#i remember during high school i would get home and make a single portion of spaghetti with tomato sauce and eat it while watching soothouse

[awkwardexxodus]

i love easy, quick, nostalgic food. the type that youd have as a kid, the first things you learned how to cook by yourself. instant noodles, eggs (specially scrambled), grilled cheese, pasta w/ store bought tomato sauce..... idk it just always feels comforting

#i remember during high school i would get home and make a single portion of spaghetti with tomato sauce and eat it while watching soothouse #like a ritual #stuff was really shitty back then but it always made me feel better #idk im rambling

[mindninjax]

The Way It Blooms

Pairing: Wakatoshi Ushijima x virgin!reader 

Rating: M for the sex but it’s FLUFF

Warning: it’s fluffy smut, pure fluff. 

Word Count: 3.4K

a/n: Do you remember the moment you fell in love with someone?  The very first moment the two of you made love? This fic is kinda about that. Ushijima has quickly become one of my comfort characters as you will see in this soft ass shit.

This was used as inspiration and it’s beautiful. Also, you should listen to  Get You by Daniel Caesar during the smut lol. 

Dedicated to one @dymphnasprose for dropping so much Ushi content in my DMs and making me fall for him more and more and for this fucking adorable ass pet name that I will always use and associate with both you and Ushi. I love you babe! 

Plucking the strings idly of your old acoustic guitar, you feel the familiar rush of calm wash over your body. You haven’t picked it up since your sophomore year of high school when you—embarrassingly— serenaded your boyfriend at the time with a dumb love song you wrote him after only dating for 3 months. It was Valentine’s day, you thought it’d be special. He broke up with you and called you “clingy”. And being the dramatic but valid—because that guy was a major asshole— teenager, you’d stopped playing. 

As you got older, you’d forgotten about it, shifted your focus on getting into college, becoming a journalist like you’d planned. Something changed in you in the last few weeks though. You were braver, more confident, happier with who you were as a person. 

It could be because the winter months were coming to an end, the sun was shining more, beating down into your dorm room and warming the cold dark depressing atmosphere you hidden yourself in for the past few months. Or it could be...him. 

Your face heats up and you pluck a sour note on the guitar as his face fills your mind. Piercing moss green eyes gaze into your subconscious and make a home there. Your heart flutters when you think about his voice, the last words he said to you, “I’ll be back to you soon, don’t worry”, before it becomes heavy with yearning and you remember he’s across an ocean right now playing an intense volleyball match you’re sure his team will win. 

Wakatoshi pulled the deepest emotions from you, the deepest and most forgotten portions of your personality, the ones you used to enjoy the most before society squeezed it from you. He admired your creativity, and his blunt comments or questions always caught you by surprise, in a good way. 

“God, I wish I could go up on stage and sing like that!” you’d said one date night while watching  a woman perform karaoke. 

“Why can’t you?” Toshi asked in a deadpan voice as he stroked the back of your hand. You blinked at him, not able to give him a clear reason of why you couldn’t go up on stage. It’d just felt natural to say, like you weren’t supposed to go. By the end of the night, you were on stage laughing and singing, full of joy as you watched him clap along to the music and his eyes followed you around on stage. It was the happiest you’d been in a while, and it was one the first few dates you’d gone on with him.  

You strum a few chords, humming to yourself as you get caught up in the music. You’d forgotten how calming it was, how much strumming and humming helped you feel when you allowed yourself to just be you. It was strangely how you felt every single time you were around Wakatoshi, comfortable yet protected. You pick up your phone and check the time, an idea forming in your head. He’d be in the middle of the game right now so he won’t have his phone until it’s over. 

You prop the phone up on a pillow with it facing you. Your face is bare with no makeup, your hair is a little messy from the wear and tear of the day and you were in the middle of getting ready for bed so you’re wearing an old cami and tiny shorts. You shrug, electing not to worry about your appearance, prop the guitar up on your leg, clear your throat, and press the record button on your phone. 

You strum a simple tune, something that repeats where the beat can be easily kept. It’s a swaying melody, one that tiptoes up and down the score with light steps; like a soft lullaby intended to serenade and rock the listener into a dreamy slumber. You’re not nervous, you don’t worry about what anyone might think about you, you just close your eyes and think of Toshi and how much you miss him.

 You focus on how much you want to feel his arms around you, how he makes your heart jump into your chest when his fingers lightly draw over your skin. You giggle when you think about his dry attempts at jokes just so he can see you smile and the way he will poke at where the dimple would be if you smiled when you're frowning. His own little silent gesture to say “smile little doe,” because he's not a man of many words. 

You lose yourself in the melody, start to sing the words that sashay around your head and heart. You’re not sure if they make sense, or if they fit the tune, you only know you want him to know how you’re feeling and for some reason this feels like the perfect way to show him. You pour your heart into each word you sing, communicating in the most intimate way you know how to while he’s away, and it’s evident in the passionate way you float to each note.  

Your voice wavers when you sing about how much you wish he was here with you, how much you want him to touch you and hold you and feel you, even going so far as to mention making love to him. You two haven’t been dating long a few months at most, and you’re astounded at just how much you crave him. Except that isn’t the word you want to use. The word you want to use scares you, so you’re hoping, praying that he will feel it when he hears this. 

You end the song and stop the recording, softly and with purpose as if to solidify every feeling you’ve contained in this beautiful little song for him and before you become too afraid and erase it. No, he deserves to hear this song for him. A message in a bottle that you send across the ocean and with it, hope and comfort that there is someone out there in the world who understands him and sees him. 

You type a quick message and attach the video quickly before you talk yourself out of it: 

Toshi, here’s a little something to help you sleep! See you in two days! ❤️

You hit send and chew on your lip before tossing the phone aside and quickly finishing your night routine for bed. 

--

“Get some rest Ushiwaka! You deserve it after the win you got us today!” 

Wakatoshi waves off his teammates silently as he shuffles to his hotel room and pulls out the keycard. He sighs heavily when he hears the affirmative beep and the lock clicks. He’s exhausted, the long 5 set match finally done. The other team put up a great fight and he’s always appreciative of a team who has a fighting spirit, but he’s exhausted and hasn’t been able to see or hear from you all day. He collapses on his bed and digs through his bag for his phone. He turns it off before matches so he can keep his focus but he always sends a quick message to you before he does and he never turns it off until he gets a text back from you. 

When the screen lights up and comes back alive he smiles to himself. It’s your face on his phone background. One that he took when you both visited the park near campus. You’d picked a huge sunflower and you were beaming. He’d had to move quickly and figure out how to open his camera to take it before you realized, but it came out stunning. You looked so happy, the dimple in your cheek deepening as you caught his love-filled gaze on you. 

Your face smiles back at him on screen now and he frowns when he realizes how much he misses you. He wishes you were here with him. It’s very seldom that you aren’t at one of his games, cheering him on, watching his every movement, being his motivation. He plays harder when you’re watching, he wants to make you proud, although you’re always proud of him. But the way your eyes light up when he wins a match, how you jump on him and squeal when he leaves the court sweaty and still full of adrenaline from the match, makes the win all the more worth it. 

Wakatoshi doesn’t know exactly what it is about you that he likes so much. He finds himself pondering it as he watches you do mundane tasks. When you twirl your pencil while you work on homework, the way you bite your cheek when you’re thinking of something, or the way you gravitate toward him when you’re sitting next to him, he finds it entertaining. He could watch you all day and never get bored, and that’s a first for him. It’s a first that anything other than volleyball has kept his attention and he’s not bothered by it. 

He opens the message from you, swiping up to unlock his phone and his eyes grow a little wide when he sees you’ve sent him a video. He reads the message before getting up, grunting as he stands to go take a shower. If the video is to help him sleep, he figures he should get ready for bed before he watches, plus he likes the idea of your face being the last thing he sees before he drifts off to sleep. 

When he’s showered and his muscles are relaxed and dripping from the shower, he pulls on his boxers, dries himself and climbs into the stiff hotel bed, wishing once again that he was climbing in next to you. He grabs his phone again as he lays on his back. He opens the message once again, smiling at your face—he misses so much—and plays the video. 

The guitar strums surprise him, he didn’t know you could play guitar. It’s automatically soothing and he stores this fun fact in his brain, vowing to never forget it as it’s information on one of his favorite things. The tune you strum is simple yet beautiful, maybe because it’s you playing it or just that your fingers so meticulously strum the strings. He can tell this is your craft and you’re good at it. 

He closes his eyes as he continues to listen to the repetitive melody and he’s immediately thankful that you sent him this. It will help him sleep and he can drift off knowing that even though you aren’t here, you’re still helping and supporting him from afar. 

His eyes shoot open when you start to sing. Your voice is astounding. It is unlike anything Wakatoshi has ever heard before. It twinkles like a delicate little bell, rings loud and strong as the words continue and pierce his heart. It swirls, sways, rocks and swaddles him in all the love you project through these lyrics. Your voice is sweet, relieving, like ice cream on a very hot day after practice, and when you sing his name and about making love, he grunts in approval. It’s suddenly all he wants. His body, his heart aches for you and all he wants is to be with you again. When the song ends on a tender note, he plays the song again and again, hanging on every lilt of your voice and committing it to memory. 

Right before he drifts off to sleep, he texts back a quick message to you, a vow he intends on keeping. 

I am coming back to you soon little doe.

--

Your hair is brushed from your forehead and you sigh in contentment. You’re sure you're dreaming, it’s been the same recurring dream every night since Toshi has been gone. When you feel a hand cradle your face, your eyes shoot open to see him, sitting on the edge of your bed caressing your face in his large hand. Tears well in your eyes when you see him and you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Toshi!”

He pulls you into his lap and cradles your body against his. You can hear his gym bag slip from his shoulder and you peep over his shoulder to see his luggage in the corner of your room. His luggage. You pull back to look into his eyes. 

“Toshi, did you come straight here when you got off the plane?” you ask looking concerned and trying to wipe the tears from your eyes. He’s faster than you, reaching a long finger out to catch a falling one and swipe it from your cheek. 

“Yes. You don’t have to cry. It was no trouble,” The deep baritone rumbles his body and moves through you. It’s only been a few days since you two have seen each other, but his voice still sends a shiver up your spine whenever you hear it. 

You shake your head in defiance, “Wakatoshi, you should’ve gone to your dorm. You need to rest,” you say furrowing your eyebrows and trying to be serious. 

He stares at you with an intense stare and you’re momentarily worried. Wakatoshi has never looked at you this way before. This stare is usually intended for his teammates or a rival, when he’s serious and focused during a match. 

“No. I needed to see you.” 

You’re not sure what comes over you but his words ignite a fire in you and you kiss him, hard and passionate. Ever the prepared sportsman, he kisses you back matching your passion and groaning into your mouth. All the yearning the two of you shared over the last few days rushes out of you and into the kiss. It’s sloppy and you both have to pull back and catch your breath. 

His hands fall to your hips as he pulls you closer against him. Your hands roam down his chest, up his broad shoulders and down his bulging back muscles. You breathe his name against his lips and he growls, picks you up and places you down on your back on the bed. 

He crawls over you, fixating himself between your thighs. You’re both still clothed but the aching for each other is more than just the sex. You just want to be close to him, to feel him wrap his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours again. He bends down to your face and kisses you again. Softer this time, as if he’s afraid to hurt you or lose control. He kisses down your jaw, bites and sucks on your neck, marking you as his. 

You hear him rumble into your neck, “Mine” before he bites down and makes another mark. You moan at the sensation and Wakatoshi momentarily stops to savor the sound. It’s almost as sweet as your lovely singing voice, and he’d give anything to hear you moan his name. You paw at the hem of his shirt as he continues to kiss your cheek and neck. 

“I want to see you Toshi,” you whimper. He gazes into your eyes for a moment before removing  his shirt and you marvel at his rippling muscles. He’s so big, his herculean frame always able to make your mouth water. He can see the pride of having him be yours in his eyes and he likes it. 

He wants you to be proud to have him, the same way he’s proud to have you. He grabs the end of your shirt and slowly pulls it over your head. Large hands clumsily grasp the clasp of the bra He observes you like a work of art, committing every freckle and mole to memory. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says and the way the word “beautiful” falls effortlessly from his lips when describing you makes your face grow hot. There’s nothing you want more than him, now. He removes his pants and underwear and slides yours down your legs as well. When you both are left staring at each other in awe, you pull him back down to kiss you again. 

You can feel his engorged cock twitching against your thigh as he hovers on his elbows over you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, desperation escaping with your next exhale. He kisses down your chest, covering every inch of you with the sweetest embrace of his lips. He licks at your nipple, nips softly and when he hears you gasp he bites down a bit harder before licking to soothe the brisk pain. 

Your heart beats faster with every kiss, this feeling inside of you overwhelms you and when you push your hips up to meet his, a silent plea, he pulls back to look at the exquisite fountain between your legs. He holds his weeping cock in one hand and for the first time you look at him nervously. Will it fit? What if it doesn’t? Will he still want to be with you? He reaches a large hand to caress your cheek and the tumbling storm in your chest calms with his sweet gesture. He stares into your eyes and that same intensity burns there, passionate and solicitous, like the sun. 

“Don’t worry little doe, I’ll be gentle,” he says running a thumb over your cheek. The anxiety is gone instantly and you look at him with the utmost trust as he places the tip of his dick to your entrance. He rubs it against your slippery folds, slathering your slick over his copious length and preparing you for all his glory. You nod to him when he looks at you for permission to enter. 

He pushes inside of you, moving slowly and passing the first ring of muscle. He grunts when the crown of his cock is sitting comfortably in your fluttering walls. You whimper as you become accustomed to how full you already feel. When your heaving chest slows down from the initial insertion, he continues to slide into you, hips moving closer to yours in a welcoming embrace. You stretch around him and it burns, but you clench as well, your body’s way of telling him not to stop. 

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you he grunts and you moan in unadulterated pleasure. Your eyes are shut as you concentrate on how he feels inside of you. Despite the fullness and the stretch it doesn’t feel foreign as you expected. It feels like he belongs, like your body will mold to his because it knows it’s supposed to be him. 

Little salty droplets bead at the corner of your eyes as you think about this, and when you open them Wakatoshi is staring with an unknown expression. The emotion, the love, grows inside of you like a sunflower reaching for the sun. It tumbles from your lips when he, while never severing your gaze, pulls his hips out ever so slightly and plunges back into you.  A quick chaste “I love you” that you’re sure and are slightly thankful he doesn’t hear. The fear and insecurity bubbling and shielding the sun again.

You cry out instead, “Oh god Toshi!” He wraps his arms around your body, leaning his weight onto his arms to avoid putting it all on you but wanting to pull you closer to his body. Your arms wrap around his neck as he pulls out all the way and slowly plunges back inside you again, starting a slow sensual pace. He rocks his hips, latches his lips to your neck as you dig your hands into his hair and you lift your hips to feel more of him. 

His pace quickens as he becomes lost in the passion of your warm velvety walls, what he assumes is heaven. You’re moaning his name over and over, tears now falling down your cheeks as your ecstasy creeps upon you. When you feel the coil inside you snap, you pull him closer, nails digging into his back as your thighs shake and wrap around his waist. You cry out again, no longer able to hold it in, “I love you! Toshi, I love you so much!” 

The words tumble from your lips as his cum spills inside you and grunts your name loudly. He connects his lips with yours as the two of you ride out your orgasm together, as one. When you both come down from your high, he rubs his forehead against yours brushing his nose against yours before whispering in his deep baritone voice something you almost don’t make out. But when you do hear it, you wrap your arms around his neck again and hug him close, intent on never letting go. 

“I love you, little doe.”

--

Thanks for Reading!!

tag list: @widow-nikki-smith @twicejynxed @love-lost-insecure-blog  @hell-ninja13 @gabrann @hi-itsbonny @yunhosblackgf @animeboyscangetit @jessie9008 @halfsquat  @4lfalfagarlic @memorieswithinmyeyes @chefakari @softiehawks  @bnhathotty @irvingka @animemelanin @clever-username96 @kisskisskageyama @itsnotsoni @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @lettytheletdown @brithedemonspawn @minninugget @starrygoblin @simpingovereveryanimeguy @simpingmaize @nit-sir-hc @isseisbbg @flairlust @dabilove27  @mistressoflight @bakugousmymassa @answer-the-sirens

#ushijima x reader #ushjima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #Ushiwaka #marquie writes #this is sooooooo self indulgent #but listen to me when I say I fell head over heels in love with this man #people say he got a dry personality #i say I can see it ALL #I’ll give Ushi the loving he deserves

[denkamis]

bnha characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! some swearing, but a lot of fluff for the best boys

characters: shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima, tamaki amajiki

notes: dedicated to @nekomanagers / @meilbox ,, for being the most supportive human being in my life and undoubtedly the reason i have been posting so much of my work here on this blog. thank you for dealing with all of my shenanigans on and offline, and for picking me up when i felt like i couldn’t. <33 i love you.

shouto todoroki

flowers & chocolate as gifts

he’s one for the classics

he buys you the most gorgeous flowers, ones that are most definitely your favourites mixed in with an arrangement of others that all have particular meanings to them

he also got you expensive truffle chocolates, and also some cheaper ones that you really like to snack on

he’s so thoughtful, it makes your heart melt

literally so sincere as he gives it to you too, has a whole ass speech prepared

shouto came home after work a bit later than you had expected him to. perhaps he got caught up with some hero work, a report that needed to absolutely be filed today or a villain that just wouldn’t let up. either way, when you heard the front door to your shared apartment open, you came running over to greet him. as you turned the corner to see the front door, there stood shouto with the most breathtaking bouquet of flowers you had ever seen in your life. it was a myriad of colours and petals of all kinds standing out against the white of his suit. since when did he have time to change after work to surprise you like this? his usual aloof expression was replaced by a soft smile, one that was reserved for you and only you, “happy valentine’s day, my love.”

he strolled over to you, initiating a kiss that was slow and passionate. it made your heart melt right on the spot, your face erupting in nothing but pure warmth. “shouto, these are beautiful,” you told him as you took a moment to admire the different flowers that went into assembling the collection in his hands. “these ones mean gratitude, and this one here means love. truth is the white coloured one,” he pointed out, guiding you through the meaning of each individual one that made up your special gift.

he snuck a glance at you, your face radiant with how much you were smiling at his thoughtful present. “i also bought you a few of your favourites,” shouto gestured to the vanity you two kept by the door. you turned to see a very expensive box of truffles and a few hershey's kisses paired with more of your favourite corner store chocolates.

“it wasn’t too much, was it?” shouto asked quietly, watching as your jaw dropped at the sight of the truffles. didn’t you hear a rumour once about how those ones literally had gold integrated into their wrappers?  “no no, it’s wonderful. this is.. you’re so sweet,” you giggled, tapping his chest as a signal for him to lean down so you could kiss him again. no matter how many times shouto gifted you flowers and chocolate on valentine’s day, you got the same butterflies as you did when he first gave you these heartfelt gifts back in high school.

denki kaminari

fancy dinner date at an expensive restaurant

the entire bakusquad was EGGING HIM ON for something good on valentine’s day okay

he’s been talking big game about some kind of secret plan he had in store for the both of you

he bought you an outfit that not only suited your style, but was elegant and absolutely stunning as it complimented your figure

he pulled out all the stops for you

he wanted to be classy, so he reserved a table for two at one of those rooftop restaurants so you two could dine and enjoy each other’s company

“like grown ups” as denki says

you were sat at a candlelit dinner for two near the edge of one of the most highly rated restaurants in your area. denki had really gone all out, wanting to treat you like the resilient and beautiful partner you were to him with a night that would be unforgettable.

and unforgettable it was.

you two were arguably the loudest ones at the restaurant, laughing and overall just having a good time amongst such high class individuals. denki was making faces at you across the table, making you choke back on the red wine you were having. “and then bakugou slapped that dude! it was crazy, y/n, super fucking wild,” he laughed as you nodded your head in agreement. denki sure knew how to talk, filling in conversations with anecdotes and playful conversation topics sprinkled in with compliments for you. he loved you so damn much, he felt like his electricity quirk was on all the time with you from how much you turned his brain to mush.

he couldn’t get over how gorgeous you looked tonight, with your hair done and your outfit styled to perfection. like, that was all his? and a personality to match? damn! he felt like for once, he was doing something right in his life for you. he wasn’t the dumbass everyone constantly made him out to be. he was trying to be the best for you, and if he could make you happy for the rest of his life, then nothing else mattered to him.

your waiters came back with two platters in hand, with outrageously small portion sizes that could feed maybe a small cat at best. the two of you stared at each other with blank expressions. oh no, this would not be enough to appease your appetites. each of your plates were worth twelve thousand yen, so you really couldn’t get more. on top of that, denki had prepaid everything for tonight anyways. what was worse was that the food tasted like a rat’s ass, yet the two of you dined like kings regardless. well, you pretended to at least. as you were suppressing your disgusted expressions out of kindness to both the waiters and the other guests, denki couldn’t help but stare at you. you were his person, and although the dinner wasn’t exactly all it was cracked up to be, he knew that you dealt with so much more of him than anyone else was willing to. that meant more to him than words could even express.

that, and he immediately bought you apology mcnuggets after you two left. then you two really ate like kings.

eijirou kirishima

long captions to their s/o on instagram

this mfing SAP

he has everything planned, he made like 3 drafts beforehand and even had bakugou proofread it for him

he had all the different pictures he wanted to post too

this is a little unrelated but mans definitely showed up to your house with red roses and a suit

LIKE A GENTLEMAN

your phone buzzed, indicating that  you had received a new notification from instagram. after taking your phone off the table and entering in your passcode, you tapped into the instagram app and saw what had caused the tiny ping.

eijikirishima has tagged you in a post!

the first photo was an oldie, but a goodie. it was of you and eijirou at prom together back when you both graduated from ua. he looked absolutely stunning in the darkened suit he had bought, right beside you in a matching colour scheme. though the picture was in fact a meme in itself, as he posed like that one will smith picture gesturing to you with the goofiest smile. you remembered telling him that he was absolutely banned from wearing crocs that night to the dance. it was a good thing you had saved him from that utter atrocity.

the next picture was a photo of you with the puppy you had adopted together. you had named him bean, to which eijirou had expressed was the manliest name he had ever heard for a tiny pomeranian puppy. you were pressing a kiss to bean’s nose, the angle of the photo showing off your loving nature that he had fallen for.

the last was a picture of you sleeping against him during a long train ride for a mission. it wasn’t the most flattering picture eijirou had of you, but it was certainly one of his favourites. you looked so at peace, cuddling against his side with a tiny line of drool running down your chin. he was smiling in the picture, his eyes solely trained on you with the most wholesome look on his face. he was so utterly in love with you, and this picture couldn’t have showcased that look any more clearly.

the caption read as follows:

Hey bros! It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it is my duty to post about the most amazing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating for about five years now! Y/N, we’ve been through so much together over the years, we’ve had ups and downs and everything else in between but I’ve been fortunate enough to remain standing here as the person you can confide in, much like you are that person to me. You’re my rock. I continue to find so much more to love about you every single day. I hope I get to spend the rest of my days with you, my best friend, my partner throughout everything. I love you so so much, pebble. I hope we get to stay just like this forever, and grow as we go along.

needless to say, many happy tears were shed that day.

tamaki amajiki

love letters in their shoe locker

for all the days leading up to valentine’s, tamaki put a different letter in your locker

mirio hyped him up asf to even get him to write what he was feeling towards you

and he was still nervous as hell and had mirio stand guard so that you didn’t accidentally walk in on him shoving weird notes in your locker

but unfortunately for tamaki, mirio isn’t a very good watchman

and so you caught him in the act, right on valentine’s day ironically

it was the end of a long, rather eventful day at school. you had gotten a few confessions from some other students, to which you turned down due to someone else being on your mind. for the past few days, you had begun collecting small letters in your shoe locker. the notes were short, handwritten with small doodles and even a recipe or two for you to try. it seemed like this person was reaching out to you to express their true feelings, their intimate and romantic feelings, towards you. and you couldn’t help but feel the same towards them, whoever they were. this admirer unveiled small details about themselves to you, yet hadn’t revealed enough for you to piece together a name. so here you were, sprinting down the hallway as soon as the bell went to try and catch a glimpse of this mystery individual who had been leaving you such sweet writings for you to cherish.

you rounded the final corner and there you saw him. before that happened however, you first you ran into your classmate and good friend mirio, who let out a tiny “oof” at the sudden contact. you apologized to him in a rush, explaining in a rushed tone that you needed to go meet someone. he nodded and waved to you before realizing that he had one job and tamaki was definitely going to kill him later.

only slightly out of breath, you saw a mess of indigo hair and shaky hands sliding your latest note into your shoe locker. as he turned to leave, his face drained of colour at the sight of you. he slouched further, retreating into himself. he looked around nervously for an excuse as to what the hell he was doing shoving letters into your locker. though, you beat him to speaking first.

“it’s you.”

tamaki’s throat felt scratchy and swollen, his entire form shaking as you slowly, calmly made your way towards him. “i- i can explain, y/n,” tamaki barely murmured, his nerves beginning to get the best of him yet again. “your words, they were so intimate. you were so well spoken on paper, i just had to meet you in person,” you confessed to him with a patient smile on your face. you stood a relatively safe distance away, not wanting to overwhelm him by your presence. you had just caught him in such a compromising act, after all.

“i read all your letters,” you went on, “every night before bed, i read them, tamaki. i even tried out the udon recipe you gave me and it was the best udon i had ever had. everything you said in your letters, the confessions and the other, more personal stuff… is that all true?”

tamaki, though he felt frozen beneath your warm gaze, had the courage to nod his head. “i didn’t know how else to tell you,” he admitted, hands now covering his face in shame. suddenly, gentle fingers grasped at his shaky ones as you uncovered his face to the light that was you. “i like you too,” you said finally. it felt like a chord had snapped inside of tamaki’s mind and all his feelings came crashing down in a deep crescendo of emotions all for you. it was all that he had ever wanted from you: a response.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #denkamis.scenarios

[hrwinter]

You’re not sure what you remember about home. If you try, it might be blue skies and warm summer rain that you played in for hours. It might be your mother washing the mud out of your clothes, frowning and asking if it was really necessary for you to roll that completely in the dirt. You told her you were just doing what the dog did.

You had a dog, right?

You’re not really sure.

Because the other memories you have are not blue and green and the dirt brown of your knobby childhood knees. They’re grey and orange and crispy charcoal black. The market you visited where your parents would sometimes have hushed meetings behind shaky hands, it’s rubble. The wind that used to blow the fragrance of fresh peaches and citrus, it’s ash. The home you had is gone.

You remember a voyage, long, dark, and ripe with a putrid accumulation of smells. You remember getting to see the water a few times, opal blue and ever shifting. It was beautiful. But the ship crashed or was attacked, you don’t know, and then it was back to the oranges of fire, the reds of blood, and the screams of your parents you’d never find.

You washed up on shore alone.

Although, not quite alone.

That’s when you first saw her. The crow. You’re sure of that. She’d been there, pecking at the sand near your arm, the same one still clutching the cheap large plastic debris. It had saved your life. You looked over the edge of it, coughing salt water into the surf, and you saw her.

It was weird. She’d surprised you. You’d never seen a bird so big and black, you thought, and she shuffled from foot to foot, nervous. Was she hungry? Was she scared?

You don’t get a chance to find out before a man with large hands is swatting her away. She cawed angrily, reluctant to go, but she did, maybe to a nearby tree. He shook your shoulders then and asked you who you were.

“Kara,” your voice came out in a croak, not yours.

“Kara,” he says again.

The crow cawed.

It’s years before you put the patchwork pieces of your life back together, that you find out what happened to you. That a warmongering company, LuthorCorp, helped exacerbate the tensions in your region then exploited and profited from them by selling both sides weapons. But that doesn’t become relevant for a long time. For now, you’re an immigrant, and an immigrant is not a very good thing in this new country.

It could be worse. There are other kids who are not as lucky as you. Somehow having never set foot here, you have dual citizenship. Your mother was American. So, despite the government calling your parents insurgents and traitors, they don’t try to deport you. Or keep you locked in a cage. Instead, they put you in foster care.

It’s hard. It’s toiling. It takes you a long while to learn the language. You’re shy to talk because of it.

And you’re pretty. At least, people keep telling you that you are. You’re not sure what you see when you look in the mirror. The kind, clever blue eyes of your mother. The hard line of your father’s brow when he’d reprimand you for sneaking too many cookies.

But your prettiness doesn’t feel like a good thing. The other children resent you for it. And it brings you a different kind of attention, a kind that has you cowering from your foster mom’s drunk boyfriend, a kind that has your crow swooping in and attempting to peck out his eyes. She almost manages it, but when he swings, taking hold of her, you jump into the fray, too. You would’ve killed him if your foster mother hadn’t intervened.

That’s right, your crow has followed you here, has followed you through it all. She’s in the tree outside of the window when your foster mother returns you to the group facility for being ‘cruel and violent.’

You didn’t do anything. At least, you didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do again, a hundred times over.

“We’re better off here, anyway,” you tell the crow sitting with you during lunch recess.

“Why do you talk to that thing?” a boy asks you nearby, trapping a soccer ball with his foot.

“She’s my friend.”

“Friends can’t be birds.”

Yes, they can, you think.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he feels the need to add, certain.

But she does. You know she does.

---

You’re adopted into a new home not long after that. It’s different than the others. They’re called ‘Danvers.’ Eliza and Jeremiah, your adoptive parents, they’re kind and intelligent. They encourage your natural abilities in science and math. You’re starting to get A’s for the first time in your life, and you’re less reluctant to speak in class.

You still feel like an impostor. It doesn’t seem like a reality that’s meant for you. You were meant for the bottom of the sea.

“You have a right to be here,” Eliza tells you, but that’s not how your new sister acts.

Your crow has somehow inferred the antagonism between you. One afternoon she swoops in to steal a large portion of Alex’s sandwich and drops it on your plate.

“Hey!” Alex shouts after her, but the crow merely glares at her with dark black eyes, wings ruffling on your side of the picnic table.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Alex looks between two of you, wary, parsing.

“How did you train it to do that, anyway?”

“…patience?” you improvise.

“You’re lying.”

The crow caws loudly, and Alex narrows her eyes.

“Whatever, I’m going inside.”

The crow watches her leave, and you soothe her ruffled feathers with a hand. The sheen of them always makes them seem oily, but they’re not at all. Her feathers are soft, and she preens a little under the touch. You gives her a nickel to play with. Maybe you’ll actually try to train her.

So, you make her puzzles. She seems somewhat competent in checkers. You read to her. Her favorite stories are fairy tales. Her favorite foods are unsalted peanuts, boiled eggs, shell and all. She likes apples too (you painstakingly removes the seeds, they’re bad for birds.) You feed her from the window. She sleeps in the tree there and follows you to school and back every single day. She watches you organize quarters for a state collection, nipping slightly at the plastic casing.

“I already gave you Iowa,” you tell her.

She clicks her beak back at you. Sometimes, she’ll steal your keys. You think she just likes things that you like, but you’re not sure. Alex says you’re projecting. Alex says you make up things that aren’t there, but honestly, Alex is a little mean.

Once on a fishing trip, the crow used bread to catch a fish, laying it before you all on the thick wood pier planks.

“That bird is smart,” Eliza comments, watching her chase away a hawk that seems a little too interested in the fish.

You’re proud. She’s fearless.

“Their brains are bigger than ours proportionally,” you reply with enthusiasm. You look to Alex. “See.”

“Her brain is bigger than yours,” Alex mumbles over her empty fishing line, and the crow dives down to nip at her.

“Hey!” Alex swats without making contact. The crow flies away again. “That crow doesn’t like me, I swear. She knows me.”

“Of course she does.”

“It’s meaner to me.”

“She’s a she, not an it,” you correct her.

“It’s not normal.”

“It’s perfectly normal for a crow,” you bicker with Alex. “They don't forget a face. They hold a grudge.”

“You sound like the Discovery Channel.”

“Well, it’s true. Did you know that they also mourn the dead? That they don’t migrate, staying in one place for most of their life?”

“So, you’re saying we’ll never get rid of it? Great.”

“She,” you correct her again testily. “And they can live to be 15 years old. So, yeah, you’re stuck.”

Alex quiets, and you’re thrilled to have won the argument.

But deep down inside, you’re willing to admit it’s a little weird, she’s a little weird. Crows are supposed to be social, and you’ve never seen her with any other crow. She only talks to you. She only follows you.

It would be crazy to think she wasn’t quite a crow, but something else, something more. Wouldn’t it? But you kind of do. You don’t admit it to anyone, but you do.

---

Graduation from high school is close, only days away. You’ve arranged everything for college, although not without a hulking amount of help from Eliza. She organized all of your scholarship forms, your applications, your dozens of essays. She kept you on track with projects and midterms and extracurriculars (you’re the captain of the Geology club, who knew!) And it’s all materialized into your acceptance at National City University. It’s only a couple of hours from Midvale, and you can’t wait for August.

Sometimes it’s crazy to think you’re going to college. A blonde, blue eyed girl who washed up on the beach one day like a sand dollar? You would’ve never put your money on her.

But here you are, walking a beach not that far from the one you arrived on, a big slate blue sky in front of you, wind whipping your hair. You think about the future; the new city, the potluck roommate, eighteen hours of classes in biomedical engineering.

“You’ll come with me to college, right?” you say to the crow perched on your shoulder, bobbing with every step you take.

The crow softly caws and nuzzles its head on your shoulder. It’s a rare form of her affection. Otherwise, her eyes are focused on the little crabs skittering in and out of the waves.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know,” you reach to bring the crow to your hand, her pointed claws clinging gracefully to two of your fingers. She looks back at you expectant and listening, canting her head to the side every now and again.

“We’ve never really talked about it,” you say as if it’s typical to apologize for conversations you haven’t had with your crow. “But you’ve always been there. You protected me.”

The crow flaps her wings a little. Is it pride? Joy?

“Thank you.”

You’re not sure what overtakes you then, but you do something you’ve never done before. Despite the fact that you’ve seen her roll around in ant piles, you lean forward and plant a little kiss on her feathered head.

Immediately, you know something has changed, that something is different. There’s a shimmer in the air in front of you, prismatic in color, and the crow flies away from you, landing, staggering in the sand. You chase after, but a crisp gust of wind blows sand into your eyes and you wobble, falling. When you scramble to your feet again, blinking and rubbing the grit out of your eyes, you don’t see your crow, but a girl with eyes as green as spring leaves, with hair as black as crow.

“You’re her,” you say as she sits up, looking confused, one armed draped across her middle.

“Yes,” the girl answers simply, shaping the word as if unfamiliar.

“You’re naked,” you announce.

“Yes.”

You strip your light jacket off, suddenly rushing to cover her. You rub her shoulders and she looks at you in that same, too intelligent way.

It is her.

You have no idea know what to say next. You just watched a bird transform into a human. It’s not real. You made it up. Maybe you passed out. You did eat a lot of cinnamon rolls right before this. You pinch yourself, but you don’t wake up. You’re still here on the windy beach, clutching a familiar creature in your arms.

In a panic, you fall back on the very first English you learned.

“I’m Kara,” you say. She sort of smiles as if that’s obvious. “What’s your name?”

She looks away, thinks hard. She has a strong jaw. Her skin is too white, like it’s never seen sun. Maybe not under the feathers? God, you think you’re going crazy.

“Lena.”

“Do you have parents, Lena?”

It’s a ridiculous question. She’s been with you for eleven years. But it’s a ridiculous situation.

“I—don’t remember. But I guess I do,” she says thoughtfully. Her voice has a raspy quality to it, not unlike her caw. “They probably think I’m dead.”

“What happened to you?”

She shakes her head again.

“I don’t remember,” then, “a curse, maybe. On my father. A woman came to our house that night. ‘A payment taken of your most prized possession’, she said. Something about an enemy loved.”

“A curse,” you repeat back. It makes sense. Even if nothing about this makes sense.

You shake your head, focusing on what’s important.

“Don’t worry,” you take her hand. Her palm is butter smooth. “Let’s go home.”

#supercorp #fanfic #supergirl au #crow au #i don't know #i literally don't #this was in my drafts for six months and i finally was like fuck it i'm finishing #i havent written 2nd POV in like one hundred years

[legoshi-plz]

Can we get some general headcanons of dating Louis plz 🥺👉👈

You sure can! I don’t know why but this prompt really called to me for some reason and it’s a nice break from the usual! This is with College!Louis simply because..... I’m a simp for College! Louis 😳

Reader can be read as any gender or animal type/class.

Warning: NSFW +18 [under the NSFW warning, first half is SFW]

*Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about Deer in general and made up 100% of the stuff in here because I am too lazy to actually google Deer physiology (also I just wanted to make the hcs)

///////

Okay so let’s start at the beginning! Like the beginning beginning. Louis saw you around campus but he’s still a Herbivore so he was shy about approaching you. Despite his overbearing superiority complex in high school, I feel like College would really put him back into reality. You have no reason to idolize him or fear him. He might be pretty popular on campus but he’s nowhere near the God-status he thought he had so he’s unsure of how to even approach a total stranger that he sees everywhere and can’t stop thinking about. Also he has an insane amount of insecurities which end up getting the best of him causing him to chicken out every time he wanted to get close to you.

You on the other hand? Barely noticed him. You’d seen him (his gigantic antlers which got even bigger in college were pretty hard to miss) but you regarded him as out of your league and immediately put him out of your mind. You weren’t one to dwell on if boys liked you/why didn’t boys like you blah blah blah.

Needless to say, your first few interactions with Louis were pretty terrible. He was awkward, stiff, defensive, it was like pulling teeth but in verbal form. You didn’t like him.

One day you brushed beside him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. You asked him what his problem was and he answered honestly “Sorry, you make me incredibly nervous.”

Suddenly it all clicked, the averted eyes, the bristled fur, the awkward stuttering. He might have outwardly appeared suave to any other animal on campus but he was still just a Herbivore with a crush.

Moving on, the two of you start dating and Louis is completely wrapped around your finger. It takes a while for his initial nerves around you to wear off, even after the relationship turned romantic. He constantly wanted to impress you or seem cool to you which you repeatedly reminded him you didn’t care about but it was important to him.

Once the two of you were more settled into the relationship and had been dating for some time, he still likes to impress you. Not to the same extent as before but he never folds on certain aspects because your opinion of him is something he values gravely, even if he won’t admit that to you.

King of Self Neglect, he stays up way too late studying, gets hardly no sleep, stretches himself way too thin but will still always make time for you even if he’s utterly exhausted. One time he nearly fell asleep sitting up while the two of you were on a date. You drove him back to your place, tucked him into bed and let him sleep it off. He felt awful the next morning for ruining the date and cleared his schedule the entire next day for a ‘redo’.

If ever verbally asked, Louis will vehemently deny liking PDA. In actually, however, he can’t keep his hands off you. He’s always touching you, caressing your cheek, holding you around the waist, interlocking your hands (especially the pinkies!! he doesn’t even realize he does that one, you’ll just look up and he’s totally aloof to this soft gesture), resting his chin on the top of your head/shoulder, nuzzling your neck (this is a big one for Deer and actually a declaration of love but you don’t know that). He’s pretty touch-starved but he hates to admit it so please indulge his clingy behavior (and he is very clingy.)

Speaking of clinginess, Louis is still incredibly petty and if he feels you’re not making enough time for him, expect to be called out on it.

“Am I not enough for you?” “If you prefer the single life, I can stop burdening you with this relationship.” “I see I come last in your life, as always.” “Don’t string me along. Either breakup with me here and now, or actually be with me.” “I see you do not take this relationship as seriously as myself. I will adjust my expectations of you accordingly.”

He’s a total drama queen and at first his proclamations scared you, thinking he was going to break up with you. But once you realized he was just overly dramatic about everything, you barely bat an eye now. You still try to make it up to him, though, whenever he’s feeling neglected. He’s enjoys that very much.

Any holiday, he’s asking you to come home with him. The mansion gets pretty lonely with just him and Oguma and he wants you there with him. You almost always comply.

At first he was pretty insecure about his leg and felt like you might think he was a freak because of it or worse: weak. You always let him know that you don’t care about his leg and that you love him regardless, even though you believe he has nothing to be ashamed of in the first place. That always makes his heart burst with love for you and he turns into absolute puddy in your hands.

Very jealous. Still holds on a little to that envy he has for Carnivores and thinks one might steal you away, especially since a couple of your male friends are Carnivores. In his mind, who wouldn’t want to be with some one bigger or stronger? He tends to lash out when he’s feeling particularly jealous and it’s the cause of almost 90% of the fights you two have.

When it comes to fights, even though Louis can be very petty, he hates every second the two of you are at odds so he usually apologizes fairly quickly. If you are the one who is in the wrong, he will continue to do normal activities (holding your hand, going out to dinner, cuddling) but he will do it angrily and give you the silent treatment until you apologize (please apologize quickly, he hates being mad at you even if he doesn’t admit it.)

His favorite activity? Anything where you lay on his chest. He lives for it and he really doesn’t get a restful sleep unless you’re on his chest. (Also he totally owned a weighted blanket before he met you because Deers usually sleep cuddled together in little huddles so it’s just kind of their ‘thing’ but it doesn’t hold a candle to when he has you sleeping on his chest. Actually had a “Is this what I’ve been missing all these years?” revelation moment when you two first started dating.)

Wear his clothes, it makes him feel manly also he thinks you look adorable. Plus he loves when you give them back and they’re covered in your scent, makes him feel so... owned? But in a good way! As if you were staking your claim on him which is a secret weakness of his.

Doesn’t really like Horror movies but will endure them if you’re into them. Likes to watch with you on his lap and his hands under your shirt (yes, he’s extremely distracting and yes he’s just trying to fool around. He couldn’t care less about the plot because he finds it unrealistic and not scary)

Though Louis had long ago cast aside the thought of having children (he doesn’t believe he’ll be a good father, similar to Oguma), any time he sees you interact with children and how well children respond to you, it awakens that inner ‘Stag’ in him and suddenly the thought of having kids doesn’t seem so bad, not if you’re by his side. He tends to try to not linger on those feelings for too long though so he doesn’t get any big ideas.

Okay now time for the NSFW portion.

Once again, Louis can! not! keep! his!hands! off! you!

Male Deer have a higher sex drive than the average Herbivore male so please be prepared for that.

Loves when his partner is kinda heavy, it amplifies the sex for him. His favorite thing is when they ride him/bounce on top of him, it’s practically an instant nut from him.

Louis can force himself to hold off on coming if he has to but he has a ridiculously quick recovery time along with the stamina for multiple rounds so he’d rather just come in or on his partner then keep going rather than prolonging it.

Oral is a power play to him and nothing turns him on more than using his incredibly long/skilled tongue to turn his partner into a weeping mess before him.

Has a habit of picking his partner up and throwing them over his shoulder to carry them to the bedroom. Asserts his dominance and he knows his long legs will get you both there faster.

He loves a vocal partner, and craves every syllable you can muster during sex. Whimpering his name mixed in with nonsensical affirmations of love gets his heart (and cock) instantly swelling.

Remember that he likes heavier partners? Well that ties into the whole thing with the weighted blanket and Deers just in general craving something on top of them, so naturally Louis prefers when you’re on top but is happy to participate in any position you prefer. Just know if it’s missionary or some variation of that, he is throwing your legs over his shoulders (so it’s kinda like a compromise?) The boy just really loves having you draped over him, okay?

Also in the case of a heavier partner, he is always trying to flex his strength and assure you that you’re not too heavy for him at all. Always picking you up (to fuck you against the wall), sitting you in his lap (to finger fuck you), carrying you bridal style (to take you to the bedroom to fuck you.) He’s very determined to show you just how obsessed he is with your body.

He’s very weak when getting his cock sucked and WILL come in your mouth within a few minutes. He’s not ashamed in the least bit.

You have about a five minute window after sex to do everything you need to do (use the bathroom, get cleaned up, etc.) because once he atttaches himself to you, you’re not going anywhere. Cuddling after sex isn’t optional, even if he’s mad at you.

Speaking of which, angry sex with Louis? Absolutely mind-blowing. Once he’s in full blown Stag mode, there’s really little you can do except lay there and take his huge cock while he pumps you with load after load of cum. Also, the overstimulation is out of this world.

Louis’ demeanor completely cracks after sex and he’s literally at his most vulnerable with you then. Openly confesses just how much you mean to him in moments like these while showering you with aftercare/ affection. Really turns into the lovey dovey type and likes to just sit there stroking your fur whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you lay on his chest.

This has probably gone on long enough so I’m just going to end this here but the boy’s madly in love with you, enough said.

#beastars #beastars louis #beastars louis x reader #louis x reader #louis x you #louis

[prismatales]

Comfort

All my love and gratitude goes to @sugacookiies, @pixxiesdust and @hawks-senseis for beta-reading this, you guys were some of the greatest help I've ever had! ❤

Pairings: Bakudeku x Reader

Warning: Tw:Depression, Tw:Suicidal thoughts, angst, fluff and comfort.

Fingertips slam a frantic yet steady pace against the keyboard, your eyes go back and forth between each paragraph with a growing sense of panic. All your senses are running on nothing more but pure anxiety and stress, not even the thought of eating something crosses your mind as the one and only thing to worry about seems to be this specific assignment.

Neither of them can remember the last time they saw you in another spot of the house that wasn't that chair before the computer, sure sometimes you take a break to go to the bathroom, but sleeping? That word doesn't seem to have a meaning in your vocabulary.

Except for that one time you fell asleep on the couch for less than 30 minutes before startling yourself awake and jumping away from the plush cushion to keep working.

Both Midoriya and Bakugo knew how important it was to complete your thesis, but was it worth it when your health and body is on the edge of giving up? They both know how badly this kind of routine can end up affecting your health.

The last time you got this stressed it ended up fucking up your stomach all the way from the esophagus to the intestines. The whole digestive system was so affected it started to feel like your stomach was literally burning itself into nothingness from the gastritis you developed. You had to get treatment for two whole weeks, which was right before your high school finals, and it was one of the worst experiences you've ever had to go through.

There's a reason a huge portion of people going through College ends up feeling dead on the inside, the overwhelming amounts of work, spending so much time in the library one could literally claim they live there, assignments and impossible amounts of field work, all of that could be more than enough things happening at the same time to cause plenty of people to go insane. And if that was bad enough, preparing your Thesis was like one of the deadliest of trials.

Just from the look on your face, it was obvious you're starting to develop another health trouble just like that time, the tips of your fingers start pressing right on the spot above your stomach with a face full of discomfort.

Deku's the first one to see that and in less than five minutes he's already outside on his way to get some medicine, he doesn't think twice about using One for All to go faster. 

Everyone in the apartment was more than used to hear mumbling during the day, courtesy of your beloved Deku, but not even Bakugo was prepared to hear you of all people mumbling such dark things the very next day, when the stress began taking a harder toll. He could hear every single word loud and clear even when he's standing near the kitchen counters at the other side of the house.

"Why do I even bother?...It's not like anything I do even matters..." He can hear the the long sigh followed by more self hatred while he's stirring the noodles for dinner. "Sometimes I wonder if people would even notice that I'm gone...hahaha...I wanna die"

"...! That's it!" The wooden spoon gets slammed roughly against the marble counter, searching through his pocket Bakugo pulls out his phone to text Deku, who's already on his way home from patrol.

It takes less than an hour for the two of them to be there right besides you trying their best to comfort their shaking and panicked S/O, it makes them feel useless seeing how much you're struggling to hold on to the remains of your mental stability.

And when they hear the next course of muttering they know things are just about to get worse unless they do something about it.

"I can't do this anymore...I just can't," The tiny voice coming out of your mouth was heartbreaking. Your whole body is trembling uncontrollably as Midoriya walks up behind the chair, he lifts your whole body so he can take you to the bedroom, that way you could finally get some well deserved rest and calm down, in the meanwhile Bakugo goes back into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink.

Their dynamic was simple and yet effective, most of the time Izuku tends to be the one calming both of you through words, if that's not enough to help he's trying to find another solution to the problem through physical actions. Katsuki on the other hand tends to prefer being the one letting his actions speak for themselves first, even through the smallest of gestures he's always looking out for the both of you, in a reverse context to Deku, when his actions are not enough he's trying to make an effort to comfort you with his words.

Everything came crashing down inside your head like a landslide in the middle of a storm, bringing chaos and despair from every direction. It's easy to recognize the signs of your depression kicking in due to all the work piling up at once, and they're aware you're one of the most dedicated and passionate persons when it comes to your studies.

Midoriya tried to lay you down into the soft mattress and walk away to get that blanket they bought specifically for this type of occasion, but his shirt is quickly clutched into a tight grip, the broken sobs are barely audible to someone not paying enough attention have him on high alert as he realizes you've already started crying.

He has no other choice but to ignore his quest for the blankets and sits back on the bed. His back rests against the headboard while you're laying on your side, face resting softly against his well-toned chest, your body surrounded by his own arms that hold your shaking body against his with the hope that it can help you relax.

Bakugo comes into the room shortly after, carrying your favorite cup steaming with some nice and warm drink, your favorite judging by the glorious smell coming out of the cup in small puffs.

He carefully passes the cup to the green haired man sitting in bed before walking to the corner of the room and towards a dark gray, medium sized basket where the additional blankets are kept, rummaging through the furniture he finds one of the biggest, fluffiest and softest blanket of them all before walking back towards the bed. 

It takes you awhile to process what's actually happening because of the storm running through your head. But eventually, between the reassuring words and sweet whispering, the shaking and the crying slowly, but very slowly starts toning down until nothing but a small whimper can be heard every now and then through your bedroom. 

In less than a few minutes you've already been wrapped in that beloved blanket while resting between two warm and fit bodies, leaning back against the headboard with a comforting drink in hand.

"Are you feeling any better?" Izuku's voice is soft and sweet, just in case there's something still bothering your mind, at the same time one of Katsuki's hands is busy rubbing circles in the section between your shoulders in a steady rhythm, the feeling of his calloused and scarred hand touching that portion of skin helps relaxing your exhausted self at an almost exaggerated level. The last thing they want is for you to have another breakdown.

You want to reply but your mouth quickly opens and closes, so all you can manage to do is give them a soft nod in response, too tired to even try and talk to your sweet boyfriends. 

Sometimes the negative thoughts come during these kinds of moments to try and bring torment. It makes you wonder if one day they'll get tired of this and leave after realizing you're nothing more than a hindrance.

"Don't even think about it, Dumbass," Katsuki growls from his spot at your left side "I recognize that look on your face when I see it, you think you're worthless don't you?" That hand behind you makes its way to your shoulder, pulling your whole body towards him and positioning you in a way that makes your head rest on top of his well toned shoulders. For someone who's body is so nicely sculpted, the place where your head lays is one of the most comfortable places where somebody could rest.

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met. You've always been someone who rarely allows small shit like this get the best of them" Katsuki's hand had long ago left your back to run his fingers through your hair, the friction against your locks of hair and scalp has a soothing effect that relaxes everything from your whole body to your mind.

A small tear manages to escape, but this time is out of relief and happiness for literally having two of the most wonderful lovers by your sides. The exhausted smile that spreads over your face sends the both of them into a state of relief.

"What did I do to deserve you both?" 

Deku lets out a soft laughter while Katsuki just smirks in satisfaction.

"Existing." 

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @bnha-ra @godtieruwu @mysticalite @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @unbreakableeiji @savagetrickster

#mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #reader insert #Tw:Depression #Tw:Suicidal thoughts

[ohpsshaw]

~DFS Christmas Special~

No desire to draw lately, so I’ve been doing little prose sketches instead.

Just in time for December, here’s what turned out to be Uncle Jack taking Al Christmas shopping. This would be circa 199X B.G. (Before Glenn), making Al in his early 20s.

(Watch out if you have high blood sugar, cos this gets KINDA SACCHARINE.)

It had finally stopped snowing, thank goodness. The fresh white blanket reflected crisp light in through the windows, making him feel chilled inside. Luckily Pop was a comfort creature who kept a stock of hot chocolate mix in the pantry. Al never seemed to reach for it back at his apartment, but something about visiting home in the winter months made a warm mug feel as essential as a limb.

Uncle Jack had asked Al to accompany him for some holiday shopping later, and a chocolate briquette would be good to have heating his gut. He took it to the couch in the living room. Someone had dug up the old photo books and left them on the coffee table a few days ago. Flipping through, he noticed that half the pages were completely empty— photography had never been a popular concept in the Czar household. The preserved moments were of family trips and landmarks, rambunctious sepia-washed office parties, Al’s school portraits. Rarer was anything taken inside the house. One shot of himself at four or five years old, standing on the yellow-sunlit staircase and showing the camera a toy car, surfaced a memory of being coached to keep his mouth closed so as not to alarm a 1-hour photo developer. Thinking on it, it may have been more than coincidence that most of these were instant Polaroids.

Through the window, he heard the muffled sound of a car door, then: “What the fuck are you doing!?” Hey, Pop’s home. Al pulled back the curtain to watch the drama unfolding at the end of the driveway, where Uncle Jack had been chipping at the wall of powder the afternoon snowplow had left. Xav had just returned from morning errands and parked in the street, storming over the slush to stop his brother from working.

Cold air blasted from the foyer. Snow crunched as Xav shook out the snow shovel behind him. “Why was he doing this by himself? Did you become a quadriplegic when I wasn’t looking?”

Al flipped through the Rolodex in his head for the answer that would earn him the least amount of grief. He shrugged, as if confused by the absurdity of the question. “He didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t ask, Max.” Jack took the shovel back. “But you’re right, I should have. Reckon it was my vanity what did me in— I can’t stand to be upstaged by some young buck doing the same job in half the time.” He winked at his nephew. “Well, three-quarters.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Xav spat, the corners of his mouth curling up against his will. “You both know I’m not being unreasonable. You’re not a guest, Alan Henry. As far as I’m concerned, you still live here. You earn your keep during the day, and MAYBE I’ll consider putting on my robe and letting you suckle dinner from my left tit.”

Al choked on his hot chocolate.

“Shit. Careful on the carpet. I’ll get you a paper towel.” Xav left for the kitchen, grumble-exorcising demons as he walked. “If Papa caught one of us sitting on our ass while the other did chores...”

Why did Pop have to save his best lines for when people were eating? Bent over and lapping chocolate out of the crevices of his palm, Al thought he saw a piece of marshmallow among the bubbles. Heh... hope that didn’t come out of his nose.

“You still need me to shovel?” he asked Jack.

“Son, I would be honored,” Jack nodded, holding the shovel on the doormat like a knight leaning on an orange sword. “Gitcher boots on and you can finish the job before we head out. I’ll make sure your Pop watches the show from inside.”

Xav returned with the towels and a smirk. “Talking shit about me, Jack?”

“I was just sayin’ how you’ll hate to see us go, but you’ll love to watch us walk away.”

“Got that fucking right.” Al cleaned his face while Xav dabbed each of his fingers individually. An oddly tender gesture. “What are you two going out for, exactly?”

“Juuust... shoppin’. I need Alan’s opinion on somethin’.”

“Uh-huh.” Secrets being a rare and dangerous thing in this family, there wasn’t much question as to what this was really about. Especially between brothers who were as close as twins. But the holidays were about giving, after all, so Xav seemed to decide to give them the benefit of the doubt. A game is more fun when everybody plays along.

Truthfully, even Al wasn’t sure what they were going to get for his father. A successful family man hitting his sixties doesn’t want for much. By this point, Xav had enough neckties and “#1 Dad” mugs to be buried surrounded by them like a pharaoh. Jack could always steal the show by reaching into his deep D.D.S. pockets or by making a new piece of furniture, but the son was held to no such standards. Xav had simple hobbies, and he seemed to have the house exactly how he wanted it. Was Al too old to make a coupon book, redeemable for hugs and remembering to use a coaster?

Or maybe his gift to Pop could be giving college another shot. Dropping out had caused some... friction, a flint-strikes-wood situation that had led to Al moving out of the house, and eventually out-of-state. He had to admit, the independence felt good. Putting his shoes on the coffee table, not having to tell anyone where he was going... he’d definitely become more promiscuous. No independent murders, though, which was starting to grate on him. He’d realized lately that he had always expected to be allowed to do more, without his father and uncle. Maybe if he did what Pop wanted, things would calm down so he could move back to Michigan and use the cabin. But the idea of sitting in another classroom, taking notes on a subject he didn’t care about, all for the promise of 50 years chained to a desk... It made him want to sleep forever.

When the car pulled up to the mall, Al was not surprised at all by the entrance his uncle had chosen. “Mind if I peek in Sears?” Jack asked, as if wild horses could stop him.

Home improvement and appliance stores were another phenomenon Al only seemed to experience at home. The dusty, unvarnished smell and high ceilings had been a frequent backdrop during his childhood— for Jack, they seemed to be akin to a candy store. He was talented as a carpenter and repairman, and sincerely relished something going wrong with the house if it meant he could pull out his toolkit. He also liked to make things go wrong with human bodies on occasion, but there was a separate box for those tools waiting up at the cabin.

Two steps in the door, and a weary-looking holiday hire hit them up with a canned pitch: “...and I’m happy to help you find whatever’s on your list!“ Aggressive customer service, the bane of the paranoid shopper. Jack was the front line for shaking off overly helpful greeters, which Xav had called “the second-worst thing to come out of the 80s after Iran-Contra.”

“Just lookin’, God willing— I brought my conscience with me to make me behave,” Jack looked to his nephew. “Don’t let me buy a single screw, y’hear?”

“Got it. Bulk purchases only.” That earned Al a shove.

Salesperson successfully deflected, Jack ducked toward his usual corner: the big ticket carpentry goods. When Al caught up, he was running his hand over a table saw. As much as he loved his uncle, Al wasn’t particularly interested in watching him fantasize about cutting wood, or even bone. “You have a project in mind?”

“A bit of a science experiment, next time we play cards,” Jack’s pupils darted along the equipment, still in reverie. “I’ve been readin’ a book about crucifixions, and how they affect the body.”

“Oh, that’s seasonal.”

“‘Course, I won’t be able to try it ‘til next year. You think your Pop would let me pick out a rabbit by April?” Jack chuckled. He was not talking about the Easter bunny. “We can see if she comes back to life after three days.”

Al snorted. “Jesus.”

“Precisely. Y’know, Christ is usually depicted with holes in his hands, but in actuality, the Romans would have put the nails through his wrists.” Jack picked up Al’s arm to demonstrate, dancing fingers across his palm. “Ain’t much to take hold of in here. It’s too fragile and open-ended. But if you move up the arm,”— he pressed his thumb into the straightened portion of Al’s median nerve— “You can hook the radius and the ulna. Much better support.” Jack’s eyes flickered with glee. “And it hurts like a bitch!”

“Wait, are you going to go first, or last?” Playing cards was usually a once-a-year affair, and the night Al looked forward to the most. If Jack snuffed her out before he had his turn...

“Oh, don’t worry, son. Done right, she could last for days.” Not that she would, since Pop would probably have something to say about that. “I just want to try, er... doin’ as the Romans do. And who knows, maybe you’ll like it. Every bachelor eventually needs to have a girl nailed down!”

They cackled and then shushed each other, wincing like sneaky little boys at the idea that someone would hear them over the store’s ambient shopping muzak. They really shouldn’t talk like this in public, even with code words and euphemisms. Though over the years they’d learned that people can be experts at ignoring what’s right under their noses. Certainly none of the men had ever overheard anyone else planning a murder.

“It’s just a pipe dream, I’m still in the plannin’ stages,” Jack added. “Ain’t even got the lumber yet. So if you wanna put some packages under the tree that are, say, 4-by-6 and 72 inches long... I promise to be shocked when I unwrap ‘em.”

Al’s attention shifted over his uncle’s shoulder, to a shelf of handheld orbital sanders. Al was more of a hands-on kind of guy— he still got a little queasy thinking about Jack’s experiment to see which sandpaper grit was the best at removing skin.

“So what was it you wanted me to look at? I don’t think Pop needs a crucifix for Christmas.”

“Oh, I’m just killin’ time before our appointment.”

“Appointment?”

“At the photo studio. I want you to give your Pop a picture.”

“...of us?”

“Naw, just you.”

Al loved that. “Yeah, that’d be hilarious. Merry Christmas, Pop, I got you me!”

A pause. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“As a heart attack, son. It’s just what he needs.”

“Do you have, I don’t know, a backup plan?” Al faltered. “Something less self-centered? I’m not exactly his favorite person right now. He kind of thinks I’m a failure.”

“Alan, you are not a failure. You are...” Jack patted his nephew’s cheek. “An unbroken mustang who has not yet found his ranch. And your father is just tryna keep you from bein’ sold as horse meat.” He slid them into a far aisle for more privacy. “He worries about you a lot, and he misses you somethin’ fierce.”

Al chewed his cheek. “Well, talk to him about showing it sometime.”

“No, son,” Jack took him by the shoulder, looking around to make sure they were alone. “Your father cries. At night when he talks about you, he starts wellin’ up like a waif. He doesn’t need to hear that you know about it, but it’s the God’s honest truth. All he talks about is wantin’ you back home.”

“I think movin’ out has been good for you, and I’m happy you did it. But it wounded him to his core. You’re his heart, kid.”

Al wasn’t sure how he was taking this information, but he knew how he was supposed to. He scrunched his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“Okay... If you’re completely sure he won’t think it’s stupid.”

“Are you kiddin’? He’ll put it on the nightstand.” Jack grinned. “And if you smile for it real nice, I’ll take you to that steakhouse in the plaza after.”

Al cocked an eyebrow. “You were gonna go there anyway.”

“Yes. Yes, I was. But won’t you enjoy your ribeye that much more knowin’ you’ve earned it?” Mmn, maybe. “Besides... did you have any better ideas?”

⬥ ⬥ ⬥

Come Christmas Day, Xav had unwrapped the waist-up portrait and just said “thank you”— which was worrying because he was usually much more verbose than that— and gone silent in his chair. At least he wasn’t mad. Al looked to Jack, who smiled knowingly and handed him a package to keep the gift exchange going.

Al figured it was because Jack had given him something funny, but then he heard his father breathe in sharply.

“Maudit tabarnak... you fucking assholes,” Xav’s voice sounded high and squeaky, like it was being squeezed through slabs of rock. He ducked his chin into his bedshirt collar to hide his face.

“You, fucking... why’d you have to...” He shook his hand at the framed photo. Oh boy, he really did hate it. The whole idea was idiotic. Al had sat in front of that artfully-mottled green backdrop and squinted for a man with a bow tie and no indoor voice for nothing, except for the sheer discomfort of it. And a ribeye steak with a baked potato.

Xav blinked up at the ceiling and gulped, his Adam’s apple fluctuating grotesquely. Eventually he seemed to find his voice again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having pictures taken, so I could make sure he had his fucking hair combed?” He showed them the photo. “Look at his bangs— they’re all over the fucking place.”

Al had to admit, they did look a little wild. “Aw, shoot. Sorry, Pop,” he laughed.

Jack tutted. “I think it looks nice. Rugged.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to comb your hair either, Jack.” Xav brought the photo back into his lap, looking it over. “Looks like he fought a bear before sitting down. But don’t worry, I still like it. You look handsome, kid. Maybe I can find some space on my nightstand.” Al and Jack exchanged victory grins, and didn’t catch Xav wiping tears from both eyes.

#writing #DFS #Alan Czar #Jack Czar #Xavier Czar #old men being evil and shmoopy #hopefully this helps solidify their voices/family dynamic for people #and why Al tends to be so passive in social situations haha #don't ask me why Jack talks like that because I will not tell you

[for-ests]

Love It If We Made It: Oikawa x Reader (Part 4)

1 / 2 / 3 / mlist

sorry for such the long wait babies,, i hope you enjoy the finale :) ps i tried to edit this as best I could but im super busy pls understand 

wc: 5, 194 warnings: smut towards the end  

You could never openly admit it, but when Oikawa had suggested bringing you back to his house, you felt all your previous what-ifs and worries disappear. Without a proper acknowledgement, the memories of you and your afternoons spent in his backyard playing volleyball filled your mind the entire way back to his childhood home. It had been years, it had felt like an eternity, yet it also felt like it was yesterday. 

Oikawa’s mother hadn’t aged a day. She was just as charming and youthful as before. When she watched you walk through the front door, her neutral expression switched into one of pure astonishment. 

“Y/N?” She gasped, immediately setting down the kitchen utensils she was using to come and embrace you in a warm hug. It felt surprisingly comforting to be back in her arms. She looked the same as she had the last day you saw her. Just as beautiful and just as charming, her features clearly reflected through her only son. 

“Rina-” You smiled, wrapping your arms around her just as friendly, like you had never spent a day apart. Truthfully, you were surprised--you hadn’t expected her to recognize you. 

“How long has it been?” She gushed, pulling away to get a better look at you. “My, my… You have grown into such a beautiful young lady.” 

“Hasn’t she?” Oikawa complimented, one of his hands reaching behind his neck to scratch it sheepishly. His movements were natural, as if he had discussed your impending arrival before. 

In the corner of your eye, you noticed them share a look. A look that could be considered indecipherable, but one that you could tell was of approval. You had known them since you were a child after all. There was a probable chance that Oikawa had mentioned your name a couple days earlier. 

“What brings you back here?” 

Oikawa answered for you. “She’s managing the Karasuno volleyball team. Isn’t that great?” 

“Really?” She cooed. 

“Yeah.” You grinned. 

“I didn’t even realize until I got there! Mama, it was crazy.” Oikawa chuckled, immediately clearing his throat once he realized you were staring at him with an unabashed expression. You had always found it adorable how much respect and love Oikawa had for his mother. 

“But of course I beat her team to spite her.” 

“I’m sure you did.” Rina chuckled, shaking her head in a form of apology for his ‘childish’ behavior. One thing that would never leave a man was their inevitable craving to win. Especially one that had been working all of his life to become the best. Oikawa had always believed he wasn’t born with natural talent, yet seeing him demand the entire court’s presence during your match was enough to make you roll your eyes. He was unbelievably talented. You knew he would go far with his gift. 

“Well, can I make you something to eat?” She asked, taking a step back and gesturing to the kitchen. “Will you stay for dinner?” 

You weren’t necessarily hungry, but when you glanced at Oikawa, the look in his eyes confirmed that you should agree regardless. It was obvious that his mother was keen on making dinner for you like old times. 

“Of course.” You bowed your head slightly, grinning from ear to ear at her enthusiasm. “I would be happy to.” 

Rina clasped her hands together in delight. Even Oikawa seemed surprised to see her so excited about something as simple as dinner. Unbeknownst to them both, Oikawa’s mother was just happy to see him bring home a girl. He only had one girlfriend before, but it was obvious that they weren’t going to last long. It had been to everyone, yet deep down inside Rina knew exactly what was going through her son’s mind. He had never paid attention to a girl like the way he had with you. 

And the only thing Rina felt like she could do to help her son win your heart was to make you feel welcome in their home. She just wanted her son to be happy, and it was obvious that you could be the girl to grant her wish, one who had always been there. 

“I’ll make a lot.” She said, already shuffling through the cupboards to prepare. “I know you must be hungry, Tooru.” 

“I am,” He laughed. “Thanks Mama, we’ll be back down once dinner is ready. Just text me and we’ll come down” 

“Yes!” She cheered. “Y/N, we need to catch up, okay? Tell me about the family and everything.” 

For a moment, your heart seemed to drop down to your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to tell Rina that your family was as content as ever, that they were succeeding in their jobs, and that your brother had successfully graduated middle school. But none of that was true, that part of your life was currently in shambles, and you were piecing it back together piece by piece. 

At least you had the Oikawa’s back by your side. You felt as if they were kneeling next to you, taking a portion of your burden and taping the pieces back together in places you couldn’t reach. 

“Of course!” You replied through the best smile you could muster, which wasn’t much. 

Oikawa noticed your smile lower. In reply, he set a comforting hand on the small of your back and led you down the hallway. It was his way of reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. Though his jersey still had a distasteful stench to it, you leaned into him. 

“You don’t need to tell her about your brother if you don’t want to.” The boy whispered once the two of you were out of distance, the thick walls preventing any sound from admitting down the hall. 

“I will.” You breathed. “Eventually, because she deserves to know. She was a family friend, and so were you.” 

He nodded in reply, finally twisting the doorknob of his bedroom door. “I can’t wait to change out of these clothes!” He said louder than needed, perhaps to deflect any suspicions that his mother might have about your demeanor. Yet, what he said was suggesting enough, and you flushed with embarrassment. 

“Nice one.” You giggled, reaching your arm out and smacking his bicep lightly. You were relieved to know that his mother probably didn’t know the extent of your rekindled relationship. She probably wouldn’t suspect anything suggestive to happen. 

Yet… why did you care so much? It wasn’t like anything would happen, even if you wanted it to. 

Taking a deep breath, you heard Oikawa switch the lock behind him. 

Entering the threshold of Oikawa’s room was like you had entered a different world than what you had remembered from before. 

It wasn’t a messy room, but it was cluttered. On the wall hung framed achievements he had been awarded throughout grade school. He even had a trophy shelf. The thought put a smile on your face, relieved to find that he was still the same competitive Oikawa you had loved years before. 

You heard him shuffling through his dresser as you scanned his belongings. 

His room didn’t contain much else, just the standard bedroom accessories. His desk was stacked high with textbooks and assignments. That was what originally drew your eyes to the piece of furniture. But what you found next brought potential tears to your eyes. 

The single picture he had decided to frame was one of you. 

“Tooru…” You breathed, voice immediately faltering. Without thinking, you reached for it, desperate to hold it between your fingertips. You remembered the day it was taken. You had been so overwhelmed to start eighth grade, yet for this picture, you smiled genuinely. That was because on your right was Oikawa, and on your left was Iwaizumi. In that moment, having them by your side meant everything. They had walked you to your classroom, proud of you for being accepted into the honor roll. They were proud even if it meant you would no longer be in their class. 

“Has it been there all this time?” You asked, feeling his presence come from behind. Shivers cascaded down your spine from his proximity, yet your eyes remained on the photo. You were shocked to find it, so shocked that you had been in his memory this entire time. 

What had ever happened to the three of you? 

Life. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could hold the rest of your tears in. You had already cried enough in front of him. There was no need to cry about something you couldn't change. 

“It hasn’t moved for three years.” He whispered so softly you knew it wasn’t a lie. 

Setting the frame back into its rightful place, you turned around to find Oikawa shirtless. For a moment, you were dumbfounded. But ever since Oikawa waltzed back into your life, there wasn’t an emotion he hadn’t provoked from you. 

Possible questions were racing through your mind. Why would he keep that picture framed? Had he really been missing you all this time? If your face had been in front of him this long why did he never reach out to you? 

Despite that, no words flew from your mouth. All you could do was reach out and set your arm against his chest. Observing that picture had caused your heart to soften. He had framed it, protected and cherished it. Maybe not you, but at least the memory.

Your entire body felt tender, so tender that it would be easy to admit what was on your mind. 

“Tooru-” You finally breathed, your eyes flashing across the bareness of his toned chest. You wanted to look elsewhere but your eyes were drawn to him, your brain finally processing that it was your childhood crush that the body belonged to. 

Oikawa’s hand reached up and rested against your jawline, tipping your chin up. His hands felt like ice against your burning skin. Normally he would crack a joke, possibly tease you for being so flustered. Yet, he reclaimed the silence in return. He felt the tension too, his own mind trying to picture what your body looked like underneath. 

You needed him. You were gripping onto him by this point, almost begging for him to make the first move.

“I…” Oikawa faltered, relaxing slightly from your more than eager embrace. He hesitated, searching your eyes for an answer. “I kept this picture for all these years because I loved you. It felt wrong to throw it away, even if you were gone.” 

You blushed, finally flashing your gaze away from his hypnotizing face. Your stomach flipped with butterflies under the touch of your best friend—a touch that felt familiar, yet so foreign in its unexplored way. He had never touched you like this before, so compassionate; yet laced with hunger. 

Then, as you finally processed what he had confessed, your eyes widened. “What?—” You were cut off by his lips connecting with yours, engulfing your thoughts in complete and utter bliss. For a brief moment, your eyes stayed open, and through it, all your resistance disappeared.

You melted against his towering frame, succumbing to your desires. His lips mended perfectly with yours in motions that were so passionate you could hardly focus on breathing.

You clutched onto Oikawa’s arm to steady your weakening knees. His kisses became rougher, hungrier, more intense with each passing moment. You became drunk on the lips that you had waited so long for.

“I love…” You gasped, trying to pull away and accept his confession. “I love you too.” 

“Good.” Oikawa curled his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his bed. You fell on top of him, a giggle escaping your lips. Your eyes flickered back down to his reddening lips, his position inviting you for more. But like before, Oikawa made the decision for you when his hands cupped your face and brought you towards him. 

You had years of kissing to cover. And with each movement your lips made, your emotions heightened, begging for more, begging for all of him. 

Lips refusing to disconnect, you shifted positions until you were straddling him. Oikawa groaned in response, the slightest movement from you causing him to grow hard. Instinctively, his hands moved from your face and latched onto your hips. The boy grasped them tightly, almost pawing in hopes that your clothes would fall away that easily. He wanted to take you as soon as he could, infatuated with you from day one. 

You needed him. Every fiber in your being was pulsating for the urge to become one. The way he moved his hips in response to your contact relayed that he felt the same. 

Refusing to contemplate if you should for another minute, you broke away from the kiss, saliva connecting your lips to his. Blushing, you gained a moment to breathe, cheeks tainted with evidence of your current, sinful state. You wanted more. But was now the right time? 

Staring into your mystifying eyes was enough to give Oikawa his answer. Yes, the right time was now. “She won’t hear.” He whispered. “If you can be quiet for me.” 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. There was no way you could leave his bedroom without satisfying the sensual urge that filled every sense. You ran your hands through Oikawa’s chocolate curls, pulling him as close as you could, the make out session escalating faster than you ever would have thought. 

Crawling out from underneath you, Oikawa beckoned you to switch positions. You obediently laid on your back, trying to avert your eyes in embarrassment as the boy you loved helped you out of your shirt. As both top garments slipped off your body, you felt the lustful heat creep back into your core, stimulated by the simplest action. 

Having your chest exposed for the first time, Oikawa ravished the touch, letting his hands linger and brush against all the places you had never let him before. Even if he had always fantasized about doing so, nothing could compare to the reality. 

Feeling the hotness of Oikawa’s mouth against your breasts almost caused you to moan out loud. How were you going to keep quiet? 

“Shh…” the boy whispered against your skin, grinding his hips into your core for another distraction. He was enjoying himself as much as you were. “Be quiet.” 

The hardness in his pants ignited something deep within you. It felt heavenly, the sexual contact so foreign from his hands, something you had wished for just as hard as he had. 

But your breaths soon become muffled mewls of erotic pleasure as Oikawa bruised the sensitive spot on your neck. He moved his hands down to your thighs, rubbing softly and sensually. 

"I want to see all of you..." He groaned against your skin, pulling his head away to stare into your own lust filled eyes, searching for any sort of conformation. 

You were flustered, pressed entirely against his chest as he continued to play with your body. How could you say no? That’s what was racing through your mind as his hands snaked down your sides and over your panties. Before you could process his actions, you felt his fingers against your clit, fingers rubbing in soft, slow circles. 

"T-Tooru..." You pleaded in short quick whimpers, not wanting him to stop grinding against the incredibly sensitive spot. No boy had ever teased you like this, with such tenderness and care. 

Confidence surged through your veins at his touch, exciting you and sending waves of passion across your body. With the newfound feeling, you decided to please him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his face into your exposed chest. 

"I want you inside me..."You whimpered, grinding against his fingers to display just how badly you were wishing. 

"Fuck.. Y/N... don't say that..." Oikawa grunted, grasping hold of your chin to bring your lips back together with his. 

Despite the heated tongue locking, Oikawa continued to massage between your thighs, trailing under your shorts and past your underwear, until he quickly inserted them. You moaned loudly, tears gathering on your eyelids from how blissful it felt. "P-please..." You whined, gripping onto his shoulders as your clit pulsed with heat. 

The boy’s body was trembling just as much, the nerves finally setting in. All Oikawa wanted to do was please you, he wanted to do such a wonderful job that you were unable to think of anyone else. Though, no matter what happened, you would always think he was handsome, especially how apparent he made his emotions known, the sexual and the physical, his own composure coming undone against you. 

Moving your hands forward, you touched his toned chest, your fingers exploring and caressing every muscle you could get your hands on. Oikawa relaxed at the desperation laced within your actions, his breathing faltering for a moment before he grabbed your hands and forced them against bed. 

You stared deeply into his eyes, him doing the same. Take me. You pleaded silently.  Do it before it’s too late. 

The boy pinned you down, hovering over on one knee, not wasting another second to finally slide your panties down your legs until you were completely naked. You threw your head back at the contact of his hands caressing your breasts. 

"You're so beautiful." Oikawa whispered huskily. Astounded, he pulled away his boxers, revealing his own assets. Before you could fully take in his length, you felt his cock poke against your entrance. Bucking your hips in response, your movements caused your breasts to brush against his abs. The feeling of skin on skin was almost enough to push Oikawa over the edge, his member twitching in desperation. He had never felt like this before, utterly shocked by his devouring nature. 

He loved you. Oikawa couldn’t fight the attraction any longer. Now, there was no turning back. He had already resisted his entire life, waiting for the right moment until he was sure you could fully become his. He had put everything before you, yet now he wanted to put you first. 

Without another second to pass, Oikawa abruptly pulled your naked body to the edge of the bed and smiled down at your flustered cheeks. All this for him. No matter what had happened in the time you were apart, he still loved you the same. 

Though every subconscious thought throughout his teenage years had undoubtedly prepared him for this moment, he was still awestruck. Oikawa never could have guessed that he would have been in love with the same girl for his entire life, in love with you. 

“Tooru…” You whimpered, tone evidently conveying embarrassment. 

Despite the heat that pulsated between you and him, your legs unconsciously clasped back together at the sight of him, something you weren’t sure you could handle. What if you couldn’t please him? Everything you had ever wanted to do to him suddenly became a distant memory. You were frightened that he wouldn’t love you like he claimed afterwards. Exactly what had happened in your past relationship. 

"Are you okay?" Oikawa called out soothingly, even though deep inside he was embarrassed by your reaction. His cold fingers pried your legs back open so he could touch you lovingly, tenderly. He only wanted to appreciate you and everything you had done for him. 

“Yeah… “You nodded, wanting him to continue. Your thoughts were running ramped, wishing you could pour every emotion you had ever felt with him into this moment. You were going to move on from your past love, you were going to become a woman with the man you had always dreamt about. 

Oikawa kissed your inner thighs, leaving long and lingering sucks that made you squirm with pleasure.... It felt so nice but you refused to let out more than gasps, refusing to reveal your intentions to his mother, a woman you had known your entire life. 

Well, that was until the boy stuck his tongue inside of you.  

You gripped the sheets in panic, never imagining how incredible the feeling could be. "Oh my god..." You whimpered, throwing your head back at the sensation. 

Oikawa was simulated by your sounds, due to the speed his tongue licked and massaged against your clit. You grabbed his hair and pushed his face down harder, completely satisfied with how it felt.  Yet you couldn’t stop with just this-- you needed more. You needed all of him. All your worries faded into the background noise along with the crinkling sheets and low groan of your lover’s baritone. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, only feeling, only touching, only relishing in him. Your mind was filled with his bliss, his passion, his love. 

"Make love with me..." You panted, eyes pleading for the high only he could give you.  

Oikawa gazed down at your expression, his voice shaking from the pleasure. "Are you sure?" He didn't want to follow through with something you might regret, with something he could tell you had already regretted from the past with another boy. 

"Just do it." You moaned at the feeling of your region dripping from a mixture of your cum and his saliva. And at that moment, it was the first time you and Oikawa came together as one. 

"Tooru!" You cried softly, gasping in pain as his length penetrated your most sensitive spot. "Shit..." You cursed, squeezing his biceps for support as he slid deep into your throbbing cunt. 

Through desperation of a high, you pulled him closer, desperate to hold onto something to ease the pain of his gigantic shaft, burying your face into the crook of his neck. At your moans, Oikawa thrusted deeper, relishing in the sensation of your walls tightening around him. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath,  feeling on top of the world, feeling like he was in the dream he had always wanted to be in. 

"Y/N..." He whispered your name in a strained voice, the veins in his neck popping out. 

“Tooru…” Your breasts bounced up and down from his sensual movements, his ravishing desire  threatened to push you over the edge. Allowing yourself to be consumed by it, you could hardly feel him paw at your chest, tilting your head back as your body became limp. 

"Say my name again..."Oikawa groaned, his thrusts sliding deeper and his breath becoming heavier. "Nobody will hear you but me baby..." 

Oikawa shoved himself farther, and tears of pain and pleasure streamed down your face. You were so flustered that you couldn't seem to focus on anything except the sound of his skin slapping against yours, suddenly paranoid that his mother might hear. 

Praying that the door remained locked, you focused entirely on the moment you had been granted with your new boyfriend. All your fantasies were unfolding and you wanted to relish in them to their fullest extent. No more thinking about the past, he loved you the same, his consummation confirming as much. 

Oikawa slid out and back in, and with one swift motion you felt your body convulse. "Ah!" You gasped, nails digging into his bulging arms wildly. "Tooru... Fuck!" 

"Yeah..." Oikawa moaned, leaning down and resting his head in the crook of your neck. "Just like that baby..." He mumbled, the nickname sounding so dirty upon his lips. 

"Tooru...” you repeated his name as if it was a dream, as if he might leave you at any moment. “I love you…” You choked out between gasps, the pleasurable feeling building stronger and stronger below your abdomen. You couldn’t take the heat any longer, especially as he called you baby. “I’m gonna cum…” 

"Cum on me..." He groaned, knowing that it barely took anything to make you so weak and submissive to his touch. 

You moaned loudly, squeezing onto Oikawa with all your might as you released yourself onto his thick cock. "Oh my god..." You whined, the pressure finally fading away so you could catch your breath, despite your climax Oikawa refused to stop.

He wasn’t finished with you yet. 

"Fuck." He moaned, his forehead beating with sweat. "Keep moaning my name, I'll make you cum again." 

"T-Tooru..." You drew him closer, bodies moving together in sync. 

Your face displayed the sexiest, most alluring expression he had ever seen. Oikawa was breathless as he pumped in and out of you. He grit his teeth as the indulgence became unbearable, your walls contracting all around him.  

Oikawa loved you... he was lost in your beauty. He wanted to marry you, he wanted you all for himself. Was this what love felt like? He could really get used to it...

"P-Please..!" Your moans snapped him back fully. You were scratching his skin, wanting to burst at the feeling he gave you. "Tooru..." You bit your lip, gripping his wrists as he reached forward to pinch your nipples. 

Your breath hitched and you locked eyes for the final moment, you felt him twitch inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier. Your eyes widened, your back arching against the bed as you climaxed together. "Pull out!" You begged. 

You didn’t want the penetration to end, but Oikawa pulled out at the last possible second, moaning as he coated your breasts with his cum. 

"Fuck..." He drawled, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

After finishing himself off, he collapsed on the bed right next to you, eyes closed, but a faint smile on your face. 

He leaned over to kiss you gently. You were trembling, but kissed him back just as passionately as the first. "That was amazing..." 

Oikawa exhaled in agreement, wishing this moment would never end. He almost forgot about everything that had happened. He really was lost in you. 

"Will you help me? It's dripping..." You whispered, wiping the liquid off your breasts with a tissue. Oikawa immediately shot up from the bed to hold you, cheeks red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry..." He muttered, refusing to look you in the eyes as he wiped himself off of you. 

"It's okay..." You  giggled, kissing his cheek. "I loved it." 

Loved. Oikawa’s heart began to beat faster, at this rate he could go for a second round. 

You glanced at your clothes scattered around the room. "Was it supposed to be that good? I never imagined sex could be that good..."

"So I'm that great huh?" Oikawa teased, slipping his hands around your waist and dragging you back onto his lap. The repeated skin on skin contact caused your heart to flutter once again. 

"The best I've ever had." You raised your eyebrows, scrunching your nose in response to the lighthearted chuckle that left his lips.  

"But in all seriousness." He touched your face lovingly, and you instinctively leaned into the touch, grinning at him with flustered cheeks. "I think it's because we are made for each other." 

Your eyes glistened with faint tears at the confession, a confession that would never be topped by another, that would resonate with your heart and soul for the rest of your life. Oikawa, your first and your last love. 

"Me too."

After a couple more minutes of lazy kisses and playful wrestling, Oikawa slipped back into his clothes and retreated to the bathroom. Eyes trailing his stalking frame, you smiled. 

Oikawa was finally yours, the one thing your heart had been craving your years. Now, the split through your heart was starting to mend. His touch alone, romantic or friendly, was enough. 

Your boyfriend came back into the room, laughing. “You might want to fix your hair before we have dinner with my mom.” 

Immediately flustered, you finished changing back into your outfit, straightening out any possible wrinkle that could indicate the passion that had just unfolded. You brushed through your hair with your fingers and applied some chapstick. All the while, Oikawa watched you from a distance, admiring the thought you put into your appearance for his family whether it was out of embarrassment or not. 

You had always cared about him. 

“You look great, there’s no need to worry.” Oikawa took hold of your hands, pulling you into his chest so he could envelop you in a bone crushing hug. 

“Thank you…” You chuckled, squeezing him even tighter in response. “It feels good to finally admit how much I love you.” 

Surely there would be moments where you would reflect on the past, yet, the turmoil was no longer at the forefront of your mind. 

Your previous suffering was all worth it in the end now that you had found your happiness. A happiness that you knew would last a lifetime. 

“Me too, Y/N.” 

You had made it. 

“Hi, Haru.” Your voice seemed loud as it contrasted against the silence of the graveyard. It was a chilly evening, yet Oikawa’s warmth enveloped your senses. You had never come to your brother’s grave with another. It never felt right to have someone intrude on the brief moments you would come to visit, where you would update him in hopes that he was watching your life unfold from above. Haru had been taken from the world far too soon, and now you were finally starting to come to terms with his passing, almost three years later. 

Staring at his headstone would never not break your heart in two. No matter how hard you tried, you would never forget his youthful face, a face that never held animosity towards anything. It wasn’t fair, it would never be fair. 

No child should die before their parents. 

But now you had Oikawa by your side, the thought of talking over your younger brother’s corpse was bearable. Oikawa insisted that he help carry your burden, washing away your regrets and instead encouraging you to think of the future Haru would have wished for. 

“You remember Tooru, don’t you?” You chuckled. “He misses you too.” 

Oikawa stood next to you, grasping your hand for support. He really didn’t want to watch you cry, yet he realized it might happen. Over the years he had only watched you cry a handful of times, you were normally so strong. 

“Haru,” You started, feeling Oikawa’s thumb over the ring on your finger. You smiled, using your free hand to wipe the tears gathering at your eyelids. “Tooru and I are getting married next month.” 

“I hope you approve.” Oikawa whispered, releasing your hand with a saddening smile. 

“Of course he does.” You managed to laugh. “I mean…He better. You always let him play with you and your friends.” 

Oikawa stepped forward and knelt to set a bouquet of flowers against the headstone. “I wish you could be here, kid.” 

Your fiance came back to your side and kissed your cheek. The hope that Haru was watching over you and Oikawa was enough to give you the courage to move forward. Another gust of wind rustled the trees above you, and through the commotion, came a bird to perch against Haru’s headstone. 

Your fiance grasped your hand once more and pulled you away from the grave. “I love you, and so does Haru.”

tag list!

@ardorwrites-hq-mha​   @cuddlyasahi​   @vventure​   @writeiolite​   @ushijimahayashi​  @heccingdead​ ​  @benewol​   @lordeofthunder​   @haikoo​   @caxsthetic​   @evermorehaikyuu​   @alluring-akaashi​   @infamouswhitepawsies​  @theshirleygamer​  @taeabby95 @tamcitrus​   @ttttiddy​  @artsamber​ @akaashit-baeji​ @yams046​ @icythotsenpai​ @xsofttearsx​

#haikyuucreations #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader

[olivay-official]

Scenes from Red: The Untold Story of a Reluctant Hero

Jay is just your average college student with a secret superhero identity. The deep underground crime world knows her as Red, a sarcastic pain in the ass hero who is annoyingly good at stopping their nefarious activities despite being terrible at her job. Though not what one might typically imagine as a hero Oliver, aka Napster, gladly took up the role of her techs sidekick cleaning up the messes left in her wake. Despite how closely they work together Oliver is clueless to Red’s true identity, while Jay struggles to act normal around him in civilian form. Balancing a social life with friends with the looming threat of Suped up villains created by a mad scientist with the face of a lizard isn’t easy and Jay and Oliver definitely make it look much harder than it is.

“Would you put away your phone? This is supposed to be a tech free weekend!” Andre made a grab for Jackie’s phone. She pulled away holding it close to her chest.

“And I promise I will put it away when we get there!” She shot back.

“Why are you so big on camping Andre?” I called from the backseat.

“Dude, some of my best memories were camping with my brothers and pops. And I think that we can all do with getting out of the city for a few days.” Andre looked at all three of us pointedly.

“Really all I remember from camping was having to pee in a hole, and getting eaten alive by bugs,” I answered bitterly. I wondered absentmindedly if my blood would make a super mosquito now.

“I remember trying to go camping with my mom once, then a bear ate our food so we ended up leaving and getting breakfast at a diner,” Jackie giggled.

“I’ve never been before,” Oliver said quietly.

“Lucky you,” I muttered.

“What?!” Andre practically screeched. “Oh no you girls aren’t going to ruin this for Oliver. Oliver my boy you are about to get the full camping experience!” Andre said exuberantly. I rolled my eyes as I dug a soda out of the cooler in the backseat.

“Hey what are you doing, those are for the camping trip!” Andre said indignantly.

“Well then it’s a good thing I packed extra!” I grinned as I popped the tab of the can with an overdramatic display of defiance.

“Seriously Jay! I had everything planned! You guys have no faith in me!” Andre waved his hand in frustration.

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how much this girl eats? She could eat all four portions of food you packed for us and then some,” Jackie snorted. Oliver smiled looking around at the three of us as he relaxed into his seat. I watched him for a second, curious. He looked at ease, happy even as he looked between Andre and Jackie but behind his eyes there was an odd mix of worry and anticipation. He checked his phone several times within a few minutes as if he was waiting for something. I smiled finally realizing what he was waiting for. He was worried that Red would need him even though I had told him Red would be gone til Tuesday. His phone would lose service as soon as we started winding up some of the backroads and his connection to Red would be cut off or so he thought anyways. I wished I could tell him it would be fine but I had already told him once as Red. There was nothing more I could do here.

The rest of the car ride went by much like that. We played music belting out the classics from our high school days, we talked about old camping memories, and Jackie and I shared stories from our childhood the humor of which was completely lost on Andre and Oliver. Andre complained about Jackie and Oliver being on their phones. Oliver complained about my laying across all the backseats including the one he occupied. Jackie complained when Andre shut off her music trading it for a much more classic form of music- the CD. Many of which were burned and included songs in no particular order that only Andre recognized. We had three phone calls from Enzo on the way up who was worried he would get lost and at least two pitstops for me to pee. During the drive I had consumed three cans of soda, a bag of chips and a burrito I had picked up at a food truck. Andre complained about my eating habits and I threw wrappers at him. All in all it was a good time.

When we got to the campsite Enzo was already there, tent set up.

“Sorry we are late, someone made us stop for a burrito on the way here.” Andre glared at me.

“Damn you’re probably not hungry then,” Enzo said holding up a bag of takeout from my favorite burrito place. I swear I fell in love with him right there.

“I am always hungry,” I beamed at him.

“No you are helping us unpack first,” Andre demanded. I rolled my eyes at Andre and gave an apologetic smile to Enzo.

I followed Andre back to the car so that we could unpack all our crap. I opted for the large cooler in the back seat. It was a heavy item but with my abilities it would hardly be a problem. I had only managed to pull the container about three quarters of the way out the car when someone came up behind me, their hand brushing mine as they took the container from my grasp. The rest of the cooler came sliding out the car. His hand reached over me to grab the other handle just in time.

“Careful.” Oliver smiled at me. “This probably weighs more than you,” He chuckled. I put my hands on my hips.

“I had it,” I said confidently. Oliver smirked.

“I’m sure you did but why don’t I just carry it instead yeah? You can grab the firewood.” He smiled at me that infuriatingly adorable smile. I stared at him for a moment fixing him with a stern look before I walked over to the back of the trunk. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation. I fixed him with a glare before I dared reaching into the trunk to pull out the bags of firewood. Balancing one in each arm I started to walk back to the campsite with Oliver in tow struggling with the weight of the cooler.

“Want to trade?” I teased.

“As much as I’d love to see you carry this, I think I got it,” He said with a sardonic hint to his tone. I shrugged and kept walking at a much faster pace than he could manage with the clunky weight of the cooler. I enjoyed watching him struggle to keep up. We crossed paths with Enzo and Andre who were heading back to get the remainder of the food and supplies.

Oliver set the cooler down at the edge of the campsite with a grunt. A thin sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead. I admired the site as he rolled up the sleeves of his fitted black thermal shirt over his lean arms. He ran a hand through his dark hair letting it fall back down in shaggy disarray ends pointing in all different directions. I busied myself with arranging the uneven bags of firewood so they wouldn’t fall all the while letting myself peak up at Oliver. He really did look good in black. His deep eyes met mine, I managed a half smile before letting my eyes drop back down to the firewood, finalizing their arrangement.

I was by no means a camper. I liked having running water and actual toilets. Mostly the toilets because who the fuck enjoys squatting in a bush to go to the bathrrom completely exposed and vulnerable to attack by bear or an unhinged deer.

Growing up camping had never been a part of my childhood experiences needless to say I should be out of my element here. Thanks to my powers, however, I was a galdamn pro. A few helpful survivalist videos, and several episodes of naked and afraid later and I could probably survive out here on my own for months. I set up mine and Jackie’s tent in record time while the boys were tangled in heaps of collapsable sticks trying to find which end to start with. While they struggled Jackie and I busied ourselves with making our camping space comfortable. Just because we were camping did not mean Jackie was going to give up all the luxuries of a home. She had made me drag her mattress topper here and just about a dozen blankets and pillows on top of the sleeping bags.

“Damn that’s romantic, you aren’t trying to seduce me are you?” I asked, giving her a quick wink.

“You wish!” Jackie laughed.

“When you’re done hitting on my girlfriend would you mind helping us out here Jay?” Andre asked from under the tent’s tarp.

“I thought you were such a big camper Andre.” I rolled my eyes. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your trip by getting in the way.”

“You’re the absolute worst.”

When we finally got all set up and situated Andre began packing bags for a hike. He was determined to give us the campiest of camping experiences apparently. Andre took the lead, compass in hand, with the rest of us in tow. Enzo fell in step behind me. The trail was only big enough to walk along single file. Andre’s hiking style was hard to keep up with. Some moments without warning he would turn on a dime shifting directions and surging forward.

The final destination of the hike was a small waterfall. I had to hand it to Andre. It was a pretty picturesque spot. We sat down to have lunch but I had other plans. I was hot and sweaty from the hike and that water looked damn good. I quickly started stripping down.

“Jay! Seriously!” Andre shouted at me. I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t worry I’ll keep my panties on,” I winked at him which he did not find amusing. I dove into the water and almost immediately regretted it. The water was fucking freezing. When I broke the surface Andre was looking smugly at me.

“Cold isn’t it? You’re an idiot,” Andre said.

“Worth it!” I said through chattering teeth. I’d be damned if I’d admit I was wrong to Andre. I swam around in the water despite the cold finding myself a nice sun baked spot of water that wasn’t too terrible.

“Jackie, that’s literally snow run off,” Andre warned. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know the splash of water was Jackie joining me. We both laughed. Oliver and Enzo looked at each other finally both shrugging. They stripped down and attempted lifting Andre into the air - he was forced to strip or get his clothes wet. Finally we were all in the water and for the first time in a long time shit felt totally normal. No super villains lurked in the woods to demand my attention. There was no Red or Napster. It was just me and my friends and it was so nice to play normal even if only for a few days.

I was shivering by the time we got out of the water to dry off. Enzo stayed close to me doing his best to warm me up, offering me his jacket that he’d been smart enough to bring on the hike. While I laid out on the warm rocks trying to get my body temp back up Enzo went back to our bags to get us food. Oliver flopped out of the water and onto the rock next to me.

“I think I like camping,” He said shaking water out of his hair. I laughed.

“Please don’t tell Andre that, he’ll want us to go every week,” I said.

“Is there a reason you love torturing him?” He asked.

“I mean other than the fact that it’s so darn fun? Andre and I lived together for like a week Freshman year, there was a mixup with the dorms. Since then we have been great friends but our friendship is based on the fact that we love torturing eachother,” I said.

“You and Andre lived in a dorm together?” Oliver raised his eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh yeah I probably know more about his deep dark secrets than you do,” I said.

“And you introduced him to Jackie?” He asked.

“Yup! Really he has me to thank for his happy relationship,” I beamed. Oliver smiled at me turning back towards the waterfall. I tried to ignore the way the water glistened off his body. I turned back to the water.

“He picked a really good spot,” Oliver said.

“Yeah as much as I hate to admit it, he did a good job. Probably wanted to impress Jackie,” I said.

“Well I’d say he picked one hell of a romantic set up,” Oliver mused. I glanced over at Oliver ready to fire off a smart remark but the words died on my tongue. Oliver was already staring at me, his eyes running over the curve of my body. The sun was starting to get lower creating an orange glow that framed him like a greek god. His eyes caught mine and he cleared his throat quickly looking away. A light blush colored his cheeks. My face felt warm as I looked away.

Great, that was sufficiently awkward.

I only hoped the orange light of the sunset might hide the blush creeping across my own face.

The sound of a branch snapping caused me to straighten, muscles tensing. My eyes narrowed as I stared out into the forest searching.

“What was that?” I whispered to myself.

“Probably a deer or something,” Oliver attempted to sound nonchalant about it but I could see his body stiffen at the sound and refuse to relax.

There was a rustling in the bushes. I stood in a fighting stance. What I was planning to do if it was a bear or something I don’t know, maybe punch it in the nose. More rustling. Then everything happened in a blur. A woman emerged from the underbrush looking half crazed. Under her skin her veins flowed orange and red like molten fire. Her irises were the same glowing color, the sclera pitch black. The smell of burning hair filled the air. She looked scared out of her mind and in agonizing pain but that didn’t stop her from lunging at me like the last shrimp at a buffet.

“Help me! It burns!” She cried. The woman grabbed hold of my arms. Her touch seared my skin burning my arms. I hissed in pain rearing back and punching the woman square in the jaw. She stumbled back.

I shook out my hand cursing under my breath. Her skin burned to touch. The woman surged forward again tackling me to the ground. I cried out in both fury and pain as we hit the ground. I kicked the woman off of me and up over my head. I scrambled to my feet. The woman’s hand caught my bare ankle causing me to scream. Oliver was there, shouldering the woman into the shallowest part of the lake. Steam hissed as she his the surface. She let out a horrible screech struggling to get out of the shallow depths. I whipped around and clocked her square in the face, hard enough to knock her out, silencing her screams. She landed on the shore skin still sizzling.

“Ah Fuck!” I shouted as I shook out my hand and bounced around on one foot. Of the injuries my ankle was definitely fairing the worst. Heat and pain pulsed through the seared flesh with each heartbeat.

Everyone finally came running over to us their eyes bulging out of their head when they landed on the unconscious woman that lay at my feet. Enzo was next to me in a second wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me to him.

“What the hell just happened?!” Andre asked.

“Hell if we know. She jumped out at us from the woods,” Oliver said kneeling down next to her. Suddenly the woman’s eyes snapped open. She locked onto Oliver.

“Burning!! He promised it wouldn’t hurt! Now it burns! Please-” She grabbed Oliver’s hand. I could see the pain in his face but he didn’t pull away from her touch. “Please make it stop,” The woman begged her voice strained and hoarse. With those final words her eyes closed and her grip on Oliver’s hand relaxed. He removed his hand from hers. He held his good hand up to her mouth and shook his head.

“I think she’s gone,” He whispered. Carefully he moved her head to the side and tilted his head inspecting a single mark on her neck. Looking over his shoulder I immediately knew what it was. My hand came up to touch the invisible injection site. The one that gave me my powers…

“We better call someone. I’ll go see if I can find some service,” Andre said. Jackie clung to him not wanting him to be alone and not wanting to lose the comfort of having him near. Enzo guided me away from the body to sit on the rocks once again. He made me show him my ankle which had cooked meat hanging off of it, turns out I did not smell like barbecue. Oliver came over to us with the first aid kit cradled in his good hand. While Oliver went about treating his hand, Enzo cared for my injuries. Other than my ankle my knuckles had burn blisters splayed across them from where I hit her. My arms however were mostly unharmed.

When the authorities finally showed up it went without saying that the camping trip was officially over.

#jay #oc #original character #superhero’s #original writing #red: the untold story of a reluctant superhero #red #jay and oliver #superheros #artwork #original artwork #art and writing #New story

[parallelparkingproblems]

01/20/2021

I try not to look at thinspo everyday, but I love quizzes so here goes:

1. Height: 5′5 HW: 197  CW: 190 GW1: 175 (overweight weight range, back to high school weight) GW2: 150 (normal weight range) GW3: 125 (”ideal” weight for my height, thinnest I’ve ever been) UGW: 115 (model skinny for me

2. 5′5. I wish I was taller so I could look nicer in some styles of clothes, but when I’m thinner I’m pretty happy with my height. 

3. I absolutely love how light and floaty she looks, and how her collarbones look. I remember looking like this and feeling almost that weightless. I also hate how fat my thighs are, and hers are so gorgeous. 

4. I’m so scared about loose skin. I hate the idea of having wiggly thighs and deflated boobs. 

5. I want to remember what it feels like to feel excited to get dressed in the morning. I miss loving fashion so much. 

6. I don’t usually binge, but sometimes I end up eating more than I planned. Mostly I just try to keep a 1000 calorie deficit between what my FitBit says and how much I log in MFP. 

7. My parents both know. My dad tells me I don’t need to, but then makes fun of fat women day in and day out. He’s constantly dieting and gorging himself, and always bringing shitty food into the house. My mom knows I have trouble with eating enough, and I’m trying to be better about being healthier for her. She knows I used to restrict a lot, but she doesn’t know I still do. I try to keep her at arm’s reach, because when she knows I’m dieting, anything I try to eat she tries to replace with baby carrots/spinach/etc. so any time I work up the nerve to eat she makes it practically impossible for me to eat enough. She thinks 1000 calories is too much to eat in a day, but regularly eats around 2500. 

8. I try to burn 2,500-3,000 calories every day. I’ve always walked a lot, but I recently tried to run and got stress fractures because of a calcium and iron deficiency. Now, I’m trying to stick to low-impact stuff until I can get in with a physical therapist, like rollerskating. I just got an elliptical off of Facebook marketplace, so I’m trying that for a while.

9. My parents, doctors, friends... everyone. 

10. The hardest thing is not eating the food my roommates make. They make this delicious, but super fattening food, and get so sad when I never eat any. 

11. I’m not sure, mostly just browsing the sweetspo tag

12. I really love Yerba Mate tea and fruit, so I usually end up eating those things, along with low-calorie frozen meals and canned soups, or bagels/english muffins. I’m working on incorporating more water, vegetables, and protein/calcium into my diet. 

13. I’m really trying to lose it in a healthy way. I’m in college and I know enough about biology and anatomy to know how badly restricting can fuck up your heart, but I struggle with over-exercising and portion sizes. 

14. My UGW is 115 or so. I’m not exactly set on this, but I definitely don’t want to go under 110. I just want to have small thighs, and feel light. 

15. I’m not strictly either, but I eat very little dairy because lactose hurts my stomach, and very little meat because I hate to cook it. I would definitely believe either of these would help me lose weight, since it would help me avoid places like McDonalds. 

16. I first decided to lose weight when I was in 4th grade. I wasn’t successful until the summer of 8th grade, when I was sick and tired of being fat. I lost about 40 lbs in 3 months (170 -> 130) by over exercising and sticking to 1,200 calories a day, and it was miserable.  I’m now a junior in college, and my weight has crept up to 190 (as high as 197). I’m trying to lose about 70 lbs now.

17. Probably, but I’m really trying to manage it healthily. I experience so much body dysphoria and so many impulses to restrict but I try to over exercise instead of eating too little when I can. 

18. Easily french fries, and ice cream. I love both so dearly. 

19. I had Taco Bell yesterday and I regret it. It wasn’t even worth it.

20. My favorite diet is fruit, water, and low-cal soup and frozen meals-- nothing special. 

21. I’m a size 14 in jeans, size 12 in dresses. My bra size is a fucking giant 34J (SO excited to lose some boob).

22. My lowest weight was 130. I gained the weight during high school and college during which I experienced multiple instances of sexual assault and anxiety over abuse at home. 

23. 100%, but the thing that got me to actually change was wanting to fit in. No one seemed to want to be friends with the fat girl. 

24. I understand them-- I think people use the terms in different ways. Some people mean they’re in favor of perpetuating the disease, and some mean they’re in favor of accepting and recognizing them. The latter is valid, the former is not. 

25. No, I haven’t. I over-exercise for sure, but I’ve never thrown up because I ate. 

26. I can’t wait to for it to be easier for me to run, and to look cute in shorts. Also to be able to fit into those cute tiny bralettes once my boobs shrink. 

27. I let myself have some treats. My mantra is that I can have some fun stuff, just not every single thing I want. 

28. It would be amazing but I’m trying to be OK with it if I can’t get it. My hips are wide enough I think it could happen though. 

29. Light, graceful, confident.

(I’ll save 30 for the the next time I post, to track progress!)

#anareksya #bulimxa #thinspo challenge #thinspo

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing

wc; 7.8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“Okay, but you have to expand on that.” Allio says, motioning to Trink and Lennox while staring directly at you. There’s a look on his face that says ‘can you believe them?’ and honestly, you can’t. They’re so vague, it’s like they want you two to keep on asking questions.

“I don’t think we do.” Lennox says, “In fact, I think the conversation should stop here.”

“Okay.” Trink snorts, “You’re just mad that I’ve brought it up again.”

Lennox doesn’t even deny what she’s saying, nodding right along with raised eyebrows. He clearly wants her to shut up, but Trink has no intention of actually doing that. So, she pauses from sharpening her knife for a moment, and looks dead at you and Allio. This makes Lennox roll his eyes.

“I give up.” he mutters.

“Good.” Trink doesn’t even look sorry, “Here’s how things actually went down--”

“It’s the wrong version of the story!”

“I thought you were giving up.” you say, which causes you all to start laughing.

Lennox’s face is a light shade of red, but he crosses his arms, and then motions for Trink to start. Trink gives him a white smile, and turns back to you guys.

You continue organizing everything inside of your backpack, not really wanting to have things be a mess on the inside. You and Trink will be sharing this bag, and Allio and Lennox will be sharing the other. Just so you all aren’t carrying your own separate things. 

As soon as you and Allio are done, you’ll all be heading off and into the woods for a  few days. This, of course, leaves the cornucopia up for grabs, but since you all weren’t able to do this properly on the first day, you decided to make up for it. On the way into the forest, you’ll stop at the pond for a quick refresh of water and then you’ll be walking the rest of the day.

The chances of you guys catching anyone is slim. The island looks huge, and since none of you have experience out here, it’s going to be a while before you become accustomed to the land. And it’s a little worrying that you’ve spent several days inside of the cornucopia. It just means that the other tributes know what they’re doing out there.

There’s only twelve tributes left in the games. The four careers--you guys--Finnick, Thyme, Blaire, and five others. You think one of them is Mac, from District Seven, and you’re not too surprised that he’s survived this long. He scored fairly high, but he’s not career material at all--and neither are you, you think. Out of all the districts, you think that only three of them have two tributes left in the games.

District One is Lennox and Trink, and they’re very obviously still alive. You’re alive, and you don’t remember seeing Finnick in the sky at all. So there’s another batch, and you think, you’re not entirely sure, that District Eight is the third district. You hope that you’re remembering that correctly.

Although, you’re not sure if it actually matters how many districts still have two tributes. In fact, you think that the count of the amount of tributes that are still alive in total is the important number. Eleven people alive, not counting yourself. The games are already halfway over, and with how the death’s have been going, you think that it’ll be over in no time.

Trink clears her throat, letting you three know that she’s about to begin her story, “I’m a senior, and so is Lennox. And back home, we’re semi-popular because we play sports together after school, and it’s why I look like this.”

Alarms start ringing in your head, because there is no way that she’s that strong and buff looking just because she’s playing a couple of sports throughout high school. With arm muscle like that, she’s had to have been lifting weights or something like that. Better yet, the best explanation for why she’s obviously so beefed up, is because of the private training academies there are in the career districts.

As far as you know, there is none in Four. Then again, you live in such bad poverty that you wouldn’t ever qualify for a place like that. Either you have to pay to get in, or you have to take a portion of your victory royalties and pay them off to the place. In all honesty, you’re not sure if it’s worth it at that point.

Of course, being able to know how to fight and defend yourself and having so much confidence in winning is a nice mindset. Makes you prepared, blocks out all that hesitation and panic that happens most of the time. But on the other hand, it’s plain cheating.

Districts One and Two have it going on, and everyone knows that. Even the Capitol knows that there’s something suspicious going on inside of the districts, they just do nothing about it. Why? Because they’re favorites. They make the stuff that the Capitol likes the best. Which is jewelry and all that other bullshit.

For Trink try to pass it off as school activities is dumb. Everyone knows what’s going on. You just have a feeling she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud. After that, it’ll be confirmed and President Snow might just have to take actual action in shutting it down. Then again, he doesn’t seem like he would do that.

Those districts are the least resistant and most compliant with what the Capitol demands. Anything that the citizens want, they’ll deliver. Because it’s keeping them rich and on top of it. Keeps their victor’s villages plentiful and their poverty rates down. Nasty ass cheaters.

“Lennox had this thing with a girl going on. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to me. But I’m smarter than that and caught on pretty quickly.” She says.

“Right.” Lennox says, there’s no intention for him to keep quiet, “That’s why you were so shocked when I finally told you.”

“I’m a great actress, what can I say?”

Lennox is laughing, “Bullshit! You’re a terrible actress. Fuck that story, do you two want to hear the time she was recruited for the school play?”

Trink’s eyes have narrowed dangerously and she’s pointing her finger in Lennox’s direction, “You shut up.”

“Then you shut up.”

“Lennox and the girl went into an empty classroom one day during lunch--” 

“Shut up!” Lennox shouts.

Allio’s laughing, you’re zipping up the backpack with a smile, and Trink is having a hard time getting out the words, “It was a connecting classroom. There was a door to get to the classroom behind it for whatever reason.”

Lennox���s wiping his face, “No--”

“And in the connected classroom, was an english class taking a quiz, and the teacher in that room is so damn mean. Lennox and the girl start going at it, and I mean they’re getting into it--”

“Okay!” you laugh, “I don’t need the details.”

“The girl moaned his name once, and the entire class on the other side heard them. But no, Lennox and--what was her name?” Trink turns and looks at Lennox.

“I’m not telling you.”

“It starts with something fancy…” she’s snapping her fingers, a look of realization comes over her face and she’s looking smug, “Yeona.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Shut up for a second. Lennox and Yeona didn’t realize their mistake, even after there was giggling on the other side of the wall. Yeona moaned again, and that’s when the teacher on the other side had enough. One of my friends in the class at the time had sworn that they all thought it was teenage boys.

“But Miss whatever her name is, slams the door open and they’re caught red-fucking-handed. Butt naked--”

“Not butt naked!” Lennox is shouting, “Neither of us were naked!”

“Her shorts were pulled down to her thighs, Lennox. And your fingers were in unholy places. Maybe you weren’t butt naked, but she sure as hell was.” Trink moves her hair out of her face with her pinky nail, “Anyway, the teacher gave them both months of detention, and Lennox still has a lot of hours to make up. And it spread all around the school. And Yeona and Lennox are supposed to be grounded as hell.”

“I warned you.” Lennox says, “I’ll tell them about the school play.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” Trink is pushing herself to her feet, “Open your mouth and it’ll be full of sand.

You have a feeling that it’s not an empty threat, with how one hand that’s behind her back is full of sand, with a steady stream slipping between her fingers. Lennox doesn’t seem focused on her hands, more of the fact that he’s getting a chance to push her buttons.

“It was middle school, and she had bangs that were super fucking--”

His mouth is open wide, and she takes her chance. She wasn’t lying at all, she grabs a fistfull of Lennox’s brown hair and with the other hand, slaps the sand into his mouth. His eyes widen, and she lets go of him. He starts coughing, sand blowing out of his mouth and flying onto Allio.

“Dude!” Allio complains, face twisted.

Lennox is leaving the cornucopia, spitting out chunks of sand. Every time he bites down, you can hear crunching, which makes you cringe and gag. You can’t imagine the amount of bacteria in the sand, and how gross and dry it tastes.

“Bitch!” He coughs out, Trink looks satisfied and she’s dusting off her hands.

“Are we ready to go?” Allio asks.

You get to your feet, hoisting the backpack up and offering it to Trink. She takes it without a single complaint. After it’s around her shoulders, she picks up her sword and the rest of you follow suit, with the exception of Lennox. He’s now using water as mouthwash to clean out the sand.

“It’s stuck in my teeth.”

“Stop chewing.” Allio says.

“Thanks, genius.” 

After that, the trip into the woods is fairly quiet. As usual, it’s about an hour’s walk to the pond. On the way, you four are sharing stories. Allio, Lennox and Trink share the most, since they seem to have a lot and are more enthusiastic than you are. You ask questions to keep them talking, but that’s about it.

They talk mostly about their family. Trink is an only child, so she has only her parents to worry about. She claims that they’re not very strict because they’re extremely proud of her and how far she’s come. She says that they deserve a nice place to live, and can do more than just retire with the victor royalties.

“We’d be able to get my mom a nice studio, a different room for each of her hobbies, and my dad will finally have a bigger desk for when he comes home. I can already picture what my room will look like.” She says, bouncing on her toes.

A room for each of her parents' hobbies? A whole office? You bite your tongue even though you want to tell her how lucky they’ve been. You’ve got a total of three bedrooms and one bathroom. One of the rooms is a graveyard, and the other two are shared between two people.

You wouldn’t necessarily say it’s cramped, because you’re lucky that you have a room away from your brothers in the first place, but you still don’t have your own space. You’re sharing it with Alyssum, and the room is the size of that walk-in closet back in the Capitol. Even then, that closet was huge.

And it’s not like you can even afford that place, even with both of your brother’s working overtime most nights. In all honesty, you remember the nights after you put Alyssum to bed, and you three gathered at the table to talk about the possibility of either selling the house to downgrade, or to sell your dead parent’s expensive jewelry that took them years to collect.

Most of them being heirlooms, others being gifted to them. All of them holding some sort of sentimental value that sparked the question of whether or not it would be morally right. In the end, you’ve never sold anything but you’ve cut it close plenty of times. 

If you were to win, you’d get your own room, with brand new clothes and Alyssum would get all sorts of developmental toys. Reed and Mox would finally get their own rooms, which they’ve never had in their lives. Even before you were born and the third bedroom was empty, they had no choice but to share a room.

You’ll have a secure place to live, you wouldn't have to worry about rent anymore, you’d always have good food on the table, and would be able to afford the expensive things that Allio, Trink and Lennox can already get without the victor royalties. You bet that they’ve never had to go hungry some nights.

The conversation is sour on your part, and you slowly stop asking questions and instead find a particular interest in the sleeve of your jacket. They don’t seem to notice, continuously trading stories between each other. In what feels like forever, you’ve finally reached the pond and you’re loading up on water.

It’s a brief moment there, none of you need to stop yet. The sun is about to be in the middle of the sky, it’s still well before noon. You pick your things back up, and take the backpack from Trink, agreeing on trading it every other hour. After that, you’re right back to walking.

You’re all basically on the same path you took during the first day to get to where you’d stayed the night at. Had you all kept moving, you’re sure that Eytelle would still be alive and you’d be more used to the woods. Now, you’re not, and you’re beginning to see how many obstacles are poised throughout the trees.

The greenery looks suspicious, so you keep away from any leaves that vaguely remind you of poison ivy. You don’t think that the gamemakers would put something like that out here, especially not in what’s supposed to be a tropical-esk island. The cliffs that the pond was semi-hidden in, eventually dies out to a hill.

The only real cliff on this island is the big one that soars above all the trees, and can be seen from anywhere on the island. You wonder what’s on the other side of them, will it be ground or water? And what sick twist will be laying at the bottom? It could be a number of things, and all you hope is that you don’t get caught in it.

Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t stay on them. Trink notices that you haven’t offered up any sort of information, and it immediately because of a blizzard of questions that you can hardly keep up with.

“What’s it like in Four?” Lennox asks.

“Busy.” you say, “And huge. My prep team said that we smell like fish, sweat and salt water, if that helps any.”

“What’s your family like?” Trink asks.

Yes, back to the family topic. Trink is an only child, Lennox has a younger brother, and Allio has a big family, similar to yours. He has an older sister and three younger brothers. And he even offered up information about Eytelle too, she has a younger brother and sister.

“Two older brothers and a younger sister.” you say, you feel vulnerable. Giving out information like this gives them a chance to use it against you somehow.

“Parents?” Allio asks.

You grit your teeth, “Dead.”

You’ve got their attention now, especially Allio. You know the question is coming before it even forms on his tongue, “How?”

He’s sadistic. Out of the four of you, you think that you’re the most dangerous kill-wise, but Allio is… demented. Asking questions on how people died and what it looked like. He might not have killed anyone, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t just sit around and watch and enjoyed it.

“Childbirth and drowning.”

“I thought you guys were supposed to be good swimmers.” Allio remarks, there’s a smug look on his face. Trink and Lennox are beginning to look uncomfortable.

“We are.” you look at him, pressing your lips together. “And a good example of that is the girl from Twelve.” the look on his face is fading. That’s right, you might have convinced them that you didn’t kill her, but you swam out of the depths of the pond and you’d do it again, “If you don’t believe me, we can go back to the pond and test the theory.”

There’s no answer.

“That’s what I thought.” you snap, looking back down at your sword.

You wonder if they’d be upset if you made a jump at Allio. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves, not just yours. This morning might have been full of high spirits, but he nearly killed Lennox just because Lennox tried to wake him up. There’s tension building, and it’s like a rubber band. It’s going to snap right back in your faces if you don’t stop it in time.

Hmm.

“Got any high school stories?” Trink finally asks, and you take the opportunity to launch into a story that lasts around thirty minutes. 

Allio is quiet, stone-faced and sour looking. But the other two are in a light mood and laugh along at the right times and ask questions to keep it going. By the time you’ve finished the story, they’re begging for another. Lennox says that it’s funny, but not nearly as good as the Trink and the play story.

This time, Trink doesn’t shut it down because ‘he’s a fucking moron, might as well let him explain it badly’. And Lennox really does try his best to explain everything, but what’s funnier is watching and listening to Trink mock him and make faces. She’ll ‘uh huh’ and ‘right’ at the perfect moments, deadpanning and rolling her eyes.

By the time the sun is well, well past noon, Allio seems to be lightening up again. Trink begins to complain that her feet hurt, and it’s reasonable since you’ve all been walking for hours. You take a break at some tree beneath the shade, trink a minimal amount of water and hope that there will be another pond or stream somewhere close.

As soon as your feet stop aching, you’re back on your feet for a brief moment of time. It’s so short because of how fast the sun is setting. You all agree that it has to be the gamemakers, and decide to try and find a place to stay for the night. It’s just meaningless wandering for a while, until Trink spots something through the trees.

“Is that a fucking house?” Lennox asks, and then the four of you are running up to it.

Without a warning, he’s kicking down the door, and you’re all squinting into the shack. There’s no one inside, and it doesn’t even look like anyone has stayed here either. It’s a good sign, you don’t have to sit outside for the night. The moment that you’re all shutting the door, and Lennox is sitting in front of it to keep it shut, you’re growing tired.

So, quickly you eat the squirrel and a few crackers with the others. There had been no deaths today, so there’s no recap to worry about, and you’re all in the clear to sleep. You’re sure that you won’t need your jacket to sleep tonight, but there’s wind whistling through the cracks in the window pane, and you decide that you’d rather be hot than cold.

You use your arm as a pillow, hand on your knife at all times. The moment you begin to drift off, you can hear the light patter on rain on the wooden roof. Tomorrow will be wet, and you’re glad that you didn’t leave the jacket at the cornucopia after all. And because the noise of the rain is so mesmerizing, you’re falling asleep quickly.

Again, in the morning, it’s clear that Allio isn’t a morning person. Lennox had switched out in the middle of the night with him, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. You can still hear the howl of the wind, which makes you all hesitate and debate on whether or not you should go out there.

You have no problem with the wind and rain, it’s whether or not it’s a tropical storm that has you concerned. You’ve been through plenty of rain storms back home, in fact, you think you might thrive in the rain. And you’re sure that Finnick is beginning to realize this too.

But despite this, the others decide to stay inside the shack. Lennox remarks that it’s a good thing none of you had actually stayed at the cornucopia, otherwise you’d be drenched and freezing. So, Lennox and Allio go right back to sleep and you’re left to stay awake with Trink.

“How long do you think that the storm will last?” she asks, picking at the wooden floorboards.

You look at the window. It’s dirty on the inside, already making it hard to see through, but with the rain constantly pounding on the other side, it makes it that much harder. You tilt your head, purse your lips as you try to think. The sky doesn’t look that dark from as much as you can tell, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

And you’re on an island, and the rain might be gamemaker-engineered. Could mean a number of things. It could last for days, and at that point, you’d all be flushed out and be shit out of luck when it comes to hunting animals and fishing, just fueling starvation. But on the other hand, it could all be some scheme for a fight.

“Depends on the circumstances.” you close your eyes, leaning your head up against the wall, “A load of things could be going on out there. I’d say that if it’s the gamemakers that’s doing this, it’ll hopefully be done in a day or two. Which just means that we should ration out the rabbit, crackers and other stuff carefully.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m eating.” she says, you open your eyes to see she’s got a small, teasing smile on her face.

The two of you fall into silence, and eventually you’re being dragged under again. You’re not all that surprised, sleeping in the sand might feel like a perfect bed, with how you shaped the sand. But it’s not exactly comfortable, and you’d much rather have something like the wooden floor boards. Even if they’re hard.

You’re tired. There’s rain on the house, and you can make the whistling of the wind sound like a song. Your last thought before you fall asleep is how you think that it’s a perfect time to be well-rested.

The next time you wake up, it’s to your boot being nudged. Your fingers fly across the floorboards and to your knife in the same instance that you open your eyes. It’s the others, the rabbit is displayed in front of them, clearly they’re ready to eat. You look at the window, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The storm has definitely calmed down.

“Did I miss anything?” you ask, scooting towards them and sitting up.

“Don’t know. It was really loud out there for a while.” Allio says, you’re fairly surprised that he’s talking to you.

“It’s barely a drizzle out there. We’re going to eat and then take a look into the sky to see if anyone’s died.” Trink says.

Of course, you slept the day away in the shack. You can’t be upset at it, and you have a feeling that tonight will be your turn to stand guard. You go ahead and help the others distribute most of the rabbit fairly, and when you’re still hungry, you eat a cracker and drink some water and insist that you won’t eat anymore.

Since you’re all well-rested, you all play some stupid game to pass the time. When Lennox starts yawning, they call it a night. You take the shift, and sit against where you had been sleeping before, which is on the far side of the room, away from the door. You listen as they all start to settle down, and their breathing becomes more spaced out.

And then you have the urge to pee, and manage to remember that you all were supposed to watch the sky. You tuck the knife into your belt and take your sword with you, zipping up the jacket to your chin and throwing the hood over your head. When you step out of the shack, you’re extremely quiet with how you shut the door, in order not to wake them.

It’s definitely not that late into the night, and it’s still raining lightly. You lean against the sword, staring through the tree leaves, into the sky. It’s a long silence, and you begin to believe that maybe you all had missed it after all. And then the Capitol symbol is appearing in the sky, and the anthem is starting. 

Finnick and Blaire are still alive, their faces don’t appear in the sky. But the girl from Six appears, and no one follows after her. Such a big storm for one little person? You hope the gamemakers don’t have some underlying plan going on.

You take care of your business, and slip right back into the shack undetected. After shutting the door and making sure that it won’t be coming loose, you take a seat in your space, and spend the rest of the night there. Sometime during the middle of the night, you’ve pulled out the rope that’s buried deep into the backpack, and spend mindless time tying it and untying it in various knots.

Trink is the first to wake when the sun rises, since the sun rays are landing on her face. You offer to switch spaces with her, but instead she says that she’ll take the small amount of time before the others awake. Now, it’s your turn to take a small nap. It doesn’t last more than a couple of hours, which is fine. A power nap here and there won’t hurt.

When you’re all ready to go, you go right back into the woods. The grass and leaves on the ground are still slippery because of the rain, but there’s a comforting smell coming from the plants. There’s no complaints between you all, and for hours, it’s just silence between you all with the occasional chatter.

You’re all just mostly thirsty, wanting to find a pond or something with water. The deeper you wander into the trees, the more you realize that there’s going to be absolutely nothing. You can’t hear rushing water, and you’re too far away from the beach to go and drink salt water.

You don’t bother to break this news to the group, figuring that they’ve come to this conclusion, themselves. In the meantime, you continue to drink your water in measured time and hope that this isn’t making it worse on you. Allio says that you all should have set out some tarp and collected rain water, but it was quickly dismissed by Trink.

The water likely wouldn’t have been good to drink, and the idea really went to shit when he said that you could’ve used whatever came off the roof of the shack. Allio’s back in a sour mood after that, muttering, “Why am I always the bad guy?”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to tell him that he’s typically the one to start fights between you all. And just because someone cancels out his idea, doesn’t mean that it was a direct attack to him. You have a feeling that he gets the most attention back home, which is a hard transition.

It’s about another hour of wandering before it begins to dawn on you all for real. The arena has become hotter, the sun beats down on your backs, and at this point sitting in the shade is doing nothing. Lennox tells you that he’s out of water, and after a very small sip of yours, you give him the rest.

And then it’s done for Trink and Allio. 

“How far back to the shack?” you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You almost wish that you could take off the shirt and get away with it, but there’s no doubt that your brother’s back home will be losing their shit.

Then again, it’s for survival. You don’t want to drop in some useless heap on the ground because of heat stroke. Honestly, you’ve always hated the heat. Spring time is the best in District Four, because it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, either. You begin to lose interest during the summer because that’s when you begin to sweat more, and the house feels awful to sit inside of.

No air conditioning, which makes for days at the beach to try and cool yourself off, only then do you get sunburns and have to spend the days inside, anyway. It’s miserable, trying to get away from the heat. When you were a kid, your mother used to give you and your brothers a fair chunk of change to go down to the ice cream parlor on heatwave days. You’d get to buy ice cream in exchange for a cold, air conditioned building. And Caspian and Calandra would always join you three.

And you wouldn’t be kicked out for hours, when the sun would finally be setting. Thank the owners, and then you’re all going back to the house. By that time, mom would have dinner ready and it would always be something naturally cold to ease the hot feeling you’d all have.

It’s the same thing for winter time, except with cold instead of the heat.

“Hours.” Lennox says, Trink is fanning herself with some large plant leaves, and it doesn’t look like it’s helping much.

Allio is fairly unbothered, he’s got this smug look on his face, “It’s not even that hot.”

“Shut up.” Lennox snaps, “It’s at least a hundred degrees in here.”

“And I’ve felt worse.”

Trink glares at him, “Shut up.”

You lean your head back against the tree, eyes closed. In no way are you tired, there’s just a pounding headache going on in your head. Your mouth is dry, and this is just the beginning of the three day process of dehydration.

Someone breathes in like they’re getting ready to talk, but they’re cut off by a chiming. Your eyes open, you lean forward to look out to see where it’s coming from. Lennox is on his feet, arms outstretched towards the gift from sponsors. The gift is fairly big, and you recognize it as a feast almost immediately.

Lennox sets it down in the middle of you all, popping open the lid. And immediately, you can smell all the delicious food inside, none of them actually have steam coming up. Cold food. And the bottles of water that have condensation running down them.

“Here.” Lennox passes off a piece of paper to you, “Read it.”

He begins to divide the food evenly, and it looks like cold cut sandwiches and water. You can’t see what’s under them just yet, but you know there’s more. There’s always several layers to a feast sponsor gift like this. And it really would be stupid to eat it all at once, and you think they know that too.

You look down at the paper, reading over it the first time around. This was a conjoined gift, from multiple mentors and sponsors, “‘A gift from us to you. Happy Hunger Games, signed Gloss, Enobaria and Anchor’.” You lay the paper aside, you recognize all three of the names.

It’s funny, since they’re all technically in order of each other. Anchor won before Enobaria, and Gloss won the year after Enobaria. And then after Gloss would be Cashmere, his own sister. This year will be the decider of whether or not it’ll be another District One or Two win, or a Four.

“Thank you.” you say, and the other’s chime in as well.

Trink and Lennox work together to split two sandwiches in half to make four. And then pawn them off to you and Allio. You’re free to take a cold water bottle for yourself, beneath the sandwiches you can see all sorts of fruits and vegetables that are undoubtedly fresh.

Obviously your mentors were trying to keep the foods as cold as possible to try and combat the heat. You can appreciate that, you feel like Anchor and Enobaria have the best idea of what it’s like to exist in heat. You sip on your water every now and then, not wanting to drink it all up. In no time, the sandwich is gone, though.

Even with all the nice food and cold water, the arena is still hot. You agree to give yourselves some more time before getting up and going. Lennox shuts the lid on the gift before Allio can reach over and grab more, and passes it off to you and Trink to put in your backpack because he thinks you guys have the most room.

You share a look with Trink, because that’s obviously not the reason. You go ahead and find space for it in your backpack anyway. Wanting to keep the water from your water bottle cold, you dump the remaining water into the metal thermos in hopes that it’ll work. The others think that it’s smart, and do the same thing.

With no garbage can around, you throw your water bottle at Lennox as a joke. He gives you a dangerous look before throwing his right back at you. It doesn’t hurt much, especially when it’s the bottom that hits your forehead. As you go through this, Trink says that she can juggle, and suddenly you’re giving up your bottles to watch her try.

It’s not the best, but she wasn’t much of a liar.

“If circuses still existed, you’d be the perfect act.” Allio says.

You can see the anger that flashes through Trink’s eyes. Before Lennox can lean over and restrain her, she’s launched across the picnic that you’ve set up, hands wrapped around Allio’s throat. You and Lennox get to your feet in a scramble, not liking the fight that’s going on.

Grabbing a hold of Trink’s shoulder, you place your foot on Allio’s chest to keep him down while you yank her off. With the help of Lennox, the two of you get Trink off of him.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Allio huffs, “Fucking bitch.”

He pushes your leg off of him, which causes you to stumble and fall into the grass. Trink is brushing the dirt off of her jeans, but she’s glaring at Allio, “Try me.”

“I did.”

She stands up again, and Lennox is placing himself between her and Allio, “Take a breather, please.”

“Beat the fuck out of him for me.” she snaps, and then swipes her sword on her way out.

It’s just you, Lennox and Allio still beneath the shade. Once again, you get to your feet, feeling a little pissed off yourself. He had no right to push you like that, not after you basically saved his life with Lennox. He should be thanking you, but instead his face is red and he looks like he’s going to attack one of you.

“Chill out.” Lennox says, “Seriously.”

“It was a fucking joke. Guess the bitch doesn’t know how to take one.”

“Or you don’t know how to read a room.” you suggest.

His eyes turn to you, “Yeah, I don’t know how to read a room. Fuck off, you’re fifteen, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re not even going to win.”

“Watch your fucking mouth. You’ve got two people that don’t like you. If I were you, I’d start walking.”

Allio is puffing up, Lennox slaps his hand on Allio’s chest, keeping him from going at you, “Go back to the cornucopia or chill out.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, you sweep up the backpack and pull it over your shoulders. Lennox does the same with the other backpack, and after getting your weapons, you’re alright back to walking. Lennox says that you guys should take a wide circle and go back to the cornucopia, since it’s clear that the forest is dense and you haven’t come across anyone so far.

You walk beside Trink, who's on the far left, and Lennox walks with Allio, who’s on the other side. 

“He’s getting on my nerves.” she mutters.

“Mine too.”

She looks at you, “What did Lennox say to him after I left?”

“Told him to chill out, and I said a few things too. He wasn’t very happy.”

“I bet not. Hopefully that’s put him into his place.” Trink picks at her nails. Which is still covered in nail polish, just like yours.

Your nails have seen better days. There’s dirt beneath them, the polish is chipped in the corners. You can only imagine what they’ll look like in a few days. Better or worse? You’re just lucky there isn’t dried blood beneath them.

The heat begins to lessen up by the time the sun is setting. It still feels like it’s eighty degrees though, and you still slowly drink your water. Somehow, you all manage to circle back to the shack, which is still incredibly empty.

None of you are really hungry tonight, still mulling over what had happened earlier in the day. Allio tries to take the night shift, but the answer from all three of you is no. Lennox says that since he’s the one that’s most indifferent to the situation--Trink rolls her eyes--he’ll watch over all of you.

There is no rain on the shack tonight, instead the wind howls and acts like it’s going to break the wooden structure down. It makes you feel like you’re all on the verge of another storm, but you can’t see the gamemakers doing that so soon. It’s obvious that the rain and the heat was their making. They’re trying to break you guys.

It worked, for the most part. The four of you didn’t pass out from heatstroke, obviously but it did raise the irritation. You figured that would happen anyway, you’re sure that the fact that you haven’t run across anyone over the course of these days, haven’t helped at all. 

Tonight, you don’t wear the jacket when you go to bed. You keep the backpack guarded behind you, and fall asleep with one arm through the hoop, and the other with a knife clutched in your hand.

When you wake, you figure out pretty quickly that you’re the first. Lennox definitely fell asleep at some time last night. You sit up, a quiet yawn coming from you, stretching your arms and setting down the knife. Your arm is still hooked around the backpack strap, and when you finally stretch the joint, it’s stiff.

You know almost immediately that you have to pee, but take the task of checking on the backpack first. You figure that it’s going to be fine, because there’s no reason for it not to be. But you find it unzipped, and when you pull back the fabric in a panic, the entire feast of food is missing.

The metal pot is gone, and so is the spare knife that you brought just in case you lost the first. And as far as you remember, none of the others brought a knife, and they know that you brought the spare. There’s only one person who’s been going at everyone lately, too.

You turn, eyes glared at Allio, who’s got his back to you and is still sleeping. You lean over, swiping his half-full water bottle and throwing it at the back of his head. He gasps, hand flying to the back of his head, “What the fuck?”

Lennox’s eyebrows draw in, awake now. He stretches his arms out in front of him and opens his eyes. Trink has turned over halfway, squinting and tired looking. Allio has sat up, and a staring contest has started between you two.

“That’s what I should be asking. Where the fuck is the food?”

That’s got everyone waking up.

“What the hell do you mean?” Lennox asks.

“The food is missing, all of it.” You pull the backpack around, and throw it so that everything spills out, making an incredible amount of noise and getting your point across, “Where is it?”

“Does it look like I have it?” Allio snaps.

Trink’s awake, she’s sitting up and reaching for the backpack that the boys were supposed to be carrying. Lennox passes it over to her, and she unzips and begins to go through it.

“You probably ate it all.”

“We don’t know that.” Lennox says, but he’s on the fence, you can tell with how his eyes keep shifting to Allio.

Trink clicks her tongue, and then slowly pulls out a container of grapes. All eyes are then turned on Allio, who’s turning a deep shade of red, “You planted that on me.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You said it yourself yesterday! Don’t play stupid.”

You lean forward, “With that logic, Trink should be suspect too, but she has no reason to steal. You do, filthy ass pig.”

His nostrils flare, “Listen--”

“No! You listen!” you grab the container of grapes, hurling it at Allio, “After the shit you’ve pulled in the last twenty-four hours, I have a good reason to believe this. And the fact that one of my knives is missing is weird too. And by the way, I’ve been asleep all night, I have no fucking clue about you. 

“Honestly, you could have gotten up after Lennox fell asleep to rummage through the bag, eat all the fucking food and save the grapes for later.”

“One of your knives is missing?” Trink asks.

“Yeah, I brought a second one in case I lost the first. You guys know that.”

Lennox is nodding, face hard as he turns to Allio, “Empty out your pockets.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Trink’s zipping up the boy’s backpack, “Got something to hide? If you don’t have it, you shouldn’t be getting defensive.”

Allio sends a nasty glare your way, standing up from where he was sleeping only minutes ago. He plunges his hands into his pockets and turns them inside out, all of them. Even his jacket, which he turns the hood upside down for.

“She’s accusing me and doesn’t even have proof.” he snarls.

“The grapes aren’t good enough proof?” you ask.

He motions to Lennox, “He could have placed them in the backpack, did you think of that?”

“Except I didn’t.”

“You were up all night last night watching the door, you’re telling me you didn’t get a bit hungry?” Allio’s squinting at him.

Lennox moves the jacket that’s laying over his lap, revealing a packet of crackers that he had grabbed for himself. You’ve watched him go through it over the course of these days. And Allio, seeing the packet, turns an even darker shade.

“This is dog shit!” he finally yells, grabbing his sword.

You three almost have the same reaction, fingers reaching for your weapons. But Allio leaves the shack, slamming the door hard enough to make the building shudder. It leaves you all in silence, and it’s not long before Lennox is looking at you.

“Did you wake up at all last night?”

“No.” you shake your head, “I woke up with the strap still around my arm, and my knife near my other hand. If you could take a guess, what time did you fall asleep last night?”

“Early morning.” He’s shrugging, shaking his head lightly too, “the sky was beginning to lighten up, but there wasn’t a sunrise.”

“Did he look awake?” Trink asks.

“No, you all were out cold.”

You press your lips together, gathering all of the contents of the backpack, back inside, “What if someone came in last night?”

It’s a cold silence this time, neither of them speak a word and you’re fairly sure that they stop breathing too.

“Why would someone sneak in and not kill us?” Trink asks.

“The door creaks too.” Lennox says.

You zip up the bag, and then look at them, “The door doesn’t creak if you’re careful with it. The night of the storm, I got up to pee and the door didn’t make a sound when I opened it or closed it.”

Trink’s looking at Lennox, “And a cannon would go off, wouldn’t it?”

Lennox’s nodding, thinking. 

Eventually, Allio comes back to the shack, and by then you’ve got all the food piled up. You divide it again, disappointed that you won’t be having half a sandwich again today. But it’s better that you don’t, you think. Once you’re done eating, you pack up your stuff and just leave the garbage in the corner of the room.

It’s back on track to the cornucopia. In just a few hours, you’re replenishing your water at the pond. Lennox suggests hunting as much as you all can on the way back to the cornucopia, which means splitting up. But Trink says that there hasn’t been a single animal in the few hours it took you to get there.

However, you can see movement in the pond.

“Leave a backpack with me, I’ll just sit here and fish.” You hold out your hand for the one that Trink has. With no problem, she swings it off and hands it over.

“Don’t want company?” Allio asks.

You look at Allio, “Do you want to eat tonight or not?” you snap.

“Let’s go.” Lennox pushes Allio slightly to get him moving.

“See you in a few hours.” Trink says, “Be safe.”

“You guys too.” you wave, and then wait for them to leave completely. 

After that, you place the backpack firmly next to you, and then get up to grab the fishing pole from the bush. Once you sit back down, you mess with it to get it to be comfortable in your hands again. You lay out a sheet of plastic, and then grab out your water bottle to use it as the reel. 

It’s just a waiting game now.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna

[liskantope]

Some briefer(?) reactions to major Disney films 1989-1998

I consider the Disney Renaissance (around the period I refer to in the above title) to have been the last official leg of my chronological journey through major Disney features through Disney+ (for this one I need to mention that I’m excluding CGI animated ones on this journey, except when I feel like watching them on the side). I logged some thoughts on the films I watched in the two earlier legs of the journey here and here, where honestly I intended my notes to be short and not turn into full-blown mini-essays for each movie. Those posts turned out to be major timesucks and I can’t afford that now, but I thought I’d jot down a hodgepodge of reactions and just be briefer and sloppier about it. I feel like I have overall less to say about this set of films anyway, since they’re pretty much all very high-quality and are talked about extensively in the cultural discourse much more than films from Disney’s earlier eras.

As I was still trying to stick to taking one day for each year in the Disney Studios timeline and major film production by Disney picked up pace a lot at the start of this era, I wound up doing a rather intense marathon of one full Disney movie each evening: over ten evenings (corresponding to the years 1989 through 1998), I watched the ten movies The Little Mermaid, The Rescuers Down Under, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Lion King, Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, and Mulan. I would have watched Tarzan the following evening, but I had very recently sort of re-seen it when it came on Netflix -- I didn’t see it for the first time until an outdoor event near the end of grad school not that many years ago; I didn’t bother paying full attention on seeing it the second time a couple of months ago and couldn’t much get into it on the second viewing.

The thing about the ten major animated Disney movies on this list is that, while I can’t say I love all of them, the uptick in quality is dramatic right from the start and never wavers. Every single one of these films just seems objectively better than Pete’s Dragon, The Fox and the Hound, or Oliver and Company. This will help me be a little shorter-written when talking about them, as it’s easier to expand on specific criticisms than to wax on about how great something is.

[EDIT: Okay, these still turned out pretty long and more on the polished side. Guess I’m just not that capable of being brief and sloppy.]

The Little Mermaid, 1989

Although we didn’t have the video at my house growing up, I somehow knew The Little Mermaid quite well; I guess I watched it quite a few times. I went a gap of many years before seeing it again in college (I’m fairly certain that my college girlfriend and I watched it together, in fact). My reaction at the time was that although it was well enough done with good music, the story was terrible. This was right around the time I watched a performance of Once on This Island, a musical based on Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Little Mermaid” on which, of course, the Disney movie was based. I thought the tragic tale told in Once on This Island was beautiful and scorned The Little Mermaid for cheapening it. In fact, my opinion was quite scathing in the way that my opinions more often were when I was younger. So I was a little wary on watching it again.

I’ve mellowed out since my college days and don’t hate the story quite as much now -- in particular, I can’t really blame Disney for Disnifying a mature tragedy into a more lighthearted tale with a happy ending -- but I still think it’s kind of bad. We’re back to Disney princesses (I think for the first time since my first round of Disney films?), this time with a Disney princess who had goals that didn’t involve meeting her prince, until she actually meets him and every other interest, including staying in the world she grew up with where to which all the people who ever loved her or knew her are confined, giving up her voice, and drastically changing her physical form. And this is all for a prince character of flatly generic personality who is superficial and dim-witted enough that he only knows his true love by her voice. (I don’t understand why this isn’t the Disney Renaissance-era film that routinely gets criticized for being anti-feminist rather than... a certain other one also on this list.) Also, while King Triton isn’t by any means a flat character, his sudden turnaround at the end and almost lightheartedness at saying goodbye to his daughter presumably forever doesn’t quite feel right.

I was very surprised at how much I’d completely forgotten among plot events and certain scenes in the movie. For instance, as the action neared the climax, I really had no memory of how Ursula would be defeated and watching it didn’t jog my memory.

This is the first of several films on this list where I noticed a sample of what I’m starting to think of a set of 90′s sitcom/romcom tropes, in this case the situation of the romantic leads courting very publicly with all the other characters watching and cheering it on and working behind the scenes to help it happen. This shows up again in Beauty and the Beast and (to a slight degree) Aladdin below.

Great music of course, even slightly better than what I remembered. Fun fact: you know that “Part of Your World” song, almost certainly the most widely popular in the film, the one that musical theater kids at my (and maybe your) middle school always used for auditions? Apparently it was almost cut from the film, mainly because it was shown to a test audience of little kids who all fidgeted and got visibly distracted.

The Rescuers Down Under, 1990

I don’t have too much to say about this one, the first Disney sequel ever. I had only ever seen the first Rescuers before and, as my previous set of reviews indicates, didn’t particularly like it, but came in to this one a little more optimistic since some consider it better than its predecessor. They aren’t wrong -- this movie was similar to The Rescuers but better, I think. Although the villain was just as forgettable, the setting was far more enticing (at least to someone like me who has never been to Australia and thinks of it as exotic), and the dynamic between the main mouse characters was more engaging. Here we have another subplot that somehow reminds me of a 90′s-ish sitcom/romcom, with the aborted marriage proposals and a love triangle -- not that love triangles hadn’t featured in movies for decades, but something about how this one was done felt distinctly more modern.

Beauty and the Beast, 1991

Ah, this is not only one of the Disney movies I saw the most as a kid but one which has only grown on me as I’ve gotten older -- I consider it one of the most groundbreakingly beautiful of the animated classics ever made, one of my very favorite Disney productions of all time. We got the video when I was only five or so; I remember distinctly that it came out on home video (right after coming out in theaters) right around the same time that 101 Dalmatians came out on home video and that my mom explained to me that she was choosing to buy Beauty and the Beast instead because of its superior music. She was right about this -- not that 101 Dalmatians has bad music, but it’s hard to measure up to Alan Mencken’s masterful compositions for Beauty and the Beast. For me it solidly ranks in the top three Disney movie soundtracks ever, one of the others being that of Mary Poppins and the third being from an easily-predictable film later on this list.

I’m pretty sure I remember watching portions of this movie every morning for weeks before leaving for kindergarten (this is what makes me think we got it when I was five), and I continued to enjoy it throughout childhood. I next watched it when I was much older, but I can’t remember exactly when. During college I got hold of the soundtrack of the musical, which since has been one of my favorite musical soundtracks to listen to. I never actually got to see the musical until last December when it was showing in my hometown, and I thought it was excellent. Interestingly, there were a number of scenes that I assumed had been added for the musical but I had actually forgotten were in the movie -- unlike with certain Disney musical films *ahemMaryPoppinsahem*, they didn’t take many liberties with the musical except to add a number of new (very good) songs.

Leaving aside the top-notch music and exquisite animation, the story in my opinion is one of the most beautiful and distinctively memorable stories Disney has ever told, not to mention entertaining without every being silly or over-the-top. It speaks of compassion, drawing out core goodness from an ugly exterior, and the fact that, to quote the enchantress from the start of the tale, “beauty comes from within”. Belle is also, to my mind, the most feminist Disney protagonist ever to be seen up to that time, which is why I get super super annoyed that so many people point to this movie loftily shouting “Stockholm Syndrome!” I feel it’s kind of inevitable that I quickly address that here, even though I’ve brought it up on this blog several times before. (Also, for an excellent takedown of the “Beauty and the Beast is a sexist story because Belle has Stockholm’s Syndrome” take, see this video essay of Lindsay Ellis.)

When watching the musical last winter I kept an eye out for justification for the Stockholm’s Syndrome take that I might not have remembered and couldn’t find any, but it pains me to admit that I did find a smidgen of justification, for someone determined to be a bit uncharitable, in a particular bit of dialog from the movie. I don’t recall it appearing with quite that wording in the musical, although it’s entirely possible that the musical has those exact same lines and I just wasn’t being observant. Here it is:

BELLE: What did you say?

BEAST: I release you. You’re no longer my prisoner.

BELLE: You mean... I’m free?

BEAST: Yes.

BELLE: Oh, thank you. Hold on, Papa. I’m on my way. [tries to hand mirror to BEAST]

BEAST: Take it with you. So you’ll always have a way to look back... and remember me.

BELLE: [in sweet, deeply moved tone] Thank you for understanding how much he needs me.

So okay, maybe Belle comes off as showing just a bit too much unqualified gratitude here, an oversight that the writers circa 1990 clearly should have avoided in case diagnosing female characters with Stockholm’s should ever become trendy twenty-something years later. But this could be remedied by a quick rewrite of the dialog in that one scene; it’s not as though the whole plot has to be changed away from its inherently misogynistic nature.

And that’s all I want to say on that one aspect of this absolute gem of a Disney production. Despite a few minor issues I noticed, such as Maurice being a little too innocent and helpless, and it lacking my very favorite line from the musical (“Belle don’t you recognize the beast within the man who’s now before you?” at the end), Beauty and the Beast comes about as close to perfection as it gets.

Aladdin, 1992

Although I didn’t see this major blockbuster hit when it first came out -- it was probably considered a bit too intense for me at kindergarten age -- this is the first time that I was aware on some level that a particular Disney movie was a new release. (One of my few sharp memories of kindergarten recess was a boy standing on a stump or low piece of playground equipment making proclamations to passersby for minutes at a time that alternated between, “You are a street rat!”, “You were born a street rat!”, and “You will die a street rat!”, and how this made me consciously contemplate the concept of present/past/future tenses for the first time.) When I saw it, I loved it -- it was clearly the most exciting animated movie out there. At some point in childhood I thought it was bested by its sequel, but a few years later as a teenager I decided that the tightly resonant plot of the original Aladdin made it the best Disney movie ever. I’ve definitely mellowed out my opinion on this, as Aladdin certainly has flaws and some other features are more deeply meaningful to me as an adult, but I still hold up Aladdin as one of the greats. I saw at least parts of it as an adult on TV and saw it very recently prior to getting Disney+ when it appeared briefly on Netflix, but I was perfectly happy to rewatch it yet again on Disney+ the evening after watching its predecessor as Aladdin is fun and entertaining every time.

In this animated production we have finally topped The Great Mouse Detective in terms of animated action. We have topped most movies that ever came out prior in terms of a manically funny yet also soulful character in Robin Williams’ role as the genie. The story is excellent, apart from having only one female character, and my being bothered just a little by the slough of magic tricks dominating the action towards the end -- I tend to prefer universes where magic requires scholarly study and careful training (e.g. The Black Cauldron) rather than “genie points his finger at you and now you have the ability to point your own finger and make anything happen that pops into your head”. The sultan continues the trend of old man characters who are portrayed as helpless and infantile -- in this case, even more intensely, since the sultan has none of Maurice’s brilliant smarts. But I’m mostly nitpicking here -- Aladdin is well deserving of its high status in the history of Disney.

The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993

I was very glad to finally get a chance to see this movie, because I clearly remember knowing about it from the time it was being advertised back in 1993, and I heard about it during my entire childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood. Although it seemed that most of my friends had seen it growing up, it didn’t look much like my conception at the time of a “normal movie” or even normal content, and so I don’t recall ever asking to watch it. But my recent-day self recognized that it’s quite a classic and was curious to see it.

I don’t regard The Nightmare Before Christmas as one of the really great Disney productions, but I strongly admire how original it was (particularly for its time) in every single aspect, including use of claymation, overall aesthetic, intriguing characters, and story. It was also fun to see what seems to be the only Disney musical that is done in the style of opera, that is, where the entire story is told in songs without any extended non-musical dialogs. And the songs are quite good in their own way, too. I don’t particularly want to see the film again, but I might not mind getting a soundtrack of it.

The Lion King, 1994

This is the first Disney movie -- and I believe the first movie of any kind, in fact -- that I went to see in the theater. I remember it as a powerful and sometimes overwhelming experience, but as a movie I overall liked even as young as I was. This is remarkable especially considering that much of the story feels more adult in nature than almost any other Disney animated feature.

What can I even say about this one? I think the general reaction to watching it is almost unanimously shared. My impression is that what its creators were going for, more than anything else, was epicness, and they succeeded in a way that had never been done through animation before. Apparently the entire (incredibly epic) opening number was shown as the trailer -- a questionable move, but understandably it got people very excited about The Lion King’s release.

One of many particular things that makes The Lion King stand out is the profound darkness of its main villain, perhaps the most chilling that has ever appeared in Disney. An argument can be made that not only murdering a major protagonist halfway through the movie but convincing the child that he’s to blame is the most evil act we’ve ever seen from a Disney villain. I’ve seen it pointed out that it’s vaguely ableist to give the villain an ugly scar and even make it his name. Some have suggested that they should have made the villain the handsome and strong one and given the scar to one of the heroes -- Simba or Mufasa -- instead. I’m definitely sympathetic to this point of view, and I totally agree that Scar shouldn’t actually have been someone’s name. However, without getting bogged down into something that could be a lengthy post all on its own, I strongly feel that in a way it adds to the depth of our villain’s depravity through the backstory that it implies. And by the way, his ending is probably my favorite out of the fates of all Disney villains.

The music also follows the film’s ethos of being as epic as possible (well, with the exception of a couple of the songs, but they were still fine songs). “The Circle of Life” and the instrumental music propel The Lion King’s soundtrack to possibly the very best in all of Disney.

To be sure, this movie does have more flaws than I remembered. As I said, Scar is a terrible name to give any of the characters, especially in a story where everyone else’s name comes from Swahili. Pumbaa is basically just one big fart joke. (Although, I give the writers major credit for managing to switch the tone to accommodate fart jokes within like five minutes of Scar confronting Simba over Mufasa’s death.) The video essayist Big Joel has pointed out interesting things about the story and made some rather troubling points about it, although to me that almost just makes the film deeper and more thought-provoking rather than actually worse (I see the Chronicles of Narnia this way). But overall, The Lion King has well earned its high rank on the list of highest grossing films of all time.

----------

At this point in Disney’s history and my childhood, apparently I decided that I didn’t care to see new Disney films coming out because I was content with watching my old favorites over and over, and anyway I was getting older and discovering that non-Disney movies could be quite entertaining as well. Therefore, I didn’t see any of these last four until adulthood, even though they all came out when I was still a kid.

Pocahontas, 1995

I was glad for the chance to finally see Pocahontas for the first time, unfortunately not before hearing countless references to it as being Problematic while I would have preferred to go into it completely uninfluenced by popular opinion. I had actually seen songs from it and Disney books of it as a child and it didn’t interest me at all. On finally watching the film, I found that I got what I expected on both counts: it wasn’t  terribly interesting or gripping, and it doesn’t really pass the muster of today’s higher standards of responsible storytelling about colonialism.

All that really sticks out at me looking back (after some delay in writing this post, so that it was over a month ago that I watched this) is that the plot felt a bit atypical in two ways. One, a character, who is neither a protagonist really nor a villain, is killed off around halfway through -- a daring move that The Fox and the Hound chickened out of doing, but I shouldn’t have been all that surprised given that Pocahontas’ very predecessor did this with a protagonist in a much bigger way. And two, the story ends sort of anticlimactically: I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed when a big Disney animated feature doesn’t end with a lot of action, despite realizing that this more peaceful kind of ending being a reasonable alternative is basically the entire point the story wants to make.

The songs are sort of meh, at least by the high standards of Disney movies of this period. Nothing more really to say on this one.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996

Here is another movie that I had never gotten around to seeing before, despite having been somewhat more interested in it than I ever was in Pocahontas. And this turned out to be the main breakout attraction on this list, as I found it nothing short of spectacular (save, perhaps, the music, which was “only” quite solid, maybe not spectacular).

I would nominate this for the award of most mature movie among all the animated features included in this journey. I would almost say its ideal audience is adults, not children. It showcases an abusive relationship with enough intricate care to be worthy of analysis through abuse discourse on Tumblr. It displays lust and sexuality in a way that I don’t think I’ve never seen anywhere else in Disney animation. Its violence and political undertones are quite dark. It examines religion deeply (which is as far as I know unique in Disney), and the capacity of religion to bring out both the best and the worst impulses in humanity is exposed. Its main villain is one of the more multi-layered ones. It treats physical handicaps and deformities in quite an honest way and subverts expectations with its love plot.

Perhaps the only thing one might reasonably criticize this movie for is the characters of the gargoyles, which are clearly present to lighten the tone a bit so that the film isn’t entirely heavy and austere. But I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised -- I think the gargoyle stuff could have been executed in such a way that may have made the whole film sag, but instead they were done just right: the gargoyles are depicted as being animated only in the mind of Quasimodo. This means in fact that in a way, they actually implicitly add some gravity to his situation. (Consider that in a more typical Disney film there would have been some sort of cheesy sentient animal friend instead whose existence would not have been confined to the protagonist’s imagination.) Here I’m going to choose to ignore the fact that the gargoyles do seem to interfere in the final battle with some explosives, a possible inconsistency which is minor enough to be glossed over.

Anyway, I think before I unsubscribe from Disney+, I might just give this one a second watching.

Hercules, 1997

Although I never saw this one growing up, I did get talked into watching it by my college girlfriend who had been fond of it growing up. I distinctly remember not caring much for it when I saw it with her. My reaction at this later stage of my life is basically the same. There’s something about the animation style that I find subtly grating and distracting. And there’s something about the story itself that feels like way too light and cartoony a take on ancient Greek mythology (although it’s not like the ancient Greeks had a particularly heavy or dark mythology, and what else could I expect from Disney, really?). I guess that stories that are so explicitly centered around a young man’s quest for hero-hood and being godlike just don’t speak to me that well, and I didn’t find any of the characters that appeared to be especially memorable or engaging.

I did like the muses and enjoyed their singing but can’t say I love any of the musical numbers. So, I respect the effort and earnestness and general respect for ancient Greek culture that went into Hercules, but my overall reaction is still meh.

Mulan, 1998

I had only seen this movie once before, during a trip with some grad school friends back some years ago. One of my best friends at the time, who was with us on the trip, highly recommended it as pretty much her favorite Disney movie as she especially liked father-daughter stories. At the time, the film didn’t make a particularly strong impression on me, although I could recognize its quality. Watching it again on Disney+ has given me a deeper respect for it as having quite a good story and characterization, fine animation, and pretty decent music. I like both Mulan and Mushu as characters, and I enjoyed their dynamic.

I guess it’s telling, though, that I don’t really have all that much more to say about it. Maybe I don’t relate closely enough, maybe the movie didn’t imprint itself on me at an early enough time in my life, maybe I don’t engage that well with any plot that involves organized warfare, I don’t know. But I think I can only really like this film on a more dispassionate, intellectual level, rather than feeling touched in any kind of resonant way by it.

I think it’s interesting to note that Mulan is actually pretty rare among Disney protagonists in having two parents who survive through the entire story. And that moreover, despite it being billed as a father-daughter story to me (and I’m not denying that it is somewhere at its core), Mulan never directly interacts with her father except at the beginning and the very end.

Anyway... since watching all of these, I’ve been watching the more recent major films sort of sporadically: The Return of Jafar (a favorite of mine at some point in childhood, but with maturity I can now see why it was direct-to-video), The Emperor’s New Groove (quite good, better than expected), the first half of Home on the Range (about as bad as I expected, hence my quitting halfway through), WALL-E (as good as I remembered from when it came out when I was in college), Enchanted (one of my favorites, not on Disney+ so I got it through... other means), The Princess and the Frog (a real treat, slathered with Louisiana flavor), Tangled (sweet but nothing outstanding), Frozen (one of my favorites from seeing it in the theater; however I had never seen the first ten minutes which makes a major difference!), and Frozen II (which I had been sorry to miss in theaters last winter, a bit of a weird story but not bad and absolutely the most stunning animation I’ve ever seen). And, of course, Belle’s Magical World, the infamous mid-quel to Beauty and the Beast; this was not a major film but I just had to see if it was as legendarily bad as people say and, yes, it was.

I’m very glad to have been able to get a break from Netflix by taking a tour through the main history of Disney -- including many childhood memories, would-be childhood experiences, and more modern things from my adulthood -- thanks to Disney+.

#Disney films #the little mermaid #feminism #sitcoms and romcoms #the rescuers #beauty and the beast #stockholm's syndrome #aladdin #robin williams #the nightmare before christmas #the lion king #ableism #bathroom humor #chronicles of narnia #pocahontas (disney) #hunchback of notre dame (disney) #abuse #hercules (disney) #greek mythology #mulan

[chilvanakin]

If I had to remember how it started, I would have to replay the flashback of being told that when I became obese at 15, that I couldn’t “come crying”. I was 8 when my dad told me this. Afterwards, I had this increasing feeling of being in the wrong body, like I had been misplaced at birth and was suddenly realizing it. I looked around at everyone else, having fun and enjoying their childhood while I compared me to them. I compared me to my best friend who I often I asked, “why can’t I look like you?”

I felt misplaced in a body that was my own, always had been, because someone else told me I was. How do you teach an 8 year old to go on a diet? I loved food, I was a picky eater but aren’t we all at that age? So how do you tell them that they need to change and that they don’t look pretty enough without traumatizing them? My dad now reafirms that he only said that to me because he wanted me to have high self esteem. He wanted me to “take care of myself”.

I developed anorexia at 14. I became obsessed with diet culture, “clean” eating, and exercising until I colapsed. I used my notebooks for tracking my daily intake and writing hateful messages to myself. I would motivate myself through my own hatred. Slowly, I decreased my meals until they weren’t even meals anymore. I thought I was being “healthy” by going on 3 to 4 day fasts, thinking that the kiwi I had before I began was enough. Newsflash, it wasn’t. But I continued.

My family situation got complex during this time. My parents were separated and I felt alone. I distanced myself from my friends and I had also stopped going to school. Everytime I talked to my dad through Skype, he would comment on how I was too thin. Amazingly so, I thought he was complimenting me. I got more and more obsessed, the loss of my period and hair became my motivation. The internet was my best friend because I read all about the “tips & tricks” of starving. I was tired, lonely, cold and angry. I had no patience and I was insufferable. This is what being malnourished will do to you.

After months and months of these rituals that and rules that seemed like an endless of “how to die in 10 days”, I tried to recover. How? By getting into fitness. I did Insanity while I was recovering, which was bullshit because that is NOT recovery. I didn’t challenge myself, I didn’t give my body time to rest- I exercised every day, I underfed and I normalized exhaustion. I was terrified of chocolate, processed foods and fats. The thought of putting on weight became a source of nightmares, LITERALLY. I would have NIGHTMARES about looking down at my body and seeing fat start to accumulate over my bones. Somehow, I thought that since I was exercising and eating more than my standard oatmeal and toast, that I was recovered.

I went to live with my father at 15. I feel like this decision shaped me as a person because I was forced to grow up way too fast. I made choices that no one should make a 15 year old make. At this point in time, I had put on weight and I was no longer exercising. My dad had a baby with this girlfriend of the time and all I wanted to do was be with my new baby brother. I didn’t think about food or dieting because I felt like somehow, watching him eat made me be at peace with food. My baby brother was growing and being nourished by the food we gave him and I wanted to make sure he was never hungry. It made me feel so happy to watch him laugh and wobble his way over to his mom for lunch time. I loved seeing him nibbling with a toothless mouth on a soft cookie, and offering the slobbered leftovers to me. That all stopped very suddenly, because my dad would start to make comments. Not only him, but his girlfriend too. Comments about how I was “eating too much” and how I “would look better if I was smaller”. I was experiencing extreme hunger when I moved in with my dad, because I had stopped exercising and my body no longer was focusing the energy on repairing my muscles, it was focusing on repairing me as a whole. I HAD to eat a lot because I needed to be healthy again. This was thrown completely out of the window and I caved into my disordered brain again. I felt almost grateful to them for motivating me to start losing weight again because I thought that it meant that they cared. So the food rules started again. It’s just that this time I didn’t need to learn the tips and tricks, I already knew them. Losing weight was easier now, and faster. So 2013 was the year I dedicated to my disorder. I restricted long enough that my hunger cues began to fade away. I thought that my body had gotten used to what I was eating. A green apple in the morning, some lettuce leaves and half a red bell pepper for lunch, and a single serving of prepackaged soup at night. My brain stopped screaming at me and I stopped thinking. I was reduced to being a zombie of my disorder. I stopped singing, I stopped writing, I stopped making art. I never cried, I laughed only when I was around other people. My body felt numb. I felt numb.

I remember taking showers and watching as day by day the fur growing all over my bones got longer and longer. I later found out that this is called “lanuga” which happens when you have lost an extreme amount of fat and your body reacts as an attempt at survival by growing these hairs, desperately trying to protect you. I felt tired, I couldn’t carry my baby brother anymore. He would ask me to hold him and I would try, but be very afraid of dropping him so I would have to refuse. I remember how upset he looked, we were so close. He loved being with me but I was so scared of him watching me do these things to myself. What if he learned from me? What if my actions stayed in his subconscious? I tried putting distance between us because of my fears. I hate myself for that because I miss him so much now, I miss the days we would spend and the naps we would take. I can’t take back that time.

We went to the doctor because I now, was at the brink of death. Truly I wish that I could say I’m being dramatic about that, but I’m not. My heart was weak and I could barely move. I was no longer sleeping and even sitting down hurt. My bones felt like knives crushing into my skin. I learned that I was at risk of heart failure and if I didn’t start recovering now, the next step would be having a tube thrusted down my throat. Force feeding. I couldn’t ever let that happen so I decided to once again, embarc on a lonely recovery path. As soon as I left the doctors, I told my dad to buy me chocolate. In response, he was annoyed. He thought that I was going to use my “verge of death illness” as an excuse to get obese. I cannot make this up y’all. He didn’t buy me shit and barked at me about how “you can eat at home”. Please, if anyone you know is going through restrictive eating disorder and they say they want chocolate- BUY THEM THE FUCKING CHOCOLATE!

I began refeeding and it was the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life. I couldn’t stomach food. I would eat and instantly have diarrhea. I had to have baby sized portions of food to be able to hold it down. This caused my weight to drop more, so I was now at the point where I actually did need to be hospitalized. I was afraid that I was going to die at any given point of the day. My dad once told me that “just because you have to start eating again doesn’t mean you can get as fat as you used to be”. I cried. This was the first time I had cried in so long. My numbed down feelings reflourished. The hate, the anger, the sadness I bottled up began overflowing. I didn’t stop eating, I gave myself the time I had to so I could stabilize myself. I was sent to go spend a few months with my dad’s girlfriend’s family. I barely knew these people, but they couldn’t handle me being this sick anymore. They didn’t want me. I was a bad influence to my brother. I was hurting them. My dad would have hated me if I told him I needed to be in the hospital, because that’s too much money so this was the easy way out. I guess if I needed to be hospitalized while I was there, it wouldn’t have to come out of his pocket.

I hated being away from my baby brother. I hated acting happy all the time when I was so depressed and furious. I tried making friends during my time away and all of them idolized my sick body. They asked me how I got to that point. I remember telling them I was sick, that I had to eat. They made me feel like that wasn’t neccesary, that I looked like a model. I ate anyway. I couldn’t go back home and still be sick, that would mean that I would be hated by them and maybe even have to leave home.

After a few months I gained some weight. I went back home. I asked my dad’s girlfriend if I was “fine now”, as in “am I not scary anymore”. She said I still looked very thin, but that it was fine. She told me not to go overboard. This meant “DO. NOT. GET. FAT.”

My dad and his girlfriend separated after a year and a half of my recovery. This whole period was very stressful since I was left alone with my dad. I was weight restored and I found some kind of peace with having no peace. I lived with the comments as a daily thing. “Don’t eat that, why don’t you do some arm exercises, you don’t really want that, why don’t those pants fit you anymore.” I got used to feeling foreign in my body. So being extremely malnourished was bad, bein inbetween wasn’t good enough and being restored to my set weight was just awful. I had no idea who I was or what I was supposed to be. I hated myself and I got used to that.

I am now 23 years old and I relapsed a few months ago. I understand now that I was never recovered. I was begging for help for years, but I got irritation and annoyance as a response. I never stopped having food rules, I never stopped being afraid of food. I cannot recover until my brain is completely rewired. I have to eat. I have to lose my fear around food. I have to HATE my disorder and push it out of every one of my pores until I am completely cleansed of it. I remember reading about how “this disorder never leaves you and you will always struggle with it”. I believed that for so long. I believed that I was never going to stop being afraid. I’m tired of feeling comfortable with my anorexia when it has ruined me to the point of feeling completely astranged from my body. I want to know who I am and not hate myself for it. I can’t recover fully until I rewire myself. Keep this with you. You cannot believe you are recovered just because some doctor tells you that you are weight restored. Your food rules need to disappear competely, you need to challenge yourself even if it terrifies you. I am so afraid, but I don’t ever want to go down this disordered path again. I want to spend time with the people that love me and not let anything get in my way. I am young and I am smart. So are you. Eat your fears.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know i love memes as much as anyone else on this hellsite and the internet in general. but one meme i can’t stand now, as well as a joke used by older comedians about ~kids today!!!! am i right???~ that i can’t stand now, is the one that’s like “all 10 year olds want today is an iphone or an ipad or a macbook for their birthday or christmas! all i got for my 10th birthday/christmas as a kid was a tennis racquet and a tether ball that hit me in the face! kids are so spoilt today! you better get an i-job to i-pay for your spoilt mac-ass!”

because like.... do you not understand that in today’s increasingly over-connected world, ipads and macbooks or other tablets/laptops are pretty much required school equipment now, if your 10yo kid’s primary/elementary etc school has a ~bring your own device~ policy for kids in years 4-6??? like obviously yes, some schools will provide students with laptop/tablet trolleys and stuff.... or also the government might have a program to roll out laptops/tablets to schools (like australia did under rudd and gillard).... that some schools will literally put “parents must get a reliable tablet computer or laptop computer for their child to use for assignments”. when it comes to high school, i imagine that they’ll need their own laptop/tablet the whole way through their time there, if there is no longer any school provided or limited school provided laptops/desktop computers/tablets.

that’s besides the point that laptops etc are even more so required now than ever before, after everyone was forced to do homeschooling because of covid??? so. practically. a kid asking for a macbook/ipad or other tablets/laptops for their birthday or christmas, isn’t such a bad idea for a present??? even if yeah. apple is overrated and overpriced to the max. but suck it up and pay for your child’s future education??? even it means getting a cheaper laptop or tablet for your kid.

all i can say on the above point is that yes. the idea of ~bring your own device~ policies does set many families back- especially those in/from lower income areas/backgrounds or single parent families... considering that a decent tablet will set you back at least $500 and a decent mini laptop is around the same.... but bigger and better laptops are around $1000 on sale (windows) or idek like $1,200 on an apple education pricing deal. like yeah. it’s a demarcation thing and also setting some people up to fail. and again, this has been made increasingly obvious during covid due to different families acces to buying laptops/tablets or other internet connection means. i also understand that these big ticket item purchases of tablets/laptops hits the hip pockets of everyone harder during the pandemic, especially if you’re struggling with debt like mortgage repayments or whatever while being made redundant or are being paid less while working from home.

okay. not to sound like a spoilt brat of a kid, but i got my first laptop, an i-book G4 for my 10th birthday in 2005. then almost 10 years later, i got a macbook for my 18th birthday (and for my HSC/end of high school exams) in 2013. yes, this is the macbook that i promptly fucked up two years later in 2015, by trying to encrypt the hard drive, since i was taking it to uni and it had all my internet passwords remembered on it along with my banking details. the same goes for my other windows laptop... where the hard drive just decided to fry itself like 4 months into me using it, along with the trackpad. and that was a $1,200 ASUS laptop (bought on sale) that i was using for uni. and then finally my little HP stream laptop’s keyboard shorted out halfway through a creative writing class (that was $500 and it only has a 28gb hard drive so it’s very light and good for transport).

but my point is, me having my own laptop (as opposed to using the family computer only) helped me immensely in my studies..... and they were literally fucking essential to me both in business college and uni. but they were also helpful in late high school, considering that 90% of my assignment work was expected to be typed out in microsoft word or powerpoint or excel (for maths and science). or for more creative projects, i was expected to use adobe photoshop and video editing software like imovie or adobe premiere pro (art/computer tech/drama/that weird year 7 subject i did called INTEL) and garageband/sibelius (for music). how on earth was i supposed to keep doing work on adobe photoshop or word etc at home if i didn’t have my own laptop to continue the work???

because as a final point, for me, literally by year 10 in 2011, NOT ONE of my assignments was expected to be handwritten (bar my actual exams or in class tests; also state tests/exams etc; or if it was a poster or visual art). if you dared to turn in something handwritten, the teacher and student interaction would be like the following example:

teacher to a kid whose handed in a handwritten assignment: did you not read the assessment outline? it said WORD PROCESSED WITH WORD! what is this handwritten thing? okay fine. i’ll take it this time. but read the outline next time, timothy!

timothy: *stammers out* s-sorry miss/s-sorry sir *stalks away from the teacher’s desk in embarrassment and shame*

the teacher, probs thinking to themself: weird that a kid thinks they can hand in something handwritten. silly, really.

the above scenario was the same for me in years 11 & 12. also, by year 9/2010, we were using the education management system moodle (and maybe early stage presi for online presentations) for both of our HSIE subjects (history and geography) and i think a couple of other subjects, during most lessons and especially for class work that involved group work/class discussions, via online discussion boards function. my year group was actually was actually one of the test year groups for the early models of moodle. so by the time i was in uni, i was a native to using moodle; so i could skip the “moodle help tutorial” subject portions on it in every class.

hell, for today, i wouldn’t be surprised if foreign language subject faculties in high schools are now using school subscription class accounts or something for duolingo or babbel. and today, kids are learning coding from like year 4 onwards, i think, on apps at school as part of their science & tech studies lesson portion of the day. how on fucking earth are kids meant to keep up with their class work progression on coding apps or whatever, at home, if they don’t have their own laptop/tablet??? ridiculous. how would kids fare today without their own laptop/tablet, if all of their classwork for homeschooling is on like google drive/cloud or whatever other open source drive/open source cloud software their school uses?? or any other apps that their school might use??? obviously we are seeing this play out in real time during the pandemic, world over, where if a child is in a single parent family or if their two parents don’t have adequate enough resources/have been fired or let go from their jobs/juggling working from home and homeschooling; then it’s hurting these kids likelihood of doing well with distance learning.

but yeah. my point is that if your kid is asking you for a laptop or a tablet (regardless of brand) for their birthday or christmas, maybe buy them one?? because you never know. it may be the very thing at the top of their student resource list for the following school year. and also. do you know what stops kids fighting over their access to the family computer/tablet to do their assessments etc??? buying them their own personal laptops or tablets. even if they do cost an arm and a fucking leg. get your heads out of your asses and help your own goddamned kids (or relatives if it’s a nephew/niece etc asking for one) like you’re supposed to.

okay. for phones. i’ll admit i wouldn’t like a 10 year old having their own phone, because of social media being so easy to access on them. but if you don’t allow them to use the app store and don’t allow them to download instagram/facebook et al..... and give them the phone solely for safety reasons, i think that’s fine?

i’ve had a phone since i was 10 years old. also not to sound awfully clichè, but i turned out okay??? i had to have a phone back in year 4/2005 due to safety and also family issues. do you know what my teachers did with it? locked it away in their desk til the end of the day. obvs they had to remind me to take it home sometimes (bc i did leave it behind at school in the desk a few times lmao) but yeah. i was alright. if a kid wants a phone..... maybe make a compromise and get the classic nokia 3310 or something?? like i obvs agree that kids as young as 10 defs don’t need a smartphone like an iphone or a samsung galaxy. but a rock solid and basic nokia 3310 or whatever with no wifi access??? that’s good enough imo.

#life #about me #shut up ilona

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--(10)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Mötley Crüe is born.

@prettyyoungandbored​, @hot-young-runningfree​, @crue-sixx​, @oskea93​, @dancergirl5527​, @thatonemoviefan​, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog​, @motleymachinegun​, @motleycrueee​ 

Previous Chapters:

One,   Two,    Three,    Four,    Five,    Six,    Seven,   Eight,   Nine

“What the fuck am I doing?!” Wren had been sitting on the kitchen floor, staring aimlessly out into the band’s practice spot for what felt like hours. In reality, she’d only missed out on the last five or six minutes, but during that time, her mind spun with self-actualization. The apartment wasn’t home without the band, without Tommy slamming cymbals, without Nikki grumbling at her for sitting on his amp, without Mick passing her a side ways glare whenever one of the boys did something idiotic, or even without Vince’s bantering appreciation of her help. Five years had gone by without a thought of that horrible person crossing her mind, and now because of some big mouthed blonde bimbo, Wren had reverted back to the frightened and fragile fourteen-year-old she had been. 

At fifteen she decided she wasn’t going to let that tainted chapter bleed through the pages and darken the rest of her life. A year of fearfully looking over her shoulder, of feeling her heart pound within her chest so fiercely she thought she’d throw up, of not being able to trust a single damned person in the world besides Tommy Lee Bass was all it took for her to chisel her heart and turn herself to stone.

Although it was none of her business and she knew that some girls found power in their physicality and sexuality, Wren never held a high opinion for girls that didn’t seem to have a problem lying on their backs in a stranger’s room. This was half of the reason she never sought out any sort of romantic relationship; the other half was because of Clay. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night, and if she wasn’t touched, she didn’t have to remember. If she wasn’t held, she wouldn’t close her eyes and panic at the memory of having his arms around her. If she was alone, no one could hurt her.

Being friends with Tommy and hanging around with his friends during high school kept her safe, not only from the grueling torment more commonly known as teenage girl drama, but from having to fend off suitors—if they think you’re one of the guys, then you’re no longer a girl in their eyes. After escaping Clay, growing infinitely closer to Tommy, and finding some guidance from a kind-hearted man named Bob whom she met in the park she lived in for close to a month, Wren took her identity into her own hands. She loved to sing, but since her parents wouldn’t let her do it on her terms, she quit choir and only sang in the comfort of her car or shower. She dropped the good-girl persona of pastel, feminine clothing that her parents insisted she wore because, “respectable women don’t wear black leather,” and spent a solid ninety-five percent of her time with Tommy. He was her best friend, but her was also her oasis; he was peace, comfort, warmth, and protection, and she was about to let him down.

I’m not that person anymore,” she defiantly said to herself as she rose from the floor, grabbed her keys from the counter top, and rushed out the door.

During the first few nights at their new place, Wren was hesitant about living on the Strip—loud drunk people wandering through the neighborhood wasn’t exactly an appealing quality—but as she jogged the block’s distance from their apartment to the Whiskey, Wren was counting her lucky stars and praying she wouldn’t miss seeing them on stage. With the cold, evening air of the desert in her lungs, Wren’s legs carried her stride toward the bouncer who looked at her up and down before folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you looking to get in or are you out for a run?” the man questioned as he jutted his chin out in order to appear more authoritative over the much smaller young woman. Wren hadn’t even assessed her wardrobe during the moments she decided to pick herself up and not fuck up her future, and so she appeared at the club in tennis shoes, black jogging shorts, and a tattered, old AC/DC t-shirt.

“I’m with the band,” Wren stated in her best matter-of-fact tone despite being slightly out of breath from sprinting down the street.

“You and half the other underage chicks who try to slip in,” the man grunted with a scoff rising from his stomach only to be returned with Wren’s narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“Do you want me to buy a ticket?” Wren’s snarky tone slapped the man in the face as he looked down his nose at her.

“All sold out,” he responded in a curt, unapologetic tone.

“My best friend is about to get on stage and you can be damned sure I’m not about to miss it!” Although I’m a piece of shit because I did almost miss it, she quickly thought to herself. “Is there a list or something that I need to be on?” Upon hearing her question, the bouncer’s eyebrows furrowed as he recalled one of the stage managers giving him a name—shit, what was it? Dan Lemmon? Ben Lennon? “My name is Wren Ledden. I’m sure Tommy mentioned to someone I was coming. Nikki Sixx works here; he’s playing tonight. I’m the closest thing that group of misfits have to a manager. You have to let me in!”

“Ledden does ring a bell,” the man said as he lowered his arms and stepped aside. “You can come in, but I have an eye on you. I have a friend down the strip who’s told me about you; you shouldn’t be sneaking into clubs. It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

“If Mötley makes it as big as I think they will, I won’t have to sneak anywhere ever again,” Wren said with a smirk as she jogged past the entrance and into the Whiskey just in time to see Vince jog up onto the stage and introduce the band as his nerves fluttered around within him. Silence engulfed the room as the crowd stared at the collection of boys and men on stage. Wren hurried to make her way toward the front and hopefully ease her way backstage to support her friends, however her heart sunk to her knees at what happened next. Tommy’s cymbal rolls at Vince’s introduction ended with a smash, but not on the crash cymbal. Instead, out of nervous panic, he kicked the cymbal stand over and earned a humiliating fit of laughter from the audience.

Wren contemplated jumping onto the stage to help him reset his drums, but Tommy had already lunged around the trap set while shouting expletives. She scanned the stage, hoping to lock eyes with any member of the band; however, all she managed to capture was the uneasiness each member carried. Vince had been a hype man and eye candy for his last band, but this was a different crowd. There were women present, but definitely not to the degree he was used to, and Wren could see him weighing that fact in his mind. Mick seemed cool and collected, but something about his demeanor seemed slightly forced. Tommy was nearly shaking from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body, and Nikki wore a face full of his signature austere, ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ grimace that Wren determined was a major part of his protective shell.

Almost as soon as Tommy knocked over his cymbal, the crowd began to transform from the quiet, uninterested patrons Wren had walked in on, into heartless, taunting, and jeering asses. Comments along the lines of “You suck,” and “Get off the stage!” began to slip from the crowd and, with each passing remark, Wren could feel her lips tighten across her face and her fingers curl tighter into a fist.

Vince tried his best to ignore the comments and attempted to hype the band up as they began ‘Take Me To The Top’, but as he began to dance, his movements were jerky and his face seemed pale. Again, the crowd’s pre-formulated opinions about the band based upon Tommy’s accident at the beginning and the band’s attire kept the audience from experiencing all that Mötley Crüe had to offer. The band started heavy and hard, and it genuinely seemed like they were taking their nerves out on their instruments in the most beneficial way they could, but that didn’t stop a few men in the crowd from attempting to rile up the band.

As Vince waited for his cue to come in, one burly, barrel chested, bearded man called out, “Who’s the chick singer?” which earned a large laugh from the people around him.

“Hey, fuck you asshole!” Vince called back from the stage, but the man could hear Wren—having been much closer to the antagonist than Vince—loud as day from over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off or get the fuck out?!” she shouted over Mick, Tommy, and Nikki’s playing. The six foot, two-hundred fifty plus pound man turned to reveal a five foot seven, nineteen-year-old girl of just over one-hundred thirty-five pounds, and again the crowd laughed, only this time they were laughing at Wren. The man disregarded Wren with a roll of his eyes and then used both of his hands to give Vince the bird before he spat on what appeared to be brand new, white leather pants. Wren could see the fire forming in Vince’s eyes and quickly remembered what she told them, some dick in the first row with an attitude can’t be the person who makes or breaks this.

Without even giving Vince the opportunity to process what had happened, Wren stepped in front of the man, positioning herself between Vince and the proclaimed dick in the first row with an attitude, and spat back, making sure to hit him where his wife-beater exposed his chest in hopes that it would smear into his beard.

“You bitch!” the man screamed as he lunged toward Wren with fury in his eyes and his arms reaching for her hands. Quickly, Vince grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her backwards while simultaneously jumping off the stage and throwing a punch to her attacker’s jaw. The man seemed to absorb the impact before he quickly threw a jab into Vince’s teeth that sent the blonde flying backwards and landing just short of the stage, beside Wren.

“Thanks,” she huffed as she stared at the blood that fell from Vince’s busted lip.

“Don’t mention it,” Vince responded as he spat the blood trailing from his mouth onto the floor before shoving Wren closer to the ground upon catching a blurred glimpse of white and red. 

Wren looked over Vince’s shoulder to see Nikki swinging his bass violently over his shoulder until it connected with the side of the burly man’s head. Before anyone knew it, Vince and Nikki were throwing punches with a few of the asshole’s friends, Tommy had launched himself from the stage to take down a couple of people who had gone after Nikki, and even Mick had delivered a hard hitting blow to someone trying to charge him as he helped Wren up onto the stage. Wren and Mick watched as the crowd folded away from the fight and bouncers began to gain control over the men who Nikki and Vince were fending off. As the singer and bassist stood off stage, in front of everyone while their drummer straddled and pummeled the guy who had initiated the brawl, they scanned the crowd, searching for a sign of whether or not they’d fucked up their shot of making it on the Strip. Once he’d had enough of the horrified faces meeting his, Nikki re-scanned the crowd in search of Wren. He knew she could get herself into trouble, and it was obvious Tommy was otherwise busy beating up the man who went after her for defending Vince. After last night, he understood her hesitancy towards strangers, her aversion to open spaces, and her displeasure of being touched despite her not saying a word after jabbing her finger into his chest.

Noticing Nikki’s concern, Mick nudged Nikki in the back with his shoe and jutted his head toward where Wren stood behind the curtains off the side of the stage. Bouncers had succeeded in restraining Tommy, throwing him to Vince and Nikki to control, and then tossing the trouble makers outside, but the club lingered in a heavy silence. It felt as if the world had taken in a deep breath and was holding it while everyone else waited for the exhale to breathe again.

“Fuck yeah!” a guy in blue jeans and a red and while baseball t-shirt holding a cigarette screamed. “Mötley Crüe!” Slowly, people began to join in on the whoops and cheers; slowly, the boys realized they hadn’t blown it. Tommy punched Vince’s shoulder before he leapt back on stage and held up his hand to Wren for a crisp high-five which then turned into a bro-hug.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he said through a smile, unable to hide his excitement.

“Just get out there and fuck the audience in the face,” she responded as she rolled her eyes at her best friend as she mimicked the tone he used to justify his suggested band name many nights ago, and then faded back behind the curtain.

Following Tommy’s lead, Nikki and Vince also made their way back to their place on stage, one slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and the other gripping onto the microphone. As Tommy entered strong on his snare, Nikki and Vince’s eyes met; excitement, adrenaline, and power seemed to electrify the band and with one fluid movement, the pair clasped hands in solidarity. It was the first time those two had ever shared any sort of moment other than light animosity toward one another due to, at first, Vince’s intimidation of Wren, then Lovey’s persistently bad attitude. As soon as their hands left one another’s grasp, the band dove into ‘Take Me To The Top’, and the crowd roared into a rejuvenated life powered entirely by Tommy, Mick, Nikki, and Vince.

Wren was not only impressed by the passion of the crowd, but by their stamina too. Nikki had prepared an eleven song set for tonight, and although parts of the crowd did seem a bit tired after some of the songs, Nikki did a great job of spacing out the slower songs throughout the set. Some of Wren’s favorites made the cut for tonight including ‘On With the Show,’ ‘Piece of Your Action’, and ‘Merry Go Round,’ but the band’s closing song was the one she was waiting for.

“Alright you guys,” Vince called out into the microphone, “We’ve got one more song for you tonight! If you like us and want to hear the same shit for the next two nights, come back and see us tomorrow night and the night after! This last song is a fun one. It kicked my ass for a bit at first, but thanks to one of our own, a miss Wren Ledden, I think we can rock it out for you tonight!” Vince’s interaction with the microphone was so smooth and effortless, as if the mic and its stand were extensions of Vince’s body, and it wasn’t until he turned his back to the audience and waved his hands to get Wren’s attention that she even noticed she’d been gazing out into the crowd, watching how he held the audience captive.

Vince subtly jutted his head toward Wren, but it wasn’t until Tommy pointed at her with his sticks and then made a line from her to the front of the stage that Wren understood what Vince was trying to get her to do. Mick offered her his hand as she climbed up a small step or two, Tommy smiled at his friend—happy in their attempted way to prove to her she was as included in the band as the rest of them—and Nikki nodded at her in admiration as she paced towards Vince. “Before we close out, why don’t you give it up for Wren! Mötley Crüe’s very own Live Wire!” Vince screamed into the mic, the crowd roared with anticipation of the song and blindly celebrated whatever Vince had said, and Mick and Nikki dove head first, full force into what had to have been their heaviest performances of ‘Live Wire’ to date.

Wren hesitated as she stood awkwardly on stage in her workout clothes surrounded by thigh-high leather boot wearing boys with heels high enough to allow Vince and Mick illusion of being taller than her. With a small wave, she tried to take a step back and fade behind the curtain, but Vince reached out for her hand, missed his entrance to the song, and called into the mic, “I think for the right incentive, Wren may share the stage!” Her eyes widened and her stomach fell to the ground as she listened not only to Vince’s words echoing through the club, but also to the wave of screams the cheered.

What were they cheering for? Mötley Crüe…it had to be because of the hype and hard-driving song. Another measure passed and the crowd grew louder. Surely they’re not cheering for me, she thought as her eyes turned to seek the guidance of the rest of the band. Tommy was giddy with glee, Mick was reassuring as he gave a curt nod in her direction, Vince was pumping his fist in the air to get the crowd to cheer louder, and Nikki’s voice left his body in a shout, yet traveled through the air and into Wren’s ears like a whisper over the now doubly long musical intro. “You’ve got this!” With the band’s encouragement, Wren held up her hands in defeat and Vince jumped into the song at the next measure.

She wasn’t the band’s singer, she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, she wasn’t a groupie, she was Wren fucking Ledden and she was a part of Mötley Crüe. The power of the band, the thrill of the audience, the electricity coursing through her veins was something she knew she would never get used to, which is why she would never do this again, but for tonight—for Mötley’s first show—it was perfect.

Continued Reading: Next Chapter

#The Dirt #nikki sixx the dirt #the dirt fanfic #the dirt fandom #the dirt motley crue #Motley Crue #motley crue x ofc #Douglas Booth #douglas booth fanfic #douglas booth fic #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth the dirt #douglas booth nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx #the dirt fanfic nikki #Mick Mars #iwan rheon!mick mars #mick mars motley crue #iwan rheon #Vince Neil #vince neil the dirt #daniel webber!vince neil #daniel webber vince neil #Daniel Webber #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly the dirt #machine gun kelly!tommy lee #colson baker

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Seventeen

Firstly, I want to apologise, it has been so long since I last posted an update for this story but life happens. I have now officially left high school - much earlier than I expected and not under the conditions I wanted - and I am preparing to go to University in September of this year. I want to continue and finish this story and I am thankful to those who have continued to support me despite the lack of regular updates but the next chapter is already in the work and I hope to get that finished soon. I need something to keep me occupied during this lockdown. Thank you for being so patient with me and I hope you continue to enjoy this story xx

Masterlist

Summary: Shopping trips (are stressful)

Word Count: 6557

Warnings: Past child abuse, disordered eating, anxiety, self-deprecation. (If I missed anything please let me know)

Logan awoke the following morning in a panic, unsure of where he was, until he noticed the soft toy tucked against his side he remembered. He was at Patton’s house, this is where he would be living for however long Patton allowed him to. He left the warmth and softness of his bed, collecting a set of clothes from his rucksack, his typical outfit, dressing and making his way to the bathroom in order to survey his appearance. Once determining it was satisfactory, he ventured downstairs. Patton was the only one awake, dressed in a overly large sweater and blue and white striped pyjama pants, humming a pretty tune as he prepared breakfast.

“Oh hiya kiddo, you’re up early,” Patton noted as he observed Logan hovering in the dining room. “I’m guessing you are a early bird?”.

“I believe in keeping to a strict schedule for optimal productivity, “Logan said not completely understanding the expression Patton had used.

“I wish Roman and Virgil thought the same, they are both night owls, staying up late, waking up even later. Though Virgil struggles the most,” Patton said his smile falling as he referenced Virgil, presumably Virgil’s sleeping habits which Logan assumed were poor from his dark under eyes circles and lack of energy. “Oh kiddo, what do you want for breakfast. We have plenty; pancakes, cereal, toast and crofters?”.

“Crofters?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, it is a brand of jam, the kids love it. Have you never had it before?” Patton said pausing in his preparations.

“No, I do not believe so but I do have a fondness for jam,” Logan said recalling the previous special occasions when Maggie would sneak him pots of sweet jam to add to his terribly bland breakfasts, in a variety of flavours though strawberry had always been his favourite.  

“Do you want to try some?” Patton asked extending the jar of strawberry flavoured jelly out towards Logan, who took it, eyeing the sweet-smelling fruit spread curiously as Patton turned once again returning with a spoon. “Here,”.

“You want me to eat it with a spoon…from the jar?” Logan questioned he would have never been allowed to indulge quite like this at the orphanage.

“Yup, it is the only proper way to eat crofters,” Patton announced proudly before withdrawing slightly as if he had spoken out of turn. “Only if you want to, that is,”.

Logan once again eyed the jar in his hand and the spoon still in Patton’s hand, he hadn’t expected this to be such a significant decision or difficult choice to make. He had maintained his strict diet through four years of moving between many orphanages and had never been given the option to satisfy his appetite through more adventurous means. Logan took the spoon from Patton and hovering it above the lip of the jar, scarcely touching the jam inside until he took a deep breath and dipped the spoon into the partially eaten jam before transferring it to his mouth. He experienced the most incredible combination of flavours in a singe mouthful, he couldn’t help but go for another spoonful, a considerably larger one than previously. Experiencing a momentary lapse in self-control as a involuntary smile crept onto his face, receiving an obnoxious squeal from Patton snapping him out of his trance.

“Aw kiddo, I guess you liked it,” Patton explained a wide grin stretched across his lips.

“It was satisfactory,”Logan said dropping the smile from his lips, placing the jar and spoon back on the table a little too harsh as it emitted a sharp clang as it hit the table, causing Logan to flinch.

“So, Crofters on toast for breakfast?” Patton suggested and Logan found he couldn’t refuse.

As Logan sat at the dining room table, a plate of two slices of toast slathered in strawberry jam placed in front of him. Roman and Declan appeared both still dressed in their pyjamas at 8:32 am on the dot - according to Patton this was a daily occurrence - they mumbled their own good mornings and settled down at the table for their breakfast, leaving only Virgil absent from the table. After around fifthteen minutes, long after Roman and Declan had finished their meals and had been excused from the table, Logan had eaten exactly half of his own crofters on toast - which was exceptionally difficult given how delicious the jam was - but he refused to break his own rules due to a simple change in location but instead of retiring to his room he remained sat at the table. Observing Patton as he bustled around the kitchen, clearing away the mess of breakfast, glancing at the clock every so often with heightening levels of concern. Though a mere minute later, the assumed object of his concern -Virgil - appeared, dressed in his usual hoodie, he seemed to never take off, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“Morning Virge, late night again was it?” Patton asked Virgil as he more or less collapsed into the hair opposite Logan, with an upward twitch of the lip in his direction as he groaned in response to Patton’s query. “Well, maybe some breakfast might help to perk you up a little,”.

Patton set a simple bowl of cereal in front of Virgil, who mumbled a thanks and gingerly tucked in to his breakfast, eyes placed firmly down in front of him. Logan suspected this change was due to a lack of sleep and not Logan’s addition to the household, but a small portion of his mind worried Virgil did not appreciate him barging into his family dynamic and his intrusion resulted in his irritation and poor nights sleep.

“Get that down you quick because we are going out today,” Patton announced with a grin as he continued to clean dishes.

“Where?” Roman questioned returning to the living room from his room, now completely dressed in his typical red and white outfit, accented with gold, carrying a large sketchbook and a collection of pencils.

“To the mall, we need to buy Logan some decorations for his room,” Patton answered with a smile in Logan’s direction, he recalled Patton saying they, at some point would be able to purchase some pieces for his new room but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. What if their arrangement did not work out? Would Logan be indebted to Patton on a financial level? Did Patton not hold the fear of spending so much on a child who he barely knew?

Logan’s biological parents regularly complained about money, specifically about the funds used to meet his needs; food, clothing, tutors, though as he aged he learned all to well his parents upstanding position in society and the large amount of wealth they possessed, used primarily for their own vanity purchases rather than for his upkeep but he found he didn’t mind. What they did teach him was not to want, anything that wasn’t a necessity he could live without. There was no need for frivolous comfort items like toys or decorations. It wasn’t necessary so he did not need it and did not want Patton to waste his hard earned money on him, when Logan had yet to earned or deserved any of it. 

“It is alright Patton, I do not need for you to buy me anything, you have already given me far more than I deserve,” Logan said watching with an odd pain in his chest as Patton smile fell into something resembling pity, though he wasn’t entirely sure why his response had brought about such a reaction. Wouldn’t Patton be pleased he would not be required to spend valuable funds - which could be used for much more pressing matters rather than for his comfort - on him?

“Logan…” Patton began but was quickly interrupted by Virgil.

“Don’t bother trying to change his mind L, he will do it anyway so…” Virgil trailed off before continuing in the consumption of his breakfast. Logan assumed Virgil had, had a similar experience with Patton in the past resulting in his assurance. He also took note of the single letter Virgil referred to him with and despite himself he almost smiled.

“Yup, all of you kiddos deserve nice things and should not have to worry about things like money,” Patton exclaimed with a wide grin. “Even you Logan,”.

Logan jolted at the mention of his name, as Patton spoke directly to him. Nice things. Logan had been told for years he deserved nothing, he told himself he deserved the bare minimum of what he needed for survival yet Patton was now telling him differently. What was he to believe? His own rules which by now had been ingrained so deeply into his mind he could recite each rule by memory or Patton’s kindness.

“So what do you say, Logan?” Patton asked an expecting smile stretched across his lips and he found a lump had formed in his throat as he struggled to find the words to convey his internal battle.

“Okay,” Logan eventually responded after a prolonged period of silence which drew the attention of both Roman and Virgil as well as Patton’s large blue eyes which seemed to grow exponentially wider at Logan’s silence but once the silence was broken, relief faded into his expression and a warm smile replaced the worried one but Logan found himself unable to return it, averting his gaze to the table.

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed as he presumably celebrated Logan’s decision and immediately charged upstairs, to which Virgil responded with an eye roll and Patton a light-hearted chuckle. Though Logan did not share Roman’s enthusiasm at the idea of Patton - who had already provided him with far more than he deserved - spending copious amounts of money on him while he had no method of repayment and this pit of dread developing in his stomach, only grew as the time for their departure steadily approached.          

                                                         ***

The car journey was…interesting to say the least. Roman screamed ‘shotgun’ before even exiting the house which Virgil - who did not seem entirely pleased about Roman exclaiming the name of a highly dangerous weapon - explained that ‘shotgun’ was a sort of ‘code word’ for securing the front seat of the car and the ability to control the car radio and Roman took full advantage of that privilege. Playing a combination of upbeat, dramatic ballads he skilfully sang along to the entire car ride much to the irritation of Virgil who had shoved his large headphones on the minute he entered the car. Patton didn’t seem to mind, humming along to the tunes and even participated in the singing.

Logan was informed they were going to a mall, characterised as a large building which contained a series of smaller shops and retailers. He had never been inside one as his mother had always bought his clothes and any necessities; study materials and the like. Never decorations, toys or anything they deemed useless to his studies. The room Patton had provided was already a vast improvement to the space he occupied both at his parents house and the orphanage, while not as decorated or personal as Roman, Virgil and Dee’s, it contained all of the basic necessities and more. The pit of anxiety only seemed to grow more uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat, attempting not to allow his discomfort to display on his face.

They arrived a short while later, to a large building, occupied by a considerable number of people, bustling between shops with overflowing bags of items. The noise grated uncomfortably on Logan’s ear but he restrained the urge to cover them with his hands, to avoid worrying Patton. Roman marched on ahead, winding through the crowd of people with little care or concern while Virgil and himself hung back, remaining closer to Patton so not to get swept away with the crowd. Patton pushed Declan along in a stroller, smiling to people as he passed as Declan babbled gleefully, clearing pleased with the visual stimulation surrounding him. Virgil not so much, his shoulders were hunched, hands deep within the pockets of his hoodie, large headphones covering his ears - too loud music blasting from them - all signs Virgil was experiencing heightened levels of anxiety which along strengthened the pit of guilt developing in his abdomen. Virgil evidently, did not want to be here.

“Onward, my comrades, venture forth,” Roman exclaimed with a grin as they continued to walk forward, through the crowds of people going about their daily business, entering and exiting smaller rooms on either side of them, bags bursting with items hanging off their arms.

The first establishment they entered was a large department store - chosen by Patton - which contained a wide variety of items; furniture, household appliances, home decorations, technology and more. Everything was organised into sections for easily locating Logan assumed and individuals mulling around the various sections dressed in identical uniforms, presumably employees placed for assistance purposes and just as they entered one of these specifically dressed individuals approached them.

“Hello sir, do you need any help with finding anything today?” The woman said her mousy brown ponytail bouncy as she bounded towards the group, a welcoming grin spread across her face.

“Hi there kiddo, I think we are alright. Thank you for the offer though,” Patton responded equally as cheerful. Logan noted how Patton referred to the woman as ‘kiddo’ despite how she appeared to be of a similar age to Patton himself.

“Of course but if you are in need of any help. Please don’t hesitate to ask myself or one of my colleagues,” She said stepping a side to allow them to pass before glancing towards the stroller which held Declan, and Logan, Roman and Virgil all stood around. “Aw, are these your children, they are so cute,”.

“Thank you. Yes, these are my sons. We are having a family shopping trip,” Patton announced proudly, smiling at each of them as he did. Logan was surprised she didn’t note the significant difference between them as they did not appear to be biologically related but what shocked him more so was being referred to as Patton’s son, not as the child who was living in his house. Patton had called him his son the previous night but he supposed the depth of those words hadn’t fully sunk in yet as he found himself to be repeating them over and over again in his mind. The title feeling foreign to him.

“That sounds lovely, I hope you all enjoys yourselves. Goodbye,” She said with a wave before walking away to tend to another customer.

“Goodbye,” Patton replied. “Now boys, let’s go shopping,”.

They descended deeper into the store. Logan marvelled at the sheer mass and variety of the items which surrounded him, arranged on shelves stretching upwards almost reaching the ceiling of the large building. Roman continued to march ahead, having now collected a cart, he, every few minutes would pause, pick up and investigate an item before returning it to its position on the shelf. Virgil still didn’t move from Patton’s side but he did look considerably less anxious and was sharing his opinions on the items Roman picked from the shelves. Patton did the same while laughing and giggling at the pairs antics as Declan busied himself with a toy he had brought with him.

“Okay, plan of action,” Patton said clapping his hands together bringing everyone to a stop. “We are looking for a desk chair, a rug, curtains, maybe some pillows, a blanket and some stationary organisation. Also, Logan if you see anything you like just tell me and we’ll get it for you. Okay?”.

Logan nodded, unsure of his ability to voice his true feelings. The pit in his stomach only grew with every item Patton listed. All were material objects his biological parents would have viewed as unnecessary and chastised him for his greed and belief that he was deserving of such luxuries. Logan didn’t deserve it. It would simply be a waste of Patton’s hard-earned money. He considered voicing this but he recalled Virgil’s warning from this morning of Patton’s stubbornness, so instead decided to keep quiet and followed behind everyone as they scoured the store.

The first item was located by Patton, found in the back corner of the store, was a selection of rugs in a variety of colours and patterns set out on display, which immediately sparked a conversation between Patton, Roman and Virgil on which rug would fit the ‘aesthetic’ of Logan’s room the best. Logan did not participate, preferring to allow them to decide, as it was their house so they deserved a say in what was purchased for it. He paced the aisle tracing his fingers over the different textures of the rugs. Some were course and rough, Logan skipped over those ones quickly, while others were soft and fluffy, those he allowed his hands to sink into, the material tickling his fingertips.

“Hey Logan, what about this one?” Patton asked gesturing to a navy blue rug with a similar texture to the one he had been touching, so much so he desired to reach out and touch it but he restrained himself. “I thought it would match with the rest of your room but if you would prefer a different one, we can keep looking,”.

Logan took note of how quickly Patton redacted his suggestion following Logan’s silence, bringing forth a pang of guilt. Had he offended Patton for not immediately agreeing to his suggestion? He did like the rug. The colour and texture were extremely pleasing to him, but he hadn’t wanted to appear desperate or greedy by demanding specific items and was merely waiting for one of the others to make a decision he could readily agree with. He hadn’t expected Patton to ask for his opinion.

“I like it,” Logan blurted out. Too quickly. Drawing curious glances from both Patton and Virgil but neither questioned him, thankfully.

“Alright kiddo, so we’ll get this one,” Patton said taking one of the pre-rolled rugs from the shelf and placing it into the shopping cart. “Okay, onto the next thing,”.

“I like the white one better,” Roman pouted before beginning to push the cart forward. Logan heart-rate immediately jumped. Had he made the wrong choice? Should he have gone with Roman’s pick to please him? Did Roman hate him now?

“Of course you did,” Virgil said with an eye roll and a sarcastic drawl, walking alongside Roman.

“Remember Roman, we are here for Logan today,” Patton said pushing the stroller a few paces behind Roman and Virgil, while Logan hung back.

“Yeah, I know. Come on, lets look at something more exciting than boring old rugs,” He exclaimed before picking up speed, almost gliding along with the cart as Virgil struggled to keep up.

“Don’t go to far ahead,” Patton warned but still giggled at the sight. Logan remained routed in his spot beside the stacks of rugs, eyes hovering over the spot Patton had selected the new rug from, before dropping it to the sticker beneath it, detailing the price. His chest tightened at the sight. It was so much. Why was Patton willing to spend so much on one item for him? How was he ever going to repay him? “Hey Logan, are you okay?”.

“Oh yes, I am satisfactory,” Logan said attempting to hide his shock as he ran to catch up with Patton, removing any sign of worry from his expression as he fell into line beside him.

The second item was a set of curtain, in an identical blue to the rug but contained tiny almost unnoticeable speckles of white granting the appearance of stars which Logan found exceptionally appealing but again did not voice this intense like, allowing Virgil to select them and himself to nod in agreement. The third and final item was a simple desk chair, located in the furniture section, which displayed a fully assembled version for testing purposes. It had a simple design, all black, with a cushioned seat but what was unusual about the design was the mechanism which allowed it to rotate. Roman demonstrated, spinning until he was unsteady on his feet and Logan couldn’t help but smile at the silliness of the situation and if Roman enjoyed the chair so much maybe it would improve the relationship between the two them. Once an employee - a different one from the women who had greeted them by the door - had helped them locate the disassembled chair from the much larger storeroom, they made their way to the register to pay. The total stunned Logan, he hadn’t taken note of the prices of the curtains or the chair, the guilt fell heavy on his shoulders as protests built within his throat. Why was he allowing Patton to do this? It was way too much. But again he said nothing and again he allowed Patton to waste more money on him.

The next store they went to was smaller, filled with home decoration rather than practical appliances, no one greeted them at the door but a cashier smiled at them as they passed. Immediately Logan began looking at the price of every item they passed at, becoming attracted to the cheapest of the selection despite its appearance, hoping Patton would appreciate his efforts. The fourth item was chosen by Roman, a collection of small pillows in a variety of shades of blue and grey, each with a different scientific image decorating it.

“Hey look, they are nerdy, like you,” Roman said pushing one of the pillows - with a chemical formula printed onto it - into Logan’s face. He genuinely appreciated Roman’s attempt to select items suited to his interests but it made it all the more difficult to refuse them. Roman didn’t wait for a response and took his elongated silence and small smile as his answer and tossed each to the cart individually. Similar decorations were also added to the cart such as; a selection of pictures detailing space themed scenes picked by Virgil, an alarm clock chosen by Patton, stationary organisers once again shoved in his face by Roman and an L shaped book end picked by Declan - though he merely repeated the letter L until Logan put it in the cart - the fact he hadn’t chosen anything for himself eased his mind somewhat. It lessened the guilt. If one of the others chose it for him, they had chosen it for themselves and not him. Logan let it continue.

The fifth item was a blanket. Logan had been tracing his fingertip along each individual blanket whilst Roman and Virgil bickered over two different colours, pausing on one in particular. At first glance it appeared to be a simple grey but as he sunk his fingers deeper into the soft fur a glitter caught his eye, blue and green glitter and sparkle appeared as he manipulated it with his hands. The combination of colours was pleasant as was the texture and weight of it, it would act well as a weighted blanket. Logan immediately snapped himself out of his daydream, praying Patton hadn’t witnessed him, mesmerised by an unnecessary blanket but unfortunately he was not so lucky.

“Hey Logan, did you find something you like?” Patton asked causing Logan to flinch and attempt to hide the blanket. “Oh I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to frighten you. What were you looking at?”. Logan glanced down, ashamed by his childishness and stood aside, allowing Patton to see the blanket.

“Ooh, that is pretty,” He said reaching out to touch the soft material, revealing the blue and green underneath, just as Logan had done. “Do you want to get it?”.

Logan shrugged, refusing to meet Patton’s eye. He knew Patton would notice something was wrong, he was frustratingly perceptive of people’s emotions, especially Logan’s. But Patton was spending so much. He couldn’t handle it. All the what ifs circling in his mind. What if this didn’t work out, Patton said he wouldn’t return Logan to the orphanage but what if something happens? What if Logan changes and Patton decides he doesn’t want to deal with his problems any more? Logan certainly wouldn’t blame him but what would happen then?

“Logan, I’ve noticed this is really stressing you out, you haven’t chosen anything for yourself,” Patton said a strange expression Logan couldn’t decipher appearing on his face. “If it is about the cost, I don’t care. I want to you have nice things, as your dad it is my job to provide for you. You shouldn’t worry about money at your age. I am doing this because I want to, okay Logan?”.

“Okay,” Logan said quietly after an elongated pause, not knowing what else to say.

“We can talk more later,” Patton said before picking up the blanket. “Now, do you want the blanket?”.

Logan nodded, unable to force out a verbal answer but Patton smiled anyway, ruffling Logan’s hair and placing the blanket in the cart. When they went to pay Patton purposefully shielded the total cost from him, which he was strangely grateful for as it allowed him to quieten his mind, without the cost screaming in his head how he didn’t deserve Patton’s kindness.

Following the rather stressful shopping experience, they stopped at a small café for lunch. It was quieter than the much bigger food establishments so it was preferable for Logan and Virgil who had been subjected to the noise of the busy mall for too long. Roman, Virgil and Dee sat at the table whilst Patton went to order the food, Logan accompanying him at Patton’s request.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Patton asked as they waited in the queue.

“I am fine Patton,” Logan said.

“I know you’re not,” Patton sighed. Logan immediately felt his heart sink. Had he disappointed Patton? He sounded frustrated. Had he ruined everything already? Patton seemed to note Logan’s rising panic. “Oh no, hey, hey, that isn’t a bad thing. You haven’t done anything wrong and I just want you to know that I want to do this for you, I want to get you nice things and you deserve it,”.

“Okay,” Logan replied it was all he could say as they reached the front of the queue and Patton ordered. A cheese and tomato toasted sandwich for Logan, a chicken salad wrap for Patton, for Roman a turkey sandwich and two simple ham sandwiches for Virgil and Declan with an additional fancily decorated miniature cake each.

They returned to their table and everyone tucked into their food as Patton, Roman and Virgil fell into a comfortable conversation, while Logan carefully divided his sandwich. He recalled his outing with Patton to a similar café following their visit to the book-store and planetarium. It was the greatest day of his life. The day when he discovered how incredible Patton truly was and the small bond of trust began to blossom between them. The recollection of the day-out brought a smile to his face. A lot had certainly happened since then, the most significant being Madame Claire’s arrest and Logan finally leaving the orphanage behind and entering a new ‘home’ with Patton and his children.

Once they had all finished, Logan having eaten exactly half of his sandwich and a quarter of his cupcake - he didn’t want to indulge to heavily in overly sweet treats - before returning to their shopping. The final store they visited offered a selection of toys, books and stationary. Roman and Virgil picked out a selection of notebooks, pens and pencils, Logan felt less guilty choosing them as they were seen as necessary items for his studies, though they were more colourful and visually pleasing than his biological parents would have chosen for him but he allowed it. They travelled quickly through the toy section, he had never been particularly interested in toys, the soft grey bear Patton had given him was the first toy that was exclusively his and thus felt a strange attachment to this toy in the particular but when Declan picked up and showed him a miniature Big Hero Six figurine of Baymax Logan found he couldn’t refuse the small toddler. Eventually Roman, Virgil and Declan wandered off, returning to the toy section, while Logan walked along side Patton as they scoured the shelves.            

“You haven’t chosen anything yet,” Patton said presumably noting how Logan only decided on items, picked out by one of the others. “I promise I won’t be mad or upset with you, we are here for you. I want you to choose something you want,”.

Logan bit his lip and nodded. If Patton said it was alright, maybe it would be okay. He could choose one thing if it would make Patton happy. Logan stepped forward, surveying the shelves, paying particular attention to the price rather than the item itself which didn’t go unnoticed by Patton.

“I don’t care about the cost, Logan, you can choose anything you’d like. I don’t mind,” Patton assured him but Logan’s guilt only grew but he wanted to please Patton so he forced it down, studying items around him.

They were in a aisle filled with the different bedroom decorations; pillows, photo frames, purposeless knick-knacks and a variety of lights - one of what was a pair of string lights Logan recognised from Virgil room - he was preparing to walk past but then noticed a box on the end of the aisle. It was a collection of accurate glow in the dark stars. Logan had always loved astronomy. he had spent long nights staring out of the window at the stars, mapping out constellations, studying everything he could about space and the stars that lived within it. He had spent hours explaining the basic science of space of Patton in their sessions and he researched more and more to tell Patton about when he returned every week. Logan paused in front of the stars, identifying each of the constellations detailed on the box; Orion, Ursa Major, Scorpius.

“What have you found, Logan?” Patton asked coming up behind him just as Roman, Virgil and Declan returned also.

“Wow, they are cool, are you going to get them?” Roman exclaimed as Logan nodded before he lost his resolve and picked another random item, taking the box of the stars from the shelf, dropping it into the cart.

“Alright, let’s pay and then head home,” Patton exclaimed with a wide grin directed towards Logan who couldn’t help but smile in return.

They paid and left. Virgil immediately called out ‘shot-gun’ as soon as their vehicle was in sight, resulting in Roman pouting the entire journey back to the house as Virgil played his rather loud and dark music with some rather strange lyrics but Logan found himself enjoying the alternative rock beat, tapping his fingertips against his thighs to the rhythm. Upon returning to the house and removing the newly bought items from the car, transporting them to the…no his room and set about assembling and the arranging them. Unrolling the rug, hanging the pictures above his bed, organising the stationary into colour coordinated containers on his desk as Patton pored over the instructions for assembling the desk chair. They lay the pillows at the head of his bed and set the pristinely folded blanket on the edge above the quilt. Once the chair - after some difficulty and Logan’s assistance - was finally constructed and the curtains were hung over the window, allowing a slither of the late afternoon light to seep into the room, Declan added the final touches placing the Baymax figurine and the L shaped book end on the bedside table as Logan set the books he had been keeping in his rucksack - in which he had been keeping all of his minimal belongings - beside the book end before tucking in safely away under his bed once again. If Patton had noticed Logan’s rucksack, he didn’t mention it, instead pulling one last item from the bag. The box of stars. 

“I’m going to go and get started on dinner, how about you get started putting them up?” Patton suggested giving the box to Logan before lifting Declan and resting him on his hip. “I’ll bring through the step ladder for you,”.

Patton left Declan in his arms and Roman and Virgil trailing after him, presumably to retire their owns room before their evening meal. Patton brought through the miniature ladder, urging Logan to be careful to which he assured him that he would be, then he was alone. He immediately unboxed the individual stars, arranging them by size on his new rug, then into his favourite constellations, preparing to stick them to his ceiling, creating a brilliant night sky in his bedroom. Logan stood upon the ladder, sticking each star with care to the black ceiling, forming startlingly accurate constellations until they filled his ceiling, faintly glowing in the slowly dwindling light. He descended from the ladder and simply stared. They were incredible. They didn’t contain the same beauty of the night sky but it filled him with the same calming sensation as he gazed up at them, ignoring the slight pain in his neck as he did so.

“Hey Logan, dinner is ready!” Patton exclaimed poking his head into the room. “Wow, they look really cool, kiddo,”.

“Thank you Patton, I tried to arrange them to resemble accurate constellations, though of course they’re several inconsistencies between them but they are a acceptable replica,” Logan replied glancing up at the softly glowing stars with a small smile of his lips.

“Aw kiddo, they are great,” Patton said with a wide, toothy grin. “They look just like the real thing, now let’s go get some dinner,”.

For dinner was chicken, potatoes and portion of green vegetables, much easier to divide in perfect halves then the spaghetti. Everyone conversed openly over the table, sharing stories about the day and plans for tomorrow when Roman and Virgil returned to school even Logan joined in when he wasn’t fixated on his food. Following the meal, each of them returned to their separate rooms, in which Logan sat in his new desk chair, glancing around his room, at his new belongings…at the cost. Patton had spent so much and intentionally attempted to hide the total price from him. Did he regret spending so much? Would he expect Logan to do something in return? The guilt lay heavy on his chest as he glanced up at his ceiling, digging his nails into the palms of his hands until there was a knock at his door, causing him to jump up in surprise.

“Hiya Logan, can I come in, kiddo?” Patton asked as Logan returned the chair to its correct position by his desk.

“Yes,” Logan responded opening the door for Patton. “Salutations Patton, did you require something of me,”.

“I was just wondering how you were, I know today was quite stressful for you,” Patton said taking a seat on the edge of Logan’s bed, patting the spot beside him for Logan to sit down, which he did.

“I am alright Patton, yes, today’s activities were certainly outside of my comfort zone but I assure you, I am okay,” Logan said he knew wasn’t entirely being truthful but he prayed that Patton wouldn’t notice.

“Okay kiddo, if you are sure. Um…I wanted to ask you if you want to go out again tomorrow…Roman and Virgil are in school so it would just be you, me and Dee…we could buy you some new clothes?” Patton suggested and Logan’s heart rate shot up and the idea of Patton spending even more money on him but he fought to keep his face expressionless. “So what do you think?”.

“Okay,” Logan answered the simple one word answer was all he could muster without revealing all of the anxiety and fear he held inside.

“Okay,” Patton repeated stretching forward to press a gentle kiss to Logan’s forehead. “Now, I think it is time for you to go to sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight,”.

“Goodnight, Patton,” Logan replied as Patton left switching of the light, allowing the stars to glow at their full brightness as Logan gazed up at them mesmerised by the brilliant gleam each individual star emitted.

Immediately overcome by a wave of exhaustion, Logan quickly undressed, changing into this pyjamas before crawling into bed. His new pillows cushioning his head and his new blanket wrapped around him as he began to slip off to sleep, under his own star-filled sky.

Notes: Crofters has been introduced, Logan will be changed forever.

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