#i keep forgetting to post here woops

[spac3trash]

polymar!!!

twitter really liked this one, so thought I’d share it here too,,,

[tsokolatesea]

*drops squidbob haikaveh doodle and runs*

[vxlenst3in]

Drunk!Gojo x fem!reader

!des: gojo drank a little too much and woops. you two ended up in his bed.

wc: 4.3k (my longest one on tumblr yet)

a/n: wrote this like ages ago and thought why not post it as a late birthday post LOL. I honestly didn't read over it again, so if it's bad - oops.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight, huh?” You chuckled out as you listened to Gojo’s confused mumbles. He was only a couple of shots in and already lost his ability to form any sentences. It was quite a sight to watch Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his time, get drunk so easily, babbling nonsense, a bright blush covering most of his face. Shoko just glanced over at you two. “Mm’ shutttt…” He answered in an annoyed tone. His arms were hanging down as he was leaning back into the chair, his head was thrown back while he stared at the ceiling.

You have no idea how you even ended up here, considering that only a few days ago Gojo was practically begging you to come along, because he believed that you were a lightweight as well, so he hoped that he wouldn’t be the only one to get drunk that quickly. Even though he hated alcohol, he was really hitting it off tonight. Bottle after bottle of Sake. At first, you were hesitant, but as soon as he mentioned that Shoko and Nanami would be there too, you couldn’t say no anymore.

Nanami had left about an hour ago now, he was very strict about keeping up his sleep schedule. That’s a fact you could never forget about him, ever since you guys met at Jujutsu High about 10 years ago.

Your eyes flicked from Gojo to Shoko as she poured herself another drink. “Let me have another one too!” You say.

- “Still not drunk?” She replied.

- “A bit tipsy, but that’s about it.”

A laugh escaped her mouth while she poured you a drink. You were more of a Whiskey type, while Gojo preferred Sake, whenever he did decide to drink. Your eyes lingered back to Gojo who was now leaning forward to grab another bottle of Sake. Shoko was quick to react, placing the bottle of Sake out of his reach. Getting a pout out of Gojo.

“Awhhhh,” He whined, “Meanieeee~ Y/nnn~~ Say somethin’~” Your eyes widened as he grabbed onto your arm, slightly pulling it in order to get your attention. His hair was a complete mess, no strand of hair was where it was supposed to be. You thought it was rather adorable how he was holding onto your arm like that. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t have a crush on him, or at least thought about how he’d look on top of you. Even though you had those thoughts, you never had the time to mention them to him or try to make a move, you were way too busy for all of that. You doubted that he’d even care, considering that he probably has all girls chasing after him, whenever he was not in Jujutsu High.

“Think you’ve had enough, ‘Toru.” You replied. Gojo moved closer to you, still holding onto that arm. He was clinging to you like a cat in heat, rubbing slightly against you. Shoko raised one eyebrow at the sight, before finishing her drink, surprising you. You hadn’t even started drinking yours. “I’ll be taking my leave as well, you’ll be fine?” Shoko said as she put her glass down.

- “Yeah. I don’t know when I’ll get to leave yet, gon’ make sure Satoru is asleep before”

- “Okay.” Her hands were reaching around her, trying to find her coat and bag. A quiet ‘Ah’ escaped her mouth when she found them.

- “Get home safe.” You responded, waving goodbye with your free hand. Shoko just gave you a sweet smile before putting on her coat and checking the pockets to make sure she has everything.

“Byeee Iei-” Hiccup, “-ri.” Gojo responded, now letting go of your arm to wave with both of his hands enthusiastically. Shoko waved back, turning around to walk into the hallway. Shortly after, the click of the front door confirmed that she was gone. Your head was now turned to Gojo who was staring into the dark hallway.

“Shall we get you to bed?” You mentioned, grabbing Gojo’s attention. “Don’t want to sleep…yet.” Another Hiccup. Soft whining left his mouth, basically pleading with the puppy eyes. You chuckled at the sight of him, as you took a few sips from your drink. Normally you hated silence, it was a weird uncomfortable feeling, but right now, you were loving it. The sight of Gojo pleading at you to let him stay up a little longer, while you sip on your Whiskey — hoping that enjoying this last drink wouldn’t cause you any problems later.

This wasn’t like Gojo at all, normally he was always super talkative, confident and flirty in the way he talked to girls. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or because of you. The quiet sound of glass hitting wood sounded, as you put your now empty glass on the table. Feeling a little dizzy from the amount of alcohol that you just consumed in such a short amount of time, you decided that it would be best if you went home as well. The only obstacle here was getting Gojo into his bed.

“C’mon now, ‘Toru. You should really sleep, it’s late.” You somewhat repeat. A sigh left Gojo’s mouth, as he unwillingly got up, leaning all of his weight onto you. You tried your hardest to support him, even though you were much smaller than him. Gojo was humming a song while walking with you. You couldn’t guess what song it was, probably just something he had made up in his head. With your free hand, you opened the bedroom door. Gojo swaying left and right next to you, just following you blindly. His eyes were barely open, he could’ve probably fallen asleep while standing. Gojo’s eyes only opened when he felt the bed against him, he hadn’t even realised that you lied him down. “Mhmm… So comfy~” He mumbled while letting his head sink into the pillow. You could finally feel the alcohol from earlier hitting you, dizziness overcoming your head again.

“Sleep well, ‘Toru.” You said while throwing the blanket over him, as you pull it up to his chest you can feel a hand grabbing your wrist. Gojo’s hand. “Hm?” You whisper.

- “Where’s my goodnight kiss?”

- “Good night kiss??!” Your face was now covered in a deep red blush, your legs got weak just at the idea. You weren’t 100% sure if that was what he actually had said, so you decided to wait for confirmation from him. He was drunk, after all, and you didn’t want to take advantage of that. But you could also feel yourself losing more and more control of your mind and actions with each passing second, the Whiskey was starting to get to you.

- “‘M waitin’~” He purred as he pulled on your wrist to get you closer.

Hearing his sweet voice ask that from you got your body burning with heat. You knew if you decided to give in, this night would not end on a ‘Good night kiss’. You knew that if you gave in to this, you’d give in to everything else, every single one of your fantasies, desires, and needs. His gaze was on you, looking you up and down, waiting for your answer. Your eyes met his. Fuck, your eyes met his. The bright blue colour, the dilated pupils, the way he looked at you through his lashes. You knew that he’ll be the death of you someday.

Suddenly you snapped back into reality, remembering his request. Quickly you licked your lips before feeling the nervousness rising in your chest. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed a man, especially not when it comes to those quick kisses. So why? You leaned forward, your face right above his. ‘Just a quick peck on his lips, right?’ You told yourself in your head over and over again, but you couldn’t seem to calm down at all.

One last deep breath, before you leaned down, pressing your lips onto his. You were just about to pull away again and probably die from embarrassment, but only a second later you could feel two big hands cupping your face, pulling you in. His hands were gently squeezing your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Considering that you weren’t prepared for a kiss longer than a second or two, you ran out of air pretty quick. Gojo wasn’t stupid - no matter how drunk he was, he noticed that you were out of breath and let you pull away, not entirely letting go of your cheeks though. His fingertips were still lingering on your soft skin.

Your lips were only a few inches apart from each other, as you tried to catch your breath you could hear mumbles coming from Gojo.

- “Mm..so soft…more…can’t stop…” He panted, his drunk-tired eyes glancing at your rosy lips.

Before you could realise it, his lips were pressed onto yours again. Instead of the soft kiss you shared before, he decided to be rough with you this time. Still in shock, you decided to just move along, to let him take the lead. Soft pants and groans left Gojo’s mouth. Not pulling away from his lips, you moved the rest of your body onto the bed, you were now on all fours on top of Gojo. His hands wandered from your cheeks down to your waist, tugging at your loose blouse and pulling it up slightly. The soft touch and his cold hands sent shivers down your spine.

In one swift motion, he had you on your back, now underneath him - his lips still on yours. One of his hands was moving up again, pinning your hands above your head, while the other hand remained on your exposed waist. The cool air in Gojo’s bedroom had your body covered in goosebumps. You could feel Gojo’s tongue begging for more at your lips, so without a second thought you granted him access. His tongue immediately started fighting with yours for dominance, the sweet taste of sake mixing with the rather smoky taste of whiskey. The hand that was on your waist slid under your blouse only to feel the soft fabric of your bra, you could hear a quiet chuckle escaping Gojo’s mouth, regardless of your tongues fighting for dominance.

He rested his hand on your bra for a bit, before he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connected your mouth with his. Satoru loosened his grip on your pinned up wrists a little, while he unbuttoned your blouse in only a few seconds. His eyes scanned your entire upper body.

- “So.. fuckin’ gorgeous~” He exhaled. You could see the excitement in his eyes. His words sent another shiver down your spine, as your face lit up.

Gojo’s hand finally let go of your wrists, pulling off the blouse before you could even realise it. You lied there like a starfish, not being quite sure where to put your hands or what to do, but Gojo didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying every second of this, of being able to admire your perfect body, being able to run his hands up and down your body without you saying a word, only sweet whimpers leaving your mouth. Music to his ears. Before even letting you think again, he slid a hand under your back, lifting you with ease. The other hand was undoing your bra. You were surprised by how easily he had undone your bra.

- “Not your first time, huh?” You teased at his actions. A quiet chuckle was his response, you took that as a yes.

He threw your bra into a corner of his room, finding it would be a problem for later. For now, his eyes were focused on your breasts, licking his lips. He removed his hand from your back and let you sink into the bed again. The shy and intoxicated Gojo from earlier seemed to have lost all control over himself as soon as he saw your breasts. A hand immediately started to gently squeeze one of them. His thumb brushing over your nipple, gently rubbing it, in order to get any sounds out of you - which wasn’t necessarily hard, considering that the alcohol from earlier made you even more sensitive than you usually are. You could see a smirk forming on Gojo’s face, while he listened to your quiet whimpers. The spot between your legs was starting to get soaked, only from Gojo touching you so delicately. His other hand started to take care of your other breast, now simultaneously fondling both of them. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress any moans. Your eyes that were just roaming around the room, now met Gojo’s face. His eyes were focused on your tits, the way they perfectly fit into his hands, the way your skin felt against his hands. His ears were listening to the sweet sounds, the bulge in his pants growing bigger. His mouth was slightly opened. You’ve never seen a man be so mesmerised by the sight in front of him.

The puddle in between your legs was soaking the bed sheets at this point. As much as you loved Gojo paying so much attention to your chest, you wanted more. You needed more. You bucked your hips up slightly, trying to get the fabric of your panties to rub against your swollen clit. Not even biting your lip could suppress your moans anymore,

- “Ha?” Gojo didn’t waste any time moving his hand down to your lower stomach, pressing it down to keep you from moving. A whine of frustration escaping you. “Gettin’ impatient? Slut.”

His words sent waves of excitement through your body.

- “Please…’Toru… want you to touch me~” You begged. Giving him the sweetest look you could possibly do.

In a blink of a second, your pants were off, leaving you only with your panties on. Gojo slid back a little, kneeling in between your legs. His eyes immediately shifted from your chest to your drenched panties. One hand wandered down, rubbing two fingers against your clothed pussy. A gasp escaped your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hand. An excited look overcame his face.

- “Want me to touch you there, hm?” His fingers were not stopping, while you bucked your hips at them. A whimper was your response.

He suddenly withdrew his fingers, before ripping your panties off. Your face was burning, your senses being so heightened was driving you crazy. You watched Gojo bring your panties closer to his face, to his nose. He groaned when he practically inhaled the scent of your pussy. “Fuck… I’ll keep them as a souvenir, so I have something whenever you’re not around…” His other hand was cupping his bulge, while he continued to sniff your panties. The sight and his words almost made you finish right there and then.

Your exposed cunt was throbbing at the sight as well, the cool air blowing over it made you gasp. Gojo eventually put the panties down, and shifted all his attention back to you.x His eyes now focused on your cunt, licking his lips. Your eyes were following his every move. He moved down - looking at your cunt.

“Mm… such a pretty pussy~ Gon’ ruin it…” He purred before using his thumb to massage your clit - the sudden touch already driving you crazy, quiet gasps and whimpers leaving your lips. A low chuckle coming from Gojo, enjoying your reaction. The bulge in his pants was screaming for some action as well, but he was ignoring that for now. Before you could realise it, he inserted a finger, making you squirm. You already knew that he had pretty long fingers, but actually feeling them caught you off guard. Not long after, a second finger entered you. They weren’t necessarily thick, but definitely long enough to reach those sweet spots you could only dream of. He was aware of his skinny fingers, so in order to get you ready for him, he spread his fingers inside of you. You screamed at the feeling of getting stretched like that. His scissoring motions were rough, but the pain faded quickly, calming you a little.

His fingers were soaked at this point. Your mouth was wide open, whimpering, gasping, moaning, while Gojo thrusted his fingers in and out of you, occasionally curling them, hitting exactly the spot that made you get weak in the knees, that built up that knot in your abdomen more and more. His eyes kept flicking between your pussy and your face, enjoying both sights just equally as much. Not only did he get enjoyment out of looking at your face and cunt, he also loved the sounds you were making - the sounds your drenched cunt was making as his fingers ruined it. Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his face, he looked so pleased while fingering you. It pushed you even closer to the edge.

- “...Ah~ ‘Toru gonna c-” He cut you off by starting to rub your clit again with the thumb on his other hand.

- “Cum for me, Doll.”

That was all you needed to hear to lose all control. Your orgasm hit you hard, Gojo fingered you through it, making you pant and gasp for air. A mischievous grin started to appear on his face. “Good girl.” He said before withdrawing his hands from your cunt. Not letting you catch your breath, his hands grabbed onto your thighs - spreading them even further. His face diving directly into your cunt, sucking and licking up all of your juices. Some satisfied purrs left his lips, sending vibrations through your pussy. The overstimulation was making you whine. His talented tongue was all to keep your jaw dropped, mouth wide open. Looking down at him, you could only see his soft snow-white hair, his face was entirely buried in your pussy. He was eating you out like it was his first meal after days.

Eventually, he pulled away, giving you some time to breathe. His face was a mess, your juices were covering half of it. The dim light in his room was making him look 10 times hotter than usual. Your cunt was throbbing from the orgasm you just experienced. He looked beyond proud.

Gojo’s cock was also throbbing, leaking with precum, ruining his pants and underwear. It was throbbing for you. Your cunt felt so empty, missing the feeling of his digits inside of you — not knowing that the emptiness would get replaced by something way better soon.

While you were still catching your breath, your eyes caught Gojo taking off the sweater he was wearing. All of your attention immediately shifted to him - he knew exactly what he was doing, taking off his sweater so slowly that it was starting to drive you crazy, revealing his fit upper body, flexing his muscles on purpose. You knew very well why girls liked him - why you liked him. The defined abs, the V-line, his muscular arms, the little trail of white hair right above his pants. The last time you had seen him shirtless was on a beach day back when you were still a student in Jujutsu High. His body back then was ridiculous compared to what you were seeing right now. He was watching you from the corner of his eye, smirking to himself.

- “Like the view?”

- “You like yours just as much.”

- “Not wrong.”

The dizziness from earlier never left your mind, your senses never went back to normal again. Quite the opposite actually, it feels like Gojo is just making it worse with every passing second. You were lost in your thoughts, lost at the sight. Something inside of you still hadn’t realised that your fantasies finally came true. Deep inside of you, you were praying that this wasn’t a dream. That you wouldn’t wake in your own bed in a few minutes - which wouldn’t be the first time.

The sound of a zipper brought you back to reality. You weren’t expecting a butt naked Gojo in front of you when you snapped back. Cock fully erect, slightly jumping in excitement, precum dripping out of it. His cock was slightly curved upwards. He used his hand to smear the precum all over his cock, quiet groans already escaping his mouth as he gently stroked it. You could tell he was just as sensitive as you were. Gojo had a tight grip on it, squeezing it with each stroke, his groans getting louder with each stroke. The sight only made the knot in your abdomen build up again. He’d call you pathetic if he knew just how excited that got you. Mumbles, quiet mumbles - ‘fuck’ ‘ah’ ‘ngh~’ ‘mhm..’. His eyes were focused on your body the entire time. One last stroke before he stopped.

He lined up with your cunt, as he rubbed his dick against your folds and clit, slipping the tip in every now and then. Gojo was looking for certain reactions from you, and you did not disappoint him. Quiet screams leaving your lips at the slight stretch of his tip slipping inside.

- “Tell me how badly you want it, sweetheart.” Gojo purred.

Forming a simple sentence has never been this hard in your entire life. Never ever have you struggled so hard to just make other sounds than whimpers. He was an asshole, asking you to beg and then rubbing his dick against your clit even more.

- “...I- fuck~”

- “C’mon… Use those big girl words…”

- “...’Toru please~ I want your- ah~ dick so badly…”

FUCKHe slammed into you, stretching out every inch of your tight cunt. Your back arched immediately, as you pressed the back of your head further into the pillow. You dug your fingernails into the bedsheets. To your surprise, the shock only made you gulp loudly. Gojo gasped when he felt his tip kiss your cervix, only now realising that he had buried himself balls deep inside of you. His hands wandered to your hips, not only to keep you in place, but also to make sure to pull you as far as possible onto his dick. The fingers he had inside of you just a few minutes ago were nothing compared to the girth of his dick. They were nothing compared to the way he made you feel like when he thrusted so roughly yet so lovingly into you. The way his tip gave a little smooch to your cervix with every thrust. The pain that kept on mixing with pleasure was making you go stupid, making you lose every coherent thought in your brain.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.At this point you were choking on your own saliva, panting so heavily.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.Gojo had this devilish grin on his face as he fucked you stupid, as he fucked you into the point where you wouldn’t even realize your own orgasms anymore. You had no idea how long it has been since a man has fucked you so sincerely, or if it has ever been this intense. Oh how glad you were that you agreed to joining the little drinking ‘party’ tonight. His two hands that were still holding your hips, were no longer just firmly gripping them, he was roughly squeezing them - geez, this would leave marks later.

His thrusts were starting to stutter.

- “Oh fuck…stop…squeezing me…mhm~” The way your walls were clenching around him made him lose the confidence in his thrusts.

Sloppy but still rough thrusts were the aftermath. Sweat was covering his chest and neck, his breathing was getting heavier with each passing second. You couldn’t remember how many orgasms you were in by now - but you could feel the next one building up already. Not only yours, but Gojo’s first for the night.

Gojo suddenly lifted your legs and threw each over his shoulders, hitting a completely different angle from the position switch. Making you gasp out loud. This position was making you see stars, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. A low chuckle escaped Gojo’s mouth at your reaction. He was quite aware of the spot you liked by now. So in order to make you finish with him, he hit it over and over and over again. Making you whine, tears of pleasure starting to run down your cheeks at the overstimulation. Oh, and how the tears turned him on. How this entire sight just made him grow harder with each moment, how it made his dick throb so terribly. How he could finish at any moment looking at this, and how he will pull you with him.

It was starting to get impossible to ignore the knot in your abdomen, only a little more and you’d-

splash

Without any warning you could feel Gojo filling you up, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. It pushed you over the edge so nicely. The legs that were thrown over his shoulders were shaking by now. As you looked at Gojo, you could only see him panting and almost whimpering. Sweat was running down his forehead. A lovely sight to see regardless.

As he pulled out of you, his eyes watched his seed flow out of your pussy so slowly. “Oh shit~” He hissed.

You chuckled quietly, also catching your breath. His eyes shifted to you, grinning like the asshole he is. You really would’ve liked a warning, but it’s too late for that now anyway. He let your legs down back onto the bed and then leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips.

Too exhausted to fight back or even talk about what just happened, you just let it happen. But in the end, what would you even be complaining about?

Guess the alcohol did you justice tonight.

 ©vxlenst3in - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work.

[p4tscat]

slingshot. mlep

I keep forgetting to post here woops

[transformersandturtles]

I made another fic! This one is solely Wolverine centric. This is darker than I normally write so please keep in mind the warnings! Also a bit of this fic is the movie, but just from Logan's side of it.

Inspired by This Post by Midnightdrag0ns ( @midnights-dragon ) on TikTok!

Word count : 6,848 words (my hands hurt)

CW : ⚠️Alcoholism, ⚠️mentions of SH and thoughts of s-side, survivor's guilt and heavy grief, swearing, hurt/angst (very little comfort at the end), possible spelling errors (not reviewed)

edit : Forgot the title woops

---

Guilt isn't always a rational thing. . .

Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.

- Maureen Johnson

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔

No sleep for the innocent.

Logan's head was spinning, his thoughts all a blur as his throat burned from the familiar liquid he had become so dependent on.

Not for you.

A little voice rang in the back of his mind, a bitter sound that haunted him. His own thoughts, an awful reminder of what he still had. A functioning conscious. How miserable. The calloused finger tips of his index and middle fingers tapped the wooden surface of the bar. Another drink. As his healing factor started to clear his liver, his blurry thoughts were almost clear once again. And he heard it.

"Logan!" The familiar voices rang out his name. Voices he longed to hear once again. Voices he didn't want to hear in his head. He wanted to hear the sounds against his ears, feel the touch on the shoulder or the face. The comforting scents, the comforting caresses. Everything he lost, he wanted again. To make things right. . . But it was one of God's best jokes that he couldn't die. No matter what he did. No matter how hard he tried. His body would always recover, and the cycle continued.

Did you forget?

You have blood on your hands.

As Logan was given another drink by the bartender, he paid no attention to what was said to him but he knew. He wasn't welcomed here. He wasn't welcomed anywhere. A blight. He'd failed everyone; his people, his team, his friends, his family. All because he went out one night and got shitfaced. He left when they called for him. He always walked away. . . And it was his biggest regret.

On your lips.

Logan's lips found the rim of his glass, drinking down another cup. His tongue tingled, taking down the flavor of the bitter drink. His throat burned once more and his stomach churned. The booze in his gut sloshed ever so slightly as he started to sway a little in his seat, but the affect wore off so quickly he could barely remember the feeling. He wanted to he numb in every sense of the word. To be deprived of feeling, sensations, responsiveness. He wanted nothing more than to feel nothing. But maybe it was life's way of punishing him. Keeping him alive as some sick joke. To remind him that he walked away with his life, and his companions. . . Not so much. His eyelids felt heavy as he closed them for a moment, the memories of what happened replaying like a broken projector, stuck on the same movie.

"Come on, Logan, stay! We have beer in the fridge, if that's what has you so preoccupied." Jean spoke with a gentle tone, trying to convince him to stay.

"Honestly, Logan, you should cut back." Scott pestered, as always.

"Spend dinner with us, Logan. You always run off." Ororo tried to persuade him.

"Why didn't you stay?" Charles's voice echoed. That's not what he said. Logan knew that, but he knew that Charles thought it when the mansion was attacked.

"Logan! Help us!" The collective voices got louder and louder, screaming for him. The begging and crying grew louder, like a choir of banshees ready to attack. The anger, the hate. It was all at him. And that was justifiable for what he did. A drunkard monster, abandoning his friends for booze and they're left to die by the hands of humans. No one to help them. To help him.

The guilt was heavy on his shoulders. On his chest, his mind. He should have stayed. Why didn't he stay? Why was he so stubborn? He had nothing now. Nothing but the suit under his coat to remind him of everything he once had. That stupid yellow suit everyone always used to bother him about wearing. Why? He wasn't an X-Man. He would never be an X-Man. That was long gone, long over.

On your teeth.

Logan opened his eyes, the heavy tiredness pushed back by the rushing thump of his heartbeat. The glass in his hand was now empty once more. He grimaced, and soon tapped the bar again to get the bartender's attention. This time his focus was on the full bottle as it was brought over, and when the bartender told him that he was no longer welcomed, Logan just rolled his eyes with a scoff. As the man continued, he wasn't welcomed anywhere and to get the fuck out, Logan's tired expression remained.

"Jus' give me one more drink an' then I'll leave. . ." His words were slow and surprisingly quiet compared to his usual gruff and bark-like tone. He didn't have anything to do or anywhere to go. Like the man said, he was welcomed no where. The night he lost everything, he really saw red. He had been the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Everyone was guilty in his eyes at the time. Every human, every person who stood in his way. Man, woman, anyone he saw a threat. He took down. It's been a while since then, but he still saw the blood on his hands every once in a while. The holes in his knuckles that held his claws. The weapons he used. To be what he was created for. Destruction. To fall so hard from the expectations held up for him. So much hope, so much care, love. He had so much, and it was gone from him in the blink of an eye.

"That's not how it works." The bartender spoke firmly, eyes still narrowed on the mutant drunkard. Out of the corner of his eyes, Logan spotted something. . . Odd. A scent caught his attention. A familiar scent, but also so foreign to him. His nose twitched a little, trying to pinpoint the scent, which fell unto the masked figure in red next to him. Great, what a clown. Who the fuck was this guy? Here to poke fun at the oh-so-great Wolverine? Fantastic.

"It does now." The stranger spoke, the white eyes of the mask focused solely on Logan, which only made him agitated. His life was already shit enough, he didn't need some dude dressed up playing hero to bother him. Logan was no hero. Not anymore. He was a monster. "Leave the bottle." The man's tone was much more serious, head tilted towards the tender for just a moment, before right back at Logan. What a fucking joke.

"I know you, bub?" Logan eventually spoke, eyes half lidded with a slight hint of confusion, but also hidden agitation. He wanted no part of this. He just wanted to drink. And drink. And drink until he couldn't remember his own goddamn name. But life just had to make him live to see 200 and over.

"Nope," The man in red spoke, the 'p' punctuated under the mask, "but I know you. . ." He spoke calmly and lowly, which just made Logan more annoyed. No one had spoken to him like this in a long time. It was foreign to him at this point. Every conversation was hate and anger. Not gentle. This stranger must be a foreigner or a goddamn moron.

"Everybody knows me. . ." Logan murmured in a bored, almost defeated tone as he gave a lazy nod to the man in red, looking away from him. "I'm the Wolverine. . ." He was almost bitter about it. . . Almost. The tags tucked under his suit, a reminder of his past that he long forgot. The only names he knew written on it. But he didn't feel like Wolverine suited him anymore. That was the name of a hero. He wasn't a hero. Heroes don't kill innocent people. Heroes don't go in a blind rage and attack on sight. And heroes don't let their family die all because they wanted to get wasted.

"Yes you are. . ." The stranger continued, his tone of voice sounded like he may be smiling under the mask, but it was really hard for Logan to focus at all on that. He just wanted to drink still, to be left alone. He was better off alone. Better off dead, if he really thought about it, but he knew better than to think like that. Nothing would give him that mercy. It was wishful thinking. "And I'm gonna need you to come with me right now." The man continued on, still focused on Logan. The old mutant was almost flabbergasted. Almost. But he felt annoyed, and almost insulted. Who was this fucker to come waltzing over and make demands for him to go somewhere? He looked the man up and down, not exactly disgusted but he definitely had a look on his face that showed he didn't seem too keen on that.

"Look, lady. . . I'm not interested." He stated firmly and boredly, not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer. He held his hand a little to wave off the man, shaking his head as he looked back at his glass.

"Really getting into your cups --" The stranger started to speak up, but was almost immediately cut off by Logan who really didn't want to have this chat any further.

"-- Why would I go with you?" Logan grumbled, clearly still under the affects of the alcohol he's drank, but it wasn't enough to silence the voices in his head. His left hand went up, index finger pointed out to poke the masked stranger right between his eyes, with just enough force to push the man's head back with a small thump. That probably would have hurt or been uncomfortable for any other person due to his metal bones. But the red man didn't seem too bothered by it. At least in the moment. Logan's gaze was still on him, almost looking dumbfounded with his head tilted to the side like a confused dog.

"Because, unfortunately," the man began, "I need you. And even more unfortunately, my entire world needs you." He continued almost firmly, still talking gently however with a lowered voice so no bystanders heard, but this bar had a few people in it, and they were all staring at the idiot in red. The moment was quickly interrupted by voice piping up from behind the bar, in a jestful tone.

"Are you two gonna fuck or fight?" He snickered as the bartender approached the two. The man in red turned his attention to him, almost like he was insulted that someone dare interrupt their important conversation. Logan, however, could care less as his gaze went away to the countertop of the bar, his hands still on either side of himself on the bar, glass still empty in front of him.

"You gonna take that from him?" The red man raised a brow under his mask as he asked the question, as if curious to know who the ex-hero would react to such a thing said to him. Logan didn't care, he rarely cared. That was nothing compared to the other things that have thrown his way. Insults, slurs, threats. You name it, he's heard it for sure.

"Yup. . ." Logan mumbled as he glanced at the other man before away once again, he was used to this after all. Why would he fight back now? It was nothing. But the man in red found it humorous apparently. With a snort and small chuckle, he shook his head a moment and sighed.

"I can tell you sort of have a 'don't get too close, I'll only break your heart' vibe going here," the chatter box continued as he waved his hand by Logan to address his whole 'vibe' going on, "BUT, every other Wolverine would have really hurt me by now and I'm sort of on the tick tick," he gestured to his wrist and tapped on it, but Logan couldn't care less as his gaze was on his empty glass once again, ignoring the gaze of the stranger in red. Man this guy was super annoying. "So," he stood up and moved behind Logan to get him up off the seat, "Upsy daisy!" Was this guy STILL talking? Logan barely had time to react, his body still reeling with the affects of the alcohol he's drank. Before Logan knew it, he was lifted up which did startle him a little but he was mostly confused by it and really agitated. How the hell could this guy get him up so easily?

"Woah, woah. . . Hey, hey-! " Logan tried to protest as he was moved up and off the seat he had gotten so comfortable on that now left him almost cold and his legs a little tingly from sitting for so long.

"I got you big guy!" The man sounded like he was smiling under his mask. Logan managed to pull away from him in annoyance, glaring at the stranger as he stumbled a little when an all too familiar snikt came from his hands. Logan staggered a bit as him and the stranger looked down at his hand where his claws just barely poked through the knuckles. Logan grumbled a bit, of course his mutation would be affected by his drinking, no shocker there. The pain shot through his arm, but he was so used to it that it didn't even bother him at this point. No gloves or slots to correct the path his claws went. The man in red looked almost. . . Amused? Disappointed? It was really hard to tell when his face was covered up and his eyes didn't give much away.

"Oh!" He seemed surprised at first, having to do a double take as he looked at the small claws then up at Logan, then back at the claws, noticing the small bit of blood drip down from the healing wounds. "Whiskey dick of the claws. . . It's quite common in Wolverine's over 40." The man seem to joke, he definitely had a smile under his mask at this point. He snickered a bit, deeply amused by the whole situation, that was for sure.

"You don't want this. . ." Logan murmured with a frown, shaking his head ever so slightly as he looked at the stranger, still a bit staggered on his feet, out of his mind at the moment as he could barely stand straight while looking at the other man. However, before he knew it, the man in red pulled out a pistol from his holster and pointed the end of the barrel right at Logan's face. Logan, even in a stuper, could hear the familiar sound of a click as it was held up. His ears twitched a little, and the man in red spoke once more.

"You're right. . . And you don't want this." He spoke seriously, a stern look was probably on his face but it was hard for Logan to imagine. This guy acted like a circus clown, and not the funny kind. As Logan looked at the barrel, his blurry eyes managed to focus on the engravings.

Smile. Wait for the flash.

It took everything in him NOT to laugh at that as he still staggered on his uneven footing. That was almost priceless, if he was going to be honest. Now he REALLY couldn't take this guy seriously at all. What a fucking joke.

"Unless you want to take a deep breath through your fucking forehead, I suggest you reconsider. . ." The man threatened so casually like he was used to saying stuff like this. Like he did this for a living or something of the sort. What kind of idiot gave this moron a gun? "Let's go, Peanut." He said sternly with a small huff. Logan couldn't help but snort a little, amused by it all as a smile slowly came to his face, sharp canines bared to the man as he leaned against the barrel of the pistol, showing no signs of backing down or leaving with him. He looked tired, that was for sure, and that grin seemed strained yet also slightly genuine. Maybe a shot to the head would put him out of his misery. But he doubted the holder would actually ever pull the trigger. How unfortunate for him, the immortal freak. But Logan couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he looked at the red man.

Smile for the camera.

His grin remained as he held up his index finger for a moment, still chuckling like he had actually been told something funny by the circus clown.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. . ." Logan peeled away from the gun, and his focus turned to the bar and grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the counter. "Watch this." As he grabbed the bottle, he moved back to the red man, the whole attention of the bar was now on them. As he turned back to look at the gun, he grabbed it with no hesitation and no fear or worry for his life or wellbeing. "Alright, that will-" His hand was still on the gun, his movements staggered and words a bit slurred as the man pointed the gun right back up at Logan. "Easy." Logan huffed, still amused by this little game that had come to be. His grip was firm on the barrel as he tilted his head back and started chugging down the contents of the bottle, ensuring that he was being watched the entire time.

"Good god. . ." The stranger seemed surprised and a bit exasperated. Logan grunted slightly as he continued to nurse the bottle. He tried not to laugh as he did so, breathing through his nose. "Thirsty little honey badger, aren't ya?" He tilted his head to the side with an amused grin, chuckling. Logan's nose flared as he breathed heavily while taking down more and more of the bottle with no break, still focused on the almost empty glass. He had become so engrossed in the beverage that he eventually let go of the gun, his arm falling to his side as he kept drinking it down. "It's okay, keep going. . ." The stranger continued to watch, amazed but also a bit concerned for this guy cause holy shit, this was not a normal thing people did. Logan continued to gulp down the drink, still breathing through his nose and grunting a bit. Logan began tilting his head back further with the bottle as it neared empty, no longer focusing on whatever the man was rambling about now. Once it was finally done, Logan let out a satisfied groan and looked towards the man in red. With the bottle still in his hand, his vision got very blurry and his eyes started to roll back as he fell unconscious, no longer aware of his surroundings as his heavy body hit the floor with a thud, the floorboards creaking under his weight.

* * *

In the middle of nowhere, the red and yellow duo drove the the void, somehow now in a forest. Logan hadn't been paying attention, he's just been driving the Honda him and Wade, - the stranger that held him are gun point at the bar -, had gotten from a nicer counterpart of Wade's. Nicepool or some sap shit like that, he didn't care. He just wanted to get back to his universe and get everything fixed like he'd been promised. He was deeply annoyed with Wade, this bastard came into his life and had to flip it upside down for no reason other than to save a universe that had nothing to do with him. Also, the music in the car was starting to drive him nuts. This music sucked. Even after drinking the rubbing alcohol at the abandoned diner, he really wished he had more booze. He hated being sober, his shoulders and chest heavy once again as he sat in the drivers seat, agitated with Wade. The voices were getting to him again, voices he'd longed to get over but knew he'd never get the peace. The blood was on his hands, the souls weighed his conscious. And his mood only got worse as Wade tried to talk about his suit. The suit that he never wanted to wear until the people he cared about were ripped from his life by a bunch of selfish assholes who couldn't accept that they were different, and had to snuff out their flames. He didn't like the negative connotation Wade was getting at about the X-Men. What the fuck did he know? Wade dropped the X-Men, his X-Men. But that didn't mean the Merc with a Mouth could talk about his X-Men like that. Not his team. Not his friends, his family. Wade had no fucking right. But soon something caught his ears.

"If they fix--" Logan didn't bother listening to the rest of that sentence. The fuck did this guy mean if? He promised his world would be fixed. That he'd get the ones he loved back. That he'd get to see Scott, Jean, Ororo, Hank, Charles, everyone. Alive. That he'd get a do-over and fix his mistakes. To never leave his loved ones again. Logan's emotions got the best of him, as always. And he slammed on the brakes with little to no warning. Words were said, and claws found their way into Wade's thigh quickly. There was heavy tension in the air, and Logan was at his wits end. He had enough, he couldn't take this idiot seriously any longer. A wish? A fucking educated wish? It felt like his heart and soul were ripped out of his body all over again, and what little hope he had to fix things was gone.

"You know what?" Logan started with an agitated tone, clearly upset that Wade had lied to him, in the most ridiculous way possible. Maybe he was the fool for believing in this idiot. "You're a fucking joke," he continued on, "No wonder the Avengers didn't take you or the X-Men, and they'll take fucking anyone! I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved jabbering little prick in my entire life, and that says a lot because I've been alive for more than 200 fucking years, and I'll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never save the world!" His words were harsh and bitter, and maybe a little projected onto the other Canadian that had genuinely pissed him off. Logan was definitely an outlier in the 'nice Canadian' stereotype. Then again, he's been through hell and back and barely remembers half of it sometimes. "You couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! Motherfucker, I wish I could say you'll die alone, but it's one of God's best jokes that you can't die, except that's on ALL OF US!" As Logan got more heated, more angry, raw with pure emotions as he hit the roof of the car, his breathing was heavy. For a moment, just a sliver of a second, there was a moment of regrets to his words. A moment of remorse, but it was gone just as fast as it came and the man snarled a bit, canines bared to the other. "Well, you got nothing to say, Mouth?" He was pissed off and it showed, face contorted in anger as he waited for a response from Wade, and as the silence went on, his breathing got a little softer, almost like a pant from a dog, but it was short lived when the other finally spoke up.

"I'm gonna fight you now. . ." Wade muttered. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not, and honestly Logan couldn't tell. Nor did he care. He'd never be able to take him seriously, not after that lie. But Logan couldn't hold back a laugh, ready to call his bluff.

"Oh? Are you?" He raised a brow with a snort, ready for this to be over already until he was met with a hard fist to the face. He was stunned by this, shock in his eyes as he stared at the other blankly as he felt an almost unfamiliar feeling in his nose. He hadn't been punched in the nose in a long time. That couldn't have felt good to Wade either, a fist straight to the metal skull. A warm liquid dribbled down from Logan's nose, and as Wade had stated, a fight was soon in pursuit.

* * *

No sleep for the innocent.

Not for you.

Did you forget?

You have blood on your hands.

On your lips.

On your teeth.

Smile for the camera.

The voices rang in his head, he couldn't escape. He'd carried this pain, this guilt, for so long. He let everyone down. His universe, his family. He let everyone down. All for a drink. A fixation he couldn't break. Because of him, he was left alone, to walk the miserable world with immortality. No matter how man gashes he gave himself, no matter how hard he tried to disembowel himself, every method he could possibly think over, he couldn't end it. But the pain still lingered. He always felt the pain, even when his healing factor took affect. He always felt the pain, and felt like he deserved it. He knew the others would be disappointed in what he's become, but what could he do? He was exhausted. He sat on his knees, in the darkest parts of his mind. The grass was tall, a breeze going past as a white shirt clung to his figure. He sat there, feeling completely defeated as the voices rang out. He left them all behind. He walked away. He always does.

"Trust me, kid. . . I'm no hero. . ." Logan murmured, nursing down a bottle of whiskey as Laura accompanied him at the fire, against his wishes.

"That suit says different. . ." She spoke calmly yet firmly, her eyes going from the fire then back to Logan. Logan let out a small huff, almost a sound of amusement at her words.

"You like it?" He asked as he raised a brow, looking at Laura who seemed to give a small nod of acknowledgement. "Scott used to beg me to wear it. . . So did Jean. . . Storm. . . Beast. All of 'em. . .They wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn't. . ." His voice shook a little as he spoke,his gaze falling to the half empty bottle in his hands. He knew they'd be ashamed of what he's become. "Told 'em they all look fuckin' ridiculous, an'. . ." He trailed off a little, glancing to the side for a moment, then to Laura once more. "I couldn't have 'em thinkin' I wanted to be there. . . And one day, while I was off on my own, the humans came and went mutant huntin'. . ." His voice broke ever so slightly, head down as he remembered the events that fell. Nothing got rid of the bitterness in his heart, and the regret that ate at his soul. Would things have been different if he were there? Maybe. . .

"Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy. . ." He remembered speaking to Laura, a girl who had been saved by a better version of himself. He could vaguely see the resemblance; she was strong and fierce and mouthy. But she knew what to say. From the little time he got to know her, she was better than he was, and he was damn sure that his variant would be proud of the person she was.

"You were always the wrong guy. . . Until you weren't." She had told him at that campfire when he was drinking himself to memory fog. Those words definitely hit something in him.

Even as Nova tried to 'sympathize' with him, to entice him to join her so she could make the voices go away. To get the screaming to stop. To stop all the sounds, all the pain. He didn't trust her, not one bit. But it was part of the plan. When the area went quiet, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, like he could breathe easy again. But he knew it wouldn't last. He didn't deserve the peace. It was too quiet. . . He couldn't handle it, but he had Nova right where they needed her. And it was only a matter of time when Wade finally got that stupid helmet on Nova, that she finally got out of his head, and Logan felt the rush hit him like a train. The pain, the voices, the screams that fell upon deaf ears when he was in a blind rage, it all returned to him. It was a bitter comfort. Silence was unbearable for him. He closed his eyes, and when he returned to reality, he got to his feet quickly as Wade seemed about ready to let Nova die in the Juggernaut helmet.

"This suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. . . . And what I did. . ."

What he did. . . The biggest fucking mistake of his life, and he's made lots of mistakes over his 200 years of living on this goddamn rock. He's been through hell with experiments for a shitty government. He's forgotten most of his life, and what little bits and pieces he had to remember were only in his nightmares that would always fizzle from his mind the moment he was conscious and in a mess of his torn bedsheets and blood. The blood was on his hands. It always had been. Their faces, God their faces. Always haunted him, always made him feel even worse. The faces of his team, and the faces of those he took his anger out on. He couldn't fix his world, it was doomed from the start. The least he could do, with what will he had left to keep fighting, he had to make sure at least someone remembered who they were. The real X-Men.

"For the first time in my life. . ." Logan's eyes felt wet as he spoke, fighting back the shakiness in his voice. "I am proud to wear this suit." He states firmly, still fighting back tears as his voice wavered, his emotions pure and raw in the moment. "It means I'm an X-Man. . . I am THE X-Man!" Saying those words felt odd, but. . . Needed. Like he'd lifted a heavy weight for his lungs. He could breathe easy, despite the fuzzy vision he had in the moment. With pride, and confidence he had long neglected, he was happy to call himself an X-Man. As much as his life sucked hell, he couldn't let their memories go.

* * *

After the party and saying by to Laura, Logan stepped away from the door so Wade could talk with his friends as they left down the hall. It was. . . Different. And this whole thing would definitely take some getting used to. He helped clean up the small apartment, putting dishes in the sink and trash in the bin before making his way to the couch. He took off the blue-green flannel he wore that evening, taking a deep breath as he laid down, his white T-shirt clung to his figure, dog tags draped over his collarbone with a small jingle. He closed his eyes, flannel over the armrest of the couch as he used it as a pillow, arms crossed over his midsection. He didn't plan on falling asleep yet, just to shut his eyes and wait for Wade. He wasn't really paying attention, not even realizing he was dozing off until he heard a voice.

"Logan!" The voice sounded. . . Happy? It sounded like Jean.

"Wake up, you overgrown Chihuahua!" He could practically hear the snarky grin on Scott's face.

"You always love to keep us waiting, don't you?" Beast scoffed, the sound of fur against fabric could be heard from him shaking his head. He grunted as it sounded like someone elbowed him.

"Cut him some slack, he's had a long day." Ororo could be heard next, a small chuckle escaping her lips. Logan slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a bright light. Was that the sun? How? It was 8pm, he was sure the sun was down by now. His eyes adjusted to the light, and his heart almost dropped at the sight before him. It was everyone. Scott, Jean, Beast, Storm, Kitty, Rogue, everyone. Even the man himself, with that familiar sound of the chair.

"Professor. . ?" He didn't understand. Where was he? This had to be a dream, right? A sick dream his mind made to torment him further of his past misdeeds.

"Logan. . . It's good to see you again." Charles Xavier spoke sincerely, a small smile on his face. He could see the confusion, the uncertainty. "This isn't a dream." He tried to reassure, but knew that those words could only go so far.

"Well, if it's not a dream. . . Where am I? What is. . . All of this?" He sat up from the tall grass, soon standing. He'd never seen it so bright here before. So full of light.

"You know where this is. . ." Charles spoke calmly yet firmly, knowing that Logan knew. When it finally clicked, Logan stepped back.

"Why are you here. . ?" He asked, a bit hesitant. He didn't know if this was real or not, and if it was, he was struggling to hold himself together. Jean and Scott moved close, and Jean was the first to touch Logan, her caress gentle on his face. Logan felt like he was hit by a tidal wave, the rush of warmth he had missed so much from his companions. He relaxed into her touch almost immediately, the familiarity there. Then he felt Scott pat his shoulder. He remembered the bickering and rough housing, how they were always at each other's throats. He was trying not to cry, but it only got harder.

"You know why we're here, Logan. . ." Scott spoke surprisingly softly to him, squeezing his shoulder a bit. Jean smiled warmly.

"We're proud of you. . ." She tried to comfort him, but it was clear that time had not been so kind to Logan after all these years. Slowly but surely, everyone made their presence known by physical contact, and the dam broke. Tears started to drip down his face, like someone had turned the faucet all the way on and broke the handle. It wouldn't stop. He'd never cry in front of his teammates, never in a million years. Yet here he was, shaking before them. He hated being vulnerable in front of others, normally it was his biggest weakness. But right now, he couldn't stop it. Faces he'd thought he'd never see again, never see smiling. Let alone smiling at him of all people.

"You're a damn good X-Man, boy. . ." Hank let out a gruff compliment, patting his back. Logan felt awful, he didn't deserve any compliments or praise.

"I. . . I'm sorry. . ." Logan's voice finally broke and cracked as he mumbled out an apology. The others were confused at first, but all their expressions softened.

"Logan, listen to me. . ." Charles spoke up once more, moving closer to him as the others moved carefully. "Look at me." He requested. Logan was hesitant, which was unlike him, but he slowly lifted his head, looking at the old man. Charles smiled softly, hands in his lap. "You were. . . By far one of my most difficult students. . . Some days I didn't know if you would stay or truly run off and never return. . . You were a wild card, and sometimes you still are. . . Even now. Despite what you may think, or how you perceive yourself. . . You're a good man at heart. No one is immune to mistakes, hell I've made my fair share of mistakes in life. . . But you are as stubborn as they come. You cared not for rules and you could be very troublesome. . . But you are not what they made you. . ." He states, a warm yet tired smile on his face. Logan still had tears running down his cheeks.

"B. . . But I. . . I left. . . I walked away and--" Logan was trying to keep it together, but he was very emotional right now.

"You didn't know it would happen. . . No one did. . . It's not your fault, Logan. . ." Jean tried to comfort him again, smiling gently at him to assure him. But Logan didn't buy it, how could he? Because of him, they were all on their own. He could have done something to help.

"Stop focusing on the 'what-ifs', Logan." Beast scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's been done is done, the past cannot be changed. . . All we can do is learn from it, and ensure that it never repeats again." For once, Logan thought, for once that big blueberry of a mutant finally said something that made some sense to him.

"You've been so caught up in your mind and the world before. . . But you've been given a new chance, Logan. . ." Charles spoke once again, the sun shadowed by a few clouds now. "You have a chance to make things right. What happened is in the past. . . You must move on, and pave a bright future. . . Not just for yourself, but for those around you as well." He moved back a bit, and so did the others, the talk grass shifting from the breeze. Logan looked around as everyone backed up, he rubbed his eyes as he sniffled.

"I. . . I can't move on. . . I can't forget you guys. . . What I did. . ." Logan looked down at the grass, fists clutched.

"Moving on isn't forgetting. . . It's remembering and no longer hurting. . . Missing someone just shows how much they meant to you, right?" Jean smiled, humming softly as she stood with Scott.

"One of the biggest steps in healing is acceptance, Logan. . . It's okay to let go." Scott held Jean's hand, those ruby red shades covering his eyes, but they had a gentle look to them.

"It's not goodbye forever. . . Just a see you next time." Rogue spoke up, smiling softly towards Logan, hands at her sides.

"Yeah, we'll just. . . See you another time." Kitty smiled softly, hands in her pocket. Logan was quiet, besides the small sniffles as he tried to keep himself somewhat together still. Acceptance sounded like a curse. But he couldn't continue to drown himself in anger and hate and guilt. He had to work to improve. The past could haunt him, could haunt his nightmares, but he'd never forget the best people that had ever entered his life. He took a deep breath, and he nodded.

"A. . . Alrigh'. . . I uhm, think I'm ready. . ." Logan was a bit hesitant, but knew that this is what he had to do. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. He opened his eyes with a tired grin. "I may have never said it before, or really shown' it. . . . But I love you guys. . . You meant a lot to me. . ." He mumbled.

Sure, not everything was perfect all the time. There were disagreements, fights recklessness, lots of stuff. Both good and bad. But Logan didn't regret meeting the X-Men. He just wished he had more time with them. His gaze was on the grass, and when he looked up, everyone was gone. But in their place stood new foliage and fauna. Plants of different colors and different arrays of beauty where everyone once was. Peter Pears grew tall and entangled with Red Orchids. Garden Grape-Hyacinth grew a few feet away, White Roses too. Platycodon Grandiflorus grew where Kitty once stood, and so many more floura grew, overtaking the tall grass to be a meadow, no longer an empty space of trees and stones and pain. Logan was heartbroken, but the sight brought him comfort, in an odd way. Knowing that now, they were never too far away. They were still around, even if he couldn't see them, smell them, or hear them. They were there, and that brought him ease. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and soon closed his eyes as the sun got brighter. When his eyes opened again, he felt. . . Lightened.

"Logan?!" Wade was right in his face, not exactly a pretty sight to see first thing. And definitely not something he needed to see right when waking up. His heart jumped in his chest, and he quickly sat up, his forehead smashing into Wade's as he moved. Wade winced and stumbled back a bit, but soon laughed loudly, relieved that Logan wasn't dead. Logan rubbed his head for a moment, before feeling something drip down his chin. He touched his face, and he felt tears. Had he been crying in his sleep? He turned to look at Wade, which was when he also noticed Althea with a bucket of water.

"Well, is he dead?" She stood there, ready to throw it on Logan like Wade had originally planned for her to do. Wade grinned, taking the bucket from her.

"Nah, he ain't dead. Just a heavy sleeper. Guess that's to be expected if he hasn't slept properly, Wolverines sleep in three to four hour cycles regularly. And this one clearly doesn't." He snickered with a big grin. Logan rolled his eyes, smirking a bit as he shooke his head and snorted.

"Ah, go fuck yourself, bub. . ."

[b0cc]

i keep forgetting to post stuff here woops

TW: BLOOD

[yourr-prince]

I keep forgetting to post here woops

[ladylaviniya]

Tw dead parent post

I keep dreaming about my dad again. Not bad dreams/nightmares thankfully but-

I'll be hanging out with my dad or just being in the same room with him, he sits at his computer, illegally downloading movies and I'm laying on his bed or sitting on the floor near his feet just scrolling on my phone.

Sometimes it's totally silent and sometimes we are just chatting about random things.

But you know what fucking stings everytime?

I forget he's dead in the real world while I sleep in these dreams and start having a really fucking great time with him 🥹

But suddenly I'll remember something, I am 23 and now renting and have a great life (when my dad died, I was 19 and from ages 19-21 I was homeless or couch surfing). And just before I go to tell him about it or ask if he could do me a favour like "Drive me home, come see where I live, come meet my housemates and their cats which I know you'll say you hate but you'll fall in love with those kitties." I remember in a big hit- he's dead.

And that really sucks guys.

I then think to myself "Dont say it, don't ask it. Just enjoy the dream while you're here." Yet suddenly I feel so overwhelmingly compelled to ask things like:

"How did you survive? How did you fake your death? I saw your body in the coffin, I have your ashes. Where have you been? Was it a lie, a fake, a trick? Are you really dead. Why did it have to be suicide, why did you do this, don't you love me?"

And he just stands in total silence and stares with an expression that's like 'woops, just been caught, jokes all over'

And then I wake up feeling exhausted because I've had these kinds of dreams more than 4 times. And everytime I still get tricked.

Not to sound crazy but If ghosts and supernatural elements are real, am I being haunted, is he maybe not even my real dad, like is it actually a demon or something- like he feels SO REAL until I ask about how he fakes his death.

He doesn't answer, doesn't even talk. Just looks at me and I wake up.

I feel so angry after too. Like fucking answer me please! IM BEGGING YOU TO JUST TELL ME. I WANT YOU TO BE ALICE SO BAD, WHY CANT YOU LET ME KNOW FROM THE START THAT.ITS A FUCKING DREAM AND YOURE NOT ALIVE ANYMORE.

Please dad. I want to see you but stop blindsiding me, stop making me forget youre dead. Can't you just go "Hey this is a dream kiddo, so enjoy what you can okay?"

I can't breathe.

Fuck you! I love you so much! Damn it! I fucking hate it!

Why did you have to do this. You were depressed and were going to therapy, what the fuck happened, why didn't you talk to me! What did I do wrong! Was there any fuckong lifetime/universe where I could've said something that would've made you choose to stick around.

You abandoned me and I miss you so much you prick. I want to hug you so bad and feel your warm skin and comb my fingers through your thick soft hair and hold your callous hands in mine and hear your voice for real for real and not in a dream.

Um

Anyway.

When they invent a time machine, someone hook me the fuck up. Cause I'm crazy enough to go back in time to kill 19 year old me and take her place.

I just want my fucking father back. I want to start again. I want to go back! Way back! Back to being 6! Back to being his only thing. His little goose! His daughter who he dresses like a boy because he doesn't know how to dress a little girl cause he wanted a boy and bought too many boy clothes. Back to when things felt like they made sense, back to when he was my whole world and I was his... maybe.

Why couldn't I be his whole world when I was 19? He was still mine, my world. He was still my dad.

[nobodyspecialhereblog]

Base Blog Info

Art Tag - Commissions - Linktree Sketches and OC Blog ( @ukusreticence )

Reblog and Random Comments Blog ( @ludicrouspajamas ) TLDR; don't expect posts, don't expect reblogs, likes, follows- don't expect activity in general, don't expect anythin from me, I'm just going with the flow and my current vibes. :) energy levels vary a lot.

Feels like I should state this at some point and leave it pinned. Nobodyspecialhereblog was originally intended to be a normal tumblr blog after the original iteration of it got deleted due to personal reasons. However due to my horrendous habit of keeping up with things, this is more of an archive of my art so I have something to look back on now. :) Maybe I'll do SOME reblogs and stuff again but I kinda ended up getting myself a lotta social anxiety again :( so for now it's MOSTLY for art. I dunno if I'll be doing reblogging and such. Probably not. It's more of just an art archive, a way to browse things, and indulge in my self interests. I might draw random fanart, check on my friends, check on other creators or blogs, and likely do a little of it all every once and awhile. Depends on whether or not I remember. :P I am doing AT LEAST yearly posts but it's mostly for the whole art archive thing. Y'know?

I will say tho, I think I've come pretty far since I first joined tumblr and the first time I made this blog. Even comparing now to the start of the second version of this blog, I've changed a lot and I'm proud of myself. :)

I'll put some latest notes here if I ever remember to bother to... Y'know... Update. Or check my tumblr. Or honestly Imma probably forget about this post ahaha. Update Count Since Post: 7

Latest News: (Last Updated 10/16/2024) oof lost my motivation for tumblr after being on it for like 7 months straight. Woops? Artfight think burnt out my want to draw too unfortunately. poppin in every so often, always checking notes but nothing more. occasional browsing.

[static-errorcode]

just a thought but what if the ii villians sang you didn't know from hazbin hotel here's what it would be like

springy: but they were right talkie.... they showed us that he had improved, he changed alot talkie-, checked all the boxes that you said would, prove the point that he has changed his ways, now we turn our back no second glance.

Walkie-talkie: it's not as simple as you think, not everything is spelled in ink

Bot: it's not fair talkie-

Test tube: carful bot now keep your cool-

Bot: NO?! Don't you care talkie-. That just because he's done bad things it doesn't... mean he can't resolve to change his ways, turn the page to escape infernal blaze

Walkie-talkie: I'm sure you wish it could be so... but theirs alot that you don't know

Groscer: WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?! JUAR SOME BAD HOST WHOS MESSED UP ALREADY?! HE BLEW HIS SHOTS LIKE THE CRUMBS UN HIS MOUTH?! THIS DISCUSSION IS REFKLESS AND PARY

Groscer and Tyler: THEIRS NO QUESTION TO BE POSED! HES UNHOLY CASED CLOSED! DID YOU FORGET THAT HELL IS FOREVE?!

Tyler: soon everyone lives once! I'll see you in one month! Gotta say u can't wait to...

Walkie-talkie: Tyler....

Tyler: Come back and exterminate you

Springy: WAIT

Tyler: Shoot

Springy: what are you saying?! Let me get this straight... you'll go down their and kill mephone4

Bot: you didn't know?!

Tyler: woops

Groscer: gets the cats out of the bag

Tyler: what's the big deal?

Springy: talkie tell me that you didn't know....

Walkie-talkie: I thought since I'm older, it's my role to shoulder...

Springy: no

Walkie-talkie: you have yo listen it's was such a hard decision?! I wanted yo save you, the anguish it takes to, do what was required...

Springy: and tk think I admired you... well... I DONT NEED YOUR CONDITION?! IM NOT A CHILD TO PROTECT?! WAS TALK OF VIRTUE JUST PRETENSION?! WAS I TO NIAEVE TO YOU, to hede the morals you pervading?

Bot: that's what the heck I've been saying?@

Bot and springy: IF HELL IS FOEVWE THEN HEAVEN MUST BE A LIE

Walkie-talkie: Springy

Bot and springy: IF ANGLES CAN DO WHATEVER AND REMAIN IN THE SKY?! THE RULES ARE SHADES OF GREY WHEN YOU DON'T DO AS YOU SAY?! JUST THE MAKE THE WRETCHED SUFFER JUST TO KILL THEM AGAIN?!

This song just fits an idea for ii that I needed to post it, plus I added ii pozas to it

[rockintapper]

i keep forgetting to post the

heres this wip woop

[sombraling]

Woops I’ll be posting my artwork here again I keep forgetting haha. I won’t flood the feed I’ll do it once in awhile!

[spaceagetoon]

Barbie, Eat Your Heart Out ❤️🔪

[b0cc]

i legit keep forgetting i can post here woops but anyways haiii guyss i did a art collab w a mutual on tik tok w our dbh ocs!!! his user is mikeyartz on insta and tt GO FOLLOW HIM HES SO COOL!!! "is ur oc's neklace defying gravity" BLOCKED!!!! /j

[staarbles]

my littol funky toonkind baker pam de sol doodles!! from funky outfits to adult pam doobles, bc its been a long while since ive posted arts abt her on here hdnnbxmx

feat. my other toonkind ocs daydreamer and barley! (in his pajamas)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

oh lmfao edited to add. the thirty tags are maxed out but i have to work in the wordplay of: call this post-it notes

speaking of [happening to think about, then for a separate reason talk about, the film “stand by me,” an adaptation of the stephen king short story “the body”] last night, & tumblr ads reminding me, i did turn around after listening to the podcast ep extensive, research enhanced analysis / discussion of specifically the book like hey yeah yknow what. i’ll watch the It films; not the miniseries / the one with tim curry, which i saw the first half of but wasn’t really inspired to commit to the latter half. and you Know like yeah i’m truly interested in the choice to build on [stephen king kicking his legs like “whaaat are some Problems kids could have.....um being a girl.....being jewish.....having a stutter.....”] with “what if someone was gay or some shit” like yeah right on, which idk that steve ever wrote into any vaguely primary characters even though it’s markedly made textually relevant. and the cultural alignment for kleinsen enjoyers is still very funny. i forgot about even the arm cast business till halfway through. even the [break it again] joke kind of manifested lmao

anyways the point is i’m like, my two primary modes of [this experience] being expressed via [mad men meme In The Cinema seriously considering the material] and [the shot of that guy in the alternate titanic ending where he’s like ahahahaha throwing his head back and the camera is overhead zooming out a little bit] and the like Oh Hey. This Is All Coming Together? kind of [that madman cinema meme] moment hit in The Second Part because it’s like, it’s Remarkable for a stephen king story to have Adults Who Are Friends. which is where it can be cross referenced with Stand By Me, which is about kids who are friends, but Framed by like, this story is written in the future by the main kid, who wanted to be a writer & now is, mostly about his friendship with this one other kid who was like “hey man you can & should be a writer. believe” and that classic [stephen king High Concept stories] central plot impetus / definition which is “the one where some kids go on a trek to find/see a dead body” and then ending with Adult Main Kid with that classic / standout remark “i never had any friends like the ones i had when i was twelve. god, does anyone?” which is included even in the film via seeing him type it out on bulkier ye old computer terminals while his kid is now twelvish i guess and talking to a friend. after also musing on like, yeah that bestie who hyped me up the most and who i saved in turn, with a gun, tragically died. iunno where those other two kids in the group are, living kind of underwhelming lives out there probably but whatever. lmfao like man i dunno write them a letter, call them, you could do a little digging here and get in touch. but yeah it’s not gonna be Exactly The Same as when you were kids, nor exactly the same as it was when things aligned to have a brief but dramatic adventure, nor when you Could just all spontaneously decide you wanna go walking & camping to find a body & then just up & do that. but like, you can consciously make & maintain friendships i prommy my man lol. like “it’s great when things align so you Happen to have these friends when you’re twelve and you all like offer each other emotional support and can understand each other like nobody else can. but then you Will all just drift apart” like, i mean, will you. you can have friendships beyond what you just Happen to have / hope that the magic alignments will just continue falling into place for you so that those friendships still exist

and probably part of it is that it’s really mostly About the two kids who are friends even though there’s four of them, i.e. the protagonist & the moral support bestie, as well as the fact that this is a short story so there’s presumably only so much time to focus on characters at all really or delve into any setup and bg lore and whatever all else, i dunno. but thinking how it’s like, oh hey, in It it’s kind of its own serendipitous alignment of elements there to be like, here’s a group of adults where it’s peak relevant that they’re friends, for once. because afaik that really just doesn’t happen in sking stories, like, yeah adults kind of have friends but it’s Not Very Deep / it’s just kind of convenience about working together moving plots along & it’s like yeah uh i don’t fucking know i guess we see each other / hang out for dinners or post dinner drinks together or join forces about whatever fucked up shit and just talk about that, mostly....and probably people are just dropping off like flies eventually, the protagonist man of that [sooo many protags who are just some fuckin middle aged guy who’s a writer] type, and it’s also in part just because like, characters don’t really matter that much / have to be particularly distinct / Are Disposable when plenty of the point is to go “was that fucked up or what?” about whatever’s happening, so yknow you go “there was once just some fuckin guy, i dunno, he probably has a wife he’s paternalistically protective of but maybe also resents and maybe a kid or two or something, whatever....” like, being the main character doesn’t really matter, it’s just this avatar through which we are told a story of some fucked up shit and to whomst any fucked up shit can even happen, being other characters also really doesn’t matter

so it’s like huh, stand by me / the body as obviously this Ode To Twelve Year Olds’ Friendship And How Your Emotional Support Of Each Other Defines The Entire Path Of Your Life Though Mostly For The Main Character, Everyone Else Fucked Off Or Whatever like right yeah, but with that difference of how like clearly as an adult this isn’t gonna be about this guy going like “hey yeah where are those still living scamps today,” he’s reminiscing only, he’s talking about how he now doesn’t have any friends like the ones he had when he was twelve....then what changes in It is like, hmm how are these adults where the fact they’re friends actually is peak relevant? how does one remain friends with even Any childhood friends there huh. and then the fact it works out like that is like aha, well it’s because they don’t lmfao. that everyone happens to scatter to the winds at some point when it maybe will eventually rear its head amongst even their own adult guardians like hey, yknow, maybe let’s not live in murderville. or coincidence. whatever. where the point is that like oh also, everyone just magically forgets the goings on as kids including the existence of their friends, but is about to be reminded of them / remember all that, for a specific external reason rather than [adults are like hey let me try getting in touch with that mf] and already plot and magic is relevant to all of this. they’re not going to have gotten together for the shittiest high school reunion if not for the connection of Friendship, this is about adults but it’s about that childhood plotline still, so Twelve Year Olds’ Friendships still stands / is relevant, so we can even fathom these adults having a connection, b/c yes they Didn’t have it as they got older there, but now they’re jumping back into it actually, b/c magic, and because also this is Directly About (Childhood) Trauma which was also like, hey damn, even outside the stephen king oeuvre & its tendencies (solid & wretched), this is also transcending grievances i so often have with Horror, as someone who likes horror and doesn’t like horror but likes horror but doesn’t like it, and just like. questionable employment of [you Are bothering to focus on Character, and their emotional arcs being entirely relevant to the story here] when sometimes it’s like, do you need a story? the strength of horror shorts to just go “was that fucked up or what.” do you need the characters with the emotional arc relevance at all, or is it just a little avatar walking around with enough vague motivation to have / see / make fucked up shit happen? are they particularly characterized to play into some Metaphor, what’s that metaphor, is it shit, is the execution of it shit. and oftentimes Trauma is just like, idk, it’s like well here’s this person’s Weakness, and it being horror that’s more likely to make it into a Fatal Flaw, like way to have trauma you dumbass, if you were so weak as to fail to just get over it already / Overcome it, you just might be killed for it

annoying, shallow and hackneyed, insulting, etc, and it’s also like, the Individual Focused emotional journey like and here this character who’s been weakly propped up by the Stronger people supporting them will have to go through the crucible of being alone, facing down their Issue like their trauma, and getting through it in this big dramatic one and done way so they can finally stop being a pussy and an obstacle to others. or else fuck it up & die. and it’s like do you know how this works lmfao (no) why shouldn’t the support help. why should it Have to go away. why shouldn’t everyone be crowdsourcing their emotional support amongst their group lmao and never needing to “overcome” it Forever, alone. and that’s at least mostly what gets to go on in It lmfao, like, so obviously this is About Childhood Trauma. whereas It = any of the forces that make people act in ways that create, facilitate, or simply passively allow trauma. (or just some shit that really fucks shit up sometimes i guess.) and you have kids who get caught Alone getting got. but then you have a larger group of some twelvish year olds who are like alright fuck this then, and that’s enough to get through it, the same way that naturally in the less magical / more literal realm of their lives, that friend group & joining forces & providing this like actually (relatively) safe and supportive environment amongst themselves is what protects them & makes everyone a lot more of a force to be reckoned with than they are when out / caught on their own. and it just doesn’t happen to be about choosing to write about like, and then all these kids got picked off one by one anyways, despite their efforts, f. which like i guess it could be, but when the Point is so Directly about the emotional support some kids get from each other / that they Are crowdsourcing protection re: their individual vulnerabilities, that wouldn’t really emphasize that Point so much if regardless of the [having a friend group] everyone was fucked anyways. or the fact that like, again, this is About trauma and what can create it and how that can persist and all, the Magic Rules are about the emotional component of it all, when it’s like, oh this just so happens to be a magic murder entity that’s picking off kids but also prefers to torment them and/or like idk takes the route of going “oh you’re gonna hate this” and hooks up their consciousness via usb cable to the zillionth dimension void & then sips their life force through a crazy straw, or, as it would be to clown entities, a normal straw, and i dunno, that if the usb is unplugged vs eternal living death then the torment juice can give people the interdimensional premonition / telepathy across space & probably time shine(tm) like good for them i guess. call that hypervigilance?

and then that like, into the Adults timeline, not only is there this cheat like woops a stephen king story where adults are friends b/c they’ve reconnected the usb cables where the [friends like the ones i had when i was twelve] has now become immediately relevant and active again, i was like, mad man cinema contemplation meme a bit confused going into the second half until i realized some particular fact of the plot And it was slowly like....we’re kind of goofin huh, is this Being Funnier? b/c i mean, the first one wasn’t not ever funny or like otherwise not super solemn & heavy, and also i’m just Used to horror to the point it’s not gonna like bother me probably, i was watching alone and turned off the lights b/c i couldn’t adjust my screen’s lighting levels & the overhead light in here was gonna create glare via the mirror behind me, and i didn’t think anything of it at any point, i had to also be like “@ me, okay stop saying ‘me’ the moment you realize anything [A Scary Moment] is transpiring for no especial reason,” and yknow, it’s like a roller coaster to me, or i’d say like being tickled except actually i hate that one & will start physically fighting lol, where it’s like yeah aaaaaa but it’s fun & i’m Humored really, i’m experiencing the [horror & comedy are two sides of the same coin], when i’m startled or going like oooh that was, to be sure, creepy, it’s still like, ahaha, i’m figuratively tickled, going :] at the screen, i especially liked the same [ooh hehe yeah that’s eerie] type of moments in both halves like yeah very [your standard marble hornets enjoyer] of me....but anyways so then it did take me an extra few moments maybe in the second half like oh is this Markedly More Humorous? oh it is, then....sort of unexpected but then it immediately makes sense and was Fascinating like, oh, this is so In Conversation With the first movie and with the Overall Story here lmao. like, we are illustrating the Perspective Shift, the [kids timeline] is still relevant and defines everything that’s going on, but they Are adults now and That itself is relevant. b/c otherwise it’s like, it Is just the same situation played over again lmfao like damn we were the [kids fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster] and now we’re the [adults fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster]. and Of Course It Makes Sense for there to be overall more Drama for the kids, who are more so just living & immersed in their normal lives in that storyline, and of course, Are Kids, where like anything “was that fucked up or what” that’d happen would be more intense & threatening, and sure applying that perspective like, not only “yeah i’m just experiencing some media, but if that was really happening in life that’d be fucked up, if it was happening for real to me, i’d be like, whoa uh oh holy shit aaaa” lmao, and then an Additional layer of “and if i was twelve” like “yeah aaaa oh shit” way compounded by that, naturally. 

but then i’m Also like, listen, i’d be more like halfway through my 27 yr time jump but i’m the adult with cptsd lmao and so i’m Madmen In The Theatreing because of this angle as well, and intrigued, positively, by the uptick in levity about everything. wherein it’s like okay, it’s sure Also true that like, undo the [and if you were twelve] angle, but The Same kind of fucked up shit happening would of course still be like well this sucks, and is startling, to Anyone who’s an adult, right. But Also like, again the way it’s relevant to touch base with the [kids] timeline, because that’s Defining Everything, this isn’t just “and they’re adults which means everyone’s just tougher than they were when they were kids” and That’s That, it’s like, these are adults who were these specific kids with specific experiences vulnerable to and exposed to bonus trauma, and now this is a “time to jump back in to a head on confrontation with that” plotline but As A Group again rather than this being just the story of like any individuals, or just the main kid/guy, who is now to be sure the [the middle aged writer guy of a stephen king story] lmfao, congrats....and you had [repressed memories but like, magically extensively encompassing] as the device here to as what allows for this outlier scenario of like “but how can adults possibly maintain friendships formed organically in their youth? well, they didn’t lol. but now they’re back.” and the past Has to be relevant and freshly Active because again, this Is directly about trauma lol, not just about whatever broader thing and anyone might secretly have this Hangup or two that’ll get them got. and they all Know this lol, this may be some exclusive knowledge more broadly, but this is Not a secret amongst this group of adults like ah yes my marinating issues that nobody suspects i have....which is a bonus to [even though they’re adults in a stephen king story they don’t all or even mostly have to die] and then like, as i am trying to get around to, that it’d be Different being just any adult approaching this as a new situation to them vs being an adult With Trauma(tm) lol like. the way that one might go “well, this would suck for anyone, but i have a different vulnerability b/c [cptsd involving this shit]” but Then Also the resilience that nobody should have to have and it’s technically a “strength” even though then actually people interpret their [lack of honed ability through direct life experience to cope indefinitely with traumatic experiences] as the strength, a la “wow why’s that person put up with that, i wouldn’t stand for it b/c isn’t it So Clearly Bad & Unpleasant?” victim blaming mentality and people “used” to that shit “putting up with” said shit, which other people would throw up their hands like Wow Just No and walk away from. which in turn isn’t a “weakness” lmao like, there’s no moral judgments to being someone w/trauma or someone without it. that people shouldn’t Have to have cptsd or Resilience, of course, but then that they do. i’m certainly relating to like, yeah it’s Magic Rules / Exaggeration the way that only people young enough can detect & deal with this shit directly, the first time around, and then that they still have access to it as adults presumably b/c of that exposure as kids and because [the childhood trauma doesn’t just Go Away b/c you grew up, even though Also people just think that it ought to or like wow so immature or wow you’re Letting it affect you too strongly still, huh] etc. and anyways, relating to like, yeah enjoyed the way some adults would just be cool & generally supportive, but i also only had so much access to such adults, all Through parents or via school where it’s like, yeah but all the adults there have to Make Sure You’re Behaving Properly in various ways that lead to [punitive] ends and if anyone’s being like particularly supportive / understanding that’s a personal individual choice & they’re probably going Above & Beyond. kind of impressed how useless, and actively unhelpful / counterproductive, any adults were later on when i was dealing with it all the more / had it coming to a head in ways lol, didn’t have an epic friend group i hung out with at twelve or ever who Knew Me that well or i shared anything with or got lifechanging emotional support from, but there Were occasions of like, yeah these peers get it, huh. and now with the perspex of [cptsd having adult] it’s like, yeah, i’d have repeated dreams of parents showing up & i start physically fighting them off with like a shovel and shit lmfao. even now when i rarely have dreams ft. like a more general monster / menacing figure, like i did last night, go figure, Dream Me is always like Oh Okay and immediately physically charges them unarmed lmfao. (also had a dream cameo where some guy on a home computer who was making up like building / engineering schematics? was a Wrole like omg hey buddy. unfortunately a limited interaction, that plot got quickly waylaid by the one where i launch myself at some entity. booo) i can be like “ah, here goes the adrenal response” mostly only noticing sometimes when it’s like, my physical tension has gone to the point of [i can notice my legs/knees shaking], i can also Not Notice It / not think of it b/c you know, it’s like this is truly mundane / everyday shit, in the Relative / Comparative way that it can be. it can be stealth mission time to do some ordinary shit like you live in a survival horror game. it can also go “yeah i could very easily see how if, say, there was this manifestation of trauma / the shit that causes/facilitates/sustains/allows it, i’d go sicko mode on that shit just immediate physical attack” lmao. i know if i’m startled it’s like, that can be a) ordinary, and/or b) unpleasant, and probably c) immediately followed by my being ready to go sicko mode, possibly being a bit pissed off lol. like i can’t even be worried like oh no it’s nighttime what if something was menacing. like yeah that’d be scary and suck, i might get got, i’d also immediately be pissed off like fucking try me you asshole. and it’s like, again the way comedy is A Framework, it’s not what happens when a situation is Lighthearted, Unserious, Frivolous, etc. the like, obvious fact like wow people who are funny can be sad? can have had some fucked up, Serious experiences? can even joke about that? like yeah of course humor can be Deliberately Employed To Cope, including to even communicate about shit, where you’re cueing hard like, i’m not necessarily collapsing under the weight of this right now but it’s a reality and when i’m telling you about it with Humor it’s not in turn asking for you to fix it or even do anything about it at all except be listening to / comprehending the info i’m giving you. and that even looking back on shit can be funny To You because it’s just like, sure Elevated and can be a bit absurd. so it’s like oh yeah of course it’d be funnier, in a way characters are aware of & actively interacting with lmfao. like of course any adult would be like “jesus christ. yikes. aaaa” lol while also being more inclined and able to tackle bullshit right off, but Also being specifically an adult with the [this is your childhood trauma] can be like, yes i’m both still affected by and vulnerable to this shit, but i’m Also less vulnerable than some rando might be, actually, and prepared to / more used to this, and able to go “jesus christ yikes aaaa lmfaooo ahaha” about it. like, i feel that lol. 

paragraph break just because that one was getting Extra long: oh and also the matter of Genre Awareness, that this isn’t just some fucked up shit that happens to be scary and fuck your shit up, but this is expressly an antagonist coming after you with the intention to be scary to you, and you Know that, you are aware you’re in a Horror Genre situation lmao, so meta, surely helpful. and sure sometimes i felt the like comedy vs horror; comedy vs drama sometimes didn’t transition perfectly like, my kind of feeling ambivalent at this one point like uhhh is this scene more straightforwardly dramatic? hmm i guess it was. well anyways. but that’s fine, meanwhile continually delighted even to realize like, here we are going over this all again but with this Shifted Perspective / Framework, we’re clearly goofin a bit. and like how i can clap & cheer like ooh yeah that was creepy lmfao, i got Got comedically like idfk dozen times or what all. ahehe....not to mention the [i Am going insane. society] experience of scrungy expression spit take coughing laughter when overlaying [titanic guy going HaHaHaHaHaHaHa XD as the camera lifts away from overhead] upon [mad man serious contemplation of cinema png] while experiencing like wow the gay Text is more textual than i though, more extensive, turns out i had some things to go into entirely afresh without going “oh yeah, i remember what i osmosis’d about this” to then go :0 =0 about, or that i didn’t quite get Everything through osmosising that i did recall, to then spit take about and become titanic guy fifty times over. i Am a bit joker mode, you really just have to be. and laughing about [when stephen king and PPL go “you know this type of guy” and we all go “yeah i guess. i know Of them [possible knowing looks amongst ourselves, or to the camera]” and then they go “you know how they’re—” and then our answers of “maybe like gay or some shit” overlaps with their “just another heterosexual amongst all the rest of us, unless we’re gay, but we’re talking about how all the protagonists we write are cishet i guess?” like. haha. what an alignment, good for everyone in the overlap....oh and i was like ahahaha when the podcast discussion of The Book Specifically nevertheless had one guy knowing the lore already that the stephen king cameo here as Some Secondhand / Pawn Shop Type Place Owner Guy was someone who, in stephe’s (not a typo, making stephe as = steven happen, with particular enunciation of the ph vs v) own written text as the description of That Guy in the book, is like, this gay caricature who is like wearing some mesh or i think they said it said “fishnet” shirt and like clearly reading this gay porn mag. because how else would someone be gay lmfao? how else would you Know you’ve encountered one of them?? lmfao like, a) i also agree with the podcasters who are like, stephe’s a coward for not staying true to that specific description he wrote when cameo’ing as that person, and b) like, people are gay, stephe....but classic matters of [running down a hallway going Noooo and knocking shit down behind you while being chased by [the way stephen king writes about [take your pick] and/or just like, what do you think is going on in life re: [take your pick] exactly, stephen king, i swear] lol)

anyways This has turned into [gif of the guy emphatically pointing at a laptop and also at some unseen listener to this Serious Monologue] because i have endless things to say about anything. the point it it’s like, well hey i think that was remarkably successful re: choosing to have Characters with Emotional Arcs tied to a Metaphor in this horror media, when usually i’m like, the execution of this is so shit that it’s like, just don’t have characters lol, don’t try to make it a metaphor (although you know, difficult for it not to be tied to anything irl, so don’t be unaware of how it Could be), if it’s gonna be this kind of a mess. the fact that like, you can’t have [trauma] be a character weakness fatal flaw that gets them got b/c they weren’t individually Strong Enough, b/c this is All About a) having & interacting with that [trauma] first and foremost and b) how having a group of relationships affects that (helpfully). my pleasant surprise about how like yeah of course you can’t just make the exact same movie again but i wasn’t necessarily expecting a noticeably more outright comedic angle for round two, but duly kinda delighted by it, and that felt very Appropriate and Verisimilitudinous for the new angle of And You’re Completely Grown. that stephen king Rarely writes about relevant friendships and all the more rarely to never writes about relevant friendships between Adults but whoops, that happened here, b/c there was a magical workaround where “drifting apart” was not entirely congruous to the real life literal actual way that’d happen, and b/c the way this is about childhood trauma means that the Rest of that childhood is relevant to adulthood / adult identities, and he ends up with “god, does anyone?” being answered by “yeah, sometimes” lol. and yeah being a deh enjoyer / being haunted byer / analyzer means anytime something is About the connections someone, say a young person for one, might make and how that can be relevant to All Their Issues, i’m sitting up & taking notes like oh ya don’t say. that stephen king shit overall is like, well this is Interesting and i could talk all day but i’m also like, personally more ambivalent and bound to run over like hey stephe i’m shoving you around, bitch. until we form an unlikely, begrudging alliance to instead go after stanley kubrick, then boo the the shining movie, but whatever. the the shining book ending, one of the few things i particularly remember from actually reading that one, is true like, stephen king endings tending to be a hot mess that maybe aren’t super successful but here we are and it was like, why’d it get so goofy all of a sudden lmfao like i’m telling you with the schrodinger’s boiler that’s old and temperamental and if you don’t maintain it it’ll blow up probably, and that the way things end in the book is the [middle aged dime a dozen writer man protag] being possessed by a hotel is like oh fuck me lmfao, not the boiler i can’t maintain myself even though i’m possessing a hotel, it hasn’t been maintained, and then as always in any of these stories things go off the rails and yakety sax starts to play while after hanna barbera cartoon scrambling in place for a second, your haunted hotel avatar starts sprinting to the basement or wherever it was but Too Late, it blows up and the hotel dies kind of. and that’s kinda fun and funny lol but yknow, put it back in. beating up kubrick aside, i’ve seen all of? nigh all of? wasn’t paying much attention. the movie and it’s like oh okay whatever. but as with like [anything stephen king] and my not even being born till the 90s, it’s like, i can’t possibly experience this afresh, we can all agree that surely this is the best known stephen king work b/w book & film adaptation, even among biggies that really just permeate pop culture overall, who can know what i’d think if these things were New and pre [own significant influence on relevant genres / mediums] or also i was a younger reader/viewer at the times as people could often be. but i was like....expression where you scrunch your face up and look to the side like “are you seeing this” bemusement like...this is. fine i guess? it’s not really scary lmfao. and regardless, resurrecting kubrick to beat him up. but on that note it’s also funny that god knows why i ever mentioned the hypothetical of watching the shining once in passing to my mom, it would’ve been humorous / not in earnest b/c no way would i have been suggesting we watch that or even that i had watched it necessarily, so i Think i must’ve just been informing her of some things that were on tv at that moment with some goofy but technically accurate suggestions like that one, and she is a bit indignant like clearly disapproving of the general idea because, as she says, she doesn’t think it’s Right to tell kids they should ever be afraid of their parents. but between “but like. they go axe murder possessed by a hotel mode here, wherein i think it’s very appropriate?” and [someone who watches It and keeps looking into the camera one zillion times / is fascinated by the fact it’s like oh wow, any horror talking about What If You Had Trauma that isn’t like fundamentally misguided throughout and probably egregiously insulting about it] i take a perfectly comedically timed pause and then we freeze frame on my doing a spit take Laugh into my own drink. not actually in the real moment lol, i just Say Nothing and file that one away lmfao

oh and as a little postscript here i want to shoutout my going “just like Watch Your Step in goosebumps the musical the phantom of the auditorium” where it’s like, schrodinger’s warning about how a kid could just up and accidentally die via this trapdoor or like anywhere anytime, but you don’t really realize that b/c you’re kids, but I’m Telling You. and like, he’s right in general to be sure, you can just die, as well as unknowingly right of course like oops yeah some kid did just up and suddenly die via this trapdoor, grimly. and that’s Stand By Me / The Body handshake emoji It, like of course that mortality is ever relevant particularly in horror, but that also it’s like, kids realizing the reality and Proximity of that, like You Can Die, this could be you or could’ve been you. [horror, and it’s middle schoolers] wins again