#i have a lot of complex thoughts on this movie

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 4 ~ new content~

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: It's game day, but first you need to ask a few important questions

Warnings: pregnancy, panic attack

a/n: This is the first 'new' chapter (as in hasn't been previously posted), so I'm very nervous about posting this. Fingers crossed you all enjoy it.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

PART 4

It’s quiet in the car on the way to the training centre, the low hum of the radio the only noise.  Your brain however hasn’t stopped running wild with thoughts ever since school the other day.  You’d tried to find the answers to your questions in books, but Mr Webster the librarian had told you they were too grown up for you to be reading without an adult. 

Rubbing the soft fur of Arthur's ear against your cheek, you slowly mustered up the courage to ask your Aunties the questions you’d been dying to know the answers to.

“Aunty Lessi, Aunty Leah… C-can I ask a… a question?  About the b-baby?”

You could see Aunty Leah smile through the reflection in the rearview mirror as your Aunty Lessi turned around in the passenger seat to look at you.

“Of course you can, Bun.  You can always ask us anything.”

You let out a sigh of relief, before taking in a deep breath and beginning your line of questioning.

“Okay, so all the books I’ve ever read and the movies I’ve seen, there’s a Mummy and a Daddy, and well, my Mummy said that babies happen when a Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much.  But I also heard at school that there’s something to do with birds and bees, but I don’t really know how that works.  So, because there’s no Daddy here, did you have to get something from birds and bees, like feathers and honey or something to make a magic potion to make the baby? Oh and, and, and also, where does booby milk come from?  Like I know the baby is in your tummy Aunty Leah, so you will have booby milk, but will you also have booby milk, Aunty Lessi?  And is it just like the same milk you buy at the shops?  Like what we use on our cereal or is it different? And is that different to the milk bunnies make? And how do bunnies make babies? And h-”

“Alright, alright let’s answer one question at a time, yeah?” Aunty Lessi cut your questions off with a chuckle.

You took another deep breath and nodded, rubbing Arthur’s ear across your cheek, relieved to have finally gotten those questions out.

“Okay, so, you’re right.  Generally, but not always, babies happen when two people love each other very much.  It doesn’t have to be a Mummy and a Daddy, though, it’s just that that is what tends to happen a bit more often.  But these days there’s more and more families that have two Mummies or two Daddies or a completely different type of family structure all together.  The science of it all is a bit more complex, but I promise you…” Aunty Leah caught your eye in the rear-view mirror with a mischievous glint ���…there are no magic bird feathers or honey potions involved.”  You giggled at her as she winked at you in the mirror.

“Yeah Bun, every family’s story is a bit different, but for us, your Aunty Leah and I went to the doctors and asked them for help in making us a baby.  Some families can make their babies at home, like your Mummy and Daddy made you at home, but lots of families need some help from their doctors” Aunty Lessi explained.

“So, you went to the doctors, and they put a tiny little baby in Aunty Leah?”

“Basically, yeah” she confirmed.

“But why Aunty Leah, why not you?” you wondered.

“You know how Aunty Leah hurt her leg?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You nodded.  Your Daddy had told you all about how it was really sad because she was meant to go play in the World Cup thing in Brazil with Aunty Lessi, and she was captain of the England team, but she couldn’t play because of her injury.  And he had said that she had hurt her other leg the exact same way just before the last big World Cup thing and wasn’t able to play in that either.  You were only 4 back then, but you kind of remember watching your Aunty Lessi play in those games on the TV.  And you remember her bringing home a shiny silver medal but being pretty sad about it. Your Aunty Leah wasn’t your Aunty yet back then though, so you didn’t know about her leg the first time around.

“Well, I decided that if I wasn’t going to be able to go play at the World Cup again, then I wanted to do something really, really meaningful with my time away from football.  I’ve always wanted to start a family, but it’s super difficult with football to fit it all in with our schedules.  But I knew that I would be away from the pitch for at least another 9 months, so, I asked Aunty Lessi if we could have a baby.  Try and make the best out of a bad situation” Aunty Leah explained, a sad looking smile on her face.

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess.  When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, right?” you replied, repeating the phrase your Daddy had taught you.

There was a short silence before your Aunties burst into an absolute fit of laughter, tears falling from their eyes as they tried time and time again to unsuccessfully stop their hysterics.

You didn’t know what was so funny about what you said.  Did you use the phrase wrong?  It was one your Daddy used all the time.  You’d thought it was a little bit silly at first too, but it definitely wasn’t laugh so hard you cry kind of funny.  But what if you’d used it totally wrong and they were laughing at you like the kids in school laughed at you when they thought you were uncool?

Loser. Loser. Loser

“S-sorry Bun, we’re not l-laughing at you, we promise,” your Aunty Leah muffled through her laughter.

“It’s… it’s just that, when Aunty Leah first talked to me about having a baby, she used that exact phrase, and I made her swear on her life that she would never, ever refer to our future child as lemonade ever again!” Aunty Lessi giggled.

You gasped, immediately terrified that you’d insulted your Aunty Lessi, mistakenly making fun of her unborn baby.  “Oh, I’m so, so sorry Aunty Lessi, I didn’t mean to be rude! I really didn’t-”

“No, no Bunny, it’s okay.  Because after that, pretty much everyone we told that Aunty Leah was pregnant and they realised the timeline with her knee said the exact same thing – when life gives you lemons, make lemonade!”

“And while Aunty Lessi was adamant at first that we couldn’t refer to the baby as Lemonade, well… we now sometimes do call them our little Lemonade.  It’s become an affectionate nickname of sorts,” Aunty Leah assured you.

“Really?” you asked, still terrified that you’d upset them.

“Yeah.  I guess we just weren’t expecting to hear that saying from you, so it caught us off guard a bit.  Sorry, we got a bit carried away.” Aunty Lessi promised you, reaching her hand back to take yours, her gesture both reassuring and comforting you.

“So, you call the baby Lemonade?” You asked after a short silence.  They both nodded with a giggle.  “Can I call the baby Lemonade?”  They both laughed again

“Okay, but only when it’s just us, alright?  We don’t want the team or anyone else catching on.  It’s our little secret. And once they’re born, we’ll call them by their real name,” Aunty Lessi bargained with you.

“Deal!”

“Deal!”

There was a short silence as the excitement of the revelation settled.  You suddenly realised all your questions hadn’t been answered.  “Okay, but what about the booby milk?”

Your Aunty Leah laughed before replying, “Only I will make that, and it’s just for the baby.  We won’t be putting it on cereal.  It’s got special nutrients in it that are just right for the baby because they can’t eat or drink anything else for the first several months.  Only the Mummy who is pregnant makes milk.”

“But what if the baby is hungry but you’re at the shops or something?  How does Aunty Lessi feed them?” you asked. 

“Well, I can do what is called pumping, which is basically using a machine to squeeze the milk out of my boobies so that we can store it for when I’m not around, or just so Aunty Lessi can feed the baby even if I am here.  You can even feed them if you want to”

“I can? Really?”  The thought of helping feed the baby, helping feed Lemonade, made you feel a strange, but nice, sense of warm and tingly.  You didn’t know what the feeling was, but it made you want to sing and fly and twirl.

“Yeah.  It might take a little while for them to get used to using a bottle, but once they’re used to it, you can definitely have a turn feeding them,” Aunty Lessi told you.

“So, it’s different to our cereal milk then?” you questioned.

“Yes, that’s cow’s milk.  Or some people use oat milk or goat milk or soy mi-”

“What about bunny milk?” you interrupted.

 “I’ve never heard of humans drinking bunny milk, I think only baby bunnies drink that.”  Aunty Lessi laughed at your question.  You weren’t too sure why.  If people drank cow’s milk and goat’s milk, why not bunny milk?

“And how do bunnies make babies?  Is it the same as people? They just love each other?” you enquired.

“Well, there’s a little bit more to it than that for both people and bunnies.  But it’s a bit complicated and I think we would be better off explaining it with the help of some books from the library.  How about we pick some out the next time we’re there, yeah?  We could maybe go on Tuesday after school,” Aunty Leah suggested.

“I like the sound of that” you agreed.

“I thought you might.”

--

As the car parked at the training ground, you looked out the window to see people dressed in red everywhere.  There was a large bus waiting out the front of the building, and a big brown dog with soft looking ears lying on the ground in front of the bus door.

You loved dogs.  You loved all animals really.  You connected with them far quicker, easier and deeper than you seemed to connect to humans, especially those your age.  You’d never been able to get a pet because your Daddy was allergic to lots of different kinds of fur, but whenever you got the chance to meet a dog or a cat or a bird or a lizard or a fish or turtle or a guinea pig or a horse or a BUNNY… you jumped at the opportunity.

As Aunty Lessi opened your door and helped you out of your car seat, your eyes stayed glued to the big brown dog the whole time.

“Alright Bunny, we just have to sign in, get our lanyards and th-” Aunt Leah began explaining.

“Can I pat the dog?” you interrupted, simply unable to wait any longer. 

Your Aunty Leah looked up from where she was pulling a bag out of the boot of the car and noticed where your gaze was fixated in the direction of the big soft looking brown dog.

“Oh yes, of course you can sweets.  That’s Winnie.  She’s our team dog.  She’s really friendly.”

Not needing to be told twice, you ran towards the dog, dropping to your knees as you reached her.  You carefully held your hand out to her as you’d been taught to do when meeting a new animal, and she gave you a good sniff before she sat up and rubbed her cheek against your hand. 

“Hi Winnie, I’m Y/K, but everyone calls me Bunny, or Bun.  It’s so nice to meet you.”  You began scratching at the fur behind her ears, her head tilting as you hit what seemed to be a good spot.  “You are such a pretty girl.  And you are oh so soft and shiny.”

“I’m happy to see you’ve made a friend already, Bun.”

You looked up to see your Aunty Lessi smiling down at you as she crouched down to give Win a pat too.

“Does she come to all your games and practices and stuff?” you asked.

“Not all of them, but she hangs around the training centre a lot and she does come to some games.  I believe she’s coming along to the Emirates with us today,” she replied.

“Really?  Is she coming on the bus too?  What kind of dog is she?  Where does she go when the game is on?  Does she sit in the stands?  If she’s the team dog, then where does she live?” you asked.

“Well, she’s a chocolate labrador-” your Aunty Lessi began to explain.

“Ya got a new fan, Win?”

You whipped your head around to the source of the peculiar sounding voice as a lady with big eyelashes and a really pretty smile came walking towards you.

“Bunny, this is Katie” your Aunty Lessi stood to greet the new arrival.

“Hey there Bun, I’ve heard all about ya from yer Aunties!”

You didn’t really know how to reply.  You had never been good at talking to new people, especially when you didn’t have a specific topic or task to talk to them about.

“Well, the girls and I heard yer big into reading, and wanted to learn a bit more about football, so we got ya a few books.  Some of them are about football, some of them are just ones we liked when we were kids.  I was never much of a reader, so I wouldn’t trust my recommendations, but there’s a few smarties in the team like you are, so those are the ones who we took the recommendations from.”  She winked at you as she held a large glittery purple gift bag out towards you.

“Oh wow. Th-Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any presents for you or the others.”

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

“Nah, don’t be silly kid.  This is a welcome to the team present from all the gals.  I just hope there isn’t any double ups with ones you’ve already read.  I’ve heard ya read loads of books!” 

“I-I have.  I love to read.  Thank you for the present” your hands trembled slightly as you took the bag from her grasp, overwhelmed by her kindness.

“No worries kiddo.  I hope you enjoy the game!”  She winked at you again before heading onto bus.

Winnie nudged at your hip with her nose, saddened that you’d stopped your pats to collect your present.  You looked between the bag in your hands and the dog, unsure of how to give both the attention they deserved. 

“How about I pop the present in the car, and we can go through it tonight after the game?  That way you’ve got something to look forward to at home, yeah?” Aunty Lessi suggested.

You nodded hastily, thankful for the suggestion.  She collected the bag from your hands and you immediately turned your attention back to Win, giggling as she rolled onto her back for you to scratch her tummy.

Much too soon it was time to say bye to Winnie and get on the big bus.  There was already lots of people bustling about amongst the seats as your Aunty Lessi guided you down the aisle toward two pairs of empty seats behind each other.  Your Aunty Leah sat in the front seats and you and Aunty Lessi sat in the back two.

The bus ride to the stadium was… chaotic.  Everyone on the team wanted to come meet you and say hi, but it’s rather overwhelming trying to learn all the new names and faces.  At some point you caught your Aunty Leah not so subtly waving people away as you began to curl against the window and rub Arthur’s ear softly across your cheek.  You’d reached forward and squeezed her hand through the gap in the seats in a silent thank you.  

You do specifically remember one player you met named Lia, because she has the same name as your Aunty, but apparently, it’s spelt differently.  She said she helped pick out some of the books in your present and that she’d love to go to the library with you some time.  When you asked your Aunty Leah if that would be okay, she had said “Absolutely!”

There was also another kid on the bus; a little boy running up and down the aisle with light up sneakers and a jersey with the number 19 on it.  You couldn’t quite figure out who his adults were though, because everyone seemed to treat him like their own.  He couldn’t be more than 2 or 3 years old you figured because he doesn’t seem to speak in full sentences and he still seemed a bit wobbly on his feet. 

At one point in the bus trip, he got upset over something and began crying and screaming for his Mummy.  A lady with pretty blue eyes and her hair in a tight little bun scurried down the aisle to pick him up and cuddle him.

“Is he okay?” you asked your Aunty Lessi.

“Oh, I’m sure Jack will be just fine.  I think he just took a little tumble.  Caitlin will make sure he’s all better,” she reassured you.

If you had thought the bus trip was overwhelming, that was nothing compared to the stadium itself.  As the bus drove in, there was a sea of people dressed in red and white that stretched on for as far as you could see.

You had watched your Aunties play before, both on television and in the stands, and you knew there were lots and lots of people who came to watch, but there was something different about seeing it from this perspective.

“It’s gunna be a bit loud once we park up and get out of the bus, alright Bun?  And like we talked about, there’s gunna be lots of people all over the place.  So make sure you keep your lanyard on and just hold tight to my hand until we get into the locker room, yeah?” Aunty Lessi reminded you.

“Can do, Aunty Lessi” you replied.

When the bus came to a stop, you gripped your Aunty Lessi’s hand tight.  It was only a few steps, but the noise as you got off the bus and entered through the players entrance was entirely overwhelming.  You couldn’t help but screw your face up as the screeches and squeals rattled and clawed at every bone in your body.  You lifted your hands to cover your ears, but both were full – one with your Aunty Lessi’s hand, and the other clutched tight to Arthur.

Thankfully the cheering and squealing noise faded out pretty quickly as you moved through the underbelly of the stadium, making your way into the locker room.  Your Aunty Lessi guided you over to a cubby that had your Aunty Leah’s name on it.

“I’ve got to go do pitch inspections and get dressed and ready for the game now.  Will you be alright just hanging out here?  Aunty Leah is just doing a quick interview, but she should be in shortly and I will be around, yeah?” she asked, handing you your backpack.

You nodded, quite happy to curl up into the little nook with Arthur and a book.  You unzipped your bag and retrieved your book as well as the little purple blanket you’d stuffed in there, and bundled yourself up.  But before you could start reading, your eyes drifted over all the different names on the back of the players shirts that hung in the other cubbies.

Fox, 2.  Mead, 9.  Walti (there was some funny dots above the A in her name, which you made a mental note to research when you next had your iPad), 13.  Foord, 19.  McCabe, 11.

Wait.  McCabe.  McCabe’s number was the one Aunty Leah had said you weren’t allowed to get printed on your jersey. 

“The only rule is that you’re not allowed to pick McCabe’s number, because we will never hear the end of that, okay?”

They had all seemed really nice on the bus, but if Aunty Leah had made a rule, then there had to be a reason for it.  Maybe McCabe was mean to your Aunties like the kids at school were to you?

When the players all shuffled in and placed their belongings in their cubbies, you were immediately confused to see the nice lady with big eyelashes who had given you the bag of books sit down in front of the McCabe jersey.  You were even more confused when the little boy from the bus toddled up to her and asked “Ma! Ma!  Kywa has sweeties.  I has them too?”

“Ya already sweeties on the bus Jack.  If ya have too many more, ya won’t be able to sit still enough to watch the game” she told him, crouching down to straighten out his red and white shirt.

The little boy’s head fell forward immediately, his bottom lip jutting out as he looked like he was about to cry.  “But-but- Ma! I want the sweeties! I be good.  Promise.  I sit still.”

“Alright, but just one.  You hear that Kyra, just one,” she shouted, making sure a cheeky looking player holding a bag of sweets heard her.

“Kywa, Ma said yes.  I has sweeties!” the little boy cheered, running off toward who you figured must be Kyra’s direction.  She scooped him up in her arms and gave him a high five before offering him the bag of sweets to choose from.

You really couldn’t wrap your head around how the McCabe you’d met and observed today could possibly be mean to your Aunties like the kids at school were to you.  She seemed like a good ‘Ma’ and she had been really kind to you.  There had to be another reason why your Aunty Leah wouldn’t let you get her number on your shirt.

As you sat and pondered, your Aunty Leah entered the locker room.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself all set up here, Bun,” she chuckled as she approached you, placing her bag in the shelf below where you sat.  You nodded, squeezing Arthur tight.

“Okay, so normally for the game friends and family sit way up the top of the stadium in fancy seats, so that’s where like my Mum and cousins and stuff will be sitting.  But because I can’t play at the moment because of the baby, we thought you might like to sit down behind the subs bench with me, so you don’t have to go sit with people you don’t know very well.  Is that alright?” she asked.

You nodded immediately, terrified at the thought of having to sit with a bunch of people you didn’t really know.  “Y-yes please.  If that’s okay with your boss?”

“Of course it is.  I double checked with all the big bosses and it’s totally fine.  I do warn you that I can get a little bit… well… passionate about the game at times” she chuckled. 

“Passionate?  She’ll scream your bloody ear off!” a lady with blonde hair and blue eyes interjected.  She’d introduced herself of the bus but you couldn’t quite remember her name.  You think it started with a B?  Belle?  Bess?

“Oh, ignore her Bunny.  I’ll be on my best behaviour.  But I did bring you a pair of earmuffs just in case it’s a bit too loud in the stadium,” she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of sparkly purple ear defenders.  There was a little cartoon bunny sticker on each of the ears.

You were in awe.  They were so pretty and they had obviously been purchased specifically with you in mind.  Wriggling out of your blanket burrow, you leaped toward your Aunty Leah, wishing a simple hug could show just how much these earmuffs meant to you.

“Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.”

Thank angle was awkward due to her big baby belly, but you felt her nestle her nose against the top of your head and smile.

“Anything for you, babygirl.”

--

The game was intense.  There was lots and lots and lots of people.  Your Aunties team was versing a blue team called Chelsea, and from what you could tell, they seemed to be Arsenal’s archrivals.

The noise between the fans was beyond intense, and you were so overwhelmingly grateful for the earmuffs your Aunty Leah had given you.  They didn’t block out everything, but they took the edge off the screeching sounds of horns and squealing cries of other young girls in the crowd. 

During the game there were lots of attempts from both teams at kicking the ball into the back of the net, but none of them had been successful.  Toward the end of the second half, the referee had pulled out several yellow cards from her shirt pocket – you weren’t quite sure what that meant, but you had made a mental note to research that.  Your Aunty Leah had told you that each half went for 45 minutes but when the big clock hit 45:00 another lady on the sideline held up a board with the number 4 on it and play appeared to go on.  It was all very confusing. 

But then… then the blue team made some kind of mistake, and it seemed like Arsenal had heaps of room to themselves and out of nowhere your Aunty Lessi was flying down the pitch towards the goal with the ball at her feet.

Within moments she was smashing the ball passed the opposition’s goalkeeper and into the back of the net.  Beside you, your Aunty Leah sprung to her feet, screaming with joy.

“Yessss!  That’s my girl!  Come on, Less!”

The crowd around you roared, scarves swinging, horns shrieking, music blaring.

Your Aunty Lessi ran towards where you were sitting and threw her hands up into a love heart shape, before pointing right at you, the smile on her face as big as you’d ever seen it.

For a brief moment it felt really nice to know your Aunty Lessi had been thinking about you while she was playing and scoring the goal.  You felt that same warm feeling, tingly feeling that you’d felt early in the car; the one that made you want to sing and fly and twirl.  You felt a sense of safety and home, thinking for just a moment that maybe you could be a part of your Aunties forever family, maybe there could be room for you in their lives even after Lemonade arrive.

But then, you realised there were cameras pointed in your direction and your face was on the big screens and everyone in the stadium was looking directly at you.  Your hands began to tremble, and your cheeks began to flush as the walls of the stadium felt as though they were crashing in on you.  You burrowed your face deep into the plush fur of Arthur’s belly and soon your felt your Aunty Leah’s arms wrap around you and pull you into her side.  You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you clung to fabric of your Aunty’s jacket. 

A few moments later you felt her gently tug back the cup on your earmuffs and whisper to you, “You’re okay Bun, it’s alright.  The cameras are off you now.  It’s okay sweetie.”

Whilst you were relieved to hear the cameras were no longer directed at you, your whole body was still trembling; your breath so tight in your throat you thought you might soon pass out.  Your Aunty Leah pulled back a little to look down at you, her face covered in concern.  She tried to tell you something, but you couldn’t make out the words, her voice muffled by a mixture of the earmuffs and what you could only describe as the sound of ringing and whooshing and thumping and silence all mixed together.

You could feel your chest becoming tighter and tighter as your eyes flickered around trying to figure out the source of the tightness.  It kind of reminded you of the tightness you felt when you couldn’t breathe because of the… smoke.

Smoke means fire!

Was there a fire?

You needed to get out of there.

You needed to get your Aunty Leah out of there.  You needed to get Lemonade out of there.

You couldn’t see fire.  You couldn’t smell smoke.  There was no smoke alarm.  But the tightness in your chest.  It could only be that.  It had to be that.

As you tried to get to your feet to get you and your Aunty Leah and Lemonade out of there, you felt them collapse underneath you.  You felt a thud to your head, but then there was nothing.  Simply nothing.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I feel like I'm a weirdo for saying this (probably because I am) but whenever people say "x FE game has bad gameplay" I almost never see it because I have no eye for quality. Like, I can't tell if a movie is a bad movie, I can only tell if it entertained me or not. And I sure did have fun playing Echoes! Though I did notice some of the maps were extremely barren.

I liked Three Houses gameplay! I thought it was fresh and I enjoyed the weird class system! I don't even tend to call something a bad game if a map is needlessly frustrating cus it's just usually my fault for being stupid. I play my FE games on hard at worst so...

Also I tend to focus more on story/characters anyway cus I'm a writer/OC guy anyway. So I'll get attached to a game based on how much it motivates me creatively (Three Houses, despite having mid gameplay and overambitious writing, has really extensive worldbuilding and lots of dialogue for all its characters which gets me inspired to write fics or make OCs.)

All that to say my favorite game is Echoes for some reason because I just like the characters a lot even though they're not super complex or anything. Also the creative direction slaps.

.

[hezuart]

I’m gonna see the boy and the heron with my parents on Monday I think. I work as an usher at the local theater near my neighborhood so I’ll get free tickets

I don't have enough time these days for big reviews, it takes me so many months to finish on my own, so I'm considering doing ramble reviews that are shorter and have almost no effort put into them to talk about recently released stuff, since, well, there's no background material available to use anyway, not unless you find some illegal camrip somewhere. But I saw the Boy and the Heron and I'd like to review it. The first 20 min were ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!!! Nostalgic, pretty, great set ups, mysterious, creepy, sort of fresh- you couldn't predict where it was going, things were kind of odd and enough info was withheld from the audience until later- But then after those 20 min when we actually go into the fantasy world things get kinda weird and sorta just stay weird the rest of the movie. Like I still really enjoyed it, I think people should see it But I feel like the plot gets really wacky and the world-building doesn't make any sense. It's like Alice in Wonderland meets Your Name. Very pretty but, the reveal and the climax are kinda meh It seems insanely metaphorical too? But outside of that its just not as good as previous films. I think Miyazaki's earlier works were peak. This one just sort of reuses a lot of Ghibli tropes and characters. Also the jpn title is "How do you live?" Not "The Boy and the Heron" just FYI because this movie..... has almost nothing to do with the Heron, like he seems like an important mysterious character the first 20 min and then after that he's just there...

[rogueolight]

its kind of unfortunate how much i think about these 2 like i’m trying to shove every single analysis about their dynamic into my head in all forms of media… wanna know everyone’s thoughts on their dynamic. if you say shiori is straight sleep with one eye open

[citnamora]

TLK2 is not "just" a Romeo and Juliet style direct to DVD sequel about interspecies conflict between lions, it's quite literally a cautionary tale about letting your hatred consume you and control who you become. It's about giving others a chance without assuming their intentions. It's about letting go of your past grievances and learning to move forward despite them. It's about recognizing your place in the story and realizing your potential to change it. It's about discovering who you are in the process.

[quatregats]

I was kind of getting into this with the tags on the other post but it's interesting to have the comparison of having watched Lawrence of Arabia before knowing things about him (and also being 12) and after knowing a bit more, because I think that the movie does fundamentally touch on the theme that he's not a hero, even as he is at times - and he's a not-hero in a very interesting and particular way. I do think that the way that his story is told in it does inherently become a bit of a tale, in which he becomes a character, and so loses some of his complexity, but I do think that he manages to resist a lot of things by the inherent nature of what he did. Personal myth-making in The Seven Pillars of Wisdom (which I have not read but do know things about) aside, I think things about him are in fact very hard to redefine, such as some of his more masochistic tendencies, his queerness, his uncomfortable place within the British Empire, his own self-aggrandizing, his relationships with the historical figures contained therein, his cycles of burnout, and a whole bunch of other traits which make him not what people want to see as a hero, inhuman and too human by turns. What I mean to say is that while the film certainly takes a particular stance on him, he still resists easy categorization, especially in moments drawn from primary sources, and I think that knowing how complex he was and wanting to see him complicated, the movie does a good job allowing for that reading as well.

[youssefguedira]

oppenheimer really wants to present oppenheimer himself as a complex person responsible for bad things but really doesn't. make much reference at all to said bad things. the impact of the bombings is reduced to a single montage (that isn't even showing what happened: it's showing oppenheimer imagining it happening to a room full of americans) and a moment where they mention the number of people dead + the effects. when the images of the aftermath are shown the camera instead focuses on oppenheimer looking away, which i understand, but the audience doesn't see any tangible impact either. the effects of the test on the surrounding area aren't mentioned at all. like i understand that some things won't be shown in a film but if you're trying to present someone as responsible for bad things then i think it weakens what you're going for if you don't really show said things. anyway

[chaotictomtom]

!!!! counted it all wrong!!!! i thought ive watched perfectly 365 movies this year but!!! 378 it is ig wtf!

[doomdoomofdoom]

Graph I was shown in 8th grade biology. It's a really simple concept to understand, and anyone who thinks getting rid of local predator animals will be beneficial to wildlife either hasn't thought about it whatsoever or is lying to you.

Prey > Predators: Predators have ample food supply and their population grows until it reaches a tipping point.

Prey < Predators: The diminished prey population can no longer sustain the large predator population. With not enough food to go around, the predator population shrinks, allowing the prey population to recover.

And then it starts all over again. Welcome to the ecosystem.

So one of my tweets kinda blew up. :v

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine Simon's mom doesn't die with Tommy and Beth. Maybe she was out of town, or at a friend's house, and Roba's men were sloppy and missed her. Anyway, so it's just Simon and her now, and because he blames himself for what happened, he's pulled away from her.

He pays her rent, even if he wanted her to live in a nicer apartment complex. And he visits during her birthday and Mother's Day, and sometimes just randomly stops by. But he never stays very long, and he doesn't tell her a lot about his new life. It's a very one sided relationship, but she tries to make the best of it.

And then you move in next door, during one of Simon's deployments. You feel bad for the sweet lady that lives next to you. She never seems to have much company, and you take it upon yourself to befriend her, spending more time in her apartment than your own.

You learn about her ex husband, her sons, the tragedy, and most importantly, you learn about Simon. And you hate him. Mrs. Riley (she insists you call her Sarah) is such a lovely woman, and it's clear how much she cares about her living son, how hard she's trying to keep their relationship alive.

It's the second Mother's Day after you move in when you finally meet Simon. Your relationship with your own mother is complicated, so you've opted to spend the day with Mrs. Riley. You'd gotten her a small present, and had planned to spend the day drinking wine and watching historical romance movies.

You're thoroughly shocked when you knock on her door, and a man answers. Six feet, built like a brick house, but under his scowl, you recognize Sarah's eyes.

“You must be Simon.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can say anything, Mama Riley is pushing past him, pulling you into her apartment to fuss over you.

She apologizes for not telling you sooner, but your plans will have to be rescheduled. Simon's back early, and she can't waste a precious second.

You're understanding. You've listened to her worried rants, given her space to cry over how things have turned out. You know she loves spending time with her son, even if the visits are short and he doesn't talk much.

Simon doesn't miss the way you glare at him. There's a fury in your eyes, even as you cheerily wish his mother a happy mother's day. For a moment, he wonders if you're a spy. But that thought is quickly diminished, when you verbally eviscerate him at the door.

You're quiet, not wanting to upset his mom, but your anger is clear. It may not be your business, but Mama Riley is your friend, and you adore the older woman. And you cannot stand by while he treats her like this. She loves her son so much, and he needs to step up and try harder.

As you're chewing him out, Simon's already head over heels, planning your wedding as the seconds tick by.

(A/N: You can read this as a stand alone piece, but I did write 3 more drabbles (four in total!) for this! They're all on my blog under the tag mama riley au. Thank you for reading!)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[renthony]

A significant amount of my opinions about modern queer television are influenced by researching older queer media.

I see a lot of the same vitriol in modern queer fandom discourse that has been playing out in queer spaces since film and television were invented. Shows in the 70s started making steps toward sensitivity consulting in queer media, even as the networks fought them on it. Imperfect but earnest queer representation was met with aggressive protests by homophobes and queer people who thought it wasn't good enough. The argument over good representation vs no representation has been happening for decades and decades.

You spend enough time immersed in old queer media and you really start to vibe with Harvey Fierstein's words in The Celluloid Closet documentary. Or at least, I do.

Harvey Fierstein: "I liked the sissy. Is it used in negative ways? Yeah, but, my view has always been visibility at any cost."

The way I see it, the way to genuine, loving queer representation that showcases a vast array of experiences is to stop demanding perfection. The fewer queer stories that are allowed to exist, the more of the heavy lifting those stories have to do in the representation department.

When we have numerous queer stories, it's suddenly much less important to argue over whether the queer characters in question are "good" or "positive." They can just be queer characters who exist in the same infinite variety as straight characters. They can be messy, they can be flawed, they can be honest portrayals of the complexity of human existence.

Queer representation will never be perfect, and striving for perfection is how we shoot ourselves in the foot.

Some starter reading for those interested:

Alternate Channels: Queer Images on 20th-Century TV (revised edition) - Steven Capsuto

Hi Honey, I'm Homo!: Sitcoms, Specials, and the Queering of American Culture - Matt Baume

The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies - Vito Russo

[arise-for-turtle-time]

The dynamic in Rise between the rest of the team and Leo is. so fucking funny. Because like you've got these three extremely talented individuals who all seem like perfectly reasonable people at first glance, right, but then if you squint hard enough you realize they're actually all batshit insane (affectionate) and the clown boy standing behind them is secretly their common sense.

Clown boy will occasionally put himself and the others in danger to Prove Himself or Prove Someone Wrong (see Minotaur Maze and the movie) but like otherwise... i think people forget Leo's overwhelmingly the voice of reason in most situations?

Raph, Mikey, and Donnie are all incredibly powerful boys with very specific skill sets. They are also, as a direct result of this, the WORST decision-makers on god's green earth lmao. When presented with a problem, Raph will smash, Donnie will blow shit up, and Mikey will razzmatazz. They will all run straight toward death with the same oblivious enthusiasm of a dog about to run straight into a screen door. None of them realize this and all of them think they are Extremely Good At Problem-Solving.

And the guy cursed with the common sense to realize this is literally the LAST person anyone would expect.

When you look closely, the entirety of Rise is actually a chronicle of Leo trying to find new and creative ways to keep this team of superpowered fools alive while simultaneously white-knuckling his Cool Fun Guy persona so the others don't realize he's secretly the Boring Responsible One. Haha, you know what would be Cool and Fun, guys? Not going after the Spine Breaking Bandit lol. Getting home before the sun goes up lol. Evacuating that civilian lol. Not telling the guy dangling me off a roof "you won't, no balls" lol.

The sacred struggle of every iteration of Leonardo is thanklessly wrangling the most trigger-happy siblings in the world, and Rise Leo has not escaped it. He just does an occasional shenanigan to avoid detection and his brothers fall for it every time.

[yawnderu]

honestly i would die for bimbo!reader to have some sort of Legally Blonde level of intelligence but for the stupidest, most useless shit. no, she can't remember which knob turns on which burner for the stove, but she can tell you the effects of different chemical compounds found in all her favorite skincare products and now they react to an individuals derma-layer. simon once caught her watching a screensaver on TV for 30 min because she thought it was "a reeeeally slow nature documentary /:", but she's fluent in Korean because she got super into Korean make up brands from her favorite influencers and wanted to be able to read the product ingredients/reviews/tutorials, it just never gets brought up otherwise and when someone asks in disbelief she's all "what, like it's hard?"

and simon is just sooooo so so proud of his smart pretty girl. who cares that she thought soap's parents legally named him after a dishwashing product. can mactavish tell him how to tell dupes from authentic handbags based on the inner stitching that can only be done on machines specially made by Italian companies? no? then shut the fuck up. tell us more about glitter lipgloss, beautiful.

Absolutely!! She may be dim-witted when it comes to certain things, but she's not exactly dumb at all. This girl could recite the laws of astrophysics and solve complex mathematical problems while being piss drunk.

Simon is still amazed by how complex his sweet girl is— he knows she isn't stupid, yet it never fails to surprise him how you start speaking to MacTavish in fluent Scottish Gaelic, only offering the explanation that you learnt it because a character on your favorite movie spoke it once, looking at him like he grew a second head when he sheepishly told you most scottish people don't speak Gaelic anymore.

Sure, you may have thought movies were real and used to avoid watching them because you thought the actors were actually getting killed and you didn't want to support that, yet a window of your house is full of math equations that gave him a headache just by looking at them.

I'd say Simon sees bimbo!reader as a box full of surprises, telling him about something new every single time you have a conversation. How did you get into studying astrophysics? You got the highest score in the university admission exam and saw a poster that was shiny and had cute stars and a pretty nebula!! How could you resist when everything about it called for you?

Mhm, the smell of gunpowder and blood that sticks to him no matter what is such an odd perfume, yet it surely has an interesting molecular makeup! Of course it does, pretty girl.

They complement each other so well because Simon has the street smarts she's lacking, and she has the book smarts Simon doesn't. She can be extremely ditzy, but who cares when she can tell him exactly which inks are recommended for his skin and which chemicals can rough up his face? He had to buy a brand-new eye black stick simply because you could tell the materials used on it by applying it on your hand with a frown.

I'd like to imagine her as someone with lots of odd interests, knowledge and hyperfixations in the dumbest things besides the universe. He has to keep up with you buying materials for making bracelets and keeping a room full of dinosaur plushies.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[youssefguedira]

scrolling through the le otto montagne tag is like what i imagine being poisoned in a video game feels like. i'm just here like -1 -1 -1 -1 until i finally run out of health (get too upset and have to leave the tag)

[sparrowlucero]

thoughts on The Sea Beast 2022 (if youve seen it)

when I was ever so briefly at netflix for concept work that movie was in pre production (?) and I was actually hoping they'd put me on it, they did not 😅

but yeah I like it! weirdly I find the first third of the movie (when they're killing the dragons) way more engaging, the tone and pacing falls off a bit once they befriend the sea monster. Kind of goes from "traditional high seas adventure movie" to "cute kids movie where not a ton happens"; if they had kept up that former tone while still telling a story about a sea monster hunter realizing the value of conservation when he befriends one of the monsters, it would be a 10/10. Oh well, still pretty good for what it is.

Creature design wise, I think a lot of the concepts for the titular sea beast are a lot more cool and charming. It feels very possible they just couldn't render markings or complex details because of the size of the character? Who knows.

The final design never really escapes the knockoff toothless look to me. I guess it's a bit hard to do a toothed whale inspired dragon with front facing eyes that doesn't look a bit like that, but yeah, it doesn't quite click and feel like it's own thing.

also i hate the way it walks on its flippers. I think they wanted to avoid having it look awkward like a seal and accidentally made it look way worse

am i being too mean here or does the way it walks look crazy stupid to everyone else

[areyouwell]

Hi!!! I really love your work- photophobia is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever!!

I don't know if your requests are still open but if they are and you feel inspired I'd like to request a one-shot where Logan and reader are caught having sex by a member of the x-men (you can decide who!!) I'd love to see your take on it <3

Like Animals

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: im sorry this took so long ;-; work's been driving me crazy and i've been creatively constipated BUT i really liked this request and ngl i was laughing to myself when writing it hehehe. also not sure if this counts as a oneshot or a drabble since it's kinda short but i hope this is what you had in mind!

Taglist: @fries11 (i had a taglist for Phobophobia but this is a more general one if anyone wants to be on it lmk <3)

How many steps could one person do in a single day? It was a question you idly entertained whilst pacing across the floor of the kitchen, having been asked to politely remove yourself from movie night by a mildly irritated Kitty when you were unable to sit still. You’d spent most of your day like this. Anxiously, mindlessly marching from place to place, your body humming with anticipation since yesterday evening. 

It was the longest you and Logan had been apart since the start of your relationship a year and a half ago, and fuck you missed him. It had been roughly three weeks since he’d left, Charles trusting him with gathering intel on some new fucked up mutant slave trade just south of the school. He’d called you, of course he had, and you knew it was purely just to hear your voice, but his calls were few and far between. He was busy, incredibly busy. And whilst you tried to keep yourself busy too, it was hard not to think about him constantly. Not to wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay. If he missed you just as much as you missed him.

But you were pacing because he was supposed to be coming home today. Supposed to, if everything had gone well. Scott was almost as excited as you were, but only because he was happy to finally have his bike back. He was almost inconsolable when he went into the garage to see his prized possession had once again been stolen, and you tried everything you could to hide your amused grin. It was so typical of him, for his last act before he was gone for three weeks to be something that would piss off Scott. 

Fuck you loved him. 

You checked the clock on the wall for the thirtieth time that minute, the hands mocking you with the rhythmic clicking. Quarter past nine. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. Hence the anxious pacing. You resisted the urge to call him, hoping that maybe the traffic was just bad, or he got held up for some reason. He was okay. Of course he was okay. This was Logan you were thinking about. He was always okay. He had to be okay. 

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip cursing lowly as you didn’t focus on where you were going and smacked your hip into the corner of the table. If only he knew the things he id to you when he was away. 

With a brief pause, you debated whether or not to go back to movie night. Whilst you had no idea what was happening onscreen, being unable to focus, you think you could understand the fairly basic premise of Night at the Museum. Some guy spends a night at a museum. How complex could that actually be? But remembering Kitty’s flat stare of knowing, you thought better of it. She’d been helpful in distracting you for the last three weeks, but clearly, you’d worn down her patience. Not that you could blame the girl. She called you out for being too codependent on him, and whilst at the time you refuted the claim, you couldn’t help thinking she may have had a point. Maybe.

You weren’t codependent. You just loved him. A lot. Enough to constantly be by his side every minute of every day. And it wasn’t like he was any different. 

Another minute ticked by and you clenched your jaw. Had he gotten lost or something? Why was he making you wait longer than you needed to? Of course it wasn’t deliberate, even if he wanted to, you don’t think he had the strength to do that, deprive you both of the other’s presence, but he really picked a time to be an hour late. 

You crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain for the umpteenth time and waiting for longer than you should for the peek of headlights around the drive. But there was nothing. Just the moonlit grass and silhouette of trees. You huffed, throwing the curtain back into place. Footsteps echoed through the hallway towards the kitchen, and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Just… getting kinda worried now. He should have been back an hour ago.” You couldn’t help pulling back the curtain again, as if anything would have changed in the last twenty seconds. 

“Scott? Seriously?”

Oh. That was not Scott. 

You whipped around, heart soaring as you knew that voice instantly. You could be deaf and still know the sound of his voice. Your lips split into a broad grin as you saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow raised with a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Logan!” You beamed, racing across the room to all but tackle him. He dropped his leather bag to the floor, wrapping his arms around around your middle, spinning with the momentum of your jump. Your legs anchored around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you let yourself bask in his presence, inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and wood smoke. 

“Hi darlin’. Sorry ‘m late.” He breathed, tightening his hold on you more for comfort than anything else. The tightness in his chest finally eased with the feeling of having you back in his arms. Logan always thought of himself as a lone wolf. An outsider. Someone who didn’t need anybody else. That was until he met you and fell absolutely head over heels. Now he could barely stand to be on his own for longer than five minutes before he’d find himself sorely missing your presence. So the last three weeks had been as torturous for him as they had been for you. 

Removing your face from the crook of his neck, you schooled your expression into a scowl. “Where the fuck have you been? An hour, Logan. I haven’t seen you in three weeks and you make me wait another hour?!”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, smirking as your furrowed brows deepened. “Roads were closed. Fuckin’ tree blocked the way so I had to turn back n’ find another way round.” He explained, and you reluctantly accepted it. “Not that you missed me or anythin’.”

“Me? Miss you?” you quirked a brow, your scowl dissolving into a mischievous smirk. “In your dreams, Howlett.”

Before he had a chance to quip back, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight as your lips crashed into his, dragging a quiet groan from his throat as he tasted longing passion on your tongue. His hands slid from your back to your thighs and oh how you missed the way he would grip them, leaving little purple bruises where he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. 

Your brows pinched as he shifted to pin you against the wall, palms kneading your ass whilst he ground his rapidly hardening cock against your clothed heat. You whimpered lightly as his touches became desperate, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from the depths of his chest. Shifting from his neck, your nails dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders, leaving little crescent dents across the sinewy skin before you the brown flannel from his arms. It was barely clinging on anyway, so why not assist the fall?

“Where’s everyone?” He ground, lips fanning against your lower jaw as he moved to pepper tingling kisses and aching bruises along the column of your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin above your pulse point. You angled your head to the side, allowing him easier access, the scuff of his beard scratching deliciously against the hollow of your throat.

“Movie night– Logan…!” you gasped his name as quietly as you could when his hands left the plush of your ass, using your grip around his waist and the wall to hold you aloft whilst he pawed and kneaded at your breasts through your t-shirt, braless nipples hardening almost instantly. He pinched the pebble through the fabric, tugging slightly and silencing your whine with a burning kiss, hungrily devouring your mouth before you alerted anyone in the living room to the new show playing in the kitchen. 

He growled a gravelly “Good” against your lips, removing your arms from his shoulders to raise above your head, pulling your shirt up and off in a hurried frenzy, almost snarling to himself as you bared yourself for him. You shivered slightly, though not from the cold, quite the opposite. The heat radiating off him kept you warm as you scrabbled to return the favour, your nails scratching at his naval before pulling up the white singlet and discarding it to the ground alongside your own shirt. Your hands fell to his belt, his mouth delivering little bites to your collarbone. Fuck, you needed him now. You needed him yesterday. Hell, you needed him the day he left, because fucking yourself with your fingers wearing his flannel was nothing in comparison to the ecstasy of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Need you,” you breathed, popping open the button atop his jeans and pulling down the zipper over the incredibly obvious and likely extremely uncomfortable tent in his pants. Logan groaned slightly against your neck in relief, the tip of his cock pulsing and leaking with need. He hadn’t been this desperate for you since–

What the fuck was he saying? He was always desperate for you. In any way, shape or form. For whatever you were willing to give him. Though, luckily enough, you were usually willing to give him everything. 

“Fuck princess, ‘can smell you. Smell so fuckin’ good.” he growled directly into your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. You really didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, nor did you care when he carefully tore through the crotch of your sweatpants with a single claw. Your arousal clouded his senses, the sweet scent of need making his hips buck into you. Especially when he dipped his hand through the tear to find you were naked beneath. “No underwear? You did miss me.” He grinned the same smile as a predator, and you clamped your lips together to stop your own disobedient smile. 

“‘Was in my pyjamas… at least, they were my pyjamas.” You hissed, brows pinching as a curious, delicate finger softly grazed through your slick folds, gathering your dewy arousal on the tip of his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. A carnal groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you, his eyes rolling before they closed. Your mouth fell open, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as one of your hands shoved the elastic of his briefs down below his hips, just far enough for his desperate cock to spring from his confines. 

“Impatient?” He smirked darkly as you attempted to grind against him, having to clench your jaw to stop yourself from whining. You shot him an equally wicked look, earning yourself a brow raise before his jaw slackened, your hand circling his length in a tight palm, jerking him from base to tip and using your thumb to slather the head of his cock in his own yearning. He bucked into your hand, a gasp flying from his lips before you slid him through the tear in your sweatpants. But before you could coerce him to drive home, he pulled you from the wall. 

With a small squeak of surprise, your nails clung to his back, tearing angry marks up his spine as he set you back down on the table, leaning over you until you were lying against the solid wood. 

“Say you missed me,” he growled with a smile, clearly deriving pleasure from the way you huffed in frustration. You only responded by raising your hips into his, grinding your now-soaked crotch against his throbbing cock. “C’mon baby, just say it, ‘n I’ll give you everything you want.” he bargained, though finding it incredibly difficult to deny you. He grunted a soft curse when you locked your legs tighter around his waist, forcing his sensitive tip to graze through your aching heat. Fuck he wanted you. But at the same time, he really wanted to hear you say it. “C’mooon, say you missed me. Can’t really deny it.”

“Fuck, yes I missed you. Of course I missed you. Now fuck me already!” You spat through gritted teeth, but he still didn’t claim you the way you wanted him to. 

“How much?”

“Logan?!”

“How much? How much did you miss me?” He grinned and you groaned in frustration. Trust him to find the worst times to wind you up. With a deep breath, you leaned up, holding both sides of his neck as you took the shell of his ear between your teeth. 

“I fucked myself wearing your clothes, whining your name, imagining my fingers were your fingers. Imagining that stupid silicon cock was your cock. That’s how much I missed you.” You whispered, earning yourself a needy groan from the man above you. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, his hand guiding himself through the ruins of your sweatpants to sink into your leaking cunt, and you both gasped airily at the sensation. Incrementally, Logan pushed inside you, savouring the pulse of your silken walls, the pitch of your trapped whines behind a wall of teeth and lips. Oh how he wanted to hear you, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addles mind, he was glad you were keeping quiet. At least one of you was still aware of the time and place. 

Slowly he bottomed out, pressing the coarse hairs of his pelvis against your clit. Taking your hand in his, he trapped it by the side of your head, knuckled turning white as he fought to resist the urge to cum there and then. You felt so fucking good. How did you always feel so fucking good?

“F-fuck, Logan… move.” You hissed, your hips undulating in desperate pumps as you attempted to get him to do something other than just fill you. It felt incredible, but you needed more. What you didn’t realise was that he was hypersensitive. He’d been without you for the last three weeks, with nothing but your voice on the other side of his phone and his own fist to satisfy his craving for you. And it did nothing but make it worse. Did nothing but make him harder for you. 

“Easy, princess. Not– fuck… not goin’ anywhere.” He swore as you deliberately clenched around him, slowly pulling back until only his tip was submerged in your heat, before pushing back in, having to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his loud groan of ecstasy. You clawed at his closed fist, sharp nails digging into the three spaces where his claws would slide out—an unknown erogenous zone.

Until now.

His cock jumped inside you, shivers of pure electric honey quivering down his spine as he slammed his hips into yours, momentarily losing control of himself. “Shit… shit! Fuck that was– what did you–” 

You did it again, watching his features fall completely slack, mouth agape as he bucked into you uncontrollably, as if searching for a deeper place to reach. Your chest inflated with a sharp gasp as the leaking, throbbing tip of his cock brushed that little bundle of pleasure nestled inside your walls, the tight leash you were holding on your voice loosening slightly as he thrust into you sharply, having found just the right angle. 

“Yes… fuck, yeah, there, right– shit, right there!” Your eyes fluttered closed, your body set alight as he set a determined pace, the table shifting slightly with each delicious thrust, your ecstasy climbing higher and higher and you let yourself be completely consumed by pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he growled, gasping into the side of your neck as your other hand scratched up his back as if you were trying to get past his regeneration and leave lingering marks. He loved it when you got rough, it drove him fucking crazy when you tried to leave your marks on him. There were times he hated his mutation for that because nothing would push him higher than knowing he could look in the mirror and see your desperation sucked into his neck or torn into his back. 

“Fuck! Logan, I–”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

At the first sound of a foreign voice outside of your bubble of rapture, your mutation flared, blinking both you and Logan out of sight. Though, if you could teleport, that would have been a whole lot more beneficial. Because now poor Scott had to bear witness to your spontaneous kitchen table tryst. 

Had to bear witness to Logan’s bare ass. You almost wished you had his perspective…

“Maybe he didn’t see us…” you whispered as quietly as you could, and though you couldn’t see Logan smile, you knew he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“I wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“I can fucking hear you. On the table? Seriously? Everyone eats there. I eat there!” He lamented, and you craned your neck to see he’d covered his already covered eyes with his hands, his face a nice shade of bright pink. 

“Like you and Jean are any more discrete in the danger room, Summers.” Logan barked, and you snorted a laugh which quickly turned into a gasp when he shifted slightly. You couldn’t even hide the way your cunt pulsed the moment you heard him walk in, and you knew Logan would have given you a look of intrigue. 

“That’s not– You’re still going?!”

“You kinda walked in at a bad time.” You could hear just how hard Logan was trying to keep his shit together whilst still being under the influence of your arousal, like a siren to a sailor. 

“Exactly. It’s rude to walk in on a lady without knocking, I could have been naked!” You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud as Logan shifted again, deliberately this time. Oh, how you wished you could see his face right now. 

“In the kitchen?!” 

You snorted a laugh, earning a low groan from Logan as your walls convulsed around his cock, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could almost hear his teeth grind together as he continued his battle to stop from pounding into you there and then. 

“You might wanna go, Scott. Logan’s getting impatient.”

“You can’t even see him, how’d you kn– OH FUCK’S SAKE!”  He huffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room, no doubt to tell Kitty and Ororo he’d just caught the two of you fucking like animals on the kitchen table. 

When you were certain he was gone, you released your grip on your mutation and the visage of Logan’s sweat-slicked face greeted you, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, nipping at your jaw. “Could feel you gushin’ around me, princess. You liked it when he walked in. You liked it when we got caught.” Feeling boneless, Logan pulled you up with him as he stood, sliding his still-hard cock from your twitching cunt. 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, attempting to latch your lips to his. But he pulled back from you, that same shit-eating grin still shining. With a huff, you hopped off the table, stooping to snatch your t-shirt from the ground. 

“My little exhibitionist. Who knew?” Logan wrapped his arms around your naked waist and you leaned back into his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you felt his cock press against your ass. “‘M not against extending invitations. Just to watch. Nobody gets to touch you but me.” He growled, a possessive edge cutting into his tone, one that made you slightly weak at the knees, as if you weren’t already struggling to stand. A fresh wave of arousal curled in your lower gut, and you turned in his arms, eyes like heated coals.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, Logan!”

With a dark chuckle, he bent to pick you up, hands braced against the backs of your thighs much like he had when he first walked in. 

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured, before finally letting you capture his mouth with your own, teeth clashing and tongues dancing as he blindly carried you up to bed to finish what you both started.