#Whichever makes you most comfortable who the fuck cares

[bisexualseraphim]

Adore Delano: *gets Facial Feminisation Surgery to reduce her dysphoria, pass as a woman better and feel more confident*

Radfems who revolve womanhood around producing large gametes and not much else: Erm isn’t it kind of misogynistic to suggest that women look a certain way? 🤨 Isn’t it transphobic to suggest that you don’t already look like a woman simply because you identify as one? You disgusting hairy he/him moid everyone can tell what you are you’re not fooling anyone GET OUT OF OUR BATHROOMS PERVERT! Aren’t you upholding toxic feminine beauty standards by trying to look more feminine? I hate gendered beauty standards and I hate the term “Facial Feminisation Surgery” and this is all trans women’s fault somehow. Aren’t you freaks the ones who want to abolish gender entirely? If you wear makeup you are personally solely responsible for the patriarchy’s existence. Haven’t you ever thought about how you being trans and transitioning affects ME. You’re obviously so insecure while I, clearly, am not whatsoever

[604to647]

Photocopies

2.2K / Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Javi off guard in the embassy photocopy room.

Warnings: Angst (sorry!), longing, some hurt (no comfort). Previous relationship, mention of past infidelity (or is it??). Mainly Javi's POV. Nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: This is a direct follow-up to Birthday Present, taking place S1/S2 Narcos, ~2 months after reader’s birthday; I don't think you need to read it but it gives some context. I'm sorry, there is no HEA for these two dummies yet, this is just another little one shot (not quite ready to commit to writing another long series!), but I hope those of you who remember them from Birthday Present will still enjoy seeing them again 🥹🥰

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Tagging @milla-frenchy who knows why 🥹😘

Mierda. 

Javier can see the consecutive flashes of the photocopier’s green scan light accompanied by the hum of the machine in repetitive use as he walks down the hall towards the U.S. Embassy’s main floor copier room.  It sounds like whoever’s occupying the photocopier is in the middle of a big job – he sighs with an air of unjustified frustration.  Such would be his luck when he’s already running late for his meeting with the CIA attaché. 

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

Mierda. 

Still preoccupied by your collating project, you haven’t looked up to notice that you’re no longer alone in the small, stifling room – out of consideration or cowardice, but most likely both, Javier loathes to disturb you.  He hasn’t spoken to you in nearly four months - he’ll be damned if the first time he does so causes you inconvenience.  He’s already done so much worse to you. 

Fuck it - those spooks can make do with one copy of his Satellite Repositioning request.  If the CIA needs a second copy so badly, let them come down and make it themselves, he convinces himself.  Javier steps back silently, slowly backing out of the room. 

“How many copies do you need?”

Stunned by the sweet lilt of your voice, Javier remains motionless.  He suspects that you don’t know it’s him, but rather you had felt another person’s presence in the room and your considerate nature simply offered what you intuitively knew was needed.  But to his surprise, your eyes meet his directly when he looks up; he searches them for any sign of distaste or distain now that you recognize him as your intruder, but sees nothing except sincerity.  Your hand is already outstretched, waiting for his form.

He should leave.  Say he changed his mind about needing copies.  Say he got lost in this building that he’s worked in for years.  Say something.

“Don’t want to interrupt you.  I’ll come back.”

You throw an easy, encouraging smile his way and wave your still reaching hand dismissively in graceful sweeps that only serve to remind Javier of how effortlessly charming you are; your voice an enchanting song with its lightness, “I’m going to be forever.  Come on, gimme.”  You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

He can refuse you nothing, though you could never know that, and hands over his single sheet readily, “Just one please.”

You take his form and titter to yourself as you diligently set aside the stack you were organizing, careful not to lose your place before laying his paper face down on the glass to copy, “I’ll make you two, just in case.”

Though the sound of the copy machine whirling to life fills the room, the silence between the two people in it somehow rings louder.  Javier looks around awkwardly, his eyes taking in the goliath of paperwork that you were in the middle of taming – should he apologize for interrupting?  No, it would likely ring hollow to your ears; he’s committed worse transgressions for which he still owes you an apology.  But the lump in his throat compels him to engage you; he’s a man starved, ready to beg for any meager scraps of attention you’re willing to throw his way.

“I thought you had a secretary to do all this admin for you – is Renee away?”

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.  “No, she’s here.  But when it’s big booklets for interdepartmental meetings, I just like to do it myself.”

Right - Javier knows this about you.  You take such prodigious care with everything, of everyone.  Any fool at the embassy, and there were many, could see you’re a powerhouse, work ethic and dedication unmatched, and completely deserving of the respect and praise you reap – he’s always been proud of you.

Handing him his two copies and original, you toss Javier another soft smile before turning back to your task.  Whatever this interlude was, whatever grace granted him a few moments of cordiality with you is gone now, and Javier takes the papers from you with a genuine, but melancholy, “Thanks.”  He heads out of the room, feeling somehow happier and yet just as lost as he has been these past few months.

“Javi?”

He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness, 

“Thank you for my birthday present.”

How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago.

“I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear.

He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

He does know.  Like a lovesick magpie, Javi’s heart would leap every time he caught the flash of silver in your hair at the embassy: during the meetings you expertly lead that he had the privilege of attending, via quick glimpses of you as you hurried towards the breakroom with your colleagues for a much-needed cup of coffee, when he stole longing glances at you from the DEA’s offices down the hall from the windows that ran alongside your desk in Treasury.  Each time you wore them, it gave Javi a surge a pride (and some relief) to know that amidst all the pain he had caused, he could still bring you some joy.

You’re looking at him now, eyes shiny and full of emotion, “I love them – they’re so beautiful.  Thank you for having thought of me.”

Javi’s body carries him across the small room and into your waiting arms of its own accord. All the strength he strains to wield on a daily basis in order to stay away from you evaporating under that tender gaze he thought had been forever lost to him.

He holds you close but not too tight, unable to tear his eyes from the sweetness of your expression.  How could you still look at him with anything other than disappointment, hate?  Despite what he did, you remain good.  Kind.  Feeling.  You wash over him like an inevitable wave and Javi wants more than anything to drown in you again.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Baby.

Drinking in his soft utterance of the endearment, you earnestly study the man who was once yours.  Javi looks apprehensive and guarded, like he can’t quite settle into the tenderness of this moment – expecting at any second for you to shove him away, curse him.  Your heart aches to witness his anxiety – he’s still the man you knew, believed in: one whose bravado and tough exterior harbours a sensitive and deeply feeling heart, one who never thinks he deserves good things even when he extends himself for the sake of others.  You take Javi’s face into your hands, feeling the flex of his strong jaw beneath your palms as he inhales and swallows deeply at the loving gesture, still convinced this unexpected peace will be ripped from him.

“Do you miss me, Javi?”

How can he possibly answer but truthfully? Even if you weren’t looking at him so tenderly and with such vulnerability, Javi’s never been able to hide from you, lie to you. Insinuate falsities, yes. Mislead, perhaps. But outright lying? Never. How could the moon ever lie to the sun?

“Yes, pretty bird. Every day,” Javi closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, sealing in the truth of his words.

He’s being selfish.  It’s selfish to want to pull out the knife that’s lodged permanently in his chest; the one he placed there himself when he broke your heart, to stab and remind him with every breath he takes of what he’s lost.  What he’s broken.

If he could remove the blade for even a moment, then for that moment he can be your Javi again.  The one you trusted to take care of your heart.  The one who was ever grateful that an angel like you saw something in him, something he thought had long been snuffed out by the savagery of the Columbian sicarios and the cruelty of Escobar.  The Javi you had patiently nurtured back to life with your compassion and gentle touch.  The one whose vow of love you never questioned; he hadn't thought himself capable of such devotion, but you had easily unlocked it from within him with your own.

Selfishness wins today.  Javi removes the knife and lets himself be that man again with a tentative press of his lips to yours.  Immediately, he’s overtaken by the honey of your kiss – every brush of your pretty pout reminds him of all his favourite kisses with you: soft, secret kisses in hidden corners at the office; hard and heavy make outs outside the embassy walls away from prying eyes; tender kisses of promises intended to be kept while on dates or just laying in bed; possessive, dangerous kisses used to muffle moans of pleasure not meant for the ears of any other; hungry and urgent kisses heralding toe-curling, earthshattering orgasms; and sweet kisses of affirmation after every declaration of I love you.

Javi kisses you to make up for every single kiss he’s missed since he kissed you last.  He kisses you like he has the forever with you he threw away so cruelly all those month ago.  He tightens his arms around you as you melt into his kiss, momentarily forgetting how to let you go again.  Your soft whimper of surrender into his mouth jolts him back to reality.  He doesn’t have forever with you.  You aren’t his, and you shouldn’t be his.  He’s been warned.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

“Baby, we can’t.”

“Javi…” The way you say his name now has none of the harmony that invited him in earlier; this is a plea.

“Pretty bird, I’m no good for you.  Look at you – you’re perfect and you have everything going for you.  Everything you are is beyond my wildest dreams – you’re destined for the kind of future that has no place in it for a guy like me.  You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.”

You’re shaking your head, ready to argue and Javier thinks, no – he knows you would prevail.  He’s come over to your side of every argument the two of you ever had - won over by your intelligence, your passion, or simply for the joy it brought him to give you anything you wanted.  He has to put a stop to this before your eloquence and kindness can disarm him, so he pushes the knife in further, “You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.”

Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

It’s as if he can see the cinema in your eyes replaying that horrible scene from four months earlier when you caught him bare chested and pants unbuttoned, with a half naked Vanessa on his couch.  And just like that, the ache of his betrayal is renewed and your hurt rolls off your frame in lines so thick Javier thinks he might be able to pluck them out of the air with his fingers.

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat.

Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.”

“You’re welcome, Agent.”

Agent.

And just like that he’s Agent again.  Not baby, Javi, or even Javier.  Just Agent.

This third time he goes to leave the copier room you don’t stop him and Javier is thankful; unable to trust himself should he look back at you, he doesn’t – Agent Pena sets his face to a grim scowl and stalks down the hallway away from the best thing that ever happened to him.  Grateful that you had the forethought to give him an extra copy of his form, Javier discards the top sheet before going into his meeting – it’s completely unusable: the words on the page blotted and blurred from tears he didn’t have the strength to prevent from falling, the ruined, damp paper evidence of his failures.

[trans-androgyne]

I wish I had taken a screenshot of it, but I saw this poll on here the other day that was basically like "Trans girls: would you rather date a misogynistic trans guy who tops, or a feminist trans guy who bottoms?" (with the most popular answer being the former option.) And like I don't know if I'm just overly sensitive from all the recent anti-transmasc shit on this website but it just came across as super weird and gross to me. People, including other trans people, are way too fucking comfortable objectifying and sexualizing trans men just to be funny or to prove a point or whatever. And the real kicker is that, according to the poll's results, it literally doesn't even matter if we're one of the "good" trans guys, all that matters is that we're useful to people sexually. Like I get the poll was most likely just a joke and probably not trying to be serious, but I don't care! I think making a poll about which members of a marginalized group you find fuckable is super weird!! I just wish people would fucking treat us as real human beings and not just a hypothetical group who exists only to be laughed at or sexualized. But I don't know, maybe I'm just overreacting here

You’re not overreacting at all, I’m so sorry incredibly you came across that, seeing that would make me feel like shit :/ How much would you like to bet most of those same people would think twice about “would you rather date a bigoted trans woman that bottoms or a non bigoted trans woman that tops (or whichever way people prefer to fetishize trans women into, I feel like they get both the same as transmascs get sexualized as both aggressive and submissive).

[venuslcver]

HIGH BY THE BEACH ⋆

pairing: boyfriend!pope x carefreekook!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend, pope, and you had been together for a while when he changes his mind about not going to college.

tw: fluff, implied sex, profanity (no use of y/n)

any type of interaction including likes, comments, and reblogs is appreciated! but ultimately not necessary. let me know if im missing any warnings!

“ok, baby! which one should i wear? this one or thissss one?” you questioned pope, holding two of your swimsuits in a display manner. one was a lilac-colored string bikini, the other being a cheeky, polka-dot one-piece.

you could never make a final decision for the life of you, only leaving it up to pope for his opinion. though, pope had known you long enough to know, whichever item you tend to show last was the option you had in mind. hell — most of the time you don’t even know that you prefer one option more than the others.

you wanted to wear the left one, pope concluded. no matter if it was clothing, makeup, nail color, or decor-related. not actually having input into the choices, he usually would just coax the answer out of you. it made it easier on him, besides he didn't give a fuck what you wore, because well... he would still find you beautiful dressed as the grinch. which you did a couple halloweens previously.

“uh… i don’t know — which one is more comfortable?” he asked, putting you on the spot, hoping to get an honest answer out of you.

clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth in deep thought — lifting each and inspecting it. trying to remember if it was uncomfortable or not the last time you wore it.

“well i… mean. huh. why is this so hard?” you said truly debating both options. making your final answer, “i would probably go with the right one being more comfortable”

“probably… and i’m just sayin’ this as a thought…maybe it’s hard because you have too many swimsuits”

letting out an obnoxiously high-pitched scoff, you halted your attention from the bathing suit debacle to pope, who was leisurely laid back on your rope hammock swing that you had in your room. you never took kindly to anyone, including pope, criticizing your inability to get rid of things, especially your bathing suits.

“firstly, i don’t have too many swimsuits, and one could never have too many of them. secondly, even if i did — how could that possibly affect my ability to pick a swimsuit?”

awkwardly looking at you, pope reluctantly replied, “you can’t keep up with all of them, making you not even remember the last time you wore them… and the last time you chose the right one, you were complain’n the entire time”

ignoring his truthful statement altogether, you thought for a moment. he was right. the previous time, you ended up bitch’n the whole time about having to hold the straps of the one piece to avoid flashing innocent bystanders on the beach. which was the worst, considering the excitement that you experienced when in the water. flailing around without a care in the world.

a light switched when you came to this realization, noticing that you were rather harsh with your poor boyfriend, who did not deserve that in the slightest.

“oh my god! you are right!”, you said squealing, right into hugging pope’s sitting body.

taking his face into your hands, before hugging him again, “i’m so sorry baby! you know i didn’t mean that, right?”

staying firm in the hug, while he pulled himself out of the hammock, “yeah, yeah i know you didn’t mean it.”, pope said brushing your rudeness off. you and him rarely argued, and if you did, you were talking within the next half hour, easily.

looking up at him with doe eyes, and an innocent cast appearing on your profile. an all-knowing look that pope was very familiar with. one of the ways that pope and you were able to get over any kind of tiff was by admitting to being wrong and taking the proper steps to apologize.

for example, this one time pope got all panicked at the future and started freaking the fuck out. which led him to harboring that he was in the wrong and mishandled the situation at hand. before slipping his hand into you. well... two fingers but either way! pope was giving in that way, regularly lending a helping hand to you when in need. it wasn't an obligation as much as a want. you and pope were alike in that way. always willing to put others first.

"c-can i make it up to you?"

sooner than later making it to the intended place of hanging out, the local beach on the outer banks. looking into the surrounding area in your eyesight, the beach was practically empty. a lot of spring-breakers had vacated the week before. having access to almost a completely bare beach.

you helped pope set up on the beach, before laying horizontally on his vertically propped-up body.

pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, that was in his lap. when he did the leaning down motion, you pushed the pineapple in your hand, to his lips. silently urging him to take a bite. to which he did.

immediately snickering when it ran down his face, halting laughter when it dripped onto yours. lucky that the acidic fruit juices didn't collect in your eyes. either way, pope was quick to wipe it off your face.

oftentimes, pope and you were silent when hanging out. you wouldn't per say it was a con, because it was due to being around each other every second, when not at work. though, when pope's dad, heyward, was short-staffed, you would offer a lending hand. taking a couple shifts, with pope. even, visiting each other at work.

along with packing an array of fruits to snack on, you also brought a weed. one of the conversations you had meant to bring up was the future.

pope was wicked smart, at least, school-wise. his choice of friends was questionable. and as much as you love your shared friends— they tend to be dumbasses. pulling pope down to their level. to which, a couple foul decisions led pope to not attend college— as he previously intended.

one late night, he admitted that he felt like "all the work he put in was sliding down the drain". which riddled you with resentment towards your friends. not that you cared what pope did. only that he was happy— which he wasn't at all for a passing time.

"pope? can i ask you something?"

"yeah— what's up?"

"d-do you have any idea what you want?"

"what i want?", pope asked, not understanding the question at hand.

"want for the future?"

looking at you bewildered, pope had no idea where the loaded question came from.

"uh — besides being with you, i have no clue.", a tinge of sadness rolled off his tongue.

grinning at his, rather, romantic proclamation, "o-ok, well, um i was expecting a little bit more of an answer, b-but that works for me"

"i-i'm worried... like really worried", he admitted.

coming off your high, out of your own fantasy land— that was induced by his heartfelt statement, "why?!"

still supporting his weight with one arm, he took the other and rubbed his face, "why shouldn't i be? i-i mean i was going to go to college, b-but now I'm just working at my dad's restaurant"

pope tended to self-destruct when his fears kicked in, sending him into overdrive. sitting up, looking at him directly in the face, "h-hey don't say that! one, you know that your dad would not keep you unless you were working your ass off! you're like the smartest person i know, out of anyone in outer banks, or hell, anywhere! a-and we'll figure it out."

set on helping understand that he and you would be good, you pulled a small baggie out of your beach bag, "ok?"

"o-okay"

"now, let's get high. and forget about everything, ever."

although he wasn't completely sure, he knew that you would stay by him, meaning he would be completely fine. if the world ended that day, he wouldn't have cared as long as he had you. well, and he would prefer if he had the other pogues and his parents.

[yikimiki]

Bbbbbrrrrrr ok how about some toxic relationship headcanons (mayhaps w make up sex?) forr Sukuna, Toji, Geto, Megumi if you accept multiples otherwise I'm be happy w/ whichever you'd rather write for !

Since it’s four characters I’ll write one big headcanon for each ♥️

⚠️ warnings: toxic/abusive relationships, smut, dark content, gaslighting, mentions of violence (not directed at reader), fem!reader, crying, make-up sex, possessive/jealous behavior

💕 toji: the absent gaps of your relationship makes you more anxious than you’d care to admit. Toji is there one day, showering you with love, with the most amazing sex, and then he’s gone for the next couple of months like you were nothing but a good time. You only know he’s alive when he shows up again at your door, dirty and needy, and takes your body like it’s his second nature — he always takes and takes, but never gives. He uses your house, eats your food, shatters your heart and leaves without an explanation. Toji fucks you deep, possessively, with the tone of a man who is used to violence, and you can do nothing but allow him to take it. “You’re all mine, pretty girl,” he mumbles one night, and you’re not sure you believe it. You ask him to stay, like you always do, but he ignores it — like he always does. “If I ever see you with someone else… fuck, I’ll kill him on the spot. You’re all fucking mine.”

💕sukuna: like the certainty that the sun will rise again tomorrow, he’s sure that you’re going to be his forever — so for you to dare (try) to break up with him… well, that just goes against everything he has planned. All the years by your side gone, crumbling to dust, because you think you know better than he does. Sukuna makes sure you’re going to remember this, that you’re not going to try anything funny again because: “You’re fucking mine forever, you understand? You’re the air that I fucking breathe,” He says, groaning as you clamp around him, tears staining your eyelashes. You’re broken down underneath him, whining and apologizing, but he doesn’t care. You have to learn. “Don’t you ever leave me again, baby, because I’m not letting you get away. Ever.”

💕getou: there’s a bloody, metallic taste on your mouth as he kisses you when he gets home, and you never ask why. You know Getou gets into fights sometimes, and he tells you they’re all because of you. He tells you that he hates the guys at your work, hates that you talk to other men — because he’s everything you’ll ever need — and hates that you flirt (yes, flirt) with them. Like they’d ever have a chance with you. Getou always says that you’re too slutty, even if you cover up, even if you promise you won’t talk to anyone else. Then he says you’re just pretty and stupid, that you don’t know what you do to people. “But I’ll protect you forever, princess,” he says, and you know from the blood on his face that he’s serious about it. “Just never forget who you belong to.”

💕 megumi: he’s quiet and direct with you, and that is a double-edged blade when it comes to Megumi. Sometimes, it’s good to know what he’s thinking, no secrets between you two, but then you step out of line and Megumi makes sure that you remember his words forever. “You know you’re going to be alone without me, right? No one is going to deal with your whiny, dramatic behavior like I do.” He speaks calmly like the wind, but it hurts, it hurts so bad that you cry and ask him to leave you alone. You don’t even know what you did wrong, but he doesn’t care to answer. “Quit it. I’m just being honest, not my fault you’re so annoying. Come here.” And you do. You always fall into his arms, into his bed, because it’s the only place of comfort that he allows you to have.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hey, can i request BEN drowned x reader fluff (he just needs some love)

Fluff train coming right up~ I missed writing fluff for BEN, so thank you, and I hope you enjoy :)

I've said before that BEN is horrible at cooking. Despite thinking cooking and baking are very cool and interesting, he tends to get pretty bad results, although he's been working on it. However, the things he seems to never mess up are mug cakes. If he ever wants to make something for you, to treat you or spoil you, or just have a little something sweet with you, he's pulling out his favorite mugs and making the two of you some mug cakes. He knows how to do a couple of different flavors, and while it might not seem like much to some people, it's obvious to you that it comes from a place of pure, genuine love, and it never fails to put a smile on your face when he whips out a mug cake for you. It's even more fun for him if both of you make them together or for each other, especially if you try and surprise the other by keeping the other person's flavor a secret.

Has started collecting matching comfort clothing for the two of you. Pajamas, onesies, blanket hoodies, snuggies, he doesn't care what it is, if it's comfortable and he can get one for each of you, he's doing it. Whenever the two of you have had a long day, or you're gonna have a movie, show, or gaming marathon, BEN pulls them out and prepares to get super comfortable with you and just cuddle up together. BEN is naturally cold (considering he's technically a corpse in his physical form), so he likes to have something comfortable and warm on that gets even warmer when he curls up beside you. He'll get your favorite snacks and drinks, throw on whichever of them you wanna wear that night, and prepare to just zone out and cuddle until the two of you go to bed. Speaking of, I think he'd love to just curl up with you and watch a show together. It doesn't really matter what show it is, but picking a show just for the two of you to watch together would make him really happy and be a great way to unwind together at the end of the day by watching a couple of episodes together.

I think lately he's really into having co-op worlds with you in games. I think the two biggest ones for him right now would be Minecraft and Stardew Valley, and he loves to just sit down, throw on one of the two, and game with you for a few hours. When it comes to Minecraft, I think he'd have two worlds for you guys, one being a creative world and one being a survival world. The creative world is for you guys to just goof around and make silly things together, or surprise each other with a nice build for the other person. When it comes to survival, he likes seeing how well the two of you can make a world together, building a home, and mining and exploring to your heart's content. With Stardew Valley, he just absolutely loves making a farm with you. He always consults you about how money should be spent, where things should go, and which farm you guys should pick. It's just so domestic and peaceful, and if there's something you prefer not to do, whether foraging, farming, or handling the mines, he's more than happy to handle it for you. Plus, it's always fun to bully Mayor Lewis and Clint together with you and work on filling out the museum and the community center together, because fuck Joja. Also, be warned, if there's a certain bachelor or bachelorette you want to marry, he might be stinky and try and compete with you to see who can marry them first (unless that would make you sad, in which case he encourages you to seek out the NPC of your dreams in peace), but it would make him super happy if you chose to marry him instead (or you could both pick Krobus and just be best friends with him together, which would also be fucking awesome in BEN's opinion). Either way, BEN has the most fun he's ever had with games, especially those two games when he gets to play them with you.

[s-exy-sapphillean]

Finally coming back to Runaways AU posting. If the original concept interests you but you don't like where i'm taking it, please consider what i said here.

(There's a lot so i included a cut here to not make it fill up your dash too much)

Quick disclaimer: queerplatonic jeaneil is very dear to me. I do not ship them romantically. Their dynamic in this AU is fairly complicated and codependent and the presence of strong emotions & physical affection doesn't mean their bond is romantic. I of course can't stop anyone from interpreting it whichever way they choose but i'd rather people don't insist that what i'm writing must be romantic because that's how they read it.

So. Neil & Jean + Elodie on the run together..

Neil of course is the one to teach Jean and Elodie english. He's an okay teacher, good enough that they get by and they improve fast enough. Neil however is simply not aware of a couple of accented words and anglicisms in his own vocabulary, so the moreau siblings have some random british words in their vocabulary

Physical affection is complicated for the boys. They both initially only know touch as something practical or to hurt. They are touch starved. But elodie is a child who gives and craves physical affection freely, so the boys gradually grow more used to giving and receiving affection through touch. Sleeping curled together becomes a necessity to keep warm wherever they're camping out but they eventually do it even when not necessary because it is comforting to have the other right there

After his mother got got, before joining up with jean, neil felt kinda directionless & defeated because without his mother there to push for it 15 year old neil doesn't really see the point of running forever if the only possible end is eventual death. Then he meets jean & elodie, starts bonding with them & keeping them safe becomes his entire world. Like a "i'll get caught and killed eventually but as long as i'm alive i can at least make sure they're okay & will be fine when i'm gone" mentality because he doesnt understand that jean is equally as fucked if the butcher finds them.

They bicker a LOT, getting into verbal fights over a lot of small things. They are constantly stressed with no outlet except eachother. Neil for a long time is also just not coping well with witnessing elodie receiving such genuine love and care because it makes something in him burn with ugly jealousy. Jean for a while absolutely despises having to rely on essentially a stranger for so much when his own english is way too lacking to get around by himself.

As much as he doesn't cope well at all with his own jealousy and yearning for being cared for, neil does also become fiercely protective of elodie pretty quickly. If she gets to have what he can't have then she needs to be able to keep that and not become like him. His "one of us has to make it" mantra we know from canon becomes entirely focused on her.

They have pretended to be a couple a few times, simply because it is the easiest cover for why a teenager as clearly french as jean would be so close to some very clearly not french teenager

They kissed once or twice as like a "for the sake of the cover" thing, trying out if that works but unanimously decided it wouldn't. It just made neil feel queasy and uncomfortable and bisexual disaster jean is self aware enough to know that risking developing a hopeless onesided crush would be the worst in their situation

Little head kisses have kinda become a thing though. It's something jean did a lot to comfort elodie & once when neil was having a breakdown he did it to him while holding him and it helped so it just stuck

In millport their story is that jean & elodie's father had moved to the US with them for work and had been colleagues with neil's parents. When father moreau turned out to be abusive, neil's parents helped jean emancipate himself and gain custody of elodie, and helped them move away, letting neil go with them.

When they get to palmetto, most of the foxes do assume they're dating and the boys don't directly correct anyone out of worry it will raise too many eyebrows, so neil doesn't get to explain that he doesn't swing any direction until much later

[joelsfavouritegirl]

back with some husband!joel headcanons bcs wdym he’s not real and not my husband and not eager to see me after a long day at work???

. such a fucking gentleman, i’ve said this before a million times but his gentlemanliness literally doubles after you get married. opening the door? he’s already done it for you, cooking? he can’t cook for shit but he’s still gonna try his best. oh and don’t even try to open a jar or can or whatever or he’ll shove you gently and open it for you in .5 seconds and press a sweet kiss to your head as he returns to whatever he was doing previously

. admires ya’lls wedding rings way too much. joel’s most probably not the typa guy to wear jewellery but that ring? he’s never taking it off not in your wildest dreams. also while he does like admiring it on his own finger he likes seeing it even more on yours. the thought of any guy searching for a ring on your finger bcs they’re hoping you’re not taken just so they can ask you out and finding that the pretty metal on your finger does in fact show that you’re married makes him wanna kiss you and marvel at you for the thousandth time and take you home and fuck you into the mattress because no other guy could know you as well as he does<33

. will get offended if anyone refers to u as “the ball and chain”. like that’s his wife ain’t nobody gonna talk shit about his girl because that’s the woman he married and he chose and he loves and the thought of anyone thinking you’re a burden on him just pisses him off even more (if anything he’d think that he’s the ball and chain but that’s just his insecurity talking)

. looks scary. like let’s b real joel is an intimidating guy (especially post apocalypse) and most people probably don’t feel very….. comfortable talking to him??? when in reality he warms up when you get to know him but it’s still weird seeing people looking nervous around your husband because there’s literally no reason to be???

. no reason to be nervous around him except if you touch anyone he cares about (especially his girl). any guy even hinting that he’s checking you out? joel’s brows are already furrowed and he’s slipping his arm around you even tighter just to make sure you’re tucked safely into him. any guy tries to make a move? he’ll let you handle it, but if the guy starts being pushy??? that same guy will be booking it out of whichever place he’s in because the 1.91m dude who’s standing in front of the pretty girl he was just talking to looks like he’s about to break his arm and shove it up his ass in an instant

. gets more touchy after you’re married. also feels more familiar with your family and wants to melt when he sees you talking with his so casually. like can you not see that the smile he’s trying to hide so badly is bcs you’re bickering with tommy about why the hunger games books were so much better than the movies and he feels so comfortable seeing that you’re so comfortable around his family

love this man to the moon and to saturn, he’s my rough texan bbg and idc what anyone has to say about it<333

[iamthemess]

Seeing as no one sees my posts I'm just gonna place the first chapter of a fic I'm working on and see what happens.

If, you read it, leave a review because it desperately needs an outsiders eye (I'm going fcking insane)

important tags - TW ig? mention of Dazai not being able to take care of himself, possible arson.

Dazai/Chuuya

it doesn't have a title so i've just been calling it "oh mah gawd they were roommates."

“Who set the fire?”  Fukuzawa looked disappointed at his detectives, all standing in front of him in a line.

He had that look on his face. That look of pure how the fuck could you manage this? Mixed with what have my grown ass children done this time?

No Fukuzawa did not consider every agency member as one of his children but he did care deeply for each and every one of them -most of the time- but sometimes it really did feel like he was father to a small kindergarten.

Behind them -the aforementioned kindergarten- was the horrifying sight of what remained of their dorm building smouldering in the background. Some of the structure was still on fire but was quickly put out by the fire fighters that had arrived on the scene.

Now the only thing left of it was some of the remaining skeleton of the building that was painted black in soot after almost, but not quite, burning completely.

Everyone glanced nervously at each other, not sure what to say. Most of them were covered in ash and dirt, their hair messy and all in their pyjamas, except for Dazai who didn’t plan on sleeping or perhaps he had gotten used to passing out in his work clothes.

Whichever it was he would surely continue to wear them, even though they were now imprinted with the smell of smoke and the bottom of his coat was burnt off. Really it was a miracle he hadn't set himself on fire yet or that Atsushi wasn't on fire… still.

They had all fought for their lives and the lives of their co-workers to make it out of the burning building. Unfortunately only one smoke detector went off, leaving them until it was too late to realise they were in danger. 

Perhaps if someone had remembered to tell Kunikida they broke the alarm system they would have been more prepared for the fire engulfing their favourite set of plates.

Luckily the agency members are known for being able to get out of chaotic situations such as these with minimal harm. If it weren’t for Kunikida and Yosano the harm would’ve been less minimal… 

Ranpo took one look at the building and sighed when he noticed everyone else staring at him. “What? The building is old. Most likely faulty wires or something.”

Fukuzawa sighed with relief, he was glad to hear it wasn’t one of his subordinates that accidentally burned down their home. Which was a very real and completely understandable thought to have, but now they didn’t have anywhere to sleep. “Yosano please get the emergency blankets and pillows. Everyone can sleep in the office tonight.”

Yosano -and without a word Ranpo- went to the agency to set up their temporary sleeping arrangements. “Everyone try and get some rest. We’ll work the issue out in the morning.” Fukuzawa dismissed the rest of them to go set up in the office for the rest of the night.

Thanks to Ranpo, the pillows and blankets ended up being thrown all over the room wherever there was space between the desks and chairs. Although it was more likely he had been trying to make himself a blanket fort before giving halfway.

They let Kenji and Kyouka squeeze onto the couch in the break room with their pillows and a large blanket Yosano found in a storage closet. 

Atsushi looked concerningly comfortable sleeping on the carpeted floor with a binder of paper for a pillow despite Yosano insisting he take one of the pillows Ranpo was hoarding. 

And Ranpo, despite his bean bag he and Yosano were sharing, had several other pillows piled up, surrounding him in a sad-looking pillow fort that could not have rivalled the failed blanket fort. 

Even so Ranpo discouraged anyone who try to steal from his hoard with a well placed glare and if it happened to be too dark to see, a good bite was also just as effective.

Yosano was not as pleased with this resolution as Ranpo was.

The only people who weren’t looking for a comfortable place to sleep were Dazai and Kunikida. Dazai didn’t sleep much anyway and resorted to standing in the middle of the room like some sort of demon.

Kunikida on the other hand looked dead tired as he was typing away on his phone furiously. He was typing so hard they could have sworn he had generated enough electricity for his chair to take off down the street.

“What ya doing Kunikida?” Dazai poked his head over his disgruntled co-workers shoulder to look at his phone much to Kunikida’s annoyance.

“I’m looking for a place to stay. I suggest you do the same.” Kunikida pushed his glasses up his face and went back to typing on his phone. Dazai looked around at the others, Atsushi and Yosano were also on their phones. 

A modern day affliction took on my most to continuously check social media… but they were probably just researching housing options. The more sensible choice.

They were both extremely concentrated, obviously doing the same as Kunikida. In situations like these, it was obvious to them that they needed an immediate plan, on the other hand a person like Ranpo was already asleep. 

Knowing him he already had a nice house ready and waiting for him and he wouldn’t even ask if he could stay, he’ll just walk right in and make himself at home the only reason he was still sitting with the other members was what he calls “Moral support.”

Ever the cheerleader Ranpo chose to stay and spend the night with the team, despite the fact he spent over half of the week sleeping at Poe's house. Whether that be a pre planned decision or a night he decides to randomly show up on his doorstep.

“Kunikida is right Dazai, you should be looking for somewhere to stay. Unless you enjoy the office/home lifestyle.” Yosano side eyed while still keeping her blunt tone when addressing Dazai. 

If things like that had affected him at all surely Dazai would have been thrown to the floor with the amount of psychic damage the doctor was aiming at him with her vicious stare. Although she was known to also be physically capable of such feats of strength. 

“I already have some place in mind. You two on the other hand can enjoy the office's 5-star accommodations.” Dazai replied, watching the styrofoam balls spill out the side of the bean bag, slowly, one by one like a sad waterfall or more accurately a leaky tap. 

“Dazai, please find a place to stay. I don’t want to have to drag you off of the street in the middle of the night.” Atsushi sighed at the thought of losing any more sleep than he already had. 

Dazai’s co-workers had no faith in him. They had already assumed he would opt to sleep on a sidewalk in a box somewhere, something that he had not done for several years.

Surely no one would blame him for taking offence that they would even suggest he would do such a thing in spite of its complete accuracy, not that they had any means of proving it.

“And don’t diss my beanbag. This thing is armed detective agency history. It’s the only thing we had in here when we first started” Yosano defended her bean bag as little spheres of styrofoam continued to fall out and roll across the floor.

Some of which made their way to Atsushi in some sort of soft, amateurish ambush by styrofoam. 

It was rather amusing to think about Ranpo and Yosano only having a beanbag when they first started the agency. The thought made Atsushi smile until he laughed slightly too hard and inhaled one of the little balls. His co-workers were not so concerned about it as he was.

“So you got a place?” Yosano asked, reminding Atsushi of his devastating task whilst he coughed up half a lung from the attack. He might as well lay down and die. Not the most outstanding death to be had in history but surely it would be an alright way to go, and he wouldn’t have to think about any future living accommodations.

Luckily Yosano spared him the long, suffering death with a well placed slap on the back. 

“No, but I was thinking I could find a place like this for myself. I thought it would be good for me to do something like that.” He nervously tried to explain with a slightly scratchy voice and inbetween the last few coughs from his fit.

Obviously, he couldn’t get a house by himself but maybe a place with a roommate or something. He had been saving up a lot of money to do this so what better time to do it? Although the thought made his stomach turn. Being independent is scary. 

“Maybe you and Dazai can share, then we won’t have to worry about you both dying alone,” Kunikida mumbled from his seat like a grouch. 

Unfortunately, no one else defended either of them, mostly because everyone else was already asleep and Yosano wholeheartedly agreed with Kunikida. It was probably the best option for those two hazards to stick together for now or they might not survive. It’s a miracle they’d ever made it this long and that was with support.

Atsushi said something to defend himself  and with Yosano distracted Dazai took this as his chance to leave unnoticed and casually walked to the door in the dark, assuming she had already started a heated argument with Atsushi about his inability to survive.

“Hold it, what are you doing? Do you know what time it is? Where are you going.” Yosano demanded to know, sounding like a suspicious mother, as she caught Dazai's silhouette moving in the shadows. She most definitely had the commanding voice worthy of such a title. “I swear if we have to drag you off of the street tomorrow-“

Surely those words could have also sent Dazai flying to the wall as if punched by a brute so Dazai shut the door quickly so he wouldn’t have to listen to Yosano complain about him to his face or actually end up with his face in a wall. At least she didn’t come after him, he remembers some other people he knew who wouldn’t let him go so easily. Now to put his plan into action.

[yanny-77]

Are We There Yet?

An Empyrean Drabble featuring Xaden driving the Iron Squad to the beach. He has many regrets. Mainly that Ridoc's annoying as fuck and Violet makes him way too horny for him to be comfortable trapped in the car with her best friends.

Pour one out for Sawyer's pants. Sorry for what I had to do to you, man.

Read the drabble after the break or on AO3.

“Are we there yet?” Xaden groans. This is the third time Ridoc's asked in the last five minutes. Why did his girlfriend have to get saddled with the most annoying squad in the quadrant? Couldn't she have been matched with someone cool? Someone like Bodhi or Garrick. “Not yet, Ridoc,” Violet says, endlessly patient. It’s one of the many reasons Xaden loves her. “How much longer?” Her friend whines. “About two minutes less than the last time you asked,” Xaden grumbles. “What was that, Riorson?”  Xaden glances in the rearview mirror to see Rhiannon Matthias smirking up at him from the back seat where she sits wedged between Ridoc Gamlyn and Sawyer Henrrick. Xaden’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. His white-knuckled grip is the only thing keeping him from throwing one of these assholes out a window.  “I said it’s a nice day for the beach.” “Uh-huh.” Xaden tears his eyes away from the back seat. Because Garrick and Xaden are the only ones with cars, and because Xaden is dating Violet, he’s stuck driving the children instead of riding with his friends.  It’s a tight squeeze in his Sedan, a sleek dark blue Audi. The trunk is filled with their overnight back and floaties, which means that their beach bags are in the back seat. The cooler with their drinks and sandwiches is balanced on Sawyer’s lap.  The man’s legs keep jiggling up and down, jostling the ice and sloshing the water. “I’m not the only one who’s bored. Sawyer’s all jittery.” Ridoc presses his face against the window. “I know! Let’s play a game.” A groan comes from the other side of the back seat. “Guys, I really have to pee.” “I spy with my little eye something silver,” Ridoc says, ignoring Sawyer’s announcement. “Can you hold it?” Violet asks. Xaden chances a glance at her, taking his eyes off the road. She’s turned around, looking at Sawyer in the backseat with concern. A car changes lanes and Xaden has to swerve to avoid it. “Fuck,” Sawyer whimpers as he squirms in an attempt to get comfortable. “Be careful, Xaden,” Violet scolds. “You need to keep your eyes on the road.” “It’s in this car,” Ridoc hints. “Shut up, Ridoc,” Rhiannon says. “No one cares what you spy.” “We’re only forty-five minutes away,” Xaden says, irritation lacing his words. “You can hold it.” “I can’t. I’m about to burst.” “Can you just try, Sawyer?” Violet asks placatingly. She places her hand on Xaden’s thigh, rubbing gently to calm him down. Unfortunately, her touch excites another part of his body. A part that she’s getting dangerously close to. He’s going to have to immediately whisk her away to a secluded area when they get to the beach. Or a public changing room, whichever is closer. “Then Ridoc has to take the cooler.” Sawyer shifts frantically, trying to slide the cooler across Rhiannon’s lap and onto Ridoc’s, but then they hit a bump and he starts to panic. “It’s pressing on my bladder.” “Seriously, guys?” Ridoc’s voice is incredulous as he looks around the car. “No one has a guess for something silver.” “It’s Violet’s fucking hair!” Xaden shouts. “It’s obviously her hair. What the fuck else would it be?” Gods, Ridoc was so fucking annoying. Xaden could strangle him. “Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” Ridoc goes back to looking out his window. “I’ll think of a harder one this time.” “Please don’t,” Xaden and Sawyer groan simultaneously. Ridoc kicks Xaden’s seat in response. “How about we play the silent game instead,” Violet suggests. “This is so entertaining,” Rhiannon cackles. “I’m so glad you invited us to tag along, Xaden.” There’s a high-pitched sob from the back right, and Xaden looks up to see Sawyer’s face turning red. A look of horror spreads across the man’s features. “Pull over. Right now.”

[cannibalovers]

Hannibal song of the day : song no. 5

a bit about the song:

"Breezeblocks"(released in 2012) is song by alt-J, written by Thom Sonny Green, Gwilym Sainsbury, Gus Unger-Hamilton & Joe Newman(the whole group), most likely their most popular song. It starts off mellow and quiet guitar, interchanging between build ups and drops with synthesisers and a lot of deep bass, drums and other percussion instruments till the end of the song, which ends with an arrangement of overlapping vocals, like a choir. It fits genres like indie rock, indie pop, art rock and folktronica. The song itself tells a story of two lovers, where one of them wants to leave the relationship, feeling unsafe and unfulfilled but the other is obsessive and deranged and so in love that they don't let the other leave, the desire and love being so strong that they dare to hurt their lover and themselves just to make them stay. There can be another meaning to the song when taking the music video into the account(that the group themselves said is kind of different but managed to fit the vibe), which is filmed in reverse, presenting a narrative where a man kills a woman(maybe an ex or smth) who was most likely keeping his wife hostage. Since the chain of events is presented in reverse, it looks as if the man is the abusive lover trying to kill his wife, although by the end we find out he was actually defending his wife and killed the woman that kidnapped his wife, sending a message to not judge a book by its cover - don't assume and judge until you know the full story. It also references a book "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak, talking about a young boy who misbehaved badly at home and got scolded for it. His hostile and intense emotions sent him to an imaginary jungle with creatures called "The Wild Things". In this world, he feels appreciated and powerful as the wild things make him a king, but as soon as he realises the responsibilities a king has are hard, he wants to leave and go back home, to his loving mother who took care of him and coudl depend on, but the creatures don't want him to leave, threatening cannibalism (woah i wonder why I am writing this), saying "Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you whole! We love you so!". The band thought of it as a very powerful image and referenced these words in the song. In the end, the boy does manage to get away, unlike the lover of this song.

yeah sorry for the long intro to the song um. i've loved this song for years I swear I could listen to it forever so.

overall the song creates such a chilling mix between aggression and affection it's just so fucking insane and well. very hannigram. I think that was expected. Tbh i feel like it's prob known to fannibals, i made a post once asking ppl for song recommendations for hannibal and this song has shown up a few times and honestly? it fits them SO. WELL. especially when you think about the whole mizumono episode. The music video reminded me of mizumono a lot... so I'll be basing this on that episode a lot...

Pardon me for the pain i'm gonna provide today<3

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

Verse 1

"She may contain the urge to run away But hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks"

The girl doesn't want to be in the relationship with the man anymore, maybe recognizing that he is not in a good state of mind or she just believes they're not fit for each other anymore, whichever it is, she is contemplating getting out of the relationship, which she feels trapped in, or the man feels like he's scaring her away, hence her "running away"; He doesn't like this, being way too attached for her, he can't just let her run away after the comfort she brought him and the strong emotions he developed towards her, so he decided to weigh her down (literally) by drowning her with breezeblocks. Metaphorically, Breezeblocks are blocks used for building houses and are supposed to represent foundation here, so perhaps he has been making her stay by guilt tripping her about everything that they have built together and the fact that she can't just "leave behind" the trust, support, stability and safety that they have gained from each other - the foundation of their relationship. After she wasn't giving her idea of leaving up, he decided to actually weight her down with their foundation in forms of breezeblocks. In my eyes, the soggy clothes could also have a little bit of meaning, soggy clothes being quite uncomfortable and probably clinging to her(just like he does) - perhaps they're soggy from the times he was guilt tripping her, perhaps tears were shed and her clothes getting soggy just represent the manipulation and fakeness of them, or the severity of the situation and how long it has been going on and how this has affected her (made her feel heavy at heart and uncomfortable)

I think these lyrics summarise THE monologue in Mizumono and hannigram's plans quite perfectly. Will wanting to run away (from hannibal unfortunately...) and as Hannibal realised his plan of betrayal, reacted very aggressively by literally gutting him (sogging his clothes with blood ig) and breaking down the foundation they have built, more or so with words, but also the knife he uses. At this point I have no idea if its a linoleum knife (knife used for building, houses, rugs and FOUNDATIONS OF A BUILDING.) or a kerambit or smth else but I'll stick to the linoleum here(also check out this post about his choice for the knife, it drives me fucking insane) and say that this is how Hannibal tears down the foundation they have built together. Not only does he gut him, he talks to Will about how betrayed he feels that he was planning to leave him, after letting Will see him, after building this foundation of trust and support for each other. Hannibal was there, understanding Will and offering support and stability and he saw that Will could provide it for him back, which he chose to do only to get closer to him to betray him and take away his happiness (Will...) and stable, carefully crafted life he had. Will was something very important to Hannibal, a person that changed him and made him feel love for once, and then he lied about accepting him. He can't handle losing Will so he would make him stay and tear him down, hurt him, if that's what it would take.

"Cetirizine, your fever’s gripped me again Never kisses, all you ever send are fullstops (La la la la)"

Citrizine is a medicine used for fevers, suggesting the man is so obsessed with her that she makes him ill and stressed (overheated and overwhelmed and overthinking, hence the fever) and he needs medicine. She is constantly rejecting him, rejecting his affections and never giving any to him but instead stopping him, although it can also allude to texts, her not ending them with "xx" (kisses) but with full stops, being quite cold and distant with him.

well first, for the show it can allude to how Hannibal literally gave Will a fever and the amount of aspirin Will took cuz of that if we take this literally, but that mean the roles would have to switch so, instead in my eyes I think of how bothered and overwhelmed Will probably made Hannibal feel the more interested and obsessive he got over Will. I can't imagine how many times this man probably thought of him everyday and overthought stuff (jesus seriously hes obsessed) and how ill and diseased (although alive) Hannibal probably felt (maybe diseased and ill after he knew Will's plan...); the affections the girl is rejecting from her lover could represent how distant Will was with Hannibal at first.

"Do you know where the wild things go? They go along to take your honey (La la la la)"

This is a reference from the book "Where the Wild Things Are". The band suggested that the lyrics are about jealousy, the protagonist being jealous of other people who are catching his lovers attention instead of him, maybe this is a conversation between them about this concern, telling his lover that those people are bad and will use her and leave her(take away her honey); Maybe he's trying to convince her that he would never do that - although he technically is, eating away at whatever support and love(the honey) she has to offer for him.

I feel like this presents why Hannibal decided to isolate Will in the first place, taking away everything from him (or at least how he wants Will to see it, as we know that he was just trying to make his plan come true and return some of the things Will cared about so much). He saw everything that Will had interest in (Alana, Abigail, although he kept her for Will, Margot's child etc) as a threat to his plan of having Will all to himself and so he took them away - because he believed that they were both bad for Will but also because they were not in Hannibal's best interest. Also doesn't he like kill Will's wife in season 3 idk yet dont tell me

"Break down, now weep, build up breakfast Now let’s eat, my love, my love, love, love (La la la la)"

This probably references the many fights the couple had and protagonist's method of trying to make it up to her by trying to get back into a loving, normal routine, forgetting the fights, doing things such as letting her sleep it off and making a breakfast, starting the day over - The breakfast being his love for her. This is most likely to say that acts of service for her would be his love language and he would feel loved if she accepted his services, as well as offerings(his love) he makes for her.

for Hannibal:

do i like. have to explain this one

first of all lets be real cooking and making ppl commit accidental cannibalism is his love language (even better when they are aware of it and accept it knowingly so u dont have to make them commit accidental cannibalism to feel like u're normal for enjoying it and ure not a monster and God didn't punish u by making u eat ur own sister and enjoy it and that they accept and understand u for this and are def not doing it as a manipulation tactic to get u closer to them... that's not smth Will would do to Hannibal wdym)

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

Chorus

"Muscle to muscle and toe to toe The fear has gripped me, but here I go My heart sinks as I jump up Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut And I, ah-ah-ah-ah"

The chorus seems to depict the the physical fight going between the two lovers. The protagonist doesn't seem to be in his right mind as he says that even though the fear tried to stop him, he has lost control and is now hurting his loved one (or himself) - His fear of rejection making him not handle this situation well and taking the last leap of faith to "save" the relationship by physically forcing her into it. The harm can either be to himself or her, maybe threatenening suicide and her gripping his hand to stop him, or him hitting her and her trying to deflect his hand with her own.

For Hannibal, it's literally,,gutting Will. Or any physical fight or holding each other at gun point or any murder attempt they had. In mizumono, Hannibal is visibly heartbroken by Will's decisions, maybe regretting the choices hes about to take. Maybe for once he felt some fear hurting another person, the person being Will, but he pushes through it, knowing it had to be done, to show Will how he made him feel. The physical contact in this chorus could represent the hug that they shared (the most heartbreaking hug in tv history). His feelings seem to contrast with the violence in that scene so much it makes me so fucking depressed

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

Verse 2

"[...}She bruises, coughs, she splutters pistol shots Hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks"

The words have a violent imagery to them, maybe to show the lover fighting back and still not agreeing to stay, maybe even trying to hurt him, her words feeling like pistol shots to him, or it could represent her drowning, trying to catch a breath. If that's what is happening, then he tries to remind himself of his point and to not help her, because she will run away - it's better to hold her down and make her stay.

Will's most common weapons is a gun or his hands and words, so i guess it fits his image quite well(not to mention the amounts of time he held Hannibal at gun point lol). These clearly never seemed to have affected Hannibal (until the last supper) and he continues through with his plan of taking everything away from Will, showing what he has lost by not staying by Hannibal's side.

"She’s morphine, queen of my vaccine My love, my love, love, love (La la la la)"

The protagonist compares her to morphine, a drug used to help with pain - clearly he is very dependent on her and uses her for emotional stability and support, losing that would make him insecure and breakdown, he can't lose her after the vulnerability he shared with her. This also fits with the expression "Love is a drug", which to him, her love is clearly like a drug, he has become obsessed, needing her love all the time, addicted to her, suggesting the intensity of emotions she makes him feel and just how obsessed he is - that's why he can't let her go.

The contrast between the dark, violent and destructive comparisons he makes of her, ignoring those destructive feelings and calling her his "love" really deepens the juxtaposition between aggression and affection the song potrays and shows just how blind the protagonist is.

I feel like this fits Hannibal's feelings about Will quite well, considering how obsessed he is with him, to the point of destruction and isolating him to have him all to himself (and also the fact that my man was CRYING after putting Will in prison, missing their therapy sessions. LIKE BITCH). He really puts Will high up on a pedestal, suggesting just how important and addictive Will is to him and how dependent he has become on Will after opening up to him, maybe even feeling like Will numbs his pain and loneliness of never being accepted for who he actually was.

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

Verse 3

"[...]Germolene, disinfect the scene, my love, my love, love, love But please don't go, I love you so, my lovely"

This is the aftermath of the protagonist killing his lover. He realises that he killed her, getting an anticeptic(clearly unprepared for this and panicking, using some at-home antiseptic instead of something proper) to disinfect the scene off of his DNA. The realisation quickly hits him of what he has done, making him spiral into a breakdown as he realises that his actions didn't make her stay, they made her dead forever.

Hannibal clearly doesn't disinfect the scene in mizumono, he doesn't even wear his plastic suit or use the cloth that he always uses to not leave finger prints, there was no point in hiding anything anymore, Will helped FBI see through him, although we do see him "cleansing" himself off of the events by walking in the rain and trying to "comfort" Will, telling him to "wade into the quiet of the stream". I don't think these specific lyric apply to the situation much disinfection-wise, although it can represent Hannibal's state of mind, especially after realising everything he has done and the regret that came with it(does he feel guilty tho? i have no idea but the begging and love confessions in this line def represent his obsession and love for Will which left him very heartbroken after everything that was done)

also could represent Will........ him wanting to turn back, if he could only reverse time, undo the events so Abigail lives and everyone else lives..............ouch

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

Refrain

"Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please break my heart (Hey!) Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please break my heart[...]"

the most beautiful part of the song in my opinion tbh. The layers, the build up, the overlapping vocals, it's all just so overwhelming and emotional and vulnerable.

the protagonist spirals, realising what he has done but not wanting it to be true, he's not ready yet to let go of his lover, slowly, he's losing self control and giving into his violent desires, he threatens cannibalism if she goes away(she can't really do anything my dude...) as he frantically confessse to her that he loves her. He just loves her so much and needs her so much, the desire is so strong that he will consume her if it means that she stays right beside him(or inside him), craving that impossible closeness, it's a way to forever remain with a loved one. This whole refrain is just so incredibly contradicting and depressing and desparate its insane

now, it's no secret that Hannibal doesn't want to let Will go and even consume him. He wants him to live but at the same time he wants to taste him, devour him. To love is to consume, but to consume is to devour and transform in reusable energy. He wants him as close as possible and for Will to accept his desires and give himself up, let him be his - but clearly that's not what Will wanted (yet).

...This one is so straightfoward especially considering Hannibal that I don't even know what to say really. The song itself just says it all perfectly.

in conclusion they are fucking insane for this and breezeblocks is the ultimate hannigram (specifically mizumono) song. 11/10

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

additional notes:

was so excited for this one but i actually wrote less than i thought wow but maybe thats also cuz most of the song repeats. or im tired

idk if its cuz i literally dont know how to explain cannibalism as a metaphor of love or why but. at the same time the song just describes pretty well on its own

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

my playlist

hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading<3

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent, cloud, or character of your choice and 13, 26, 32, and 50 ❤️

BWAHAHAHAHA (from this ask game)

can i answer them for these two as a ship? cause it's one of my favorites and it definitly doesn't get enough love. yeah i'm gonna

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

obviously the things i would draw for them would be the kind of thing that gets your posts deleted from tumblr. for real though, i would most like to draw them fighting, in vincent's galian beast and human forms. they're both socially maladjusted and extremely violent people and a lot of their courtship in my headcanons involves intense one-on-one combat as flirting. i'd also draw them asleep flopped on each other. they both need a damned nap

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

i'm excluding polyships that include tifa (or any other female party member for that matter for a variety of reasons), which is just…listen guys, i'm bisexual and i like poly ships, and i am officially informing you that you don't have to awkwardly stuff the bland and boring as fuck canon hetero ship into every gay ship just to prove you don't hate women. she's not the vanilla filling in the bisexual oreo and making her that is doing her a bigger disservice than writing her as an actual person of her own whose life does not revolve around the male characters. YOU CAN ACTUALLY IMPROVE CANON! WE CAN DO THAT! NO ONE CAN STOP US!

otherwise, just the tags i usually exclude, which are kidfic, mpreg, omegaverse, a/b/o, and genderbends (i do NOT mean one or both of the characters being trans, i specifically mean the genderbent trope, which are always OOC and often grossly transandrophobic too). otherwise there's not much that offends me i just don't like to be bored

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

if i could make vincent and cloud a meal, it'd be wine for vincent since i'm fairly certain he can't eat regular food but he canonically drinks wine a lot, and for cloud…i dunno. i just don't see him as a person who cares all that much about food. it'd be more about the atmosphere. i'd take them somewhere quiet and isolated where they won't be bothered by their annoying as fuck 'friends' every five goddamned seconds

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

i don't make character playlists per se, i just have a variety of work playlists that suit the specific tone or mood i'm going for.

i don't know what an aesthetic board is and i don't care to find out (lucille bluth voice).

instead, i give you this, which i stumbled upon one day, while scrolling tumblr looking for pictures of sephiroth. it was the very first time i saw vincent and i had no idea who he was, but i immediately knew he was my soul mate:

thank you for the ask you're the best!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[littencloud9]

21, 24, 25 (you don’t have to do them all obviously whichever you want most) and KUNICHUU!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m not predictable at all

HELLO!!! whaaaat kunichuu no way who saw that coming haha not me—

21. wildcard, dealer's choice. im guessing this means i get to choose so have a secret office kiss idk kfjkfdjk

"We are going to get caught," Kunikida hisses, his voice muffled as Chuuya drags him in for another kiss, lips twisted in an aggravating smirk. "If you don't shut your mouth, then yeah, we will," Chuuya mumbles. He pulls back, eyes filled with mischief. "Come on. You said your coworkers were eating lunch downstairs." Kunikida gasps as he's pushed onto his own desk. His pen holder falls and the stationery spills out. Before he can complain, Chuuya lifts them back up with gravity, putting them back exactly where it was. "I'll buy you more if your pens spoil," he assures, kissing Kunikida again. Kunikida's protests fizzle away as Chuuya kisses him languidly like they have all the time in the world, but when Kunikida places a hand on his chest, pushing him away to catch his breath, and he can feel his heart thundering rapidly. "It's like getting caught excites you," he says with an eyeroll. "Ranpo-san definitely knows you're here, by the way." "Don't care. Tell them I said fuck you, actually." "Yes, baby, I will." Chuuya gives him a scandalised look. "Don't say that, ew!" Kunikida dissolves into giggles, burying his face in Chuuya's shoulder, his chest feeling warm.

24. a sleepy kiss

Chuuya comes home at about six in the morning, dragging his sluggish feet to the bathroom. He makes quick work of washing up, barely getting through a shower and putting on pyjamas before he is shuffling into the bedroom, in search of his comfort place. As the door creaks open, Kunikida stirs from his sleep. Chuuya feels a bit bad, but it’s about five minutes before his alarm anyway. Chuuya leaves the door ajar and crawls into bed, sighing when his weary bones hit the mattress. He’s exhausted. Working overnight is never fun. Kunikida mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, lifting the blanket and draping it over their bodies. He pulls Chuuya in, holding him in his arms, and Chuuya sinks into the warm embrace with a pleased sigh. “Welcoms home,” Kunikida whispers, voice still thick with sleep. His eyes are still closed when he lifts Chuuya’s chin, giving him a gentle kiss. Chuuya reciprocates with barely contained desperation, fists balling into Kunikida’s shirt. He doesn’t know how much this means to him. Chuuya would kiss him more, but he’s interrupted with his own yawn. Kunikida chuckles, running a hand through his hair and kissing his forehead. “Sleep, love. I’ll see you later.” “Don’t go yet,” Chuuya grumbles. Kunikida’s alarm is going to ring any moment now. “Just a little longer.” And Kunikida gives in, because he’s always been weak to his requests when he’s sleepy. He sighs, tightening his hold. “Alright.”

25. a kiss that's on accident

Chuuya carries the last supply box up to the Agency, kicking the storage room door open with their leg. Kunikida is inside doing a stock count, eyes trained on the clipboard in his hands. He doesn't look up at all when Chuuya sets the box down. Just as Chuuya is about to leave, Kunikida leans over. They assume he has something to say and waits, but their world comes to a stop when Kunikida kisses the top of their head softly, patting their back after. "Thank you, Atsushi," Kunikida says while ticking another box on his checklist. "Is that the last one?" Chuuya's voice is missing. They can't seem to find it. The silence makes Kunikida frown. When he looks up, Chuuya sees the exact moment the realisation reaches his eyes. Kunikida steps back in... horror, maybe, bringing the clipboard up to his face. "I—" he begins, and Chuuya does not want to have this conversation right now, nope, they are going to die if they stay in this tiny room with Kunikida any longer. "It's fine," they blurt, taking their own step back. "I, um, didn't mind. Yes, it's the last box. I'll go now. Bye." They dash out the door, ignoring Kunikida calling their name. Their cheeks are flaming as they try to assure themself that that meant absolutely nothing.

[eryanlainfa]

important thought i just had. how do you imagine hugo’s gender nonconformity like how does he identify with any label in particular or is he just Like that. and more importantly do you think he’s already figured it out by the time he meets the gang or do you think the egg breaks later. BC SEE i’ve always imagined up until the trials shes never had the time to think about herself at ALL, like she obviously knows shes kinda *flicks wrist* yk but otherwise she’s never really actually come to any real conclusions about herself. so i think as soon as they move in with varian and once they’ve finally settled and they have SO much free time and so many things going on in their head, they’re trying new hobbies and finding all sorts of things to tinker with and most importantly they finally have the opportunity to care about their appearance and suddenly the gender crisis hits them like a fucking FREIGHT TRAIN

all this is to say because. I was thinking about that again today and then i remembered aiden and it was like my third eye opened bc i realized the sheer potential in that scenario with airigo. like i feel like aiden would’ve seen that shit coming a MILE AWAY and i think that’d be so cute and also so fucking funny and. I need to hear your thoughts ok

[Hi. Future Ery talking. I started rambling and I have no clue if what I said is actually coherent or even answers your question at all- But the idea was there! Also I personally headcanon everything and anything, I love switching labels of one character and making a whole new au for it. But covering EVERYTHING would be too long so I answered regarding Aiden's main timeline only- but if you want me to talk about transfem Hugo in particular I'd love to!!]

Sobbing and crying this is so cute and funny your brain is wonderful mwah mwah. I think all you said could 100% work and I can see a version where it would make sense for Hugo to not had the time to discover themself properly. And Aiden just clocking her right away is so funny 😭

Saddly it wouldn't work in Aiden's original timeline simply because, in this case, Hugo wouldn't be Hugo if he hadn't transition already.

I've never really openly delved into my headcanons for the whole gang, because I like people being able to interpret my art however they want (and also because I can change my mind whenever and no one would know-). But in Aiden's universe, Hugo isn't amab.

But to go back on how I imagine Hugo's gender noncomformity!

Firstly, in universe, I'm not sure neither Hugo nor Aiden really identify with a gender label. They don't really have a word for it so they're just how they are. But I personally label him as bigender transmasc. And I do still label them as gay. Cuz. Queer homosexuals representation. Yay.

Secondly- Hugo actually transitioned before figuring out his gender. Being an orphan is already harsh, being poor is terrible and he figured being female generally made things more difficult. So she didn't want to be one. When he got recruited by Don for the first time he was already dead set on not wanting to be a girl and didn't have a name anymore so Donella is the one who named him Hugo. I think Don was "supportive" as in she really didn't care, and if helping Hugo transition meant he would be more useful then that worked for her just fine. So Hugo got to transition but it wasn't really because he didn't feel like he wasn't a girl, she just didn't think it would be advantageous for him to be one.

Sorry I got sidetracked- cough- Back on topic.

One thing I wanted regarding Hugo's relationship to gender is the fact that he is comfortable being fem BECAUSE he got to transition.

For work they would play whichever role worked best no matter the gender. At first, looking like a guy needed more work, which bothered him because it was his goal, so for a while he had a clear preference for appearing masculine. But years later, after having transitioned to a comfortable point, she figured she really didn't mind being either gender. And it made playing different roles even more fun and easy for them. Not necessarily in a fluid way, he's just everything at once most of the time.

So he already got herself figured out quite well when 7k starts. Actually, Hugo being openly queer is another reason why she caught Aiden's interest so fast. And I wanted them to mirror each others in a way, with Hugo being comfortable because he transitioned and Aiden being more comfy doing the absolute bare minimum-. Also I had this one joke that sometimes Nuru and Hugo would have girls nights during the journey. So I needed she/her Hugo for all of this to work lol. But I do believe Hugo still gets to affirm and discover himself even more after he settles, it's just mostly about other things.

BUT YOU KNOW WHO'S EGG GOT TO CRACK DURING THE TRIALS IN MY MIND-??? Varian. He's agender. My whole gang is trans and the joke was that Varian is the token cis guy of the group (because I thought it was funny). But he isn't. He just doesn't know because he's always too busy thinking of literally anything else and he never really registered that was an option. He still uses he/him tho. Because I enjoy gender fuckery.

In summary :

○ Bigender ○ agender ○ genderfluid ○

Also, since I decided to finally talk about my headcanons, I think too many people assumed Aiden is the one pregnant -in that one comic-. They aren't.

[paikothecateater]

Do you ever think there would be a time when any of the cats get rlly hurt? And if so what would the other cats (+kitty boy) do in response?

Well, this is a very complex answer because I'm going to explain how each cat would get hurt + their own response +the other cats' responses, so bear with me.

Dencat: Dencat is admittedly the most likely cat to get injured. He's very energetic and not at all cautious, so it's very likely he'd probably knock something over and get hit by it.

-his own response to getting hurt is hissing and growling loudly, followed by shakily walking over to his favourite spot and just laying down until he feels better.

-with Norcat, he'd probably bring Dencat something to eat, make sure he's not severely injured and make a mental note to stay away from whatever hurt him.

-Swecat will make sure Dencat is okay followed by grooming him. Then he'd circle him protectively, making sure he doesn't get hurt again.

-Fincat was terrified by the initial sound and immediately hid, but he later left his hiding spot when he realised it was probably safe. He'd then make sure Dencat is not in any immediate danger.

-Icekit snuggles up with Dencat to help him calm down.

Norcat: Norcat is extremely fluffy and isn't very aware of how much more space his fur takes up, so he likely tried to jump somewhere, got caught in something, and fell, getting hurt in the process.

-Norcat's response to getting hurt is finding Swecat. He's smart enough to know the floor didn't deliberately hurt him, so he doesn't growl or hiss. He finds Swecat and just cuddles up with him until he feels better.

-Swecat sees Norcat as his own kitten, so he'd be very worried. He'd groom him, make sure he's fine and tend to him until he's much better.

-Dencat is also very protective of Norcat, so he'd also be very concerned, meowing at Norcat as if that would help much. He brings Norcat food and entertains him by being a lovable idiot.

-Icekit is understandably mortified that Norcat is hurt and insists on snuggling up to him. Norcat ends up having to comfort Icekit who is convinced that Norcat is dying.

-Fincat also likes to snuggle up with Norcat whenever he gets hurt.

Fincat: Fincat probably slipped and fell off a surface. He's quite clumsy, so it's very likely. His response is to yowl really loudly as if he's being actively attacked. It's very effective at getting Swecat and Dencat's attention. They both immediately rush to him making sure he's not seriously injured.

-Swecat would probably freak out and start thoroughly inspecting Fincat to see if there's any huge injuries that need tending to. He'd then comfort Fincat for as long as he needs.

-Dencat grooms Fincat, brings him something to eat, snuggles up with him, the whole nine yards.

-Norcat knows how it feels to fall straight on one's ass, so he understands the pain and watches over Fincat sympathetically.

-Icekit does what he does best. Snuggle up with whichever cat is injured and purr until they calm down.

Swecat: Swecat doesn't have great vision, so there are a multitude of ways he'd potentially get hurt. Falling, ramming into something, etcetera.

-his own response would be quietly making his way towards Dencat and laying down somewhere comfortable.

-Dencat does most of the caring here, feeding him, grooming him, etcetera. He also comforts Swecat who'd never admit getting hurt shook him up.

-Fincat gets pretty worried for Swecat and tries to bring him his own favourite things to cheer him up.

-Norcat and Icekit are both very concerned and insist on being by his side the whole time.

Icekit: oh boy... Being a kitten it's very easy for him to get injured, but the most likely reason would be Swecat and Dencat fighting. He'd very likely get hurt in the crossfire.

-his response to being hurt is meowing super loud to alert Norcat.

-Norcat freaks the fuck out and picks up Icekit, taking him to a more comfortable surface, followed by absolutely losing his shit on Dencat and Swecat who he reluctantly allows to take care of Icekit.

-Swecat also freaks out because again, he sees Icekit as his kitten. He also worries because Icekit is a baby and is probably more likely to get seriously injured. Still, he grooms Icekit, feeds him, tends to him until he gets better and then watches over him more carefully.

-Dencat is also extremely panicked. It doesn't matter what the other two think, Dencat is convinced that Icekit is his baby and he absolutely freaks out whenever something happens to him. For maybe two weeks after the incident, Icekit's collar is firmly clamped in Dencat's mouth as he absolutely refuses to let him leave his sight.

-Fincat is very concerned for Icekit and subtly growls at both Swecat and Dencat until Icekit's better.

Tldr: they all care for each other and panic whenever anything happens to Icekit.

Thank you so much for the ask. I really appreciate it.

[thebusytypewriter]

Okay Salem my beloved two options for my req you do whichever scritches the brainrot best 💕

—Reader-insert/Kamukura Despair-era shenanigans (shippy? chaotic? hurt/comfort? angsty? up to you!) (Bonus points for bullying Servant/Nagito /hj)

—A oneshot for any OC you haven’t gotten to talk about (enough) on here :> I know you have an FMAB and a non-Rosalind fangan kiddo in particular; maybe one of those!

ily Salem thank youuuu :D

Jonnie my beloved you give me options but this is for YOU and I know you love Kamukura so I offer Despair-era shenanigans :> It's a rather..... specific idea but I hope it suffices nonetheless! 💕

Towa City—the most fucked-up city in this new fucked-up world.

So why, exactly, are you—a former investigator before everything went to shit—finding yourself heading into this fucked-up city? Easy. You’re chasing a phantom.

Not a literal phantom, of course; you’re tracking an individual who’s popped into and out of your radar for months now, showing up without fail at the preferred locations of every Remnant of Despair. You have a couple of buddies in what remains of the civilian-formed safety corps, and they had the misfortune of running into this phantom while on patrol once.

Their number of squadron members was cut in half that day, and the bastard apparently never lifted more than a finger.

You’re intrigued, of course, but you want to make sure this odd man never causes any more disasters.

And so, you’ve found your way to the newest circle of hell: Towa City.

Based on reports, the bridges connecting it to the mainland have since been destroyed, but that doesn’t stop you from commandeering one of the small motorboats remaining at the docks. Ripples in the water nearby alert you to the fact that your target had the same train of thought. You quickly check your supplies before absolutely hauling ass across the water.

As you approach, you’re greeted by a surprising lack of robotic killing machines. They had been the staple danger of Towa City, and you’d prepared several countermeasures against those beasts, but there’s nothing; not even so much as a single ball-sized bot. It doesn’t sit right with you.

(You don’t notice the long-haired man staring down at you from the bridge’s remaining supports, taking in your confusion.)

Nevertheless, you continue on your way, handgun at the ready just in case. As per your training, you follow every turned stone, every shifted pile of dirt, and every open door to track your target. You can’t help but feel pride at your skill and luck to make it this far, to get so close to this strange person.

(He’s moving too fast ahead of you for you to see him laying out the path.)

You climb flight after flight in this one building, all stones gone, all dirt replaced with concrete. The only thing that guides you now is the echoing footsteps above you, growing ever so steadily fainter.

(He takes care to make noisy steps for a change.)

The sound of a door alerts you to the phantom’s exit. Tenth floor—a penthouse suite, you think. You pursue, ready for another chase… or maybe a fight. After all, no one really knows anything about this person; you could be dealing with the former Ultimate Taekwondo Master for all you know.

(You are. Among other things.)

You’re surprised to see your target standing perfectly still within the living area, back to you as they look out of the window toward the skyline. There’s no indication of hearing your entrance, and it unsettles you once more. Now significantly closer, you can reasonably identify them as male, or at least male-presenting. His long black hair drapes over his back and partially obscures his pristine suit from your view, and it’s almost annoyingly perfect and smooth. He stands tall, posture simultaneously relaxed and proper in an effortless manner.

He’s a bit of a vision, you catch yourself thinking.

Focus.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you take careful steps forward. One hand holds your gun, which is loaded in case of the worst, and the other delicately pulls your singular remaining pair of handcuffs from your belt.

Thirty feet from him. Twenty. Ten. He makes no move to run, no move at all, so you hesitantly holster the gun so you can have both hands at your disposal.

Just as you step within reach, he turns, and you manage to block a knifehand strike with your forearms. It catches you by surprise, but what combat training remains in your head took action just in time to save your ass from being knocked unconscious.

You have only that brief moment to take in his face—chiseled, neutral, objectively handsome. Intense red eyes stare you down, but they’re not angry. They’re not anything.

His head tilts, and after a beat, he opens his mouth to say something.

He doesn’t get the chance.

You manage to grab hold of the hand he’d used to attack you, and one side of the handcuffs is shoved on.

Click.

That’s when he moves, tugging the caught wrist back and attempting to shove you back by the chest, but you’ve got a vice grip on the other cuff.

“Come on,” you growl, keeping still the hand you just caught as you fumble to grab and get the other under control. “Don’t make me use my fucking taser—”

Click.

“AHA! Oh…” You move back just a hair, staring in disbelief at your target’s wrist… and yours.

In the confusion, you’d gotten it half-correct. You’d handcuffed him, all right. Just… to yourself.

Well, shit.

“This is awkward.”

He stares, thoroughly unimpressed. But he makes no move to escape.

“What, can’t you just get out of it?”

Red eyes blink back at you.

“…Thanks for the input.” You sigh. “Dammit, why couldn’t this have just gone the way I’d planned? Fine, let’s just… save both of our prides. I’ve got the key.”

Using your free hand—the right one—you reach into your small utility bag attached to your belt and grab the single steel key from within. Even as you hold it up to show him, your target continues to just stare. It’s unnerving, but at least he isn’t trying to kill you. That’s a first, and a welcome one at that.

However, despite your training and ability to lock and unlock handcuffs blindfolded, the edge of the key catches on a ridge it shouldn’t, and the dumb thing slides out of your hand and onto the floor. You ignore the burning in your cheeks and squat to retrieve it.

Just as you reach for the key, he swiftly kicks it with the toe of his shoe, sending it flying an impressive distance across the floor and under the penthouse’s oven.

You stare in disbelief at where it disappeared. Then you look up at him.

How the fuck is he able to look so smug while still remaining expressionless?

“The hell is your deal?” You push yourself up and waggle your cuffed wrists in front of him. “Unless you know how to get out of handcuffs without a key—which I don’t—then we’re stuck. Is that what you want?”

Blink.

“Or you could just not talk to me. That works.”

God, you wish you still had a team.

“You’re a detective,” he finally says, tone as flat as his expression. “You don’t appear to be related by blood to the Kirigiri line, and the lack of a ring on your hand implies that you are not married.”

The analysis throws you for a loop momentarily as you process it. “The Kirigiris? I mean, I know of them, but no, we’re not related. I’m just a private investigator from Tokyo. I came here to—”

“To track and apprehend me,” your target finishes, “someone you could not figure out. Someone who remained just out of reach. Now you have time to do so, and I will be able to do the same.”

“You make it sound like you planned this.”

He doesn’t refute it.

The sound of approaching vehicle engines alerts you to the presence of someone else outside. It’s faint, given your height at the tenth floor, but you’re still able to classify them as military-grade. Probably those Future Foundation people. You wonder what they’re doing in this city.

…You wonder if they can get you out of the cuffs.

Your target narrows his eyes at you, as if reading your thoughts. “That would be a terrible idea.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“If you surrender to the Future Foundation, it is quite likely that they will consider you an accomplice of mine.”

“Oh please, I’m a licensed detective, they have no reason to distrust me—” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Wait, did you say accomplice of yours? Who does that make you, then?”

For once, he hesitates, appearing to mull something over in that strange head of his. Then, he finally says, “I am called Izuru Kamukura, and I am considered to be a part of the Ultimate Despair, who are now the Remnants of Despair with the death of Junko Enoshima.”

It processes for a moment, then you huff a half-laugh. “A lot of uncertainty there.”

“They are facts.”

“Right, right. So the Future Foundation…?”

“Wishes to kill me.”

“Gotcha. And me showing up, handcuffed to you—”

“Would likely end in your own death, or at least imprisonment with suspicion of cooperation with a terrorist.”

“Son of a bitch.” You glare at Kamukura, gesturing vaguely toward the stove. “Then why make me lose the key? Are you just that sadistic?”

That smug little twinkle in his eye comes back. “No. I knew it would be interesting, being locked to the person who’s been following me for two months.” He leans forward into your personal space, dark hair falling to curtain the both of you. “Checkmate, detective.”

Heat rushes over your face once more.

Guess you have no choice but to follow his lead.

‘Interesting,’ without a doubt.