, squishing against her butt with all your might as you climax spectacularly, filling your condom with thick reams of semen. Rei moans in sympathy, but a note of confusion turns her sweet tones shrill, "Oh fuck yes- WAIT. Wait you idiot you're fucking cumming in me! Oh fuck there's so much! Pull out fuckwit, pull out!" Startled by the sudden vehemence in her voice, you abruptly pull out of her, her unplugged asshole sloppily burping your seed out into the creamy filth already coating her sex. Now that it is exposed, you are able to clearly see the issue, your sex had been so violent it had torn the condom open, allowing your cum to surge into Rei's unprotected asshole; who is not taking it well.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck! It's so slimy and gross! I fucking hate cum! How fucking dare you cum in me! Ugh I feel like I'm going to puke!" she staggers upright, scowling furiously at you as she stumbles towards the bathroom. She points angrily at her door, "Out! Get the fuck out!" she screams, pulling herself onto the toilet and squatting upon it like a gargoyle. You quickly dress under her glare, as she starts to shit the vast amount of semen you had pumped into her. Once out the door, you report to the staff member, who seems unsurprised to discover that she had kicked you out of her room. They instruct you to return tomorrow, apparently the assistants were quietly cycled between the girls until they caught on and demanded their removal permanently. You are utterly shocked the next day then when you are once more ordered to wait upon Rei. Led to her familiar door, you find the brat hunched in front of a tablet, morosely jotting upon it with a stylus. She grunts as she sees you, frowning unhappily, rolling the stylus nimbly through her fingers as she ponders something deeply. Finally though she sighs, and demands that you strip once more. You nervously comply, worried about what sort of depraved revenge Rei has in store for you. But instead she simply stalks over to her bed, casting off her clothes as she goes, whereupon she bends over, looking back at you with annoyed trepidation.

"Well, what are you waiting for, idiot? You had better not break your condom this time! Oh and- um," Rei blushes in embarrassment, seemingly mortified that she has to say this, "please be rough again..."

[incognitopolls]

can we like. ban the "see results" option it literally makes 99% of these polls completely useless

I know it's frustrating when the results are heavily skewed by responses outside of the target audience, and I'm sorry about that, but no– this isn't something I plan to change.

Short answer:

If you're willing to do some math, you can subtract the "see results" votes and calculate what the actual percentages would be. Most people won't want to do math, and that's fine; without getting fancy at all, if you just ignore the "see results" line entirely, you can still see which options are the highest, which are lowest, etc. The numbers just won't add up to 100%.

Longer answer:

The majority of votes on polls come from people who see it via reblogs (rather than organically in searches or from following this blog). People don't reblog polls unless they get to click a button. If the buttons only allow responses from a limited group, reblogs will be extremely limited and therefore the response pool is too.

Take for example this poll about colorblindness. I forgot to add a "not colorblind" option to the submission, and it got 36 notes and 72 responses. Compare that to any of the polls in the days before and after it; all of those got 1000+ responses. I can't prove anything from that, but it's pretty clear to me that it's related– and that if non-colorblind people had been able to vote on that one, they also would have reblogged, and then the poll would have reached more colorblind people.

In a situation where a poll reaches more of the "in" group because the "out" group got to click a button too, it will always be true that the absolute data is skewed– but the relative data is actually more useful because it polls a larger sample size of the "in" group. Even then, though, it's worth keeping in mind that this blog does not and cannot serve as a genuine research tool; it's a fun way to gather anecdotal data but that is its limit.

[who-is-page]

Greener Grasses and Fossilized Paw Prints: Where (and Why) the Greymuzzles Go

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,229 Summary: Page's personal experience as an adult canine psychopomp, and how it applies to the dearth of older otherkin in general alterhuman community spaces. Answering the question of: where are all the older otherkin? And why do people always seem to eventually leave? Author's Note: The term "greymuzzle" is used within the scope of this essay's title to reference older otherkin who have been active in alterhuman spaces for extended periods of time (a nod to the word's original definition within furry spaces), and is not referring to greymuzzle's most frequent definition in alterhuman groups as a community-given term denoting an individual with noteworthy activity and contribution.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

When I was a young otherkin, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I found it difficult to conceptualize why there was such a dearth of older community members, especially those 30 and above. I could understand the theoretics behind the disparity, of course— social media platforms, as we all know, tend to skew towards younger audiences due to generational differences in technological proficiency/preference. Established adults with working lives and families don’t necessarily have the same amount of free-time that young adults or teenagers do, either. But even with all that taken into account, it seemed like the number of otherkin aged 13-21 in comparison to the number of otherkin aged 30+ was less a gradual decline and more an unfathomable chasm of difference. The community had been around for decades at that point, with plenty of ghost town groups and abandoned forums to demonstrate that fact… and unless the Veil was secretly age-restricted, those people hadn’t up and disappeared into thin air. So where were people going? And, more importantly, why?

It was a question I’d never been able to answer in a way that felt satisfactory as a teenager and later as a young adult. But now, feeling the call of the void myself, I finally do have an answer and an understanding that I never could have achieved five or ten years ago: why the fuck would I be online when I could be playing video games or having sex with my hot partners instead?

It’s a crude and simplistic way to put it, but just hear me out. As an established adult, I have access to funds, stability, and freedom that I never had as a teenager or even as a young adult who still felt at the mercy of an uncaring universe’s slightest whims. My support systems in high school and college suffered from the same sort of financial and social precariousness that come with the territory of navigating the world as a young adult, but my support systems now are made up of other established adults; while I’ll never say that everything is always perfect for all of us, it’s much easier to get on your feet and stay on your feet when your arms are linked with people who are more firmly rooted in one way or another. I have access to a type of freedom that I could never have imagined as a teenager, because it was literally outside of the range of what was possible for me and my peers.

And more than just that freedom is the fact that I, as an adult, have a family! “Having a family” has, in my experience, some shitty, heteronormative connotations. As a teen, I always took it at face value as juggling bills, kids, white picket fence, other boring responsibilities that eat up your time, etc. But as an adult, now I know that having a family can be anything you make of it, and I make it extremely, obnoxiously queer. In my case, it’s living with people who understand me on a deep, foundational level, and who love me not in spite of who I am but because of who (and what) I am. It’s not passively being around those people; it’s actively, enthusiastically spending time with them because it’s fun and because I love them too and because they’re my people and I picked them and they picked me. As a kid, I’d never consciously recognized the difference between people you’re passively around because you have to be versus people you intentionally choose to be around and who intentionally choose you right back. In part, this is because as a kid you often don’t get the option to make that choice, while as an adult you have more control over your environment. Too often online environments feel like the former, rather than the latter, even if being within them is, technically, a choice. But here, now, I have people in my household who will go out of their way to intersect their daily lives with mine and ask, “You wanna walk to the park?” “You wanna grab a coffee?” or “You HAVE to see this YouTube essay I’m watching and no I don’t care that it’s 4 hours long on a topic you know nothing about, just trust me!!!!!” and that’s such a radically different and wonderful experience.

As an adult, I live with a group of people who make being alive more fun than I could have ever imagined. I have the ability to make my own fun in ways I couldn’t as a kid, for a variety of reasons. I don’t have to feel like an anxious purse chihuahua 24/7, agonizing over my existence and every possible thing that is liable to go wrong if I frivolously spend money on so much of the thought of a hot coffee. And I finally, finally understand why older otherkin disappear off the face of the Earth. It’s because being an adult nonhuman-identifying person is amazing in a way almost no one ever talks about: the euphoric experience of being known and loved, and of knowing and loving yourself.

There are so many exciting and wonderful things I could be doing in the meatspace with people I have actively chosen to spend my life with, and who fully accept and understand me as someone who’s queer, plural, and nonhuman. There’s so many enriching ways I could be engaging with my hobbies, the environment around me, and my local community. With this all in mind, why the fuck would I ever be in public online spaces where people try to argue with me about whether or not I exist, or if my experiences are real, or if I’m using the right and latest lingo to describe my experiences? Why would I subject myself to that when I could just roll my eyes, close the laptop, and go be a beloved canine psychopomp in the comfort of my werehouse instead?

That’s the crux of it. As adults with families and support networks, we have the option to not subject ourselves to the morifying ordeal of being known by asshole strangers online if we don’t want to. We can stick to just our families and our friend groups, and we will still have people around us who understand and who acknowledge and interact with our alterhumanity. The alterhuman community isn’t the only or even most important place for being our authentic selves; rather, it takes a backseat in the day-to-day life. It’s still something that’s fulfilling and worthwhile to engage with, but only on our own terms (terms that are quickly becoming incompatible with the ways Internet culture is evolving). But more often than not, there’s just more fun things to do.

In some ways, it’s kind of a relief to have had this epiphany. People haven’t vanished from alterhuman community spaces because they collectively ‘grew out of it’ like some anti-otherkin insist, or because the various generations of otherkin are so extraordinarily different from one another as to be oil-and-water. People vanish from online alterhuman spaces because offline life as an adult alterhuman is awesome. As an archivist it’s frustrating, but as a nonhuman, I find it a specific type of happiness that’s worth celebrating in its existence and prevalence. It’s an assurance that life only gets better as you get older: isn’t that grand?

[stormyeyedsoul]

I've also seen the d12 mistaken for d20 plenty of times before, and if you aren't in the habit of making sure new players are picking up the right die at any given time it can be very easy for that to become a habit nobody else really notices. But beyond that, it's also worth checking to see if they're using a specific die, either exclusively or preferentially. If a phsyical die is balanced poorly enough, it could very well skew the numbers it throws out in a particular direction, and it could be worth having them try out a few others to rule out the possiblity.

Reading some of my notes apparently a lot of people feel that they would benefit from someone sitting their asses down and learning them some probability, and to be fair tabletop RPG math isn't so complex that even an English major like me couldn't explain it in such a way that most people would understand it.

Anyway on a completely different note, the funny thing in my experience is that even if you explain the numbies and how to arrive at them, at the end of the day most people are really bad at actually interpreting those numbies. Even in percentile-based systems where your exact chances out of a hundred are made immediately obvious (a 47% chance is a forty-seven per centum [New Latin for "by the hundred"] chance) most people fall on a number of probability-based fallacies whose names I can't remember but I think Gambler's fallacy is at least one of them. Anyway what I mean is that when a number is higher than 50% it should succeed more often than fail, so like guy who has a 55% chance of succeeding voice why do I keep failing 45% of the time

[breadandblankets]

Duke is a man of science and a man of questions. This leads him down many rabbit holes but most specifically printing out dozens upon dozens of business cards.

Gothamites are by and large, smart people, so not many people scan the little code even if it was put in their hands by Gotham's very own daytime hero. But it only takes a couple to get #SignalSurvey trending.

Duke doesn't find out (even though he has been trawling social media for days) until Babs shoots him a text in his Econ class (which is honestly a snoozefest anyway).

Sauron: I'll keep your secret.

Galadriel: dont u dare skew my data

Sauron: I would Never

Galadriel: yes u would

Sauron: little birdy has been a good boy so he may live.

-

Young people, who were reckless enough with their online safety (and knowledgeable enough to actually Use the thing) are the first to complete Duke's little experiment.

The answers start pouring in, with Red Hood well in the lead. The comments include things like "wet blanket" and "lame" which makes Duke laugh his whole ass off.

It's not until older internet savvy people get a hold of the link that the results become Fascinating. Nightwing begins to pull ahead, the comments are filled with: "please please less puns they're terrible" and "can't stand him but he's adorable so I forgive him".

Memorably: "Nightwing rescued me from a hostage situation one time. He talked the whole time and at the end I wanted to go back to my kidnappers. You're my hero Mr. Nightwing but Please."

Duke does actually get some votes for himself (included for sake of completeness) and he's not going to lie, shit hurts. Although some of the comments are just to the effect of "Bright :(", which does make him laugh.

There are plenty of votes for Batman (expected), Spoiler/Batgirl (expected but he's mad about it), the Robins (Fair), and a handful for Batgirl/Batgirl.

(Those seem to mostly be from goons complaining about her efficiency and how scary she is, Duke thinks they may have missed the point of the survey.)

-

At the end he compiles it all, gleefully makes a powerpoint, and bounds into Family Saturday Dinner™ with a ultra short throw projector and a dream.

The noise of the dining room doesn't dim even as Duke clears his throat, typical. It's when he starts speaking, clear and even, that people stop waging their personal wars.

"Most Annoying Bat, as voted by the people of Gotham," Duke anounces.

"A vote? By the people of Gotham?" Jason says, his voice strangled. "You mean the thing that killed me?"

"Number three: Batman."

It's here that all hell finally breaks loose.

[carlyraejepsans]

Ok im trying to make a character and really struggling to make them fit the vibe of undertale, do you have any thoughts on undertale's character design philosophy? or know anyone who does? tips? idk you know alot about undertale, im kinda at the design phase of "throw shit at the wall and see what sticks"

undertale character philosophy rule number 1) get silly with it. rule number 2) be fully, whole-pussedly earnest. do not half ass do NOT undermine your genuinity with useless irony it is the POISON of whimsy. actually no rule number 1) think of every possible wordplay you could make outta them. visual gags included, those are important. undertale is a comedy before being anything else. you know what these aren't in order of importance anymore, who care.

anyway, UT characters are all somehow stuck in their patterns and cycles. either through mistakes, through circumstances outside of their control, past trauma, regret, etc, but they're stuck in that. what breaks them out of that cycle is a crucial aspect of their personality and set of beliefs. keep that in mind while you brainstorm their backstory.

give them speaking quirks. you're gonna feel a little silly at first, but there's not one main character in the game whose identity you can't discern by their dialogue lines alone. no soundbit, no portrait, no context. the way they say it by itself is distinctive enough to make them recognizable. let that guide your writing process.

....ok just realized you probably meant character design as in visual character design. ok, new try: puns and double meanings and things that are not what they seemed at first sight. there's a lot of design repetition with alterations in undertale's NPCs; froggit and final froggit, the dogs in the guard, snowdrake and knight knight. see what aspects are kept and what is altered. remember: while the main characters skew towards more humanoid designs (bipedal, upright, 4 limbs, recognizable face), they all have extremely different body types, often simplifiable in a single geometric shape for the stockier ones (toriel, sans, box mtt being rectangular, toby saying how he wanted to make alphys look like a triangle), while the ones with more complex silhouettes get really fucking weird with it (papyrus is self explanatory, undyne's tall and gangly noodly shape). get creative and get diverse. consider buying the art book, even! i feel like that might be a good choice. have fun, hope this helped!! (very likely didn't lol)

[nohoperadio]

Let's say there's an online community of people who all have Whatever Syndrome. They talk about all the difficulties and frustrations and issues etc related to Whatever Syndrome. They share advice, they vent, sometimes they just chat and enjoy talking to people who can relate to them properly. Sometimes they make fun relatable observational comedy-style memes about common Whatever Syndrome experiences.

Some of the experiences they make memes about will probably overlap to some extent with the experiences of people who are not on the WS spectrum at all. Let's stipulate (made-up, obviously meaningless numbers incoming) that 10% of the memes they make appeal to a non-WS audience in this way, but 90% are highly specific to the WS niche and won't really be appreciated by outsiders.

In this scenario, the 10% of universally relatable memes will, because they are universally relatable, likely spread far beyond the core WS community. The 90% of niche ones will not (why would they?). From the perspective of someone without WS who doesn't engage with the WS community directly, this will look like 100% of all WS memes seeming to be about things that are just universal human experiences being described as WS-specific experiences for no particular reason. This person might begin to suspect that WS is just a trendy diagnosis that arbitrarily groups completely normal personality traits as a medical issue and that the whole thing is maybe kind of fake. This person is not being unreasonable given the information they have, but for reasons that are hopefully obvious the information they have is very skewed.

On the other hand! If this sort of thing distorts the public perception of what WS is about strongly enough, some people are going to latch onto the relatable memes about it, relate to them (because they're relatable), and wonder if maybe that means they themselves might have WS. This person might do a bit of googling and discover that, in addition to all the relatable stuff they relate to, there are other symptoms that they don't really identify with as much... but then, no one really seems to talk about those things very often, you mostly see people talking about [relatable stuff] when WS comes up, so the latter must be like, the main part, right? So (they think) it can't be too important if the other stuff doesn't apply to me.

[also the whole medical establishment is nightmarishly hard to access and a lot of doctors suck and make diagnoses based on random whims and prejudices, blah blah blah you know all this, the point is that the most obvious solution to "how do I confirm whether I do or don't have a specific medical thing?" is often not reliable.]

Well now, given all of the above... stuff might get confusing huh!

Okay, okay, (you might say), that's all well and good as a toy model of things that might be underlying the discourse you're alluding to, but to what extent is this dynamic actually responsible for what's actually happening? Aha! I have no clue whatsoever, sorry. I'm just the ideas guy.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm a student about to start my second year, and me and all my friends are really nervous. It feels like first year was really rough for everyone all over the place and we're all really hoping for a better second year this year! Have lecturers been noticing that too? Do you think it's because of COVID?

Oh my god yes. Jesus yes. It's absolutely the covid effect, and we're expecting to see the disruption for the next five or so years, tbh - the current 18-21 year old undergrads went through the most important years of high school during a lockdown. That not only interrupted academic development (home schooling during a time of stress, massive disruption to exams and exam-taking skills, etc), it also enormously hit emotional development (mid to late teens have the highest socialising needs of the human lifespan, and no one could meet and interact with each other.) And that latter point is having a much bigger effect than the former.

Current undergrads haven't been able to develop the same resilience, the same approach to andragogic education, the same interpersonal skills for dealing with lecturers/fellow students. University is not like school; in school teachers are giving you the knowledge, and gradually encouraging you to try and use it to formulate your own opinions. In university, we're supposed to give you the framework to then go out and do you own research. The bulk of your education comes from you, not us; we're more like facilitators.

But, we're noticing that there's a far bigger skew now towards needing to get the answer right. Anxiety is higher, and so the fear of being wrong is much more crippling for these students, and that in turn means they're less willing/able to take charge of their own education and are more passive with it, wanting to just be fed the right answers so they can rote learn them and get the Good mark. And the disconnect between that and the reality of what lecturers are expecting is pretty big, it turns out, and is causing even more anxiety and stress. Record numbers of my students have started asking me to give their assignment drafts a quick look over, just to see if they're on the right track. Which, you know, I'm more than happy to do; but I do think it's a notable pattern change from three or four years ago.

If you're worrying on a personal level though, Anon, I have some Handy Tips if they're any use!

Remember: the idea of uni is that you are doing your own research and learning on the topics your lecturers describe. They're giving you the basics, but they're expecting you to look up examples, case studies, other research papers, etc. They want to see analysis. That's what gets you the good marks. If you simply describe the information you got in lectures and don't add anything, you'll struggle to rise out of a basic pass.

What's the fundamental point of your particular course? It's important to know this, because it'll tell you how to focus your assessments and exam answers. Just within the environmental sector, you could have Environmental Science (focus: academic exploration and research), Environmental Conservation (focus: applying the academic research to actual management and solutions), Environmental Impacts (focus: philosophy and ethics), etc. In all three, you might be given a paper about the latest IPCC report, but in the first you would focus on exploring all the research papers that formed the conclusion on climate change, in the second you'd focus on case studies around the world and the applicability/feasibility of the shared economic pathways that are going to fix the problem, and in the third you'd focus on the human impacts of both the problem and the proposed solutions. You may of course include elements of all of those, but your main focus should be chosen appropriately.

Keep your notes with copies of the lecture slides in nice ordered folders. Keep a bulleted list of the topics covered in each. This makes it far easier to go and double check the right info when you're stressed out

On that note, the best note-taking system is to add notes/comments to the lecture slides where you record clarifications and things the lecturer said (INCLUDING CASE STUDIES). Don't bother duplicating effort by writing what's on the slide.

I truly do know this is easier said than done, but don't leave your assignments until the last minute. Are you struggling with motivation? You need a study group. You need to body double.

And finally, the biggest: CONTACT STUDENT SUPPORT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING. Every time I go to an exam board and we get to a student who has failed stuff, the first question the Academic Office asks is "Has this student been working with Student Support?" Even if they aren't that helpful in your uni, working with them means they know about the things you're struggling with, and that you've clearly been trying to work around the problems. That makes the Academic Office far, far more likely to take a lenient view of a student, rather than going "Well, clearly they just don't care then, withdraw them from the program." Your Student Support should be able to help you with counselling, study buddies, a support worker that can help you organise your time and interpret your assignment briefs correctly and give you interim deadlines, etc.

Oh, and remember to schedule in rest and downtime, just as much as study time.

And... honestly, you learned a lot in your first year. The learning curve is less steep in second year, even accounting for the academic rigour increasing. By now, you're basically used to things like referencing, routines, assignment formatting, etc. There are no more surprises, really. Now's the point you can get the bit between your teeth and run.

Anyway: good luck! And enjoy it as much as you can. University is hard, no doubt about that, but it can and should be fun as well.

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (9/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

Your sense of smell is getting duller. At least, that’s what you think as you awaken to the sound of snoring in your ear and Suguru’s breathing on your shoulder. You can’t seem to catch the whiffs of the spiciness that once permeated the Geto home, or how your Mama used to smell like soft, warm honey as well anymore.

It’s frustrating— Now that everybody sometimes smells like their detergent; or like nothing. You can’t really associate anybody with any foods anymore.

It’s sad.

But your eyesight is still there, you suppose. So you can turn your head to the side to catch how rays of sunlight were flittering in through those fancy white curtains Suguru has.

There were no more bright oranges in the sky, no more swirly light pinks and fluffy yellows that had their rays hitting your eyes and making you squint at the light that Mama had warned you countless times not to stare directly at.

Luckily for her, what’s left were the beginnings of a dark horizon and the whirring of Suguru’s AC as you stare up at his ceiling, eyes steadily trying to get used to the spots of black and the dry feeling in your mouth.

One thing about taking naps in the late afternoon is that your body only ever seems to awaken just in time to miss the sunset that you so dearly love.

Your hand twitches awake as you experimentally move your leg, only to find a drooling Gojo Satoru asleep atop of you as you blink blearily, his limbs thrown over and onto you like some sort of pseudo-hug.

If you counted how his arms and legs are clinging onto you much like a koala to a tree branch as a hug, anyway. You can’t exactly move a lot right now.

“Satoru… You’re heavy…”

No response. Just his snores and even more drool on your shirt as you squeeze Suguru’s sleeping hand.

“Suguru…?” A grunt and a furrow of his brow— That relaxes soon after. He’s not awake either.

It’s also at this time of day that you wonder what you were doing beforehand. You’re pretty sure you’re on Suguru’s bed, pretty sure the side of your face feels kind of sore from being pressed against the pillow for too long and your fingers stiff from subconsciously gripping onto Suguru’s shirt.

Your brain is slowly starting to work again, you think.

S… Hoko— Left a while back, you’re pretty sure. Left a bit after she got a got a call on her cellphone that you were so intrigued by whilst she slowly taught you how to call a number on it.

She really is super cool.

If you had to say, had to tell yourself something to wake your sleepy brain up and to forget how dry your mouth feels— You’d probably start thinking about your friends to count your blessings.

Because that’s already 3 blessings in total. That’s not a lot, but you’re not counting the plenty of others that you’re sure you have.

Ieiri Shoko was someone almost comparable to Gojo Satoru. Almost— Because there just isn’t anyone out there you know of who can match his level when it comes to wealth and social standing and power.

(And Shoko only comes close because she was the only other rich person you knew of. Are rich people really rare or do you just know too few?)

Gojo Satoru truly had it all. And if anyone could be pitted evenly against him; excluding standings of class and economic prowess, the answer immediately reroutes and makes the straightest beeline for Geto Suguru.

You’re not rich. You’re not exceedingly smart or pretty or have Satoru’s strangely large appetite for sweets. You don’t even have Suguru’s strange likability despite how skewed of a personality he can tend to have.

Where do you stand, really?

“Does it even matter?” His mouth opens far too wide, stretched into one of his lazy yawns as he stands idly, a singular duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, his green eyes squinting at your scrutinizing face.

“If you think too much your puny brain’s gonna explode.”

“But if I think too little I’ll end up with an empty head.”

“You sure ya even got anythin’ in it?”

So you pout and glare, much to his amusement and to your chagrin as your cheeks huff up, his too big hand messes with the top of your head with a chesty laugh.

“See ya ‘round, kid.”

It was a good few years with him, you think. And your teacher was definitely someone who kept his promises, even if he had to go super, super far away for his adult adventures.

(It was precedented. He always was an almost adult, anyway.)

“Don’t forget to bring Saya-chan around to show her the world.” You plop your precious, precious Ito Saya merchandise onto his open palm, her pretty face giving you memories of all the times she had given you news about the weather— Before transitioning to doing your favourite astrology tellings.

There was even an Ito Saya dehumidifier that she had personally voiced. Oh to hear your Saya-tan greet you every morning with her voice…!Oh, but unfortunately for you, the stars were not aligned in your favour that day. With 1 too many 0s on the price tag for your liking as you stared at the advertisement— And at the coins you had collected in your little shoebox.

Nope.

So you settle for your super precious ultra deluxe Ito Saya headshot from the nearby supermarket collaboration that Mama got by paying an extra ¥300 for a blind box keychain.

Fate was kind. For it was written in the stars when you so carefully ripped off the plastic to find your precious Saya-tan’s face staring right back at you.

It turned into your most precious possession, but even someone as tough and strong as your teacher needed something for good luck.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Saya-chan.” Duh. Even Satoru knows her, and all he ever watches is Digimon and the magical girl shows you excitedly ask him and Suguru to join you for.

And there he went— Face barely fighting back an almost constipated grimace, before it morphed into one of resigned defeat as his fingers closed around the trinket in his palm.

“…right. I’ll dedicate a smoke to ‘er or something.”

“Saya-chan thinks smoking is bad for the body.”

So much for trying to be nice to you. So can you really blame him when he’s squatting down to your height to pull at your cheeks and ruffle your hair until the cute pigtails your Mama did up for you fell apart?

“Beggars don’t get to be choosers, you brat.”

Someone who really wasn’t like you, no matter how hard you tried to be him. So it really glares what your super duper knowledgeable teacher had said—

Does it really matter? When you let out a yawn and finally muster enough strength to push the snack-loving boy off of you and release Suguru’s death grip on the sleeve of your shirt, you don’t contemplate for long. It’s not like you have enough time to, if you want to catch the final rays of the fading light of today.

The sun always sets all too soon for your liking.

(“I’ll come visit you one day when I’m older.”

“Heh. If I’m not dead by then, why not?”)

——

When you all turned 10, it was like stepping into a pair of brand new shoes that you didn’t quite like the feeling of, yet didn’t quite dislike. The familiar uncomfortableness of something you’re not used to, and the uncertainty that came with it.

It’s weird having a 2 digit age.

There’s rain outside, cold and an overcast sky that made you huff into your mittens because it was just that cold, your cheeks feeling like they were kissed one too many times by Geto-mama as you shiver and make the short walk towards Suguru’s house.

(Mama had to bundle you up like this instead of just letting you run over. She’s always right, it seems. It’s really cold today.)

“Mama says I have to start thinking about what middle school I wanna go to.” It’s said through your muffler as you hurriedly unwrap it from around your neck, clumsy fingers fumbling with the buttons of your coat as you feel Suguru’s hands pat off snow from your head.

“Did you have any in mind?”

“Nope.” And once you’re finally free from your winter bindings, you just can’t help but lean forwards, until the cold socks of your feet were sliding back against the polished wood of his home, until your body lost its sense of gravity and you no longer have any control— Just to let your dear friend catch you in a trust fall, of course.

“You’ll hurt yourself one day, you know?”

“No,” You cuddle back against his warmth, taking advantage of your position to absorb every ounce of warmth he could possibly give to you. “You would never let me fall.”

Your future doesn’t really cross your mind, not when you’re at this tender age.

“Can I just go to the same school as you, Suguru?” It’s easier than picking for yourself. Easier than going around and looking at each nearby middle school 1 by 1 with Mama at your side or picking up hearsay from your classmates.

And it made you happy. So, why not?

“Hmm…” He’s still holding onto you, shivering only slightly from how cold you felt as you rub his back and feel the tickle of his hair on your nose.

“If you can get your grades up, sure.”

Wah… You think you feel defeated now, letting out a sigh and slumping until you can feel how the poor boy was struggling to hold you up. Even if he did have extra martial arts practice, you’re both still only kids after all.

“It’s okay— Hngh— To stay as you are.” He’s starting to pull you along, heaving slightly as you entrust him with full control of your entire physical being, letting your socked feet drag against the smooth wooden planks as he carefully walks backwards with you in tow. “I’ll like you as whatever you want to be.”

(“I wanna be a hero.”

“You already are one.”)

“Oh, don’t you both just look so darling!” Her hands are too preoccupied with squeezing each of your cheeks, the heavy blanket she had set over the both of you making you feel fuzzy inside.

And sleepy. Really sleepy.

“I just want to keep you both wrapped like this forever!”

(“Mama, please…!”

“Oh, yes, yes you fussy child.” She leans down to kiss his forehead as she pats your head and sneaks in a final squeeze of your cheek.

“Take your time, my cute little couple!”)

You take another satisfying sip from your cup, liquid flowing down your throat and into the cozy warmth of your tummy. Heated porcelain thaws your freezing hands and the blanket wrapped around the both of you making you want to doze off and drift off into sleep.

(You swore you just slept, though. Suguru’s house is just way too relaxing.)

“Geto-mama should be careful when she tells you you should be a couple with someone.” That should be a no brainer as you impart your oh so wise knowledge onto your friend. “You can’t just marry anybody, okay?”

It’ll be bad if he marries someone just cause Geto-mama was too friendly. Because trusting people comes easily to her zodiac sign, so she should throw more caution to the wind.

“Oh, and because picking a partner for marriage is hard. Picking just anybody Geto-mama likes will end up with you in pain.”

And you just don’t like seeing him upset.

You catch the hot blush on his face, searing red on his cheeks as he avoids eye contact and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I-It’s fine. She just gets too excited whenever you want to come over by yourself.”

Huh. Geto-mama is quite the hopeless romantic after all. You’ve seen how hard she swoons whenever Geto-papa comes home with a wide grin and a bouquet overflowing with flowers despite being in the middle of winter.

“My Mama also says marriage isn’t always a good thing like on TV, though.” The pretty Omegas dressed to the nines in flowy white or handsome black suits, the flowers, the music, the red carpets… Honestly, if it isn’t all that good, why do people try to portray it like that? Is it really that hard to show something as it is?

So ambiguous.

“Oh. Mama also says it’s good if I can find someone who I like a lot, is pretty and who lives close by cause she’d be sad if I moved too far.”

That’s already too many prerequisites, you think. Does Mama expect someone that perfect to fall out of the sky? Ito Saya just doesn’t live in your prefecture. Not counting those, you also need someone with— Uhm… Com-pact-ability?

(Whatever that means. They always talk about it on your star sign channel, so you usually tune it out while waiting for the daily luck reports.)

Maybe it would be okay if they just liked you as is? You think you can learn to like them if they already like you. Oh, but if you already have a laundry list of things then maybe you should try those arranged marriage meetings you always see advertised on late night TV when Mama has to work overtime—

“How about me?” Quiet, gentle like a ripple against the surface of a pond. Geto Suguru always talks so soft, speaks with such an endearing tone that it offsets the stuff you catch him saying sometimes. “I fit your Mama’s requirements, no?”

But it’s a nice voice, nonetheless.

“Hmm…” If you weigh the pros of Geto-mama and Geto-papa already knowing your Mama, minus off the fact that you wouldn’t have to go through the awkward ‘meet the parents’ phase they always discuss on the Couple channel that you swear gets played too much… If you calculate the short little walk from your house to his house— “I guess I wouldn’t mind if it’s with you, Suguru.”

(“Plus, you’re really pretty. You would look like my Saya-chan if you had longer hair and added all the pretty curls and ribbons she has.”

“…right. Let’s pick a middle school that allows boys to have long hair then.”)

——

“I don’t like sweets.” Shoko looks bleak and blank as she stares down at the pudding, fingers momentarily stopping midway through the flip of her magazine. “I think my maids like them, though.”

…what? You’re flabberghasted, heartbroken, perplexed and going through perhaps, every motion possible as you slowly, slowly try to process her words.

How can anybody dislike sweets?

She stares. Blinks at your pouting, downcast expression and the unwillingness to comprehend that there were people out there who didn’t like sweet things.

So she sighs. Internally.

“It’s because…” Her eyes break contact with yours as they flicker around her surroundings in search of a good excuse. “They always serve too much. So I can’t finish ‘em.”

“Then you can share mine!”

That was how you hooked an Ieiri to spend time with you at the infamous playground, using plastic spoons to shovel your much more affordable 3-pack pudding cups into your mouths.

(At least she isn’t complaining that it wasn’t the super expensive ultra deluxe cream filled ones that Satoru likes to eat.)

“Then they told me they were both busy.” You pout as Shoko flips through another page on her magazine, spoon in her mouth and hanging from her lips.

“Huh.”

“It’s okay, though! You’re my friend too so I wanna hang out with you lots and lots and lots.”

It’s no skin off her back to be together with you, not at all a bother in her eyes to hang out beside you. Though, something has been bothering her. Something that didn’t involve you— Even if it entirely did at the same time.

It’s odd, really. You possess so much of it, yet were involved so little in its affairs.

“(name).” She has a look in her eye that you can’t really discern, a shine in her pupils that usually hinted at something more.

(You would know. She does that whenever she wants to show you a brand new 2-page spread of Ito Saya you’ve never seen before on one of her magazines.)

“Do you know why Gojo and I had to get engaged?” It’s dismissive, uncaring and almost like she was just throwing it out there and into the air.

Like she was asking another question completely different to what she just said.

“No…?” You just never really bothered to pry further, never really bothered to involve yourself in things that others don’t want you in. Therefore, it’s not your business to stick your nose in. Because everyone has their own secrets, right? They’ll tell you only if they really want to. A good lesson for everyone to learn.

And she furrows her pretty brows, her expression disbelieving and like it was in… Shock? You think? Honestly, it’s hard to tell her disgusted and surprised reactions apart.

“So… You don’t know what they’ve been doing all this time?”

“…no?”

She squints and takes in a breath, using one of her dainty hands to cover an eye to stare harder, even rubbing them before finally blinking once more.

“You have— More than enough though.” She waves her hand in the air, glaring at the empty space around you as you mimic her actions, before her hand grabs yours.

“They really didn’t tell you?”

Now you’re just sorely confused as you tilt your head to the side, head itching with confusion and your lips pursed as you try to think of every possible reason. Though, you think you’re going to get a headache if she runs anymore circles around you.

“Am I… Supposed to know?”

Then she chuckles, letting her expression flit into a smug grin and eyes that implored you to explore that unfamiliar glint more. Your hand in hers felt somehow all the more compelling, yet all the more wrong as you blink.

“So I’ll be your first, then.”

You’ve been walking for a while now… You think. In the complete opposite direction from school, from Satoru’s home, from the playground… Before you realized you haven’t exactly asked about your destination.

“I can’t attack anything so we gotta stay clear from a lot of stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” There’s barely hidden excitement and anticipation in your voice, a hop in your step as you obediently follow along. “Where are we going?”

“Mm… Far away from here, I guess.”

“Oh. Cool.” You both continue to hold hands as you pass 1 house, 2 houses, 3… There wasn’t really a direct answer despite your question. But at the same time, Shoko has never really been the best at explaining things.

“Then this part will become 21, then once you do some more math stuff you’ll get the answer like this.” Her pencil leaves your paper, neat handwriting and the final answer to the equation staring back at you as you blink at it.

“…huh?”

“It’s cause,” She squints up at the sky briefly, scratching at her hair to think a little bit more with a troubled expression on her face, before her head tilts back down to look at you. “The Gojo estate is too big and near and… Stuff. So the energy scares them off.”

“…?”

“Y’know. Like the bad stuff.” She pauses, looking you right in the eye before she points at the bleary sky. “Did you really never see how different that looks?”

So your eyes follow, trail after her finger that was pointed up and above your heads. At the sky you’re used to seeing, at the sun that was far from setting. And you realize… It looks the exact same way it always had been.

“Doesn’t it always look like that?”

And she contemplates, her hand now on her chin as her eyes close and her lips pout that little bit.

“Maybe you need glasses.”

Huh. Not a bad solution if you can’t see exactly what she was looking at, but… “Glasses are expensive. I don’t think I can ask Mama for them.”

Oh.

Ieiri Shoko is lots of things, and she is especially one who just wasn’t all that used to interacting with someone from a widely different social class just yet. So when she hears you say something like that… It makes the words that were on the tip of her tongue lose all direction.

“Right. Sorry.”

You don’t really get it at all, don’t get why she always goes quiet and looks away when at the mention of such things. It’s not like you’re embarrassed or ashamed of it— So you choose to shrug it off, to trust her as you both walk and walk, in little bits of chatter and filler conversation that you can’t help but find enjoyment in.

(“Maybe I’ll get you a pair as a gift.” If a certain someone didn’t beat her to it, that is.

“But I heard people need their eyes checked for ‘em. How are you gonna get my eye results?”

“Hmm… Want some snacks instead, then?”

“Yay.”

At least she tries her best to explain stuff more now.)

“Okay. Here.” It’s before an alleyway quite a bit further from where you’re used to venturing. Far from any of the usual buildings that you’re used to seeing, and certainly— Really dark and scary and much more ominous.

Her dainty finger points forward, points with an ascertainy that you just can’t doubt, even if you think she was pulling your leg. “What do you see?”

“A… Really ugly rat?” You feel bad for calling it that, but it really is what it is. Tendrils of black seem to emanate from it, beady blue eyes and a grotesque snout that looked like it was collapsing in on itself upon a body of black goo that tried to shape itself into limbs.

So you can see it.

“It looks like Gojo, doesn’t it?”

“Satoru’s…” You furrow your brows and frown, intently watching the almost pitiful thing as it cries out. “Way cuter than that.”

The creature gurgles at the both of you, voice distorted and squeamish, bubbles appearing upon its deformed body as it slides, twitches towards the both of you.

“That’s a cursed spirit, by the way. A really weak one.”

“Cursed… Spirit?”

“Mhm.” She moves forward, standing by your side and watching the newly introduced, slow-moving ball of black before the both of you. “It’s made of negative emotions and other bad stuff. That’s why it looks like that.”

“Do the stronger ones usually look uglier?”

“I dunno. My mama doesn’t let me go on missions yet. Gojo probably has been on some, though.”

That sounds… Dangerous. Is that why your friends have been disappearing so often lately? They’re not risking their lives out there, are they? Wait, does it mean Suguru can see them too? But how? You’re pretty sure you’ve been with them all your life, so how—

“It’s approaching you.”

“Ah…” It snaps you out of your rambles, makes your head tilt downward to be facing the disgusting thing now that it was only a few meters away.

“Don’t touch it, or get too close to it. It only wants to eat cursed energy.” She pulls you back when it inches too close for her liking. “And they’ll try to kill you, too.”

Maybe you both should’ve seen it coming, should’ve taken more caution— But even she didn’t notice how the cursed spirit was charging up a ball of vile, concentrated energy, didn’t see how it aimed right at you.

“Ah…” You barely even have a reaction, not even when it causes your blood to splatter on the ground and for the cursed spirit to shoot towards you, goo spreading and extending to expose gnashed teeth and a torn tongue that kept licking up the droplets of your blood from the ground.

It’s when your eyes widen and you both see the way it had cut into the skin of your arm, leaving a thin, crude gash that Ieiri Shoko thinks she sees red, thinks she doesn’t like the idea of something so ugly touching you.

And she stomps, and stomps— You see blood splatter and hear shrieks of a scream that sounded far too human for it to just a simple rodent— And yet, Shoko remains undisturbed throughout.

“It’s… Dead.”

Gone. Deceased. Battered into a puddle of its own guts.

“Mhm. It’ll come back after a few days though, since I can’t exorcise it.” But she’ll get someone from her family to do it later, anyway.

“It… Made your dress dirty, Shoko.” Maybe any other ordinary kid would have reacted differently, would have screamed and cried for their dear friend to spare the creature’s life, would have reacted much more to the way they could have had their life threatened.

“…huh. I guess it did.”

But your skin stings, and your eyes just can’t help but stay stuck to the way Shoko’s pretty dress had been dirtied by her efforts to save you.

Maybe you had a subconscious thought that you were perhaps worth less than the sparkly garment, maybe you thought that it didn’t hurt as much—

Or maybe you just don’t know how to react in this situation that you have yet to fully process in your head.

“Where do you get your clothes, usually?”

Pondering for only a moment, you finally pull out a what you think is a pretty shirt from your, to be very honest, lacking wardrobe.

“Mama usually lets me pick what I want, but I pick one thing and ask if I can spend the rest on sweets instead.”

(She usually chides you, but eventually does give in after a puppy-eyed look or 2. You don’t need new clothes, you’ll just wear Mama’s when you’re older!)

“Oh, and Suguru’s mama likes to give us stuff.”

“Thank you, Akari-san. Your baking really is amazing—“

“Oh, lose the honorifics! We’re bosom friends at this point. And look at this! This darling shirt just reminded me of your cute (name) so much that I couldn’t help myself and just went ahead to buy it, aha!”

“And Satoru too.”

“Greetings, (name)-sama. The Young Master would like to formally thank you for the relations—“

“I made Kimi-chan buy it after she said it reminded her of you!” And he himself unravels the article of clothing before you, showing you the Digimon themed print full of cute Marching Fishes.

“It’s even Digimon themed so ya haveta stop watching Pokemon and watch the better show with me!”

“That’s where I think I get most of my clothes from.”

And the girl says nothing, staring down at the shirt you had given her as you gather up the fabric of her dress into your smaller arms and huffing triumphantly.

“I’ll be back soon! I’ll ask my Mama to help wash this!”

“Okay.” Truth be told, she wasn’t really listening to you anymore. Too preoccupied with the way your scent was heavy on the article of clothing, too busy taking whiffs of the air—

It smelt really nice.

“Mama.” You show her Shoko’s dress, prim and proper and sequined with a gentle shimmer to ensure maximum elegance. Very expensive, you’re pretty sure. “Can we wash this out?”

She blinks. Once, twice and a few more times. Even picks up the article of clothing and puts it close to her face, squinting at the very obvious patch of cursed spirit blood that was very evidently there— Especially against the pure white of Shoko’s dress.

“Honey…” She has to adjusts her eyeglasses, even swipe a finger at the fabric and observe her skin to really check for the damage done.

“There’s nothing there.”

——

You’re being stared at— No, scrutinized by blue that was all too judgmental of you.

“Did ya go crazy?” His hands feel hot, feel like they were going to melt into your skin and fuse your flesh together with his as he glares at you—

Angrily.

“We didn’t tell ya to involve yourself did we?” He’s huffing, upset and very much squeezing your hands tight as you let him hold them, letting him glare at the patch of skin Shoko had expended so much energy trying to heal.

(It’s definitely not perfect, but who can complain about her magic healing powers? It was so cool.)

“No, but I wanted to find out and Shoko wanted to help, so—“

“Shoko’s dumb.”

“She isn’t—“

“And you’re weak.” Gojo’s eyes never stop staring even as he rudely interrupts you once again, his face closing in on yours as he invades the little personal space you had left until you swear his eyeballs were gonna pop out of his head and touch your own.

“You never had anything in ya.” His eyes shine once more, before he inevitably blinks and lets out a grunt. A hand releases yours, going up to press against his face as his shoulders stiffen and his whole body shook.

As if he was in pain.

“A-And you still don’t!“ He wheezes slightly. “No cursed technique, no innate forms—” You can see the very clear grimace on his face as his eyes squeeze close and his face twisting into one of clear discomfort as he stamps a foot and shakes his head. “What even m-makes ya think I would go ahead and tell ya anything?!”

You know he’s not being mean— Not by your standards, anyway.

“Satoru… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, you—“ He pauses when he squints at you through an offended gaze, the light in his eyes peeking through the gaps in his fingers whilst going silent for just a beat of a moment.

“My eyes hurt… Cause of my cursed technique, a-and stuff!”

“Then I-I can go call Kimiko-san to—!“

You don’t even get a reply, not even spared an explanation; just his hand making a grab for yours and pulling you back down beside him.

You meet puffed up cheeks and an angry pout, a sullen look and red splayed across his face and the tips of his ears infuriated and very telling of his annoyance whilst those crystals he had for eyes did their best to fight back tears.

Oh.

And when his head plops down onto your lap, it was almost as if it was a subconscious action turned into an all too repeated habit. Your hand brushing against white locks, trailing through strands of white as you gently scratch at his scalp.

“Hmph.”

“A-Are you sure you’ll feel better like this? I thought headaches and serious illnesses and poison and stuff like that needed a doctor…” Not that you know any doctors for cursed energy, or ‘techniques’ as he called them, but you’re sure Kimiko-san would.

“Hmph!”

Ack. He’s still too angry at you to want to explain anything, but not enough for him to stop your hand from stroking his head and making your lap his replacement pillow.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” You really are. It’s not like you wanted to get hurt on purpose… But technically you did unearth the secret he and Suguru were keeping from you. “I didn’t mean to worry you or Suguru…”

(Not that Suguru knows of this situation yet, anyway.)

“I just—“ You take in a breath to steady your heart that was somehow racing, stop your administrations on his head as you try to find your words. “I guess— The reason I followed Shoko after she offered to tell me, I realized I just didn’t want to be left out…”

And it drawls into silence. It’s heavy and makes you reflect on your actions, forces you to be alone with the words that you didn’t realize reflected your truth. Maybe, you’re not as okay and go with the flow as your zodiac sign said you would be today.

Maybe you just didn’t want to be left alone and unknowing. You know you don’t know a lot— But at the same time, if you learned too, can’t you fit in with them all the better?

“…cursed techniques are something people are born with. And they usually show up ‘round the age of like 4.” He uncrosses his arms and stares up at you through his short bangs. “People born with ‘em get really good at using them as they get older, since it’s ingrained into them over and over that they eventually ‘get’ how to use it.”

“But you—“ He sighs when you scratch against a spot behind his ear as he twitches slightly. “You have a lot of cursed energy and stuff, but ya don’t have a cursed technique; at least not one I can see with my eyes yet. And I’m betting it’s cause y’er super weak.”

“Your… Eyes?”

“Yea, you noticed how much prettier my eyes are compared to like— Everyone else around, right?” There’s a pompous harrumph in his tone and a really proud, really smug grin on his face. “That’s cause I was born special and super, super strong.”

(“But you get a lot of cavities often, though…”

And he’s immediately jumping up and off of your lap, embarrassed face and telling shame on the red tips of his ears as he rebuts you.

“It’s just because I’m too strong that e-everything is out to get me—! Shoko told ya it’s cause cursed spirits were made of negative emotions and stuff, right?! That’s that!”)

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[lisenberry]

I went to a fall festival a few weekends ago, and there was a midway with carnival games. One of them was a shooting game with an airsoft style automatic rifle and you have to shoot out the entire star on the target to get a prize.

It's horribly rigged of course. The gun doesn't shoot remotely straight, and the paper is too thick to shoot through with the number of rounds given.

All I can think of is cute carnival barker reader taunting Ghost that it's easy. Big strong man like him should have no problem. He looks like he knows his way around a firearm.

He pays his ten bucks and gives it a try. A valiant effort once he figures out the skewed trajectory, but when you pull in the target to check his work, there's just a sliver of red left in the corners.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, handsome. Just missed. Want to give it another go?" you ask cheekily. You've been working the same stall all week and no one has won yet. It's basically impossible. You heard a rumor that someone had won a few years ago, but like everything else about your job, it was all a part of the con.

You've made a killing off all the open carry patriots looking to impress their friends and their dates. If you knew anything, this biker guy in the skull printed neck gaiter wasn't going to give up until he was out of cash.

"What do I get if I win?" he asks lazily, but with a lurid challenge in his deep brown eyes. And a cocky timbre to his voice, in an accent not from anywhere you've ever been.

"Anything you see. I got the best prizes here." It's true. Other stalls have stuffed animals and fidget spinners. Yours has a playstation, a motorized bike, iphones.

"I'll hold you to it," he answers as he pulls another ten from his battered leather wallet. You swear there's a crackle of something electric as your hands graze in the transfer.

Another spark of awareness, akin to a rabbit trapped in a snare, when he lays a staying hold on your arm as you load a gun for him.

"Ah-ah, love. Same one." From the crinkle of his eyes, you think he might be smiling as he catches your slight of hand.

"Oh, right, my mistake," you drawl innocently and switch to the one he already used.

He may have a slightly better chance of winning with the rifle he practiced on, but you aren't worried. You figure you can get him for at least three more tries before he slinks off in defeat.

"Check it." He puts down the gun before he's even spent all of the allotted rounds. So fast, in fact, that you wonder if you lost track of time somehow studying his concentration.

The bulk of his shoulders and the taper of his waist in those tight jeans.

"You still have rounds left, don't you?" you laugh to cut the tension as his gaze bores holes into you eerily.

"Don't need 'em."

"Suit yourself," you shrug as you pull the rope to bring in the target.

There has to be some mistake. You examine the card front and back. No red lines of the star remain. A perfect cluster.

"Now about that prize..."