𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐈 — 17teen. infj. daydreamer. hopeful romantic. eldest sister. june gemini. silver girl, lost in a high tech world. moonchild. strawberry lover. feminist. charlotte sometimes variant. starstruck writer. logan howletts sweetheart. avid reader. crochet & knit. music enthusiast. fangirl. old soul.
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆
⸻ 𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹
fleetwood mac. the smashing pumpkins. arctic monkeys. mazzy star. jeff buckley. hole. joan baez. the strokes. lana del rey. mitski. the cure.
always looking for logan moots! i'd love to make some friends on here 🤍
Logan has been alive for centuries. Sure, he's lost a whole bunch of memories, but still — he's convinced that there's never been anyone like you. Does the probability of finding a soulmate increase with an extended lifespan? Probably not. Not with his tendency to seclude himself. All the more reason he's fucking lucky to have found you.
Usually, autumn makes him feel a little melancholic. It makes him remember that everything around him changes and that he's not capable of preventing it. Everything fades, again and again. Logan should be used to it, but he isn't. When the temperature falls, he feels guilty for being alone. For never trusting anyone enough to care bout them changing. Autumn is mostly spent in isolation, drinking to push the lingering doubts away.
This time though, it's different.
You're there.
It's weird, how you have a way of making him forget about the pitch black thoughts swirling around in his head. As if it's the easiest thing in the world! All while he hasn't managed to make them go away in all his life.
Today, you burst into the common room, eyes scanning the couches until you found him sitting in a corner. Your face lit up at the sight of him, smoking a cigar at the open window.
"Logan! Come outside with me?"
He was a little taken aback, at first. There didn't seem to be any ulterior motive behind your request, you really just wanted to spend time with him. His heart fluttered at the tought. Quickly, he put out his cigar in the ashtray to ignore the weird sensation.
"Sure, bub."
You stepped towards him with a cheerful smile, took his hand and led him outside. Enthusiasm radiated off your skin and he liked that. Liked how you pulled him out the door, how your eyes shone at the sight of the meadow covered in colorful leaves. How you'd been wearing your coat when you got him already. It wasn't even that cold, he certainly didn't need a jacket, but you were excited for autumn. Cute.
That's how he got here. Walking through the beginning of the forest near the mansion, leaves crunching under his boots. Logan's fond gaze lingered on your body a few steps ahead of him. You were ducking down all the time, attention caught by some little detail. Had collected quite a few pretty leaves. Chestnuts, too. Only things that were lying on the earth of course, no living plants! He carried them for you, hands full of your findings.
You turned around from where you were kneeling on the floor, observing a bunch of mushrooms that you had exclaimed 'looked like a family'. Bashful, suddenly, as you saw him balancing a pile of everything you collected in his arms.
"Oh, uhm, are you okay with carrying all this? You don't have to, I didn't—"
His voice cut you off. "I don't mind, really."
Something glimmered in his eyes as he saw the tension leave your shoulders at his answer.
Before you could reply, a noise caught your attention.
You gasped. "A squirrel! Logan, did you see that? It was so cute!"
You're cuter. "Yes, sweetheart, I saw it."
The nickname slipped, he couldn't help it. (Doesn't matter — you were busy looking for walnuts you could place in a pile under the squirrel's tree, so it wouldn't be hungry when winter came.) You were adorable with how you went back to your enthusiasm in a split second. Excited by little things such as the change of seasons.
The thing is, you mostly repressed that innocently happy part of yourself. Or so it seemed when you behaved serious in group meeting and gave everyone your full, earnest support. You listened to all their problems, of course they started relying on that! People trusted you. He did, too. Still, what moved him more was how you trusted him in return. Despite the claws and the grumpiness. Apparently, you just were that much of a sunshine person.
Logan is pretty sure that you come from another planet, actually. Detached from reality, almost, with how bright you see the darkness. It's okay! He comes from another planet too. A different one, but still. He has had a hard time adjusting to the inhospitable environment of this world. It's a cold and painful life, that it is. Nothing will change that. If anything, autumn and winter make it even more obvious.
But then again... if you can see something positive in it, it can't only be bad, right? There must be something to it, after all. Your judgment has to be right given the happiness you found in your worldview.
Logan's begins to understand as he trudges behind you, the golden sun hitting the forest just right. Like a guiding light, illuminated by the sunrays, he follows your lead, careful not to drop any of the chestnuts.
Because in the end, today, like many days before, proved that you found something good in him, as well. Maybe if he follows you long enough, he'll begin to see that, too.
I feel like ur the only Logan writer left😢 I can’t find anything new to read on him
FEAR NOT NONNYYYYYY!!!!
There are plenty of Logan writers still out there- Let me HOOK. YOU. UP!!!!!
@Rosenclaws
@Lubdubology
@lareinedulune
@lokinks
@unlikeable-female-character
@mcrdvcks
@moonlight-prose
@tezooks
@eupheme
@cruel-as-sin
**some folks may not currently be writing for our boy but I wanted to include them bc they're talent and have amazing fics
This list could go on and on cause there's a lot of amazing writers out there !!!! there some who I haven't even gotten the pleasure to see writing for him yet!!! but these are lovely folks I can think of on the top of my head
So if you're a Logan writer please feel free to reblog (or comment) so I can boost you as well!!!! (and check out your fics bc.....)
I'm also adding a few names here that I saw get tagged (so sorry for double tags but I wanna make sure everybody gets their spotlight, we need all the pookie writers!!!!)
Logan has not had many moments of serenity in his life.
Everything spins, changes, evolves, so fast, and he's caught in the eye of the storm, in the middle of the swirl of time, where things come to a halt. Separated from everything else.
Eventually, he stopped trying to keep up with the others. Got used to the idea of spending his hours alone. They started feeling different once he didn't listen to the ticking of the clock anymore. The value of his time was altered, his days were not structured by plans and expectations, just like his life wasn’t clearly divided. He lost his past, and many wounds should have been the natural end, but now that there isn’t one...
Logan doesn't see the point in pretending to live in time like everyone else.
He acts on his own schedule. That is one of the reasons why most of his nights aren't spent sleeping. Well... that, and the nightmares. Haunted by his pain, Logan gave up on using sleep to escape. Instead, he flees from it, spending the late hours either at bars, outside in the mansions garden near the animals, or in the kitchen, smoking cigars.
This little routine he worked out was a nice way to pass time, watching over the school at night, alone with only the nightsky bearing witness. As of lately though, it's been disturbed... By you, quite surprisingly.
You had never struck Logan as the type of person to be an insomniac. And yet, he was proven wrong every night since that first time you crossed paths in the kitchen.
Originally, he had simply wanted to retrieve a cigar from his secret stash in the top cabinet. Forgot about that quickly at the sight of you, sitting on the windowsill facing the meadow. The empath, huh. You didn't see him at first, he must have made some kind of noise that caused you to jolt, torn out of the dreamy haze that clouded your eyes.
"Logan?" Brows furrowed together, you faced him, surprised at the sight.
"What're you doin' up so late, bub?"
You smiled, then. A little shyly, bashful, even. Brushed it off, mumbling something about not being able to sleep. He just nodded in agreement and fetched himself a glass of water before going back to his room.
It didn't feel right to stay. He didn't want to intrude or anything, and you didn't even know each other that well, so he really had no business spending that evening with you.
Things changed when you crossed paths again a few days later. This time, it was you who stumbled upon Logan. Out by the lake, he was watching the trees swaying in the breeze, listening to the sounds of the night.
"You're out again?" Your voice didn't phase him. His senses had picked up on your footsteps minutes ago.
"Nightmares," he huffed gruffly.
You seemed hesitant at first, caution written over your features, but ultimately decided to join him. That, he didn't expect. Despite initially tensing up as you sat down on the grass next to him, arm brushing against his, he didn't leave. You watched the stars in comfortable silence and he found it to be quite nice to share the lonely night with someone. It felt warmer.
Logan actively searched you out the next evening. Wordlessly plopped down on the couch where you watched TV, the slight nervousness fading as your eyes flickered over to him for a second and you merely smiled before shifting to focus on the show again. Quiet solidarity.
From then on, you spent all the nights together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking. You'd retreat to your room a few hours after midnight, trying to catch at least a little sleep, leaving him to think about your conversations.
Your words had a way of lingering on his mind. What used to be small talk soon gained depth and melted into introspective confessions. Logan liked that, liked how the moon loosened you up.
Over those weeks he got to know you better than he knew any of the other X-Men. He was aware of your ability to read others emotions and the burden that it had become.
You told him in the safety of your room, back when the bond between you solidified and you began to spend the nights in each others dorms, enjoying the company and the relief of sharing those intimate parts of your identity.
However, what made him feel so comfortable around you was not only the way you always seemed to know what he felt. No… it was the acceptance you bestowed upon his innermost emotions.
Logan let you do most of the talking, at peace with the company alone. His silence seemed to tell you more about him than words ever could, but you never even tried to push it. A welcome change. Made him forget about his troubles for a while as you took him for walks through your colorful mind, full of whimsy and contemplation.
You were so… eager to take his hand and lead him away from the tiredness in his bones. It truly amazed him, because he had learned that deep inside, you were just as drained.
Feeling the whole spectrum of human emotion on a daily basis, unfiltered and increased by every person that crossed your path, sure was exhausting. And you weren't even capable of catching a break at night, deprived of something as essential as sleep!
Made him wish that he didn't carry all this pain inside of him — not because then he wouldn't be plagued by nightmares, but so you wouldn't have to live trough it with him. So innocent, you hadn't done anything to deserve that.
Quietly, Logan did his best to make it easier for you. Got you out of situations at daytime that clearly overwhelmed you even though no one seemed to notice.
By now, with how often he had grabbed your hand and removed you from uncomfortable situations, it must've been pretty obvious that something had developed between the two of you. They knew, from the way you sought him out, from the way he looked at you.
You knew it, too. Allowed yourself to be completely open with him, to trust for once. Without even having to read Logan's heart, you felt everything you needed to understand. His eyes spoke loud enough.
It was such a nice break, as if all the loud noise and the voices were tuned out when he stood next to you. You tended to become anxious if you didn't look into anyones emotional realm for too long. Begun imagining things that probably weren't even there. Gosh, it’s just your imagination, so vivid, so far from the truth— But what if... and then you checked just to be sure.
With Logan, you simply never needed to. He didn't convey his thoughts, open like a book he loudly dared the world to read. A mask, carefully crafted to hide his silent anguish that came with not really knowing all the chapters himself. The truth flickered through the lines everytime his gaze met yours. And his doubt, his suffering put you at ease more than conceiled feelings ever could. It was real.
"Logan?"
He halted in his steps, turning back around to look at you lying on your bed. Had been meaning to leave, just short of reaching the door. It had become a habit for him to go back to his room a few hours before dawn, so you'd get some rest and privacy.
Now however, you longed to feel his presence for a little while longer.
"Yeah?" Bushy brows knitted together, Logan looked almost hesistant. Unsure, as if expecting you to scold him. Had he done something wrong?
Your voice was quiet, a little shy. "Don't leave, please."
He looked up, then, eyes softening at the sight of your timid gaze. You looked vulnerable, lying on the duvet, clutching your pillow to your chest.
"I... I can't fall asleep after you leave. It helps to know you're there. Of course, I completely understand if you'd rather go back to your own room—" Your voice trailed off, lost in a sudden feeling of nervousness. Were you overstepping? Was he—
It didn't take any more convincing. Two strides and he was next to you again, back in his designated spot. The bedsprings creaked as he sat beside you, leaning against the headrest.
"I don't mind."
The vibrations of his voice send flutters through your skin. You felt warm all over, turning your head from where you laid curled up to smile at him. He understood.
“Really? ‘Cause you can go if you w—"
“I don’t. Won’t sleep anyway, doesn’t matter where I pass the time.” He cleared his throat, looking to the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You picked up on the rosy tint of his stubbled cheeks anyway.
“Thank you. Really, it… it means a lot to me.”
“’S alright, bub. Just go to sleep.” He grumbled.
And you did. Slid under the covers, turning your back towards him. Closed your yes, too. ... But your heart still beat a little faster and the giddy smile seemed to be glued to your face. So, you tried breathing evenly. And slowly but surely, the excitement melted into tender elation. Your eyes fell closed.
A few minutes passed like that. Logan hadn’t torn his gaze from your content form, resembling a cat with how you were positioned. Cute.
Hesitation lost the battle to his heart, and the matress dipped as he scooched closer to you, lying down behind you. Not quite spooning you, no, he restrained himself from touching. There’s still time. You won’t run away… That much you’ve proven to him over the nights. If anything, you inched closer and closer. Gently, tending to his neglected feelings. And suddenly, he didn't mind time flowing slowly. Not if it meant the thrill of anticipation.
The last thing you heard before drifting into sleep was his voice. Soft, whispered behind you. For only the moon to listen, but you still heard it, even from the bridge between reality and dreamland.
For years and years, you had been living half a life. Thriving when sunrays tickled your face, then wallowing in sadness, cooped up in your room throughout the cold seasons.
And you grew used to it. Didn't mind too much. As long as you lived life to its fullest in spring, dancing in the green grass, talking to the flowers, you could endure a little loneliness from october to march. At least you were alive. Most of your plant friends couldn't say that for themselves. The way you saw it, grief justified your little ritual of hibernation.
The others understood. Actually, the X-Mansion was the first place to ever accept your sadness. They shared your enthusiasm in summer, and let you be when it ended.
You were eternally grateful for the support, that, you were. Sunny smiles peeking through your lips when Jean set a platter of food down at your doorstep for you to find, so you didn't have to face the outside world. Pinning Charles’ letters to your wall so you could read them over and over. It was soothing to have those glimpses into the X-Mens everyday life, weekly reports on how everyone was doing. How the students had improved, what book was read in the little book club you’d established, how successful Storms last mission had been.
All in all, you were cared for.
However, you’d never met someone who respected your solitude and still reminded you that you were alive. Someone to coax you out of your shell, gently.
It was only now that you learned how while it was understandable that you were shaken by the flowers demise, sensitive as you were, the whole outside world didn't have to die, too.
And all thanks to him.
Logan had come again since that day he ditched the party and checked up on you.
At first, that was what you thought he was doing: check-ups. After all, he was known to be caring (even if he denied it). He’d done this for everyone at some point. When Storm was sick, he brought her soup, grumbling something about how she needed protein. Stopped Jean from going on a mission once when she’d been working down at the lab for three days straight, claiming she’d be a threat to the others without some well deserved rest. He even begrudingly fixed Scotts motorcycle once when he’d felt overwhelmed by everything that was going on (although he made it very clear that he only repaired it to take it for a spin the next day).
Not to mention how safe he made the children feel… How comforted they were by his strenght. He had a soft spot for the insomniacs. Stumbled onto a little boy when he came to the kitchen after a particularly crushing nightmare to retrieve a glass of water, couldn’t have been older than nine. Logan had stayed up all night then to watch TV with the kid.
So yeah, maybe he had developed a soft spot for you, too. Because he saw you as someone in need of protection. That was the only logical explanation.
… Right?
Doubt began to worm its way into your mind after the first week.
By Friday, Logan had swung by two times already. First, to personally bring you a plate of food. He delivered it in person, you’d been surprised to open the door to his face.
Originally, you had been worried that seeing him again would be awkward. Like, after crying your heart out and falling asleep next to him. Did you overwhelm him? God, you hoped he didn’t feel pressured to stay that evening. The silence had felt comfortable to you, but he was pretty closed off and you weren’t exactly friends, barely acquainted, so…
When you looked up into his eyes that day, that fear vanished. Logan looked almost bashful, pressing the platter of food into your hands.
“Feel better”, he’d mumbled, then walked away as if he was in a rush to bring distance between you.
Your eyes had darted to the meal you were holding. It was your favorite.
He’d even brought you a cup of herbal tea.
You rationalized, thinking that Jean had probably prepared the food, that he’d merely been tasked to bring it up to your room.
It became harder to brush off his newly developed antics when he came by again a few days later, though.
This time, you found him at the doorstep, clutching a book in his hands.
“Hey, uh… How are you?”
You blinked once, shoving back the excitement blubbering up in your heart. “I… Could be better. But I’m getting by.”
“That’s good.” His gaze seemed to be solid as stone as he stared at you.
He didn’t say anything else. Just waited.
Perplexed, you tilted your head. “So, uh… thank you for bringing by lunch the other day. How did you know my favorite sort of tea?”
He cleared his throat, then. “You drink that every morning when you take your walk through the meadow. Common knowledge, sweetheart.”
The nickname slipped out accidentally, but your eyes still widened. He didn’t even seem to have realized — you felt your face heat up. Embarrassing!
Pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, you looked up at him. Flashing him a sweet smile, small and more of a cover-up than thought through, a way to distract him.
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you. It was really nice of you to do.”
This seemed to shake him out of his thoughts. “Ah. I, uhm, I got you somethin’.”
He practically shoves the book into your arms. “Read it a few years ago when I was going through a rough patch. Really gets your mind off of stuff.”
Logan cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I should probably go,” he said gruffly, turning around to walk away as suddenly as he came.
“Wait — thanks, Logan!” You took a step out of your room, the first one in weeks, holding up the book, eyes shining brightly.
“You don’t have to read it,” he called back over his shoulder. Then, he was gone.
You thought about the unexpected interaction for the whole evening as you retreated back into your sanctuary, curtains closed to be spared the sight of dead leaves falling down to earth.
Logan had been so… different from usual. Almost anxious, as if his mind was a little hazy with how he seemed to have forgotten why he was there at first.
Despite everything that had been confusing about the day, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Elated, even. For a few hours, you forgot about your pain and immersed yourself in the literature he brought you.
It was a worn-out copy of “The Old Man and the Sea”. Admittedly, you’d read it before. As most of Hemingway’s novels. Now, this specific copy was one you hadn’t seen in the mansion's library. You knew most of the inventory, as you spent your leisure either there or outside.
Since the colors on the cover were already fading though, that could only mean one thing — he borrowed you one of his personal books.
A smile shone on your face at the thought. You’d seen Logan at the library before. Coincidentally, he came there quite often during your afternoon reading hour.
A few times he sat near the fireplace with a book (strangely, he always picked up a new one to start only to put it back onto the shelf when he left — you’d never witnessed him finishing one) when you hosted your book club.
Once every week, you sat down with interested students to discuss the books they were reading. It brought you an immense joy and to see their eyes light up as they talked about their favorite characters and their progress with their novels. Some liked to get recommendations from you, and you gladly gave them some, meticulously picking out books that you thought fit the students personality best.
It was beautiful to share your passion with the children. Books had always been your escape from reality, and especially in times like these, it was needed. You weren’t a teacher, but this, you could give to them. Sometimes after a session, you took them to the garden to introduce them to the flowers or make little chairs they could sit in while they read.
You missed it. Hopefully, they were doing alright without the weekly get-togethers.
Maybe… just maybe, you’d leave your room to look after them tomorrow or the day after that.
You finished the book that night, warmth blooming in your belly as you turned each page with tremendous care. The very same pages that his fingers had touched.
This night’s sleep was the best you’d gotten in a long while.
The same could not be said about Logan.
Of course, he didn’t know about your strange newfound happiness. Instead, he went to bed early that evening, replaying your last two interactions in his head again and again.
God, he was down bad.
After the day of the party, Logan was torn between bringing distance between you and immediately visiting you again the next morning. He had managed to keep himself from coming by again so soon, staying busy doing other things instead.
But there was this physical need to see you again, to smell your scent that kept him from concentrating on anything. So, despite being strong enough to ignore his instinct to seek you constantly, he visited you twice that week.
Everytime, Logans throat went dry. He must have looked so dumb standing there all tense. Even forgot to give you the book like he planned at first. It was your smile that had pulled him out of his stupor.
That smile… the brightness almost blinded him. And still, sweet enough to get him addicted, even if it hurt.
He really had to pull himself together if he didn’t want to scare you away. Sweetheart — had he lost his mind? He couldn’t slip up like that! Hell, the worst thing he could possibly do would be to overwhelm you or weird you out. You weren’t even really friends yet. Probably just saw him as the new guy at the mansion. And he wasn’t exactly amiable, either.
Logan sighed deeply, turning on his matress. Even coming by to give you that book was most likely a boundary he shouldn’t have crossed… After all, he knew how you were suffering.
However, he couldn’t help but give in to the strange fluttery sensation carving its way through the barriers he built around his heart. Calling you that had felt right, the endearment leaving his lips almost naturally.
It took Logan hours to fall asleep that night. And yet, it was worth it.
i start writing when i was 14. i found out about fanfic bcs my classmate introduce it to me. Not a marvel fanfic but Kpop fanfic hahaha. i wrote about my fav kpop boy group imagines, and 1 discontinued series of the same group lololol. I stopped writing to focus on my studies. Present time...This year, i have finished my degree and had spare time, started to write Marvel fanfic especially Logan and Bucky.
🍇 how many fandoms have you written in?
if i count my old kpop fanfic... 1. Adding the marvel; Logan, Bucky, so 3?
🥝 how many years have you been writing fanfiction?
if i include my high school phase, maybe 4 years counting last year and this year HAHAHA. I started writing Logan series last year and alternate ending this year.
🍎 do you read or write more fanfiction?
50% reading 50% writing
🍌 what is one way you’ve improved as a writer?
by writing want i want and what i am comfortable with. and READ MORE BOOKS etc Romance, thriller, sci-fi. It boost my imagination and words to write.
🍑 do you have any bad habits as a writer?
i have to many wips and abandoned plots.
🍍 what’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
mind stasis of how it works... for Lumen ending. cryo sleep stuffs for Bucky fanfic
🍉 what’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?
when you copy paste the sentences and give out your opinions on it.
🍐 what’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?
Logan and Bucky backstory bcs i havent read any of their comics.... i mostly write and depending on the MCU movies scripts and timelines.
🍑 what is the hardest type of story for you to write?
drabble... because i like to write long stories.. i have hyperfixation on elaborating things, if i wrote drabble, i made sure the ending is good enough for me to accept hehe
🍏 what is the easiest type?
lmao...me? of course ANGST. be thankful i havent post anything about murdering my MC cough cough Lumen Logan series... maybe in future. need more planning.
🍑 where do you do your writing? what platform? when?
google docs because of easy access to on my devices, laptop, tablet and my phone. Hated the google docs formats but i get used to it. I edit the drafts copy pasting in Microsoft Words.
🍋 what is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?
Logan and Bucky crossovers. i would love to write a long ass whole story that includes them both... maybe triangle love on MC??
🍇 what made you choose your username?
Haha i already told this one. I had an editing video account on instagram with the same handle. Loki+ kinks= Lokinks. I was obssessed with Loki after experiencing oldman Logan's death. So, the username sticks until now.
no pressure tags: @viviale @tezooks @rosenclaws @that-sudsy @lolainrainbowz
thank you so much for the tag mia @lokinks! this was soo much fun, i love getting to talk about my writing :D
yours was so informative, too! it's amazing to learn about others habits. you could totally pull off the logan/bucky crossover!
🍓 how did you get into writing fanfiction?
i think i started writing shortly after i started reading. i was a huge harry potter fan back in the day, so stumbling onto fanfiction was a logical next step. it really amazed me, the concept, how creative and imaginative everyone was, and i fell deeply in love with stories about my favorite characters. i started writing some myself and even published for a while! since then, it has become a consistently present part of my life, even though i have had many phases that went by without writing at all.
🍇 how many fandoms have you written in?
let's see, harry potter, haikyuu, stranger things, dc and now x-men/marvel. those are the ones i would count as fandoms! so, five.
🥝 how many years have you been writing fanfiction?
seven years! that's a lot, i never thought about it like that :0 although of course, i haven't been writing the whole time, just snippets for my own enjoyment mostly and now and then something worth publishing.
🍎 do you read or write more fanfiction?
i read way more! mostly because i don't have a lot of time and for me, writing requires to be in the right mindset. also, i deeply admire all fanfic writers out there, their stories are so inspiring and often make my day!
🍌 what is one way you've improved as a writer?
it really helped me to realize that i can literally write anything i want. i am a perfectionist, and if a story i wrote doesn't live up to my vision, it used to be very tough for me to find the motivation to finish it. putting this behind me was hard and i still get insecure, but in the end, every word is progress and i constantly learn and improve. publishing my stories was a good decision, too! it's nice to format everything and add pretty pictures, also i like having everything in one place. it adds some routine to my projects! not to mention how kind everyone is — your reactions and comments are priceless, it makes me so happy that you like my silly little thoughts :D
🍑 do you have any bad habits as a writer?
unfortunately, yes. i struggle with writing consistently, mostly at times where i can't follow my routine because i have too much to do. also, it scares me a little to commit to a story — i have many ideas but if it's a big one, i fear i will lose motivation to finish it. writing long oneshots/multi part series pressures me so i usually shy away from those. as of lately, this has begun to change, though! i started writing a mini series that still brings me so much joy even i update slowly :)
🍍 what is the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
i'm not really a researcher, probably because my fluffy stories don't require it. if we count reading as research though and i think that's fair, i have come across some very weird topics — in a good way of course (:
🍉 what is your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?
all comments have me kicking my feet and smiling! i really like the long ones though, when you include your favorite line out of the story or a detail you liked :)
🍐 what is the most fringe trope/topic you write about?
that's a tough one. maybe logan being a softie at heart? however that seems to be well established at this point, as it should be, hihi!
🍑 what is the hardest type of story for you to write?
angst with a bad ending. i can never go through with it because it breaks my heart :(
🍏 what is the easiest type?
fluff, definitely! it's so wholesome and my favorite concept to read, too. for logan, i just want to see him thrive and live his best life! (because canonically, he isn't)
🍑 where do you do your writing? what platform? when?
i am most productive at 5 pm. i make myself some tea, sit down and light a candle with some scented oil. i mostly do my writing on my laptop where i use the notion app. that's for longer/serious stories though. ideas for headcanons or little blurbs just come over me and i start jotting down my thoughts in my journal or the notes app. sometimes i can't stop and write the whole thing in my notes! i edit in my tumblr drafts.
🍋 what is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write someday?
multi-part stories and long oneshots. i have soo many ideas but fear i won't be able to do them justice. then again, what if i have lost my hyperfixation by the time i'm ready? :( it's a struggle, but i think i'm slowly improving in that regard. after all, i have written and published some of my ideas already!
🍇 what made you choose your username?
that's a fun question! honestly, i don't really know, there's not much of a story. i wanted something memorable with a nice sound, also, i love the connection to "la vie", "vivant" et cetera :D
tagging, no pressure at all — @kittyhowlett @wolverinesbuttcheeks @loganficsonly @mikaaki @purpleandredlavalamps @edawgz @versevibess @benispunk + anyone who wants to do it!
This is insanely adorable!!! Thank you for tagging me @multiversefanfics ❤️
🏷️: @tezooks @damimami1994 @lostinlovingrevery @fireside-fanfics @echosdevil @novastarambeau @princessanglophile @spider-starry @heerane @snake-cutie @dance-is-life27 @thevoicefromanotherworld and anyone else that would like to do it 🤗
BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out! 🥰
Whoa surprise tag game. Thank you @mrheymister for tagging me!
I love these things but I've never actually done one. I'm not a very interesting person (that's not true tbh—I whole-heartedly believe there are no uninteresting people, only uninteresting speakers), so I'm actually doing this to recommend a damn good fanfic.
Currently Reading — Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy and The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker. I'm enjoying both. Well, Blood Meridian is horrible, but I knew that going in. Incredible writing style. But last night I read an RDR2 fanfic that emotionally devastated me, "strap yourself to a tree with roots" by jukeboxgraduate. Shit I crode. One of those things that was so fucking sad I made some positive choices to cope.
Last Song — Had to go and check. I'm almost always listening to music. It could have been anything. But this time, it was "Going Up The Country" by Canned Heat. I was a Skate 3 kid.
Last Film — Even harder to remember. I don't watch many films. It was "The Northman," a few weeks ago. Uhh... it was definitely weird, but also remarkably unmemorable for me.
Last Series — My friend and I have been watching "The Boys" together, by which I mean we watch like two episodes over video call every month. I mainly want to know who dies next.
Sweet/Savory/Salty — I hate salt and lost my sweet tooth about a decade ago. I'm progressively put off by sour too—pickles are long gone, olives are on the way out. My sense of taste has gotten keener over the years. I'll go with savory, but I'm not much of a food person. I struggle to stay above "emaciated skeleton."
Working On — An original story that is rapidly falling into what my brother and I have taken to calling the "Dutch van der Linde genre." A middle-aged botanist in late Victorian England becomes obsessed with the idea that he can cure the fungal zombie apocalypse that has taken over the British Isles. With his best friend who is a pastor, he builds a cult-like community of survivors and uses them at first to support his research and then to slaughter an actual cult that has begun worshiping the fungus. The story is told from the perspective of the pastor's brother, a depressive nihilist who has spent his life in and out of jail and who thinks Britain—and humanity as a whole—is a blight not worth saving.
Tea/Coffee — I like both but prefer both hot. I have a cup of coffee before bed because caffeine doesn't affect me. But I hate bitter, so I make it weak and milky asf with two spoons of Milo. My favorite tea is Lady Grey.
That's all, folks. Go read that fanfic. I don't really know many people here, so I'll tag @amrass, @battermyheart, @a-revolver-called-rachel, and @goldelions.
Currently Reading — Nature, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. It's such a short text but philosophy is my weak point. It takes me forever to assimilate those concepts. I'm still pretty interested, it's fascinating to read an early American philosopher trying to get away from old European philosophy.
Fanfic-wise I recommend everything by @tciddaemina https://archiveofourown.org/users/tciddaemina/works because their writing slaps hard.
Last Song — Step by Step, Jesse Winchester. The Wire is one of my all time fav and this song hits hard.
Last Film — Kontrol (2003) by Nimród Antal. I really liked it! I think it's a metaphor for depression.
Last Series — Uuuh... Yellowstone? I haven't watched a good tv series in a while. Yellowstone was very mid. And I'm being generous.
Sweet/Savory/Salty — Sweet wise, I love chocolate. Candies, not so much. I'm a bit picky about savory flavor but I can be convinced. And there's little I won't try salty wise.
Working On — A Legend of Zelda fanfic, of all things. With Link getting tired to the endless murder cycle he's stuck in. I'm playing loose and fast with canon which, as far as I can tell, is a sweet mess anyway.
Tea/Coffee — Coffee, black.
tagging mumus without any pressure of course! @hardcore-bradshaw @roamingtigress and @poplinn
Currently Reading — What Good are the Arts? by John Carey. It's very good so far. A very critical examination and exploration on art and culture. think of stuff like, what value does art have, what makes something art, why is some art deemed 'higher' than others etc etc. Very fascinating! I haven't been able to read much lately tho :/
Last Song — Bark at the Moon - Ozzy Osbourne, from my Logan playlist haha
Last Film — Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989)
Last Series — S1 of the Blacklist. I never really watch series but there's a few that do intrigue me, so i'll sit down once a year to watch a season or two.
Sweet/Savory/Salty — I lean more towards savory/salty. Sweet stuff just makes me nauseous now
Working On — Oh quite a few things:
1 Fanfic for a friend's birthday (you know who you are).
1 Art commission I got from this lady who wanted an abstract self portrait in my style.
1 textual artwork commission for my brother who wants one in his bathroom (idk about other countries but art and calendars are very normal to have in the bathroom in my country)
1 Animation of Logan. I recently got the sketch all finished, now I need to do the colouring haha
And I'm looking into making a new sideblog to kinda archive or post all of my x-men comic screencaps cause i currently have over 500 in my gallery lol. I also have a LOT of fanfic drabbles that I've written offhand to warm up for the real work, so I'm looking into cleaning those up and posting them as well.
I've also got a lot of other stuff on the backburner, like cleaning up my portfolio site and making an instagram account for all my work and stuff lolz.. so yeah... juggling a lot rn but I wouldn't have it any other way :p
Tea/Coffee — Neither, actually. Just gimme water or some chocolate milk lolz.
im gonna tag @chiefblossom @roughentumble @tezooks no pressure ofc! just curious what y'all listen to/read and work on :3333c
currently reading: work docs. haven't been able to pick up a book for a couple weeks. (but i'm reading fanfic too whenever i can)
last song: GO!!! by FLOW. quintessential anime fan music LOL.
last film: someone like you. i need to stop watching this damn film on repeat but eddie alden....my beloved....
last series: eyes of wakanda. hella fire mini series, go watch it!
sweet/savoury/salty: all but in the mood for sweet rn. i want cake. pls cake. gib me.
working on: wet hot logan summer fic. i'm speedrunning this and it's gonna be my longest logan fic i've posted lol. also working on requests i've had since may. and lex's birthday fic. oopsie.
tea/coffee: tea all day every day babeyyy
npt: @princessanglophile @lubdubology @rosenclaws @lilybahng @lareinedulune @damimami1994 @sidkneeeee and anyone else who wants to 😈
Currently reading: Why we can’t wait by Martin Luther king jr. still on the tenth page because I started reading it today. AND alot of fan fics.
Last song: It’s a wrap by Mariah Carey
Last film : The change up (2011). Thought it was a Rom-com but it’s more of a bromance/friendship movie.
Last series: S2 of better call Saul. LOVE IT
Sweet/savoury/salty: savoury ALL THE WAY. I have no sweet tooth at all.
Working on: Logan Howlett X reader fanfic. It’s a series I’ve been working on for a while now. Really wanna post soon (I have 0 confidence about my writing though). Idk if it’s weird but I enjoy reading my own writing sometimes lol.
Tea/coffee: COFFEE!!!
No pressure tags: @princessanglophile @lubdubology @vivi-ale @silversprings-mp3 @sir-thisisadndserver @unlikeable-female-character
yay, a tag game! :D thank you for tagging me @lilybahng 🤍
currently reading susan sontags "on photography", it's absolutely blowing my mind!
last song margaret by lana del rey
last film a few days ago, i finally watched "good will hunting" for the first time after meaning to for years. it made me cry so much i absolutely LOVED it—
last series the office
sweet/savory/salty sweet! like me hehe ;D
working on school started again recently so i don't have a lot of time for writing :( there's still a half-finished oneshot sitting in my drafts though, and i'm dying to write the next part of "the language of flowers"!
tea/coffee both!
lily, i would absolutely LOVE to read your story once you publish it! i'm sure it's great! every time i post something i get a little scared, but i'm so glad i decided to share my writing. the positive feedback is extremely inspiring and makes it all worth it 🤍
tagging (no pressure) @lokinks @wolverinesbuttcheeks @sidkneeeee
the ask game looks like so much fun, i love learning little details about moots like that! for the emoji one,
👁️👥🌻🎬🌍 ?
i hope you haven't answered those yet!
love, vivi 🤍
hello dear Vivi 🎀 thank you for the asks >33
ah yay i have't had these emojis yet:
👁️ eye colour - my eyes are dark brown, sometimes when i take selfies, it looks almost black huhuhu + silent prayers for me bcs i have sensitives eyeballs can't wear contact lens GAHHH
👥️ otp- oh my, my teenager era until now... from the books and adaptation movies- DIVERGENT SERIES* Tris and Four forevahhhh!!! 6❤️4 -pretend the ending of Allegiant in the book never happen
🌻 flower- white daisies are my top tier, pretty white tiny yellow is the fields.
🎬 movie- Avatar James Cameron's. i always watch it once every year. I even bought and played the Pandora Frontier lol. SO GOOD
🌍 place- beaches but not the crowded full of peoples. i like the secluded, calm serene ones.
ooh that sounds so cool! i love the answers you put :D i'll just treat this as a tag game if that's alright 🤍
eye color dark brown is such a pretty color! mine are blue with green speckles. i always had a hard time defining it as a kid when we had to write down our info for friendship albums, hihi!
otp i have way too many in wayyy too many fandoms! for x-men definitely cherik, they're so cute and silly :D (also i physically can't handle shipping logan with anyone but us oopsie— except for wade... poolverine is a match made in heaven)
flower mine are also daisies! we used to make flower crowns out of them in kindergarten, it was so much fun!
movie it's so hard to choose, but out my recent watches i really liked "the fountain"! hugh jackman is in it and it made me cry so so much... if a movie makes me feel very deeply i immediately like a it, that's such a cathartic experience :)
place i completely agree with you, beaches are amazing. the sea is my favorite place in the world, i wish i could live there! i'd go swimming everyday no matter the temperature ;D also, it fuels creativity!
i loved loved loved the last story you wrote by the way 🤍 i haven't been able to keep up with everything you posted but i am looking forward to reading through it! :D so curious what you're coming up with for celebration requests too!
Really, who can blame him? He's a broken man. Pathetic, drowning his sorrows in whiskey. He has let down everyone. The universe itself declares him the worst Wolverine out of all timelines!
Sure, everything is different here. Things finally change, slowly... But second chances don't erase the past. They're called second chances for a reason, almost as if to mock him for failing earlier.
That's not what you tell him in the dark hours of the night, when you hold his face gently and look at him like he hung the very stars that shine upon you. No, you insist that he deserves this life. Deserves the slow mornings, the tokens of your affection. You make it very clear that you don't think of Wade introducing him to the friend group as a mistake. Why would you — it's how you met him.
In those moments, Logan almost believes it. For your sake, maybe. Warmth floods his body, and he tries to smile back at you. It's not yet a perfect smile, still a little shaky and rough around the edges, but he's getting there.
Only, when he wakes up in your arms, his face falls. And his eyes wander over your sleeping form, and you're so beautiful. His gaze falls to your legs that are entangled with his. A sigh escapes the depth of his heart, he runs a hand over his face.
Most days, there's still a hint of a smile on your lips. It breaks Logans heart to see it disappear when he carefully takes your arm and pulls it off of his chest. He gets up, looking at you from the door. You look lonely, clinging to the pillows. Clutching them tightly because you can't hold onto his body anymore. It hurts, but he can't do this to you... It will only make you hurt in the end.
Every morning, he steers towards the kitchen, groggily pouring himself a cup of coffee. The kitchen radiates with whimsical energy. And it reminds him of you, painfully so. Everything does. You're always the first thing on his mind.
That's why he has to leave. Logans gaze falls on the door, and he swears to himself that he'll go today. Before you wake up. He won't leave a note... Couldn't go through with it if he ponders on it for too long. You'll know why he did it.
One more cup of coffee first, then he'll do it, is what he tells himself. And every morning, one becomes two and then four and his feet seem to be glued to the ground... In the end, Logan finds himself maniacally drowning his plans in caffeine until you drowsily taper into the kitchen.
Your eyes find his and all tiredness is gone at an instant. You beam at him, bright as the sun and he can't help but huff out a quiet laugh. You must be magical, because as soon as you look at him like that, his no-good feet that couldn't even save you by obeying him and walk out the door for fucks sake, decide that they can move again. And before he fully realizes he's walking over to you in long strides, pulling you into his chest and pressing kisses to your hair.
At this point it's safe to say, Logan is absolutely hopeless. He hates himself for it. He really is the worst because he physically doesn't manage to drown out his own neediness and push you away to set you free of him and by that, of your inevitable downfall that comes with being loved by a force of destruction.
If you know what goes through his head every morning, you don't show it. Maybe you really don't know... Or maybe you do know of his daily planning and failing. The half empty coffee pot might have shown you — it's a big pot, very voluminous, because you drink lots of coffee. He doesn't even like it, always preferred alcohol and how it burns as it slides down his throat, but still, he downs massive amounts of the hot beverage everyday. Yeah... that might have exposed him.
You never mention it. Instead, you hug him closer, then part and stand on your tiptoes to press a good morning kiss to his lips. Eyes glowing, knowingly, because he's still there.
You were probably pretty sure that he wouldn't leave, Logan thinks as you walk to the counter and pour yourself a cup of coffee. Something told you that he could never actually walk away.
Ugh... he doesn't deserve you. It's true — he's loves you. Too much for your own good. He wishes there were a way to make up for it, to give you the whole world.
Really, he tries! Works hard everyday to get his hands on it, on that world he doesn't even really know because it's his first year living in it. He'd wrap it up with colorful ribbons, tie them into a pretty bow and present it to you.
It eases Logans mind a little, having a goal to work towards. Knowing you, you probably wouldn't even want it. Would look up at him and smile, gently taking the heavy world out of his hands, taking the earth off his back, and set it back onto the ground. Would look at him and let out an airy giggle, thank him. You'd mean it, too — he got you the world, after all. But you'd forget about it quickly, the planet discarded behind the two of you. Instead, you'd pull him in for a kiss. Because it's the gesture that counts. What even should you do with the earth? Nothing comes to mind. Because truly, he is your world.
This is how it would play out. He's sure of it the moment you turn back towards him, sipping your coffee. You feel his eyes on you, and smile up at him. All adoration lies in your gaze then, glowing golden.
Logan smiles back.
God... the things he'd do for you. Eternal and endless. Irrelevant, in the end. Because you don't demand them of him. Somehow, knowing he would go every distance is enough. No one ever loved him unconditionally, no one before you.
It makes him brush away his earlier contemplation about second chances. That doesn't matter. You matter. He might be undeserving of this life, but he already has it, right? Might as well make the best of it. Do right by it. For you.
Maybe... maybe, if he tries really hard to believe in it, it doesn't matter if he's a little broken.
Someone is at your door. It’s a faint sound, rushed, but your ears pick up on it. With effort, you lift your head. It feels heavy, thrumming from the crying you had done. Even though you’re not feeling like social interaction — that’s why you missed out on Scotts party and oh well… way too many meetings over the past few weeks — curiosity gets the better of you.
Pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, you get up and taper towards the door. It creaks as you open it a few inches, peeking outside.
Logan. Of course… You should have known. It’s his first year at the mansion, he doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t know the effect the change of seasons has on you. Still, you assumed someone would have told him by now.
His voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
“Hey, uh…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “You okay? People are missin’ you at the party.”
Huh. Weird. They wouldn’t expect you to attend in this shape.
“… It’s autumn. I’m always sad in autumn.” Your voice is meek, barely there.
A wave of sadness pours over you at his words. His sudden apperance had distracted you for a moment, but that was over now.
“They’re dying. All of them!” New tears well up in your eyes, face distorting in pain.
“What? Who?” Logan looks alarmed, moving past you with an arm outstretched to shield you. One look at your room, and the burst of confidence wanes. He drops his hand, turning back to you in slight confusion. A silent question.
You tilt your head, hesistant, as if taken aback by him not getting it. He doesn’t know… Well, you suppose it makes sense he doesn’t feel their slow, agonizing death in every one of his bones like you do.
“The flowers.”
Saying it out aloud makes it hurt even more. You look down, hugging your arms to your body in an attempt to comfort yourself. God, you miss them…
Fall had been your favorite season back when you were a child, before your abilities had manifested for the first time. You liked taking walks in the rain, liked the sound of colorful leaves crunching under your boots.
That had changed. Now, you couldn’t stand the autumnal months. Everything you could smell is decay, death is omnipresent and it haunts you. The sight of shrivelled petals, trees with empty crowns, naked in the cold. One whole half of the year is pure suffering for you, so you stay cooped up in your room, avoiding the outsides.
“Oh.” There’s a flash of sympathy in his eyes. It’s a weird sight. “… Can’t you just make new ones?”
He looks even more puzzled now, and a little cute, standing in the entryway of your room in his leather jacket. Tense, as if he had arrived ready to protect you, only to find out that the cause of your sorrow was the change of seasons, a force even he couldn’t defeat.
“Oh… no.” The innocent sentiment coming from a gruff man like him puts a soft smile on your face, hesistant, almost shy.
You look up at him. “I can’t create life. Only nature can do that.”
Logan raises a brow. “Huh? But you make ‘em move. And there’s the litte chairs you made last month…” His voice trails off, as if worried you might break down crying again. He noticed the red in your eyes, how puffy they were.
You shake your head. “I didn’t really make those. You could say that I uh… I live in symbiosis with plants. It’s like sisterhood.”
Concentrating on explaining your mutation to him, as surreal as it feels, distracts you for a moment and you gladly immerse yourself in the chance to forget your suffering for a while.
“We support each other. I make trees wander so they don’t have to stay in the same place forever. It excites them! Roots love the sight of the sun and ask me to help them climb out of earth, and flowers find joy in forming all kinds of shapes together. They get giddy when I make them into pretty crowns.” You smile absentmindedly, heart warming at the pleasant memory.
“After wearing it, I thank them and put them back into their places, of course. In return, they‘re willing to carry me or help in battles, those things. I take care of them, they take care of me.”
Logan listens through your rant, quiet, attentive. He doesn’t look as uncomfortable anymore, just interested. Not as emotionless, rather invested in your words.
Your gaze meets his, and it harshly brings you back to reality. A sigh, your face falls and the sadness shimmering in your eyes has returned.
“… But now they’re dying!” A tear falls onto your cheek, and you turn away from him, quickly brushing it away.
Logan feels helpless. You look heartbroken, and it physically pains him to see you in tears. A part of him wants to hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright. Hell, he’d gladly join you and spend the next half of the year up in your room, away from everyone else, if only he knew it would help you.
Sadly, he can’t do any of that. To be frank, he’s not even sure if him coming up to your room like that is overstepping. He’d hate himself for making you uncomfortable or ruining whatever there is between the two of you.
Still — he can’t help it. He’s already here, so he might as well try and make the best of it.
Clearing his throat, he steps closer after you’ve turned away sobbing, hesistantly touching your shaking shoulder. Your skin feels soft under his fingers. “Do you, uh… want me to leave?”
You turn, and he immediately pulls his hand away as if he burned it.
Face to face, he can see the tears shimmering in your glossy eyes. You shake your head, shrugging and nodding at the same time. Huh. He’s… not sure how to interprete this. It almost seems like you didn’t hear his question over the loud quivering of dying flowers that’s filling your head.
He runs a hand trough his hair, quiet on the outside. Inside, it’s pure chaos. Does that mean he should leave you alone? Is it weird if he leaves after that? Are you—
His inner panicking is interrupted when you take his hand in your smaller one. His mouth goes dry, eyes darting down to where your fingers are laced through his. The words die in his throat as you gently pull him with you, stopping before your bed.
You let go of him to crawl back onto the covers. Looking up at him from where you lie cuddled up in a pile of pillows, “Thanks for coming, Logan.”
God, his heart. He swears he felt it jump just now.
“You’re missin’. Party’s not the same without you.” His voice is gruff, mumbly. A little unsure.
A beat passes. His head is tilted, assessing the situation quietly. Observing your facial expression. As you don’t make any signs of kicking him out, he reluctantly sits down on the edge of the bed, far far away from your body curled up near the headrest. Your hair is spread out around your head like a halo, and you look straight out of a fairytale. No flowers in your hair today, he notices.
“Want me t’get Jean or Storm?”
You shake your head.
Logan tries to calm down silently. This is good. You don’t mind him being here, apparantly. Don’t resent him for checking in on you. He can quit worrying.
With time, his muscles relax. He gets a little more comfortable on the cushions, pulling his legs up onto the mattress while still being hyperconscious of not disturbing you in any way. This is… really nice, actually.
His gaze wanders over your room. It’s a pretty room. Decorated, too. Not as impersonal as his.
He’s got cigar stumps lying around, his (few) clothes folded in the closet relatively neatly. Puts his dogtags on the nightstand when he’s sleeping, next to a glass of water. Of course, his desk hasn’t been touched once.
Yours on the other hand is cluttered with paper and notebooks. There’s pencils lying around, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. Cozy. Coming inside, what he immediately noticed were the bookshelves. They’re massive, really. Filled to the brim. And he knew you were big on reading, sure. He’s seen you in the library many times. Just didn’t know you owned that many books, too. Have you read all of them, or…? Knowing you, you probably have.
He spots a few polaroids above the shelf. You’ve got pictures of all the X-Men. Group photographs, interesting. Some seem like you shot them yourself… There’s Rogue and Bobby. Looks like it was taken on her birthday party. And next to it — one of him.
Warmth spreads through his body at the sight.
A while passes like that, your sobs die down.
You peek up at him through your wet lashes once. He looks funny, sitting there on your lacy bedding, all tense and broad shoulders. Not completely sure where to put his body. Gaze glued to you, still worried, confidently lingering even when your eyes meet his.
The gruff Wolverine, softened. You always suspected he cared deep down. That he could get real protective, like he is with the kids. You just didn’t think he’d ever be this way towards you. When he knocked, a part of you didn’t believe it. Didn’t believe that he cared enough to come up and see how you were doing, even though there was a party in full swing. The Professor had even allowed the adults to buy beer, so naturally, he should’ve been having a blast down there.
Your heart does a weird flip in your chest at the thought.
Wordlessly, you crawl a little closer so you’re lying by his legs. He’s supposed to be comfortable; maybe that will help get the message across. You’d feel terrible if he thought he wasn’t welcome… You’re doing way better now already, tears drying slowly. Of course, you can’t really put your head in his lap or anything like that, you want him to know that he can leave anytime. No matter how nice it would feel.
Oh God… You’re so close. Logan tensed up for a second when you lied down right next to where he was sitting. He tries to mask the way his pulse is rising, tries to look all cool and unbothered even though your eyes are closed.
It’s tough — he can smell your scent, sweet like daisies, and it clouds his enhanced senses. But somehow, he manages. And then he just stays like that, next to you, listening to your breathing evening out.
You’re asleep, but he can’t bring himself to leave. Not yet.
He stays for another hour or so, heart warm warm warm. Blushing a little bit.
Finally, he finds the strenght in him to get up. Carefully, so the creaking of your bed doesn’t disturb your sleep. You finally caught a break after all the suffering, he’s not gonna ruin that for you.
Spots a blanket on his way out, the one you take to the library. It’s knitted, feels soft under his hands, with little embroidered flowers adorning the fabric. He looks at your body, alone inmidst the pillows. You’re wearing a cardigan… but some extra warmth won’t do any harm, right?
He drapes the blanket over you carefully. You stir, and for a moment Logan panics. Did he accidentally wake you? Fortunately, your eyes don’t open. There’s just a little content sigh to be heard as you snuggle deeper into the wool. Cute.
It's always been his enemy, the one he couldn't defeat, no matter how hard he tried. He's lost, caged by the flow of years that seem to go by without changing him.
Everyone else changed. They got older, they got wiser, they got hurt. He was doomed to remain the same. Violent, broken. Time doesn't heal after all.
He understood it early on — regeneration is a curse. Eternity seems close enough to grasp, but it's not what it's supposed to be. No one tells you about how painful it is to have nothing to work towards. To not have the comfort of knowing that it will be over someday. They don't talk about how nothing you do, nothing you feel can be measured by a scale. There's no right or wrong when you're different. No one to overlook your actions. No punishment when your judges die before the trial.
It's not like flying. He's floating in a vacuum.
That's okay, though. How could they know?
The current moves him: he's never strong enough to work against it. Logan tries to swim forward, he does. Yet, anytime he thinks he's made some way, he finds himself thrown back to where he was before.
Anyone who ever floated by him was pulled away in the end. Too soon, every time. Logan likes to think that they move on. That he changed something for them, had an impact on their life.
They never stay long enough to change him. There are times when he thinks they could have, if only they'd been there longer.
Time betrays him. He's lost some over his life, too. It's an uncomfortable feeling not to know where you come from. To wonder what you might have done, who you were before. If you were happy. He probably wasn't.
Logan can't remember a time when he didn't feel this strange seperation tearing at his flesh. A wall between him and everyone else. When he sees through the glass, everything is moving, colors flashing, faces changing.
Inside, he remains still.
He's grown used to it. Nowadays, he thickens the wall brick by brick anytime someone threatens to come too close. It's better this way.
Logans body has been exposed to every wound imagineable, and his skin always healed. However, he would endure it all again if he could be spared the pain of someone breaking through the walls he built, being so close that he can almost feel them — only to fail faced with the last one. The one built of seconds and minutes and years. It's invisible. It's invincible. It breaks him.
What hurst most is that they can't feel it. They think they've made it! And every single time, Logan lies to himself. Ignores the last distance that can't be crossed, tries to live with it, because they don't even know it's there.
In the end, he's always humbled. He can't live a lie. So he leaves them, and they never know his reasons. Grow to resent him. Because in their eyes, everything shone golden. The guilt eats him alive, and he swears to himself he won't ever hurt someone like that again.
So, Logan rebuilds his walls, higher this time. Not to protect him. To protect the others. To make sure no one will try again... he couldn't handle it. He's not made to be loved.
Love is a grip. A bridge connecting us through time, spanning over endless distance to bind lonely souls. It's holding hands in the hurricane.
When everything spins so fast that you get dizzy, you focus on their face. It moves slower than our surroundings, wrinkling, welking. Looking up, you can see the eye of the storm coming closer, a darkness ready to swallow you whole. It scares you — but before you can drown in the fear, you feel them squeeze your hand. Their gaze catches yours, knowing. And your heart does this little flip of excitement, and suddenly you're sure it doesn't matter that the end is coming soon. Not as long as you get to spin with them a little longer.
Logan can't hold onto people. He has tried, often. Their hands always slip out of his grasp. So he extends his claws to make sure he doesn't even try to get close. If he does... if he does, there'll be blood. That will be enough to remind him, and he'll turn on his heels before he'll slash their throat by accident.
Over the years, Logan has learned many things. He gave up hope a long time ago, and he's glad he did. Being disappointed hurts too bad.
He knows now. The prison behind the glass wall can't be life, because life is a road that ends somewhere. This? It's different. There's no road to be seen. Existing outside of time is not living.
