#this is only a hope and want and I know it won’t be real but I miss them ok

[rosenclaws]

ok, ok “suck on my fingers.” and “don’t make a mess, baby.” prompt with the worse wolverine? btw i love your words!!!

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, cum eating (kinda? i think thats whats this called idk he just sticks his fingers in ur mouth after fingering)

600 follower drabble masterlist

a/n: I'm gonna be so real I am coping hard rn. I am devastated and worried for the future but if writing wolverine smut is what helps that is what I shall do. I hope you like it!!

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Fuck at this point you'd believe that you've been here for days. Wrapped in his arms. Trapped under his adamantium bone and super human strength. The sheets slip through your fingers as your grip grows weaker. Logan has been teasing you, playing with you like a piece of meat.

Logan is upright against the headboard. He’s got your back against his chest. One of strong arms is keeping you upright. Forcing you to sit there. His other hand is shoved into your panties. He didn’t even bother to take them off.

There’s something playing on the TV in your room but you lost any sense of your surroundings about an hour ago. Logan likes to play with his food. Always has.

Your big hot boyfriend loves to make a mess of things before he eats.

“Oh Fuck Logannnn.” You whine as he slips two of his fingers into your already soaked cunt.

Your panties are soaked from Logan’s touch. He won’t even bother taking them off. He likes the obscene sight of his hands down them. Loves seeing his fingers disappear and watch your cute face scrunch up in pleasure.

You’re trying with all your might to squirm away. Not that you wanted him to stop but the pleasure was overwhelming. Your body was moving without your brain at this point. Pure instinct. Logan growls in your ear. Shoving another finger inside to shut you up.

“Quiet. I’m not done with you yet.” You tilt your neck to the side as Logan’s rough thumb starts to circle your clit harshly.

The sounds of your pleasure are loud and Logan is unashamedly eating them up. His fingers movie faster and faster. Pounding into you with a force that makes you scream. Your dripping down his hands and onto the sheets. Logan tuts and shakes his head mockingly.

“Don’t make a mess baby.” He scolds as he drives his fucking fingers deep inside of you. Fucking liar. He loves when you make a mess. Nothing boosts his ego more.

He feels so good. His fingers are tearing you apart. He’s hell bent on making you come harder than you ever have. He can never get enough. It's like a competition with himself. Making sure you know only he can do this to you over and over. A pressure builds deep in your core and your eyes widen when you feel a certain feeling.

“Logan wait I-“ Your pleas are silenced as another moan rips through your throat.

You chant his name over and over as your legs start to shake. Logan watches in awe as you squirt all over the bed. He doesn't let up as he pulls as much as he can. You're moaning only pushes him further. He's whispering dirty things in your ear but you can barely hear him. Your body is screaming in pure pleasure and its all you can hear.

"Too much." You manage to whimper out as Logan continues to fuck his fingers into you.

He hums and in a moment of mercy decides you've had enough for tonight. Such a good pet. His fingers are coated. He pulls them apart and smirks as he brings them to your lips.

“Come on, suck on my fingers." He coos as you lazily open your mouth. Your perfect pretty lips surrounding his fingers, sucking your own juices from his fingers.

"Taste yourself, see why I can't get enough of this delicious cunt." His eyes grow dark as he watches your lips take his fingers so easily. You look up with glossy eyes. Completely fucked out because of him.

"Cute." He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you closer. His fingers slip out of your mouth and he dips back down into your soaked underwear. You whine when he gently brushes over your sensitive clit.

"Shhh sweetheart," His moves are softer this time, gentle.

"Just relax. Let me get my taste too."

[requiemforthepoets]

you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be 𖦹 CL16 series

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: the celestials are unseen guides who help souls cross the afterlife. you are bound to the earthly realm by your duty, and had formed a unique connection with charles along the way after he had caught a glimpse of you. charles can’t seem to get you out of his mind, so he began seeking for you, and you began to grapple with your duty and the growing attachment towards charles, realizing that the only way to truly be with him is to give up your immortality, experiencing human emotions, pain, and vulnerability.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little bit of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, and cursing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! i’ve been gone for a while bc i really wanted to take a break. my mental health wasn’t really doing good the past few weeks, and my inspiration & will to write fics hasn’t been that great, but this series is a project that i had been working on while i was taking a break—somehow i was able to be inspired. i’ve been watching a lot of movies, and this series was inspired by ‘city of angel’ a 1998 movie. tbh, this will be my first time writing a fic in this kind of genre, since i don’t really write fantasy fics, but as they say, there’s a first for everything!

i know that this fic won’t be some people’s cup of tea, but if you don’t like, then don’t read. that’s all. updates for this series will be a bit slow. i hope that you’ll enjoy this series as much as i enjoyed writing it.

status ❀ on-going | date started ❀ 11/04/24 | playlist

i. will be posted soon!

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Oh! I actually love this idea and thought about it way too much. And you NAILED some important points. Cause the only borrowers that wouldn’t be affected by this apocalypse would be those deep in the wilderness, like in super dangerous parts of the jungle or even deep into caverns that human’s hubris can’t reach.

Also I’ve always thought about when borrowers would be found cause time periods could impact that. Like ancient centuries would see them as a status symbol among humans. If you caught one that would mean great luck or fortune, or perhaps it meant you were smart enough to catch them. Go a little further into closer centuries and you have borrowers being sold as pets or slaves or even worse possibilities.

But then you get to this century, today, and everything you said would most likely be true. However, I can hear the debates over them. How one side would say they are humans and deserve human rights, while the other would say they are less than human and don’t deserve respect because they can’t do Real work, or something. Then there would be an argument about what makes something a human. Is it DNA? Size? Looks? Etc? Which that opens a whole new can of worms where ethics, ancestral history, eugenics, morals, religious contexts, and so many other things would get involved and that would be one hell of a shitstorm.

However if borrowers were found, we know there would be a whole community of people wanting to protect them and their way of life. It wouldn’t be the same as before, like you said their world would be gone and completely different, but they do have a small group of people who would, at least I hope so, fight for every borrower out there. I’m just saying that the g/t community would probably go and steal from places keeping borrowers prisoners. I would at least. I’ll go into a petsmart and break all the borrowers out of there. They can arrest me but that won’t stop me from doing it again when I get out!

*ahem* probably shouldn’t ramble too much eheheheh, anywho I have really thought about this concept a lot and I really like it cause it’s so complicated!

G/t Concept: Borrower Apocalypse

Borrowers are revealed to the entire world. Everyone, everywhere suddenly knows about them.

There are a lot more than the Humans expected.

A cheap, reliable "Borrower Detector" hits the market almost overnight.

In less than a month about 80% of domestic Borrowers have been found by homeowners, completely at their mercy.

Now, a decade later, The species has been scattered to the winds...

Borrowers got their rights far too late. And they're nothing but empty words on a piece of paper.

Kidnapping a Borrower is laughably easy. Anyone can do it. And the police response is mostly dependent on whether or not they gave a shit. The laws are basically unenforced.

So, half the species has fucked off into the wilderness, and the other half takes their chances with Humans. As 'equals', as pets, or as one of the lucky few who were able to stay hidden.

The Humans live another day in a changed world.

But Borrowers? Their 'world' ended a long time ago…

Basically: What if Humans suddenly gained an ability / technology that makes it impossible for Borrowers to hide? And what if they all get found at the same time with no real warning?

(Also trying a new format here. Less fluff / theatrics. I'm hoping a simple bullet-pointed list will make the concept more adaptable and open-ended. Please let me know your thoughts)

[misfitwashere]

We the People will succeed

A note of reassurance on election eve. 

ROBERT REICH

NOV 4

Friends,

These are the most stressful and nerve-wracking days I can recall. I vacillate between optimism and fear, hope and dread. 

You? 

I don’t recall an election in which the two candidates represent such opposite poles of the American character. 

Harris is the rule of law; Trump, lawlessness. Harris, inclusion; Trump, exclusion. Harris, decency; Trump, loathsomeness. Harris, the American Dream; Trump, the American nightmare. 

Harris wants the best for the country; Trump wants the best only for himself. 

I don’t need to go on. You know all this. The question is why doesn’t everyone else? That almost half of America appears willing to vote for Trump is itself shocking. 

I write this short missive to you every day (sometimes more than once a day) because I want to fortify you. Not just with facts, analysis, and logic, but also with reminders of our shared morality. 

I want to reassure you about the common good. 

A large part of that common good consists of our concern for something larger than personal wealth, power, or advantage over others — in other words, the opposite of Trump. 

The common good is what we owe one another as members of the same society. These duties create a set of relationships that give us a civilized way of living together. 

But the common good has been under assault in two ways.

First, it’s been under assault by people with great wealth who have been using their wealth to corrupt our democracy and spew cynicism about the whole project of self-government. 

These people include Elon Musk, Rupert Murdoch, Peter Thiel, and Tim Mellon. 

Let me also add two powerful people whose cowardice has been reprehensible: Jeff Bezos, who won’t allow his Washington Post to endorse Kamala Harris because he’s afraid of angering Donald Trump. And Jamie Dimon, chair and CEO of JPMorgan Chase, America’s largest bank, who never misses an opportunity to comment on public issues but has gone silent when it comes to the dangers posed by Trump. 

Worse yet, hugely wealthy people like them have rigged the American political and economic system to their own benefit. They have siphoned off a significant part of the gains of the economy. 

The median wage for the bottom 90 percent of Americans has risen just 15 percent in real terms over the last forty years. Over the same years, the stock market has risen 5000 percent. In the 1960s, CEO pay was 20 times the typical worker’s pay. Today, it’s 320 times. 

Second, the common good has been under assault by people who have been exploiting Americans’ fears of others to build their political power. The “others” include immigrants, people of color, gay people, trans people, secularists, even women.

The perpetrators include Donald Trump, JD Vance, and much of the current Republican Party, which has become a cesspool of bigotry and lies. 

There’s an important relationship between these two threats to the common good. 

A major reason so many Americans are willing to follow Trump and blow up the system is they feel they have nothing to lose. 

For years they’ve worked hard and followed the rules but have gotten nowhere. They’ve become frustrated, anxious, and angry. Trump, Vance, and the Republican Party have tapped into these feelings and channeled them into hate of “them” — as if immigrants, people of color, gay and trans people, secularists, and women are responsible for what has happened to white working class men. 

Both threats to the common good are inviting brutality. They are undermining decency. They are corroding our shared morality.

In these ways, Trump and his sycophants and funders have elevated the dark side of the American psyche. They have normalized viciousness in America.

Since Trump came on the scene in 2015, hate crimes have soared. America has become even more polarized. Average Americans say and do things to people they disagree with that in a different time would have been unthinkable.

Defeating Trump and Vance tomorrow (or however long it takes for the election to be decided) is only the first step. 

The next step is to hold Trump accountable for his criminality. 

Third, we must contain the billionaires who are undermining American democracy. We must demand a tax on great wealth, more vigorous antitrust enforcement to break up monopolies, and true campaign finance reform.

Fourth, and hardest of all: We must ensure that Americans who have voted for Trump — whether out of anger, despair, bigotry, or delusion — are brought back into the realm of rationality and included in the nation’s future prosperity.

We must create means to achieve the American Dream that do not require a four-year college degree. We have to get big money out of our politics. Social media must filter out hateful disinformation.

The preamble to the Constitution of the United States opens with the phrase “We the people,” conveying a sense of shared interest and a desire “to promote the general welfare,” as the preamble goes on to say. 

Which brings me back to tomorrow’s election. 

I know you’re scared and stressed. So am I. Some of you may feel quite alone right now. You are not. 

All I can say to reassure you is that time and again, Americans have opted for the common good. 

We supported one another during the Great Depression. We were victorious over Hitler’s fascism and Soviet communism. We survived Joe McCarthy’s communist witch hunts, Richard Nixon’s crimes, Lyndon Johnson’s Vietnam War, the horrors of 9/11, and George W. Bush’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. So far, we have survived Donald Trump’s malignant narcissism. 

The common good in America is still alive. 

If we are true to our history and ideals, Kamala Harris will win, and we’ll get through the destruction Trump will again try to wreak on our democracy in the wake of his defeat, as we did before. And we will get on with the work of achieving broadly-shared prosperity and strengthening our democracy. 

We the people will succeed. 

[salemlunaa]

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely love your posts. And ur energy really made me want to embody that for myself. I hope u can help with some issues that's I've been facing.

I've been in this community for an odd 4 years and u can say that I've consumed every type of information. I know all about the law. When I start to apply the law I get really discouraged waking up in the same fucking reality and when shit doesn't change instantly. That sets me off on a cycle that I can't seem to get out of.

It's been a nightmare with me being so anxious and desperate all the time. Also some things that I've done hurt my parents real bad, but I did it with the intention of leaving this place the next day. And by bad I mean constantly lying to them abt going to clg and they finding out and all of the shit that follows after that. But yeah I admit I wasn't that great of a daughter. So now that I'm trying to manifest a better life for myself, I feel guilty and feel like all I'm doing is just escaping.

I don't know how to deal with my emotions but I want out of here immediately cause it's gotten really bad and I don't even feel like living anymore.

What do I do to leave here immediately? How do I trust that I am a god and that only what I want will happen?

Sorry for all that rant. Just needed to get it out.

hi love, i’m sorry you’re going through this, circumstances can get so shitty sometimes, trust me, i know.

And you might not like the answer, but you have to live in imagination, give yourself your desires in the 4d, give yourself the success of waking up with your desires in the 4d, give it all to yourself in imagination and the 3d will always follow.

You’re allowed to have your emotions, it won’t mess up your progress if you scream, cry, get frustrated etc, you’re allowed to feel discouraged but don’t let that stop you, please don’t let it stop you because it will be so worth it when you have the life of your dreams after realising how easy it is.

live in the 4d now, who’s to say you woke up with nothing? who’s to say you’re a bad daughter? who’s to say you haven’t manifested much? are you resonating with that reality because the 3d said so? screw the 3d!! you have your desires and always have done 💞💞

[webanglikethat]

to every single queer person out there—trans, gay, bi, pan, ace, nonbinary, however you identify—let me just say this: I am so, so fucking sorry. SO, SO, SO FUCKING SORRY. I am furious. I’m pissed off beyond words. english seems like a forgotten skill as I'm typing this. I am so sorry.

we never deserved this. we never fucking deserved this.

I am sorry that you’ve been betrayed like this, that we’ve all been betrayed like this. I’m sorry that 20 million of our damn votes weren’t counted, like we don’t even matter. like we’re just numbers on a page that they can toss out without a thought. like we can just be erased, as if we do not exist, like we’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit into their perfect picture, so they just throw us out, discarded, like we were never there in the first place. I’m sorry she just conceded, just gave up. left us hanging. just handed us over like we’re some afterthought, like we’re collateral damage in this disgusting twisted fucking game. as if our lives, our rights, everything we fought for, meant nothing. she just rolled over and let us get steamrolled, like we’re just noise, just numbers on a page, just nothing worth fighting for. do they even care that real people, people who trusted her, who put their hopes in her, are being crushed by this? and not only in the US. we ALL believed in her. and ... she ... just ... she was gone. just like that. and we’re the ones who have to pay the price. we’re the ones left with our futures on the line, wondering what rights we’ll have tomorrow, if we’ll even be safe tomorrow. and she just… gave it all up. handed us over to people who are hell-bent on erasing us, who’ve been clear from day one about what they think of us, what they want to take away. how do we even make sense of that? how do we believe in ANYONE? how can you abandon us in the lion's den and yet demand compassion and trust? to trust in the very hands that have left us to bleed, to burn, to fight alone?

we deserve better. we deserved someone who would stand with us when it mattered, who wouldn’t just throw in the towel and walk away when things got tough. we’re not just collateral. we’re not disposable. we’re human beings with lives, with love, with the right to exist without fear. we aren't statistics, diagrams, names forgotten on a wall. we are queer, and we are real. and she ... just left us to face down a nightmare she knows damn well is coming. so how dare they tell us to “keep faith” when they’ve shown us that our lives were never worth the fight to them. we needed someone who would dig in and say, “no, you can’t have them. not now, not ever.” and instead? we were left out in the cold to fend for ourselves. like always. like fucking always. and this isn’t just some political setback for us. this is our lives, our right to exist. we’ve fought and bled and stood through hell just to claim an inch of ground to live openly, to love who we love, and to be who we are. we deserved so much more than empty promises. and we won’t forget this.

right now, it feels like every warning, every fear we’ve had has come to life in the worst way. and let’s be real—what’s next is terrifying. I will not sugarcoat it. rights are going to be stripped away, our existence denied, our safety threatened. trump hasn’t hidden it; he’s promised it. this was supposed to be our home too. but they’re pushing us out, forcing us to hide. so please, if you need to, go back into the closet. change states if that’s what it takes. hell, think about leaving the country if you can, because it’s becoming clear that staying might mean risking everything. you do not owe anyone anything, just think of yourself first. you are your own priority.

and god .. Love. Love—something so pure, something so simple—has been twisted into a reason for others to hate us, to fear us, to hurt us. we were never supposed to be the ones people saw as a “threat.” that label should belong to hatred, to racism, to homophobia, to everything that has poisoned this world. but instead, somehow we are the ones they call dangerous. we are the ones they want to erase. and it’s maddening. what kind of world are we living in, where the fight to just exist is an endless battle? was it not love that led Eve to take that fateful bite, trusting in the bond she shared with Adam? and if love is the foundation upon which humanity was built, how can we be faulted for following its lead? of all the things we could hate, and we chose love.

if this moment feels like it’s too much, if it feels like everything you’ve fought for, every piece of yourself you’ve worked to own, every right, every dream, every bit of safety is collapsing around you -- I get it. I feel it in my bones. it feels like drowning, like being swallowed whole by a storm that never ends. the shore seems so far away. but listen to me: don’t you fucking dare let them break you. don’t let them get that satisfaction. don’t give them that power. we are not here to let monsters erase us. we’re here to outlast every single one of them. we’re here to survive and thrive. we are queer, we are real, we exist, we will continue to exist.

their power, their hatred, their cruelty—it won’t last forever. I know it's difficult to see the light at the end of this tunnel. but they are the ones who don’t belong in a world built on compassion, on love, on freedom. You are the real thing. You are here. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to feel safe, loved, and free.

if you’re feeling like there’s no point anymore, if this all feels like it’s too damn much to take, please just hang on. this fight is brutal, and sometimes it feels like it never ends. but I’m begging you—don’t give up. don’t let them have that final victory. don’t let them silence your voice, your light, your life. scream, cry, punch walls, call someone, reach out, hold on to whatever will keep you here another day, another hour. do whatever you have to do to survive this moment. because you’re needed. we need you. the world needs you.

you might not see it now, but you are a part of something big, something powerful, something they wish they could destroy but never will. you’re part of a legacy of resilience, of love, of defiance against hatred. every queer person, every person who has ever had to stand up against a world that told them they shouldn’t exist, that they should be crucified, erased, beaten up, has carried that legacy forward, passed it down so we could be here. so you could be here. and they did not survive all they did, did not fight, did not sacrifice so much just for us to lose hope. we’re still here because others fought and held on. now, it’s our turn. we owe it to them, to ourselves, to hold on with everything we have, to fight with everything in us.

and one day, I promise you, I truly pinkie promise you, that you’re going to wake up in a world that has moved beyond these hateful voices. one day, you will wake up in a world that sees you, that values you, where you don’t have to fight just to exist. you deserve to live in it, to walk in the sunlight without fear, without shame. they don’t get to take that from you. they don’t get to erase you. they don’t get to win.

this moment is hard. it’s beyond hard. but you, every single one of you, are worth it. you are not alone in this fight. you are surrounded by countless others who feel this too, who know this pain, who are holding on right alongside you.

so please, hold on. you belong, and nothing they do can change that. they cannot snuff out your light. they cannot erase your legacy. they cannot undo the love you were born to spread.

stay. fight like hell. be louder, be prouder, be everything they tell you not to be. because you are worth every ounce of this battle. and we will see the day they’re gone. we will make it through.

we too shall rise from the ashes.

to my queer family, my phoenix.

[thrashkink-coven]

I wasn’t even going to post this, because I didn’t want to contribute to some of the anxieties that you all are having about the election, but when I spoke to Lord Lucifer about it yesterday, he got really quiet.

“Why do you ask? What does it change?”

well it changes a whole lot. Project 2025 is extremely concerning. Of course it matters.

But when I looked at him, his eyes communicated something incredibly intense. I could see flames and hear anguish.

“I have never seen a group of slaves so concerned with its master’s mythology”

and damn that hit me. The way we treat politicians as Gods, and politics as mythology, how we allow it to inform our sense of self and morality, when did we all get so comfortable with that?

“Tomorrow the elites will decide who the new commander is. They will dictate who’s ideas become law, and who must obeyed. One day, when all is lost, we will turn around and wonder why we ever cared about law, why we ever allowed people to dictate our movements, why we ever acted as audience to this drag show. For reasons xy and z , reasons that even you do not understand, there is a new chief, a new law, something new to obey, because the people refuse to make their own law. They refuse to be their own Gods, they cannot write their own myths, so they accept what they are told. How the heavens, or government, acts, is absolute and unknowable. It’s been so long since they tasted freedom, they don’t know what it tastes like anymore. I want you to accept that the world is what it is. Disregard this illusion that things have suddenly, or will suddenly change. Disregard the idea that this timeless battle will resolve through politics. You’ve been fighting and will be fighting for the rest of your life. Who wins? I don’t care. The fight won’t happen in the polls. It doesn’t transform based on these myths. You will have the law, the one that even they do not obey, and they will have the land.

But the enemy has always been the same, the battle has always been the same, since the very beginning, no matter how many times the myth is rewritten. Be it he or she who sits on the throne, there is still throne, you are still slave. When slaves reconnected with their Gods, understood that they were divine, as worthy as kings, they began to recreate their mythology and that began to recreate their idea of law. You want freedom? You crave liberation? Stop thinking like a slave. Stop hoping that master will be kind. Stop buying into the lie that the power exists only in the hands of others. They are not the only ones capable of creating law, they are not the only ones capable of changing minds. America is the perfect embodiment of the doctrine of supremacy who wraps itself in the false flag of freedom. True freedom starts in the mind, extends to the community, and embraces humanity with love. Reinvent the mythology, write one in which all people are Gods, and all power is in all the people. These kings are not kings without their myths and stories, they have no power beyond the power you all give them. I don’t care what the kings are doing, they aren’t real. I care about you and all your kin, and that’s truly all you should care about too.”

…. so voting is useless?

“Imagine if you knew and loved everyone in your community, and you all got together once a month to compile your assets and equitably distributed them. Imagine if you all knew what was going wrong and worked together to fix it. Imagine if you compromised with each other, and found a way to coexist peacefully. Is such a thing truly impossible? Do you even know your neighbour’s name? Do you even care about the man sleeping outside? Could you love them? Could you try?”

[vastpotato]

I write a crazed crack theory/hope for The mag protocol at 3 am… you wanna hear it?:):):)

Jon and Martin survived. The plan worked just as Jon had theorized it would. With Jon gone, the tether was cut and the fears sent away. In the explosion, jon was able to protect Martin (his own connection and domain of the Lonely also most likely saved him) and they were sent to another universe (Somewhere Else)(most likely with all the other fears just greatly weakened and on the edges once more)(they never found bodies)

Martin came through in much better space than jon, (because protected by Jon and Lonely powers) still with powers to some degree and now in a new universe, he has no true ties and doesn’t truly care. What he does care about is Jon. Jon has barely survived through his power in the eye. Not even remotely human anymore, Martin knows the only way jon could possibly survive or grow strong enough to Be once more is through the power of stories. He doesn’t want another mag inst again though so he plans carefully. Two men are out looking for a bit of fun and a good place to tell spooky stories. Martin is able to scare them enough into knowing they MUST come back every year or so with new people to share true stories. Martin takes this as a mercy and some kind of hold still on humanity. (Hence why we hear there is no ‘Martin or jon’. Because there isn’t. Not really anymore anyways. Just husks of the men we knew and loved.) they’re not human anymore. Neither of them. Jon practically IS the Beholding now and martins only true link to humanity still now, is because of and through the husk of the man he loves and his want of him back.

In the “huh. Are you still listening?” We can hear that it’s obviously Martin. (Ofc duh, no one could forget the huggable voice) but. The tone has changed slightly. It’s more confidence, you can obviously tell he’s smirking behind the recorder (is that because he knows with the recorders coming back, things are once again set in motion? Or is it that Jon’s finally come back enough to be of interest to the Web once more?) but there’s something coy in his tone. He knows this recorder showing up means something is coming and in his voice seems to have lost the stutter, teddy bear tone in exchange for something much closer to that of a timbre jon took on in s5. Martin now has a confidence to him that we almost never saw in TMA

In TMP we might just see the duo as the villains or fears plaguing the new mcs lives. The crew come in contact with them in some form of way but we now -have- nothing- to -lose duo. They’ve already killed each other, watched their world burn. And all without knowing if what they did and sacrificed was even worth it or did anything. That’s enough there to break any person. But even Martin in the new world-is alone and growing stronger with his own power because of it. He’s bringing stories for Jon to get stronger with. The two are growing in power. Maybe not quickly. But growing nonetheless.

(Please let us see an absolute crazed jon. A jon who hasn’t even truly Been in the world for an unknown amount of time. A jon who’s been driven mad from teetering on the edge of existing and nothingness. A jon who can hear the voice of the man he loves. Heard how he cries out and grows frustrated at his own attempts but can do nothing to soothe him. A jon who’s finally been brought back enough to embrace the one he loves but it’s too late and the man’s grown bitter from his time alone and failed tries. A jon who has had to listen to these mortals blab on and on over things that don’t truly feed him. A jon who had so much power and walked his world as a god only to have fallen so far. A jon who used to be able to See nearly anything and everything at will only to be unable to see his own hands in front of him. A jon who can see the way the love of his life cries for him day after day after day. A jon who was so mighty and all Seeing who now can see nothing. Who is forced to survive off of hearing moments alone. A jon who is so broken by his past actions and unknowing if his own world is safe. If the people he fought so hard for are even alive. A jon who goes mad because he doesn’t Know anything anymore. Give me a jon who is so simply broken he does not care for the humanity in front of him. A jon who stares down at the vermin at his feet who dared to keep their stories from him and forced his love to suffer longer. Give me a mad broken jon. )

[joestarfucker420]

going from being ashton all week to being my legal name again is honestly one of the worst feelings in the world

[yuribalisms]

Essentially what it is all boiling down to is I have fully realized I am bad at being a person, that will always be true, and I don’t know how to handle that

[whimsyprinx]

time to make a realistic set of goals for 2023 i guess

[red-and-white-and-black-and-gold]

Fucked around, made a bracket for the MLS Cup playoffs. Columbus for the back to back championship, you heard it here first folks!

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. ��but only if you want to.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

��

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”