#theeflea

[the-peaceful-island]

*flicks a switch blade towards his back out of boredom*

He blinks. 

Was that... Izaya that he was sensing?

Turning around, Shizuo found that his instincts had served him right yet again. There was Izaya with that goddamned switchblade.

“Get out of Ikebukuro, flea.”

[stupidlystrong-blog]

You look like trash, may I take you out?

send my muse a pick up line [x]

[ ☆ ] Shizuo blinked, his expression vacant. “...I’d rather live in a landfill than anywhere near you, anyways.”

[mafia-and-coloring-books]

The incredibly long story of how Akane rescues Shizuo

She didn't want to walk through the door, but it sat there waiting for her. Akane shivered in the darkness as another gust of salty wind combed through her hair. The door was ajar. Like an open mouth, it waited expectantly. And soon, the young princess felt compelled to enter.

Her every footstep echoed loudly in the metal container. Immediately upon entering, the raw stench of blood overpowered the little girl. She paused and covered her mouth, her eyes bulging as the urge to vomit entered her. But Akane moved on, because a figure at the other end of the container slowly became visible. She found him by the light of a dimming lantern: just an outline at first, but the closer she drew, the more familiar the man seemed. Akane approached him as though in a trance. Her hand fell to her side again, her jaw slackened, her face lost all of its color. 

"Shizuo-onii-chan..."

He was in trouble, just as the voice on the phone said he was. The longer she looked at him, the further and further her stomach dropped until it existed in a tiny pulse her in feet. Shizuo, the person she'd come to think of as completely invincible, hung limply from a pair of shackles on the wall of the container. Even in the darkness, Akane could tell that he had lost a lot of blood: the smell of it covered every inch of him. Akane felt it on the bottoms of her shoes, she smelled it clinging heavily to the air. She blinked and realized that her eyes were burning. 

"Onii-chan," Akane sniffed, pleading with him in a quivering voice, "Can you hear me?"

He couldn't. He'd been through too much pain. The little girl couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd endured until this point. She would never forgive the monster who'd caused it, but that wasn't important now. She needed to help him down. It took a great deal of effort, but Akane located a few crates outside the container and used them to boost herself up to Shizuo's height. She found a rock and bashed it against the bolts securing the shackles to Shizuo's wrists. The process was long, exhausting, and at times it seemed fruitless. It hurt the little princess' heart to see Shizuo so unresponsive, and she continued to fight tears.

"Let him go," Akane demanded, putting her entire body into every strike against the bloody irons. The rock chipped a few times and made a horribly loud clang as it collided. "Let him go, let him go, let him go!"

Her struggles were rewarded. After another twenty minutes, Shizuo's body fell free of the wall and thumped onto the floor. Akane winced at the sound, hoping she hadn't hurt him further. Quickly, she scurried down from her crate-ladder and knelt beside the unmoving bodyguard. Akane grunted as she flipped Shizuo onto his back and pressed her head against his chest.

"Onii-chan, Onii-chan, please breathe," She prayed, "Please be alive still, please."

There it was: a tiny spark against her eardrum. Akane squeezed her eyes shut and focused on it, willing it to become louder. Slowly, it matured into a slow, sagging beat. The little princess let out a stale breath. 

"You're alive." She told him thankfully, lifting her head. "You're alive, you're going to be OK."

Now there was a problem, however. Akane did not know how to transport Shizuo, or even where to bring him. She knew that the container wasn't safe, since his tormentor might come back at any moment. First things first, she decided, I need to help him out of here. But no matter how many times she patted his cheeks and asked him to wake up, Shizuo would not answer. A rising panic fluttered in Akane's chest as he failed to react at all. 

"He's tired, he's tired from all the pain. There's lots of blood. He just needs help, I just need to help him." Akane muttered to herself. 

She pushed herself up onto wobbling knees and stepped around Shizuo's body, moving towards the front of the container. Then she leaned down and wrapped her hands around his left arm. The little princess strained and groaned and dragged Shizuo with all her might, but he was very difficult to move. His body pulled on her arms, wearing them down. Soon enough, they were tight and sore. 

It took her five minutes to drag Shizuo out of the container. By then, she was panting for breath and her throat stung with winter air. Her next worry was that he might catch a cold. Akane wiped her sweaty forehead with her sleeve and glanced around the pier, searching desperately for anything that might aid her in this situation. But she had no idea what to do.

She was only ten years old. 

"Onii-chan," Akane lowered her eyes to him and asked hopelessly, "Please help me..." 

[mafia-and-coloring-books]

Saving Oniichan. 

[yungorihara]

“I wonder how loudly I can make you scream in agony?”

Kanra had been very well aware of the risks involved in going to see Izaya. She knew he didn’t like the thought of a little duplicate running around, stealing all of his business with her cherry lips and short skirts. When news of an attractive female informant started circulating around Ikebukuro, the male flea had noticed a decrease in his own revenue. 

And to him, it was only natural that she be punished for it. Kanra had expected a slap on the wrist. She expected for them to get along, maybe start up a partnership or something more. But she didn’t expect this; tied up, bleeding onto the plastic sheet Izaya had laid down so as not to get his floor dirty. Naked and cold.

The man’s skills with a knife were impressive, rivaling her own in precision. He had carved words into her, symbols of his own frustration, and grim reminders that she not fuck with him like this again.

All she could muster within herself was to protest weakly, strained voice seeking purchase through all the suffering. 

“That’s not loud enough, Kanra.”

[mafia-and-coloring-books]

theeflea replied to your post “It was super lucky that I left when the popo showed up, yo. A teacher...”

excellent

I'm so good at being in the mafia.