#that's how I deal with the low points of life

[oneletteredwondered]

!!!!!

That's the thing!!! C!Thomas could probably benefit from indulging in dark creativity, be that breaking something, writing something gruesome, or in general just screaming really loud. He hasn't ever really fully leaned into that and I think it'd be good for him to have that catharsis.

But dark creativity and intrusive thoughts are not the same and can't be treated that way regardless of the fact they are combined into the one facet.

Especially in WTIT where he's fully leaned into the intrusive thoughts role.

Dark creativity is generally beneficial to Thomas because giving Thomas a greater perspective for his art is useful. However, intrusive thoughts are never helpful, and none of them have anything to do with the actual issues Thomas is dealing with. Generally Remus is much more likely to emerge and cause chaos when Thomas is already upset or anxious about something else because when Thomas is already feeling low, it is easier to further upset him. You could say that Remus showing up is beneficial to the other sides to indicate to them that Thomas is upset about something, but nothing Remus does has anything to do with his actual issues or realistic problems, he is just creating more anxiety and chaos because it is fun for him, and that anxiety and chaos that Remus causes has nothing to do with Thomas's actual real life issues, they are separate.

As someone who also has intrusive thoughts (twinsies, you and me, I want the window seat), I agree that Remus works like a litmus test, but more so like a check engine light. The light comes on when something is wrong enough, but the light itself does not tell you exactly what is wrong. You have to go into the system, you can't just trust the light. Remus comes around when something is wrong, but hes not giving any good indication as to what. He's playing to sensitivities and insecurities, and while those things are stuff to work on, they are not the root problem. He's misleading.

The issue is that, if Remus is showing up to show something is wrong and he's trying to help fix it, he's going about it in the literal worst way possible. He's not helping by making Thomas anxious and giving him Intrusive thoughts. And he's not really trying to guide anyone to a solution either. Yes he tells Logan he can't fix Thomas by himself, but that's more of a dig at Logan specifically cause Logan would want to fix Thomas by himself, and he can't. Remus is enjoying the misery.

He may be recognizing something is wrong, but he doesn't seem to care about the solution. If anything, it would be more beneficial for Remus if Thomas was to remain upset and anxious cause that's when remus is more likely to be listened to and kept around.

On one hand I can agree that it might be a disservice to reduce Remus to shits and giggles. How ever, he hasnt really proved much reason otherwise. In general I actually do believe he is in it for shits and giggles and that his character is that one dimensional. He's shallow enough that he would do things, and has done things, for the soul purpose of making someone upset or because he thinks it's funny.

The only solution I can see him being a part of is pushing Thomas so far to the breaking point so that he does indulge in dark creativity, but if he does that, he's not doing that to fix things, he's doing it because it's going to be fun.

In the end I think we just have a fundamental disagreement on what Remus motive is. I just haven't seen anything that indicates he wants to help as a whole. He likes poking the bear "just because" in my opinion.

But I do still agree with original sentiment, I think he's incredibly clever in the way he does what he does, he knows exactly how to get under everyone's skin and takes full advantage of it.

I don't think Remus is given enough credit for being clever.

[hexxedghost]

Took a little break from drafting the next chapter of Haunt to write a little threadfic for bsky. Price got injured and is the worst at actually resting to heal. Enter Nik.

The 141 had become somewhat infamous amongst the medical staff on base. Enough of a reputation that whenever they brought in, after the frantic panic and life-saving care, there was always a heavy put upon sigh from the nurses, knowing what would come afterwards. 

They weren’t good at healing. Their bodies, yes, flesh and sinew knitting itself back together, bruises mottling and fading. But staying in bed, and resting. 

Well, it just didn’t suit them. 

Gaz at least, stayed within the medical wing, but pushed to get away with as much as he could, not above charming and lying to do so. 

Soap somehow managed to injure himself during recovery on several occasions, normally by pushing himself too much too quickly. 

Ghost just left. They’d find him tucked away somewhere else on base, using his reputation and stature to warn off anyone who’d suggest he go back to bed. 

But it was a well known fact on base, that the worst of them was Price. A horrible amalgamation of all three of his team, he would charm, lie, push himself and escape even to do something as boring as paperwork. 

Ghost had proposed just tying him to the bed, but after the third escape, medical just sort of shrugged and gave up. Price was a force to be reckoned with, and nobody was willing to put up with the headache. 

Well, nearly nobody. 

-

“Don’t fucking start, I don’t wanna hear it Nik.” Price warns, pointing at him. Nik holds up his hands, chuckling, as he enters the room.  

“It was surprise. I have not seen you without the beard in a while.” he gestures to Price’s cleanly shaved face, currently giving him a very unimpressed look. He huffs, staring at the window. 

“I’ve already had them lot go on about it. Soap and Gaz did a whole bit with asking everyone where their Captain had gone.” he glares at Nik’s laugh, but there’s no real heat to it. Underneath it all is a fond exasperation he knows holds true for his squad.  

“Ghost?” Nik questions. 

“Asked me where to find the Captain so he could sign some paperwork.” Price mutters bitterly, the betrayal clear in his voice. Nik snorts, and Price goes to cross his arms, stubbornly, but growls when he’s stopped by the cast on his arm. 

The last mission, Price had gotten caught between an armoured vehicle and a low retaining wall. His arm had been crushed between his body and the barrier, but at least it had stopped short of crushing his head. There’d been a scramble, with hostiles swarming their location, managing to extract the Captain. It wasn’t until they were in the helicopter that they’d noticed the wound on Price’s neck. It was superficial, at least, and hadn’t caught anything vital, but it would most likely need stitches, no matter how much Price insisted he’d ‘kept most of his blood on the inside’ over the roar of the engine. 

He was partially right, at least. Most of his blood had been on the inside. And the bone had been set easy enough. Though he liked miserable with the cast, given it was his dominant hand. 

John Price hated relying on other people, hated not being able to do things himself. So Nikolai can’t imagine he was pleasant to deal with if they’d had to shave off the beard. 

“Kate’s sent you to babysit me, then?” Price asks as Nik settles into the seat by the bed. 

“I sent myself,” Nik corrects him, but he can’t hold back the grin as he continues, “though she was very grateful. She said the shovel would be murder on her hands, so it would be a shallow grave.” Nik jokes, relishing in the twitch of a smile he sees briefly on Price’s face. 

Laswell wouldn’t. But she would definitely threaten to. Price was insufferable when he was injured, and Laswell had long carried the torch for trying to corral him into actually taking care of himself for once. 

She’d complained about it once over drinks, Price and the rest of the 141 away on a mission. Nikolai had offered to help offhandedly and after giving him a searching look that seemed to pierce him to the core, she’d picked up her drink, mumbled something to herself and told him to have at it. And to prepare for the worst. 

Preparation was key, he felt, when it came to attempting to wrangle the stubborn force that was John Price. He had a plan, of course. He’d given it a decent amount of thought. The major things that tended to drive Price were work, and others that need taking care of. Nik thought the best path was to…remove them from the equation. Mostly by removing Price from the area. 

Laswell had been surprisingly helpful in that regard, insisting the old man needed a break, and it would be a good idea to let him relax. 

Price, it seemed, disagreed. 

“Nik.”

“Captain.”

Price turns to him, eyes sharp with suspicion. “What is this?”

Nik hum’s thoughtfully, shifting his weight to one foot and gesturing casual in front of them. 

“Hm, if I had to guess. I would say a cabin.” he grins at the filthy look Price gives him, striding forward over the dirt track and fishing out a set of keys. 

“Kate knows I’m here.” Price says, it’s not a question. 

“She insisted.” Nik says, glancing over his shoulder and shooting him a quick smile, “She’s also handled your work, Ghost is taking care of the paperwork, the other two are handling training and duties on base.”

Price seems to deflate. “I’m supposed to be stuck out here and rest, then?”

Nik gets the door open, the hinges well oiled so it swings in smoothly. “She said at least a week.” he heads back to the car to grab the bags, “And I believe the suggestion was to ‘actually relax for once, you stupid man’ or something to that effect.” 

There’s a crunch of dirt underfoot, Price moving in to survey the cabin. Or his new ‘prison’ as he shouts from inside, making Nik chuckle as he shuts the boot. 

-

It’s near evening now. Nik had fired up the wood stove, explaining the cabin was off the grid. It would normally be an irritation for people, but Price seems to settle with it. Knowing that he isn’t being coddled. 

Though he had glared at the food.  “What the ‘ell is this?”

“Kasha. Good, filling.” Nik says, placing the bowl in front of him. Price takes a bit and wrinkles his nose a bit. 

“It’s like salty porridge.” he says, poking at it curiously. 

“I can make something else” Nik offers,

“No, no” Price says in a rush, “I’m just...complaining for the sake of it.” he raises a spoonful into his mouth with a suffering sigh, resting a chin on his hand after chewing, “Miss steak though.”

“When you’re better, we’ll go hunting for some. There is deer in the area.” Nik answers smoothly. 

“This your place, then?” Price asks, looking around the room curiously. 

“One of them,” he answers cryptically, chuckling when Price grumbles. 

The cabin itself is fairly plain, but functional. Nik mostly uses it for hunting, but it’s a good holdout if he needs to hide out for a while. There’s a fold out bed, books, and hunting gear. Along with a desk in the corner. 

“I need your help with something tomorrow.” he says casually, managing to keep his face neutral at how fast Price’s head snaps up. “But, it was a long drive. We sleep first.”

It’s probably a little cruel, to prolong it. But in his experience, once Price knows of a task, it's hard to talk him down from undertaking it in that instant. In most circumstances, it’s admirable, Price is someone that can be relied upon like that. Unless the task is resting, it seems.   

They settle down for the night not too long afterwards, the colder weather causing the dwindling daylight to be a distant memory of hours before. 

-

“What you need my help with, then?” Price pesters him in the early hours, while Nik is washing the dishes from breakfast. There’s an odd motion to his arm that Nik recognises it as a habit of grabbing the straps of his tacvest when they’re in the middle of a debrief. Price seems to notice it at the same time and gives a hard stare to the cast. 

Nik puts the rag down and gestures to the desk. There are maps spread over the well-worn wood, notes of red ink scrawled in margins. Price nods to himself, eyes scanning and assessing in rapid fashion. 

“Just intel or a goal in mind?” he asks, giving a curse when he goes to cross his arms again. Nik takes pity, figuring a task to do is better than sympathy. 

“Familiarity more than anything. Good to know what terrain you can use against your enemies.” Nik says, voice strained as he digs under the desk to find what he’s looking for. He holds out a camera drone for Price to inspect. “I’ve mapped some of the area, but it would be easier with two.”

Price takes it in his left hand, squinting at it curiously. “Drones?”

“You know how to handle them, to some extent? I know Sergeant Garrick is quite good with them.”

“I meant more that it’s battery powered. This place is offgrid right?” 

“Ah. There is a generator for it.” he points outside to where it’s tucked against the house. 

“You took the time to make sure you’ve powered your drones, but I can’t have a hot shower?” Price raises his eyebrows, but there’s a glint of humour in his eyes. 

“Priorities, Captain.” Nikolai says simply, the chuckle behind him letting him know he’d hit the mark. “And the radios.” he adds, gesturing to the comms units on the desk. 

“Whats the plan then?”

“You survey, I check, you make notes.” he taps the maps with a callused finger. Price works his jaw, but Nik knows he’s got him. There is only one thing worse for John Price than injury, blood or and gunfire. And it’s boredom. 

“Fine.” 

-

It was nearing the autumn months, the air brisk and fogging in front of him as he moves through the trees. There’s a barely audible whir of the drone nearby, as he sees it flit ahead. 

“Zippy little bastards, aren’t they?” Price’s voice crackles over the comms, sounding pleased with himself. Nik laughs to himself, moving over a gnarled tree root as a leisurely stroll. There was a certain boyish charm to the way Price’s voice lit up that even the static of the radio couldn’t quite hide. 

They’d quickly realised that it was easier for Price to just hot mic, since constantly having to activate a switch required a working hand he didn’t currently possess. 

Nik had been making notes as he’d travelled along the route Price was scouting for him. Most of it he expected, but it was still useful information. He hadn’t considered the river, though Price had swooped low over the rushing water and mumbled to himself about fishing. It was incredibly endearing, Nik just sitting back and letting the words wash over him. 

Although, it had been a few hours since he’d set out, and the sun was sinking lower in the sky. He should consider heading back soon.  

Price’s voice cuts in suddenly. “Nik…”

“Hm?” 

“Why are you taking care of me?” It’s not the question Nik was expecting, but it’s an easy enough one to answer. 

“Someone has to.” he gets to his feet, stretching stiff limbs as he listens to the chuckle over the radio. 

“Drew the short straw eh?” Price jokes. Nikolai straightens up.

“No.”  he says firmly. “Someone should take care of you, and I would rather it be me. I know I will do it right.” 

There’s a pause, the sound of evening birds weaving through the quickly cooling air. “Who takes care of you then?” Price asks. 

“Whoever is willing to shoulder that burden, I suppose.” Nik replies easily, picking up the drone and tucking it safely into his pack. 

Price hums quietly, but doesn’t say anymore on Nik’s trek back. Even at dinner that night he is uncharacteristically quiet, not even a comment about the food. 

-

“Wouldn’t be’ y’know?” he says suddenly after they’ve finished lunch. Nikolai scratches at his beard, trying to find the thread of the conversation he’d lost.

“I don’t think I do?” he says curiously, resting his elbows on the table. 

“A burden.” Price says simply. For once, Nik doesn’t know how to respond. He didn’t realise Price had been thinking about that throwaway common for so long. 

“I…am not an easy man to deal with.” is what he settles on. He had taken precautions when thinking of how to deal with Price in his recovery, but he hadn’t planned for this conversation. It’s odd to find himself completely out of his depth.

“How’d you figure that then?” the captain insists, that keen glint in his eye reminding Nik that Price is far more observant than most give him credit for. It’s something he respects, so as much as it would be easy to dismiss he tries to give the answer some genuine thought. 

“I am difficult to know.” he ticks off on his fingers 

“Reckon I know you pretty well.” Price interjects, smiling when Nik looks over to him and gestures to put the finger down.   

“You do, yes.” he raises another finger, “I am secretive.” 

“Cause you have to be.” Price counters.

Nik shakes his head, but finds himself smiling. He can see the game now.  

“Sometimes, security is a necessity, yes. I put people at ease, but I think they know it is because I am a danger to them. Like a lion placating the sheep.” 

“Lions work together, though.” Price points out, scratching at the edge of his cast and frowning when Nik bats his hand away. 

“True, but it's often the females that do all the work”

Laswell’s name remains unspoken, but as they share a look, it may as well have been said. There’s a glint in Price’s eye that looks like mirth and Nik grins into his drink.

“Should put those down though.” Price says, nodding to the raised fingers. 

“I am still a dangerous person.”

“Surrounded by other dangerous people. Where you’re meant to be.” he sits back, and even though the cast hampers it, there’s that squaring of the shoulders Nik associates with Price gearing up for a final blow. 

“Was supposed to be about you not being a burden. Haven’t heard a good point yet.” he says seriously. 

“To some I would be.” Nik offers, clearing away the table. 

Price shrugs, “Maybe. To me you're not though. Reckon my opinion might count for something.: 

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Nik says, turning to him, resting a palm flat on the counter. 

“Haven’t had much else on.” Price lifts the cast for emphasis. Nik rolls his eyes, hip checking him in the shoulder as he goes past and chuckling at the feigned outrage following him from the kitchen. 

The words seem to fill the space between them for the rest of the day, though they don’t speak much. Just quietly existing in a comfortable silence together, filling in details on the maps, adding notes of good spots for the future plans of a hunting trip that's taken form over the last few days. 

It does feel like something has shifted, slightly. But, Nikolai is a patient man when it comes to these things. He’s willing to wait, to match Price’s pace, if he chooses to walk the same trail. Things that like were worth the wait. 

-

Later, in the quiet dark of the night, as Price clears his throat. “Why’d you take me out here?”

“To recover, I thought that part was obvious from the start.’ Nik says, the grasp of sleep slipping away as he sits up on an elbow. 

“Not what I’m really asking.” Price says, sitting up entirely and cursing at the cast as it gets stuck in the blanket. 

“Here specifically? Or why me?” Nik says, politely ignoring Price’s struggles. 

“Either. Both.” he grunts, finally freeing himself. 

“I like the idea of you being taken care of.” he says, “ I already said this.” he adds pointedly afterwards. 

The dark outline of Price shifts, the constant motion a familiar sight even in the dark. “Are only you allowed to do that then?”

“I would hope you would start taking care of yourself.” Nik points out dully. 

“Rather take care of you.” is the quick reply. 

Ah, he’d forgotten. Nikolai was a man willing to wait for things, no matter how long they take. But, Jonathan Price is not a patient man. If he sees a task to be done, it will be, stubbornly and immediately.   

“You would be the first.” he says gently into the darkness. 

“Rather be the last,” Price says, and it sounds like a promise. 

-

A few weeks later, the cast comes off. 

And a few years after that, after listing off all the reasons why on their fingers, they match them together with bands of gold.

[writersdrug]

I had my first kiss in a hot tub with a guy I had just met. I was up on the ledge of the hot tub and he was in the water in between my legs, and ngl it was a GOOD ASS KISS! And sadly…. I haven’t kissed anyone since….. 😔

Daaaaaaamn MMM that sounds like it would heal me

You just gotta have down time in-between the good kisses like that, you probably have another good one comin up

[srslylini]

The way season 1 ended she was at a point so low she was ready to blow up a city (and like she did, she blew up the council). The start of season 2 showing her cathartic wasn't actually bad I liked that direction. It felt like they wanted to show her in a "nothing state" which depression also feels like.

they showed her as not caring about anything anymore (literally just walking through every scene in the music video sucker while everything just HAPPENS around her). The meeting with Isha, while still being a little bit odd since it felt like well they randomly put them together but that's something you can overlook, was amazing. She still just didn't care, played with her life.

Her reaction to seeing her sister being an enforcer? Gut punching. Extremely painful. The fight with her STILL being more in a nothing like state, just shooting the dude with her back turned to him felt very s1 which is good because again, Jinx in the end was like??? done.

and then.... act 2 happened. Suddenly they used Jinx's mental state as a Plot device. In season 1 it would ruin missions and her freaking out would happen no matter if "the plot needed it or not" if you get what I mean? The first mission we see on screen? fucked up because Jinx lost control. This happens throughout the first season, it doesn't just come when ever the writers need it to happen.

In season 2 it does. Suddenly in situations that should freak her out she doesn't. Suddenly they use it as a plot device. Why was she very calm and relaxed upon meeting Vander as warwick with Vi? Why did she not freak out when Vi and her fought in the mines?

Do we all remember what happened in season 1 episode 3? And how Jinx immediately lashed out as soon as a fight occured? What happened? Also why was she suddenly so very chill with Enforcers in act 2 and beyond? The joke with the Enforcer and her god damn fucking pants was so out of place I cannot even handle to think about it anymore. The fight with Warwick was good and I liked that in the end they again showed that she is ready to kill herself, at least there is continuity here but that is also never addressed and also... happens for Plot and plot only

it happens so warwick can see the bomb and so they can have him recognize her, like okay arcane writers? And then after that she is simply fine with her second father figure showing up again? You are telling me the girl who had such a mental break down last season over her sister returning would be absolutely fine and 🥺family🥺 upon seeing Vander? Where was the sense? Where was her having to deal with Silco and Vander in her mind? i don't WANT to see her tortured, duh, but they set that up and showed this happening to her in season 1, so this is just, I dont know, a plothole? You are telling me the same girl who blew up the council in s1, and like LOOK AT HER in that scene, is all cuddle cuddle with her past family whose death she always blamed herself for and was scared off?

Then Isha dying, and god do I have my problems with that but that's another thing, and THEN having Jinx never mention her again? Are you KIDDING ME? like it's not even just not mentioning her as much as it is just also Isha not appearing in her nightmares etc. That is NOT how they set Jinx up as a character. While the scene with Jinx in the prison with Silco turning up was chillingly heartbreaking it also didn't make sense if you take into account how they wrote her seeing things this season. In the one scene where she talked to Silco's chair she says he doesn't show up and then when she is in pain over Isha being caught suddenly he stands behind her? I mean maybe I missed something here but I literally sat there like huh.

In season 1 it happened not because it was needed but because it wasn't. As it should be. In this season it only happened when the Plot needed to move and that's just so incredibly weird to me. Especially cause I already saw people misinterpreting the Silco and Jinx prison scene. It was her subconscious telling her to kill herself not Silco trying to be "a positive influence".

And then or course, we have this tragic character Jinx. Who was shown to have a wish of death all throughout season 1 with how careless she was with her life (for example when she threw around the bombs in her hide out) and then throughout season 2 as well. Who saw a breath of life for a bit, taken from her.

To have a character like this ACTUALLY die by killing herself and then to paint it as a GOOD thing? This isn't a tragedy. This is straight up suicide glorification. I did not cry when I watched this scene, I did not feel sadness and grief. I was beyond mad and disgusted and might be for a long time to come.

I need more ppl to talk abt how awfully Jinx was treated this season. I am soooo angry and upset

[erodingsinner]

Arrow if Slade and Oliver had a fucked up toxic romantic thing going

[willowser]

Wait, you deactivated?!! I thought u got suspended?☠️☠️💀 , I was really like damnnnnnnnnn😭😭😭😭😭😭. WELCOME back tho💖💖💖💖💖💖💯💯💫💫💫💫💥💥

yeah, i actually privated ! and — i don't know how to explain why to yall without 1) oversharing, 2) being super long-winded, and 3) sounding like a crybaby LOL but the long-short of it is: i was getting a decent amount of negative feedback the last few weeks and a final comment kind of launched me into this weird episode where i was sort of forced to face this hurt that i had been avoiding for a few years, and then i felt really uncomfortable and embarrassed and nakey, so i didn't want anyone to look at me LOL but i'm on the mend now, so thank you ! 🩷✨️

[thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl]

Working in publishing, my inbox is basically just:

Article on the Horrors of AI

Article on How AI Can Help Your Business

Article on How AI Has Peaked

Article on How AI Is Here to Stay Forever

Article on How AI Is a Silicon Valley Scam That Doesn't Live Up to the Promise and In Fact Can't Because They've Literally Run Out of Written Words to Train LLMs On

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[baekuras]

I so far enjoy Dragon Age Inquisition enough to continue on but also why is there so much of nothingness or what feels like it gsdgfh It's so different from the previous game I am surprised they are of the same series but like...aight sure let's do open world with nothing in it-I know that genre at least

Look I've played like 10 hours and I do wanna look into everything but alas every climbable looking mountain won't let me and around 5 hours were spent with the same 3 non talkactive companions so give me some time to get into it when I am used to the closeness and...chaos of Kirkwall and that crew

i JUST found Iron Bull (nice guy) after getting Sera(girl help) and Vivienne (apparently a bitch but so far I only get business woman vibes off her so....guess it fits?)

i still maintain that Solas in this looks goofy due to his big head to body ratio, mitigated by giving him bulky looking armor Varric is Varric no notes Cassandra is also cool, no notes

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

-

[laisai]

this maths out esp if you live in a suburb of a major city

you can cut some money if you have fewer vacations or children but...yeah. wont say how much but my mom basically had to get a job that makes so much more money than we ever had in our lives before

before we got anywhere near this kind of life

and im an only child, my college is cheap, and my parents only started going on vacations in the last four months.

we were technically "middle class" this whole time but now we're on the high end of it, and it's insane. i still feel weird about how much money we suddenly have. we're not millionaires or anything but it feels like we won a fucking lottery

like the amount of headspace i no longer devote to penny pinching is immense, i had no idea how much it was stressing me out, EVEN when i thought i was not stressing about finances.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[tizeline]

This is it, FINALLY we're gonna see the actual beginning of the story! Episode one! Yay!! So Donnie and April are just hanging out when they find this weird fox-dog-cat-creature or whatever, but before they have time to figure out exactly what it is, they're interrupted by three Normal Human Teenage Boys! Uh Oh!

... okay so the Normal Human Teenage Boys were actually Giant Turtle Teenage Boys. Cool.

So from Donnie's and April's perspective, as far as they know Donnie and Splinter are one of a kind, they've never encountered any other mutants or yōkai before. Both of them have of course always been curious about Don's origins but have never found any lead on where he came from nor how he was created. All of this is to say, suddenly encountering three other mutant turtles like Donnie himself out of nowhere is literally the craziest thing ever for them!

From the Drax Bros' perspective though... they have no idea why this random yōkai dude is acting like he's never interacted with any other yōkai in his life?? Like sure, some yōkai who live on the surface can be a bit out of the loop when it comes to the rest of yōkai-society. Not knowing what a cloaking brooch is is certainly weird, but whatever, maybe he just kinda lives under a rock or something. But then he reacts Like That to seeing their true forms?? What's this guy's deal?? (Give them a second, they're gonna connect the dots real soon lol)

Next part ->

Reference for the Human Drax Brothers! And yes I have made it A Thing that Leo is a huge Shadow fanboy and I will STICK TO IT!

Also in that TMNT x Power Rangers crossover comic, when the turtles were disguised as humans they all had backpacks to represent their shells, I thought that fun a fun concept so they all have backpacks here too lol.

Oh and another thing, when I was showing sneak peeks of the comic to some peeps on discord, it was pointed out to me that that one panel looked like an Omori encounter so I made this low-res edit in like 2 minutes, enjoy

[rubys-domain]

sometimes i wonder if i'm the right amount of critical, or if i'm just really hard to please.

[zephyrchama]

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”