#but it isn't covering my basic needs

[mental-illness-bingo]

It's always "people with ASPD don't seek out or stick with treatment" and not "we make it ridiculously difficult for a patient to find ANY therapist at all, let alone one who isn't ableist or knows how to work with personality disorders" even though only the second one is true.

Why haven't I had a therapist in over 6 months? Because I have to sort through this massive list of providers my medicare provides since I'm disabled, google every single one to find their specialities (if they have any listed), and realize none specialize in anything but depression, anxiety, addiction, and ADHD.

I'm not saying people with just those things don't need help! What I AM saying is that if a health insurance plan for disability is going to have limited "in-network" providers, then they should do at least SOME basic research to make sure that list is inclusive for a wide range of mental health needs. You wouldn't have a list of specialists but leave off cardiology, so why would you have a list of mental health specialists and leave off personality disorders, dissociation, and oh yeah - PTSD. Seriously, I found one trauma specialist in this massive list and they are a child specialist who shows up for adults because they help parents.

And again, that's great/gen but also adults have PTSD wtf it's one of the major reasons physically abled people need disability.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[butchnavi]

I'm going to fucking kill myself

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I think of so many stupid shenanigans between Wriothesley and his daughters in the Addison Lee verse. They tell Wriothesley crazy shit all the time, their daddy-daughter secrets, and it drives Neuvillette nuts that Wriothesley won't snitch.

Sigewinne, whispering into his ear: Today at school I punched a boy because he was being mean. I waited until it was recess, and made sure that no one was watching, and I punched him. Everyone knows he is a liar, so noooo one believed him when he cried about it. And Sigewinne is aaaalways a superstar so Mr Vautrin didn't suspect a thing !

Wriothesley, mildly concerned: Uh huh.

Sigewinne: Papa would say Sigewinne has to be nice to everyone, but, Sigewinne thinks bullies need to get punched sometimes, b'cos, b'cos otherwise, they think everyone is just gonna let them be mean

Wriothesley: Y'know what. That's fair

[medicinemane]

At least I could disable the suggestions but just... I'm sick of it, I'm sick of companies trying to think for me

I'd rather be miserable but doing shit my own way than placid and glass eyed and just taking whatever companies tell me to

Like... literally just asking what I get out of writing a post on tumblr... zero suggestions, just letting me say whatever dumb stuff comes to my head

[batsplat]

tired: 10 year anniversary of sepang 2015 next year

wired: 20th anniversary of jerez 2005

(we need to get gibernau on like oxley bom podcast or any other podcast which would ask great questions and won’t let him yap too much. come on guys please)

the establishment might forget but the streets (me and 2-4 anons on tumblr) won't

y'know it was kinda annoying when marc skipped the jerez presser this year because usually at least one enterprising soul asks some kind of jerez 2005-related question, just to remind everyone. just to check in whether they'd be interested in doing it again. because the journalists clearly absolutely loved it the first time, very much here for the drama of it all. so we had all those 2016-19 era pressers where marc and valentino were two guys who obviously hated each other but also had this fun legacy link. which gave all the other blokes in the room (riders and journalists alike) to just do a little round of 'yeah those two nutters', which marc and valentino are sometimes more sometimes less responsive to depending on the current vibes of the relationship. I miss it!! and I actually really like jerez 2005 for agenda purposes because it's like. the super flashy bit of the feud everyone remembers. so you have a big talking point that ensures nobody can ever QUITE forget sete's name... but also it misses out all the real juicy stuff and allows valentino to erase sete's story forever and ever, which we've established by now I'm basically supportive of

anyway I was thinking of the four year anniversary of jerez 2005, the first time since 2006 sete was actually in the paddock

and valentino gave an interview where he does talk about the race a little bit, which is also fun in the context of the brewing jorge rivalry

Q. For some people this is the 'real' start of the season, this is such a big grand prix for you isn't it. Valentino Rossi: I agree because Jerez is always fantastic. The track I like a lot but the atmosphere around the circuit is completely different compared to Qatar and Motegi. We hope also the weather will be different because we fight a lot against the water in the first two races! This time the forecast is okay, so it is possible to make a normal weekend, because the first two races of the season were very strange. Qatar, and also Motegi, it was difficult to work with the bike together with the new rules with less time on the track. So the test here was okay, I won a lot of times on this track and had big battles with Sete (Gibernau) and others. I think it is possible to do a bit better than the first two races, but anyway 40 points is so important, we are close to the top and we are happy with our performance.

it's really only the one battle he has with sete at the track!! not one of the tracks where they have several goes at it. but well. it was a memorable fight so we'll allow it

Q. You haven't won a race, but you are right in there as we come into Europe. That's very important isn't it? VR: Yes. Taking 40 points in the first two races is crucial for the championship, because of the strange situation. We have tried to make the best of it. I preferred the Motegi race compared to Qatar because I was just 1.3s behind the victory and it was a better fight and better to enjoy. In Qatar I was all alone in the race, in the night, so it was quite scary! For sure Jorge and Dani will have extra motivation in front of all their fans, but we try to fight.

"in qatar I was all alone in the race, in the night, so it was quite scary" shksdfh. he's not wrong though:

dire era. anyhow - if anything valentino gets exactly as much extra motivation from going to spain as the actual spaniards do, check out how he behaves every time he's fighting spaniards on their home soil

Q. You said in Japan, probably four people can win the championship this year. That's good isn't it? VR: Yes. I am in a good shape, Yamaha is so competitive and we work well with the team. I assumed already that Jorge, with more experience on the Bridgestone tyres, would come back and fight for victories. Stoner is always impressive and strong and Dani (Pedrosa) demonstrated in Japan that if his knee is fit then it is possible to battle every Sunday for the championship. So I think it will be very interesting going to the end. Q. We hear you are coming to the TT in the Isle of Man this year, what do you make of that? VR: Dainese organised it for me. For the motorcycle fan it is great to go to the TT one time to understand it. It is like something unreal when you see it on the television so I am very curious to understand it live, and what it means to be there.

"stoner is always impressive and strong" speak on it

Q. If you find yourself going into the last corner fighting for the lead with your team-mate Jorge Lorenzo, like you did racing against Sete in 2005, would you make the same manouvre? VR: With Sete, that race was unforgettable from the first lap we start to fight, but especially the last lap and a half it all happened. I was able to overtake on the last time and I took a small advantage but I made a small mistake on the back straight. Sete came back on me and we nearly touched at the hairpin before two or three overtakes to the last hairpin so it was not just one braking (manouvre). It was a very hard fight. If with Lorenzo it happens the same, then..... Yes. I want to say that time with Sete, I didn't enter in the corner to touch him. I entered to try and overtake and win the race, but unfortunately Sete doesn't crash and anyway he finished second. But anyway we are ready for a battle and we wait for the battle and if it's possible for a race with a rival at the same level like that time with Sete with three or four overtaking in the last lap. It was great. In the last lap - it was great. I think it was our sport. If you look at the races of ten years ago it happened 100 times in one race. I like to run like this. Sometimes you win sometimes you lose.

now I have to suspect somebody made a mistake here and valentino didn't ACTUALLY say "unfortunately sete doesn't crash" or he was joking or something. surely that was supposed to say "fortunately". I mean it'd be very funny if he said unfortunately

having watched this race a fair few times, I won't argue with vale that it was very much hard racing from the word go - and sete in particular is proper feisty on the first lap. obviously, that's still a teensy bit different from barrelling into someone at the final corner, but oh well. also, saying he didn't want to make contact... I mean, if you're making that move it was always going to happen. glad valentino's still enthusiastic about it!! he had a lot of fun!! and I'm sure by 2009 he was starting to miss that kind of fight lol

and yeah, the line "if with lorenzo it happens the same, then.... yes" is fantastic. he's very consistent on this - if yamaha wants to hire two teammates who can fight for the championship, then this is what they'll get out of it :) of course it makes it nicely pleasing that... well, the first visit to spain that year yielded valentino's first victory of the season, but jorge was a bit of a non-factor. (though valentino did execute a lovely final corner block pass on casey, important for the legacy.) but then the SECOND time they went to spain that year, you get the final corner catalunya shenanigans!! it means you have a bunch of 2009 quotes that already sound kinda vaguely foreshadow-y, including sete's fun little quote:

good luck jorge :) there's also plenty that gets said before and after the 2009 races that later became pretty funny in the context of jerez 2013. so there's just something cute about what a legacy that this one act of final corner terrorism has had on the entire sport, in a way that goes beyond the sete feud... let's not forget that a completely ubiquitous aspect of today's riding - dangling a leg when you're taking the corner - is generally believed to have originated at this race. let's not forget that during the infamous 2015 season, the sete rivalry was explicitly referenced at jerez that season to probe valentino's rivalry with marc. it's a move that still gets referenced every single year they return to jerez for a reason! it did so fifteen years ago, it will once again be so next year. long may it continue

[synthshenanigans]

there’s one on here currently and they’re bringing back up old controversy (jashshipping)

Yeaa I saw that. They also seem to post a bunch of CJ related things, so I might make the daily photos one since there isn't one for just CJ screenshots/photos

[pa-pa-plasma]

i'm going to fucking kill someone. i got screamed at & called selfish & stupid for telling my mom to wear a mask. she gave me covid

[papaiyatree]

hey??? literally getting so worried for the lineup rn

[dysperdis]

So, it's currently about 10°C outside, I need to wear a jacket inside, and my upstairs tenants are running MULTIPLE air conditioners.

Are my tenants (on an "utilities included" rental agreement) being assholes, or is this just "landlord brain" kicking in? 'Cuz seriously, I can't afford the bill from the ppl upstairs, & they don't seem to give a shit... am I missing something?

[ocdsaraberry]

This was supposed to be about what the choir would dress up as for Halloween but it's 2am and I got sidetracked. What media does Constance like

[quantomeno]

Professor Layton and Pandora's Box

I love this game. This game has what I would say is the most pure Professor Layton experience. It fulfils all the requirements of a good Layton game and has all the elegance and charm you could ask for, topped with a haunting atmosphere in the third act and an ending that will make you weep. It's also set largely on a train.

Yet it is not my favourite game in the series because I am a sucker for the dramatic finale that is Lost Future. And that ending makes me cry even harder.

Spoilers for the game series below. It's over 15 years old now, though so why haven't you played it yet? If you have not played it, play it now. If you are not convinced it's worth playing, then go ahead and read.

It's 2009. Two years after Curious Village (which I don't think I finished at that stage, but my sibling did), a game that changed my life and satisfied my love of puzzles and mystery. I still remember the trailers and the clip of Anton and Layton sword fighting. Give me a moment to savour that excitement...

And the game lived up to the hype. The puzzles! Gone were the awkward riddles of CV and now so many of them actually related to the story. They still had their difficult moments, but nothing like the terrible 'The Chocolate Code' (puzzle 67, which wasn't used in the European release). And let's not forget the train ticket puzzle you solved with a real ticket included with the game. And the graphics and the sound! It was all so much cleaner and more varied. AND A MEMO FUNCTION!!! I was so happy about that.

Quality of life features, graphics and music, these things are just icing on the cake. What really matters, and where Pandora's Box shines best, is in the story and atmosphere.

The Plot:

You know the drill: Layton receives a letter from an old friend who asks him to help with a mysterious item which leads to him ending up in a mysterious town. It's classic Layton and it sets the pattern later games would continue (with some variations). I actually love that they all start similarly, because it creates a sense of comfort: you know you're in for another adventure when Layton pulls out a letter.

The thing is though, despite the apparent repetition, I don't think many of the games adhere to it as tightly as the first two. Lost Future is exciting partly because it upends the script: there's no mysterious artefact (the time machine is probably the closest), there's no mysterious town (other than future London) and it feels less like Layton going to help solve a mystery as it does Layton going to save the future.

I want more of these games in the style of the first two. No mechas or Loch Ness monsters: I want British gentleman and his snarky apprentice pottering about in eccentric hamlets and peculiar townships, stumbling onto bizarre mysteries (the prequel games are not as bad as I make them seem in this regard, but I do feel they lack the quaintness at key points, even in Last Specter/Spectre's Call). I feel the series could have gone on for a long time before we got to the wildness of LF. I love the wildness, but I love it because it's special: it should never be the norm.

But these games were planned to be a trilogy, and what we got was a glorious trilogy so I would never wish that away.

PB suffers from the same flaw CV has of feeling like a little too much of pottering around doing unnecessary tasks with no clear goal: you find Dr Schrader's lifeless body, get on a train because he had a train ticket (so far so good), find a lost dog (I just realise we had to find a cat in the first game at this same point in time), meet the other member of our team who we left at home but followed along (flora deserves better), stop off at a country town (and ask around because we have no better leads on our mysterious box), sneak into the first class cabin, end up in a weird town and then ask around here (because, again, we have no solid leads so why not), discover our teammate is being impersonated by the guy who tried to kill us the previous game, then go visit the local vampire (because he used to own the box, finally a lead), and then reveal he and everyone else is actually 50 years older than they think they are and everyone was just high this whole time.

It doesn't really feel like a mystery, does it? It just feels like a lot of stumbling onto the truth and fortuitous circumstances.

Yet I did not feel this when I first played it, because it felt natural. It made sense to check out Dropstone because the train stops there. The fact it is related to the story in the end is actually rather impressive and quite well foreshadowed.

The story of Sophia and Anton (I am literally crying thinking about this I cannot believe how much it affects me); this is the high point. It is barely addressed in the game proper until the very end, but the diary entries give enough detail that it doesn't come out of absolutely nowhere. And it is the full cast that adds to this story: all the characters who left or stayed in Folsense show the effects of the 'curse' of the town.

I will not criticise the love story. I can't. I am too moved by it that I can forgive anything. But even the common complaints people have ('why didn't Sophia just say she was pregant?') are easy enough to dismiss (she didn't want Anton to have to choose between her and the town).

The story works. It is not faultless and could do with a bit more momentum and less filler, but the puzzles keep you entertained when the story lags, so I don't mind. Boredom is rarely a terminal issue in a Layton game (unless the puzzles are bad, naming no names i.e. LMJ). It's the emotion that counts, and PB has emotion in spades.

The Atmosphere

Before we begin, I would like to define a genre: the Fantastic.

In a story, we can be presented with things that seem to happen which do not align with our view of the way the world works. In some cases, this is accepted because the story takes place in a world where our rules don't apply (this is called the Marvellous); in others, these 'magical' events are revealed to be just misunderstandings or failures of our perceptions, and the laws of Nature as we know them are unchallenged (this is termed the Uncanny).

On the border of these is the genre known as the Fantastic. This is when the reader is not able to work out whether the 'magic' observed is true magic or if there's a logical explanation for it. It is rare (incredibly rare) for a work to be situated entirely within the Fantastic. Instead, works tend to start from the Fantastic and end up in either the Marvellous (the magic is revealed to be true) or the Uncanny (it's revealed to be false). The point of the Fantastic is that the reader is reminded of the fallibility of their perceptions. One believes that the world is so, but one also knows that there is much we don't know (e.g. quantum mechanics and relativity). This leads to a painful sense of uncertainty as objectivity cannot be readily assumed (again, relativity).

The upshot is that if the story is sufficiently real, and there is the appearance of verisimilitude, the reader will be tempted to believe that the magical aspects of the story could be true, but they also instinctively cling to rational explanations that would do away with it.

I believe that Professor Layton is a stellar example of this genre, not just the individual games, but the series as a whole.

The games present a premise with an aspect of magic ― in this case a box that kills whoever opens it — and gives us strong proof that it is true (a dead body), yet the games are set in modern day London, and Layton is a man of science: he never seems convinced in the powers of the Elysian Box. The rest of the game is also incredibly mundane until we get to Folsense.

And it is in Folsense that things change.

This is where the atmosphere has its most potent effect.

The whole game has a gorgeous warmth, from the luxury of the Molentary Express to the bucolic charm of Dropstone. When we first enter Folsense, the cast are subjected to a mysterious circumstance where the town suddenly lights up as they walk through the train station. The music is unsettling, a far cry from what we have been listening to until now. The town looks unnatural: it's lit up artificially and seems so empty.

Then we learn there's a vampire.

And we are already convinced he's real.

Because we no longer seem to be in the world you and I know. We start to believe that the world of Layton is a world of fantasy. We're not in London anymore.

At Herzen Castle, our suspicions are constantly being confirmed: a mysterious carriage enters through the gate; the castle looms precariously over a pit, looking like some kind of giant bat; we are greeted by a butler who looks like a vampire himself and then we meet Anton who, despite everything we know saying he must be over 70 by now, looks like he is only in his late 20s.

And then there's the dream sequence, and then Anton captures us, claiming to want to feast on us. We are convinced we are firmly in the marvellous.

But then we meet Katia and the fog lifts. The castle crumbles into the pit, Anton ages before our eyes, the town fades as the sun rises, illuminating the artifice.

Our sense had fooled us: there was no magic box and no vampire. There was a scientific explanation all along. We are left in the Uncanny. We are reminded, by the town, the box's reputation and the miscommunication of the lovers, that life is often not what it seems and appearances can be deceiving: the objective truth is hard to distil, but it lies there behind all the illusions created by our own minds.

No other Layton game achieves the level of dread that this one does. While Lost Future may make you believe in time travel, plays on the idea of the Fantastic in a very clever way, it never reaches that same level of blood-chilling fear. As a child, I could not stand any place in Folsense because they all left me feeling disquieted.

Despite being an illusion, I don't think any other location in the series has reached beyond the screen and made me feel I was there, made me feel part of its world, the way Folsense did.

It is the atmosphere that makes this game. It is beautiful.

As an addendum, when I played this game I was so into it I made my own Elysian Box out of paper. The thing was, the game had such a sinister aura that I was actually afraid of the box I had made. I felt there was something evil about it, even just a depiction of it.

Of course, now I would look at the box and be reminded of the love of Sophia and Anton, but the point still stands that this game moved me as a child and it moves me as an adult. I love it deeply.

[iraprince]

gonna show u guys a little opalescent highlight hack i threw together today

rainbow gradient above your main figure (i usually have all my main figure folders/layers in one big folder, so i can clip gradient maps + adjustments to it!). liquify tool to push the colors around a bit. STAY WITH ME I KNOW IT LOOKS STUPID RN I'M GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS

THEN: set it to add/glow (or the equivalent in ur drawing program), lower the opacity a bit, and apply a layer mask. then u can edit the mask with whatever tools you like to create rainbow highlights!!

in this case i'm mostly using the lasso fill tool to chip out little facets, but i've also done some soft airbrushing to bring in larger rainbow swirls in some areas. it's pretty subtle here, but you can see it better when i remove the gradient map that's above everything, since below i'm working in greyscale:

more granular rambling beneath the cut!

u could also just do this with a brush that has color jitter, but what i like about using layer masks for highlight/shading layers is how simple and reversible it makes everything. i can use whatever brushes i want, and erasing/redoing things is super low stakes, which is great when i often approach this stuff with a super trial-and-error approach.

example: have u ever thrown a gradient w multiple colors over an entire piece, set it to multiply etc, and then tried to erase it away to carve out shadows/highlights? it's super frustrating, bc it looks really good, but if u erase something and then change ur mind later, u basically would have to like. recreate the gradient in the area u want to cover up again. that's how i used to do things before figuring out layer masks!! but masking basically creates a version of this with INFINITE undo bc u can erase/re-place the base layer whenever u want.

anyway, back to rambling about this specific method:

i actually have TWO of these layers on this piece (one with the liquified swirls shown above, and another that's just a normal concentric circle gradient with much broader stripes) so i can vary the highlights easily as needed.

since i've basically hidden the rainbow pattern from myself, the colors in each brushstroke i make will kind of be a surprise, which isn't always great -- but easily fixable! for example, if i carve out a highlight and it turns out the rainbow pattern in that area is way too stripey, i can just switch from editing the mask to editing the main layer and blur that spot a bit.

also, this isn't a full explanation of the overall transparency effect in these screencaps! there's other layer stuff happening below the rainbow highlights, but the short version is i have all this character's body parts in different folders, each with their own lineart and background fill, and then the fill opacity is lowered and there's multiply layers clipped to that -- blah blah it's a whole thing. maybe i'll have a whole rundown on this on patreon later. uhhh i think that's it tho! i hope u get something useful out of this extremely specific thing i did lmao

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

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

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

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

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

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