#there's more but you can probably come to your own conclusions on what those are

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[neroushalvaus]

Okay I am going to use the Somerton situation to talk about something that is very important to me. Following the discussion I have seen former Somerton fans being disappointed in themselves and questioning how they can ever trust another video essayist again. I have also seen some people being smug because to them Somerton was obviously unreliable from the start. As a person who also saw the "red flags" in Somerton, I would like to skip the smugness and talk a bit about what the red flags were to me.

Someone else has probably posted something similar and Hbomberguy's & Todd in the Shadows's videos touched a few of these points, but they didn't focus on them or how to spot these things. I think it is a good thing: I think it would have reinforced the idea that Somerton's fans were to blame for being lied to, and these youtubers didn't want to pin any blame on the fans. Also, some of the things I'm going to talk about were not by any means proof of him being unreliable, they were common tropes I personally associate with people who are bullshitting on internet. Think of it as something like spotting terfs: If you consider following a tumblr user and find out they have at some point posted "males will always be a danger to females no matter what they say", it is very possible that they are not a terf. Maybe they were having a bad day and were just wording their post badly – But you should probably search "trans" from their blog before following them, just to be sure.

So, the tropes in James Somerton's content that I consider red flags:

Lack of sources. This one may seem obvious and Hbomb talked about this in his video, but the lack of sources in his videos was outrageous. Video essays are called essays for a reason, they are not supposed to be just a guy talking about whatever comes to his mind, they should be well researched essays. Obviously video essays should contain one's own thoughts and interpretations and those do not need citations. But James Somerton didn't come out of the womb knowing everything about LGBT history, Disney and film theory, if he actually knew something about all this stuff, he should have learnt it from somewhere. There should be sources he could point to. It is very common that even when a video essayist doesn't tell you where they got all their information, they open their video by saying stuff like "when I prepared for this video I read the book Also sprach Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche and this one thrilling blog post about lesbian cruising in 1960s Sweden". From what I've seen, James does not really do this. From watching his videos you could arrive to the conclusion that James Somerton does not read any books, he just knows everything. There are situations where people don't feel the need to add sources, like when the information is considered common knowledge or when the topic relates heavily to the essayist's actual academic field or profession. This is okay and very understandable, but can sometimes be dangerous, since if the video essayist markets himself as a marketing specialist, people are more likely to take his word for stuff that has to do with marketing, even without sources. It is understandable that in many situations an essayist may think "why should I cite a source? I know this thing!", but doing your research well is partly about checking if the information you are certain of is actually true. Also, as Hbomb pointed out, if you can cite a source, your audience can go learn more about the subject. It's not about anyone doubting you know your stuff, it's about learning. That's why well-respected video essayists usually cite their sources very clearly.

Lack of pictures and screenshots. This is about different kinds of sources again, many things on this list are kind of about sources. An example: When James Somerton made a video about JKR, he mentioned something about Rowling at one time saying that trans students in 30-50Feralhogs (or whatever the wizard school is called) could use magic to present as their gender. If this was any other video essayist, you'd expect a tweet to pop up, or something else confirming Rowling ever said this. Nothing pops up, obviously because Rowling didn't say this, but you can't see anything fishy in that because things rarely pop up in Somerton's videos. He doesn't show you court documents when speaking about a court case, he doesn't show you the comments apparently mad at him for implying the gay anime is gay when he is complaining about people being mad at him. There is a reason people show screenshots and tweets in video essays. When a good video essayist says JK Rowling has tweeted that all people who menstruate should be referred to as women, the video essayist shows the tweet so people know they are not making it up. If there were hoards of annoying bitc-- I mean, angry white women whining about gay sex in HuffPost articles or Somerton's youtube comments, he should have no trouble showing you those. Remember that you should not trust someone just because they show you pictures or screenshots. Pictures can be photoshopped, screenshots can be doctored. Many youtubers are aware that you listen to their videos while cleaning or while walking your dog and don't actually see the screen all the time, and some may take advantage of that by saying something like "and here she threatened to kill me" while showing a text message where someone said "die mad about it". A screenshot alone isn't much but you should demand to see the screenshot.

Passive voice. I am once again bitching about this. Somerton repeatedly says things like "it's been said that" or "it was common knowledge that" or "a legend says that" or "according to most interpretations". He doesn't say who says it, making it very hard to fact check and that seems to be his goal in some cases.

Relying heavily on anecdotes. Writing a dense, analytical video about film theory or history can be exhausting and you may want to pepper in little fun facts. However Somerton seemed to rely on these heavily; he can't just talk about how he has totally bought every lie told by The Pink Swastika, he also needs to tell a cute little anecdote about SS men forcing sexual favours out of men. He can't just tell a story about a court case, he needs to add in ridiculous stuff about the jury booing. This is what I mean by not all the things on this list being necessarily proof of someone being unreliable. Many people use anecdotes and little stories in their storytelling, it makes the videos flow better and it's hard to decide which anecdotes are valid and which are not. A source obviously makes an anecdote a bit more believable, but here are some things that instantly make me fact check an anecdote:

It's a bit too convenient, poetic or ironic. Sometimes real life is weirder than fiction but if an anecdote is "perfect" and has an amazing punchline and you could write twelve poems about it, there is a possibility it was invented by pop science books.

It assumes your political enemies are stupid. Dunking on conservatives, MRAs and transphobes is always fun and after you've seen a lot of this kind of content it's easy to believe anything about these people. You must resist the impulse to believe everything that may make your opponents look stupid.

The person telling the anecdote implies it is an example of a larger, systemic problem. You know what's worse than taking a random happenstance from human history or internet and basing an entire political theory on it? The said random happenstance being made up. You should in general be wary of people telling one story and explaining why it's an example of everything that's wrong in the world. We live in a huge world. You can always find a white woman who loves cute gays but hates the idea of Nick Heartstopper and Charlie Heartstopper getting nasty but that doesn't mean it's an indicator of a larger issue.

Simplifying complex issues. We all know that "only the boring gays survived the AIDS crisis, and that's why gays started to only care about marriage equality and military" is a horrible, insensitive thing to say, but you also have to think about it for like two seconds to realize that it can't be correct. It kind of reminds me of the "roe v wade caused the crime drop of 1990s" claim in Freakonomics. It sounds logical and simple, like a basic math calculation. Societal issues rarely are like that, though. You should never believe anyone who tells you about a huge societal shift and says it happened because of one thing and one thing only.

These were some of the things I noticed in Somerton's content that caused me to distrust him. I hope these were helpful to you and feel free to add your own "red flags" if you feel like it!

[voxentino]

Can you maybe write a NSFW alphabet for Adam? You don't have to if you don't wanna but I'd LOVE to see it >_< <3

ADAM NSFW ALPHABET

WARNINGS: General NSFW Content, Swearing

A/N: First request done! Hope you all enjoy, I have alotttt of Adam requests so stay tuned!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Adam doesn’t go all out when it comes to after care, he’s all about the pleasure aspect of sex, the most he’d be doing after sex giving you some kisses and a few compliments, he wouldn’t help clean you up though. (He likes it messy.)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His dick. Literally doesn’t shut up about it. Even when you two are going at it he’s talking about it, stuff like “how does it feel to be fucked by the original dick, baby?”

But you though? Depends on your genitals, if you have a vagina then yeah, that’s his favourite thing about you, because if he isn’t talking about his dick then he’s probably talking about vaginas. If you don’t have one, then it definitely be your ass.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Like I said, he likes it messy, specially likes you messy. I’m talking cumming on your face, your chest, basically you in general he’s down to make a mess of.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Adam will never admit he has a praise kink (but god is it so obvious) He’ll gloat about how amazing and sexy he is when he’s pounding into you because deep down he wants to to agree with him. (If you feed into that, you’re in for a treat)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Adam has had two wives and even after those ships sailed, he’s been fucking around since the creation of earth, anything you could think of doing in bed with him, he’s probably done.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He frequently changes the positions of you two when you’re going at it, but missionary is definitely one of the many he uses more often than some.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Let me just say, this man could be saying some of the most dirty talk to you and then break out in laughter at the slightest thing. If you are sensitive or loud in bed he’ll probably chuckle at your reactions, in a ‘wow this is amusing and hot at the same time’ kind of way and not an asshole type of way (for once.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps his lower regions relatively short, he’s just too lazy to keep trimming his body hair all the time, plus he’s the original dick after all! In his eyes, literally no one can compare to him, regardless of the physical aspects.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He isn’t too focused on the intimacy aspect of sex, he’s definitely just focused on pleasure, but he does consider your pleasure aswell! He’ll ask you if your enjoying it, etc (he definitely doesn’t want you to praise him, definitely not)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This man has a high sex drive, I’m talking DAILY and if you’re not available whenever the mood strikes then he’s gotta take matters into his own hands, literally. He’ll definitely bitch and moan about it to you after, saying you have to make it up to him (he’s definitely secretly self conscious of you not being satisfied with him, regarding sex and your relationship, so make sure to calm the man child down so he doesn’t jump to conclusions)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Exposition, he absolutely loves attention and what’s a better way to get attention than sex? If you’re in a serious relationship, he probably wouldn’t be too keen on fucking you in-front of people but he loves the feeling of knowing someone could walk in on you at any moment (of course if anyone did see specifically you naked, he’d at the very least incinerate them)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Definitely on his bed, his number one priority is pleasure, so if he’s doing it anywhere, then it’s gonna be somewhere that at least has cushions.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Like I said, high sex drive. He gets in the mood very quickly. Wearing clothing that’s a bit too tight so it really shows off your body? He’s got a boner. Bend over to grab something? He’s already hauling both your asses to the nearest bed.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He absolutely will not bottom, he needs to be in control at all times and it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to do that with you but he cannot push past letting someone other than himself taking the lead when it comes to intercourse.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Adam definitely wouldn’t complain either way. Having you on your knees, sucking his cock? If he wasn’t already in heaven, he would’ve ascended there by now! He’s also very very good with his tongue, so whichever part he’s going at, trust me, you’re in for a good time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough is his middle name, he can spend some other time doing gentle shit with you whenever he doesn’t want to pound you into his mattress (which isn’t a lot..)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With such a high sex drive while having important duties as an angel, quickies are very frequent with you two. Most commonly in the morning before he has to be productive before lute breaks into his home or during lunch where he can slip away.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Anything you can think of doing with him, Adam has probably tried it, he doesn’t mind most kinks, as long as he gets plenty of pleasure out of it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

If you two aren’t short for time, he averages a good three rounds, but after the third round he’s definitely having a nap, not because he’s exhausted but because he’s actually got all his pent up energy out and gets super relaxed that he can help but fall asleep

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s definitely the type of person to say “why would you need toys when you’ve got me?”. It’s many because he worries about not being enough for you and also he just can’t comprehend why you’d need a dildo when you have the original dick??

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he loves to tease you, especially if you’re being bratty, he’d say stuff like “aww.. where’s the attitude from earlier go, sweetheart? Don’t tell me I’ve fucked it all out of you already, I’m just getting started.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s definitely loud, wants everyone to know how good he feels and the word shame is not in his dictionary. As for sounds, he’s definitely a grunt and/or swearing kind of guy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

100% has nipple piercings, and will try his hardest to pretend to be unfazed by you playing with them. (It’s genuinely so obvious that it isn’t even embarrassing, it’s just funny)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Adam’s dick is 7.7 inches (yes he measured it exactly to the decimals) so whenever you’re talking about his dick, which is frequent, he will remind you of this fact

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Like ive been saying this entire alphabet, sex drive = high. You could even compare him to a rabbit but it’s a pretty close draw

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you two go at it for awhile, he’ll sleep like a baby but if it’s just one round or a quickie, he’ll probably have more energy afterwards compared to when he started

[ode2rin]

all my love

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. fluff, slightly suggestive (towards the end) | established relationship | new boyfriend!rin 

content/warnings. 1.8k+ wc | characters are in their 20s ! | pro-athlete!rin | making out | narration heavy! | profanity | pet names | me and my word vomit | minimal proofread

in which: new boyfriend rin struggles to keep his affection within the delicate bounds of too much and too soon.

“he’s beefing with a phone now?”

“he’s beefing with anyone - anything, it’s actually a bit concerning at this point.”

“guys, stop. he can hear us, you know.”

itoshi rin sure does hear bachira, chigiri, and isagi talk shit about how he’s holding his phone tightly while glaring at the little screen. for once, rin paid them no mind and simply rolled his eyes. seemingly more focused on what is happening in his phone, or rather, what he is waiting to happen in his phone.

it’s stupid, he knows. he actually feels like he’s 18 again, back when he was pining on you so hard that he waited a whole day before you asked him to hang out. now at 23, after what felt like a whole century (he’s being dramatic) of wishing you were his, the day finally came. 

and once again, he’s here sitting, impatiently waiting for your updates about your silly grocery shopping you told him about just an hour ago. he wanted to tell you to wait, and that he’d come with you after practice. but before he could even send the message, he caught himself showing what he would call, for a lack of better term, lukewarm ‘feelings’ (it’s clinginess, he just doesn’t want to say the word himself, it’s distasteful in his own tongue).

he’s not clingy. he’s not needy. he doesn’t need to see you all the time. he doesn’t need to hear your voice or even receive a foolish text message from you. it’s not like he’s going mad about it this instant if you don’t update him. 

that's beneath him — or at least he firmly believes so before refreshing his notifications for the nth time for your long overdue text.

he could just text you first, right? to tell you how he hopes ego gets an urgent call from whoever, allowing them to leave practice earlier. tell you how desperately he wishes the earth would spin faster until he sees you again. and most importantly, tell you that he misses you, and he wants to see you despite staying over just a day ago for your weekly date.

after all, you're together now. he could simply just text you and let you know. what's the worst that could happen?

well, you might think he's being too much (he reached that conclusion on his own), and it might throw you off a bit — which is probably the last thing rin would want to happen. 

it’s too much, and too soon. no matter how long he had known it would be you for him, it doesn’t change the fact that the two of you are new to this. 

it has been nearly three months since you made it official for him, yet he’s still uncertain whether the length of your relationship could gravitate the spontaneity of him showing up to your place unannounced, or if he could ask you to stay the night after your weekly date, heck he doesn’t even know if could say those three damn words whenever he feels like it.

rin fears of overwhelming you. he can try and deny, but rin harbors big feelings that for as long as he could remember, stayed dormant for his own good. but now that you’re here, he’s afraid of putting it all out there for you.

rin thinks, or at least how he treats it, that your relationship is a new form of delicate. something he would need to handle with care, something he needs to approach slowly, even when all he wants is to give you all that he is— the good and even the bad that he would make better, just for you.

this is new and delicate. you are delicate. 

and rin knows his hands have never been known for their ability to handle something so precious.

sighing in defeat, rin threw his phone inside his gym bag, but as he was about to leave the locker room, he heard the faint buzz coming from his phone.

it was faint, barely detectable to some. but for someone who had been waiting for it for a whole damn hour, it felt like an angel whispered in rin's ear, letting him know that someone from above took pity on him.

“damn, that was fast. did you guys see that?”

bachira wasn’t lying. rin did turn to pick up his phone from his bag as quickly as one would turn when someone yelled ‘fire’. and for it, bachira received his second (it’s 2 pm, two is still a merciful number) glare of the day for pointing out his patheticness.

hastily, rin opened your conversation to be greeted by a photo of two different brands of protein powder followed by a harmless question from you, yet it almost burned him.

it’s your break, right? just wanted to ask you which would you prefer. i’m getting one of each for you to try if you can’t reply right away :D

fuck what he thought, he needs to see you – and he will. 

rin almost clicked the call button just to tell you he loves you. all because of some protein powder. just because you're so thoughtful and kind to him, it's downright unbelievable. he needs to hear your voice so he can process how real it is that you are his.

rin glanced at the clock of his phone. four more hours ‘til he’s free. four more dreadful hours, he can make do.

just before he got called by his team, rin quickly typed a reply to you.

Right one. Thank you :)

on the other end of the texting, you almost dropped both brands from your hands into your cart as you stared at rin's reply, particularly to the emoji he sent.

is this my boyfriend? you thought with a bemused grin. shaking your head, you placed his choice in your cart. you'd tease him about it when you saw him this saturday.

little did you know, even before saturday arrived, rin would be standing in front of you, hours after your last conversation. he was dressed in his sweats, wearing a white shirt, and had his gym bag slung across his chest. his hair seemed still damp from the shower, and as he looked at you, it was as though he just realized he had come here on his own.

“rin? what are you doing here?” you ask, breaking the silence first.

it was only after your question that rin realized he had more pressing matters to face than letting his eyes wander around you in your pajamas.

“i…” fuck. this is torture, and he curses himself for not finding the right words, “i wanted to see you.”

“you want to see me,” you echoed.

“is that fine?” rin’s voice came out strained with uncertainty.

a soft smile crossed your face, and you nodded. “of course…” you answered, “do you want to come in?”

rin nodded and slowly walked towards the entrance of your home, letting himself in as he dropped his bag on the floor. he still hadn't met your eye, reluctant to face what he might see in them.

instead, he indulged in the way you looked, seemingly so soft and warm to the touch in your flowing pajamas. his hands ached and itched with the urge to hold you close against him.

but he can’t – it was too much, too soon. 

“you can come here anytime you want,” you said, pulling rin out of his thoughts.

taken aback, rin took a few seconds to process what you said. “it’s not… too much?”

curious as to why he would ask that, you gave him a bashful smile. “it’s you, baby. why would it be?” 

and just like that, rin cast aside all of his hesitancy at the sound of your words, as if they were the green light signifying him to let go of the brakes holding his own affection.

rin took a step closer to you until you were inches away from him. your curious eyes followed every movement he made. curiosity immediately turned to bewilderment when you felt one of rin's firm hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. his other hand settled in the curve of your neck below your jaw, gently guiding your face to meet his.

“how about when i hold you like this? still not too much?” rin's voice sounded hoarse, an octave lower. his hands roamed around your back, gently caressing your clothed skin.

“no…” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

rin exhaled with your response, the scent of fresh mint wafting around your face. his hand on your neck climbed up until you felt his thumb caressing the side of your lip.

“and if i tell you i love you— perhaps a little too much. how 'bout that? does that bother you?” 

so, this is what it is about.

feeling bolder than you were minutes ago, you caught rin's hand, enclosing it with your smaller ones as you guided it to your lips, leaving a featherlight kiss on his knuckles.

smiling up to him, you say, “never. i think i’ll love that.”

as the moment lingered in suspended anticipation, rin wasn’t able to suppress it any longer. he closed the distance between your lips with an urgency that bordered on desperation. the kiss was more than a mere meeting of lips; it was a collision of hearts.

his lips molded against yours, and his touch was not just gentle, but also fervent, as if trying to give you all that he is, without any reservation. his hands, once hesitant, now found their place on your waist, pulling you even closer to him, feeling the warmth of your body against his. his fingers traced a delicate path along your spine, memorizing every curve, every contour, as if etching your presence in his memory. 

as the kiss deepened, a soft sigh of contentment escaped your lips, inviting rin to explore further. he took the invitation, his tongue gently parting your lips to taste you more, more, and more.  because just when he thought it was too much, it was apparently not enough. he needed more – touch you more. 

when you both finally pulled apart, your breaths were intertwined, and your gazes locked. with a shy smile playing on your lips, still breathless and flushed, you ask, “and if i ask you to stay the night, is that too much?”

rin smiled, teal-eyes reflecting a glassy glint, “no,” he whispered, “i think i’ll love that, too.”

and rin also thinks he wouldn't mind being clingy and admitting he's needy if it's you— only when it's you.

because with you, he's not reminded that he was less, nor plagued that he might be too much.

to you, all of him was just the right amount of love.

note. i don’t know what this is but i miss him so i hope it’s something. if you’re new here, i am crazy about itoshi rin.

another note. new!bf rin here !

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[amentomensmut]

first time for everything pt2

Drug Dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 5k

this is part 2 to my fic first time for everything! read the first part here.

Summary: After an unforgettable hookup with your friend Sara’s drug dealer, Mike Schmidt, you go to a college party to try and put a stop to your constant stream of thoughts about it, and more specifically, him. However, when you wind up bumping into the man you had been thinking about non-stop at the party, you can’t help but give in to the one person who started it all. 

Warnings: 18+ content, so much banter. Like, so much. Mike is a smug bastard, alcohol consumption, swearing, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, unprotected sex 

Note: we are so back. also i really hope you guys like this omg. (p.s. sorry that this part has no cannabis use in it. I know that’s like kinda the whole point, but with the story i wanted to tell i couldn’t find a place to put it and i didn’t just want to shove it in randomly so i sorta just left it out.)

Like smoke filling up your lungs, Mike Schmidt has infiltrated your mind in every way possible. 

Thoughts of him invading every corner and crevice of your brain, making them impossible to shake. To say the least, ever since you had the pleasure of meeting him, your mind has been rather occupied. 

His lips on yours, the smoke from his mouth permeating your own, his hands on your body, your skin on his skin—it's all too much, you think. In fact, if you could go back and erase the entire interaction, you would. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to think about, and it’s all Mike Schmidt’s fault. 

You wonder if he thinks about you too. You know it’s probably unlikely, but you can’t help but feel like he might. Like he also dreams about it. Like he also yearns for you again. Maybe he gets off thinking about it, like you do. You shake those thoughts away, however, when you come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to you. 

"Okay, Y/n, what the fuck?” Sara's voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you.

You whip your head around to see Sara standing behind you. Her arms are crossed against her chest, and her face is painted with a worried expression. 

“What?” you respond, confusion evident in your voice.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for 20 minutes.” Sara says it with an accusatory tone, like she caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. 

“I’m just thinking.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. I mean, you’re not lying. You were trying to do your homework, and then you started…daydreaming. Thinking. Whatever you want to call it. 

“Yeah, I know. Thinking is all you’ve been doing this week. What’s going on?” Sara sighs, and you can see the genuine concern in her face. She sits on your bed next to your desk, trying to meet your eyes. You have a hard time lying to her, and catching her gaze will only make you more vulnerable, so instead, you choose to stare down at your homework. 

“This isn’t like you. You’re the most studious person I know, and you can’t even focus enough to finish a couple questions. Tell me what’s going on.” She continues. You weigh your options. You could tell her you fucked her drug dealer. She couldn’t be that mad, right? Or, you could keep it a secret, but continuing to lie to her is the last thing you want to do. You let out a deep breath and just decide to bite the bullet.

“Okay, um, remember when I went to your drug dealer's house last week?” You wearily start. Sara nods her head, signalling for you to continue.

“Well, one thing led to another, and we kinda, sorta had…sex?” The room is silent after your confession, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When you look over at Sara, you expect to see disappointment or anger on her face, but instead, she's looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen.

“I knew it!” Sara exclaims, jumping up in a rush of excitement. 

“I knew there was a reason that you were practically glowing when you got back from his house!” You groan at her loudness, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment. You should’ve known she wouldn’t have been upset with you; she practically shoves you at any man who gives you some sort of attention in the hopes that you’ll break your introverted habits. “Wait,” she excitedly adds. “Does this mean you can get me a discount?”

“No, Sara, I can’t fucking get you a discount. I haven’t seen him since it happened.” You say, and you try your best to mask the disappointment in your tone. I mean, what did you expect? That he’d come running to you the next day, get down on one knee, and propose? You knew it would most likely be a one time thing, so why were you so upset about it?

“So that’s why you’ve been so out of it this week. Plagued by the thoughts of a good fuck. Trust me, I've been there. ” Sara sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she knows this feeling all too well. 

“I don’t know... as cheesy as it sounds, I sort of can’t stop thinking about him? It was so good, and now it’s all I think about.” You admit, and Sara takes her place back on the end of your bed. She takes one of your hands in hers, and she nods her head in an understanding manner.

“You know what you need?” She says, and you shake your head, "No.".

“To get your head out of your chemistry books and go to a goddam party! No wonder you’ve been thinking about him; all you’ve been doing is thinking.” She says, motioning to the copious amounts of school-related papers on your desk. 

“Trust me, Y/n. The best sort of remedy for this kind of thing is to just let loose and forget about all your shit for a little while, you know?” As much as you’ve tried to avoid parties and distractions during your college experience, you can’t imagine there’d be much harm in going to one party. Besides, if you can get your mind off of Mike for a few hours and just have some fun, it’ll be worth it. 

“Alright. Yeah, I think you’re right.” You say, and Sara jumps up excitedly as she begins to talk about one of her good friends that is throwing a party that night, and that it’ll be the perfect excuse to get away from all stress of exams. You nod along, a smile plastered on your face as you try to match Saras excitement. You’re not quite sure if this “remedy” will work or not; however, you’d just about try anything at this point. And like Sara always says, you’re a hermit, so this will be a good way to break you out of your shell. I mean, the last time Sara told you to do something, it ended up going better than expected, so what’s the worst that could happen?

----------------------------------

“Sara, I feel like I’m going to flash someone.” You say as you pull on the hem of your very mini skirt. The walk to the party wasn’t long, but your bare legs are cold and you’re itching to get warm. You’ve never really worn something as revealing as this, but Sara insisted you wear something from her wardrobe. 

“Your skirt isn’t that short; don’t be dramatic.” Sara teases as she leads you towards a house that's booming with both music and people. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You haven’t been to a party during your time at college, and to be honest, you weren’t ever planning to. Focusing on getting your degree without any distractions was always your goal. An unrealistic goal? Maybe, but it had been working well for you up until a week ago. However, things don’t always go as planned, and now you’re stepping into a house full of sweaty, inebriated bodies and music so loud it makes the entire house shake. The air is thick and humid, and you’d get lost in the house’s dim lighting if it weren’t for Sara’s hand in yours guiding you through the sea of bodies. Your shoes stick to the floor as you walk through the house, and you know alcohol drunkenly spilled from overflowing, cheap solo cups is the culprit. Sara drags you to the kitchen, where all the alcohol is stashed. 

“We should do a shot! To commemorate the first party of your college career!” Sara yells over the music, already pouring each of you a shot of tequila. You give a little laugh at Sara’s enthusiasm, and you nod your head in agreement. As you wait for Sara to hand you your drink, you notice just how many people there are. You watch through the kitchen window as someone throws up on the lawn. You wince a little at the sight and at the thought of how much alcohol they probably drank. You briefly wonder if going to this party was even a good idea, but you try to shake away any negative thoughts. 

“Babe, you’re thinking too much again.” Sara says, waving her hand in front of your face as she passes you the shot. 

“Sorry!” You half-yell, but Sara dismisses your apology with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, just have fun!” Sara replies as she effortlessly downs her shot. You also attempt down your tequila; however, it’s not as effortless, and you grimace at the sharp taste of the tequila on your tongue. It takes everything in you to swallow it without gagging, and you wish you had something to chase it with. 

“Fuck, that’s awful.” You groan as you pull a face. You don’t typically drink alcohol, and when you do, tequila is certainly not your first choice. Sara laughs and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“That’s what makes it good!”

The next hour or so goes by pretty smoothly. You’ve essentially been following Sara around like a lost puppy, accompanying her as she greets her friends, which feels like just about everyone at this party. You watch as Sara effortlessly navigates the room, her laughter ringing out above the chatter and deafening music. As you stand alongside Sara, watching as she converses with a group of people you recognise as being on the school's soccer team, you feel a wave of insecurity wash over you, like an invisible barrier separating you from everyone else. You feel out of place at this party, and in a way you are. You haven’t been to a party in your three years at school, and now you've realised that you barely know anyone around here. You haven’t seen one familiar face, other than Sara, in the past hour and a half since you arrived here. You begin to wonder how different your college experience would be if you just got over your fear of people and parties, and went out like Sara had. You try to dismiss your destructive thoughts, but it’s no use. You feel like somehow everyone knows that you’re not really supposed to be here, and it makes your throat feel dry with anxiety.

“Hey, Sara, I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” You loudly whisper in her ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was currently in. You’re anxiously wanting to get away from the crowd, and your body language shamelessly shows it as you bounce your leg and bite the skin off your lips.  

“No, I’m okay,” Sara says, and you watch as her eyes survey your body, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you need me to come with you?” She bends down to speak in your ear, although her words are slightly slurred, and you softly giggle at the way her alcohol intake has affected her speech.

“No, I’ll be okay.” You assure her as you walk away from the group, giving Sara a little wave as you make your way to the kitchen. 

You had intended on getting a drink, but when you got to the kitchen and saw the door to the backyard, your desire to escape the muggy, stale air landed you on the back patio instead. Your lungs thank you for the fresh air as soon as you step outside, and the cool winter breeze feels refreshing on your sweaty skin. There’s still plenty of partygoers outside, but it’s certainly not as packed as it was inside. You watch as people play beer pong on a ping pong table on the lawn, and the sight only solidifies your fear of missing out. The sound of hearty laughter and the smell of weed only make you want to go home more, and you sigh as you push off the patio railing to leave. You turn around to make your way back inside when you see him.

At first, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks on you. Like you had been thinking about him so much that an apparition of him was here to taunt you. Like your thoughts of him for the past week had now turned you delusional. However, his eyes lock with yours, and now you so badly want it to be a hallucination, or your mind playing tricks on you. Dread washes over you and you wish you had never come to this party. You want the ground to swallow you whole when you see him beginning to walk towards you, and for a split second, you consider running away. 

You mean for your words to come out nicely; you truly do. However, they don’t come out that way, and instead you say this:

“What the fuck are you doing here?” If your words shock or hurt Mike, he doesn’t show it as he now stands in front of you with that goddamn smirk on his face.

“I have a business to run, Y/n. But you’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” You’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap him, but you roll your eyes anyway at his smug tone. He gives an unbothered laugh at your attitude and actually, you’d definitely rather slap him right now.

“Your business is selling weed to intoxicated college students?” You retort with a scoff, crossing your arms against your chest like it’s a defence mechanism. You hate that his presence is making you jittery, but you hold your ground, your eyes never veering away from his.

“Funnily enough, they’re my top customers.” Mike smugly says, and you don’t even try to hide the scowl on your face. You squint your eyes at him, trying to read his intentions. He smells like weed and spicy cologne, and it immediately brings you back to his house, and more specifically, his living room. There's a pregnant pause between the two of you, and before you can work up the courage to say something, he speaks again. 

“Cute outfit, by the way. Have you dropped the innocent act yet?” He asks, obviously satisfied with his words. He's clearly trying to get under your skin, and you won't let him.  

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You fib, shrugging your shoulders like the question is irrelevant. If he's going to try to tease you about your hookup, you won't feed into it. 

“You know, after that night, I don’t think you can really call yourself a good girl. You’d be lying to everyone. You're lying to me right now.” 

“Fuck you, Mike.”

“You should come by my house tomorrow. You're probably all out of the weed I sold to you last time you were around, right?” He says nonchalantly, changing the subject. You furrow your eyebrows at the change of conversation, and your stubbornness to let Mike have any satisfaction during this conversation doesn’t falter.

“I don't smoke weed.” You quip.

“Lie all you’d like, Y/n. It doesn’t change the truth.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face before walking back into the house without giving you another look.

----------------------------------

Usually people use the phrase “walk of shame” when you’re walking home from a hookup, however, that phrase pretty much sums up how you feel as you walk up Mike Schmidt's driveway.

You’re not sure how you’ve ended up back on Mike Schmidtd’s doorstep again. Maybe it was the satisfying sting of weed going down your throat and into your lungs, or the insatiable hunger for the man who supplied it to you. Either way, the front door is being opened and the man who you’ve been thinking about non stop for the past week is behind it. 

“Had a feeling you’d be back.” He says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re high before any weed has even entered your system. 

“Don’t cream your pants.” You mutter as you push past him and walk inside. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know why you were here, you both knew. After Mike left you at the party, you knew you were completely and utterly fucked. That any other attempts of trying to forget him would be worthless. That like a bee to a flower, you’d be back here, in Mike’s house, searching for the one thing you had been denying yourself for the past week. 

“So I was right then, you’re all out of weed.” He says as he closes the front door. You take your jacket and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hanger at the door. You face Mike, who's currently leaning against the front door, watching you. 

“Can I have a soda?” You ask, and Mike cracks a smile at the familiarity of the situation. 

“I would’ve offered, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here.” He says, trying to bite back his smile. You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he grabs two cans of soda. Your fingers brush as he hands you the cold can, and you look up at him as he clears his throat.

“So…an eighth again?” He inquires, looking at you over his can of soda as he takes a sip.

“Mike, I’m not here for your goddamn weed.” You laugh. Mike laughs as well, and the exuberant sound is like music to your ears. 

“So you came for my soda instead?” Mike teases, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I think you know why I’m here.” You say, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened last time you were in his house. Your fingers tighten around the soda can at the thought of touching Mike again, and you so badly want to reach out for him.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. You weren’t very nice to me last night at the party.” He smirks, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. He places his soda can on the kitchen counter and tilts his head at you, waiting for your rebuttal. 

“I was nice enough.” You simper, shrugging your shoulders. If he’s going to make you work for it, you’ll play along. 

“Say please. I can’t believe I have to teach you how to use your manners.” He coos, and you huff when you realise you won’t get what you want right away.

“I'm very polite.” You stubbornly stand your ground, but you can feel your resolve weakening with every word that comes out of Mike's mouth.

“You might be polite, but apparently you forgot how to ask for things.”

“Please, Mike.”

His lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. All the build up from the past week, all the sexual tension between you and Mike is released into the kiss. The kiss is frantic and needy, like even being this close isn’t enough. His want for you shows in the way his rough hands grab any part of your body they can reach. You blindly slide your soda can on the kitchen counter before threading your fingers through his hair, softly pulling at the root making him moan into your mouth. He tastes like cream soda and weed and his hands caressing your body send a shiver up your spine, and you haven’t felt this way since the last time he touched you. 

“You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you.” He says in a gruff voice as he walks you backwards and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. You spread your legs so he can slot himself between them, and he presses soft kisses into your neck. His hands are on your waist, stabilising you as he kneads the soft skin there. 

“I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” You shyly admit, and he softly bites your neck, almost scolding you for your words. 

“Are you serious?” He asks incredulously, removing his head from your neck to look at you. His heavy lidded gaze makes you feel nervous, and his reaction makes you feel like you said something you shouldn’t have. Your silence serves as an answer to his question and he shakes his head at you disapprovingly as he slowly gets on his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You suck in a quick breath at the sight of Mike in between your legs, and an involuntary whine escapes from your lips when he begins to undo the button of your pants. 

“Y/n, the only thing i’ve been able to think about is you.” He groans, and you lift your hips off the counter to help Mike as he pulls your pants down over your ass. Your pants hit the floor and Mike is pressing open mouthed kisses into the insides of your plush thighs. He takes his time, kissing and sucking on the expanse of your thighs, and you think you might go crazy if he continues to tease you. Your thighs slightly close around Mike’s head, looking for any friction you can get. Mike lets out a laugh and you throw your head back in frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you’d like?” Mike innocently asks, looking up at you as his mouth gets dangerously close to your pantie clad pussy. A sadistic smile paints his face and you put your hands in Mike's hair, trying to pull him closer to the place you need him the most.

“Mike, stop fucking teasing.” You pant, and a dissatisfied sigh leaves Mike's lips.

“I thought we talked about using your manners.” He mocks, and although he's the one on his knees in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s certainly still in control. 

“Please, Mike. Please, I need you.” You beg, and not long after, Mike is licking a hot stripe up your covered cunt. You bite your bottom lip, your chest heaving as Mike continues to press messy, open mouthed kisses to the wet spot on your panties. His grip on your thighs is strong, and the feeling of his blunt nails digging into the soft skin makes your head spin. Soon enough, his thick fingers are hooking into your underwear and pulling it down your legs. He wastes no time, quickly latching his lips to your swollen clit and making out with your pussy like a man starved. Your jaw drops in pleasure, and your hand tugging at his hair makes him moan into you. 

“Mike, h-holy shit.” You cry out, as he enters one of his long fingers into you. His tongue swirls around your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, and the sounds of him eating your pussy are absolutely sinful. Mike replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he slowly enters another finger into you.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters, and his eyes are glued on your soaked cunt and the way it sucks his fingers in. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that makes you jerk your hips upward. 

“M-Mike, I’m gonna-” You start, but cut yourself off with a moan as Mike reattaches hip lips to your clit. With his fingers rapidly moving in and out of you, and his mouth doing god's work on your clit, you swear you’re starting to hear colours. Your thighs begin to shake as you start to grind yourself on Mike's face as you near your orgasm. You let out a loud moan as you finally release, the only thing you can feel is the pure pleasure surging through your body as you cum, and Mike coaxing you through it. Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your high. Mike removes his fingers and mouth from your pussy, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he stands back up in front of you. 

“Open your mouth.” He softly demands, and you do, letting Mike shove his cum covered fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the digits, humming as he lets his fingers travel to the back of your throat, making you gag. “That's it.” He praises, caressing your cheek as you suck his fingers. He removes his hand from your mouth and places them on your hips, helping you off the counter. He turns you around so you’re facing away from him, and he presses a hand to the centre of your back, bending you over the counter. He presses himself into you, and pushes your ass back against his covered erection. Mike leans over you, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you up against his chest as he brings his lips to your ear.

“How could I forget about you when you look like a fucking angel when you cum.” He confesses in your ear, bucking his hips against you as he releases you, letting you fall back over the counter. The sound of him undoing his belt and pants makes you involuntarily clench your legs together, and you turn your head, watching as Mike spits in his hand and strokes himself a couple times before lining himself up with your pussy. 

“Have you been thinking about this?” Mike taunts, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. 

“You have no idea.” You whine, pushing your hips back in an attempt to just get Mike to fuck you. However, Mike holds your hips steady, restraining you from grinding back on him.

“Enlighten me, then.” Mike responds, like he has all the time in the world. But to you, it feels like the end of the world with the way your pussy is throbbing and in need of stimulation. A defeated sob leaves your lips at Mike’s teasing, 

“All the fucking time, Mike. I felt like I was going crazy.” You babble, and your words seem to be good enough for Mike, because he’s filling you up with his thick cock. All your thoughts, any worries you’ve had over the past week are gone. The only thing you can focus on is the way he fits perfectly inside you, and the way the grunts and groans leaving his lips sound like perfect melodies to your ears. His hips snap into yours roughly, and you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I couldn’t get high without thinking about you. You fucking ruined weed for me.” Mike admits with a laugh, like the whole thing is preposterous. His fingers work quick circles on your clit and you shiver as Mike places a hand under your jaw, lifting you so he can press kisses into your neck.

“Good. Maybe you’ll smoke it less. It’s bad for your lungs.” You breathily tease, and Mike sucks a particularly dark spot into your neck in response to your words. Mike continues his rough pace, and you clench hard around him.

“Gonna cum.” You whine and Mike only continues to fuck you, wanting to get you there. You cum for the second time, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation hits you. Mike holds your shaky body up as he cums inside of you, letting out a strained “fuck” as his own orgasm washes over him. You both stand there afterwards, catching your breath as Mike release slowly begins to leak out of you and down your thighs. 

“Did I seriously ruin weed for you?” You hoarsely ask in a disbelieving voice. You feel Mike’s chest rumble as he laughs, and actually, you think his laugh is the most perfect sounding melody.  

“Trust me, It’s embarrassing to admit.” He says, and you let out a quick breath as he pulls out of you. He grabs a cloth out of a kitchen drawer and runs it under warm water in the sink before cleaning up the cum between your legs. He tucks himself back into his boxers before pulling his pants up, and you follow suit. 

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You jest as you button your pants. 

“Maybe.” Mike says with a smile, and when you look at him, you think you wouldn’t even need weed to get high. You’d just need this feeling.

taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art, @spenciesprincess, @janitorhutcherson, @leahdhopkins4321, @pickingchoosinglovinghope, @esebabe, @under-sedationnn, @celestbarnes, @brechdan-ham, @souldzaboj, @t0byisher3, @rottingpeache, @joshs-big-toe, @p3talll

[shibaraki]

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waste a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[sh0tanzz]

Who do you think would be the mtl jealous bf in riize?

OMGG ive been waiting for an ask like this 😭

MTL JEALOUS BF IN RIIZE based on astrology ~

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew them myself !!)

Most

Sungchan - Tbsh his jealousy would be pretty overboard and extremely obvious like a blaring red signal. He would NOT play about you. His cancer moon makes him pretty sensitive and obvious with his emotions so if he felt jealous he'd get in his feelings or even sulk/ruminate as well as he'd take it pretty personal and have a hard time letting go. His leo venus makes him pretty dramatic 😭. This venus paired with his moon might make him cause a scene or "act out" . His venus+moon leads to him wanting your care and attention on him and him alone. His cap mars screams possessiveness and being restrictive, he'd get so possessive do not let him see you laugh at another guys jokes or be helpful to another guy he'd be FUMING .

Wonbin - I honestly wasn't going to rank Wonbin this high but then I remembered his taurus mars paired with venus square pluto and pluto conjunct lilith so...here we are LMFAOO. From my own personal observations taurus mars is way more possessive in comparison to taurus venus; those pluto/venus/lilith aspects paired with his mars can make his jealousy take a snowball effect leading to an emotional avalanche. Plus a power imbalance fueling the jealousy even more and leading to him being restrictive. However, I ranked him below Sungchan because Sungchan would be VERY petty and loud about his jealousy while Wonbin would most likely silently seethe (due to his pisces sun, aquarius mercury) until he ultimately can't handle holding back, but until then his jealousy would still be DEEP.

Shotaro - His scorpio moon+capricorn venus makes him take the relationship pretty seriously. He craves stability and honesty and once he feels like his jealousy is compromising the security and trust in the relationship he must act ! He won't be too quick to jump into conclusions because of his libra mars, he'd probably think things through before asking/acting on his jealousy..and he might front and pretend he's only a tiny bit jealous/concerned when really it's weighing heavy on his heart in the beginning. When he is jealous he'd be more quiet and less jovial than he usually is. He'd be pretty straight up and might even just ask/tell you about how he's feeling. When things are clarified things will be cool again and he'll go back to being your sweet taro and hopefully stop staring daggers into the random guy talking to you while smiling.

Anton - Very unserious, would text "what position he got you in" and move on with his day. KIDDDING kind of 😭 He'd have short phases of possessiveness due to his taurus venus. His moon square saturn and venus square neptune can lead to slight paranoia and being unable to naturally express his insecurities which could be the source of the jealousy. Despite these things he wouldn't express his jealousy in toxic or overboard ways, he'd probably express his jealousy through jokes or non seriousness hoping you would pick up on it (you probably would with that mercury aries, straight to the point) If he ever did tell you straight up he wouldn't be too harsh he'd just want to be honest and being reassured will patch everything right up.

Sohee - I ranked Sohee this low because honestly when reading his chart I feel like his jealousy would, similarly to Anton's, be quick to come and go. He'd be quick to say something or show that he's uncomfortable. He wouldn't sit you down to have a serious convo about it, but it would have to just passively come out in conversation . As soon as he felt reassured then he'd be fine once again. Now if it was an ongoing issue of scenarios that led to him being jealous then he'd have a more serious even messy approach (his mars square pluto) his temper would awaken. But outside of that he trusts you, even if he doesn't trust and is suspicious of the guys around you he trusts YOUUU at the very end.

Seunghan - Oh the lovely boyfriend that just wants to keep the peace. He wouldn't want you to hound him out of jealousy so he ofc wouldn't do that to you either. If he was jealous he'd be more emotional rather than being petty+aggressive. His mercury is exalted in virgo so he'd definitely want to talk about it or at least let you know how he feels. Outside of that I think he'd want to avoid such a thing in the first place. He'd trust you as best as he can and wouldn't want there to be an imbalance in the relationship to where one of you are restricting the other due to deep seated jealousy (thanks to his libra sun+venus and sag moon). He quite literally just wants you two to be happy and knows that genuine jealousy can poison such a good thing.

Eunseok - I'm sorry fellow briize but this man is quite literally the least of your concern. His aries venus wouldn't want to make things too serious and ominous with jealousy (plus because he values his freedom so in his mind you must value yours too right ?) His sag mars paired with it means he doesn't want to dwell with thoughts of you possibly giving your attention to other guys. He basically has a nonchalant "she knows where home is" mentality lowkey. Plus if he ever did feel jealous he'd probably not say anything because his cap moon+pisces mercury would barely let him properly express it (with words at least). Also weirdly enough he'd be more jealous if you weren't in a relationship compared to if you guys were; once you two are officially together he wouldn't be as jealous anymore .

Least

[amamisa]

SIXTY-FOUR EQUALS SIXTY-FIVE!

RANPO EDOGAWA ⋮ BUNGO STRAY DOGS

premise. ranpo loves to give you all sorts of little riddles, but this one might have you stumped the most out of all of them.

story notes! fem!reader. fluff! reader works as part of the ADA office staff. animated dividers by @/cafekitsune!

love, misa ‹3 if you know what the title is referencing, ily! also, reblogs, comments and interactions are vrie appreciated!

“. . . Pardon?”

Ranpo looks to you with a pointedly smug grin playing on his face, hands relaxedly folded behind his head as he leans back in the ADA office’s chair. It creaks beneath him as he plants his feet atop the mahogany desk and swivels around slowly, a sign that you should probably get the seat oiled soon.

“It’s simple, is it not?” He asks and you slowly shake your head no, mouth slightly agape when he starts to sigh, repeating his prior statement.

“Sixty-four equals sixty-five, and that’s that!”

You blink a few times, hoping that the information sinks in a little more inside of your beain just long enough that you can even begin to process whatever he means.

The words play back in your mind like an old VHS tape, abruptly coming to a halt when you can’t fall into a proper, conclusive or logical answer that would make sense in any normal situation.

“That’s . . . false,” you begin to argue, albeit a bit unsurely as you have no idea what to even say in the moment. Your mouth moves faster than your brain as you tell him the only logical thing you can think of.

“If sixty-four equalled sixty-five than it would be sixty-five and not sixty-four.”

Ranpo lets out a laugh, only telling you that “You’re wrong,” and for a second you look around the ADA office wondering if there were any cameras filming the two of you. You find that the other office clerks are merely seated at their own desks though, watching the spectacle between you and Ranpo go down, and a little amused at your bewilderment.

You’d think that for a man who is labelled as the greatest detective in all of Yokohama (and quite possibly the entire world once you took into account his inherent genius and lack of an ability), that much would make sende for someone like him.

Surely he couldn’t have said a more incorrect statement than that with such confidence in himself.

But no, of course not.

It’s Ranpo you’re dealing with, and he says a lot of odd little phrases and sayings just to mess with your head sometimes. It started since your first day with the ADA, it’s been years now and he’s still going too.

He doesn’t show any signs of stopping soon either.

(“You just look so funny with your face all scrunched up in thought!” He once told you after a particularly difficult riddle that had you stumped for hours on end until the end of the work day, afterwhich you realized the answer was unfathomably easy once he had revealed it to you.

Nobody else in the ADA could’ve gotten it though, so it saved you at least some of your dignity.)

You assume that this must be another one of those cryptic riddles he’s thrown your way, maybe a test to see if you’ve somehow managed to improve from last time. An inkling of hope swells inside your chest, hoping that today is the day you finally manage to answer correctly to one of Ranpo’s mysterious riddles.

Setting down the bowl of candies in your hands on his desk, you stand in thought for a moment, scouring your brain for anything that could relate to the riddle as Ranpo delightedly digs into the newfound treats, appearing blissful to the mental agony he loves to put you through sometimes.

The little dish clinks against his fingernails as he searches through the pile of sweets for his favourites at the bottom, the sound of the plastic unwrapping in tune with the beat of the ticking in your brain while you think over his words from earlier.

He gave no set up, no punch line, no nothing at all. There wasn’t any indistinguishable context to the riddle-like words that you could recall, it was only—

“Sixty-four equals sixty-five . . .” Ranpo hears you mutter underneath your breath, and his lips curl up in delight as he munches on a decadent chocolate truffle, filled with sticky caramel and generous bits of toffee.

The caramel sticks to his teeth, with the toffee clinging to the sides of his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he chews away at the treat, patiently watching while you continue to talk to yourself, still thinking over his words from earlier.

“Could it be a math riddle? No, that’s not possible though if we’re going by technical math terms and rules . . . Maybe something to do with physics? But how could anything simultaneously be sixty-four and sixty-five?”

Ranpo’s mischievous grin only continues to grow as you remain oblivious to his watchful eyes, and his gaze scans over your features, wordlessly taking in your appearance.

Your knitted brows, the way you subconsciously pout your lips whenever you’re in deep thought, your crossed arms, all while unknowingly talking to yourself as you piece together the clues.

Ranpo sees it all as clear as day. And he finds it unbelievably cute.

“Maybe it’s about hex codes from the colour wheel, since one colour can look different depending on the background it’s placed over. It could have less to do with the numbers themselves than the meaning or history behind them—”

“Are you done yet?” You’re brought back to reality by the sound of Ranpo’s voice interrupting your thoughts, head perking up as you’re met with the sight of his nougat stuffed cheeks. All puffed out and full of sugar as he holds back a laugh once he sees how quickly your face softened from it’s previously hardened features.

“You were taking forever to solve that one! And it’s really not that hard to begin with!”

“Speak for yourself,” you scoff, taking one of the chocolates from the bowl and unwrapping it for yourself. The plastic crinkles beneath your fingertips, you stuff the wrapper in your pocket before popping it into your mouth.

The caramel sauce encased in the hard chocolate shell explodes when you crunch down on it, a sweet little victory to make up for the quizzical hurdles you’re put through on a regular basis, courtesy of the man sitting right across from you.

“You’re Yokohama’s greatest detective, it’s obvious that these sorts of riddles come naturally to you,” you wholeheartedly confess, savouring the light cocoa and sweet, subtly coconut flavours that coat your tongue. “I’m not like you, Ranpo. Nobody in the ADA is, what takes us twelve weeks to solve you can answer in twelve seconds.”

“Awee, really?” He giggles, swiping more of the little candies from the bowl on his desk. He seems to have missed the original point entirely by now, as he motions for you to continue, “Go on, tell me more about how great I am!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, maybe you shouldn’t have gassed him up so much during your little acknowledgement speech. Though with the cases he’s solved in his repertoire, you really can’t argue against that title of his.

“No, you’ve had enough of that from Kunikida and Atsushi just this morning alone.”

A small pout graces Ranpo’s lips as you sigh, ignoring the kicked puppy eyes he gives you while walking back to your desk, continuing to mutter underneath your breath the same words that will probably leave you stumped for the next few days on end.

“Sixty-four equals sixty-five?”

Ranpo cranes his head as he eats away at the rest of his candy stash, watching you immediately turn to one of your co-workers from his own work space to ask them the same question Ranpo gave you, inquiring about any clues they might have as to the answer.

“No, there’s gotta be an answer,” he overhears when your colleague shrugs their shoulders, simply telling you that whatever Ranpo says is probably just a load of gibberish meant to mess with your mind.

“Just— just give me anything you can think of, okay? I’ll solve one of his riddles one day.”

The sight has Ranpo smiling behind the back of his hand, eyes crinkling at the corners with glowing cheeks when you sees you bring out one of your notepads from the desk drawer’s, clicking your pen as you begin to write down any guesses you might have to tell him later.

Truth be told, unlike the rest of the spontaneous mind games Ranpo pulls on you— this one has no actual meaningful answer. At least, not one that you’d understand at the moment if he were to tell you it’s solution.

But despite that looming factor always casting it’s dark shadow onto you, the thought of Ranpo giving you a riddle truly impossible to solve has never really crossed your mind.

Otherwise, you would very easily give up solving them after just a moment of contemplation.

Ranpo’s noticed though that you tend to wallow on them for days at a time unless he comes clean and tells you the answer in it’s entirety, letting his silly and easily misconstrued words stew inside your head during your lunch breaks and slow times at the ADA where you’ll maybe sometimes bound up to him excitedly with a guess as to what you think the answer is.

It’s charming how much thought you put into your solutions, and admittedly you’ve gotten quite close a few times to figuring them out all on your own. Ranpo’s always impressed with whatever you come up with, even if it’s outlandishly ridiculous or nowhere even close to the actual answer itself.

It’s really your explanations and logic behind them that he likes, with some of the ideas you bring up for splutions are those that he hasn’t even thought of beforehand until you ask him if they’re right.

(Sometimes he wants to cut your little game short and just give you the win for once if your guess is creative enough.

But where’s the fun in that?)

He’ll give you more of these up until the day you leave the ADA (though he hopes that’s not anytime soon) if it means he gets to see that delightful little confused but hopeful expression you make while deep in thought.

Your persistence in finding out the answer on your own until you’ve been truly worn out by him is also admirable.

Because while you’re always just a bit confused by all the different riddles, puzzles and play-on-words he hounds on you each day, he finds that you’ve yet to actually reject his proposal to solving them, never even considering walking away from his absurdity unlike with most people he knows if he asked them the same.

He prays it’ll stay that way too.

Otherwise, who else would he have to fawn over in secret?

Ranpo deduces that while you may be clever (anyone who works at the ADA is, it’s basically a requirement when working with ability users such as them), he’s always just a few steps ahead of you.

It’s not an insult towards you on his end in any way either. Your way of thinking is totally different from his own, but he reasons out that he can make arrangements to improving your logical deduction abilities once he finally figures out how to convey his feelings for you.

Properly, and not through a series of complex paradoxes and logic puzzles.

The most complex riddle of them all though that the ADA office staff asks themselves each day while witnessing the two of you has to be:

Whose logical reasoning is really being tested here again? Yours, or Ranpo’s?

The ADA believes that Ranpo should use less of his time giving you intrinsically methodical puzzles and focus more of his energy on realizing his blooming, lovesick crush.

works © amamisa 2024. no copying or stealing, please!

[theredflagsjustlooklikeflags]

Hello! Omg I'm so excited you're writing for death note! Can i get a gender neutral reader who maybe helps light or saves his life by pulling him out of the way of a car or something, and he becomes fixated on the and kind of like dedicates his cause as kira towards them?

Of course, love . Sorry for the delay. Death Note has always been one of my favorite shows to write for so I’m a more then thrilled to fulfill your request. Hope you enjoy the story!

Innocence (Yandere! Light Yagami X Reader)

Trigger warnings: I don’t think there are any for this story, but if I missed one, let me know)

Light Yagami needed to follow his normal routine and arrive home. He only had short amount of time where he could write names in the Death Note. Light was cleansing the world, one criminal at a time. In time, he will become the god of the new world.

Although, one thing always troubled him. When he did in fact elimante L, where would Light go from there?

The simple answer was he’d continue killing those making the world rotten and Kira’s reign would prosper.

Wouldn't it be lonely ruling the world by himself? Light never paid that idea much thought. He would never find someone who’d meet his ideals and intellect.

What Light didn’t account for was someone special making their way into his life.

The teenager was in deep thought as he made their way out of the school grounds in the pouring rain.

Without warning, a force hit Light. His umbrella went flying through the air until it cascades onto the drenched sidewalk. He braced himself and closed his eyes as he waited for the fall, but it never came.

Light cautiously opened his eyes to see what stopped him from landing on the ground. The seventeen year old wasshocked to find a good looking high schooler holding tightly onto his arm.

He noticed they were wearing a uniform extremely similar to his own. This mystery person had to have be attending the same school. They were very attractive so Light figured they were probably pretty popular. If that were the case, how come Light couldn’t recognize them. He knew everyone in his classes and he was certainly popular himself. The teen contemplated over the idea that they could be a transfer but Light came to the conclusion that that couldn’t have been the case. He’d be most likely been asked to show them around. The teen would nevee forget a persons face that was constructed like a god/goddess.

Once Light regained his composure, ( Reader) let go of him and leaned down to pick up Light’s discarded umbrella. They handed it out towards him and released an apologetic smile.

Once Light held the umbrella, the other person gave a low bow. They spoke softy, but Light could still hear them over the pitter patter of the rain.

“Please forgive me, Yagami-san. I apologize for hurting you. A car was swerving and looked like it was heading straight towards you.”

(Reader) was terrified to look up from their position. They’d figure Light would simply glare and start to reprimand them. They didn’t have much experience with popular kids.

“Oh, It’s alright, uh…” The teen trailed off, hoping the other would finish his sentence.

“(Reader’s full name).”

“That was very brave of you.” (Reader) looked up at him, puzzled.

“Thank you, but I’m sure anyone would of helped you. I’m no one special.”

“I’m not so certain of that.” Light smiled a bit.

Reader simply nodded in response. The teen expected that to be the end of their discussion with Light Yagami but he did something that shocked them.

Light held out the umbrella so it was protecting both (Reader) and himself from the downpour. This small act of kindness meant the world to (Reader), as they tended to always be ignored by their peers.

The high schooler motion for them to walk together.

How could they possibly refuse Light’s offer without looking rude? If Light Yagami thought (Reader) was rude then they could kiss the days of being a nobody goodbye. They didn’t know much about the teenage boy besides the fact that he was popular and top of the class in terms of intelligence. (Reader) feared they would become the topic of what those kids whisper in the hallway. They’d become the focus of their cold glares.

So they walked with Light.

The two students made causal conversation as they made their way down the street. At first it was awkward but soon they were joking with each other as if they were old friends. Light found out that (Reader) was in almost all of his classes. They explained how they tended ti keep quiet and lurk in the background.

Each word (reader) spoke, resulted in Light coming to the conclusion that made the type of person that Kira was trying to protect.

They were good,hard working, honest and most of all innocent.

He needed to protect them. No, Kira would protect (Reader) and those like them.

He may of just found his partner. Someone to rule the world with him.

“I can’t wait to make you mine, (Reader).” Light muttered to himself.

(Reader) pretended to be oblivious to what her new acquaintance said but in truth, they heard him and they didn’t know what to think.

[cipheramnesia]

This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

[ostrichmonkey-games]

I wanna talk a little about something I've been noodling with in Stampede Wasteland. Rules that are impossible, or only exist as a sort of absence of something else?

Let's take a look at a part of generating Settlements:

The first step is figuring out how big the Settlement is by rolling 1d6. You'll probably notice that there's a result for if you roll a seven or higher. Now, unless you have a very special d6, you're not gonna get that result.

So what's the point of putting that result there in the first place? Well, how I'd interpret it at the table is that these City-States exist, but you're not going to be encountering them randomly while exploring the Wastes. Maybe there's another way to travel to these fabled City-States? Maybe that turns into the foundation for an adventure. Maybe the table actually decides that City-States don't exist anymore; something wiped them off the map. Maybe the table has come up with a way to get a bonus to that d6 roll based on the rulings they've been establishing. It could mean any number of things!

I think this works in this sort of game, partially because the rules are relatively minimal. And in a more minimal ruleset, sometimes you have to slow down and read between the lines and try and come to your own conclusions on how things work. This is, to me, very different from something being incomplete, but it could be a fine line.

If this were something like a Forged in the Dark game, this sort of absence might feel more like an oversight, but in the sorta-OSR sphere, expectations are a little different. It's interesting to think about.

The other example of this sort of idea crops up in the travel rules. There's three options for traveling the Wastes; by foot, by steam-crawler, and by airship.

Here are the rules for airship travel:

That's it. You know from reading that line that airships exist and people can use them to travel. But for whatever reason, getting passage on them is so far out of reach of the PCs that it may as well be impossible. It reveals something about the game's world, and how it operates.

Just like the City-State rule, airship travel could also spark adventures at the table. What would it take to get a ticket for an airship? What kind of people travel by airship?

I dunno! I think it's an interesting space to play around in. Exploring the space where rules and mechanics meet the world of the game, and the space that that opens up for the table to interpret those rules. Or something like that.

[nyxthejinx]

Answering to this desperate cry for help

Maaan this was so much fun fr, i hope I made these bad boys justice. Also, didn't know what kind of format I should be using and especially how to repost the original thing, since copying and pasting on the reblog would be absolute hell rip

𝐓𝐖: people biting each other but in an affectionate way, idk lemme know if there's more

𝐅𝐭.: Dottore, Xiao, Childe - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k (in total)

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: 3rd Made in Abyss soundtrack - Kevin Penkin (yes, it's that good, no comment)

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

OHOO he's gonna be so intrigued by this weird habit of yours.

We all know he's not big on social interactions and all -he barely values human life- but when you came into the picture he felt invested in someone for the first time. Hence he observes... Normal people, to learn the basics.

He's smart, a quick learner. Will understand in no time your likes and dislikes, but one day you?? Bite him? Chomp like a feral newborn kitten? Oh, his scholar personality spikes through the roof.

Dottore's never seen anyone bite their partner like you do, it confuses him at first, although he won't say anything and just chuckle. He'd rather observe you and come to his own conclusions before asking.

Was it a one time thing? When, how and where do you like to do it? Is there a deeper meaning, a show of intimacy? Need for attention? Affection?

Yeah he'll treat it like a maths equation, that's how he is.

Some days you'd see him without his mask, leaning particularly close to your face. Other times he'd set his gloves aside and let his digits linger on your cheeks and jaw for every little thing. (He knows he’s difficult to bite because of his clothes)

"Oh Dear, look at your lips, they're chapped/full of crumbs/smeared with any other kind of food/every single excuse he can come up with."

It takes you a bit longer than you would've wanted, but you realise his true intentions eventually. If you feel smug you can just chomp on him randomly and see him lose his mind (he thought he'd figured everything out rip dottore.exe).

I advise against it though, he'd repay the torture tenfold. (aka not cuddle with you even if you ask nicely).

Overall, Dottore finds this habit of yours cute. You're a nice little, innocent thing in his eyes and that just adds to your charm.

Yeah you can be a 1.90m tall menace of a person and he'd still tease you, an arrogant, mean jerk >:(

After some time he starts biting you back (ouch shark teeth), not in a painful way ofc. He's so casual with it, most likely to strike when you least expect it just to see your surprised and/or flustered face.

Or to have you chomping in return, even ;)

I'd say 7.5/10, good chomping partner but will "fight" back.

𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

My guy, poor guy.

He's another social inept, we all know why.

He started to learn about human customs after meeting you, and you've helped him out a lot, but he's still so stiff.

He probably gets a heart attack every time you give him a surprise hug. The day you chomp on him his soul leaves his body.

It's not that he's a scaredy cat, physical touch just overwhelms his senses if he's not prepared :((

Asks you to tell him beforehand next time.

But aside from that he doesn't seem to mind. He finds every human custom weird in a way, this one is no exception, and eventually it becomes routine yeah?

I think he's a perfect subject for chomping, with all the exposed skin he has. I mean, look at his shoulders! The urge to sneak up from behind and just CHOMP.

He's got muscles for days too, won't shatter your teeth on his bones. AND HIS CHEEKS- his baby cheeks, they look so soft how can you not bite those.

But yeah, just give him some time and he'll get used to this.

Xiao's not stupid either, he notices right away that you're the only human partaking in this activity, or in public at least. Lowkey feels happy and proud to have you as a partner, you're so special and unique :( <33

At some point he'll want to try it out as well, but he's sooo shy about it and a bit scared he'll hurt you. You gotta make him confess with bone crushing hugs.

When he eventually chomps back he's UGHH so soft with it. For Xiao it's more about the meaning and the bonding experience than the chomp itself.

9/10 if you're fine with doing all the chomping. 8/10 if you want chomps back, but definetly recommended.

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

Run. RUN. RUN FOR YOUR CHEEKS' LIFE.

He is THE chomping menace.

Let me tell ya, you're putting your life on the line. It's like a declaration of war and he will not hesitate to respond with all he's got.

We know for a fact that he's always up for a challenge. If you're crazy enough to engage and bite him first, well I hope you have a survival plan for the rest of your life cus he won't stop.

It can and will escalate in a "fight" if you're in a private space (you know the tickle fights where you become a mess of tangled limbs? That.) If you try that in public though? He's gonna look at you like a damn predator.

He'll eat your cheeks once you get home, good luck.

His bites are rough-ish too, unfortunately for you. He’d never hurt you on purpose, and is always careful with his strength, but in the heat of battle he’ll forget; 7 times out of 10 you leave the field with a 32 teeth bite mark. 

I think he is more of a cheek guy than anything. They're always available and easy to reach, regardless of your height, and it's also so intimate because who else touches your face? No one, aside from him.

He's the chosen one.

And don't think it will stop at the first time, no no. You've unlocked a new hobby for him. He'll put so much effort in it, it's terrifying.

If you act surprised or flustered well, bonus points in his opinion. Your face is just priceless and will make a habit to make you react that way.

At that point you either fight back or succumb. His soft spots are his stomach (duh, nibble on the exposed skin when he's in his work clothes, I bet he's ticklish), his nape, collarbones and overall the base of his neck.

The rest of his body is still a good chomping surface, but his instincts kick in and his muscles go taut, it's like biting a rock and has no effect on him.

Childe will definitely give you a hard time. It's up to you to take advantage of the right moment and give him a good revenge chomp.

Honestly, he's my fave ever but I'll give him a 5/10 just because of that. Can't even bite the man in peace anymore 🙄

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[genericpuff]

Webtoon Canvas is pay-to-win now, I guess.

DISCLAIMER: All of the series I show here is for the sake of comparing statistics and criticizing Webtoons' Super Likes system. I have nothing personal against these series or their creators and I do not want anyone to get the impression that I am encouraging any sort of action against these creators. The following rant is merely my own observations and opinions concerning Webtoons itself as a platform.

I found out today that Webtoon has implemented a Super Likes ranking board.

This does exactly what it sounds like - it ranks Canvas series based on how many Super Likes they have. Whether or not this ranking board is on a weekly rotation (like the Originals rankings) or just overall, I don't know, but something immediately felt off with this system and it took very little time at all to realize what was really going on here.

When you actually click on the series listed here, it'll tell you how many Super Likes they've accrued overall. The first thing that made me raise an eyebrow was the fact that the Super Likes listed in the ranking boards isn't the same as what's listed in the comics' landing pages, but I chalked that up to a simple delay on WT's end as I can assume the ranking board doesn't refresh at pace with whatever Super Likes are coming in.

But the real red flag was this:

Limitless : Untold is a series with 1,657 followers and seems to get an average of 35-45 likes per episode.

But it somehow has 1,715 Super Likes?

Anyone who's run a Patreon, Ko-Fi, Ad Revenue, or any other sort of revenue-based system with their content will probably realize how that doesn't add up. The reality is that regardless of how many readers / followers you have, only a small fraction of them will actually spend money on your work or to support you. Not every person reading an Originals series is FastPassing. Not every person reading a webcomic is supporting the creator on Patreon. This ratio is even apparent outside of income-based statistics - for example, not every person who follows will read new updates each week and hit the like button (which is why you can have a comic with 1700 followers that only gets a few hundred views and a handful of likes per update). This ratio can be influenced by all sorts of different things, but one thing that doesn't typically happen is for the ratio to flip itself in this fashion.

To put it bluntly: how can a comic with a high of 45 likes in the past 3 months possibly accrue 1,715 Super Likes since it was launched just last week? You've probably already come to the conclusion on your own, but for those who haven't: there's very strong evidence to suggest that creators are buying their own Super Likes to get on this ranking board.

That's assuming the worst of this, though - after all, maybe some of these creators just have super supportive friends who are tossing them a ton of Super Likes? It costs $1 for 5 of them, in this example the amount of Super Likes comes out to approximately $343 (assuming my math is right lmao) which isn't massive amounts of money but it's, again, still really impressive for a comic with only 40 likes on average.

Bu Limitless : Untold isn't the only one in the rankings board that's like this. In fact, the top three spots are occupied by webtoons with the same tilted ratio.

But then, suddenly, after those top three positions, the following webtoons Super Likes totals that make a LOT more sense and reflect the usual ratio more accurately:

The Little Trashmaid, one of the most popular Canvas webtoons of all time and the first one to hit the 1 million subscriber mark in the Canvas section has only accrued 355 Super Likes so far... and you seriously want me to believe a comic like Limitless : Untold with only 0.08% of its readership is somehow genuinely earning five times the amount of Super Likes?

I want to make it clear yet again that I have nothing against the series that have managed to break the system in their own favor. None of this is meant to "slam" them or judge their work or anything of the sort, I'm simply comparing the numbers here and coming to a very reasonable conclusion as someone who's well aware of how ratios like this tend to work in webcomics and content creation. It's just not feasible for the top three comics in the Super Likes ranking boards to organically earn that many Super Likes relative to the sizes of their audiences, especially when compared to the bigger comics that are only pulling in a fraction of that amount. The ratios of Super Likes : actual likes for those bigger comics actually looks reasonable and expected, the ratios for the smaller comics that are sitting at the top are not.

If anything, Webtoons has created a broken system and these creators are simply using that system to their advantage. And I'm not necessarily going to fault them for that because I can get wanting to do whatever it takes to get eyes on your work.

But it does raise the question of what kind of system Webtoons has cultivated here - a system where creators are resorting to Super Liking their own episodes to bump themselves up in the leaderboards.

And before anyone asks me how I can be so sure that these creators are Super Liking their own works - I literally opted into the Super Likes system myself and proceeded to Super Like one of my own episodes.

(this is like the one helpful thing with my work still being on WT even though I'm not updating there anymore, it lets me test shit like this LOL)

So yes, this is a thing that creators can do and it would certainly explain the massive discrepancy in the ratio of Super Likes : regular likes for these smaller series.

This is literally pay-to-win. And who do we have to blame for this? Webtoons, full stop. Not only for implementing a ranking board for an optional monetization service while still allowing creators to use that monetization system to support themselves as a way to climb up that ranking board, but for creating this gross psychological dependency on the platform as the "only way" to build an audience, to the point that people are now paying Webtoons out of their own pocket just to have their thumbnail visible in a ranking board and maybe get some extra views (and 49% of their money back if they hit that $100 threshold). And on top of all that, further putting on the pressure of competition and 'exclusivity' among many budding creators who are doing what they do for free and for fun. Why are creators now being forced to compete in a metric that's solely determined by how much expendable income their own audience has?

Sure, at least this means creators can get themselves into a ranking board by their own power unlike the other categories that are hand-picked by Webtoons and / or determined by daily stats, but at what cost? The literal financial hit of paying for advertising with extra steps, and the ethical dilemma of essentially paying for potential views with microtransactions. This is no better than paying bots on Instagram to follow your profile and inflate your worth to those who aren't following you. None of it is real, it will not legitimize your work to throw money at Webtoons just to have your thumbnail visible in a ranking board. These are microtransactions meant to benefit Webtoons, not you, the creator.

[pumpkinhimiko]

"Mistranslations" that are not mistranslations

Now with an additional part 2.

NISA has made plenty of mistakes while translating the Danganronpa series (and I've complained about them before), and so they have a reputation of being untrustworthy. But because of this reputation, I feel like fans are too quick to trust whatever anyone that isn't NISA states as absolute fact. So, I want to examine some instances of fan translators claiming NISA has mistranslated something, when, no, actually, they didn't.

Kokichi's last words

人にやらされるゲームなんて…楽しい訳あるかよ… A game you're forced to play... how could that be fun...

This is probably the most widespread myth in terms of "mistranslations that aren't", with the original post that makes this claim having over 2k notes: that Kokichi in the original Japanese actually says, "How could a game where you're forced to kill people be fun...?" Unfortunately, it's just not true. Fortunately for me, there's a reddit post here that breaks the line down in detail, so I don't have to do any work.

Anyway, I really wanted to make this post because of this thread, which makes several false claims.

 Kokichi says he's afraid of friends in general

オレは、そういう『仲間』が他人よりも怖いけどねー。I'm more afraid of those kinds of [friends] than strangers.

So... souiu, meaning that type of/that kind of is right there, directly before nakama (which can mean friend, especially if it's in a shounen anime, but can also just mean companion/member of a group). I don't understand how you can miss this. Not only is it right there, this claim on its face doesn't make sense. Why, in this context, would Kokichi suddenly blurt out that he's afraid of having friends? It has nothing to do with the conversation they're having.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial

王馬くん、もういいだろ ? Ouma-kun, isn't this enough? その話を聞かせてくれよ。Tell us about that.

Okay, you've probably heard the phrase mou ii a lot if you watch anime, and it's almost always accompanied by a frustrated huff. Because it is, in fact, something you say when impatient, fed up, what have you. It literally means "good already", carrying pretty much the identical meaning of the English phrase, "that's enough" or "I've had enough". Shuichi does not say it's okay as in it's daijoubu, which is the word you use when trying to comfort someone. He is very much frustrated here and telling Kokichi to fess up.

Citation needed

I couldn't find a line like this in Kokichi's FTEs, but maaaaaaaybe I missed it? Shuichi's narration comments quite a few times on Kokichi acting childishly throughout the game, but I couldn't find anything like this in specific.

EDIT: Correction, I did find it, and it's covered in part two. Suffice to say, the OP got this line completely wrong.

That Kaito thing

Yeah this is patently false. It's also already been touched on in this thread with comments backing it up, so there’s another thing I don't have to get into. I'll put the text here though.

オレはテメーみて一に胸クソ悪い真似までして、If I have to mimic your sickening behavior, 生き残りて一とは思わねーんだよ。I don't think I want to survive.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial part deaux

I've seen varying claims on how these lines were translated, from them being slightly tweaked, to the claim they were completely butchered to make Saihara too aggressive. I'm just going to leave it here and let you come to your own conclusions.

ダサいのはキミの方だよ…王馬くん。The lame one is you... Ouma-kun.

百田くんの周りにはいつも人が集まってくる… Momota-kun always has people around him... でも、キミの周りには誰もいないじゃないか。But, there's no one around you.

キミは…その程度のヤツって事だよ。That's... what kind of person you are.

This is snappy in its own way, though, if you consider that 程度 is closer to meaning grade/level/degree rather than simply "type of". "That's the level of person you are," basically.

And if you doubt me on any of this, I encourage you to do your own research, get second opinions if you can. I know not everyone knows Japanese, in which case you can't really help but rely on someone else and hope their translation is accurate. That said, at the bare minimum, I think people should provide screenshots and the original Japanese text if they're going to claim something is a mistranslation. Like, I don't think you should be able to say "actually in Japanese Kokichi says he volunteers at animal shelters in his free time but NISA cut it!" and have half the fandom believe you with no proof.

[bubblybloob]

I dare you to draw smitten with either cold or the beast, you pick.

This is because I said I hadn’t gotten many asks for the Smitten, huh?

This might actually be a bit more Cold focused, long thing I wrote below.

There were fights, a lot of fights, actually. How could there not be? Eleven voices given form, only to be cramped back into one space. At least this time it was a house, not a body.

It wasn’t a bad thing, far from it; Hero wagers most were thankful for the permanent, familiar company, while the rest indifferent. Hero himself quite enjoys chatting or playing games with the others, it isn’t uncommon for him to seek out one of the voices simply so his stirring thoughts can have an outlet.

However, sometimes the others don’t click. Usually it was fine- Broken, Hunted and Contrarian seldom got physical. Opportunist and Paranoid might if they felt strongly enough about something to throw away their pretenses or fear, but they weren’t often the issue.

The rest tended to jump to bold accusations and wild conclusions, looked forward to it even. Skeptic occasionally found himself going from relatively mundane quarrels to all out brawls from causing accidental offense. Stubborn and Cheated had a tendency to get too excited about coming out on top in one way or another, and the other two…

Sometimes it felt like they only ever fought each other.

Okay, that was lie, Cold purposely ruffled the other’s feathers out of pure boredom. Hero wondered if he had made up some sort of challenge to see if he could get the non confrontational voices riled up for a fight, given how often he pushed their buttons. Once he flat out punched Contrarian in the face just to see if he’d retaliate.

If Cold couldn’t get them to crack he’d sigh with something akin to dejection and approach someone like Cheated, maybe Stubborn if he was feeling risky- pretty much anyone with a shorter fuse so he could get some form of thrill.

But they weren’t his go to, that would be- of course- Smitten.

“You vile, wretched thing! I won’t hear another word of nonsense out of you. Begone! Foul creature!”

“Call me all the names you like, you won’t get the response you’re looking for.”

It happened just about every other day: Cold would say something off putting, Smitten would respond with something that would offend anybody else, a bit of snarky back and forth later, and suddenly hands were being thrown.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Cheated grumbled, coming up to stand beside Hero, whose eyes were encircled by dark shadows.

“I ‘dunno, woke up to them yapping at each other, or at least Smitten’s yapping, I don’t think Cold has ever raised his voice.” Hero yawned out, scratching at his horn tuft.

“With how often those two are at each others throats, I think we should count ourselves lucky one is so soft spoken.” Cheated stretched his arms and body upwards, his wings instinctively snapping outwards and flapping as he tried to relieve his muscles. The large wings smacked Hero’s side as he did, which had the heroic voice stumbling backwards as Cheated mumbled a small “sorry” out.

“It’s fine. I think it’s less that he’s soft spoken and more that he’s sharp spoken. He talks like he knows where all your vitals are.” Hero responds, shivering at his own words.

Cheated shrugs. “Probably does, he’s our resident freak after all.”

“How is it then that you feel nothing? Without feeling one will rot away, yet you’re still here.” Seems Hero had missed part of drama during his and Cheated’s little chat. Smitten had now grabbed Cold by the chest feathers and was looking ready to tear into him.

“Who knows, really? Maybe I’m like a ghost, haunting the remains that our godly self expelled. Or maybe we simply can’t die, I haven’t eaten in a while.” Cold replies with a sharp whistle.

“Ooo, he shouldn’t be so candid about saying that out loud, never know when Hunted’s listening.” Cheated says behind a wicked smile. No doubt the avian had tucked the information away for blackmail, or to get a favor from Opportunist, who also found a new joy in digging up dirt on the others for his own benefit.

Hero was about to step in at this point. Smitten looked ready to let loose, and Cold seemed to be passively soaking in the drama of it all. But before Hero could open his mouth, Smitten’s hold relaxed, and his head hung low.

“No, I see through your tricks, scum. I will not loose myself to anger over frivolous things such as this. Leave, now, I must prepare myself for the morning time.” Smitten let’s go of Cold’s feathers, which were not bunched together and frayed. Cold hums something tired.

“Weak willed of you, can’t approach her killer?” Cold tilts his head.

A flinch. “I know what you’re doing, I won’t fall for it this time, villain!” Smitten whips around, and goes to walk from the conflict.

Cold’s wry smile falls flat on his face, he turns his head toward Cheated.

“Not today pal, Paranoid seemed extra twitchy though, probably didn’t get much sleep. It’s still early and he isn’t fully alert in his head, might be able to start something up with him if you push hard enough.” Cheated suggests. Hero punches him in the arm, just when he thought there would be no morning fight to put down.

Cold’s brow raises, evidently interested in a fight with someone who rarely raised his hands. He moves past the two, already on the prowl for their jumpiest member.

“Troop on, you emotionless fuck- ow, stop that!” Cheated yelps when Hero punches him again, this time a little harder.

Cheated’s words seemed to have stopped Smitten in his tracks however, he mutters something to himself, and whips back around. “You can’t be as dispassionate as you claim! You’re merely afraid of your own feelings!”

The accusation makes the Cold stop dead. His expression is hidden, but Hero swears he sees his feathers puff out. He expects them to quickly flatten back down.

But they don’t.

Cold slowly turns the upper half of his body, his face looks… almost strained. His composure had finally cracked.

“Hmm?” He darkly hums. It’s an oddly moderate response, given how Cold takes any and all opportunities to tease whomever he talks to, especially for outlandish claims such as this.

They were outlandish… weren’t they?

Hero had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn’t explain.

“I’m right.” Smitten looks a little surprised, before a damn near elated expression creeps onto his face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cold doesn’t respond, still half turned to leave. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t swayed in the past ten seconds. Hero wonders if he was still breathing.

“You aren’t unfeeling at all, are you? You’re full of emotion! What’s is it then that makes you push them under the deep, dark waves of the heart? Fear? Want? …Guilt? I can guess what it’s for.” Smitten continues with his theory, the Cold still hasn’t retaliated.

“Ooo, might be onto something there, Smitty.” Chester looks almost excited as he says this. His words seem to encourage Smitten further, who puffs up under the praise.

Cold stands there.

“Go on then, tell us the harsh truth, fiend. You’re no emotionless husk.” Smitten moves closer and closer to Cold’s position. Hero wonders if he should put himself between the two, but he can’t say he isn’t interested to where this is going.

Smitten stands face to face with his Cold counterpart. Hero swears Cold shrinks back under the close attention.

“You’re afraid.”

For a moment, they stand there, a stare down. Hero briefly hears the faint phantom sounds of glass breaking under the weight of godhood.

In a blink Cold draws his arm back, and his fist connects to Smitten cheek.

—

WoooOooO cliffhanger that might never keep going.

I’m unsure if this is common theory or whatnot, but I’ve not for a moment believed Cold was emotionless. I think he’s hurt by what’s happened to him, so much so that he thinks being emotionless, acting only to entertain will bring him some form of twisted comfort.

I think he’s too afraid to let himself feel, so he pushes his feelings far, far down, and pretends he feels nothing. He’s so good at it that he believes it to be true.

He’s so good at ignoring both physical and mental feeling that he himself believes he is nothing but a thrill seeker. In reality, his emotions, his physical needs, it all hurt him, so he squashes both.

Think about it, you usually get him by killing the princess in cold blood, and then subsequently stabbing yourself. Both hurt him. He only knows hurt from both, so he throws them aside.