#fourth fucking grade

[dreamed-for-not]

Everyday I think about how I wish puberty blockers had been more widely available when I was a child. How I wouldn’t have had breast at 8/9 years old and a period literally the month I turned 10. How much it would have helped my mental health and social development to have just a year or 2 more of being a kid instead of a “young woman.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[sapphosboy]

One thing about Rose Tyler that just really gets me, is that she has this unending well of kindness, that she willingly distributes to every single living thing she meets. Take the entire Dalek episode for example. and at least once an episode, she’ll hug some person she barely knows because they’re sad or scared. It’s one of the most consistent staples of her character, she just is so empathetic.

[cashmere-caveman]

sorry for once again recycling the tags i left on others ppls posts into their own post to fail to make the same point in an even more verbose way but

re the how did black sails end discussion. and i say this as someone who watched the finale in 2017 convinced and overjoyed that flint survived bc thats what i needed to see back then as a depressed queer teenager and has since held almost every imaginable stance on the subject at least twice except for that very first one

but how do u earnestly believe silvers story. i do think theres an argument to be made that flint is alive (i am currently back towards leaning that he physically survived in some fashion or other. maybe. dont make me pin down my opinion it needs to ferment another month or two lol) but silver of the "i heard logan and charlotte ran away together to new providence" fame. that silver tells u a story that flint happily went to georgia w his lover and u unironically think yeah thats exactly how it went down :)

maybe thats also bc idc about thomas hamilton anymore but even back then after the finale settled in and i started to rotate it all in my mind and then again after my first rewatch and every rewatch since i honestly have been unable to find the trust and conviction to take silvers story as the gospel truth bc like. gates voice i am tired of the effort it takes to believe you. to believe in you

[ibetittering]

Fuck all of y'all in Florida how dare you misrepresent my liberal king that man loves women (not in that way) and he would not STAND for this smh

[tickles-tea]

Testing Virtues

I know I’m cutting it extremely close but the day isn’t over yet! Anyway, without further ado, merry belated Christmas to @happyandticklish !! In a very funny turn of events, I ended up being your secret Santa for Squealing Santa 2023 ^^ I hope you enjoy this fic of Izaya fucking around and finding out ~ Also, a big thank you to @hypahticklish / @squealing-santa for hosting the event!!

Summary: After realizing that Shizuo is in a rather affectionate mood, Izaya decides to put his patience to the test. Word count: 2.8k

Shizuo Heiwajima could be a difficult man to read.

Despite how clearly he expressed his rage, it could be tricky to read between the lines of his surprisingly aloof resting face. Whether he was perfectly content or one second away from snapping, one could never guess.

At least, that’s what Izaya used to think.

After what he would reluctantly call ‘dating’ the man for several years now, Izaya could decipher his expressions with the ease of someone who had dedicated their life to the art. These little tells were so clear to him now, he couldn’t believe that he’d been completely oblivious to them in the past.

Like how Shizuo’s honey-gold eyes would light up with a childlike spark whenever they’d pass by a pastry shop. His lips were unmoving but his desires were spoken loud and clear. It was without a word from Shizuo that Izaya would lead them into the shop with teases already loaded on his tongue.

And when Shizuo’s shoulders hunched tight with tension-the line of them more solid than the stop signs he crushed beneath his fists- Izaya knew to keep his jabs light but deliberate. It was a bit of a balancing act, teetering between slightly bothersome and truly irritating. However, it was worth watching that harsh line ease whenever a particularly crude quip caught Shizuo off guard enough to make him laugh.

Izaya could always tell what Shizuo was feeling or wanting or needing.

But he wasn’t always generous enough to give it to him. Not without making him put in the work first.

When Izaya awoke to warm kisses being pressed to his neck and fingers creeping up his shirt with fluttery touches, he knew what kind of day it would be. 

It was the hesitation that gave it away, really; the slow progression, as if waiting for permission when they were both far past the point of being shy.

This particular mood didn’t strike Shizuo often, but it was always fun when it did. 

Izaya did nothing to dissuade him, and Shizuo’s touches grew more deliberate with increasing confidence the longer Izaya didn’t protest. A grin pulled at Izaya’s lips, but it had little to do with the hands that lightly tickled at his waist. Because as soon as it started, Izaya was sitting up and away, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. He turned to look down at his bed partner with a sleep-heavy smirk. “It’s not like Shizu-chan to be up so early. I don’t suppose you wanted to join in on my meeting this morning?”

Shizuo blinked away the drowsy confusion at the abrupt shift, now scrunching his nose with distaste as he registered Izaya’s words. “Don’t say stupid things…” He grumbled, a frustrated crease in his brow. He waited for a beat, and when Izaya only stared back at him with a knowing smile, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Can’t you stay in bed a little longer? I thought you said that wasn’t until ten.”

Even though Izaya was sure it was meant to be a frown, the unhappy twist of Shizuo’s lips could only be described as a pout.

“The early bird gets the worm and all that. We can't all afford to sleep in, you know?” Izaya chirped back, keeping the banter light despite the intentions already solidifying in his mind. “If you want to stay in bed though, be my guest. I can wake you up once my client’s gone.”

It was a simple offer but Shizuo still took his time answering. He looked at Izaya for a long few moments, lips pursed on indecision and his hands still resting idle on Izaya’s waist, before he let out a resigned breath through his nose and pulled his hands away. “Mm, yeah, that’s fine.”

And though he nuzzled back into the pillow and closed his eyes without any more complaints, Izaya didn’t miss the way his restless hands twitched with restraint.

-

True to his word, Izaya woke Shizuo up a few hours later once his client had left with a heavier heart and lighter pockets. He hadn’t spared too much time on the task of waking him; only ducking into the bedroom with a drawled out “Shizuuuu-chaaan~” and tossing an apple at his head when he didn’t stir. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last, but Izaya still couldn’t help but snicker when Shizuo exited the room a few minutes later with the half eaten apple in hand.

Izaya watched as Shizuo finished it off in a few bites and threw away the core before immediately making his way over to Izaya’s desk. Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind as Shizuo leaned in to kiss the crook of his neck. “Good mornin’,” he rumbled, breath hot against Izaya’s skin.

“It’s noon, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo grumbled in mild annoyance. “Then good afternoon, you pest.”

He squeezed Izaya slightly to punctuate his words. However, his groused frustration was countered by those gentle fingers tapping at Izaya’s sides again. And just as before, they were light, questioning. “You busy?”

Not even the rough edge of sleep still clinging to his voice could conceal the quiet hopefulness behind his words. 

He ghosted fluttery kisses along the line of Izaya’s throat to spread goosebumps across his skin- once again testing the waters. 

And once again Izaya grinned.

“Oh~ What’s this? Did Shizu-chan need me for something?” Izaya questioned in a playful drawl, tensing beneath Shizuo’s touch. He traced mindless shapes on Izaya’s sides, veering closer to his belly to scrape the ghost of his fingernails over the sensitive skin. It took an impressive amount of restraint for Izaya to not react to the ticklish shivers that ran through his nerves.

“Izaya…” he started, shifting to murmur into Izaya’s ear to make him twitch. “C-“

He barely had a second to begin before Izaya was interrupting to answer his own question.

“-because I’m afraid I don’t have time to spare right now,” he clarified, spinning in his chair to face him and knocking his hands away in the process. The sigh in his voice was just subtle enough to pass as truly apologetic. At least somewhat. “Can it wait?”

Tipping his head up to meet Shizuo’s eyes, Izaya was met with an expression he knew well. Thick brows furrowed on growing frustration and a troubled twist to his lips because he couldn’t find a reason to be truly upset. A rarity for Shizuo, but even he could respect when someone was busy. 

He didn’t need to know that Izaya had just been playing sudoku before he walked in. It was his fault, really, for being fooled by the random document Izaya had pulled up at the last second. 

With another one of those pouty scowls, Shizuo gently knocked his forehead against Izaya’s.

“Later.”

It was a question despite bearing the bluntness of a statement.

“Later~”

-

Judging by the restless padding of feet across the hardwood floor and the too long-stares sent his way, Izaya knew that ‘later’ couldn’t come soon enough for Shizuo. 

He wasn’t exactly known for his patience and Izaya hadn’t exactly been making it easier on him. But that’s what was fun about these kinds of days, and who could blame him when Shizuo had such entertaining reactions? 

It was amusing to watch Shizuo clench his fists at his sides when Izaya stretched, raising his arms high above his head with a pleased groan as if he was oblivious to Shizuo’s plight. 

He’d nearly choked on his glass of milk when Izaya reached for a book on a high shelf, which caused his shirt -untucked for once- to raise and reveal a sliver of his belly. When Izaya had turned to look at him, Shizuo was staring resolutely at the ceiling as he chugged the rest of the glass.

It was terribly endearing when Shizuo thought he was being discreet. However, there was nothing subtle about how tightly his jaw was clenched when Izaya had him fetch a glass of water for the ‘tickle in his throat’.

Perhaps Izaya would feel more guilty about riling Shizuo up when he was asking for what he wanted so sweetly, but it was just too easy.

Izaya was an opportunist at heart, after all.

-

This secret game of his continued for another two hours, with Izaya coming up with new and subtle ways to drive Shizuo mad. Izaya was honestly impressed with how well Shizuo was holding up, but all things must come to an end, and Shizuo’s streak of patience was no exception. 

His breaking point came when Izaya settled into his chair, picked up a stack of documents, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. It must have been that it was so uncharacteristic of Izaya to ‘rest’ in such a vulnerable position that Shizuo was tipped off to Izaya’s scheming. Or perhaps it was pure coincidence that his fuse happened to burn out at that moment. Either way, Izaya wasn’t too upset when Shizuo shot up from the couch and stomped over to his desk with red-tipped ears and a snarl.

“Oi, what’s up with that pose, huh?” Shizuo growled, leaning far over the desk to meet Izaya face to face. His arms were tense with restless energy where they held his weight against the desk, bracing on either side of Izaya’s legs. 

Izaya smiled pleasantly at him. “Hm? Aren’t I allowed to be comfortable while I work?”

Shizuo glared down at him- and if looks could kill, Izaya would be six feet under. 

“You look a little too comfortable, if you ask me. Just how busy have you been, really?”

A strong hand wrapped around one of his ankles, and Izaya had to resist the urge to jerk his foot back on instinct. “Quite busy. You see, today I’m conducting an observational experiment of sorts. I suppose you could call it testing a beast’s ability to restrain itself and its needs in the face of temptation. Riveting stuff~”

Shizuo bared his teeth in an animalistic grin that sent a shiver of premonition down Izaya’s spine. “Oh yeah? What conclusion have you come to?” The grip tightening  around Izaya’s ankle might as well have been squeezing his lungs for how it caused his breath to falter in his chest. 

“That even beasts can possess an impressive level of patience and willpower, but even so, that control is temporary, and eventually they succumb to their urges. It’s in their nature, after all,” Izaya challenged with a smirk. However, his confidence couldn’t hide the way his hands clutched the arms of his chair in anticipation.

His heart was starting to thrum in his chest; because behind the irritation in Shizuo’s gaze, there was a certain glint in his eyes. Now that Shizuo knew of Izaya’s game, he was ready to play. 

Just the thought was enough to set off the butterflies in Izaya’s stomach.

“I see. If giving in is inevitable, why hold back at all then, right?” Shizuo gave him little warning before he was tugging at Izaya’s ankle to pull him closer and yanking him up by his shirt. Izaya yelped, trying not to knock over his monitors in his scramble for balance as he was pulled over and across the desk. He only had a second to be relieved that everything was intact before he was tossed over Shizuo’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Despite knowing that struggling was futile, Izaya fisted his hands in Shizuo’s shirt for stability and tried his best to kick at Shizuo’s thighs. If he felt the hits, he certainly didn’t show it. “Wait a second! What kind of brainless logic is that?!” He shouted, trying to twist his head around to see where he was being taken. He had an idea, and a turn towards the staircase confirmed it.

“Are you sure you should be mouthing off like that? Ah, but maybe you don't care since you’ve been asking for it all day,” Shizuo almost murmured to himself, his anger having faded to an infuriating breeziness.

Izaya’s cheeks flushed despite the absolute ridiculousness of that statement. “Me? Have you forgotten how many times you-!” His words were interrupted by a yelp when Shizuo gave a warning squeeze to his thigh. 

“Shut up.”

Any further protests from Izaya were met with more squeezes to his thighs, each one making him jump more than the last. Shizuo knew very well how sensitive his thighs were, and he was giving Izaya this chance to back down before he used that information against him. And while Izaya was not the kind of man to give up, every once in a while he could accept when he needed to concede. 

He had been orchestrating the setlist all day after all, and now it was time to face the choir. 

He wasn’t, however, expecting to be part of it, and the pitch his voice reached could put the star sopranos to shame. 

“Nahahaha! Shizu-chahahaha-!” His voice cracked on a cackle as Shizuo drilled his thumbs mercilessly into his hips. Upon entering their bedroom, Shizuo had wasted no time in tossing Izaya on the bed and relinquishing the control he’d been holding onto for the past few hours. And he seemed to be making up for the lost time if his zealous start was anything to go by. 

Izaya shook his head back and forth, frantically trying to pry Shizuo’s hands off of his waist, but there was no give to his iron grip. Izaya couldn’t help but wonder which would be easier to free yourself from: a bear trap or Shizuo’s merciless hold.

He quickly settled on the bear trap when Shizuo began kneading at his lower belly, sending sparks of sensitivity crackling across his nerves. “AH! Shit! Stahahahap, you beheheheast!” Izaya threw his head back on shrill laughter, his legs kicking wildly behind him in a stark contrast to Shizuo’s smug composure.

“What do you mean ‘stop’? You were showing off this spot earlier, weren’t you? You think I’m too stupid to notice you untucked your shirt before you stood up?” Shizuo drawled with a satisfied smirk. He suddenly switched from kneading to scratching lightly at Izaya’s belly to pull frenzied giggles from his lips. “It was like you were saying ‘please, please, please, tickle me here’.”

Izaya’s face lit up with a brilliant red flush at the realization. In teasing Shizuo over how much he wanted to get his hands on Izaya and tickle him to tears, Izaya had practically been asking for it the entire time without shame. What was even more mortifying was how-underneath the amusement at Shizuo’s struggle-he’d been just as eager for Shizuo to break. 

He’d choke to death on his own laughter before he ever admitted that though. 

“D-don’t blame me for your lack of self-control!” He scolded before falling into a fit of giggles when fingers skittered along his waistline. “Ehehehe! Wait, wait, wait!” 

His eyes widened into saucers when Shizuo suddenly caught his hands and pinned them above his head, learned anticipation thudding his heart against his chest.

“You were showing off this spot too, weren’t you?” Shizuo asked casually, impervious to the way Izaya tugged at his wrists like his life depended on it. “Can’t be helped then.” He followed his words with a shrug before spidering his fingers under Izaya’s arm with a practiced skill. 

The response was instantaneous; Izaya shrieked, arching his back in a desperate attempt to protect himself and failing to gain any reprieve. Shizuo knew all of the ways to drive Izaya up the wall and he wasn’t afraid to utilize them now. He was surprisingly thorough in moments like these- taking the time to try everything from rubbing his thumbs into the dip of Izaya’s underarms to lightly scritching at his biceps.

The latter had seemed merciful at first, as Izaya’s biceps weren’t normally that ticklish. He quickly learned that wasn’t the case, though, when Shizuo lingered there long enough for the sensation to become absolutely maddening. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Izaya to find his words again, but of course he found a way to talk through the flood of mirth.

“Ahahaha! D-don’t try to act like this isn’t-“ his words were interrupted by a loud bark of laughter when suddenly Shizuo pinched at his upper ribs. “Like this isn’t whahahat you’ve been begging for all day!”

That seemed to finally get under Shizuo’s skin enough for him to scowl and lean in close. If Shizuo had to fight to keep that scowl from twitching up at the corners, neither of them mentioned it.

“Well, if this is what we both wanted, I guess I should go all out right?”

A shiver ran down Izaya’s back, and despite the squeals and protests that soon echoed through the apartment, Izaya couldn’t say that he minded it all that much. He could handle the fingers dancing along his skin, no longer restless now that they were focused on the goal of making him wheeze out desperate laughter. He could handle the lips pressing sweetly against his own, turning that same laughter muffled and breathless.

Shizuo had earned this fair and square, and in a way, so had Izaya.

Now all that was left was to enjoy the fruits of their labor. 

[beholdthemem]

Listen I'm not gonna pretend that the 2010s-2020s don't have plenty of bodyshaming unpleasantness of their own, but if anyone starts reviving the PARTICULAR brand of fatphobia that ruled the early 2000s to try and fuck up the body image/relationships with food of the little girls of today like they did with the little girls back then, I'm killing them with my bare hands.

[michiruze]

NEW DEFUNCTLAND ⁉️ HISTORY OF KIDZANIA ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

KIDZANIA JAKARTA AT 47:25!!!! FIRST INDONESIA MENTION IN A DEFUNCTLAND VIDEO 🇮🇩🇮🇩🇮🇩🇮🇩

[totopopopo]

i may be near entering my first EVER long hair lesbian era guys this is a big deal

[threecheersslxt]

I can’t even listen to Cancer anymore bro

[callmearcturus]

This game is just good not great, but I will never ever EVER forget it. Picture this, I'm old as hell and on my deathbed, the light in my eyes is growing dim, and all my family and friends are gathered around me to share my last moments on earth:

"Come quick everyone, it's almost time! Grampa wants to say something. What is it, grampa? Go on, take your time..."

Me: "...so what was going on with Illusion of Gaia, anyway? There's a part where one of your friends just turns into a sea monster, and he's like bye now, I'm off to be a sea monster. You meet a bunch of starving people and your pet pig suddenly gains sentience and decides to throw itself on a bonfire so they can eat him. His name is Hamlet, and one of the characters says "to eat or not to eat" while he's watching this beloved pig of theirs roast to death. There's a minor antagonist you never meet until the end, and when he tries to fuck with you, you burn him alive. You spend a good minute and a half watching this guy crawl toward you in agony as the fire just renders him down to a pile of ash and boiling body fat. I mean, what the fuck?"

And then I die.

- the top review of Illusion of Gaia on Backlogged

[god-mouths]

im tired im TIYARDDDD im tired of taking gummies pills powders etc it would be nice instead if my body worked naturally goodly

[fabdante]

lately i've been on a comically intensive quest to recreate my grandmothers rice pilaf

the dilemma being my grandma died when i was in elementary school and i cannot ask her questions

[partyinthemysterymachine]

cries bc pokemon go changed the nighttime music to a lavender town remix and as COOL AS IT IS i am actually legit scared of the lavender town theme and ohhhh. ohhhhhh too spooky 5me :(!

[thats-how-i-like-it]

/ vent

[5leadero]

oh you KNOW it's fucked when your hometown is national news