#There's 6 more who don't get names at all
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Since i've gotten a lot of questions about this i thought i'd post this for some more clarificarion :)
Before i start though it might be helpful to know that i drew them all in a post game context iykwim it's a bit of an au that i have some plot but mostly just designs in mind for
1. Zelda from 'The Legend of Zelda' there's not much to say here since she's one of the most recognizable ones
2. Zelda I from 'The Adventure of Link' also not much to say here except ig that i leaned more into the ginger hair for her
3. Zelda from 'A Link to the Past' i mostly based her color scheme off of her in-game sprite
4. Zelda from 'Forces of Evil' and 'Wand of Gamelon' both of which are cdi zelda games
5. Zelda from 'Zelda's Adventure' another cdi zelda game, i based her off that one alttp comercial i think?
6. Sheik/Zelda from 'Ocarina of Time' and 'Majora's Mask' so he's specifically from the child timeline
1. Sheik/Zelda from 'Ocarina of time' she's from the adult timeline
2. Sheik from 'Ocarina of Time' he's from the downfall timeline
3. Zelda/Sheik from the 'Super Smash Bros' series. I only really added her because i needed to get to 25 lol
4. Zelda from 'Oracle of Seasons' and 'Oracle of Ages'
5. Zelda from 'Four Swords'
6. Tetra from 'The Wind Waker' and 'Phantom Hourglass'
1. Zelda from 'Four Swords Adventures' i partially based her off the fs manga
2. Zelda from 'The Minish Cap'
3. Zelda from the stained glass seen in mc
4. Zelda from 'Twilight Princess'
5. Zelda from 'Spirit Tracks'
6. Zelda from 'Skyward Sword'
1. Zelda from 'A Link between Worlds'
2. Zelda/Sheik from 'Hyrule Warriors'
3. Zelda from 'Breath of the Wild' and 'Tears of the Kingdom'
4. Sonia from the ancient tapestry seen in botw. She got her name from her late grandmother who is the Sonia we know from totk
5. Zelda from 'Cadence of Hyrule'
6. Zelda from 'Age of Calamity'
And finally, Zelda from 'Echoes of Wisdom' i still haven't played it yet so i don't know anything about her
All of the zeldas so far in order of release
This took me so long lol i don't even know why i did this but here it is :>
And also i have not played eow yet so no spoilers pls
1. Classic Zelda
2. Zelda I
3. Alttp Zelda
4. Cdi Zelda
5. Other cdi Zelda
6. Oot Sheik
7. Oot adult Sheik
8. Oot downfall Sheik
9. Ssb Zelda (i needed to get to 25 lol)
10. Oox Zelda
11. Fs Zelda
12. Tetra
13. Fsa Zelda
14. Mc Zelda
15. Mc stained glass Zelda
16. Tp Zelda
17. St Zelda
18. Ss Zelda
19. Albw Zelda
20. Hw Zelda
21. Botw Zelda
22. Ancient princess (named after Sonia from totk)
23. Coh Zelda
24. Aoc Zelda
25. Eow Zelda
#the legend of zelda#art#reblogs#i'll only tag for spoilers#tears of the kingdom spoilers#tears of the kingdom#echoes of wisdom#echoes of wisdom spoilers#totk#eow
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͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏the missions (these are excerpts from eric harris's site)͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏❀ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏
[CONTENT MISSING]
1 The first was when we put an entire assortment of very loud fireworks in a tunnel, and lit them off at about 1:00AM. This mission was part of a rebellion against these assholes that shot one of our bikes one day. They were rather angry that night, and we were very happy. We will be doing another hit on their house sometime in the near future. And that one will be much closer. And louder.
After each mission we get drunk. Not with wimpy beer, we only use hard liquor. Aftershock, Irish Cream, Tequila, Vodka, Whiskey, Rum, and sometimes a few shots of EVERCLEAR. We also sometimes make up our own shooters. And sample others (never try a prairie fire, its killer!). In our next few missions, we are planning to hit the dorks house a few more times, along with a few other houses. And also set off some more fireworks at that tunnel. We each have a large supply of fireworks...loud ones...and soon I will have my license and we can drive around any place we want to. heh heh. Soon I will be putting our directions for mixing drinks that we make up. We will put up any good shooter or other drink that we try. So check this place out often.
[CONTENT MISSING]
R....e....b....e....l....C....l....a....n
this page was written by REB
REB VoDkA KIBBz
2 Our second mission was against this complete and utter fag's house. Everyone in our school hates this immature little weakling. So we decided to "hit" his house. On Friday night (2/7/97) at about 12:15AM we arrived at this queer's house. Fully equipped with 3 eggs, 2 rolls of toilet paper, the cheap brand, no pretty flowers, (we were disappointed to) superglue, and the proper tools to make his phone box a busy box (for those of you that are stupid, a buy box is where you set their box so that when they try to make a call, they get a busy signal and when someone else calls, they get a busy signal too). We placed 2 eggs in his very large, thick bushes. We just barely cracked them open so they will be producing a rather repulsive and extremely BAD odor for sometime. We placed the last egg on his "welcome" mat. It was very neat, I cracked the egg, put the yoke in the center, and the 2 halves on either side of the yoke. Then we teepeed his large pine tree and this...oak? tree. I don't know, it's big though. It wasn't a complete teepee but it was enough to agitate the homeowner greatly. We also put the superglue on the front door and on the little red mailbox flag.
3 This mission was an attack on the people who shot Vodka's bike, and on some random houses. First, after sneaking out of my house at around 1:55, we lit off 1 strand of 200 thunderbombs and 6 bottle rockets. We had also set a time delayed assortment too. This was made of 10 bottle rockets and a few crackling balls. We aren't really sure if those went off though because by the time they would have, we were a mile away. After the fireworks we went over to this asshole's house. His name is brooks brown {redacted by FBI and missing in files - possibly home address}. If any of you feel like pranking him. Anyway, we didn't really do much to him. Just put some model puddy on his Merc. Then, we went to another kid's house, and started to teepee his big, tall, thick, thorny-ass-tree. We set off the motion detectors about 4 times, and we dodged 1 car. But we didn't get caught! His tree was completely covered and wrapped in ass wiping paper. Even though we only had 4 rolls, we did one helluva good job. After that we moved some rather large rocks onto people's driveways and tagged RC into a fence. Then, we came home and got drunk while watching Bordello of Blood.
4 This mission was frehkin unique. The mission was from my house (REB), through the corridor, past the graves, and to the place where we do all of our fireworks. It was supposed to be like the other missions to this place. The weather was nice, we had 4 items made up and ready for use. The first fuse didn't work. The second fuse malfunctioned also. Both of those items were just about 100-120 thunderbombs strapped together. We had one more like the first 2 and we also had a little contraption of bottle rockets. These bottle rockets were strapped together, and put into a bottle. We placed this bottle on top of a large hill. So quite a few people could see. After about the 3rd try, I decided to just light the fuses that were directly from the rockets. Usually we use loooong fuses so we have time to get away. But this time, with Vodka and Kibbz standing over in front of some bigass shrubbery. I just did the direct fuse. After lighting it I ran like a sonuvabitch to Vodka and Kibbz.
By the time I made it to them the rockets were starting to go off. We had about 50 in the assortment, so it lasted a while. It was rather perrrty. Then we busted the bottle and went BACK to the 2 strips that didn't work. They both had rather crappy quality fuses so they went out before they reached their target. I took the last one, tied the remainder of the first 2 fuses to it, and lit it for the final f*ckin time. Since I am the fastest in the group, I usually light the fuses and Kibbz would be at the point where we stop running. Vodka would keep guard while I light. This time both of them went over and laid down on the side of this hill about 100 yards away. This would be the first time we have ever seen our own work in action. All the other times we just heard them. I lit it, ran to the hill, and watched the lovely ass fireworks go off. They lasted about 45 seconds, a total of around 400 went off. Dogs were barkin and everything. It was really cool to see em all to.
After that we went to this point in the trails that looked like the Q from quake. We smoked some cigars, and headed home. Except...when we were a few blocks away from home, we had an incident. We were walking along the sidewalk when a f*cking garage door opened at the house that we were right by! We bolted into that person's yard...and ducked down and tried to be as quiet as possible. This adult came out, got his newspaper(it was about 4:30 in the AM) and went back in. I tried to signal Vodka and Kibbz but they didn't see me. We waited...a few minutes later the man got in his car and started down his driveway. The flood of lights from his car just covered us. He stopped, got out, and yelled "WHO ARE YOU!" we got up, said we were just passin through and stuff, and he kept sayin "GET OUT OF HERE", "ILL CALL THE COPS!" and "WHO ARE YOU." We f*ckin hauled assholes and elbows home.
This mission was also liquor free as a result of this person named Brooks Brown {redacted by FBI and missing in files - possibly home address} who tried to narc on us. Telling my parents that I had booze and @#%$ in my room. I had to ditch every bottle I had and lie like a f*ckin salesman to my parents. All because Brooks Brown thought I put a little nik in his windshield from a snowball.......BS? yes, Anyway, that was mission 4.
5 This mission was one of the best we ever did. This was from Kibbz's house to several locations in his neighborhood. That night was probably the longest walk we ever did. First we went to this soccer field/playground. It was right on the corner of a very busy intersection. So every minute we had cars going by. There was a lot of moonlight that night, we got to the playground and dodged the lights of cars for about 20 minutes. Then we decided what our first strike would be like.
We got a big McD's cup, and went to the center field of the soccer field. We got out about 20 bottle rockets that were stripped together, and a 100 somethin strip of blackcats. Each had very good and long fuses so we had lots of time. We lit them, and ran over and got in front of these big pine trees. We were totally out of vision. The rockets went off first. They launched out over the field and then the strip went off, after that we started goin back the way we came. Which went through this trail about 35 yards wide with houses on either side. We found this large metal tub...perfect for firecrackers!!! We decided that Kibbz and Vodka would walk off toward the street on the other side of the trail and hide behind some trees while I lit it. Except...the street was over 100 yards away. And they were about 15 yards past it. Once they signaled me, I lit the small assortment of thunderbombs and about 50 stickless bottle rockets. They would only make sound, no visual effects. But anyway, I lit and sprinted the whole f*ckin way. About 3/4ths the way the fireworks went off, I was right in the middle of this bigass trail.
I never ran so fast in all the missions. But I made it to the others and watched all these lights go on from the houses. Then we walked over to this big open hill between some houses and a busy street. We got a long wooden board and placed it on the hill. We had a long strip of about 200 and a little brick of about 3 packs of thunderbombs. This time we used a cigarette fuse. We only needed about an inch of it. We lit the cigarette and went over to hide behind some trees. When it went off it was VERY loud where we were so we bolted outa there. After a few minutes we went back to see if all the stuff had gone off and it all did. So we got some souvaneers (i know misspelled) and went home. Drank some Aftershock that night too. We were supposed to have a few chicks come with us, but they couldn't make it...so maybe next time.
[CONTENT MISSING]
6. Awwww yeya. This mission was so fuckin fun man. Ok, first of all, my dad was the only parent home so it was much easier getting out...but still hard since all these rocks in my backyard make so much noise. Plus the neighbors faulting dog barking its faulting head off. First we went through the corridor...going through some very tall grass fields...not as tall as the ones in the Lost World, but close. Felt kinda cool. Then we set up the strip of 1132 firecrackers. Using w cigarettes as starting fuses, we had plenty of time to spare. We also had a nice little crackering fountain hooked up to the fuses too. After a few minutes of setting it up, we lit it and went over and hid it on top of this big cement pipe going under a street. We were on the side of a hill so we hid in the grass. There was also a full moon that night, and not a foaming cloud in the sky. So it was like noon on the equator when we were out in the open. But, black clothing and tall grass sure helps. After about 5 minutes (forever) it began.
Beforehand we watched as some lights in the target house went on.....then off. Maybe the bastard heard something. But when the strip started, he turned his bedroom lights off. The strip lasted for about 30 seconds.....we think.....it was very fucking long. Almost all of it went off, loud and bright, everything worked exactly how we wanted it to. After about 15 minutes we started down the bike trail to the next target. The first targets lights were on again in the bedroom but we think we got away undetected. While we were walking to the next target we shot some stuff. Heh, VoDkA brought his sawed off BB gun and a few BBs too. So we loaded it, pumped it, and fired a few shots at some houses and trees and stuff. We probably didn't do any damage to any houses, but we aren't sure. The gun was not loud at all, which is very good. At the next target, we set up the saturn missile battery and the rockets. These both had fuses about 2-3 feet long. I lit them as VoDka and KiBBs were hiding in the shadows.
Luckily there were some trees and stuff at the 2nd target so we could hide pretty good. Anyway, I lit and went over to the others. We watched as the fuses burned and burned...then the rockets went off. It was pretty nice, not so much meant as a prank, but more as a nice little fireworks show. They made some noise, but nothing to shit yer pants about. But the battery didn't work. So I went back, checked it out, and the fuse had burned down to about 2 inches. So I just said up yours baby nad lit it. Right as I made it back to the others it went off. It was pretty quick, and loud too. Since the missiles are whistlers, they probably woke up a few residents. YEY. Then we started heading to this construction site. It’s right on the side of a kind of busy road, but before the houses. We dodged a few cars, messed around at the site and we also swiped some signs from this fence that was put up around the soon-to-be-foundation of whatever is being built. The signs read "RENT-A-FENCE" and had some 1 800 number on them. So we got some very nice souvoneers (spelled close enuf) from that place.
Then, as KIBBz and VoDkA were down in the foundation hole and I was up on top, a cop drove by. We had enough time to see it, take cover, and watch it go by, so it didn't get us by surprise. But once we saw it was a cop we decided it was time to farming LEAVE. He didn't stop, he drove right by, but @#%$ he mighta been looking for us. So we got out of the fence, grabbed our signs and went to the neighborhood again. We didn't have that much trouble getting back home, just some dogs and @#%$. Once we got in, we were tired as a priest after a 5 hour orgy. The total mission took about 3 hours. We left around 12:30 and got back around 3-3:30. We are not very sure but it lasted a while. And damit, it was well worth it. We needed that mission too, we were all pretty tired of waiting and our nerves were just about shot. So it was perdy relaxing to be free like that.
[CONTENT MISSING]
{mission unnumbered} [CONTENT MISSING]
NEXT MISSION=aaaan whenever
Ok people, I’m gonna let you in on the big secret of our clan. We aint no god damn stupid ass quake clan! We are more of a gang. We plan out and execute missions. Anyone pisses us off, we do a little deed to their house. Eggs, teepee, superglue, busyboxes, large amounts of fireworks, you name it and we will probably or already have done it. We have many enemies in our school, therefore we make many missions. It’s sort of a night time tradition for us.
It’s a very close replica of the missions sites. But we have never seen the inside of the house…so we just guessed. It’s also cut off where the area isn't important (ya know I didn't want to put in all of the neighborhood!).
The mission has been done. And the rebels…once again… emerged victorious. Vee falking blew de sheeeit outta lossa stoof!!
As for the next mission, we haven't decided what to do or where to do it. I had some thoughts about hiding in some large bushes and shooting stuff. Or maybe some more aerial attacks. But we need to go up to Wyoming and load up on that stuff. We are running low. Plus we just got our paychecks….they aren't big…but they can cover quite a bit of shit. We still need to get the fuses too. So far, the next mission will probly be in July sometime. But we AINT SURE.
[CONTENT MISSING]
#tc community#tcc tumblr#tccblr#teeceecee#tcc fandom#truecrimecommunity#eric and dylan#columbine 1999#true cringe community#tcc columbine#dylan columbine#columbine massacr#eric columbine#columbine massacre#tcctwt#eric harris#dylan klebold#vodka and reb#rebandvodka#reb#vodka#mass shootings tw#mass shooters#info post#dollielliot 💥💣
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proving how respectful Warriors (2024) is with MATH
american street gangs are one of the most lied about groups of people in this country. we have, essentially, copies of the same law in many cases: carjacking minimum penalty is 3 years in state prison, but if a prosecutor can argue it's a gang-related carjacking, it's 18 years in state prison to life. and gangs are super vaguely defined in the law, so in practice it's a shortcut to get poorer, darker-skinned folk punished more for the same crime. our tax dollars are funding a million cop shows telling us how scared we should all be of gangs. in classic outgroup propaganda, they are always simultaneously primal, uneducated kids who don't know what they're doing and also conniving, hierarchical masterminds conspiring against us.
in reality, they're community-based organizations of the people who stepped up when the neighborhood's law enforcement stopped settling the small disputes and started creating big ones. as with many large powers, they're often mismanaged and misogynistic and very territorial (though there's a case to be made about how those problems are all sustained by the cops), but fundamentally they're human beings taking care of each other, feeding and clothing each other, holding each other accountable, paying for their kids' educations, and being family. and we can all agree on those things. it's just the word "gang" that's been soured. to be clear, it's a lot less soured for the people still living gang life than the types of folk who might buy an album cowritten by the Hamilton guy. the album wants us to care about these kids' struggle without us bringing preconceived baggage to their table. so here's what it does about that.
when you summarize to your friend what Warriors is about, you use that word. gang. it's kinda the whole premise. but how much do they say that word? pop quiz, without scrolling down, can you name a single instance of the word "gang" appearing in Warriors? there aren't zero, but there aren't many. really, try.
they say "crew"! 19 times in fact. and crowd, 5 times. and team (2) and turf (14) and i read corner (24) as a recurring motif for loyalty. West Side Story isn't even really about gangs, has a lot less words, and has gang 11 times. gangs are the basis of the plot of Warriors, but it's not what it's about. consider, for reference, that truce appears 9 times and crew 19 and beautiful 16. esperanza 6 and quiet 15. alive has a grand total of 45. and train? 58.
time's up, here's the answers: "every fly by night gang who wants to see the shore", "one big happy gang gang gang", "if some other gang gets the drop", "so now this chick's in the gang like?", "you're the baddest gang in the city, it's true", "every gang in the city wants to kill us"
let's dig in. it's just eight in the whole thing, and half of them are from a single Luther song. there's so many words in this thing total. and 8 is less than 9, the number of featured gangs including the cops. almost all of the invocations are referring to other people, derogatorily at that. the exception is Ajax being kinda facetious. 5 of them are essentially about hypothetical groups. 1 is the nypd. it's possible when you were mentally scanning the lyrics for "gang" you did what i did when i first realized this and thought for places someone might be trying to say "we're a big bad gang" but that never happens. cause Lin and Eisa write them like real people and use our preconceptions responsibly. and sometimes what that means is writing about a thing without using the most common name it's been given.
and bwawwk! what about bwawwk!? 28.
#people always asking me do any of your posts do numbers? and hoho well you could say that#warriors album#warriors concept album#warriors musical#analyzing the themes#note i'm including tren as train and bkwawwk as bwawwk otherwise feel free to check my work i'm a liberal arts kid and did this all by hand
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hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)
kia ora!!
thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...
First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...
So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.
The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.
I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.
It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.
Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: [email protected]!
And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3
Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.
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do you have anything planned for zelda? the little kittypet that joins darktails group
Unfortunately, Zelda is being axxed, along with Max and Loki.
I cannot fit in more random characters who vanish after this arc when I'm trying to give screentime to cats who need it. Heathertail is going to connect with Darktail as a possible half sibling, Breezepelt is getting an actual redemption arc, there are 6 original members of the Kin, the majority of the group is ex-DF trainees, SkyClan...
I'm not even going to try and shove in the random kittypets the Kin were able to recruit from... somewhere. Canon AVoS is really disorganized and I have to prune somewhere, and I'm starting with the 12 canonical Kin-related characters that completely vanish after this arc.
HOWEVER
Most of Zelda's roles as Violetshine's friend are going to be absorbed by Dragonfly, who she is going to end up in a relationship with along with Tree. So there is a bright side to this.
#and that's the 12 who get names#There's 6 more who don't get names at all#Recurring theme of my rewrite is that Clan Culture Has Problems#And to do that I need the Kin to mostly be clan cats#not... yknow. Barbaric Hordes.#Evil Foreigners That Should Not Have Been Trusted :/#Bonefall AVoS#Bonefall Rewrite
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"we have 4 finals left to play guys focus" "real arsenal fans aren't celebrating until the season is over" for the love of everything that is beautiful in the world, shut up
#if I see this take again I'm genuinely going to start crying lmao ahhhhh#and if you get to the end of the season and you never celebrated anything then what?? they're not bringing a trophy out for you mate#did anything matter last season? if the only way you measure success is with a trophy then no maybe not#but when I put on last season's kits I don't remember the games we lost I don't even remember losing the league#I remember Martin officially being named captain and both nld games and the last minute winners and farewell Granit#even beyond last season of all the games I've seen in my life I remember maybe 6-7 losses#more than that I remember how fast hector was and when nelli debuted and mikel off the bench in his last game#I remember arshavin's 4 goals and that mf who broke aaron ramsey's leg and how watching cesc made me fall in love with football#how on the weekends it was arsene wenger who raised me#no one lets our players live and now you're not going to let your fellow fans live .... literally what are you doing here#it’s not your job to be calm it’s your job to support the club! you’re supposed to bring the passion wdym no celebrating until the end ???
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did you know i love my friends so much.
#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#i met 3+ people this year and i think those 3 i can already call best friends... they are all a lil bit similar to each other and to me and#my twin but we differ too in obvious ways and it's just so beautiful to me!#i like how they come from different walks of life! makes me really feel like i'm maturing and growing up even if that's something i don't#necessarily like either but also i won't be getting into that rn oops. uhm anyways!#i love them all a lot !!!#matching bracelets with my group of 4 for 6+ years now... we've been thru some rough patches but i love them so much!#rn i mostly just have problems w one but it's likely bcs she's in the next year compared to us all. early in the next year but yeah#hehehe <3 OH and also matching necklaces kinda !!! morse code ^___^ we all don't know what's written tho hehe#but yeah matching bracelets w our names ... mwa. love them sm#the other friend met early this year! it was my first experience meeting someone so similar to me and my twin so it meant a lot#i think i'm comfy just being my self w them in the same way i am w my twin bcs 1. they are a guy so i don't have to act uhh in a kinda#way i have to do w one of the friends in my group of 4? not that i'm faking that but it's more freeing! so yeah. we already talked about#our world beliefs and philosophies early in our meeting so that was weirdly uh. central to how we're just comfy#they're a bit diff to me and i can tell in what ways and i kinda don't see eye-to-eye on some topics but i kinda like that i'm trying to be#mature about that! like w adult relationships that i examine but oops won't get into that rn#the other friend!! differs from the other two in that they're the only one who has priorly played ffxiv even if one did character#customization a long time ago and we got em into playing. n the other is about to soon hopefully but otherwise hm i forgot prior to that#THOUGH THOSE TWO. may not have been into ffxiv but DRAKENIER! and those two knew gbf for a while but apparently it was ultimately me/twin#who got em into it finally as far as i'm concerned!! the other is interested too hehe so that all means a lot to me!!#i think it's really funny that. me and lune w em. it's all just a group of 3 EHWHDKJS. altho 2 do know each other#and tbh thx to twt they all might know each other to some extent bcs of my interactions :O ? hmm. just a tad bit tho!#yeah and so the last one... i can see how similar we are but also how we differ and it is very interesting !!!#fun fact the three all like stuff similar to milgram ig ?? two actually do but the other doesnt but hopefully soon but they do like deco*27#yeah ...... !! so anyways yeah it's rlly nice w the last one too bcs it feels like i can really talk to em abt stuff?#i dont really do so often yet but i'd def be comfy w doing so i think. NOT THAT I AM NOT W THE OTHER TWO but it's a lil more ?? !!#i lov that all my closest friends though are into music and video games!! the way that it is differs for us all and that is beautiful tbh#OH. right. i almost forgot i am so sorry#the 4th person i didnt reallt meet this year but we did got closer this year. !!! from xiv#from all of em i actually reallt did just meet them by yk. in game! no similarities were known and it was kinda nice just getting to know
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i may be bad at many, many video games. but i am comically bad at rdr2
#i keep accidentally killing ppl who attack me and then i get bounties#i keep taking too long looting when i've been mugged and i get even more bounties#i was trying to fight off a pack of wolves when the law men found me and had to fight off the wolves AND 6 law men long enough to run away#istg if i do anything other than hunt deer i get bounties put on my head im tired of paying them off#also i keep getting mugged by gangs more n more and fighting them is risky bc.. of the bounties...#i tried to save a man getting mauled by a wolf but i failed and he died#then some guy rides past me n this dead guy and reports it as murder and i get ANOTHER bounty#i've had to start giving ppl a wide berth when i ride past em bc 3x now if i was too close ppl got mad n started shooting me#and if i shoot back n kill them then there's ALWAYS a witness who reports it as murder christ#maybe i should just start hog tying ppl and leaving them like that#the game also hasn't taught me how to not kill ppl in melee fights so i dread getting challenged lmfao i don't want to kill these ppl! cmon!#anyway i tamed my first horse :-)#naming all my horses after beans#my stuff#i am not even to the 3rd chapter of the game yet i think i haven't even seen the bad predators or anything#major hijinks to ensue when bears start popping up fr
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when I drew this comic 3 years ago I had NO idea how far it would reach. I'm happy to finally share a corrected version with proper abbreviations, and even MORE state names of indigenous origin ♥️
however, the goal of this comic was to inspire people to do your OWN research on indigenous history. To question everything we have been taught, and everything that has been pointedly left out. This erasure, this “forgetting”, of history is not just of the past… it is happening now. - Across so-called Canada, the US, and US-occupied islands, native women are victims of murder at 10-12x the rate of non-native people, and are the most likely to go missing without being searched for by the law. - Native reservations have the highest rates of poverty in the US, with over HALF of tribal homes with no access to clean water (with more joining this list by the year) - Native people are 6-10x more likely to be unhoused than the rest of the population, and native teens suffer suicide rates higher than any other demographic. This list of modern day genocide goes on (thank you for compiling @theindigenousanarchist <3) and yet take a look at those environmental stats!
Native people manage to do SO much for the planet as a whole - thanklessly - and with all this stacked against them. Don't even get me started on kin fighting in south america. Could you imagine if there was help? #landback is resistance to genocide, and it is the key to saving our warming earth.
So look into it and the other hashtags, cuz a cartoon goose ain't a substitute for a proper education. Love to my grandparents who always kept a map of tribal territories of turtle island on their wall, to speaking on our Tsalagi & Saponi heritage. Love & solidarity forever, happy research, and happy #indigenouspeoplesday
LANDBACK.ORG
(Also, if you care to support the artist, I'm publishing a book ! and writing another - a fantastical afroindigenous graphic novel - that I post exclusively about with tons of other art on my patreon.)
#mmiw#searchthelandfill#landback#art#comic#illustration#indigenous peoples day#rights#indigenous rights#autonomy#statistics#love#freedom#borders#history#usa#canada#turtle island#mariah-rose marie
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You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.
But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.
Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.
I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.
FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.
#free palestine#gaza#palestine#rafah#israel#current events#gaza strip#human rights#childrens rights#save the children#cease fire in gaza#cease fire now#cease fire permanently#palestinian genocide#support gaza#pray for palestine#ceasfire now
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sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:・˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:・˚₊ *˚
summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k
a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.
Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.
Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.
No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.
It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.
Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.
He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.
But finally, you were done.
It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.
You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.
Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.
"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.
"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.
"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"
Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.
"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."
But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.
"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.
You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.
"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.
"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.
He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.
"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"
You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.
"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.
How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.
"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."
The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.
You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.
"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.
"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.
"I don't know, kid-"
"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.
"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."
"Thank you."
Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.
Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.
"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.
You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.
"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.
"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"
"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.
"I'm Y/N, by the way."
"I'm-"
"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.
"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.
"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"
The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.
"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.
"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.
"I don't like sweets, kid."
"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."
"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."
"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."
"Bullshit."
"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.
"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"
"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.
Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.
"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.
"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."
"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."
Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.
"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."
"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.
"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."
"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."
"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.
Caught red-handed.
"Educated guess."
"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"
Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.
"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"
"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"
"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.
"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"
Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.
"You never called me that."
"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.
"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.
"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.
"And I'll regenerate."
Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.
"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."
"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.
"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"
"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."
"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"
"She." Logan rolled his eyes.
"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.
"Alright, that's enough."
"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"
"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.
"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.
"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"
The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.
Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.
"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.
"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"
Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.
"I had a hunch." He shrugged.
"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."
"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."
"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.
Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.
You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.
"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."
The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.
"I'll let it cool off a bit."
"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.
"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.
"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."
"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.
"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.
Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.
The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.
"Shit."
"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.
"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"
You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.
"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."
"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.
"Is it good?"
"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"
"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.
Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.
Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.
"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.
Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.
"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"
"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.
"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."
"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.
"I think you found yourself a new customer."
"You're too nice."
"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.
"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."
"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"
"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.
Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.
"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"
You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.
His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.
With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.
Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.
"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.
"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.
"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.
With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.
You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.
Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.
"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.
"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.
"Likewise. Now spread 'em."
"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.
He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.
"That desperate, hm?"
"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.
"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.
"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.
"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.
You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.
"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.
"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.
He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.
To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?
"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.
You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.
"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.
Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.
"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"
"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."
"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.
"Where are your manners?"
"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"
The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.
"Are you sure you can take it?"
"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"
Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.
"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.
"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.
Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.
"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.
"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.
You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.
"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."
"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."
"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.
You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
"I like you too, honey badger."
"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.
"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."
He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.
In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.
"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.
"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"
"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."
"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."
"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.
"Both. It's both."
You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.
He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.
Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.
"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.
"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."
You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.
"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."
"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."
"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"
"Yes."
"Dulce de leche?"
"Yep."
"Baklava?"
"Uh-huh."
"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"
"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"
"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."
"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.
"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."
"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"
"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.
Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.
#logan howlett#wolverine#mcu#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#fem!reader#marvel#deadpool 3
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ALRIGHT, I ASKED FOREVER AGO, BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY ISA LOOPS AU??
Heads up this contains a lot, and I mean A LOT of spoilers for In Stars And Time. Including: = Act 6 spoilers, including main mystery and secret encounter = Minimal Act 5 stuff = And a bunch of extra stuff that happens through Act 3 and 4. SO BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING, FINISH THIS GAME COMPLETELY BEFORE READING (ESPECIALLY THAT ACT 6 ENCOUNTER, IT WILL LITERALLY BE THE FIRST THING I MENTION UNDER THE CUT)
With all those warnings out of the way-
IN REPETITION AND CHANGE
Initial Concepts:
I feel it's important to show these sketches because they were the first ideas I ever had. I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to make an AU at this point, I didn't even know how I'd approach it. But I started sketching and it's been on my mind since- SO! Isa is stuck in the timeloop. I know what his wish is and he DOES have a Loop equivalent! The grumpy dandelion guy is Roboro (it/they/he). Their name is a very small play on Ouroboros and they call Isa "Seedling". However, this post is not about them, as I'm gonna talk about it and Isa's dynamic in a separate post. In short, Isa is his normal loud self up until Act 3, right? They beat the King, they reach the end, and whoops, the loop isn't broken. So now, what happens is that Isa starts getting his brains out. He starts thinking more analytically and tries to problem solve.
The more stuck he gets in his head, the less he's able to perceive his friends as real people, and more like them holding him back. Because even if Isa explains that he's smart, that they shouldn't be surprised if he says something, shock of all shocks, reasonable- They'll forget it the next loop.
So Isa is stuck with trying to portray his confident, loud, supportive facade- Which is fine! It wouldn't be the first time! But it progressively gets more and more frustrating, as he tries to find answers and simply looses the energy to pretend to be stupid.
TL;DR: Isa in the timeloop, unlike Siffrin, becomes more distant and cold rather then something more akin to Sif's mania.
NOW, MORE ART!!!
KILL KILL KILL:
I imagine Isa didn't have this encounter the same way that Sif did. Yeah, frankly, Isa is pissed with the sadness- But that's not why he goes through with this.
In this moment, Isa is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He's trying to get through this quickly, as well as reassure Mira that they can do this! If he shows how strong he is, then she'll feel safe right???
Poor Isabeau forgot that whenever he shows that he thinks ahead, he scares people. How could he forget that? How could he forget that he's inherently---
Family Quest:
I still think Odile is the one to call out to him (same with sus quest).
The hangouts I'm still figuring out, cause I don't think they'd too similar to base game- But, fun fact, at the end of this run, everyone agrees to keep travel together!
Isabeau brings it up, can't hurt if you can fix your mistakes right? And everyone agrees. The relief on Siffrin is the most palpable thing Isabeau has ever seen.
In this moment they love you. In this moment they all love you. In this moment---
Death Screen:
He loops back anyways. (This is one of the initial concepts that I ended up animating. This line in particular is when he reaches the end)
Act 5 Tarot Card:
NOW TO SEE MORE OF HIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SIDE
Thanks to @the-bitter-ocean for prescribing tarot cards to Isa (THEY ALL FUCK SO HARD) and for the RAW ASS LINE
If interacted with in act 5, predictably, Isa tears it apart. He doesn't need the divine judgement upon him, he's faced everyone's perception his entire life.
However, he tears it methodically. Tears it once in even pieces, twice, three times, and one of the pieces once more. In a way he isn't even getting his emotions out, it's like he's actively trying to tear it apart so it stops nagging him, like he wants to shut it up. Though, the Judgement card symbolizes rebirth, absolution and inner calling. In Act 6 he'd be able to look at it and find comfort and confidence in the card.
Act 5 Mirror:
And lastly, I have the Act 5 mirror picture. I haven't quite figured out how to make the normal ones work yet, however, I couldn't let go of the idea that Isa would not want to be in the picture.
The idea of seeing himself at all makes his head hurt and his stomach squeeze. The memory haunts him as he stands to the side and says the word. He didn't think the mirror would catch him.
AAAAND THAT'S ALL THE ART STUFF FOR NOW!!
I still have quite a bit of it to post, especially about Roboro, but I'm gonna leave it here for now.
I still gotta figure out the hangouts and potentially the dagger equivalent- but I have ideas for Bad Touch, the glass equivalent, and some extra little things that didn't happen in Siffrin's loops.
I needed to yap about this, because I've been slowly stacking up ideas and writing and I needed to share it at some point- If anyone read all this and has questions and stuff I fully welcome 'em!!
#in repetition and change#irac#in stars and time au#isat au#isat isa#in stars and time isabeau#irac isa#irac roboro#the title used to be the other way around so it was icar but the long version didn't feel right but now the short one is off#I can't win in these conditions/j#isat spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#HOW DID I FORGET THE SPOILER TAG HOLY FUCK
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how i manifested my dream life with extremely hard circumstances + how you can too ♡
Note: this is not my post and it's blushydior's post that everyone been searching for, so i thought why not making it as a post,and blushy if you see this, please don't kill me i know you said that you'll change your post but you disappeared After that.
♡ table of contents:
1. the importance of making this post
2.my take on manifestation + the 3D
3. HOW I DID IT - my journey in 4 phases i went through that include my mindset changes up to the moment i got my desires
4. your new rules & routine from this moment on
5. a note from me!
6. frequently asked questions: separated into topics regarding the 3D, self concept + miscellaneous questions to have you leaving this post stress free.
now let’s get into it. read every bit of this post “ ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·
I. THE IMPORTANCE OF MAKING THIS POST
i’ve been through it all. you can read my experiences from old life in the “my life before” section of my success story + here, here, here and here. this is my success story on how the law of assumption has changed my life. as you can see from the “how” section of the post, i had purposely left it short, sweet and simple to avoid people complicating the simplicity of the law of assumption. but as time went on, anons and other blogs made me realize that since people do tend to over-complicate the law, the need i felt to make an in-depth post on how i personally manifested through my hard circumstances grew strong.
my blog often highlights topics that pertain to mental health, so i want to make sure those who find themselves in the same situations as i once were feel seen, heard and loved. you are all so powerful, amazing and hold so much potential more than you know. with this post, i hope i am able to help you realize that fact to the best of my abilities.
𝐈𝐈. MY TAKE ON MANIFESTATION + THE 3D
something that you’ll see me say all the time is: “life is a blank canvas.” that’s because it truly is.
remember that you are working with the law of assumption. what you assume to be true, is true. nothing is set in stone unless you say it is. things have meaning only if you assign it one.
you are the sole creator of your life. you are the artist that controls the brush/pen, you control what goes on and off of this very malleable canvas we call life. you don’t have to do anything. therefore,
you don’t have to: affirm 24/7, be specific, word your affirmations correctly, listen to subliminals, ignore the 3D, be positive all the time, meditate, have high vibrations, script, visualize, do sats or lullaby, go into the void, affirm in the present tense, avoid the mirror, etc.
you can literally say a random word like “bonk” and if saying it means you have all your desires or money is constantly filling your bank account, then that’s what will happen!
“but what if my subconscious doesn’t know what it means?” your subconscious mind is literally you. it’s not some stranger separate from you. if you want a scene to play out a certain way on a specific date or a romantic partner with all the most perfect qualities even if you can’t name it all at the top of your head, your subconscious has your back with the details! you have your own back. don’t worry.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO IGNORE THE 3D.
read that again and again and again and again and-if your circumstances are quite literally in your face, how can you turn the other way and ignore it? you could if you wanted but you’ll only be doing more harm and we don’t want that, right?
“so then what do i do?” you KNOW it’s going to change. it’s challenging when you don’t fully believe the law to know it’s going to change, so for a start, tell yourself that this is not the end. why? because the moment you had a desire and claimed it as yours, it has already been set stone in the 4D so the 3D has no choice but to reflect it. this is your movie, you KNOW this is not the end. you are director and star of this movie! you control how it’s going to play out.
𝐈𝐈𝐈. HOW I DID IT - The 4 Phases (more so, 3)
PHASE 1:
i found out about manifestation from tiktok. from there i have tried scripting, law of attraction and had taken a liking into the craft. i tried it all until i found out about the law of assumption, sammy ingram and finally, tumblr.
PHASE 2:
upon finding out about loassumption tumblr, i had learned more and more about the law but as time went on, i had realized i had never really fully tried to apply the law. the idea just didn’t come about to apply it. as many others, i had overconsumed information, always wondering if i was doing it right, questioning the 3D,
so i took a break. upon discharge, i realized many things and decided to spend an extended amount of time alone, away from social media. i’m someone who values alone time as long as if it’s spent wisely.
during this time away from tumblr and sns platforms in general, constantly surrounded by other people’s takes, information, and opinions, i had learned so much about the law of assumption on my own! i went into the law of assumption with a fresh mind, actually applying the knowledge and overtime of affirming and persisting, i ACTUALLY understood the meaning behind “creation is finished. it is done.”
i’m advising you to step away from social media (that on it’s own has negative impacts) and be alone with your thoughts. i know your thoughts haven’t had it’s time to be alone because you’re most likely constantly seeking information to help you. and i don’t blame you. it’s just that, you are always bombarded by thoughts that aren’t your own, you barely give some time to yourself to think for yourself!
PHASE 3:
and if you can’t help but be on tumblr for other reasons than loassumption, unfollow blogs for the time being, scroll past informational posts to avoid second guessing your application. tell yourself that
YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT!
when it was time to apply the law, i simplified it. you choose what you desire, you affirm from your desire and persist. okay! got it. so that’s what i did. i affirmed whenever i thought about my desire, i kept saying that it is done! so in phase 2, i mentioned how i realized how creation was ACTUALLY done, right? before deciding to apply the law, i kept seeing posts saying that but i didn’t really fully understand it until the realization hit me during my time away from social media. (see? i love alone time. solitude is my bff) — here’s my breakdown for you:
once you decide a desire is yours to claim, THE SECOND you affirm that, in your head, imagination, your 4D, it is ALREADY yours. therefore, it has no choice to become physical reality. (this is why your subconscious only needs to hear things once in order for it to conform!)
it will always be yours for as long as you sustain that assumption (persist), it is yours! no matter what.
this is the meaning of “it is done.” it’s like telling a chef what dish you want, once they know what you want, they’ve got you covered. except that this chef is you. you know the details of your desire, you declare it’s going to conform instantly so why are you worrying? there is no need to worry.
informational post on the 4D + 3D here:
❝ If you judge after appearances, you will continue to be enslaved by the evidence of your senses. To break this hypnotic spell of the senses you are told, "Go within and shut the door,” The door of the senses must be tightly shut before your new claim can be honored .Instead of fighting against the evidence of the senses you claim yourself to be that which you desire to be. As your attention is placed on this claim, the doors of the senses automatically close against your former master (that which you were conscious of being). As you become lost in the feeling of being (that which you are now claiming to be true of yourself) the doors of the senses once more open, revealing your world to be the perfect expression of that which you are conscious of being. ❞
i kept time away from social media and being persistent really helped me be aware of my thoughts.
persistence has helped me:
be aware of thoughts that i wouldn’t have been able to catch before. for example, i was declaring that i have all of my desires and creation was done, but i found myself affirming “okay but where is it?” — this made me realize i was questioning my desires in my 3D even though i knew it was done in the 4D. (you don’t have to do this, you can imply your 3D conforms fast with whatever affs)
flip and interrupt my intrusive thoughts faster and faster the more i persisted. i hated my intrusive thoughts so much. like it was so annoying and hurtful. it was filled with replaying past scenarios that happened to me, things i wished had played out differently, just people who absolutely did not deserve the right to be occupying my mind and space! so i was grateful to learn that with persistence, i started to have less and less of those.
(see!! mental diet, persistence!! <3 this is how habits form and strengthen duhh. remember not to abandon common sense for the law)
AND THEN, PHASE 4:
i had entered sabbath, the state of the wish fulfilled, calm and relaxation that my desire has already manifested and there wasn’t nothing left for me to do other than persist. after so much persisting and saturating my mind with my affirmations, i reached being peace with my desires. i’m really glad i persisted. see how after persistence of assumptions, though false, will harden into fact? see how even your affirmations would feel “fake” at first but will soon feel natural to you? this means that i wasn’t questioning where it was, how long it was taking, etc. but this doesn’t mean i was ignoring my 3D. i saw it all but i knew it was going to change BECAUSE i felt peace in my inevitable desires.
then, i received my desires.
❝ I couldn’t possibly be worried about anything if I really believe that imagining creates reality. ❞
❝ When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that the desire is fulfilled. Feeling grateful, fulfilled, or thankful, it is easy to say, “Thank You,” “Isn’t it wonderful!” or “It is finished.” When you get into the state of thankfulness, you can either awaken knowing it is done, or fall asleep in the feeling of the wish fulfilled. ❞
𝐈𝐕. YOUR NEW RULES & ROUTINE
☆┆YOUR 3 NEW RULES ARE:
1, you have all your desires
i have all of my desires
creation is finished. it is done.
2. you manifest quickly and easily
manifesting is always so easy and instant for me
i always manifest within 2 days or less, the 3D conforms instantly.
the 3D instantly reflect my 4D
the physical reality instantly reflects my 4D/imaginative reality
3. you are okay because nothing can stop you from getting the inevitable
everything is going to be okay because creation is done
i am always aware of my thoughts. nothing can stop/get in the way of my desires.
no amount of intrusive thoughts, events and opinions of others have the power to stop my manifestations.
✉️: choose one affirmation from each list or make one of your own that makes you feel comfortable.
☆┆ROUTINE:
affirm on loop as an act of saturating your mind whenever you think of your desire until you feel satisfied,
in the morning, after you wake up: saturate your mind with affs.
read the manifesting vaunt below everyday (whenever you feel like it) — read it over and over again until you feel confident then go about your day!!
at night, before you sleep, affirm this:
“i kept all my thoughts in check today. i didn’t waver once. my mind is completely saturated with the new story.”
optional tip: if you want to saturate your mind even more as a start, you can set reminders with sticky notes around your space, have affs on your phone lock screen or wear a bracelet.
✉️ NOTE: soon enough, your mind will be saturated and you won’t need to do this anymore. this is just a start for those who battle intrusive thoughts!
let yourself feel any emotions that may come up because of your hard circumstances then once it’s out of your system, affirm your rules, especially rule #3!
do not consume any loassumption information if you know it will only cause you to second guess your ability. if you have the urge to ask a blog a question, try to make sense of what they will say and answer it yourself.
in times of doubt, remember that life is a blank canvas. your desire is set in stone, so your only task is to persist.
REASSURANCE VAUNT
creation is ACTUALLY finished. it is done. the second i claimed my desires as mine, it has already manifested itself in the 4D so it has no choice to present itself in the 3D! all i have to do is affirm and persist. i always have unwavering faith in my manifesting abilities and the law. i never fail. i am successful at every single thing i do. manifesting is so effortless. no amount of doubt, worry, fear, anxiety, intrusive thoughts or events can ever, and i mean EVER stop my manifestations. why? because i said so. this is MY life. i make the rules. so if i say i manifest easily, the 3D conforms instantly and that i have all of my desires, then it is a FACT. i’m literally unstoppable. everything i want is inevitable. my only task is to persist, sit back and relax as the 3D reflects my 4D. it all happens so fast, but what else do you expect from a master manifester like me?
SOMETHING TO NOTE:
most of the time, people think affirming on loop is saying it like a robot but what you don’t realize is that you’re affirming as if you’re reading a book. it’s not filled with enthusiasm but it’s not exactly monotone either. stop overthinking it. it’s like the voice you’re reading this post with. correct?
again, soon enough, your affirmations will feel natural and you won’t feel the need to affirm constantly. the routine above was given for those who battle intrusive thoughts, making your affirmations dominate to the point where you don’t waver.
QUOTES on STATES:
❝ I paid thirty dollars for my first suit. Today a suit will cost me $200.00, but regardless of the cost, when the suit is new I am aware of it. But let me wear it long enough for it to feel natural and I will no longer be conscious of it. The same is true for a state. You may desire the state of fame. If you will think you are famous and remain conscious of the state long enough to make it natural, as the thoughts flow from you they become a natural part of your body of beliefs, and the world will proclaim your fame. ❞
❝ I urge you to use your own wonderful creative power and deliberately move into the state of your choice. Make it now by occupying the state long enough so that it feels natural. Haven’t you had a suit of clothes that felt so new you were conscious of them every moment? I know when I bought my first suit I walked down Fifth Avenue thinking everyone I passed knew my suit was new. People passing paid no attention to me, but I was so aware, so conscious of my new suit. That’s exactly that happens when you move into a new state. If the state of affluence is new, you think everyone knows it, but no one knows or cares whether you are rich or poor, so walk in the state until it becomes natural. The moment the feeling is natural, wealth is yours! ❞
𝐕. ENDING NOTE
i love you. read that again. you can do it. read that again. i am so so so so proud of you. read that again! you are so strong, you have SOO much potential and power. it’s time for you to tap into it, angel. stop making excuses. stop telling yourself you can’t do it. stop the nonsense! you’ve dealt with your hard circumstances long enough, it’s time for you to turn to the person who can make that change (you) and make it happen. i’m really sorry you have to go through what you did. you certainly do not deserve the unkind treatment. give yourself a hug and tell yourself that this. is. it. you’re going to make the change. you know it and i do too. it’s possible. nothing is impossible for the person who believes! keep the faith in yourself. nothing can stop you.
it’s like those movies where the mc finds out they hold so much power. they doubt it because of the life they’ve had so far but once they give it a shot, they become the most powerful hero ever. you are that hero!!!
i love you and i am, again, giving you the biggestttt hug ever.
now, with that being said, @blushydior will no longer be taking asks regarding this topic. i’ve cleared most of the questions that could ever arise. you don’t need my guidance anymore after this post! im seeing you off now. i love you. stay safe. know that you’re loved and hold the power to change your life.
— kisses from bambi ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
ps. make sure you clicked the words that have links! <3 (the links are missing)
𝐕𝐈. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
Something you wish you could’ve told yourself before you manifested it all to make things easier for anyone struggling:
TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.
you guys are beating yourself up for something so simple. take a step back and realize that. you’re already dealing with such hard circumstances, so why are you literally degrading yourself for something so within your power and reach? tell yourself everything is going to be okay. you’re always doing your best. you deserve the WORLD.
I could write a whole novel, combine all the posts on tumblr teaching the law of assumption, and every helpful ask out there but at the end of the day, YOU are the only person who could change your life. YOU make the call. turn every doubtful question to a positive one, when in doubt, turn inwards toward the 4D and know that it is real. it is done the second you affirmed it so.
SPEND TIME ALONE.
i can NOT stress this enough. i didn’t include the details of my time alone in phase 2 for nothing. you’ll see that you can answer your own questions. you’ll catch the thoughts you missed because you have always been so adamant on getting answers to questions you already knew. take a deep breathe and stay firm.
SEE WHAT’LL HAPPEN IF YOU DON’T GIVE UP.
What did you affirm to get your dream life?
basically my affirmations i gave above and these. all i used were blanket affirmations.
What does persisting mean to you? What does persisting really feel like? Is it just like a mental diet? or what?
“persisting is sticking to what you want / the end no matter what you’re shown, told, and what you experience + picking yourself up after letting any negative emotions & thoughts pass by.” — blushydior from this ask here (sadly the link is missing:()
+ keeping your thoughts in line of the same category. to word this in a different way, i can affirm so many affirmations just as long as they mean the same thing to me!
“it also is a mental diet. we’re always persisting in something. it’s just a matter of what you’re persisting in. you either persist in your desire or negative/non-beneficial thought 24/7.”
“in your post about how you changed your life, you said you just affirmed and persisted. but from your other posts it seems like you read neville goddard books. so did you just affirm or did you do imaginal acts too? i get confused when people say “just affirm and persist” cause neville never said that.” (original ask here) (note from Eli: the link is missing).
“yes, i read his books and sometimes i would do imaginal acts but i would only do that bc it helped me get by my circumstances, yk? like if i was overwhelmed i would just daydream lol. its like how i read books to escape to another world. but i would say, affirming and persisting was what i focused more on.
i just used what worked for me and used his quotes as a reminder of the power of man. i didn’t want to bound myself to one’s teaching constantly worrying if im doing it “right” or not so instead, i went back to his quotes that consisted of telling me to persist, look inwards, finding confirmation in my imagination, etc whenever i needed a pick me up.
but correct me if i’m wrong, i’m pretty sure many of the success stories he shared consisted of people simply decreeing their desires and feeling the wish fulfilled simply by repetition and acceptance of their assumption.”
What is saturating your mind?
read about it here (the link is missing, but Basically it is repeating an affirmation every minute or hour until you feel fulfilled)
Do we have to believe our affirmations? Did you ever doubt the law in the process?
no, i did not believe my affirmations and YES of course i doubted the law but i kept persisting either way because what could i lose? and here i am.
Did you just affirm, persist, maintain a mental diet and that’s it? No SATS, going to the void, lullaby, repeating affirmations? Did you just got it sleep?
just affirming and persisting. sure, the occasional lullaby, i usually affirmed for 10 seconds max before i gave up. i couldn’t sleep without imagining some romantic scenario LOL #bambiexposed
How to deal with manipulation and narcissism?
remind yourself that you’re in advantage because you know about the law of assumption. life is a dream, you can literally have whatever you want just by affirming. if you know that, why allow yourself succumb to other people’s thoughts and beliefs? i couldn’t allow other people’s thoughts ruin my chance of living my dream life. the thought of it alone gave me the worst feeling.
How did you tackle the feelings of having no hope? + After being in the victim state for so long what did you do to get yourself out and actually stay out?
i persisted on loop whenever i doubted the law. i reminded myself that it doesn’t hurt to just be quiet, affirm and persist to live my dream life. just do it. you gain nothing from turning back to your old habits. see what’ll happen if you don’t give up. ❝ Do you always turn to your imagination and, no matter what happens, do you remain faithful to the state imagined? If you do, you have passed the test. But if every little rumor, doubt, or fear can move you around like a pawn on a chessboard, then you are not keeping the faith! ❞ ❝ Objects seem so independent of our perception of them that we incline to forget that they owe their origin to imagination.❞
What was the timeframe of when you got your desires?
about a week after deciding to be strict with self discipline, mind you, i was dealing with hard circumstances and intrusive thoughts for years. within this time span, i had entered sabbath so i immediately got my desires.
How did you kept a positive mindset when it looked like there was no movement?
refer back to phase 3
What was your affirming routine?
AT FIRST, when i started to get sick of overconsumption and not getting my desires, i knew my mind wasn’t saturated/my desires were not my dominant thoughts. so, i decided to be strict with myself. i reminded myself with pieces of paper in my room that said: ❝ PERSIST. new story only!❞ ❝ AFFIRM!❞
❝ 1.) the 3D conforms instantly.
2.) AFFIRM THE DESIRED
3.) BE LOT.❞
and taped them on the wall infront of my bed & one on my door so i can see it before i head out.
i didn’t need them anymore after a few days. (phase 3 & 4)
What did you do on all the days you woke up and things were still the same?
stop affirming that you don’t see results. i flipped the thought of “nothing’s changed.” to “i am in my desired reality, it is done.” and so on. be stern and remind yourself that you are in control. don’t fall prey to the 3D. turn inwards, find confirmation in the 4D. read quotes above.
How did you not react to the 3D?
i allowed myself to be angry. if i wanted to cry, i did. if i wanted to vent, i did. i ranted my feelings out in my head, aloud or in a journal then proceeded to go back to the new story after i cooled down.
But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?”
you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track. i ranted for 2% of my 24 hour days. the other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and i felt more at ease. i held onto that feeling because i knew this was when i would get my desires and i did. letting out and actually feeling your feelings is important. you’re not a robot.
Did you script how your life would be?
no.
(.𖥔 ݁ note from Eli: here's her post about her life before and After she changed it with LOA, anyway i wanted to make it in a post since the Google document can't let you make a copie of it and plus you can't take screenshots which René didn't allow)
#law of assumption#loa tumblr#loa#loa blog#law of manifestation#how to manifest#loassumption#void state#affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#affirm and persist#vaunts & affirmations#4d reality#master manifestor#loa success#instant manifestation
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Okay so I'm not in the hurricane evacuation zone by any means but I do live in a horrendously natural disaster-prone region SO!! Here are the best tips I've gotten for surviving in a disaster zone.
1) Write your name and your emergency contact's phone number in DARK PERMANENT INK somewhere visible on your skin (wrist is good) so if you're unconscious or dead emergency response can ID you and get in contact with your family/friends
2) If you have any particular medical needs or conditions write that too!! Specific medications + doses, warning signs and symptoms to watch for, etc
3) During the disaster, if your circumstances change or may change soon, record a new voicemail message explaining these changes so anyone who calls you knows your most recent status and location. Whatever details you think might help!
4) Stock up on Rx meds before pharmacies close. Get some OTC meds too and make a watertight and portable first aid kit. If you're gonna be in flood conditions and your Rx bottles aren't fully sealed, wrap the lids with duct tape to make a tight seal. If you've got tampons and pads in the house, stuff those babies in there! Good for everything from periods, to bloody noses and open wounds in an emergency! Plus they're super absorbent and can be used to temporarily block up small spaces and cracks
5) If there's no bottled water left in stores buy the biggest and cheapest bottles of soda you can, dump them out, and fill them with fresh water. If you have sinks and bathtubs that aren't expected to flood, fill those bad boys up with fresh water, too. Store as much water as you can!!
6) Put all important documents such as Social Security cards, birth certificates, marriage certificates, or anything else you want to save into waterproof bags. Ziplock baggies double sealed with duct tape along the closed seams are great! Double bag if needed!
7) Special cool new thing I learned about hurricanes that I'm probably the last dumbass on earth to know but just in case I'm not: even if a hurricane makes landfall as a Cat 3, if it was a Cat 5 over the ocean on approach it will bring in Cat 5 surge. Downgrading the wind speed doesn't downgrade the flood potential
8) TAKE THE BACKROADS OUT OF MAJOR CITIES OH MY GOD PLS DONT GET STUCK ON THE FREEWAYS IT'S HELL
9) Last but not least, if you can't afford to evacuate or don't have a place to stay, some people under videos and posts tagged with current natural disasters are offering temporary places to crash for those in affected areas for free!! I've seen multiple cases now of people offering up their guest rooms or couches to evacuees and their pets in the last week that have worked out ❤️
If anyone else has more tips, and more experience with this type of disaster specifically, please add on!! Love you all and hope everyone stays safe 💕
#dude im so scared of hurricanes like what do u mean 13 ft surge waters. hello??? anyway thats actually insane#hoping you all stay safe ❤️😭#hurricane milton#hurricane#natural disasters#florida#hurricane preparedness#disaster preparedness#sending my love as a pnw girly in the mega earthquake mudslide lahar volcano zone to all my hurricane flordia girlies rn 😭
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forgotten promises
pt two of broken promises (I know I'm so creative with names)
bodyguard!logan howlett x fem!runaway reader
a/n: SMUT 18+ MDNI they, like, never use protection (don't be silly, sheathe your willy) but I’d like to make it 100% clear now that she has a magic uterus and there will be absolutely NO baby-making. Just rocking unprotected sex 😎👍 If you’re tagged in this, it does not mean that I am permanently adding you to my taglist. It just means I saw you in my comments/reblogs/inbox asking for a part two and this was the easiest way to let you know I made one. If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask. Summary: Life on the road isn't exactly glamorous. Cramped spaces and too many cheap motels have you and Logan at each other's throats. You feel eyes tracking you everywhere you go but you're afraid to tell him, afraid it will be the end of the road for the both of you. One cheap bar and an explosion later and your whole life is flipped upside down.
“What are you doing?”
You glance over Logan’s shoulder at the register. The man behind it isn’t looking at either of you, just disinterestedly scrolling through his phone.
“Isn’t this what you do?” You ask, motioning to the pack of beef jerky you’re stuffing down your jacket.
Logan scoffs and shakes his head. “No, kid.” He takes the bag from you and rolls his eyes.
“Well, then how do you pay for this stuff?”
“Normally, with the money I get from my jobs. But your dad wasn’t too forthcoming with my last paycheck.”
You feel that familiar burning churn of guilt roiling around in your gut. You’ve definitely added another complication to his life and it makes you feel like nothing more than a burden sometimes. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry.”
Logan glances down at you. He gives you that familiar appeasing look, squeezing you closer, and drags you towards the register. He tosses the snacks and drinks onto the counter. The guy just barely glances up at you both.
“Will that be all?” He asks in a tone that says he could care less.
“Yeah,” you answer, eyes drifting towards the magazine rack. Your face is plastered on the cover of a cheap tabloid.
LOCAL POLITICIANS DAUGHTER STILL MISSING
Exclusive interview with family on PG. 6
Your eyes go wide and you turn your face further into Logan’s chest. He gives you a confused look before his eyes are snagged by the same thing that caught your attention.
“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” You nod and slip out of his hold, being mindful to keep your face away from the security camera near the front.
That keeps happening. You hadn’t thought you would have made news, but your father was making this a part of his campaign. Claiming you’d been taken by a mutant bodyguard and that he’s been praying for your safe return. “Experts” have been claiming that with no ransom demanded you’re being turned into a message for anyone who goes against mutants.
Now, mutants despise you and everyone else thinks you’re a martyr. In a few years, you’re sure you’ll be turned into some true crime documentary where people you’ve never met before are crying over your disappearance.
You slide into the truck and let out a deep sigh. You’d thought running away would be freeing. But even a hundred miles from him, you can still feel the cold grip of your father’s hand around your throat.
“Twenty on pump seven,” Logan tosses the cash on the counter, eyes drifting to you in the truck. It was instinct at this point, always keeping an eye on you. Especially since one of your father’s more fanatic supporters had spotted you in a shitty diner a week ago. They’d called the cops and tried to bar you and Logan from leaving.
It hadn’t gone over well for him.
He’d been trying to keep you a little more hidden since then, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d gotten you out of that house to show you what real life was like, to give you a taste of freedom.
He felt like he was no better than your father, keeping you cooped up and covered constantly.
When the kid in front of him doesn’t say anything, Logan clears his throat. He gives him a quizzical look but the boy’s eyes are stuck on the door.
“I swear I know her,” he mutters. Logan’s eyes drift towards the TV behind the counter and he sees an old news story of you. They’re using the footage of the acid attack, claiming you’ve always been the mutant movement’s target.
“Can I get twenty on pump seven,” Logan repeats, voice firm. The kid finally looks at him and whatever expression Logan is wearing is enough for him to finally start moving.
The second the receipt is in his hand he’s rushing out the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take that dumbass to piece two and two together but he can’t risk dawdling.
He fills the tank up, eyes scanning the gas station the entire time. He’s had a cloying sense of paranoia ever since the incident in the diner. He knows that at some point this little run of yours is going to come to an end.
He doesn’t know if it’ll end with cops finding the two of you. Or if you’re going to realize the real world isn’t all that fun and leave him behind. He knows that a girl like you, one who's used to the finer things, is never going to be satisfied by the life he can offer.
But he’s hoping that you come to your senses later rather than sooner. He’s enjoying traveling with you a lot more than he wants to admit.
He gets in the truck, starts it up, and glances over at you. You smile, the smile that makes him feel things he doesn’t like admitting to himself or you.
“All good?” You ask.
He nods, driving off without a word because he doesn’t want to tell you the truth. Doesn’t want to admit what you both know to be a fact. The time you have together has an expiration date and he’s worried it’s creeping closer.
Logan’s inside some shitty roadside motel. Whatever he’s talking about with the owner is clearly getting heated. You can see the way the anger’s growing on his face. His body is tensed up and he looks like he’s five seconds away from leaping over the counter and taking the greasy man leering at him down.
There’s a final word exchanged between them and then Logan is storming back towards the truck. He slams the door closed so hard you’re surprised the windows don’t shatter. Normally, you sleep in the trailer. It’s not always the warmest or coziest, but you make it work.
It’s too cold out tonight to do that and Logan doesn’t have a spare tank for the heating. He’d thought he’d had enough for a cheap room for tonight, but clearly, he doesn’t. There’s a tense silence in the truck as you mentally debate saying anything to him.
His fists are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel you can hear it creaking. You shift, sitting up straighter in your seat and uncurling your legs. There’s a stiffness to your joints that has you groaning. It’s involuntary, ripped out of you simply because you’ve been sitting for too long.
It catches Logan’s attention and he glances over at you. There’s a resigned sort of guilt on his face and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s used to this type of lifestyle, and sometimes you think he’s embarrassed to share it with you.
You’d never judge him for roadside motels or living off cheap gas station meals. You know you were privileged living up with the wealth you did. But there is something infinitely more satisfying about being poor and happy than there ever was being rich and miserable.
“Look, kid,” he lets out a heavy sigh and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’ve been expecting. You were a fun time, a nice ride, but you’re becoming a burden and he can’t deal with it anymore.
You let your nails dig into the thin skin of your palms so you can attempt to ground yourself. “I need to make some money tonight, so I just need you to bear with me for a while.”
Like there is every time he doesn’t boot you to the curb, a relieved rush of air expels from your chest almost violently. “Okay,” you say tentatively, the word dragging out while you try and understand his meaning.
“I just,” he stops and it looks like he’s struggling to find the words to say to you. You wait patiently for him to finish, or try to at least. “There’s a bar nearby. I’ll find some work there,” his words are ominous. They give you nothing and convey so much.
Clearly, he’s hiding something from you. You can tell that much from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you. He pulls out of the motel’s parking lot and turns the radio on. You’ve learned that's his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk without being a dick about it.
You want to respect his space because you still feel like an imposter. But it’s hard. He’s being oddly cagey about this.
The drive is short but it feels like you’ve been transported to an entirely different town than the one you were in before. He takes only backroads and middle-class homes turn into shady shops with barbed fences. Caged dogs bark at the truck as it drives by and you get a sinking feeling in your gut.
Perhaps it’s a little classist of you to automatically assume a few low-end homes equate to a bad neighborhood. But instinctually you know something is off about this place.
He parks in front of a run-down bar. Even from here, you can hear loud shouts and jeering coming from inside. You don’t know what’s being said but they’re certainly passionate. Logan turns towards you, the expression on his face so serious you feel like you’re about to be scolded.
“I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long, just an hour at most. But you need to stay in the truck.”
Your jaw gapes and you scoff at him. “Logan, an hour that’s rid-”
He cuts you off with a stern call of your name. Your mouth snaps shut and you narrow your eyes at him, teeth gritting together to keep your tongue at bay. “Stay here, I mean it. Got it?”
You nod and he repeats your name, sounding aggrieved. “Fine,” you huff. “I got it.” He lingers for a moment. You don’t know if he doesn’t trust you or is just reluctant to leave you alone. You’re reluctant to be left alone, especially in a shady dark parking lot like this. But clearly whatever is going on inside is worse than whatever could happen to you out here.
“I’ll be back soon,” he makes this whole thing sound so grave. It makes your brows furrow and doubt churn in your gut. What could he be doing in there that’s so awful?
He gets out and you watch his form under the flickering street lamps until you can’t see him anymore. You sit quietly in the truck for at least three minutes before you already feel the boredom set in.
You’d thought you’d be able to last longer. You used to go for hours dissociating at your father’s galas. This is different, though. You’re a little afraid to let your guard down here.
You try to listen to music but you feel bad wasting his gas so you just turn the truck off and huddle under a blanket in the trailer. You try and let yourself fall asleep but you don’t last long.
It’s too cold outside to really get a good rest and you can hear people moving around outside the trailer. After about an hour of rolling around and frozen limbs, you figure enough is enough.
As much as you don’t want to provoke Logan or give him any reason to get rid of you, you can’t stay in here all night. Besides, Logan said he wouldn’t be long, you can always just lie and say you were worried about him.
Satisfied with your excuse you leave the comfort of your blanket behind and slip into Logan’s jacket. You tuck the truck keys in your pocket and walk out into the snowy night. It’s less cold outside than it was in the trailer, you can see why he wanted a motel room for the night.
A few people linger by the cars, smoking and muttering to themselves. You slip past them, ignoring the feeling of their eyes burning into your skin. You’re sure it's because you look like you don’t belong here.
The noise in the bar gets louder the closer you get and it reminds you of the night Logan had snuck you out of the house. But you’d had him to lean on, right now, until you find him, you’re on your own. For all the noise coming from the building, the bar is surprisingly empty.
Only a few old men are sitting around, drinking beers in silence. The bartender cleans glasses behind the counter, sparing you an odd look before getting back to work. There’s not very far for you to look before you figure out that Logan isn’t anywhere nearby.
“Excuse me?” The bartender spares you a fleeting glance before barely grunting in greeting.
The floor underneath you tremors and you glance down at it in surprise. You can hear something going on underneath. You figure that has to be where all the noises are coming from. “I’m looking for someone. Tall, mean as hell, he’s got this hair,” you swoop your hands up by the sides of your head, trying to mimic the odd fluff of Logan’s hair.
“Downstairs.” You nod and move around the bar, trying to get to the door behind him. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you before you can get far. “It's a forty-dollar entrance fee, sweetheart.”
Your brow furrows in confusion and you frown as you dig around in your jacket pockets. You’ve come too far to be deterred now. Ignoring the moral implications, you slip Logan’s wallet out of his jacket and give the man forty dollars.
He nods towards the door and you give him a weak thank you as you slip past him. Opening the door is like breaking a seal. The noises bombard you almost immediately, so much clearer than they were before.
You still can’t understand what they’re screaming but there’s a violent atmosphere slipping around you as you head down the stairs. The heady smell of cigars and cigarettes threatens to suffocate you. Your eyes water at the smoke in the air.
You’d think you’d have gotten used to secondhand smoking after being around Logan, but he’s less inclined to hotbox the car if you’re beside him. The second your feet hit the floor you’re being jostled to the side violently by the people around you.
It’s nearly impossible to elbow your way through the crowd, but you’re determined to figure out what’s in the middle of the cage that’s got them all excited. You can hear the people around you screaming out bets and numbers you don’t understand.
For one nauseating moment, you think this might be a dog fighting ring, that Logan gambles on it to earn his money. It makes you want to turn around, to shield yourself from the truth. But this is something he tried to keep hidden from you and you need to know the truth about whoever you’re traveling with.
You can hear the announcer, but you can’t get close enough to see anything yet. “Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?” There’s a resounding NO! from the crowd that makes you jump.
A booming voice shouts over the throng of voices, “I’ll take him!”
“Our savior ladies and gentlemen!” You shove through two men, ignoring the way they complain about how their beer sloshes on their sleeves.
“Hey-” You glance over your shoulder as one of them reaches for you. You flick your wrist, sending him and his friend tumbling back into the crowd. You roll your eyes and turn back towards the cage.
Your eyes widen and so do Logan’s as you finally see what exactly is going on. He’s cage fighting, this is what he’d been so secretive about. Honestly, it’s a relief compared to the brutality you were bracing yourself for.
You can see his lips starting to form the shape of your name but the man from before is barrelling into his side as the bell goes off. You wince, jumping away from the cage as you hear the meaty impact of his fist against Logan’s face.
The people near you scream, shouting for Logan’s blood. It’s easy to figure out that he’s been beating everyone he’s gone up against based on some bloody faces in the crowd. It’s smart, easy money. He can always heal, and can never really be beaten, not when he’s literally got fists of steel.
You’re surprised that no one’s ever caught onto this scam of his. You also wonder why he had been so adamant about you not seeing this. Sure, it’s brutal watching blood spray against the mat. But you don’t care. Besides, he’s ridiculously attractive in just his jeans as he pummels into some guy.
Maybe that’s not a normal line of thinking.
You shake your head, shelving that for later as the fight dies down. The man is limp on the mat of the cage and Logan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar and pointedly not looking at you.
You feel that familiar twisting feeling in your stomach and wonder if this was a horrible idea. You should have just stayed in the car like he asked. You’re sure it would have only been another hour of tirelessly rolling around before he came back. But you couldn’t help yourself.
He tells you so little about himself. If you get a chance to learn more, you’re going to pounce on the opportunity. Maybe it was a violation of his trust. You sincerely doubt that he would ever willingly have revealed this sort of lifestyle to you, though.
He seems to be under the same misguided intention that you need to be sheltered. It reminds you a little of your father. That might be a cruel comparison but it’s the same suffocating feeling of being kept in the dark to suit their needs.
The guilt you’d been holding unfurls and blossoms into anger. You find yourself retreating away from the cage and rushing back up the stairs of the bar. You don’t want to watch him fight any longer. You don’t want to look at him.
You just want him to treat you like an equal. Not like some little girl who’s going to run at the first sign of things getting hard.
You burst through the door of the bar, ignoring the cold laughter of the bartender behind you. He clearly seemed to think you couldn’t handle a little blood. He wasn’t the only one.
You’re only a couple of feet from the truck when you hear footsteps loudly stomping through the snow behind you. “What the hell were you doing?” You scoff, unbelieving that he would have the gall to shout at you.
You whirl around on him and it catches him off guard. His right foot slides against the slush as he tries to stop himself from ramming into you. “I’m not a little girl, Logan! You don’t need to hide stuff like that from me.”
He crosses his arms and glares down at you. “I wasn’t hiding anything,” he insists. But the tone of his voice gives him away. He doesn’t like that he was caught. “I don’t need to tell you jackshit about what I do for money.”
You can’t believe how he sounds right now. Why is he getting so defensive about this? “I don’t care what you do for money, alright. I just don’t get why you felt like I couldn’t know about this.” You hate the way the hurt is audible in your voice. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you try and cover it.
In the same way, he’s masking his feelings with anger, so are you. Just with less success. Something draws across his face, some emotion you can’t discern. His voice goes cold and quiet as he shoves an envelope full of cash into your hands.
“Go back to the motel. Get a room.”
He storms past you and walks towards the trailer. You follow after him, slightly dumbfounded by how he’s behaving. He rips his motorcycle out from the back and rolls it into a parking spot. You watch him do all this with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth.
It’s only when he starts to head back towards the bar that you realize he’s not coming with you. “Logan!” You call out, trailing after him slightly. He barely turns back to face you. “Are you,” the words die on your tongue and you can’t find it in yourself to finish.
Are you angry?
Are you leaving?
Are you going to ditch me at the next bus stop?
Instead of asking any of your ridiculously pining questions, you turn on your heel and storm towards the truck. You rip the door open with more force than necessary and drive off without looking back at him. But you know he watches, know he keeps an eye on you until he can’t see you anymore.
Your rides with him are normally silent, but this one feels painfully so.
You nearly get a room with two beds. But you feel like if you do it will be a horrendous mistake. Reluctantly, you give the man behind the counter enough for a room with one bed large enough for the both of you.
You’re not exactly excited about sharing a bed with him, not after how he behaved tonight. You grumble to yourself as you drag your bag inside and toss it on the ground. You picture putting up a wall of pillows between the two of you, just to be petty.
It’s as you’re showering that you realize you might not even have to. He might not come to join you tonight. He won’t know what room you’re in. And he’d made it pretty clear how pissed he was at you for sneaking into the bar.
Maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. You’ve been toying with the boundaries of his patience for a while. Little tests to determine whether he truly wants you around simply to have a warm body ready beside him. Or if he wants you because he genuinely cares for you.
You suppose tonight, whether you want it or not, you’ll finally have the truth.
The thought keeps you awake. You toss and you turn for hours, fighting with yourself. You should be happy, finally figuring out what’s been haunting you. But you’re not. You’re petrified. You’d rather keep living a lie than finally accept that he truly doesn’t want you.
You throw the covers off, the scratchy material only further adding to your irritation. You stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. You turn on the sink splashing some cool water over your face to try and rid yourself of the warmth lingering under your skin. You don’t know if this feeling of being uncomfortable in your own body is from pent-up anger or anxiety.
You don’t care. You just want to sleep this night away and pretend it never happened. But, of course, the universe has other plans. The motel door creaks open as you’re hovering over the sink, debating whether or not you’re nauseous enough to throw up.
You tilt your head slightly towards the sound. Growing up in your house, filtering through rooms like an unheard ghost, allowed you to get good at recognizing footsteps. Logan has finally decided to grace you with his presence.
You listen to him as he creeps silently across the room, landing on the squeaky bed. You press your ear against the door and can hear the way the sheets rustle and he cusses under his breath. There’s worry staining his voice and you figure you shouldn’t drag this on much longer.
You open the bathroom door and flip the switch, turning the lamps on like a disappointed mother waiting up for her teenager. You cross your arms mutely and lean against the doorframe as he winces under the sudden light.
He jumps, just slightly, and glares over at you. “Thought you weren’t here,” he accuses. He tries sounding angry, but you have a sudden rush of clarity in that moment. Where you would normally focus only on him being upset with you, you can see the truth of his concern.
Same as you, he doesn’t know where he stands in this whole situation. You doubt he had a clear plan when he rescued you from your tower like some ridiculous storybook knight. He most likely thought that you left, the same way you thought he would.
You remain silent, though, still a little too flustered to speak coherently. Instead, you examine him. There are cuts and blood all over his shirt. Splatters of it on his face. Though, you know if you looked there would be no physical evidence of him ever being hurt.
His brows furrow the longer you stare, a wall building between the two of you. “Kid?” He questions, equal parts worried and defensive. Does he really think you actually give a fuck about him fighting?
You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom. You rustle around in the cabinet underneath the sink until you find a washcloth. Wetting it, you bring it back out to him. You station yourself between his spread legs, holding the cloth between you like a peace offering.
He looks doubtful as he glances between you and it. Finally, he lets out a rough sigh and simply nods his head. But when he reaches for it you snatch it back, much to his chagrin. You offer him a small smile and tilt his chin up towards you, gently wiping some of the dried blood off his cheeks.
He doesn’t flinch or hiss away from the less-than-gentle fabric. He stares at you unblinkingly, like if he closes his eyes for a moment he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. “You don’t have to do this, kid.”
You roll your eyes and crane your neck to get a better look at him. “Would you shut up?” You whisper teasingly.
His lips quirk slightly and you can see his shoulder slump in relief at the sound of your voice. “So, she can talk.” You can’t help the little laugh that comes out of you. He grins fully at that and his hands come up to rest on your hips.
His thumbs rub soothing circles along the sides of your waist as his hands dip a little lower. “What are you doing?” Your hand drifts down to his neck to wipe some blood off there as well.
He shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You lift your gaze to his and your lips fall flat, “Logan-”
He cuts you off before you can finish. In one smooth motion, his hands drop to wrap around your thighs. He lifts you slightly and drops you onto his lap. He grins at the slight huff of surprise that rushes out of you.
His arms go back to your waist, pulling you closer to him and grinding you a little against him. You bite your lip to stop any noises from escaping. As much as you wouldn’t mind what he’s thinking, you need to talk.
“Logan,” you scold.
He smirks and tilts his head patronizingly, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”
“It’s not happening,” you tell him firmly, hand still working on cleaning him.
He sighs and one of his arms drops away from you. He cups your hand in his, stilling your movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. Gently, he takes the cloth from you and tosses it somewhere you can’t see. “I’m fine,” he whispers, eyes searching yours.
It’s hard meeting his gaze. The worry and anxiety from the night still weigh heavily on your shoulders. He repeats himself, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. “Alright?”
“I don’t care,” the words come rushing out of you before you can stop them. His brows raise in shock and he gives a slight chuckle of amusement. A lump grows in your throat and your eyes grow wide. “Wait, I don’t mean-”
You cut yourself off and rub your hands over your face, trying to get your head on right. Logan’s patient, rubbing your back and clearly trying not to laugh at you. You finally take in a deep breath and face him again.
“I don’t care about the fighting,” you can see his shoulders tense slightly like he doesn’t believe you. “I don’t care, Logan. You do what you have to survive and I’m not gonna judge you for that.”
“What if I enjoy it?” He cuts you off, tone harsh as he glares down at you. There's experience in how quickly he doubts you, how quickly he tries to get you to change your mind about him.
You wonder how many times he’s been rejected just for being a mutant. You’ve only ever been rejected by one person because only he ever knew. Your father. And that hurt enough for one lifetime.
You can’t imagine going for as long as he has and constantly being called a monster for something he can’t control. Your brows furrow and you lean into him until your lips are brushing. He remains stiff beneath you but you don’t let it deter you.
“I don’t care,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his before slowly pulling back. You wait for him to respond, physically or verbally, but he’s still looking at you with that cold unfamiliar gaze.
You wonder if maybe it was a mistake, to bring it up at all. But just as the thought comes he’s surging forward. His lips catch yours, his hands digging so desperately into your shirt you know it rips.
Your arms go to his neck, holding onto him so you don’t slip off his lap. You haven't been this close for a few days. You think it might have made you both feel on edge. There’s a relief that comes from not just having sex with him, but also just being intimate and close to one another.
It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, that there’s someone here beside you to be a partner and a pillar of stability. You’ve never had that before. Someone that you can rely on and trust fully. You don’t think he has either.
He craves you the same way you do him. Each kiss, every shared breath, is treated like it will be your last. You don’t know when your father will finally catch up to the two of you. You don’t know when the police might finally recognize Logan.
There’s no definitive future for either of you. It’s a real possibility that this could be your last night together. And neither of you wants to be upset with each other. Because you were never truly mad. You were always just worried.
Your hands drop to his shirt, dipping to find the holes in it from his fight and ripping at the flimsy fabric until you can just yank it off. He smiles against your lips at the eager way you move atop him. But he can’t tease you, he’s already annoyed with the buttons on your shirt.
He pulls back, glaring down at the fabric like it's insulting him. Without another word, he slices through it, leaving it in tatters on your shoulder. You grin, shrugging the rest of it off. “That was yours.”
He grips your hips tightly and leaves marks where his fingers are as a reminder that he was here. He flips you over, leaves you breathless as he hovers over you. “I really don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”
You’re addicted to his voice. How breathy and desperate it is when he’s with you. It’s a level of vulnerability you rarely get to see from him. He can’t hide himself when he’s with you like this. He wants you just as badly as you do him.
It gives you a confidence rush like no other, makes your ego grow ten times its size. If you can make a man like this fall to his knees from nothing more than a kiss, then you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.
But you don’t want that tonight. You reach for him before he can go much further, grabbing him by his hair and tugging until you know it stings. He nearly fucking moans at your rough touch, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The green of them has been wholly consumed by his desire for you and it makes you ache for him.
“Not tonight,” you tell him. There’s no room for argument in your tone. As much as he might want to taste you, devour you, all you want is to be as close to him as possible. You want to be covered and filled by him in every way you can be.
His head falls against your thigh, a rough groan tumbling from his throat at your words. You drag him towards you, pulling him up your body until you’re face to face. You smile softly up at him, lifting your head so you can meet his lips again.
You’ll never get enough of kissing him, of tasting him. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from reaching across the seats and kissing him while he drives. You’ve nearly made him wreck a few times and forced him to pull over so you could both have some fun in the back.
Addiction isn’t the right word for what you feel for him. It brings along its own negative connotations. The taint of dependency and toxicity. With addiction, it’s a parasitic relationship, hurts you but makes you feel good.
This is just goodness. This is a kind touch for the first time in your life and finally feeling safe in someone elses arms. This is opening yourself up to him fully and not once feeling like you need to mold yourself into something else to make him happy. It’s accepting him as he is, a broken dog who likes to fight to punish himself. You don’t want to change him or make him “better.” You just want him to be happy.
You use your powers to help yourself, flipping him over and straddling his hips. You drag his jeans down his legs and flick your wrist, sending them flying somewhere across the room. He watches you with eyes filled with awe, hands drifting over your curves like something to be worshipped.
You know he’s waiting for it, for you to sink yourself down on him and finally be filled. But you wait, hover over him even as the muscles of your thighs tremor. “You don’t hide things from me anymore,” you warn him. You’re not asking, for once, you’re demanding what you want.
He doesn’t look angry like you’d been expecting. Instead, it only seems to turn him on more. “Ya know,” his hands drift to your hips, dragging you down and over his cock until it’s wet with your want. Your nails dig into his chest until there’s blood beading under them and you’re trying not to let your noises slip out.
“I kinda like it when you’re all bossy like this.”
“Logan,” you grit his name out. It takes everything in you not to look as affected by him as you feel. “No more hiding shit.”
He leans up on his elbows. His hand drifts to the nape of your neck and drags you down until your lips are nearly touching his. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”
Like a taut rope being cut, you sink into him, your hips finally drop and he guides you down every inch of him until you feel like you’re so full you can’t breathe. He lets you linger for a moment, and get used to this feeling while he steals the very air from your lungs.
He’s greedy with the way he touches you. His hands always moving like he’ll never fully be satisfied with how much of you he can feel. He’s always reaching for you like he needs to make sure you’re actually real and not just something he’s dreamt up.
Even with how impatient he is, you’re always the one that moves first. You roll your hips over him, moaning at how he feels inside you. It’s like he’s perfectly molded you around him. He always manages to brush against the spots that make your eyes roll into the back of your head.
The second your hips begin to roll, he’s wrapping his heavy arms around you, grinding you down into him. He keeps you trapped in place, using you like a toy as he bounces you on his lap. Your mind is fuzzy, every bad thought and feeling shoved out while he makes you go dumb on his dick.
You love how boneless you go. You don’t have to think now, don’t have to worry. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shifting yourself further on top of him until you're practically burying yourself under his skin.
Not thinking always comes with its own consequences, though. Your powers slip a little out of your grasp. The walls trembling and the drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The both of you have gotten used to the noise, know how to drown it out, and just focus on each other.
One of these days, you’ll need to figure out a way to have sex with him without bringing the room down around you. That’s a problem for later though. His whispered praises and grunts of your name filter through your mind until there’s nothing left inside you but him.
“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, “you’re so fucking tight around me. You close?” He grunts, hand drifting down to rub tight circles on your clit. You dig your nails into his shoulders, nodding your head frantically against his neck. “Words, sweetheart.”
“Shit,” you can barely think of your own damn name. Let alone what you want from him. “Fuck off,” you hiss. He chuckles at the attitude and you almost expect him to stop, just to be a dick because you were a brat.
But he’s just as close as you are and he’s too selfish to tease. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on you as your body shakes against his. He follows quickly after you, warmth shooting up inside you and almost leaking down your thighs. You feel stuffed, like your body’s been pushed to the limit and further.
You both sit together in silence for a while. You ignore the way your skin sticks to his uncomfortably, instead reveling in the warmth he provides you. Anyone else, and you’d be rushing to get away from them.
You’re always extra sensitive after sex, every little thing setting you off. But there’s a comfort to the way his hairy ass chest brushes against your breasts and his arms squeeze around you. It’s a nice grounding feeling.
The tips of your fingers drift over his arms, following the path of his veins and brushing against his fingers lazily. He flips his palm over, encasing your hand in his own wordlessly. Little things like that ease your worries. Makes you feel like something more than just a quick fuck.
He breaks the silence first, which is rare for him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
You frown and peer up at him. “I told you, I don’t care about the fighting.”
He sighs and shakes his head, “Not that. I shouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You want to interrupt him, assure him that you both acted pretty childishly.
But you understand it’s difficult for him to express himself verbally. He usually prefers silent acts of apologies and expression, you don’t want to mess him up before he can get out what he wants to say.
“I don’t want to be like your father.” Your face screws up a little and you shift uncomfortably on his lap. He loosens his grip, giving you room to leave if you want to, but you stay put. “I’m trying not to coddle you, sweetheart, or hide you away from the world. But I don’t like you seeing that shit.”
“You’re not my dad, Logan. He wouldn’t give me a choice,” you try and joke but it just seems to make him more irritated. Sighing you straighten up, bracing yourself on his chest and staring down at him.
Your head tilts to the side in contemplation and he almost looks uncomfortable under the attention. “I’m not so fragile or sheltered that I’m going to shatter at the first taste of the real world, Logan. I mean, for god’s sake, I’ve had acid thrown at me and bodyguards since I could walk. I know how dangerous it is. Whatever you want to hide from me, I’ve seen worse.”
You let your words sink in for a moment and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You know that it’s odd for him, to comprehend a girl who was afraid to go into a bar swallowing down an illegal fighting ring like it’s nothing. But you’re not lying. Everyday little things are what you’re unused to. But you’ve lived alongside violence your whole life.
“Look, fighting, sleeping in shitty motels, and your truck, that doesn't bother me. But I don’t like when you hide things and I don’t,” you take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. This is what you’ve been trying to tell him for weeks.
A few little words have your tongue tied and make you desperate to cover yourself up again. He can see the shift in your expression, and feel how tense you get. He sits up a little more, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.
“I don’t want to just be someone to fuck you, Logan. I didn’t come with you so you’d have easy access pussy,” he looks thoroughly amused at your crude words, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. Something like hurt.
“Is that what you think?” He asks, tone distant. You can’t find the words so you simply nod. He sighs and shakes his head. He eases you off his lap and you worry you’ve truly fucked this up somehow.
He goes into the bathroom, returns with a wet washcloth. He still doesn’t speak and you’re on edge the entire time he cleans the both of you up. You can see he’s thinking, biting his tongue, and trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say to you.
You’re impatient, five seconds away from just demanding a response from him. He tosses the cloth and drops into bed beside you. You draw the sheets up to your chest, glaring down at him while he rubs his hands over his face with a tired sigh.
When he opens his eyes again he laughs at how close you are. “Jesus,” he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you down into his chest even though you fight him. It must be easier for him to speak when you’re not staring at him.
“I didn’t go back for you so I could fuck you, kid. I… care about you,” there’s a long pause before he says the word care. You think it’s funny, that he can’t bring himself to admit what he actually feels. But you’ll take it, you’ll give him the time he needs to come to terms with the truth.
For now, you let yourself fall asleep, feeling just a little bit better about the road ahead.
Things get easier between the two of you. And somehow harder at the same time. You don’t walk on eggshells around each other, no longer afraid of scaring the other off now. Which also means that you find it easier to bicker with him about little things. Like, not just tossing his trash everywhere in the truck. You’re practically living out of the trailer, the least he could do is help you keep it tidy.
You know it’s weird for him. Suddenly having someone nag at him not to be a slob or to take breaks in between driving so he doesn’t wear himself out. It’s an adjustment you see him struggle with sometimes.
You try not to be too pushy, but there’s only so many times you can flick crumbs from his burgers off your seat before you lose it. “Logan!” You snap, glaring at him as you stand up only to find chip crumbs squished into the fabric of your leggings.
He glances over at you and shrugs, “What?”
You glance between the crumbs and him with a glare but he doesn’t seem to be connecting the dots. “Fucks sake,” you grumble, passive-aggressively wiping the truck seat off before you slam the door and storm towards the diner.
You’re sick of being cramped in the truck. You’re sick of the greasy food. You’ve begun to crave salads lately. Which is beyond weird. But the novelty of shitty food and milkshakes wore off a hundred miles ago.
Logan catches up to you, huffing with irritation as he swings the door open for you. You take a seat in the booth near the corner, snatching up the menu and pointedly staring at it and not him. “Really?” He demands. When you don’t answer he tips the menu down, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What is your problem?” He hisses, trying not to draw attention to you both.
You lean in, voice a harsh whisper. “How hard is it to just not make a mess? We live out of that damn truck, the least you could do is keep your crumbs on your side.”
He rolls his eyes and leans back in the booth. You’re both sick of having the same fight. But there’s really nothing else to do anymore. When you’re stuck together for so long, it’s the small things that get to you.
You’re going to say more but the waitress pops in front of you out of nowhere. “Hi!” She beams and gives you her name, the bows in her hair trembling at how hyper she is. “What can I get you both today?”
You and Logan place your orders, and he shoots you an odd look when you only order the salad. “We’ve got a couple more hours ahead of us, you’re gonna get hungry.”
You cross your arms and shrug, “No, I won’t.”
He licks his lips, sucking on his teeth and leaning against the table. “Yes, you will,” he argues with a stern voice.
You narrow your eyes at him and give him a bitter smile. “Kiss. My. Ass.”
Your stomach grumbles for the third time and you know that Logan can hear it. You’re pointedly not making eye contact with him. It feels like it's louder than the music at this point and you really don’t want to prove him right.
Without a word, he begins to dig around in the center console. You glance towards him, confused, “What’re you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything, just tosses whatever he’s grabbed onto your lap. You glance down at it and frown. It’s somehow cold as you unwrap it. You pull the parchment paper away and let out a relieved sigh.
He ordered you a wrap from the diner without you realizing. You take a bite, your hunger steadily easing away. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, pointedly looking out the window.
He glances over at you and scoffs. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya, kid.”
You roll your eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s already looking at you, a teasing tilt to his lips. “I said I’m sorry,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have been a bitch.”
He shakes his head and waves you off. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant myself. I’ll,” he huffs lowly and forces the words out, “clean up more.”
“I think we’ve just been stuck on the road too long. We’re gonna end up driving each other insane.”
His eyes glance along the signs on the highway. There’s a notice for food and shopping at the next exit and he nods towards it. “We’ll stop at a motel for a few nights. Take a break.” You want to ask him if he’s sure that’s smart.
It seems risky, to slow down for so long. But you need to walk around, breathe fresh air, and stretch your legs. You’re too selfish to tell him not to stop and keep going. Instead, you nod and smile at him. “That sounds really nice.”
He gives you a slight smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. You move closer to him and he turns the radio up. You wonder why he doesn’t want to talk anymore but you don’t push it. You’re too excited to finally get out of the truck again.
The town is nice enough. It’s small, with only a few shops where you buy some new shirts to replace one’s that Logan has torn up. The motel you’re staying at doesn’t have a washing machine so you have to use the laundromat to wash your clothes.
Logan says he’s going to see if he can find a quick job nearby. You wonder if that means a real job or a more bloody one. You decide not to ask questions, instead taking the little change you have and figuring you’ll try to get the smell of grease out of all your clothes.
As you load the machine up and put your quarters in you can’t escape the feeling of someone watching you. You’ve been on high alert ever since Logan stole you away from the house. But this is different.
You’ve gotten used to your own paranoia, you know when it’s real or not. You walk away from the machine, glancing out at the glass walls near the front and trying to see if there’s someone out there. This, oddly enough, doesn’t feel like a police stakeout where they’re going to track you back to the motel and bust Logan.
This is something different. There is a deep-seated primal fear in you that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your heart races as your eyes search the dark street outside. What little glow comes from the streetlights isn’t enough for you to clearly make anything out.
But you feel them, tracking your every move. They’re somewhere nearby, you can’t see them but they see you. You feel sick to your stomach. You glance at the door before racing towards it. You turn the lock, slowly backing away and keeping your eyes trained on the street.
You look into the shadows and find shapes and movements where there are none. Your eyes spin as your brain crafts a horrible image of some monster waiting outside for you. When the timer for the washer goes off you let out a sharp scream, spinning around and clutching your chest as you glare at it.
“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, angrily running your hand over your face and trying to catch your breath. You put the clothes in the dryer and by the time you're done, the feeling is gone. You don’t know if they were never there to begin with, or if they got bored and left.
You’d told Logan that you didn’t need a ride, you’d just walk the short distance back to the motel. Now, you use the phone on the front counter and call him, telling him you’ve changed your mind after all.
By the time he picks you up, he looks incredibly concerned. You know you sounded panicked when you called him. You still feel upset about the whole thing. But when he asks what’s wrong you just tell him you got a little scared walking back in the dark.
You don’t tell him someone was watching you because you know he’ll make you pack up and leave again. You want some stability. Even if it's just for a week. So, as stupid as it is, you lie to him and say everything’s fine.
When you try to go to sleep that night you feel like you’re being watched again. Even with the curtains closed their eyes burn into you. You toss and turn under the heavy weight of the sheets, struggling to get comfortable.
There’s a low grumble behind you before Logan throws his arm over your waist and tugs you back into his chest. “Stop movin’ around,” he demands, his voice barely audible. You smile a little at how tired he sounds before forcing yourself to settle down.
He doesn’t give you much choice, using his body as a weight to keep you pinned. You still feel their gaze, even more now, but his proximity brings you enough comfort to get a little bit of restless sleep.
Logan’s up before you, he always is. He comes in with cheap coffee and free breakfast from the lounge. You push the sheets off your legs, your shirt sticking to your back from the cold sweat of your nervous sleeping. You feel a little more at ease this morning.
You wonder if you’re developing some late-in-life fear of the dark. You don’t know why you were so upset last night, you feel perfectly fine now. It’s almost like it was all one bad dream. Logan walks over, handing you the coffee wordlessly and rustling around in your bag for something.
He pulls out the envelope of cash you keep stashed away and frowns at the contents. “Found a job,” he mutters, stuffing the envelope away and turning back towards you. He leans against the desk, face pensive.
You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a bit more so you sound coherent. “What is it?” You take a sip of the coffee and your face screws up at the aftertaste.
“Fighting,” his tone is clipped and you wonder what’s got him up in arms. He walks past you, heading into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. You tilt your head, gaze following him curiously. He doesn’t normally close the door, he usually likes to invite you to join him.
Something happened and you wonder if he’s hiding the same thing you are. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and closing your mind off to the fear from last night.
By the time Logan is done in the bathroom, you’re feeling more awake. You can’t just dismiss what happened last night. You’ve never gotten scared like that before. You refuse to ignore your instincts, but you’re also not going to let whoever that was terrify you into going back on the road.
You don’t want things between you and Logan to grow more tense than they already are. The time away from each other yesterday helped a lot. You no longer want to strangle him when you hear him breathe. You’ll just stick closer to him today and see if you feel the eyes on you again tonight.
“So,” you start, testing the waters to see if he’s still in a bad mood. He glances over at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity but you’re tongue-tied as you stare at him. However many weeks you’ve been with him and you’re never gonna get used to seeing him straight out of the shower.
The towel is draped low on his hips, giving you a taunting look at what lies underneath the white cloth. Droplets drip down his abs and you’ve never wanted to be water more than you do right now. It’s unfair, just how attractive he is.
You always forget what you’re going to say. You can’t think when he has a shirt off, it’s infuriating. Scoffing, you turn away from him and shake your head. You hear him chuckle, you know he knows what you’re thinking about.
“What’s wrong?” He creeps up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.
“Logan, dammit,” water soaks into the back of your shirt uncomfortably and you tilt your head to glare at him.
He smirks down at you, “Cat got your tongue, kid?”
You roll your eyes and push away from him. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” You snatch a shirt from the dresser and shove it into his hands. “Put this on.”
He scoffs and gives you a disbelieving look. “Are you serious?” You wait for him, gaze expectant. You’re not gonna be able to think when he looks like this. Sighing, he acquieses and tugs the shirt on. His lips fall into a sarcastic line, “Happy?”
Like a switch being flipped you finally remember what you were going to ask him. “The job you told me about. Where is it?”
You can see on his face how little he wants to divulge that information to you. But you know he’s going to tell you. You two made a deal not to hide things, although, you might be breaking your side of that right now.
“Some shitty bar a few miles from here. Listen-”
You’re not gonna like it.
I don’t want you tagging along.
You should just stay here and read or some shit.
You wonder which one he’ll pick today. “You wouldn’t like it, it’s just a shitty little place where I can make some quick cash.” Look at that, it’s rarely ever your first pick excuse. You must be getting better at reading him.
“I’ll come with you,” you tell him because you’re not asking. You’re not staying by yourself tonight and you both need the money. You grin at him even as his face falls in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll fight.”
He doesn’t even say anything and you immediately regret what you said. The look he’s giving you would put you six feet under if it could. “It was just a joke,” you mutter.
“Wasn’t funny, kid,” he tells you, tone clipped as he moves around you to grab his jeans. “I don’t even want you in those places, let alone fuckin’ fighting.”
You purse your lips and take a seat on the bed, handing him his jacket when he begins looking for it. “I have abilities too, you know. Maybe I could win a fight.”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “I win because I can take the hits people deal me. You can’t,” you don’t bother arguing with him that you heal too. You understand what he means. You might be able to recover physically, but there’s a mental aspect to being knocked on the ground. There’s humiliation and fear in cage fights, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle that side of it.
He waits for you to say anything else but when he realizes you’ve dropped the subject he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ll stay in the truck,” he tries.
You give him a deadpan look, slipping the keys out of your purse and handing them to him. “No way in hell, but I’ll stay by the bar if it makes you feel better.” He stays silent and nods but you know he’ll try and convince you otherwise when you actually get to the place. Tough luck, though, you don’t think it’s safe for either of you to be apart tonight. Even if it’s just staying in the truck.
The setup of these places is always the same. Though, this bar seems to be particularly disgusting in comparison to other ones you’ve been to. You position yourself near the corner, your back to the wall so you’re less likely to be noticed in the crowd.
The fights never last more than a few minutes. And that’s if Logan is feeling generous. Most of the time you only need to be here an hour before people get pissed off and go home. Someone bumps into you and you hear a small, “I’m sorry,” before they rush to claim a stool.
The crowd’s already begun to die out. Most leave while they still have a little money left in their pockets. You duck your head down, catching the eye of the girl who’d bumped into you. She looks young and incredibly skittish. Her eyes keep darting to the tip jar near the bartender.
She quietly asks for water but the bartender just shakes his head, tugging the jar closer to him. You don’t know why you’re drawn to her, maybe it’s because she looks like one of those sad pound puppies, but you take a seat beside her.
“Water,” you order, slipping him some change. When he gives it to you, you pass it off to her, spotting the greedy way she eyes it. You know a runaway when you see one, she clearly needs a little help. But Logan’s got enough on his shoulders, you’re not gonna bug him with adding another person to the mix.
“Thank you,” she gulps it down like she hasn’t drunk anything in days. You feel your stomach twist with empathy. What little cash you have in your wallet, you slip into her bag as you pass by her. Logan will have made enough for it to be spared and it's the least you can do.
Not everyone is as lucky as you to have someone help them navigate a new life.
Logan grabs his jacket, wiping blood off from under his nose and heading towards you. You know he’ll want a drink before you go, he always does. Before he can say anything someone’s shouting the name he uses in the cage. “Hey, Wolverine! I want my fucking money back.”
The big man he’d knocked down earlier takes a step towards him. His friend tries to hold him back, but there’s no stopping him. He’s already had his ass kicked once, what makes him think this is going to be any different?
“Not your money anymore, bub.” Logan scoffs and turns back towards you. You just want to leave now. You don’t want to stay for a drink or go get something to eat. You feel the eyes on you again, but when you turn to find them there’s no one there but the girl.
And she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are wide and staring at something else. “Behind you!” She screeches, and both you and Logan whirl around to find the man barreling towards him with a knife outstretched.
Logan moves so quickly that you stumble back slightly. He grabs the guy's arm, twisting his wrist until the knife drops to the ground. He shoves him back against the wall, claws out and pinning him there.
“Shit,” you whisper, glancing around as the few patrons of the bar stare in horror at Logan. The people counting his money stop and tuck it back into the cash box. You clench your eyes shut in irritation, he’s not gonna be getting paid tonight, that’s for sure.
There’s a strange noise behind you, like someone cocking a gun. You turn around slowly, gasping when you see the bartender pointing the barrel of his shotgun at your chest. He’s not aiming it at Logan, he’s aiming it at you. Like he somehow knows that’s the only way to get him to back off.
It’s not like he was going to kill the guy, besides, he came at him with a knife first. What’s the difference if Logan’s a mutant? He’s defending himself. Why does no one understand that?
“Get out of my bar,” the old man warns lowly, taking a step closer to you. Logan turns around and finally spots what’s going on.
“Pay me and I’ll be on my way.” You know you’d be able to heal from the shotgun blast, but you don’t exactly want to go through it.
The old man laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not getting paid, buddy. Get the fuck out of my bar before I put a hole in your little girlfriend.”
Your eyes narrow in disbelief. You debate with yourself for a moment, if this is smart or not. But the guy’s being a prick and you’re sick of people treating mutants like they’re less than nothing. You flick your wrist and the shotgun goes flying out of his hand.
You glance over at the cashbox and it comes floating towards you, landing easily in your outstretched palm. “Be thankful I’m not blowing a hole in you,” you warn, glaring at the cowering man. You walk forward and he stumbles back and you try not to focus on the sick feeling of satisfaction it brings you. You grab the tip jar and shove it towards the girl at the end of the bar. “Good luck, kid.”
Logan releases the man from the before, taking a step towards you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and rush towards the exit of the bar. You need to just get the fuck out of this town as quickly as possible, you’re not safe here anymore.
Logan seems to agree with you. He gets into the truck and doesn’t turn back to the motel. Instead, he turns onto the highway while you keep your eyes peeled on the trees outside your window. There’s someone out there, still following you.
“Something’s wrong with the suspension,” you glance up from where you’d been working on breaking open the cashbox and frown. Logan’s glaring down at the steering wheel, it seems like he’s struggling to get it to turn properly.
“What?”
He scoffs and glares at you, “How should I know?” He pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and lets in a rush of cool air and snow. You toss the cashbox to the back of the trailer and follow after him.
He goes to where he’s pulling his motorcycle and you feel like you notice an extra bump under the tarp. “What’s that?” You take a step towards it just as Logan pulls it back. You have to bite back a laugh when you see the girl from last night curled up next to his motorcycle.
She gives you both guilty looks and slowly sits up. “I’m sorry,” Logan offers her a hand and she gets out of the trailer. He grabs her bag and drops it at her feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Find a different ride,” he growls, already heading back to the truck. You open your mouth, prepared to argue, but you can’t force her on him. As much as you might want to help her. She’s better off away from the two of you.
“You’re just gonna leave me here?” She snaps at him, a little attitude finally showing through.
“Yep!” He gets in the truck and you know he wants to drive off immediately but he has to wait for you. You shoot her an apologetic look as you follow after him, slipping into the seat beside him. He starts the engine, driving off slowly, eyes drifting towards the rearview mirror.
You bite your tongue, trying not to point out how cruel he is leaving her on a snowy highway in the middle of nowhere. He glances over at you, “What?” He snaps.
You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing.” You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s slamming on his brakes.
“God dammit,” he mutters, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. You can’t help the grin on your face, reaching over to open your door. It doesn’t take long for the girl to catch on, scooping up her bag and chasing after you.
“You’re such a softie,” you tease him.
“Shut the hell up.”
Rogue is nice, if not a little odd. She claims to be a mutant too but doesn’t want to give specifics on her abilities. You don’t want to push her but you are curious about the gloves she wears. “What kind of name is Wolverine?” She asks, spotting Logan’s tags.
He glances over at her and smiles slightly, “What kind of a name is Rogue?”
She goes to say something but you throw your arm out, holding her back as you shout, “Logan, watch out!” He tries to hit his brakes in time but the tree’s already coming down. The truck slams into it and it’s like time slows down, only for a moment.
You can feel the impact of your body against the windshield, the glass dragging along your scalp and skin. It’s like a million razors each slicing into you. And then, you’re flying through the air, head snapping so hard against the ground you can’t see anything.
You hear something happening around you, a roar that doesn’t sound human echoing through the air. There’s the sound of metal crunching and someone is screaming in the distance but you can’t see. It’s not like a total void of darkness, there’s just nothing.
You feel the blood slowly leaking down the back of your skull and something lands harshly against your head. You don’t think much time has passed. When your eyes finally open, however, you’re not lying on the pavement.
The world around you is foreign. It smells like a hospital but it’s not like any you’ve ever seen. X-rays are hanging on the wall and paperwork is scattered on a desk near the bed you’re lying on.
Your mind is blank for a moment. Slowly turning back on while you process the sudden change of scenery. You don’t even remember closing your eyes, you don’t know when your vision came back to you or how long you’ve been here.
The terror sets in quickly. You throw the blankets off your legs, staring down at the pajamas you wear in disgust. Someone had changed you. They’d run tests and done X-rays on you and you don’t remember a second of it.
You rip the needle out of your arm, tossing it to the floor and running towards the door. Your feet slip on the metal floors as you run but you’re afraid to stop. Everything around you looks more and more like a lab.
Did someone from the bar call some government agency? You’ve heard horror stories from your father about the tests the military has run on mutants. You’re starting to worry that’s what's happening to you.
But you doubt the military would make it so easy for you to escape. This has to be something else. You’d heard other voices when you’d been lying on the ground. People who had been trying to help. Could that be who took you?
“You caught on quicker than your friend.” You nearly fall flat on your face, flipping around to see who spoke. But no one’s there. You’re completely alone. “I’m just grateful you didn’t choke out one of my associates.” it’s coming from beside you now.
It’s all around you, the voice floating through the walls until you think he might be in your mind. “Much faster than your friend,” he sounds gleeful and it makes you even more anxious. “I’m a telepath, darling, nothing to fear. If you’d just take that elevator and come up to meet me.”
You’d have to be an idiot to actually listen to the voices in your head. But you don’t see another way out of here. So, reluctantly, you follow the floating voice’s instructions and slip inside the elevator.
When the door opens up again you don’t have a chance to step inside before someone’s pushing you back. Logan stands in front of you, hands clamped tightly around your shoulders while he looks you over.
You sink into his arms, hugging him tightly to you. You’d been terrified you were all alone here. It’s more than a relief to see him again. “You’re okay?” He asks, pulling back to look at you one last time.
You nod, throat too dry to try and form a coherent sentence. You glance over his shoulders brows furrowed at the people awkwardly watching you reunite. There’s a man in a wheelchair smiling at you, “Ah, glad you could make it.” The floating voice, of course. “Logan here was quite worried about you.”
Logan turns to glare at the man and you offer a slight smile. There is something comforting about him. You’re not exactly threatened by an old guy in a wheelchair. The redhead behind him, however, is bugging you. Something about the way she’s looking at Logan doesn’t sit right with you.
“Welcome to my school for the exceptionally gifted,” something about the way he says that makes you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t know what he means until there’s a puff of smoke behind him and some kid is walking by with their hair on fire like it’s nothing.
Mutants. It’s an entire school for mutants. You think you could pass out again.
“It’s the best place we could have ended up, Logan. This is amazing.” You’ve been going back and forth for an hour. He won’t see reason. He keeps saying you need to leave. That you don’t know these people and it could all be one big trap.
You don’t understand him, why he’s so desperate to get away from people like the both of you. You’re rejected in every other corner of society. You could have something real here.��
It hits you at once. That’s the problem. He’s not ready for something real. He’s not used to it because he’s never had it before. At least you could pretend at a sense of normalcy living at home. It’s an entirely new concept to him, sticking to one place for so long.
“We don’t know these people,” he hisses, leaning over the bed to argue with you. You narrow your eyes but your conversation is cut off by a knock on the door. You sigh, walking away from him and swinging the door open.
Jean is on the other side, a surprised look on her face when she sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to drop these off to Logan.” You glance down at the towels in your hand and give her a strained smile. That’s a flimsy excuse if you’ve ever seen one. “I must have the wrong room.”
You step to the side, opening the door wider so she can see him. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy angrily unmaking the bed. “No, you have the right one.” You hold your hands out expectantly, “I can just take those for you.”
The look on her face is priceless and finally causes a real smile to grow on your lips. She wordlessly hands you the towels, looking disappointed. You don’t know if it's because of what she was trying to do, or because she couldn’t do it.
Before she leaves you call out a quick, “Tell Scott I said thank you again. Wouldn’t be here without him, after all.” Her shoulders tense and she rushes back down the hall. Whatever little crush or interest she has with Logan is going to need to be dealt with on her own.
You’ve got enough shit going on without having to worry about her too. You shake your head and slam the door shut, tossing the towels on the desk. Logan sits on the bed, watching you with an odd look.
“What was that about?”
“She’s into you,” you tell him bluntly, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t even blink, just glances between the towels and you before shrugging.
“Not interested.” You don’t want to admit that you feel any relief. There was never any real doubt. But it’s still nice to be reassured.
You slip into bed beside him, taking his hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. “I know that this isn’t what either of us was expecting, but this is good, Logan. We don’t have to worry about pretending we’re something we’re not. We don’t have to worry about my dad or anyone finding us.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced. But he lets out a heavy sigh and drags you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, placing a brief kiss against your forehead. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay. But I’m not putting on that fucking costume.”
You laugh a little, peering up at him with a grin, “Deal.”
There’s a place for you here, even if there isn’t in the rest of the world. You can be safe here, you don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to fear the eyes on the back of your head because they can’t get you here.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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I visited the world where Gerard Way was visiting family in Minneapolis on 9/11 so he kept his Cartoon Network job instead of becoming a musician.
It's pretty similar to ours. He didn't go into cartoons as you might expect, but he is way more famous in the comic book world.
As for butterfly effects, MCR doesn't exist, so Twilight doesn't exist, which means 50 Shades of Grey doesn't exist. I couldn't find any references to Stephenie Meyer or E. L. James, so either they didn't go into writing or they didn't use those same pen names.
Robert Pattinson was in Harry P*tter and then mainly independent stuff from then on out.
Kristen Stewart is somehow a bigger star than in this world? She was in Red Revenge, 2012 Soviet film about WW3 happening in the 60s and then in the 80s the survivors come over to the US to find out of anything survives of the cowardly US leadership that started the war. (yes, they shoot Reagan. He's out of his mind and it's shot like Old Yeller). She's been in a lot of USSR films since then, as this greatly raised her profile.
Taylor Lautner seems to have become a writer instead of an actor. He wrote one of the later seasons of Firefly, after it went all season-long-arcs. He technically cameo'd in season 6 but it was just as a guy who ran a casino station. He had like three lines, two of which were "get off my station!" and "guards!"
I didn't see any real differences in the music world. Sometimes you take out a band or form a super-group with interdimensional exploration, and it changes the whole field. Like if you take out Nirvana the 90s look very different, or if you help the Back Road Boys form then the 2010s are all about the retro-country revival. Anyway: MCR, as good a band as they are, don't appear to be one of those "linchpin" bands that affect the whole musical landscape.
BTW, the weirdest one of those? Michael Fucking Jackson. He's a super influential musician, inspired so many others, the king of pop, right? NOPE! If his music career is skipped, then it only affects his siblings and the one hit wonder "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell.
Strange, right? There's more downstream time effects on the music industry from taking out David Hasselhoff!
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