#well he has a whole organization to expose now

[larryisinlove]

I completely agree with this post by @apparentlybychance and what I write below is from my perspective. My understanding comes from the perspective of someone who studied marketing since 2019, is a community manager and currently works in a marketing agency. 

You are not compelled to take everything I say as the real and only way to look at it, this is my opinion and I respect others as well.

It's clear that Louis needs a new marketing team, as the current one doesn't seem to be doing its job properly or, worse, doesn't even seem to understand what they're doing. Their attempts to divert attention to topics such as his "fatherhood" or sexuality are way too obvious, while his music is poorly promoted. Many fans try to fill that gap by promoting his music organically, but it doesn't have much impact as we are not an enormous fandom and it's not our responsibility either. Moreover, the fan base shrinks with every failed "strategy", which generates disinterest, anger and abandonment of the fandom. This is also reflected in the organisation and promotion of their shows and music releases. 

The worrying thing is that this mismanagement is not new; it has been going on since the beginning of his solo career. Some justify this by saying that Louis prefers to be an underground/indie artist and be left alone with the usual fans, but that makes no sense, that's just a justification for the bad actions of his team. No artist seeks to stagnate or limit his growth. To advocate without questioning every decision of an artist's background doesn't mean being a "bad fan", and it is important to understand that questioning the strategy is not attacking the artist. 

It is frustrating to see that many fans believe that Louis doesn't really want to grow as an artist, which, again, makes no sense. The problem is the lack of planning and analysis on the part of his team, who act without foreseeing the long-term consequences. I don't understand this image they want to give him, because as a fan for years, this is not the Louis I grew up with. Maybe he's trying to distance himself from One Direction and avoid the mainstream stuff, which is admirable, but this kinda rude and distant image doesn't seem to align with his original (and real) essence. 

Those of us who work in marketing and communication have a different, more analytical and technical vision, which allows us to detect patterns and strategies (or the lack of them). This is not a justification to invalidate other opinions in any way, but to offer an informed perspective. With Louis, it is clear that there is no clear strategy. His team seems to improvise, as if every decision is made without a long-term plan, simply reacting in the moment.

The resurgence of the babygate stuff a few days ago is another example of this lack of planning. From the outset it seems to have been an idea launched without considering the consequences and, now that it has grown out of control, they don't know how to handle it or shut it down for good. This only creates more chaos as the years go by. The exposure of the child has been contradictory from the beginning: How can you justify wanting to protect his privacy when he was initially exposed so much by his whole family, from pregnancy onwards, and then included in the documentary "All of These Voices"? Nothing has any coherence if you analyse it at all.

As for the blocking on Twitter, it is hard to believe that Louis has blocked so many accounts without it being known beforehand. It's an absurd and ineffective tactic to manage the narrative of his public image. I agree with the post that "Louis and his team are no different. They like to use subtle tactics like blocking, following, unfollowing or general interactions on their social accounts (mainly X) to manage the narrative of their public image" as this is part of a strategy that has been carried over from One Direction, like when he tweeted "I am in fact straight" or "Larry is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard".

Or Another example we can name is this 2012 interaction with Rebecca Ferguson, where she expresses the overexploitation she was receiving and "Louis" replies "Success is impossible without proper hard work". That contradictory image does not fit with the Louis that many of us fans have known and followed for years. Why would an artist seek to lose fans and, therefore, limit his growth?

Over time, all this has made their actions feel fake and automated. As a fan, one ends up questioning and analysing every action from another perspective, as nothing seems genuine or truthful. His "Hope everyone is doing alright" tweets seem scripted and even programmed, lacking that closeness that used to exist. While we know that artists' social media accounts are controlled, the fan/artist connection remains crucial to maintaining public support and loyalty. When repetitive patterns and bad strategies accumulate, the authenticity of the artist is lost, turning him into a kind of "robot" with no control over his actions, which can end up damaging his image and damaging the relationship with his fans, often without him being fully aware of it. 

From a music marketing perspective, there are several key aspects that Louis' team seems to ignore. An effective marketing team should focus on  research and investigation of the audience, clearly identifying the artist's target audience, considering factors such as age, interests and content consumption platforms. The lack of consistent branding is evident, as Louis' public image doesn't appear to align with his musical and personal essence, leading to confusion.

A well-planned release strategy should include a pre-launch campaign with teasers, interviews and strategic collaborations, something that seems to be absent in most of his projects. In addition, multi-channel promotion is essential, using social media, interviews, streaming playlists and specialised press, without relying exclusively on fandom. A competent team should also focus on authentic storytelling, creating an emotional and genuine narrative to connect with the audience, rather than resorting to polemical tactics that distort his image.

Fan growth and retention is another key aspect. Good marketing seeks to expand the fan base while maintaining the interest of the current, as opposed to what appears to be happening. Finally, long-term planning is essential, with measurable goals and clear direction, rather than reactive and inconsistent decisions.

In conclusion, Louis' team is not managing his career professionally or effectively. Successful marketing requires planning, analysis and authenticity. His fans deserve a clear and respectful narrative, and he deserves a team that will really promote his music and his career. I hope that for LT3 we have a good promotion, that his team starts to get things right because I don't want his career to continue to suffer consequences from this, besides from his image to be ruined by the mismanagement of those working with him.

[tanglepelt]

Dpxdc idea 176

Danny never expected to see Tim drake aka Red Robin ever again. Especially not when he just escaped the Giw covered in wounds and a Y he’d never like to see again.

Tim never thought he’d see Danny again, according to Danny only one of him could ever exist. The same one they were both certain was from a different dimension. They had searched up the justice league and Bruce Wayne from Danny’s bedroom. A dimension Danny couldn’t leave without risk of the GIW causing a war in the realm.

He had only ever met Danny after one of his opponents managed to shove him through a natural portal. He of course managed to modify his weapons to work in the infinite realms. Mortal safe food not to easy to find. It was mere chance he had run into phantom. From there he ended up waiting in Danny’s supposed different dimension until frostbite was free to let them use the infinite map to get him back home.

He really needed to look into the GIW of that was the case. First he had to deal with getting Danny medical attention.

[cobraaah]

Hello yes,, another seb smut request :] I absolutely LOVEEDD the last fic u wrote and now I require more HGHDHFJF

Mabye like a really steamy makeout session with seb in his shop that ends up going further? But he has two tounges (///.//.///) so it's extra freakyyy,,

Preferably with a side of more degrading and breeding kink,, also, if your up for it,, maybe some oviposition?

Pairing•[Sebastian Solace x hybrid fishy! Gn reader?]

Warnings• 18+ No minors, but I'm not your mom so consume your own content, ovi kink, double tongue, double cock, breath play, breeding kink, blood, wounds?, not prof read

A/N• Okay, so, like, sorry for taking so long on this 😭 I've been so busy!! Anyway, I tried to make it gender neutral as possible. I'm also sorry for how short and bad this is. I really rushed it because I've been procrastinating on this. I also need to organize all my stuff on here as well. Flip. I also don't know why reader is a fish hybrid, I totally forgot what I was gonna do with that

Word count• 1.4K

Heavy pants ringed through your ears as you pushed open hell saving door fifty. Clutching your side blood staining your hand, a giant gash layed on your side. Labored breaths seethed out of your clenched teeth as you gripped onto your side, attempting to apply pressure and because it hurt like hell. With a prayer, the vent up ahead pushed open with a snicker lingering in it. It was your trusted friend, well more of your only friend here, Sebastian. The weird fishy hybrid eel thing. . you didn't really know exactly what DNA was in him, just that he was a weird hybrid thing that sold you items. Nothing more, nothing less.

Crawing through the vent with a hiss due to the new position of having to crawl, tail dragging behind you. Red drops from the gash beneath your hand, leaving a small trail in wake. A small gasp leaving your mouth as you stood up, heaving. Suddenly your vision getting hazy finally came to you, how much blood have you lost? Glancing down to your wound, your whole hand was dripping red. The only noise you could focus on was the soft dripping of the crimson droplets hitting the metal like floor, your ear fins fanned back uncomfortably.

Due to your carelessness and not being careful about the doors you went into, you've waltz into at least one of the "Good People's" doors, maybe a few too close encounters with Angler leaving scratches on you. Everything was too fuzzy to remember, or feel? Looking up you finally notice Sebastians worried facial expression, and when where you sat on top of this table? A uncomfortable groan left you as Sebastian tightly wrapped bandages around your exposed wound. When did he take off my diving gear? Your eyebrows furrowed in glazed confusion, what was even happening? With your vision beginning to fade out, you slumped forward into Sebastians arms opting out on falling back against the hard metal wall.

The uncomfortableness of the cold metal against your bare skin and the stinging pain in your side sturs you awake. Hissing through your teeth you sit up, quickly realizing you arnt in your diving gear instead being in the bare essentials. The coldness was something you never could adjust to properly after being fused with some randome fish DNA the scientists excluded from telling you. Glancing down to your side you realize it's bandaged up, already becoming a light pink colour. A rough "Ahem." brings your attention to infront of you, Sebastian is in his normal spot in the corner. "How are you feeling?" His voice laced with distaste at the fact he even asked that, his eyes are squinted at you analytically.

"I'm. . fine." Your voice comes out warily, feeling uncomfortable under his unwelcoming gaze. A small hum leaves Sebastian in acknowledgement, awkward silence quickly fills in the room. The situation just being unusual between you too, and the fact you were practically half naked infront of him. Truly embarrassing stuff. You wince into yourself at the stinging pain to your side, analyzing your coverd wound once again. "You know. . I could take your mind off the pain. If you wanted." Sebastian voice made you look up once again, this time in confusion. "What. . What do you mean?" Voice laced with unease as his gaze becomes more predatorial like.

With him standing at the end of the table he easily grabs ahold of your ankles, firm hands slowly gliding up your exposed flesh pulling your pelvis flush to his waist. "You know. . just another way for you to repay for my services. Gotta pay for that medkit I used on you anyways, plus you staying in my hideout? A large fee you owe. ." He trails off. His gaze boreing into you as if trying to burn right through you. "Right.." His hands leave goosebumps in wake of his trail, finally firmly resting on your hips. Two tongues simultaneously slip out of his mouth as he leans forward. Your eyes widen slighty at the fact he has two, mouth agap slighty in awe. Sebastian takes this opportunity and connects his mouth with yours.

Two of the silky appendages explore your mouth, wrapping around your tongue. Eyes closing in bliss, hands coming up and wrapping around his neck deepining the kiss. His tongues threaten to go deeper into your throat, teasingly he slithers them further slowly making you let out a choked whimper. One of his hands come up to your throat choking you, starting out softly but quickly roughing it up to barley suffocating squeezing. With air becoming scarce for you, you grip onto the back of his neck hoping he'll get the idea. Your vision quickly begins to blur with no oxygen getting to you. Weakly squirming under him hoping to free yourself.

As your vision begins to fade and your wiggling slows he leans back, letting go of your throat. Taking in a sharp breath, feeling your heart skip a beat as your vision finally regains to its full. Sebastian chuckles as he looks down at you panting, your grip on him tightens as you finally calm down, but that was short lived as you feel two rather big appendages wiggle against your thigh. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you see he has two cocks instead of one. The one that slithers it's way on the top of your stomach is much bigger and more thicker rather than the one that's under your thigh, it's still pretty big but the bottom is more thicker than the tip.

With a quick thrust of his hips a low groan emmits from him. With two of his hands gripping your midsection and his other grabbing your ankle, hoisting it over his shoulder as he leans in closer to you, mouth connecting once more. His bigger tentacle like cock slithers under your underwear, withoit any prep or warning he quickly juts his hips into you, cock easily slipping inside with how slick you already were. Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the stinging pain of him stretching you out, but after a few more thrusts the pain turned into pleasure. Moaning into the heated kiss, the feeling of his tongue fucking your mouth draws you closer to the edge, the familiar tightening feeling forms in your stomach.

As Sebastian leans back for air he reposting himself so his chest is flush against yours, he grabs the back of your thighs pushing them up. With this new angle he pushes himself impossibly deeper, hitting spots you never knew existed. Your arms tangle around his neck pushing his face into the crook of your neck. His tongues slither out giving a few little licks before harshly biting down, seemingly grounding himself as he does a few more harsh thrusts into the spot making your head feel dizzy. With a final thrust you feel something pushing its way inside you, Sebastians body stiffens with a groan as his jaw slacks against your shoulder. His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as he stills inside you. You whimper at the unfamiliar feeling of being filled up, a intrusion pushing past your cervix. Eyes furrowing in slight discomfort as you cling onto Sebastian, his rough panting, licks, and soft nips against your shoulder distract you from the pain.

He pulls out with a low groan, your stomach has a soft bump from all the eggs he pushed into you. A surprised whimper left your throat as you feel a his other slick tentacle wiggle against your entrance. He easily pushed inside once again, giving a few shallow thrusts before roughly pushing himself all the way. Moaning at the feeling of being impossible full, he ruts into you as he rides through both of your highs. He stays inside of you for a moment, catching his breath. His hand comes up and be runs his fingers through your hair, tips of his nails rubbing against your scalp comfortably. He let's your legs down slowly letting them lay on either side of his waist. His face still nuzzled into your neck as the movements of his hands slowly still until soft breathing can be heard from him. You glance down and realize he fell asleep, exhaustion quickly becomes evident to you as your eyes close with ease and you drift off to sleep holding onto Sebastian.

[whoreforgyu]

pb&j

MDNI 18+

✌︎ pairing; neighbor!kim mingyu x fem!reader

✍︎ genre; smut, neighbors to lovers, au, fluff

ⓘ tldr; after finally mustering up the courage to ask your fine ass neighbor for help opening a jar of raspberry jelly, he makes sure to fill yours up with some cream by the end of the night 😏

⚠︎ warnings; under 21 drinking (20yrs but turning 21 in a few days (& dw even though i am 19 i don’t drink personally, this is just for the fic 😭)), mingyu has a slight thing for older girls, mingyu is a sophomore and reader is a junior in college, mentions of ‘95 liners, awkward reader, mentions of food, lowercase intentional

✎ note; i’m a new writer so this is my first fic let me know how i did 🫣 got the idea to write this after i spent all night trying to open up this jar of coconut oil from trader joe’s lol 😭

⇅wc; 2.4k

after what felt like an eternity of twisting, turning, and damn near college level research on how to open a glass jar, what are the odds that not a single thing has worked.

“run it under some hot water” they said.

“tap the lid with a heavy object to break the seal” they said.

“slap the bottom with the palm of your hand” they said.

but despite the hundreds of google searches and youtube videos you’ve watched, the tin lid to your jar of organic raspberry jelly hasn’t budged an inch.

“ugh!” you screeched, nearly throwing the damn thing at the wall. but you would much rather go to bed hungry than have to clean up fruit preserves mixed with shards of glass from the ground, or even worse, eat a dry peanut butter sandwich without jelly.

now, was there a quick an easy solution that you have thought of, but didn’t dare to act upon? well, yes! but that would require having to interact with your fine ass, johnny bravo-esque, tank of a neighbor— mingyu. at first, that option was off the table, but soon hunger got the best of you.

so here you are, standing in front of apartment 406 in some skimpy boy shorts that expose wayyy to much ass and a sweater, holding the infamous jar of raspberry jelly.

*knock, knock, knock*

the apartment goes silent, you feel nervous as the sound of foot steps walk up to the door, pause, and a zipper opens moments before hearing the lock turn. your cheeks heat up at the sight of him in a tank top with grey sweats. trying to stop yourself from ogling at his biceps, triceps, and quadriceps on full display, and you peep how his matching grey hoodie is coincidentally hanging from the coat rack.

the smell of sweet and savory spices bless your nose, if there’s one thing about mingyu, that man could cook. sometimes he’ll hand deliver you a bowl of whatever food he’s making, under the pretense of, “i made extra,” as opposed to “i was thinking about you, so i made a larger portion just to share with you.” and you swear he’s ruined your whole perception of food, you can’t help but think about how much better everything would taste if mingyu was the one who made it instead.

“oh hey _____, is everything alright?” he asked, looking up and down your figure, taking notice of the jar of jelly in your hand.

“yup!” you say awkwardly, accidentally look down at his man-cleavage “i just wanted to know if you could open this for me please?” an innocent grin plays on your lips as you shove the jar towards him, trying to ignore the way he was staring at them.

he laughs while gripping the jar and lid, twisting them in opposite directions before hearing a-

*pop*

“there ya go,” he says, handing back the jar. you sigh of relief before thanking him and turning to walk back to into your apartment, all while feeling a pair of eyes burning into your ass.

“y’know,” he blurts out. stopping you in your tracks, turning around to listen to him. mingyu couldn’t help but trip over his words at the sight of your doe eyes looking expectantly at him. “i’m making dinner right now, n’ i was just about to bring some over to you,” the tips of his ears now turning red, “but- i mean, since you’re already here, would you mind joining me?”

“yes!- i mean no- like no as in i wouldn’t mind,” shit, you think to yourself, what the fuck am i saying?

“okay perfect” mingyu says trying to hold back his smile (you know that cute 😗 face he makes), letting you into his apartment, allowing himself a closer look at your ass.

to no surprise, his apartment layout was an exact copy of yours, only furnished to his liking, of course. a dark stained wooden coffee table accompanied by a matching tv console, upholding a flatscreen tv and ps5, and a dark blue ribbed suede couch. hm, interesting.

“almost done, just need to finish sautéing these veggies,” he says now facing the stovetop, and you take the opportunity to get a real good look at his back muscles. you’re so glad you got front row seats to see them, since the view through the peephole of your door every time he came back from the gym wasn’t cutting it.

“could you help set up the table?” mingyu turns off the stove and grabs some plates and glasses from the cabinet above, breaking you out of your trance.

“yea, of course” you squeak, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you were drooling over him just then. you set down the jar of jelly you, for some reason, still had in your hands on to the counter, and grabbed the placemats, utensils, and glasses from the drawers mingyu directed you to. he brings over the dishes and sets them onto the table before going back to grab a bottle of wine.

“you drink?” he asked raising a brow.

“not really, but i don’t mind having a glass,”

“how old are you?” he questioned.

“twenty one, how ‘bout you?” you wary.

“twenty.” he replied. there’s a brief moment of silence between you two before he’s sporting a stupid grin, like he knows he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, waiting to see your reaction.

“so where the hell did you get that from?” you pressed, raising your voice, baffled by his audacity to ask for your credentials when he, himself, isn’t even qualified.

“a frienddd~” his tone playful as he laughs. “relax, i consider this my early birthday gift, i’ll be twenty one on the sixth of this month.”

you think it must be from one of of his older friends, specifically seungcheol or jeonghan, those dudes from your engineering class who come by often, not that you’re keeping count. you sigh, you can’t blame him. you’ve had your own fair share of alcohol during your birthday party that you celebrated the weekend before your twenty first, especially since you could not afford to get lit on the wednesday night before your exam.

“fine,” you gave a tight lipped smile as mingyu pours you both a glass, starting to loosen up as alcohol soon calms your nerves.

“wanna watch that new ‘baby reindeer’ series, i heard it’s crazy as shit!” mingyu laughs, as you two are finishing dinner.

“ yeah i’ve been meaning to start! just haven’t gotten around to it,” you finish up the rest of the bottle, while mingyu takes the dishes to load them up into the dishwasher. you grab the remote turning on the television, and plop down on the couch, briefly pausing to remind yourself that this isn’t your place, but he sure does make you feel like it.

after drying off his hands mingyu plopped himself right beside you, leaving only about an inch or two in between, and smoothly snakes his arm around you, being careful not to make contact though. you laugh to yourself at how respectful he’s trying to be, and wonder if he’s truly oblivious to the not so respectful feelings you have towards him.

half way through the first episode, you can’t help but feel warm, almost hot due to his body heat. his scent isn’t helping either, he smells like fresh clean laundry and natural musk. you want to study his face now that you’re up close, but it’d be too obvious, he’d notice right? wrong, frankly, his ass is not paying attention to you, so you take initiative and scoot closer into his touch, resting your head onto his shoulder, smirking at the sudden tension of his body.

“you alright?” mingyu speaks lowly into your hair, subconsciously helping himself to your scent. turning down the volume on the tv, he tilts his head to hold your gaze, dammit, there she goes again with those eyes, he curses. swiftly glancing at your lips, and back up to your eyes, it’s like he can read your mind. cautiously, lowering his hand to your ass, he helps you onto his lap. “whatchu tryna get into?” mingyu teases.

“i dunno know you tell me, you’re the one who’s got me on their lap” you tease back giggling while biting your lip.

mingyu uses his teeth to now bite your lip between his before kissing you deeply. he couldn’t wait for the day he could he could get his lips on your pretty plump ones. not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about getting the chance to mess with his pretty ass little neighbor.

whimpering at the sensation of his sunken fangs into your lip, you quickly match his energy, grinding your dampening cunt against his growing erection. his hands now gripping your ass like a vice, increasing the relentless speed and friction between you two. hand nearly getting crushed in the process, you reach between your bodies to free his now rock hard cock from his sweats, beginning to stroke him while slowing down to a more sensual pace. he breaks the kiss, letting out a loud whine as you spread the bead of precum, focusing right on the tip, and dip the pad of your thumb right into the dimple before rubbing circles around it.

mingyu’s body shudders as he throws his head back in ecstasy, blabbering a whole bunch of nonsense, while you lick and bite the sensitive skin from his collarbone all the way to his jaw. continuing to stroke his aching cock, “ah! ouu~ shit- baaabe- baby oh! fuuuuck~ m’ boutta-” are the only coherent words he’s able to slew before you cease all movement. his head shoots up, wide eyed as he looks at you as if your head’s missing.

you give him a sweet— almost taunting, smile before reaching under his tank to reveal his sculpted torso, chest rising and falling as you scrape your nails against every nook and cranny of his flesh. you lean forward to give a few licks and and sucks to each of his nipples. mind you, the man is still staring at you in disbelief. giving a sinister laugh, he holds you by your hips and and in one swift movement, shifts his body under you, so instead of sitting on his lap, you’re now sitting on his face.

mingyu wastes no time lapping at the mere outline of your pussy, desperately sucking your arousal through the fabric of your shorts. like a rabid dog he rips through the fabric with his teeth, lips immediately latching onto your clit like a vacuum. you let out a loud cry desperately grabbing fistfuls of his hair as a poor attempt to ground yourself before he’s gripping your waist, gliding your cunt alllll over his face.

“gy-gyuuu~” you whine, your legs starting to shake as you the feel pressure building up in your core. your thighs now locked tight around his head, you’re scared you may suffocate him but you’re far to worried about reaching your own orgasm to stop. “mmmph~ shiiit pleaseee~ oh my- no gyu! piece of shit!” you scream, as mingyu removes himself from under you, a shit eating grin playing on his lips, his face covered in your juices.

you squeal as mingyu rips off any and every remnant of clothing you still had on, and throws you over his shoulder— face down ass up, giving it a quick harsh slap before heading into his bedroom. throwing you down on the bed, he immediately attaches his lips to yours as he slips his thick middle and ring fingers inside of you, curling them just enough to make you cum better than any one of your pathetic toys ever could. if he could give you mind blowing orgasms just with his fingers, just imagine what universe he’d take you to on his cock.

mingyu teases your entrance with his fat tip, gliding it along your wet folds. his cock was looong, thick, and heavy, a vein running along the left side of the shaft. it felt like steel wrapped in velvet. he begins pushing his way into you, nothing could prepare you for the stretch he gave, he felt invasive, greedy, selfish. invading any space he could find inside your small tight cunt.

“just hold on to me baby,” he growls in you ear, his breathing ragged as he bottoms out, pelvis right against your ass. the man desperately trying to help himself from releasing right then and there at the feeling of your wet pudgy walls sucking him in, as if your body was trying to create a mold of his cock to remember forever.

your legs wrap tight around his torso, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he’s rutting into you like a dog in heat. he desperately pants, holding another vice-like grip onto your hips, the combination of your pornographic moans and walls beginning to clench and spasm around him making his cock twitch inside you like a bolt of lightning.

not even science can measure the amount of pent up tension that has built up in your core, the feeling painfully delicious. the sharp thrusts of his cock soon becoming sloppy as you feel him starting to shudder once again, his mouth now on your neck, sucking harshly at the flesh. he brings his hand down to your cunt, beginning to rub messy circles onto your clit making you cry out, sending you over the edge.

the knot in your abdomen comes un done, feeling like an explosion as mingyu shoots what felt like the entirety of earth’s population into your poor pussy. your body goes numb, your vision, seemingly no different than looking out of a kaleidoscope, seeing shapes and colors you didn’t even know existed.

mingyu lays on top of you, cock still sunken deep inside as if he’s trying to fertilize each one of your millions of eggs, his heavy breathing sinking you into the mattress even deeper than you were before. looking up he sees your fucked out state, locking eyes with you before giving you the filthiest smile you’ve ever seen.

you smile back, matching his same filth, before pulling him into another heated make out session. “ready for round two?”

[bywrios]

"c'mon, giddy'up back there," boothill mutters, his knee bouncing restlessly as he resists the urge to turn over his shoulder and check on your progress again. you grumble behind him, one hand smacking his metallic waist, and he can picture the furrow of your brow and the way your tongue sticks out in concentration in his mind's eye. one of the metal panels of his back has been removed, exposing the wires and circuitry of his mechanical organs.

the whole reason for this impromptu examination was the fact that he had been feeling... strange after his last bounty, for some reason. it had involved a high-speed chase in a roofless car, hot on the heels of some ipc scumbag. he’d done his best to dodge whatever shitty bullets the scumbag’s entourage had shot at him, but clearly, something had stuck—which is why he sits between your knees now as you check him up for damages.

his boot thumps on the soft, dusty earth under his heel. “well?”

“hold your damn horses,” you snipe back, muttering under your breath. he can feel a light pressure against the cords and connectors in his spine, the artificial replacement of his nerves. “i need to—oh.”

“what? whatsit?” he asks, a note of urgency in his voice at your silence. he isn’t particularly worried about getting fixed; his bounties ensure he has more than enough credits to spend on spare parts. it’s just that it’s a pain to have to travel to the nearest non-ipc mechanic feeling all funny.

(he ignores the voice in his head that tells him the true source of his worry: that his faulty body might not be able to protect you.)

“what’s wrong?”

he’s about ready to spin back when he hears a choked exhale rush out of your nose, followed by the airy sound of your giggles. it makes him still, but this time out of confusion, rather than concern.

“what the fudge has got you laughin’ your boots off back there?” he grumbles, and you only laugh harder. he glances over his shoulder and sees tears lining your pretty eyes, and then he glances down and sees… some sort of flying insect between your fingers? a very dead, and very fried insect. it had probably slipped in through one of the chinks in his plated skin during the chase.

“i guess you— i guess you could say there was a hardware bug,” you wheeze, free hand gripping onto his shoulder to steady yourself in between your fits of laughter. boothill gives you a withering glare, and plucks the dead, charred bug from your fingers, grinding it to dust between his own. he pretends to be annoyed, lips curled into a frown, but there’s a lightness to him he hasn’t felt in a while.

“hardy har har, yer so dang funny, ain’tcha?” he scoffs, shoving you lightly into the dirt.

you answer him with another burst of sweet laughter, unbothered and too lost in your own mirth, and it reminds him of the sound of the wind blowing through the mountain valleys, and how it whispered into his ears when he used to ride horses and not roofless cars.

with an exaggerated sigh, he lets your enjoyment at his expense slide this time.

(he doesn’t have a biological heart anymore, but even that mechanical thing in his chest can’t bring himself to interrupt you.)

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Night's Watch Lord Commander!Jon Snow and Arrogant Noble Woman!You…

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, dark!Jon Snow, kidnapping, kissing, groping, forced stripping, manipulation, breeding kink, bastard shaming, humiliation. MDNI. 

Note: Can/Does this qualify for Kinktober/Halloween?

. . . 

His bushy lips that are akin in their roughness to his fingers that ‘gently’ move your hair away from your back that he further exposes by pulling on the harness that had been holding your blouse together feel harsh against your soft skin. He pushes the mass of your soft strands over one of your shoulders from behind and a beastly arm is wrapped around your waist to pull your body closer to that of your captive so he can press his deranged and lewd kisses along the length of your spine, the sickening sensation causing for your body to curl in disgust.

Jon Snow is a bastard in every sense of the word. 

Having meticulously crafted the persona of the gentle warrior full of valiance, endurance and better sense, you now understand with a frightening realization that he tirelessly worked for the construction of his present circumstances for years so he could perform a flawless execution of his plan that you are living now.

Although for reasons not particularly aimed at the shallowness in his facade that you can see through now, it is now that you know that you had always been right in your unyielding contempt of him. That your intuition that there festered something dark and twisted behind those ‘innocent’ eyes of his that were black as night and thus your accordingly treatment of him was justified. 

Jon had taken your unrelenting shaming and insulting of his origin, your humiliating rejection of his proposal to you and your vehement refusals of any and all attempts at any kind of an alliance between the two of you with a smile for years so as to portray you an unruly beast-like daughter of an influential man only so he could do this. 

Your chapped lips curl in fury and disdain that you feel for the thought as well as yourself. You had always considered your skills in self defense and swordsmanship to be on par with any other lad your age. 

Only for your mind to not even process your abduction when it was underway let alone your combative learnings to come into play. 

Your body stiffens when one of his hairy paws reach for your bare breasts and you almost smack it away but your stomach lets out a painful growl and the lining of your stomach painfully retracts into your organs at that very moment almost as a signal to make you stop and reconsider your urges. Your body freezes and you let your eyes wander to the object of your humiliation and assured desecration. The sight causes for your dry mouth to salivate in a way you had been a stranger to before this.

A steaming bowl of stew with a jug of water. 

That is the deal. Jon says he will not force himself on you. No. Rather, you will willingly surrender yourself to his touch and mercy. You are to welcome his acquaintance with your intimates, thank him for it, moan for him, let yourself loose to his touch and enjoy everything he plans to do to you. 

Water for every pinch and grope.

Fire and warmth for every move and sway of your body like the whores you've shamed your whole life.

Food for every adulterous act. 

A treat for every ‘experimental’ position in the bed that is currently a heap of carelessly woven straws.

A possible improvement of living conditions for every bastard you bear him.

He can easily bring the appropriate means down in this dungeon that he has built specifically for you in the undergrounds of Castle Black to marry you and legalize as well as religiously sanction this depraved dynamic he has devised for the two of you. 

But just why would he do that when he can easily get what he wants from you whilst torturing you to live through exactly what you have shamed him for all your lives? 

. . .

MASTERLIST

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Slasher Handler Part 11 - Slip Lead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Read on AO3

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Implied stalking/surveillance, implied kidnapping, physical injury, deception/emotional manipulation, physical violence, injury with knife, genuinely not enough information, hidden weapons

Something about stabbing him, about meeting Price, has resulted in you being able to stray a bit farther from Simon’s orbit. You’re still on a rather short lead, there is a list of unspoken rules between the two of you as long as your arm. But you’re going out alone more. You don’t feel Simon’s eyes on you every moment he’s out of your sight. It’s weird.

But when it comes to Simon, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you start a routine of going to the cafe down the street twice a week or so to work and see other human beings. It’s surprisingly difficult, some days. More than once, you’ve felt too exposed and retreated back home. These days, you have more good days than bad. As long as people don’t talk to you too much, you’re fine.

So it’s a bit jarring when someone clears his throat while you’re wrangling spreadsheets.

The man is in a light jacket, tee shirt and jeans. Looks like he works out. Kind of a stupid haircut, but he’s at least committed to it. Very distinct looking, Simon’s voice says in your head, easy to track. Unlikely to cause problems.

Something about him makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“D’ya mind?” he gestures to the chair across from you. At your skeptical look, he rushes to assure you, “ Jus’ fer mah coffee, ‘n t’read,” holding up a thick paperback. He gestures to the rest of the cafe. “Wouldnae bother you, but this’s the only open chair.”

The shop is unusually crowded. You frown up at him. “I’m really busy.”

“Willnae hear a peep from me,” he promises, setting down his coffee and pulling out the chair across from you. He turns the chair so he’s facing more of the room instead of the corner you’re in. And he opens his book.

You watch him for a minute, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but you do need to work. With a last wary glance at him, you settle your headphones over your ears - transparency on - and get back to organizing a data set that reminds you of a ball of duct tape.

It’s time for a break before you know it. Your companion, true to his word, hasn’t said a peep since he sat down, more than an hour ago. He barely looks up as you close your laptop before turning back to his book. He does look up when you flag down one of the servers.

“Lunch,” you say, inanely. To the server, you say, “Can I get the chicken sandwich today?”

“Chips ‘n a lemonade, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They turn to your table mate. “And for you?”

“The same, ah guess?” He raises his eyebrows at you, like he expects you to give him permission or something. He looks back at the server. “Yeah, a chicken piece for me, as well. ‘Nd a juice?”

“Separate checks?”

“Aye, ta,” the guy says. When the server leaves, he blanches. “Hope you dinnae mind.”

You do mind, but it’s not like he can sit anywhere else right now. “It’s fine.”

He sets his book on the table, and your eyebrows shoot up. Whatever you thought he’d be reading, Jurassic Park wasn’t it. He grins. “Ah ken. It’s old, yeah? But it’s a damn sight better’n the movie.”

“Isn’t that how it goes,” you say, vaguely. 

But you’ve already fallen into his trap. He turns his chair to face you, crossing his arms and leaning into the table. His eyes are unnervingly blue - somehow even bluer than Simon’s - and bright with interest. “’M serious. It’s not just that a character yells in the movie and speaks softly in the book, aye? In fact, the movie made Dr. Sattler older, aye? Great choice, emphasize ‘er expertise.” 

Aging up a woman character? You’re reluctantly intrigued. “She was a less important character in the book?”

“Nae,” the man scoffs. “She’s probably the first o’em to realize how shite the whole thing is. Notices things. Stuff the other’s aren’t payin’ attention to because she’s the plant expert, an’ naebody pays attention to plants.”

You find yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself. Johnny, as he introduces himself, has obviously been waiting for a chance to talk about it, but he’s not pushy. He excitedly pulls a pen from his pocket to doodle along with his explanations. By the time your food has arrived, he’s convinced you to at least try the audiobook.

“I cannae pay attention stuff in mah ears,” he says with a grin as he starts to dig in. “But I hear good things, if you don’t ‘ave time to sit an’ read the text.”

As you nod along, you look up and almost choke on your next swallow. Simon is outside, looking at you through the window with raised eyebrows above his usual black surgical mask. His eyes flick to give the man at your table an obvious once over. And then he turns away and walks out of sight.

“Ye alrigh’?” Johnnys’ eyebrows are up near his hairline when you look back at him. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, torn between staying seated and the urge to run after Simon. You can’t help but look at the window again, but he’s gone, there’s nothing for it. “Sorry, I thought… Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get the audiobook.”

When you get home, Simon is on the couch, the TV on with the volume low. He watches you, like he always does, as you take off your shoes and shuffle around to put away your things. When you finally join him on the couch, you find that he’s watching a nature documentary. A crocodile slides under the water with barely a ripple.

“He was only sitting with me because there wasn’t anywhere else,” you rush to say.

Simon turns to cock his head at you. “You get ‘is name?”

“John. Johnny,” you answer. “He told me about his book, but I left as soon as we were done eating.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. He lifts the arm closest to you, pulling you close as you settle into his side. “’S good to have friends, Precious.”

“He’s not a friend. Just some guy out to lunch like everyone else.” 

“You let him stay,” Simon points out. He squeezes you in a rough approximation of a one armed hug. “Been nervous around people, but you’re gettin’ better.”

This isn’t what you expected. You can’t help but side-eye him. “You’re… proud of me?”

Simon’s lips press gently against your forehead. “’S long as you pick better this time, I don’t mind you ‘aving friends. Can’t keep you all to myself forever. ‘Sides, you’ve marked me proper, ‘aven’t you? Got me as your little pet. Johnny’s not gonna be a problem.”

The little pink scar around his ribs is little more than a raised line. You slide your fingers under his shirt to pet at it. Among all of his scars, it’s one of the smallest. You’d cried the first time he’d let you see under the bandages.

“You’re not a pet,” you grumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re an alligator who won’t leave my house.”

“Your alligator, now,” Simon agrees. He focuses back on the television, seemingly done with the conversation.

You could leave it at that. But you turn to face him, instead. “You’re not mad?”

“Not unless ‘e ‘urts ya.” Simon presses his lips against your hair. “An’ I wouldn’t let that ‘appen.”

The following week, though, he stands over you with an exaggerated grimace at how crowded the place is. “Och, d’ya mind?”

Johnny is there the next time you go to the cafe. He waves from his table, but ducks back into his notebook without waving you over. So you work from your own table in peace. When you take a break for lunch, he’s gone. Two days later, it’s the same. It’s easier to concentrate, now that you’re less worried that he’ll take the conversation from the other day as an invitation. 

With a sigh, you clear some space for him. But just like last time, he keeps to himself, reading and occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. It’s not until just before lunch that he breaks the silence.

“D’y’ve a boyfriend then?” You can’t keep yourself from cringing fast enough, apparently, because he laughs. “Sorry, sorry, shouldnae asked.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble.

“Aw,” he coos. “Don’ worry hen. You’re right bonnie. Ah’m sure they’ll come around, whoever they are.”

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t so painfully off base. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, you’re right done wit’ me,” he laughs. “Ah ken’t I shoulda kept mah mouth shut. Ma always said runnin’ mah mouth would get me into trouble. I won’t bother ye again.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t push, and you’re grateful. But when it comes time to pay for lunch, he insists on paying. It grates on your nerves. A gift from a guy is never just generosity, you learned that long before Brandon. But you clench your jaw and pack your bag up a bit more roughly than usual and say your goodbyes.

“They didn’t have the brownies you wanted,” you announce as you return home from the grocer, two days later. “I think it was a limited edi…tion…”

You notice Simon watching through the window, but he’s there and gone before you can get a read on his expression.

There’s a smattering of blood on the entryway carpet.

You don’t drop the bag with the eggs, but only because your muscles are locked up. Did someone break into the apartment? Was Simon here when they did, or next door? Did they leave? Did he take them?

A sound makes you gasp before you bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood. And then again, a muffled groan, close, from the direction of your couch. 

It’s not Simon’s voice.

You gently set your bags down and reach behind the coats for the blackjack Simon insisted on leaving there for security. There’s a rustling. Another groan. You stoop low, trying to make yourself a smaller target, and creep around the edge of the couch.

When you see Johnny, bound and gagged, shirt covered in blood where he lies on the floor, your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, dropping the jack with a thump. You crawl over to him, looking around frantically. Simon is nowhere to be seen. But he did this. He had to have done this. Right?

Johnny twitches, groans again, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees you, his eyes go wide, and he frantically tries to sit up.

“No, don’t! I don’t know where you’re hurt,” you hiss. You reach around his head to untie the cloth that’s gagging him. “Oh my god-”

“We gotta get out’f here, bonnie,” he grunts, leaning into your hands as you help him upright. He spits blood on the floor. “No tellin’ when that mental bastard gets back.”

“Oh god,” you whisper again, touching the front of his shirt. It’s dark and sticky in a bloom across his chest. “Where are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

“Ah’m okay,” he grunts. “A bit banged up, but ah’ll live.”

You swallow down the urge to vomit. “There’s a lot of blood, Johnny.”

“S’nae all mine,” he answers. “C’mon, untie me, before Simon gets back.”

You’re shifting to reach behind him before your mind catches up. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “W-what? What did you say?”

“We need to get out of here!”

“No, you said his name, you called him - ”

“Simon? That’s what ye called him when you came home,” he hisses. 

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper, body stuttering between frozen and electrified. You never call Simon’s name where others can hear. “And - and I - you - you were unconscious.”

Shining blue eyes stare into yours from two inches away. Johnny’s bloody mouth curls into a smile. “Oh, he’s trained you up good, he has.”

You scream when he lunges forward, huge arms grabbing at you. 

His weight crushes the air out of your lungs when your back hits the ground. You twist under him, using the arm he hasn’t trapped to grab his hair and yank. He swears, and loosens his hold just enough that you’re able to free your other hand and jab him in the throat.

You expect the way that he chokes, but the hand he’s twisted in the back of your shirt stays locked tight. He coughs out a frenzied laugh as you twist. Your heart races as he prevents you from getting your knees up between your belly and his. But he doesn’t expect you to hammer the heel of your boot against the back of his knee, or how you use the leverage against his leg to roll away onto your belly. 

He doesn’t let go of you, but that’s fine, that’s okay, as long as you can reach under the edge of the couch. Johnny pounces, body curling around you without quite pinning you down. His fingers twist into your hair in an echo of how you wrenched at him. But he doesn’t stop your hand, grabbing the leg of the couch and then reaching under and up and-

“Try again, Bonnie,” Johnny chuckles into your ear when your hand meets nothing but cotton and wood.

Your heart doesn’t have time to stop. The grinding pain between your hip bone and the floor makes you pop up your pelvis and reach down. The tiny knife, Little K, jumps to your hand. It’s so easy to flick it open, you think you almost cut your own belly as you heave. Johnny rides you for a moment, then pops up onto his knees to let you roll freely.

You don’t have time to decide, gut or femoral, you just swing. Denim parts, pressure - 

Johnny yelps.

His weight is suddenly gone, and the arc of your arm slams the back of your hand and your elbow onto the carpet. It’s a shock, almost hard enough to make you drop the knife. You flick your eyes around, nearly blind with tunnel vision, and see Johnny standing over you. His jeans are slashed, outer thigh almost to crotch, but you can’t see blood, fuck.

He sways, oddly. Is your vision swimming? He doesn’t descend on you again, though, just laughs and wiggles. One of his feet isn’t on the ground, his injured leg is dangling, did you get him?

You imagine you can see Simon’s face, a little angry and a little amused. If you die here, Johnny will live to see his own intestines, you know it. Even if you survive, he won’t. Simon might gift you another skull. The thought almost has a laugh bubbling out of you. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” you hiss. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it.”

Simon’s voice startles you into action. You’re off your back and scrabbling backward in and instant as he manifests behind Johnny. Except, you realize, that Simon is holding Johnny up, one arm snaked under Johnny’s and hand around the back of his neck. That’s why Johnny looks off balance, it’s because he is, because Simon is here, he’s going to save you-

“Did real good, Precious,” Simon says with a grin. “Knew you’d get along.”

What? “What?”

Simon says something else, but you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. But you hear it when Johnny laughs. You see when Simon releases him with a ruffle to his mohawk and a shove toward the armchair. Before you know it, Simon’s scooped you into his arms and taken his usual seat on the couch. He pries the knife from your hand and snaps it closed. 

“Told you I was thinkin’ of gettin you a dog,” Simon rumbles, sitting you in his lap so your back is against his chest. Before you can protest that no, he never once mentioned a fucking dog, he continues, “This’n’s mostly ‘ousebroken, already. Soap needs a firm ‘and, but you c’n ‘andle him. 

Soap? What the fuck does soap have to do with anything? What kind of a name is…

"Oi!” Simon barks. “Off the furniture.”

Your stomach drops as you remember John Price, two months ago now. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.” Soap.

When your wide eyes swing to him,  Johnny’s face is split into a toothy grin. He tips his head back against the seat of the arm chair. One of his hands touches the blood blooming through his jeans and brings it up to his lips. He laves his tongue over his fingers. “Ah’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know you, Bonnie.”

A part of you wants to get up and slit his throat. The rest of you slumps back into Simon’s chest and bursts into tears.

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[fairy-writes]

Hi hi! I see you just opened your Kaiju no. 8 requests and I’m head over heels for our boy Kafka! I’m not sure WHERE to take this but like him having saved you in a similar fashion as Kikoru (so you know he’s part kaiju now) and months later after A LOT of flirting Reno finally blurts out “JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY JEEZ!!” or something🤣

If you’re not a fan you can take this however you want or ignore it lol thanks for indulging me lovey! *screams please & thank you <3

HE LISTENS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Hibino Kafka x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Kafka and Reader are the same age, Reader is implied to be shorter than Kafka

Notes: I absolutely adore Kafka! He looks like he’d give the BEST hugs!

The reader is written with fem!reader in mind, but no pronouns are used!

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA 

__________________________________________________________________________

You knew you should’ve evacuated at the first siren.

But noooooo! You just had to go back to your apartment for your laptop! But hey! Your dissertation for your doctorate was saved on there, and there was no way you were losing it when you were this close to finishing and graduating!

You ducked under another swipe of a Yoju. It’s some spindly long thing with too many eyes and a mouth full of too many teeth. It takes another swipe at you, and you duck, narrowly avoiding dropping your laptop bag as you trip over some stray rubble. Your right arm shoots out to catch your fall while the left cradles your precious dissertation and homework. 

Pain jolts up your right elbow, and you’re pretty sure you have road rash all up and down your fingers and your palm. You look up and see the Yoju opening its maw to swallow you whole and only think of one thing. 

You knew you should’ve evacuated at the first siren.

You close your eyes, accepting your fate but curling into a tighter ball in a sorry attempt to make it harder to eat you. (What kind of logic was that?)

But nothing happens. 

What?

You peek open an eye and see something that has your jaw dropping open in shock. 

Scales as black as pitch and outlined in azure light. A demonic-looking skull and a pronounced spinal cord with spikes lining the length of it. 

Another Kaiju? 

But that wouldn’t make any sense, seeing as it was holding the mouth of the Yoju open to keep it from eating you. The humanoid Kaiju effectively stood between you and the monster… Was it… Protecting you? 

The creature turned its head slightly to look at you and winked. It winked!

“You might wanna get outta here, sweetheart, I’ll deal with this one.” Its voice was vaguely male-sounding yet demonic at the same time. 

It could talk?!

That snapped you out of your shock, and you scrambled to your feet, holding your laptop bag to your chest as you sprinted around a corner just as the Kaiju readied a fist. You peeked back around the corner as the punch landed and quite literally exploded the Yoju on contact. You flinch back as organs and blood go everywhere. But it’s so quick that some of it gets on your sweater, effectively ruining it, as well as your slacks and shoes. 

The blood begins to burn, but you pay little attention to it as a young man—no older than eighteen—with silvery white hair rounds a corner. His uniform exposes him as a member of the Defense Force. He holds the long rifle-like gun that all Defense Force members have. The man skids to a stop before the Kaiju but doesn’t shoot it. 

“Senpai!” He chirps, and you watch as the Kaiju begins to change. 

It shrinks in size, scales retracting into skin, and horns retreating into a head of spiky brown hair. Soon enough, a man stands before you in the same uniform, back to you. 

“Yo! Ichikawa!” The man greets him in return

What. 

The.

Hell?!

“Ichikawa” seems to hear something and turns to see you. His face drops in shock and surprise before darkening in anger. Though it wasn’t at you, it was at his “senpai.” The Kaiju-man-hybrid-thing notices the anger and turns around, spotting you. But he doesn’t seem angry. Instead, you watch his face light up in pure panic. 

“I thought I told you to run!” He squawks awkwardly, and you stand on shaky legs, jabbing a finger at them. 

“You never said how far! I thought around the corner was good enough!” You retort, though your knees shaking betray just how scared you are. 

Would you be killed? This was clearly a closely guarded secret between the two of them. 

Did the Defense Force know they had a Kaiju on their side? 

Did anyone else know? 

Ichikawa digs his foot into the man’s side in a ferocious kick and sends him stumbling. 

“I thought I told you to make sure the area was clear of civilians before transforming!” He shouts, and you flinch at the vicious tone. Though the other man was clearly older than Ichikawa, he seemed to be in charge. 

“But if I had to check the area every time I had to punch somethin’, nothing would ever get done!” The man whines, and Ichikawa simply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Um…” The two men look at you, and you flinch again, your grip tightening on the laptop bag. “I won’t say anything, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me!” You manage to squeak out, and the older man looks at Ichikawa with bright eyes. You could practically see a puppy tail wagging behind him excitedly. 

“See! We don’t have to worry about anything!” He exclaims, but Ichikawa isn’t convinced. 

“How do I know we can trust you?” He says, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in skepticism. You swallow thickly,

“Well… He saved my life. I’m indebted to him, and the least I can do is keep a secret.” You say, and Ichikawa stares, mildly surprised but relenting. 

“Fine!” He says, turning on his heel to glare at his friend. The man spews apologies for revealing his identity to a civilian, but the duo doesn’t seem too upset about it. 

You hiss in pain as adrenaline wears off, and you’re left in bloodstained clothes that are currently melting off your body. You high tail it to a nearby shelter where they provide a spare change of clothes. While you change and shower, you can’t help but think of the odd duo you met today. 

You’d likely never see them again. 

Right?

You stare at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your blazer for the millionth time, making sure your button-down is tucked into your slacks and scuffing your feet along the floor. 

It was almost time. 

It had been nearly six months since your interaction with Ichikawa and his friend (whose name you still didn’t know). You hadn’t seen them since then, but your life had changed drastically as a result. 

You successfully graduated after defending your dissertation. Your research was making waves in the Defense Force and Kaiju-enthusiast community in general. So, you were summoned by the Defense Force to give a presentation to the officers about the importance of it. And today the presentation was to be given to the entire Defense Force. 

You were only a little nervous. (You were bullshitting yourself, you felt like you were going to pass out.)

There is a knock on the office you had been stationed in, and you jump about a foot in the air. 

“Yes?” Your voice is much more level than you expected. At least that was good. An officer peeks her head in,

“The Defense Force has been organized. They’re ready for you,” She says kindly. You swallow once, nod, and scoop up your laptop (which wasn’t damaged in the Yoju attack, thank the heavens) to follow her out. 

The massive lecture hall reminds you of the enormous rooms professors would give lectures in back in graduate school and college. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were modeled after one another. Officers in their uniforms line the seats, most on their phones, but some chatted with one another. You even spotted the infamous Narumi Gen on some sort of gaming device. 

Silence fell over the crowd as you were handed a microphone and tapped it a few times, making sure it worked, before introducing yourself. You heard a strangled noise come from the audience, but the lights facing you kept you from seeing who it was. You could see vague shapes of people, but that was it.

So, you don’t pay it any mind and start into your spiel that you had prepared. You introduce what the lecture will be about, your contact information (mainly email) if there are questions, and promptly launch into said lecture.

“And that concludes the lecture. Thank you, everyone, for your questions and for listening. I’ll be around the next couple of days gathering samples for research, so feel free to reach out and ask any other lingering questions!” You say and switch off the microphone, setting it down on the podium as well as the laser pointer. Most of the officers trickled out, with only a few staying behind to ask clarifying questions. 

It wasn’t until you were shutting down your laptop and packing up your notes that the final people in the audience approached you. Everyone was long gone by now, save for…

“You!” You gape at the sight of the man and Ichikawa approaching you. They freeze midway up the steps to the stage. Ichikawa takes the initiative. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” He says as he bows. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and bow your head in return. 

“Only thanks to you two. I’m sorry, I didn’t get either of your names.” You say hesitantly, and both of them look at each other before introducing themselves. 

“Ichikawa Reno.” 

“Hibino Kafka!”

You can’t help but smile at Hibino’s enthusiasm and extend a hand for them to shake. Ichikawa shakes it first, his hold light but not wimpy by any means. In contrast, Hibino’s is firm and sturdy.

“Now, how can I help you both?” You ask, and Hibino looks somewhat embarrassed. 

“We were just wondering if you told anyone…?” He trails off, but you know what he’s talking about. 

“No. I kept my promise. No one knows save for whoever you’ve told.” You say quickly, eyes unconsciously looking around the room for any spare stragglers who might be listening in. 

Luckily, no one is.

“So… You never really went into it in your lecture… But what did you major in in college?” Ichikawa asks as the three of you walk back to your office. Hibino thankfully badges you in, seeing as all the keys are electronic keycards, and you never received one. You set your bag down and sigh in relief. It was finally over and not as scary as you thought it would be.

“I graduated with a PhD in biomedical engineering with a specialty in Kaiju biology studies.” You explain as you slump into your office chair and tilt your head back. But not before you watch their faces pale at the idea of all the studying you had to do.

Which was a lot. 

You laugh at their expressions and offer them a smile,

“It was a lot of work, but if I can help people, then it was worth it.”

Ichikawa Reno and Hibino Kafka become a staple in your life after that. 

Even when your research into how Kaiju biology could help amputees and transplant recipients took off, they were there every step of the way.

Especially Hibino.

He was there at every lecture, asking questions and stimulating conversations amongst your peers. He allowed you to study him in his Kaiju form as his identity as Kaiju No. 8 was revealed to the rest of the Defense Force. No needles, of course. That was his only stipulation. (Who knew a man as powerful as him would be scared to death of needles?)

So, you settled for CT scans, MRIs, and other ways of study.

Hibino also took you out for meals when you were both on break at least twice a week. Ichikawa often tagged along, but more often than not, it was you and Hibino alone.

Today was a day that Ichikawa tagged along.

It was one of the rare days that he was able to come to visit from the Fourth Division while you and Hibino were stationed at the First Division. You weren’t employed by the Defense Force persay; you were actually employed by Izumo Tech while you furthered your research. But with Hibino stationed at the First Division, that was where you were allowed to go.

The diner was filled with American-style food. It was one of Hibino’s favorites in the area, so you usually indulged him when he allowed you to pay. (Which wasn’t often) 

The waitress brought over your drinks just as Ichikawa arrived and sat down. You had taken the liberty of ordering him a drink that you hoped he’d like. This place was renowned for its smoothies, so he got a strawberry banana smoothie. Hibino ordered an alcoholic beverage of some kind, and you stuck with water. 

“How’s research been going?” Ichikawa asks as the waitress brings over your food, and you all promptly dig in. The food was greasy but delicious. You hum through your mouthful, chew, and swallow before answering. 

“Slowly, we’ve made some breakthroughs, but nothing special has come of it yet.” You say cryptically. You weren’t allowed to really disclose anything before it was published, so dancing around the topic was the best you could do. 

Hibino didn’t really get the memo. 

“We almost—” You lunged across the table. You shoved a hand over Hibino’s mouth before he could spill any critical information. If it got out that he said something, you could be fired, and your career would be ruined. Hibino was still talking, his beard scratching your hand as he tried to explain himself. You yank your hand back like you had been burned but silence him with a glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to say anything!” You hiss, and he rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle. 

“Sorry, I just get really excited hearing you talk about your work.” He mumbles. 

That gets your blood boiling. 

But not in anger. 

In excitement. 

No one liked hearing you talk about your work! Hell, even your parents' eyes would glaze over when you started talking about Kaiju biology and how it could help hundreds of people! But as you thought back on it… Hibino would be an active listener, sometimes even taking notes for you to clarify at a later date. 

He listened to you. 

Your face was burning, steam practically coming out of your ears in embarrassment. Hibino’s face mimicked yours as what he said caught up with him. 

Ichikawa wasn’t impressed. 

“Just kiss and get a room already!” He complains and gets up, tossing some paper bills down to cover his part of the meal, and goes to get a take-out box. He was clearly done with your antics. 

Your face felt like a volcano erupting. But you couldn’t do much else other than look down at your lap. 

“Y’know…” You look up as Hibino rubs the bottom half of his face, his voice barely above a mumble. As your rampant emotions cool off, you answer him. 

“What?” Hibino’s face flushes even more red, and it isn’t the alcohol in his system. 

“He isn’t exactly wrong… I mean… I’ve been wanting to take you out for a while… And not just to lunch!” He stammers through his sentence until you get a vague idea of what he’s asking. 

“Hibino Kafka, are you asking me on a date?” You tease, mostly to hide your thundering heart. Hibino swallows thickly and nods, 

“If you’ll date someone like me, that is…” A grin splits your face until your cheeks hurt, and you reach across to grab his hand. 

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” You say, and he stares for a few seconds before whooping in excitement. 

“Hell yeah!” He shouts, and you duck your head in embarrassment. 

“Oh! And you don’t have to call me Hibino anymore, y’know?” He cradles your hand in his larger one and swings it back and forth as you leave the diner. Ichikawa left a while ago, claiming you two were an embarrassment to be around. You can’t bring yourself to care. 

Squeezing his hand in return, you lean your head on his arm and smile. 

“Kafka it is, then.” You say, and he just grins. 

[nonbinarypirat]

What do you think about all this mess in chapter 365? The existence of hierarchy in the society of demons was not something new, but for me it was somewhere in the background, that is, we know that demons have a ranks system but there were social elevators in it. I am asking you because I am a fan of your analysis of the mairuma universe and I am sincerely interested in hearing your opinion.

Good question!! I actually LOVE the direction the story took for the Scala test because it felt like it was going a little too well ya know? I was excited when they turned to farming because as soon as we learned about the carrots I was like, oh they should start a farm that’s the next idea. But I was like, hmm it feels too easy now doesn’t it. And then BAM fascist. But anyway, this is a great question to talk about since I previously made a post about how one of the overarching theme in the story is fascism and fighting against it through education.

The reason why I love this direction for the story is that up until now, all of the subtle hints towards more seediness and corruption has been in the background. It makes sense narratively speaking that we wouldn’t get hit with it too strongly because we like the main character are slowly learning about the world. Iruma is growing up in a relatively safe environment with him mostly being at his house, school, or a safe area like the shopping district (with some obvious exceptions to this). Iruma, having grown up in the human world, has no reason to assume or believe that there is serious systematic problems going on. Instead, he is slowly becoming exposed to this as he gets older and out into more situations where he can no longer not see it.

The signs have all been there from the start with the ranking system being the first exposure. Especially with the introduction of Kirio. The simple fact that you can get better meals if you are a higher rank in a school lunch speaks volumes to how low ranked demons are treated. Especially since we later see this stays true outside of school with Ameri and Iruma going to a segregated high rank only restaurant. And we see instances of bullying/intolerance when it comes to how students treat each other. The notable moments I remember is how the Azz fan girls treated Iruma at first when they thought he was a low rank compared to when they learned he had a higher one than they originally thought. Or the student’s comments to Kirio since he was a low rank. Or how the girls at the party treated the low rank demon girl.

We also have had the vile police system introduced to us during the Walter Park incident and when we first learned about Narnia. Prisons and the whole system is already fucked up and corrupt in the human world but it’s definitely worse in the demon world. The fact that the prisoners have to constantly give their mana up to the park not to mention the fact that it’s located underneath the park to begin with always felt gross to me. And when we first learn about Narnia, the cards start to come together. Narnia is said to treat any injustice, anything at all, on the same level. And he is shown to be cruel and ruthless in the face of what he considers crime. So if you committed tax fraud, you would probably be considered on the same level of a murderer and treated just the same. How are those even on the same level? But Narnia doesn’t care, he sees it as an opportunity to “maintain order” within the netherworld and uses that as justification for his actions. In the end, he doesn’t care about the demons he’s supposed to protect, rather he cares more about maintaining the strict hierarchy.

Add to that the fascist organization we have in the story that wants to control the netherworld to reshape it into their image. The introduction of Baal and learning about the organization kind of kicked started where the story will lead into. This has always been a story of fighting off bigotry and oppression, but it’s very subtly disguised behind what seems like a typical villain takeover plot. Because it’s subtle, we as the audience only start noticing when the themes become prevalent with the evidence stacking up higher and higher. And with the introduction of Azami, we can no longer not see what the story is trying to convey to the audience.

It’s crafted in a way to keep you unaware until we see Narnia being a full on fascist with his fascist cop buddy Azami. And the reason why it’s so effective is because the themes have always been there, just in the background. If we had all of a sudden had Azami or Narnia doing his little “maintaining order” speech without the small build up, it wouldn’t have fully hit as hard. But now that we have the Many-Ears race, a race literally known for being suppressed and subservient to higher ranks, we now see the cards fall into place. Some people wondered if the Many-Ears have done this to themselves, suppressing themselves when there was no need. But now it’s become clear that no matter how the Many-Ears came to live in this way, it’s clear that it’s not an issue of them doing this to themselves. Not fully at least. They are being used by those in power to keep them submissive to those they benefit the most. And the Many-Ears, believing they have no way of changing the system of powers, internalized and conformed to this idea as well. Being trapped in this mindset benefits the majority rule and keeps the “balance” in order. However, now they can see a better way for themselves. Now, they truly believe they have value and worth outside of being a worker for a strong ranked demon. Thus toppling over the hierarchy established.

Fascism feeds on a strict hierarchy where everyone knows their place. One cannot have fascism without it being built off the backs of those oppressed. And Narnia, being a fascist prick, has one dangerous weapon: power. He is a high rank, works within the demon border patrol, and now has become a 13 crown, one of the most powerful positions in all of the netherworld. He is almost untouchable at this current moment unless you are a fellow 13 crown (and we still don’t know how possible infighting works). The Many-Ears have no way of stopping someone like this and are basically forced to either fall into line or become seriously hurt. And even if they do fall into line, there’s no saying Azami won’t hurt them anyway. That’s the thing with cops, they can decide what goes with very little consequences (can you tell my feelings on cops?). Narnia knows, he uses this as a tool for oppression. If he has leverage, he will use it without a second thought to further his mission of control.

But here’s where education falls into the equation. The Many-Ears are no longer among the uneducated. Before, the oppressive power used their lack of knowledge to support the hierarchy. How will it work out for them if they no longer as unaware as they previously were? Once knowledge is spread, it’s hard to put a lid on it. You can’t go into their brains and erase what they know to be true. And now they are no longer fighting alone. This isn’t an us verse them battle. Fascism wants you to believe you are alone. It wants you to believe you are powerless. It wants you to believe that you are the only one that wants change. Why? Because there’s power in people, in community. No matter what happens in the next few chapters, they have people that care and want to see change too. And luckily for the Many-Ears, they have powerful allies too. One person alone can make change but a community of people can make an even greater change. And that is the reason why I love this story so much 🫶🏽

Sorry for how long this post was, I just saw this question and I’ve been dying to talk about this since the chapter dropped because I LOVE the themes of this story so much. And I love the anti cop mentality of both the main line story and the mafia story 🤭

[sketchedspiders]

Cotag actually breaks my fucking heart knowing the reality of their relationship and the fact that they could never be able to truly love each other.

1. Their workplace literally steals their mind, body, and soul so they can just become machines that don’t think of or take interest in anything else.

2. It’s the 1970s and they’re both guys; being gay wasn’t allowed anywhere back then.

[Full analysis under the cut + Spoilers]

[Keep in mind some of this is my own interpretations, but it still goes off canon)

Normal Guy literally tells Protag this when he tells him that Coworker was a great help and they got along well.

He gets frustrated by this fact and worries that Coworker is a distraction for Protag. He doesn’t want them to form a relationship of any kind because it would distract them from their work. Immediately after Normal Guy tells him that, he goes on to ask this:

Maybe I’m reaching right now because this question comes up no matter what, but for this it’s important. There’s multiple reasons and aspects as to why he asked this question, but one of them could be the fact that if Protag did feel anything around Coworker, then Normal Guy would know. It’s hard to explain, but think about a racing heart for example. People’s heart rate increases when they’ve infatuated by somebody, and when they see that person do even the tiniest things it makes them flustered. If they become nervous around that person, their breathing may become weird; which is why it brings us to this question. If Normal Guy finds an abnormality in Protag’s body that would prevent him from working, he would wanna know the reason, and if that reason is Coworker, then it pushes him to think their relationship is even more of a distraction to the both of them.

Normal Guy wants all his employees to dedicate their entire lives to the company. He doesn’t want them forming any sort of relationship that’s not entirely business related. If Protag’s heart is in something else, then that would create a multitude of problems. Not even his organs belong to him anymore, so neither of them even get the option to be together fully.

I think it’s also important to note that if you do choose the option to tell Normal Guy that Protag and Coworker did get along, this can lead you to get the bad ending where he literally erases Protag’s entire identity and makes him a different person. It’s wrong for them to be together no matter the circumstance, and their entire lives would be erased, along with their original relationship.

However, if the company did allow them to have a full on relationship, it wouldn’t have worked anyways. They’d be a gay couple in the 1970s, and homophobia was not only rampant back then but it was illegal. People would get arrested, sent to conversion therapy, or even lobotomized for being homosexual.

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a LONG time, and this is also what pushed me to write “I wish you were born a girl” (yes hi I’m destroymeiloveyou on ao3 I’m exposing my identity for a moment here and if you don’t know wtf I’m talking about then ignore this).

They could be together in private theoretically, but with them being gay and also working at a company that doesn’t even want their employees to have a life outside of work, it’d be near impossible. Both of them would be at a constant risk of losing everything. Although, they already have given up so much for their work, would it even be worth it?

Coworker is already a closeted person with his feelings and such. He puts up a narcissistic front because of how insecure he is. His title means everything to him because he doesn’t have much else. It gives him a sense of security, and he wants somebody else to recognize that because he wants to feel loved. That’s a whole other analysis for later, but taking this into account with everything else, would he be willing to give up the little that he has to give him security for a relationship that was doomed from the beginning?

With how desperate he tries to impress others (especially Protag), and how attached he is to his title as well as his nepotism, his life being turned upside down just like that would be a nightmare. Everybody would turn against him, and no longer would he be the star employee at the company. In reality, he would be just as in denial about his feelings as Protag would be.

Also. ALSO!!! Speaking of Protag, it is heavily implied and agreed upon that Protag has religious trauma because of floor 4. If he did grow up in a strict, christian household, he would definitely have internalized homophobia.

The sight of a cross makes him nervous, meaning he’s probably no longer christian, but it has left a longterm effect on him.

This means that despite how he left his christian past behind, the things he was taught as a kid has never left him.

If his parents wanted him to be a “good kid” and follow God, I think they would’ve taught him that homosexuality is a sin. That’s one of the lessons that have also never left him, and he still stands by it even if hiding his identity makes him miserable.

Although, no matter how hard he tries, it’ll be obvious his heart will never be in the company or christian values. He’s gonna end up hurt and hurting whether he hides his feelings or not, which is just as tragic. He’d feel terrible once he recognizes how he feels about Coworker and I don’t think he’d ever confess. Protag would just suppress his feelings and they would both suffer silently.

If either of them did end up confessing, they still wouldn’t ever be able to truly get together anyways.

So, cotag could be in love, but they would never actually be able to be romantically together or express their feelings at all. They can do the littlest acts, like spending time with each other on breaks, but it’ll never be enough.

It’s not even right person, wrong time; it’s wrong person, wrong time.

I would write WAY more and I’ll probably yap about this later too because I’ve been keeping this to myself for so long, but I have to cut this short for now.

I probably sound like matpat right now with how im reaching with some of this stuff but I don’t care I need everybody to suffer along with me LMFAOO

I would add a funny image here but I’ve reached the limit. Anyways if you have any questions PLEASE let me know I love yapping about my cotag interpretations and theories

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Saving Lu Guang!!

For obvious reasons, we're all assuming Cheng Xiaoshi is the one who needs to be saved. The final plot twist of season 2 is the main reason:

I'm sorry Cheng Xiaoshi I’ve always been telling you to not change the past but I couldn’t follow my own words. Even if I know death is an unchangeable point, I still want to use the last chance to go back to the beginning, and save you.

But. Lu Guang is the most unreliable character you'd find out there. His version of the story is sometimes inconsistent.

Many details don't add up, might it be the fact he doesn't have his phone with him at a moment as important as closing a trap on Liu Min, or that the scene in the hospital bathroom is different when Cheng Xiaoshi dives as Lu Guang, or the simple obvious impression that it's future Cheng Xiaoshi who's giving him the partner talk on the basketball court--

Well, there might be someone in Lu Guang's corner diving and changing things without him being aware of it. This person being Cheng Xiaoshi himself is most likely.

Now, why would Cheng Xiaoshi dive into the past after all this time when he decided against it after Lu Guang's death? Saving Lu Guang or Qiao Ling is the most realistic and in character reason but there is more to this particular theory today.

Remember, whatever we think, there is more to the story. As omniscient as Lu Guang seems to us at the moment, he, himself, doesn't have all the information.

Past or Future, it has been clear until now that official content is hiding many secrets yet to be uncovered. Dive with me into this madness once more~

This meta is largely inspired by this thread

>> Lu Guang's secret

Let's start with something as basic as characters concept arts. Those always strikes me as out of charater, because Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's personality seems somehow switched: on the character sheets, Cheng Xiaoshi looks pissed and Lu Guang smiles (like a creep).

Two things are worth noticing in this first pack of pictures:

Lu Guang's character sheet looks like a frame if the film roll has been exposed to light while loading in the camera. It is damaged. His smile in the background is also absolutely not his. In the light of Yingdu Chapter's teaser, it could mean Lu Guang is possessed by either Li Tianchen or Vein. Not only that but the surexposition makes it impossible to know the exact color of his eyes. Could be yellow, red, blue, gray.

They are both trapped in the bottom of a hourglass. Cheng Xiashi looks at Lu Guang in a frustrated/angry manner, and this face is a lot like the one in the background of his character sheet. It could implied that Lu Guang got them into some kind of bad situation.

Promotional posters presenting season 2's characters have Li Tianchen is Qiao Ling's shadow while Liu Xiao is Qian Jing's. Lu Guang is Cheng Xiaoshi's. Lu Guang lies/manipulates Cheng Xiaoshi for his own good since the start, he hides secrets after all. He is as much a puppeteer as Liu Xiao. He is very knowlegdable but we have no idea to what extent. We can only assume that whatever he is doing, he's doing it for Cheng Xiaoshi's sake.

These details and the implications don't put Lu guang under a good light. Lu Guang always was a morally gray character, however his logic paired with Cheng Xiaoshi's compassion make them the duo we are rooting for.

A popular theory is that Lu Guang betrayed a Time-Something Organization to save Cheng Xiaoshi and is now being punished. Another one is that he made a deal with Vein to grant his wish. In any case, he might have ties with Vein and Liu Xiao, as a whole or separatly, we can only speculate so far.

In my meta on the Promotional Poster for the AR GAME, and the Light and Color theory, I mentioned that "Burning Palace" hints on a Fourth character being part of this new group, and argued that the missing character is already part of the cast: Lu Guang.

Futhermore, whatever happened, he can only be at fault: Lu Guang is supposely the one who introduced Cheng Xiaoshi to his powers. We still don't know the origins behind those, and I won't start the disucussion in this meta, but we know that at some point, in this timeline or another, Cheng Xiaoshi tried to convince Lu Guang to use their power to earn money and pay their debts. Link Click Live Action is not canon to the donghua, but in this adaptation, Lu Guang is the one coming to Cheng Xiaoshi and teaching him the useful way to use his strange energy.

To resume, Lu Guang isn't only keeping secrets from Cheng Xiaoshi. As an audience, we know close to nothing about him, even less than his roommate! Except for the fact he's probably been diving back in time to change the past. Therefore, he cannot be trusted regarding his abilities, his past, or even his motivations. Lu Guang knowing everything or more than others because he lived through several repeats is a false fact. When something unexpected happen, he totally freaks out and he is a control freak. It's okay, we love him as he is. But! He is the definition of unreliable as far as narrators go.

In the past or in the future, Cheng Xiaoshi has to find out the truth at some point. His reaction shouldn't be important for this meta though. Actually, I think the official artworks of him being pissed shouldn't be taken quite literally. The hints I talked about above don't mean anything about HIM or his feelings but it says everything about Lu Guang's actions and the implications of those: he is doing something he knows is wrong and his ultimate goal is exactly the same as some antagonist. Being kept in the dark, lied to or manipulated, Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't focus on any of it.

Why? If Lu Guang actually rewrote reality and put himself in a doomed situation for him, Cheng Xiaoshi would absolutely try to cancel this accomplishment. That's the only important information we need for this meta.

Cheng Xiaoshi went back in time as someone they knew before so we can assume he would do it again if needed. Imagine our guy coming back as Qiao Ling, as his own wingman to force Lu Guang back into his life? If the talk on the basketball court didn't work, I'm pretty sure getting Lu Guang to do physical work in the studio and bully him to admit he likes Cheng Xiaoshi would do the trick. That's a start anyway.

With these few starting points, we can go deeper now:

>> Through the Looking Glass

There's a myriad of instances where Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi are kept apart from each other by glass or shown as each other's shadow or reflection. And I've been mentioning it for a while now but finally, after almost a year, I think I've finally cracked this case!

Starting with Surprising Click Posters, there are 5 visible TV screens with a message of ERROR on Lu Guang's. No matter the meaning, I think it is important to note that Lu Guang is just as much a spectator as we are. The plot happens as it's supposed to happen: no matter what, they'll end up at the same point. For some reasons, I always believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was trapped behind the glass, in the TV, as a playable character, if you may. That's part of how their abilities work together, isn't it? Their deal is Cheng Xiaoshi dives but Lu Guang drives. Well, I'm not so sure anymore. The Picture of the carwash is random but interesting. Cheng Xiaoshi is outside and is knocking at the window.

Who's the one trapped behind glass after all? What if Lu Guang himself is trapped in a TV and Cheng Xiaoshi is trying to get him out?

The first one seen with a camera in INPLICK's art isn't Cheng Xiaoshi but Lu Guang. The story is told from his perspective. But this is Link Click we're talking about so this means basically nothing. Cheng Xiaoshi dives into pictures, he is the one with real control. Lu Guang, all-knowing that he is, is introduced as a passenger, an observer. Even after the big reveal regarding his diving abilities, his strict rules and his attempts to protect the main timeline bring him to failure. This cycle is only set to start again over and over, making it an actual time loop.

In "OVERTHINK", Cheng Xiaoshi is the one using the camera. He looks away from Lu Guang (in deception or sadness I'd say). Once he takes the picture, there is no one there: it could mean Cheng Xiaoshi is using one of Lu Guang's pictures to dive. Yes, Lu Guang's picture: after all, it is Lu Guang's camera that he is using.

Take a look at this meta: Rolleiflex

This aside, Lu Guang is the reflection/shadow, not Cheng Xiaoshi, and thus on several instances. A shadow or a reflection can't do shit. Lu Guang has no control, even if he's being sneaky and acts in the dark. Lu Guang isn't the one calling the shots.

Cheng Xiaoshi is knocking through the glass to reach Lu Guang who's always watching us, the audience. His motivation, objectives, values, worth depends on Cheng Xiaoshi's survival but he doesn't see him. Perhaps his obsession is blinding him to the point he sort of dehumanized his friend. Indeed, the distance between them is as wide as the one between you and them. Coincidally, when he does look at us, Cheng Xiaoshi is looking at him.

I'll probably write a structured and complete meta about it at some point but for now I'll just put this idea in your head: who else looks at Lu Guang's reflection and portrait, always?

Liu Xiao.

lover_astrid on X often follows Liu Xiaos's trail, they point out interesting things those, specifically: x x

Let's start with his monolgue at the end of season 2:

"It seems that one has only one destined path. But in reality, it is made up of countless parallel lines. It can be driven by one's personality. And can also change with the influence of others. Sometimes we wanna change it. But we can't. I wanna bring more parallel lines together to turn all uncertainties into certainties."

If we cannot change one's path (aka death is an unchangeable node), what is the point in turning incertainties into certainties? For one thing, I think he means to flatten a curve: make it one unique path for one specific node, like a True Timeline of sorts. Then, what does it imply? My guess is to remove either Cheng Xiaoshi or Lu Guang entirely. A theory to take with a grain of salt.

At this point, if we talk about his identity as today, before Yingdu Chapter, he could very much be an alteration of either Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi trying to right a wrong. In the teaser of Surprising Click, he is standing with a picture in front of the familiar couch, many TV screens surrounding him. He's oviously a watcher. He has more knowledge than Lu Guang, and he's obsessed with him apparently, which implies that he knows about his abilities, maybe personally.

Secondly, the text Liu Xiao is reading is part of Shakespeare’s sonnets (39). I won't go too deep into the meaning of it but feel free to read this analysis. It does speaks of lovers separation, but as something that need or should happen.

Lastly, the black feather is Lu Guang's. Liu Xiao can reach Lu Guang but Cheng Xiaoshi cannot. Liu Xiao is always staring at Lu Guang's image and he has his feather as a memory, but Cheng Xiaoshi is separated from his friend by glass.

In BREAK! Cheng Xiaoshi is the one looking at us. It's like a nudge: hey, actually, I am the one telling you the story, pay attention please. When he raps in songs, he always starts by interrupting loudly to get your attention as well. "Now I'm talking. And Lu Guang will take over."

Cheng Xiaoshi's hand is on a bubble. I always thought it was a mere planet but it's actually a see-through marble. I think it is possible that Lu Guang is inside. The title itself, "BREAK!" is a giveaway of what it will take to free Lu Guang from this. But hold that thought for now.

The hourglass is a recurring motif in Link Click. It is Lu Guang's symbol. It might means that Lu Guang is in a timeloop. Perhaps he isn't only going through repeats but he is trapped in ONE endless loop. Perhaps he's already saved Cheng Xiaoshi but forgot; cut from the reality he belongs to.

The hourglass is not only an object we come across in PVs. The Birthday artwork for Lu Guang showed him in one, with forget-me-not flowers replacing sand. The Bday arts are actually very interesting because both Cheng Xiaoshi's and Lu Guang's heavily hint on Tarot Cards: the Hanged Man and the Fool. I'm working on an ass-long meta regarding the Tarot Imagery in Link Click so I won't go into too many details here.

We have the Hanged Man: he might be intuitive but he is lost, feeling trapped, is self-limited, in need for release only possible by letting go. There is a part of this arcane that tells us we know the prefered outcome but it might blind us, bring us to a prophecy we're actively trying to keep from realization. He sacrifices himself but for what?

In myths, might it be Judas hanging from the tree because of guilt, or Odin when he sacrificed himself to gain the knowledge of the runes, we're talking about an obsessive person who acts according to their own beliefs, with strong moral values. The Hanged Man speaks of selflessness... giving and not expecting in return, making sacrifices for what must be done. The truth is the Hanged Man picked his hill and will die on it. This card comes before Death, representing the peace that comes from accepting what is out of our control or no longer resisting our fate. This is all about letting our own hubris prevent us from taking a different approach.

The cat here is covering one of his eyes, which could be a parallel to Odin once more. I mentioned at the end of this meta that Lu Guang's sight has been stolen. So, it might be a choice that he is in the situation he is in but perhaps he shouldn't have made decisions on wrong beliefs.

I'll let you know that the reversed Hanged Man suggests that the seemingly noble deed of offering yourself as the sacrificial lamb is, at least for the time being, a useless gesture.

Now, the Fool. As a tarot card, I find this one very interesting and mysterious. Arthur Edward Waite gives the Fool the number 0, but in his book he discusses the Fool between Judgment (XX), and The World (XXI). He is suspended between realities. The Fool is usually considered part of the Major Arcana in tarot reasing but this is not true in tarot card games; the Fool's role in most games is independent of both the plain suit cards and the trump cards, it does not belong to either category. The Fool proceeds without calculation, spontaneously, without hesitation or resistance. Without a blueprint, he is freed up from rules, restrictions and systems.

Portrayed as an empty headed simpleton unaware of the forces that move him. In the Waite-Rider deck, you'll see him immortalized right before his fall of a cliff, walking with his loyal dog. He's impulse and careless. But tradition tells us that he has a secret that protects him: the magic of synchronicity. Now that seems counter-productive in my meta but basically synchronicity is what happens when seemingly unrelated events coincide in improbable ways that have some sort of significance for you. Carl Jung believed synchronicities were evidence of a unifying consciousness at play in the universe, creating physical manifestations of what's happening in our psyche.

Together, the Fool and the Hanged Man encourage to take a step into the unknown and to trust that everything will work out in the end. This combinaison warns of a time when sacrifice and surrender is necessary for growth and transformation.

The Hanged Man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needs to make in order to progress forward. But only by letting go of old patterns or beliefs that are holding him back can he embrace a new path leading to a good resolution.

The gears and hourglass present in these artworks are kind of self-explanatory. A cog only works as part of a machine, and the machine can only work if everything in there is where it should be and fullfills its role. One action or series of actions repeated in loop. The hourglass measures time but it comes to a stop at some point: has to be turned around so the sand it contains keep flowing. It has a start and a stop.

Finally, the character's flowers aren't only pretty, they're also meaningful. Both are related to Love and Death. Forget-Me-Not are popular enough: related to the wish to be remembered even after our passing, translated into devotion and enduring love. Bellies speaks of everlasting love even beyond death, symbol of cheerfulness and loyalty.

>> Time is like Music

"VORTEX" is a palindrome, meaning it is the same when played forward or backward. The sequence itself show this: it starts with a reverse and then, once Cheng Xiaoshi touches Lu Guang's hand, he falls down. It is a hourglass in shape and sounds. Also, it would be very clever if the story of Link Click as we've seen it had the same construction in its narrative: starting with a reverse and slowly unfolding the accurate chain of events.

This hourglass, we can find it in the "BREAK!" PV, but also in "XETROverthink". Cheng Xiaoshi literally dives into it to try and reach an unconscious Lu Guang, enlightening the idea that our favorite unreliable narrator has blind spots. We don't see Cheng Xiaoshi catching his friend because the scene cuts to the hourglass.

So, what if Link Click lied to us since the beginning? What if one other version of Cheng Xiaoshi is actually the main character and knows more than Lu Guang himself?

In "The Tides", when walking in front of the painting of a man with fabricated wings (and we know this story is one of a widower), Cheng Xiaoshi looks at it while Lu Guang looks the opposite way. There are different ways to interpret this (because this is animation so we can't be 100% sure). Once again, he could be looking at the audience or merely glancing at his lost friend in longing. Still, it offers two possible points of view:

It could be because he empathizes with the widower's story: he is living it. He knows all of it already so he doesn't need to look at the doomed romance on the wall or actually investigate the mansion.

Or perhaps it is the opposite: Cheng Xiaoshi is looking at himself. This is merely a reflection to him. And Lu Guang thinks he knows the role he is playing in the story but, really, he's clueless.

Surprisingly, you might have missed an obvious hint that dropped this summer, or simply overlooked: H A N D S.

The wings on the painting might look like Lu Guang's demonic ones but I do not believe it is a coincidence that Lu Guang usually sits by Cheng Xiaoshi's right when they clap. The first time we see them do it, and this exact frame has been used in PV and Overthink, Lu Guang claps down. Also, the "BREAK!" poster shows Cheng Xiaoshi as an angel and they are standing in the exact same position as the figures in the mansion. Once again, the hourglass floats, ominous, between their palms.

Note that even when Lu Guang receives Cheng Xiaoshi's hand, he is on the right side.

Next: None of us skipped "Dive Back in Time" so we know it by heart. Still, I find hints in this intro on a daily basis. If you pay attention, you'll not only notice that Cheng Xiaoshi probably dives in the first three seconds, but he's looking down through glass, at Lu Guang. Lu Guang, who stands at the top of a building here, is still not above Cheng Xiaoshi. Two things:

In the chronological order, the story told is this: First, Cheng Xiaoshi dives into the picture and then we see Lu Guang changing the timeline to save Cheng Xiaoshi. This is basically Inception.

The glass could be from the frame but it could be very much so from the usually hourglass, symbol of Lu Guang's obsession.

Another interesting detail is this shot:

Thanks to the watch, we know those are Lu Guang's hands but it is a pose we only see Cheng Xiaoshi takes. Because this is the "sponsors screen", this became Cheng Xiaoshi's signature move to me. We see the story through Lu Guang's perspective, but it's really Cheng Xiaoshi that we should focus on, here.

This particular sequence also offers a reverse: a fall, the "frame" sign with hands, one of the hand making a sign to "look up"/"go back up", then we are pulled up. It is the same narrative as "VORTEX" but this time we find ourselves on the other end, the correct order.

"Break!" lyrics once again seem to fit to Lu Guang more (and I think that's the point, "You're not just a tool" can only be addressed to CXS because that's how Lu Guang and Qiao Ling usually call him). Although the word break is used only once in the song ("make or break a leg"), the action of BREAKing is Cheng Xiaoshi's. Plus, the broken glass is the hourglass.

Speaking of broken glass and reflection, this shot of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi in reverse in "VORTEX"- I reversed it according to the background (falling down). Once more, Cheng Xiaoshi is the main body, Lu Guang is not actually there.

In a way, this theory only gives more sense to "XETROVerthink": Lu Guang appears in the hourglass but it's Cheng Xiaoshi who swims to him in order to save him, not the other way around. The rest of this PV is Cheng Xiaoshi's POV too.

Aside from the visual theme that shows basically everything we need to know about Link Click's plot, you have obviously the lyrics. As much as "VORTEX" and both ENDs, they could be read as Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi's pov. But like I said at the beginning of this meta, some lines aren't working for Lu Guang at all.

There has been a hint of Lu Guang trying to stay away, in Lu Guang's flash back, but failing. We don't know if these memories belong to the timeline we're currently watching or not, but they egg us on the very real possibility that Lu Guang might chose to stay away from Cheng Xiaoshi in order to save his life. After all, their powers are complimentary and work together. Their side hustle depends on this. Arguably, and this is an realistic conclusion to draw: this job is what kills Cheng Xiaoshi. It's only natural to suppose he wouldn't die if Lu Guang wasn't in his life.

Your eyes, there ain't nowhere left to hide behind Something secretive hidden inside your mind If it ain't for your misguided taste I'd turn out so ordinary Fabulously un-addictively bore out my own brain Well, don't you feel sorry I'll love where I'm going now

Blue: Diving into Lu Guang's past/picture, could uncovered all secrets, Cheng Xiaoshi could understand him and, from this perspective, there is no possibility to hide anything.

Pink: Cheng Xiaoshi wants to correct Lu Guang's correction, he doesn't want to live an ordinary and boring life Lu Guang isn't a part of. He likes their side hustle as well, I think, because, as I said in the past regarding LCLA, he wants to help people, it's part of his core.

Possibly, our favorite unreliable narrator actually went through it with this in the end. This hopefully won't stick, not if Cheng Xiaoshi has something to say about that.

Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't really want things any other way, and that's why this theory of him trying to get Lu Guang back into his storyline seems so plausible to me. Good or bad memories, he just want his partner back.

Because, after all, doesn't it sound like a line someone who remembers a friend who doesn't exist would say?

Chase you to the end of the world just to say your name once more.

I always thought it was a strange way to put it. Most of the time, songs and movies say the opposite "I want to hear you call my name one last time." You know the kind. But here, he wants to say it.

Food for thought. 👀

[sharp-silver4795]

The Creepypasta’s Worst Injuries

I get some inspo from “HC Prompt” posts and that’s what I got going on rn!

⚠️DISCLAIMERS⚠️

BLOOD: Mentions of injuries (ofc), graphic details in some of them, and just blood. Weapons will be mentioned, including guns.

INJURY: the situation is explained and can be a lil uncomfortable- but idk. Severe injury or explicit imagery.

SOURCE: Some of these are product of self harm, betrayal, attempted murder, abuse, general assault, or common causes of death.

ALL SENSITIVE TOPICS WILL BE MARKED AHEAD OF IT!!!

Mild Mention > Detailed > Extreme Details > Sensitive Content

Proxy Behavior miscellaneous

Details of how the injury happened. Jumping, defenselessness, detail of scars and the origin of them. Extreme detail of how the injuries occurred, attempted murder, Marble Hornets Spoilers, ig? Car accidents/injuries

Wilson, Zechariah, Neon Spike, and Rogue will not be included. They’re too sheltered smh 🤦

Kat Hunter: he once got shot 7 times by a few police officers. The other proxies came to his rescue.

Kate the Chaser: once got cornered by Bloody Angel and Scarecrow. She ended up bloodied due to being scratched, hacked at, stabbed, and all sorts of things. The most prominent ones were on her face and thigh. Bloody Angel had kept grabbing her legs to keep her from getting away. Bloody Angel has claws. Scarecrow has gloves very similar to that of Rouge and clawed down Kate’s face. Kate’s face was exposed in the first place because she got hot and couldn’t breathe, so she was jumped basically.

Brian/Hoodie: Fell from a two story building… duh

Tim/Masky: got into a tussle with Alex…

Ticci Toby: Car accident. Even though he didn’t feel the physical pain.

Depression

graphic/horrific death, freak accidents, Self harm, attempted suicide, Religious stuff/demons, mourning

Nathan the Nobody: Masky rocked his shit.

BEN Drowned: accidentally electrocuted himself and couldn’t stop glitching and getting bent and twisted

Eyeless Jack: he does by biting his own tail and literally exploding his organs-

Clockwork: she got skewered, but somehow survived.

Jeff, Jane, and Nina the Killer: burned alive ofc

Puppeteer: Liu wears a rosary to remember his mother…

Liu Woods: when he was alive, he used scissors to cut at his shoulders and chest. He cut at his arms, legs, and abdomen as well. He nearly bled out in his bathroom.

Zero: she stabbed herself with glass shards cuz she had a mental breakdown

Kagekao: purposely ran into oncoming traffic.

This is what happens when you mess with kids

severe injury/free amputation

Jason the Toymaker: kid ripped out a ton of his hair and made his head bleed

Laughing Jack: got his arms cut off somehow- they grew back tho

Laughing Jill: a parent hit her upside the head and her own chainsaw went through her chest and abdomen

Clumsy Bitches

Mutilation, stupidity , how the fuck did they survive this shit? segments of body being removed and explicit injury mention(?), Experiments, self inflicted injury

Ani the Wight: existing in summer heat

Chess Master: boinked his head, tripped, and landed on the grass… off of a 10m tall tree

Candy Pop: fell off a building. He’s clumsy.

Bloody Painter: he jumped off a building and landed safely, then stepped on a bear trap. How does that even happen?!

Bloody Angel: her whole thing is that she got mutelated into a monseter by a crazy circus… do the math.

X-Virus: while working on a project and it exploded in his face. So, he now has giant burn scars on his face, neck, and chest.

Judge Angels: Rouge kicked her ass and she has claw-like gloves. She ended up with scars on her face for a long while.

Scarecrow: Hoodie once cut her in half with a tree branch.

Doll Maker: Stabbed himself in the eye

Divider Creds: Sister Lucifer; adorneswithlight

Header Creds: ME!!!

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I have actual fucking brain rot.

I can not stop thinking about how soft Bucky is looking in Thunderbolts trailer, particularly this moment with the dishwasher, like... his sides. That little bit of delicious muffin top. His waistband. That little tummy. His pecs. The soft point of his nipple up against the stark black arm. His nonprosthetic arm, too! He looks thick.

Now, all I can picture is Steve waking up earlier than his boyfriend, barely managing to crawl out of bed away from the sleepy, soft shape of Bucky in their bed, hogging all the blankets and heating up faster than an oven. He looks good enough to eat, though, so his bed-hogging is acceptable. He really does look edible - his boxers are slung low on his pinchable, wide hips and his wife beater has rolled up in his sleep to fully expose the morning-soft, empty slope of his tummy. Probably the only reason he hasn't stripped his beater off is because the stretched fabric has caught around his puffy pecs. His nipples - seemingly pinker and softer by the day - jut through the white fabric. But, they can't just stay in bed all day, so Steve wanders out of the bedroom into the kitchen to get his morning routine going (including making something to eat that isn't his mouthwatering boyfriend).

After a bathroom break, Steve starts on his routine, and they ran the dishwasher overnight, so he starts there.

But, the usually simple morning task has become increasingly more complex and time-consuming, illustrated by how Bucky's arm is far from the only thing in the dishwasher this morning. Thanks to his boyfriend's expanding appetite (and expanding waistline) they're running the washer more often all the time. Plates, bowls, cups, and cutlery fly off their shelves and drawers. Their tableware is getting used. Because, as Steve is rapidly learning, with a bigger appetite comes the need for more types of food with every meal. No longer when they get takeout can they have just two mains to share between themselves, rather they get appetizers, entrees, sides, and desserts. Plus, between meals, Bucky's snacks grow and grow. He's using extra plates, bowls, and cutlery just for a little something-something to keep him going. And that isn't even to mention how when they're cooking from scratch, Bucky will prepare so much food that he needs way more crockery than he used to. He can't store the pile of stirfry he plans to devour in one sitting on a single dinner plate! Don't be ridiculous!

So, more kinds of dishes, frequent snacks, and bigger portions make Stevie a boy with a heavily loaded dishwasher. But... Ultimately, Steve can't complain about how his morning chore is evolving.

He's just finished touring around their kitchen, putting everything back in its place, when Bucky finally comes stumbling out to the land of the living. With every step, his little starter belly jiggles enough to make a growl of hunger rise inside of Steve - the growl isn't from the kind of hunger that has Bucky pressing his organic hand to his butter-soft belly, sinking his hand in with a frown etched into his handsome face, finding just how deep his pit of hunger is. It's been a whole 8 hours since he's had something to eat, after all, and that just won't do.

Steve hand delivers (ha) his freshly washed prosthetic to his grumpy, rumbled morning boyfriend, kissing the red, pillow-lines on his cheek. As Bucky mumbles something of a "thank you" Steve can't stop himself from doing more than just kissing his cheek, his lips slide down his face to nip and bite at the hinge of his softening jaw. He is counting down the days until Bucky develops an honest to God double chin. There's just something about the way that Bucky's face is built that Steve knows will compliment a pudgy chin so perfectly. He'll be rounder and softer and look so... healthy.

Steve just wants to see him put some meat on his bones. He deserves to be well-rested and well-fed.

His arm clicks into place, Bucky shivers with the adjustment, and his belly rumbles again. Steve bites at him a little harder, debating if it's worth the faux grief he'll get from Bucky from trying something so early in the morning (yeah, 10:00 AM, Buck, soooo early) if he sucks a love bite into that bit of softness under his jaw. It probably wouldn't last through breakfast anyway, so what's the harm?

Just as Steve starts to mark his husky boyfriend up, his plans are foiled by the wonderful fucking distraction of said chunky, chubby, grumpy cat boyfriend trying to button the pants he somehow slid his thick thighs and bubble-butt into (they are painted on, Steve swears). Steve's mouth falls away from his jaw with a breathy moan, looking down with the best seat in the house to see Bucky struggle with both arms, trying to make the loop and button of his jeans meet in the middle. The only slight problem? This soft cushion of fat over his once rock-hard abs is so in the way.

He isn't even close to making his pants button, struggling literally around his belly and hips that are pooching out over his waistband. Steve hasn't had a muffin in a long time but, suddenly, he could go for a muffin. Although, no baked good would hit the spot like Bucky can. Bucky and his muffin top giving Steve the worst kind of craving.

Eagerly, Steve plasters himself to his chunky boyfriend's side, staring down, entranced, by how Bucky tries to suck in, not to make it easier to button his pants, Steve realizes quickly, but to try and see what he's working with. He's too fat for his pants, scratch that, he's too fat to see the button on his pants. That's different. There's a fucking difference between outgrowing your pants, gaining enough that you can't make them button anymore, and outgrowing your pants to the point that you can't find the button. That's -

Steve doesn't know how to react other than stifle back a hearty groan and instead, hoarsely comment, "I think you need new pants, Buck."

Bucky lets his head hang against his chest, making his chin double for real.

Steve bites his tongue hard to keep himself from making an embarrassing sound. He looks so soft.

"I think I'm gonna need another arm, too," Bucky murmurs after a beat of silence, talking almost to himself - maybe talking to his belly, looking down the way he is.

Steve can't help but shiver. He's not cool, but he tries to play it cool, shrugging, "eh, I think you should hold off, big boy," Steve can't help the endearment, it just slips out. Big. He is. He's big. Steve wants him bigger so bad that he wants to crawl out of his skin. Steve has a super metabolism, he wakes up voraciously hungry, but right now he could feed purely off of cooking for Bucky and watching him crush a full-course breakfast in his too-tight pants and rolling-up wife beater. "Because there are enough dishes in the dishwasher to tell me you're not done with your growth spurt yet. And you wouldn't wanna bother Shuri too much, making her re-size you twice." Steve is compelled to pat his tummy when it growls again, so he does. There is no stopping him.

He's exactly as soft and jiggly as he looks.

Surprisingly, though, for this being the first time they're talking about this out in the open, Bucky leans into his daring comment. Literally. He rocks back on his heels, pressing his belly into Steve's hand, "fine," he sighs, chuckling to himself, "guess you're right, Rogers. For once."

Steve doesn't take the bait, he just... squeezes Bucky's belly. He's obsessed with this.