#knowing the answers will be disappointing and unhelpful

[autisticlee]

it's so shitty and sad when people use you as a temporary way to get attention or affection and drop you as soon as they get a partner. like yeah i'm glad I was there for you when you needed someone but how are you doing to take away my friend when I also need someone and you were supposed to be that someone? why can't you have more than one "someone?" why cant we still be friends and keep what we had going while you have a partner? why was our friendship not important to you? why do you think it's ok to use me temporarily until you cam replace me with someone you deem more important? why am I supposed to be ok with that and not allowed to be upset by it? how can you become a daily or weekly part of my life that I enjoy having and then just disappear and give all that to someone else? why is the label "partner" so much more important than "friend" and you don't know how to keep both equally? why do I have to make sure you're not feeling lonely and sad because you don't have a partner, but you cant do the same for me? especially when I don't want a romantic partner? why do you not care how I feel? why don't you care that being used and thrown away hurts and crushes me just as much or more than you breaking up with a partner? why don't I deserve consistent and caring people permanently in my life, but you expect your partner to be there til death do you part? why does society in general value romance over friendship? why does everyone view people like me (who value friendship more) as clingy and annoying and a burden? why can't we normalize actually caring about your friends as much as people claim they do? why can't you show it instead of giving all your love and attention to a partner only? why cant we normalize talking to and hanging out with frien a regularly? why is talking to and hanging out with partners daily normalized, while NOT talking to and hanging out with friends for months is normalized? why is me wanting friends to be close and consistent and caring the way romantic partners are, minus the romance part, seen as weird, annoying, clingy, and asking for too much? why am i told to get used to being alone/doing everything alone? why is it wrong that i DONT want to be alone? especially in a world where everyone around me pairs off and ignores/avoids/forgets/abandons me? why does no one care how I feel and instead tell me to deal with it, when i'm trying so hard to force myself to choose to be alone, but it's not working? 😭

[dedalvs]

hey friend, i know you’ve been a pretty serious supporter and user of duolingo for a long time (so have i!), so i’m curious what your feeling is about the announcement that they’re going to be doubling down on using more and more AI for content creation, including using it to avoid having to hire actual humans?

personally, i’m really disappointed - i’ve disliked how much they’ve been using it so far, but the app is otherwise a great tool, and all of the other apps seem to use it, too, so it’s not easy to just jump ship to an app that isn’t using AI. i’ve seen a lot of responses that are like “hurr hurr just use a textbook idiot” which i find really unhelpful; learning from an app is easier and a lot more convenient in a lot of ways than having to use analog materials, especially if you study a high number of languages. still, i don’t ethically feel that i can keep giving them money if this is the direction they’re going.

what are your thoughts?

This is going to be a longer answer than you might have expected.

In 2001, fellow undergrad. Reiko Kataoka (now a professor at San Jose State) resurrected a club that had been dead for a few years at UC Berkeley linguistics: The Society of Linguistics Undergraduates (SLUG). One of its former undergraduate members, Alan Yu (now a professor at the University of Chicago), happened to be a graduate student at Berkeley at the time, so he helped her get it off the ground. The club was exactly what I was looking for at that time: a group for ling. undergrads. to get together and talk about language and linguistics, my new favorite thing. It was great! I even put together a couple phonology problems using my conlangs to distribute at a meeting. The following year I became the second president of the new SLUG and helped to create the SLUG Undergraduate Linguistics Symposium, where I gave my first talk on language creation. Being a part of this club was a major factor in shaping my undergraduate experience at Berkeley.

When I graduated I went to UC San Diego to pursue a graduate degree in linguistics. Part of the reason I chose UCSD was because it was an incredibly inviting atmosphere. Before we accepted they paid for prospective undergraduates down to San Diego and housed them with current grad. students who told them about the program and took them out for dinner, etc. It allowed prospective students to ask questions they wouldn't ask of professors (e.g. who's got beef with who). It was really cool, and so in our second year, we continued the tradition of housing prospective grad. students. Since we both went to Berkeley, my ex-wife (also a Berkeley ling. grad.) and I hosted Klinton Bicknell.

Klinton, it turns out, was the current president of SLUG. I didn't know him while I was at Cal, but we did overlap. It turns out he had renamed the club SLUGS, which I thought was weird. He said "It happened organically" and laughed in an off-putting way. He very much gave off the impression of someone who will smile at you and say whatever is necessary for you to go away. Klinton ended up going to UCSD the following year and I ended up leaving the following year.

Fast forward to 2016. HBO had put the kibosh on Living Language Valyrian, and so I turned to Duolingo. They had previously reached out about putting together a Dothraki course, but I declined, due to having a book out, Living Language Dothraki. With no hope for Valyrian, I asked if they'd be interested in me putting together a course on High Valyrian, which I did. I had some help at the beginning, but, truth be told, most of that course was built by me alone. I became very familiar with the Incubator, where Duolingo contributors built most of their courses. It was a bit clunky, but with enough elbow grease, you could put together something that was pretty darn good. It wasn't as shiny as their in house courses, because they couldn't do things like custom images, speaking challenges, etc., but it was still pretty good.

At the time I joined, everyone who was working in the Incubator was doing it for free. We were doing it because we wanted to put together a high quality course on our language of choice on Duolingo. When Duolingo went public, they realized this situation was untenable, so they began paying contributors. There were contracts, hourly wages, caps on billable hours, etc. It essentially became an as-you-will part time job, which wasn't too bad.

The Incubator faced a couple potentially insurmountable problems. When the courses were created by volunteers, Duolingo could say "This was made by volunteers; use at your own risk", essentially. Once they were paid, though, all courses became Duolingo products, which means they bear more responsibility for their quality. With so many courses (I mean, sooooooooo many courses) it's hard to ensure quality. Furthermore, "quality" doesn't just mean "are the exercises correct" and "are the sentences interesting". Quality means not being asked to translate sentences like "Women can't cook" or "The boy stabbed the puppy". With literally hundreds of courses each with thousands of sentences written by contractors, there was no way for Duolingo to ensure not just that they were staying on brand with these sentences, but that they weren't writing ugly things. There were reporting systems, there were admins that could resolve things behind the scenes, but with so much content, it became a situation where they would have had to hire a ton more people or scale back.

We saw what Duolingo did before with one aspect of their platform that had a similar issue. If you remember way back, Duolingo used to have a "forum", that was a real forum, but for most users, what it meant was on every single sentence in Duolingo users could make comments. These comments would explain grammar points, explain references, make jokes, etc. It was honestly really helpful. But, of course, with any system like that comes trolls, and so volunteers who had come to create language learning resources also found themselves being content reviewers, having to decide which comments to allow, which to delete, who to ban, etc. As Duolingo became more popular, the troll problem grew, and so eventually Duolingo's response was to kill the forum. This mean you were no longer able to see legitimate, helpful comments on sentences. They threw the baby out with the bathwater.

This is why it was no surprise to me when they shuttered the Incubator. The technology was out of date (from their standpoint, you understand. Their in house courses were way more sophisticated, but they couldn't update the Incubator without potentially breaking hundreds of courses they hadn't created themselves), quality assurance was nearly impossible, and they were also paying people to create and maintain these out-of-date courses they had no direct control over. Of course they closed it down. It would've taken a massive investment of time and resources (and capital) to take the Incubator as it was and turn it into something robust and future proof (think old Wordpress vs. Wordpress now), and Duolingo wanted to do other things, instead—like math and music. And so the Incubator died.

But that wasn't the only reason. This was something we heard internally and then heard later on publicly. There was rumbling that Duolingo was using AI to help flesh out their in house courses, which was troubling. This was before the big Gen AI boom, but after a particularly pernicious conlang-creation website I won't name had come to exist, so it caught my attention. I decided to do a little digging and see what this was all about, and I ended up with a familiar name.

Klinton Bicknell.

Indeed, the very same Klinton Bicknell was the head of all AI ventures at Duolingo. Whether enthusiastically or reluctantly or somewhere in between, he was absolutely a part of the decision to close the Incubator and remove all the contractors who had created all the courses that gave Duolingo its reputation. (Because, seriously, why did most of us go to Duolingo? Not for English, Spanish, French, and German.)

I know you sent this ask because of the recent news about Duolingo, but, to be honest, when I saw one of these articles float across my dash I had to check the date, because to me, the news was old. Duolingo isn't just now replacing contractors with AI: They already did. That was the Incubator; those were contractors. That is why there won't be more new language courses on Duolingo, and why the current courses are frozen. This isn't news. This is the continuation of a policy that had already firmly in place, and a direction that rests solidly on the shoulders of Klinton Bicknell.

But you don't have to take my word for it. He's talked about this plenty himself:

Podcast (Generative Now)

Article in Fast Company

Article in CNET

Google can help you find others.

At this point there's a sharp and baffling division in society with respect to generative AI. On the one hand, you have those of us who disapprove of generative AI on a truly fundamental level. Not only is the product something we don't want, the cost—both environmental and ethical—is utterly insupportable. Imagine someone asking you, "Hey, would you like a sandwich made out of shoelaces and shit?" And you say, "God, no, why would anyone ever want that?!" And their response is, "But wait! To make this sandwich out of shoelaces and shit we had to strangle 1,000 kittens and drain the power grid. Now do you want it?"

On the other side, there are people who are still—I mean today—saying things like, "Wow! Have you heard of this AI thing?! It's incredible! I want AI in everything! Can AI make my table better? Can I add AI to my arthritis? We should make everything AI as quickly as possible!"

And conversations between the two sides go roughly like this:

A: Good lord, now they're using AI art on phone ads? Something has to stop this… B: Yeah, it's so cool! Look, I can make a new emoji on my phone with AI! A: Uhhh…what? I was saying it's bad. B: Totally! I wonder if there's an AI shower yet? Like, it could control the temperature so you always have the perfect shower! A: Do you know how much power it takes to run these genAI apps? At a time when we're already struggling with income inequality, housing, inflation, and climate change? B: I know! We should get AI to fix that! A: But AI is the problem! B: Hey ChatGPT: Teach me how to surf!

It's frustrating, because the B group is very much the 💁 group. It's like, "Someone was using ChatGPT and it told them to kill themselves!" and they respond, "Ha, ha! Wow. That shouldn't have happened. What a learning opportunity! ☺️ Hey ChatGPT: How do you make gazpacho?" There's a complete disconnect.

In terms of what you do with your money, it's a difficult thing. For example, I've used Apple computers consistently since 1988. I'm fully immersed in the Apple ecosystem and I love what they do. They, like every other major company, are employing AI. If you go over to r/apple any time one of these articles comes out, it's all comments from people criticizing Apple for not putting together a better AI product and putting it out faster; none saying that they shouldn't be doing it. They're all ravenous for genAI for reasons that defy my understanding. And so what do I do? I've turned off the AI features on all my Apple devices, but beyond that, I'm locked in. From one direction, I look like a hypocrite for using devices created by a company that's investing in AI. From the other direction, though, I am using their devices to say what they're doing is fucking despicable, and they should stop—and I'll keep doing so so long as there's breath in my body.

Duolingo isn't necessary the way that, say, a computer or phone is nowadays. Duolingo is still usable for free, though, of course, they make it a frustrating experience to use its free service. (This is certainly nothing exclusive to Duolingo. That's the way of everything nowadays: streaming services, games, social media... Not "Well give you cool things if you pay!" but "We'll make your life miserable if you don't!") If you do use their Incubator courses, though, I can assure you that those are AI-free. lol They're too outdated to have anything like that. Some of those courses are bigger than others; some are better than others. But all of them were put together by human volunteers, so there's that, at least. At this point, I don't think Duolingo needs your money—nor will they miss it. They're on a kind of macro plane at the moment where the next ten years will either see the company get even bigger or completely disintegrate; there's no in between. They're likely going to take a big swing into education (perhaps something like Duolingo University [Duoversity?]) and it's either going to make a ton of money or bankrupt them. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

I've taken the Finnish course in its entirety and we're doing Hungarian now, and I've learned a lot—not enough, but a lot. I'm grateful for it. I like the platform, and I agree with the basic tenets of the language courses (daily shallow intake is better than occasional deep intake; implicit learning ahead of explicit instruction is better than the reverse). I'm grateful they exist, I'm grateful we can still use them (because they can always retire all of them, remember), and I think it's brought a lot of positivity to the world. I think Luis Van Ahn is a good guy and I hope he can steer this thing back on course, but I'm not putting my money on it.

[rylem33]

The Solaris Prism: Yellow

Characteristics of a “yellow” personality: cheerful, joyous, confident, vain. - - - - - -

Stacey Hart wasn’t a thief, not really. Not in the criminal sense. She didn’t creep through alleyways or lift wallets from unsuspecting tourists. No, this wasn’t her thing. Not usually.

But desperate times…

She glanced down at the ornate wooden box sitting on her cluttered coffee table, biting her lip. Her knee bounced nervously as she turned the situation over in her head for the hundredth time. It hadn’t even been that hard to take. She’d been making another delivery to the museum when she saw it sitting there. Just… sitting there on the table.

The way the box had caught her eye, its glossy, intricate carvings shimmering in the sunlight spilling through the museum’s loading dock. She didn’t know what was inside, but, Come on, she thought, anything this fancy has to be worth something.

Her fingers twitched. The memory of taking it still made her stomach churn. She wasn’t like this.

It’s not like I’m some master thief. It was right there. Unattended. Who’s gonna miss it?

She had bills to pay and a landlord breathing down her neck. The hospital wasn’t going to wait forever. And what were her options? Another double shift at the diner wasn’t going to cut it.

“Maybe… maybe it’s nothing,” she muttered, reaching for the box. Her hand hovered for a moment before she finally gave in. The latch clicked softly.

Inside was a single object: a small, smooth prism nestled on a bed of black velvet.

“That’s it?” she said aloud, the weight of her voice doing little to mask her disappointment. She picked it up gingerly, turning it in her hands. The light caught its surface, sending faint rainbows across the table.

It looked so… normal. No glowing, no jewels encrusted along the edges. Just a plain piece of glass.

Her eyes flicked to the underside of the box lid. Carved there in meticulous script were the words:

The Solaris Prism.

Solaris? Her fingers brushed the engraving as her brows furrowed. Some kind of museum piece, then. But why? Why was this so important?

She sighed and grabbed her laptop, the prism still in her hand as she began searching online.

“Let’s see… Solaris Prism…” she mumbled, her fingers tapping away. Links popped up, most of them unhelpful. A few cryptic forums, a badly formatted webpage that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the ‘90s, and, oh, a grainy image of something that looked vaguely like her find.

Ancient artifact. Powerful civilizations. Source of unimaginable energy. She snorted.

“Yeah, right. And it just ends up sitting on a table?” She slouched back in her chair, staring at the prism again. No price tags, no appraisal estimates. Just mystery and a lot of speculation from people who sounded like they lived in their mom’s basements.

Her gaze lingered on the prism as she turned it over in her hands. It felt oddly warm. Not hot, just… warm, in a way that glass shouldn’t.

What if it’s worth millions?

Her pulse quickened at the thought, but she shoved it down. No sense getting carried away. If it was valuable, there’d be someone out there willing to pay. Someone who’d understand its worth better than she could.

She rubbed her temples, glancing at her phone. Her mom had called twice that morning already, but Stacey hadn’t been ready to deal with the guilt of all the things she’d yet to do.

With a sigh, she grabbed her phone and hit the call button. The ringing barely started before her mom’s familiar voice answered.

“Stacey, honey, finally! I was starting to worry. Did you get my messages?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Stacey said, brushing her hair behind her ear. She tried to keep her voice steady, even though she could hear the weariness in her mom’s. “Sorry, I’ve just been… busy.”

“Did you talk to the landlord about an extension?”

Stacey winced. “Not yet.”

“Stacey,” her mom said, a note of frustration creeping in. “You’ve got to stay on top of this. And what about the pharmacy? Did they call you back about my prescriptions?”

Dang, forgot about that. “Not yet,” Stacey repeated. One more thing I need to put on the list. Her hand drifted toward the prism on the coffee table, her fingers brushing over its smooth, cool surface. “But… actually, I’ve been working on something that might help. With the bills and… you know, everything.”

“Help?” her mom asked cautiously. “What do you mean?”

Stacey picked up the prism, turning it over in her hands. The facets on its surface caught the light spilling in from the window. “I found… something,” Stacey began, hesitating as she tried to put it into words. “It’s, like, this artifact or something. It might be worth a lot.”

Her mom sighed on the other end of the line. “Stacey, please don’t get wrapped up in some scam or junk… We can’t afford to waste time on distractions.”

“It’s not junk,” Stacey said, frowning. She turned the prism, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. For a moment, nothing happened, but then—flash.

A sudden, blinding burst of golden light shot through the prism, catching her square in the eyes. Stacey yelped, nearly dropping it as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the bright yellow afterimage burned into her vision.

“Stacey? What happened?” her mom’s voice asked, her concern immediate.

“Uh…” Stacey rubbed her eyes, blinking again as the world swam back into focus. “Nothing, Mom. I just…uh…got a little distracted.”

“Distracted? Stacey, this isn’t the time for that…”

“I know!” Stacey interrupted, her tone sharper than she intended. She winced, then softened her voice. “I know, Mom. I’m trying, okay?”

As she spoke, something strange began to bubble up from within, and her lips tugged into a small smile. The usual pressure that weighed on her shoulders seemed to ease just a little.

Her mom sighed again. “Honey, I just don’t want you getting your hopes up. We’ve been through so much, and I hate seeing you stress about my medical stuff…”

“It’s fine,” Stacey said, the words slipping out before she realized it. Her hand fell to her lap, dropping the prism onto the floor. “I mean, it’s not fine-fine, but, like… it’ll work out, you know?”

“Stacey, are you okay?”

“Totally,” Stacey said, a giggle bubbling in her chest. The sound surprised even her. She leaned back against the couch, her head tipping toward the window where the sunlight warmed her face. It felt…warm, wonderful, invigorating. “Actually, I feel pretty great right now.”

“Great?” her mom asked, skeptical.

“Yeah,” Stacey said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She froze. Her hair… it looked lighter. She tilted her head, pulling the strand into the sunlight. Golden. Definitely golden, almost glowing.

Her mom’s voice pulled her back. “Stacey, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but…”

Her mom’s voice droned on in the background, but Stacey barely heard her. Her focus was drifting.

“Stacey, are you listening?” her mom’s voice broke through, insistent. “We need to figure out what’s happening with the landlord. And…did you say something about an artifact? What kind of…”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally,” Stacey murmured, her gaze dropping to her hands resting on the keyboard. Something was off. Her nails… weren’t they shorter before? She tilted her fingers, watching as the edges lengthened right before her eyes, smoothing into perfect ovals. A soft, yellow polished shine appeared catching the light in the room.

Her mom kept going, oblivious. “Honey, I need you to focus. Did you call the pharmacy or not? Because if you didn’t, I can…”

“Mom, wait,” Stacey interrupted, holding her hand up as if her mom could see it. “Have you ever noticed how good my hands look? Like, seriously, my nails are… wow.” She turned them this way and that, marveling at their flawless shape, the soft light reflecting off them making them sparkle faintly.

“What?” her mom stammered, clearly thrown. “Your hands? Stacey, what does that have to do with…”

“Nothing, nothing, sorry,” Stacey said, though her tone was far from apologetic. She felt lighter than she had in years. Her eyes darted to the mirror on the wall, and she stood up, phone pressed loosely to her ear as she approached it. Her reflection stopped her mid-step.

Her face was changing. Her cheekbones had lifted, her jawline softened into a delicate curve. Her lips looked fuller, their natural pink hue replaced with a faint, glossy sheen. Her wide brown eyes now shimmered with flecks of gold, catching the light. Stacey leaned closer, a smile creeping onto her face. She looked… radiant.

“Mom,” she said suddenly, her voice bright and lilting. “Do you think I’d look good in, like, a strapless top? Or maybe one of those off-the-shoulder things?”

“What?” her mom sputtered. “What are you talking about? Stacey, this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

“I mean, not that I don’t already look good,” Stacey continued, her giggle bubbling up again. She tilted her head and her hair fell like golden thread around her face. “I just think I could… I don’t know, elevate things a little.”

Her mom’s voice wavered between panic and disbelief. “Stacey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You sound…different.”

“Different good, right?” Stacey asked, running her hands down her sides. Her sweater felt tighter across her chest, and when she shifted her weight, the fabric strained uncomfortably. She blinked, watching as the plain cotton began to shimmer. Threads of yellow light wove through the material, dissolving it into something softer, glossier, and definitely more glamorous. The sweater shrank upward, reshaping itself into a strapless top that clung to her curves like a second skin.

“Ooooh,” Stacey cooed, twisting to admire the way the top emphasized her figure. Her waist pinched inward, her hips flaring outward as if they’d been sculpted. Her jeans shimmered next, the denim fading away into a high-cut yellow skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. 

“Stacey!” her mom practically yelled now. “Why are you talking about clothes? Why are you acting like this? Please…what’s happening to you?”

“Relax, Mom,” Stacey said, rolling her shoulders. The way her body moved was new…slinky..sexy. “You worry way too much…it’s bad for your skin! Stress makes you wrinkle, you know.”

“What…what are you even talking about?” her mom stammered, her voice breaking.

“Just a little life advice,” Stacey said, grinning as she turned back to the mirror. Her legs shimmered now, lengthening into smooth, golden tanned perfection. Her sneakers dissolved, the fabric shifting upward as they transformed into towering yellow stilettos. The heels clicked softly against the floor as she stepped closer to the mirror, her grin widening. “Oh my God,” she breathed, placing a hand on her hip. “Do you see this, Mom? Wait…of course you don’t. But wow.”

“Stacey, please,” her mom pleaded, panic lacing her words. “Something’s happening to you…you need help! You’re not acting like yourself!”

“Not acting like myself?” Stacey repeated, laughing as she tilted her head to admire the way her hair caught the light. “You’re right! I’m better. Like… so much better.” She blew herself a kiss in the mirror.

“Stacey, please…”

“Oh, Mom, you’re stressing again,” Stacey said, her tone a mixture of joy and indulgence. “You should really try lightening up. Like, just let yourself be happy.  Feel the joy that is life, you know?” She twirled in front of the mirror, her skirt flaring as her heels clicked against the floor. “Life’s too short to worry about all this boring stuff.”

Her mom’s voice broke on the other end. “Stacey, I…”

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. Love you! Bye!” Stacey chirped, cutting the call with a flick of her manicured finger. She tossed the phone onto the couch and turned back to her reflection, unable to stop smiling.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself. With a final glance at the mirror, she blew her reflection another kiss. Problems were for other people. 

[librivore42]

Hi!!! Welcome to DADWC!!! <3 For Alistair & whoever you feel like writing with him-- “You’re blushing.” “So are you.” (I just feel like that man is a blusher!!)

Once again so many people are on the Alistair/blush prompts train and you are all so, so correct. Thank you for opening this up to whoever, I will abuse this freedom by shoving my own oc in there, because two awkward templar kids being even more awkward friends is hilarious to me. (it started off funny and then drifted itself into sad territory)

For @dadrunkwriting

~~~~~

Alistair didn't really mind having an overly quiet, overly serious girl following him around. It gave him someone to talk to. At, anyway. And they could both probably use the company, what with him not wanting to be here at all and her…

What was her deal, anyway? Had he ever asked? He felt like he must have, and it had, like most other questions, fallen into the cavern of her silent staring, or been handed back with a polite and unhelpful 'I don't know'.

Well that was beside the point. Whatever her deal was, he didn't mind her tagging alone with him. Usually. As of ten minutes ago, he had discovered an issue with having someone quiet and observant following him.

It meant that Lux often Observed things. Such as when he'd fallen over his own feet (which he still needed to grow into) right in the middle of the training ground. She hadn't laughed at all, but he could feel self-consciousness burn its way across his face. Smacked at her hand as she reached forward to help him up, as if she'd been the one to push him over, irrationally angry at himself, at her, at his feet, at the ground.

At all of it. At being here at all.

Regretted it, just a little, when she pulled her hand back, large, confused eyes in a quiet face.

“You’re blushing,” Lux said, her voice unerringly flat, her eyes like a sudden lantern being shone on him in the middle of a midnight sneak-off.

Not that he would know anything about that.

“So are you,” he shot back immediately, his face on fire and his voice not broken enough to sound like anything but a petulant whine. And of course she wasn't, which made it all worse. Already taller than him, forcing him to look up to glare as she blinked in slow confusion.

"I'm not."

Both their hair cut with a rough hand and little care, both their limbs too long and clumsy. Too young. Alone.

Another twinge of regret for pushing away her offer to help. But pushing it away was easier than accepting it and just being disappointed later.

… he didn't like that thought. That was one of those gloomy middle-of-the-night thoughts that made you feel more alone than ever. And made you do stupid things like get angry at people because you fell on your own face like an idiot.

And it made sudden silences fall heavy and stretch too far.

"Do I have dirt on my face?" he asked instead of apologising. It broke the silence, and that was enough.

"Yes." She raised her hand to touch her left cheek, drawing a sharp angle downwards. "There."

It was done with such deadly seriousness, as she did everything, that it made him smile as he scrubbed at his cheek, even if it was just a weak, little thing.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Nobody will ask."

"That's…" Well, it was an answer, in that weird way she had of answering at times. It had the shape of a reassuring answer inside of it. A hand held out, tentative, and this time, he was glad to take it.

[yariation]

MEGUMI’S BIRTHDAY!!

Featuring: Inserted Reader, Yuji, Nobara, Megumi, Maki, Toge, Panda, Gojo

Pairing: Slight Megumi x Reader

Warnings: Comedy

Word count: 1200

_________________________________________

December 22nd _________________________________________

3rd Person POV

The three teenagers tiptoe, retreating to the brunette girl's dorm room. Yuji coughing as he practically suffocates in the nail polish fume filled room. (Y/n) and Nobara quickly shushing him, Nobara even placing a firm hand on his mouth. In a dark threatening tone, she tells him to shut up. In an instant the boy complies, nodding and Nobara slowly retracts her hand.

"So, what's the plan?" (Y/n) asks the other two.

"I don't know." Nobara replies with an unhelpful answer.

"I thought you had a plan." Yuji adds, also equally unhelpful.

"What? No. It was your idea." (Y/n) retorts defensively in the heat of panic that no one has any ideas.

"Kugisaki was the one that suggested a SURPRISE party." Yuji adds, involving Nobara.

There's a bit of mindless whisper bantering for a while, until Nobara speaks up.

"Okay, fine! Everyone shut the fuck up!" Nobara whisper yells and everyone goes silent.

A bit of silence passes while everyone brain storms alone. This is the only way to avoid conflict and yelling.

"Well... I used to be friends with Tsumiki." (Y/n) mentions to the rest.

"Who's Tsumiki?" The two ask in unison.

(Y/n) looks at them a bit dumbfounded. They didn't know about Megumi's sister?

"Tsumiki is Fushiguro's sister." (Y/n) explains.

The others so badly want to ask so many questions right now, but they got a task at hand. So Yuji and Nobara simply nod.

"Alright then!" Yuji whisper yells in celebration.

"Ah! And Maki is Fushiguro's cousin, right?" Nobara asks.

(Y/n) nods.

"That's right. We should call the second years over too. They probably know more about Fushiguro than us." Yuji grins.

(Y/n) slips her phone out of her pocket and dials Toge. He answers soon enough, starting with "Salmon?". (Y/n) simply tells him and the others to come over to Nobara's dorm QUIETLY.

There's a bit of rustling over the phone, Toge hasn't hung up. He seems to be leaving his dorm, then a knock is heard, followed by the angry yelling of Maki.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT AT THIS TIME?!-"

Was the last thing the three first years heard over the phone speaker, before the familiar hanging up beep sounds and Toge's profile picture disappears.

~~~

"Megumi would hate that." Maki says, her arms crossed as she stands in her silk pajamas in front of the three huddled up first years.

"But Maaakkkiiii!" Yuji and Nobara whine.

"Maki's right guys. Fushiguro is a grumpy dude. I'm not sure if he'd appreciate a surprise party." Panda adds.

(Y/n), Nobara, Yuji and Toge hang their heads in defeat, even Panda is disappointed. That's when Maki's voice reaches everyone's ears. It's low, laced with a bit of mischief.

"That's right. He'd hate it... Let's do it!" Maki exclaims in a whisper.

Everyone's heads perk up and little cheers are heard, followed by lots of planning.

~~~

Megumi's POV

I stir awake in my bed, bothered by the sound of obnoxious voices. Half of my face squished against my pillow, which I flip to the cold side. I bring my hands up to curve pillow in a way to cover my ears.

Are they seriously having another sleepover? At least I'm not invited this time...

Sighing quietly to myself, I'm glad I wasn't forced to join their idiotic tomfoolery this time. Though I don't seem to understand why I find myself pouting slightly in disappointment.

It doesn't last long because I knock back out to sleep.

~~~

3rd Person POV

"Are you sure you need spar training, (L/n)?" Megumi asks, hands stuffed in his pockets.

(Y/n) and Megumi are walking side by side down a school building hallway, according to plan.

"I'm sure." (Y/n) assures him.

"Why not Maki or Itadori?" Megumi asks curiously, but not skeptical.

This was the first time (Y/n) has asked to spar with him. He's not gonna lie, he was honored to, but why him? He'd make fun of your jog in gym back then. Now you're asking him to train with you?

"Because Maki's strict and Itadori hurts as fuck even if he doesn't mean to." (Y/n) admits, sighing. Her words weren't a lie though.

This was just a ploy to get him to the school lounge room, of course, but it my actually be a good idea for (Y/n) to train with Megumi.

With a simple nod, Megumi makes no objections and they continue their quiet walk. As planned, the two of you pass by the sliding door to the lounge room. Yuji, Nobara, Panda, Toge and Maki stand ready on the other side, listening for their footsteps, which they soon hear.

"HELP! THERE'S A COCKROACH!! AHHH!!! KkIiIiILllL IiITt!!" Nobara screams in her best 'I'm scared' acting voice.

Nobara's screams are soon followed by Yuji's. (Y/n) and Megumi freeze in front of the door. The mischievous teenagers have already rehearsed this, but the screaming catches poor (Y/n) off guard. She struggles to hold back a laugh.

"Good grief..." Megumi's mutters.

The two approach the door, Megumi slides it open. He's met by confetti assaulting his face, his friends standing with party hats on their heads and Gojo's terrifying tall figure approaching him.

"SURPRISE!!!" They all exclaim in unison.

Megumi looks at the sight with wide eyes. Probably not sure whether to be pissed, confused, annoyed or... Happy.

"What the hell is this?" Megumi grumbles, but he knows damn well what this is.

"Happy birthday, Fushiguro!" Yuji does jazz hands, gesturing to the table holding gifts for the said boy.

Gojo walks over to his "adoptive son" and ruffles up his hair, making the boy scowl. Gojo hands him a little gift bag that's probably filled with sweets or something.

"For little Megumi on his special day!" The white haired man chirps.

Don't worry, everyone has agreed to skip singing happy birthday. We want Megumi to feel embarrassed and awkward, not die.

Everyone walls him over to the table that holds the food that everyone made. There a nice steamy ceramic pot of Yuji's soup and chicken ginger meatballs. A chocolate cake with coffee flavored frosting that (Y/n) made and little decorated snacks Maki, Toge and Nobara made or bought. Such as rice balls, mochi and hanami dango.

Megumi couldn't hide the small smile that starts to curve his lips. With a little a roll, he mutters in his usual dark and gloomy voice, which is now laced with amusement.

"Thanks guys."

For the rest of the day, the first and second years spend the time chatting, eating, teasing Megumi, watching movies and playing games.

~~~

Megumi, being the conservative dude he is, didn't want to open the gifts in front of everyone. He kept refusing to open the gift Maki kept shoving his face earlier that day. 

Now here he is, alone in his room with a little pile of presents. He decides to open Yuji's gift first, finding treats for his Divine dogs inside, along with a kind letter.

He opens the one from Maki, it's a weapon polishing cloth and a pack of gum. In Toge's gift bag, he finds a Fortnite gift card. From Panda there is no gift, but a little card. From Nobara he finds a comfortable plain black sweatshirt.

Then he reaches (Y/n)'s gift, which is quite badly wrapped in what seems to be baking paper, but there's a nice bow. He unwraps the gift with precaution and finds a book, making his ears perk up slightly.

He doesn't get his hopes up too high though, it might just be some sort of cringey love novel or dorky book. To his surprise though, he flips the book and reads the back, finding out that it's a non-fiction about quite an interesting topic.

After setting all the gifts down on his desk, he allows himself to smile, now that there are no prying eyes.

Getting up, he shuffles to his bed, burying himself into his covers, holding a book.

He lays down on his side, thumbs tracing over the smooth cover of the book from (Y/n) before cracking it open. _______________________________________________

[painted-bees]

There's a question that has been microwaving in my brain for a very long time now, and it won't just let me be. So now I have to try and akwardly ask you about it.

For context: I have adhd and am very forgetful like Margie is. My friends and family have a tendency to take it really personally when my forgetfulness affects them. They treat it like I did it intentionally just to upset them. They're not bad people or anything they just don't seem to realize that I really don't want to forget things and cause problems and that I actually do care it's just hard to remember. None of them have Raf's personality disorder.

So the question I have is: How does Raf avoid taking it personally when Margie forgets things? Especially big things like those concert tickets, which probably cost a lot of money to purchase and a long drive to the venue? Wouldn't his paranoia make him more prone than anyone to assume that her forgetfulness is a deliberate action against him? He handles it better than anyone I know and I want to know his secret!

Aw. Firstly, I am sorry that this is the case between you and your loved ones. I understand how it feels to be punished for something that already punishes you enough, and the lack of understanding or empathy towards the fact that the person who suffers from your forgetfulness--more than anyone else--is you. I hope that understanding arrives to them someday soon and that they learn to exercise patience. Being frustrated and disappointed in a situation is understandable, but accusing you of doing it on purpose and reacting under that assumption is hurtful and unhelpful. I am sorry on their behalf ;;♡

Now, to answer the question at hand! Unlike most people who don't suffer mood or personality disorders, Raf has grown acutely aware that his thoughts, assumptions, and emotional responses are disordered. He knows he has the "takes everything extremely personally, and in extremely bad faith" disorder. And he's aware that this has negatively impacted his life and ruined his relationships in the past. He finally caved to getting help for it years ago because he was tired of blaming everyone and everything but seeing no way to fix it--and thinking, hoping praying that there's gotta be a way to live better than this.

He still doubts his paranoid personality diagnosis. He's done his own research into it. It could just as well be obsessive compulsive personality disorder. It could just be his unique life situation, making him an ideal target for abuse and exploitation. It could be an assortment of things. But an important thing that he's learned--that addresses all of this--is that he can't control other people's behaviour. He can blame them for it all he wants--but the only behaviour he can control is his own. And so--he has been working really hard on that. He's changed his behaviour in a variety of ways just to see how it changes his day to day experiences--and the behaviours that have seen positive results are the behaviours he has maintained and developed further. It doesn't fix his trust issues, it doesn't dispell his suspicions... but it helps give him space and removes a lot of the surface friction in his day-to-day interactions.

One of the harder ones he has forced on himself is to counter every bad assumption in his mind with a good one. It's like pulling teeth a lot of the time. A lot of the time he doesn't want to give fuckers the benefit of the doubt--because he doesn't trust that they deserve it. But he forces himself to consider it anyway. No matter the perceived severity. Another behavioural habit he's worked hard to develop is to not act on a kneejerk reaction nor respond on an impulse. He's had to assume that his first reaction is the -wrong- reaction and to delay his anger until he has had time to appropriately process things and account for all the variables. He can be hit or miss with this... but he really tries.

And so, when it comes to Margie forgetting things, he is uniquely conditioned to discard the feeling of "you did this to me on purpose, because you wanted to take this from me, because its your way of gaining power over me" as quickly as possible--like touching a hot stove. Yeah he feels it, his brain even -begs- him to chew on it. But he's well practised at responding in contradiction to this feeling of being personally slighted. He holds onto these experiences, though, and looks for other, longer-term cues to assess whether or not someone is behaving deliberately against him. He tries to find and identify behavioural patterns in the people he interacts with. He's spent enough time around Margie to recognize and reason with himself that Margie's forgetfulness and disorganization has impacted her just as much--if not more--than it has impacted those around her. If it was really done to spite him, why would she also sabotage herself in this same manner, with things that don't matter to anyone else but her...and with such consistency?

Raf is in his head a lot of the time, and it's over things like this. Assessing other people's behaviour so that he may behave "fairly" in response. Gives him the reputation of being a very quiet, chill guy who keeps to himself and stays out of interpersonal drama haha

If he doesn't spend all his resources actively forcing himself to find neutral-to-positive reasons behind people's behaviour, he'll default to obsessively verifying for himself that they're all bad. There's not really a middle ground for him, here. It's either an active, constant effort towards one...or an easy, destructive, and isolating slide into the other.

[cryingpariah]

Gonna have to project on Dragon a little bit to get by today (like I don’t already).

Sometimes he calls his mom because he’s just… tired. Bone deep, soul-crushingly, heartbreakingly tired. Wishing all of this could stop for a little while and let him rest. Wishing it had never started to begin with. Wishing he could pass this burden on to someone else and walk away. Wishing anybody else could have been the one to wage this war.

He doesn’t want to do this anymore…

He just wants to go home…

He knew no one would answer. He knew it but there was a comfort in it he couldn’t properly explain. Maybe it was cruel or even masochistic but hearing Blanca dial a little flicker of hope settled into his stomach, maybe, maybe she would pick up and be alive and give him the advice and comforted he so sorely needed. Of course all he got was the answer mechanism on the snail (that hadn’t been damaged much in that apparent raid). Maybe worst of all was that it was the family snail and so the voice that greeted him wasn’t just hers but his Tayta, his brother, his sister, him. His own voice startled him. It was lighter and full of a joy he could no longer claim as his own. He listens as the family that no longer existed told him that they were probably too busy to come to the snail currently but please do leave a message and they get right back to him!

“Probably.” His father's voice chimed in his usual gleeful but unhelpful manner. Dragon heard a little smack before his Mamay's voice came back.

“We will. I’ll make sure of it.”

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Shit, that was his cue to say something! He quickly cleared his throat (accidentally trigger a light coughing fit) before starting to speak.

“Ma- *Koff* Mamay it's me, Dragon. I, uh, could really use some help right now. I’m just…so tired of everything Mamay. That’s not to say I think what I did was a mistake! It’s just….the fight continues to wage on. Good people, scared people, they look to me for the answers that I don’t have. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just stayed home and been a farmer. I’m not nearly as good as you were but- are, I meant are. I-I'm sorry. I don’t think you’re- I’m sure you’re-.”

He sighed, heavy and worn from the world and its sadistic need to inflict every pain and sorrow on him. He quickly ran a hand down his face, wordlessly wiping the stray tears that found their way down. Outside, a light drizzle had begun.

“Sorry, sorry I just…sorry. I don’t intend to give up, not ever it’s just…I never realized you could be so tired. I wanna lie down and just once not worry about budget or deadlines or whatever crockshit the World Government has decided next. Did you get tired too? Somehow I get the feeling you bore it better than I ever could. If-…If I did run, would you be disappointed in me? You always told me to finish what you start but I feel so empty Mamay. I wish you were here, I wish we were all together again, so you could all look at me and tell me I’m being a silly little overthinker. I wish you could meet Sabo, you’d love him to bits I know. I wish…I wish I could have introduced you to Luffy-.”

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*

A cool automated voice spoke out to him.

“End of message. If you are satisfied with your message click 1, if you wish to delete your message click 2.”

He came back into focus to the feeling of a watery eyed Blanca nuzzling his hand and cooing softly. He scratched her chin before hesitantly pressing 1.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 13 — "Things You Say to the Mirror at 11:49PM"

They didn’t walk home together.

And that was fine. Of course, it was. She didn’t care.

She didn’t look for him when the booths started closing, didn’t glance behind her once when the festival music faded into static over the old speakers. She didn’t even wait in their usual spot by the side gate near the vending machines, like they somehow—unspokenly—ended up doing on other days.

No. She walked home like any normal person would.

Alone.

Fine.

Totally, completely fine.

She threw her keys on the kitchen counter as soon as she entered her unit, dropped her bag by the door with an exaggerated thud, and stormed into the bathroom like she was on some kind of mission.

And then she stood there.

In front of the mirror.

Staring at the girl in the reflection.

Still wearing the faint blush she hadn’t managed to wipe off all evening.

Her brows furrowed. She pointed at the glass. “You.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re feeling weird.”

Her reflection stared back, accusing and unhelpful.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “Don’t act like you didn’t—like you didn’t feel disappointed when he said thanks for playing along. Like you weren’t expecting something.”

She scoffed, voice pitching higher. “Oh my god, you thought he was serious?”

A pause.

She curled her fingers around the edge of the sink and leaned closer. “You did, didn’t you?”

The silence was louder than anything else.

“Pathetic,” she hissed to herself. “You let yourself act all… girly. You smiled like a fool. You danced when you won that stupid duck game.”

Lina threw her head back in exasperation and groaned. “Ugh!”

She paced out of the bathroom and back into the tiny living room that barely fit her couch and a table. Then turned on her heel, marched back to the mirror, and pointed at herself again.

“Kim Seungmin is the problem. It’s his fault. He’s the one who dragged you around all day like some discount tour guide. He’s the one who said it. That— that thing. With his stupid voice and his stupid face and—”

She stopped.

A new wave of rage curled in her chest.

“No,” she snapped. “You know what? No. You’re not just gonna let this slide. You’re not gonna sit here and mope like some tragic side character. You’re gonna confront him. You’re gonna march right over there, bang on his door, and demand—no, require—an explanation.”

By the time she got to her front door, she wasn’t even thinking clearly. Her fists were already clenched. Her legs were moving on autopilot. Her emotions, no longer filtered through sarcasm or snide remarks, were raw and exposed and about two seconds from combusting.

She stormed into the hallway and stood outside Seungmin’s door. Lifted her hand.

Knock knock knock.

Silence.

She frowned.

Knocked again. Harder. “Kim Seungmin!”

Nothing.

“Yah!” she barked. “Don’t ignore me! I know you’re in there! You always say you nap like a corpse, but no one sleeps through this—”

Still no answer.

Out of pure, undiluted frustration, she lightly kicked the bottom of his door.

Then the rant began.

“You can’t just drop a joke like that and then disappear! What kind of cruel idiot says ‘I like you’ and then acts like it was nothing?” Her voice rose. “And now you’re ghosting me? Really? After dragging me to that death trap roller coaster and watching me almost die? After beating me in every single game like you were showing off your secret sniper skills? After sticking to our classroom like a fly on sugar just to annoy me?”

She took a deep breath, fists shaking at her sides. “If you think you can mess with me and then vanish into thin air, I swear I’ll—I’ll poke your eyeballs out with chopsticks.”

Her voice cracked at the last word.

She closed her eyes, the dam inside her finally splintering at the edges.

Her chest was heaving. Her throat tight. Something warm and stingy prickled behind her eyes.

Why did it hurt?

Why did he say it like he meant it? Why did she wish he meant it?

Lina bit her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark, fighting the tears threatening to fall. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to her lungs.

She leaned against the doorframe now, tired and shaking from the weight of all that noise inside her.

“Damn you,” she whispered under her breath. “You don’t get to mess me up like this.”

And then—

Footsteps.

Steady, casual. Drawing closer from the far end of the hallway.

Lina’s heart stopped.

No. No no no no.

Please don’t let that be—

“Lina?”

Her whole body flinched.

Seungmin.

Of course it was him.

She turned slowly, already feeling the blood drain from her face.

He was standing there, hands in his pockets, hair tousled slightly like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. His baseball jacket hung loosely over his shoulders. His eyes, dark and curious, looked over her with furrowed brows.

He tilted his head, stepping a little closer.

“Who were you yelling at?” he asked.

Her jaw opened and closed.

Say something. Say anything.

“I—uh—I was just—” She cleared her throat, eyes darting away. “I was gonna ask you something. Never mind.”

His gaze sharpened. “Wait, what was it?”

“It’s nothing. Just forget it.”

“You look weird.”

“I always look weird.”

He didn’t smile. Just kept staring.

And she hated how he looked at her—genuinely, intently, like he could see through all the bluster and biting remarks.

“Did you cry?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Lina’s eyes snapped to his, and the burning behind them made her want to scream.

“I didn’t,” she said sharply, turning away.

He reached out, just slightly—maybe to touch her arm—but she was already retreating.

“Good night,” she said.

And then she slammed her door with a little too much force, the echo of it rattling through her bones.

Inside, back against the door, Lina sank slowly to the floor, pressing her knuckles to her lips.

The keychain still sat in her pocket.

[g-bouchard]

Are you okay? Like genuinely?

I feel like you know the answer. I am stressed. I am frustrated. I'm trying to make sense of everything that was left behind to the best of my ability, but everyone I reach out to is unhelpful or unavailable. I guess, I don't know, I feel like I'm disappointing everyone. Everyone makes it very, very clear they they find this situation my fault. I know I have made some very...strong decisions. I just feel like I have no one to rely on anymore.

-Gwen B.

[simplyreveries]

hi, it's nice to find a TWST blog with creative and personal writing. Normally the blogs I come across follow some kind of embarrassing rule in all their fics.

with the characters malleus, rook, silver and jade. with a gn reader who somehow gets enough money, and what he wants to do is go get new experiences, like adventures, and live a life in peace since he doesn't believe he will return to his original world (I guess here grim maybe exists but is not relevant to the plot). and the reader has friends and all that, but he is not satisfied with all that about the overblots and the director. so reader decides that he is going to live his life however he wants.

I hope this request seems comfortable to you. and have a nice day.

wanting to leave and explore; malleus, rook, silver, and jade

thank you<33

malleus draconia

when you had confessed and told malleus, opening up a bit to him during one of your nightly conversations with each other he was intrigued and quite surprised. he’s curious as to knowing the reason more to behind your decisions. he inquires if it's because of crowleys unhelpfulness and avoidance of seeking much of an answer to your situation.

he’ll likes the spark of adventure seeking in you. he realizes how different and so much new of an experience twisted wonderland may be in comparison to your original home and world. he’ll tell you a lot about what he knows, mostly of briar valley— because even malleus himself still has a lot to learn despite being centuries old. but he may tell you about lilias travels as well and what he's heard from him— and he believes that you’ll learn to love it.

malleus wants to be someone that can support you, even though you've found a way to provide a lot for yourself- he’s really willing to give a lot to someone like you that has randomly appeared in his life and now holds a really special place in his heart. I mean, once you're ready to go explore why not start in his home kingdom? you’ll receive the best treatment he has to offer his favorite human.

rook hunt

oh? he finds your sense of adventure and desire to just explore twisted wonderland quite fascinating. he’ll tell you all about the beauty twisted wonderland has to offer, that it should be something to be excited about to learn all about and see. rook will also tell you about his family's villas that they own all around twisted wonderland! and though you seem well prepared yourself you're welcome to have a place to be.

if you can, he would love to hear and know about everything you see and learned— he's always interested in knowing more about the beauty of the world around him so considered him highly curious.

rook feels disheartened when he hears about your own disappointment and dejection about not being able to find a way home-! he had always personally admired and was ever so intrigued by your own story and predicament you've found yourself into. he’ll give you some words of encouragement.

silver

he seems to be pretty worried about you and your well-being. though he does have a sense of some understanding of what you must be feeling with the situation you're in he does know some of the danger twisted wonderland entails- you must know too, after experiencing what a crazy and dangerous thing overblots are… his own protective instincts come out wanting to make sure you fully know what you're getting into when adventuring about this world.

if you're dead set on your decision and know what you're doing from now on here in twisted wonderland- like malleus, he’d recommend you come by briar valley. he feels a bit upset for you because of your unfortunate situation regarding your home world, though there is a hope of meeting someone who can help you when exploring.

silver only wishes for what's best for you. and he understands how rough twisted wonderland in itself can be, but if you feel like that's what you need to do then as long as you are content. silver will give you some advice to help you, various books too so you have some knowledge on things you may run into.

jade leech

he tilts his head and peers at you curiously when you tell him about your ideas. he’s a little intrigued on how exactly you were able to sustain yourself and provide abundance of madol in such a period of time and especially since you're so new to how this world still works. he can't help but wonder and suggest playfully if you've made some deal with azul about it.

jade will hear you out on your issues concerning getting back to your original world and nods, he shakes his head and laughs knowing how crowley is… he isn't surprised that man hasn't been able to do really anything regarding your world and helping you get back. it truly is a pity.

nevertheless, jade does understand the sheer desire to explore this land, as he's only accustomed to life in the oceans, he dedicates a lot of his time to studying and taking care of various plants and fungi on land. and hey, he’ll even point out and tell you which types you should be on the lookout for when travelling.

[koboldfactory]

Hey! Love your designs like the robo-bolds and wanted to know what is your general workflow when like blocking out a design? Like, do you find references you like first and use those or is it something more complex and any tips in designing characters in general? I feel like my designs always come off too weak or stand out enough and their details like clothes and posing don't show enough personality.

This is going to be a really disappointing and unhelpful answer but whenever I come up with a new character 99% of the time I’m just drawing random shapes or warming up and then my brain goes “Oooh this could be a character!!!” And then I chisel away at it until it is and come up with backstory and stuff after the fact (that usually influences design tweaks at that point)

I have like very vivid imagination so I tend to scroll through my brain’s data bank of my inspirations whenever drawing stuff anyways and if I’m trying to go for something more specific I’ll usually try to draw it first and then look for references after the fact to see what I want to change about it.

[canmom]

damn i missed this whole exchange in 2022. did i even need to write the 'what is the book for' series? well, I guess many can beat the drum.

the first is a polemic I pretty much entirely agree with. indie RPGs benefit very little from being bought and sold. it is a tiny market and unfortunately the pressures of playing to it are not good for the milieu. when marcia says...

Here we also turn a common indie criticism of Wizards of the Coast on its head. It is said often enough that the official publications for Dungeons & Dragons do not offer good material for use. The rules given are wishy-washy, the guidelines unhelpful, and the adventures uncreative. Wizards of the Coast relies instead on building a brand surrounding the game, encouraging players to play however they like and to share in common D&D as an aesthetic and pretense of play. It is obvious then that most of the products sold for the game have no inherent quality to them besides the social value ascribed to them due to their branding. Indie publishers know this. Therefore they may advertise their works as a foil to D&D, that their rules as written actually work and that their texts are written with fuller intent. Their rules are authoritative, their guidelines helpful, and their adventures pushing the edge of creativity. This has sometimes led to an overemphasis of authorial authority among indie publishers, that if you are not playing the game how the author of its rulebook intended, then you are playing incorrectly. Players of D&D thus have a much more flexible relationship to the game they play, even if this is a calculated move by Wizards of the Coast [6]. Who cares what people do with rulebooks or adventures or other materials? Of course, we can read and interpret any text, but these so-called game designers have no reason to expect fidelity to their material in practice. Their emphasis of authorial intent serves mostly to assert the value of their products in the face of a monopoly that openly flaunts its promiscuous interpretability. The stronger answer to both parties is that we shall freely take and use whatever we wish, irrespective of stated intent, and we shall not buy anything if we don’t want to.

it is a relief to see someone else saying the same thing! (her comment on the evolution on D&D into the new edition, through the lens of shifting audience, is also really fucking insightful. I need to read this girl more.)

lich van winkle's post has a good take on many of the sociological observations about the legitimising role of glossy printed RPG books I went on about in part 3. as Prismatic observes in the third post, van Winkle's tone is melancholy - he reflects on the past of deeply personal experiences with games that don't fit into any reproducible published form, unrecordable 'dreams' such as his friend Ben's game (a story spiced with such elements as a psychotic break and slide into death). he observes how the transition of RPGs from niche hobby to major entertainment industry changes the flavour of the hobby, and seems largely resigned to it.

Only with $$$ does the fantasy of today become more than private. It became a part of mass culture when it cost money, a shared medium of exchange. Somehow, that is disappointing to a dreamer like me, as it was to Kask in 1981, yet one must acknowledge that the hobby would be much, much smaller and lonelier without this system of valuation of fantasy.

Prismatic injects a little economic theory with the concept of Veblen goods whose demand increases with price, here observing that putting a price on things gives them a kind of reach that makes people more interested than when they're free. I would qualify this, I think, by saying this is true... when you are at least somewhat known already. Anyway, they then segue into a list of RPG zines to suggest backing in a crowdfunding event, which... idk how I feel about, all things considered.

A couple of weeks ago I released a story on itch (more are coming, but it's taken me longer than planned to get the next one ready to go out, cover art being the main obstacle). I elected to make it 'pay what you want' i.e. free, and I was surprised to see that a few people still sent me money. All in all, A Summoning has made $29... which is $29 more than I got from sending it to magazines, but also it's less than an hour's work at my actual job.

I believe this is probably true of the vast majority of indie RPGs that get published: it's a 'long tail' industry, where only the few projects that get really popular make any actual money. Very few people can make a living as a game designer - even a relatively successful designer is probably sum minimum wage if you tot it up, and it has little to do with how good you are at coming up with interesting games and everything to do with personal branding and all that crap. So why does anyone who isn't called Vincent Baker sell their games, as opposed to putting them out as free blog posts and similar? For the prestige, obviously. Perhaps you'd take me more seriously as a game designer-type-person if I had a PDF to sell you!

Is there a solution to this? I would love to think we could follow Marcia in just rejecting money from the equation outright. I generally release stuff I make outside of work for free, and trust I can accrue prestige in other ways.

However... I also spent money to get an RPG book that caught my interest this morning. I am usually very pro-piracy, but I will generally choose to voluntarily spend money on small indie RPGs, seeing it as something like a donation, or perhaps more accurately, the respect due a peer.

Would I pay so much attention to Apocalypse World if it was just a series of blog posts on the lumpley website? Whether you spend money or pirate it, the printed books, the industry of 'indie RPGs', all serve to reify the whole thing into a movement worthy of discussion and respect.

I don't know a solution, except to just try to be really eclectic in my influences and try not to let my 'play' be measured up against anyone's codified product.

fuck i hate monetary exchange lmao. broken shit please nerf

[incarnadinedreams]

I frequently see people saying that the list of traits Jiang Cheng gave to the matchmaker are "impossible standards", ridiculous, unreasonable, outlandish, absurd, nobody could ever possibly meet them, etc.

Anyway the translation that's up on the wiki is:

His requirements in his partner are: naturally beautiful, graceful and obedient, hard-working and thrifty, coming from a respected family, cultivation level not too high, personality not too strong, not too talkative, voice not too loud and must treat Jin Ling nicely.

First off, the list comes from a random trivia answer MXTX gave in an interview, not the novel canon. So whether you even consider it canon at all is up for grabs to begin with. Though I think there was a scene in CQL with a similar list so it would be canon there, minus the Jin Ling point (due to the point in the story the scene was set)? (So I believe the matchmaker blacklisting point still wouldn't be CQL canon though, just the list?)

But if you do take it all as a Super Serious Canon Thing, well... to be honest I just don't think that list is at all unusual, given the setting? I believe many of the points in the list are just traits considered generally good for ladies of the time period (intentionally vague as that time period may be). (I am absolutely not an expert though so please correct me if I'm wrong about that.)

To me it seems that it's not that they're unusually high or unattainable standards, they're just so generic that they're sort of unhelpful. That he has like no idea what he wants at all outside what he's supposed to want.

The only points that actually seem to have any specificity are things like cultivation level not too high. Which some people could interpret negatively, and fair enough. But personally to me that seemed more like a flashing neon sign of 'please someone not like my mother', given her strength in cultivation was one of her defining traits (and something that he may have felt led to her disappointment in him). Even though Jiang Cheng may carry forward some of her traits himself (for better and for worse; this is not a YZY hate zone but there's... a lot there), he does seem to have at least given some thought to choosing a partner to counter some of the pain points of his own childhood and aim for something different (and we see him trying to do that himself in specific ways as well, like his staunch support of Jin Ling when he was crying after the Second Siege, even if he doesn't always fully succeed).

And, of course, 'must treat Jin Ling nicely'. Which seems obvious and not like a big deal at first, but I think actually could reasonably be a big sticking point in a potential marriage. My understanding is that he was wildly more involved in Jin Ling's life than a maternal uncle would normally be. Including this as a specific requirement seems to send a particular type of statement, as if it was important to him that any potential match would not take offense to him treating an orphaned child that wasn't his with a lot of attention and gifts and favor... hmmm, how could he have possibly decided that could be a problem in a marriage...?

(Obviously, the scenario would be very different than his parents' - none of the salacious rumors and the humiliation that came with them that really drove a deeper wedge between YZY and JFM - but he was obviously going to be doing a lot more for Jin Ling than an average uncle so it makes sense to have that be a specific point upfront.)

I'm ultimately in the 'it was MXTX making a joke and not meant to be taken nearly this seriously' with a side of 'the clan leaders of this generation aren't in a hurry to get married because MXTX just didn't feel like writing their wives in and also it was funny' camp so I think there's a limit to how much insight can be gleaned from this, you know? It is fun to play with it in-universe and explore the implications on the society and political system going forward in the decades post-canon, but I do try to keep myself from taking it too seriously when it's clearly not a well-thought-out plot point or anything, just a fun offhand jokey trivia bit.

But I like the vibes of it all well enough to accept it as 'semi-canon' or 'canon enough' for myself anyway because I think the 'must treat Jin Ling nicely' point is cute and the rest is just standard for the setting and the blacklisted by matchmakers part is funny, and I'm much more willing to subsume random bits from interviews into my brain's blorbo blob if it's something funny.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Respect or Privacy (2)

Tucker is excited for everything about college, even having a roommate for the first time. At least, he is until his roommate Danny turns out to be standoffish and a little bit of a dick. Whatever. It's a disappointment, but he'll survive. The same might not be said of Danny.

My first fic for Phic Phight '24 (part 2)! Prompts used were:

College AU where the characters don't meet until college and Danny has to hide his halfa status from his dorm roommate (your choice which character that is) [from @shadowfaerieammy], and Tucker fucked up. Hard. But it’s like, how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? [from @lexosaurus]

You can also read it on AO3

Chapter 2: Find Out (Chapter 1)

[No warnings apply (I think)]

Tucker applied to switch roommates right away, but apparently that whole process took a lot longer than he would have hoped. Or else his request had gotten lost. He brought it up to the dorm supervisor a couple of times, only to get vague, unhelpful answers and bid for him to be patient and wait his turn. In the meanwhile, the two of them largely ignored each other. Tucker, a little bitterly, and Danny a little guiltily.

By the end of the semester, the roommate switch still hadn't gone through, and Danny and Tucker still had hardly said a full sentence to each other since that fight. They both thought about it every time they saw each other, but it felt far too awkward to bring it up again now.

While Tucker was Packing up to go home for winter vacation, he noticed that Danny wasn't doing the same, but he didn't bother to ask why. When he returned from winter break for the new semester—still rooming with Danny, despite sending numerous emails over the break to ensure his roommate change application was actually being processed—it didn't look like Danny had ever left.

Whatever. That wasn't Tucker's problem. He had more important things to worry about than his lame roommate's pathetic social life.

The end of winter break meant the start of the spring semester, and Tucker was signed up for a cyber-security class that he was really looking forward to. Normally, freshman didn't have the prerequisites to take it, but he'd filled his first semester with all the necessary credits so that he could sign up.

On the first day of class, Tucker walked in to see a list written on the whiteboard. Curious, he took out his laptop and looked up some of the items on it. It looked like a list of databases. Some of them, Tucker had heard of, and some he hadn't. He wasn't sure what they all had in common, or why the professor had written them up on the board, but he assumed that question would be answered once the class actually started, and he assumed correctly.

After the Professor had gone over the syllabus for half an hour, asking that they hold all questions until he was done with his explanation, he pointed to the list on the board.

"Some of you may have noticed this list of databases on the whiteboard, and you're probably wondering why it's there," the professor said. "These are all high-security databases, some of them are privately owned, some are federally owned, or state-owned, or various combinations of all three. All of them are so confident in their security that they offer substantial monetary compensation to anyone able to hack into them and point out the holes in their security.

"As an optional extra-credit assignment, you may choose a database to attempt to hack into," he continued. "If you succeed, in addition to being able to pay for your entire college career, you will automatically pass this class. Your actual letter grade will be determined by the quality and quantity of work you turn in, but you will be guaranteed at least a C as long as you succeed before the end of the semester.

"Again, this is optional. You don't have to do it. There will be no academic consequences for failure, but depending on which database you choose, there may be legal consequences, so choose wisely and don't bite off more than you can chew."

Oh, yeah. Not only would Tucker be taking this extra-credit opportunity, but he would be going big. He was gonna find out which of these databases offered the biggest reward and he was going to tear it to shreds. This was gonna be fun.

"I'll tell you now," the professor warned, "that in my entire twenty-year career teaching this course, only three students have ever managed to cash in on this offer, so don't feel too bad if you... can't hack it."

A round of groans and laughter circulated the classroom. Tucker was among those laughing, though he could understand the groans, as well. He enjoyed a good bad pun, but it was still pretty bad.

After his classes were over, Tucker looked up every database on the list, putting in the time, and doing to research, to figure out how to get the most bang for his buck, and it turned out the one that offered the biggest payout for a successful hack was a privately-run federal government database for an organization called the G.I.W., which was so secretive that Tucker didn't even know what G.I.W. stood for. But he was gonna find out—just like he was gonna find a way right through their digital security system.

Hacking was what Tucker was good at. It was why he'd been so intent on taking this cyber-security class in the first place. However tough the G.I.W.'s security was, FryerTuck was tougher.

A pleasant side-effect of Tucker's extra-credit project, since he worked on it in basically every spare moment between classes and homework, he pretty much always had an excuse to ignore Danny. Danny would take one look at all the code and computer jargon on Tucker's screen and not even say hello. He didn't ask what it was, or what Tucker was trying to do, just left him alone, probably grateful that Tucker was leaving him alone, too.

The G.I.W. security was strong, but Tucker wasn't the type to give up, not on something like this. He just kept hacking away at it. He stayed up late, woke up early, skipped lunch, or ate one-handed. He worked on it for over a month, then two months, until finally, at 3am on a Saturday, in a Mountain Dew-fueled haze, with red-rimmed eyes and aching fingers, he finally found it—the flaw in the armor.

Once he had that, it was only a matter of time before he full broke through, and two days later, he was in.

G.I.W. stood for Ghost Investigation Ward, and the first thing that popped up when Tucker was through the final firewall was the organization's most wanted list. A list of ghosts. Number one was a ghost called Danny Phantom who looked strangely familiar in a way Tucker couldn't quite place and ultimately shook off. After Phantom was a ghost called Vortex, then The Wisconsin Ghost, which was a stupid name. Tucker didn't bother to read the whole list. He didn't actually care about ghosts, he just wanted his reward money.

He used the information on the database to find the contact information for the head of the organization, someone code-named 'Operative Alpha', another stupid name, and sent him an email which explained who he was, detailed exactly how he'd broken into their secure database, and explained why he'd done it. That done, he finally went to bed, expecting a response from Operative Alpha when he awoke.

What he did not expect was to be woken up at seven in the morning after such a late night by a pounding on the door of his room.

"Danny, can you get that?" he moaned, covering his head with a pillow.

He heard Danny grumble something unintelligible and roll over in bed. He could hardly blame the guy. There was a reason Tucker didn't sign up for any classes earlier than 10am. He'd made that mistake last semester and had no plans to repeat it.

Whoever was knocking banged on the door again. "Mr. Foley!"

"Ha!" Danny barked, as triumphantly as he could do so when he was still half-asleep.

Tucker groaned again, but dragged himself out of bed to open the door.

Standing there was a pair of large, burly men in white suits and dark sunglasses. Tucker felt very under dressed in his cheeto-dusted pajama pants and cheesy slogan t-shirt, but that feeling quickly passed, since he was really way too tired to care.

"Mr. Foley?"

"Yup."

"I am Operative L, and this is my partner, Operative U," said the man on the left. "We're with the G.I.W., and we're here to ask a few questions and verify some things you communicated to our superior, Operative Alpha. May we enter?"

"Uh... may you come back at a more reasonable hour?" Tucker asked, trying and failing to blink away the sleep in his eyes. "Maybe in the afternoon? Sorry, but I'm way too tired to answer questions or verify shit right now. I'm not gonna be any good to you until I put in a few more hours between the sheets—sleeping, I mean. I'm not blowing you guys off to fuck."

The two guys looked at each other for a moment before nodding.

"Very well, your terms are acceptable," Operative U stated, very formally. "We will return at exactly 1300 hours."

"That's 1pm," Operative L clarified. "If you're not here at that time, we will hunt you down and show no mercy."

"Uh... understood?"

"Good."

With that, the two operatives turned and left, leaving Tucker standing confused in the doorway behind them. He yawned and shrugged and closed the door.

The instant the latch closed, Danny shot up out of bed, standing in a defensive position in the center of the room and glaring furiously at Tucker.

"Woah, what—"

"What's your association to the Guys in White?" he demanded.

"What, those guys?" Tucker asked.

"Are you working for them?" Danny kept going, sounding halfway desperate and halfway furious. "What do you know?"

"What are you talking about? 'Am I working with them?' Why would I be working with them? What for?"

"Why is the Ghost Investigation Ward knocking on our door asking for you then?"

"Because I hack their database, and now they owe me reward money?"

"What?"

"That's the extra-credit I've been working on the last couple months," Tucker explained. "The professor put a list of databases that offered reward money to anyone who could hack them and show them the flaws in their security. If we manage to collect on any of 'em, he said we'd automatically pass his class. I hacked the G.I.W., so they came to verify shit before they pay me off."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that's it," Tucker affirmed. No matter how tired he was, though, something still struck him as distinctly odd about this conversation. "Hey, Danny... how do you know about the Ghost Investigation Ward?"

Danny froze like a deer caught in headlights. Tucker could almost see the hundreds of panicked thoughts and potential excuses racing through his head, but what finally came out was:

"I... don't?"

"Oh, you can't play dumb anymore," Tucker denied. "I couldn't even figure out what G.I.W. stood for until I was already into their secure database, and you just casual name-dropped them during your random accusation. Spill."

Again, Danny froze. He looked like he was seriously considering whether he could run. He even glanced to the window like they weren't on the fourth floor with no fire escape on their window. In the end, he swallowed anxiously, squirmed under Tucker's scrutinizing gaze, and bullshitted.

"They uh... they came to Amity Park a lot," he said. "You know, to hunt ghosts. So it's not the first time I've run into them."

But Tucker wasn't interested in a half-truth. He was done with Danny's bullshit and he was going to get to the bottom of this, right now.

"Uh-huh. And why are you so scared of 'em, then?" he asked. "I saw all the ghost hunting shit you keep in that drawer" — Danny started to protest, but Tucker just raised his volume and kept talking over him — "I know you told me to butt out, but fuck that. You hunt ghosts too, or you did, so why are you so freaked about other ghost hunters."

"They're... really bad at it?"

"They're dedicated enough that it took me—me, over two months to break through their security," Tucker said. "Somehow I doubt that a group that serious about what they do is 'really bad' at their main objective. Quit trying to bluff me. Quit beating around the bush. Enough is enough, man. Just tell me the truth."

"I... I can't."

"Oh, then I can just call those guys back and have them tell me—"

"NO!"

Tucker was taken aback by the intensity of Danny's shout.

"So fess up, then," he insisted.

"Fine!"

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and took a deep breath.

"Fine," he repeated, softer. "The truth is, I'm... I'm...."

"Yeah?" Tucker encouraged.

"I'm a ghost," he finished finally, his voice softer than Tucker had ever heard it, but still audible.

"You're...." Tucker frowned, not really sure what to say. "Okay, you seem super serious about this, so I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I've been living with you for like, six months now, and I think I would have noticed if you were a ghost, so what's goin' on here?"

Danny sighed, went to the window to look out and then make sure the curtain was closed all the way. Then, he looked Tucker dead in the eye... and changed.

Thin, white rings traveled up and down his body, wrapping around his limbs and torso like threads of pure light, and when they disappeared, the person standing there wasn't Tucker's lame, human roommate, Danny Fenton. It was the Ghost Investigation's number one most Wanted, Danny Phantom.

"The reason I know the Guys in White is because they've been trying to destroy me since I was fourteen," Danny said, his voice steady and surprisingly cool. "They refuse to acknowledge that ghost are sapient beings, and unique individuals, and not all of us are evil, so they've been trying to wipe me off the face of the earth. All I want is to just exist... peacefully. But if they find me here, it's game over—and you just brought them right to our door.

Ohhh shit. Tucker had fucked up. Hard. But how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? It had seemed like a perfectly good idea when he learned he could get four million dollars out of it. Now, learning that they might kill (re-kill?) his roommate, not so much.

But how on Earth was he supposed to know it would turn out like this? Danny never talked to him, or told Tucker anything about himself. He never mentioned ghosts, or his opinion of them. He never even bothered to ask what Tucker was hacking the last two months.

"Well, fuck," Tucker said.

"Well, fuck indeed," Danny agreed.

"You know, if you'd just been up-front with me about this shit from the beginning this never would have happened," Tucker insisted. "I gave you every chance, but no! You didn't want to be friends. You'd rather the two of us live together in silence for the whole year. All you had to do was ask me about what I was working on and you could have told me not to mess with it. You had two whole months of opportunities, Danny."

"I thought it was more dangerous for me to tell you!" Danny argued. "The day we met you brought up 'evil ghosts', and I thought there was no way I could ever trust you if that's what you thought! How was I supposed to know you'd back me up, huh? How would I know that?"

"I was joking!" Tucker all but screamed.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up!" shouted someone from the dorm next door. "It's Saturday! Why are you even up this early!?"

"Sorry!" Tucker called back. Then he lowered his volume and hissed, "I was joking! I'm from fucking Elmerton! You think I actually give a single shit about ghosts? No!"

"And I was supposed to know that, how?" Danny hissed right back. "I've been hearing about how all ghosts are evil and cruel my whole life from my fucking ghost hunter parents. When I hear people say ghosts are evil I'm always gonna assume they mean it rather than take a chance and get shot. I have enough bullet wounds."

Tucker couldn't respond to that. He had no idea what to say. He pursed his lips and nodded. Took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Alright, fine," he said at length. "So maybe we both beefed it a little. Enough about how we fucked up, let's try to fix it."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Danny asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, they don't know yet that my roommate is their most wanted," Tucker pointed out. "And after they talk with me, they'll have no reason to come back here. As long as you're out of the dorm at one o'clock, and stay out until they leave, you're in the clear."

"How will I know when they're gone?"

"You've got a phone, don't you?" Tucker pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Gimme your number and I'll text you."

Danny hesitated, his eyes darting to his desk, where his phone was still charging on the surface.

"Oh, come on man, you can't seriously still be wound up about not wanting friends, can you? I already know your secret, and I'm trying to help you. Just give me your number."

"What if you give it to the Guys in White?"

"Dude, I'm not gonna do that," Tucker said, as seriously as he could manage. "If you'd accepted any of my invitations when we first moved into the dorms, you'd know me well enough to know that I'd never betray a friend."

"We're not friends," Danny mumbled.

"We are now."

Danny's head snapped up to look Tucker in the eye, and Tucker could tell he knew it was the truth.

"Alright," Danny said.

He gave Tucker his phone number, and they both went back to bed and crashed hard for another few hours. Danny made himself scarce at around twelve-thirty, Tucker talked with the G.I.W. and accepted a check for a cool four million that would cover tuition and then some. And when they were gone, he sent Danny a text to let him know.

The plan went off without a hitch, and for the rest of the school year, Tucker had a best friend to hang out with—even if that friend was still pretty standoffish to other people. He found himself thankful that the school never did finish processing his request to switch roommates, and when they left for summer break, both he and Danny requested that they be roommates again for sophomore year. They could only hope that that request would actually be processed sometime in the next two months.

[voxofthevoid]

Ahem... I have been told to ask nicely so..

VOX IM BEGGING PLEASE DROP YOUR FILTHIEST BOTTOM GOJOU FIC! PRETTY PLEASE!

(Not tagging bottom!gojou makes me wet af)

Y'know, I think my filthiest bottom!Gojou scenes are actually in that one role reversal femlash goyuu fic. I went a little crazy there. But Shibuya Swap is also a very good contender. I was originally gonna look in that, but then I remembered I've written teen!Yuuji spitting on adult!Gojou's hole in another fic, so here ya go, some 500 words from the Drunken Dubcon fic.

(You're my people 😘)

“Yuuji.” Gojou sounds disapproving, almost disappointed, and Yuuji’s spine snaps straight, his eyes flying from Gojou’s hole to his face—and the crooked smirk there. “Are you just going to look?”

No, but Yuuji is going to straight-up expire.

“Sorry,” he says, dazed, pressing closer to Gojou’s folded body. His smooths his dry hand down the warm stretch of a thigh, groping breathlessly at the taut muscle of Gojou’s ass. The other, he works into the opening so eagerly presented, rubbing wetly over the rim before pushing in, his own body tightening all over at the immediate constriction around his fingers.

There’s a long, shuddering breath. He can feel Gojou make a conscious attempt to relax his muscles, and Yuuji dutifully takes advantage to push his fingers further in. Gojou makes a bitten-off noise in response, and that’s as gratifying as it’s fucking sexy.

Yuuji wants more of that. He wants a lot more.

The saliva dries before Yuuji’s even worked his fingers all the way in, and he leans down to spit where Gojou’s forced open around his fingers.

There’s a hotly shocked sound from above.

Yuuji raises his head, trying not to get too distracted by the dick that’s just there. Gojou’s looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips; he looks almost scandalized.

“What?” Yuuji asks defensively.

“You,” comes the unhelpful answer.

“The hell does that mean?”

“That you’re a very dirty boy,” Gojou says, and he sounds breathless with approval, which makes Yuuji burn hotter than the words did. “Now fuck me before I blow.”

It’s the same unceremonious demand from before, but it hits harder somehow. Maybe it’s the naked need trembling in Gojou’s voice and limbs both. He’s shaking all over, and Yuuji knows it’s got nothing to do with the position he’s folded himself into. It could just be the drink, it probably is the drink, but Yuuji likes to think there’s more to it too.

He shoves his fingers in to the last knuckle, and Gojou throws his head back with a choked cry, his muscles tightening around Yuuji like a hot vise.

Yuuji’s cock throbs its own harsh demand. He sinks his nails into Gojou’s thigh so he’s not tempted to just jerk off all over his prettily stretched hole.

And he can’t choose what to watch as he fucks Gojou open with his fingers—his twitching hole, his flushed face, his tightly folded body. There’s so much of him, every inch right out of some wet dream. No, better than that. This man’s sexier under his clothes than anything Yuuji’s ever seen or imagined. All that muscle, the sheer size. The broad chest and the trim waist. The thighs pressed flat to his chest. How’s a man this thick so damn flexible?

How the fuck is Yuuji supposed to just go on living his life after this?

[strandnreyes]

14, 19, 26 :)

thank you for coming up with this!!

14. who is most likely to win rock, paper, scissors?

answered here!

19. who is most likely to accidentally get caught up in an MLM?

honestly i don't know think either of them are that stupid gullible. wouldn't it be hilarious though if carlos accidently ended up in one somehow and he has no idea how it happened and now it's like those promo emails you can't unsubscribe to because they just keep coming back

("TK, help," he hisses over his husband's entirely amused and unhelpful giggles. "I keep getting emails asking me if I want to be a 'boss babe' and 'begin my health and wellness journey'!"

"Well, do you?"

"TK."

"Just ignore them, baby. It's spam."

"I've hit unsubscribe three times."

"I guess you already are a boss babe, then. Are you about to triple your income all from the comfort of your couch? Should I quit my job?")

26. Who has the better disappointed™ face that guilt traps the other?

oh my god I think they’re both so good at this and they know exactly how to use it to their advantage. Carlos pulls out his cow eyes and TK’s eyes get all wide with a small frown and the other just caves immediately.