#nothing gets one going like a good health talk
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Thats a good point, I see all kinds of neurodivergence in my family but only a couple of us in my generation, afaik, have a diagnosis.
However, my gp attended a recent talk about overlap of queer folk with neurodivergence and also a group of comorbid illnesses including, iirc, POTS/MCAS/EDS/CFS theres a couple others Im just blanking. Digestive issues? Things that we've broadly noticed as a community, and it seems like its starting to be studied.
And also, everyone has some kind of trauma, idk how many people if any have no kind of disability whatsoever, humanity is vast and diverse. And we're wired to look for patterns. Interpret this information how you will, I certainly cant say for sure if these patterns are broader than trans people, or are more people trans than we expect, are we seeing correlation or causation or is there a mechanism in common with all these labels thats the deeper cause, is queerness an interchangeable/'sometimes' factor or a central one, we are way too early to know that yet.
I think its probably not nothing. But we're also not uniquely fucked up. Maybe we're just sticking out, so to speak, so thats where the research is starting. Many people werent taking ME/CFS seriously until long covid prompted more research bc, iirc, there was now a lot more people affected who were harder to ignore. And who were seeking help. Like a lot of people have an allergy or a dodgy wrist or "that weird thing with my digestion" and they dont consider it a disability or seek treatment, yknow? And especially mental health and especially what runs in families, it looks normal to you so why would you ever bring it up to a dr? "Everyone struggles with these things. Everyone feels this way" well you do and your parents and aunts and uncles do and your siblings do, and maybe you told a dr forty years ago you were in pain and they brushed you off so you thought everyone was walking around in agony.
And that gets into an adjacent conversation about medicalising and diagnosing and when does that help and when is it like, making a negative thing of normal human experiences and variations, its not a disorder till its negatively impacting your life, if youre surviving but treatment could help you thrive is it worth the side effects etc etc plus the whole discussion of psychiatry in particular which can be an amount of guesswork and diagnostic labels are often just patterns of symptoms that we see oftrn go together and we dont always yet understand the underlying neurology. (One of my all time best therapists kept up with the latest neuroscience and always had very good and effective suggestions. I only stopped seeing her bc I moved away. If you can be seeing professionals who are keeping up with research, definitely prefer them over someone who hasnt learned anything since they completed training 50 years ago. Always.)
Tl;dr I agree with OP and also this stuff is extremely complex and we're always learning new things about us!
something that should be taken with a grain of salt are the statistics talking about the high rates of mental illness + neurodivergence among trans people (ocd, bpd, adhd, autism, etc)
I see both sides of the political spectrum taking these studies at face value - conservatives say we're broken, and trans people try to come up with reasons why for example autism + gender dysphoria makes sense and why one of them feeds into another
at the end of the day you have to remember that we're the one category of people on this planet who are legally required to go see a psychiatrist in order to receive non-psychiatric medication and surgeries.
more trans people are in therapy by law than any other demographic of people, and as a result, this captures more comorbidities.
if I had to look at my own family & rates of mental illness?
mom, dad, 2 maternal aunts, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, sister, sibling, and me all have OCD.
7/9 of them are cishet, never been to therapy, never diagnosed. 2/9 are trans, required therapy for hormone treatment, and were diagnosed.
you don't have to do any math to just see that the resulting statistics end up intensely skewed.
and we can think back to how autism was virtually never diagnosed more than 50 years ago - ruling out any grandparents being included in statistics - and even my parents' generation (they're in their 60s now) wouldn't have been included either.
I don't think it's to anyone's benefit to accept these studies uncritically. a lot of these things are hereditary and far more prevalent in the overall population than people realize
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headcannons , ┓
• → Featuring . Hiragi Toma as your FUBU !
☁️┆ ⤿ request by @anon :3 ༺ ╰ ღ WBK : requests open ╯🦢
• HIRAGI TOMA as your fubu — headcannons ! •
warnings . contains nsfw , degrading , pet names , semi-public sex , fluff , all characters used are aged up to 18 , f!reader + not proof read yet . note . some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't my first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. ๑❛ᴗ❛๑ authors note . this is slightly rushed since I'm in the midst of my exams , and I feel bad for making you wait for too long :( so I decided to work on this !! And I wasn't really sure about the layout, but nevertheless— please enjoy reading !
fubu!hiragi , who always has a mouthful about being punctual— and when you do show up just a few minutes late than your 'scheduled' time, get ready to have your ears ringing from his 'you're late' , 'how many times have we talked about this' – causing you to roll your eyes. He's never really gonna let this go, isn't he? Not atleast without a kiss.
"You're 4 MINUTES late!" Hiragi said, looking at his watch. "Damn, 'm sorry? Kotoha needed help" You said, panting from the running you did to get there as fast as you can. He deadpans, his gaze now lingering at you; eyes softening up ever-so-slightly at your state. Ah, he just realized. He never really cared or asked about the situations or reasons about people being late before giving them a mouthful. But somehow, during the times he's spent with you— he finds himself being more understanding. "You really-" he says, slightly pausing. "Just.. try to be more punctual next time." "And—" mwa , you pull away with a subtle smile of victory. Well, too bad now you're getting pulled in for more.
fubu!hiragi , whos health issues suddenly fade away when he's doing it with you. His stomach hurting? That's the least of his worries. He'll just devour a whole pack of gaskun 10's ; but right after he devours you.
"Huh? What're you worried about?" He says with a somewhat offended tone as you asked him if he took his daily dose of medication. You wouldn't want him in pain just for your needs. But who do you think you're talking to? "I'm taking my most effective medicine over here." He added, teething on your nipples.
fubu!hiragi , who can and WILL use you as a stress reliever. He'll complain about how those 'little rascals' won't listen to him, he'll complain about Umemiya being a pain in the ass, he'll complain about this, about that; his pace growing rough with every complain he cusses out— with you only spitting out moans in response, you can't even understand half of what he's saying. But who cares?
"S' fucking annoying." He said, his hips slightly moving up an angle that hits just the right spot. "F-Fuck! Hiragi-" You moan out, saliva dripping down your bruised lips. "Can't even begin about that little brat Sakura is. " — he pulls out mid sentence , then going all in with a rough thrust. Those small attempts of your protests mean nothing; not when you're both feeling this good.
fubu!hiragi , who says that you'll need 'extra training' as punishment because you kept getting late during his time. Not on purpose obviously, I mean– who would want to get punished by someone like him?
"Hah.. look at you, you're getting turned on by this, aren't you?" He mocked , roughly pounding you against one of furins graffitied walls. "So desperate for my dick that much? You wanna get punished that badly, huh?" Hiragi added , pressing his index finger against your clit. "Answer my question" You nod furiously as your head lies against the cold concrete. "Need to be punished. S'badly please.."
fubu!hiragi , who has girth— 8 inches long , 8.57 when hard . 4.21 inches wide, cleanly shaved , circumcised , and has a real veiny cock; going over from his balls to his tip, and when you flatten your tongue against it��� he just cums. But no way he's ever gonna admit that.
"Fuck." He muttered out, biting his lips unconsciously as he tried to silent his groans out. Can't have people knowing that one of furins strongest kings get humbled over something like this.
fubu!hiragi , who just gets so turned on when he sees you gagging on his cock. He just might go off with the state you're on.
"Shit, you feel so good" He says, his hands roughly tugging on your hair– gagging you as he went off with his bitter load. He better remind himself to throat fuck you every now and then; he thought to himself
fubu!hiragi , whos eyes widened when he got caught making out with you by Umemiya. Quickly blabbering a bunch of unreasonable excuses, but of course Umemiya wasn't hearing any of it.
Well, this leads him to blame you. Because why the hell would you press on to him that nobody would go there when it's literally where most of the higher ranks go. THE ROOFTOP. You better get ready, because he's mad.
"Is this what you want, huh?" He said, roughly pounding at you with a fast pace. "You want to get fucked hard?" — he added before giving you a mark on your neck. "Think it's so funny that I got embarrassed?" Well, goodluck with that.
sincerely , raven ! requested by— anon :3
#x reader#fluff#wbk smut#hiragi x reader#hayato suo#hiragi toma#hiragi smut#wbk x reader#fem reader#anon request#windbreaker#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker x reader#hiiragi touma#hiragi toma x reader
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saw your oc and not surprised that it’s a child. no wonder aoex fandom has so much pedos in it that have child characters. go and delete yourself
okay normally I don’t answer on those hate messages but this one is personal so I try my best to explain what happened to me somehow idk my English is not the best and I’m not used to talk about personal stuff online.
🌼
Hi! My name is Pax and I’m receiving hate messages since I started posting art of my favorite character from Blue Exorcist.
At first it was only on twitter. I started posting around a year ago and then people sent me messages like how they hate Arthur. I wasn’t used to be part of a fandom so I thought it was kinda normal. I just blocked the people and yes it became calmer after that. Then it started on tumblr too. I love to get questions where I can draw something in return but I also got anon questions that are just rude or weird. Luckily you can block anons too but somehow they always come back to me after a small amount of time and tbh idk what I do wrong.
I am ignoring, deleting and blocking those all the time. Don’t get me wrong I really don’t care much but saying stuff like I’m a pedo is WRONG just because I have a child OC. I’ve never drawn him in any romantic way and I’ll never do. I don’t even think about that. Why should I? OCs are often like own children and my oc Kingo is like my own son. He was originally created for a roleplay where Arthur decided to adopt him after a lot of things happened to him. They are only father and son and they love each other because Arthur is trying to be a really good dad like he always trying to do his best with no matter what he do. The point is Kingo became my OC after I got the diagnosis that I’d never be able to get own children after trying it for 4 years. It was my dream even if a lot of people couldn’t imagine how important it can be for a woman who really wants this. I build a house where everything should be safe for my future child. Getting this result of all my tests and my health conditions was a shock I’ll never get fully over it even if I pretend. My relationship broke after 8 years and I never felt so useless.
This is the reason why I created my OC Kingo. Not because I am a pedo or something wtf. It was because I found consolation in having a fictional son and that he has a family that cares about him. Thats why Kingo will always be a very special OC and I get very emotional when it comes to him.
I know I don’t need to explain myself and who the fuck is gonna read that text hmm but yes. Stop hating me I just wanna do art. Nothing more. You’re annoying go out and do something nice instead of hating each other ✨
#Please stop spreading hate#Our fandom is so small we need to stay together#blue exorcist#aoex#ao no exorcist#arthur auguste angel
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"-sickly Georgie (literally trauma bonding through sickness and period accurate “medicine”) he was ill every other month why not use it '
Sounds intresting and I haven't heard that before. What did you mean by that????
I do not know how to present this in a coherent way so allow me to create a vague list of some of the more notable events that revolved around George’s health. And I will restrict myself to only the time that he was James’s favourite.
I will not comment on George’s early years, because I cannot find any source (I might edit this later when I find anything of substance) that comments on his health. (Nonetheless I vaguely remember reading something about his poor health when he was a child.) However, there are records about him being sick whilst being already a favourite. It is especially interesting as King James often personally visited George or sent him gifts (fruits) so that he could recover quickly. There are not only third party records about George’s health and his sickness form outside visitors, but there are also letters from James directly addressed to Buckingham that mention his health.
The first incident oh his health collapsing is around late 1616, when it was speculated that he fell from grace and was not going to stick as a favourite, because of his absence. This is also around the time when he received the nickname Steenie, after St. Stephen who was dubbed as person with an angelic face. At that time, it became imminent that he was prone to being sick during moments of great tension. It might have been a prolonged sickness as it was noted around spring he was not feeling well, perhaps due to the death of one of his promoters – Sir John Graham. Some also speculated whether his poor health and absence was connected to John’s ‘fits of insanity’ (elder brother).[1]
Another incident happens three years later around June 1619. In April, James fell ill, and many feared he might die due to the severity of it. George, fearing his bad prospects after the possible death of the king was immensely relieved once James started to recover. Nonetheless the constant fear and taking care of the king resulted in him felling ill. After quick recovery he overexerted himself once again and a series of fainting spells took place, this forced him to rest much longer. After that James gave him, a stern talking to as he worried about George.[2]
Then, at the very end of Charles’s and his stay in Spain (around the end of August 1622) he, once again, fell ill which resulted in a delay of their return to England. There were rumours that he contracted syphilis while staying in Spain, which was supposed to explain a collapse in health shortly after he returned.[3]
(late April 1624 – June 2024) Then, there was the carriage incident. After the failed Spanish Match, there was a lot going on between not only between James and George but in general (Spanish weaving in accusations against George while talking with James, then there was the Parliament, James not liking what was going on and the influence George was exercising over Charles and the whole popularity thing. There was a lot). Their relationship turned colder.
He was about to leave for Windsor, for the Garter ceremonies on St George's Day, but could not bear to take Buckingham in his coach with him. The Duke, sensing that something was wrong, pressed James to say what was the matter. Thereupon the King, bursting into tears, declared that he was the unhappiest man alive, to be treated with such ingratitude by those who were dearest to him, and told Buckingham of the charges made against him. The Duke, who could not restrain his own tears, protested his innocence and called for a full investigation to discover who had given the ambassadors this false information. But James drove off to Windsor, taking only the Prince with him, and the disconsolate Buckingham was left to return to Wallingford House where he retired to bed and refused to see anybody.[4]
After that George fell ill once again. Charles in letters to Buckingham assured him, that he would mediate with James so that he would forgive the duke and the affection would return once more. Still weak in body and mind, after some time George was allowed to travel with the king in his coach. Nonetheless, his frail health was compromised once more, and illness returned. This time however, it was not entirely certain that he would survive. (James’s head physician tended to him).
Chamberlain reports on 13 May 1624: "The Duke of Buckingham hath ben sicke above this sevenight of a feaver, the jaundisse, and I know not what els, so that besides other phisicke he hath ben thrise let bloud at least, yet the world thincks he is more sicke in mind then body and that he declines apace" (Letters, 2: 558) [5]
After a difficult night, the King, fearing for his favourite’s life rushed to his side and was by his bedside for some hours. As Buckingham steadily recovered James was said to send him gifts (fruits such as cherries, melons, or grapes) daily, for which George thanked him in letters.[6] Then it is also said that at one time, he knelt at his bedside and begged the God to transfer the illness onto him so that the favourite would recover.
Dear Dad and Gossip, Though you commanded me to write no answer, yet, since I should not a slept well this night except I had done it, I hope you will excuse my disobeying of you at this time. I have been the longer a-doing of it because I might send you the certainer news of my health, which at this time is so good, what with your sweet cordial and my seasonable drawing of blood, that I hope tomorrow to wait of you a perfect man. I hope you will not be put to much pains to read this hand, since you have received so many love letters from her who joins with me in humble thanks for your kindness and care of us both. So, craving your blessing, we end Your Majesty's most humble slaves, Kate. Steenie.[7]
And once again, the affections between James and George returned to their, let’s call it, default state. Nonetheless, despite a quick recovery, during his next appearance Buckingham was supposed to be carried on a chair, as he was unable to walk or even hold a pen; his body was simply too weak.[8]
Following that, there were other minor instances when George’s health gave out.
Dear Dad and Gossip, I have not yet been able to acquaint the Ambassador with what you have found in your book, because I received your letter when I was come from him; but before I shall be able to see you, I shall have done it; for what with the rainy weather, my late coming last night, and this day's long treating with him in the garden, I have such a swelling in my throat, and such a noise in my head, that I can neither swallow nor hear well; wherefore I shall be forced for my health, if your service will permit me, to take a little physic. The physicians tells me this is the seasonablest time […].[9]
Sweet heart, Blessing, blessing, blessing […]. Remember now to take the air discreetly and peece and peece. And, for God's sake and mine, keep thyself very warm, especially thy head and thy shoulders. Put thy park of Bewlie to an end, and love me still and still. And so God bless thee, and my sweet daughter, and god-daughter, to the comfort of thy dear dad. JAMES R[10]
In January 1625, whilst dealing with various (war-related) affairs he has once more fell ill, and even the King urged him to leave London and rest in the countryside. Nonetheless this time around, he had to suffer through what was ailing him and carry on working. And lastly the death of king James also affected George, as the grief rendered him so weak in his body that he had to be, once again, carried in a chair.[11]
So there it is. I am absolutely sorry about the amount of my yaaping about George and his health, even if is truncated. I have tried to stay coherent and do not stray from the timeline, so I hope that this little ‘compilation’ is alright. Tldr; George had health of a Victorian street urchin battling with consumption and contemporary medicine.
Bibliography
Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press.
Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge.
[1] Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge, 28.
[2] Lockyer. Buckingham, 55-57.
[3] Lockyer. Buckingham, 162.
[4] Lockyer. Buckingham, 187.
[5]Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press, 125.
[6] ) Bergeron. King James and…, 208.
[7] Letter form Buckingham to King James (c. 16th June 1624) ) Bergeron. King James and…, 205.
[8] Lockyer. Buckingham, 196-9.
[9] An excerpt from the letter form Buckingham to King James (c. August 1624) Bergeron. King James and…, 207.
[10] An excerpt from King James’s letter to Buckingham (c.1624) Ibid., 176.
Lockyer. Buckingham, 213, 226, 234-5.
#george villiers#king james vi and i#king charles i#kate villiers#mary and george#it's a travesty that he only had pox in the show#and wdym James returned his letters#they conversed about health a lot#ty georgie for making me read about your urin#and yellowish skin#sweet steenie#nothing gets one going like a good health talk#i am sane#i swear
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woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.
#tumblr ate something like this but I think I deserve to shout uselessly into the void#shits rough dawg#I know it’s rough for everyone. I feel shitty even talking about myself. still… compelled to vent… big butts#haven’t really been on here much since it hasn’t really scratched that itch lately & just makes me feel lonelier#it’s cold#saw the Jazzercise studio open across the street. 5am for Jazzercise? wow. early.#and then everyone left an hour and a half later. lights out. everybody gone. weird schedule. I am perplexed.#went down the road and got a soda and I’ve been sitting in my driveway contemplating for the last 2.5 hours#guy at the gas station tried to talk to me but I just half assed a smile and nod and left#even though I know I’d love to just… talk to someone. I suppose it has to be ‘on my terms’ whatever those are#I miss having a therapist. or even just when my little brothers would talk to me. when anyone would. blegh#my insurance is still a mess and I’m about to run out of one of my blood pressure meds this week#maybe I’ll have a stroke. scary to think about. I think about dying a lot but that potential feels too real. just… pop! and I’m done.#I’ll try today to finally push to straighten it out but everything feels daunting#woke up with so much anxiety. about my health. my hearing. no money. my life. had to get out of the house even if it’s just right outside#hate to say it but I need(want) thc. haven’t wanted to spend money on it but I could have really used it this morning#can’t be sad if you can’t feel anything (jokingly but also not. whichever is less sad sounding)#actually treated myself to Dune 2 last week and it was so so good. wish I could go again. but it’s drugs food or movie right now. so…#I know. dumb priority but BIG SCREEN. maybe it’ll hit theaters again for the next awards season hopefully. just a real nice loud experience#anyway… I should go inside. almost 7am. need to take my brothers to school then drive my mom to her daily appointments#I’ve felt so hollow and angry and sad for so long it feels like. I feels so weak and sad and I’m tired of it. I’m so tired.#I’ve been eating about 1 meal a day and sleeping a lot. this is the worst my body has ever been. I feel like I’m just waiting to die.#is this relatable?#just have to look past it. it is nothing. this body is nothing. just enjoy your soda.#gonna look at pictures of butts now#ok gotta go I love you goodbye forever#you can ignore this#text
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me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects
#maybe my mom was onto something all these years telling me i'm bipolar#no i don't think i am but i do technically have a bpd diagnosis so like. mood swings up the fucking wazoo are not new#but i am not one to be like 'exercise will fix me'#i've also just come to terms recently with the fact that i didn't kill myself already so might as well start thinking of the long term#so not being in constant pain when im older is something im actually thinking of now#so like. gotta move more which i was doing during this semester! walking like 3 miles a day which didn't help brain but#it's gotta be good for you anyway even if i don't get the endorphins everyone says you get when working out#that's neverrrr been me bc also chronic illness w exercise intolerance#so it's like. wah i have a desire to move my body more and know it's beneficial#but chronic illness + mental illness + trying not to think about exercise in terms of weight loss bc i'm trying not to make that the goal#although certainly wouldn't be mad if that was the result but if i prioritize it over just overall health it's gonna make me obsessive#i'm saying a lot of words. i have no one to really talk to so i once again come to tumblr as a public diary#ANYWAY. trying to find balance with wanting to exercise for overall well-being but dealing with other factors like chronic illness#which has actually been under the most control it's been in years i barely even consider myself (physicslly) disabled these days#and also balancing the fact that while my disordered eating has never recovered and i still have extremely bad relationship with myself#im in a relatively better place with that. i'm not starving myself and im not going through binge/purge cycles#but my relationship with food and eating is still very much unhealthy#and i don't think that will ever really change bc it's so ingrained in the everything about me#i don't really know what i'm talking ahout anymore or what prompted this#i can't simply just say 'i'm gonna go for a hike today' and be normal about. always gotta psycho analyze myself#im in a very weird stage in my life where i feel like i have control over nothing and i barely even exist in my own body#im just like a cacophony of voices trapped inside a meat suit but im not in the drivers seat im stuffed in the trunk and tied up#and the guy driving is an old blind mind who should have lost his license his ass is NOT road safe!#so it's like i have all these ideas and desires and feelings and ahh!! but hey i'm locked up here let me out please#and also the state of the world. so bleak and hopeless and paralyzing that i've just kind of shut my feelings off so i'm rapidly switching#between numbness and overwhelming agony#what the fuck am i talking about
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there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn
#at least i finally got my meds so hopefully i feel a little better soon#although i’m now on 20 pills per day which is Just Great#whenever i’m in remission it’s nice to just. forget sometimes that this can happen at any time#kinda wish i had the typical kinda chronic illness that people talk about with ‘flares’#or at least triggers that i can plan around#the other times have all had an easily identifiable stressor tho tbf. idk what caused this one#the first time was whooping cough and the next few were all very major life stressors like my cat dying right after i started uni#and i think also towards the end of my honours thesis?#but this…….there’s no major stress right now. nothing wildly beyond normal#i’m a little concerned about my joints tho. they’ve been so much worse than normal the last few months#so i’m kinda worried i’m developing rheumatoid arthritis (also an autoimmune disease and it runs in the family specifically)#so if that’s happening then it could set my thyroid off? probably should get to the doctor at some point#obv i’m seeing my endo for thyroid stuff. but i should see my gp and get her to run all the autoimmune blood tests again#i’ve done that before but it’s been a few years and my ankles and knees are so painful i can’t even walk properly a lot of the time#BUT I JUST WANNA DO THINGS I ENJOY AND I CANT AND I WILL CONTINUE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT IT#‘oh you’re so lucky you don’t have as many obligations because you’re chronically ill’ ha ha ha please swap lives with me immediately#personal#but seriously. i wasn’t diagnosed until i was nearly 17 and we can trace it back to whooping cough when i was 12#so it was the last half of year 6 and then all of years 7-10 and the start of year 11 of just being. uh. ‘very lazy and complaining a lot’#and TEACHERS joking about me and my sister (who was dealing with an arguably more severe undiagnosed disease) missing so many classes#wow so funny pdhpe teacher who’s supposed to be teaching is about health#and the thing with being a mentally ill teenager is that hyperthyroidism can just look like a very severe anxiety disorder#so i didn’t go to the dr until i was too sick to go to school at all. and luckily had a good dr who did a blood test#i’m just rambling now because i can’t sleep and i don’t wanna lie here doing nothing#might go play pvz or something. that’s been keeping me entertained
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one thing I love about following celebrities/artists who are honest and proactive about their mental health struggles etc is I can’t count the number of times someone I know is going through something and I’m like ‘I’ve got a song for u’ and how much of my life involves telling myself ‘if [redacted] can do something/get better/etc then so can i’ (and having actual real evidence of it in front of me) and I can’t understate how much I appreciate these things.
but at the same time it involves a whole lot of watching people I care about suffer and you learn to read the signs and infer between the lines in songs and interviews, and yes we can never fully know what they don’t share with us, but when they do share things it’s not a big stretch to be like ‘this seems like it’s what life is like for you and I have taken encouragement from it but you deserve so much better’. and it’s easy to find ways to get angry at a predatory industry and realise things that could be hurtful if you’re already fragile.
and we can advocate for some things and help ourselves and the people around us feel better but it’s hard to meaningfully reach your faves as an individual. and there are things we can’t say on the internet in too much detail, speculation becomes the harmful kind of gossip, and so sometimes it’s a whole lot of internally saying ‘you’re doing incredibly well to have gotten to where you are but I wish for your sake things would get better faster’
#curse and catch 22 (not the song)#I didn’t mean to make this so anonymous as a post but maybe. it’s applicable to a lot of artists. I don’t know#just thinking about how sometimes someone will say something and it’s like ‘oh honey’ if you can see. why they might be saying it#like a glimpse into the top of an iceberg that makes a lot of sense to be there given other things they do and talk about#I feel like we’re in a unique position as a fandom with the way all four of them have been so vulnerable in different ways#and they may not be perfect but imo no one deserves to suffer like that especially for an extended amount of time. but the thing is#sometimes the fans are suffering and so are our faves and people appreciate the relatability and don’t have any basic compassion#or ability to see past their own struggles. with this fandom especially compared to a lot of others I’ve been in and I think I know why#but in the end the way I see it we’ve gotten so much relatable content and encouragement (bc the Finding The Positives Vibes which are ther#and sometimes there’s nothing we can give back apart from being a part of systemic change which all of us deserve for ourselves too#idk if this band is unique in this or I just find them more relatable personally and thus easier to see how hard they’ve worked#on themselves and taking risks in order to be honest. and it reminds me of the quote about how suffering won’t make your art better#healing will. and so imo anyone whose art is really good when they are going through a lot has me thinking. imagine what it’d be like#when life isn’t so hard for you?? or when you’re getting better but it just takes a long time I’m like. you deserve to feel better faster#this all said I’m incredibly proud and I’m not trying to insinuate there’s anything catastrophic going on bc there absolutely isnt#I am not in any way worried. I’ve seen tragedies about to happen and these guys show none of the signs. but I do relate to a lot of tidbits#pertaining to. certain chronic mental illnesses and/or being neurodivergent in an unaccommodating world (don’t ask which)#things I would anticipate would be a lot harder when there’s hordes of often fickle occasionally predatory fans to contend with#sometimes I just think of this idk#celebrities are people#5 seconds of summer#5sos#5sos fandom#cw mental health things
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I've been thinking abt my critter dupes some more and it was all fun and games until I remembered that I made Mi-ma a beeta and hm. Whoops. Uh oh. (<- Considered the implications for more than 2 seconds)
#rat rambles#oni posting#it's not Too bad. shes fine. but hoo boy. the images my mind showed me were not fun.#it's ok she just needs to keep being the farmer cook that she is and gather stuff for her fellow dupes and itll all be fine#Id provide further context but then itd become too clear what Im talking abt so how abt I dont#its ok shes ok nothing bad happens to her shes just a bit quirky thats all#and even if things did go a lil wonky it wouldnt be irreversible just a bit of an issue for a bit#shes just a silly billy who's genetic makeup is a series of contradictions and anomalies#I also have it as a thing where most of the colony see her as like a baby sister since she was the first duplicant printed after quinn left#so the dupes who were already there were like oh shit there's a new one and quinn isn't here to help them adjust we have to do a good job#in their place and make sure she feels the security they helped us feel while we built this colony together#and meanwhile mi-ma was just sitting there having the joints of an 80 year old woman and the energy of a young and spry bee#some of the younger dupes in that colony actually dont like her much because they see her as kind of spoiled#liam and leira especially constantly give her gifts and let her do things she rly shouldn't do#they eventually get better abt it when it actually starts to threaten her physical well-being but it sort of starts to swing in the other#direction after a while with leira especially being rly obsessive with making sure shes not doing anything that could cause health issues#ada has some light beef with mi-ma but she starts to turn around on her a bit once she learns abt some of the stuff shes gone through#after a lil while they get to be bug buddies who are experiencing joy and whimsy together watching paint dry or smth idk
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like, the only true whopper in lo these two seasons has been Armand's credit-claiming for the (onstage) lifesaving, right. which was allowed to persist for not even the duration of a full episode. I don't think I'm forgetting anything here, right?
anyway, would be nice if more theorizing noticed that lol
#like having side-eyed for the whole s1-s2 gap the goofy theories about the fight I am Skeptical kwim#like I just... I sorta think in almost all cases thus far on this show#the gap between seems and is is in fact not thaaaat wide a gap#I am not counting the San Francisco erasing in the whopper bucket; that was obviously drastic but didn't rewrite anything we thought we kne#(mostly it underlined what we did know. like. sort of entirely right. Louis is miserable Daniel is vulnerable)#arguably it also foreshadowed the trial lie (Louis ultimately saved Daniel from Armand not vice versa#...but also there were two lifesaving acts and Armand did in fact perform one of them)#but if anything that foreshadowing function makes it even less proof-of-pattern that there are any other giant lies hiding#because it's so closely tied to that one#like it most narratively/technically resembles the end of s1 and Lestat's non-death: 'what happened there... oh shit THAT'S what happened'#anyway this is apropos of two things#(positive) trying to figure where on the IWTV to TVL spectrum 'why did Lestat even come to Paris' is going to end up falling#given he's presumably not like. in ill health whatsoever by then / presumably needs nothing from them?#(like yes the entire NOLA scene would be fairly dumb if we weren't pretty far to the 'mostly IWTV' side of the spectrum but still)#(NOT) encountering the claim that Armand is lying in the Lourve wtabsolutef talk about a good match for the post-s1e5 bullshit#do these people hear themselves. ANYWAY.#this is also why although I do find alternative explanations hard to imagine I remain believe it when I see it about past-DM-y shenanigans#not even TVL itself abuses Armand's mindfuckery with such abandon y'know? it's not a get out of plot free card#hopefully this has been twenty tags so#iwtv#for any patient blacklists
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chronic pain can go die in a hole x
#got ppl in my ear saying i should walk around more but whenever i walk around too much my legs are in horrible pain :))#idk i had a good day yesterday it just sucks that this is the consequences#also all the doctors who keep telling me there’s nothing wrong with my legs can fuck off bc clearly there is#don’t think it’s normal to go most of my life completely fine and then i suddenly can’t walk properly and get pain in my legs 🤔#it’s definitely because of what i think it is™️ and i’m sick of doctors essentially gaslighting me into thinking it’s not#i’ve clearly got some kind of nerve damage or something fucked and no one’s listening to me#idk i’m just trying to manage things and keep up a good quality of life as i can but i keep getting setback by my health kicking my ass#which is literally so fun#idk personal post#lue talks#EDIT: it says yesterday but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while imao#it’s actually been like two weeks and i’m fine now but the point still stands
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mental health experts are not a thing
#i don’t think anyone should claim to be one#as someone who has been through many many mental health trainings and has various certificates and volunteered for a suicide helpline#and whose job is v closely to do with mental health#no one really knows what they’re doing#we’re all just winging it#yes there’s some evidence for cbt helping some people but it’s not going to help with v deep seated issues#also i know my own personal experience is not everyone’s but it has not been good#i remember going to talking therapy for the first time and saying idk what I’m doing#and they said you need to remember WE know what WE’RE doing#i used the service twice & they did not#i’m sure they were kind#well meaning compassionate people and i admire them for that#but it’s frustrating being encouraged to trust people bc they’re ‘professionals’#and then seeing they have no idea how to help#a psychiatrist told me he could make my bdd go away#he just kept asking me if I thought he was delusional bc he thought I looked okay#no but that doesn’t make me delusional either#we just have different standards and values#one bdd ‘expert’ literally said nothing about BDD the entire time#he was nice though & we talked about his pets p much the entire time#had one meeting with a counsellor who gave me factually incorrect information then told me i was wrong even though i could easily prove it#one bdd ‘expert’ at least was honest with me that she couldn’t help#bc ‘you can only get better if you’re doing it for you not your parents’#another lady thought that if she could get me to retrain my attention that would solve everything#basically ‘just think about other things’#a lady at the counselling place at uni told me to read a book on social anxiety#one psychiatrist asked me what celebrity I’d like to look like#said oh I see it you look like her#I do not#then a bit later said I think you look way better than her
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A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.
If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.
If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.
If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.
If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.
You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.
You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.
But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.
Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.
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“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.
A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.
*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever
The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.
Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.
You:
cutie patootie alert
there’s this really handsome guy at the bar
i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before
i think i’m in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong
i didn’t stare at him for too long
otherwise that would’ve been very weird
and no he’s not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair
Allison:
so you’re dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allison
Allison:
it’s okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure it’s nobody’s father
wait it’s not mine right?
You:
nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it
Allison:
bitch
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”
Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”
“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.
“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”
(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.
“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”
“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.
“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”
Yeah… that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.
As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”
“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.
“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”
“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”
“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”
“Look, Wolvie. I–”
“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”
“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”
You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”
“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”
“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”
“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”
“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”
“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”
“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”
“Me neither.”
“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”
You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”
But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you aren’t.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”
“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”
“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”
“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.
Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”
Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”
“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”
“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”
“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”
“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.
“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.
“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”
“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”
“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”
“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”
“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? She’s cute.”
Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”
“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”
You could die at peace.
“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”
“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”
“Now why would you think that?”
“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”
“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”
“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”
“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.
“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”
You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.
Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”
You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”
“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”
“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”
“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”
“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”
“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”
“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”
“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”
“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”
“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”
“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”
“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”
“Go fuck yourself, will you?”
“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”
He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.
“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”
“I just... I want to understand you better.”
“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.
“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”
“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”
The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.
Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”
But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”
He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”
“Should I give you some space?”
That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”
“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”
“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”
“God, do you ever shut up?”
You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”
“Am I that easily replaced?”
“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”
Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.
“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”
“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”
You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.
“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”
“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”
“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”
“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”
“Careful.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.
“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”
“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”
“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.
“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”
“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”
“Don’t. Now is not the time.”
“I was protecting you.”
“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”
“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”
“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”
“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”
You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.
“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”
“Right here? On the counter?”
“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”
“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”
“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”
“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”
“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”
“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“L-logan–”
“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.
“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”
He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.
“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”
“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”
And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.
“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”
“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”
You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”
part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
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weirdly rly motivated to work out today let's go
#well its not that weird i like exercise but ive just been finding it difficult the past week. but hyped this morning#gonna do this bike loop should be 1.5-2 hours. and then if i still have juice left when i get back ill do 40 mins of triceps too#one great thing abt getting into working out is that it becomes self motivating after a while. partly bc its associated w reward#either like literal reward (protein shake) or emotional (satisfaction + endorphin/neurotransmitter release)#but also bc some days i dont rly wanna and then ill think hm but my arms do look rly good today.. and then im like Well-#the health benefits of exercise and whatever are great but thats never been enough to push me to do it by itself#like lets be real. most of my drive comes from getting a kick out of feeling and looking strong...#nothing wrong w being a bit vain tho 😚 i think the most crucial thing if u wanna integrate exercise into ur life more is being honest-#abt what u wanna get out of it most. and adjusting ur attitude to it around that in a positive way#ur never gonna stick to an exercise routine if ur motivating urself w negativity and shame and talking urself down#or at least its never worked for me! maybe it does for some ppl tho lol#anyway im procrastinating now cuz i have to take the front wheel off my bike to carry it downstairs which is an annoying task#but just imagining a dyke seeing the bike grease on my hands and sweat on my arms and getting flustered... okay yeah im going now#.diaries
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#this is gonna be so tmi sorry i’m advance but#how am i supposed to deal with having a body and every mental illness and stomach problems and throat problems and being ugly and having no#hobbies or life skills or a job#i need to find a job but i also have to deal with my stomach and my throat so i can be well enough to actually move my body to find a job#but i don’t have much money left so i can’t focus on those things either so i’m spending literally hours a day in the bathroom and it hurts#to speak#and i don’t want to feed myself i don’t want to take my meds i don’t want to do anything but get high which also physically hurts also bc#throat#and i have to do PT everyday so i can shit better but i also need to find a job so i can’t waste silly energy on things like that but then i#can’t get a job because i feel like shit and am shitting literally all the fucking time#and obviously the logical thing should be to just take care of my health today so i can be good to#tomorrow to find a job right? wrong actually! tomorrow it’ll be something’s#and the day after that#n the day after that#and every day after that one too!#but no one is actually willing to help me with anything because i am a 1 dimensional human being who spawned yesterday who has never heard#of things like “’building tenacity’ and ‘having structure’ there’s actually nothing wrong with me i’m just lazy i guess!#but if i wanna kill myself that’s wrong and bad and needs to be stopped immediately#other people seem to look at suicidal people and go ‘i have no reason to want to kill myself so other people just need to push it through :)#thug it out lol’ and it’s like actually these are very good reasons to want to die#i have spent the last 9 years actively in treatment actively working on myself actively trying to build a better life#it has only gotten worse#don’t talk to me about getting over to the other side. i’m on it. it’s just as bad as every other one of the sides#life doesn’t ever get better for some people and just because that wasn’t true for you and your life did get better doesn’t mean other#peoples lives every will get better. like it is straight up not possible for me to have a better life. and i know this for a fact because if#it was#i would have it now and i would have had it for a while
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