#i don’t want to be that person. and it makes me feel like i’m functioning
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I’ve only just read your Burnout piece on Substack and it made me think of the anon you answered awhile back about anti depressants and anti anxiety medications.
I’m Autistic and am on anti anxiety medication which basically masked all the warning signs and symptoms of Autistic burnout. Those usual indicators I usually can pick up on which indicate I’m doing too much and not resting enough weren’t present on the medication.
I felt good (although very numb like the anon said) so I kept on taking on more and more and initially thought it was great! I’ve never been able to commit to things or work on multiple projects at once even ones that super interest and excite me because I get overwhelmed and burnt out quickly.
But without the warning signs I kept going and going until I started to feel really weird. Disassociated, not sleeping, upset stomach, drinking a lot. I thought everything was great so it took awhile to piece together that this is maybe what Autistic burnout results in when it’s covered by meds.
I’m now slowly withdrawing from the meds. I figure the authentic anxiety is better than false measures of “success”.
So just a warning to Autistic people I guess, I don’t know if what I’ve experienced is common or just subjective but it’s worth being aware of.
This is pretty much how I feel about psychiatric medication for myself, as well. I want the warning signs. I want to notice my body and brain rebelling. A lot of psychiatric drugs are somewhat effective at making us feel more numb, for a while, which is why they are used as a stopgap when a person's situation is unmanageable. I'm a big believer in the "Affect as Information" Hypothesis: when we feel like shit, that means something about our circumstances simply has got to change. Often that means giving up responsibilities, letting people down, letting things go.
I even feel the same way about weed. I have a lot of friends who use weed daily to manage their overwhelm, and it seems to work great for them, and potentially I should be doing the same thing. But I am terrified of having a massive dependence on a large quantity of weed in order to function, and when I *did* use weed daily, it became a baseline need and made me dissociate even further from myself. I now take the desire to use weed or otherwise get blasted as a signal that something is amiss and that I'm overwhelmed and seeking escape -- that doesn't mean I don't listen to that desire some of the time. I get high and/or drunk on the weekends pretty often. But I don't want to lose touch with my body's warning system. AND I have the immense luxury of being able to change my life circumstances when things get to be too much. If someone doesn't have that freedom, well, sometimes substances are the best thing you can get - be that psychiatric or off market.
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well fellas it’s happening i think i am maybe developing a crush on the girl ive been fucking recently 🫥
#the first person who i’ve felt even an inkling of a romantic feeling towards in over a year and of course it’s a fucking pisces#(i do not believe in astrology but i really need to believe in astrology rn for intricate rituals reasons😭)#anyways i feel a little bit insane and i don’t know what i want or what i should say and i genuinely GENUINELY genuinely. genuinely feel lik#e kara in all of the yearny supercorp fan fics#AND ALSO. i am a deeply weird autistic community college student and at the same age she is a neurotypical very very functional phd student#with a real job and a real apartment and a real life and a real future i feel so Unworthy of her lol. i’m good at making her come i love tsk#ing care of her but outside of sex i do not know what i have to offer bc i don’t know if my autistic whimsy personality works on neurotypica#ls. like i have yet to figure out if she likes me as a person or tolerates me bc i am oddly enough really good at fucking her idk.#ALSO . what even is a romantic relationship#like as is we go on cute excursions and fuck. what is the difference btw that and dating except monogamy and even that’s not necessarily a t#hing yk?????#AHHHHHHHHH like in my brain the difference btw romantic and fuck buddies is do you have long term intentions and no we don’t we’re in our 20#s we’re students neither of us is out here looking for a whole ass wife so what is the POINT of these feelings#bc like how does this end except hurt. is it worth the hurt at the end probably maybe idfk!!!#AHHHH WHO LET ME POSSESS THE CAPACITY FOR HUMAN EMOTION 😡😡😡
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my life is a very slow process of everyone around me telling me not to be anxious and me fighting them all tooth and nail while inching towards more stable mental health.
#I know it’s not true but sometimes I feel like if I didn’t have anxiety I would not suffer at all#which. again. is false#but there’s a lot of things I don’t want in this life and a lot of things I am not scared of and a lot of things I just accept#and like. It’s FINE#but all my suffering from anxiety stays in one fixed flame of sheer agony#and it’s hard because I don’t shake like a chihuahua in the corner of my bedroom#unable to move or function#I’m always doing things and functioning and joking at parties and (generally) saying the right thing#but it’s all located in one corner in the middle of my mind attacking my ability to make judgments and live with my decisions peacefully#like an unseen wound#and the distance i feel it puts between me and other people#is one of the most painful things#just several sheets of frosted glass between me and them#and sometimes the worst it gets is when I can bear it without breaking down and so I just do and I just keep functioning#and the cold just creeps in and everything goes kind of numb!#tbh now that I think about it this might be why I often think of myself as a person with no desires or ambitions or dreams#or impetus or forward motion or anything#because I DO want things and have opinions and the exist in flashes. But also they’re buried deep under several layers of protective apathy#so they’re not stable. I drop them many times. forget them ignore them imagine that they aren’t there. I’m sorry I’m rambling I’m FINE#actually when I talk about it that’s how you know I’m doing okay with it#when I can’t talk about it and am half-heartedly going through the motions#that’s the problem#anyway whew. thanks for listening sorry for all the self-reflection etc. etc. etc.
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Finally deleted MyFitnessPal off my phone for my own personal sanity
#got some memories with that app#at first it was just sitting there bc I couldn’t stop myself from tracking the calories of some things#but after a 13 day streak shit could only get worse so I deleted it#proud of myself#that thing had me in chokehold last year did not want a repeat#tw myfitnesspal#tw mentions of eating disorder#random post#ooc post#kind of vent#???#started to wake up stressed out about what I’m gonna eat and I was like nooo not ts again#was literally restricting myself to 1200 cals a day AND IM 5’7#tw eating issues#sucks when you’re not even underweight so you don’t feel valid#waitttt I was not meant to trauma dump in this post#can we not bring being 2000s model skinny back into being trendy bc why are body types a tend in the first place#I can change fashion but definitely not my body#no bc this world is fucked up why was I scared to die alone bc I wasn’t skinny when I was literally 10#I hate that it’s normalized to praise people’s bodies#like idc if that makes me soft but a girl just living and everyone just talking about how good her body is#why is that okay bc yes it is positive but it also creates so many negatives#like does anyone get what I mean#it’s a compliment but it also makes everyone including that person afraid to be anything but ‘body goals’#idk how to explain it but like imo bodies shouldn’t serve aesthetic purposes#they actually have functions and needs and they allow us to live#tw body image issues#I hate wiead’s too but that’s just because why is everyone’s food so gourmet I literally just slap some butter onto toast lol#late night post
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ok executive dysfunction is kind of ruining my life actually
#i have an incredibly time-consuming project i NEED to finish and i genuinely don’t know if i can#i’ve started which is good but i’m horrifically behind where i need to be and i’m just so overwhelmed#i technically have enough time to finish it i think? but it’s my final project so i literally cannot miss this deadline#my professor is really cool + likes me but it’s already been so long w/out me bringing it up#and wtf am i supposed to say? yeah. i WANTED to work on it. i just chose not to????? like wtf#it’s just so humiliating and i’m so behind i don’t know wtf i’m gonna do#it’s worse bc it’s an animation and it’s gg related and i really really wanted this to be good and i wanted things to be different this time#kind of funny bc i’m actually mid getting an adhd diagnosis rn but it’s just so fucking awful because i do this constantly#it fucking sucks so much i feel so helpless and i don’t know wtf is wrong with me. i’m so tired of letting everyone down constantly#it’s so bad rn i literally cannot do anything. it’s humiliating like WHY can’t i just be a functional normal person#it fucking SUCKS because i KNOW if i had any self control or work ethic whatsoever i could be really fucking successful but i don’t.#so i won’t be i guess.#and i KNOW it’s tied into a bunch of different stuff too but like gd i DO NOT care i just want to be functional#worst case scenario i have an A in the class so if i completely blow it i’ll at least pass? hopefully?#i might be able to talk my prof into an extended deadline but it’s so embarrassing bc i didn’t need one in the first place.#i have literally no excuses#it just makes me so upset because i just keep doing this over and over and i don’t know how to stop it or how to get better#and LOL sorry for posting this here i just feel weird talking to anyone personally about this (+ currently avoiding responding to messages!)#it’s just like. man if i can’t get a fucking grip i will literally waste my entire life. Oh Well! LOL
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Hmmm I kinda want to make a side blog for RPG Maker game development related things to be able to talk to more experienced people in that community, but at the same time I both don’t really think I’d get much attention and don’t want to accidentally spoil my own game (^^ ; ).
I have a rough story, concept doodles, a tileset, some character sprites, an enemy that walks around but can’t initiate battle yet (if I even decide to have a battle system), a couple rooms with some events, and a functioning run button, but I’m still lost on how to do much else at the moment. Especially since this program has the ability for scripting, meaning I’ll probably have to learn and actually retain another coding language.
So, I’m not very far at all lol. Idk how well that’d go over on the established fandom website, but eh.
#text post#incoherent rambling#project update#game project#I’m still also debating whether or not I can actually even make a proper horror game too#It’s the rule of like just being a horror fan doesn’t make you good at horror being afraid of something does? ya know?#I am trying to go with things that scare me personally but it’s been difficult#either things aren’t concrete of concepts enough or are wayyyy too oddly specific to make anything about#which is quitter talk I know but how does one translate the childhood heebee jeebees of watching top ten gaming videos past bedtime 💀💀💀#or like the way too broad general fear of lack of control without making it too on the nose or too vague#truly a balancing act writing is#kinda ironically I am also a little bit less afraid of hospitals after having been to one for myself rather than family members#which makes things both more and less difficult???#on one hand I have better references for them now but on the other hand I’m desensitized to it 😔#I think I get used to things a little too easily for a lot of things to stay scary#the thing was a scary movie the first time I saw it and now it’s a comfort film#funger was a very scary game until I first died and reloaded a save with little consequence and now it’s just a spooky but fun rpg#but then at the same time thinking about a movie studio logo before a movie that scared me as a kid cause there was a monster in it#still gives weird left over shivers but actually seeing it doesn’t anymore for some reason#I feel like that’s how it’s worked with most things I’ve ever been afraid of in my life besides concepts like death control or idk drowning#ugh writing is HARD#but actually making a functional and fun to play game is harder oh my god do I not know how to make puzzles#I have made swivel chairs that can be knocked and walked over but that’s about it and idk what to do with that knowledge lmaooooo#and I don’t want the entire gameplay loop to be read text search room get key repeat cause that’s boring#I have also desperately tried making a stamina system but there’s not much help with that online especially not in the rpg maker forums#the no necroposting rule sucks all the threads for questions I have never get answered and never will cause no one is allowed to due to age#anyway idk what to tag this probably won’t get seen since it’s not my usual anyway but eh whatever I’ll think about this#hopefully I remember the passwords to two blogs 💀💀💀
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really wish there was a tag that separated “I’m having Big Angry and/or Angsty Opinions about Star Wars” from “I’m goofing off with Star Wars I’m playing in the sandbox none of this is real so yes I will make my blorbo and this random glub shitto go on an adventure that makes no logical sense” posts because there’s too much of the former and not enough of the latter for my current mental state
#starlight personal#the good news is that I finally have another ketamine appt scheduled and it’s sooner than I thought they’d have an opening#the bad news is that the appointment is not tomorrow and we’re kinda at the end of my mental-emotional rope#now kids this is what we call: an inherent flaw in my treatment plan that cannot be removed#because pretty much in an ideal world I’d have ketamine appointments every 6 weeks but 1) expensive and probs can’t afford that#2) they don’t have enough availability for that to be realistic 3) can’t take off of work THAT frequently without consequences#4) I would probably start to doubt reality if I was tripping that frequently 5) I don’t think docs would allow it#treatment resistant depression and anxiety my beloathed if we could just chill that’d be great#treatment resistant PMDD my other beloathed someday I will do my damnedest to cut you out of my body#idk not to be too selfpitying on main but god it fucking sucks that I appear to be doomed to another cycle based mood thing#PMDD means I get two good weeks two bad weeks#ketamine being the only effective treatment for whatever my brain’s got going on means two good months followed by x bad months#until my next appointment#which like! two good months is better than no good months I am grateful that something helps#I just wish it was a more convenient help and it could be applied more consistently than my psych office provides#also wish I didn’t have to call them 3 times to get it scheduled but it is what it is#also also wish that I had fewer of the physical side effects of my anxiety and wouldn’t wake up puking the min things are rough#this is all to say: I want silly SW headcanons and droid headcanons and silly fic ideas and not Everyone is Always Suffering#but I’m also too lazy (I.e brain cannot make decisions rn) to search for new tags that may give me more silly#which means time to browse my bookmarks for good good comfort fics I have saved I suppose#(this is lowkey why i want to physically fight everyone i know who’s like ‘yeah meds would help but idk :/‘ like!!!!!!!!#bro it’s a privilege to have access to meds and it’s a privilege to have a body that doesn’t turn on you the min you take one!!!!#just try 10mg of zoloft I would kill for 10mg of zoloft to not make me entirely incapable of functioning!!!)#I don’t mean that - you have a right to take or not take medication and everyone’s reasons may be their own#I just had my body and have some rough feelings around treating my issues being so expensive and inconvenient#and then feeling guilty b/c I know I’m lucky that I can afford it and can take off of work for it when I need to#like I am pretty lucky to have something that works and to have a care team that helped me get here#so I don’t wanna be ungrateful or unappreciative of my own luck in this and the work that went into getting here#I’d just also like it if I could change the circumstances slightly#make treatment on the weekends an option - get my psych office to have more than 2 trip sitters so scheduling isn’t so bad
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Knowing that I have to go home after an 8-hour shift at the job I hate to force myself to deep clean the depression nest my room has become while neck deep in the same depressive episode for the past 3 months on top of chronic pain makes me wanna scream like can I just smoke weed and sleep on the couch instead pls?
#tw mental health#personal#idk how to tag this#I’m doin BAD#like- I think I’ve run into that gifted kid thing where it’s like yeah I was told I was good at this and then growing up and realizing I#never developed the skill beyond childhood but instead of gifted kid syndrome it’s high functioning depression#like I hit my 20s and I can’t high function my way through this shit anymore#I don’t know how and that makes it worse bc I’m looking back on teen me who could pretend for days and power through#now I’m just- a depressive episode hits and I just.. everything stops y’know?#im so tired and overwhelmed and I just don’t know where to start to even dig myself out of it#I’m self soothing to the point of it being harmful#if I don’t think about how bad it is and instead focus on whatever interest it feels better#my therapist has been out sick for almost 2 months now and I’m worried about her but we work so well together that I don’t wanna find#someone new and start all over again#I just..#I tried telling my family I’m struggling and my mom told me to pray about it so it’s like okay I’m just alone to deal with this like I#always do but I’m just.. I’m not doing well enough to be able to handle this on my own and no one is listening when I say that#I’m not going to do anything but I can’t pretend the s*ic*d*l thought aren’t at the front of my mind#every single problem I have would disappear for me if I wasn’t here and that’s bitter sweet because I want to see this life through#depression#mental health#struggling with depression#major depressive disorder
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#actually i am really sick of my family for making me feel like ‘being liberal��� Or Whatever is my only personal trait#because like i used to voice opinions on things until they made me feel bad/crazy for it#but now when they whip out the most batshit insane take on something & i’m just like ‘um i dunno…but to each their own’#& they still act like i’m crazy i’m so 💀#like my only cousin who’s into p/j/o was talking about how the new book (& while he ‘doesn’t care’ that Nico’s gay it—#‘came out of nowhere’ 🙄) the new book is written by two authors—one of them being a gay man because Richard wanted the input—#because he didn’t feel qualified to write it as a straight man or something idk#but my cousin. said. that if a straight man ‘can’t’ write a gay story then a woman can’t write a man’s story & vice versa#which. oh my god no#for one thing i do think anyone can write any story even/especially if it’s out of their depth but they should absolutely reach out—#if they want firsthand accounts of experiences like what it’s like to be gay etc#but also. of course a woman can write a man & vice versa what kind of take even is that? like yeah some people do it really weird—#(‘she boobed breastily down the stairs’)#but that doesn’t mean people shouldn’t be allowed if anything people should learn about the experiences of others#in general his takes of ‘i don’t Care i just wish it wasn’t Every Character that’s not how it Used To Be’#like 1.) if richard wrote lgbtq/poc main characters in 2005 he probably wouldn’t have sold many books#and 2.) it’s Greek mythology. you get what you sign up for#anyways yeah i’m really quiet at family functions but even when i just quietly disagree i’m made to feel really bad about it#& the next function is literally my grad party like next week ://#but after that there shouldn’t be anything for a while#rose.txt#tw vent
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MY EYES ONLY
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a look into chris’s my eyes only…
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), swearing, choking, stomach bulge, oral (female & male receiving), praising, degradation, daddy kink, jealousy, squirting, spanking, possessiveness, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, semi-public, ROUGH
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 888
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for all the chris stuff lately i’m just so down bad for him but matt will make an appearance (hopefully) soon!
also… the last one will be turned into a fic😉
mattress digging deeper into your back every second, the hand around your throat only tightens. your small palm doesn’t even fit fully around his wrist. moans and pleas of ‘don’t stop!’ aren’t the only sounds echoing off the walls. the headboard bangs rapidly against the wall, a chuckle coming from chris every so often at your fucked-out state.
you two were extra horny this day, it seems, and of course, you had to take advantage of it. the video is taken from your drooling mouth down to the bulge in your stomach, chris quite literally balls deep inside of you. tits bouncing at the rapid pace he’s going, your nails dig deeper into his flesh. “yes! yes! yes!” you scream like a mantra, cum then coating his dick.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆
to him, his finger slipped and “accidentally” pressed the post button. it starts casually with the desktop displaying fortnite, then he flips the camera to his face. a smug look is plastered on it before the camera flips again.
this time, it’s of you — under the desk with your boyfriend’s cock stuffed in your mouth. his other hand is wrapped around your locks in a makeshift ponytail, controlling the way you bob your head at a decent rhythm. all you have to do is sit there and take it.
looking at the camera with tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile, spit dribbling from the sides of your lips. he pushes your head down further to where the tip of your nose touches his pelvis, a gulp and gag going through his headphones before his face comes into view one last time. chris smiles smugly, with a caption that reads: we’re live! come hang out :)
⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆
legs draped over his shoulders, your fingers massage lightly at the brunette between your plush thighs. the phone is propped up on the nightstand to make sure your entire body is in view. his tongue laps agonizingly slow on your puffy cunt, but it feels so good.
you’ve been a good girl all week; no attitude, no talking back, good manners, etc. you were in for a reward. this is your reward. he wants to eat you out like no other. until you see stars and that’s it.
soft moans fill the air, eyes fluttering closed and your mind blank. just how chris likes it.
growing closer to your high, you get impatient before rutting your hips forward, your moans growing louder. he hums disapprovingly, leaving your dripping hole empty. “no need to get naughty now, baby. i thought you were a good girl for me?”
“i am.” you whimper. “i’m sorry, daddy.”
thrusting his hips subconsciously into the mattress because of the nickname, he delves back in to suck on your clit. that alone washes the first of many orgasms through you. you end up passing out at the end.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆
an argument sparked this beauty, which is also chris’s personal favorite. for context, you guys argued over something stupid before going to a party. because you’re so petty, you decided to purposely talk with a random guy at the function to get chris’s blood boiling. giving him those ‘fuck me’ eyes from across the room.
before you knew it, you were holding on for dear life on a pillow in a random bedroom he dragged you into. the velvet dress you’re wearing is bunched above your ass, and your panties are ripped in half and thrown to the floor. crying out apologies into the blanket is no use, skin stinging with his handprint on it. the video is hard to make out because of how fast the phone is shaking in his hand.
“fucking brat.” he spanks you again, a sob leaving your throat. “you think he can fuck you stupid like this? huh?”
his hand makes contact at least three more times during that sentence, and your body shakes uncontrollably. he already ripped two orgasms out of you. “that’s right. take it just like that — whose pussy is this?”
“yours.” you exhale, squirting without warning from the overwhelming pleasure and penetration.
gripping the top of your hair, he lifts your head. “scream it, slut. they can’t hear you.”
“yours, chris! it’s all yours!” you gasp, knuckles white from your grasp on the sheets.
looking down at the way his cock brutally thrusts in and out of your tight pussy, his jaw slacks at the sight. you clench around him as his tip repeatedly hits your cervix, eyes rolling when you cum harder than ever before.
he arches your back further to get as deep as he can with a grunt. his hips stop, long ropes of cum spilling the farthest it goes into your womb. pulling out, he takes two fingers to help his seed stay inside you, the rest dripping down your legs the rest of the night.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆
it’s dark. the photo is barely visible but visible at the same time if you look at it long enough. the table in front of you has a reflection of the moon, your tits that are painted white take up half of the screen. the other half is of your face, a smile peeking through your lip bite. a tatted arm snakes around your neck, the selfie angled up high.
be careful leaving your things behind, chris. the text says.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
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#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut
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some days I actually feel like I’m able to think clearly and am not as inconsolable as I thought
#whimsy whispers#but those aren’t very frequent#sometimes I can just accept things are they are and not feel as hurt by them and it’s nice#like don’t get me wrong the pain is always there it’s just quieter sometimes and I can drown it out with things that make me happy#but most days I’m just sad#unfortunately my moods are still dependent on the affection and attention of others#noticeably I’m happier when kane is here and worse off when they’re gone#I just don’t like function well if I’m alone/feel alone#it’s why no matter how much I want to leave the state and live elsewhere I probably never will because if I did that I’d be all alone#and idk if I can handle being legit alone#because rn I live in a household of people so even when kane is gone the hosue isn’t like void of other people#and I don’t think having a cat can like fill the role of having a human person who I feel wanted by#ofc I do still want a cat#idk#uhhh today has been nice I suppose?#I finished some art#I was silly with kane#as mentioned earlier I was able to talk to my irl like we use to lately (kinda?)#idk things aren’t great they’re not all that better but things are improving#but things tend to fall apart again despite my efforts so we’ll see how I feel this time next week#I could be in despair and wanting to die again in a weeks time
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#so like taking with the physical therapist yesterday helped me feel a bit more optimistic about my future#but they operate under the goal of getting people to as low of a pain rating as possible#which isn’t a bad thing!#but it’s just hard to believe them when they say that one of my goals is bringing my baseline pain down to a four (currently between 6 and 7#but used to be between 7 and 8)#like yes! it’s only been three months and my pain has gotten better but it just means that I’m able to do more to keep up with my peers#it was hindering me significantly and still does!#so whenever my pain decreases I do more and then my pain goes back up because half of it is just trying to live my life#my pain keeps me from functioning and doing things I want to do and I don’t even realize it because I’m so used to it#and that’s entirely due to my parents and the doctor not listening to me when I told them that I was in extreme joint pain year after year#and they dismissed me. They just dismissed me!#I could have gotten physical therapy so much earlier. It might have prevented tons of pain!#but I was ignored for five years and now I tell doctors my average pain level and they do a double take because a person should not be#going through their entire day at a 7! that’s not something most people are able to do let alone do every single day!!#but I never had any other choice#i bought myself a cane because I got tired of limping by the end of the day#I had no guidance or support. I barely knew what I was doing other than I needed something to help me when my hip won’t stay in place#I couldn’t even go to my parents because they wouldn’t believe me and they’d just make me feel bad for it!#I cannot conceptualize being in no pain because I almost never experience it#and apparently people aren’t even supposed to be in pain most of the time#it just. sucks. it really does
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VOICE-MEMOS THEY SEND WHEN THEYRE DRUNK
Kirishima- “baaaaaaabe, hiii I’m out and well I mean I’m not really out anymore I’m on my way home. In an Uber cause no drunk driving duhhhhhh but actually I’m not even drunk so I actually could’ve driven but somebody I won’t name names was being a bit of an asshat and wouldn’t let me drive. But oh my god I love yousomuch like you know I love my guys but god I miss you every time I go out. And yes I know I’ll see you when I get home but your gonna be sleeping and I’m gonna be sad but honestly might wake you up because I wanna kiss you. Okaaay pulling up to to the cribbb noww BYYE”
Deku- “okay let me start by saying I’m only slightly under the influence right now. Like honestly barely, I didn’t even drink that much but sometimes I feel like because I never had a college experience to build my tolerance up I’m still a lightweight at 24 but anyways I’m on the way home and I keep thinking about how much I love you and I miss you so much and oh my god I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up. Not that I want that to ever happen but like oh my god how could I even function? I’d probably drop from number 1 to like in the hundreds 'cause I’d be that useless without you.” *starts crying and the rest of the audio message is him crying*
Todoroki - “y/n, I’m currently in midoriyas car because he’s driving me home because I accidentally drank too much at the after-party for the award show. I’m so sad you couldn’t come, like I know the anniversary party for your parents is really important that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow to be there for it. Shit, that was a secret. I hope you don’t listen to this because then you’ll know I’m on a plane coming to see you in like 3 hours. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to function hungover on an airplane but I think I’ll manage, I mean it’s not like it’s a commercial flight so I should be good. Damn it well I was originally going to say I love and miss you. Which still stands but I’m gonna go now because I think I’m going to throw up” “TODOROKI NOT IN MY CAR PLEASE”
Bakugou- “fuck. I’m so drunk right now and I hate even admitting that but that’s how shit-faced I am right now that I can even admit that I’m drunk. This is why I should never go out with my idiot friends, they make me drink and then I end up talking about you and that’s so beyond embarrassing. Not that you’re embarrassing I just don’t need them to know my business like that. Kirishimas driving me home right now which I feel like speaks volumes about my lack of good judgment right now. I don’t even know what the point of this message is I just wanted to say you’re one of the most tolerable person I’ve ever met and I really fucking love you. Okay bye this idiots smiling at what I’m saying and it’s creeping me out.
#my hero x reader#my hero headcanons#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia fic#kirishima eijirou#bnha eijiro kirishima#kirishima x reader#kirishima x y/n#kirishima headcanon#bakugou x you#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou headcanons#deku x reader#deku x y/n#deku fanfic#deku scenarios#izuku midoriya x reader#todoroki x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#bnha shoto todoroki#todoroki headcanons#todoroki fluff#izuku x you#izuku midoryia x you#izuku midoriya imagine#todoroki x y/n
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𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞
character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧
cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)
tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)
a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn
𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.
“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”
he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.
“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”
his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.
“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”
your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.
“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”
once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.
𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.
“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”
he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.
“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”
it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.
“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”
“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.
“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”
𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢
✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.
“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”
your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.
“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”
it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”
“taking to long princess, hurry up”
“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.
“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”
𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧
✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.
“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”
you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.
“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”
you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.
“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”
you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”
“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”
you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍
@tyunixia @riowmie
#✰𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒✰#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#geto x y/n#geto x you#geto x reader#getou suguru#getou x reader#geto suguru#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji zenin#toji x reader#toji smut#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#jjk#jujutsu geto#toji x you#jujutsu toji#ryomen sukuna
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hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery
#starlight personal#it’s very bizarre to have my life going objectively well - work is good! personal life is good! family is good!#and still be very mentally ill and feel like I’m faking it even though I know damn well I ain’t scream-sobbing every couple of days alone in#my apartment for attention because What Attention??? my cat????? Bug is never moved by my tears she cares only for string and wires#like I know that cannabis has been immensely helpful to getting me to fucking sleep on a regular schedule and that’s integral to -#my functioning and I know that having emergency klonopin in the event of a total breakout is helpful#and I KNOW that my PMDD and depression and anxiety are very treatment resistant and ketamine is the only thing that’s provided any -#meaningful relief and logically I know I’m not abusing any of these#I’m getting a promotion at work I still go out to see friends regularly I have hobbies I have a girlfriend (??? Wild right)#like clearly these things are working because i’m better now than i was for years leading up to now#SO LIKE. DON’T STOP USING THE THINGS THAT HELP. LOGICALLY THIS MEANS THESE ARE GOOD FOR ME#I always roll my eyes when ppl go off their meds b/c they’re feeling better like babes that’s what the meds are meant to do#if you stop taking them you stop feeling better - but it’s REALLY HARD to get past the cultural conditioning#the feeling that ‘but I can white knuckle my way through this I can force myself to live without’ like WHY BITCH#WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE WITHOUT#AND ALSO. WE’RE STILL GENERALLY MISERABLE BRO. EVEN WITH OUR LIFE IN A BETTER PLACE!!!#DO YOU NOT THINK THIS MEANS THAT WE SHOULD USE WHAT WE KNOW WORKS TO BE LESS MISERABLE#basically it’s really hard to not feel like a loser when the only things that help are ‘fun’ drugs like weed and psychedelics#I feel like I’m being a hedonistic reprobate which 1) is actually kinda cool now that I wrote it out#2) @ myself were not a good enough liar-faker that every medical professional we see wouldn’t pick up on that if that was our motivation#time to remind myself that it’s arrogant to think I could trick many trained professionals without actively trying tbh#that generally helps me get out of my self-pitying ‘ohhhhh I’m awful and lazy and bad and abusing substances’ spiral#to be very mentally ill on main it is weirdly reassuring to be like ‘just as my fanon interpretation of obi wan kinda hates himself but is -#practical enough to take care of himself even when it makes him cringe and want to scratch his face off; I too am aware that self-care is -#radical and punk and In Fact Necessary to beat back the dark and live in the light with hope so yes even though I doubt and -#feel squiggly and guilty about it I’m not going to NOT prioritize my health and well-being b/c self-hatred and self-denial benefits no one’#thank you inner obi wan i love projecting my issues onto you mwah mwah mwah smooches for my favorite boy!!!!!#and smooches for me I’m going to be proud of myself gosh darn it even if I have to fake it at first#see I wouldn’t be able to be nice to myself like this if I hadn’t been doing ketamine treatment for a year IT WORKS BRO KEEP IT UP#SCHEDULE THE DAMN APPOINTMENT AND CLEAN YOUR BONG
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The Feeling's Mutual | Part Two
Summary: Working with Logan means you have to accept constantly getting the short end of the stick; it means discovering things about yourself you didn't ever expect. Still, despite dealing with all of this, you two make a pretty good team.
PART ONE PART THREE
Warnings: bickering, graphic descriptions, canon-level violence, revelations WC: 8.2k - MASTERLIST
----
"Alright, you’ve slept long enough."
You're jolted awake by a rough tug on the covers, the sudden chill of the morning air hitting you like a slap in the face. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you squint up at the figure looming over you.
Logan, with his perpetually grumpy expression, stands there with an annoyed look, as if your very act of sleeping is a personal offense.
You groan and sit up, the duvet still tangled around your legs, as you blearily glance at the small bedside clock on the rickety nightstand. The red numbers blink back at you: 7:00 AM. “Seriously?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, your other still clutching the edge of the bed. “It’s way too early for this. Can’t I get a few more minutes?”
His eyes narrow, not even a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. He rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ and crosses his arms over his chest. "You look fine to me," he says flatly, his voice dripping with impatience.
Throwing the covers back with more force than necessary, you let out an exaggerated sigh. The cold floor sends a shiver up your spine as your bare feet make contact with it. "What’s the rush?" you ask, your tone sharp with irritation as you glare up at him. "You’re acting like we’ve got a deadline."
Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a telltale glint in his eye that betrays him. It’s subtle, but you catch it—a fleeting spark of amusement that makes you think he’s secretly enjoying riling you up. Suddenly he turns and heads toward the makeshift kitchen in the corner of the warehouse and pulls a piece of bread out of an ancient toaster, the appliance looking like it’s barely functioning.
Without warning, Logan flicks his wrist, and the piece of bread comes flying at you. The movement is so fast and precise that you barely have time to react. It’s only thanks to your heighten reflexes that your hand shoots out to catch the bread mid-air. You stare at it, bewildered, the heat from the toast seeping into your palm.
"What’s this for?" you ask, still confused and a little off-kilter from the morning's whirlwind of events.
He raises an eyebrow. "Fuck does it look like? Eat up."
You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take a bite of the slightly burnt toast. “You know," you mumble between bites, "you could’ve just handed it to me like a normal person."
"Where’s the fun in that?" he shoots back, a rare, almost genuine grin tugging at his lips as he watches you chew. There’s a moment of silence as you both settle into the morning routine, the tension easing just a bit.
As you finish the toast, you can’t help but glance up at Logan, who’s now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression.
"You wanna know why I really woke you up so early?" he asks, his voice low and direct.
"Why? Because you’re secretly a morning person who loves watching the sunrise?"
Logan snorts, clearly unimpressed with your sarcasm. "No, because your fighting form is shit"
You gape, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "Excuse me?"
He doesn’t let up, leaning in a bit closer. "Yeah, you heard me. When we were fightin’, you were all over the place. If you’re gonna be any use out there today, you’ll need some pointers. So for a bit this morning, we’re gonna train."
"You woke me up early... to tell me I suck at combat?" You stare at him, processing his words. The audacity makes you want to laugh.
"You don’t suck,” he begins. “You just need to get better. And since I’m the one stuck with you on this mission, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed."
You let out a sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning”
“Think of it as a warm up.”
He doesn’t wait for your agreement. Instead, he just jerks his head toward the exit and turns on his heel, clearly expecting you to follow. With a resigned sigh, you grab your boots and tug them on as you hurry to catch up with him. He leads you to a cracked patch of concrete behind the building, a makeshift training ground that looks as rough as you feel.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”
“Fine,” you say, squaring up.
In a flash, he lunges at you. Luckily, you dodge the first blow by sheer instinct, a sharp jab aimed at your ribs. The intensity sends a shockwave through your body, even though you managed to twist away just in time. It’s 7:00AM!!
Logan doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. He’s on you again, faster this time, his movements a blur as he swings a fist toward your head. You duck just in time, feeling the rush of air as his punch grazes past your temple. Jumping to the side, you try to put some distance between you and his relentless assault
"Faster!" he snaps, his voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. "You're movin’ like a damn slug. If this were a real fight, you'd be dead ten times over by now."
His words are irritating, but they only fuel your determination. Summoning the latent power within you, you leap back, opening a gap. You can feel it there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. He pounces again, and this time, you’re prepared. Channeling you super speed, you begin to dart around him, moving so fast he can’t keep up. In one swift motion, you lift your leg and land a swift kick to his side.
Logan grunts, but still he barely flinches, spinning around to face you. His eyes narrow in assessment. "Not bad," he grunts, "but not good enough."
His claws extend with a shink before you can even respond, and he swings at you, slicing right up in your face. You try to dodge, but the tips catch your cheek and create a deep gash.
"Are you trying to kill me?" you shout, frustration bubbling to the surface as you counter with a punch of your own, your strength amplifying the blow.
Logan blocks it with his forearm, the impact reverberating through both of you. You’re pretty sure you heard a few bones crack. He snarls, his eyes flashing with challenge and something else—maybe pride. If you want to be optimistic.
"I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed," he retorts, pushing you back with a forceful shove.
Your anger blazes at his words, and without thinking, your powers flare up again. This time, your hands crackle with energy, a faint orange glow sparking to life at your fingertips. You lash out at him with a rapid series of punches, each one laced with your mutant energy. He dodges most of them, but a few land, sending sparks flying where they connect with his body.
"That’s more like it" he says. He advances, switching to the offensive, forcing you to backpedal. "But you’re still letting your emotions get the better of you."
"Maybe because you’re pissing me off, asshole!" you snap, your frustration boiling over as you land another punch, this time aiming for his chest. The impact sends him stumbling back a good five metres, but he recovers quickly, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.
"Good," he says, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the pain. "Just don’t let it control you.""
His words barely register as your anger continues to rise, fueled by his constant ‘pointers’. You keep pushing, your attacks becoming more aggressive, more reckless. Logan meets each one with an attack of his own, his claws flashing as they slice through the air, blocking your every move. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with the energy of your growing powers and the heat of your rising emotions. You go at him again, harder this time, and that’s when it happens.
Something straight out of a nightmare. You feel a sudden surge of energy—hot and thick, like molten lava—coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming, and before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, your hands begin to glow brighter, the orange light intensifying until it’s almost blinding.
“Whoa—what the—?” you murmur, staring at your fists in shock as they burn with an intense, fiery orange, like heated iron.
Logan should be scared. You clearly have no idea what this is or what you could do with it. Yet, he doesn’t back down; instead, he presses onward. “Stay focused!”
But the energy in your hands is overwhelming, a burning heat that demands release. You feel it building, pushing you to the edge of what you can handle, and by impulse, you swing at him, aiming for his midsection with all your might.
The moment your fist connects with his stomach, the world seems to slow down. The sensation is surreal—you can feel your hand sink into his flesh, the resistance giving way as if his body were made of butter. Heat radiates from your fist, searing through his skin and muscle with an intensity that you’ve never felt before. To your absolute horror, your glowing hand doesn’t stop; it punches right through him, emerging out the other side.
For a second, everything is silent. The world holds its breath as the shock of what you’ve just done paralyzes you. Your breath catches in your throat, a suffocating lump of panic rising as you stare in disbelief at the sight before you. The feeling of your hand inside him, of flesh parting and melting, is too much, too wrong.
Then, the silence shatters as you scream, the sound raw and filled with terror. You jerk your hand back, nearly stumbling as you pull away, eyes wide. Logan stumbles too, his usually steady form momentarily thrown off balance. His shirt smokes from the burn, a charred hole marking where your hand had been. The smell of burnt fabric and flesh hits you, making your stomach twist in nauseous fear.
“Oh my God, Logan!” you cry out, “I—I didn’t mean to—”
But to your surprise, he doesn’t collapse. Instead, he looks down at the gaping hole in his stomach, then back at you, his expression more impressed than anything.
“Knifey,” he grunts, sounding almost amused despite the situation, “that was one hell of a punch.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, as the glow fades from your hands. “Are you—are you okay? I just burned a hole through you!”
He chuckles, though the sound is definitely a bit strained. “A little hot under the collar, maybe, but I’ve had worse.” He winces slightly as his skin begins to knit back together, healing rapidly thanks to his mutant ability. “Don’t worry, this’ll close up in no time. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”
“But I… I could have killed you.”
“Nah,” Logan says, waving off your concern. “You’re not the first person to try and fail. Besides, I’m more impressed that you’ve got that in you.” He glances at his now-healed stomach, then back at you with a smirk. “Just maybe aim a little better next time, yeah?”
----
You’re fucking exhausted. He really put you through the ringer—pushing you further than you’ve ever been pushed before. Your muscles ache, your skin is slick with sweat, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. Logan, on the other hand, seems barely winded, though even he has a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a gaping hole in his shirt.
Your hands are on your knees as you bend over and try to slow your breathing. “You�� really don’t… know when to quit, do you?” you manage to gasp out between breaths.
“Well, you’re not gonna drop dead on me, are you?” He shoots back, not caring at all about your current state.
Shaking your head, too tired to come up with a snarky retort, you barely respond. “Not yet,” you mutter, trying to rub some life back into your aching limbs.
“Good. Now come on,” Logan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.”
He steps away, heading back toward the warehouse, and you force yourself to follow, your legs heavy and protesting with every step. He moves with purpose, heading straight to a small table tucked in one corner, where a map lies spread out, weighed down by a few random items—a knife here, an old mug there. Not wasting any time, he leans over the map and traces a finger across several locations marked in red.
“Look,” he says, not bothering to wait for you to catch up. You step closer, peering over his shoulder at the map.
“We’re here,” he begins, pointing to a spot on the map that corresponds with your current location. “Your last few mutant encounters were in these areas.” He taps on the cluster of red dots. “We’re gonna hit these spots, see if we can find any leads on where they’re comin’ from.”
“Okay…” You follow.
He stares at the pages for a brief moment longer, before looking up at you with a small smirk, like he know’s hes next words are going to piss you off.
"Change of plans by the way. I’ll go on the roof, and you’ll stay on the ground. That way, the mutants will be able to find you."
You blink at him, your expression shifting from frustration to disbelief. "Pause. You’re using me as bait?"
"Yeah. Works better if they’re lured in by something they’re actually interested in." His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, the kind that shows he’s fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds but doesn’t care.
"Oh, great. So I’m just a distraction for you now? What happened to teamwork?"
Logan just shrugs nonchalantly in response, as if this is the most logical plan in the world, . "We’re still teamin’ up," he replies, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Just taking a different approach. Besides, you’ve shown that you can handle them," he adds, mocking your voice in a poorly done imitation, “26 kills, remember?’"
You narrow your eyes at him, now fully facing him and glaring daggers in his direction. "Handle them?" you echo, "What if I don’t want to be used as bait for some dangerous plan? I thought we were supposed to be on the same side here."
"It’s not like I’m asking you to walk into a death trap, bub. It’s just a way to flush them out. I’ll be right above, ready to help if things get too hairy."
"Yeah, that’s real reassuring," you snap back, "what’s next? Are you going to throw me into a pit of mutants and hope I manage to climb out?"
"I wish," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
Letting out a heavy sigh, you just keep your mouth shut. The idea of being dangled out like a worm on a hook doesn't sit well with you, but arguing with Logan has proven to be as effective as punching a brick wall. Your muscles are screaming for rest, and your mind is a whirlpool of fatigue and annoyance.
"God damnit. Fine," you concede reluctantly, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the lingering soreness. "But if this goes south, it’s on you, jackass."
“Fair enough,” he says, grabbing a worn leather jacket from the back of a nearby chair and slipping it on. The jacket strains slightly across his muscular frame, the creases and scuffs telling tales of countless past encounters.
He then shuffles toward a cluttered metal locker against the wall, pulling it open with a screech of old hinges. Inside hangs an assortment of gear: knives of various sizes, a couple of handguns, and a coiled rope. Is this even legal? You think. He grabs a sleek, compact earpiece from a small shelf and tosses it in your direction.
"Keep that on," he instructs. "We'll need to stay in contact. If you spot anything—or if anything spots you—you let me know immediately."
You examine the earpiece for a moment before fitting it snugly into your ear. A short burst of static confirms it's operational. "Got it," you reply, adjusting it until it sits comfortably.
Logan equips his own earpiece before reaching back into the locker and arming himself with a couple of vicious-looking weapons, tucking them into concealed sheaths along his belt and boots. The familiar routine seems to settle him, his movements efficient and practiced.
He catches you watching him as he methodically puts on his gear, and instead of asking if you’re armed, he pauses and reaches into the locker. With a swift swoosh he pulls out a sharp, gleaming blade.
The blade is perfectly balanced, and when he passes it to you, it fits comfortably in your hand. As you inspect it, you notice the craftsmanship—sturdy, reliable, and razor-sharp. Definitely an upgrade from your usual gear.
Guaging your reaction, his eyebrows raise in amusement. "Better than your last weapon, ya think Knifey?" he says.
You glance up at him, unable to suppress a small smile as you give the blade an experimental twirl. Giving a brief nod, you tuck the blade securely into a sheath at your side, feeling a bit more confident. He nods back in acknowledgement, and then he checks his watch. The morning is slipping away, and the streets outside will soon be bustling with people going about their day—a perfect cover for the dangers you're hunting. Folding up the map, he stuffs it into his back pocket before striding toward the exit.
----
Once you’ve entered a busier part of the city, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding buildings with a practiced eye. He turns to you, his expression all business. "We'll start over on Fifth Avenue," he says, nodding toward a maze of streets that stretch out ahead. "That's where the last sighting was reported."
You shield your eyes against the glare, following his line of sight. The streets look deceptively calm, but you know better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.
"Stay alert," he commands. "Don't make yourself too obvious, but don't be too subtle either. We want to draw them out, but not scare them off."
You scoff lightly, adjusting your jacket and running a quick hand over your gear to ensure everything's in place. "So act like a clueless pedestrian but also like a tempting target. Got it."
He gives you a pointed look. "Just be yourself," he quips, before he turns away and starts toward the side of the building. Rude, you think.
You watch as he approaches the fire escape, his movements fluid and sure. After a quick glance around to ensure no one's watching, he leaps up, grabbing the bottom rung and hauling himself up with ease. Within moments, he's scaled the side of the building, disappearing onto the rooftop above.
His voice crackles to life in your ear. "You ready down there?"
Taking a deep breath, you step out onto the sidewalk, blending seamlessly into the flow of pedestrians beginning their day. "As I'll ever be," you reply, starting to walk at a casual pace down the street.
The city unfolds around you, a tapestry of sights and sounds that are at once familiar and disconcerting under the circumstances. You weave through clusters of people, your senses heightened as you scan your surroundings discreetly, looking for any sign of unusual activity. Above, you catch fleeting glimpses of Logan moving along the rooftops, his silhouette a shadow among shadows as he keeps pace with you. Minutes tick by as you make your way toward the target street, each step measured, each glance calculated. The morning bustle grows thicker, and the air fills with the scents of street food vendors setting up shop and the distant rumble of construction work.
"Anything?" His voice buzzes softly in your ear.
You shake your head slightly, replying under your breath to avoid drawing attention. "Nothing yet. Just the usual morning rush."
"Keep moving. They could be anywhere."
You continue on, turning onto Fifth Avenue, and as you pass by a narrow alleyway, a prickle of unease runs down your spine. You pause briefly, casting a casual glance down the shadowed corridor. It's empty, littered with discarded boxes and a stray shopping cart, but something about it feels off.
"Logan, you see anything unusual around here?" you murmur, pretending to adjust your earpiece like they’re earbuds.
There's a fleeting silence before he responds. "Hold on." You look up subtly, catching sight of him perched on the edge of a building, his eyes scanning the area with predator-like focus.
After a moment, his voice comes through again, lower and edged with caution. "There's a van parked two blocks down that doesn't seem to fit. Tinted windows, no plates."
You resume walking, heading in that direction while trying keeping your demeanor relaxed. "Could just be someone avoiding parking tickets," you suggest, though your instincts tell you otherwise.
"Shut up," Logan replies with zero hesitation, calling your bluff. "Stay sharp."
Approaching the intersection, you spot the van he's referring to. It's an unmarked, nondescript vehicle that seems deliberately inconspicuous—a little too inconspicuous for this part of town. Slowing down your pace slightly, you pretend to window-shop as you try to take in more details. The engine is off, but you can make out faint movement behind the tinted glass. "Definitely something going on there," you whisper, angling your body to keep the van in your peripheral vision. "Think it’s our guys?"
"Could be," Logan responds tersely. "Keep walking. Let's see if they follow."
Doing as instructed, you walk past the van and cross the street, risking another glance back. The van's engine has started, its headlights flicking on as it pulls out into traffic, maintaining a slow but steady distance behind you.
"Yup, they're following me," you report.
"Good. Lead them toward the park ahead. Fewer civilians there."
You spot the small urban park a few blocks down—a patch of green amid the concrete jungle, dotted with benches and sparse morning joggers. "On it," you confirm, quickening your pace just enough to be noticeable without raising suspicion.
The crowds thin out as you near the park entrance. Behind you, the van slows to a stop along the curb, and you can feel eyes boring into your back. "Logan, they're stopping," you inform him, subtly scanning your surroundings for any immediate threats.
"I see them," he says. "Three guys getting out. Can't get a clear look from here. Keep moving forward. I'll get into position."
You carry on down the path, resisting the urge to look back. Your senses are on high alert now, adrenaline surging through your veins and washing away the remnants of your earlier exhaustion. Footsteps echo behind you—heavy, purposeful strides that are too close and too focused to belong to casual park-goers, and you catch a glimpse of their reflections in a nearby puddle: three men dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by caps and sunglasses.
"Closer than I'd like," you mutter under your breath.
"Just a little further," Logan assures you. "There's a clearing up ahead. Better visibility."
A grassy open space surrounded by trees, currently deserted, comes into view just as he footsteps behind you quicken, closing the distance rapidly. You stop in the center, turning slowly to face them, and although you’re positively shitting bricks, you try to stay composed.
The three men fan out in a semi-circle around you, their postures aggressive and eyes cold. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the one you think is the leader sneers, his voice oily and mocking. "Out for a morning stroll all alone?"
You force a casual shrug. "Just enjoying the fresh air. Is that a crime now?"
He chuckles darkly, taking a step closer. "Depends on who's asking. You look a little lost. Maybe we can help you find your way."
Your hand inches toward your concealed blade, fingers itching for reassurance. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm good," you reply evenly, eyes darting between the three men as you gauge their intentions.
"Don't think you understand," another one pipes up, his voice harsher, more eager. "We insist."
Before you can respond, the leader's eyes flash with a sudden, green glow, and you feel a sharp, invisible force slam into your chest, knocking you back a few steps. You grit your teeth against the pain, steadying yourself quickly.
"I think now would be a great time to do something," you murmur urgently into the earpiece, your fingers closing around the grip of your weapon.
"On my way," Logan’s voice comes through, and you can hear his breathing as he jumps through buildings.
The men advance, confidence oozing from their stances as they prepare to strike again. You draw your weapon in defence, not waiting for them to make another move. "Back off," you warn.
He laughs, a grating sound that echoes through the clearing. "Or what? You gonna stab me? Go ahead, try."
Challenge accepted. You aim the blade, and hurl it towards him. The target is on point, but inches before impact, it stops mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground as the leader smirks, his powers deflecting the attack effortlessly.
"You're gonna have to do better than that," he taunts, his hands glowing with a sinister energy as he prepares to strike again.
Then, a feral roar cuts through the air, and Logan drops from the trees above like a force of nature, landing directly on top of one of the men and driving him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Claws out and eyes blazing, he wastes no time, slashing at the second man who barely manages to leap back in time, a gash opening up across his chest.
The leader's smug expression falters as he takes in the sudden turn of events. "Who the hell is this?" he snarls, recoiling slightly as Logan stands between you and the attackers, his presence an unyielding wall of defense.
"You don’t want to find out" he growls, his voice menacing.
The other two mutants, momentarily stunned by the Wolverine’s sudden appearance, quickly regain their composure. The first one charges, his hands crackling with energy. But Logan is faster—much faster. He sidesteps the attack with grace, then drives his claws into the mutant's side, a deep, brutal strike that leaves the man gasping and crumpling to the ground.
The second mutant, seeing his comrade fall, hesitates for a split second before launching himself at you, clearly deciding that you're the easier target. Except you’re not. As he closes in, you speedily side step around him, a blur of motion as you reach for the blade on the ground.
Once it’s in your grasp, you pivot around, and slash upward, slicing through his clothing, biting into his flesh. He lets out a strangled cry, stumbling back as blood blooms across his shirt.
"Think again," you snap, your voice cold and sharp, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You press the attack, your blade a barely visible with the speed at which you wield it as you force him back, not giving him a chance to recover. The leader, seeing his subordinates falling one by one, finally shakes off his shock and focuses his eyes at you. With a snarl, he raises his hands, the air around them shimmering. He thrusts his hands forward, sending a pulse of raw power hurtling toward you.
Feeling your power surge through your veins, heating your blood, your hands begin to glow with that familiar fiery light, the same power that burnt a hole right through Logan earlier that day. You meet the leader’s attack head-on, your fist colliding with the ball of energy. The force of the impact sends shockwaves through the air, and makes you grimace, but you hold your ground, refusing to be pushed back.
The mutant’s eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you deflect his attack. His confidence wavers, replaced by a creeping fear. "This wasn’t part of the plan," he mutters, staggering back as he desperately tries to summon more power.
"Don’t care," you retort, slowly stalking closer and closer. He tries to make a run for it, but you catch up to him easily, grabbing his arm, causing him to scream in agony as the heat sears through his flesh.
Logan, upon discarding his now lifeless victim, approaches the leader in an instant. He grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly with one hand. The mutant struggles weakly, his energy spent, his body trembling from the burns and the wounds inflicted by your hands.
"You picked the wrong target," Wolverine growls, his voice a lethal whisper. He tightens his grip, his claws hovering dangerously close to the leader’s throat. "Who sent you?"
The leader gasps for air, his eyes wild with panic as he looks between you and Logan. "We were… sent to attack… ," he stammers. "Mind control… we were forced to…"
Your heart skips a beat as his words sink in. It’s confirmed: mind control. These mutants weren’t acting on their own—they were being manipulated, turned into weapons against you. "Who’s controlling you?" you demand, stepping closer, your hand still glowing with residual energy.
His lips part, as if he’s about to speak, but then his entire body seizes up. His eyes widen in terror, and you think he might be having a seizure. He tries to speak–to move his mouth, but no sound comes out, his expression contorting as he struggles against some invisible force.
"Oh God, something’s wrong," you say, glancing at him with concern.
Logan lowers him to the ground, and crouches beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "What the hell is going on?" he growls, but the mutant can only gasp, his eyes rolling back as if in agony.
You can see the panic in the man’s eyes as he fights against whatever is controlling him. It’s clear that he wants to tell you something, but he’s physically unable to do so. The mind control is stopping him, choking off his words before he can get them out.
Desperation drives you to act. You drop to your knees beside the mutant, gripping his other shoulder. "You need to tell us where they are," you insist, your voice urgent. "Give us a clue—anything."
His body shakes, his teeth grinding together as he forces out a single, strained word. "T… tunnel…" he gasps, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. "Underground…"
But before he can finish, his body convulses violently, as if an electric shock is coursing through him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, his eyes wide with terror. Blood begins to trickle from his nose, his body seizing uncontrollably. You and Logan can only watch in horror as the man's life is snuffed out right before your eyes. His head snaps back, and just like that, his body goes limp, collapsing to the ground with a final, sickening thud.
Logan bends down to check his pulse, but you already know the answer by the grim expression that settles over his face. "He's dead," he says flatly, wiping his hands on his pants as he stands back up.
You stare down at the lifeless body, your heart pounding in your chest. "Damn it," you mutter under your breath. Whoever was controlling him clearly didn’t want him to reveal anything more. "They got to him."
Logan clenches his fists, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Looks like they’ve got failsafes in place. This wasn’t just a fluke."
"So now not only are we dealing with a puppet master, we’re dealing with a psycho fries people’s brains if they talk. Fantastic."
He shoots you a look. "You done complaining? Because we’ve still got shit to do."
"Complaining? I’m just pointing out that our situation sucks, Logan." You glare back at him.
He shrugs, clearly unbothered. "Yeah, well, whining about it won’t get us anywhere. We need to find another way to track down whoever’s behind this."
You’re about to snap back when your eyes catch on the van still idling at the edge of the park. "The van," you say, your tone shifting from irritation to sudden realization. "Think we can track it back to whoever sent them?"
Following your gaze, his expression softens slightly as he considers the idea. "Maybe. If we’re lucky, they didn’t wipe the GPS data. Could give us a clue where these bastards came from."
You let out a huff, trying to ignore the slight sense of relief that Logan actually liked your idea. "Well, let’s hope they’re not as smart as they think they are."
You reach the van and climb inside, the smell of sweat and metal thick in the air. The dashboard is cluttered with tech—nothing too advanced, but enough to suggest this van has been modified for more than just transport. A laptop is mounted to the dash, screens dim but flickering to life as you settle into the passenger seat.
He slides into the driver’s seat, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. "Let’s get this thing back to the warehouse," he says, "We’ll see what we can pull from the system. Might give us something solid to go on."
Not waiting for anything else, he just shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb, keeping his eyes on the road as he maneuvers through the narrow streets.
----
Back at his place, Logan grabs the laptop and other tech from the van, motioning for you to follow him as he heads to a makeshift workstation near the back of the warehouse. The setup is basic but functional—tools, weapons, and old electronics.
Following him, you can still feel the adrenaline from earlier buzzing through your system. He sets the laptop down, and powers it up. The screen flickers to life, and he starts navigating through the van’s GPS system. "You think they’ll be expecting us to track them?" you ask, leaning against the edge of the workbench.
All you get in response is a grunt, his eyes never leaving the screen. "They’re not idiots. They’ve probably figured out we’d try to follow the trail. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this."
The screen fills with maps, coordinates, and location markers. Logan hones in on one spot just outside the city—a cluster of old industrial buildings with access to underground tunnels. He taps the screen, highlighting the location. "This is where the van’s been going. It’s our best lead."
You study the location, a sense of unease creeping in. "So, what’s the plan? We just storm in?"
He shakes his head, leaning back slightly as he thinks it through. "No. If we go in too soon, they’ll be ready for us. We need to play this smart—wait a couple of days, let them think we’re not doin’ shit.”
Recognizing the wisdom in his approach, you nod. "Alright, but what do we do in the meantime? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs?"
"We keep an eye on the place, see if there’s any movement. We prep, we rest, and when the time comes, we hit them with everything we’ve got. We’ll be bunking here for a few days.”
You look around the warehouse. In a day, this place has gone from some ugly dump to your new safe haven. Great.
Logan moves to secure the van, checking the locks and making sure everything’s in place. As he does, he glances over at you, almost as if he can hear your thoughts. "You’re lucky you’ve got a bed—my bed," he emphasizes.
You shoot him a teasing look. "Hey, you offered. I would’ve taken the couch… but don’t offer that now because I’ve decided I like the bed."
With the van in place, the clawed mutant moves toward the small kitchen area tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. You watch him curiously, wondering what he’s up to. He pulls out a few ingredients from the pantry, setting them on the counter with practiced ease.
"Figured you might be hungry," he grunts, opening a few cabinets and pulling out some pots and pans.
"You cook?"
He tips his head back just enough to catch your eye. "Yeah, I cook. What, you think I survive on just beer and grumpy stares?"
"Wouldn’t be too far off," you snicker, leaning against the counter as he starts chopping vegetables..
"Sit down. This’ll be done in a bit," he says, focusing on his task.
You do as he says, settling onto a nearby stool and watching as Logan moves around the kitchen with surprising skill. He’s making pasta—something simple but hearty. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh tomatoes and herbs. It’s strange to see him like this, in such a domestic setting, but you can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing.
"Didn’t peg you as the culinary type," you comment, unable to resist.
"You pick up a few things when you’ve been around as long as I have” he says, tossing the vegetables into the pan with a flick of his wrist.
When the meal is ready, Logan plates up the pasta and hands you a bowl. The aroma is mouthwatering, and you dig in eagerly, surprised by just how good it is. The two of you eat in companionable silence, the tension from earlier easing as you enjoy the food. You watch him for a moment, the normalcy of it all striking you once more. It’s a side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but one that makes you appreciate the depth of the man behind the gruff exterior.
As the night falls, Logan heads to his makeshift bed in the corner of the warehouse, while you make your way to the bed he begrudgingly gave up.
"You sure you’re okay with the couch?" you ask, more out of habit than anything else.
Logan shoots you a look, already half-lying down. "You’re the one who wanted the bed, remember? Just get some sleep.”
You smirk at his gruffness, knowing now that it’s just his way.
----
The next few days in the warehouse pass in a strange, almost surreal calm. The constant adrenaline of your life as of late takes a backseat as you and Logan settle into a routine that feels more like a bizarre kind of roommate situation than anything else.
Each morning, you wake to the sound of Logan already up and moving, the metallic clang of his claws as he practices in the open space of the warehouse. You join him for training, and though the sessions are intense, they lack that certain edge of urgency. It’s like you’re both conserving your energy for the fight to come, knowing that the real battle is just on the horizon.
"You’re still dropping your left shoulder," he points out one morning as you spar, his claws swinging.
You huff, blocking his strike with your blade. "And you’re still grumbling like an old man."
He rolls his eyes, dodging your next attack with a quick sidestep. "That’s because I am an old man, Knifey. What’s your excuse?"
"Just trying to keep up with you, gramps." You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you press the attack.
In the afternoons, after you’ve both worn yourselves out with training, you’d find yourselves sitting on the edge of the raised platform that serves as Logan’s makeshift living area. The warehouse is quiet, the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of metal settling in the walls. It’s in these moments of stillness that you start to learn more about Logan—not the Wolverine, the fierce, unrelenting fighter—but Logan, the man behind the claws.
He doesn’t talk much about his past; it’s clear that there are parts of it he prefers to keep buried. But every now and then, something slips out—a story, a memory, a glimpse into the man he used to be before everything went to hell.
One specific day stands out. The two of you are sitting side by side on the edge of the platform, the remains of a quick meal scattered around you. Logan is unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on his retracted claws as his hands rest on his knees. His usual tough exterior seems to soften, just for a moment, and you can sense that something’s weighing on him.
"You ever wonder what it would’ve been like… if things had gone differently?" you ask, breaking the silence. The question is vague, open-ended, but you know he’ll understand.
His expression darkens slightly, but he doesn’t look away from his hands. "Yeah," he says after a long pause, his voice rougher than usual. "Sometimes. But thinking about it too much… it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it easier."
You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Weapon X… they really did a number on you, didn’t they?"
He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and what you see in his eyes is old pain and hard-earned resilience. "Yeah," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of years of suffering. "They did. Turned me into a weapon. Made me forget who I was… who I wanted to be."
He pauses, the memories clearly painful to revisit. "They didn’t just mess with my body," he continues bitterly. "They messed with my mind. Took away my memories, twisted what was left until I didn’t even know my own name. I was nothing but a tool to them, somethin’ they could use and discard when they were done."
The brutal honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but feel anger on his behalf. "But you fought back," you say softly, more a statement than a question.
Logan nods. "They tried to break me, and for a while, they did. I was just… lost. But they didn’t count on me fighting back. Didn’t count on me surviving."
"They underestimated you," you say, listening intently, feeling a deep respect for the strength it must have taken for him to claw his way back from that darkness.
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth, and for a moment, you see a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he says, a little lighter now. "A lot of people have."
There’s a fleeting pause, his words settling between you. It’s heavy, but you’re seeing a side of Logan that few people ever get to see, and you can tell that it’s not easy for him to open up like this.
Then, almost as if sensing the need to shift the mood, Logan changes the subject, leaning back on his hands as he starts to tell you about some of the more absurd things he’s witnessed over the years. "You wouldn’t believe some of the crap I’ve been through," he says, his voice taking on a dry, almost amused tone.
He launches into a story that’s so ridiculous, so utterly bizarre, that you can’t help but laugh—really laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. The way he tells it, with that deadpan delivery and his signature gruffness, only makes it funnier.
"You’ve really seen it all, haven’t you?" you say, shaking your head in disbelief after one particularly outrageous tale involving a mutant with the ability to turn into a giant bird. "Seriously, how do you even get into these situations?"
Logan shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "It’s just another day in the life, Knifey. Weird shit happens when you’ve lived as long as I have."
His words linger in the air, and suddenly, a realization dawns on you. You’ve been so focused on the immediate dangers, the fights, and the missions that you haven’t fully processed what it means to be a mutant, to have regenerative abilities like Logan’s. If you can heal from almost any wound, if your body can recover from injuries that would kill anyone else… does that mean you’re going to live as long as he has? Decades, maybe centuries? The thought hits you like a freight train.
"Oh shit, Logan," you blurt out. "Am I going to be around as long as you? I regenerate too!"
Immediately noticing the change in your demeanor, his sharp eyes lock onto yours. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to steady you. "Breathe."
But it’s like a dam has burst inside your mind, the implications of what you’ve just realized flooding in all at once. "Logan, if I have these abilities… I’ll outlive everyone I know, everyone I care about…"
Your thoughts begin to spiral, the fear and uncertainty taking root, and suddenly the idea of immortality—something you’d never seriously considered before—feels more like a curse than a gift. You’re faced with the prospect of endless years, of watching everyone you love age and die while you remain unchanged.
Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that brooks no argument. "Look at me," he says, and when you meet his gaze, the intensity there makes you freeze. "I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah, it’s scary as hell. But you gotta keep it together. You’re not alone in this."
"But how do you deal with it?" you ask.
He’s quiet for a moment, his expression hard as he wrestles with the weight of your question. When he speaks, his voice is deep, almost a growl.
"It ain’t easy," he admits, his tone roughened by years of pain. "There are days when it feels like too damn much. But you take it one day at a time. You focus on the people who matter, on what you can do right now. ‘Cause that’s all any of us really got, no matter how long we’re around."
His words are meant to comfort, but the enormity of what he’s saying still feels overwhelming. "And when everyone’s gone?" you whisper, the thought of outliving everyone you love already eating you from the inside out. "What happens then?"
Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, Logan’s eyes hardening with a resolve that you can almost feel. "You keep goin’," he says gravelly.
"You keep fightin’ ‘cause that’s what you do. You find new people to care about, new reasons to get up in the morning. The world keeps turning, and there’s always somethin’ worth fighting for. The people you lose, they wouldn’t want you givin’ up."
The conviction in his voice, the sheer will to survive, even after everything he’s been through, gives you something to hold onto. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the fear still lingers. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”
He meets your gaze. "You are," he says. "You’re tougher than you think. And you’re not doin’ this alone. I ain’t dying anytime soon.”
You nod slowly. "Yeah… we’ve got each other."
His hand moves from your shoulder to your back, giving you a firm pat, like he’s trying to physically drive the point home. "Damn right we do. And don’t go worryin’ ‘bout the future. One day at a time, got it?"
You manage a smile, the first real one you’ve felt in what seems like forever. "Got it," you whisper, feeling a sense of calm starting to settle in.
Logan seems satisfied with that. He’s about to say something else when he stops, gaping. He just stares at you, his usual tough-guy demeanor slipping for a second as he takes in the sight of you smiling—really smiling, something he probably hasn’t seen much of.
The words die on his lips, and for a moment, he looks almost… caught off guard. His eyes are fixed on you, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t noticed before, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
"What?" you ask.
Logan blinks, shaking his head slightly as if snapping out of a daze. He clears his throat, quickly looking away, his gruffness returning like a shield. "Nothin’," he mutters. "Just… you’ve got a nice smile, that’s all."
You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The way he said it, so simple yet so sincere, makes your heart stutter in your chest.
"Well, don’t get used to it," you quip. "I’m sure you’ll piss me off again soon enough."
Logan huffs out a laugh, shooting you a sideways glance, his lips quirking into a small smirk. "Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less."
----
A/N: The plot is really going to pick up from here on out!
----
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