#a big bean raised in a loving environment

[knickynoo]

I don't know if you've done this before: headcanons on Marty Junior and Marlene?

I'm almost positive I have done some sort of Junior and Marlene headcanon post, but I can't find it, so here are some off the top of my head. Gonna go with the versions of them that I imagine for the timeline that's fixed—where the Rolls Royce accident never happened—and Marty and Jennifer aren't miserable, lol. I think both Junior and Marlene would be more well adjusted in that one (especially Junior!)

• The difference in their personalities is evident to Marty and Jen pretty much from the start, with Marlene being the louder, more demanding of the twins and Junior being a much "easier" baby.

• They're extremely close, and Marlene naturally takes on the role of Junior's protector. Often, Marty and Jen have to remind Marlene to take a step back because she's being a little too much of a mother-hen to her brother, and they want Junior to learn to stand on his own two feet.

• Fixed-timeline Junior is quite different from the version of him in the 2015 we see in the movie. He's been raised in a more stable environment with a father who hasn't been defeated by life, so he's not the wimpy, scared little greasy guy who's easily pushed around. He's more sure of himself, not so easily frazzled, and is every bit as big-hearted as his father.

• Junior is not neurotypical. (How can he be? Look at Marty and George) I don't have a specific diagnosis in mind, but I know a draft of part II made reference to him being in a remedial school (and failing) so there's likely some learning disorder at play. In one of my Doctober chapters that include two-year-old versions of the twins, Clara's excited to learn that Junior has picked up a few new words—meanwhile, Marlene is using full sentences—so I do headcanon him as having been delayed in some areas.

[Side note: in that same scene, Doc tells Marty not to worry about Junior's progress, since Jules didn't start speaking until three-and-a-half, lol]

• Marty loves, loves, loves Marlene so much, but sometimes he thinks that she will be the death of him. Especially when she's young and full of sass and always getting into everything and he's struggling to keep up with her. He and Jen 100% lose Marlene in the mall on more than one occasion, and when they find her, she's just like, *shrug.*

• The twins have a special bond with Doc and Clara. Clara dotes on them but is especially close with Junior while Doc is closer to Marlene. When the kids are little and Marty and Jen feel like they're about to collapse from exhaustion, they dump Junior and Marlene at the Brown home and know they'll be well taken care of.

• As Marlene gets older, she's really into fashion, so she's close with her Aunt Linda. I can see Marlene being popular, but she's the type of popular girl who's liked by everyone. She has attitude, but she's not mean.

• Junior is just...Junior. He loves life and is out there doing his thing. He's the type who has a new hobby or interest every week, and Marty and Jen just have to roll with it. He walks in from school one day and goes, "I'm going to be a famous dancer, I decided" and then a week later says, "I want to learn to build a car" and they're just like, "Oh. Okay."

• I think they'd both try to learn an instrument at some point (likely guitar taught by Marty) but I can't decide if either of them would stick with it long term. Somehow, I don't see them being musicians.

• There's a part of me that wants to say an older Marlene eventually learns about time travel and all the wild stuff Marty went through. Idk how it would happen, though. Maybe she overhears something whispered between her parents in private or maybe she's just very perceptive and notices her father being weird about certain events in his life, so she corners him and is like, "Okay, Dad, spill the beans." Perhaps she's also put together some clues in all her time spent with Doc.

Thats about all I've got for now. Thanks for the ask!

[angclnumber]

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 !

here to say that i want even more sapphic stuff so i want to get some thing going with the muses under the cut ! if you are interested in a starter from any of them then please like this post ! ♡

𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑺 .

DAWN MENKEN LIAW / director / bi / she + they / chase sui wonders

born in amsterdam and ( mostly ) raised in new york and has the weird accent to prove it, brought up by the world’s grumpiest old man and it shows, mother owns one of europe’s most successful talent agencies, guitarist in all girl punk band called atomic boob as a side gig, painfully pessimistic, a tortured artist trying to make it in the film industry, has an attitude problem tbh, janis ian coded .

HAVEN MAURY LIANG / weather girl / queer / she + they / havana rose liu

local weird girl who will flirtatiously read your palm at a party, has big dreams of joining cirque du soleil as a trapeze artist and is simply forecasting the weather until then, in love with love and everything to do with it while simultaneously being a commitment-phobe, victim of the perfect little rich girl to quietly disowned pipeline, the vibe of a drunk girl in a club bathroom, a lil ty lee inspired .

ROMINA ESCOBAR / reality tv star / lesbian / she + her / camila mendes

a part of a family reality show inspired by the kardashians, deeply codependent and therefore painfully loyal to those she deems deserving, more than kind of bratty, vain, and self absorbed, hates men and is loud about it, is probably the last one to figure out her sexuality because doesn't every gal just want to makeout with her bffs sometimes ? mildly inspired by jennifer check .

RUTH RANSOM / actress / bi / she + her / kristine froseth

daughter of a washed up rockstar and his groupie, mommy and daddy issues ( double homicide ), ran away from home at seventeen, energiser bunny adjacent girlie who never shuts up, the world's biggest flirt with the world's biggest commitment issues, stumbled into the world of acting half hungover and still in last night's glittery makeup, manic pixie dream just a girl inspired by penny lane.

SLATER KATZ  / rockstar / lesbian / she + they / ruby cruz

born and raised in australia, replacement child to an incredibly well off couple who wanted to save their marriage , has had a prodigious talent with music from childhood, has daddy issues, mommy issues, and anger issues, painfully obtuse with feelings, does not know how to talk to people, tends to hit first and ask questions later, never has an empty bed, billy dunn and daisy jones coded .

𝑻𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑺 .

ELM MOSSBACH  / museum tour guide / queer / she + they / taylor russell

works for a small museum in a small town in the middle of nowhere, generally the kind of place that people stop by for gas on their way to somewhere better, very much suburban gothic inspired in terms of environment . does she work at an oddities museum ? maybe so . longs for adventure but feels stuck, wants to get out of this town .

FELICIA 'FLICK' RELF / actress / bi / she + her / madelyn cline + meghann fahy

was in a mystery inc crew when she was a teenager and is the star of a limited series inspired by their exploits, is seen as a sellout by the other members of that crew but does it really matter if she's famous ? grew up in a motel as the daughter of the deadbeat parents who owned it, swears all the supernatural stuff in their stories is all fake, but was it really ? semi inspired by scooby doo and the x files .

KINSLEY 'KIDNEY' BEAN  / petty thief / bi / she + her / abigail cowen

raised by two parents who had too many kids to truly give a fuck about all of them, the only girl in a hoard full of brothers, has the accent of a southern belle and the charm to match, will use that charm to walk away with your wallet, has never been single for more than a few weeks in her life, responsible for more than a few gas station hold ups, inspired by villains ( 2019 ) and bandits in general .

LORENA FONTBONA  / grad student / queer / she + they / jenna ortega

drenched in dark academia vibes but exclusively the weird ones, family owns a successful board game company that a lot of them are convinced they made a deal with the devil for but ren has their doubts, a legacy in a secret society, game theory student who reluctantly plans to take over the family business, a natural cynic, april ludgate coded and semi inspired by ready or not .

OCTOBER 'TOBI' CRAFT  / f1 racer / lesbian / she + they / margaret qualley

white trash golden retriever, grew up in a trailer park without a lot of prospects so even she's surprised that she got this far, raised by a father that specifically always wanted one of one of his sons to race ( surprise, dad !), got discovered by chance while street racing ( allegedly ) and hasn't looked back since, can't go to a gay bar without running into at least five girls that she's slept with .

RAVEN ZHAO  / gas station attendant / bi / she + they / courtney eaton

final girl of death valley, nevada and no one will let her forget it, born as the child of a obsessive occultist and his lovesick wife and was abandoned by both respectively, spent most of her adolescence living in an abandoned 'cursed' church and ergo was the town's very own social pariah ( and the first scapegoat ) for it, refuses to go to therapy even if the killer ended up being her own mother .

WREN 'OZ' OSWIN  / athlete / lesbian / they + them / brigette lundy paine

raised by a couple of zoologists who named all of their children after animals and dragged them around the world for their work, one of seven kids, grew up homeschooled and therefore chronically online in search of community and it shows, a goober who just happens to be tall and surprisingly athletic, the world's biggest romantic but they try to keep that on the low, in the wnba .

WYATT KILMER  / student / lesbian / she + they / sophie thatcher

was the favourite child of the worst father in the world which sucked but happens to come in very handy in the zombie apocalypse, was taught to hunt under the guise of bonding, lost almost their entire family at the start of the apocalypse but is searching for their little brother, was the first person in their family to go to university but does that matter now ? deeply ( and reluctantly ) protective .

ZIAZAN 'ZI' DERIAN  / mortician / lesbian / she + her / angela sarafyan

grew up working in her family's funeral home and always knew she would inherit it, has a passion for her work that was also inherited, deeply romantic in an only mildly creepy way ( most of the time ), almost always finds herself going for the crazy ones, writes gothic literature under a pseudonym, vaguely inspired by morticia addams and lisa frankenstein .

[starlitangels]

Since the canon ending has Faithful being with anyone romantically if I got that right (haven’t watching it just had someone explain it to me)

I’m not headcanoning her as AroAce

Also thoughts of the new vid?

It’s implied not. And that’s fine. And you can hc her however. There’s a lot of merit in a story of allo peeps not ending up together tbh

And the new vid was a ton of fun! I’m a Wild West gal by born-and-raised and a big portion of my dad’s family are cowboys so the vibes felt comfy and familiar from the start I also watched a lot of old cowboy movies as a kid so take that how you will regarding my fondness for the vibes

It was nice to see Albus back, now in an environment less actively detrimental to his general health (so it seems??? Probably not knowing GB). Don’t even get me started on that line of knowing how it feels to find someone to protect I wanted to flip a table. Yuuri absolutely hit it out of the park with Hipswitch. And I love those two and their character/relationship dynamic already

And then we have Dr Mahatma. I think everyone on here is aware of my admiration for Redacted in general (if not??? I’m being too subtle??? Or it’s being deliberately ignored) but this character was absolutely fantastic for him and I laughed my head off at the “it’s harder to control Attila during allergy season” bit. There was something delightfully Welcome to Night Vale about that sentence deliberately not landing where I expected it to when it started and I’d like to thank GB for the cleverness of that. I was expecting, in the split second before, like a time of day or something else like a medication wearing off. Allergy season beaned me over the head with the funny stick and I snorted so hard I almost alerted my husband on the other side of our apartment

So my current thoughts on the new vid are mostly

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ five stars!

👍👍 Two enthusiastic thumbs up!

[freakingoutthesquares]

Melody Maker, 31 May 1986 Words: Paul Mathur Canine Revenge Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

Pulp are from Sheffield and make rather outrageous records. Paul Mathur talks to them of dogs, wheelchairs, Nazis and baked beans.

There's a great big staircase at the back of Sheffield's Wicker. At the top there's two people settling down in the corners of the building. One of them is called Jarvis Cocker and he's hunched behind what appears to be a pile of pianos and a half-completed pigeon loft. "Don't come in," he says, rather overestimating my prowess as a mountaineer.

In another room there's a young man called Russell Senior lying on the floor looking at the ceiling. "Are you ill?" I ask. "No, just resting." These are two members of a pop group called Pulp.

Pulp take me to a room in which everything - walls, tables, sofa - is completely brown, except for a huge plastic bag full of empty Heinz Beans cans. They tell me that it's not an artistic gesture or a performance prop, it's just that the person who lives there likes beans. They furrow their brows and cross their gangly legs and wait for the questions. Pulp were kicked out into the world in 1980. Jarvis was young, fresh faced and just out of school. "I was so soft then. I used to write about love and all that stuff. Now I'm a cynical old get."

Last year Pulp had a single called Little Girl (With Blue Eyes) out on Fire Records. A theatrical trouserless romp around the scenery of love, it didn't get played on the radio and some people said nasty things about its sauciness. "I always thought it was a bit banal," says Russell. "It's a lot less dirty than most of the other records in the charts and yet John Peel wouldn't play it. I can't understand what the fuss is about myself. My mum likes it."

One of the songs on the B-side, The Will To Power, caused even more eyebrows to raise with its remarks about getting back to the spirit of 1933. So Pulp, are you really Nazi stormtroopers? "Well, they had good uniforms... No, of course we're not. The song was written in 1983 when we were living in a real SDP kind of environment, where no one had any opinions on anything. I wanted people to take sides, to get off the fence. I'd been reading about Germany at that time and the class conflict. I liked that atmosphere but obviously not from the point of view of being a Nazi. A lot of left wing statements are too wishy washy, too nice. I like the sharpness of the Moseleyite addresses. They were on the wrong side but they were better organised."

Pulp are better socialists than Billy Bragg and his little wooden guitar will ever be. Fact. "It was quite a commercial single, that one. We want lots of people to buy our records. Being an indie band is like pottering around the allotment. We're not proud of our independence." At this point a hundred thousand birds start to sing at once. Someone is playing a birdsong record but no one's quite sure why. Pulp mouth things silently at me which as the record ends tail off with "... come along to slag off your trousers and say 'look at that spaz in the wheelchair'."

Ah, the wheelchair. Following a particularly daft show of bravado in front of a young lady, Jarvis plummeted from his window and did a fair amount of damage to himself. He took to performing from his wheelchair on doctor's advice but everyone just thought it was a gimmick. "That," says Russell, "was cos you kept on getting up and walking off at the end of performances." "Aye, I suppose so. Playing in a wheelchair made me move my head more though. That's probably what's inspired our new Eurodisco direction."

Pulp's new single, Dogs Are Everywhere, is about as Eurodisco as a piano stool. It's a pensive, very nearly profound composition on, well...

"It's about dogs."

I see.

"Well, it's about dogs in society, male and female. As far as I can work out, man is nearer to dog than ape. The way they shit on your carpet, that sort of thing. Sometimes you feel like a dog, it's like low mindedness, brute instinct over higher values. It's a bit of a dilemma. You get the nobility of lions but dogs are stuck with walking down the pavements being dirty. There's no more pathetic sight in the world than a faithful dog."

What sort of dogs would Pulp like to be?

"Greyhounds, they're fast."

"I'd rather be a cat."

One of the other new songs is called Aborigine and it's about a man who gets married, has kids all through lack of imagination. "I'll tell you one thing about Pulp right. We're not about being grey and dull but we do a lot of wallowing in the dirt so that we can find something better. It's no use going on about the deconstruction of language. Your average man in the street doesn't give a shit about deconstruction of language. We want to convey love in the eggs, chips and beans, we want to carve something between the lines of the everyday world."

A mission, eh? "The only group we all like is Sham 69, especially Jimmy Pursey doing his future dance on 'Riverside'. He blew it all so spectacularly, looked such a total knobhead, it was brilliant. He's our hero."

Pulp. Pulp are...

"It's like when you go to a jumble sale and have to root around under all that Crimplene until you find a real bargain. Actually, I quite like Crimplene. My trousers are made of Crimplene..."

[the-dancing-ghost]

Left a Light On

Elijah unwound the line to the mainsail, closing it until the push from the wind was merely enough to gently tug the boat through the water rather than heeling along at full speed. With one hand, blinking saltwater spray out of his eyes, he reached over to grasp the tiller, guiding his small craft to coast along, starboard to land. He’d follow the shoreline until he reached the mouth of the White River, where he’d dock and transfer his goods to his rowboat to head back to Spirit’s Cross.

The breeze was chilly and sharp with the tang of brine as it caught tendrils of his long hair and trailed them along his brow, and Elijah paused to tuck them behind his ears, squinting into the wind. Following the shore could be dangerous if the wind was too strong; one could quickly lose control in a storm and be dashed against the rocks, but at the moment the water was calm and he expected to reach the river before nightfall. 

It hadn’t been an especially lucrative trip, considering he usually traded mostly in furs, food, and rare potionry ingredients, but he had stumbled on a small moonstone quarry just west of Dawnstar that he’d managed to chip out at least the cost to cover his supplies from. And he did have a couple of deer hides, plus a sizable basket of foraged mushrooms. None of which were edible, unfortunately, but they’d please Micah, particularly the imp stools.

The sound of waves lapping at the hull of his craft wasn’t quite up to the task of distracting Elijah from his growling stomach, and he sat down on the deck with a sigh, giving the tiller another careful turn. When he went to sea, he packed about half of the food he would need for the time he would be gone, because most of the time, he would find abundant food during the journey; plenty to both feed himself and have enough left over to sell or trade upon returning home.

The lightened load also made his boat swifter as he set course and left more room for storing goods for the return trip; but something about the recent storm combined with the changing of the seasons seemed to have taken its toll on the animals and fish that called the shoreline home. Elijah wasn’t many days out of a meal thankfully — he’d only been hungry since the night before, and Divines knew he’d gone much longer without food in the past — but the several years he’d spent in the care of the cozy town he called home meant he was very unused to his belly being empty for longer than a few hours. 

Another irritable grumble pinched his stomach and Elijah rubbed a hand over it as he reached for one of the small barrels of fish he’d packed for the trip. There wasn’t much — a salmon fillet he’d cooked and packed with salt and few clams he’d dug up early that morning, trusting that the bitter cold would keep them fresh enough to eat. Now, as he dug them out of the salt, he hesitated. He usually did his best to eat seafood within a few hours of gathering it, and it was rather late in the evening already. 

But he was getting hungry enough that the gnawing sensation was immensely distracting, and he still had an arduous trip up the river in his rowboat to think about before he could rest. So, pushing away the cautionary voice in the back of his mind, he went for his canteen of fresh water and nibbled through the fillet and few bites of clam. They settled in his belly and gave him a sense of relief from the hunger pangs, small as they were, and he’d eat a better meal once he got into town.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon by the time he reached the mouth of the river, and he tied up his craft with half-frozen fingers, lifting a hand to scrape ice from his beard every so often. Just a half day’s journey upstream, Spirit’s Cross enjoyed warm middays and afternoons; even the morning chills melted away by the time the sun rose. But where he stood on the dock he’d built himself, across the river from the imposing city of Windhelm, the ice and snow were relentless.

Elijah packed the deer hides in the bottom of the rowboat where he could tuck his feet underneath them to keep warm, and nestled his basket of mushrooms under one of the wood-hewn seats in the back. He balanced the blocks of moonstone he’d carefully mined in the middle of the boat to keep the heavy weight centered, then wrapped his fur cloak a bit tighter, grabbed his oars, and shoved off from the bank. The current at the mouth of the river was the hardest to row against. Once he got upstream a ways, he wouldn’t have to throw so much of his weight into escaping the water’s pull.

The strenuous exercise warmed him up though, and by the time Elijah was rowing more leisurely, he’d dropped his fur cloak around his waist and taken the time to push the frozen strands of hair out of his eyes. It was getting dark, and he’d get back to Spirit’s Cross late enough that most folk would be in bed, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Micah were up waiting for him. He just hoped his best friend had been taking it easy on the mead and sweets. Micah had a habit of drinking and eating himself sick with worry if Elijah returned much later than he planned.

Elijah gripped one oar and dug it into the current at an angle to steer the rowboat around a large rock in the river, then gasped as a hot pain rippled through his belly with the movement. Gritting his teeth, he paddled the boat into a shallow, sandy region so he could run it partially aground to hold his position, then pressed a hand protectively to his middle, rubbing at the sudden ache with a grimace. A spot throbbed just above his navel and he muffled an abrupt belch into his shoulder. Something was rather severely disagreeing with him, and he sighed regretfully, remembering the iffy clams from before. He felt a small pang of fear; if he grew too sick out here on his own, he’d be easy prey for bandits or wild animals.

But the thought was only aggravating the churning in his belly, so Elijah pushed his imaginings away and settled lower in the boat, stretching out just a bit and bringing both his hands to his middle to try to soothe himself. Fortunately, as he sat and rubbed his stomach, kneading carefully at the tender soreness and covering small burps and grumbles of indigestion, he didn’t feel he was getting any worse. He’d likely be out of sorts for a day or so once he got back to town, and it wouldn’t be comfortable rowing the rest of the way with an upset stomach, but he doubted he was in serious danger. He was probably lucky he’d only had a few morsels to eat to begin with.

So once he’d rubbed away, at least momentarily, the worst of the ache in his middle, Elijah took his oars in hand again with a groan and forced the boat back into deeper water. It was slower going than usual and he paused more than once to cradle his belly and rub a little, but he made it back to the familiar dock outside of town well before the sun rose.

He was truly miserable by that point, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and curl up around his stomach, but he faithfully tethered his boat, tucked his goods in a pack he slung over his shoulder, and stopped by the inn porch for a brief moment to peer in the window and check for Micah’s cloak on the pegs by the door. The hooks were empty, so Micah must have stayed home.

Elijah moved away from the window before Ryder could display his uncanny ability to always know when something was wrong and come striding outside, worriedly demanding why Elijah looked so unwell. Ryder’s fussing wouldn’t be unwelcome, Elijah thought, as he raised a hand to hold his belly on the walk back to his cabin, but it was the middle of the night and he’d rather not wake up his mentor over gut-rot that probably only needed a good night’s sleep to cure it. Maybe he even still had one of those tonics that Micah had given him the last time he’d had a little too much to drink at the inn…

Elijah had stumbled through his front door, let his pack slide to the ground, and begun shedding his outer cloak and coat before he realized there was a low fire burning in his hearth. A quick peek around confirmed that a familiar someone had come in at some point in the night, built a fire, warmed a meal, and retreated to bed not long later. And sure enough, when Elijah headed for his bedroom, he saw Micah’s face, framed by his unkempt curls, just peeking out from the thick furs on one side of the bed. 

Elijah bit back a groan, pressed the heel of his hand against a throbbing cramp in his stomach, and wondered what to do. He was exhausted and he felt awful, and while having Micah’s comfort would be a relief, he just didn’t want to cause him trouble in the middle of the night...

An angry gurgle forced another burp up his throat and Elijah surrendered with a soft moan, circling the bed so he could slump down onto the soft furs without crushing his best friend, and when Micah rolled over, groggily opening his eyes to blink at him, Elijah squirmed a little closer.

“M’sick.” He grunted when Micah sat bolt upright with concern. Elijah closed his eyes as the alchemist hurriedly began checking him over, swearing underneath his breath. “Nothing serious, just...” his belly rumbled and he groaned. “Stomachache.”

“Damn it, what’d you eat?” Micah growled, his chiding tone and gentle hands comforting Elijah like nothing else could. He pried Elijah’s hold from his sore stomach and began feeling with his fingertips over the clenching muscles. The awful churning eased just a little under his touch.

“Clams.” Elijah whimpered faintly with relief when Micah’s hand brushed the sweat from his brow. “They weren’t very fresh but I had run out of food...”

“That doesn’t usually happen.” Micah muttered and rubbed Elijah’s shoulder before climbing to his feet. “Try to get comfy, El, I’m going to get you some water and a tonic.”

Elijah swallowed thickly and nodded, gingerly stretching out as much as he could while he listened to the sound of Micah sifting through the cupboards the next room over. His best friend came back holding a cup and a flask, which he set on the nightstand before sliding into bed next to Elijah again and patting his back. “Come on, you behemoth. Let’s get you feeling better.”

Elijah propped himself up on one shoulder enough to take the potion and drink it down, shuddering with relief as the cool liquid slid down his throat and immediately soothed the miserable ache in his belly. Micah had him sip on the water next, which quieted the last tendrils of slight nausea, and by the time he’d emptied the mug, he could barely keep his head up. He let Micah guide him to lay down again with a heavy sigh, humming thankfully when his best friend curled up tightly next to him and wrapped him in a huge hug. He tucked his own arm over Micah and squirmed a little under the hand his friend laid over his stomach.

“I’m so glad to see you safe, El.” Micah murmured, rubbing warm circles over what little soreness remained, massaging with his fingertips against the muscles that were still trying to relax. “Well, mostly at least. You know if your dumb ass had gotten much sicker out in the middle of nowhere, you could have been in real trouble.” He scolded.

“I know.” Elijah stifled a yawn. “M’sorry. Didn’t start feeling sick until halfway up the river...”

“Only you would keep rowing with a bellyache that bad.” Micah huffed, fondly stern.

Elijah grimaced at the thought of the last leg of the journey, hunkered down in the rowboat, clutching at his stomach, restless with pain, and wishing he’d just settled with being hungry earlier. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“You’re a fuckface.” Micah rolled his eyes, rubbing a tight place along Elijah’s side and easing a lingering twinge. “I’m gonna tell Ryder on you.”

“No.” Elijah groaned in protest, pressing up into Micah’s hand a little more. The ache was beginning to fade into the comfort that his best friend was rubbing into his middle. “I don’t want him to worry either.”

“Well it’s not really like you have any other explanation for why you got back in the middle of the night.” Micah pointed out dryly.

Elijah couldn’t muster the energy to argue. His eyes were already closed and he was drifting off, then he felt Micah press a kiss to his forehead and he huffed a little, gratefully. “Thank you for taking care of me, Micah...”

“You’re welcome, El.” Micah’s voice was full of love and he squeezed him softly again. “Anytime. You should get some sleep.”

Elijah definitely didn’t need to be told that twice. He slipped away, warm, and comfortable, and held by caring arms.

[angelsaxis]

My favorite line from this:

"...I'm not one for making teleological arguments, but I can tell you that somehow, despite our savagery, we have been over-provided for, and I believe it is a sign of love."

(essay under cut)

Imagine cupping an Ansault pear in your palm, polishing its golden-green belly on your shirtsleeve. Imagine raising it to your lips and biting, the crisp snap as a wafer of buttery flesh falls on your tongue. Imagine the juice shooting out—you bend at the waist and scoot your feet back to prevent the drops from falling on your sneakers. . . .

Imagine it all you can, for it's all you can do. You'll never eat an Ansault pear. They are extinct, and have been for decades: dead as dodo birds. How could this happen to a pear variety which agriculturist U. P. Hetrick described, in a 1921 report called "The Pears of New York," as "better than any other pear," with a "rich sweet flavor, and distinct but delicate perfume"? The dismaying truth is that you can apply that question to thousands of fruits and vegetables. In the last few decades we've lost varieties of almost every crop species. Where American farmers once chose from among 7,000 apple varieties, they now choose from 1,000. Beans, beets, millet, peanuts, peas, sweet potatoes, and rice all have suffered a large reduction in varieties. In fact, over 90 percent of crops that were grown in 1900 are gone.

Of course, next to "Save the Whales," a bumper sticker reading "Save the White Wonder Cucumbers" sounds a bit silly. And as long as we haven't lost pears altogether, the loss of a particular variety, no matter how good, isn't cataclysmic. We have a lot of other worries. How many years of sunlight do we have left? Of clean air? Water? But when we lose a variety of pear or cucumber, even one we're not likely to taste, or, in an analogous situation, when we lose a language, even one we're not likely to hear, we're losing a lot more than we think. We're losing millions of bits of genetic information that could help us solve our big questions, like who we are and what we're doing here on earth.

Farming has always been subject to the manipulations of human desires, but up until the last several decades these manipulations increased crop diversity. Long before Mendel came along, our farmer ancestors were practicing a kind of backyard Darwinism. Early Peruvian farmers, for example, noticed mutations among the colors of their cotton fibers, and by breeding the cotton selectively, they were able to grow different colors to weave vibrant cloth. When farmers moved, they took their seeds with them, and various growing conditions increased crop diversity even further as the varieties reacted to new environments or evolved new defenses for pests or blights. And in this way farmers farmed for about 10,000 years. Even at the beginning of this century, small farms were varied; each grew many crops and sometimes several varieties of a particular crop. If a blight attacked one species of a farmer's corn, it was likely that the farmer, or another farmer nearby, would also have grown a variety of corn that turned out to be resistant.

But as the century wore on, agribusiness was born. Now, giant agricultural agencies develop fruits and vegetables specifically for giant farms, which concentrate on a single variety of a single crop sanctioned for high-yield growth. These new crops aren't self-reliant—many hybrids can't even produce offspring, putting an end to the age-old tradition of gathering seeds from the current harvest for next year's crop. They are dependent upon intensive fertilizers, pesticides, and insecticides. They are grown only if they can withstand mechanical harvesting and the rigors of shipping to distant markets, and these packing considerations shape our diet in startling ways, as anyone who's followed the quest for the square tomato can tell you. Some biotech companies have taken the human manipulations of crops to a profitable—if seemingly unnatural—extreme. Biotech giant Monsanto, maker (and dumper) of hazardous chemicals like PCB, filed for a patent in 1997 for a seed whose germination depends not on being exposed to a rise in temperature or an inch of rainfall, but being exposed to a certain chemical.

So now, according to the International Food Information Council, we have scientists crossing two potatoes to make a new hybrid which will be higher in starch and need less oil for frying, resulting in lower-fat fries. But genetic engineers don't stop with crossing two kinds of potatoes. Genes from a potato could be crossed with a carrot, or a banana, or a daschund, if genetic engineers thought such a crossing would improve the potato's shelf-life. Recently, genetic engineers have crossed the strawberry with a gene from the flounder to make a strawberry resistant to cold. In this way, millions of years of nature's "decisions"—which crops should fail, which thrive, which qualities parents should pass to their offspring—are reversed almost overnight. The Union of Concerned Scientists is—well—concerned. Poet W. S. Merwin likens our position in history now to the start of the nuclear age—we are rushing to embrace technology that will change us in unalterable, unforeseeable ways.

A problem with miracles is that sometimes they don't last. A miracle yield hybrid's defenses are often based on a single gene, an easy thing for continuously evolving pests to overcome. And meanwhile, back at the ranch, there is no more ranch—the small farms that grew the original parent varieties that crossed to make the super vegetable have failed. The parents are extinct. Unless genetic raw material resistant to the pest can be found in some other variety, the hybrid will be lost as well.

The first crop to be nearly wiped out due to lack of genetic diversity is the humble spud, which the Europeans brought home with them after "discovering" the New World. King Louis XVI of France saw the potato's potential for feeding the poor and was determined to spread the crop. He knew that publicly endorsing the potato, however, would earn it the commoner's enmity. So Louis grew a bumper crop and had the field guarded all day, but he removed the guards at night so the locals could raid the field. Potatoes were soon growing throughout France and beyond. In Ireland, the potato became the staple crop—by the 1840s a third of the Irish were dependent on it for nourishment. But since all the potatoes grown in Europe were the descendants of that original handful of potatoes brought over from the Andes, the crop had a narrow gene pool. When Phytophtora infestans struck in 1845, the potato lacked the resistance to combat it. The Freeman's Journal reported on Sept. 11 of that year that a "cholera" had rotted the fields; one farmer announced that he "had been digging potatoes—the finest he had ever seen" on Monday, but when he returned Tuesday he found "the tubers all blasted, and unfit for the use of man or beast." A five-year famine followed that slashed the population of Ireland by 20 percent, killing between one to two million people and forcing one to two million others to emigrate to the U.S. The potato was saved only when resistance to the blight was found in more diversified varieties of the potato still growing in the Andes and Mexico. Had it not been, it's unlikely the potato would be around today as a major crop.

While the potato famine might seem like dusty history, the U.S. corn blight proves we're not doing much to stop history from repeating itself. In Shattering: Food, Politics, and the Loss of Genetic Diversity, environmentalists Cary Fowler and Pat Mooney describe the 1970s hybrid corn plants as "sitting ducks." As a result of a cost-cutting measure, each of the several hundred varieties of hybrid corn seed had the same type of cytoplasm. That made the entire crop susceptible to any disease that could come along and exploit that uniformity—and, of course, one did. Even today we have several dangerously unstable crops including—gulp—coffee and chocolate. The dangers of genetic uniformity are currently being cited in an altogether new arena—the Genome Project. Now that scientists have engineered vegetable hybrids, what's stopping scientists from creating human hybrids? Could cloning so narrow our gene pool that a single epidemic could destroy us like the potato blight nearly destroyed the potato?

Imagine hiking high into the Sierra Nevadas and coming across the Northern Pomos. Imagine being able to converse with them in their language. Imagine clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth to say "sunset," aspirating in your throat to say "waterfall." Imagine learning the idiomatic expression for "hungover" and using it to great effect, comparing it with others you know—how the Japanese expression for "hungover" translates as "suffer the two-day dizzies," how Italians say "I'm out of tune," how the Czechs say "there's a monkey swinging in my head," how Arabs don't have any word at all for "hungover." Imagine trading recipes with an elderly Northern Pomo, then walking with his wife through a stand of ponderosa pine, their trunks so thin, because of the high atmosphere, that you could fit your hand around them. You tell her you need to stop talking, for you've developed a sore throat. She questions you about it, then bends down to a small plant and yanks it out of the ground. This yerba del manza will soothe your throat, she tells you, and she gives hints on how to recognize the plant again should your soreness return. Imagine going to bed that night, your throat calmed, your mind blossoming with Northern Pomo words that will fill the cartoon bubbles of your dreams. . . .

Imagine it all you want, but Northern Pomo, spoken for millennia in Northern California, has perished like the Ansault pear; its last speaker, a woman in her eighties, died a few years ago.

Today we have the impression that there's a rough 1:1 correlation between countries and languages; each nation is monolingual. But this has never been the case. In the sixteenth century, for instance, five major languages were spoken in the English King's domain. Our country was especially language rich because each Native American tribe clung fiercely to its tongue as a signifier of cultural difference; Edward G. Gray in New World Babel estimates that, when European contact occurred, there were between 1,000 and 2,000 distinct tongues in the Americas, nearly half of which are now extinct. A graphic way to understand this is to peruse the maps in The Atlas of World Languages edited by C. Moseley and R. E. Asher. The maps showing pockets of language before the colonizers arrived in America are many-colored, many-patterned quilts; each subsequent map is increasingly bleached, increasingly pattern-free.

Languages don't die because they are in any way inferior or deficient, as has been sometimes supposed in the past. They die because of pressures on minority communities to speak the majority language. Sometimes this pressure is economic, as seen, for example, with the Waimiri-Atroari of Brazil, a tribe of 500 people in the Brazilian Amazon, whose tongue is listed in the UNESCO Red Book of Endangered Languages. The Waimiri-Atroari are mostly monolingual, but they have experienced increasing contact with the Portuguese-speaking majority. The tribe is growing in bilingual members because learning Portuguese widens the Waimiri-Atroari's potential market from 500 members to 160 million. As the proportion of bilingual members of the tribe rises, members of the tribe might begin using Portuguese when speaking to each other; it follows that the motivation for children to learn their native tongue will erode. The language's death will surely follow.

Sometimes the pressure for a minority community to speak the majority language is not economic but political, as has been the case with Native American languages in the U.S. since European settlement began. Early U.S. settlers had a romantic notion of language difference as a cause of personality difference. Since some Native American languages were found to lack abstract concepts like salvation, Lord, and redemption, the settlers presumed the speakers of these languages to be unable to grasp these higher concepts. It seemed to follow that Native Americans' salvation could only be achieved by "liberating" them from their restrictive native tongues. "In the present state of affairs," Albert Gallatin wrote of Native Americans in Archaeologia Americana in 1836, "no greater demand need be made on their intellectual faculties, than to teach them the English language; but this so thoroughly, that they may forget their own." In his report on Indian affairs, Reverend Jedediah Morse recommended the suppression of any texts in Native American tongues. There were supporters of America's original languages—Thomas Jefferson, for one, compiled vocabulary lists of Native American words throughout his lifetime. But even today we haven't a national policy of language preservation. In fact, between 1981 and 1990, fifteen states enacted "Official English" laws to guarantee English as the language of the U.S. government. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in his 1839 Democracy in America, "the majority lays down the law about language as about all else."

Languages are termed "moribund" if they are spoken only by a small group of older people and not being learned by children. These languages stand in contrast to "safe" languages, as defined by criteria set out in Robins and Uhlenbeck's Endangered Languages. A safe language has, at a minimum, "a community of 100,000 speakers" and the "official support of a nation-state." These numbers don't necessarily represent a swelling, robust population—Gaelic, for example, is among the safe languages—but 80 percent of the languages spoken in North America fail to meet even those standards. In Australia, 90 percent of the languages are moribund. As I write this, sixty-seven languages in Africa are being spoken for what may be the last time. The more fortunate of them are being documented by linguists, who spend much of their professional lives rushing to record a language before it dies. When it does, they find themselves in the rather lonely position of linguist Bill Shipley, the last human being on earth who can speak Maidu.

In my girlhood I thought that languages were codes that corresponded; each word in English had its exact equivalent in every other language, and language study was the memorization of these codes. Later when I studied my first languages I learned that such codes do not exist; each language is a unique repository of the accumulated thoughts and experiences of a community. What do we learn about a culture by examining its language? The Inuit people live in the northernmost regions of the world, in small, roadless communities on the ice, and lack our modern electronic conveniences. They have no word for boredom. Poet Anne Carson writes of the Yamana of Argentina, a tribe extinct by the beginning of the twentieth century, who had fifteen names for clouds, fifty for different kinds of kin. Among the Yamana variations of the verb "to bite" was one that meant "to come surprisingly on a hard substance when eating something soft, e.g., a pearl in a mussel." The Zuni speak reverently of "penaµ taµshana," a "long talk prayer" so potent it can only be recited once every four years. The Delaware Indians have a term of affection, "wulamalessohalian," or "thou who makest me happy." The Papago of the Sonoran Desert say "S-banow" as the superlative of "one whose breath stinks like a coyote."

During this century, eighty-seven languages spoken in the Amazon basin have become extinct because their native speakers were scattered or killed. Some of these forest dwellers were both nonviolent (their languages lacked vocabulary words for war and bloodshed) and democratic (they included terms for collective decision making). When these languages died, they took with them not only the specialized knowledge that the tribes had gained from thousands of years of natural healing and conservation, but ways of living we might have done well to study. In the absence of these examples, as John Adams wrote, "we are left to grope in the dark and puzzle ourselves to explain a thousand things which would have appeared very simple if we had . . . the pure light of antiquity."

But even beyond this rather romantic notion of the need for language preservation, there are concrete and empirical losses to science when languages become extinct. There's a wealth of information that can be extracted from languages by the use of statistical techniques, and this information can be used not only by linguists, but by anthropologists, cognitive psychologists, neuroscientists, geneticists, and population biologists, among others. Hypotheses about human migration patterns can be tested by seeing whether words have been assimilated into a language from the languages of nearby populations. Hypotheses about neural structures and processes can be tested by analyzing the phonology and syntax of a language. Hypotheses about the hardware of our brains capable of generating sentences can be tested against the different sentences. What must all infant brains have in common that any child can acquire any language? The more data we have, the closer we can come to answering questions such as this. Furthermore, recent studies indicate that language learning causes cognitive and neural changes in an individual. At a recent conference at the Center for Theories of Language and Learning, Dr. Mark Pagel argued that when a child acquires a disposition to categorize objects through word-learning, some neural connections in the brain are strengthened, while others are weakened or eliminated. Previous learning affects a system's way of categorizing new stimuli, and so Pagel concluded that, although it may be true that all humans "think in the same way," one's native language influences one's perceptions. When we lose linguistic diversity we suffer a consequent loss in the range of ways of experiencing the world.

Yet we needn't constrain ourselves to discussions of hard science, for the issues involved in diversity are more far-reaching. If the language ability, as many theorists hold, is what separates us from animals, it is the central event of human evolution. Each language that dies takes with it everything it might have taught us about this unique aspect of our constitution. If language is a well-engineered biological instinct, as Steven Pinker argues in The Language Instinct, each language that dies takes from us another clue to the mystery of what keeps the spider spinning her web or the hen warming the eggs in her nest. The cognitive organization which shapes our language facilities also shapes other mental activities related to language, such as music and mathematics. Each language that dies not only weakens linguistics but all of these related fields—all fields, in fact, that seek to understand the human brain. Each language that dies takes from us a few crucial parts of nature's tale, so much of which (even how and when the universe was created) still eludes us. In fact, each language that dies weakens our most vital challenge—to engage the world in all its complexity and to find meaning there. This is the definition of both art and religion. To lessen the complexity of the world is to lessen our moral struggle.

I've written "personal essays" before, and this isn't one of them. I haven't told you very much about myself. I haven't told you if I'm a scientist (I'm not) or a linguist (I'm not). I'm a poet. So the argument could be made (perhaps some of you are making it right now) that I'm not qualified to write this essay. But I'm qualified to make metaphors, and that's what I've tried to do. I read books on crops and languages and I begin to hear them speaking to each other, and soon the desire is born in me to speak of them to you.

I've argued for empirical reasons we need diversity on our table and in our ears. But I think one of the most important reasons we need diversity isn't based on grubby need, isn't based on a what-can-nature-do-for-me mentality. I don't want the argument to rest solely on that because plenty of people will think they have all that they need. And in a way they're right. After all, we live in an era of hysterical data. It's exhausting. Let's have enough faith in our own self-interest, if in nothing else, to assume we will never lose the pear or the potato. Let's have enough faith in our own torpidity, if in nothing else, to assume we will never have a unilingual world. So okay, we lose a few varieties of Ethiopian sorghum—varieties once so beloved they were named "Why Bother with Wheat?" and "Milk in my Cheeks." Do we really need forty kinds? Isn't four enough? It's not like only having four friends, or even four varieties of dogs. A seed company streamlining its offerings isn't like a museum streamlining its Van Gogh collection. And if we lose a few obscure languages, maybe that's the price one pays for having fewer translators and English as a "universal business language," saving time, frustration, and money. Why should we be overly concerned if what's lost wasn't useful to us in the first place?

Of course, there's an old rejoinder but a good one—our responsibility to the future. In poem No. 1748, Emily Dickinson writes, "If nature will not tell the tale / Jehovah told to her / Can human nature not survive / without a listener?" But nature ceaselessly tries to tell her tale to the patient and attentive, and her tale is still unfolding. Each seemingly interchangeable variety of sorghum contains a distinct link of DNA that reveals part of nature's story. Similarly, each language is a biological phenomenon that reveals millions of bits of genetic information and contains within itself clues that help us understand how our brains are organized. What clues our progeny will need is beyond our power to know. We can't imagine what will be useful, necessary, what will provide a link, prove or disprove a hypothesis. Losing plants, losing languages: it's like losing pieces to a puzzle we'll have to put together in a thousand years, but by then puzzles may look entirely different. We might put them together in the dark, with our toes.

Yet beyond the idea of what will be useful to future generations, we, right here, right now, have a need for needless diversity. A world with fewer fruits and vegetables isn't only a world with an endangered food supply. It's also a world with less flavor, less aroma, less color. We suffer a diminution of choice. As Gregory McNamee writes in "Wendell Berry and the Politics of Agriculture," we're experiencing "an impoverishment of forms, a loss of the necessary complexity that informs an art rightly practiced."[1] And a world with fewer languages isn't only a world with more limited means of communication. It's also a world with fewer stories and folk tales, fewer hagiographies, fewer poems, myths, and recipes, fewer remedies, fewer memories. We possess the accumulated vision and wisdom of fewer cultures. We become like hybrid corn: less diverse, with less accumulated defenses, susceptible to dangers that our "parents" might have battled and overcome, dangers they could have helped us with, were they not in their graves.

What I want to say is this: for twenty-eight years I've been carrying on a love affair with words and the world and I've come to believe that the sheer magnitude of creation blesses us. The gross numbers, the uncountability of it; as if the world were a grand, grand room full of books and though we might read all we can we will never, ever outstrip its riches. A thought both unsettling and comforting. If we are stewards of the world, we are stewards of a charge beyond our comprehension; even now science can tell us less about the number of species we have on earth than about the number of stars in our galaxy. There is something important in the idea of this fecundity, this abundance, this escape hatch for our imaginations. I have read Robert Frost's poem "Design," and I have read Gordon Grice's essay on how the black widow spider kills her prey with ten times the amount of poison she needs, and I'm not one for making teleological arguments, but I can tell you that somehow, despite our savagery, we have been over-provided for, and I believe it is a sign of love.

Poet Wendell Berry urges us to care for "the unseeable animal," even if it means we never see it. So, I would argue, must we care for the untastable vegetable, the unhearable language, which add their link, as we add ours, to nature's still-unfolding tale. They deepen nature's mystery even as they provide clues to help us comprehend that mystery. They enrich us not only because they can serve us, not only because they are useful, but because theyare. Their existence contributes to the complexity of the world in which we are, a world we still strive—thankfully, nobly—to understand.

[samuclit]

Love Foolish

miya atsumu x reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mature, a little smut (define little on your own), 7.8K words

Summary: Miya Atsumu didn't realise that he was actually counting the days he spent with you while being your boyfriend. The step-process to how your relationship with him rekindles every time a new day begins was not as apparent as it seems to be, but he sure knew that the dreaded day when it comes to an end will never come.

This is an old piece that I worked on last year...I am terribly sorry for the way I post this fic I am not good with tumblr yall this is harder than my degree 

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Day 153

Atsumu was exhausted. He just got back from training with the college team for a few weeks already. He needs to catch up with the college team even though the time he spent away was used for his training with the MSBY Black Jackals team. He was advised by his family members, team coach and his friends that he should not miss out on any practice without a valid reason and should diligently claim his spot on both teams with the most outstanding effort and attitude so he followed, believed that this is for the best in order to build his volleyball career he was always so passionate about since he was in middle school. If only Osamu joins him, he thinks it won’t be as draining as it is right now.

Everyone in college knows Miya Atsumu, he is too perfect. The handsome look, tall and built figure, his diligence in both studies and shaping his career, to top it all off he is charming and is a ladies’ man. He could make every girl fall for him the instant he flashes his smirk that has been scientifically proven to be a bait for everyone in this universe. One small talk he could get girls on his bed, spending the whole night snogging off each other and leaving them whenever he got annoyed with the sudden disturbance. You happen to be one of the girls who got in his bed, goes on several dates with him, but this time you were one of the people who last longer than a week, and then a month and few more months after that. He assumes and waits for you to be the one ending the relationship but it won’t even come, and he is already tired of waiting.

So, he makes you tired. He doesn't want anything to be on his way at all, and you in the equation is making him disturbed at some times. During the first few weeks of dating, you often invite him for a date at the coffee shop which he obliges only for the reason to not break your feelings even though he has some tasks which are more important at hand. You are nice, but he isn’t. He told Suna that you deserve better. 

It has also been roughly two weeks since he last talked to you, and deep in his heart he kind of wants your nagging presence around him, just to distract him from the truckload of stress he’s carrying on his shoulders. So he texted you.

You: [Name], are ya coming or not. Been thinking of binging that Netflix series you’ve been babbling about.

[Name]: Ah sorry, it’s girls’ night with Midori and her gf. 

You: I see. Have fun. 

Seen.

That’s weird. You said it yourself that you wanted to binge on the weekends with him, after he finished with this practice for the week, and also he thinks that’s just you trying to make up with him after your first argument with him. It is...nobody’s fault, he thinks. He doesn’t want to blame himself and you, partially because you were really upset that day that you raised your voice and he didn’t chase you after you ran out of the apartment. It is just a silly argument. He doesn't want to think about it that much. 

As he took a shower and dressed himself in a fresh new pair of t-shirt and black sweatpants, he plopped himself on the sofa and went through Netflix to find something worth watching. He saw the show you wanted to watch ; Pretty Little Liars. Ah it’s not even a Netflix series, it’s just a series which is available on Netflix. Seems like he wasn’t even attentive to what you said. 

Before he falls asleep, he walks down the memory lane, to remember how exactly you and Atsumu could last this long in a relationship.

Day 0

The party seems to be a hit! His seniors on the volleyball team joined hands with the football team to conduct a party to celebrate post-sports festival of Tokyo U that happened for a week long and the party is held at the dorms outside of the campus so the board of education won’t meddle, with the promise that there aren’t drugs involved. Which is okay, the athletes are supposed to stay away from drugs and they’re disciplined enough to consider their life decisions. 

He was simply just hanging around in the living room of the dorm, which is a terrace house in a neighbourhood a few kilometres away, talking to his friends, Suna and Komori, who are his teammates in the college team. Komori used to go to the same Youth Camp with Atsumu so they knew each other since then. “Huh, sick party. I didn’t think there would be too many people here.” Komori said as he chugs down his cold beer, swaying a little after he finishes with a slightly long chug. “Senpai said just the athletes of the college are invited, but it seems like the whole campus crashed together. Lunatics.” Atsumu said as he plopped down on the bean bag and leaned his head back. Suna calls out.

“Oi, Midori is here. I invited her.” Atsumu is familiar with Midori, he has never been close with her but he knows of her since they went to the same high school together. The three pairs of eyes went towards the door together to greet Midori, with you tailing behind her. “Hey, glad ya made it!” Suna lunges forward and grabs Midori in a hug. “Yeah, cool place, I’m sorry I don’t have a plus one to bring with so I just drag my friend along. Hey, this is [Name]. Go say hi and be friends!” Midori pushed the other girl, which he heard to be [Name], also a familiar name. “Oh wait...you guys must have not have known about her...we went to the same school man...” Midori pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. It is sad that not many people know about small girls like [Name] that much. 

Indeed, you went to the same school and you’re in a completely different league than Atsumu, he was and still is the famous athlete that has the entire girls’ population wrapped around his fingers. You’re around the circle of...top scorers who are active in volunteers and some other stuff Atsumu was not into. “Oh, is she another one of your hockey teammates?” you continue hiding behind Midori’s taller frame. Midori pulled you away and hugged your waist, giving support. “Come on now, babe say hi, they’re our friends” you glared at her with a smug look. “Hye, it’s [Name]. I’m not an athlete, I’m a political science major, pleasure to meet ya” your eyes tried to glance from Suna to Komori and to Atsumu but you averted your eyes away from him as soon as it landed on him. You look cute in just a rock concert t-shirt with black jeans shorts and plain converse. Classic party look, but you are not the type to go to parties because...assignments and stress are getting through you  which explains why you’re all fidgety. Midori knows there’s more to that, cause you’re a very wild extrovert at some time.

“Hey, enjoy the party, drinks and snacks are down there, the toilet is on another end, help yerself.” Atsumu pats on your shoulder and moves past you to greet his other friends who crashed the party. You’re petrified, to say the least and moved quick on your heels to head to the bathroom for some reality check. The environment is overwhelming. 

Atsumu gets tired easily even after downing a can of beer but he isn’t exactly drunk. He is just tired with the lots of conversations and the girls from other courses trying to talk to him, wanting the conversation in a bedroom which he said no to, he is a responsible man. He is not going to do it with them when in their drunken stupor. However, his endless denials are stopped with a sudden disturbance right in front of him.

Midori is on a couch, with a girl and was playing with her hair and occasionally rubbing her thigh and before they closed in someone threw a beer cup at Midori. “What the hell? Leave me alone!” Midori turned his body to see a bulked up guy whose name Atsumu doesn’t remember behind the couch, looming over the two figures sitting on the couch. It’s going to get ugly. 

“What the fuck, you leave us alone! Why the hell are homos here. Get out!”  Midori and the poor girl trembles in fear and Atsumu wants to blow a kick so bad but he can’t move because of the girls that are around him. Before he tried to push the girls away, he saw you moving towards him, taking away the beer can he has in his hands. “I’m sorry I’m taking this!” Your eyes had a small fire ignited in it and he can’t help but gave away his beer can, and then he saw you walking up on the couch and on to the head rest, spit into the beer and pours the beer all over the homophobic guy who slandered your friend. The guy was drenched and screamed because the beer was icy cold and it came to contact with his skin that got heated from way too much alcohol consumed. 

“Oh, I am very sorry, I was convinced that this big hunk of muscle is a trash can!” you screamed with an evil laughter and the whole party laughed and cackled at the sight of the giant asshole from Engineering talking shit about the woman adored by the majority of campus. Midori is your best friend, a very kind, beautiful  and valid lesbian friend of yours. You would do anything to protect her from the touch of homophobic devils that would insult her every now and then. It has been happening more recently after she got out of the closet, even when she was inside all this time, you have always given her tons of support and protection because it’s just something about you. Midori was already smiling and got herself up away from the sofa with the girl she was with, hands holding hers tightly. 

“You punk! Are ya crazy? Do ya want me to kill ya like I kill your friend here?” your figure who had one leg propped on the head rest while the other on the couch went tense and is about to fall and the nasty asshole grabbed you by the neck, having you lifted in the air and no one helped to stand against him except Midori who was pulling your body before the guy fully grasped your entire neck in his hands. Before he even pressed harder on your throat, Atsumu landed a punch on his face, making himself knocked down on the floor. You already fell flat on the couch, trying to regain your breath. He warns the guy off and he immediately leaves after. 

“Shit shit, are you okay?” Atsumu kneels on the floor to check up on you, who were lying on the couch, still coughing out and trying to calm down. Midori ran to get some water for you. “I’m fine, fine, where's Midori? Is she okay?” Midori hit you in the arm. “Idiot. I am fine but look at you, I told you I’m alright, if you give them attention and piss them off they will harm you, look what happened.” Midori cries and hugs you. Atsumu checked up on your face, saw tiny drops on the edge of your eye which got wiped away the instant Midori wrapped her arms around you. “I told you  I will always protect you okay, I promised you that” Midori looked at your face again and was still sobbing. She turns towards Atsumu who stood by them. Suna and Komori arrived in the space after making sure the guys had run off. The party went back to normal and it’s chaos again. 

“Thank you, Atsumu, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would happen to the both of us.” The girl from before is rubbing her hands on Midori’s back trying to calm her down. “No, [Name] did the most fight, I only come in when it gets physical. I let ya know when I see that guy again I am going to beat the living shit out of him. Nasty jackass.” Atsumu’s rage calms down when he sees you and Midori laugh, finally he makes a safe space for you and her. After some minutes of calming down and talking and giggling Midori takes the cue to leave. “I think I need to go now, need to take some air, you should, too, babe. Love you” Midori hugged and left with the girl she was with the entire time during the party.

Atsumu has long left you and Midori alone when you were busy talking to her, so he goes away somewhere to talk with some of the boys from the football club. They heard something about how that guy is a maniac and has been expressing his hate crimes for several years now, basically a loser and Atsumu thinks his sucker punch is something he could take pride in. After he saw Midori take off with the girl he saw you heading towards the door that linked to the backyard. More people were there, some were laying on the ground doing some unnecessarily lewd stuff that Atsumu does not want to remember.

He saw you taking a seat on one of the stools that was set up for guests to sit. He brought a can of beer, intended to give you. As he approaches you were rubbing around the area on your throat which the bully from before had pressed on. You were still in pain. “Hey, needa drink?” Atsumu hands over the beer while he sits down on the stool next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry I don’t...drink around guys. Trust issues.” Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows and he finally got what you were trying to say. “Oh, I totally get it, I’m sorry.” You were a flustered mess. You didn’t intend to actually...reject a kind offer from him but it’s a strange new place and strange new environment, though you knew Atsumu from high school to be quite a decent person that you– “[Name]? Are ya okay? Ya were about to say something earlier?” “Oh, yeah. You don’t have to apologise, we can just go for drinks some other times'' you let out a small laugh and he smiles. Awkward.

“Ya don’t have to worry about that guy, I heard someone is going to report him to the dean. He’ll be out in no time” you smirked. “Good! Midori must be happy”. The both of you laughed and the  conversation continued randomly, topics about his volleyball activities and you popping in some random thoughts about life to him, it makes him feel weird at first but he picks up after quite some time.

And the night goes with you spending your night with him on his small bed in the apartment he shared with his other friends. Kisses are littered all over your body and Atsumu leads you through your first intimate session with so much ease and gentleness. He left an especially passionate kiss on the neck that tells the stories of your fight and trauma, hoping that he could kiss it away and replace it with the memories of your first. “Are ya really sure about this?” Atsumu asked at one point when you were making out with him on his lap just right after he got you in his room. “Please, do what you want” and Atsumu continues to ravish you and pulls on every article that trapped your beautiful untouched body. 

The morning he woke up, you were sleeping soundly, despite the uncovered chest you had on display cause you fell asleep after the second round of fucking you had no chance to clean up or put on a shirt. The messy hair and arousing look you had on aside, you look too peaceful to be on someone’s bed, someone who you have known for a long time but have only gotten close from an impromptu encounter so Atsumu threw the plans of getting out of bed aside and continues watching the small details on your face. He would pick up the falling strands of your hair and tucks it behind your ear, trailing his fingers on the swollen lips you had after making out with him the entire night. He enjoys your presence. He likes it, being with you, so this is all worth it. 

As your eyes fluttered open, squinting because of the bright sun, which was now covered by Atsumu’s hands to help you get back to sleep without the disturbance. You woke up anyway. “Atsumu, what are ya doing?” you asked, trying to pull the blanket that barely covers your naked front. “Just letting a princess continue her peaceful sleep” you were blushing, it feels like a dream to wake up with Atsumu next to you, so you lean into him more and he tackles you under the sheets. As Atsumu closes in again, about to kiss you like he did the previous night before, your eyes widened and you pushed him away, rolling out of bed naked. You pulled the blanket to cover yourself and scrammed to find your underwear and outfit from last night. “Fuck, fuck I’m late shit I gotta go” you were clasping your bra and putting on your underwear as you continue with your series of cuss words picked up at random. “What’s going on are you okay? Was it–“ you put on your jean shorts and looked at him. “No-no I’m late to a group discussion and I am going to die I think.” You already had your phone in hand with your bag in hand running to the door. Atsumu put on his sweatshirt and training shorts in a haste, offering to give you a ride. 

“Hey, I can help ya get to yer spot with my car. Don’t have ta rush'' you gaped and mumbles thousands of gratefulness and lunges forward to hug but stopped yourself. In the car you were on a phone call with one of the people in your group and you immediately spilled the idea you had in mind in a heartbeat. Atsumu has been driving nowhere so he stops and parked his car at the parking space of the nearby McDonald’s. After several arguments and reasons to have your opinion accepted you finally heaved a relief and ended the call with another apology. 

“Yer quite a persistent one aren’tcha?” you looked at him, face messy, unclean and tired. The post-sex glow seems to not work with everyone. “Yeah, there’s an event and I’m in charge. I was so caught-off guard. Pretty sure they will kick me out if they don’t accept my idea but guess not!” you laughed and smiled gleefully. Pure satisfaction whenever people acknowledge us. Atsumu understood that much. “So...since you don’t have to go...breakfast?” Atsumu points his thumb to the back of the car, which was the entrance to the McDonald’s. “No...I stink so much...but I am hungry so....drive-thru?” Atsumu smiles and puts down the handbrake. “Sure thing, princess”.

After you both got your respective breakfast meal set, Atsumu takes off to the lake and brought you together with him to eat on the benches. Atsumu enjoys the company as much as you did. What starts off with a random conversation of how the duck is limping, to talking about the fluffiness of the poodle someone took for a walk turns into a conversation about each others’ personal lives.

“If anything, virginity is a social construct to put down women, so if you think last night is fun just because of that, I am going to berate your entire existence” you warn him, mouth full with the breakfast muffin. “Sure, what’s fun about last night is that you’re hot and I like you.” Atsumu closes in, trying to make you feel more flustered. “You...like me?” you were blushing and he guessed that his classic method works. “Can say that, I don’t usually have breakfast with people I sleep with, so I think that’s how I know.” You scoffed as his smug smile grew wider. “Oh you’re quite a cheesy one. So, this isn’t just a one time thing?” you looked over to him. He said no and continued kissing you like he meant it. 

Days after that, the dates are frequent, spending the night in his apartment is a routine, watching movies is a norm and the intimate sessions get more interesting for the past few months, he thinks he needs to tell you all about his fantasy and you told him yours and both wishes are fulfilled.

Day 150

Atsumu woke up from the nap, the movie was already finished by then. He reached for his phone which was ringing non-stop. He's going to puke his brains out. Midori was the one calling him. There are around 7 missed calls coming from Midori.

“Oi pisshead, your girlfriend’s drunk. Come and pick her up.” Atsumu looks at the time

10.50

“Didn’t last that long?” Atsumu giggles. Midori snapped. 

“I’m being serious. She gets crazier now you need to pack her up. I can’t because my girlfriend is as shit-faced drunk right now.” Midori starts to call out your name to get off the table. Whatever that happened it must have been really shitty what’s going on down there at the bar.

“Okay, just text me the address I’m on my way” Atsumu took his wallet and car keys with him, all fresh to fetch your drunk ass home. 

As soon as he arrived he stormed to the booth which you and Midori sat at. You were already lying down on the couch, fast asleep and giggling as you sleep. “Okay you’re here. I’m going home with my girlfriend so you take care of her properly.” Midori sat herself at the couch you were sleeping on. “[Name].....I’m going now so take care okay! Love you goodnight!” you were whining so loudly at her. “Nooooo....Midoriiiii-chan I am going to miss you don’t leave me” you were pouting and whining and hug Midori to prevent her from going. Atsumu stood at the side watching the mess unfold. “Your boyfriend is here to pick you up! Goodbye!” Midori dragged her girlfriend away and got out of the bar.

“Midori’s good at lying. There’s no way my boyfriend cares ‘bout me” Atsumu covers his face in shame because the other customers at the bar are looking at you. “Who are ya...are you a stranger? Can I call you Mr Stranger? You look handsome.” You giggled and Atsumu laughed at your cuteness. This is certainly a new side to you, he has never seen you turn into a giant ball of fluff before. “Okay now cmon Miss [Name] let’s get ya home.” Atsumu swooped your legs in his right hand while the other supported the small back of your body. Your eyes are still squinting which must be the reason why you can’t recognise Atsumu yet. 

“I miss my boyfriend Mr Stranger. I want to see him...please take me to see him pleassseeeee.” You buried your face in his chest and held on to the cotton string of his hoodie. “Oh yeah? Is he really that handsome?” he puts you in the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt. “He is! His hair colour is a bit funny, Midori said it makes it look like he bathed in piss” Atsumu got that too many times already. “But in my very personal point of view, it is kind of biased, he rocks that look. He looks hot!” Atsumu blushed and proceeded to head to the driver’s seat. It’s you and your habit of expressing too many opinions again. He liked this one. He also misses your constants chit chat after a whole month of not talking to each other because of a petty argument. He admits that he misses you so much, but a jerk like him won’t admit it. He’s going to break up with you anyway.

As he continues driving he would listen to what you said about ‘your boyfriend’ and he would sometimes smirks and whispers an ‘I know’ and sometimes it is too loud you caught him in the act. The night drive seems fun with you, and he figures you are still too drunk and even with too much talking your body stays the same. You fell asleep at some point, when he is close to the apartment you resided in. He found out after quite some time that Midori moved into her girlfriend’s apartment so now you live alone. 

Even after he arrives at the apartment complex he lets you take some time to sleep, and as time passes by and it’s getting later into the night, he shakes your shoulder to wake you up. 

“Hey, [Name], we’re here.” Atsumu smiles as you yawn and stretches your limbs.

“Mr Stranger? I have a secret. Can I tell you...I’m afraid to tell anyone.” You said after some time. Atsumu had no idea what to do. So he just played along. “Yeah, I promise I will keep it.” Atsumu laughs and looks at you. 

“I think my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I kind of got the gist of it for a long time...but...now I am convinced. I think...the next time I see him, will be the last time I see him. And I–I don’t wanna” you cried immediately, you were sobbing too hard and you covered your face with the both of your palms. Atsumu is shattered especially, what you said was true. He might break it off when time comes, but seeing your heart broken and giving up the usual happy and chaotic smile and laughter you had because of the thought of breaking up with him, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. So he asked further. He needs to know more, he needs to know why. Why do you catch up to what he was thinking so fast? 

“W-why is it?” Atsumu choked on his breath. His heart was thumping so loudly, and it was beating off the charts. “He seems to not want me around...I tried my best to give him space, time for himself  but....he never wants a time wimme....and then...I-he-he don’t want to see me even when he is free”. You continue crying in the silent car, Atsumu wanted to reach your hands but he knew that would be such an asshole thing to do since he is the one causing this mess. Atsumu got out of the car and opened the door from your seat. “Hey hey let’s get you to your apartment okay?” Atsumu unbuckled the seat belt and you kept on crying, you pulled on his sweater and gripped it so tightly and wailed like a baby into his chest. He sighed and embraced you in a tight hug, calmly rubbing the small of your back trying to calm you down. 

After quite some time only the sniffles could be heard. You start talking again. “You know...I’d rather see him happy even if it means I need to break up with him. Ah I’m so dramatic for no reason. Can you help...carry me to my apartment, Mr Stranger?” you pulled away from his hug, makeup ruined and eyes red. Atsumu smiled and nodded at you. “Of course, I’ll carry you.” He carried you in a manner when he hugs your tiny body to carry you to the bed during one of those nights he needed a release. This closeness to your warm body, and the earlier event that happened of you confessing to a complete stranger about him, he is regretting it. 

Day 125

Atsumu just got home from South Korea. He was there for a training camp with the home team there because one of his coach from the MSBY Black Jackals used his connections with an old friend to conduct a camp for them to further polish the players’ skill in the said sport. It would be a great chance for him to bloom more than how he is after his successful debut as a Div. 1 League player. 

He was simply relaxing around after two days and Osamu was cooking plenty of food for the gang. Osamu invited some friends of his, and Suna brought his girlfriend with him. Komori was there too, with his cousin. When Osamu asked if he was going to invite you, Atsumu shrugged and said no, he wants to relax without you around. Even if you are around you would never go that far to make him uncomfortable. He still hasn’t called you yet even when he landed in Tokyo two days before. 

“Atsumu, didn’t ya miss yer girlfriend? Just tell her to come over.” Osamu said from the kitchen, bringing a pot of stew he made for the gang and putting it on the table. “Nah, she didn’t even know I’m in Tokyo.” Everyone in the living room looks at him. “Miya you’re kinda an asshole for that” Komori said as he passed a bowl to Suna and his girlfriend. “Cmon now don’t look at me like I’m a criminal or sumn...I just want to relax I’ll tell her later.” Atsumu scoffed and leaned his back to the sofa as he was sitting on the carpet.

“Are you...joking. She came by practice the other day, said she can’t reach you.” Sakusa said as he put down his mask aside and dug in. Atsumu knew that. He purposely ignored your text and calls and only left a message when you’re offline or when he knows you were sleeping. He doesn't want distractions. “Yer a prick, [Name]’s really nice and ya can’t see that. If ya got issues just break up already.” Suna speaks and his girlfriend agrees. “Yeah for real, if Rintarou had issues I know he is going to leave my ass in the streets. But I’m glad he has no problems. As a woman I will honestly kick you in the ass, ya know, that woman with woman solidarity.” Suna kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and Atsumu scoffed. “I know, I just don’t know the right time yet.” Komori already mumbles a series of cuss words,  Osamu and Suna sigh and Suna pulls his girlfriend back from kicking Atsumu in the face. Sakusa heard a doorbell and reached for the door now to open.

“[Name]?” Sakusa screams in shock. Speaking of the witch. Well, you’re not a witch, you’re the sweetest person ever that happens to be Atsumu’s unlucky girlfriend. “Hey Sakusa-san! Nice to see you! I brought something!” you waltzed in the door and headed to the kitchen you’re already familiar with. Atsumu felt his guilt eating his insides. Who the fuck called you here? 

Komori puts his phone up so Atsumu can see. Komori smirks at him and Atsumu flashes out the middle finger to him. Sakusa mumbles and points at Atsumu, he said somewhere along the lines of you solve this on your own, Miya! 

Osamu headed to greet you first. “Hey Osamu, I brought some home made dorayaki for you and Atsumu. You guys love it right?” Osamu smiles and thanked you endlessly. You smiled but as you looked at the awkward little Atsumu behind Osamu you stopped smiling. He headed towards you and Osamu knows it’s his cue to leave the both of you in the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s South Korea?” Atsumu sat on the chair of the kitchen island. “Twas good. The food there, they’re amazing.” You hummed. “Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I would know more if you actually answer my calls and texts about how busy you are and tell me when you arrived. But it seems like you don’t miss me that much.” You sighed. 

“[Name], I’m just...I’m sorry I need time for myself I’m so tired.” You looked at him, sad and gloom covering your whole body like the dark blue cardigan you had around you. “Tired of me or of practice?” you asked and reached for the tips of his fingers. “That’s–that’s not it, okay. Please give me some time.” Atsumu pleaded, you flinched when he suddenly glared at you. 

After some time, you released a deep breath and headed to the door. “Enjoy the dorayaki guys, I hope I don’t interrupt you guys. I’m sorry and please take care of Atsumu for me.” You opened the door and headed out. Atsumu is still in his seat. When the door was slammed he got up and sat himself back on the carpet around his friends. He picks up his chopsticks and pulls the omelette Osamu made. Everyone was staring at him.

“Eat your food and stop staring at me.” Atsumu rolled his eyes and ate more food on the table. “Ya don’t even want to chase her?” Osamu asked from beside him. “Nope.” Komori scoffed. 

“Just want you to know she got here by bus alone. I don’t know if it helped change your mind.” Komori said and drank his cold lemon tea he poured for himself. Atsumu stopped chewing and clenched his jaw, looking at Komori.

“The one who ruined lunch is you, Atsumu.” Suna’s girlfriend said and Suna agreed. So does everyone else. 

You don’t leave a text to Atsumu to the day he picked you up from the bar. He only texted you because he wants to end the relationship.

Day 153

Atsumu still has you in his arms. You’re already asleep, face still drenched with tears. He struggled with the pin to your apartment but picks up after a while of thinking. It is his birthday. 

Atsumu realised he is a bigger asshole than how he was minutes ago in the car as he remembered that he had never come to your apartment. Months of relationship it was always his place as you always preferred his place over yours and he thinks that maybe if he was the one giving in more effort to be the one going all the way to your apartment to spend time with you, he would have felt  better about himself. Normal dates outside are very rare aside from lunch or a quick grab of coffee before classes because he was too busy with his practices and you with your duties as a political science student.

He carried you to what he assumed to be your bedroom, carefully putting your body on the bed, taking off the leather jacket you had with you, slowly dragging the thick comforter to cover your shivering body. After shuffling in the kitchen, looking to find some aspirin and a glass of water for you to gargle right after you woke up he put it on the desk at your bedside. 

He saw a picture of you and Midori on the table, during graduation day. Midori carried you on her back while you threw a peace sign with tongue out and Midori making a disgusted face. He laughs at it, putting it back to where it belongs, carefully. 

You had a lot of other pictures pasted on the wall, the one that faces you when you sit on your study table. The notes and thick books are messily arranged on the shelf, a succulent that says ‘Good Job!’ on the table standing cutely, possibly the one that kept you up during the late night study sessions. He never really checked up on you and your studies, how did you manage to be so strong on your own without a supportive boyfriend, he doesn't know. 

And then he saw the pictures you hung neatly. He took the pictures one by one and saw some notes you scribbled on the back of the photograph. 

First, a picture with your parents. You talked about them at some time because you’re their only daughter and you missed them as much as they missed you. One time when you were making out with Atsumu your parents called and you pushed him away to answer the phone call. So funny how you got so innocent and angel-like just right after doing some lewd stuff with Atsumu just with the voice of your parents on the phone. At the back of the picture, it wrote.

Secured the top-scorer title with a scholarship! Mommy and Daddy are proud of me and I will never stop!

The second picture is of you and Midori at a pride parade. This time you wore a white t-shirt with blue jeans and sneakers and you looked absolutely mesmerizing. 

Pride with Midori. I am so happy for her!!

Some other pictures of you at an animal shelter, old folks home, in the streets, caring for homeless people, women’s march and marathon for cancer awareness. You were basically everywhere and it is what makes him regret not finding out about this side of you. All he does is talk about his talent in volleyball and you always make him feel the best that he never gave a chance for you to talk about yourself. 

Atsumu can’t stop the stretch of his smile and it is making his jaw sore. He is so whipped for you. You have always been such a caring person to him, doing your best to take care of him when game losses make his sour mood make a nasty comeback. 

He would cry in a phone call because he messed up his set and you arrived in his room, dropping your bag to hug him and lull him back to sleep. He cries so hard and you would never make him cry worse than he did, you were always comforting but his pride and selfishness would forget that in a day because he thinks the relationship you had with him is a waste. 

Atsumu is a fool. He didn’t realise how much his confusion hurts you more than it hurts himself. He is such a fool for not being there to protect you. The thought of you crying minutes earlier makes him scream in his heart, he doesn't ever want to see it again. If he made that happen again he will never forgive himself and if he has to build a shrine and be a monk to make sure his sins are forgiven he would do it. He would do anything for you. 

The last picture hid him the hardest.

It was him, and you, during his debut game as MSBY Black Jackals setter. 

You had your body leaned into his arm, smiling wide with a bouquet of flowers for him in your hand. He was staring at the camera with a lazy smirk, hands encircling your waist. It was sweet, and you look very cute standing next to him, in his embrace like that. A sight so beautiful. It is a shame when he remembers what exactly happened that night.

It was a very joyful day for Atsumu and for you but Atsumu didn’t even tell you about the match, you were only informed of the game because of Komori so the ticket you got is because Osamu gave up his ticket for you. He is tired of seeing Atsumu play volleyball and he can see it on his phone if he wants so he just gave it to you, saying you deserve it better. Even when you’re not informed about the game, you still showed up in the cutest little dress with the cutest little smell and the cutest bouquet of baby breath flowers for him. 

Atsumu is not fond of flowers. He is not fond of surprises either. When you showed up on the court, congratulating him, he was shocked. He was busy talking to fangirls and kids who love volleyball until you call out his name with so much pride. 

“Atsumu aaaa I am so proud of you! You worked so hard for this and I am sorry I don’t know of this sooner.” You hugged him and pat his back when you hugged him. Eyes glistening as you pulled away. Said the cries are happy tears. You told one of the passers-by to take a picture of you and Atsumu, resulting in the small piece of photography in his hand.

Later that night he went with his team and celebrated the debut together with them while you took off to your apartment, barely making it to the last bus of the night to get there safely, wishing you were with Atsumu in his car instead.

He turned the picture over. There is a long note there.

Might be the first ever picture with Atsumu, like ever. Nonetheless I am so happy and so proud of him it made my jaw hurt so much as I write this. I can’t stop smiling!!! I hope I can attend more of his games, more to his success, more time with him. I feel like I am the happiest person alive! I feel like one of the fantasy film protagonists where the person they have loved for a long time is within their arms, finally! I am so happy to have known Atsumu since the beginning days of school, how his charming and cunning personality, inspiring and charismatic figure would walk down the hallways of Inarizaki, I will always fall for him over and over again. I love him so much, and even if it takes a thousand years to wait for him I will always wait. Praying that this essay reaches the Gods because I love him too much, I don’t even want to let him go. I love Miya Atsumu, and I hope he feels the same thing too.

Atsumu pasted the picture back on the wall, turning off the study lamp and closing the door as he walked out. He sat on the couch in the living room, only having the kitchen light to illuminate the entire apartment. As he sat there, tears rolled off his eyes and loud sobs spilled out of his mouth. 

He realised he is such a foolish man, living in a complete lie with an angel from heaven taking care of him despite getting paid dust in return. He cried so hard he took the pillow next to him and cried himself to sleep. 

Day 154

If it is not for the bubbling and disturbing feeling in your stomach, you wouldn’t have gotten up and run to the bathroom to puke your guts out, but here you are. Smelling so stinky you just take a shower along the way. Fresh out of the shower in clean new clothes you saw a tall glass of water with your birth control pills right beside it. After downing the glass of water you headed to the kitchen to grab an aspirin to calm down the throbbing pain of your chest.

What you found instead is the sight of Atsumu, wearing an apron on top of his white t-shirt. It has been way too long since you have last seen him, and you didn’t expect to encounter him in your apartment, let alone him in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast for two. “Atsumu! What are you doing here!” you screamed audibly to him and got to the table to see a tray of rice and a bowl of soup on the table. 

“Ah, ya woke up earlier than I thought ya would, was intending to make breakfast on bed like in that one cheesy film you love so much.” You blushed. You headed to the cupboard and popped the aspirin into your mouth with the assistance of the barley tea Atsumu prepared for you. 

As you sat down awkwardly, he pulled out the rice bowl and put the tray in the sink and scooped another bowl of rice and soup for himself. He prepared a hearty meal for two, a miso soup to help you sober down and ease the gut after rounds of alcohol shots dumped in your body. 

Right, you were drunk last night. “So why are you here?” you asked after spooning out the final drop of the miso soup. “You remember nothing at all?” Atsumu asked. “Wait...so...Midori didn’t lie?” you asked again. Just realising that Midori already told you that your boyfriend was there. 

“Oh my god...how much did I say?” you pressed your palms on your face and dropped them to your lap. Atsumu smiles. 

“You said a lot! You said too much that it made me learn a lot.” Atsumu reaches your hands the moment it gets on to the table. He clasped it with care and so much gentleness even when his hand is calloused and rough from the intense training for so many days in a week. 

Atsumu sighs and hangs his head low. “I just realised that all this time, our relationship is one-sided” you gasped and the grip on his hands gets tighter. “I...took you for granted. I never gave you a comfort space to live in, a shoulder to cry on, and I have never...expressed my feelings for you.” You were trembling and Atsumu fully connected your fingers with his, interlacing it together hoping that neither of you will let it go.

“All this time you were always there for me, no matter what I was struggling with, no matter the time and place you would rush and hug me and tell me that it will be okay but I let you cry on your own whenever you deal with the same problem. I made a big mistake, and I swear to my life that I will make it up to you.” You got up from your seat and went to the sink along with your empty bowls. Atsumu got there too, hugging you from behind. 

“I am so sorry for being late, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts when I see you get hurt because of me.” Atsumu hugged you like he would make you dissolve in his body, it was so tight and warm and comforting it felt like home.

Miya Atsumu is your home. You are his home. And so he kisses your hair, your neck, your shoulders to make sure you won’t disappear before him, to tell you that what he said is true. 

You turned around. Holding his head in your hands.

“Atsumu, I love you too, and I missed you so much.” You smiled as the tears dropped, and Atsumu thinks this sight of yours hurts him as much as it makes his heart feel warm. It was a mixed feeling, but he knows that the perfect moment is right there, he holds your waist and your neck and kisses you on the lips with so much need and passion, to tell you that he loves you.

Your hands went to wrap itself on his neck, occasionally stopping by to run your hair through the blonde locks you love so much. He kisses in deeper and languid motion; it makes your head drowsy, worse than what the alcohol did to you but the sensation is nice. The alcohol was bitter and you hated it, this kiss tastes sweet and flavourful and you love it.

Atsumu continues while he carries you towards the bedroom he left you in alone last night, slowly putting your body on the messy bed who still has the scent of you from last night. It is supposed to gross you out but Atsumu is making it harder for you to breathe so nothing really matters, and Atsumu loves the scent as much as you love his oozing warmth that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He continues peppering kisses along your entire body, just like the night when you first spent together. Shirts off, pants off, underwear off. There’s nothing in the way of the both of you in the intense love-making session. Atsumu loves the way his name rolls on your tongue as he nibbles addictively on your neck, your chest and your tummy that is filled with the food he made for you, the love he had in store from his heart is delivered into you with so much ease. He plans to deliver some more as his kisses turn more passionate as the clock ticks, tongue intermingles and liquid drooling out of each other’s hot mouth.

Atsumu is already so eager to get inside you but he always has to prioritise you before him so he asked you. “Can I-can I get on with it now?” he asked, trying to recollect his breath at the same time while he looks for a particular wrapper in the drawer of your bedside table. “It’s fine, Atsumu, I’m on birth control.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, caressing your cheeks, touching your lips and tucking your hair behind your cute ears he loved to kiss so much. “You know, you mistook the birth control pills for aspirin that’s why I rummaged through the whole cupboard to look for one.” You gave him a glare so cute he continues kissing you. “My bad, baby. Can I get in now?” He asked with a teasing little smirk displayed on his stupidly handsome face.

“Yes, you can Atsumu.” You kissed him on the cheeks and hugged his neck as he entered. Inches by inches you sucked him in and he would kiss your temple to make you feel better after the stretch. The time away clearly made a lot of changes between the two of you, and it all makes this event more admirable than the ones before, because of the heartfelt confession you shared with him in the morning. All he wants to do is kiss your body like it is the only thing in this world worth worshipping. You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened in his life anyway, and he would never regret anything in his life anymore.

After the both of you peaked, he released into you, stayed there for a few minutes and took it out after he finally made your deep furrowed eyebrows disappear. You finally relax after the soothing time with your dearest one and he plopped himself next to you. 

Atsumu opened his arms and you found him inside it, getting smooches here and there as he hugged you. He would play with your hair, draw stars on the naked back of yours, and you would draw circles on his chest as you listen to the small heart beat in him. 

His heart was beating because of you.

“Hey, that noise in there is because of ya.” Atsumu kissed you on the forehead. 

“Oh really, yer not special, Miya, listen to mine!” you said with a glare after hitting him playfully on his chest.

“Uhuh...can I kiss it? Like this?” Atsumu continues his attack on your chest and you laughed loudly as he starts skimming his fingers on your waist and your tummy. He was smiling and laughing into the attack. 

Atsumu thinks that even if it is true that he is a fool, at least he is a fool that is so foolishly in love with you. 

[bansept]

Ichihime Week | Day 3: Family

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Kurosaki family always had little trips prepared for this or that occasion: the end of school, someone’s birthday… And of course, Masaki’s death anniversary. When the children were young, it was a thrilling idea, a way to discover a new place and imagine an exciting story. When the children grew, the mere thought of going away was disturbing, annoying. The meaning of moving to a place with the family got lost in cries of boredom and arguments, but Isshin never gave up.

Yuzu and Karin were still there, in his house, and officially speaking, still “had” to obey his commands, canceling plans they might have with their friends. One day, one of the twins had muttered the word “dictatorship”, and he had cried, whimpering at how ungrateful his daughters were to him. They still came, frowning a little bit, but a smile never too far behind.

Ichigo had been too busy to go on a family trip. First, with the Dojo: who knew a place that was not so visited could be lively at the exact time his presence was required to have fun? The kids and teenagers were far too inclined in asking him to show them moves for him to refuse. A paycheck was a paycheck. Second, Orihime herself was atrociously busy. Being the main confectioner, she oversaw most of the confection of chocolate delights in the bakery. Giving orders was a full-time job, and even if her love for her work brought her happiness, she was as exhausted as her husband.

The third was Kazui. Or mostly, the presence and necessity to oversee a young child, the infant going to a nanny when his parents could not attend to his needs. Moody because of his teething, Kazui was a small little ball of smile, and the next minute, a crying angry puddle of anger. As peaceful and adorable as he could be, he was still so young, so dependable of his parents that taking him anywhere outside of the environments he knew was a big no-no.

“Ichigo, can you please go and get him?” Orihime mumbled, one hand raised to her husband’s shoulder, pushing him slightly to make him understand with subtility that she would not move a muscle herself.

Ichigo, eyes half open and short hair sticking out in a comical manner, groaned a response stuck between a ‘yes’ and ‘you’re next’ before getting up tiredly to retrieve his crying son.

Somehow, and after a good year of no traveling in family, Orihime had suggested a family day here, in their house. To catch up, to brag about how Kazui was able to carry his head by himself and how close he was to sit steadily. Yuzu and Karin could see their brother and nephew, and Isshin could discuss with his daughter-in-law. Strangely enough, the idea was immediately accepted when it was Orihime that talked it out. And so now, the two young parents would prepare their small home for the rest.

Ichigo came back into the room, Kazui sniffling in his arms, little hands gripping his father’s shirt. The man was shushing him, rocking the boy slowly and repeating everything was alright.

“You’re hurting? I’m sorry baby… It should stop soon… Didn’t the doc say it lasted like, 8 days for a crisis? It’s been 6 days…” Ichigo asked, finger going to his son’s mouth so he could massage his gums, anything for the pain to be lessened.

“Maybe he’s hungry too… Here, give him to me.” Orihime answered, sitting up against the bed and opening her arms. Ichigo carefully placed the infant in her embrace, giving him a light peck on the forehead. Kazui shuffled a little but smiled when he saw his mother.

Orihime made some funny gurgles, talking to her boy with a high voice, trying to get him in a better mood until he got something to eat. Ichigo watched the scene with a smile and stretched his back, sighing.

“Should get things ready before the horde arrives.” Ichigo joked, walking to the bathroom near their room to get some water on his face. That should help wake him up.

He heard the funny noise die down as Orihime breastfed their son. Ichigo didn’t need to be next to them to know she was smiling down at him tenderly, and Kazui was certainly looking up at her with the same brown eyes filled with amazement. At least they were in calm waters for now…

.

.

.

By the time it was 9:30, Kazui was set to stay in the living room and play with Ichigo in his cute outfit. Orihime and Ichigo themselves were ready, preparing their small house for the arrival of his family, but nothing too fancy. In Ichigo’s opinion, they didn’t need to have balloons floating around, or a cake ready when it was still morning.

“And right at this moment, that giant ice cream cone yelled at me to run far from the bean paste, but I just couldn’t! How can you choose between two of your favorite things?” Orihime asked, hands on her hips, eyes wide as saucers, clearly expecting an answer from her husband, who definitely knew she had to stop eating sweets before going to sleep.

“Um… Yeah, but that bean paste was clearly trying to eat you… So I’d say, you listen to ice cream.” It was silly to answer her about her own very silly dreams while holding Kazui up so he could experiment walking. But that kind of silly was always welcomed.

Orihime shook her head with a pout, but was interrupted by the sound of someone pressing the doorbell. She got up from her seat, fixing her dress slightly before opening the door with a big smile.

“Yuzu! Karin! Hi!” She hugged them both preciously, the twins greeting her in response. Stepping back, she looked around to see Isshin wasn’t behind them, and frowned, worried.

“Don’t worry about dad, he’ll arrive quickly. We were just ahead so he could work on another file before coming.” Karin explained, waving a hand as her sister cooed at the interesting picture of Ichigo holding Kazui by his hands, the little boy not knowing what to do with the two jelly legs he possessed.

“Ichi! Aw, let me get a picture!”

“Yuzu stop! No! Not a picture come on!”

Karin placed a bag near the door, observing with a satisfied smile her brother being taken advantage of, unable to escape or fight the will of his own sister and his wife.

“Are… No, I can’t hold him… I’ll drop him!”

“No, you won’t. Come on, he’s your nephew, you gotta hold him once in your life.”

Karin frowned, Yuzu prepared her phone for yet another picture and Orihime held up Kazui to Karin, reassuring her that he wouldn’t end up on the floor. The baby seemed to not mind, appreciating any hands that carried him, knowing none would harm him. Ichigo was like an eagle, not even blinking while he stared at his sister, the black-haired girl grumbling a little at how she was forced. But really, she wasn’t.

“Is… Like that, okay? Is that good?” She asked, infant stuck in her arms, and Orihime nodded.

“Yes, just like that. See? It wasn’t too complicated.”

“Yeah… But I didn’t expect him to be so… Heavy? No, not heavy… But he’s not as light as I thought he’d be.”

“He’s growing. Of course he’ll be heavier than at his birth.” Ichigo remarked, snickering at the grimace Karin sent him.

Orihime smiled brightly at the two bickering siblings. Ichigo used to not joke around with his sisters, too busy mopping his anger and pain in his corner, but now, he was having a great time annoying the twins. She guessed it was something older brothers did.

Isshin opened the door loudly, singing about finally seeing his grandson and daughter-in-law again after so long, the ridiculous amount of baby gifts in his hands falling on the floor as he walked in. Now, as to why Isshin, out of all people, had a key to their house, Ichigo was not willing to say. He had chosen Yuzu to have it first, but she had lost it for a good day, and the panic it brought was a cold shower to everyone, to the point Karin mentioned Isshin as the best key keeper out of the three of them.

Which, of course, was true. Since he was an adult and all. But he was still Isshin. Loud, impulsive and horribly annoying Isshin.

“How is he?? Aw, look at him in his cute little clothes! Oh yes, you look just like your dada when he was your age Kazui! Although, thank God you have your mama’s smile!” He cooed at the baby, who of course didn’t understand a single word, but the mere expression and intonation pulled his smile up, showing just a few teeth. Isshin gasped and tickled the baby’s tummy. “Oh, yes, you already have such cute little gums!”

Orihime laughed at the voice Isshin always took whenever Kazui was around, and freed him from the many plushies he had gathered in his arms.

“Oh, thank you, Orihime. So, is everything doing alright for you three?” He questioned, straightening up and looking at the woman. Of course, as a doctor, he’d ask this question with real interest.

“Yes, we’re all fine. Kazui is still having a bit of a crisis from time to time, but we manage to handle it well. And Ichigo is getting better and better at handling Kazui.” She smiled, whispering the last part in a conspiratorial tone. Her husband heard her, and with a blush, frowned in her general direction.

Isshin grinned at the exchange, but didn’t tease his son further. It was strange how one day he was grumpy, and the next, he and Orihime walked into his house to tell him they were dating. From that moment, his son was like a stranger: offering help to do this or that house chores, hesitantly discussing with his family, feeling happy and calm around them… And now that he was a father, he hardly ever yelled at Isshin anymore. Of course, he was still mad at him for being the silly old man he always had been, but Ichigo seemed to be mindful of what his own son was going to grow up to.

By the time Kazui was hungry again, Orihime excused herself as she picked the infant and walked back to her room, giving Isshin the opportunity to talk with Ichigo.

“So… How are you handling all of that?”

Ichigo raised his head from the table, placing another plate on the surface and shrugging his shoulders.

“Well… We’re happy. I think that’s what matters. Orihime and I are working, so it’s a good thing, even if we wish we could be around Kazui more. And Kazui is growing up…” He turned silent after that, the timid smile he had on his face stilling.

Isshin tapped his back lightly.

“You’re doing a good job Ichigo. Although you became a father early, you’re doing your best for him and for your wife. Honestly, you can be proud of yourself.”

The orange-haired man shook his head with amusement, gazing at his goat chinned father.

“I tell myself that. But soon he’ll be able to stand on his own, or even talk… And we’ll have to teach him everything about this crazy world of ours… Things about Shinigamis and Hollows, Arrancars even, so that he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Isshin looked around the room to his daughters, watching as they discussed on which fluffy plushy was the cutest.

“Your sisters only knew after a good while. But don’t worry about that. Kazui will have a lot of people to teach him, and all these people will keep him safe. Plus… I’m pretty sure he will be safe with the amazing parents he has.”

Ichigo’s eyes opened wide, tenderness and surprise taking the lead in his mixed emotions. Isshin was right : Orihime and he were not alone in this. People from Karakura, the Soul Society and the others stuck between the two would help them keep their child safe. Keep him from being hurt. That simple but truthful knowledge made him gasp for air, relaxed and thankful.

The young man nodded, throat a bit too tight for him to talk in his usual confident tone. Orihime walked back in, Kazui looking sated and in a good mood as his mother placed him in Yuzu’s eager arms.

“You know… I, guess it’s strange for everyone to see me like that… Not yelling at you for goofing around. But Orihime told me she felt that this excitement I almost resented a few years back, this closeness with family members, she thought it was the right way to be wife the family you loved. She wants Kazui to grow up surrounded with love and joy, and I want that too for him.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes on his sisters then on Orihime. “I still think you’re a silly old man that makes way too much noise. But… I’m happy you’re Kazui’s grandfather, and my father.”

It was Isshin’s turn to have his eyes become the size of tennis balls, tears rushing up. He needed to hold it down, to not explode with joy, to not ruin the moment by hugging his son that had more or less told him he loved him, after so long. So, instead, he ruffled his son’s new short hair.

“It’s my greatest pride to be part of this beautiful family.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaaaaaand day 3!

More than 2100 words, I like that hehe

I thought about writing Kazui to be taller so he could be asking this or that question or be a cute lil cutie pie, but since I visited a family member who recently had a child, heh, I was more inspired in writing an infant.

Don't hesitate to review this, and see you tomorrow for day 4!

[winchesterbrotherstan]

MCU: Logan Barnes-Stark- Iron Man 2 (part iii)

Pairing: Tony Stark x IronKid!OC (Logan Barnes)

Summary: Tony is roped into a continuation of Howard's research by SHIELD. Upon a new discovery, he promises Logan a new beginning.

Warnings: curse words, blood, mentions of death, bullets + missiles, other weaponry, electric shocks, death threats, hospitals, IVs, explosions, fire, etc.

Word Count: 5263

May 8, 2010

I put my phone up to my ear, feeling angry enough to see red.

“Logan.”

“What?” I hissed.

“I think I figured it out.”

“What, that you’re a massive dick and everyone else was right about you?” I shut my book and set it aside.

“The palladium, Logan. There might be another way. I think I can fix it.”

My heart thundered.

“Shit.”

***

“That thing in your chest is based on unfinished technology.” Fury spoke.

I looked from him to Tony, who looked astounded. “No, it was finished. It has never been particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my-”

“No.” Fury shook his head. “Howard said the arc reactor was the stepping stone to something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that was gonna dwarf the arms race. He was onto something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery.”

“Just him, or was Anton Vanko in on that too?” I spoke up, crossing one leg over another on the table.

“Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin. Anton saw it as a way to get rich. When Howard found out, he had him deported.”

I flinched. It sounded so cruel, so unlike the Howard I had known.

“When the Russians found out he couldn’t deliver, they shipped his ass off to Siberia and he spent the next twenty years in a vodka-fueled rage. Not quite the environment you wanna raise a kid in, the son you two had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Monaco.”

“You told Tony he hadn’t tried everything. What does that mean? What hasn’t he tried?” I leaned forward, putting my feet back on the floor.

“Howard said that you,” Fury pointed at Tony, “were the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started.”

“He said that?” Tony huffed.

Fury hummed, taking a drink of water. “Are you that guy? Hm, are you?” He leaned in. “Cause if you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know where you get your information, but he wasn’t my biggest fan.”

“What do you remember about your dad, huh?”

“He was cold, he was calculating. He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me, so it’s a little tough for me to digest when you’re telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he’s passing it down.” Tony said it all in one breath. “I don’t get that. You’re talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school.”

“That’s not true.” Fury shook his head.

“Well then, clearly you knew my dad better than I did.” Tony leaned back in his seat.

“As a matter of fact, I did. He was one of the founding members of SHIELD. Just ask Logan.” Fury’s attention turned toward me.

“What?” Tony’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ve got a 2:00.” Fury got up as two SHIELD agents dropped a large case in front of us. “You’re good, right? You’ve got this.”

“No, I’m not good.” Tony shot up from his seat, bewildered.

“You’ve got it.”

“Got what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get.” Tony huffed.

“Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact.” Fury put his coat on. “And, you remember Agent Coulson, right?”

“Yeah.” Tony and I huffed.

“Oh, and Tony, remember. I got my eye on you.” Fury gave him a look before walking off.

I sighed and turned my attention to Natasha, who was dressed in a skin-tight black leather suit, the SHIELD logo on the side.

“We’ve disabled all communications. No contact with the outside world. Good luck.” She walked off too.

We turned to Coulson. Tony huffed.

“Please. First thing, I need a little bodywork. I’ll put in a little time at the lab. If you could send one of your goon squad down to The Coffee Bean, Cross Creek, for a Starbucks run, or something like that, that’d be nice.” He directed.

“I’m not here for that. I’ve been authorized by Director Fury to use any means necessary to keep you on premises.” Coulson gave a smile. “If you attempt to leave or play any games, I will tase you both and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet. Okay?”

I pulled Tony back from Coulson and scowled. “We got it, yeah.”

“Enjoy your evening’s entertainment.” Coulson turned on his heel and left.

We lugged the case down to the garage and set it down on the couch. Tony looked at me with a sad face. I sighed, looking away. I was still incredibly angry with him, but I knew that if the palladium couldn’t be fixed, I would lose him within the next few days.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

I stayed silent, staring at the suits across the shop.

“I’m sorry for not thinking of you. I was being a dick.”

I snorted. “That’s for sure.”

“I just, I got so caught up in thinking that it was my last birthday, a-a-and I wanted to have fun and be reckless. I didn’t stop to think that it meant you would lose me. And I’m sorry for that, Logan. Really.”

I picked at my fingernails. I had chewed them down to the skin last night when I couldn’t sleep. Tony took a deep breath. Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and my heart ached.

“I’m really sorry, Logan. I know it’s not an excuse. I know. I’m sorry.”

I took two steps and crashed into him, pulling him into a hug. I let my cheek rest on his reactor as I sobbed. He rubbed my back and rocked us both and forth softly. I pulled away, face wet and nose running.

“I can’t lose you, Dad. I can’t, I-I can’t.” My body shook.

He nodded, then glanced at the case. “Then let’s figure it out.”

We knelt in front of the couch in silence. Tony reached out, hands shaking as he undid the latches. He glanced at me, and I nodded.

No matter what.

He pushed the lid open, revealing stacks of paper, an old blueprint rolled up neatly resting on the top. He grabbed it, squinting at the side.

Arc Reactor - TFTR-1. Anton Vanko - Howard Stark

He unrolled it to reveal the arc reactor. He handed it to me, and I set it behind us, still unrolled. He rifled through the newspaper, the headline reading that Vanko had defected to the US. He put it down and went for two tin canisters. He huffed.

“What is it?”

“They’re Kodaks.”

“Films?”

May 9, 2010

I paced as the projector whirred. The film rolled, starting on what looked like an antique reactor and then panning to Howard, who was sitting on his desk.

“Everything is achievable through technology. Better living, robust health, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace.”

Tony flipped through one of the workbooks we had found. It was formulas and writing I couldn’t read. I pinched the bridge of my nose. We had been looking through the case’s contents for the last day and night, and Tony had yet to have his ‘aha’ moment.

“City of the Future? City of Tomorrow? City of…” Howard trailed off on camera, sighing to himself.

Tony pulled out his phone, glancing at the workbook between every few taps at his screen. Howard tried to start over, pacing around his office, just as I was doing in Tony’s shop. The camera panned out of focus for just a second, revealing a young Tony in the back, grabbing the toy train from the model city.

“Tony, what are you doing there?”

Tony’s head whipped so fast I was worried he had hurt himself. On the video, Howard scolded him, and I watched as Tony’s eyes glazed over from his spot on the couch. He sighed, turning back to his calculations. The blooper reel continued, and Tony huffed, tossing the workbook into the trash.

“Anything?”

He shook his head with another sigh. “Nothing.”

“Tony.”

We both looked up. Howard was sitting on his desk, hands in his lap.

“You’re too young to understand this now, so I thought I would put it on film for you.” He gestured to the city. “I built this for you. And someday you’ll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions. It represents my life’s work.” The camera panned over the city. “This is the key to the future.”

A flash of the old arc reactor, and I watched as Tony’s eyebrow twitched.

“I’m limited by the technology of my time, but one day you’ll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world. What is and always will be my greatest creation… is you.”

Tony’s eyes changed from glazed to glossy, and his expression changed to a sorrowful one. The film ended, and I walked over to the back of the couch, resting my hand on his shoulder.

“I know I didn’t know him when he was your dad, but I bet he was proud of you, Tony.” I whispered.

He took a shaky breath, eyes falling shut. “I…”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

May 11, 2010

“Hey, look, strawberries!” I pointed with a childish grin on my face.

Tony pressed the brakes and guided the car onto the side of the road, stopping right by the make-shift stand.

“Hola, señor, señorita.” The man greeted us with a smile.

“Hola, cuanto?” Tony nodded at the strawberries.

The man said the price in Spanish, and then in English, and Tony patted himself down. He cursed under his breath and looked at me.

“You got cash?”

I shook my head with a frown. Tony snapped, pulling his watch off his wrist.

“We don’t have any dough, but can you take this?”

“Oh, no, señor, that’s too much.”

“No, here, it’s okay, just take it.”

“No, señor.” The man shook his head, adamant.

“It’s fine.” Tony insisted, handing the watch over my head.

The man took it and held out the strawberries. Tony eyed them, and I chuckled before taking the box.

“Thank you.” I smiled as Tony put his foot on the gas.

“Are you Iron Man?” The man titled his head.

“Sometimes!” Tony called over his shoulder.

“We believe in you!”

***

“She’s on a call right now, I’m afraid you can’t see her.” Pepper’s secretary gave us a polite smile.

“We’ll just let ourselves in.” Tony strided toward the door.

She rushed ahead of us, pushing the door open. “Miss Potts? Mr. Stark is here, he refuses-”

“No, I don’t.” Tony pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Pepper waved her secretary off and told us she’d be just a second before putting the phone back to her ear. “Listen, it’s our position that Stark has and continues to maintain proprietary ownership of the Mark II platform.”

“When Mr. Stark announced he was Iron Man, we trusted that he would look out for us. But he didn’t.” The reporter on the TV spoke.

“No, we own that suit.” Pepper’s tone was firm. “No, you’re not-”

“Now we learn that his secretary, a woman named Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts, has been appointed CEO of Stark Industries. What are her qualifications?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I heard Pepper’s sentence be interrupted once more.

“No.” Pepper scowled.

I read the captions on the screen before the reporter spoke. They called Pepper a pinhead, and I huffed, going for the remote and hitting the mute button. Tony sighed and began to walk around, and I settled on the back of the couch, arms crossed over my shoulders.

“Burt, Burt, Burt, just listen to me. Don’t tell me that we have the best patent lawyers in the country and then not let me pursue this.”

Tony rifled through his old boxes, mumbling to himself.

“Well then tell the President to sign an order.” Pepper sighed. “We’ll talk about it at the Expo. Hammer’s giving some presentation tomorrow evening.”

Tony pulled the sheet off a large frame leaned against the wall. I tilted my head as I studied it. It was the city from Howard’s films. The Expo.

“Will Tony Stark be there?” Pepper eyed Tony, who pulled his old chair to sit in front of her desk. “No, he will not.”

“I would like to be.” Tony piped up as Pepper hung up the phone. “Got a minute?”

“No.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Come on, you just got off the phone. You’re fine, thirty seconds.” Tony set the strawberries down and leaned back in his chair.

Pepper looked at her watch and began counting the seconds. I chuckled as Tony leaned forward.

“Alright, I was just driving over here, and uh, I thought I was coming to basically apologize, but I’m not.”

“Oh, you didn’t come here to apologize?” Pepper raised her eyebrows.

“Look, that goes without saying, and I’m working on that.” Tony fiddled with his hands. “But I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, and I just wanna try to make good.” He looked over the moving sculpture in front of him. “Can I move this? This is crazy. It’s like a ferris wheel going, I’m trying to-”

“No.” Pepper shook her head.

He sighed and rolled himself to the side, clearing his throat. “Do you know how short life is? And if I never got to express… and by the way, this is somewhat revelatory to me. I don’t care, I mean, I care. It would be nice. I’m not expecting you to, to… Look, here’s what I’m trying to say. I’m just gonna say it.”

“Let me just stop you right there.” Pepper cut him off. “Because if you say ‘I’ one more time, I’m gonna actually hurl something at your head, I think.” She leaned forward as Tony mumbled. “I am trying to run a company. Do you have any idea what that entails?”

“Yes.” Tony huffed, playing with something on her desk.

“People are relying on you to be Iron Man and you’ve disappeared, and all I’m doing is putting out your fires and taking the heat for it.”-

The object slipped from Tony’s hand, and Pepper’s own slammed down on it. I swallowed.

“I am trying to do the job that you were meant to do.” Pepper stayed firm.

Tony leaned back, rubbing his eyebrow.

“Did you bring me strawberries?”

We said nothing, and Pepper cracked a smile.

“Did you know that there’s only one thing on Earth that I’m allergic to?”

“Allergic to strawberries.” Tony huffed, pushing the box aside. “This is progress, Pepper. I knew there was a correlation between you and this.”

“I need you-”

“I need you, too.” He cut her off.

“To leave. Now.”

They both fell silent, and I got up from my spot. I made my way to the desk and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

The door opened, and Natasha popped her head in. “Miss Potts.”

“Hi, come on in.” Pepper sighed, relaxing her shoulders.

“Wheels up in twenty-five minutes.” Natasha handed Pepper an envelope.

“Need anything, boss?” Happy asked, still in the doorway.

“No, Hap-”

“No, I’ll be just… another minute.” Pepper and Tony spoke over each other.

“I lost two kids in the divorce.” Tony tried to joke, but nobody was having it.

He looked over at me, and I put my hands out. It was a bad joke. Pepper signed the papers as Natasha stood over her. I scratched the back of my neck, and Tony cleared his throat. I glared at him.

“Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Enterprises?”

Natasha turned to him with a glare.

“Your name is Natalie, isn’t it?” He pointed between her and Pepper. “I thought you two didn’t get along.”

“No, that’s not so.” Pepper handed back the envelope with a smile.

“It’s just me you don’t care for.” Tony huffed.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as he complained, once again getting no response. Pepper rose from her seat.

“Actually, while you’re here, maybe you and Natalie could discuss the matter of the personal belongings.” She gestured to the mess of boxes in the corner.

“Absolutely.” Natalie smiled.

Pepper walked off with Happy, who gave Tony a look before shutting the door.

“I’m surprised you could keep your mouth shut.” Natasha snapped at him.

“Boy, you’re good.” Tony leaned in. “You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it?”

She gathered a few things off Pepper’s desk and straightened herself out with a dead-pan.

“You just, you’re a triple imposter, I’ve never seen anything like you. Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?”

She walked off, speaking, of course, Latin. Tony spun the chair, following her. He squinted, confused.

“It means you can either drive yourself home or I can have you collected.” Natasha stopped by the door, then turned to me with a polite nod. “Logan.”

I waved half-heartedly as she walked out the door, slamming it shut. Tony huffed, trying to stop Pepper’s moving sculpture. It was no use, and he got up, angrily shoving a strawberry in his mouth.

“You want any?” He turned to me.

I only shook my head. He walked over to the trashcan and dumped the box, letting the strawberries themselves fall all over the floor. He grumbled to himself and went for the door handle.

“Wait, Dad.” I stopped him, reaching for his sleeve. “Look.” I pointed at the frame.

“What about it?”

“It’s here, we saw it on the films. It has to mean something.”

“Logan.” Tony gave me a bitch-face.

“It’s worth a try, come on.” I pulled the sheet the rest of the way off, letting it pool around our feet. “Just look at it.” I urged.

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, stepping toward the center of the frame. He squinted, then put his hand up to his eye, circling something in particular. I couldn’t tell what. His eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth lifted just slightly.

“Dad?”

“We need to take this with us.”

***

I pushed the garage door open, watching as Tony spun a holographic projection of the frame. He began to circle it as it spun, talking to himself.

“I got coffee.” I held up the Starbucks cups.

He grinned, waving me over. “Uh, what’s that look like to you, kid?” He pointed at the globe in the center of the Expo projection.

I shrugged. “No clue. What is it?”

“Not unlike an atom.” He enlarged the projection. “In which case, the nucleus would be here.”

“Huh.” I titled my head.

“Lose the footpaths. Get rid of them.”

“What is is you’re trying to achieve, sir?”

“I’m discovering, uh correction, I’m rediscovering a new element, I believe.”

My eyes grew wide as Tony began to discard other aspects of the Expo. Trees, parking lots, entrances and exits. He flicked a few things away.

“Structure the protons and the neutrons using the pavilions as a framework.” He made the globe larger again. “Dad.” He sighed, running a hand over his face.

I watched as everything left condensed itself into the globe. Tony sighed and threw it wide open, leaving us surrounded by tons of small blue orbs. Tony spun around, eyes wide.

“Dead for almost twenty years, and still taking me to school.” He pulled the projection down until it fit in the palm of his hand.

“Dad, does this mean-”

“The proposed element should serve as a viable replacement for palladium.” JARVIS cut me off.

I couldn’t help the happy yelp that escaped from my mouth. I jumped, pulling Tony into a hug.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tony whispered before pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“Unfortunately, it is also impossible to synthesize.”

My heart fell to my knees, but Tony didn’t seem fazed. He brushed JARVIS off before giving me a grin.

“Get ready for a major remodel, fellas! We’re back in hardware mode!”

May 12, 2010

Tony and I had ripped the floors and walls apart, rewiring cables all over the place. We installed new machinery and updated it all. It had taken most of the night, and Tony had crashed on the couch after four am hit. I tightened the last bolt, watching as Coulson walked down the steps.

“Dad.” I whispered, setting the wrench down and walking to the couch.

He mumbled as I nudged him awake, and Coulson struggled with the door. Tony sat up with a grunt, and I snorted as Coulson finally got the door. He marched in with a huff, and Dummy whirred as he followed him.

“I heard you broke the perimeter.”

“Uh, yeah.” Tony scoffed. “That was like, three years ago. Where you been?”

“I was doing some stuff.” Coulson walked toward the center of the room.

“Yeah? So were we.” I grinned as Tony stood, eyeing the machine I had just finished setting up. “And it worked.”

Coulson said nothing as he began to touch the things scattered over Tony’s desk.

“Hey. We’re playing for the home team, Coulson. You and all your Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.” Tony put his level on the machine and frowned. “Now, are you gonna let us work or gonna break our balls?”

“What’s this doing here?”

We turned to see Coulson holding up a proto-type of Captain America’s shield. My shoulders slumped, and Tony’s eyes lit up. I fiddled with the blue bracelet on my wrist, feeling sick to my stomach.

“That’s it. Bring that to me.”

“You know what this is?” Coulson raised an eyebrow as he walked over.

Tony met him halfway. “It’s exactly what I need to make this work.”

Coulson handed the shield over, and Tony instructed him to lift the coil. “Put your knees into it, come on.” Tony slid the shield under the coil. “Alright, drop it, drop it.”

He put the level over the machine and smiled. “Perfectly level.”

I rolled my eyes and joined him at the machine coil, crossing my arms over my chest.

“We’re busy, what do you want?”

“Nothing.” Coulson shook his head. “Goodbye. I’ve been reassigned.”

“Huh.” Tony didn’t seem impressed.

“Directory Fury wants me in New Mexico.”

“Fantastic.” Tony snorted. “Land of Enchantment.”

“So I’m told.” Coulson tilted his head.

“Secret stuff?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that. Good luck.” He held his hand out.

“Goodbye.” Tony shook it. “Thanks.”

“We need you.” Coulson smiled.

“More than you know.” Tony snorted.

“Not that much.”

“I’ll walk you out.” I gestured to the door.

Both men knew it wasn’t an offer, and Coulson strided forward. I looked at Tony over my shoulder, and he gave me a thumbs up, a questioning smile on his face. I nodded, letting the garage door fall shut behind me.

Coulson and I walked up the stairs and to the front steps in silence. I grabbed the door handle and stopped, sighing.

“Coulson, I gotta ask.”

“Yes?” He raised his eyebrows.

“How do you not know who I am?” I tilted my head.

He hadn’t flinched when we first met, Fury barely acknowledged me until Howard was brought up, and even then, nobody seemed fazed that I was there.

Coulson gave me a polite smile. “I do. SHIELD just doesn't talk about it anymore.”

He saw the confusion in my face and continued. “You see, after Alex Danvers was revealed to be HYDRA, the director and board figured it would be better if the slate was wiped clean. As far as SHIELD is concerned, you never existed out of your past with Steve Rogers.”

I nodded slowly, pushing the door open. “Drive safe, Coulson.”

***

“Initializing prismatic accelerator.”

I snorted as I walked into the workshop. “You started without me?”

“What, you said you were going to shower.” Tony put his hands up.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way to his side. The coil whirred, and I looked over my shoulder. It began to shake, and the floor rumbled. Tony and I looked at each other, his eyes wide. We bolted over, and Tony grabbed the wheel, trying to force it just the slightest.

“Approaching maximum power.” JARVIS’s voice was strained.

“I need that pipe wrench.” Tony spoke through gritted teeth.

I crouched and slid under the machine, grabbing the black tool and handing it to Tony. He put it on the wheel and held steady. His arms shook with the force of the machine, and I felt a knot grow in my stomach. The machine screeched, and I couldn’t help but flinch. The core of the machine began to shoot a laser, burning straight through the wall.

“Oops. Logan, you should move!” Tony had to shout over the noise.

I slid myself back under the machine, putting my hands over Tony’s as we turned the wheel. The laser continued to cut through the wall, slicing right through the metal cabinet of flammable chemicals. It, thankfully, didn’t explode as the top crashed to the floor.

“Come on.” Tony hissed.

I nudged him, and he stepped aside, pointing to the reactor on the table. “I need it there.”

I nodded, clenching my jaw as I turned the wheel, ears on fire. The beam hit the mold, and the indents in it began to light up, filling with the light. My teeth rattled inside my head, and the screeching got louder.

“There we go.” Tony leaned forward and hit a button on the machine.

It turned off, and the beam disappeared. I let go of the wrench with a huff, stumbling backwards. My shoulder hurted.

“You alright?” Tony put a hand on my back, helping me steady myself.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Rest for a second, I got it.” He pushed me back toward a table.

I hoisted myself onto it with a sigh, watching as Tony crouched under the coil and made his way to the piece of metal, which was bright blue. He stared at it, and I could only imagine how wide his eyes were. He grabbed a pair of pliers and picked it out of the mold, holding it to his face. I pulled at a loose thread of the pink bracelet on my wrist.

“Congratulations, sir. You have created a new element.”

I grinned as I pushed myself off the table. Tony was walking slowly, holding the core away from his face. He settled at his desk, where the latest model of the arc reactor was sitting. He sighed, looking up as I rested a hand on his shoulder. I gave him a soft smile.

“Moment of truth, kiddo.”

I took a deep breath as Tony placed the metal in the reactor, which automatically closed around it. It began to beep, light growing brighter. Tony swallowed hard.

“Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core. I will begin running diagnostics.”

I smiled, grabbing Tony by the wrist. “You did it, Dad.”

He let out a breath. “We did it, bug.”

I pushed my way into his arms, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around me. He rested his chin on my head and began to sway us back and forth. I let my shoulders relax. I wouldn’t lose him anytime soon.

The smell of burning reached my nostrils, and I pulled back with a sigh. The top of the chemical cabinet was now in flames. Tony groaned, hands on his hips.

“Hey, Dummy, you, can we clean up this mess?” He looked at me. “I dunno how-”

“Incoming call with a blocked number, sir.” JARVIS cut him off.

“Our phone privilege is reinstated.” Tony scoffed. “Lovely.”

I snorted, hitting the button on the computer screen. The ringing stopped, and Tony leaned forward on his desk.

“Coulson. How’s the Land of Enchantment?”

“Hey, Tony. How you doing?” There was a laugh.

My blood ran cold, and I looked at Tony, who immediately stood straight. It wasn’t Coulson, it was Ivan.

“I double cycle.”

“You what?” Tony looked pale.

I snapped my fingers, catching Tony’s eye.

He’s supposed to be dead. I mouthed.

He nodded, hand up as Ivan spoke again.

“You told me double cycle’s more power. Good advice.”

“You sound pretty spritely for a dead guy.”

“You, too.” He laughed again.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut as he thought. He hit the mute button and ordered JARVIS to trace the call.

“Sir.” JARVIS protested.

“Just do it, J.” Tony sighed.

“Now, the true history of Stark name will be written.”

“Come on, JARVIS, where is he?” I leaned forward.

“Accessing the Oracle grid.” The screen beeped. “Eastern Seaboard.”

“Shit, write-”

“I’ve got it.” I grabbed a post-it from the desk and began to scribble.

“What your father did to my family over forty years, I will do to yours in forty minutes.”

Tony hit the unmute button as JARVIS worked, the screen bouncing between locations.

“Sounds good. Let’s get together and hash it out.” He hit mute again.

“Tri-state area. Manhattan and outlying boroughs.”

“Got it?” Tony asked, finger hovering over the mute button.

I nodded, and he hit it.

“I hope you’re ready, Stark. Bring your daughter, she will make a lovely prize.”

Tony opened his mouth, face red, but the dial tone rang. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep his temper in check.

“It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna beat him.”

“Nobody’s touching you.” He hissed.

I nodded. “I know. I know. We got him last time, we’ll get him again.”

“Call trace incomplete.” JARVIS notified.

Tony sighed and looked over the screens. His eye twitched, and he took off, making a beeline for the new reactor.

“Dad?”

“Is it ready, JARVIS?”

“No-”

Tony shook his head. “No time.”

“Dad!” I watched in horror as he unclicked the old reactor, placing it on the desk.

He clicked the new one into place, swaying slightly. I ran forward, hand on his shoulder to steady him. He took a breath, and the color began to return to his face. The lines of poison in his chest were dark. I shut my eyes and kept my mouth shut.

“You wanna run some tests, run them.” Tony huffed, trying to catch his breath. “And assemble the suit while you’re at it. Put it together now.”

“We are unclear as to the effects-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, JARVIS.” Tony barked.

He coughed, stumbling forward. He hacked and tried to clear his throat, groaning in disgust. The reactor whirred, glowing brighter by the second.

“Dad.” My voice wavered.

“That tastes like coconut.” He coughed again. “And metal.”

The light stabilized, and Tony took a deep breath. I watched as the black faded from his veins.

“Holy shit.” I mumbled to myself.

“Okay.” He sighed, eyes wide. “You’re not coming with me.”

The smile dropped from my face. “What?”

“Logan, you ended up in the hospital last time. You’re staying here.”

I snorted, and it evolved into a chuckle. He gave me a death-stare and my shoulders dropped, but I continued to smile.

“Dad. I end up in the hospital like twice a year.” I shook my head. “I’m coming with you.”

“You are not, and that is final. I am putting my foot down.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, feet staggering backwards once more.

I raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. “JARVIS, make two suits.”

Previous: Iron Man 2 (part ii)

Next: Iron Man 2 (part iv)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🌎 CULTURAL DIFFERENCES 🌍

Prompt: Y/N and Baron decide to take a big step in their relationship and moving in together. Everything seems to go pretty smoothly for them, until they bump into some little (and sometimes fun) cultural differences.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Baron Corbin x Reader

Warnings: Apart from some cultural beliefs and cursing, nothing really.

Notes: I wanted to go smooth with my first fic with this giant teddy bear as a character. This little story is all based on my own country cultural beliefs. I’ve heard all of this ever since I was a little girl ok? None of this was made up! It’s written in both Y/N’s and Baron’s POV. Each scene is isolated, they do not complete each other. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Y/N, can you please explain to me why in the hell do you need all of this?” He lifts up my perfectly organized (and not so small) jewelry box

“Babe, please put that down. You’ll take all of my stuff out of order” I say as I’m finishing doing my hair

He places the box down and start to dig through the drawers.

“Jesus, babe! Did you robbed a bank to buy all of these?” He’s incredibly amused by the amount of different shapes and sizes pieces.

“Don’t let your eyes fool ya, Corbin” I laugh “Only the ones on the first drawer to the left are real”

He takes a silver thick chain with small discreet rhinestones on it and stares at the piece of jewelry.

“Oh, those are nice” I say “You can borrow ‘em if you’d like”

He looks at me “I would prefer to borrow these instead” He lifted up a golden bracelet with colorful rhinestones shaped as butterflies “What do you think? Should I wear these to work? Do you think they’ll match my outfit?” He playfully places the bracelet on top of his t-shirt, obviously mocking me, since I do the same thing when I ask his opinion.

“Shut up Corbin!” I laughed

“Why do you need so much bracelets, earrings, hoops, necklaces and rings?” He says

I look at him defiantly “Why do you need so many watches, cigars, vintage lighters and expensive cars?” I crook one eyebrow at him

“Touché, princess. My excuse is because I can, yours?” He playfully smirks

“Because that’s who I am! I grew up surrounded by women full of jewelry, lipstick and these” I show him my long nails as I stick my tongue out just like a child would

“I like those” He pointed at my nails “They feel real good when you pair them up with sweet moans begging me to go harder” He gives me one of his cocky smirks

“You’re so full of yourself” I defeatedly say

.....................…..............................................

“Hey baby girl, what you’re up to? WOW something smells really good in here”

“Oh hi” I look at Baron as he entered the kitchen “Thanks! I’m making dinner” I smile

“Oh yeah?!” He lifts a lid from one of the saucepans “What you’re cooking?”

“Nothing crazy, just a simple regular dinner. White rice, beans, some meat with potato and carrots, broccoli and cauliflower for salad. Plus milk pudding for desert, the same one my grandma always made”

“And that’s your idea of ‘simple dinner’?” He asks amused

“It is simple”

“When you said simple I thought you‘ve meant, meat and some bread or something like that” He vaguely said

“That’s like a snack, not proper dinner Baron”.

“It’s pretty common to have that for dinner you know”

I look at him in disbelief “If I ever suggested that as a dinner option back in my family’s house I would’ve been told to shut up and eat my goddamn vegetables! A proper meal isn’t a proper meal if it doesn’t have rice and beans.”

He laughs “Do you need me to get the beans for you?”

“Do you have it?” I gasp in shock

“Of course” He goes and opens one of the upper kitchen cabinets taking out a can of beans “Here” He hand it to me

My eyes widened “Please don’t tell me you eat this crap!” As I shake the can in front of his face

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks offended

“Everything Baron! If it comes in a can is not good for you! I’m talking about cooking dried beans, real beans. Not this pathetic excuse for a bean”.

“They taste the same Y/N”

“Have you ever eaten freshly cooked beans?” I ask defiantly

“No, but-“

“Then you have no right of opinion on this debate!” I huffed and he rolled his eyes

......................................................................

“What in the actual fuck?” I say as I got up from the bed.

I followed the very loud music coming from downstairs in the living room to find Y/N in some skimpy clothes, barefoot with her hair up in a bun singing and dancing to whatever rhythm that was. I go to the radio and turn the music down. Making her look behind.

“Oh you’re awake” She smiles fondly

“How could I not be with this deafening loud music? What are you doing?”

“It’s Saturday babe” She says as if that was supposed to mean something

“Yeah I know! It’s also fucking 8 a.m. and my day off! I would like to still be asleep!” I say angrily

“But it’s Saturday” She says again

“And what’s that suppose to mean Y/N?”

“Saturday is the official house cleaning day, love” She speaks slowly as if she was talking to a child “Would you like to take the bedrooms and bathrooms or the living and dining room plus the kitchen?” She smiled

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N? I would like to sleep! Sleep until fucking noon damn it! Official house cleaning day my ass” I scream as I make my way back to the bedroom slamming the door.

......................................................................

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARON?” She yelled

“Jesus fuck, you scared me! I’m cleaning as you can see” I say as I grab another piece of paper towel to clean the oven

“With paper towels?! Do you plan to bankrupt us and kill the environment too?”

“And what am I supposed to use to clean it?” I ask impatiently

She reaches one of the lower drawers and take a piece of one of her old shirts from it and hand it to me.

I just stare at her confused. She sighs before saying

“You use this to clean it, after you’re done you’ll wash it, put down to dry and once is dried you’ll store it back in the drawer again for future cleaning uses! That’ll save money and prevent more trees to get killed so you can clean your oven! Do I have to teach you everything babe?” She throws her hands in the air “Unbelievable” As she lefts me with a puzzled look on my face.

......................................................................

“Baron love, have you seen my purse?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve put it in there” He points to his side of the bed as he continues with his eyes glued to his video game.

“Ok, than- Baron!” I run towards my purse, snatching it quickly from the floor “Why did you put my purse on the floor?”

“Baby, where was I suppose to put it?”

“Not on the floor! I would like to keep my money you know?!” I huffed

“And what does your purse being on the floor has to do with you keeping your money?”

“EVERYTHING! You should know that placing your purse or wallet on the floor makes your money vanish”

“WHAT? Y/N, I’m sorry but that makes zero sense princess!”

“Shut up Corbin, you know nothing!”

......................................................................

“Baron, can you get the broom for me please?” I ask as he passed by me

“Yeah, sure”

He comes back with the broom on his hand “Here, I’ll help you” As he swiped the floor

“Thank you, my love”

A few minutes after I felt the biggest fear of my life becoming true

“Oh, sorry kitten...Are you ok?”

“Baron” I whisper “Please tell me that I’m getting delusional and you didn’t swipe my feet just now”

“Yeah I did, but-“ I raised my hand for him to stop talking

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks

“Yes you did. In fact, I’m never gonna get married now thanks to you!”

“What?” He chuckled “Please don’t tell me that this is one more of your crazy superstitions?” He’s full on laughing now

“Stop laughing dumb ass! It’s not funny and you should respect those things you know?!” I say annoyed

“Whatever you say babe” He dries his tears of laughter

......................................................................

“For God’s sake what is this awful smell?” I ask to myself as I entered the living room door “Y/N?”

She didn’t answer me. I decided to go on a hunt for my own woman inside my house, when I heard some mumbling

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Shhhh Baron, don’t interrupt me!”

“What on earth is this cursed smell?” I ask ignoring her

“It’s sage and some herbs” She whispers

“I’ve had a bad dream, so this will keep all of the bad juju out of here!” She says

“You know that will-“ As soon as I was about to remind her of the smoke alarm the little prick showed himself

“Oh fuck! I forgot about that, damn it! Shut up you evil little thing!” She says as she steps on the couch and wave her hands at it “Baron! Don’t just stand there, do something boy! Go get me a piece of cloth of something like that!” As she frantically waves her hands to prevent the smoke from going to the alarm

......................................................................

“Good morning kitten” I lean down to peck her lips

“Good morning handsome” She smiles “Coffee?”

“Yes, please”

She fills one mug with black coffee and give it to me

“Thanks baby” I take a gulp “You know, I’ve had this crazy dream last night”

“Oh yeah? About what, love?”

“There was this monkey and a deer. I was chasing them or something, I don’t know it was just so weird” I look at Y/N to find her typing ferociously on her phone

“Is everything ok, kitten?”

“Sure babe! I’m just texting my sister to mark me some numbers at the loteria”

“Why?”

“Because of your dream Baron! The monkey and the deer. They have a number at the loteria so who knows? Maybe we’ll gain some money at it to save it up?”

“But we don’t need money” I look at her almost laughing

“Still” She raises her eyebrows

......................................................................

“Yeah?” I scream

*Is she really gonna make me go down there?* I sighed

“Yeah baby girl?” I ask as I open the door

“What?” She asks confused

“What do you want babe? You were calling me” I say

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were Y/N, I was in the bedroom unpacking and I heard you clearly call for me two times”

“Baron, I swear on my mother’s life I did not called for you” She whispers, all the blood drained out from her face

“Oh, then I guess I misheard it”

“When you heard someone call for you, did you answered out loud?” She asks with fear in her eyes

“Well yeah! I thought you were the one who was calling me in the first place!”

She stood up from her office chair grabbing a small glass bottle with some water in it. She toss some of the water on her then on me

“What the fuck babe? What’s that?” I ask slightly angry

“Holy water! You heard something call for you with my voice, and you answered! Babe that is a bad omen, that means something evil is walking around here...Oh my God” She gasps in shock “Xander! We gotta bless him with some holy water too, we gotta protect him Baron! Oh no my poor baby Xander” She runs through the the hallway screaming for Xander.

Soon after she returns with Xander by her side. “He’s good now, thank God!” She reaches for her desk’s drawer again and grabbed a spray bottle “C’mon Baron, we’ve got to spray holy water in all of the doors and windows so it will scare away whatever that thing that called for you was” She lives her office again with the spray bottle in hand and a faithful Xander by her side.

God, why on earth did I decided to move in with that woman? She drives me crazy! But I would be lying if I said she wasn’t fun...

[enmy-writes]

My Rock Star

Request: Anon: hii can i request a zuko x reader fic where the reader is in a famous girl group (like blackpink for example) & the whole gaang is backstage while the reader is getting ready for a performance & its just super fluffy & cute? Thanks!!

Word Count: 2,646

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: All fluff. It’s some nice fluff time

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (not detailed though), suggested themes but nothing bad

****My first request!! Sorry, anon, if I didn’t capture everything you wanted, but I hope it is! I am a sucker for music and bands, and instead of a blackpink approach, I gave the band instruments because I simp for instruments lol I might do a part 2 if this turns out well so lmk! Also, I learned how to make the “keep reading” line show up so that’s exciting yay me. Enjoy :)****

_______________________________________________________________________

It was about two hours before the show was supposed to start and Y/N was doing her normal self-routine before she had to go to her ‘Band-Team-Gang’ (or BTG as her and the girls liked to call it) pre-show rituals. 

Y/N was a part of a famous girl group who had just recently started making it big in Ba Sing Se and were on their first huge tour. Normally, this would make any performer nervous of the attention and putting on a big show, but this was the environment that she thrived in. 

Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Azula, Yue, and herself all knew each other from an all-girl’s private school that they grew up in together and bonded immediately over their love for creating music. It was inevitable for them to become a group. 

They spent most of their high school days writing songs and joking around in Y/N’s backyard bungalow her parents had gotten her for her twelfth birthday. To this day, they still go back there and do hot (dumb) girl shit.

“Why would we stop? That’s our home, of course we’d still go back there!” Ty Lee answered the interviewer with her signature hair flip and giggle. 

Azula rolled her eyes at the girl, hiding a fond smile. “At this point, It’d be weird not to go back to that little corner of hell we made.” Yue smacked her arm quickly, “Azula! Don’t act like you haven’t written most of our top hits in the bean bag we definitely didn’t steal from the school lounge.” 

The rest of the girls laughed, remembering how they had to hop the gates and sneak past the night guards to be able to get the bean bag. The plan would’ve been a total waste of time and definitely would have gotten them all expelled if anyone had caught them, but thank Mai’s ability to pick locks (which no one knows where she learned to do but they do not question it). 

“Plus,” Suki chimed in. “Y/N’s dad makes the best snacks and meals for us. It’d be a federal crime to not take up that offer for as long as we can.”

Needless to say, the six girls were so comfortable with each other that every performance was just like every group practice with, like, thousands of extra guests of honor. They even have a couch lounge area as part of their stage set props. It just makes sense.

Even though those were her best friends ever, sisters even, Y/N had another friend group that she was super close with. Azula had introduced Y/N to her brother, Zuko, back when they were in their sophomore year of high school and the two instantly clicked. It had only taken a year of being friends and hiding crushes for them to get together, and the two were still going strong. Through him, Y/N met a gang of (crazy) people that he had spent his whole public schooling years.

Aang, an enthusiastic and bald, vegan kid who loved life and enjoyed everything around him; Katara, his pre-med and feminist girlfriend; Sokka, her hilarious and amazingly smart brother (though, sometimes his ideas are questionable); and Toph, a blind and tough girl who is on her way to ruin the top 1%. With Zuko, they were the tightest and happiest little family that automatically accepted Y/N when Zuko brought her over one night. 

She was there when he went through a pyromaniac phase, his varying hair styles, and when he tried to get his father’s love back.Ozai, their father, was the owner and CEO of a massive weapons corporation. He had burned Zuko’s face on a hot stove and kicked him out of the house for suggesting that he raise the wage of all his employees to a comfortable living wage because many of his employees struggled to provide for their families even though they worked their asses off. Thankfully, his kind Uncle Iroh instantly picked the boy up off of the streets, letting him live with him and run his successful tea shop called the Jasmine Dragon. 

Azula had been shoved away by her father mostly for sexist reasons. Ozai would never pass his company down to his daughter, no matter how smart and dedicated she was. He threw her in the private school where she lived year round. She had never told Y/N or any of the other girl’s any of this, Y/N had found out through Zuko.

Y/N’s mother was a successful lawyer and her father was a district attorney who were very very passionate about bringing justice to those of racial discrimination, domestic abuse, abuse in general, and orphan rights. Her mother was an orphan who was plain lucky to get adopted by a loving old couple who used their life savings to get her the education and life she deserved while her father was a victim of domestic abuse. 

So, after months of convincing Zuko, Y/N told her parents about the two siblings. Long story short, they got Ozai arrested for his abuse crimes, bribery history, employee mistreatment, and many more crimes. They also adopted Azula herself and gave full custody of Zuko to his uncle. 

Since then, the world has been peaceful for the group. Azula has started to recover from her trauma with the help of her friends, therapy, and love from two caring adults; and Zuko was glowing year round in the company of his uncle and friends. 

A smile forms on her face, thinking of her large family and all they’ve gone through to get here, when the door to her personal backstage room opened up. The loud voices from Aang and Sokka met her ears next. 

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU REMEMBERED THE HAM SANDWICHES WITH NO CRUST.” A kiss to her cheek and Sokka is instantly at her snack table.

“Y/N! How’d you know I was going to bring Appa and Momo?!” Aang walked his huge, white dog and lemur (don’t ask how he has it. It might be illegal, but no one can tell him no) to the pet bed corner she had put in. 

Not answering them, Y/N just smiles at her friends who barged in and turns back to her mirror where she’s trying to decide her earring combination for the day. Warm arms snake their way around her waist, a body sliding up against her back soon after. 

“What’s your ideas for tonight?” Zuko’s voice speaks quietly into her ear, causing her to hum and lean back against his chest slightly. 

“I’m not sure. We’re going for the edgy look tonight, but we all know Ty Lee is still going to wear pink. Man, our manager is going to kill her...again.” They both laugh. “Ugh, why did you let me pierce my ears, like, ten times. There’s too many combinations to choose from!”

“Me?! I did-- never mind. Just grab a handful, no one can see them from the stage anyways.” Despite his attempt to seem like he doesn’t care, one of his ring-clad fingers starts moving his favorite pieces over into a little pile by themselves. Y/N rolls her eyes and starts putting his choices in random holes in her ear, pushing him back lightly so she can bend over closer to the mirror to see better. 

“It’s the fit Zu… if the fit is a vibe, the confidence is there. If the confidence is there, nothing can stop my hot girl shit.” Her words cause him to let a huff of jealousy, flicking her arm playfully. 

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and he can clearly see the mischief in them. Calming down, he jokes back. “Yeah, well, you may do your ‘hot girl shit,’ but no one can steal you from me. We’ve been here too long.”

Toph cuts in from across the room with a loud laugh. “Please, fire brains, I could steal Y/N if I tried.” 

He whips around to face the short girl, “No you could not!!” 

“Actually, she makes a point.” Katara says, nodding along in hopes to pick fun at the boy. 

Sokka adds his two cents. “Honestly. Toph would just have to pick Y/N up and slam her against the wall or something and she’d tell her manager to send you a letter of resignation.” 

The whole group laughs, save for the angsty boy, and Y/N wraps her hand around his wrist. She pulls him towards her and reaches for a peck on the cheek. “While that may be true,” she gets a glare. “I’m too big of a simp for you… and Uncle Iroh’s dinner and game nights.”

While the rest of them laugh, Zuko’s eyes soften and he presses his lips to hers in a short, soft kiss. Uncle Iroh adores his girlfriend and everything she has done for Zuko and Azula where he had no power to do anything. The man calls her more than he does Zuko himself, and he’s pretty sure Y/N convinced him to download Words With Friends on his phone to play with her for when she can’t make it to the weekly game night dates. 

Y/N smiles up at him and pats his cheeks lovingly before moving to the wardrobe area of her room. She pulls out ‘Cards Against Humanity’ from a duffle bag on the floor before joining the rest of her friends around the lounge area, patting the seat beside her for Zuko to join them.

Everyone cheers at the sight of the black and white box with the many expansion packs that they have collected over the years. While Katara deals, everyone else makes bets on who is going to win this time. Y/N slides back into Zuko’s side as his arm comes to rest around her shoulders, playing with the ends of her H/L hair.

It’s about fifty minutes before the show is starting, and Y/N knows she has to start getting dressed and ready for the concert. Sighing, she slips from her boyfriend’s grasp (a small whine coming from him) and moves to her dressing corner. Suki, Ty Lee, Mai, Azula, and Yue had made their way to the room shortly after they started due to Sokka texting his girlfriend (Suki) to come over and join. 

The rest of the girls notice you get up and leave as well, much to everyone else’s dismay. You reassure them to keep playing a few more rounds, not wanting to ruin their fun with you putting clothes on. Y/N quickly shoves her outfit choice on which is very hot, black, and riddled with chains. To top it off, she had thick-heeled combat boots on with numerous buckles on them. Her hair, makeup, and accessories have already been done so she heads back to the group.

‘Cards Against Humanity’ has been packed up neatly and her friends are lounging around, getting last minute snacks and quality time before they go to their special seats right in front of the stage. Nothing but the best for her friends. Sokka and Katara are the first people to see her, and the former lets out his own wolf whistle in his own way to hype Y/N up. 

“DAMN, my best friend is HOT AS HELL. Zuko, you lucky ass man.” Katara hits him, but shoots her a wink as the rest of the gang look over. Y/N laughs giddily through their praises and hyped words (Toph in good spirit rather than actually seeing her outfit), as she makes her way back to her spot on the couch.

Zuko, who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her yet, quickly grabs her bare waist and tugs her onto his lap to hold her tight. “So… this is what you meant by ‘hot girl shit.’” Letting out a loud laugh, Y/N turns her head and gives him a quick kiss. “I’m a rock star, baby, what can I say.” 

Aang cheers out of nowhere. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to be a groupie!” More laughter and jokes ring throughout the room, keeping the atmosphere as light as always, 

A knock at the door interrupts them. A man is standing there in all black with a headset on and a sleek, red (with little sparkles that only gleam in the light), electric guitar carefully caressed in his hands. While they are a girl group, their success has mainly come from being a girl group who also plays all their instruments. With Mai on the drums, Ty Lee on the keyboard, Azula and Y/N on electric guitars, Yue on the acoustic guitar, Suki on the bass; the band is truly a sight with all of them sharing the vocals and their enthusiastic (near crackhead) energy that give their crowd a good show. 

“Miss L/N? This is your five minute warning.” He tells them, not bothered by the usual group of people who are constantly in these rooms with her.

“Thanks Lee!” Y/N hops up to get her pride and joy (her child as Suki and Mai like to joke about). “I’ll be right out.”

Knowing these are the last pre-game minutes, everyone starts getting up to leave the room as well. Zuko lingers by Y/N who’s busy making sure her instrument is tuned perfectly for the numbers she’s about to perform. 

“I can feel you staring, Zu,” She smiles, still looking down at her strings. He huffs out a laugh, reaching out to push a piece of hair back to see her face.

“Good luck out there, my rock star. Don’t do too much hot girl shit.” 

“Oh, I’m doing all the hot girl shit.” A glare. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding… unless…?” She laughs at his fed up face. Reaching up, she presses one last, lingering kiss to his lips, enjoying the feeling of his fingers clutching her sides firmly and the feeling of his heart beat under her palm that’s resting on his chest. 

“Bye, love. I’ll see you after the show.” She whispers, sealing the promise with a kiss before moving back. “Alright kids! Get the hell out of my dressing room.” Y/N shouts at her friends and they all leave together, laughing away. 

The rest of them wish her luck before moving away, Sokka sprinting to find Suki one last time. Zuko holds onto her free hand, watching her laugh at ‘Simp Sokka’ with his small smile on his face. He kisses her hand, pulling her attention back to him. 

“Bye, rock star. I’ll see you after the show. Break a leg, yeah?” His cliche words make her laugh more, pulling away from him and towards the rest of her band who are chanting “BTG! BTG!”. 

“Zu… I don’t break legs. I break hearts.” And with one last mischievous look, she mouths ‘hot girl shit’ and struts away in that way that makes Zuko want to make her cancel the show completely. 

His phone buzzes a few minutes after he caught up with his friends in their special closed off section on the floor. He opens the notification and it sends him to Instagram where Y/N had tagged him in a post. The smile grows on his face with every second he takes in the post. 

Katara must’ve taken the picture. The angle, lighting, and quality could only be done by her. Y/N was on his lap, dressed to go on stage. Zuko’s mouth was almost touching her ear, definitely when he was whispering to her, and her face was wide in a smirk. They looked good, perfect even. The caption is what made him laugh, warmth and pride that she is his spreading through his chest. 

“Y/N_L/N: for him? I’m always on my hot girl shit”

[peterstanslizzie]

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 2.10 (Working Girl)

Lizzie unintentionally breaking the fourth wall

- Have we already established the fact that Lizzie (not Hilary) is a really bad actress? She tries to butter her parents up by giving them compliments to get them to kindly raise her allowance. But of course, they are able to see right through her and give her a big fat NO. Lizzie is fuming!

Poor Miranda!

- The natural thing for Lizzie to do after this is to then vent to her friends at the Digital Bean. Miranda spots a ‘busboy wanted’ sign in the distance and tries to tell Lizzie that she could get a job to pay for her things. Lizzie is too busy in her rant to even notice what she’s trying to tell her but for some strange reason, when Gordo points it out to her instead, she suddenly pays attention and hears him out. Weird.

- Anyways, Lizzie easily gets the job and her first day is tomorrow. She thinks it’s going to be a piece of cake. Don’t jinx it Lizzie...

- The next morning, Lizzie announces her new job to her parents and they are taken aback because they didn’t expect her to get one all of a sudden. They are also worried that she’s taking on too many responsibilities and there might be too much on her plate. I think it’s safe to say they’re probably right. 

Lizzie Starts Her Job

- We skip to Lizzie on her first day working at the Digital Bean and she quickly realizes there’s a lot to do as the new busboy. And it doesn’t help that her manager seems to be a total nightmare to work for. She’s so bossy! I would hate having a manager like her. 

- And it doesn’t get better from then on because Lizzie is starting to get paranoid about her friends making even the smallest mess in the café because she has to be the one to clean up after them. But you know what, who could blame her? Especially when you have these two around: 

Can these two ever get a life?

- And unsurprisingly, Lizzie’s manager demands that she cleans up the spill when it’s so obvious that Kate and Claire were the ones who purposely caused it. Lizzie is now starting to feel regrets about taking this job.

- The next day (which I’m assuming is a Saturday?), Sam notices Lizzie looking distraught about having to go to work and tells her she can always quit if she wants to. He also lets Lizzie know that she’s just a kid and the only responsibilities she should have is being a good student, a good friend and a good daughter. Now that’s really solid advice from Sam...and Jo (because she probably told him to convince Lizzie to quit)

Lizzie Quits After....3 Days?

Lizzie’s better than me. I would’ve thrown that spoon right at his face lol

- During her shift that day, she’s dealing with a bunch of difficult customers, which, again, includes Kate and Claire. On top of that, her supervisor (whatever her name is) is just soooo not being understanding or thoughtful towards Lizzie.  

Also, if I were Lizzie, I would’ve popped Claire in her forehead and quit my job afterwards. Lizzie could’ve gotten really hurt thanks to her. 

That guy totally deserved that

- Lizzie has had enough and decides to give everyone who did her wrong a piece of her mind. I’m glad she manage to get that all out of her system but because of her rant, Lizzie gets fired from her role as busboy at the Digital Bean. But you know what? Good on her!

- After getting the pink slip, Lizzie comes home and tells her friends what just happened. She actually seems relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with the stress from her job anymore. Even just watching her work makes me feel stressed out. 

B-Plot: Miranda Doesn’t Like Breaking Young Boy’s Hearts

- Matt is currently feeling down in the dumps because he thinks that Melina doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore. Well, more like doesn’t like him anymore. He expresses this to his friend, Reggie, whom I don’t think we’ve been introduced to beforehand. 

- It’s not so much that Melina doesn’t talk to him anymore. It’s more so that she hasn’t been getting Matt into any trouble recently. I mean, we all know that this weird relationship of theirs has pretty toxic tendencies. But she’s actually now focusing her attention on this other boy named Jared.

- Reggie suggests to Matt that he ask his sister, Lizzie for some advice as to why Melina has been treating him differently these days. Matt hesitates at first but he realizes that he really has no other choice. 

This made me laugh so much. Matt literally insinuated that Jo isn’t a girl. I mean, she is a woman but I’m sure his mom more than qualifies.  

- Matt then shows up at Lizzie’s job to tell her about his problem. But their conversation is cut short by Lizzie’s manager. She’s beginning to really annoy me. 

It also doesn’t help that Lizzie can be quite clumsy sometimes...

- While Lizzie is busy being a total mess at work, Matt is lucky enough to be able to ask Miranda for advice instead since she is, indeed a girl. Miranda basically tells him that it’s Melina’s problem and how she isn’t able to realize how great of a kid Matt is. She also had to add that there are others girls who would be so lucky to go out with him. See how this is going?

Look at Matt’s face; He totally just misunderstood Miranda’s intention in everything she just told him lol

And now he’s gone full-blown stalker mode. Yikes!

- The next day, Lizzie, Miranda and Gordo come home from school to chill at Lizzie’s place but Matt uses this opportunity to give Miranda a ‘thank-you’ card:

Oh my word. Miranda better run for the hills hahahaha. Also, does the music have to be THAT dramatic when she opens his card? LOL

- It’s one thing to have crushes but Matt takes it to a whole other level. I get that he’s like 11/12 but still...

He’s also now calling her and sending her a bunch of balloons with his and her face on them. 

- On their three way call, Miranda is asking Gordo for his advice on how to gently turn Matt down. To my surprise, Miranda still doesn’t want to hurt Matt’s feelings and actually agrees to go on a bike-riding date with him. To be honest, if I were Miranda, it would also be hard for me to turn him down. I’m not exactly sure why. It must be the people pleaser in me...

By the way, is it weird that I love Miranda’s outfit here? Very Avril Lavigne circa 2002.

His smile...

- The next day, with Gordo’s support, Miranda tries to work up enough courage to reject Matt but before she could let it out, Melina marches into the living room  and confronts Miranda for ‘stealing her man’. Yikes, Miranda just got dissed by an 11 year old lmao. 

Melina just proved to all of us that she likes Matt back. That’s sweet...in a twisted kind of way.

- Oh and just like how Gordo pointed out, it’s quite embarrassing that Miranda just got dumped by Matt of all people. Again, poor Miranda...

- There’s also one last surprise for Miranda. Apparently Matt had a cake made for her that Lizzie has taken out of the fridge. And because of that, she has no other choice but to act like a pig and eat the frosting of the cake with her bare hands just to prevent Lizzie from seeing what’s written on the cake. I would have done the same thing lol.

Overall Thoughts

- I found this episode to be one the funniest Lizzie Mcguire episodes so far. I felt like almost every scene either made me slightly chuckle or laugh out loud. From Lizzie’s short stint at the Digital Bean as a busboy to Matt’s sudden crush on Miranda, I was thoroughly entertained from start to finish.

- Honestly speaking, had Matt been able to dial down the craziness in terms of ‘pursuing’ someone just like he did with Miranda, he actually knows how to be a pretty romantic kid. No wonder Melina likes controlling being around him. And seeing her confronting Miranda like that and basically telling her that she’s just a rebound was hilarious to watch. 

- Lizzie’s new job as the busboy was fascinating to watch because it’s the first time we see her working a job and taking on responsibilities outside the house and school. Even though she got fired, I can’t imagine anyone being able to put up with that bossy manager. Like if the busboy turnover rate is consistently high, surely that has something to do with the work environment and the people running the internet café, right? Or can they at least hire more busboys to spread out the workload? Solutions people!

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

The Hunt Is On! Eggs-traordinary Animals That Hide Their Eggs

by Shelby Wyzykowski

Just once every year, an eggs-tra special day rolls around when a certain long-eared, fluffy-tailed fellow comes hopping down the bunny trail to your home. He brings with him all of the egg-ceptionally tasty springtime goodies that he knows will satisfy your sweet tooth. Your basket gets filled to the brim with chocolate rabbits, pastel-colored confections, and chick-shaped marshmallows, just to name a few delectable treats. It’s a holiday candy lover’s dream! But then you may just notice one thing that’s missing…where are all the eggs? No, the Easter Bunny didn’t forget them. He’s giving you a bit of a challenge this year. He’s remembered an old German tradition that started hundreds of years ago. It was so long ago that he had a different name…Osterhase! Osterhase would secretly lay eggs in the back garden so children could enjoy the outdoors and hunt for their Easter eggs. So, like long ago, you get to look outside (virtually) for eggs too! But as you search and discover egg after egg, little do you know that, beyond your garden, there are many more eggs concealed in secret spots. In fact, they’re all over the world…in mountain forests, on ocean shores, and in steamy swamps. But they’re not hidden by the Easter Bunny. All sorts of animals hide their eggs too! Let’s take some time to eggs-plore the planet and learn more about these eggs-traordinary creatures. Let’s go on an egg hunt!

First let’s search out West for the eggs of a plump, short-tailed bird called the American Dipper. They love to live in and around pristine mountain streams ranging from way up in Alaska and all the way down into Panama! That’s a lot of places for them to hide their eggs, so, for now, let’s just focus on one of the Dipper’s favorite spots in Montana’s Rocky Mountains. Dippers are the only songbirds in the United States that love to routinely swim. And they have several adaptations that make dunking and diving quite easy for them. At the base of their tails, they have what is called a uropygial (oil) gland. They use their beak to collect oil from this gland and, when they preen, it makes their feathers waterproof. They also have nictitating membranes (extra eyelids) and flaps of skin covering their nostrils that protect their eyes and beak when they’re submerged.

But all these swim-friendly features can also help immensely when Dippers nest. To keep their eggs safe from predators, they sometimes build their nests in hard-to-reach spots like cliff ledges, on boulders, and under bridges. But there is one very special, watery way that Dippers like to raise their chicks…behind waterfalls! It can get wet if you live behind a waterfall, so a Dipper nest is specially designed to withstand such damp conditions. The dome-shaped nest is about the size of a soccer ball and has multiple layers of moss, bark, leaves, and coarse grass. The thick, outside shell of moss absorbs moisture so the inside, lined with grass, stays cozy and dry. After around two weeks of incubation, the clutch of four to five eggs hatch. Mom spends a lot of time on the nest, but both parents feed the sparsely-downed chicks up to twenty times an hour! They must fly back and forth through the veil of falling water to get to and from their hungry babies.

After a little over three weeks, the fledgling Dippers are old enough to leave the nest. So, they must bravely make their first trip through the curtain of cascading water. Then they watch and learn from their parents how to wade, swim, and dive in the stream to hunt for food. Sadly, the Dipper’s preferred meals (crayfish, tadpoles, fish eggs, and aquatic insects) become scarce when streams are tainted by humans. Poor practices in logging, mining, and farming can cause these birds to abandon polluted areas. Luckily, for now, they do manage to find new locations with clean, cold, rushing water that they can happily call home.

Now let’s travel a few states over to Florida, one of several Southern states where the American Alligator glides through the waters of slow-moving rivers, lakes, and sweltering marshes. In June and July, the female alligator creates a huge nest out of mud, plants, and sticks. It can be up to two to three feet high and as wide as seven to ten feet! The nest needs to be this big because the mother alligator lays as many as thirty-five to ninety eggs. Once the nest is filled with eggs, she completely covers them up with more vegetation. As the eggs rest hidden and undisturbed for several weeks, an interesting process occurs within the massive mound.

Photo credit: Rene Ferrer from Pexels.

Alligator embryos do not have chromosomes that determine gender, so the temperature of the nest determines how many of the young are girls and how many are boys. If, for example, the nest is located on a sunny riverbank (somewhere around 91 to 93 degrees Fahrenheit), the offspring are mostly male. The temperature of a nest in a cool, shady spot might hover around 86 degrees, and that environment produces mostly females. Around the end of August, the baby gators, still safe in their eggs, start making high-pitched noises. This lets their mom know that they’re ready to break out. She uncovers the nest for them to hatch. When the hatchlings are tiny, they hang out in a small group called a “pod”, but mom is always close by keeping a watchful eye on them. Unfortunately, climate change is beginning to affect the behavior of temperature-dependent species like the alligator. They are beginning to nest earlier and earlier in the year to preserve the correct male to female ratio. The alligators instinctively know that they need to keep a gender balance to allow their species to successfully thrive!

Our last stop covers a wide area, so get ready for the toughest challenge of our hunt! We’re going to search for the eggs of the Loggerhead Turtle. They like to swim in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans, and the Mediterranean Sea. But between late April and early September, the females leave their aquatic homes to nest on the beaches where they themselves hatched decades earlier. Safely under the cover of darkness, a female Loggerhead will use her powerful rear flippers to dig a hole in the sand. After she lays around one hundred eggs, she once again uses her flippers to expertly cover up her eggs. She does such a thorough job that she erases any sign of her nest…it’s a safe and cozy hiding place for her eggs! They need to be well-hidden because the mother Loggerhead does not watch over her nest. Instead, she returns to the sea, leaving the concealed eggs to develop on their own.

Like alligators, the gender of sea turtle embryos is temperature dependent. A nest in warmer sand produces more females (this biological fact concerns marine scientists because global warming will disrupt the proper male to female ratio). After about two months of incubation, the baby turtles hatch and wait for nightfall. Then in a joint effort, they all climb out of the nest together and make a mad dash for the ocean waves. But their journey is fraught with danger.

Predators such as birds, crabs, dogs, and even raccoons are anxiously waiting to make these little turtles into scrumptious evening snacks. And the hatchlings have another, more insidious hazard to deal with…artificial light. To reach the ocean, the hatchlings use the natural light (the moon and stars) horizon to guide them. But beachfront lighting, highway lights, and campfires can disorient them and lead them in the wrong direction. It’s true that the odds are stacked against them, and even though it’s a treacherous trek to the water’s edge, many do make it. And then the real adventure begins for these little ones in their new ocean home!

Now that we’ve finished our egg hunting eggs-pedition, and you’ve fervently feasted on your Easter treats, your once-filled basket contains only some crumpled foil, a clump of Easter grass, and one squashed jelly bean. And, unfortunately, the only thing that you’ve got plenty of are the pangs of an eggs-cruciating stomachache. But while you’re laying back in your favorite comfy chair recovering from the day’s egg-citement, think about all those creatures out there in the world that work so hard to hide their eggs in the most interesting of places. And that leads you to wondering that maybe, just maybe, there might be one more egg still hidden in your garden. It might be hiding behind the daffodils or under the old wheelbarrow or in the tulip bed. And when you feel better, and you go back outside and find that last egg, it seems to me that would be an egg-cellent way to end an eggs-tra special day.

Shelby Wyzykowski is a Gallery Experience Presenter in CMNH’s Life Long Learning Department. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[yikesharringrove]

omg i love the "god bless steve’s butthole." series so much. like its already a sexy masterpiece, but your attitude around it? impeccable! if you're feeling up to it, i vote full on chastity cage and plug next. perhaps ft. tommy? maybe billy makes steve prove its his hole by lending it to tommy while steve's still caged? good god woman. you bring out my depravity, and i thank you for it!

ao3

this one got away from me but i lowkey really like it

-

“Billy,” Steve whined, drawing out the two syllables as much as he could. “Bill, please.”

He had been locked in a cock cage for three days.

He was beginning to get sore and cranky.

“Quit your bithcin’ or I’ll make you wear the plugs too.” The specific cock cage came with, attachments, one to slide into his ass, and the other into his cock. Keep him completely full.

Steve was sitting on Billy’s lap, playing with some of the curls that had fallen out of his little ponytail, twirling them between his fingers and giving them a few tugs.

Steve made a high-pitched whine in his throat.

Billy wasn’t looking at him, had been ignoring him for hours while he read.

“It hurts.” Billy raised one eyebrow, still reading, but he took his hand momentarily off of Steve’s lower back, giving him a sharp slap to his ass.

“Don’t care.” Steve pouted at him.

Billy continued to ignore him.

Steve huffed, getting off Billy’s lap.

He knew Billy was watching him as he headed upstairs.

Fine. If Billy was gonna be a douche, Steve was gonna take matters into his own hands.

He wiggled out of his jeans, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

He was gonna try to do this without getting hard, without it hurting.

He took the lube and one of his smaller dildos, and spread out on the bed.

He began with two fingers, his body was used to being stretched out these days.

He tried not to touch his prostate, tried to think about the broken heart Nancy gave him and the black eye Jonathan gave him and things that wouldn’t make him hard in the cage.

This wasn’t for pleasure, this was just to piss Billy off enough that he’ll fuck him into next Tuesday.

He heard Billy shifting around downstairs, and hurriedly switched out his fingers for the small dildo.

He huffed a laugh as he heard Billy on the stairs.

He laid back, making loud moans and whines, panting and writhing.

“You little bitch.”

Steve arched his back, trying not to smile at Billy standing in the doorway.

“You really think I’ll let you out for being a brat?”

Steve heard Billy moving around, but he wasn’t coming any closer.

He looked up, Billy smirking at him, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, today’s your lucky day. This little slut needs to be taught a damn lesson.”

And then Billy was gone.

Steve took out the dildo, pouting at the doorway.

-

Steve had been pouting upstairs all day after Billy left him there.

It made Billy laugh as he waited for Tommy.

Tommy had had feelings for Steve for forever, really, and Billy knew, and Billy teased him, but Tommy fucking jumped at the opportunity to fuck Steve, even if it was in a controlled environment.

Steve was curled up in bed when Billy led him upstairs.

He sat on the bed next to him, brushing gentle fingers through his hair.

“You wanna get fucked, Sugar?”

It was so odd, the soft touch, the soft smile, and the dirty words.

But it made Steve melt.

“Yeah. Want you.”

“Oh, no, Baby. Not me.”

And then Steve noticed Tommy.

His eyes went big.

“But-”

“I’m lending my little fucktoy to Tommy.”

He stood up, lounging back into Steve’s desk chair, ready to watch.

Steve stared at Tommy. And spread his legs.

Tommy made a desperate sound, stumbling towards the bed.

He pulled his shirt over his head, running his hands up Steve’s thighs.

“Fuck. So gorgeous.”

Steve preened under the attention, flicking doe eyes back to Billy.

“Billy, I want him to touch me.” He could see the way Billy’s eyes went dark, the way Tommy’s chest flushed.

“Go ahead, Tommy. Play with him.”

Tommy scrambled onto the bed, between Steve’s legs.

A finger was pressed inside him, now warning, no lube.

Billy huffed, getting up angrily and slapping the bottle of lube into Tommy’s chest.

“You better not hurt my little hole, you hear me?”

Tommy nodded, but rolled his eyes when Billy’s back was turned.

Billy sat back into the chair, his thighs spread.

Tommy pressed his finger back in, now slicked up.

Steve’s cock twitched in the cage.

He whined, looking at Billy.

Billy just shrugged.

“You wanna be a little tease? You have to deal with the repercussions.”

Tommy had added another finger, was pumping them in and out of Steve, curling them around.

“Tommy, you ever fucked another guy?”

“No.” Billy smirked at him. Feral.

“So, what? You just watch pornos? Picture my Stevie? You watched our porno?”

And Tommy’s face went a deep shade of red. Billy was practically giddy.

“You have! You’ve watched us fucking! How many times?”

“Lost count.” Billy was just grinning like the cat that got the damn cream.

It’s not like Tommy had watched it over and over again (even though he totally had). But Billy sent him a lot of “accidental” snapchats, a lot of videos of Steve in very compromising positions, so he actually has a decent amount of Steve fodder for his spank bank.

“Well, then go ahead. Live out your little fantasy. Fuck him.”

Steve gave a breathy moan, didn’t like how the boys were looking at one another, wanted them to look at him.

“Tommy,” he whined out like he had Billy’s name. “It hurts. I can’t help it. Let me out, Tommy please.”

Steve watched gleefully as Tommy’s resolve began breaking down.

“Man, can’t you let him out of that thing? It can’t be comfortable.”

“Brat made his choices, and I’ve made mine. If you don’t fuck that little slut hole, I’m gonna do it for you.”

Tommy ground his jaw.

But he complied.

He only had one shot.

He shed his jeans, tossing them away.

He figured Steve could take him without much prep. He’s seen him take bigger with less on Billy’s “accidental” snapchats.

So he shuffled closer to Steve, couldn’t hold eye contact for too long as he sunk inside of him.

Steve’s cock fucking hurt.

It was an angry red in the cage, trying it’s best to get hard with the steel wrapped around it.

Steve tried to take deep breaths as Tommy bean slowly fucking him.

“C’mon, fuck him like you mean it! Don’t sit there and make love to him like a bitch,” Billy jeered from the desk.

Tommy actually growled, and Steve gave a tiny little huh at the sound.

And then Tommy drew his hips back, and Started fucking Steve like he meant it.

Billy actually laughed at the sound of their skin slapping, gave one of his wild cackles as Steve scrambled for purchase, one hand scraping down Tommy’s back, the other holding onto the headboard for dear life.

He didn’t even register Billy moving from his perch until he was crouched next to the bed, speaking right into Steve’s ear.

“He fuck that hole better than me, Kitten?” Steve made a high pitched noise, shaking his head. “Of course he doesn’t. No one fucks my hole like I do.”

Tommy was grunting above him, fucking Steve as rough as he could.

“Make Tommy cum, and I’ll take the cage off.” Billy rasped it right into his ear. Steve moaned at his words, the hot breath on his neck, and clenched up around Tommy, trying to get him there.

“Tommy, please gimme your cum. Want it so bad. Wanna feel you cum inside-”

Tommy buried his face in Steve’s neck, sucking harshly on his soft skin.

His spunk was hot inside of Steve, and the moment Tommy relaxed, Billy was pushing him off and away from Steve.

And Steve hadn’t noticed what was in his hand, not until he was sliding the plug inside his abused hole, and locking it onto the base of the cage.

“But you said-”

“Never said when I’d take it off.”

Billy just grinned at him as he screamed.

“Don’t be such a damn tease next time. Brat.”

[exauhstedsunflower]

I Have So Many Thoughts!!

Right now they‘re about Harry Potter, sorry to my followers who dont care about that. With that out of the way, here is a small HC/Character study thing. Basically I’m gonna ramble a bit. Warning now that this will be kinda long.

So my first bit is gonna be about the boy who lived himself, Harry. of course if any of you who are reading this know me you know that I love a sad character. There is Hella angst potential for this boy, he has been through it!!!

-we all know that he was literally raised to die. Like a pig for slaughter. He was kept in an environment where he learned to deal with serious issues himself and not to trust other people. As he got older them more serious information pertaining to him was kept from him. Like, a harmful amount of no information getting through to him. His lack of knowledge even though he is very clearly at the center of things almost got him killed so many times.

He was barely taught to defend himself. It was actively encouraged when he got himself into Deadly situations. He was rewarded and praised for defeating the basilisk, for finding Voldemort near the philosophers stone, and thats only the first two years! He was throwing himself into these situations and no one cared to ask if he was ok. These were trials, and Harry was trying to prove himself. Even situations as small as Quiditch. He almost died multiple times but at least he caught the snitch! At least they won! Good job Harry! All of this to say the adults in his life did him dirty.

now, my take is that he knew. He knew that they were actively keeping important information from him. He knew that they didn’t care about his well being, just cared about whether or not he defeated this years Big Bad. He knew wasn’t adequately prepared for these deadly situations. And he knew that he wasn’t meant to live for very long.

he’s not a soldier in a war, he is the weapon. he knows he won’t make it out of the war. They’re expecting him to fight valiantly, to be brave. Brave like a Gryffindor. So he deals with everything that come his way, he handles the threats to his life to the best of his ability, and he keep going. Because at the end of this, he is only what he is expected to do. People will hate home because he gives them what they want to hate. People will care because they expect him to be a certain way, so he gives them that version of himself. People will use him and he will play along because he knows he has no choice in the end.

The boy who lived, the boy who fights, the boy who is destined to die.

-

the next one is near and dear to my heart, the foil to the BWL, Draco Malfoy.

-this kid also has a lot of angst potential. Rich kid born and destined for evil? The opposition to our protagonist? Emphasized pressure from his parents and his political stature? All of the boxes for an angsty antagonist. I could easily take this kid and turn him into a sad bean. And guess what? That is entirely what i’m about to do.

he is a Child. Lets just get that out of the way now. Yes he was petty and rude and downright nasty but he is a child. A child that was brought up to be racist and classist and used to having things a certain way. We can see from who he surround himself with and who his parents choose to keep as company, that he’s been in a bit of a bubble. That bubble gets burst at Hogwarts, where calling people mudblood gets him in trouble. He sees a more diverse crowd. people are celebrated for their talent or their dedication, not for just their status. He has been told his whole life that status is everything.

So basically his whole world view is turned upside down, and he lashes out by being a bully to the golden trio, who represent everything his family is supposed to hate. Ron is poor, Harry is meant to defeat Voldemort, Hermione is muggle born. This is what he has been taught and this is what he knows. He‘s not necessarily rude to his friends or even very picky with them. They just represent the people he’s ‘supposed’ to hang out with. Crabbe and Goyle are from respectable, good, pure blood families and this is familiar.

Moving on, because I could go on all day- we know he has a heart. When he sees harry at the Manor, he doesnt say anything. At the end he throws harry his wand. obviously despite the hostility toward Harry, he doesn‘t wish him dead.

He really is just doing what hes supposed to be doing. What’s expected of him. He is expected to Hate Harry Potter, he is expected to hate muggles, he is expected to put forth his status as a Malfoy and a pure blood. I don’t think he actually wants to do that, or rather that he’s confused about his morals. He doesn’t want to be a death eater, he’s clearly too afraid. And he doesn’t want his ‘enemies’ dead. And at the end of the day he never actually seems to be believing what he spouts bout muggles after he gets used to hogwarts. He says he’s above the other students without ever actually doing anything about it.

My thing about all of this is that I think Malfoy and Harry know the way they feel about each other is fabricated. It’s hatred based on expectations. Malfoy is a Slytherin, hes supposed to hate Gryffindors. Harry, regardless of the taunting, always helps Malfoy if needed.

I think it’s kind of like an alliance. Their rivalry is expected of them, but it’s a school boy rivalry. It’s good to them to have something expected of them that they can pretend is normal. they can pretend it’s a house rivalry instead of a old war that they have nothing to do with’s. Malfoy is not a Death Eater. He hasn’t killed anyone, I dont think he could. He’s a kid. And he doesn’t deserve to be treated as a war pawn.

definitely toward the end they both kind of become aware of the fact that they’re really just pawns and that no one actually cares about them more than they care about the outcome of the war. They just continue then because they have to.

-

I’m tired now, I’ll do more next time. Thanks for reading if you did. Add points if you also have thoughts. Id be super excited to read them.

[jessejostark]

The Neo-Punk Songwriter Bringing Softness To The Hard Edge

Find out how the new-wave rocker is informed by retro sensibilities.

Jesse Jo Stark may have been born and raised in California, but the new-wave rock chick currently lives between extremes. As a purely contemporary mix, she's an amalgamation of a Western folk singer with a deep-rooted punk spirit and style to boot. Think David Bowie meets Elvira. Plus, Stark's list of references is as legendary as the cultural tapestry she grew up surrounded by. Apparent in her twinkling melodies, folron imagery, and rockabilly flair, her tastes reflect multiple eras of music synthesized from a life in rock 'n' roll that started long before she ever took the stage. This is largely a result of growing up with the cult-followed brand Chrome Hearts, which her parents (Richard and Laurie Lynn Stark) founded in the '80s, giving the singer a unique introduction to showbusiness—emphasis on the business. The brand lauded by the likes of Virgil Abloh for dressing rock stars from Mötley Crüe to Travis Scott also gave Stark the blueprint for doing things on her terms. With a musical breakout that's seen the artist headlining a Los Angeles residency and opening stints for Lizzo, Jane's Addiction, Sunflower Bean, and The Vaccines, the "Tangerine" singer is gearing up for a new release and a life post-pandemic that befits her rock-star roots. Find out how this femme noir vixen found herself—and her song—in the midst of it all.

She got started at an early age

"I grew up around my family starting their business, and we traveled a lot, so I was always around so many adults. My parents were making leather pants for musicians, and I was on tour with my godmother (Cher) and I always took dance class every day. I begged my godmother for my first voice lesson—I begged her to let me use her vocal teacher, so she let me take lessons with Evelyn, and I went to the studio when I was like, seven or eight. I was so scared, and she said, 'You should just write what happened at school today,' and I'll never forget I was so excited but so nervous, and I wrote a song called 'My Heart's On Fire,' and it was about a boy and really short. I was in a band called It's Complicated with my friend, and we only covered Freaky Friday songs. She did vocals, and I remember having this feeling like I never don't want to be in the studio writing about how I feel. I just think I was really fortunate to have parents that supported me in every way, like if I wanted to play guitar or dance or play volleyball, they were always into that, and I saw hungry artists really supporting each other and starting out and collaborating, and it inspired me to be around a bunch of weirdos and it made me who I am."

Creativity was a touchstone

"I really wanted to do well in school and go to college, and I went to business school for a little bit, so I was always interested in different aspects of the company besides design. I just felt like I always wanted to perform—I always wanted to create and go to work with my dad and touch things. I made my first little bag with my friend by stapling together scraps from the leather shop, and I remember writing something out on a label maker and I think my mom still has it framed. I always thought I wasn't a good writer, and I realized I could write my own music. I always wanted to be sporty and get on teams, but then I ended up on the D team, which itself is so fucked. I just wanted to be creative." 

She learned from Chrome Hearts

"Everything my parents taught me was to be yourself, do it on your own terms, and go against the grain. They really fashioned their whole thing around doing everything organically and collaborating with people that they knew, not chasing anything, taking risks, and allowing this environment for all types of people. My mom would hate this, but it feels rebellious to me, and that's how I approach my music—I don't chase after anything because that's what I think is cool or what's gonna make me money or make me big. It's like everything is so homegrown and natural and from our heart. When we design something, it's never done fast, and one of the biggest annoying things about Chrome Hearts is it takes so long to make one thing. I've grown to appreciate that, so I've introduced it to my art, my visuals, my writing. I think that's where longevity comes in, because we do everything at our speed and I know that's a luxury, but it's something my parents taught me and it's something that works for them. We did it our own way, and I love that. My parents are my biggest inspiration and I don't even think I realized how much they affected me until the last couple of years."

It took adjusting to the pandemic

"I was in the studio finishing the album when we got cut short because of the pandemic. I was so bummed and everyone was, but from the musicians' standpoint, I remember feeling just so upset and confused. I started writing again with my guitar in quarantine, and then I got really frustrated because there were all these songs I already wrote and I wanted those to come out, but I had just started touring a lot, and every day it was like, what's the point? What does this mean? I felt really stunted creatively, and then my whole outlook changed. Even though there's so much sadness in the world, I know a lot of people felt this too, but I really got to know myself in the past year and how to take different risks internally with my music and connected more with artists that I didn't think I would want to collab with or work with and sounds I didn't know I wanted. I really got to know myself this year, and I remember clawing at the floor at times because I didn't know what to say, but I've written some of my favorite songs this past year, so I'm grateful. But I feel bad saying that because I'm not OK with anything that's happened because there's so much suffering, but to get to know yourself as an artist being stuck inside, I would have never experienced that. At first it was horrible, and still now it's like, when are we touring? I'm so ready to share everything, I get so ahead of myself, but I remember what my parents taught me and it's like, we just have to go with the fucking flow."

It's about the persistence of self

"I'm really excited about this album. I wanted it to be a little bit more modern—it's new for me, but it's still me, and creatively, I feel like I'm just really going back to what I love, which is chill punk. I have so many ideas, it's just about finding the right people and introducing them energetically to me, and like this new video, we're going out in a simple way, and I think it's about just connecting with my audience and it doesn't have to be all about the glitz and the glamour. I'm never creatively blocked. It happens for 24 hours or so, but I'm full of ideas—I'm totally ready to tour. I want to make a video for each song, I'm ready. It's still just me and it's still the same shit."

She loves the process just as much

"It's hard to write a song, be vulnerable and sit down and know what you want to say. It sounds simple, but if I try to have the same experience as the day before, it never works out. It's like trying to have the same two days at Disneyland, so I don't set expectations on myself, and I might even write here in the parking lot. For me, when the pressure is off, that's when I'm most creative, so it's never the same. Also, when I'm in the studio every day with no breaks, that's when I end up writing another album. In the studio and recording one thing, but you end up writing a whole 'nother album, so that's kind of what happens with me."

New music is coming

"I've been wanting to release new music for a while, and finally, it's time. It's coming out soon, and it's kind of like my birthday present to me. It's funkier than some of my other songs, and I'm really excited for people to hear it. I wanted to introduce little things that inspire me and make me feel like I'm in a good place."