. ° 𓇼 perhaps when seventeen mirrors crack in your name :: hush, now, they’re talking :: the spaces between suguru’s ribs :: the tremble in satoru’s fingertips :: somewhere out there where the static decays , pondering about what should not be, yet is ::
𝟷𝟾/𝟼. ❝ craving someone so violently should cause withdrawals. but i guess i’m built incorrectly. ❞ [masterlist guide]
𝟽/𝟷𝟸. ❝ it kills me to admit it, but i adore him. and i shall tear reality apart if it meant that he’d look at me like that again. ❞ [about me]
𝟹/𝟸. ❝ i just don’t get it, do i? i love him. i love him like an apology i don’t owe anyone. ❞ [alt]
@decay1ngstatic on tumblr. do not copy, modify, plagiarise or feed my works to AI. this also includes posting them to another platform.
──── ❝ 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ! . . . starring satoru and suguru ’s highly unnecessary coddling after a braincell depriving mission of yours :: gn!reader :: all three are adults :: fluff + crack :: reader is implied to be a sorcerer as well ::
oh, fuck off, margaret. you think i’ve got the time to hear you waffle about your gay baby daddy’s quirky shenanigans when i could be preaching about how satoru and suguru take care of you after a brain wracking, bone twisting mission?
(i mean, yeah. i’ve got priorities.)
so, here’s the thing. feeling your ears getting scraped raw by the endless prattle of the higher ups, combined with the fuckass curses who somehow always, always know when your cursed energy limits itself— yeah, that’s. . that’s an experience, alright. an experience that you would’ve offed from your brain with painful pleasure, if it wasn’t for these two idiots to cuddle you silly because of it.
“look who’s here,” satoru hums, gathering you in his arms as soon as a mere whiff of your scent seeps into the house— your house, your home. “suguru, get the extravagant feast ready for our corporate employee. i’ll fix the bath.” his nose bumps against the crown of your head, a silent apology that he doesn’t owe you— despite his theatrics. “and keep your voice down, please, or else this household is going bonkers.”
“shut up,” you mumble, your words unable to do any real damage from the sheer weight of the day’s events. “i’m going to bed.”
“not in this sexy uniform you aren’t,” suguru raises a brow after appearing from the kitchen porch, exchanging a look with satoru— which honestly, is valid, because the curse’s remains is not very . . resplendent to look at. or smell. then again, you can’t give any less fucks about what went inside your nostrils given how tired you are. “i’m not changing.”
you feel a hand gently pry away the duffle from your phantom grip— one that isn’t satoru’s. “i’m not asking you. six eyes here will do the trick.”
“can you please stop referring to me like i’m some kind of secret mouse-katool from those hotdog freaks? i’m a perfectly functional man,” satoru huffs, blowing stray strands from your face before helping you out of your uniform, a spare tshirt of his already on the go.
suguru follows you two to the bedroom, holding a bowl of something you can’t quite make out, eyebrows raised to the maximum. “don’t give yourself so much credit. at least mickey mouse has a valid trademark of being obnoxious, unlike a certain failed albino i know.” he blows on a spoonful of— soup, now as you see it— and presses it against your lips. not forceful, but ever so present. you’re about to shun it away until— “c’mon, honey.”
holy shit.
what does this guy think of himself?
that he’ll just— what, utter a petname or two with that stupidly fond shell engraved into his gaze everytime he looks at you, and you’ll open your mouth to let him feed you? haaah, what a loser, you think, your eye twitching—
“you’re annoying,” before you open your mouth to let him feed you. “like, seriously. who the fuck makes soup at one am?”
“a fair point,” hums satoru, and his grip on you shifts a little so your back rests more comfortably against him. “whatever happened to the extravagant feast i commanded for our breadwinner here?”
“you try conjuring up something edible with only half a carrot and gone beans to your name,” suguru scrunches his nose, but his gentle ministrations never cease. the soup tastes as familiar as ever, tiny rivulets of their love mixing with the mild umami.
you try to make them linger for longer than they can, listening to the methodical clink! of the ceramic between his words.
“i told you to go through the list properly, satoru.”
“imagine being blind with six eyes,” you quip, and the sheer strength of the mortified gasp satoru lets out behind you nearly breaks the steady air currents over tokyo. “whaaat? don’t look at me like that. you always forget something, dumbass.”
“and this wasn’t just something,” suguru’s fingertip brushes away a stray drop of soup that had trickled down your chin. “he bought the entire diabetes inducing company before realising that i’d asked him to get a can of beans.”
“now wait just a minute,” satoru says, and you stifle a laugh at how flustered he sounds. “i got you the can of beans at the end. that’s— that’s what matters. and, excuse me, i’m not sure i like my lovers twaddle about me like i’m the mayor of losertown or whatever.”
(a pause.)
“. . . did you just roast yoursel— satoru!” you squeal as all the weight of six universes and a half crash down onto you like a death sentence uncalled for, the smell of satoru’s reluctant delight and your weary, but happy noises of mischief filling the air.
“there, there, don’t break the bed,” suguru gets off the bed with the now empty bowl, shaking his head. the tiredness is still there, no doubt.
but if it means to watch suguru attach the bits and pieces from satoru and your laughter into his own smile as he walks out of the room— you shall gladly do it, all over again.
──── ❝ 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ! . . . starring satoru and suguru ’s highly unnecessary coddling after a braincell depriving mission of yours :: gn!reader :: all three are adults :: fluff + crack :: reader is implied to be a sorcerer as well ::
oh, fuck off, margaret. you think i’ve got the time to hear you waffle about your gay baby daddy’s quirky shenanigans when i could be preaching about how satoru and suguru take care of you after a brain wracking, bone twisting mission?
(i mean, yeah. i’ve got priorities.)
so, here’s the thing. feeling your ears getting scraped raw by the endless prattle of the higher ups, combined with the fuckass curses who somehow always, always know when your cursed energy limits itself— yeah, that’s. . that’s an experience, alright. an experience that you would’ve offed from your brain with painful pleasure, if it wasn’t for these two idiots to cuddle you silly because of it.
“look who’s here,” satoru hums, gathering you in his arms as soon as a mere whiff of your scent seeps into the house— your house, your home. “suguru, get the extravagant feast ready for our corporate employee. i’ll fix the bath.” his nose bumps against the crown of your head, a silent apology that he doesn’t owe you— despite his theatrics. “and keep your voice down, please, or else this household is going bonkers.”
“shut up,” you mumble, your words unable to do any real damage from the sheer weight of the day’s events. “i’m going to bed.”
“not in this sexy uniform you aren’t,” suguru raises a brow after appearing from the kitchen porch, exchanging a look with satoru— which honestly, is valid, because the curse’s remains is not very . . resplendent to look at. or smell. then again, you can’t give any less fucks about what went inside your nostrils given how tired you are. “i’m not changing.”
you feel a hand gently pry away the duffle from your phantom grip— one that isn’t satoru’s. “i’m not asking you. six eyes here will do the trick.”
“can you please stop referring to me like i’m some kind of secret mouse-katool from those hotdog freaks? i’m a perfectly functional man,” satoru huffs, blowing stray strands from your face before helping you out of your uniform, a spare tshirt of his already on the go.
suguru follows you two to the bedroom, holding a bowl of something you can’t quite make out, eyebrows raised to the maximum. “don’t give yourself so much credit. at least mickey mouse has a valid trademark of being obnoxious, unlike a certain failed albino i know.” he blows on a spoonful of— soup, now as you see it— and presses it against your lips. not forceful, but ever so present. you’re about to shun it away until— “c’mon, honey.”
holy shit.
what does this guy think of himself?
that he’ll just— what, utter a petname or two with that stupidly fond shell engraved into his gaze everytime he looks at you, and you’ll open your mouth to let him feed you? haaah, what a loser, you think, your eye twitching—
“you’re annoying,” before you open your mouth to let him feed you. “like, seriously. who the fuck makes soup at one am?”
“a fair point,” hums satoru, and his grip on you shifts a little so your back rests more comfortably against him. “whatever happened to the extravagant feast i commanded for our breadwinner here?”
“you try conjuring up something edible with only half a carrot and gone beans to your name,” suguru scrunches his nose, but his gentle ministrations never cease. the soup tastes as familiar as ever, tiny rivulets of their love mixing with the mild umami.
you try to make them linger for longer than they can, listening to the methodical clink! of the ceramic between his words.
“i told you to go through the list properly, satoru.”
“imagine being blind with six eyes,” you quip, and the sheer strength of the mortified gasp satoru lets out behind you nearly breaks the steady air currents over tokyo. “whaaat? don’t look at me like that. you always forget something, dumbass.”
“and this wasn’t just something,” suguru’s fingertip brushes away a stray drop of soup that had trickled down your chin. “he bought the entire diabetes inducing company before realising that i’d asked him to get a can of beans.”
“now wait just a minute,” satoru says, and you stifle a laugh at how flustered he sounds. “i got you the can of beans at the end. that’s— that’s what matters. and, excuse me, i’m not sure i like my lovers twaddle about me like i’m the mayor of losertown or whatever.”
(a pause.)
“. . . did you just roast yoursel— satoru!” you squeal as all the weight of six universes and a half crash down onto you like a death sentence uncalled for, the smell of satoru’s reluctant delight and your weary, but happy noises of mischief filling the air.
“there, there, don’t break the bed,” suguru gets off the bed with the now empty bowl, shaking his head. the tiredness is still there, no doubt.
but if it means to watch suguru attach the bits and pieces from satoru and your laughter into his own smile as he walks out of the room— you shall gladly do it, all over again.
──── ❝ 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ! . . . starring satoru and suguru ’s highly unnecessary coddling after a braincell depriving mission of yours :: gn!reader :: all three are adults :: fluff + crack :: reader is implied to be a sorcerer as well ::
oh, fuck off, margaret. you think i’ve got the time to hear you waffle about your gay baby daddy’s quirky shenanigans when i could be preaching about how satoru and suguru take care of you after a brain wracking, bone twisting mission?
(i mean, yeah. i’ve got priorities.)
so, here’s the thing. feeling your ears getting scraped raw by the endless prattle of the higher ups, combined with the fuckass curses who somehow always, always know when your cursed energy limits itself— yeah, that’s. . that’s an experience, alright. an experience that you would’ve offed from your brain with painful pleasure, if it wasn’t for these two idiots to cuddle you silly because of it.
“look who’s here,” satoru hums, gathering you in his arms as soon as a mere whiff of your scent seeps into the house— your house, your home. “suguru, get the extravagant feast ready for our corporate employee. i’ll fix the bath.” his nose bumps against the crown of your head, a silent apology that he doesn’t owe you— despite his theatrics. “and keep your voice down, please, or else this household is going bonkers.”
“shut up,” you mumble, your words unable to do any real damage from the sheer weight of the day’s events. “i’m going to bed.”
“not in this sexy uniform you aren’t,” suguru raises a brow after appearing from the kitchen porch, exchanging a look with satoru— which honestly, is valid, because the curse’s remains is not very . . resplendent to look at. or smell. then again, you can’t give any less fucks about what went inside your nostrils given how tired you are. “i’m not changing.”
you feel a hand gently pry away the duffle from your phantom grip— one that isn’t satoru’s. “i’m not asking you. six eyes here will do the trick.”
“can you please stop referring to me like i’m some kind of secret mouse-katool from those hotdog freaks? i’m a perfectly functional man,” satoru huffs, blowing stray strands from your face before helping you out of your uniform, a spare tshirt of his already on the go.
suguru follows you two to the bedroom, holding a bowl of something you can’t quite make out, eyebrows raised to the maximum. “don’t give yourself so much credit. at least mickey mouse has a valid trademark of being obnoxious, unlike a certain failed albino i know.” he blows on a spoonful of— soup, now as you see it— and presses it against your lips. not forceful, but ever so present. you’re about to shun it away until— “c’mon, honey.”
holy shit.
what does this guy think of himself?
that he’ll just— what, utter a petname or two with that stupidly fond shell engraved into his gaze everytime he looks at you, and you’ll open your mouth to let him feed you? haaah, what a loser, you think, your eye twitching—
“you’re annoying,” before you open your mouth to let him feed you. “like, seriously. who the fuck makes soup at one am?”
“a fair point,” hums satoru, and his grip on you shifts a little so your back rests more comfortably against him. “whatever happened to the extravagant feast i commanded for our breadwinner here?”
“you try conjuring up something edible with only half a carrot and gone beans to your name,” suguru scrunches his nose, but his gentle ministrations never cease. the soup tastes as familiar as ever, tiny rivulets of their love mixing with the mild umami.
you try to make them linger for longer than they can, listening to the methodical clink! of the ceramic between his words.
“i told you to go through the list properly, satoru.”
“imagine being blind with six eyes,” you quip, and the sheer strength of the mortified gasp satoru lets out behind you nearly breaks the steady air currents over tokyo. “whaaat? don’t look at me like that. you always forget something, dumbass.”
“and this wasn’t just something,” suguru’s fingertip brushes away a stray drop of soup that had trickled down your chin. “he bought the entire diabetes inducing company before realising that i’d asked him to get a can of beans.”
“now wait just a minute,” satoru says, and you stifle a laugh at how flustered he sounds. “i got you the can of beans at the end. that’s— that’s what matters. and, excuse me, i’m not sure i like my lovers twaddle about me like i’m the mayor of losertown or whatever.”
(a pause.)
“. . . did you just roast yoursel— satoru!” you squeal as all the weight of six universes and a half crash down onto you like a death sentence uncalled for, the smell of satoru’s reluctant delight and your weary, but happy noises of mischief filling the air.
“there, there, don’t break the bed,” suguru gets off the bed with the now empty bowl, shaking his head. the tiredness is still there, no doubt.
but if it means to watch suguru attach the bits and pieces from satoru and your laughter into his own smile as he walks out of the room— you shall gladly do it, all over again.
──── ❝ 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ! . . . starring satoru and suguru ’s highly unnecessary coddling after a braincell depriving mission of yours :: gn!reader :: all three are adults :: fluff + crack :: reader is implied to be a sorcerer as well ::
oh, fuck off, margaret. you think i’ve got the time to hear you waffle about your gay baby daddy’s quirky shenanigans when i could be preaching about how satoru and suguru take care of you after a brain wracking, bone twisting mission?
(i mean, yeah. i’ve got priorities.)
so, here’s the thing. feeling your ears getting scraped raw by the endless prattle of the higher ups, combined with the fuckass curses who somehow always, always know when your cursed energy limits itself— yeah, that’s. . that’s an experience, alright. an experience that you would’ve offed from your brain with painful pleasure, if it wasn’t for these two idiots to cuddle you silly because of it.
“look who’s here,” satoru hums, gathering you in his arms as soon as a mere whiff of your scent seeps into the house— your house, your home. “suguru, get the extravagant feast ready for our corporate employee. i’ll fix the bath.” his nose bumps against the crown of your head, a silent apology that he doesn’t owe you— despite his theatrics. “and keep your voice down, please, or else this household is going bonkers.”
“shut up,” you mumble, your words unable to do any real damage from the sheer weight of the day’s events. “i’m going to bed.”
“not in this sexy uniform you aren’t,” suguru raises a brow after appearing from the kitchen porch, exchanging a look with satoru— which honestly, is valid, because the curse’s remains is not very . . resplendent to look at. or smell. then again, you can’t give any less fucks about what went inside your nostrils given how tired you are. “i’m not changing.”
you feel a hand gently pry away the duffle from your phantom grip— one that isn’t satoru’s. “i’m not asking you. six eyes here will do the trick.”
“can you please stop referring to me like i’m some kind of secret mouse-katool from those hotdog freaks? i’m a perfectly functional man,” satoru huffs, blowing stray strands from your face before helping you out of your uniform, a spare tshirt of his already on the go.
suguru follows you two to the bedroom, holding a bowl of something you can’t quite make out, eyebrows raised to the maximum. “don’t give yourself so much credit. at least mickey mouse has a valid trademark of being obnoxious, unlike a certain failed albino i know.” he blows on a spoonful of— soup, now as you see it— and presses it against your lips. not forceful, but ever so present. you’re about to shun it away until— “c’mon, honey.”
holy shit.
what does this guy think of himself?
that he’ll just— what, utter a petname or two with that stupidly fond shell engraved into his gaze everytime he looks at you, and you’ll open your mouth to let him feed you? haaah, what a loser, you think, your eye twitching—
“you’re annoying,” before you open your mouth to let him feed you. “like, seriously. who the fuck makes soup at one am?”
“a fair point,” hums satoru, and his grip on you shifts a little so your back rests more comfortably against him. “whatever happened to the extravagant feast i commanded for our breadwinner here?”
“you try conjuring up something edible with only half a carrot and gone beans to your name,” suguru scrunches his nose, but his gentle ministrations never cease. the soup tastes as familiar as ever, tiny rivulets of their love mixing with the mild umami.
you try to make them linger for longer than they can, listening to the methodical clink! of the ceramic between his words.
“i told you to go through the list properly, satoru.”
“imagine being blind with six eyes,” you quip, and the sheer strength of the mortified gasp satoru lets out behind you nearly breaks the steady air currents over tokyo. “whaaat? don’t look at me like that. you always forget something, dumbass.”
“and this wasn’t just something,” suguru’s fingertip brushes away a stray drop of soup that had trickled down your chin. “he bought the entire diabetes inducing company before realising that i’d asked him to get a can of beans.”
“now wait just a minute,” satoru says, and you stifle a laugh at how flustered he sounds. “i got you the can of beans at the end. that’s— that’s what matters. and, excuse me, i’m not sure i like my lovers twaddle about me like i’m the mayor of losertown or whatever.”
(a pause.)
“. . . did you just roast yoursel— satoru!” you squeal as all the weight of six universes and a half crash down onto you like a death sentence uncalled for, the smell of satoru’s reluctant delight and your weary, but happy noises of mischief filling the air.
“there, there, don’t break the bed,” suguru gets off the bed with the now empty bowl, shaking his head. the tiredness is still there, no doubt.
but if it means to watch suguru attach the bits and pieces from satoru and your laughter into his own smile as he walks out of the room— you shall gladly do it, all over again.
hey, hey. don’t cry, alright? suguru and satoru look at you so, so tenderly whilst you sleep— softness melting the sharp edges that the day had brought, the sight itself humming like a lullaby that they’d bleed their ears out for.
“. . . why do we need sleep?” satoru murmurs, and receives a heavy headed hum in response— his snowy lashes fluttering against his cheek, waging a war with his lovesick hands who try to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “like. . why do we, us— we. . need sleep? why can’t it be just—” a yawn escapes the back of his throat, cutting off his mindless rambling— powerful enough to disturb the global air currents. “why can’t it b-be just them? look at them. they’re. . m-made. . made for this.”
“and so they are,” suguru blinks rapidly, rubbing his eyes— batting away the exhaustion before it consumes him completely, but to no avail. “our pretty. . our pretty darling. i could watch them forever.” he takes a moment to pause, tugging at his hair tie so the locks come undone— cascading down his face like weary waterfalls, clinging to his skin. “can’t you . . trade six eyes or somethin’?”
but all suguru recieves is a faint snore in response— from a certain white haired menace with his hand nestled riiiight on your jaw, like a wounded knight shotted down at the very brink between safety and doom. eyes closed, nose brushing against your own.
a huff escapes suguru just then— but it’s not long before your sleepy body feels it softly sing against the back of your neck, finally, finally holding your hand and satoru’s with the other.
the stray strand of hair still covers your eyes, but for now— you’ll let it shut away your sight from the real world, to bask with your lovers in the sun of your happy dreamland.
I made a cake for my sister, and I think it is the best cake I have even baked!! Pretty? Well, I shall say beauty is seen differently by all, and to me, this is one of the nicest cakes I have made. CAKE IS UP TO TASTE MORE THAN LOOKS, RIGHT?! AHAHAH!!
It is an Earl Grey, brown sugar, and apple cake! Even the cream has brown sugar and tea syrup in it. :))!!
i’m here now ! that’s all that matters. WWWW / j nonii it’s so sweet of you to ask :c but yes, i was not exactly in a mental state to interact with anyone online or irl due to a pile up of some things here and there, which is why i had to isolate myself. yes. 👍🏻
clanhead!satoru meets his lover at the festival again.
clanhead!satoru whom you meet in the annual festival. a little gremlin in a body too big for him— with pale lashes ready to flutter away any middle class nonsense and a tongue sharp enough to cut through a dead person’s pride. and somehow, just somehow— you’re lucky enough for his gaze to land on you. even though he didn’t want it to.
clanhead!satoru who takes you for yet another urban freak. rolling his eyes at the sheer difference you embody. you couldn’t even swat away a poor fly curse even if you tried.
clanhead!satoru who raises a brow when you sit too still for far too long by the bench on the bridge. as much as he’d like to not get his sandals dirty from the common dirt, there’s a strange pull swallowing him deeper and deeper by the second.
clanhead!satoru who stares blankly at the back of your head, features softly kissed by the fireworks above. the difference which bled from your being slowly morphs itself into reluctant familiarity, and he finds himself taking a step closer without knowing.
clanhead!satoru whom you turn around to look, just as beautiful as the day you met him. there are cracks in your existence, but he cradles them oh so gently. just this once, he thinks. just this once, let me hold you.
(after so many years, on this day, you bleed into him so loudly— even when your hands have long welcomed frost.)
clanhead!satoru who sits beside the ghost of you, hands scarred by age reaching out to cover your own youthful ones. suns of the night glare at his audacity, the festival burns down on him.
since the very sweet and knowledgeable adults have decided to harrass me in my inbox in the form of eleven hate anon asks, i think i should approach this situation with more clarity. please note that this is a bit long.
first of all, i’d like to point towards the very obvious fact that you do not know me. you are not aware of the way i talk with other people, you are not aware of the way i tend to go in depth with my friendships, you are not aware of the conversations that i’d had with my mutuals. so, please. do me a flavour and stop treating me like some rookie celebrity who doesn’t know what environment is safe for them. i’m a senior in highschool who takes out the time to write for my beloved fictional characters and make friends with people through common adoration and interests.
secondly, even though my initial thoughts had me thinking that people might understand this the way it is— i’m pointing out the exact intent behind the date ask with eden. since many of you people misunderstood, here’s the oxford definition of the date which i was trying to imply.
even though eden and i are not associates anymore, i will not stand any misconception about the friendship that we had. she was always respectful of the many boundaries surrounding me, and i had always, always made sure never to interact/view her nsfw posts (as i had with any other adult mutual of mine) which is the only reason why she was comfortable with being my friend.
i always made sure to let the other party know my age and asked them if they’d want to be mutuals with me on a very frequent basis, which already showcases how touchy i am about this subject and how it affects me mentally. eden even made sure to hint the fact that she was not involving me in anything romantically or sexually, by saying this in response (note the highlighted you all).
also, i understand that my wording may have conveyed the romantic sense of date but if someone tells you that ‘hey, this song kind of sounds like what living with you would be like’ doesn’t necessarily mean that they want to live with you. it is a simple thought of you that crosses their mind when you listen to that song. i just thought that the song reminded me of eden, and i sent the ask regarding that. there is no intention other than me letting my friend know that i thought of them through this song.
thirdly, no, i will not tolerate any criticism thrown my way. i have not done anything wrong besides have a healthy interaction with my friends. for my writing and such, it is understandable, but for having mutuals? no.
you are putting me under a microscope and examining each word i say, overanalysing it and coming to far fetched conclusions without thinking once that it might just be the way i talk. i have a tendency of bantering and engaging in back and forths, but i always make the other person know (directly or indirectly) that these are all just stupid theatrics that we’re doing to pass time, and hasn’t been said with any courting motives in mind.
fourthly, i am seventeen. 17, with a one and a seven. that’s all you need to know, and that’s all i’m telling you. i’ve withheld my actual birthday for very obvious reasons, and only closer friends are aware of it. i am very much aware that whatever i say will already not be taken seriously, because you guys have to make the idea of my supposed predatory friendships fit your narrative. but here’s the thing: demeaning my intellect and capability to curate my internet spaces just because i am some months away from being eighteen does not make you get the upper hand.
it just goes to show you claim to ‘protect minors’ without even listening to the the minor in question. not one of the eleven asks i received was concerned about what actually happened, what i felt and what i think of the situation. just one of my adult mutuals reached out (who made me aware of this ordeal at all) and that too, because they know what my interactions are like and how sensitive i am regarding this topic. you’re just a bunch of pretentious adults who belittle the same minors whom you’re supposed to have a better grip understanding— clearly, because, well. i’m just a dumb bitch who invades spaces, right, anon? you guys sound like the ones who call a 17 y/o and 18 y/o in a relationship grooming.
fifth of all, i would once again like to remind you all that i am on the aroace spectrum. i am demisexual, which obviously implies that i disregard any advances made towards me in a playful way with a harmless retort of my own (although i have made it clear countless times that no serious intent of flirting is behind it). this the reason why this sticky situation bothers me so much. i have very, very strict boundaries between whom i consider a friend and whom i consider a possible ‘crush’ (so far, i’ve never had one). the thought of me being a sexual/suggestive relationship with someone even my age (let alone an adult) makes me feel greatly disturbed as i have issues regarding how i view me and my physical self. i am very touch repulsed in real life, as i have discussed with some of my closer associates, so reading about how i like being groomed is. . yeah, you get the gist.
thinking that i chase my mutuals for sexual/romantic validation just displays how fickle assumptions about a person on the internet you have no idea about.
sixth, about the mdni thing. i have mentioned numerous times that when an adult mdni account follows me, i reach out stating my age (even though it’s safe to say that they should have checked my pinned) and whether they’d like to be mutuals. i have all the nsfw tags blocked, and i have no interest in viewing them, either. i let them know that their boundaries are as respected as they expect them to be, because i myself have such high grounds regarding my interactions. i never follow a mdni account on my own unless they initiate it.
that being said, please stop pretending that you care about me, or minors in general. you just crave the chaos once again, and as i said in my previous post— spotting glitter does not mean that it is gold. there is no victim or no predator here, just a stupid teenager who writes and loves their friends.
edit ; i forgot to attach these screenshots which i’d taken this morning.
heeey, everyone. and you 🫵🏻 yeah, you, the one reading this post. tell me about a dessert that originates from your country/is a part of your culture that you think satoru would like ! i need about 6 of them, and . . your help, because i’ve gotta implement all of this into a fluffy fic i’m working on. c: go as descriptive as you want to, i’m devouring all the knowledge i can get. [suggestions: closed]
hi ! just a heads up, by ranting to a gossip blog and saying that i was included in a supposed ‘sexual’ conversation makes me feel disgustingly disturbed, thank you. please do not make assumptions about my friendships which you have zero idea about, you are hiding behind an anonymouse façade without any knowledge regarding the people i interact with.
i’d also like to point out the fact that i am on the aroace spectrum (demi) -> i think i’m capable of knowing the difference between actual flirting and the platonic banter between friends, even if you aren’t. if someone makes me uncomfortable, i let them know personally for them to not repeat it again. as of now, no such thing has happened— all my mutuals have treated me as respectfully as a friend would, and for that— i am grateful for them.
so, yes. no predatory environment or me liking being groomed, i’m afraid. stop digging up glitter and screaming about gold.
