#i had to commit crimes against dessert somehow

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Short And Sweet

Bradley Bradshaw x short!reader (because im short and ive always loved it lol) 1.5k words 

summary: Bradley is much taller than you. And when the jar of jam you need just so suddenly happens to be on the top shelf, he reminds you why you love that so much. 

disclaimer, i wrote this in the span of two hours with legally blonde on in the background so idk how much sense it makes

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

(i HAD to use this gif even if it doesnt fit like. LOOK AT HIM)

Flying was freeing. Freeing in ways that you couldn't describe. Up in the air, you didn't have to worry about anything down there - anything stressful or straining or terrifying. You could be yourself with every fibre of your body. Adrenaline, pure adrenaline, pumping through your veins. Your heart hammering so strongly that you could feel it, hear it. The sound of your own laughter in your ears as you sped up, up and up, until you were going so fast that there was no one faster than you in the world, the entire world, no one faster. Chasing the clouds, the sun, the skies. Being so absolutely free.

And not that you felt bad down on the ground or anything. No.

But up in the air, you belonged. You'd known that this was where you were supposed to be, had always been supposed to be, the very first time you’d ever started a plane.

And the records mirrored just that - the fact that this was what you were supposed to be doing.

You'd worked your way to the top quickly. It had taken a lot, of course, you'd never pretend that it had been easy at any point. But you couldn't imagine ever taking a different path. So you weren't surprised that you'd ended up at Top Gun, and you weren't surprised that you'd graduated top of your class. No, you had worked hard for it, and you deserved it.

You weren't surprised either that you counted as one of the best, the very best, and not only in your year, but on active duty. It was flattering, sure, it was nice to hear, nice to know, and you were proud, but you still weren't surprised. This was who you were.

You were never surprised when it came to the navy, to your career. So you weren't surprised either when they called you in for a mission - back to Top Gun, back to San Diego where it had all started.

The very first time that something surprised you in all those years was when you caught sight of Bradley Bradshaw.

And then things continued to surprise you.

Now, as you stood in the kitchen of your very own apartment, the room filled with laughter and chatter, you were surprised by a jar of jam. More specifically that the jar of jam had somehow vanished from the fridge.

You needed this thing for dessert. Where the fuck could a jar of jam have disappeared to?

Apparently to the highest kitchen shelf, because that's where you spotted it a minute later.

You huffed to yourself, blowing a strand of hair away from your face that had fallen into your eyes. Someone must have used it and then forgotten that opened jars belonged in the fridge. And that someone probably had been your boyfriend.

You set your palm flat against the counter, pushed yourself up on tiptoes and reached out with your free hand, trying to grab the jar and failing miserably. You pushed up a little more, straining at this point, still not even grazing it with your fingertips.

Okay, so you minded your height a little sometimes. Like right now, for example, as you debated the odds of climbing up on the counter top without breaking your neck. 

“Want me to lend you a hand there, baby?”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled back and turned to look at him - one of those stupidly attractive Hawaiian shirts on, sunglasses hooked into the collar of the white top underneath, looking way too innocent for the crime he’d committed. 

“This is all your fault, Bradshaw”, you complained, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “Admit it, you put it there on purpose. You and I both know only your things go on the top shelf.” 

He was grinning, not even trying to mask his amusement. You just huffed again and narrowed your eyes. 

“If you don’t want my help...”, he trailed off and took a step back, pretending to go and leave you alone here, fighting for your life against a jar of jam. 

“Oh no, no, definitely not, we are not playing this game. You admit right here, right now that you put it there on purpose or... or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

His face fell at that and he stepped closer again, reaching for your waist and tugging you to him, leaning down to bury his head in your neck. His breath was hot against your skin. 

“Don’t be mad, baby”, he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your ear, so soft that you almost missed it. “You’re just too cute.” 

You gasped and hit his arm, drawing back to look at him. He was basically hunched over - so pretty much on the same level as you. 

“I’m not cute”, you protested. “Baby kittens are cute. I’m an adult human woman. I’m not cute.” 

He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose, tilting his head to the side. “You are. Very.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He saw it too, even as you did your best to hide it. His grin widened. 

“Admit it”, he muttered. “You like that I’m tall enough to reach the shelves that you can’t.” 

“Almost everyone’s tall enough to reach things I can’t.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m short, Bradshaw. I’m literally shorter than anyone else on the squad.” 

He just raised his eyebrows as you bit your lip and avoided looking at him, instead pretending that the tiles were very interesting. Actually there was some dirt on there, so that was interesting, because you’d specifically told everyone to take off their shoes before they came in. 

“Okay”, you muttered eventually, meeting his eyes again. “I do like that you’re tall.”

And then another thing that surprised you happened. Not because he leaned down to kiss you, not because you almost knocked his sunglasses onto the floor as you reached for his collar and pulled him closer, not because he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your feet, but because in that very moment, Jake Seresin decided to make his grand appearance. 

He needed another beer. 

He whistled when he caught sight of the two of you kissing, whistled so obnoxiously loud that you broke away in panic, so loud that Phoenix appeared in the doorway as well to check out what was happening. So loud that the rest of the squad perched in your living room turned and tried to peek through the door too. 

Bradley still had his arms around you protectively, your toes were still not touching the ground and your hands were still gripping onto his collar, but you’d both turned to face Jake with wide eyes.

“Hooking up in the kitchen now, I see”, he grinned. “Better not get anything in our food.” 

“We weren’t hooking up”, you said, just a little breathless from the kiss. 

“Yeah, mind your business, Bagman”, Bradley added, angling you away from the door. You didn’t understand how he was holding you up so effortlessly. Even a man like him had to have some limit as to how long he could lift an entire person - but no. Apparently not. With how often he’d carried you around the apartment already you were beginning to think he had some kind of superpower.

“Just make sure to be safe, you two.” Jake had the audacity to wink. “You know, use protection. We need you both up in the air for another few years.” 

You and Bradley seemed to take away two very different things from that. 

“I’ll have you know we’re very responsible adults”, he said, while you grinned and asked “You need us?”. 

Jake just scoffed, grabbed himself a new can of beer and marched back off into the living room. Phoenix stayed in the doorway with a quiet laugh on her lips. 

“You two are watching the food, yes?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I think we’re able to multitask”, you said, resting your chin on Bradley’s shoulder as you looked at her. He turned you even further, setting you down on the kitchen counter, settling in between your legs. You watched her shake her head and walk back into the living room and then you saw nothing but that Hawaiian shirt anymore and you had to guess if the smile you’d spotted on her face had actually been there. 

You had to tip your head back to look him in the eyes. He rested his hands beside your thighs, lowering himself just a bit. The silence was comfortable - although it could hardly be called silence with all the chatter coming from the next room - not heavy or forced. Eventually you sighed and leaned against the cupboard behind you. 

“Will you grab the jam for me?” 

The only answer you got was a chuckle and you were surprised once again as he leaned down to kiss you, hesitating just before his lips met yours, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, swerving right, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” 

#top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

[odyssean-flower]

Have another deleted scene

(all i can say is that the chapter is coming together, so here, have this scene)

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You stared at the misty scenery before you. It somewhat reminded you of the painting you did for Neuvillette.

I should get straight to the point, you thought, then turned to him. But before you could speak, he beat you to it.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the wrapped bundle on your lap.

“Oh, this?” you looked down at it. “These are the macarons I made.”

“You made them?” he leaned closer towards you. His eyes looked more animated than you had ever seen them before. They made for a strange contrast against his serious features, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. Even though he had an ageless sort of look, he looked younger somehow.

It took you a few seconds before you realized you were, once again, staring at him for too long. One would think that you would know better by now.

“Yes. There was a baking workshop happening in town, so I decided to join it for fun. I don’t think they turned out very well, though, so I’m planning to feed them to the ducks.”

“I see,” Neuvillette stared at the bundle in consideration, then spoke again. “You may not be aware of this, but Fontaine’s laws state that it is illegal to feed cakes and other baked goods to birds. It is detrimental to their digestive systems.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” you said. “Well, of course you would know about these things. I’ll just throw them away, then.” You decided not to mention the many times you fed burnt bread to the finches and pigeons back home.

“Throw them away? How wasteful. Surely they could be served for some better purpose.”

“Well, I’ve already eaten, and I don’t want to give bad macarons to Marie or the Melusines, so I’m not sure what to do with them.”

“I could think of a few solutions,” Neuvillette gave you a meaningful look.

“Hold on…are you saying that you want to eat them?” you said incredulously.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically. “I’ve never seen you eat desserts at home, and macarons aren’t exactly brimming with moisture. Plus…I was not exaggerating when I said they aren’t good. They really aren’t.”

“It is good to try new things. Also, I doubt anything you made could be truly terrible.”

Where is his high opinion of me coming from? You wondered, not for the first time. “I don’t want you to eat bad food. I’ll make something better for you next time, I promise.”

“I still wish to sample them, though,” Neuvillette was being strangely insistent about this. The rain seemed to be coming down harder. “Even one will do.”

“If you insist. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you unwrapped the bundle and handed him a pink macaron. He took it from you and put it in his mouth without even so much as inspecting it. Somehow, he admirably managed to keep a straight face as he tasted the cake and swallowed it. He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and for a moment you thought he was going to spit into it. But no, he only wiped his mouth.

“Another, please,” he said. He didn’t even sound a little winded.

“I can’t do that to you,” you said, feeling as though you had committed a crime. Neuvillette was known to not have many good words to say about Fontainian cuisine, and yet, here he was, choking down your terrible macarons. Maybe he’ll completely swear off human food after this. “Don’t force yourself for my sake.”

“I’m not forcing myself,” Neuvillette said, and it was almost convincing. “It isn’t as bad as you said. It…certainly possesses a unique flavor.”

“Neuvillette…” you said in exasperation. “I wish you would stop being so overly considerate. It’s alright to say what you feel, I can take it.”

“But I do mean what I say, always,” Neuvillette said, sounding baffled. “May I please have another macaron.”

You stared at him for a minute, and he stared back at you. He was always so sincere. It only strengthened your belief that you were making the right choice here.

“Fine, since you seem so keen on torturing yourself. But we’ll split this one, okay?”

You broke a blue macaron in half and gave one half to him. You made a face as you chewed and swallowed the cake. You had no idea what possessed Neuvillette to ask for seconds.

After you finished your baking mishap, you washed it down with the bottle of Fonta that you had thankfully brought with you. Neuvillette was similarly taking a sip of water from his cup. You could feel his disapproving gaze on you, but chose to ignore him.

At last, you managed to wash the flavor of paste out of your mouth and calmed your nerves down somewhat. Now, go for it, or else you’ll never get the nerve again! You mentally cheered yourself on.

#neuvillette x reader #my writing

[j-art-2d2]

Sacrificial Love

part 2/?

jinx x gn reader

tad bit angst tad bit angst, giving enemies to lovers but more like opposing sides to lovers ya know, insanely attractive love interest, ur a piltie rip, beware : author did not sleep before writing, tad bit nsfw

original part one request from @seetangus

“Fine by me, even better for you.”, Jinx quips

You’re aware of the crimes Jinx had committed. You’re not blind to her reputation and blood-stained hands. The gun still aimed in the direction of your mouth was a testimony to that, but for some reason, the only thing you’re hyper-aware of is the proposition Jinx has placed in front of you. “A date in exchange for a signature! Whaddya say, Piltie?” You assume you’ve heard Jinx wrong. That your brain has accidentally crossed the wires of reality and what you’ve been silently wishing for. “A date..?”, you parrot in disbelief. “Yes.. a date..”, Jinx responds, moving the gun toward your chest. She allows the gun to slide down from your throat, to your chin, to the middle of your chest before she continues, “Or is that not a fair exchange?”, her eyes soften and lips pout in feigned innocence.

The feeling of cold metal from the gun makes its way through the fabric of your clothes and the look in Jinx’s eyes aid in emphasizing the chill going down your spine. You don’t want to refuse but you’re reminded of the reason you were sent here in the first place. Your task at hand was not to bargain with the enemy, and it definitely was not to flirt with her. But then again, getting these documents signed was of the utmost importance. Conflicted, you respond, “I-I’m not sure… I’m not at a clearance level high enough where I can make those types of executive decisions without the approval of The Council.” Jinx snorts so hard the gun presses harder into your chest. “Ohhh comeeee onnnn. Why’d they send you here then?”

Thinking the question was genuine instead of rhetorical, you try to answer, “Well, as far a-” A cold sensation on your lips, but not from a gun. Jinx was using one finger to effectively silence you. “Shh, don’t even answer that. What if I sweeten the deal?” Without warning, Jinx leans herself up on her tip-toes and closes any concept of space between you two. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of her breath colliding with yours. She’s so close you could practically taste her lips already. “How about…” Your heart is thumping so hard you almost miss what she says next. “… an orgasm in exchange for a signature?”

You don’t dare speak, fearful of your mouth betraying you and exposing how you truly feel in this moment; turned on and fucking desperate. Somehow, Jinx takes your silence as an invitation to seal the deal. She crashes her lips against yours. The kiss is short-lived but effective. “Whaddya say? We skip the date and go straight to dessert?” This is wrong and you should be resisting. How did she manage to strip away every ounce of training I’ve had in such a short amount of time? How long had it been anyway? Caitlyn will be expecting my return soon. If I am going to make a decision it would have to be a good one and now.

Swallowing your dignity and pride, you finally answer the blue-haired minx. “Sure, but I’m going to need about five signatures.” Absolutely giddy, Jinx drops to her knees, already undoing your belt buckle. Looking up at you with eyes you can’t resist and a sharp smile, Jinx quips, “Fine by me, even better for you.”

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

hi friends i’m sorry for not posting. i was, to put it simply, depressed and life has a habit of kicking me while i’m down. but thank you for your patience and continued support and kind words!! have a good day besties <333

#arcane #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanart #jinx fanart #jinx supremacy #arcanefanfic #jinx x reader #arcane x reader #jinx fanfic #jinxsource #jinx imagine #get jinxed #jinx league of legends #jinx x y/n #love jinx #caitjinxsource #caitjinx

[shepherds-of-haven]

What flavors ice cream would the ROs be? Love your game!

Great question! I actually answered it here, but I got so much blowback for implying that Trouble would either be or enjoy bacon ice cream that I’ve decided to revise my answers, two years later! 😄

Blade: dark chocolate

Trouble: salted caramel

Tallys: mint chocolate chip

Shery: butterscotch or cake batter

Riel: matcha/green tea

Chase: coffee/java chip or cookies and cream

Halek: Tahitian vanilla bean or peppermint white chocolate

Red: amaretto or hazelnut or dulce de leche

Ayla: peanut butter chocolate or key lime pie

Briony: strawberry or peaches and cream or cherry almond vanilla

Lavinet: white chocolate raspberry or lavender and honey

Mimir: blackberry vodka or black cherry

Caine: cookie dough or funfetti

Prihine: whiskey and praline

Croelle: chili hot chocolate ice cream

#i had to commit crimes against dessert somehow #Shepherds of Haven #all characters #ice cream #flavor #flavors #anon

[ushiwakaout]

Things I believe Bokuto Koutaru (timeskip: pro MSBY volleyball athlete ) would say if you lived together (from the moment you wake up, to the moment you fall asleep).

university art teacher! reader

warning: mild swearing? bad spelling :)

request are open: here

“MMm five more minutes.” (5:40 am)

“But baby~*whine* I’m tired”

“Stop trying to uncuddle me please.”

“Nooooooooo~ get back here.”

“Baby *pout* now I’m cold”

“Baby if you don’t come back here and cuddle me, I will die.”

“I will die on our bed, right here, right now.”

“Is that what you want? Alright. Fine!”

“Ugh- Y/n... I don’t feel so good... I think I actually might be dying. Gran, gran? Is that you? I’m coming gran gran!”

*fake dies w/ tongue out*

“Wow okay, so you wouldn’t cuddle me even if it meant you’d save me, alright, I see how it is.”

“Nope, no. I don’t want your kisses anymore, shoo~ go shower stinky.”

“Baby wait, come back, you didn’t give a good morning kiss.”

“Mmm, you’re kisses are the best... Now shoo~ you’re presence is bother me.”

“DON’T USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER, I’M ALWAYS FREEZING!”

“You know what- Stop screaming in the shower, it’s too early.”

“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you nakey before.”

“Move you’re sweet ass over.”

“You’re s’tiny”

*Small fem section so if you don’t identify, you can ignore*

“You’re boobies looks so small compared to my hands.”

“Wait, look, look *begins to coddle your chest* see, they look so cute.”

“Ow! What are you hitting me for.”

“Let me just.... hold them.”

*End-Continue*

“How about I wash your hair and then you can wash mine, yeah?”

“What do you mean you’ll be late for work.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No, no, no. Not those jeans, those are the ones that make your ass look good.” (6:00 am)

“Now I won’t be able to pinch you’re cheeks all day.”

“Wear the other top, it matches with your skin tone.”

“Here while you where getting pretty I made you a [favorite flavor] protein shake.”

“I’ll walk with you to the station.”

“Give me your hand, I wanna hold your hand.”

“So small”

“What do you mean I have big hands, you’re just small.”

“Wait for me at the school, I have practice today so I can walk with you.”

“It’s no big deal, the gym is like 10 minutes away, just wait for me okay?”

“But I’ll let you know if I run late, most likely- I will run late.”

“Mmm give me a kiss before you go.”

“Another one.”

“Just one more.”

“If I kiss you some more you’ll miss your train.”

“Have a good day at work baby, just one more kiss.”

*you can’t tell me this mother fucker wouldn’t slap your ass the way he slaps a volleyball right before he leaves and just whistles as if HE DID NOTHING WRONG*

“Honey! I’ve brought lunch!” (1:00 pm)

“Oh- you’re with a student... I’ll be quiet now.”

“Finished? Good. I brought you a bento box made with love.”

“Well yeah bought with love, same thing.”

“Did you miss me, of course you did, right?”

“You only get your bento if you kiss me.”

“Mmm one more and i’ll think about it.”

*this man will full on start a makeout session with you but youre stomatch starts to growl and he just laughs at you*

“I also bought you [favorite drink], i’m the best boyfriend huh.”

“How’s work been? Good? That’s great baby.”

“Any new art pieces you’re working on.”

*you cannot tell me that this man would not some how get paint all over his hand and slap your ass after you walked by him while you show him the small exhibition of art you have*

“sorry, your ass just looked good.”

*he’s not sorry*

*you’d be showing him art and this man would touch you everywhere*

“Do have time for a quicky?”

“What do you mean not here? It’s not like we haven’t before”

“But baby~ you just look so good.”

“I can’t keep my hand off you.”

“Give me one more kiss before I leave.”

*one kiss my fucking ass. THIS MAN WILL PICK YOU UP, SIT YOUR ASS ON YOUR DESK AND KISS YOU SO HUNGRILY. It’s those types of makeout sessions where when you part a string of spit just connect the two of you*

*he will also grind on you, trying to get some sort of friction going on- but then the bell rings. You’re very quick to push him off.”

“I’ll see you later baby.” *softest forehead and nose kiss he’ll ever give you... he’s flustered you enough.*

*will not stop thinking about your little makeout session in the art room while he’s at practice and end up just abuse the shit out of a poor volleyball*

“Baby i’m back~” (6:40 pm)

*he had texted you that he would be late to picking you up but luckly you brought your headphones and started to work on a secret art piece of bokuto*

“Baby~”

“Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you- ARE YOU PAINTING NAUGHTY PICTURES OF ME?!”

“Do you need more reference? Yeah?”

“Does that mean we can have sex tonight?”

“OW! I’m kidding... Well, no I’m not.”

“Stop being so shy, let’s go get food.”

“I’m hungry again.”

*you arrive to the restaurant and he leaves you outside for like 5 minutes just to make sure they have the table you guys like sitting at and he comes back to a guy trying to hit on you*

“Hey, hey, hey man, back off- They aren’t interested.” (7:00 pm)

“You okay?”

“Baby I know you’re a tough cookie, i just wanna know if you’re okay?”

“Let’s go inside, our favorite table is open.”

“What do you mean I eat too much meat, that’s mean y/n”

“Here, try this, its nice and juicy.”

“Don’t be a pervert and open wide.”

*Bokuto is very serious about his meat*

“I want dessert now, lets go to the market that has those cakes you like.”

“Baby! Baby! We need to go now! I just stole this cake from a kids hand!”

“I DID IT FOR YOU! DON’T YELL AT ME!”

“They’re gonna know I avoided my taxes that one year! I’m gonna go to jail!”

“I won’t be able to play volleyball!

“Or eat meat!”

“Oh right, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you either.”

“No~ come here and give me a kiss. I committed a crime for you.”

“Let’s go home, I wanna eat this cake.”

“Home sweet home, time to eat cake :)” (8:10 pm)

“Sit on my lap and eat this cake with me.”

“You fell so good on my lap.”

“My lap is your throne now.”

“No take backsies.”

“Oh hold on, I think Akaashi is calling me.”

“No, no, no, where do you think you’re going.”

*this man will make you coddle him like a koala so he can get up and get his phone just to sit back down with you on his lap*

*this is when Bokuto is most quiet is when he’s listening to Akaashi complain about something because he knows he need’s to let it out somehow.*

*He will start grazing his fingertips against your skin, kiss your fingertips, kiss your shoulder, neck, cheek. If you nuzzle into his neck he’ll start playing with your hair or the back of your neck.*

“Baby did you fall asleep?” (9:10 pm)

“I didn’t mean to wake you, you can go back to sleep now.”

*he will take off your jeans and put you in one os his shirts before tucking you in. will leave your socks on bc you have cold feet*

*he will also shower because believe it or not, this man does not smell when he sweats, you’d think he’d smell like ham or something but no... he legit has no smell- it’s weirder that way*

*when he come out of the shower he ends up waking you up again*

“Baby, can you cuddle me tonight.”

“You’re so warm baby.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Sleep well baby.”

extras:

“I do not fart in my sleep! Stop lying!”

“Why am I so beefy? Because I eat beef.”

“Atsumu get away from my baby. Sakusa! Attack!”

“The boys are coming over?! WHY DIDN”T YOU TELL ME?! Did i leave my undies in the shower?!”

“Big boobs? Chile anyways.”

“PUT YA MASK ON! PUT YA- Oop I don’t even have mine on right... anywho.”

“Look I took a video of y/n while they where sleeping, they started drooling.”

“Yes it was gross but i couldn’t move, look how cute she looks.”

“LOOK BABY! I painted an owl! Good ain’t it!”

“What do you mean I can’t have meat?! That should be illegal.”

“sawarasenai kimi wa shojo na no. boku wa yarichin bicchi no osu dayo- OH! You’re home! You didn’t hear that did you?!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu manga #haikyuu spoilers #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #bokuto #Bokuto Koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto haikyuu #bokuto koutarou x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #fukurodani #fukurodani x reader #msby #msby black jackal #haikyuu msby #msby bokuto #timeskip bokuto #anime x reader #anime x you #Anime / Manga #haikyuu black jackals #akaashi haikyuu

[sortavibing]

tendou and oikawa as your best friend📼

tendou

when you guys are together, all common sense is gone. it’s just a constant loop of “how much crazier can we get?” and if someone isn’t there to supervise you two, you guys will probably get arrested or commit a crime and get away with it. you and tendou have vandilised many buildings, and somehow you guys have never gotten caught doing anything, and it’s honestly amazing. he would text you at like 3am and say;

“let’s go jump off a bridge”

“omg yes”

“think i can do a flip?”

“i dunno but let’s try it”

even though you guys are crazy most of the time, you aren’t chaotic 100% of the time. tendou really likes to make desserts with you (especially chocolate). you guys like to attempt the really crazy desserts, like the 4 layer cakes with the cool designs, and they usually fail, and you guys laugh about how bad it looks. all of your baking sessions usually end in a food fight, and flour gets everywhere (it’s really hard to clean up but it’s worth it)

you guys also love to talk about new mangas and animes that just came out, and you will have weekly binge sessions, online or in person, where you guys try to finish a whole season or anime, and the entire time it’s playing, tendou is trying to catch popcorn in his mouth (and failing a lot), and you both are laughing at the character’s screwing up, or critiquing their decisions. you borrow mangas from him a lot, or he borrows them from you, and after either of you finish it, you guys always fangirl over it.

tendou and you love to play truth or dare with each other, but it usually ends up with you guys daring each other doing stupid shit, and you guys have so many videos that can never see the light of day, or you guys will be immediately sent to therapy, or you would be arrested. tendou once convinced the shiratorizawa team to join in on your game, and it was hands down the craziest night any of them have ever had, and they still are a little concerned for your guys’ sanity.

oikawa

two words. drama whores. you and oikawa have daily gossiping sessions, complete with screenshots and videos. whenever there’s drama going on in school or at volleyball matches, you can bet your ass one or both have you had a front row seat to the whole thing, and is ready to give the other person the details. you guys have so much shit on everyone, and your screenshot collection rival’s suna’s.

“hey, y/n, guess what happened at a volleyball game today- i heard that terushima cheated on his girlfriend, and is now dating two girls at the same time.”

“holy shit really? i need proof of this.”

“here’s the video i got of the convo. this shit’s so good.”

“hell yeah”

you guys have shown up late to class with iced coffee. oikawa is a strong advocate against dunkin, so he refuses to get you that “sugary trash”, and always drives farther to get starbucks. before you order, both of you always get into an argument about who is going to pay, and you usually end up paying (his argument is that he drove you there). oikawa always does that annoying thing with the almost empty cup, where you shake it really aggressively, and everyone can hear the ice, and you are the only one to call him out for being loud.

every friday, oikawa goes to your house and you guys do skincare routines together and put on facemasks, while watching a cheesy movie or ranting about the people who get on your guy’s nerves. (oikawa constantly bitches about kageyama and ushijima). he also paints your nails, and he’s surprisingly really good at it.

shopping. trips. we all know oikawa knows how to dress well, so he would be giving you constant tips on what looks good, and what looks terrible. it’s kind of annoying, but it’s super helpful so you tolerate it. you both usually blow a shit ton of money because you guys have zero impulse control when you are with each other.

“oikawa, does this dress look good? or is it a little too revealing?”

“that looks amazing. if you don’t buy it i’m buying it.”

“don’t you dare, you know i’ll look way hotter than you in this.”

“rude!”

i hope you enjoyed!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu #tendou satori #oikawa tooru #haikyu imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyu headcanons #tendou headcanons #tendou x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x reader

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 134 Review

Thank you. Thank you so much. This means so much to me.

(Ofc this chapter is called “In the Depths of Despair.”)

Sigh.

So, I guess I have to have an opinion on this chapter now.

For a while there, it looked like SNK had made the right choice.

Eren was the asshole. He was insubordinate, ungrateful, uncooperative, and above all else, a fucking sociopath. Cool, got it. One and done.

But then his friends started talking about how it was really their fault he’s doing this.

Ok, that’s fine. They’re desperate to stop him, so they’re just saying whatever they think will ingratiate themselves with Eren and help talk him down. Dynamics like that are very common in abusive relationships.

Now we arrive at this chapter, where even random people are saying Eren is a victim *as he is murdering them!*

It is patently absurd that Eren is having a warranted or natural or reasonable reaction to what he’s been through.

If Eren were a better person, he would have known that mass murder against the Eldians was wrong because mass murder is wrong. Unfortunately, Eren is a fundamentally amoral person. The only moral compass he has to guide him is a childish belief in “you hit me, so I get to hit you.”

He’s said as much on multiple occasions. He has said, “If someone tries to take my freedom away, I will take their freedom away.”

Instead of being the better man and ending the killing, his solution was to kill more people than them, faster and on a larger scale.

I think the clearest picture of Eren’s worldview was given when he spoke to Historia. He said the only way to end the cycle of violence was to destroy the whole world.

That is Eren’s deeply felt belief: there can be no peace or coexistence; the only way to win is to be the last man standing.

This mindset is so natural to him that he will even kill his friends for opposing him.

He told them that they were free to oppose him, and he was free to fight back. That’s how he justifies killing them to himself. They have the choice to oppose him, so if he fights back and kills them, it’s their fault they died, not his, because they could have made the choice to flee and live, but decided to stand and die.

In reality, the alliance is fulfilling a moral duty to protect life, while Eren is an asshole who has killed billions.

The series wasn’t kind to Eren about that. He was depicted as a cheering child as he murdered everyone. The Rumbling was not white washed either. The take away was obviously that Eren’s decision was not the product of a sound mind.

And yet.

Now I have to wonder if the series is seriously trying to say the Rumbling embodies some form of justice.

There are multiple layers to this issue, so let’s start at the surface level.

So in what is obviously a ham-fisted attempt by Isayama to lecture the audience about morality, a Random Commander Guy filibusters about the ills cast by the Marleyans on the Eldians and how this has rebounded back at them.

It is generally considered good writing for characters to get their just desserts. If someone sells drugs to kids, you expect something bad to happen to them. If someone helps a kid cross the street, you expect something good to happen to them.

What’s different between a generic case of just desserts in a story and this chapter in SNK is that the dessert is typically delivered through some nebulous, karmic force, rather than a vengeful twerp with God-like powers.

When the drug dealer’s car blows up, it’s karmic fate, not revenge.

The car doesn’t blow up because one of the kids devoted his life to exacting revenge, it’s because the car just blows up for no reason, or because something completely unrelated to the dealer causes a bomb to be planted in the car, or the dealer brought it on themselves by getting caught up with terrorists.

People may or may not deserve to suffer, but it’s fine to show people suffering if you’re just trying to make a point about how people should act.

Eren’s a different case. For several reasons.

To help untangle why, let’s think about the death penalty.

The death penalty is an example of retributive justice. Put simply, it’s the idea that retribution can be morally just.

The Rumbling is immoral precisely because it is something a supporter of retributive justice would emphatically NOT support.

Most supporters of the death penalty would justify it as an act by a legitimate societal authority. Eren is not that.

Eren is not an authority figure. He does not speak for the Eldian people and has no right to exact this genocide on their behalf. No one made him King of the Eldians. It’s not his place to decide what’s in the Eldian’s best interest.

Also, killing people because “it’s what the scumbag deserves” is usually justified because it’s a sentence for a crime handed down in a legal process.

Rights can be taken away, but not arbitrarily. Transparency is an important part of this. Acts that are a crime are public knowledge, as well as the prescribed punishments. The criminal law is also supposed to apply to everyone equally, not selectively. To say nothing of the law itself being duly enacted by a legitimate governmental authority.

The same principles apply to the process by which a right is taken away. The process must be laid out in a law that was duly enacted by a legitimate government authority, applies to everyone, and is publicly known.

Eren’s process, of *fucking* course, is nothing like this. Eren has no legitimate authority. He’s a Guy With an Opinion who bumbled into attaining absolute power, and now he’s acting on that Opinion.

He not the government punishing a convict. He’s a guy with a gun shooting people he doesn’t like. The Rumbling is not just retribution, it’s just murder.

Commander Guy says that if they knew this would happen, they would have acted differently.

That’s a good point.

Why the fuck do they deserve to die, then?

To some extent, everyone’s worse impulses are kept in check by the knowledge that there will be consequences if they act rashly.

But it’s not just that.

Laws are public knowledge for a reason: it’s fair. If you know your act is a crime and that performing said act will result in a certain punishment, then by committing the act anyway you have tacitly accepted whatever punishment will be meted out.

The moral onus is placed on you.

This is why knowledge that you are committing a crime is necessary to be convicted of a crime.

In principle, the case with the Marleyans is the same. Is it fair to punish someone for an act they did not know would carry that punishment? No.

They may know the act was immoral, but that is not the same thing as knowing it will lead directly to their death.

And needless to say, but you only deserve to be punished for an act if you deserve to be punished for that act. The Marleyans do not deserve to be punished for that act.

There are multiple ways a wrong can be righted. There are punitive ways, in which the perpetrator is harmed outright. There are also restorative ways, in which the victim is compensated for the harm done to them, usually at the expense of the perpetrator.

I have already explained why Eren lacks the authority to pass judgement on the world, and that the process by which he made his decision was completely illegitimate, but it needs to be said that this punishment is totally improper in itself.

Wiping out humanity is purely punitive. To use the obvious analogy, I don’t think any sane person would argue white people deserve to be punished for racism. Supporters of racial justice usually talk about restorative, rather than punitive, forms of justice, like reparations.

The Rumbling does not make the Eldians whole again. It does not restore their trampled dignity. It is purely an act of vengeance.

Casting it as some kind of deserving retribution is crazy.

Oh, and, you know, suffering is bad, so retributive justice is wrong even disregarding everything I just said.

You could theoretically believe life is a miracle, but that people forfeit that right if they act wrongly…it’s not something many people would support.

If Dino!Eren had been depicted as a random force of nature that visited ruination upon humanity, we could have potentially gotten a good story about how hatred leads to no good outcomes. Like how Godzilla is a metaphor for the ills of nuclear weapons.

Instead we get a nihilistic tale about two sides punching each other until one keels over dead. And somehow the one that keels over deserved it.

What makes it nihilistic is that you could easily reverse it. What if right before Eren destroys Fort Salta, aliens invade the Earth and help the Marleyans.

Now the Eldians are on the verge of annihilation and *Eldian* Commander Guy gets his turn to say “Woe is us who surrendered to hate. We deserve this.”

There is no right side or wrong side. No deserving side or innocent side. The Eldians were cheering for genocide the same as the Marleyans. The difference is the Eldians had a God on their side.

The morality of this series is just all over the place.

The Alliance and Eren are equally sinful, but now Eren is an agent of karmic destiny and his victims “deserve it.”

There isn’t much to talk about this chapter besides that.

Armin still hopes to take Eren alive, but good luck with that.

Eren can manifest other titans from his body, which is cool I guess, though it’s pretty clear this power only exists to give the Alliance things to fight.

There were a lot of allusions to parenthood this chapter. The baby and the cliff. Reiner’s mom realizing how shitty she’s been. Historia’s pregnancy. The Commander Guy saying it’s the fault of “us adults.” The numerous shots emphasizing the kids at Fort Salta.

Child abuse is a common theme of SNK. And not just parental abuse, but societal abuse, too. Children are the victims of individual foibles and broader social ills, like racism and police brutality.

The cycle of violence at the heart of the series’ conflict is bad for everyone, but the story emphasizes that it is bad for children in particular. It harms them, and leads to a world that is worse off for them.

If there’s one takeaway from SNK, it’s that we should think of the children. Adults shouldn’t just take care of their kids, they should fix broader social issues, if not for themselves then for the children’s sake.

It’s a fucking insult.

Historia’s pregnancy is all but confirmed here. There’s no way it’s fake. There may have been motive to fake being pregnant, but there is no fucking way she’d have a reason to fake *birth*.

I always leaned towards the pregnancy being real, so that didn’t get to me. What gets me is that Historia is just…there. On Paradis. On the sidelines.

Not only was Historia, who is the only likable female character in this show now, impregnated, she’s also been MIA most the last two story arcs.

I had thought Isayama was saving her for the finale. Surely, Isayama understands that if you sideline a major character for no reason, they have to come into play at some point, I thought. Surely.

Characters are tools; they exist to be used. So use them.

But no, it seems Historia is legit not going to be a thing in this final battle. My dreams of the domineering boss saving the day are dashed.

But what really messes with me is how shafted Historia has been since basically the end of the Uprising Arc.

Historia’s only contribution to the plot after Uprising, but before the pregnancy was making the disastrous decision to make the truth of the world public, which paved the way for Paradis society to become radicalized and back Eren’s coup.

She has done nothing other than that.

Obviously her pregnancy will have thematic importance, but at this point the best Historia stans can hope for is that she’s the main character in the epilogue.

I’ve always assumed the pregnancy was the product of a loving relationship. For all his incompetence with Historia, I was willing to assume Isayama would not force her to carry a forcibly impregnated child to term.

And you know that even if the child is the product of rape, Historia will still have to say she loves and accepts them as her child and will raise them lovingly, with no regard or acknowledgement of the trauma of having to raise a child born out of her being raped.

Because the theme of the story.

All life is a miracle.

All children deserve to be loved.

Even if it was rape.

Except it’s more complicated than that, and I’m terrified to think that Isayama may not understand that.

So for now, I choose to presume that Historia is pregnant because she loves someone, decided to have a family with them, and we’re being led to believe she was raped for shock value.

But arguably more important is what this means for the queer audience.

Historia’s first love interest was another woman.

She’s queer. A lesbian. A dyke. What have you.

Now you’re telling me she either loves a man, or was not only raped, but has to love and accept the child that results from that trauma?

And for what?

So we can end the manga on a speech by Historia moralizing about the value of posterity?

Historia stands at the nexus of two subjects in this manga: the value of posterity and the denigration of queer people.

It is very homophobic of this series to pair a queer character with a dude to affirm a message about the value of children and motherhood.

As if queer people can’t have children.

We seem to be headed down that path.

It didn’t have to be like this.

Queer people can have children through artificial insemination. And artificial insemination is conceivable with Paradis’ current level of technological development.

Isayama is choosing to do this because queer people are not a part of his vision of a world where people, especially children, are able to live free.

That’s very sad, because it shows how empty SNK’s morals are.

So who’s the slave here?

Who here is truly free?

The ones who are free are the ones who aren’t reading Attack on Titan anymore.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk 134 #snk chapter 134 #spoilers

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

The Hoskins: The Family Reunion

You invite Collin to your family reunion.

Set before getting married and having Junie. 

Warning: annoying aunts and smut (fingering, dry humping)

A/N: Whenever I write for the Hoskins, I always say “It’s going to be a drabble”, then I proceed to do the complete opposite lol. Enjoy!

As nervous as you were about the family reunion, you were having a great time. You loved your family, but they were nosey beyond compare. Back home, the entire block knew that at if someone knew their business, it was because of your family’s love of gossip. Very embarrassing, to say the least. 

When Collin overheard you asking your mother about the reunion, you could see the excitement spreading across his face. He always stressed the importance of family. You saw it in the way he treated his mother, stepfather, and stepbrother. Collin wanted a family of his own and you knew that in due time, it was something you could have together. 

“Would you like to come with me?”, you asked after getting off the phone

“Yeah. It would be nice to get to know everyone”

Your relationship with Collin had been going strong for a year. In that time, you slowly introduced him to parts of your family. It started with your parents, then your siblings, aunts, and close cousins. The rest of the family you only saw at events like funerals and reunions would have to wait to meet him, and this seemed as great a time as any. It’s not that you didn’t want them to meet him. Collin is one of the most important men in your life, and you wanted them to see what you see in him, no matter how rude and judgemental they could be. Collin’s past was bound to come up, and the last thing you wanted was to throw hands at your great aunts for running their mouths. 

The cookout went off without a hitch. It seemed everyone was as in love with Collin as you were. Your younger cousins fought over who he would play with next, he argued with your older cousins over west coast and east coast hip hop, and your mother somehow pulled him on to the makeshift dancefloor for a litany line dances. Your camera roll was full of Collin indulging and enjoying himself. 

After telling your cousins he didn’t smoke, they challenged Collin to a game of basketball. You’ve never seen him play, but it was a joy to watch him run around sweaty and shirtless. 

“How long have you two been together”, Aunt Mae, your great aunt, asked

“A year and a half”, you responded after finally tearing your gaze away

The image was seared into your memory. 

“And were just now finding out about him?”

“Maybe she didn’t want us to know”, Aunt Vivian stepped in, appearing to take your side

Aunt Mae was blunt and a little cut throat. She always got straight to the point and didn’t care who she offended. Aunt Vivian was hit or miss. One minute, she’s singing your praises, the next she behaves like her older sister. The constant flip flopping exhausted you. As much as you love your family, this was the main reason you avoided spending extended periods of time with them. Someone had to take your mental health into consideration, and it was never them. 

“Here we go”, you mumbled

“She didn’t want us knowing she’s dating someone with a criminal background”, Aunt Viv finished

“That’s because Collin is more than his background. Yes, it happened, but he moved on. The minute y’all found out about it, that’s all you saw, then you’ll do what you always do: talk behind his back and treat him different, when everyone knows that’s not what he deserves”, you grimaced, trying to simmer your distaste for the conversation

Listening to your Aunts go on about your relationship with your boyfriend made your blood boil. It was clear they didn’t know Collin, nor did they want to get to know him. 

“What makes you think he’d make a good father or a husband?”, Aunt Mae countered

“You don’t know him like I do”, you snapped, “Despite how the world sees him, Collin still keeps his head up and continues to do what’s best for him. He’s intelligent, kind, honest, he always puts people before him. Sometimes to the point he has to be reminded he needs to take care of himself too. He wants to be a better person, and he’s proven that time and time again--”

“I’m not sure he deserves a second chance”, Aunt Mae stated

“Do you really want to go there with me?”, you took her silence as your queue, “Last year, you snatched Aunt Viv’s wig off her head because she said your potato salad was trash and yet you still got your second chance”

You continued to list all the heinous crimes your aunt committed against various family members and noted that everyone has given her second and even third chances against their better judgement. By the time you were done, Aunt Mae looked like she was ready to burst into flames. 

“Dessert is out”, you heard a soft voice from behind 

Collin wrapped his arms around you, kissing your cheek and making his presence known. 

“I got you a slice of sweet potato pie before anyone else could get to it. Lets eat it by the lake”, Collin suggested

“As much as I want to say seeing you two has been fun, we all know it would be a lie. Next time, keep your judgement to yourselves”

You gingerly got up from the table, glaring at your aunts. Collin held your hand as he led the way with your hand in his and the pie in the other. He found a secluded spot under a tree for you to relax. 

“How much did you hear?”, you asked as you sat down

“Mae really snatched her own sister’s wig? Over potato salad?”, Collin laughed

“Yes”, you sighed

“Mae had no reason to be upset. Her potato salad is trash. Someone needed to say it”

Collin smiled when he finally heard you laugh. 

“Were you really upset over what they said about me?”

“Of course I am. They have no right to be that--”

“I don’t give a damn what your aunts or the rest of your family think about me and neither should you”, Collin retorted, “They’ll come around and if they don’t, that’s on them”

It grew quiet between the two of you. 

“Besides, the only person whose opinion on me I care about is yours. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only one that matters”

Collin pulled his arms around you as you finished your slice of pie. Hearing your aunts talk about him like that struck a nerve, but he knew he would be alright. 

As the evening ended, you and Collin went back to your cousin’s house with her husband and their three-year-old. Shelby spent most of the evening in Collin’s lap telling him about her friends at daycare until she finally fell asleep. 

Around ten, Collin was glad to finally fall into bed with you. The day was long, but you two still enjoyed yourselves. 

“I’m glad you came with me this year”

“I hope I’ll be here years from now”, he mused

“Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I would have knocked Aunt Mae out, then pushed her in the lake”

“No, you wouldn’t”

Collin stared at you, taking in your sheer determination. Deep down, there was a part of you that would do it with no hesitation. Collin leaned in to kiss you goodnight. After sharing multiple ‘I love yous’, he kissed you again, but he didn’t expect the kiss to become as intense as it did. 

His hand trailed down your body while your head rested in the crook of his other arm. Collin kissed you with fervor as his hand reached for the hem of your underwear. You softly sighed against him when his deft fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles against you. Collin gently bit down on your bottom lip, making you moan. 

“Do you want them to hear you”, Collin smirked

“Not my fault”, you countered, “Feels good” 

He gently sucked your bottom lip as he pulled you in for another kiss. You loved nights like these when Collin found himself not being able to get enough of you. Moments later he found your soaked entrance with two fingers and they sank in effortlessly. You tried to keep your gasps quiet, but at this point they would just have to hear you. 

Collin pressed his cock against you, rubbing it against your thigh. He pulled away to catch his breath as he curled his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your heels dug into the mattress as you let out a breathless moan. Collin kissed up and down your neck as his thrusts became rougher. 

You could hear him cursing under his breath as the sounds of his fingers slipping into your wetness filled the room. Collin pulled you into another kiss as he pressed down harder on your g-spot. You shook as he brought you to an orgasm as he trembled beside you. Collin’s orgasm rippled through him as he tried to catch his breath. 

He took his fingers out of you and slipped them into your mouth, waiting for you to suck them clean. You grinned as you slipped your hands past his boxers, ready to return the favor. To your surprise, your fingers were already covered in cum. Collin sheepishly grinned. 

“I’m glad we didn’t fuck tonight”, he mused, “Might have ended up with a baby of our own”

The next morning, you sat with Collin at the table with Shelby. Your cousin and her husband had a few errands to run. As Collin fixed his plate, he kept dropping the tongs on the table. He was as gentle as he was clumsy. 

“If your sausage fingers weren’t so big--”, you started

“You weren’t complaining about my sausage fingers last night”

Collin leaned over and mimicked your moans in your ear, “Feels good”

Your cheeks felt like they were set ablaze as Collin’s salacious grin spread across his face. Collin bit his lip, taking in your shock as a minor victory. Maybe he should have put a baby in you. 

“Wait”, Shelby gasped, “There’s more sausage?”

“No, your cousin ate all”

Collin smirked at Shelby’s distaste for you eating her favorite food. 

“And I’ll be eating more of it tonight”, you whispered as he choked on his juice

#collin needs more love #the hoskins #collin x reader #collin hoskins x reader #collin hoskins #blindspotting drabble #this was supposed to be a drabble #blindspotting

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Dazed and Confused (Part 2)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

______

It didn’t take long in a town as small as Elk Ridge, Washington to figure out where Dean was staying. There were parts of the place that were laid out as you expected. Suburbia was near the one school. The main street housed almost all of the businesses. The lumber mill where probably most people worked was nestled near the east outskirts of town. There wasn’t a whole lot else there. If you wanted some peace and quiet, it was probably a quaint little place to stay.

Some homes were spread out far and wide though. The feds had set you up in place that made your college dorm room seem like a mansion, located on the west side of town. You had a few neighbors but they were nearly a mile down the road. It had plenty of privacy which was great for investigating but you weren’t a huge fan of the isolation personally.

Dean was to the north, in some old hunting cabin that he was slowly fixing up. At least that’s what Kat, the town gossip, told you. She’d always say hello to Dean when she saw him around and he was cordial back but he kept to himself for the most part. He worked at the mill and frequented the one garage that would special order car parts for him. For the most part though, you had no leads.

“Well,” you said, sitting in your car shortly after lunch, the sound of an Impala driving back towards the mill giving you an idea. “I don’t think you’ll mind if I do a little poking around, Dean.”

You drove to his place in less than ten minutes, seeing nothing in terms of security around the property. You parked your car a ways down the road and doubled back through the tree line and to the home. You went to the backdoor first and found it unlocked, opening straight into a laundry room that smelled of sweaty clothes.

“You really better not be some psychopath, Dean,” you mumbled, walking into his kitchen, finding it sparse but Dean had always liked to keep his spaces clean. You opened a cupboard, finding it crammed full, a smile on your face. “That’s more like it.”

“I told you to stay away,” said Dean, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You turned your head over your shoulder, Dean right behind you, arms crossed. You stood up, spinning around and finding his hand in your jacket, shoving you through the backdoor.

“Dean, I-”

“I told you to leave me alone,” he said, clenching his one hand, twisting his body back like…

You dodged most of the punch but Dean had some weight behind it, knocking you to the ground regardless as he grazed your cheek. You stared up at him, moving to hit him in the groin when he dodged, getting his feet under your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. His hand caught your jacket collar and started dragging you on the ground, pulling your hood over your face.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, moving one hand away for you in time to see him open a shed door and push you inside.

“Dean!” you shouted, throwing your shoulder against the door the second it shut, the metal not budging. You were barely there more than a minute before you heard the Impala in the background tearing out of there.

Lawrence, Kansas

Two Days Later

“You’re off the case in case no one’s told you yet,” said John in the conference room at the station, sliding a cup of coffee over to you.

“I fucked up. I get it,” you said, staring at your statement for the hundredth time that morning. “I should resign.”

“You should take a leave of absence,” said John, taking the file away. “And go find Dean on your own.”

“Excuse me?” you said, John’s face hard set. “What-”

“He knew you were there. He had to. You checked in before you went to Dean’s place and somehow he randomly went home in the middle of his shift? I think he got tipped off. I don’t think we were ever supposed to catch Dean, kid. Just help give him a bigger rap sheet,” said John, leaning back in his seat. “Assaulted a detective. That’s not something people ignore. It gives him credibility for something bigger.”

“Yeah, and I’m the zodiac killer,” you said, John rolling his eyes. “Why would the feds-”

“Because we’re small town cops and they think we’re dumbasses,” said John. “Maybe we were but think about it. He saw you first on the street you said. An anonymous call came in saying where you were in that shed. He could have hurt you, killed you, but I think he’s the one that made sure you were found.”

“It’s too early in the day for a conspiracy theory, John,” you said, running your hands over your face, reaching for your coffee.

“Did Dean seem like the guy in his file?” asked John.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it too much after he punched me in the face ,” you growled.

“He could have killed you Y/N,” said John.

“You know what? I’m calling in sick today,” you said, standing up and storming out.

“Y/N,” he said, grabbing your arm in the hall.

“I am done with the Winchester family. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Hey, open up,” Sam said for the tenth time that night, banging on your apartment door relentlessly. You growled as you got up from the couch and flung it open. “Good. You’re home.”

“Go away Sam,” you said, trying to shut the door, Sam simply pushing it back open. You groaned and walked back inside, Sam shutting the door behind him, dropping a bag on your table.

“I got you some of those Italian dessert things you like,” said Sam, leaning over the back of your couch, rubbing your shoulders. “I heard Dad gave you shit at the station today.”

“Dean didn’t kill me so he must be a good guy,” you said, glancing up at Sam, your swollen and bruised cheek on full display. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You sarcasm is duly noted,” said Sam, moving around and taking a seat next to you. “You got scared again, didn’t you, with dad saying that stuff.”

“Fuck, Sam, is that why you’re here? You think I need a babysitter?” you spat back at him, Sam keeping his face soft.

“Not every Winchester is trying to be an asshole to you this week,” said Sam, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m sorry Dean scared you. I’m sorry my dad doesn’t understand that. He wants to believe that Dean is good so badly, he didn’t realize he was willing to let you get hurt along the way.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking his advice and taking a leave of absence while I figure out what to do with my life because I sure as shit suck at this job,” you said, grabbing a pillow but Sam ripping it away.

“Don’t hide. And don’t quit either. You like helping people, Y/N,” said Sam.

“I’m scared again, Sam. I can’t be scared and do my job. It doesn’t work that way. All thanks to your stupid jackass of a brother,” you said.

“Get pissed then. Shove it to Dean,” said Sam, your head cocking. “You heard me right. Catch him. He’s wanted now for an actual crime, right? Bring him in.”

“He’s your brother Sam,” you said.

“My brother who hurt us both badly, who did that to your face. You’re like my sister, Y/N. He doesn’t get to push us around and make us feel like crap anymore. We aren’t a pair of little kids,” said Sam.

“Alright,” you said with a sigh, Sam ruffling your hair. “You want to order a pizza and have one of our Dean bitch fests?”

“You read my mind.”

It wasn’t until Sam was passed out on your couch and you were crawling into bed hours later that no matter which way this thing turned out, you knew you had to find Dean. You grabbed your phone, typing out an email to John, requesting your leave of absence while you got your head on straight.

A text popped up as you put the phone down, your eyes glued to it.

Meet me at the place I told you I loved you. 15 minutes.

You swallowed hard, knowing it could be from anyone, could be meant for anyone.

The place you said it back.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, running your hand through your hair, climbing out of bed. You tossed on jeans and a tee, pulling your jacket and sneakers on, staring at your bedside drawer. “Dammit.”

You opened it up, pulling out your gun and shoving it in the back of your pants, grabbing your phone and walking into your living room quietly. Sam was snoring heavily as you thought about waking him up. The thought quickly disappeared as you went past, slipping out of the apartment and out of the building.

It was cool, the streets quiet at nearly 3 in the morning. You were on edge the whole way down the few blocks to the park, walking as fast as possible towards the only playground in Lawrence. You didn’t spot him which was troubling. There was barely any cover there apart from the enclosed tower by the slide. He was either up there or you were early enough that you could use it for yourself.

A quiet whistle punched a gasp from you, your gun in your hands in the next second. You took a wide sweep, approaching over the bridge you remember falling off of and scraping up your knee as you laughed, climbing up the steps you’d sat on for hours talking with him…

You paused and took a deep breath, raising your gun up as you spun up the last step, staring into the dark tower top.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” said Dean, flicking a lighter on, a small light filling the space, showing his hard face, body sat in the corner all in black. “I’m not-”

“Turn around. Hands on your head. Cross your ankles,” you said, Dean staring blankly at you. “Now.”

“Am I being arrested?” he asked with a chuckle, setting the lighter down, crossing his arms.

“Yes. You have the right to remain-”

“I’ve been silent for four years. I’m getting tired of it to be honest,” he said, glancing at the empty spot across from him. “I figured this would be a safe place to meet up...considering you’re on leave now and everything, I don’t have to worry about keeping you up too late for work.”

“How do you-”

“We need to talk,” said Dean, nodding again. “If you want to cuff me to do that-”

“Turn around, hands behind your back,” you said, Dean glaring up but nodding his head. He did as told, his body more muscular than you remembered. You slid a pair of thick zip ties around his wrists, Dean turning back around as you backed up, sliding down into the spot nearby.

“You don’t need to keep pointing that gun at me,” said Dean. “I am cuffed.”

“Considering what happened last time I was with you, I’ll keep the gun out,” you said, Dean’s eyes flickering to your healing cheek, scrunching up his nose.

“Sorry for that,” said Dean. “I can’t be too careful nowadays.”

“Poor you,” you said, Dean straightening his shoulders. “Start talking.”

“How’s Sammy doing? He’s in his third year of law school, right?” asked Dean, your eyes blinking fast. “He’s okay?”

“Why do you give a shit about him?” you asked. “After what you said. It took him two years to tell me what you-”

“He’s my little brother. Of course I give a shit about him. You too. I never stopped,” said Dean, staring at your cheek. “You really don’t know how awful I feel about hitting you.”

“You got two minutes before I drag you down to the station,” you said, Dean leaning his head back against the plastic wall, wearing a sad smile.

“You became a cop. Junior Detective. Top of your class. Perfect scores on your exams. Your arrest record is flawless and you bring in bagels on Fridays from the shop on fourth with the little-”

“Are you a fucking stalker or what, Dean?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“It’s how I knew you sent that email to dad,” said Dean, glancing down. “I...I didn’t get kicked out of the academy, Y/N. I...transferred if you want to think of it like that.”

“Transferred to what,” you growled, Dean scrunching up his face.

“Agent Winchester. FBI. Special Undercover Unit. It’s not really common knowledge it exists. We don’t go through the normal training academy. You work undercover so they keep you separate from almost everything. It’s why the FBI, the people I work for, sent you after me,” said Dean. “Well, they needed to build up my credibility but that’s not the point.”

“You’re saying you’re a federal agent,” you said, Dean nodding. “I’m Mary fucking Poppins while we’re at it.”

“How do you think I know shit I shouldn’t Y/N? I can hack into your computer, accounts. Your credit score is 740 by the way,” said Dean, cocking his head.

“You work for the government,” you said.

“I’ve been working one job for four years now, Y/N. I’ve done bad things but I’ve never hurt anyone. But I got a bit of a promotion recently and...somebody on my team is dirty. They’re working with the guy we’re trying to catch and I’m about to throw years of my life away to catch the dirtball. I need help. From someone I can trust,” said Dean.

“They teach officers to know when people are lying you know,” you said, Dean laughing.

“Then you know I’m telling you the truth,” said Dean. “I had to cut myself off from my life and hurting you and Sammy was the one sure fire way to stop you two from coming after me. I’m not asking for forgiveness, Y/N. I just need to bring down this guy and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life.”

“Sam gets fucking nightmares over the shit you said to him about your mom, Dean. You fucked him up. Both of us up,” you said. “Everyone you ever cared about over what? A job?”

“I agreed to do this on one condition and only one fucking condition so you can back the fuck off,” spat back Dean, trying his best to relax. “The guy I’m trying to stop, the guy I’ve been trying to stop for four years? He’s the one that killed our mother. I know I have done a lot of things but she deserves that the guy who killed her goes down. That is why I am doing this.”

“How can I believe any of this, Dean? How?” you asked. “What proof do you have?”

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to shoot me right here and now. Say whatever story you want, no one will care. Hell, dump my body if you want. I threw away everything to try and do the right thing for her, to stop this guy from doing it to someone else. If you think I’m nuts or making it up, go ahead and pull the trigger. I can’t do this on my own. Not when I can’t trust my team. I don’t deserve your help. But I’m begging for it, Y/N,” said Dean. “Just help me catch the son of a bitch.”

“Was it you at the bank four years ago?” you asked, Dean nodding his head. “Why’d you say you’d kill me?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a threat, Y/N. I knew once I saw you looking at me you’d figure out it was me. I was...don’t you remember that movie? We watched it a million times. The bank heist one. The undercover cop says it to his girlfriend at the bank...it was code that he’d make sure nothing happened to her, she’d be okay.”

“You expected me to remember a stupid movie scene during one of the most frightening moments of my life?” you barked, Dean shrugging. “I didn’t get that message, Dean.”

“I know. I know,” he said. “I couldn’t say, ‘hi honey, long time no see. I’m working this super secret undercover job and I gotta do some bad stuff for a little while but I love you and I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not the bad guy. Bye!’ It’s not how this works.”

“What were you doing in Washington,” you said.

“Testing a theory. I was trying to figure out who on my team is responsible. Nobody showed any tells though so nothing came of it,” he said. “I didn’t know they’d put you on it. Hoped but couldn’t know for sure. You just went through your secondary undercover training so I played the odds on that one.”

You lowered your gun, letting it rest by your side, tucking your knees into your chest.

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, your chin resting on your knees, eyes darting over to meet his. “Telling you and Sam those things...that was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Why did we meet here Dean,” you said quietly, Dean smiling.

“This was stop number four on the best date ever. I told you I loved you for the first time over by those swings. You said it back when you remembered how to speak,” he said, staring at his lap. “Figured this place is lucky for me. Less odds of you shooting me on sight.”

“There are so many things I should do right now,” you said, grabbing your gun in one hand, his arm in the other.

“Y/N,” said Dean, a crack in his voice as you pulled him down the stairs and onto the wood chip covered ground below. “Please don’t turn me in. I have to…”

You snipped his zip ties, grabbed them and walked over to a nearby trash can, tossing them inside. Dean was staring slack jawed at you, stuck in place while you wandered over to the swings, taking a seat on one.

“Y/N,” said Dean, standing in front of you while you kicked at the ground.

“You know, Sam and I have this sort of vent session about you sometimes. We basically bitch about everything we hate about you,” you said, Dean gulping. “Every single time, just like the one we had tonight, we always end up talking about good memories and how we hope we’re both so wrong and that you’re still good and something crazy is going on. Now that’s it happening, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Y/N, I’m-” said Dean, letting out a oomph before he hit the ground, your gaze moving from the ground upwards, Sam panting over Dean’s unconscious body.

“Sam what-”

“He’s a dumbass,” said Sam, bending down, tossing Dean over his shoulder. “We got to move to a secure location.”

“Sam! What is going on?” you asked, Sam nodding for you to follow. “Sam!”

“Dean’s a good guy, Y/N. Loyal to a fault. To a fault, Y/N . He’s getting setup,” said Sam, walking away from the playground, you hot on his tail.

“Sam,” you said, tugging on his arm.

“Dean’s got his facts wrong. He never should have dragged you into this,” said Sam. “But you’re in it now so you better come with us.”

“He had nowhere to turn he said. He-”

“The guy at the FBI Dean is investigating? It’s the guy who killed our mom. He works for them. He’s on the team Dean works on. He’s setting Dean up to take the fall for everything he’s ever done,” said Sam.

“How do you even know that?” you asked, a million more questions flooding your mind.

“Y/N. You weren’t the only one that went into law enforcement when Dean went off the rails,” said Sam, your head cocking, Sam breaking into a soft smile for a brief moment. “Agent Winchester. FBI. Internal Investigations.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfictio #series

[cashtonsangel]

Flowers

Summary: Michael commits a crime out of love.

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: none its all fluff!!!

A/N: im back!!! school has been rough so i havent had time or motivation but honestly i love this so i hope you do too!! anyways i love drunk michael and thats the tea.

You saw Michael walking up to you with a mischievous smile on his face and his hands behind his back. He was suppose to go and bring back some food and refreshments from the buffet, but his hands looked quite empty for carrying food for the both of you.

Approaching the table you sat at, your boyfriend sat down in the chair directly across from you before pulling his hands from behind his back and presenting you with a small gift.  

“What’s this?” You gave him a questioning look.

“It’s a flower, just for you, Y/N.” Michael beams, holding the flower out to you for you to admire. After a brief moment, Michael’s fingers found the back of your head and tucked the flower behind your ear before carefully adjusting your hair so it would compliment your face. He continued to mindlessly play with your hair as he admired your face.

“Michael? What are you doing?”

“Well, babe I saw a pretty flower and it made me think.”

“A flower made you think?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your tone.

“Yeah,” he exclaimed, “do you want to know what it made me think about?”

“Of course, babe. Enlighten me.” You were amused by his fixation for the plant.

“Well, Y/N, you see, you’re pretty, and this flower is pretty, so if I gave you the flower then you would be double pretty.” Michael gave you the biggest grin, proud of his flawless logic.

Laughing, you couldn’t help but replicate his smile. This man really was a piece of work.

The entire morning Michael had been whining about not wanting to go to your cousin’s wedding with you, begging for you to stay in bed with him and enjoy a night in. He tried to talk you out of going to the wedding, even going as far as making up different lies you could tell to your cousin if they realized that you were missing. But in the end, you had somehow managed to convince him to go with a promise of lazy day tomorrow.

Although Michael had agreed to go, you were prepared for his constant pouting throughout the ceremony and reception, but the moment the both of you entered the venue, his eyes lit up.

You knew that Michael was the biggest romantic and you knew that the thought of weddings excited him to no end. Truth be told, Michael had a slight infatuation with love and weddings. He would always talk about how he couldn’t wait to get married and gushed about how your wedding was going to be that most extravagant event that he could ever dream of.

When the reception started, Michael had made his way to the bar, grabbing a couple of drinks for the both of you to share, claiming that in order to have some fun and truly appreciate the party, you both had to let loose.

And here he was, drunk off of a few of the weddings signature cocktails.

“Michael, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” there was a slight pause, as if he was registering just how drunk he actually was, “anyways, do you like my flower, Y/N?”

“Babe, it’s not your flower. You literally stole this flower from the dessert table. I watched you as you put it in your pocket when you were getting more chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Yeah, I saw the flower and I took it from the table. So now it’s mine… well actually it’s yours because I gave you my flower. But I took the flower because I was at the dessert table, and I was like ‘Oh wow you know who else is a sweet snack? My baby, Y/N’ so I stole it for you because you’re my snack, with two C’s as the cool kids say.”

“I thought you said you took the flower so I could be double pretty, not because I was a snack.”

“Oh my gosh, baby, are you not paying attention?!” Michael practically screamed.

You were quick to shush him, afraid of all the unwanted stares that he was receiving.

“Maybe we should lay off on the alcohol right, babe. I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” Your eyes wandered the room, making sure that the eyes that were previously on the two of you were now lingering somewhere.

Michael didn’t pay anyone else any attention; he was solely concentrated on getting you to understand the purpose of the stolen flower in your hands.

“Listen to me very closely, baby. I was at the dessert table getting some more food when the whole table reminded me of you because my baby is a damn snac- actually no you know what, babe? You’re a whole damn meal. A full 7 course meal, baby! Anyways, as I was thinking about how much of a meal you are, which by the way, you look absolutely killer baby, I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be with you. But anyways, as I was think about how much of a meal you are, I was like ‘damn my baby would be so pretty with this flower in her hair’ and now here we are. My pretty lady has a pretty flower in her hair.” Michael rambled on, digressing on certain parts as his drunk mind tried to process all the events that happened prior to his arrival at the your table.

You couldn’t help but smile at his story. Michael always showered you with kind words and compliments which always made heat come up to your cheeks. You had been with him for over 3 years, but you would never get used to his constant appraisal.

“Thank you, Michael. I love the flower so much.”

“Good because it looks even better than I thought it would behind your ear.”

Leaning forwards, you gave Michael a quick peck on the cheek as a token of appreciation, and you felt him smile against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N.” He hiccuped at the end of his sentence, causing you to giggle at his surprised face.

Pulling away you laid your head against his shoulder and enjoyed the rest of the night in his embrace.

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[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Coping Mechanism — Ch 6

[Previous Chapters | Ao3]

     The thing about running away from your problems is that it's not a solution, it's a coping mechanism. It resolves one issue but replaces it with another; a cowardly deed that re-stations one’s weakness out of sight while it remains in mind for everyone else.

It’s a strategy, running away, and not a very good one. Nothing more than a poor excuse for a sad soul — and a detriment to an unfortunate case put in recess.

    “So you're back to ignoring him?”

Izaya flipped his phone so the screen could meet the table surface; it amplified a vibration or two.

    “Now what would give you that idea?”

A buzz came from Shinra’s coat pocket which interrupted another and a subsequent in queue; he brought it out to hold a foot before Izaya in a seamless flash. Normally some amount of glee would have met the doctor's lips for how he mimicked one of his love’s trademark poses, but flat displeasure won out.

    “I wonder why that could be?”

    “How many times has it been?” The informant skimmed the screen before it was pulled from his purview.

Certain keywords had stuck out from the rest as if bolded; words like, ‘Izaya’ and ‘kill’ were interspersed between phrases, like ‘I swear’ at the beginning, ‘this time’ in the middle, and ‘I won’t’ somewhere near the end. Shizuo's compulsion to clarify his intent was so natural that it may as well have been a confession of murder before it was committed. Maybe that should be reassuring?

    “I don't pay attention past my disappointment to count. It's annoying to assume that the stream of text messages is Celty narrating her day for me only to find that it's your boyfriend—”

    “Ex.” Izaya corrected, a stern look to his eye.

    “—that’s been abusing redial and over-utilising text prediction. Or maybe it’s text-to-speak; sometimes I get incoherent messages that somehow manage to sound more rage filled than if he abused my doorbell instead.”

    “That's not my fault. You could pick up your phone, you know.”

    “So could you!” Shinra threw his hands onto the back support of the couch, not too far from clipping Izaya’s nose while he slammed them down in frustration; upon impact his glasses fell askew, made him more comical than intimidating.

In jest, Izaya pulled back from Shinra’s tired pout and into a shrug. “Now that's silly. Why would I pick up your phone?”

—

    The act of weakness stretched out across a week — less than tolerable for all of Izaya’s friend-like connections, easier to deal with himself as he fled Shizuo’s text message war zone with ease, but those neutral parties forced into the fray dragged him back into the trenches to which he met hell without so much of a helmet to protect him.

    “Why would Shizu-chan assume we're hanging out?”

    “I don't know, ask him when you call him back.” Kadota’s eyes flashed and his crossed arms mimicked a disappointed father.

Izaya was lucky that any attacks weren’t physical just heavily fired with baritone.

    “But you realise, Dotachin, calling him would defeat the purpose of ignoring him.”

    “I'm not even going to act surprised that you’ll admit to ignoring him. For my sake, at least, get him to stop calling me. It’s annoying on its own, but Erika’s demands for the next installment of her real-life soap opera are worse, and I don’t think I can fake that the messages stopped for much longer.”

    “Sounds like trouble in otaku paradise.”

    “Any paradise, if there ever was one, has been lost.”

They shared an easy chuckle. One of the two bookstore loiterers tugged his beanie back into place while the other corrected the lay of fur over his shoulders; they walked each other to the automatic sliding doors without a single glance to confirm they were going the same way.

    “Well, it's been nice catching up with you old chum.” Izaya clapped Kadota on the back as he lead their exit through the doorway. “Maybe next time your gang and us can share cup ramen out of the back of the Mystery Machine.”

With a shocked expression, Kadota felt impressed that any effort was made to schedule time to hang out — faked or not, it was more than Izaya ever tried to in the past.

    “I'll even splurge for you guys and bring the 900¥ kind, my treat!”

And it was that syrupy sarcasm that called the comment for what it was meant to be: a precursor of Izaya committing to nothing, promising nothing. Running from his duty to end Kadota's involvement with the odd-couple’s immature fight.

    “It really is a wonder that Shizuo thinks we hang out.” Kadota sighed as Izaya gave him a cutesy wave goodbye.

—

    It was quickly day seven — the dawn of week one since the incident and Izaya was still avoidant of the simple solution that everyone else seemed to know but him. Rather he knew it, he just didn’t care to put it into practice; and everyone wished he would stop pretending that his bone-bruised ego paralysed him from fixing things with Shizuo. It was psychological warfare at this point, stubbornness to win against his ex’s persistence for closure or resolution.

The whole scenario was pathetic.

      [Ku] Iza-nii, it's weird for Shizu-nii to be texting us and not the other way around.       [Ku] Are you going to text him back already?

      [Mai] Fool.

      [Ku] Exactly! You’re a fool! An idiot brother. We’re not even in high school anymore, but you’re involving us in adolescent drama like we are!!!       [Ku] Gah! You’re like a teenage girl!!

      [Mai] You’re sad.

      [Ku] Tell you what! We’ll send Shizu-nii over to your place so you can just make up and fuck.

      [Ku] Or fuck and make up. Either one.       [Ku] Hahaha.

      [Kanra] If you two interfere I will stop sending my dear sisters loving gifts of extra spending money.

      [Mai] No bother.

      [Ku] Keep the petty change, Nii-nii. We make enough on our own.       [Kanra] Do I even want to know where you get your money from?

      [Mai] …

      [Ku] Huehue, better off only knowing that we make more than you do!       [Ku] Bye-bye, Nii-nii~.       [Ku] We do this out of love!

      [Mai] Die.

Izaya wasn’t positive that their proclamation was legitimate, all things considered he’d act as if it were. Though his line of defense was likely to go against their wanted outcome, they wouldn’t know that fact until it was too late.

    “Too bad your brother can outwit you two twerps.” Upon his schedule, he made a note on to send the obsessed duo on a wild-Yuhei hunt and moved onto better use of his work hours.

Furthermore he ignored a stray text message. Despite the sender’s hopes, the fairy had a fairly low chance to get a conversation going — that scarily passive threat was the type that’d only have an affect on her partner, assuredly not him.

      //I'm tired of you playing this game, Izaya. Shizuo is really messed up this time around...//

Celty could play no head games with him.

—

    Days later Izaya had been made an audience to a concert of metal all afternoon; intentionally raucous and purposely harsh, the crashes, clangs, and slams of kitchenware upset his continued productivity. All musical measures were a tune played out by an ornery employee, these days a willing partner in crime, but her overpaid salary still wasn’t enough to mute her percussion nightmare.

It only stopped when Izaya stopped his keyboard staccato for the day, progress little as it might be.

    “Take it.”

    “Woah there, Namie-san. Didn't know you were into that.”

Izaya addressed her phrasing rather than the food container wrapped in a cloth bag that was extended out to him. Namie’s arm was firm in front of herself, her offer pressed against his chest and demanded that he ‘take it’ or face repercussions.

    “Take your cowardly ass over to your boyfriend's—”

    “Ex.”

    She spoke louder, “—to your boyfriend's apartment and talk things over with the bastard over dinner.”

Although it looked like it was a traditional bento made with love, akin to ‘what mom used to make’, his secretary looked a lioness that threatened an attacker of her pride rather than the human mother of a man-child that she was.

    So thanks to the literal shove through his apartment door, Izaya found himself propped against the front of another. Slunk with his elbows upon his knees, a cloth bag dangled by an ear between his legs. He watched it spin before he directed it to go counterclockwise and around again to meet the same pattern.

Whether it was his misjudgement of time or Shizuo was late, it didn't change the fact that the mystery wasn’t one he could solve with pulled fabric, not like the uncover of what food Namie had made for the unhappy couple. For some reason it felt wrong to peek without the other recipient present as well. Maybe it was bad luck, as if anything that Namie touched could be blessed with good omens. What misfortune awaited him upon Shizuo’s eventual arrival made him refuse to take chances with weak willed boredom, and it itched his fingers to fiddle with the tight knot.

    “No.”

Izaya perked up; he hadn’t noticed an elevator beep nor heavy footsteps — an oddity for the perceptive man.

    “Don’t pretend that you weren’t desperate for my attention all week.”

    “I’m not pretending.” Shizuo stoically defined his scowl.

    “Are you sure? Maybe you were secretly hoping that I would fulfill some psychic booty call.”

    “Fuckin’ hell, just go home! You’re drunk.”     “We both know I’m not.” He muttered, “and that joke was hardly funny the first time, Shizu-chan.”     “Then how else are you here?”     “Easy, I walked.”     “WHY else are you here?”

    The long since hot, now room-temperature meal finally made its cameo. Izaya held up the bag with a dainty flirt, his pinky up on high, “a gift from my secretary.”     Shizuo scowled harder. “Give my compliments to the chef and leave.”

    “There’s dessert.” The emotionally exhausted man grumbled while he kicked his head back, his eyes pinched closed just as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed with aggression. Shizuo was annoyed that everyone assumed that sugary sweets would automatically sway him. In any other case it would have, but in this particular scenario...it still did, though only to shut Izaya up and get him to stop with the needy pout that he wore as a secondary tactic.

Izaya knew that Shizuo couldn’t make him disappear, he also knew that he couldn’t let him run away of his own volition — he was certain that in a matter of seconds he would invite him in just to stop their passive aggressive squabble performed through pigeon mail.

    “Hm, looks like it’s strawberry shortcake too. She knows you—”

    “For the love of… Just get the fuck in here, fleabag!!”

AN: Needless to say, I had a tad bit fun with this one — what, with a horde of characters all randomly showing up within the same chapter, just to prove how much I love writing dialogue between petulant Izaya and anyone annoying Izaya and Shizuo can be to everyone around them. Feel free to comment or give feedback.

#shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #shizuo x izaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara!! #durarara fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction #drrr!! #drrr #izuo #izaya x shizuo #durarara fanfiction #kishitani shinra #kadota kyouhei #orihara mairu #orihara kururi #celty sturluson #yagiri namie #demytasse fanfiction #shizaya coping mechanism

[vivika-ka]

I feel embarrassed but yo I am trying to write a fanfic, it’s not that good but do tell me what you think and if you have any constructive criticism it will be happily welcomed! This is the first chapter:

The pain he felt was indescribable. The constant pounding inside his head, almost as if there was someone hammering his temples over and over. Fragments of what took place in the last 3 days were coming back to him, bits and pieces. If he looked up, the ever-effervescent light of the Throne Room would infiltrate in his emerald green eyes, bringing even more pain. By the love of the Gods, make it stop. Frankly, his attention on the trial disappeared the moment he realized not a single soul in the room would believe any word he said -except his mother, of course. Loki wished he himself could understand what the hell his life had become, that he could make it up for the mistakes he committed against Asgard and his family.

"Any last words before your punishment?" Odin asked, his eyes carried deep disappointment and coldness, so much that made him flinch slightly. Oh, that's right. I don't belong here. Loki ignored the whispers and curses thrown at him, his older brother wasn't by his side and somehow that made him feel in excruciating danger around the people that were once his. The Jotun Prince then proceeded to look at his mother, Frigga refused to cry in front of her strict husband, but Loki knew the Queen better than anyone present, she was devastated. He licked his chapped lips and whispered to her.

"I am so sorry" His weak pleading voice was enough to make Frigga turn her eyes away from her youngest son, the tears threatening to spill. Odin frowned deeply, and with no further ado, banged his spear three times loudly.

"Then I, Odin, King of Asgard, declare that Loki Laufeyson shall have death penalty for committing crimes against the crown, the King, and the Asgardians. As well, for trying to take over the realm of Midgard. He is not to be touched, spoken to, and taken care of, until the day of his execution. Which will happen at dawn. I'll meet you all in 3 days" Loki sighed, trying to take the image of his mother as much as he could before his upcoming doom. I don't belong anywhere.

.-.-.

Thor sat in his room, caressing one of the few presents his little brother gave him during their peaceful times together. He was aware that Loki would be given death penalty for all the vicious actions he had committed against Asgard and Midgard. He was going to lose his little brother once again, and he couldn't help but to feel that it was his fault. There was a knock at his door, however the God of Thunder paid no mind. All he wanted at the moment was to go back to Midgard, hug his Lady Jane, and sleep. He knew slumber wouldn't come to him, though. Every time he closed his eyes he would hear Loki's screams; he would see the hopelessness in his brother's eyes when he let go of his hand; he would feel the smell of antique books, wet earth and flowers, and the raciness of his magic; he would feel the taste of their favorite dessert, the very one they would eat together after winning a big battle. Thor did not hold back his tears, he let them fall freely over the storybook they would read whenever one of them had nightmares.

"Thor? Are you there?" The voice of Lady Sif echoed in his chamber.

"I do not wish to speak to anyone. I ask of you, please, leave me at once" Thor managed to say without choking.

"Thor, I understand you're sad, but…Loki's actions have consequences, and this is fa-"

"If you dare to say it is fair to kill my little brother, I will never look at you, ever again"

"Will you quit it with this never-ending guilt?! It is nonsense! None of what is happening-" At this rate, Thor's chest felt as if it would explode any second now. With long steps, he opened the door, scaring the woman before him. He was livid.

"Everything that is happening with Loki is my fault! His betrayal, his fall, his breakdown, his invasion! All of this! Because I couldn't see what my father was doing to me! I did not stop my father from treating him differently! He was lost, and all I did was push him deep into the abyss!" The grieving god shouted.

"Loki is different! He is a Jotun! Not to mention a traitor!" Sif exclaimed viciously.

"Enough!" Thor shouted, a thunder could be heard through all Asgard. Sif jumped back, however never losing her frown and stance "You are not part of this family. Therefore, you can't possibly understand what happened to him. Much less what I am feeling in this moment. I will ask you nicely one more time: please, leave me alone" Thor said through his clenched teeth. Sif scoffed, turning to go back to the training chambers. The God of Thunder sighed, his shoulders still tensed.

"Damn it" He cursed, finally letting his body breakdown into sobs.

Guilt can eat you away. In his many years of life, he had underestimated the sickness of the mind. Guess I'm paying the price.

.-.-.

Loki was taken to his cell rather violently. The nagging feeling at the back of his head that something awful was about to happen with him couldn't seem to pass. He scratched the part that was afraid of his execution, since he long craved for his death the moment he let go of Thor's hand and fell into the void until now. This feeling was different, as if he had felt this unstoppable fear and hopelessness. The type of fear that you can't run away from. The type of hopelessness that no matter how many times you tell yourself it is over, it gets worse.

The loud sound of his wrists being attached to heavy chains pushed him from his thoughts. Looking over to his right side, the guard was eyeing him something awful. The amount of malfeasance in the guard's stance gave him such crippling dread, his heart was beating as loudly as his brother's thunder.

"What do we have here? God of Mischief, Loki" The man sneered, Loki gulped "You don't seem so mischievous now, do you, boy?" The voice and malice brought him more fragments, not the good kind. It reminded him of the voice that belonged to a mad being "No brother to save you, no mother to protect you. It seems I've won the biggest award of all" The guard proceeded to hit him strongly on the face with his golden baton, Loki could only see starts after such heavy blow, but it was enough to bring him one suffering memory.

He was falling. That was all he could gather. He was falling in a void, without destination, he would fall forever in the darkness. When Loki lost the count of how many days, weeks, months that he had been inside this well of despair, he started hallucinating. Loki dreamed of many outcomes of death, saw his brother dying in many awful ways, his mother being killed viciously, sometimes by his own hand. Most of the times, his hallucinations would show him a light, whenever he finally reached the warm and inviting path of closure, it would end with him looking at his own face. However, he would be without the spell of shapeshifter, he would be in his true roots. A Jotun.

Loki cried every day hysterically, all he wanted was the pain to end, he just wanted to die in peace, was that too much to ask? One day, the doomed day he thought he would be saved, Loki heard the voice of a mad being.

"Come, Loki Laufeyson. I can help you leave this endless pit. However, give me something I will need something in return-"

"Please, help me!"

"I won't hesitate to take that as a yes" The voice laughed sinisterly, Loki regretted immediately. An enormous purple hand grabbed him by his collar, pushing him into a pebbly ground, the Prince felt one sharp rock cutting his cheek. He hissed, but had no time to protest over the wound. Loki's collar once again was in the hands of the mad titan.

"You are Loki, of Asgard. And you are burdened with glorious purpose. You will do as I say" Thanos grinned mercilessly "Understand?"

"…I don't want-" The titan threw him inside a cage, Chitauris were cheering over the new chew toy "Wait! Why are you-!"

"You don't get to question me, boy. Simply follow my orders, and you won't get hurt" Thanos sat in his throne, watching the group of aliens hold the God of Mischief tightly, the beasts were ripping his garments off. Loki looked at Thanos desperately.

"What are they doing?" The mad titan said nothing, giving the Prince a dark smirk "WHAT ARE THEY DOING?" Loki's scream echoed loudly, making the beasts cheer even more over his despair and fear.

"They will teach you not to disobey me" Thanos crossed his legs, watching as the beasts ravished the Prince endlessly. All that could be heard for the whole year were Loki's pleads for mercy, for someone to save him. For the light to come and finally take him. For his mother. For his brother. Hell, even for his father. Thanos would laugh with gusto at the suffering creature before him. How he was being deemed as nothing more than a piece of meat, a pawn that would have no choice but to follow the titan to no end. Loki seceded, he had no other choice.

"Forgive me" He whispered brokenly, as he felt the power of Tesseract consume his already shattered mind.

The God of Mischief was screaming as if his life depended on it. His magic was strong enough to reach out to anyone, anything that could help him. Loki was sure that he could not go through being ravished again, not without dying of fear first. The guard was about to hit the Prince again, he was not done taking Loki's clothes off, luckily. Then, suddenly an abnormal tremor took place in the Palace. The rapist fell on his back, cursing loudly. Loki couldn't breathe, his body was under the spell of a very powerful panic attack. Every little detailed pain he felt during his imprisonment with Thanos manifested in his body along with the memories. The Prince felt the last bit of air he had left leave his mouth, as he choked with his own demons.

.-.-.

Not too far from the cell Loki was being kept, a very powerful being appeared. As she finished to materialize, Frigga and Thor had arrived as well, both looking at the shining woman with wonder and suspicion. Her skin was even more pale than Loki's, her dress was long and loose fitting, her long hair was almost as white as her dress, and her eyes were the most crimson red the mother and the son ever saw in their lifetime. She was ethereal. She was light. She was-

"Eve?" Frigga questioned, her voice exhilarated hope. The ethereal being gave the gentlest smile Thor ever seen, her aura screamed tranquility and lightness.

"Is she real?" He asked skeptically. Eve's chuckle brought even more clarity to the room.

"Yes, I am" Eve turned and motioned for the family to follow her "I suppose you heard him" It wasn't a question, the tranquil air and lightness left the room. As quick as lightning, the darkness and heaviness took over the atmosphere once again.

"We heard. My poor son" Frigga sobbed as she ran beside Eve and Thor.

"Loki's magic reached me! He must be in great great danger!" Thor exclaimed desperately, fearing for his little brother's safety (and sanity).

"And right you are, my friend" Eve answered sadly "We must leave at once, Odin knows I'm here, as well as his most trusted warriors" They opened the door that led to the cell, but immediately halted as they took in the scene before them. The guard was back at stripping the God of Mischief, who seemed to be dead. Frigga shot a powerful spell before Eve and Thor even moved a muscle. The rapist shouted in pain -and kept shouting- as he fell on the ground, his eyes were red.

"Mother?" Thor questioned, impressed.

"He is simply experiencing what he had planned for my son" She answered coldly.

"Very well done, Frigga" Eve complimented, already kneeling in front of the beaten and unconscious man who had stolen her heart many years back "Oh, Loki. What happened to you?" She whispered huskily and sadly as she caressed his cheek tenderly. She heard Thor smashing the heavy chains, which made the God of Mischief fall down towards her lap. With the help of Frigga, Eve managed to carry Loki. Thor was biting his lips nervously.

"What do we do? Where can we take him?!" He asked frantically. Eve closed her eyes tightly, a portal appeared in front of them, the sound of birds singing could be heard.

"To my temple. Odin's not allowed there"

"My husband is stubborn and powerful. He will go after you!" Frigga exclaimed desperately.

"Well, he knows better, my Queen. I am also powerful, as powerful as the old man. Besides, my defenses are strong enough to put him to sleep for the next 80 years" The Queen's eyes widened, but her shock was quickly gone as she looked at her sons. Frigga smiled determined.

"I will take care of my husband. However, all I care at this moment is for the safety of my son" Frigga said, caressing Loki's hair, her eyes lifted to make eye contact with her first born "Both of my sons" Thor smiled sadly.

"Then I promise with my life that I will keep them safe from Odin's wrath" Eve assured the Queen softly "I will see you again, Frigga. Fret not. Odin won't be able to lay a hand on you" The ethereal being said, as she casted a spell that engulfed Frigga in a warm light.

"Thank you, darling" Thor took Frigga's place as Loki's support "Be safe. All of you. I love you very much"

"We love you too" They said in unison, and just as fast as Eve made the portal appear, they were gone from Asgard. Right they were in time, since Odin came barging furiously inside the cell, taking the scene that consisted of his wife glaring at him with sharp blue eyes and one of his most trusted guards screaming and pleading on the ground.

"Frigga, what is the meaning of this?" The King asked sternly.

"It's called being just, husband" The Queen answered just as stern and cold.

.-.-.

As they left the portal, Thor felt the smell of fresh air. Taking his surroundings, he gathered the information that they were in a forest. The grass felt fluffy and soft under his feet. Wait, where are my normal garments? The God of Thunder directed his blue eyes to the woman helping him carry his little brother, his face contorted with a deep frown, he was greatly confused. Mother knows her, she seems to know my brother (very well, by her interaction with him in the cell). She is really powerful, I never felt such strong aura. Who is she? Eve sighed softly, not wanting to explain to the brother of the man she is deeply worried about how they got involved. However, the pale woman understands why Thor is skeptical and sending her questioning looks every 4 seconds.

"I promise I will explain everything detailed later. After we make sure your brother is safe and taken care of" Eve informed him, her voice left no room for discussion. Thor nodded, and thanked her, to which she simply smiled.

They must've walked for about 30 minutes when he finally located her Temple. At least, what he assumed it was her Temple.

"Why...A cave?" Thor asked, to which she laughed. Birds sang happily when she did.

"Just the entrance. I am not about to have constant annoying visitors. I only attend to those whom I deem as deserving of my services"

As they entered furthermore inside the cave, the dark rocks turned into pale silver walls that had stories encrypted in every corner. The floor was even more fluffier than the grass outside, when he looked up, he met the sight of amazing -almost hypnotic- sharp crystals. Thor heard a huff, only to see an area with 3 peaceful Pegasus. He thought they were only allowed to Valkyries, the sight of the rare animals amazed him. There was furniture made of what it looked like mud, wood, and rocks.

"And my brother is?" Thor did not ask challengingly. He was honestly curious about how much his brother means to this woman. She captured the innocence behind the question, holding her tongue not to curse at the God of Thunder, Eve could tell he cares deeply for his little brother and is simply worried.

"Yes. Loki is probably the most deserving of them all" Eve answered, laying the God of Mischief down on what it looked like a bed of soft feathers "I will examine him now. However, this magic is too...bright for the eyes of any other species" Eve explained slowly, knowing Thor did not want to leave Loki alone for a second. He seemed to consider what she said for what it felt like an eternity, then finally nodded, leaving the room. Eve started to gather the ingredients necessary for the spell when she called loudly "There is a waterfall not far from here, go West. About 8 minutes. Bathe, and come back by nightfall" Eve commanded, once more, no room for discussion. Thor sighed and left the Temple in search of the waterfall.

As Eve mixed the mystical cure, her eyes captured the scars in Loki's chest. They weren't faint, in fact, it looked as if it did not had the time to heal properly. Her hands trembled, her eyes shined brightly with vengeance.

"I promise that I will destroy whoever touched you, my love" Eve promised.

And she is a woman of her words. Anyone who met the powerful being knew better than to upset her.

So already warning, in my AU Thor actually cares for Loki, even I came to the conclusion he doesn’t in the same manner as Loki but I decided in this story he should... Also, there’s my OC, hopefully the OC isn’t bad. It’s mostly Hurt/Angst and Comfort, as well as Romance. I don’t know if I will attempt to post in Archive of Our Own, but I am considering. I am currently writing chapter 8, but I’m feeling like no one cares for the story anymore lol and figured why not share here. the fanfic

#please don’t send hate if you hate it cause I already am embarrassed enough lol #loki #loki fanfic #loki au #avengers au #emphasis on AU #loki imagine #mcu loki #my oc story #well somewhat

[lejacquelope]

Expose Feminists hypocrisy regarding rape culture

Updated April 19, 2019

The next time you see a feminist screaming about rape culture, cut and paste this to shut them up for good. This master post contains citations from neutral, feminist or otherwise NON MEN’S RIGHTS SOURCES, to show that feminists of today do not really care about rape culture. They only care about using rape to score political points against men, and their misandry actually hurts women. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not in favor of men getting away with rape, and I certainly don’t support the Conservative stance on rape. Harvey Weinstein got his just desserts and deserves even more punishment for what he did to those women, Bill Cosby is finally right where he belongs (in prison), Trump and Kavanaugh are both sexual predator scumbags, and quoth us Democrats… Never Moore. The world pretty much knows all about how steeped the right wing is in rape culture. The problem here is that feminists won’t own up to their contribution to rape culture, any more than the right wing will. And any feminist who takes this post and twists it into a war on sympathy for female rape victims or a defense of male rapists is intentionally twisting things for their own dishonest agendas.

THE FACTS:

Feminists defend women raping underaged boys and say it shouldn’t be punished with jail.

Feminists say that underaged boys can consent to sex with women so they should get punished with child support if she has a kid.

Woman Who Recorded Herself Raping 1-Year-Old Son (for laptop money) Will Not Go To Jail. Feminists never protested this, nor did they call it Rape Culture.

Male statutory rape victim of woman rapist forced to pay child support. Where were the feminist protests about this? 

Paedophile sisters who abused boy, 6, for over a decade dodge prison after judge says they would be ‘too isolated’ - Julie Fellows, 30, and her sister Jennifer, 32, targeted the youngster over a period spanning ten years. This happened in 2016. Where are the feminist protests about this lenient sentence for two women committing rape?

Hermesmann v. Seyer (State ex rel. Hermesmann v. Seyer 847 P.2d 1273 (Kan. 1993)) was a precedent-setting Kansas, United States case in which Colleen Hermesmann successfully argued that a woman is entitled to sue the father of her child for child support even if conception occurred as a result of a criminal act committed by the woman.[1][2] The case was brought in her name by the then Kansas Department of Social and Rehabilitation Services. Where were the feminist protests about this?

Woman who rapes underage boy is deemed too pretty to go to prison. Where were the feminist protests about this?

In the most recent federal survey of detained juveniles, nearly 8 percent of respondents reported being sexually victimized by a staff member at least once in the previous 12 months. For those who reported being abused, two things proved overwhelmingly true, as they were in Woodland Hills: They were teenage boys, and their alleged assailants were female employees tasked with looking out for their well-being. Nine in 10 of those who reported being victimized were males reporting incidents with female staff. Women, meanwhile, typically make up less than half of a juvenile facility’s staff. Where are the feminist protests about women who rape boys in juvenile hall? 

College women rape college men but few men tell. Where are the feminist protests about this?

White women who rape boys habitually get light sentences. While feminists are (rightfully) protesting lenient sentences for monsters like Brock Turner, where is their outrage over this both sexist and racist disparity in the war against rape culture?

Feminists even ask why should we believe men who say they were raped. And they make excuses as for it. Yet feminists don’t consider this disbelief a part of rape culture. Can you imagine why? You guessed it – because it involves female rapists and male victims.

And the feminist propaganda that women are not a part of rape culture also hurts women.

There is a belief that women are the “gentle” sex. We are nurturing, kind, tolerant, compassionate, understanding, accepting, caring….and so, with that in mind, surely lesbian relationships are always founded on mutual love and respect for one another. Right? Wrong! Rape is reported in 30 percent of lesbian relationships. So where are the protests about this? There are none. This is called one of those dirty little secrets that mainstream feminism has buried in order to protect their narrative about rape culture being a male thing.

Of course, we then had to warn crisis line advocates who approve people for shelter to be extra cautious when screening. You see, some lesbian abusers have pretended to be victims of intimate partner violence so that they could gain entry into shelters and find their partner. So where are the protests about this? Of course there are none. This is another one of those dirty little secrets that mainstream feminism has buried in order to protect their narrative about rape culture being a male thing.

A woman who posed as a man to trick another woman into sex was convicted of three counts of sexual assault by deception - and then, due to her being a woman, had her conviction overturned on appeal. And feminists have nothing to say about this whatsoever, despite having pushed hard for “rape by deception” to be a crime when a man does it. Let’s not forget the victim here was a woman. The feminist doctrine of “only men rape”, once again hurting women.

“And not that you expect a guy to violate you, and I don’t walk down the street expecting to be raped by a man, but you really don’t expect it from a woman because they’re meant to be on your side.” Feminism has long taught that violence and rape is a male thing, and women are the better sex because, well, toxic masculinity. So women are raised to never see it coming when a woman rapes them. And as a result society finds it hard to believe. And even harder to convict.

Fleur Brown, aka porn star Betty Swallocks, tries to sell a 13 year old girl’s virginity. She gets zero jail time. The female victim of Betty Swallocks speaks out about being the target of a woman sex slaver. Do feminists care? Nope. This doesn’t fit into their rape culture narrative, even though this is a case of a child sex slavemonger getting away with this horrible crime.

Lesbian rape is a crime so unthinkable that its victims repeatedly encounter mockery and disbelief, both from the community and from law enforcement. Because of the prevalence of such responses, its perpetrators can strike again and again without fear of the repercussions. Why is lesbian rape so unthinkable? You guessed it, because feminists have said violence is a male thing, not a female thing. Feminists are good at keeping this part of rape culture low key. Which is alarming since so few lesbians who rape, ever get convicted for it. Kinda like what they scream about male rapists – except it’s okay when it’s women.

Even in prison, female inmates are victims of rape by other female inmates more often, proportionally, than male inmates are victims of other males. “Rates of inmate-on-inmate sexual victimization among prison inmates were higher among females (4.7%) than males (1.9%)” (see link: chart on page 11). Where’s the “teach women not to rape” narrative then? The only narrative we get out of prison rape is, yet again, that only males are rapists, and there’s no talk of the women who rape.

This happens because society sees women as prey, not predators - and feminist culture has a strong hand in perpetuating this myth. Feminists perpetuate this myth by pushing the propaganda of Toxic Masculinity – the idea that “maleness” and “male culture”, particularly the Patriarchy, is responsible for rape culture. Make no mistake – the feminist theory of toxic masculinity precludes any talk of women being responsible for any wrongdoing. Take note of how feminists never talk about what women do wrong except in a way that blames men or “maleness”. Feminists never admit any responsibility for women’s behavior because they push the narrative that without any “Patriarchy” around, women would do no evil. This is why feminists never protest when women commit rape or when they get away with it. So thanks to feminism and its misguided “toxic masculinity” theory, women who rape simply thrive - even when they do it to other women. Even with no men around whatsoever, in a feminist world, women will still rape, and they will continue to get away with it. Because in the world of mainstream feminism, a woman cannot be blamed for her own actions. A man has got to somehow be responsible.

Now you know why feminists do not protest the systematic sexism of women getting lower sentences than men for the same crimes.

Feminists do not care about rape, except when they can use it to score political points.

#feminism #rape #rape culture #men #women #men's rights #egalitarian #egalitarianism #equality #toxic masculinity #female rapists #male victims

[aznavide1978-blog]

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[jinris]

sugar rush

(ao3)

The wooden amber planks creak so loudly with every step that the echoes of tired, laughing children and overhead seagulls fade into the background. Hands stuffed in deep jacket pockets and with nothing to do after Hunk offhandedly tells him to find Lance, Keith wanders along the boardwalk, passing by modest food shacks, beaten and weathered down by the elements but thriving with late afternoon traffic thanks to the current heatwave. He weaves easily through dwindling crowds, avoiding sticky popsicles and dripping ice cream cones, and finally when he reaches the edge of the ocean, the orange sun glaring in his eyes, he turns a corner.

Immediately, he spots her waiting near a pick-up corner for snow ice, standing out from the crowd with her silver hair low-braided in a bun and tied neatly with a glittery pink ribbon. From this distance, he observes the fascinated stares and hushed whispers from the detached circle formed around her. Keith notices the boy talking animatedly with her, attempting multiple times to edge into her personal space but somehow never succeeding as Allura laughs politely at the joke he tells her.

Keith’s hands come out of his pockets and he makes his way toward them. He strides into the circle, breaking the crowd quite easily with his presence, and he takes off his dark sunglasses, hooking them onto his collar.

“Keith!” Allura exclaims brightly, relief deeply entrenched in her tone.

Keith smirks, not missing the washed-out blond surfer next to her and watching the hope fall instantly from his face.

“Allura,” he replies smoothly, grabbing her full attention. “Where’s Pidge?”

“Lance came by twenty minutes ago and I got bored being a third wheel. They’ve just gone to the arcade,” she explains, meeting his eyes and sharing a wordless deliberate look.

He scowls. “He ditched us when Coran and Hunk started arguing about the best way to grill a kebab. And then Hunk banned me from the beach until sunset.”

“What?” Allura’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I only burned like five patties!” he blurts out defensively, averting his gaze and crossing his arms, then adding much more quietly, “...And I might have also spilled the marinade.”

Allura bursts into giggles, and her rings of saccharine laughter melt away the shallow grievance on his mind. Keith can’t seem to find it in himself to stay annoyed any longer. His shoulders relax, and he lets Allura tug at his jacket sleeve, pulling him with her off to the side of the stand and away from the attention of onlookers. Now standing in the shade under a slanted canopy, Keith turns and leans back comfortably against the wall.

“To be fair, maybe it’s better to leave food preparation to those more gifted in the culinary arts,” she teases. Her fingers playfully climb up his chest, gently tapping the frame of his sunglasses, taking in the way it drags down his dark T-shirt just so to reveal bare skin and a teasing hint of collarbone.

With a shy smile forming, she points at the corner of his frown, but Keith stares back at her blankly, not understanding. Allura’s eyes sparkle in amusement. She leans forward and gently presses her finger against his lips, pushing upward. Startled by her touch, a light blush spreads across Keith’s face. She bites her lip and pokes him again, facing down to hide her own flushed cheeks, and this time he can’t help but smile. His eyes fall on her lips, painted in the color of cotton candy. His heart racing, he grabs her hand and lifts it away from his face. Allura glances back up and finds herself struck by the intense fire in his eyes. With his other arm, he holds her waist and pulls her just a little closer. She can’t look away.

“Order 23!”

“Ooh, that’s me!” she says a bit too loudly, curiously out of breath and abruptly letting go of his sleeve.

She jumps out of his embrace and spins in the direction of the pick-up corner, her embroidered white sundress twirling against the wind. He’s struck by the grace in her step, fixating on the light bounce of her ribbon and the loose ends of her hair curling perfectly. Now he’s several steps behind her and the stardust aura of her silhouette tugs at his strings of his heart. When she turns around, she has a sizeable paper bowl of dark green snow ice in her hand.

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Matcha?”

“What’s that?”

He points to the bowl.

“The flavor you ordered.”

“Oh…I only ordered it because it was the only one that had strawberries.”

He scans the menu and gives her a questioning look, not quite believing her.

“Without condensed milk,” she adds sheepishly.

“There it is. You know the whole thing’s ice cream, right?”

Allura grimaces as if Keith had committed a crime by pointing out the obvious. “Humans have disgusting diets. I’ve seen how you all get your milk.”

He shrugs, trying his best to hold back a laugh.

“I actually don’t like milk that much,” he reassures her, reaching out and sliding his fingers into hers. He grabs a plastic spoon and two napkins from the counter and leads her away from the snow ice stand.

“So what is matcha exactly?” she asks, matching his step as they start walking back to the main section of the boardwalk. Holding the bowl in one hand and Keith’s hand in the other, Allura turns and motions at him to give her the spoon. Abiding her request, Keith sticks the small plastic spoon in her mouth and receives a cheeky, appreciative grin. He quietly lets go of her hand so she can eat, and missing the warmth, stuffs both of his hands in his pockets.

“Crushed tea leaves,” he answers simply, stealing a quick glance at her just as she scoops a soft bite of the snow into her mouth. His throat parches, and suddenly Keith really wants something to drink.

“Well, I like tea,” she considers out loud, and her eyes light up when she finds that she enjoys the taste.

Excitedly, Allura licks her lips before taking another bite and Keith quickly diverts his attention from her to the small stand displaying an impressive round dispenser of freshly squeezed pink lemonade drenched in golden honey and topped with thinly sliced lemons. They stop to buy a cup, but receive a second cup – despite humble protest – free when the generous owner discovers that Allura has never had pink lemonade before, having come from a faraway galaxy. Keith ends up carrying two iced pink lemonades in his hands, too embarrassed to drink from either.

“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” Allura suggests, and soon they spot and claim an empty table on the beach side of the boardwalk, lined by windswept fences and hot sand spilling over from the nearby steps.

Keith sets down the drinks as Allura sits and places the snow ice bowl in front of her, dark red syrup drizzling down haphazardly around the bowl and mixing in with the layered green dessert. Allura leans in toward the table, trying to avoid the hard sunlight hitting her back and Keith readily reaches for the cool pastel rainbow umbrella, angling the pole closer toward Allura before swinging his leg and taking his seat across from her. Allura bites her lip eagerly and picks out a strawberry to eat from the bowl.

Idly, Keith gazes out toward the beach and in the far-off distance, he sees the rest of their group with the exception of Shiro – probably making a last-minute run for beer since Lance had inevitably announced to everyone in the car on the way here that he forgot to buy some – near the cove. He can barely make out the outlines of Hunk and Coran busily preparing food and Pidge smacking Lance on the head for trying to set off fireworks before sunset, the latter causing Keith to laugh.

Allura turns and looks over her shoulder to see what’s grabbing Keith’s attention, and when she finds their friends too, she smiles pleasantly to herself. They watch them quietly for a while, and Allura doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Keith unexpectedly interrupts her train of thought.

“Your ice is melting,” he observes plainly, head resting on his hand and watching the snow ice run down the side of the bowl as he takes a long sip of lemonade.

Allura swings back toward him, and gasps when she looks down at the bowl.

“Oh, quiznak!” she panics, rushing to clean the syrupy mess with a napkin before it touches the table and quickly working to eat around the edges. Keith laughs at Allura’s flustered reaction, much to her passing displeasure.

After he takes the used napkin and tosses it into a nearby trash can, they soon settle into a comfortable silence, with Allura carefully finishing her snow ice and Keith lazily pacing his lemonade as he watches people come and go. The chaos of overheard, excited conversations is suffocating, so in the end he pays attention to no one and nothing. As the stalls and restaurants begin to lock down their fronts and the crowds slowly shuffle and herd into parking lots on their way home, the walkway finally clears of beach-goers until only Keith and Allura are left. Keith exhales slowly, and then realizes he’d been sipping from an empty cup and unaware of the tension he’d been bottling.

When he glances over to check on Allura, he sees her playing with her snow ice, circling her spoon around and around the bowl and mixing suspiciously leftover toppings with the creamy snow until it resembles tasteful slush.

“Keith…” she says finally, giving up and looking at him wistfully. “Do you want the rest?”

Allura shyly pushes the bowl in his direction, and Keith’s eyes soften sympathetically. He holds his hand out for her spoon and she gratefully beams at him. He takes the bowl and spoon in his hand, assessing what’s left to eat, and notices the disproportionate amount of red beans off on the side.

“You don’t like these?” he asks with a genuinely surprised expression on his face. He scoops out a big spoonful of them to show her.

Allura averts her gaze, her cheeks matching the color of her markings. “Oh, no! I like them! It’s just…” she starts, and then hesitantly turns back to face him. “Those are red beans, right? The other day, you had a look on your face when you mentioned that you haven’t had them since you were a child, so I thought maybe…” She blushes furiously, directly confronted by her own self-consciousness.

Keith freezes, stunned speechless by Allura’s gesture and heat rising in his chest. His mind hastily rewinds back to the team’s chance conversation about favorite ice cream flavors and the shocked stares he had received that had prompted an explanation when he had casually answered red bean instead of something more characteristically ambiguous like I don’t know, rocky road? He hadn’t expected Allura to remember, let alone intentionally save some from her own dessert for him. He doesn’t recognize this strange, new feeling, the way it overwhelms his thoughts and sets his heart into hyperdrive. He doesn’t know how to react, so he frowns, and Allura’s face falls.

“I’ve made a mistake! I’m so sorry, Keith!” she says immediately, reading his expression and starting to spiral. It had been so silly to even assume. Of course he doesn’t want them. If he had wanted to eat them, he would have ordered some himself… She hides her face in her hands.

Keith’s eyes widen in light panic at her startled apology and he drops the spoon back in the bowl. He quickly stands up and leans over to grab her hand. Allura peeks out meekly at him.

“I…I didn’t mean it that way, Allura, I…” he pauses nervously, “Thanks.”

Her shoulders relax and he gently squeezes her hand. Without letting go, he sits back down, pulling her hand toward him. Allura chews on her lip and smiles halfheartedly.

“I’m glad you did,” he says, slowly and quietly, unable to meet her eyes. He tightens his grip on her hand, clasping it tightly, and Allura lets herself breathe again. When she’s at her most vulnerable, the fleeting moments in which she remembers she’s just a girl that had never asked to lead and win a war, never fallen in love before, Keith’s words are simple and understanding, a shining beacon calling her back into the world when she falls too deeply into herself. She finds a palace in the cast of his touch. She wants to tell him that much, someday. Regretfully too soon, he draws back from her and picks up the spoon again.

It doesn’t take long for Keith to finish the rest of the snow ice, and Allura finds joy in watching him. She starts drinking her lemonade, its unbearable sweetness both extraordinary and refreshing. The sun, now nearing the horizon, colors the sky in brilliantly deep shades of gold, magenta, and cerulean. Light reflects against Keith’s hair, messier than usual after diving into the ocean, and Allura swears it looks violet. She resists the urge to reach out and touch it.

Swallowing the last bite, Keith glances up, and Allura’s twinkling blue eyes transform into crescent moons. His heart involuntarily skips a beat. The sound of loud, crashing waves along the shoreline roars in his ears and drowns out his thoughts. He imagines the absence of their friends, him grabbing her with his hands, kissing her until dark, and pulling her infuriating ribbon until it isn’t perfect anymore.

A sudden breeze causes Allura to shiver, and it’s enough to pull Keith out of his daze. He shrugs off his jacket and gets up, rounding over to her side of the table. She looks up at him with wide adoration, hugging her arms, and he drapes his jacket over her shoulders. Without missing a beat, she grabs onto its collar tightly and sinks into the warmth. He grins and sits down next to her, facing outward. He leans back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms.

“You were staring at me for a long time,” he says.

“Well, I was thinking,” Allura explains, her teasing voice intoxicating his senses.

“About?” he asks, unsuspecting.

“How I have a really cute boyfriend.”

Keith’s face flushes dark in an instant.

“Oh,” he replies lamely, caught off guard and faltering, lowering his arms. He doesn’t know what to say and Allura giggles. She reaches for his hand and holds it tight, not needing any bigger reaction. Keith stares at their joined hands, and an easy calmness washes over him.

“I like this,” admits Keith softly, and Allura smiles warmly, shifting closer to him.

“Me too.”

Half of the sun and its light still remain, but he surrenders himself to Allura’s incandescent eyes. Keith leans in impossibly close, and Allura shuts her eyes before he does his. He kisses her lightly, tasting and savoring the sugar on her lips. Allura’s hand presses into his thigh and slides up, dragging the hem of his shorts with it and igniting a burning intensity within him. She breaks off reluctantly for air, and Keith eagerly grabs her waist, pulling her in when her eyes flutter open, then wide and she pushes him back with enough force that he loses his balance and nearly falls on his arm.

“Wha–” he starts, looking bewildered at her. Her face is scarlet and he sees her staring at something behind him. He turns around instantly to find a tall man, jaw slightly agape, carrying two large packs of beer with his robot arm and a small bowl of guacamole in the other.

“S-Shiro!” he chokes from shock.

“I, uh, got the beer,” is Shiro’s initial response.

Shiro looks at the both of them in frozen disbelief and doesn’t seem to remember how to move.

“Keith, you…you and Allura…since when have you two –”

“How long have you been standing there?” Keith asks weakly, cutting Shiro off. Almost timidly, Allura grabs Keith’s arm and doesn’t let go once she pulls him back upright.

“I didn’t see…much,” answers Shiro vaguely, unconsciously raising his arm to scratch the back of his head but remembering the guacamole and swooping down to catch it before it splatters. “So exactly how long has this…are you two…?” He gestures wildly between the two of them with the bowl.

Keith and Allura both flush darkly, neither trying to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“We’re…together,” Allura says slowly, “Is that how humans say it?” She glances at Keith.

“Dating.”

“Right. That.”

“Oh. That’s…great! When did you –”

“Two months ago,” Keith snaps, finally past the embarrassment of being caught and profound annoyance settling in over getting rudely interrupted. “Don’t keep the others waiting for those drinks.”

Shiro chuckles, satisfied with the return of Keith’s usual temperament. He starts his way down the steps toward the beach.

“By the way, is this supposed to be a secret? Who else knows?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“No one,” Keith answers at the same time Allura says, “Hunk does.”

“What?” asks Keith incredulously, hearing this information for the first time.

“He thinks he does. He says it’s suspicious that we’ve been spending a lot of time together recently.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Keith sighs in resignation. Then he faces Shiro. “Listen, we’re not exactly announcing this to the world, so…”

“I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro flashes an approving smile. “Don’t stay out here too long though. Hunk wasn’t serious when he said you couldn’t come back until sunset.”

They watch him walk toward the campsite where the others, obscured in the fading sun, have started to settle down and gather. When Shiro is far away enough, the two relax and slump back against the table. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Allura breaks into a fit of laughter and Keith groans while trying to repress his own grin.

“I can’t believe he saw us,” Keith laments dramatically.

“Serves you right. You kissed me first,” teases Allura. “Anyone could’ve seen us. Imagine if it’d been Lance.”

“He’d never let us live it down.”

He glances over at her and smirks. Allura quirks an eyebrow at him.

“It was worth it though.”

Allura bites her lip mischievously. “Oh really?”

“Definitely,” he assures her. Before she can react, he leans in and kisses her deeply, wanting more but holding back. They part breathlessly moments later, with Allura’s hand clinging tightly onto his shirt.

“Tastes like lemonade,” he says, and Allura blushes.

“It’s getting dark,” she whispers after a long pause, watching their combined shadow gradually shrink and disappear. “Let’s go.”

Keith nods in agreement, and Allura turns around to get up. When she gazes out to the ocean, Keith impulsively grabs her hand. She looks back at him and squeezes tightly. Her hair looks like starlight and it reminds him of home.

Allura lets go and excitedly runs ahead of him to reunite with the group, clutching tightly onto his jacket as it flies behind her. Keith follows after her, memorizing the way she laughs and calls out to their friends. The shape of her anchors inside his chest his heart, beating incessantly to remind him that it still exists. The cool sea breeze taunts his skin but he doesn’t rush back. He turns toward the ocean, studying a stray cloud as it passes through a field of awakening bright stars. Clarity strikes like a lightning bolt straight through his heart and then suddenly he’s so sure.

I love her.

#kallura #keith #allura #voltron #sorry for this Mess #c: keith kogane #c: allura #p: kallura #f: voltron

[cant-icle]

:D Thank you for answering my question!!! Okay this prompt might be a little strange and a little spooky. But what if Akira could see ghosts and the phantom thieves were literal phantoms. Akira goes to tokyo and People r cruel. But on first day at Shujin he meets a blonde kid and befriends him. Rumors about the scary transfer happen but now people also say that he goes off into corners n talks to himself.He finds the only living person at shujin who likes him isnt really a living person at all..

He says his name is Ryuji.

No one else can see him; Akira’s barely able to some days,with how translucent and wavery he looks. He stands at the stairway leadingdown to the first floor most days, shoulders against the wall and cold fire inhis eyes until Akira’s out of class. It took him three days to realize thatRyuji, as much as he wears the uniform like everyone around, probably isn’t astudent of Shujin Academy anymore.

Honestly, Akira prefers his company, even more so when Ryujishows him how to break onto the school roof. It’s less breaking than it isRyuji stepping through and fussing with the lock—the perks of being a phantom,Akira guesses. Lunches and afternoons are much more bearable with a secretplace to retreat to and a new friend to talk to.

Ironic, isn’t it, that the only person in this fucking citythat isn’t afraid of him is already dead?

Ryuji’s pretty talkative for a dead boy. He walks with alimp, and sometimes out of the corner of his eye Akira sees splashes of blooddripping down from his temple to stain his shirt. He scowls fiercely when Akiraasks about it, though, and the music Akira has playing from his phone cracklesin time with his voice when he details how Kamoshida Suguru, the gym teacher,crippled him with a blow to the leg and then, when his back was turned, whenRyuji was trying to crawl away, another to the back of his head.

He was never charged; the school passed it off as“justifiable self-defense,” and Ryuji’s been stuck haunting these effin’ hallsever since.

“He treats this place like it’s an effin’ castle and he’sthe goddamn king,” Ryuji tells him seriously, pale and washed-out in thesunlight; he’s so much easier to see indoors, but he likes it out here on theroof with Akira; Akira gets the feeling that Ryuji’s been trapped in thosehallways for longer than he wants to think about.

Sometimes they’re joined by another pair of flickeringshadows, neither ever as clear as Ryuji or as talkative—in fact, he never hearsthe black-haired one speak, and the second blonde only glares when Akira triesto address her. Ryuji tells Akira not to take it to heart—Suzui Shiho is justanother one of Kamoshida’s victims, and Takamaki Ann is tied to her like aguideline—wherever one goes, so does the other, and Shiho is stuck here untileither she’s removed or Kamoshida gets his just desserts.

Akira aches to help them. He watches them shimmer in thelight like an oil streak, watches them pass through walls and doors; if hesquints, he can almost see the moment when they fold through reality to do it.

It’s stupid, but he wonders...

The next time Ryuji passes through a closed door, Akira putshis hand on it and shoves, just lightly. Of course it doesn’t move, but Ryujipokes his head through and laughs at his efforts, making a joking grab for hishand as if to—

it connects

Akira goes straight through, wispy and insubstantial as acloud, and suddenly it’s Shujin thatlooks like an oil slick smeared across the world and Ryuji who looks solid and real and as shocked as Akira.

But then he grins with a smile full of daggers, because thepossibilities here are endless.

They test it out again; another touch from Ryuji has himshivering back onto the physical plane. They can do it three or four timesbefore Akira starts getting nauseous, and while he’s intangible, while he’s aphantom, no one can see him.

He walks through the school in wonder—almost everything ismuted but for a few people, bright and sparkling in his vision; Kawakami-senseiis one, and when he passes by her he catches an uneasy aura around her, full ofgrief and guilt. Kamoshida, on the other hand, feels neither of those things,and flares red and angry in Akira’s sight.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all, not with Ryuji behind himwith blood on his face, not with Suzui behind Takamaki, their eyes blank whitevoids, their mouths gaping snarls. There’s a bright core to Kamoshida a samethrobbing red as his aura, and something in Akira yearns to reach out and touchit.

So he does.

Kamoshida shudders at the touch, shoulders hunching in as helooks around nervously, and something flares bright-hot-angry in Akira’s veins. It’s not right, what he did, what he’sstill doing. It’s not right.

He curls his fingers around that bright hot core , and he yanks.

For an instant he can see two Kamoshidas, one solid and real, one wavering and intangible,and in that moment the three ghosts behind him strike.

Lightning crackles up and down Ryuji’s arms as he leapsforward, his fist impacting straight into the phantom-Kamoshida; Suzui andTakamaki are barely a second behind, Takamaki little more than a pillar offlames, Suzui a form barely held together with wind. They strike withconcentrated force hard enough that the tangible Kamoshida rocks back and away,Akira losing his grip on the core of Kamoshida’s being, and the phantomflickers out of existence.

That’s okay. He knows what to do now.

With Ryuji’s help and Takamaki and Suzui’s encouragement (“Callme Shiho,” Suzui murmurs to him shyly, smiling a little when Akira grins ather) he writes a card, a calling card detailing each and every one of Kamoshida’scrimes and sliding it under his office door.

He signs it, “The Phantom Thief of Hearts.”

As soon as he’s read it Ryuji grabs onto Akira, and Akiragrabs onto the core and lets Ryuji, Shiho, and Takamaki (“Ann!” she says withvicious satisfaction after she lands another blow, “I think at this point wecan go to Ann.”) get to work.

The phantom-Kamoshida is reeling by the time they’re done;the tangible Kamoshida is in tears. They leave it at that, unwilling to makehim a ghost and tie him to the school as well.

There’s an assembly three days after that. Kamoshida confesseshis crimes in front of the entire school, and that afternoon when Akira leaves,Ryuji follows like an untethered balloon grinning wide and wild and free.

  They don’t stop there.

Shiho and Ann bring him rumors of a number of ghostsspiraling endlessly around an old ramshackle house; turns out it’s the abode ofone Madarame Ichiryusai, who (according to the ghosts, who to a one arecomprised of his old students) worked his students to literal death and stoletheir works for his own. The newest ghost, a tall, stick-thin boy whointroduces himself as Kitagawa, tries to make a case for his old sensei, butfaced with Ann, who is literally steaming, and Shiho, hair tossing in an unseenbreeze in her agitation, cuts himself short.

“He killed you,”Akira tells him, not ungently, not without sympathy. “I’m not here to getrevenge on him; I’m here to bring him to justice, for you and everyone else.”

Somehow he gains another ghost tethered to him, and Yusukebrings the north wind with him, an icy, howling gale that freezes the phantom-Madaramewhere he stands when all five Phantoms appear in front of him.

Madarame confesses his guilt on live television, andattributes his change of heart to the Phantom Thieves. Rumors spring up hereand there; eventually, Akira starts seeing more and more ghosts pop up at thecorners of his eyes, though it takes a long time for one to grow bold enough toapproach him on its own.

In his spare time now he flits through the metaphysicalreality with his new friends; the ghosts come to him, and he regains justice ontheir behalf. The rumors of the Phantom Thieves grow, and grow, and grow.

In June he meets the student council president of ShujinAcademy, one Niijima Makoto, who questions him fiercely; since she can’t proveanything, she lets him go, and he thinks nothing more of it until Shiho comesto him, frantic, and tells him that Niijima has gotten in way over her headwith an actual Mafioso.

It turns out that phantoms can do a hell of a number on aroom now; Ryuji shorts out the lights in delight, making them flickerominously, while Shiho flips cups and sends papers scattering everywhere.

It turns out that Akira can pass on his intangibility; hegrabs Niijima’s arm and drags her into the metaphysical with them. It turns outto be a fantastic move, as with her help the six of them bring Kaneshiro to hisknees.

He confesses everything to the police. The name of thePhantoms grow and grow, and this time Akira gains a friend that the rest of theworld can see.

He gains another not a month later; the ghost of one IsshikiWakaba materializes in front of him outside the café one day and all butdemands his help. It’s a bit of a struggle to break into his current guardian’shouse, but well worth it when he lays his hand on Sakura Futaba’s arm and letsher reunite with her mother, at least for a few moments. Isshiki-san had beenmurdered, it turns out, and Futaba had blamed herself and shut herself away inher guilt; this meeting goes a long way towards relieving her of it, enough sothat she shows up in the café later that evening to Sakura-san’s clearsurprise.

Between Futaba and Makoto, between Ryuji and Ann and Shihoand Yusuke, Akira’s days and nights are full; he’s content, if not happy, untilhe comes across a man that sends alarm bells blaring through his skull andmakes Isshiki-san howl in a way that sends chills up his spine.

Shido Masayoshi is surrounded by the ghosts of those he haskilled; Shido Masayoshi is the reason Akira is in Tokyo in the first place, renouncedby his parents and shunted into a city he doesn’t know for a crime he didn’tcommit.

Each and every one of Shido’s ghosts has heard of Akira’scoming. Each and every ghost cannot wait to see him fall.

Akira is so, so eager to oblige them.

#filed under: #canticle's (bi)centennial celebration #this was fun and also mostly written between the hours of 2-5 am lmao #Anonymous