#but it’s almost like a culture of disbelief

[scobbe]

I just read an article yesterday about “nones” - people who claim no religious affiliation on demographic surveys - and how they are also, for the most part, those in most need of community with the fewest resources for finding and building community (less higher education, lower wages, etc.) One such ‘none’ was interviewed for the article and said they would be interested in a church community but couldn’t find one that was truly welcoming and inclusive of LGBT people.

And the problem is, most of the churches who are truly welcoming and inclusive of LGBT people are also extremely paranoid about promoting themselves because they do not want to be seen as evangelical — you know, those churches who do NOT welcome LGBT people. And who try to “convert” anyone who passes by.

It’s a terrible catch-22. Someone is more likely to find a welcoming community at their grandmother’s quiet little hometown Presbyterian or Episcopal church than the youthful noise and vigor of the praise-band-advertising mega church just established off the highway. And the sweet little welcoming churches are fading away. Because everyone is either going to the mega churches or thinking they are the face of Christianity and out to get them when most of the time their theology is so bad it shouldn’t even be allowed.

Like not to go all Spanish Inquisition but just the rejection of certain people or condemning certain people to hell is bad theology. Not to mention the whole converting people thing. Converting people is God’s work, not ours.

[agnesandhilda]

I think it was a good character writing decision for mark's catalyst to be nolan insulting debbie, but the degrading way nolan talks about humans affects him too. mark is half-human, even if his viltrumite side is the only part of his heritage the characters of invincible acknowledge because nolan does everything he can to foreground it in-universe—declaring that his viltrumite-ness is the most important part of his racial/species background was arbitrary, and that status can be arbitrarily revoked too. mark only asks this once, but what was nolan planning to do if his son had never developed powers, i.e. proven he could grow into a "proper" viltrumite? he would be just another human, and nolan's treatment of debbie shows he has no issue belittling and mistreating even the humans that he's emotionally close to. nolan slaughters unfamiliar humans in front of mark to make a point. he uses mark's body as a weapon to kill humans with for the sake of upsetting him. mark, who is the son of a human just as much as he is the son of a viltrumite. who at the start of the series was less than a year away from being a normal human, the kind of person who his father would at best treat like a thing he possesses and at worst like a bug to squash. does mark feel threatened by nolan's contempt towards his people (the kind of person that mark is)? is that driving him to fight? is mark thinking about that at all, even if it's just subconscious?

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: They sing going to war

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

While serving alongside the human forces during the Torus Campaign I learned much of their strange culture.

Their need to stack foods in elaborate combinations which they call a “Sandwich”, their constant need to play “The Game” without ever explaining what it is unless to tell you that you have lost it, and even their obsession with petting anything within arm’s reach with an almost religious like dedication; but the strangest custom I only witnessed during the final stages of the war.

We had just deployed over the world of Obidon III and were launching a joint ground assault with the human forces. Enemy resistance was expected to be heavy and many would not survive the drop, but command believed that if enough forces reached the surface of the planet they could establish a beachhead and allow the rest of the contingent to be brought in.

During the decent to the planet all I could do was keep my eyes closed and hope beyond hope that we would survive. I was so lost in this trance like state that my friend Septem had to physically smack me on the helmet to get my attention and tell me to turn my radio channel to frequency 13.

I was confused at first since that frequency was being used for our human allies but he insisted that I would not believe what they were doing. So I reset my radio in my helmet to frequency and what I heard was something I had never expected on a battlefield.

They were singing.

The frequency was chalk full of voices in such volume that I had to turn down the volume but it seemed like every single human that was part of the attach was joining in the song. My translator unit was trying to keep up but the sheer intensity of the humans singing was causing it to drop in and out, picking up every other word.

I wanted to listen closer to them but the enemy flak began pounding the outside of our dropship. Each detonation sent the ship rattling side to side violently. I had just retightened my straps when a shell burst just beneath us sending a shockwave through the ship so strong it sent several of my comrades flying from their seats into the opposite wall. They hit the wall hard and did not get back up when their bodies collapsed to the ground.

All I could think about was how this was the moment I was going to die. This was the moment my existence in this universe comes to its conclusion and I return to the dust and atoms of the cosmos. And as I tuned myself to this reality all I could hear were the humans still singing over the radio.

They must have been going through the same amount of enemy fire as he was and yet still they somehow were still able to sing as if nothing was wrong with the world. I got so focused on their singing that I forgot about my worries for such a time that I was startled when the dropship landed with a loud thud against the planet’s surface and the boarding ramp lowered.

The following battle was a grueling six hour run and gun with the enemy as we tried to carve out a safe LZ for reinforcements. I got separated from my unit on more than one occasion and wandered into the human designated areas in the confusion.

To my utter surprise the humans were still singing.

Clad in their blue and gold armor, they broadcasted their voices from their helmet speakers as they advanced street by bloody street. One of them took shelter with me for a time as we prepared to rush a fortified courtyard which housed heavy anti air emplacement. I nodded a greeting to the human who replied in kind, yet their voice never ceased in song. I saw them rush around the corner and take several heavy rounds to their chest, but the shells ricocheted off the armor leaving only scratches on the paint.

I watched in disbelief as this wild singing human leaped over the barricade and slapped a detonation charge on the anti-air weapon before leaping back as it exploded the weapon. They stood in the smoldering flames to take a moment to catch their breath when a sniper’s round from down the street struck them in the head and blew out a large portion of their cranium. It was the first time during the entire battle I had seen a human die but I did not have long to contemplate it as the rest of the humans charged past, still singing, in the direction of the snipers shot.

Another hour of combat and the landing site was finally secured and reinforcements were brought in to take our positions. What was left of the initial landing force were sent back to orbit and recover and regroup from their losses. Out of my people’s forces I was one of twenty soldiers to have survived. I imagined the humans had lost equally as many until the pilot remarked that additional shuttles had been dispatched to carry their force back up. It seemed that despite the intensity of the fighting only three of their warriors had fallen in battle; one of them including the warrior I had watched fall.

I was beyond myself.

These reckless warriors had somehow survived one of the most intense battles the campaign had seen and only lost three of their number.

Once back on the ship the first chance I could I sought them out for an explanation. They were quartered in the lower reaches of the ship, isolated from the other contingents onboard.

Outside their area were two guards still in full armor that initially would not let me through until one of them recognized me from the fighting in the city. I was then led inside and found many of the humans feasting and laughing. Two long rows of tables had been setup facing each other; between them were several fires each with a different animal being roasted over them. At the end of the rows stood three large pyres of wood which held three bodies atop each of them.

As I passed through the humans many ceased their laughter and looked at me, their clouded eyes with suspicion. We made it half way through the throngs when a giant of a human stepped forward and blocked our path. They demanded to know why I had been let it in; going even further to say they will throw me out personally if the answer was not good. The guard who had recognized me said I had witnessed the last moments of one of the fallen and would speak of their deeds. There was a long pause as the large human glared at me, his eyes as cold as the crescent moon of my homeworld.

The human finally relented and let out a loud boastful laugh, clapping me on my shoulders and welcoming me to the feast. Those gathered around cheered and similarly welcomed me now as the ceremony proceeded once more. I could barely say anything as I was seemingly pulled into the celebration. I drank, I ate, I laughed, I even boasted of my own achievements during the battle.

At the height of the feast I was called forward to speak of the final moments of the human soldier I watched die. I learned their name had been Moris Yu, and had served in the human contingent since the beginning of the campaign. I spoke of his final moments, of how he charged the enemy alone and had single handedly destroyed their war machine. I spoke of the snipers bullet laying him low to which all the gathered humans spoke as one “To Odin’s hall he flies.”

With that pyres were set on fire and the bodies slowly turned to ash. I imagine it had some significant ritualistic meaning in human culture but it was beyond me.

After the funeral I asked one of the soldiers the question I had come to them with.

“Why do you sing in battle?”

The human took a long huff from a wooden pipe and blew a cloud of smoke before answering.

“Long ago, my people were raiders and conquerors of the sea.” They began, “Our gods watched over us and should we prove worthy we would be sent to them to join them in their halls and fight alongside them for eternity.”

“There was one warband led by a giant of a man called Osmond Frig. He loved song just as much as he loved fighting, so he made his warriors sing during every fight as it made him happy.”

“They agreed to such silliness?” I asked, to which the human grinned.

“They did after he felled the first three men who laughed at him with a single blow from his axe.” They finished before continuing with their story.

“What was truly surprising was not the sight of these warriors singing, but rather the fact that they were rather good at it. It was said they could make the Valkyries themselves shed a single tear with their songs.”

“Eventually one of the gods, Bragi, noticed Osmond’s warband and took a liking to them. Much like the Valkyries he too was moved by their song and decided to reward them with his patronage. He used ancient magic and made it so as long as the warriors sung they would be impervious to harm of all kinds.”

“So the warband grew in fame and glory as they went conquest to conquest, emerging from battles against impossible odds with nay a scratch on them. First across the northern seas, then across the continent of Europe, and then soon the entire world knew of Osmond; which is when they finally drew the attention of the king of the gods, Odin.”

“Odin watched these powerful warriors and wanted them in his hall for the eternal battle, yet despite every challenge they faced they emerged victorious. No matter what enemy Odin placed in their path or scheme he unleashed on them they refused to fall. Odin knew of Bragi’s patronage and tortured the god to reveal his secret and after seven days and seven nights Bragi told Odin of the spell he had cast and how it could not be undone.”

“But that was all Odin needed to secure his warriors.” The human said with a devil’s grin.

“During the midst of the most recent battle Odin took the form of a mighty warrior and stalked the fields for his prey. He waited for each warrior to catch their breath and cease their song before striking and slaying them, one by one. By day’s end only Osmond remained to fight Odin and though he sang long into the night he too eventually gasped for air and was slain.”

“So that is why you sing?” I asked the human. ‘Because you believe your gods will protect you?”

The human chuckled and nodded to the three pyres. “Did you not say that Moris was only slain after he ceased singing?”

I wanted to counter him with some logic, some reason grounded in reality, but I could not. I left that human area with a profound new perspective of myself in the grand scheme of the universe.

The next time I was in a combat drop my comrades laughed when I began singing. I wasn’t sure if it was good or not, but I hoped that in some way the human god would at least find me amusing and let me live another day.

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men with a small-chested reader

Pairings: Toji x reader; Gojo x reader; Choso x reader; Nanami x reader; Sukuna x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 4,5k

Warnings: this is LONG so get seated; reader gets confronted with hate regarding small boobs so if that's not for you don't read, also this implies JJK men are into small boobs so if that triggers you don't read, smut mentioned in Toji's & Nanami's part, abusive ex relationship in Nanami's part, Gojo is a dick in Geto's part and in general I feel like this one isn't that great so sorry for all my Geto lovers out there I'm tired

Click here for the big-chested version

Toji Fushiguro

You can’t help but let yourself fall into his rough touch, enjoy the sensation of his body pressed against yours. How you ended up here? You couldn’t care less. Is it pretty bad to be minutes away from getting laid by your enemy? Maybe, but you don’t give a damn.

Until his hand yanks towards your breasts.

“N-No. Stop”, you whimper, pushing against his broad shoulders to get him off you.

“C’mon, what’s wrong babe? Don’t ya enjoy yourself?”, he purrs against your ear.

Oh god, just the sound of his deep voice lets your mind wander to places where it hasn’t been for ages, makes you arche your body towards him like a needy teenager.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

But just when he’s about to stretch his hand towards your chest again, you lift yourself off the couch so suddenly that you almost fall over. No, you just can’t do this.

Automatically, you cross your arms in front of your chest, eyes gazing down at the nothingness you hold. Since you can remember, you’ve got picked on for having small boobs. Oh, how desperately you waited throughout whole puberty for them to finally grow, how much you secretly begged for those delicious female curves you’ve seen all over media and anime. But every time you look into the mirror, you are greeted by basically nothing. If a man like Toji would see you like this. God, if he only touches your breast and realizes that your décolleté comes from nothing but a push up bra…

It’s impossible for a man like him to find a woman like you attractive. Why were you even stupid enough to consider a one-night stand with him, when looks are the only thing that really counts? If he sees you’ve been lying into his face, that you don’t look like those girls on magazines…

Would he make fun of you? The disappointed look on his face as soon as he unclips your bra would be too much to handle alone.

“I can’t do this. Sorry”, you mumble, fingers frantically straighten your clothes.

Just forget about what happened today. Get home, take off your bra and stare at the ceiling. You don’t need a man to satisfy your needs anyway…right?

He grabs you by your waist so suddenly that you aren’t even able to react when his other hand unclips your bra and pulls up your shirt.

You fail to breathe, glossy eyes staring into his unbothered face in sheer disbelief. Did that man just expose your whole chest within the blink of a second?

“Why are you actin’ all shy, huh? Those are some nice tits”, he speaks out with a sly grin.

“I…”

You are lost at words, lost at thoughts, lost at sight. This man is walking sex himself. Damn, he could probably pull any girl on this planet. But no, he decided to get into your apartment and he just said that…Your breasts look good?

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting all day for that”, he signs.

His usual so rough fingers cup your breasts gently, swallow them whole with ease. Toji’s eyes are completely fixated on the sensation between his fingertips, how your warm flesh feels against his palms.

“I thought you…you aren’t into…small boobs”, you moan, closing your embarrassed eyes to shield yourself from his intense stare.

“I’m a man of culture”, he comments.

Oh, you can tell he’s grinning like he always does. Slowly but surely everything seems to fade away. All the dumb comments about your body, all the times you looked into the mirror and blankly stared at your flat chest. No, everything that counts now is that the force of a man standing in front of you clearly enjoys your sight, that your boobs alone are enough bring a grown man onto his knees, to make him whimper against your heated skin and the bulge in his pants grow with every second.

“Fuck, I need ya”, he hisses.

Toji pully your top over your head before you’re even able to think straight. There he stands, his hand unzipping his pants in slow motion while you gaze up at him panting like a dog.

“I’ll show you how much I’m into you, babe…”

Gojo Satoru

You look yourself up and down in the mirror, mind raising. It’s your third date with none other than the Satoru Gojo. The men who turns women’s heads on a regular basis, the men who invited you into the most exquisite restaurant of the city, the man who even sent you a dress for the occasion. A jaw-dropping gorgeous black dress with a delicate waterfall neckline, just the right fit for a man like him.

But not with your flat chest. The fabric seems to hang on your body like a potato sack, filled by nothing but thin air. And because of the cursed deep back, you aren’t even able to wear a push up bra underneath. Fuck, what are you supposed to do? The more you stare at yourself in the mirror, the worse it seems to fit. Satoru chose this dress only for you. There’s absolutely no way in hell you’ll wear something else, that you disappoint him like that. But do you have another option?

You let yourself fall onto your bed, eyes darting to your phone. Shit, you have only 10 more minutes left before he gets her. How are you supposed to fix this? Will Satoru be disappointed? You never wore tight or unflattering clothes around him before, always hid your smaller chest well behind casual sweatshirts or push up bras. But this…You aren’t able to hide anything in this.

Will be there in 5. Can’t wait to see you in that dress <3

Oh god, you feel like throwing up when reading his message. Everything went so well between the both of you, so unproblematic and genuinely fine. But are you even good enough for Satoru Gojo when he’s surrounded by so many beautiful women? Your hands wander up your stomach, come to a stand on your chest. No, you definitely can’t keep up with Mei Mei and the others. Will he lose interest in you after tonight? Will his facial expression drop the second he lays eyes on you in that dress?

Your palms get sweaty, mind overwhelmed by all those venomous thoughts.

“Fuck, don’t cry”, you hiss to yourself, angrily blinking into the mirror.

The doorbell rings.

Your heart drops.

Shit.

Didn’t he say 10 minutes?

Your feet carry you to your front door automatically, the tall frame of none other than Satoru clearly visible outside. No, why is he here? You didn’t have enough time to think about a solution, didn’t even try on that sticky bra you’ve bought a few months ago-

He rings again. There is no way of out this now. Like in slow motion, your shaky hand presses down the door handle, exposes yourself further and further to Satoru.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, (y/n)”, Satoru comments jokingly.

Hot tears slowly but surely start to take your sight while you stand there like an idiot, covering your chest with your arms. This will be the moment Satoru realizes you aren’t playing in his league, that he can do so much better. What was he thinking anyway, starting to date a girl like you?

“You look absolutely hot in that dress. Oh my god…”, he breathes out.

“Don’t lie to me”, you mumble.

No, you can’t take it. With a swift motion you turn yourself away from his gaze, away from his presence.

“What? I would never lie to you! Hey, are you cryin’? (y/n), look at me.”

Gently, he cups your face with both of his hands, forces you to get lost in the blue ocean of his eyes.

“I’m not doing justice to the dress you’ve gifted me”, you breathe out.

Satoru has to blink a few times, mind trying to process what the hell you are talking about. The minute you opened the door earlier, he was lost. You looked exactly how he imagined, so well-fitted into that black dress, your curves so delicious that it takes all his strength to keep his composure.

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen and I’m serious about that. Why would you think something so ridiculous? Look at your-“

“I’m flat”, you finally snap.

“Flat?”, he repeats in disbelief.

“Flat like a pancake. Flat like a board. I…I have nothing!”, you blurt out.

Satoru can’t believe his ears, has to stare at you in sheer disbelief for a moment. Is this why you’re crying, why you’re crossing your arms in front of your chest like that? Because you think that…your breasts are too small?

“C’mon, you can’t be serious about that.”

He desperately waits for a reaction, for a cute little giggle coming out of your mouth and this being nothing but a prank. But instead, you just stand there in silence and hide yourself even more.

“Okay, let me get that straight: You.Look.Gorgeous. I can’t stop fucking looking at you, that dress fits you so well and when I saw that neckline for the first time…I’m only saying this before you force me to, okay? I’m thirsting over you like a teenager, (y/n)! And I adore every inch of your body, I adore the way your tits look.”

“Stop”, you mumble, his words making shivers run down your spine.

“I won’t stop until you say it.”

“Say what?”, you question, confusion written on your face.

“Repeat after me: I have nice tits.”

Is he serious? You drop your arms to the side, completely bamboozled by the Satoru Gojo in front of you.

“Let’s do it, (y/n)!”

“I have…nice tits”, you breathe out.

“I can’t hear you”, he shouts.

Gently, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you a little. What the hell is going on right now? His smile seems contagious, makes the corners of your mouth turn upwards just the slightest bit.

“I have small tits”, you giggle out.

“NO!”, he screams.

“I have nice tits!”

“I have nice tits”, you shout back.

“Yes, now…Can I touch them?”

“Let’s get going, okay?”, you mutter, head red like a tomato.

Choso Kamo

“What are you doing, (y/n)?”

A high shriek escapes your lips when you look at Choso standing in the door. Fuck, what the hell is this guy doing here while you tried on that bikini you’ve bought earlier?

“Oh, that looks good”, he comments and nods towards your chest.

God, you feel like fainting. Out of all people, why does it have to be Choso standing there? And why do you feel so damn insecure all of the sudden? It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High that you have a huge crush on Yuji’s bigger brother, that you can’t take your eyes off him. And while you feel pretty comfortable in your own skin, there is this one thing that makes you trip over and over again…

Your breasts.

You didn’t even notice until your female friends began to comment on the size of your boobs when you changed for sport lessons.

“You look like a child, (y/n)!”

“Omg, are you sure that’s normal?”

“You’re a board with nipples…”

“I’m so sorry for you, (y/n)! After all, all boys are into big tits these days! Well, at least you have a good character.”

And still, you didn’t even care that much. But now, with Choso Kamo standing in front of you while you wear nothing but a bikini top instead of your oversized uniform, you feel trapped.

“Well, thanks I guess”, you mumble, cheeks heating up in an instant.

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowed. Oh god, when is this finally over?

“Why are you looking so uncomfortable?”

“Well, maybe because I’m half naked-“

“I can tell it’s not because of that. Are you insecure?”

Fuck, this man reads you like an open book without mercy. For an incarnated curse, he’s way too emphatic.

“I wouldn’t say it like that but…I mean, look at me.”

“Is it because your breasts are smaller than those of the other female members of Jujutsu High? This doesn’t seem like an issue to me at all, (y/n). After all, breasts are mostly made of adipose tissue. Depending on your fat storage and how your body-“

“Oh god, please stop right now”, you interrupt him.

May the ground swallow you whole and keep you. How on earth did you get into a serious talk about your small chest with none other than Choso Kamo? And why does he know all those things about how women’s breast work?

“You seem to know quite a lot about women’s boobs. Did you study them or something?”

Why does your heart suddenly feel so heavy? It shouldn’t bother you that he talked about those things as if he looks at other women’s tits on a regular basis. But…You fell for him because he seemed like a guy who doesn’t care about those things. Were you mistaken about him?

“Not at all! But I overheard you talking to that other woman about the size of your breast and that you don’t feel comfortable about them, so I did research about this topic.”

Oh. Your heart stops beating for a second, your mind going blank. He did research because he overheard your conversation with Shoko?

“You did that…for me?”

“You’re important to me and I don’t want you to feel sad about something minor like this, (y/n).”

You stare at him like an idiot, still only covered only by a bikini top while all he does his holding your gaze in silence.

“What I want to say is that…You are absolutely beautiful. And so are your breasts-”

“Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. Would you mind if I…Change into something a little more modest?”, you interrupt him before you lose your composure completely.

“Of course!”

Choso doesn’t move. Instead, he just stands there like before and looks at you.

“Would you…Get out so I can change?”

“Oh…Yes, of course.”

Nanami Kento

You can’t help but stare at him through the dim moonlight, hands wrapped around his neck. Oh, he sure feels good pressed against your body so tenderly, his breath caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Kento and you have been together for a few months now, taking things slow since your last relationship was like a trip to hell and back. And even though you are fully aware of the fact that Kento would never treat you badly, you still need time for certain things.

And these certain things contain him seeing you naked. Just one glance into the mirror is hard to bear, especially when it comes to your small chest. You simply hate the way they look, how they ruin every single outfit, how they make you look like a child. No matter what gorgeous gown you’re wearing, you never feel like a woman, like someone worth to be looked at. But still, Kento caresses every curve of your still dressed body carefully.

“You look absolutely stunning in moonlight, darling”, he hushes against your ear.

You love this man with all your heart. How he treats you with way more kindness than a single human would ever deserve, how he makes you feel good about yourself without even knowing. Kento Nanami picks up the pieces of your past and puts you back together like a complicated puzzle. Slowly and steady, step by step.

A whimper escapes your lips, the sensation of his fingertips brushing against your covered skin simply drives you insane. Oh, how much you adore that man, how much you admire him for making you feel so alive. Suddenly his plain touch doesn’t feel like enough anymore. You need him even closer, want to feel him even better.

“Please, take this off”, you mumble against his lips.

Kento stops in his tracks for a second, eyes staring at you intensively in your dark bedroom.

“Are you sure? I told you I can wait”, he reminds you gently while pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

Are you sure? You didn’t let a man touch you after your ex, after all those nasty things he said about your body. Especially your small chest.

“Don’t you wanna get these things…y’know, fixed or something?”

“Leave your shirt on or I’ll turn off the light, these things turn me off...”

You hate how his stupid comments still haunt you even after all those years, despite the fact that you’re laying in the arms of none other than the epitome of a gentleman. Until today, you never allowed your boyfriend to take off your shirt, to even take a single glance in the direction of your exposed chest. But today feels different. With his eyes filled with nothing but affection, you finally feel ready.

“I don’t want you to wait. Please, take off my shirt”, you whisper into the night.

“Tell me to stop when you feel uncomfortable.”

You nod slightly, too occupied by the way his hands carefully wander down to the hem of your shirt, eyes fixated on yours. Your heartbeat picks up in an instant. Out of excitement, out of fear? You glance into his gleaming orbs that are filled with nothing but love. No, you don’t have to fear this man. But still…Will he like what he sees?

“You know I don’t have…I don’t have nice boobs. They are quite small…”, you suddenly blurt out.

“(y/n), you are the love of my life, my precious girlfriend. Every fiber of your being is way more than ‘nice’. I adore every inch of your gorgeous body”, he replies so softly that you feel like tearing up.

As if in slow motion he pulls up your shirt, reveals inch by inch of your naked skin until he pulls the fabric over your head.

You take a deep breath, try to read his face in the dim light. Is he disgusted, does he even look at you? Maybe he’s regretting his decision, maybe he finds you just as ugly as your ex did-

“You are so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you”, he hushes.

Kento Nanami stops your train of thoughts before you get lost in yourself, quiets the stinging voice of your ex-boyfriend inside your head.

Kento thinks you’re beautiful. Kento’s hand caresses your naked skin, gently cups your breast while he never fails to gaze at you.

“I love you, (y/n). In fact, I am the one lucky to have you. Thank you for putting your trust and love in me.”

“You…I love you so much, Kento.”

You can’t contain yourself any longer. Without hesitation, you pull your boyfriend’s face even closer, press your desperate lips against his. What a treasure he is, lifting you up without even realizing how much his words heal your soul.

If a man like Kento Nanami is able to love your small breasts than maybe, just maybe, you’ll start doing that as well.

Ryomen Sukuna

“There’s no way in hell”, you press out, groaning in scorching pain.

“Do you have a death wish or are you just dumb, woman? You know you’ll die if you don’t take off that uniform, right?”, Sukuna remarks dryly.

“I would rather die than taking off my shirt in front of…you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Sukuna can’t help but stare at you in sheer disbelief. Surprisingly enough, he decided to save your ass instead of using his time more efficiently. And now you’re laying in front of him, a gaping hole inside your chest, he offered to save your life.

And you, dumbass of the century, refuse to get saved by none other than the king of curses himself.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you really wish to die so badly?”

“I…I don’t want to die!”, you blurt out.

Fuck, how did you get yourself into that situation? Bad enough that you’ve got hit by that curse right into your chest, even worse that the king of curses himself appeared and wants to help you. But the worst thing is that you need to take your shirt off.

It is ridiculous and you know it. This is not the time to be insecure about your small tits. No, this is absolutely not the time to even think about shit like that. But the sheer thought of Ryomen Sukuna seeing your flat chest alone makes you rather die than letting that happen. No, the last thing you want is him making fun of you.

“Then why are you acting like a child? Hold still. You strange human, I should kill you right on the spot. Good for you I still have use for someone this skilled. You impressed me earlier.”

Under normal conditions, you’d feel some kind of pride over his words. But with death whispering in your ear and the stinging fact that his hands begin to bottom up your shirt….

You freak out.

“GET YOURSELF AWAY FROM ME!”, you scream pathetically, hands fighting so poorly against his that he catches your flying fists mid-air.

“Stop beating me before I’m losing it, brat”, he barks at you.

Just one more button. One more button and you’ll be completely exposed to him. The king of curses, seeing your small boobs.

“DON’T LOOK AT MY BOOBS!”

“What?”

He can’t believe his ears. This can’t be the reason why you pull up this fight. No, there’s absolutely no way in hell you’re acting like this because you’re ashamed of him seeing your breasts.

“Please…Don’t look at my boobs…”

The king of curses just stares at you emotionless.

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do, woman?”

His gaze wanders right down to your bloody chest. You are rather flat chested, but oh you look delicious. Too delicious to take his eyes off you, too delicious to think about saving you. He never hunted after women, was never interested in all those big-chested females with their neck-line hanging to the ground. But you…This looks pleasant.

“Delightful”, he finally speaks out.

Too late for you to hear before your hand smacks roughly into his face.

“I SAID DON’T LOOK!”

“I SAID YOU LOOK DELIGHTFUL YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

“YOU…You what?”

Geto Suguru

Geto can’t help but stare at you, how your hips swing from side to side, how you wear your cute summer dress so easily. Not only the scorching heat of this summer day, but your sight as well make him feel light-headed.

“Staring again, Suguru?”, his best friend teases him in an instant.

“How could I not stare at her. She looks gorgeous in that dress”, he replies, not able to take his eyes off you.

“But she has no tits.”

You wish you didn’t hear those words leaving Satoru’s mouth, wish you could just giggle like a little girl and let your heart beat out of your chest because Suguru said you look gorgeous. But the second the meaning of his saying hits you, you stop in your tracks.

The stinging fact that your breasts are smaller than those of any other women at Jujutsu High and all those popular girls was always hard to bear for you. But with Suguru by your side, with his words sweeter than honey, you slowly but surely began to feel comfortable in your own skin again. Instead of oversized shirts, you started to wear dresses from time to time, bought the one you’re wearing right now with a slight neckline.

All that, only for your confidence to get crushed by that single comment.

You can’t contain yourself anymore. Without even trying to pretend you didn’t hear his venomous words, you turn on your heel and sprint down in the direction of your dorm. How stupid it was to even consider that a man like Suguru would actually like you back. After all, Satoru is his best friend, it’s clear that you look nothing like the girls they usually hang out with. Maybe your small chest isn’t enough for him…

Tears take your sight completely as you run straight to your room.

“(y/n), wait!”

No, not him. Not right now. Your heart almost drops to the floor when you hear his footsteps close behind you. If Suguru tries to cheer you up right now, you might break down completely.

“Hey, please wait for me.”

Gently, he grabs your wrist and spins you around.

“Let go of me”, you hiss, yanking your arm away out of instinct.

You don’t want to get touched by him, to even see him. God, you were really stupid enough to think that this man with the most tender eyes you’ve ever seen would actually like you back.

“Satoru fucked up with that comment. Hey, look at me. I know he made these comments before and I know you’ve had a hard time because of those stupid comments at school. But I’m here to tell you that I love you just the way you are, (y/n) …God, I love you with all my heart, I love you wearing those dresses, I love the way you move, I love the way you look. And it might sound totally weird, but I love your boobs. I’m…I’m obsessed with you.”

You have to blink a few times, try to process what just happened. Within a few minutes, you’ve heard your crush complimenting you, his friend insulting you for having small breasts and now Suguru is standing in front of you again, confessing his love for you and…your boobs?

“You don’t have to say those things to make me feel better”, you try to brush him off.

“I’m saying this because I mean it, (y/n). And I’ll kick his ass for saying something so stupid about you. When it comes to women, Satoru and I are the opposite of each other”, he explains briefly.

Oh, you are fully aware of the fact that Satoru Gojo hunts after every woman with cups bigger than your head. But something about the way Suguru stands in front of you, how his eyes literally beg you to believe him…

“I have enough of people judging me for something I can’t change”, you warn him.

“I don’t want to change a single hair on your body, (y/n).”

Slowly but surely, your eyes stop to burn in agony, your heart stops to ache, your body wakes up from its trance.

“So…you’re into small chested girls? Why am I supposed to believe this?”

Without wasting another minute Suguru steps forward, engulfs your body. And with one last glance into your widen eyes, he presses his lips against you’re the way he always imagined it.

“Is this proof enough?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings@sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly   @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @yukiotacon @satoreo

Gorgeous divider by @saradika 🤍

[fancyhalloran]

decided to try out the x files instead of doing my homework and it’s really striking how much of its formula as a procedural relies on failure. episodes routinely end with scully and mulder stymied by official forces higher up than them or by the practical aspects of whatever paranormal threat they’re facing. they lose over and over again. It’s an element of the formula that stands apart from many of the show’s imitators like fringe and evil. in terms of its modern successors, the first season of the magnus archives feels most similar in tone. there’s a murkiness and paranoia that’s kind of addictive honestly

it’s also really interesting the way that scully’s pop culture reputation is purely that she’s the skeptic and she is but there are a lot of nuances lost in that, which is super apparent in the third episode where she repeatedly sides with mulder over her former colleagues despite her skepticism about his theory. she may not believe him but she believes in him almost immediately. there’s also a practical aspect to her skepticism. in the second episode, she acknowledges the ufos but doesn’t believe investigating them is worth a conflict with the US military, especially after they’re driven off the road and held at gunpoint. which is honestly reasonable! and i think that’s part of what made the x files so successful and has given the show such longevity: scully’s actions and beliefs are reasonable in a real world sense but, like mulder, we want to believe. there’s kind of a dialectical audience surrogacy to it: scully is our knowledge of the world and mulder is our willingness to suspend disbelief, the two are opposed but their adversarial interaction is necessary for the show to be fun.

[whslnc]

— Brat

nsfw mdni :3 | dom!brat tamer!bsf!vernon x fem!reader | 1.1k

!! overstimulation, brat reader, slightly controlling, loud moaning(f), fingering, doggy, petname (babe), dirty talking, maybe others but it should be fine lemme know if you care !!

- this came to me in a dream not vernon but this lol, vernon seemed perfect for the role, written at 4 am in the morning don’t even worry about it. neo culture technology

Finally, the day had come for your monthly movie night with Vernon, you had a whole system you operated so it could be a fun experience for both of you. Picking out of a box filled with movies titles you had both submitted throughout the past few months, you both picked a movie then decided which one out of the two you would see that night, sometimes going for both.

This night was no different, you had decided on a movie for the night together, sitting on your respective sides of the couch. You let your legs lounge on his lap, resting your back against the arm rest, not paying mind to his playful poking on your thighs as the movie begun.

Most of the first hour, you sat in silence just throwing in a funny remark here and there for giggles, then came the scenes. After watching so many movies the sex scenes, bothered you less and less, you’d usually take the opportunity to say something dumb about it but your focus was elsewhere. The touch was delicate, faint almost, his fingers running up your thighs, it was hard to think coherently with the uncensored scenes in front of you.

“No one is screaming that loud, that’s hilarious” you force the words out trying to get your mind off the soft touches, your voice caught his attention and his roaming hand stopped.

“Some people get really loud to be honest” he says, nodding to himself before turning to you, you narrow your eyes at him trying to figure out if he was talking from experience or just generally.

“Like you’ve had someone screaming in bed?” he laughs at your confused expression answering your question with a nod, amused by the fact that you find it impossible.

“I’m sure you do” there was no way, you had never experienced it so it didn’t seem probable to you, simply agreeing reluctantly to your friend’s baseless claims.

He looks at you closer brows furrowed as he leans in, his hands perfectly wrapped around your thighs sliding further up, stopping inches away from your bulging lips.

“You think I’m lying?” a soft laugh of disbelief escapes his mouth, his eyes scan your face genuinely curious, watching you blink away before speaking up.

“I’m just saying any one can fake pleasure” you finally say looking back at him, a hint of shock under his smile, his lips twitching as he lets out a scoff.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you were such a brat”

One glance down between your legs, it was so obvious how badly you wanted it, for his hand to move closer to press against your aching clit just begging to be stimulated. That didn’t matter, he watched as your breaths grew bigger, your hips moving closer subconsciously drawn to the touch of his hand just resting on your thigh.

“Nonie… please” that was all he needed, your whole body begging for him to make you lose your voice to his touch. The sudden pressure sends a jolt to your spine making you arch your back, just from his fingers rubbing through your thin panties. The sound of his laugh mocking you only adding to your pleasure, letting him pull down your shirt’s neck for your pretty breasts to fall out, you really were all talk so easily letting yourself get used.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, his thumb brushing against your nipple before pinching the sensitive skin sliding down to the base holding onto it as his lips met your pebbled nipples, his wet tongue pressing on it making you suck in air from the feeling. So distracted by his kisses, the feeling of his fingers slipping inside your wet skin caught you off guard, a soft moan leaving your lips.

“Don’t fake it for me, I know you can take more than this” his hot breath against your ear as he spoke, placing a soft kiss on your jawline, pulling his fingers out completely covered with your juices bringing them to your lips, pulling down your jaw to open your mouth for him.

You find yourself moaning on his fingers as you suck on them, enjoying your taste on his soft fingers. His smirk as he takes out his fingers makes you weaker than you already were, rolling over on your belly ready let him take your pussy.

Getting rid of all your bottom clothing, you bend over his legs keeping your ass up for him to use to his content. A light smack against your ass the feeling tingling to your desperate pussy, he slides his fingers back in fucking your tight pussy sliding in a third finger as he quickens the pace, your noises are barely quiet as his fingers rub swiftly against your spot, hitting you so perfectly you have to dig your head into the couch to mute your pleading.

“I want you to hear yourself,” you feel his hand grab around your jaw lifting your head up, as he places his fingers against your clit stimulating it with fast back and forths making you legs grow weak, trembling uncontrollably, weak taps against his wrists for him to stop only for him to push you further.

Your pleading becomes more desperate as you near your release point, he can feel you tensing so hungrily around his fingers, loving how easily you crumble, cussing out his name as you pour out on his fingers. He wastes no time making you kneel on the couch, spreading your legs out so he can get a better view of your throbbing pussy, standing right behind you.

“You’re so fucking hot baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight” It was a promise, the sound of him taking out his cock made your pussy beg, missing the hot feeling of being fucked by a rock hard shaft.

Your hands grab each side of your ass pulling them apart for him to see how desperate your pussy was for him to fill it up, the scoff that escaped his lips was so telling. In a heartbeat you feel him thrust deep inside you making your back arch, his hand wrapping around your throat as his thrusts continued.

“Fuck… talk to me baby” with every thrust you feel you body grow weaker, the only sounds able to leave your lips are desperate wails from the overstimulating pleasure, his cock hitting harder against you repeatedly in only a second.

Your words are inarticulate, you can’t even tell how loud you’re screaming till he gags you with his fingers, muting your cries as you cum your whole body stiffening around him, grabbing your ass and squeezing it against his dick filling up your used hole.

You let your body relax on the couch completely disheveled, watching him take his seat beside you, pressing play on the remote to resume the movie.

“Let’s finish the movie now”

[vendimeyers]

The fairy/walrus thing is actually kind of an incredible testament to the truth behind Brandon Sanderson’s first law of magic.

For those that don’t know, popular fantasy author Brandon Sanderson has become quite renowned for how he implements magic in his stories and he decided to write three different essays on the rules he follows and why they work the way they do in storytelling. He calls them his “laws of magic” and the first one is: An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.

Basically, in general for good fantasy writing, you can do anything you want with magic and it will almost always alway be accepted by the reader as long as you set up beforehand what the magic is capable of. Or if you didn’t do that it has to be something the reader discovers with the characters (I mean this generally of course I’m sure there’s always exceptions).

Both the walrus and the fairy scenario imply to the reader (of the poll) some form of magic was employed. The reason a fairy sounds more plausible at that point is because the general cultural consensus in people’s minds is that fairies are already magic and it’s not far of a stretch to believe that a fairy would employ the thing it’s universally known for in order to show up at people’s houses.

However with the other scenario, a walrus knocking at your door. Implies that a walrus is employing some form of magic. But the problem with that is that we already KNOW what a walrus is capable of. A walrus has RULES. When the only rule a fairy has to follow in order to knock on someone’s door is “be magic” a walrus has to first break all the rules we already have about it before “be magic” is even an allowed concept. Before a walrus can be magic it has to take a journey of some length from its aquatic origins, have a specific destination in mind(outside of their regular behavior patterns), and have the capacity to knock. All forms of magic that walrus’ are not known for employing.

Like if the walrus scenario was a book someone was reading and at the very beginning the author described a world in which there was a secret society of walrus’ who have there own politics and methods of travel and cultural nuances, and then went on to describe one of THOSE walrus’ appearing on the reader’s doorstep then the reader would left with a much smaller sense of disbelief more comparable to that of a fairy showing up on their doorstep.

Anyway this wasn’t to say that there was a wrong or right answer to the poll I just think peoples brains are neat and I love how something like a silly little poll can highlight such a big truth in how people communicate to each other and take in information.

[go-see-a-starwar]

Because Star Wars has had the cultural impact that it has, these characters almost become public domain, where people feel a sense of ownership over them. The character was criticised, my performance was criticised, and that part sucked. But I also felt like I had some context that perhaps helped a little bit. When Episode I came out, there was a lot of excitement that they were making a new Star Wars, and it was going to be the backstory of Darth Vader. But I had friends that were upset that the character was starting off as this young kid. And I watched the film, and I loved it. It was everything I wanted and more. And I didn’t understand the disconnect between the movie that I saw, and the negativity in some of the reviews. In a way that sort of criticism, I think, comes from a certain failure of their own suspension of disbelief. If you’re gonna go sit in a theatre, and the opening scroll starts with, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away”, that’s setting the stage that anything is possible. These people don’t need to sound and behave the way that we might expect. And if you’re going to sit down and think that you’re getting something that is of our current zeitgeist, then you’re setting yourself up for something else. You know what I mean?

Hayden on the backlash the prequels and his performance received, Empire Magazine

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄCellmateꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Prison/Bonten Au

❦Y/n goes to prison and meets an interesting group of men❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

I based this Japanese prison off of some research so some parts may not be accurate. I only know some things about American prisons already so it might be combined with that just to make this easier for me to write. All in all I know barely anything about prison tbh so some of this will probably be made up.

It also said somewhere that they have either different sections or prison for foreigners (take what you will idk for a fact) but for the story’s sake, Y/n will be in the same area as the rest of the main guys.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Cellmate

The male walks down the hall with two guards guiding him from both sides, passing the cells as some of the fellow inmates stare and call out to the newcomer whereas others stay in their own zone, not paying any mind to the nervous man who kept his gaze on the floor, his cuffed wrists in his peripheral. He only looks up when the prison guards halt in front of his designated cell.

After they motion for him to walk in, he complies, the men closing the door and locking it behind him before walking away. He only stares at the door in disbelief as he rubs his released wrists before turning, almost jumping out of his skin when he meets golden eyes.

“Who are you?” Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, shrugging before telling him that he couldn’t understand what he just said. The man smirks before nodding.

“I said, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Y/n.” The newcomer eyes the tiger tattoo on the other’s neck, feeling a little anxious as he glances at his obviously toned exterior.

“Hanemiya. You don’t look like you belong here.” He says as he walks to his futon, plopping on it as he leans his back on the wall. “What got you locked up?”

Y/n walks to his own spot, setting his blanket and sheet down, along with his pillow as he sorts them on the cushioned surface.

“W-well, it’s a long story.” He curses himself for stuttering before he sits, attempting to avoid eye contact with the intimidating glare placed on him.

“I’ve got time.” He shrugs in response before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it as the tobacco fills up the room. Y/n’s eyes widened as he frantically looked between Kazutora and the door.

“What are you doing? Won’t you get in trouble for that?” A chuckle falls from his lips.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette, Y/n slightly coughing as he turns his head.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s complic-.”

“Y/n, don’t annoy me. Say it.” He says with a stoic expression.

“I killed my brother.” Kazutora raises a brow.

“You?” He snickers in disbelief. Y/n nods with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It was an accident, anyway. Won’t be out of here for a while, though.” He said before lying down completely, staring at the ceiling. He turns his head slightly to meet Kazutora’s gaze. “What about you?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Y/n scoffs.

“Why not just say it now?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Before they could continue their conversation, the door opens to reveal a guard. Y/n stares in shock as he sees the guard ignoring his cellmate putting the cigarette out. He doesn’t even confiscate the makeshift ashtray. He announces their departure to the outside area, cuffing them in the process before guiding them down the hall.

“You’ll get to meet my… friends.” Kazutora says without a care for the rule that demands inmates to remain silent when walking with the guards. Y/n nods before eyeing them in confusion.

He must be someone important for them to ignore him. How weird. Guess I’ll find out.

When they reached the outside, they were released from the handcuffs. Y/n glanced around at the different inmates, ranging from biggest to smallest. He eyed the different ‘cliques’ sitting amongst each other, some sitting at different tables whereas others were busy working or exercising. Some stood around while they glared at the newcomer, eyeing him up and down.

Knowing he wanted to shrink under their gazes, he ignored his anxiety and puffed his chest out subtly, straightening his back to not reveal how scared shitless he was. Kazutora eyes him from the side before finding humor in his little display of strength, the word ‘cute’ being prominent in his mind.

“Come on. They’re over here.” He drags him by the wrist gently yet forceful enough to make him move along.

Peeking from behind Kazutora as they walk, Y/n eyes a table that stands out from the rest. A short silver -headed man sits on the table’s surface, his feet plastered on the seat as he’s bent over, arms resting against his legs. Next to him is a head full of pink, a person sitting next to the man but on the seat. Behind them were two purple haired men sitting beside each other facing the other way.

Y/n took a deep breath as they got closer, right before stopping in front of them, gaining a better angle of all of their features. His hand immediately goes to the back of his neck as his heart begins to pound, sweat sliding down as intense gazes bore into him, the twins turning their head to lock eyes with e/c.

“Who’s this puny little thing?” A silky voice says with amusement, a smirk falling under the lazy purple eyes as he runs a hand through his short hair.

“Why’d you bring this scrap to the King?” The pink haired man narrows his eyes at Kazutora who only gives a closed eye smile back.

“This is Y/n. He’s my cellmate.”

“Cellmate, huh? Who cares?” The purple mullet questions with a bored expression.

Y/n shifts uncomfortably as he listens to their discussion, though the only word he recognized was his own name, he couldn’t help but fidget amongst the sunken dark voids plastered on him. The energy emitting from all of these men, especially the one with scars, is anything but welcoming.

What the fuck was this dude thinking when bringing me here with these guys?

“Well he’s cute and could be useful.” Kazutora shrugs, walking to the short man’s left and plopping on the seat before bringing one leg up to rest his arm over, leaving Y/n to awkwardly stand in place.

“You didn’t care if he was useful. You’re just bored and horny.” The scarred man hissed in response, a sneer on his face as he side - eyed the brunette.

“Bitter, Sanzu?” He responded, challenging him with a smile.

“Enough.” Amused gazes fell as the quiet voice silenced the space.

Although he spoke to the group of intimidating men, his eyes never left Y/n’s orbs, the dull expression painted on his face.

What is this guy looking at? What are they even talking about? I just want this to be over.

“Sit.” Hesitantly, Y/n complies, following Kazutora’s hand tapping the seat in between him and the tall man. Fingers wrap around Y/n’s hand, bringing the appendage to soft lips.

“Call me Ran. This…” He motioned to the man sitting beside him. “…is my younger brother, Rin.”

“Ah, okay. Well nice to meet you.” Y/n sheepishly responded, nerves still wrecked by the aura these guys emit.

His hand is released before a tap on his shoulder causes him to turn toward Kazutora. He motions for him to lean closer as his lips hover over his ear.

“That guy in the middle is my bo… name is Mikey, but you’d call him whatever he tells you to.” He whispered, breath hitting against Y/n’s ear.

Well, I won’t be saying anything to this guy cuz after this I’m keeping my distance. He seems dangerous.

“Hikaru!”

Y/n looks around in confusion until he spots a man walking from behind them, landing in front of Mikey as the Haitani brothers stand up from their seats as well as Sanzu. They all face the male and his groupies who stood behind.

“What’s going on?” Y/n questions as he watches them speak in Japanese.

“Someone fucked up.” Kazutora responds. The vague information causes Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow as he watches the unknown man and his goons with the expression of nervousness on their faces.

Mikey gives a motion with his finger before the Haitanis, Sanzu, and Kazutora walk towards the group. Y/n gasps as Sanzu’s fist lands on Hikaru’s face, the guy immediately falling to the ground despite his size. The Hataini brothers and Kazutora began to beat the rest.

Y/n watches with wide eyes as skin makes contact with skin, the amount of blood causing the impacts to create this sick squelching sound as the wet skin is broken. He covers his mouth when he sees Sanzu pull out a small knife, turning his head before hearing the slice of skin along with a blood curdling scream. He looks around to see if anyone was watching only to find everyone minding their own business, including the prison guards who are purposefully turned the other way.

Who the fuck are these guys? Why’d I have to be a cellmate to one of them? I know I killed my brother but it genuinely wasn’t a malicious act. Defense is different compared to whatever this is.

When all the men were completely knocked out and near death, they stopped their assault, blood splattered on their own uniforms as they turned back to their seats. They say back down in the same spots while fixing up their hair and wiping excess blood from their skin.

Kazutora chuckled at Y/n’s disturbed expression. His hand squeezes his thigh with a slight caress of his thumb, smearing some of the red liquid on Y/n’s uniform.

“You’ll get used to it.”

No I won’t.

Y/n could only watch as the guards pulled the victims out of their eyesight without saying a word.

After a while, everyone was ordered to go to their rooms before dinner. Instead of going to the cafeteria, Kazutora and Y/n ‘sneak’ off to Mikey and Sanzu’s cell where the rest of them are as well. He tried to stay back, claiming to have wanted to get used to his cell life only for the tattooed man to pull him along.

They spoke about Kakucho picking them up and Kokonoi’s connections in releasing them soon. They have contact with few people who are messengers from the outside that come during visitation and update the executives. Of course, Y/n just sat there feeling out of place and a little stupid for not understanding them.

Why couldn’t everything with my brother happen at home instead of this place I barely know anything about? Why’d it have to happen during a vacation?

Mikey sits on his own futon, seeming to be a part of the conversation yet his eyes look heavy. It’s as if this guy hadn’t slept in months. Y/n couldn’t help the small feeling of pity to form as this man hadn’t smiled once though who’d want to smile in prison? It reminds him of when his brother would have episodes and they would terrify him as a kid because he could hear everything being thrown around and it would distract him from sleeping. Especially when the physical fights between his brother and his other siblings or mother would occur.

During the times they would all hide in their bedrooms, and the only way for him to fall asleep was his mother who would hum a lullaby or speak affirmations as she caressed his head and face until he fell asleep. Logically speaking, he knew to keep his mouth shut and mind his business. However, considering he’s going to be here a while, he decides to step out of his comfort zone and offer some help.

He is currently sitting on the dresser next to Kazutora in between Sanzu and Mikey’s futons.

“Um, excuse me?” He dares to gently poke the short man’s leg. Black eyes meet his colored orbs.

“Do you… can I help… help with your, uh sleep?” He asks while scratching the back of his neck. Mikey stares at him in wonder though it’s blocked by his stoic expression. Finding the question interesting considering nobody has ever asked him about his problem with sleeping, he turns his head to everyone else in the room.

“Leave.” Everyone, except Sanzu, pauses their conversation before hopping up and heading to the exit of the cell. Kazutora motions for Y/n to follow who hops up from the dresser, nervous that he had somehow pissed off this guy from not minding his business.

“Y/n stays.”

Kazutora looks at Mikey and then at Y/n in confusion. Y/n shrugs, still not completely understanding what’s happening, though not wanting to be left alone. Kazutora turns and walks out, leaving Y/n with Mikey and Sanzu.

“My king, why is he here?” Sanzu glares at Y/n.

“Fall back, Sanzu.” Mikey replies before motioning for Y/n to help him.

Y/n immediately positions himself on Mikey’s futon above his head that lies on a pillow, mimicking how his mom would position herself. Sanzu reluctantly lays on his own futon, still keeping an eye on Y/n for any suspicious activity.

A little uncomfortable at first, Y/n asks, “Can I touch you? Sorry if it’s a bit much but this is what my mother used to do. It won’t be lower than your head anyway.”

Surprisingly, he nods.

“I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work.”

Although Y/n’s breath hitched, he nodded and began quietly caressing Mikey’s hair, gently working through some of the tangles before he started lightly humming. When the tangles were gone he freely caressed and pushed his fingers through the silky hair, the whole process slow and tender. The tips of his fingers accidentally stroked the pale man’s face, causing his eyes to flutter close.

Y/n’s favorite part used to be falling asleep to the sweet affirmations his mother came up with so he began singing those positive words, hoping to bring some kind of comfort so he wouldn’t be killed. After a while, steady breathing could be heard, indicating that Mikey had fallen asleep. Y/n sighs in relief, so focused on the fact that what he did worked, he forgot the eyes that had been watching the display the entire time.

After he got up slowly, he made his way to the exit before being yanked back, pulled until his back met the floor with a thud. Legs climb on either side of him before Sanzu sits on top of him with the knife at his throat. His wrists are pinned above his head.

“What did you do to Mikey?” Sanzu hissed.

“W-what do you mean? I j-just sang him my mom’s lullaby and said affirmations!” He whispered - screamed, not wanting to wake up the man who promised him death.

Blue eyes pierce his own irises as he stares him down, gazing at the terrified expression on his face. An unexplainable warm feeling bubbles in Sanzu’s stomach as he eyed the new inmate’s features. Sanzu uses the knife to slice a small wound on his arm, eyeing the pained expression that is causing his face to heat up.

He’s always liked bringing pain and fear to others, especially those deemed as traitors or scraps. However, this gave him a different type of satisfaction. He watches as Y/n sucks his teeth in pain before biting his own lip. Tears forming in the corners of his eyes yet he keeps them in, not wanting to seem weak though they already see him as fragile, unknown to him.

“I didn’t do anything to hurt your king, just let me go!” Y/n says in frustration, not understanding what the real problem is. Sanzu quietly eyed his lips, soft and a little chapped though biteable regardless. Before he could lean down, his shirt is grabbed from behind and he’s pulled off of the man.

“Why are you scaring him?” Kazutora asks, rolling his eyes as he releases the pink haired menace and helps a shaken Y/n from the floor.

“It’s small but we still have to clean it. Thanks for the extra work, I guess.” Kazutora says with his eyes half lidded, walking out with Y/n, hand in hand. Sanzu eyes the blood on the knife before bringing it to his lips and licking it. He eyes Mikey once last time before setting the knife down and laying in his futon.

The next day, for the first time Y/n got to spend his time getting used to his schedule in the prison considering Kazutora had been gone since he woke up. He hadn’t seen any of them for the entire duration of the day and it was already past lunch. He’s currently reading a book in the common area, bored out of his mind as he tries to retain the information, to no avail. Rereading the same lines just so they’ll stick in his head.

Everything has been so weird. Life doesn’t feel the same and it feels like a new season to my own show. Makes sense considering the circumstances, though.

He eyes the bandaid in remembrance of the night before. He shudders, recollecting Mikey’s threat and Sanzu’s crazed glint in his eyes. He subconsciously rubs his wrist as he shakes off the anxiety to try and focus on the book. A figure sitting at his table caught his attention, causing him to lower his book and meet gazes with an unknown man.

“Don’t worry about any greetings. I came to warn you before it’s too late.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Newbie, I see you’re getting close to those crazy hair colored guys. Be careful, you don’t want to catch their attention.”

Too late for that.

“I know it’s hard and probably too late for that, but you gotta keep your distance without pissing them off somehow. They’re Bonten.”

“Bonten? What’s that?” The mystery guy’s eyebrows rose.

Y/n drops his book when the guy explains everything he knows about Bonten. Now everything is clicking. Especially when they beat those men to pulps and the guards did nothing.

“I-I’ve been talking to yakuza?” The guy nods.

“Well how am I supposed to not be around them when one of them is my cellmate and I’ve come into contact with all of them?”

“I don’t know, but you have to find a way. No matter if they like you or not, it’s not good to be in contact with those unpredictable psychopaths.”

“Oi Y/n. Is this guy bothering you?” Ran asks as he stands with a lit cigarette in hand, both men surprised as they turn their heads to meet with those lazy eyes.

“Sounds like you’re spouting bullshit, Yasu. I’d be careful running that mouth. You could lose your tongue.” Rin says with a smirk showing off his teeth.

The man known as Yasu eyes Y/n one more time. He nods at him before walking away.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” Ran throws his cigarette before motioning Y/n to follow. Although he wanted to stay in his spot, he knew that it would end badly for him if he didn’t listen.

He walks behind the brothers, leaving the common area and walking to a cell. The guards pay them all no mind as they walk into the room and shut the door.

The brothers sat on a futon, Ran pats the space in between them with a mischievous smile.

“I can sit on the other futon, there’s barely any room over there.” Y/n shrugs. He flinched when their gazes turned sour, a stoic expression that felt cold. The older brother pats the seat one more time with extra pressure. Y/n complies, sitting in between the brothers uncomfortably as the warmth from their bodies radiate against his own.

Y/n stares ahead at the opposite futon as the smiles reappear.

“So, Kazu said that you’re here for killing your brother. What’s that all about?” Rin questions. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow.

Guess I should’ve known he would’ve told them. Who asks something like that so carelessly?

“Well, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Why’d you kill him? Was it really an accident?”

“Yeah it was but I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hm, how do you accidentally kill your brother?”

Y/n hops up from his seat.

“I said I didn’t want to fucking talk about it! It’s none of your goddamn business!” He growls, angry at the persistent disrespect.

His eyes widen when his shirt is grabbed and he's pulled back onto the futon, roughly hitting the back of his head against the wall.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Ran taunts.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Y/n.” Rin states as his grip tightens on the shirt.

“Now get over your little hissy fit and answer our questions.”

Y/n stared back with a mixture of fear and anger.

This isn’t fair.

“I-I accidentally killed my brother because he was attacking our mother. He ended up killing her right before I killed him trying to save her.” Y/n held back tears, not wanting to break down from the memories of that night being brought up. Especially not in front of these men he barely knows.

Unfortunately, the tears fell on their own, though he didn't begin to cry they still streamed down his face. Both brothers watch the tears with amusement, finding the display of his uncontrollable emotions interesting. They couldn’t help their small smirks from forming. Rin releases his grip before Ran wipes his tears.

“Now was that so hard?” He taunted.

“Fuck you.” He says before he could stop it, too caught up in his own emotions to give a shit about his well being. He goes to stand up once more before he’s blocked from moving by a hand on his chest.

“Hey, we can make you feel better.” Ran says before pulling him back to his chest by holding his shoulders. Rin places Y/n’s legs on the bed before crawling in between them.

Y/n’s eyes widen, surprised by what is taking place. His eyebrows furrow as he uses his hands to stop Rin in place.

“W-wait!”

He was interrupted by the younger brother’s lips on his own. A hand wraps around his neck from behind as Ran’s breath hits his ear.

“Kiss back with no biting or I’ll break your wrist.”

Rin moves the hands pushing him back from his body, pinning them down as he leans into the kiss, eyes staring intently into Y/n’s wide gaze.

Considering he knew that their threats were promises, he gives back, moving his lips along though still with restraint. Ran squeezes his neck as his other hand runs down his side slowly, landing on his thigh as he pulls up once more. Y/n’s skin tingles from the contact through his uniform. He tears his gaze from Rin before pulling his face back.

Turning away only forces him to reveal his neck. The only sounds that could be heard were lips smacking against skin, Rin nibbling and suckling against Y/n’s neck. Behind him, he could feel a hard pressure against his lower back. He breathes heavily once he feels Ran’s fingers rolling and pulling his nipple.

“Guys, please wait.” He says as he struggles in the brother’s tight grips. He feels his wrist become released as a new pressure forms on his erection.

“You Sure about that?” Rin asks against his neck, lightly squeezing as emphasis. Y/n’s cock twitches in response, though he uses his free hand to push the younger Haitani back.

“Yes I’m sure!” He exclaims, frustration occurring as his emotions have been dragged all over the place. He gasps in pain as both his nipple and cock are squeezed tightly, bringing discomfort from the force.

“Haven’t you guys had enough of assaulting Y/n?”

Y/n sighs in relief as they stop from hearing Kazutora’s voice, the thankful man eyeing his standing figure.

When Rin pulls back and Ran releases Y/n, he awkwardly pushes himself off the bed, not even bothering to cover his hard - on in desperation of escaping out of the situation.

“Well, we were just getting started.” Ran shrugged. He kept his legs wide open without a care of his own erection showing through his pants.

Kazutora gives them a bored look before grabbing Y/n’s wrist and pulling him along. They walk down the hall, heading to their cells.

“You just can’t keep them off you, huh?” He snickers. Y/n gapes.

“I-I don’t even do anything! I’m so confused. Also why did you tell them about my brother, Hanemiya?”

“I already told you to call me Kazutora or Kazu, L/n. Don’t be a jerk.” Y/n’s eyes widened as they reached their cell. They walk in and shut the door before Y/n continues.

“I never told you my last name.”

“It’s not hard to find.” Kazutora shrugs.

“Why did you tell them about my brother?”

“I don’t like how you’re treating me after I just saved you, Y/n. I can talk about whatever I want.”

“Yeah, but they just used that shit against me! Fucking interrogating me about my own life because you ran your mouth!”

“That’s not my problem. I can’t control what they do.” He stares at Y/n with a stoic expression.

“It’s only the second day and there’s so much that has happened.” Y/n paces as he takes deep breaths, still angry from his interaction with the brothers.

“You’ve only had like two incidents.”

“Yeah I got threatened like 3 or 4 times, cut with a knife, and sexually assaulted.”

“Welcome to prison? I don’t know what you want me to say.” Kazutora chuckles.

I know I’m in prison but this is a lot, or am I just overreacting? My emotions felt valid but now I’m second guessing it all.

Y/n drops on his futon and turns over into a fetal position. Numbness taking over as the feeling of loneliness crept in. He covered his whole body, including his head with his blanket. Kazutora sighs.

“I’ll help you rest, yeah?”

Although Y/n shook his head no, he didn’t push Kazutora away when he sat above his head and began to caress him while humming the tune he listened to when he was eavesdropping on Y/n and Mikey. The melody echoes through the quiet room as Y/n drifts off to sleep, Kazutora watching the entire time after he pulls the cover off of his head. Once he woke up, Kazutora was nowhere in sight. A guard took his place, telling him that it was time for showers.

Once he is guided to the showers, the guard releases him. He walks to one of the faucets and turns it on while placing his supplies next to him, along with his towel and clean uniform. He undresses and he washes his body as well as his hair, adding shampoo when needed along with conditioner. Once he’s finished with his hair, he focuses on soaping his body up and rinsing. Once he turns the faucet off he dries himself off before lathering himself with lotion and applying deodorant. He dresses himself and heads to his cell to drop his stuff off before dinner.

When he reached the cafeteria, he went to the line. He grabbed his tray of food and looked for seating. He found an empty table and sat, the group he knew non-existent. Once he finished eating, he throws his stuff out and exits along with a guard. He grabs his hygienic supplies for the bathroom before heading there.

When he reaches the room, he hears thuds and impacts. Furrowing his eyebrows, he minds his own business, beginning to brush his teeth before he looks through the mirror at a familiar guy getting stabbed repeatedly.

“Yasu!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. The group of men scurry off when they’ve been caught, giving menacing looks as they leave a beaten and bloodied Yasu on the ground, laying in his own pile of blood and bathroom grime.

“No, no, no!” Y/n yells out as he crouches over. Sure they barely know each other but Yasu was a nice enough guy to warn Y/n of prison troubles. He didn’t deserve this brutal death.

“Y-y/n!” He coughs out. “Th-they did this. St-stay away!” He gasps as he gags on his own blood.

“Y/n.” The voice startles Y/n as he looks at the culprit. He breathes in fear as he sees Mikey and his mad dog staring at the pair.

“We need to talk.”

“I-I would need to drop my stuff off in my room.” He says as he stands from his position, moving away from the dying man.

“The guard will do it.” Mikey responds before turning on his heel, walking out of the bathroom. Sanzu follows as Y/n hurries behind them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! How am I supposed to stay away from them? They’ll hurt me if I reject them.

“Uh…um Mikey? I’m pretty tired. Could this wait till the morning, maybe?”

They all halt their movements. Only Sanzu turns to side eye Y/n.

“How dare you question the King?” Mikey holds a hand up to Sanzu.

“Come on, Y/n.”

They all begin walking towards Mikey and Sanzu’s cell. They walk in before the guards lock the door behind them. Sanzu pulls Y/n on the futon while he sits behind him, mimicking Ran’s position from a few hours before only this time, their feet were plastered on the floor.

“Uh, what’s going on? Why am I here?”

“My king wanted to thank you for last night.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “So be grateful to his generosity.” He grips Y/n’s waist, his nails digging into his sides through the fabric causing him to flinch.

When Y/n saw Mikey position himself on his knees, the idea flew through his head.

“Oh, uh! Mikey! You don’t need to do this!” He exclaims. He uses his hands to block Mikey which did nothing considering Sanzu helped him undo his jumpsuit.

When his chest was revealed, they completely forced it off of his arms as Sanzu circled his arms back around Y/n’s waist. Mikey pulled the suit completely off as well as pulling down Y/n’s underwear.

“You’re already hard.” Mikey murmured, wrapping his hand around the veiny girth.

Mikey dragged his tongue up the length before circling his lips around the head. The cock twitches as he sucks softly before dropping his mouth all the way to the base, deep throating the length as he holds it there before pulling back and repeating the process. Y/n holds back from moaning as he bites his lip, his fingers digging into the futon and grabbing the blanket. His head drops on Sanzu’s shoulder as the pinkette dips his head low, biting the skin on his neck until he draws blood and a cry out of that pretty mouth.

Mikey continued bobbing his head as he accelerates, gag reflex non-existent as he takes the dick in his throat like a pro. Saliva and precum drip down the length and stain the corners of his mouth as he sucks it all the way in. He stops for a moment before sucking his own fingers thoroughly, allowing saliva to drip down his hand as he wets his fingers. Sanzu takes the opportunity to grab Y/n’s thighs and pull his legs back to give Mikey more of an opening.

As he pushes the finger in, he takes his cock in his mouth once more. Y/n clenched around the finger as his cock throbs. Sweat drips down his forehead as he rocks his hips forward in reflex, a small groan escaping his lips as Mikey eyes him from below.

“Feels good?” Sanzu whispers in his ear.

Although the pleasure is overtaking the pain from his ass, Y/n doesn’t want to enable what they’re doing so he ignores him. Only for nails to dig into his thighs roughly, leaving indents and small bleeding cuts. Sanzu’s cock twitches at the way Y/n’s body reacts to the pain by tensing and yelping.

“Tell me, Y/n. Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” He exclaims in pain when Mikey adds two other fingers at the same time, angling it to his prostate as he sucks his cock faster. Y/n’s hips rock as his spot is beaten and cock is engulfed by warmth. His mouth hangs open as he closes his eyes. His back moves against Sanzu’s erection through his fabric causing him to give small moans in his ear, pressing it harder against his back. The sound of Mikey’s wet mouth rubbing against his cock brought a warm sensation to his stomach, his body tenses as he convulses, finally releasing into his throat as the short man swallows it all.

They all breathe heavily when it’s over, Sanzu and Mikey’s cocks are completely hard and ready for a release. Not wanting to rile them up further, Y/n jumps out of their holds and quickly puts his underwear and jumpsuit on before rushing out of the room. Embarrassment colors his face as he damn near runs to his cell.

They’re using me as some fucking toy because they’re bored. They’re taking me as some kind of whore they can do whatever they want with at anytime and it’s not fucking fair.

When he reaches his cell, he immediately goes to his bed and covers himself, drifting off to sleep after a while of shameful sulking.

“Rise and shine, Y/n. Time for us to go.” Kazutora smiles.

Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re being released from prison.” He states with excitement.

Y/n sits up with his eyebrows furrowed.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette…

“Yeah you’re leaving, but I’m supposed to be here for years.”

“Then why did the guard come to release you as well?”

“Hurry up inmates, we’re on a schedule.”

“We’re not inmates anymore.” Kazutora sticks his tongue out.

The entire process of release Y/n was very confusing as he followed the guards and rest of the yakuza out of the prison. After they walk out in the original clothes they wore when they were imprisoned, Kazutora pulls Y/n to the black tinted car that’s waiting for their arrival.

Y/n hesitates.

“Wait, this means this is a goodbye. I’m going home.”

Kazutora halts his movement, still gripping Y/n’s wrist before turning to face him with a smile.

“You are coming home Y/n. Why do you think we went through the trouble of breaking you out?”

“What?”

“Yeah. You have nobody else nor your mother’s home anymore so where else would you go? Who else would’ve picked you up?”

“N-no, my siblings…”

“Your siblings abandoned you here. They didn’t want to be around a murderer.” Kazutora’s face turned stoic as he spoke.

“Don’t say that. It’s not like that and you know it!” He yanks his wrist out of Kazutora’s grip.

“I’m just saying their point of view. It doesn’t matter anyway considering they’re all dead.”

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Hanemiya?” Y/n exclaims.

“I’m just telling you the truth, L/n.”

“No, did you and your goons do something to them?”

“I’d watch what comes out of my mouth if I were you. Come on.” He yanks Y/n along as they walk to the car. Y/n pushes him away as he yanks his arm back though Kazutora doesn’t release in the slightest. His grip tightens painfully as it causes Y/n to almost drop to his knees, his free hand grabbing Kazutora’s wrist in reflex.

“Let me go, Kazutora!”

“Go where? You have nowhere else to go. You should be grateful.”

“Y/n!” A voice sung, interrupting their dispute.

He gasps in response as he sees a gun pointed in his direction from a certain pink - haired fiend.

“Be a doll and get in the car, yeah?”

With one last look at the golden eyed man with anger plastered on his expression, he makes his way to the car, Kazutora walking behind him.

[yuquinzel]

— crush culture.

feat. itoshi rin. fluff !! i love rin. maybe inspired by a tiktok. itoshi rin definitely has a crush on you.

“do you think i have a tell for when i lie?” you question, eyes absently trailing off deep in your thoughts. isagi hums from beside you, flicking his gaze to you in seconds as he ponders your words. “yeah, you definitely do. I can tell when you’re lying so easily.”

“wait, what is it? what’s my tell?”

“you avoid eye contact when you’re lying, I’ve noticed that like, everytime you say you ‘forgot’ to bring your homework.” he laughs, you gasp.

“no fucking way,” you breathe a sigh of utter disbelief, brows knitting together.

“yeah, you do that when we ask you about rin-chan too!” bachira joins in, and suddenly all pairs of eyes on the table are set on him— including your widened and hesitant ones.

“oh my god, totally. she just refuses to look at you if you ask her anything about him.” you don’t like the teasing undertone to reo’s words, the way everyone is narrowing their eyes at you with mischief flashing in their gazes.

it makes you shrink in your seat a little, “what’s that supposed to mean...”

“YOU DID IT AGAIN!”

“SHUT UP I DID NOT!”

truthfully, you’re aware you can’t maintain eye contact with anyone when you’re directly asked about the nature of your relationship with rin. you can’t look at your friends in the eye and say that “no, i only think of him as friend.”

“YOU’RE TOTALLY AVOIDING OUR EYES RIGHT NOW!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE ANNOYING ME!”

you expect reo to retort, say something that’s definitely meant to annoy you even further. but he goes quiet instead, eyes trailing off and resting somewhere behind you. you follow his gaze, and surprise! surprise!— it lands on none other than the subject of your ordeal.

all eyes turn to him as he makes his way towards your table— he’s actually on his way past it, but you stop him just before he can pass you by. “where are you going?” you say, the answer already echoing in your mind.

you feel reo’s overly excited gaze on you at your laughable attempt to start a conversation with rin— there it goes, all your attempts to refute the supposed allegations of your crush on him.

“...to my desk.” he gestures towards his spot, a charming calmness to his words and a softer look in his eyes as he talks to you. it doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, and someone coos in the distance.

“oh,” you say, a little hesitantly. “just sit here... with us.” with me. you leave that part out.

rin ponders your words, looking back and forth between you and his table. you almost regret saying anything when he doesn’t reply. but then he takes a seat beside you, which, truthfully— is a surprise to no one because there are plenty of empty seats on the table.

which prompts the question from everyone, their eyes brimming with a hunger for teenage romance, any sparks of it lighting up their eyes like fireworks.

“rin-chan, you totally have a crush on y/n! don’t you?” bachira asks, risking his life for an answer everyone wants.

you are left gaping at your friends like an idiot, dumbfounded as you struggle to form words. you see rin stiffen in his spot, followed by his immediate denials. “what? no. no, i don’t. don’t just casually say shit like that.”

“oh my god, his ears are red!” reo laughs.

“HEY THAT’S HIS TELL FOR WHEN HE’S LYING!” bachira’s voice makes you snap your head to turn to rin again, a shade of deep maroon blooming on his ears, extending to his cheeks as well.

immediately, rin is covering his ears, “shut the fuck up! i have no tell for lying.” followed by empty threats and more coos from your friends.

but all you can really see is the glow of warm hues setting in further into his skin, and his attempts to hide his ears even more when he catches you looking at him.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

me posting my drafts when i’m on hiatus :’)

[thebardisabird]

I've been on a little thought train of s/o's learning each others cultures so I gotta know your take on how the matsus would react to their s/o saying "I love you" in Japanese 💙

Hi my friend, I know you're taking a break from Ososan right now, but I was feeling a type of way about this prompt and wanted to answer this. I hope it's okay if we kind of go the route of this being the first time you say it to them. Lots of fluff, and a little bit of angst here and there but they all end happily! Under the cut!

Osomatsu would actually panic, completely bypassing the fact that you're actually learning his mother tongue. Though he presents himself as a very carefree kind of guy, the idea of love - real, true love, is a very deep feeling that he's a little afraid of facing. He may slip up and say something less graceful like "Same!" or "Me too!" and quite frankly he won't understand your disappointment at first. But after discussing it with his brothers, who all tell him he's a fucking MORON for responding that way, he actually does some real introspective work and realizes that's he's being incredibly dumb for not being able to say it back off the bat. Of course he loves you. So the next time he sees you, he'll ask you nonchalantly to repeat that new phrase you learned recently, and with some hesitance you do. He smirks with some softness, faces you, and repeats your words back to you.

Karamatsu sings your praises of learning Japanese, knowing very well that you both are trying to learn each others' language. It will take him a minute to register exactly what you've said, but when it does, he pauses. His face is blank for a second; at first you think you've said something wrong (or possibly even said it too soon), but then you see the tears corner in his eyes. Now he has you panicking, but he takes your hands before you even know what to do with them. He'll ask you "...Me?...Are you sure?" and it reminds that you that for as confident as he seems, Karamatsu does have his insecurities. It almost breaks your heart at his question of disbelief. But you reassure him, hand to his cheek and say it again. To which he wilts, letting a tear or two fall as he takes you in his arms and tells you how happy he is you feel the same.

Choromatsu is so excited that you're learning more and more phrases! He understands that Japanese isn't an easy language to learn so he's very keen on helping you out as much as possible. Like his older brother however, he too doesn't realize what you'd said right away. His face immediately drops into that signature blank Matsuno stare when it registers. He promptly grabs some q-tips, fiercely cleaning his ears before insisting he heard you wrong and asking you to repeat yourself. When you attempt to he screams for you to stop, "I'M NOT READY, WAIT WAIT WAIT!" and he turns his back to you, face in hands. It goes on this way for a few minutes before you decided to tell him to forget what you said - clearly what you've said bothers him. Surprisingly he grasps your hand before you can turn away, his grip unsure, but still clasped around you. "Me too...I...love you too." His back is still turned to you as he says this, but you can hear it in his voice that he's sincere. What you don't see is the half-lidded gaze of relief under his palm, and the cherry red blush dusting his cheeks.

Ichimatsu right away is taken aback by your words. So much so that his hand comes to his drumming chest in an act to stop his heart from beating out of his ribcage. He backs away from you, looking almost insulted. There's a very clear internal struggle within him as he can't properly process your words of affection. So instead, he runs. Undoubtedly you're confused and a little upset, not quite expecting him to turn tail on you at your exclamation of love in his native language. You know Ichimatsu well enough to know that what he needs most is space. The rest of the day the poor fourth born needs to constantly be held at bay from bashing his head through the walls of the Matsuno household. All of his siblings reassure him that he can still fix things. How could he run from you when you told him you loved him? He felt like the scum of the earth. Would you even forgive him? Of course you wouldn't, who was he kidding. The chatter of self-depreciation drowned out his thoughts so deafeningly that he hadn't even realized you had made your way to his home. It wasn't until your arms had circled around his back and your chin tucked at his shoulder that he was shaken back to presence; and then it hits him. You love him. You love him. You spend time with him. You make him laugh. In your arms he feels relaxed, safe even. How could he...? His forehead leans wearily against your shoulder. You begin to apologize for making uncomfortable, but before more than a few words escape you he cuts you off with his own expression of love. It's quiet and muffled, but you hear him. The sweet silence that follows is filled with nothing but comfort.

Jyushimatsu basically shouts about how really good your pronunciation is! He's happy that you're learning Japanese as he wants to be able to have full conversations with you as much as he can. He's not aloof however, he knows exactly what you said. That's why in less than a minute you're lifted into his arms, being tossed ceremoniously a few times before your face is littered with kisses. His normally bright personality shines at another level at your loving words. He presses a few more kisses to your face before exclaiming that he loves you the same in Japanese alongside you. It's an exchange that leaves you both feeling on cloud nine for the remainder of the day.

Todomatsu opens his mouth to say something, but instead tries to bite back an overjoyed smile. Deciding to be cheeky he responds with, "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you, can you say that again?" You think at first he actually didn't hear what you said you repeat yourself, but after he asks you to reiterate what you said, you quickly catch on. That doesn't deter you though and you play him at his own game. It doesn't take long before he ends up almost as pink as his wardrobe, laughing softly before he stops you from repeating yourself one more time. Instead he asks you out of the blue if you want to take a selfie with him. You're caught off guard by the request, but you oblige, posing with him. Just before he snaps the pic, you feel lips press to your cheek. In the softest voice he can muster he whispers his own words of affection in Japanese. When he pulls away it's your turn to wear some color on your cheeks whilst Todomatsu raves about how adorable your selfie came out.

[ngayawneluoer]

the thrill of the chase

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sully siblings x metkayinan reader

You visit the home of your Omatikayan friends, and Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk encourage you to get into a bit of trouble and do something you’ve never done before: bond with an ikran.

word count: 2045

a/n: as always nobody fact check this bc i really should have done more research BUT ALAS enjoy

When your parents finally agreed to let you visit the Omatikayan lands, you figured your stay would include some introductions, sightseeing, and maybe some casual shenanigans. The Omatikayan village was rich with culture, and you revelled in the people's hospitality, but it wasn't long until your friends pulled you away from the adults and dragged you into trouble. Silly of you to think it would include something other than scaling mountains.

"This is… harder than it seems," You groaned, slightly trembling as you scaled the jagged rocks of the Hallelujah mountains. It was somewhat embarrassing for you, as even Tuk was racing ahead of you, but you kept telling yourself that you were just in a new environment and that it was expected of you to make mistakes.

"Not so easy when you're the fish out of water, is it?" Lo'ak teased, golden eyes peering down at you from the ledge where he, Tuk and Kiri had stopped to wait for you. Neteyam was right beside you, ready to assist if you struggled too much.

"Steady. Don't force yourself," Neteyam encouraged, an amused smile on his face.

You huffed, trying to hide how you strained with every step, "I'm not a baby, you know. I can climb a cliff without- shit!" Your right hand slipped from the jagged cliffside, and you cut your sentence off with a shriek. Thank Eywa for Neteyam, who had caught your waist to keep you stable and lifted you to hold the branch above you.

"Easy…" Neteyam reassured, hand still on your back as you regained your grip.

"What was that about climbing a cliff?" Lo'ak taunted playfully, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Kiri.

Just what you deserve for getting cocky, you supposed.

Tuk peeked down, her sweet eyes filled with concern for you, "(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your first instinct was to say no; no, you were not okay because you were dangling from a floating boulder and if you fell, there was virtually zero chance of survival. And yet somehow, you couldn't say this was the most threatening situation you've been in. You survived a war. You could climb a rock.

"I'm fine, Tuk. Almost there."

Lo'ak turned to Kiri, "Should one of us tell them that we are definitely not almost there?"

"I heard that!" You retorted, scowling at the man above you.

"Less talking, more climbing!" Kiri laughed, "Even Tuk did it."

Neteyam rolled his eyes, "Ignore those skxawngs. You're doing great for your first time climbing this high."

"You can do it, (Y/N)!" Tuk cheered, her little hands clapping to cheer you on. You groaned in effort but continued pushing on.

When you finally reached the ledge, you threw yourself onto your back between Lo'ak and Kiri, "I regret ever teasing you for being useless in Metkayina," you whined, sincerity to your words, "I feel like a child here. Except even a child is more capable than me."

"Come on, you big baby. You haven't even gotten to the good part." Neteyam beamed with burgeoning excitement, clutching your arm to pull you back to your feet.

"I swear, swimming is so much more painless than all this. We have it easy back home." You spoke.

"I wouldn't say that. It took Lo'ak forever to get used to riding an ilu." Kiri reminisced as she strolled forward down the path, disappearing into the flora.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, "Sure. Use me as the object of ridicule once again."

"Well it is true!" Tuk giggled with a mischievous grin on her face.

Lo'ak huffed, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he attempted to lecture Tuk, "Easy for you; you're a kid," he blurted, "Everyone carries you around; you never even had to learn to ride one!"

Neteyam scoffed, a look of disbelief on his face, "Lo'ak, she is seven."

Kiri stalked back with an exasperated look on her face, "Are you guys coming or not?"

"It is Lo'ak's fault, all he does is talk!" you quipped playfully with a smile, knowingly trying to get under his skin.

"I will push you off this mountain."

-

After a bit more bickering and a lot more climbing, you found yourselves close to the mountain peak, a large waterfall framing the path you assumed you were to take.

The five of you connected hands, with Tuk between Neteyam and Lo'ak, followed by you and Kiri. Cautiously, you all crept along the ledge behind the waterfall to reach a clearing with a myriad of ikrans. Finally, you all climbed onto some nearby rocks overlooking the creatures.

"They are beautiful," You whispered with a peaceful smile.

"They are," Lo'ak agreed, turning to you with a suspicious smirk, "Now you will tame one."

You spun to him in surprise, your brow furrowed in annoyance, "What?"

The four siblings tried to hold their laughs in but miserably failed.

"Do it, (Y/N)! We learned to ride ilus. Now you need to learn to ride an ikran." Kiri egged on, Tuk accompanying her with "Yes"s.

You looked to Neteyam for a semblance of help, but he merely shrugged as if to say you were on your own.

"No! What if I fall?" you sneered.

"I'll call my ikran, and we'll catch you," Neteyam quipped confidently.

"Where is your ikran exactly?" You challenged.

"Close by," Neteyam replied, "...probably."

"Neteyam!" you whined, slapping his arm.

Said boy snickered softly, a cheeky grin on his face, "I am only joking! I promise you will not die; I will catch you."

"Well what if they attack me?"

"They won't attack you," Lo'ak replied, "All at once."

You scowled at him suspiciously, "Your wording was awfully specific."

"I was just answering your question!" Lo'ak exclaimed, trying to mask a giggle as he threw his hands up defensively.

"(Y/N). You're not alone. We will help if we see you are about to die." Kiri chuckled.

You gave in with a sigh of irritation, "Okay. Fine," After a moment's reflection, you looked out at the sea of ikrans feeling somewhat determined, "So I just pick one?"

"Wellll… not really," Neteyam trailed off, a slightly guilty grimace on his face.

"Okay," you deadpanned, "How do I know which one to choose?"

"It will attack you," Lo'ak stated bluntly.

If looks could kill, Lo'ak would be dead.

"You forest people must have a death wish."

You knew you most definitely should not be doing this; your mother would probably lecture you until the end of time if she knew what you were doing. And yet there you were, making your way through the ikrans, about to tame one. You could faintly hear the four siblings cheering you on in the background, but you were primarily focused on not getting mauled to death by the enormous creatures. You were so out of your comfort zone when it came to ikrans. They were big, fast, vicious; how those morons managed to convince you to do this, you will never know.

You walked across the clearing, eyes darting cautiously at every sudden movement. To your dismay, every ikran you approached flew away, and as you counted up to 10 creatures flying away, you started to get discouraged.

Your shoulders slumped in bitter disappointment, and you turned back to the group watching you, "I don't think this is working."

"Keep going!" Kiri exclaimed amongst the acclamations of her siblings.

This was humiliating. 

"Please, they are all leaving!" You pouted slightly, pleading with Eywa that they'll let you off the hook and allow you to return.

Suddenly, Neteyam's eyes widened, his body lurching forward and his hands anxiously clasping the mossy branch in front of him, "Watch out!"

A hiss sounded behind you, and you released a shriek as you dove away from the sound and rolled to face the creature that had chosen you as its target. The admittedly gorgeous banshee stepped towards you, a menacing look in its eye as it screeched in your face, sharp teeth bared.

"Took your time, didn't you?" You taunted, standing to face the creature before hissing at it. The two of you circled each other before it dove forward, and you skillfully manoeuvred out of the way to avoid its razor-sharp fangs. Finally, you grabbed its head, wrapping both arms and legs around its neck to attempt to control it.

"Fight it!" Lo'ak screamed.

"Make the bond!" Kiri joined.

You grappled with the mighty reptile as it fought back viciously, but you somehow found the strength to overpower it and connect your queues. Immediately the ikran calmed, and you felt the bond you formed with the creature deep in your bones. A gleeful laugh escaped your throat as your ikran stood slowly with you on its back.

Neteyam breathed a sigh of relief, releasing the iron grip he had on the flora around him. Lo'ak only laughed, playfully punching his brother's shoulder, "I told you they could do it, Neteyam."

Kiri wasted no time and leapt over the rocks to meet you, her siblings in tow.

"You must fly now to seal the bond," she proclaimed.

"You've got this. It's like an ilu. Just no water," Lo'ak said cheekily.

You turned to Neteyam, who was now carrying Tuk on his back, "Trust yourself. We'll be right behind you."

You nodded, breathing deep and turning to face the cliff, staring at the sky ahead. And when you felt that both you and your banshee were ready, you commanded it to fly.

It jerked suddenly, and you released a loud shriek as it nosedived off the mountain. Your body lifted off its back until the only thing keeping you connected was your iron grip on its antennae (and your prayers). Just as you managed to pull back and get the ikran to glide straight, it flew directly into a waterfall, stunning you and making you lose focus. The poor animal tried its best to fly but panicked once again, fluttered directly into a cliffside, then up and down... and up and down again. It would have been an understatement to say you were doing terribly, and the harder you tried to gain control, the harder it was.

"(Y/N)!" You turned to the sound of your name being called to see Lo'ak to your left on his own ikran, "Steady! Stay calm, and your ikran will listen!"

Taking deep breaths, you tried your best to focus on the sound of Lo'ak speaking and calm yourself down. To your delight, eventually your ikran levelled out, soaring straight.

"Yes, (Y/N)! You're flying!" An adorable, excited voice cheered. You turned to your right to see Tuk hanging on Neteyam's back as he flew his ikran. Neteyam wore a huge, proud smile, and he whooped along with his little sister.

Behind you was Kiri on her ikran, one arm in the air as she bellowed excitedly. A proud smile took over your face, and you let out an enthusiastic trill, your friends joining you.

When it was apparent that you had your flying under control, Neteyam spoke up, "Follow me! I'll take us somewhere you will not believe."

-

"You did what?!" Neytiri hissed. The five of you stood in a row in front of her, gazes lowered and ears pointing back in shame.

"Their parents trust us to look after them for three days, and you take them to do one of the most dangerous things they could have done here?" Jake joined, primarily lecturing his two sons, who he knew were most likely the instigators.

Lo'ak huffed, "They're fine, though."

"Yes, I am fine-"

"They could have died!" Neytiri yelled, "And you took Tuk with you? What were you thinking?!"

You were silly to even try to get a word in. There would clearly not be any winning this argument, so you all hung your heads in shame and accepted the lecture.

"-and no more causing trouble. For the one day (Y/N) has left here. Can you do that?" Jake concluded.

You all answered with obedient "Yes sir"s before moping away in silence.

When you were far enough away from the two adults, you finally let out the giggle you had been holding back, and the others joined in.

"So worth it."

-

a/n: currently working on some requests :) thank you to everyone who has been giving attention to my posts and sending in requests, it makes me so happy! i’m seeing avatar 2 again tomorrow so hopefully it will strike some inspiration again <3

[quill-and-whetstone]

“The Sniper Problem”

I have a favorite litmus test that I apply to just about everything I write: “Could this entire plotline be resolved by one sufficiently trained sniper?” The hypothetical sniper is there to evaluate the quality of the conflict I’ve set up. If they can resolve the whole thing by taking out their target then I… probably have some rethinking to do, because the test succinctly highlights a few key issues with any story that fails it.

First, the obvious: if the problem your protagonists are facing can be solved this way it’s probably just not as interesting as it could be. A conflict of “big bad evil dude does a big bad evil thing and our hero goes and mercs him about it” can make for a fun blockbuster action film, but the plot of those films are rarely–if ever–the point. Stories with a central villain stand to gain a lot of narrative depth from asking yourself what issues would linger if they were suddenly removed from the picture. What internal struggles might remain in your protagonists? How might the world around them still need to be changed or healed? Which elements or areas of the story just seem empty without the big bad to fill the narrative space, and how can we develop them?

The second facet of the sniper problem is an inverted Occam’s Razor, a call to ensure that there’s a good reason the protagonists aren’t just using a simple and direct route to solve their problems. It’s like how modern horror movies have to cripple the victims’ cell phones to justify everything else that happens, though ideally less contrived. When revising a story through this lens, it’s almost difficult not to improve it. It aids suspension of disbelief, lets your protagonists present as more competent, and gives them more to do outside of biffing people they don’t like which in turn showcases more of their personality.

A great example of all of this is Avatar: The Last Airbender. Throughout the show the bottom line is that our heroes are out to defeat the Firelord to stop the atrocities he’s committing against the rest of the world. So it stands to reason to ask, why not camp outside his house early on with an assassin good enough to score a quick or lucky kill? But the show answers this amply with just its concept, mostly without having to draw direct attention to it. If Firelord Ozai dropped dead in the pilot there would still be a whole Fire Nation pursuing his goals complete with other emotionally unstable royals and military officers. It wouldn’t actually… solve anything. “Defeat the Firelord” is just the mission that sets our heroes on the path they need to take to stop a war that’s destroying the world. The real solution is cultivating friendships across cultures, healing and maturing together, growing spiritually, protecting and empowering victims of generational violence, dismantling fascistic power structures, and ultimately even finding a relatively peaceful / humane solution to the problem of the Firelord. While they do call this out directly in one episode, they didn’t have to, because with the way they structured the narrative it was already evident. As a result of that good planning the characters got to do a lot of interesting, character driven, thematically resonant things and the show isn’t just one long and kind of dry martial arts training montage until they show up at the finale. So keep the sniper problem in mind as you write! Or even as you read, watch, and analyze other media for what worked and what didn’t. I can’t promise it’ll be relevant to every story, but I can promise that it’s a quick and easy standard that’ll help you layer in a lot of nuance and flavor into your narrative.

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student. 

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point. 

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town. 

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends. 

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.” 

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?” 

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend. 

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside. 

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.” 

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace. 

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed. 

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette. 

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal. 

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress. 

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up. 

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table. 

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else. 

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer. 

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling. 

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie. 

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly. 

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out. 

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

[blues824]

im surprised this hasn't been requested yet,, but could you please do malleus, jade, floyd, silver and trey with a reader who is like alice kingsleigh? im talking about the live-action alice, not the animated one (im unsure if they act the same, its been a while since i watched the animated one).

The LA and the animated versions are quite different. Gender-neutral reader.

Trey Clover

You were as brave as you were adventurous, and he appreciated that about you. However, your sense of adventure often ended up with you in trouble with Riddle, and this baker had to bail you out with a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card (a strawberry tart) more times than he can count. You loved standing up for what you believed was right, and you didn’t think the Queen’s rules were just at all.

Trey loved hearing about your own world. The different cultures and how you were seen as crazy always amused him. However, whenever you got to the parts where you were either going to have a spouse chosen for you or you were going to be thrown into a mental asylum because you had the ability to travel through mirrors and get from Twisted Wonderland back to your world… or so you claimed, according to your world, he was in disbelief. Your land seemed even more twisted than anything Twisted Wonderland has to offer.

All that aside, you do have to admit that the treats your beloved baker makes are better than the Eat Me! pastry that you had consumed however many months ago. It did increase your size by a very significant amount… you almost destroyed Heartslabyul. However, you just drank the Drink Me! potion and you shrank down to the size of a pencil. Trey took it upon himself to make sure that you weren’t squashed, and you sat on his shoulder.

The Vice Housewarden knows of your distaste for the patriarchy, but this man was written by a woman (literally and figuratively). When he threaded his fingers through yours and brought the back of your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, you could tell that it was genuine love that he felt for you. He had no intention to ‘tame’ you. No, he wanted to be the person you returned home to, and you were grateful for that.

Jade Leech

He was intrigued by you, to say the least. You marched so bravely into Azul’s office that day and you demanded that your friends be freed of their contract. Considering you were a sea captain and knew much more about shady deals with pirates than Azul knows about making shady deals, you were able to find loopholes within the loopholes created. You took your time and read through the fine print and pointed out errors, and seeing the cecaelia so riled up in anger made the eel’s heart beat quickly.

That is how you both became friends, actually, and romantic partners. Your sense of adventure aligned with his, and you both swam and hiked with each other. You lived an active lifestyle, something that doesn’t quite fit within the societal standards of your world, so keeping up with Jade was no challenge for you. Every single time you make it up a mountain, you always ask about the different mushrooms and their properties, and this eel is more than happy to tell you.

Your Unique Magic was definitely strange, as you had the ability to travel between entire worlds. For any holiday break, you were able to go back home. However, you rushed back into Twisted Wonderland in what seemed to be a tattered straitjacket. Your eyes were a bit sunken in, and you seemed a bit woozy. That’s when you told him, with slurred speech, that you had been sent to a mental asylum and injected with a bit of medicine to make you go to sleep before you pulled the syringe out and stabbed it into the doctor.

Jade took you to his room where he helped you take off the straitjacket, offering you one of his own shirts and hoodies. Then, he tucked you into bed so that you could sleep off the medicine’s effects. Oh, he definitely wanted the doctor who did this to you to pay, but for some reason, he was not able to go to your world like you were able to. But your tired ramblings of forced marriage and societal standards made him want to find a way so he could make those humans pay for touching his beloved.

Floyd Leech

He, too, was intrigued by you when you marched into Azul’s office and demanded to read your friends’ contracts. He did get bored when you sat down and read the fine print, but when you pointed out a loophole that managed to get your friends out, Floyd was genuinely surprised. No one has ever managed to do that before, which made his hyperfixation on you even more apparent and present.

But, that ‘hyperfixation’ wasn’t a ‘hyperfixation’... it was a crush. Your adventurous personality both aligned with and contradicted his. You never made him bored. You liked playing basketball with him so that he could get extra practice. You loved sneaking him away during his 15 minute break at the Mostro Lounge just so that you could hang out with him a bit more. Also, when he was in a bad mood, you were not afraid of being squeezed because you faced an entire jabberwocky before. A grumpy eel was nothing to you.

During that break where you were originally going to go home, he did not want you to leave. Well, just a few days into the break, you jumped back through the mirror in a straitjacket and you were stumbling about. You ran as fast as you could to Octavinelle and into the [closed] Lounge. Floyd rushed to see what was wrong, and you went on and on about how you were thrown into a mental asylum and injected with medicine that would put you to sleep. He picked you up and over his shoulder and took you to his room where you slept off the medicine’s effects. He cuddled close to you, and you would never know how angry he was.

Even though it doesn’t seem like he pays attention, he knows that nothing matters to you more than continuing your father’s legacy as a sea captain. However, he never wanted you to go back to your world if it would kill you. After all, he can’t function without his shrimpy. Anyways, you could be a sea captain in Twisted Wonderland, and he would even go with you. He could swim as much as he wanted, he could sail as much as he wanted, and he would get to be with you.

Malleus Draconia

He knew you were different based on the way you walked up to him and just introduced yourself. You held no fear of him, but you didn’t know who he was. When he told you to call him what you will, this intrigued you even more. You both found yourselves excited to meet up each night, as you got to know more about this mysterious new friend that you had made yourself acquainted with.

When you inevitably discovered who he truly was, you understood where he was coming from. Nothing really changed, but you often teased him about keeping more secrets from you. Eventually, a flower of romantic interest bloomed between the two of you, and every single time he brought you back to Ramshackle, he would wish you farewell by placing a polite and loving kiss on the back of your hand. When he looks back up at you, you can feel your heart flutter a bit because of the amount of love he looks at you with.

Malleus had no intention of ‘taming’ you either. If you were to rule beside him, you would do wonderfully as-is. Your world did not share the same view, and one night you had told him about your winter break when he came back. You were taken in by Octavinelle when you ran back through the mirror from your world in a straitjacket and you had some medicine injected into you at that point. The dragon prince was absolutely angry, and a storm was starting to form as you went on and on about the happenings.

If you think you are ever going back to your world, you are sadly mistaken. He is not letting you go back just so you can be tossed back into an insane asylum. He knows about your desire to carry out your father’s legacy, but you can do that here. Actually, he still hates the idea of you being away from him, but it will do because at least you would be in Twisted Wonderland. Plus, there is no chance that you are going to fall for someone else, so he has nothing to worry about.

Silver

He reminded you of the dormouse that you had met. He always fell asleep, which was unfortunate when one was as adventurous as you were. But you were not going to let him lie in the middle of the hallway just to be trampled. It was with a tad bit of difficulty that you pulled him onto a chair and off of the floor. However, he miraculously woke up because of all the extra movement, just to see you really close to his face. To say he was startled [and flustered] would be an understatement.

This was a start to a rather interesting relationship. Since he was a knight, you compared him to the card knights in Underland, but found there to be no comparison at all. After all, he was not rushing to paint the roses red. He was very serious compared to your first year friends (excusing Jack and Sebek), but that was what you liked about him. He, too, was the constant in your life, even if you had only known him for a short period of time.

Silver appreciates peace, but he appreciates you even more. So, when he comes back from Briar Valley, and he hears whispers about you being thrown into a mental asylum back home, he is running around trying to find you. He found you at Ramshackle, staring at a straitjacket with a look of absolute betrayal on your face. That was when he realized that all the whispers were correct. He pulled you into his arms, grateful that you were okay. 

From that point on, he kind of treats you differently. He doesn’t want you going back to your world if that is how they are going to treat you. No, he will keep you safe because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He supports your dream of being a sea captain, and he will help you learn the different lands from a multitude of different maps so that you could be confident in the geography of Twisted Wonderland.

[gatheringbones]

[“In my early advocacy for survivor justice as a teenager, many of the writings I was exposed to convinced me that locking up as many rapists as possible was the lone solution to our rape culture, the lone path to achieving justice. Of course, almost ironically, this was despite my own refusal to see a former friend who had assaulted me in a criminal light, and the fact that I’d never even dreamt of confronting him on a personal level let alone seeking any sort of legal recourse.

I know now that much of this stemmed from fear on some level—fear of disbelief, fear of blame, fear of punishment and judgment and scrutiny, even fear of sympathy; fear that all I would ever be was a victim. But it was more than that: It was also deep, personal acceptance that punishment was not going to move either of us forward. That’s not to say that those who commit harm, those who rape and assault, should not face accountability and consequences, especially to protect others from being victimized. But victims of harm, not adversarial systems designed to dole out winner-take-all punitive outcomes, know best what they need to move forward, what they need to heal. And many of us know that bargaining with and begging a patriarchal, white-supremacist institution like our criminal legal system to recognize our humanity would only subject us to additional trauma and prolonged suffering.

Much of our misunderstandings of sexual violence and its relation to the carceral capitalist police state emerges from fundamental misunderstanding about what most rapes and sexual and domestic violence cases entail, and who the perpetrators are. Most rapists are not bestially violent strangers waiting in alleys; far more often than not, they’re friends and family members, they’re “normal” guys who know their victims; they’re boyfriends, partners, co-workers. Many if not most of us have been friends with people who have committed acts of sexual harm without our knowledge, friends with other people who are friends with assailants. In many social circles, men brag to their male friends about acts that constitute rape and sexual assault and are often even praised and socially rewarded for it.

We’re surrounded by sexual violence, whether we witness it or not, and the carceral state does nothing to alleviate or address this reality.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023