#his inner scott came out

[thinkinonsense]

SEVEN DAYS

x2!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: desperate!logan, eating reader out, fingering, squirting?

masterlist

the mission was only supposed to last for two days. forty-eight hours and he would return home to you. instead it was dragged out much longer than it needed to be.

logan wanted nothing more than to be home in your arms instead of a motel room alone, painfully hard, trying to tune out scott snore on the other side of the wall.

so, on thursday afternoon when him, scott, and storm returned to the mansion, logan wasted no time hunting you down. he could smell you the second he walked through the front door; you were in charles office. charles, hank, jean, and you were meeting to discuss a new experiment when logan bursts through the door.

"logan! pleasure for you to join us." hank announces.

your head snaps up from your scribbling to see that your lover has returned safely. he looked like a lion ready to pounce on a naivë little lamb.

"just came by to pick something up." logan answers, ignoring everyone else in the room as he made a b-line for you.

"hey, baby–"

within seconds, logan lifts you up over his shoulder and out of the leather seat. you squeal, dropping your notepad and pen. your kitten heels kick his abs as your squirm in his arms.

"logan!" you hiss, swatting his toned back as he turns around to walk out of the room, unphased. "what the hell! put me down!"

he ignores you, pulling down your dress to cover your behind from your co-workers. no one was shocked by logan's actions. the man wasn't a patient person by any means. they all watched as you left over logan's shoulder, face blushing with embarrassment.

when logan finally shut your guys bedroom door, he placed you down on the edge of your bed; yet to say a word to you. instead, he falls straight to his knees in front of you. his big callous hands, rubs the soft skin of your inner thighs, opening your legs.

logan couldn't help but moan when he saw the pretty lacy light blue panties you were wearing. you could see the neediness in his eyes as he licked his lips. before he can remove your underwear, you cradle his face in your much smaller palms.

"you alright, baby?" you ask, looking down at him.

similarly to a cat, logan rubs the scruff of his beard against your thigh, pressing his nose against the thin panties; inhaling the scent of your arousal. you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp softly before your fingers tugging on the kitten tuffs, making him whimper against your pussy.

"mhm..." he manages to say. "i missed you."

"aw, i missed you–"

"missed your scent, your lips, your mouth..." his words are muffled as he kisses you messily over the lace. "missed this fuckin' pussy so much."

you gasp when he pulls down the soaked material and moves back for a second to look at you. he spreads you apart with his thumbs, watching you twitch and clench at the cool air hitting your pussy. she was warm, wet, and welcoming to him. logan couldn't imagine a better way to spend the rest of his day.

"there's my favorite girl." logan smiles before spitting right on your button and latching his mouth onto you. you moan loudly as he talks to your pussy, acting as if you weren't even in the room.

"you've missed me too, huh, pretty girl?" he moans incoherently as his tongue runs over core.

it's a struggle to keep your eyes open but it was worth the sight of logan's head in between your legs. the noises he made with your slick were unbelievably lewd.

"must've missed me a lot." you giggle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps your legs around his head.

"you've got not fuckin' idea." he mumbles into your folds. spit and slick pooled onto the sheets that laid under you as logan feasted.

logan looks up at you and fears he might cum just from the image of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth slightly parted as you sing his praise of 'right there, logan!', 'such a good boy for me'.

the 'good boy' comment threw logan's mind into a frenzy. he needed to hear you. he needed to be surrounded by your presence. two of his fingers dip into you, fast and rough. your thighs squeeze his head, threatening to pop it right off his body.

there was no time to warn him before your high hit. logan slurped up every bit of honey you had to offer him. you reach down for the hand that wasn't busy locating your sweet spot and place it on your tit. logan could feel your heartbeat and it only sent him further on his spiral, adding a third finger and repeatedly hitting that spot that made you see fireworks.

"i c-can't, logan" you mewl, wiggling back from logan's tongue. he catches you, latching back onto your button. "it's too m-much!"

"she's takin' me just fine." his voice is muffled against you in the dirtiest way possible.

the pressure builds in your tummy. there were no words in your brain at this point, moaning and babbling about nothing.

"that's the spot, huh?" he groan, smirking up at you. logan's fingers twist up, slamming against that gummy spot deep in your walls.

the motion caused you to let out more slick than you ever had before, gushing on logan's face. you can hear him curse as he licks you clean.

“it’s only been seven days, you know?” you giggle, trying to catch your breath.

he climbs up your body to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself. you moan into his mouth, as logan grinds down on you, needing more.

“seven days too long, sweetheart.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

a/n: just something short n sweet before i post part 2 of dad!logan x teacher!reader <3

[bobafetts-princess]

Logan Loves to Bite

Summary: This is quite literally an homage to how I feel that Logan Howlett fucks and that’s all there is to it.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Established relationship, Logan bites sometimes hard enough to break skin, hair pulling, ass smacking, choking, oral (fem!receiving) rimming (fem!receiving), no condoms on this blog

A/N: Welcome to my most popular AO3 fic! If you’ve seen it there, I’m the same person! This one is my favorite Logan fic, it makes me unhinged every time I read it. I hope yall like it here ✨

It was just in his nature as a feral mutant. He bit. He bit when he was nervous or scared, and he bit when he got off.

He was lucky you had a great healing factor, while it wasn’t as quick as his (no ones was), it was still fast and your ‘love bites’ disappeared in a matter of hours. His mouth was always on you when the two of you fucked and Charles even had to sound proof your room because Scott and Jean kept complaining about all the noise.

His favorite way to fuck you was from behind, either his hand wrapped in your hair to give him leverage, or your body pulled up against his so he could bite his way along where your neck and shoulder met.

He was animalistic like that, wanting to take you from a position where he had the most power, the most control. He’d pull your body up so it fitted against his and wrap a hand around your throat, nose buried in your hair as he pounded up into you. His increased sense of smell was his secret kink. He could smell your arousal from rooms away and sometimes you would see if you could get yourself off before Logan found his way to your shared room, sniffing the air and taking over.

Every once in a while he would let you ride him, but it wouldn’t take long for him to pull himself up to you, sinking his teeth into the soft spot where your jaw and your neck meet. He would turn your head, whispering dirty words in your ear as he fucked up into you. He said he loved the scent you released when he was fucking you. He would bury his nose where you released the strongest scent, between your breasts or behind your ears or along the hairline on the back of your neck.

He loved to go down on you too, burying his nose in the crotch of your panties, inhaling deeply and telling you how fucking sweet you smelled. He was always leaving marks on the insides of your thigh as he worked his way towards the apex of them.


He’d grunt and groan, eating your pussy for all it was worth, pausing only to bite your inner thighs or dig his fingers into your hips. He always said he loved to bite the skin on your inner thighs the most. The part where it always seemed to be soft and pliable, no matter how hard you worked to make it go away. The bruises always faded faster than the bites, but he loved seeing you covered in them anyways.

Then he’d flip you over, smacking your ass and leaving red marks before he’d sink his teeth in the soft flesh. If he was feeling especially dirty, he would work his tongue towards your puckered hole, massaging the tight ring at the same time his hands did the same with your cheeks.

Logan would slip inside you, pressing until he was fully seated and you felt him in your throat. He’d give you a couple sharp thrusts, relishing in the way you’d gasp when he’d hit that spot. He’d pull your upper body backwards, fitting it against his hard chest as his teeth scraped along the edge of your ear and he would tell you how fucking good your pussy felt clamped around him. Logan liked to fuck and he liked to fuck dirty. He loved to get you so fucked out so you just fell asleep on his chest when he finally came, spent from hours worshipping your body. He loved to make you scream his name, loved when the only logical thought you could come up with was “Logan, Logan, Logan.”

He loved seeing the way your pussy looked stuffed with his cock, the way he stretched you as you gripped him. He loved the whimpers and whines you let loose when he had your hair fisted in his hands, or his fingers wrapped around your throat. He loved getting you so worked up you were begging for him to give it to you, begging for it harder, rougher, dirtier.

You’d long since given him the okay to bury himself in you if he woke up from a nightmare and you’d lost track of the amount of times that you’d been woken from Logan pushing into your wet heat, hands gripping tightly at your hips as he used your body to drown out his nightmares. He’d pin you down to the bed, needing the control as he pounded into you, teeth scraping along your shoulder blades until he finally bit down, grunting against your skin as he spilled himself into you.

He loved the little sigh of pleasure as he drove home for the first time, filling you completely. He loved the little gasps you released as he nibbled his way across your shoulders, the way you arched in for more. He loved the way that you arched when you came, highlighting your breast’s and making him all the more ready to nibble on them. He especially loved the way when he finally came, biting down hard enough to break skin, you would always let loose this throaty groan that shot straight to his groin. Because when it came down to it, you loved to be bitten as much as Logan loves to bite.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

This is purely self-indulgent smuttiness for Kurt, because sometimes cuteness aggression surfaces as really wanting to suck a man's dick. I know we haven't actually seen him in the 97' show yet, but I couldn't help myself. Think of this as a mixture between show Kurt and Comic Kurt. Or imagine any Kurt really.

Tw: MDNI!!!! Oral, slight cursing. Reader was pictured as AFAB while writing but no specific genitals or pronouns are mentioned.

Trying to relax in the X mansion was near impossible. There's always some event, some drama or loudness taking place. Living with gambit was hard enough with the explosions and shit, but after Jubilee moved in…

There was just no Peace in this house. Even though you wouldn't trade it for the world, there wasn't exactly any "me" time, If you catch my drift. It was ridiculously hard to find time for yourself, leaving you a bit more pent up than normal.

On top of that, there was almost always some sexual tension in the house. Rogue and gambit, Jean and Scott. Morph. Literally just Morph, and their innuendos. It was hard enough to see Rogue and Remy tip-toe around eachother, But Jean and Scott? You can't remember a time they weren't sneaking off together to get laid.

All this had left you ridiculous stiff. No free time, surrounded by the adult equivalent of horny teens, it was taking a toll on you. When Kurt came back to the mansion, you were over the moon to see him.

You loved your boyfriend so incredibly much, but never before had you been thinking such sinful thoughts about him. You'd steel glances of his toned arms when he'd hand you something. Glance at his ass when he walked by. Hell, just his smile and laugh would get you going.

He was just so cute. He's loving, and caring, and kind. You felt so lucky to be with him, but that didn't change the fact that you wanted to jump his bones, bad. You wanted to suck this man dry, and as embarrassed you are to admit it, you didn't hesitate to. The moment you finally had him in your bed, you knew you were going to give this man the best head of his life.

“You want to-?” Kurt’s breath hitches, the faint pupils in his yellow eyes dilating. His adam's apple bobbs as he looks away from your heated gaze and sets his eyes on your hands, idly stroking down his soft abdomen. You lean down to kiss him again, tenderly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his tail swaying back and forth on the bed. It takes a moment for you to be able to focus enough to get back on task.

“Please, Kurt.” You beg, breaking the kiss with him. He chases after your lips, and the action is so cute you can't help but kiss him again, and again. You kiss the corner of his mouth, before kissing the crook of his neck, and then his collarbone, dragging your teeth across the velvety blue skin. His soft moans are music to your ears as your hands drag lower, gently cupping the bulge that had started to grow. The air catches in his chest, but you don't tease him for long, moving your hands up and down his chest once again. His tail wraps around one of your wrists.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, one of his hands reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. You can help but lean into the touch with a sigh, mouth watering at the prospect of having him against your tongue. You smile at him, scoffing just lightly.

“Of course I am, silly.” The words come out breathlessly. “Why wouldn't I be?” You trail kisses lower, paying special attention to the curly hair of his happy trail as you softly run your fingers across his skin. Kurt swallows, letting out a quiet whine as you start to slide his sweatpants down to free his cock.

“ ‘Just… Don't want you to feel like you have to, Schatz- Hng..” He lets out a choaked groan as you start to press kisses along his inner thighs as you remove the pants completely. You giggle a little, aiming to make him moan just a little louder as you start to stroke and kiss along his length.

“Believe me, love, I wouldn't be begging for it if I did.” You respond. Kurt opens his mouth to speak again, only to cut himself off with a sharp “Ah!” as you take the head of his cock into your mouth and start to suck. The end of his tail twitches, still wrapped around your wrist, and he chuckles.

“That was a dirty trick,” He says, reaching down to move the hair out of your face. You hum in appreciation as his hand gathers your locks, holding the hair back so he can see you better. You reward him by taking more of him into your mouth, reveling in the noises you receive in return. His skin is smooth and soft, and you find yourself appreciating every inch of him you can fit in your mouth.

You're doing your very best to give him exactly the kind of head he deserves for being so sweet and loving and caring. You think about the chores he's done without asking since he's been back as you swirl your tongue around his tip. The book he brought you as a souvenir as you glide back down, nosing the dark blue patch of curls. God- he was just the most perfect man you had ever met, and you were determined to reward him for that.

“Scheisse- I… Liebe, I'm going to…ah!” Kurt begins to writhe underneath you, and it gives you the best satisfaction when you open your eyes to see his face contorted in the throes of pleasure. You savor the taste of his skin as he begins to twitch in your mouth. His grip tightens around your hair, he free hand opening and clenching as he scrambles for purchase on the bed. You take hold of it, lacing your hands together as best you can just in time for him to reach his peak.

You never really liked the taste or texture of cum, but for Kurt, You'd swallow every drop he gives you. You work him through his high as he squeezes your hand, moaning at the sensation. His moans turn to whines as he becomes sensitive, his tail unwinding Itself from your wrist. You can tell just by looking at it that it might bruise, but you wouldn't dare tell him that.

His grip loosens on your hair as you pull away from him. His yellow eyes are teary and his muscles are relaxed and boneless, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up a little and sliding his hand behind the nape of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His kisses are loving and passionate, they leave you breathless when he pulls away. Kurt licks his lips as he takes you in, chest heaving. You can only imagine how you look with messy hair and swollen, spit stained lips, but there's nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you.” He says, after a moment of silence. “I'm in love with you. You know this, Ja?” His other arm wraps around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. You can't wipe the smile off your face as you lean in, resting your forehead against his own, pressing a chaste kiss against his nose.

“I do. I promise.” You reply. Kurt grins, and you can briefly hear the sound of his tail swishing in a way you know means he's thinking about doing something mischievous, and the next thing you know, there's a *Bamf!* as you fall into where he was once sitting on the bed. You have the slightest moment of confusion before Kurt is behind you. He grabs hold of you, leaning back to make you fall backwards into him with your back against his bare chest. He presses kisses along your neck and maneuvers you into his lap. Your legs are hooked over his own, his knees widening the space between your thighs as his hands trail so close to where you want him to be.

“Please, let me return the favor, my love.”

[anakinsbunny]

So high School

MDNI!!! 18+!!!

I know this sucks, please bear with me, i do not know how to write smut but i wanted to at least try

Summary: Scott hates studying so he decides to go down on his girlfriend.

Scott absolutely hated studying, he would rather be playing football than stare at some stupid book, but here he was sat with his girlfriend who forced him to study for the history test that was coming up, he wasn’t paying to anything that was being said, he was too busy staring at her, that was until she snapped her fingers in his face to catch his attention. “Earth to Scott, are you even listening to me? Ugh, of course you’re not.” she rolled her eyes. 

“Oh come on, babe, don’t be like that, you know I am listening to you.” He smiled trying to convince her, but all he got in return was a glare. He sighed, “Alright, fine I wasn’t listening to you, I’m sorry I promise I’ll listen now, please don’t be mad at me, baby.” He kissed her cheek, trying to cheer her up, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. 

Scott began to kiss down her jaw to her neck, sucking on her sensitive spot. He was aiming to distract her from the stupid book, “Let’s forget about the test for now, let’s focus on us, please, sweetheart?” He murmured against her skin, pushing the papers to the ground of her dorm room. His hands began to roam her body, his hand went underneath her skirt while the other cupped the back of her head. She wanted to protest but the way Scott was sucking on her skin, made her mind hazy, she bit on her lower lip, trying to stifle her noises. She placed her hands on his shoulders, her fingers gripped his shirt as he started making her way down, nipping at her collarbone, “Scott, keep going.” She whispered.

Scott lifted his head up, “You want me to keep going?” He asked with a smug grin on his face, once she nodded, he laid her down on the bed, pushing her skirt up revealing her panties. He leaned in, pressing kisses to her inner thighs, his face inching closer to her core, he licked his lips as he pulled down her panties, throwing them on the floor. Scott dove straight in between her legs, inhaling her scent first, “Smell so sweet, baby.” He whispered, before licking at her swollen clit, making her let a small gasp out.

He gripped her thighs, keeping them apart as he licked circles around her clit, teasing her. He loved going down on her, he enjoyed hearing her moan his name and tug on his hair, he let go of her thigh, and pushed a finger inside her, adding even more pleasure. He felt her fingers pull his hair, making him groan against her pussy, he moved his finger in and out of her, loving the sounds she was making for him. 

He licked and sucked on her clit, pushing another finger inside her. “You taste so fucking good, baby, I could spend hours down here and never get tired.” He muttered, feeling her pussy squeeze his fingers, he knew she was close. Scott sped up the movements of his fingers, and licked at her clit faster, “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart, let me taste even more of you.” He encouraged her, looking up at her, taking in the sight of her body, the way she was squirming, the noises she was making, her eyes were closed, she bit on her lip hard almost drawing blood as she came, her thighs shook, she shuddered, “Scott, fuck…” she moaned, tugging on his hair as he sucked her jucies into his mouth.

Scott lifted his head up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Do you still wanna study or shall we continue with other activities?” He smirked, already knowing the answer to his question. 

a/n: scott is so underrated, more people need to write about him!!

[lostinlovingrevery]

Disagreement

Logan X GN! Reader

Plot: You and Logan have been bickering the past few days...

A/N: Something short and goofy I thought about...enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, the argument isn't actually serious, established relationship, the team is fascinated by your relationship

Word Count: 998

It was entertainment as the group watched you both in the distance.

You and Logan were bickering. You had been for days. No one can figure out about what, each person of the group picking up different pieces of your arguments throughout the week- and none of them made sense when connected together, leading everyone to believe that this was an argument that started and then led one after another. 

Scott heard you lecture Logan, your tone full of annoyance, “You always do this! You never change!”

Jean overheard Logan arguing with you later, “You’re really accusing me of being close-minded?”

Ororo heard you both arguing over the sanctity of your marriage, and your vows. Not about cheating, more like something about… cherishing and respecting you? 

Hank…Well, he tuned you both out. He doesn’t like listening to arguments. 

It was clear that it was nothing actually serious. Whatever the two of you were arguing about. They’d still seen you angrily give him a peck on the lips. If he’s out watching tv too late at night; you’d come out and force him back into your shared room. He’d still come up and sit next to you during meetings, putting an arm around your shoulders but neither of you acknowledging each other. He’d come to your study and bring you dinner, setting it on your desk, and wait for your acknowledgement before he angrily- but not actually angry- stomps off. You two act completely fine alone, just- angrily affectionate when together. It was the oddest thing. No one wants to ask because knowing you and him; it was likely something utterly ridiculous. 

The X-men just finished a mission successfully. Everything went off without a hitch, and everyone did their jobs properly. Now they were waiting by the jet, as you and Logan were walking back and started your bickering again. No one could hear what was being said, just that you suddenly crossed your arms, turning your back to him with a big pout on your face- and Logan looking like he was about to lose it. No words being spoken, and they watch Logan's face contort into irritation, anger, his brows creasing and his lips pursing together, and his nose scrunching, as his hands came up in the air, fingers curling and gripping something in the air, tipping his head back in a fake snarl, before he makes fists, and his claws came out, which he stabs the air with. You still stand there, arms crossed, likely not oblivious to the tantrum Logan was throwing beside you. It was the most…Expressive anyone has ever seen Logan be. His claws finally sheathe, and he closes his eyes- taking a deep breath, as he drops his arms to the side, before speaking again. 

Your face lightens up, from whatever he just said, and you smile- turning to him and throwing your arms around him, placing kisses all over his face- and he stands there, a mixture of annoyance- yet enjoying the attention. You let go, grabbing his hand- a new pep in your step as you walk back to the jet together- the team utterly confused, but silent as they watched you both climb back onto the jet. 

You and Logan had returned to your usual selves with each other. While the others were glad you two got over whatever was causing the argument, it still led to wonder what you two were even arguing about.

When everyone got home, and you went to take a shower, Scott was the one to approach Logan and asked about it. Logan sighed, bringing his hand to his hip, and the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“She wanted us to watch ‘The Notebook’ together, and I didn’t want to.” 

Scott bit his inner cheek, as he felt laughter rise up in his throat. Suppressing a smile, he asked again. “So…What made you guys make -up?” 

Logan's jaw clenched, embarrassment on his expression. “I said we could watch it.” 

Scott stifled a laugh, before patting Logan on the shoulder. “Jean did the same thing.” He says, “Have fun with your movie night.” 

Later on, the two of you were cuddling in bed, wrapped up in the comforter as the credits of ‘The Notebook’ were rolling. You looked up at Logan as he lifted the remote to turn the tv off. 

“So? What do you think?” You smiled, clearly giddy over the movie, as if you weren’t crying real tears about 20 minutes ago. You’d probably seen the movie 50 times, yet it still fills you with emotions every single time. When you proposed that you two watched it together- something you never did before due to usually Logan being busy, he immediately shot it down- saying he wasn’t going to watch a ‘chick flick’. Of course, seeing that it was one of your favorite movies, it pissed you off- cueing your argument that spanned the last 3 days. Your argument wasn’t all that serious, most of the time it was playful bickering that to an outsider may have looked like an actual fight.

Logan looked down at you. You grinned wider, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t bad,” he grumbled. 

You've been with Logan long enough to know that “it wasn’t bad” translated to “I really enjoyed that.”

“I told you! If you just open your mind, it’s not just a chick flick!” 

“Yeah yeah.” He mutters, pulling you into his chest. “Still no reason for all of that whining the last few days.” 

“You knew I took my film passion very seriously when you married me.” You mutter into his chest, wrapping your arms firmly around him. 

“Uh huh.” He hums, closing his eyes in an attempt to begin falling asleep, then opens them again. “You drive me insane, you know that?” He felt you smile, and softly giggle against him, and he couldn’t help but grin. “-But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[yuta-nakamots]

Snow Angel - B.Barnes

Pairing - Post-CW Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Genre - fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship!AU

Warnings - negative self-talk, Bucky needs support

Summary - While Bucky heals in Wakanda, you stay by his side, offering him comfort and hope as he fights to believe he’s worthy of a future.

Word Count - 1k

Now Playing: Snow Angel - Renee Rapp

Following the events of Bucky becoming an international fugitive, you and Steve ran with him, keeping him company every step of the way until finding refuge in Wakanda, thanks to the grace of King T’Challa. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Buck?” Steve asked, his voice full of worry. His brows furrowed as he looked between Bucky and the cryostasis chamber. 

Bucky gave him a sad smile. “It’s safer this way…” his eyes flitted around the room until they landed on you. “For everyone.”

Filled with hope from the promise of Bucky’s well-being from T’Challa and Shuri, Steve returned to his duties as an Avenger and as Captain America, leaving you to watch after Bucky during his recovery in Wakanda. Day after day, you visited him in Shuri’s lab and spoke to him as if he could hear you, giving him updates on the rest of the team. Steve had broken Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott out of the Raft, and they were all on the run. 

Scott and Clint had plans to go back to their family, Sam and Wanda wanted to continue operating on their own volition, helping people off the grid. And Steve? He lived the vigilante life he always wanted, doing his own missions quietly. Helping refugees, stopping weapons deals or black-market tech threats. The burner phone he had given you was the only thing keeping you tied to the rest of the world, your main focus being Bucky. 

As Shuri worked through his physical and mental inner-workings, occasionally, Bucky was allowed periods outside of cryostasis for consultation regarding his treatment, the first semblance of control he had at reclaiming himself. During those times, he stayed by your side, as if your presence was the only thing reminding him why he was enduring all of this. 

On a particularly sunny day, T’Challa had granted you and Bucky a brief moment outside to get some fresh air. The two of you walked side by side until you came upon a small pond at the edge of a forest. You took a seat on a large rock, Bucky finding his spot in between your legs, his head falling against your stomach. Your hands gently carded through his long brown locks, and he leaned into you, his eyes fluttering shut while basking in the warmth, a stark contrast to the cryo chamber. 

“Doll, feel the tip of my nose.” 

You do as told, one hand sliding down the strong ridge of his nose to the tip. It’s both burning and ice cold. “Bucky, are you okay?” Your finger stayed on his nose until it warmed up a bit under your touch. 

“It’s like winter…I’ll make it through.” You look down at him, his eyes still shut, eyelashes bristling gently in the breeze. For a while, the rustling of the foliage surrounding the two of you was the only sound that filled the silence. “Do you ever wish you had gone a different way?”

“What do you mean?” Your hands busied themselves in Bucky’s hair once more, tugging gently at the strands and weaving them together in delicate braids. 

“You could be living your life right now, you know.” His voice was steady, but it did nothing to hide his emotional turmoil. “You don’t have to stay with me here, losing time you can’t get back.” 

“Bucky,” you began, continuing your motions as you pulled strand after strand into two braids, framing his features. “My life is nothing without you. No time is lost as long as I’m with you. Even if I went back home, I would only be wishing I were here.”

Bucky breathed a heavy sigh, steadying himself before he responded. “You really are an angel, you know that?” You heard the way his tone wavered. “I’ve tried so hard to…to keep myself from hurting others, but it seems like no matter what I do, I end up half alive and twice as weak.”

“Buck…” Your heart broke at his words. He wasn’t one to talk about his emotions. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do. Brave, selfless, worthy-”

“But I’m not. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.” 

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, running fingers down the thin braids you created. “You deserve all of this and more. You’ll make it through this. We will make it through this,” you tell him, emphasizing your last statement.

“And what’s there for us after everything is over?” Bucky finally opened his eyes, his ocean blue ones staring up into yours. 

You hum in thought. “Well, seasons will change, that’s for sure.”

Bucky lightly chuckled, wincing slightly as a hand came up to his temple. “Still defrosting,” he told you, sensing your concern for him. “It’s hard to laugh when it’s hard enough to breathe.” Your hands moved from his hair down to his temples, massaging slow circles. “If I’m being honest, I still don’t really know what they’re doing to me up in there.” He brought his index finger to his forehead, tapping on it twice. 

“Shuri’s been trying to decode the programming, trying to find where those words took root and if it’s possible to get them out,” you explain to him, remembering the mental maps she constantly had up on the giant screens. 

“Better than nothing, I guess,” Bucky chuffs as your hands float back into his scalp, fingers flexing to apply light pressure while dragging through his hair. “Even if it kills me, at least it means I tried.”

“Hey,” you chide. “We’ll figure this out.” If there was ever a time when Bucky Barnes needed support, you would be the first to arrive and last to leave.

Autoplay: If you like this, you may also like [2:39pm] Bucket - B.Barnes

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Chapter 3: Love is a battlefield

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Story summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

Warnings for this chapter: canon typical violence, mentions of torture and kidnapping. Blood. Nightmare and PTSD. Alex “Havok” Summers being an ass, does that count as a warning?

Masterlist

Charles caught wind of one of Stryker’s bases. While the Sergeant  in question was long gone, his plans were carried on by his followers, and some mutants were still being experimented on. That’s how you found yourself in one of the team’s missions. It wasn’t your first, but you still got nervous and you doubted that would ever change.

Ororo flew the X-Jet to the destination while the rest of you got ready, making sure your intercoms worked.

There weren’t many things that scared Logan, but flying was one of the few. You remembered being a bit surprised by this when you went on your first mission. Now you made a note to always sit next to him so you could help him.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, leaning in closer so others wouldn’t hear you. “You look a little bit… green.”

Logan grumbled.

“I think my breakfast didn’t sit right with me.” He lied.

You smiled and offered him your hand.

“Let me help…”

Logan took your hand and he instantly felt better. You took away both his nausea and his anxiety with just one touch. Logan closed his eyes in relief and rested his head back on the seat.

“Better?” You asked.

“Mhmm… You’re a miracle worker.” He said. Just as you tried to pull your hand away, Logan tightened his grip. “We still have a long way to go. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.” He reasoned and you felt your face getting warm. Your hand stayed in his for the rest of the flight.

When the jet landed, everyone took their positions. The stronger X-Men would descend first and clear up the path, taking down any threat. Logan, Scott, Hank and others like Havok and Bobby were part of this group. Then came the second group: Jean and Ororo would free the mutants that were being experimented on. And finally, the last group: you and Kurt were there to get the mutants out safely.

Of course, the first one to get out of the jet was Logan. Not only he couldn’t wait to get out of there, but he was always ready to go head first into a fight. You knew he could heal quickly from any wound, you’ve seen it happen yourself, but that didn’t make you worry about him any less. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to get your head in the game. You had to stay focused in case anyone needed you.

The first group went into the base, clearing it from any soldiers and mutants that worked for Striker. Once there was a clear path, the rest of you made your move. The place was a maze, but thanks to Jean’s powers, she could sense where the prisoners were, and she knew where to go.

It didn’t take long before you found a big room filled with cages.

“Oh god…” Ororo said in despair when she saw kids trapped in those cages.

Jean quickly got to work: using her power she moved the inner parts of the locks and opened them.

One by one you started getting the kids out.

Some of them had gone through literal torture and were wounded or in pain, so you got to work right away, healing them while Kurt took the healthy ones to the jet.

“Place is clear, we got them all.” Jean said as Kurt took the last child.

“My turn.” Ororo said, her eyes turning white. She raised her hands and a could formed on the roof. A lightning bolt struck the controller next to the cages and destroyed it completely. “No mutant will ever be kept here against their will.” She said.

“Angel,” You heard Scott calling through the coms. “Alex got shot, he needs your help.” He said.

“Where is he?” You asked as you picked up your pace.

“We already took him to the jet.”

Rushing back to the X-Jet you saw Scott and Logan standing by the ramp, waiting for you and keeping watch if necessary. Inside the jet, laying on the floor, was Scott’s brother Alex, with a massive blood stain on his suit.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” The young mutant said through a strained voice. “If I had known this is what it would take to get your attention, I would’ve gotten shot a long time ago.” He joked. It was no secret that Alex had been flirting with you since you arrived to the mansion.

“That’s not funny.” You said before placing your hands on his wound and healing him.

“I agree.” Scott grumbled to his brother.

“Can’t blame me for trying.” Alex said with a shrug. When you pulled your hands away, the bullet wound was gone. “You’re a godsend, aren’t you?” He smiled.

“I bet you say that to all girls.” You joked.

“Only to the pretty ones.” Alex winked and you scoffed.

“Watch it, Havok.” Logan said. “Or I’ll give you another hole for her to heal.” He threatened before turning around and walking back to his seat.

“Fine by me!” Alex said before getting up.

Logan sat down and crossed his arms on his chest, feeling a heaviness in his stomach that made him sick.

It wasn’t a new, unknown sensation. He knew what this feeling was, the very same he felt every time he saw Jean with Scott: it was jealousy. What he didn’t know was why. Why was he feeling this way?

First Scott with Jean, and now Alex with you. What was up with the Summer brothers that always annoyed him? He didn’t have any claim over you -to be fair, he didn’t have a claim on Jean either- but it still bothered him.

Logan told himself he just didn’t like the way Alex acted around you because you were too shy for that type of interaction, when the flirting was so on the nose.

The jet took off and Logan finally snapped out of his thoughts. The seat next to him was empty and he quickly got worried. Looking across the jet he expected to see you with Alex, but instead he found you sitting with the children you just rescued. There was a little girl sitting on your lap, your arms wrapped around her as you soothed her.

Something in Logan softened. 

The kids were in good hands.

When the X-Jet finally landed, everyone got off and started guiding the children to the mansion. Logan stayed behind to smoke. After lighting his cigar, he looked at the lighter you gifted him, his thumb caressing the initials you had engraved on it.

“J.L.H.”

“Hey, Howlett!” He heard someone call. Looking over his shoulder he saw Havok approaching him and he couldn’t help but groan.

“What do you want?”

“If you’re not gonna make a move already, then stop hogging her.” Havok said.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Logan asked.

Havok simply arched an eyebrow.

“First my brother, now me. What, you’re gonna hate our dad for marrying our mom too?”

“The fuck did you just say?” Logan snapped.

“I’m just saying, step aside. She’s a good person, she deserves someone who will love her and take care of her. It’s just hard to get close to her with you lurking around.”

Logan couldn’t deny Alex was right about that. You were a good person, and you did deserve all that. It just irritated him to think that person could be another Summers boy.

“I’m not lurking around, I’m just making sure you don’t creep her out.” Logan mumbled. “I’m her friend. If she’s not interested in you, then that’s her decision.” He said before putting his cigar in his lips and walking away. If this conversation continued, Logan worried it might end with him stabbing the other man.

Logan wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he worried sometimes you would find someone to date and would start spending less time with him. He didn’t care that he didn't have many friends, just a handful of loyal ones was enough. But you? You were the one friend he didn’t want to lose. Or to share with other people. You were the only one who seemed to understand what he was going through with Jean. He never figured out who was the guy you told him about -to anyone else it would’ve been obvious it was him- but at least he knew you understood him.

Was it selfish of him to wish you wouldn’t have someone else to spend your time with? Absolutely! But no one ever said he was a saint.

Logan was a selfish man, an imperfect, rought around the edges, too fucked up by the world type of man. Why were you friends with him? He didn’t know, but he was glad.

“Fucking Havok.” He mumbled, annoyed for letting the other mutant get to his head.

Maybe it was time to stop lying to himself. As much as he loved Jean, he was growing fond of you, in more than just a friendly way. You were kind, beautiful, smart, selfless and you put up with his crap.

But after Jean, Logan wasn’t ready to open his heart to someone else. The disappointment was too big, he doubted he could go through that again.

-

The sun came down and the new kids were settling in. It would take them some time to adjust, but at least now they were safe.

Some of them were so young they hadn’t even shown their powers. They were just assumed to be mutants because of their parents. The fact that people would experiment on children, trying to trigger their mutations for their own gain, made your heart ache.

You were lost in thoughts, jaw clenched and fingers digging on your thighs when Logan found you that night. You were sitting on the couch, there was a movie playing on the TV but you weren’t paying any attention to it.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here? It’s late…” He said, sitting down next to you. You quickly wiped away some unshed tears and shook your head.

“Can’t sleep.” You mumbled. “Today was tough.”

Logan nodded.

“I know. But you did very well out there, bub.” he said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You were amazing in the mission, and look at all the kids you helped today.”

You sighed and leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. There was something so comforting about being with him. While most people feared him and saw him as a threat, you saw him as your protector.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just what, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him and the sadness in your eyes and the quiver in your lips felt like a punch to his guts.

“Why do people do this, Logan? Why do humans hunt mutants down? Especially children…” You closed your eyes and sighed. “They say we’re monsters, yet they’re the ones doing monstrous things.”

Logan pulled you closer and rubbed your arm up and down.

“Because they're afraid of us. People are afraid of what they don’t understand.” 

You pursed your lips and hummed.

“That’s not an excuse to hurt children.”

“No, it’s not. But people are fucked up, and they do fucked up things.” 

“I guess there’s no point in asking these questions. All we can do is help as many people as we can.” You said.

“You’re already doing a lot.” He reassured him.

“Wanna watch a movie with me?” You asked softly.

Logan raised his eyebrows.

“You sure you don’t want to go to bed? It’s late…”

“Are YOU going to sleep?” You asked, knowing he rarely ever slept himself. When he didn’t reply you chuckled. “That’s what I thought.” You said before picking up the remote control.

But you fell asleep almost instantly. Safely tucked against Logan’s side and under his arm, you couldn’t help but relax, and the exhaustion from that day finally got to you.

There was no better place in the world to fall asleep on: by his side.

Logan stayed awake a bit longer. First he tried to focus on the movie, but eventually moved on to watching you. He never had the opportunity of looking at you so closely before. Now he could see every freckle on your face, every little eyelash on your eyelids, the rise and fall of your chest with every breath.

There was a little tug in his chest.

Have you always been this beautiful? 

Logan wasn’t blind, he noticed your beauty when he saw you for the first time, dancing with Charles in his office. Your kindness and selflessness also added to your appeal. Having grown closer to you and spending time together, Logan had no doubt in his mind that you were one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet.

But this was different. This was the kind of beauty that had his fingers itching to touch you, to run the pads down your cheek and across your lips. His hand flexed as he tried to stop himself. Instead he tilted his head and pressed his lips against your forehead. Your shampoo’s scent filled him with a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You mumbled in your sleep and nuzzled his shoulder, making him freeze. He didn’t want to wake you up, so he stayed as still as he could.

-

The needles piercing his bones caused excruciating pain. His muscles twitched, his heartbeat racing, adrenaline pumping through his body. There was nowhere to go, he was locked in the glass box filled with water, machinery attached to him. He could hear Stryker’s voice, though it was muffled by the water.

“Logan?”

He turned his head but he couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. The machines around him lit a red light, warning signs flashing on the screens.

“Logan.”

The adamantium filled his body, causing him to scream against his airmask. His body convulsed in the box pulling away from the needles, tearing everything off of him.

“Wake up.”

Logan jumped from the box, glass shattering and scattering everywhere. He screamed out of pain and confusion as Stryker’s men rushed to him with their guns.

SNIKT!

“LOGAN!”

Logan snapped out of his dream and found himself back in the mansion, back on the couch where he fell asleep.

And what he saw was horrible.

You were kneeling above him while his claws were deep inside your chest. Blood ran down his hands and arms as he held you up, basically impaled by his claws.

His pained mumbles and thrashing against the couch had woken you up. You tried to wake him up by shaking his shoulder gently and calling out his name. Never in a million years you would’ve guessed he would hurt you.

“Lo- Logan.” You cried, blood dripping from your mouth. Logan quickly retracted his claws, and when he did you slumped forward, landing on top of him. He lifted you up, his panic finally making its presence known.

“No! No no no no no no!” He turned you over and laid you on the couch. “Fuck, no! Please! Please don’t!”

“It’s okay.” You managed to say before taking his hand. But he wouldn’t listen.

“Hank! Jean! Anyone! Please, help!” He cried.

“Logan, look. Look at me.” You said before placing a hand on his face and forcing him to look at you.

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I’m so sorry, Angel!”

“Logan, stop.” You said taking his other hand. “I’ll be okay. I’m healing already.”

Other X-Men started filling the room in a panic.

“What happened?” Jean asked.

“Who did this? Are we under attack?” Scott said following closely behind.

“Keep pressure on the wound.” Suddenly Hank stood next to Logan and pushed him away to press his hands on your chest. “Ororo, go to the lab and get two units of O negative ready.”

“Stop. Stop!” You said pushing his hands away and sitting up on the couch. “Don’t waste it.” You said and lifted your shirt. Right underneath your bra were three claw marks. You had to wipe the blood away before Hank could see the marks looked like old scars. “It’s over.” You said. “I’m fine. I’m fine…” You looked around the room, confused. “Where’s Logan?”

He was gone.

[fictionadventurer]

Why did no one tell me about Cats Don't Dance? I had to hear it mentioned in an off-hand line in a Youtube video as an example of a good movie that flopped because it was screwed over by the studio, then I had to seek it out for myself, and only then find out:

It was the first non-Disney movie to win the Annie Award for Best Picture (it beat out Hercules).

It's an animated tribute to 1930s movie musicals done in the 1990s, which gives it a very Animaniacs vibe.

It has an insanely energetic and stretchy animation style.

It gives us the story of a starry-eyed song-and-dance man (who happens to be a talking cat) who leaves small-town Indiana hoping to make it big in Hollywood, only to find that talking animals don't get any starring roles. And then of course he meets a motley crew of eccentric animal actors who've had to content themselves with stereotyped bit parts and inspire them to try for better.

It has a romance where the cynical girl who had her dreams crushed gets inspired by the innocent, wide-eyed idealist to chase after hope again. (Which happens to be one of my special favorite kind of romances).

It's directed by a guy who'd go on to direct The Emperor's New Groove.

It's got songs by Randy Newman.

Scott Bakula voices the lead (and has a surprisingly decent singing voice).

Don Knotts plays a superstitious turtle.

There is a piano-playing elephant voiced by John Rhys-Davies.

The actress who voiced Cruella de Ville came out of retirement to voice a chain-smoking elderly fish (who might be my favorite side character).

Gene Kelly did the choreography (and it was the last project he worked on before his death).

The villain is an utterly insane Shirley-Temple-type child star who gets some of the most over-the-top animation I've ever seen.

She has a giant monstrous butler--like, it is absurd how giant this guy is.

And there are wild setpieces and big musical numbers and a scene with a clever use of color to show inner emotions.

It's not like the greatest movie ever made or anything, but it's a solid B-tier story that's a lot of fun and happens to perfectly fit my taste in so many ways, so I'm upset no one bothered to alert me to its existence.

[xreaderdumpster]

X-Men karaoke night

A choose your own ending fanfic! Ending parts to follow :) hope you enjoy!

Word count: 620

It was rare that the whole team had time off simultaneously. Even rarer that you all decided to go out together. The weirder part rather than either of these things occurring simultaneously was that the activity of choice was drinking and karaoke. You weren’t sure who suggested it in the first place, best guess being Morph. But the group seemed to actually be excited to do this. Probably more the aspect of getting absolutely trashed on a night off and not having to worry about missions or the end of the universe.

Scott had booked out a large karaoke booth to accommodate the 11 members of the team joining. The space was as you’d expect from a karaoke booth. Comfortable leather seats spanning 3 walls, a karaoke machine with microphones, a projector on the 4th wall, sound proofing material across the walls and a table in the middle. A drinks and food menu sat in a pamphlet holder by the door next to a phone. Apparently this place’s policy was that, if you wanted anything, you’d just call the front desk and they’d bring it.

As the group settled into the seats, a slightly awkward silence befell you. The slight inner anxiety that the team would be called for some disaster or some mission to disturb the evening. But Charles had ensured you that he had it all under control and to “go enjoy yourselves!” Logan was the first to break the silence with his usual gravelly huff as he got up and walked to the phone.

“Ordering a damn beer. Not doing this shit sober. Anyone else want anything?” He grumbled as he scanned the team. Most members replied with their orders. Scott, who you had sat next to muttered under his breath “Someone’s gotta be sober tonight. What if the Professor-”

“Scott, you gotta loosen up every now and then. We’re out on a rare team night out! One drink won’t hurt.” You chimed in with a grin. Scott pulled his lips into a thin line before sighing.

“She is right, you know. You should be allowed a night of fun like the rest of us.” Ororo reassured, gently patting his shoulder. Scott thought for a moment before asking Logan to order him a beer.

Soon enough, a tray of drinks were delivered by the young woman working the reception desk. Everyone clamoured to grab theirs. The moment the cool liquid hit the back of your throat, you sighed contently. As the group started drinking, the feeling of anxious tension that hung in the air began subsiding. Talk began flowing before Rogue finally stood up and wandered to the karaoke machine.

“How the heck ya suppose ta turn this thang on?” She asked herself, studying the karaoke machine with intent. Hank stood beside her, pressing a button that seemed to turn the machine on. She laughed before scrolling through the list of songs.

“Dang, there’s so many of them! How are ya meant to choose?” She questioned.

“Perhaps you and I should go first Rogue? Actually use the machine we came here to use.” Beast suggested. Rogue grinned, nodding as she continued looking through the set list.

“Oooooo how about this one?” She asked with a nudge of his side. Beast chuckled, grabbing the microphones. A familiar tune started. You laughed as Rogue began singing “Since you’ve been gone” by Kelly Clarkson with Beast trying to keep up.

The night wore on, more drinks being brought in, plates of snack foods soon following. You were chatting to Storm, laughing at how ridiculous some of the acts had been when the top of a microphone was pointed at you.

Logan ending: https://www.tumblr.com/xreaderdumpster/779008200003469312/logan-ending

Scott ending:

Remy ending:

Kurt ending:

Hank ending:

[brodygold]

The Interview

Ben adjusted his tie nervously, his fingers fumbling against the silk fabric as he sat in the reception area. This was his big break: a chance to work as a data analyst for the prestigious Golden Army. He had spent countless hours perfecting his resume and rehearsing answers to potential questions. Now, all that preparation boiled down to a single meeting with Captain Scott.

Ben glanced at his reflection in the polished glass of the office door. His charcoal suit was crisp, his blue tie perfectly knotted. He looked the part, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong here. Soccer wasn’t exactly his passion; numbers were. He could crunch statistics, perform regression analysis, and optimize strategies—that was his real talent. Surely the Golden Army would see his value, even if he wasn’t an athlete.

The door to the inner office opened, and a tall man with a commanding presence stepped out. Captain Scott—a broad-shouldered Brit with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes—surveyed the room. His golden soccer jersey, emblazoned with the team’s emblem, caught the light as he turned his gaze to Ben.

“Ah, you must be Ben,” Scott said, his British accent smooth yet authoritative. “Come on in, lad.”

Ben rose quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he followed Scott into the office. The room was adorned with Golden Army memorabilia: framed jerseys, championship trophies, and photos of triumphant players. Scott gestured to a chair, and Ben sat down, clutching his briefcase like a lifeline.

Scott leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “Now then, Ben, I’ll get straight to it. I’ve had a look at your resume. Impressive stuff. But I’m afraid there’s a bit of bad news.”

Ben’s heart sank. “Bad news?”

“Aye. The data analyst position’s already been filled,” Scott said, his tone apologetic but firm. “Just last week, in fact.”

Ben’s stomach churned. “Oh, I see. Well, thank you for considering me,” he said, rising from his chair. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

Scott held up a hand. “Hold on, lad. I’ve got another idea.”

Ben paused, curiosity flickering through his disappointment. “Another idea?”

Scott’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Aye. It’s not exactly what you came here for, but it’s a position that’s crucial to the Golden Army. And I reckon you might be just the man for it.”

Ben tilted his head. “What kind of position?”

Scott’s smile widened. “Let me show you.” He snapped his fingers.

The sound echoed in Ben’s ears, sharp and commanding. For a moment, he felt a strange tingling sensation coursing through his body. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the feeling only intensified. His muscles began to ache, then burn, as if he’d just completed a grueling workout.

“W-what’s happening?” Ben stammered, clutching the arms of the chair. He looked down and gasped. His once-slender arms were bulging, his biceps swelling with newfound strength. His chest expanded, his shoulders broadening, and his legs thickened, stretching the fabric of his trousers.

“Relax, lad,” Scott said, his tone calm but commanding. “You’re becoming who you were meant to be.”

Ben’s mind raced, but it was becoming harder to think. The numbers and equations that had once dominated his thoughts were slipping away, replaced by something simpler, more primal. Images of soccer fields, roaring crowds, and the camaraderie of a team flooded his mind. He tried to hold on to his old self, but it was like gripping sand; it all slipped through his fingers.

His suit and tie began to shimmer, the fabric dissolving into golden threads. The threads wove themselves into a shiny golden soccer jersey, snug against his newly muscular frame. His trousers transformed into matching shorts, and his dress shoes hardened into gleaming gold soccer cleats.

Ben’s breathing steadied, his initial panic giving way to a strange sense of purpose. He looked up at Scott, his eyes now bright with determination.

“How do you feel, lad?” Scott asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ben stood, flexing his powerful arms. “I feel… incredible,” he said, his voice deeper, more confident. The hesitation that had marked his earlier speech was gone. “What position do you need me to play, Captain?”

Scott clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be our new striker. Quick, agile, and unstoppable. Just what the Golden Army needs.”

Ben nodded, the role already feeling natural. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

“I know you won’t,” Scott said, his tone firm but encouraging. “Welcome to the team, lad.”

As Ben left the office, he no longer felt like the nervous data analyst who had walked in just minutes ago. He was a striker for the Golden Army, a proud member of the team. And he couldn’t wait to hit the field.

As Ben stepped outside into the bright sunlight, the world seemed sharper, more vibrant. His cleats clicked against the pavement as he made his way toward the training grounds. It was strange; just an hour ago, he couldn’t have imagined himself even holding a soccer ball, let alone playing professionally. Now, he felt an unshakable drive to prove himself, to be the best.

The training field stretched out before him, a lush expanse of green bordered by gleaming bleachers. A group of players was already warming up, their golden jerseys shining in the sun. They moved with precision and confidence, their camaraderie evident in their easy laughter and banter. Ben hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of how to approach them.

“Oi, new guy!” one of the players called, jogging over. He was tall and lean, with sharp features and a mischievous grin. “You must be the new striker. I’m Brody, co-captain. Welcome to the team.”

Ben shook his hand, the firm grip reinforcing his new reality. “Thanks. I’m Ben.”

Brody raised an eyebrow. “Ben, eh? Not anymore, mate. You’re part of the Golden Army now. We’ve got a tradition here: new name, new start. How about… Blaze? Got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Blaze. The name resonated with him, sparking a sense of pride and excitement. “Blaze it is,” he said, grinning.

“Good on ya, Blaze. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Brody said, tossing him a soccer ball. “Warm up with us.”

Blaze joined the other players, quickly falling into the rhythm of the drills. His body moved with an ease and power that felt both foreign and familiar. Each pass, each shot, each sprint reinforced his new identity. By the time practice ended, he was drenched in sweat but exhilarated.

As the team gathered around Scott for a debrief, the captain’s gaze fell on Blaze. “Not bad for your first day, lad. Keep this up, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

Blaze nodded, determination etched on his face. He had found his place, his purpose. The Golden Army wasn’t just a team; it was a family. And he was ready to give it everything he had.

After the team dispersed, Scott called out, “Blaze, a word in my office.”

Blaze followed Scott back to the office, his heart pounding slightly. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Once inside, Scott closed the door and leaned against the desk, studying Blaze with a thoughtful expression.

“You’ve adapted faster than I expected,” Scott said, his voice softer now. “Most lads take a bit of time to find their footing, but you… you’re something special.”

Blaze felt his cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. I just want to do my best for the team.”

Scott smiled, his eyes glinting. “That’s what I like to hear.” He stepped closer, his tone dropping. “But there’s more to being part of the Golden Army than just skill on the field. It’s about trust, loyalty… connection.”

Blaze swallowed hard, the air between them charged. “I understand, Captain.”

Scott’s gaze lingered on him, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with deliberate intent, Scott reached out, his hand resting lightly on Blaze’s shoulder. “Do you?”

Blaze nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

Scott leaned in, his lips brushing against Blaze’s in a kiss that was both firm and tender. Blaze responded instinctively, his hands resting on Scott’s waist as he deepened the kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet, golden-lit office.

When they finally pulled apart, Scott’s eyes searched Blaze’s, a rare vulnerability showing beneath his confident exterior. “Welcome to the team, Blaze. Truly.”

Blaze smiled, his heart racing. “I’m proud to be here, Captain.”

[v0idhaert]

scott smajor with number 7 for your spotify asks?

omg anon sorry it took me so long to get to this, but here: Scott smajor with number 7, Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance!

textless and bgless under cut, as well as really long ramble caption vvvvvvv

I hope this is alright! If nothing else, I’m so so proud of drawing hair braiding, that took. So. Long. lol, anyway yeah I also really like how Scott’s hair came out, and I’ve never made a third life Jimmy design before so I came up with this on the fly and I really like how it looks. But yeah, I saw which song it was and thought of them immediately, Scott was so distraught at Jimmy’s death in third life, (prepare for ramble that is mildly unintelligible if you are not really geeky about MCR lore lol. The main stuff you need to understand is that mcr has four albums, I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, The Black Parade, and Danger Days: The True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys, and all of them have a lot of lore) like they are so demolition lovers coded, especially because of the whole back from the dead thing where Jimmy is alive and well in later seasons but Scott is still grieving him and the memory thing with winners remembering which means Scott remembers third life and Jimmy doesn’t, reminds me of like (from my understanding of the story, which is different from other peoples because MCR lore is very vague) the inner turmoil of the lover from the three cheers lore who went to hell, and his lover is in heaven and on one hand he wants to reunite but on the other he knows his lover doesn’t even know he’s alive (-ish. Not sure how much his situation qualifies as “living”) and feels guilty, thinking that she probably won’t even want to see him again, because he’s killed so many people and he doesn’t want to ruin her paradise (I mean she misses him too and wants to see him again but he doesn’t know that, and also he rightly recognizes that he is an actual sociopath. I’m not saying c!Scott is crazy (well, as not-crazy as you can be in life series death games. Everyone is at least a little bit off their rocker. Woah, parentheses within parentheses, what is this!?), but I am saying the guy demolition lover absolutely is. I am also saying that c!Scott has self worth issues. At least in my headcannons. I also have a similar headcannon for Joel. Maybe that’s why they hate each other, their mad that they can’t sacrifice themselves for each other and then decided a murderous rivalry was the only option/j ) but yeah so the torturing themselves over a lover who is both dead for them and also at the same time alive and well but unreachable and in a better place than them and wanting to be with them but holding back for fear of hurting them which ends up hurting them anyway (which is also a theme in the black parade, so ig you could also kinda compare Scott to The Patient, but patient always felt more Joel or Pearl coded to me. Also yes I know I already made a post about smalletho demo lovers au, but idk I can have both smalletho and flower husbands demo lovers I just like projecting my interests onto,,,,also my interests ig lol) is something Scott and the sinner demolition lover have in common. Also this song makes me cry. So much. Could barely even draw this through the tears lol/silly, and I’m exaggerating but less than you’d think. Unfortunately I am a crier. I also cry at Summertime from danger days, pretty much all of three cheers but especially I never told you what I do for a living, demolition lovers from bullets (btw for non MCR fans these are album and song names. Also the demo lover’s story starts in bullets with the song titled for them, and then is continued in three cheers for sweet revenge) as well as I don’t love you, wttbp, the end, mama, and famous last words from black parade. And those are just the MCR songs, not counting all the other sad songs from other bands. I am a CRIER lol. But yeah, thank you sm for the ask anon I really enjoyed drawing this!

[blackownersseekingsuccess]

Remembering Bayard Rustin: The Unsung Hero of the Civil Rights Movement

written by Levi Wise Kenneth Catoe Jr.

August 1, 2024 - Growing up as a Black boy in Paterson, NJ, and attending Roman and Irish Catholic Parochial schools, Black history was not very familiar to me. I grew up in a religious Southern Baptist family and participated in the church choir. In this context, Martin Luther King, Jr., was all that I knew about Black history until I became a teenage Madonna fanatic. Ironically, Madonna made me aware of Black activists and radicals such as Nina Simone, Jean-Michel Basquiat, James Baldwin, and Bayard Rustin. Bayard Rustin was an African American activist who believed in civil disobedience. Rustin felt that Black people should deliberately break unjust laws but do it non-violently to bring about change and this would play a key role in the Civil Rights movement. He also advocated for LGBTQ rights. Rustin moved to Harlem in 1937 and began studying at City College of New York. It’s interesting to note that at the time CCNY was an all-male college once regarded as ‘Jewish Harvard’ which did not accept Black men—Rustin was an unusual exception. While Rustin was at CCNY he became involved in efforts to defend and free the Scottsboro Boys, nine young black men in Alabama who were accused of raping two white women. Activism for Rustin was something that came naturally. He later became a mentor to Martin Luther King.

Rustin is one of my all-time idols. I have been enamored of him since I learned about him, so I was excited to attend an event dedicated to his life and legacy at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, “Between the Lines: Bayard Rustin, A Legacy of Protest and Politics.” The event was a conversation between Michael G. Long and Jafari Allen, who edited the book of the same name. Their exchange sparked many revelations and I left the event more aware than when I entered. I felt so much pity for the life that Rustin had to live, including the attack on his character that was rallied against him by other Black people and the distance that Martin Luther King placed between himself and Rustin out of fear of people assuming that he was also gay. I also learned that it was Coretta Scott King who introduced King to Rustin. Scott-King met Rustin during her college years as a fellow activist who practiced civil disobedience. She would ultimately introduce her husband King to civil disobedience tactics. Rustin recalled that his first time meeting King he was strapped with a handgun and that he never traveled without his gun. It was Rustin who told King that if he represented civil disobedience he would have to be willing to put away his firearm, which eventually he did. Nevertheless, this raises the question, who was King really? The “I Have A Dream” pacifist or the “Beyond Vietnam” radical? We will never truly know.

All in all what I did learn was that according to Rustin, King had no idea how to organize an event. Instead, it was Rustin who developed the blueprint for King’s early Civil Rights movement, at least until the day that King removed Rustin from his inner circle.

Nevertheless, Rustin returned to organize the March on Washington, despite everything leveled against him by Adam Clayton Powel and Roy Wilkins. Someone noted during the discussion that “it’s funny how karma works given the fact that nobody remembers Wilkins's legacy in comparison to the sudden interest in Rustin.'' If I remember correctly, the comment was made by the moderator, NYU professor Dr. Jarafi Allen, based on the fact that the venue was standing room only, or that the Hollywood lens is now fixated on Rustin’s story, with an Academy Award-nominated movie based upon his life currently in theaters. Wilkins has not received the same interest from Hollywood, perhaps indicating that he is less marketable in the mainstream. Meanwhile, Rustin’s role as an activist for the LGTBQ community is also important for newer generations. Until recently, this legacy and all that he accomplished was invisible, but he has since become a symbol of the “others” and most notably the “forgotten others”. While in his lifetime he was shunned, rallied against, and betrayed by those that he benefitted, history has allowed his legacy the final word.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Ooooooo

I have come, with something!

So, imagine reader is a young adult instead of the teen. They already gone through the system, was never adopted, so they have a lot of resentment to parents and such. And they actually work in the school as an assistant teacher. The team thing happens and when reader realizes they were being used, they quit, and after, cut out anything showing they’re a mutant. Maybe filling the claws way down to look like normal nails, or if it’s like wolverine’s, they use a rock to break it.

How would everyone react to seeing reader after that, either fresh from their self mutilation, or some days after?

Thanks for reading my rant!

🌂

Oooooo... Okay, okay, that's interesting! I still plan to have Reader as a teen in the main au, but Reader as a young adult? Not bad, if I say so. I'm going to count this as an au of the Smilodon AU, because I have an idea for how Reader finding all of this out goes, but... I really like this ask. So good job! Let's do it-

If the others, the X-Men and Brotherhood, saw Reader like that... I think they'd feel nauseous. Light-headed. Sick. Because their... whatever Reader is to them, is missing parts of their mutation, the parts that were part of them. Their claws... they're filed down, hardly there anymore.. Their fangs... not near as long or sharp as they used to be. And the small bits of fur or fluff that used to dot their arms and legs... they're gone, leaving the skin underneath. This isn't what they wanted. They wanted Reader as their, well... okay, they had used Reader. They didn't want to, in the end, and the teens wanted to stop it, but- They just couldn't. They tried. The adults... they feel remorse. A bit scared. Because now they know Reader can and will harm themself (and likely had before). When Xavier looks deeper into Reader's thoughts, he sees their inner-self, and it isn't a monster or a beast or an evil person... it's a scared, lonely, hurt child, who wants love, but has been denied it so long that they don't trust anyone. And after what all they've done... Reader doesn't even trust them anymore...

Xavier, Scott, and Jean would try to speak rationally with Reader (their version of rational). It goes out the window real quick when Reader's thoughts turn darker, sadder, spiraling. Scott wants to know why Reader did what they did, because he's sorry, and wants them to know they care. He wants them to see it their way. But he mostly wants to make things better between them. Jean wants to help Reader, and comfort them, but now there's a literal mental wall between them, full of bitterness. She wants to reach them,, to stop them from doing this to themself... Xavier wants to convince Reader they meant no harm, and to give them and the X-Men a proper chance to make it up to them. He knows that Reader will be hard to convince. But they have to hold out hope. If worse came to worse... they can try and move Reader in with them, albeit unwillingly. It might be the only way to keep an eye on them and their health...

Kurt, Kitty, Ororo, and Beast regret getting Reader's hopes up, only for the truth to come out about why they started trying to befriend them in the first place. Seeing Reader remove parts of their mutation, leaving them almost defenseless... Kurt feels scared. He has a visible mutation as well, and while he hid his with the holo watch, Reader didn't have something like that. And they got rid of parts of themself! It's... it's so hard to look at... Kitty wants to hug Reader, wants forgiveness. She's so sorry about what happened, she wants them to know that! But... why would Reader hurt themself? Are they hiding any other wounds? What If they hurt themself again?... Storm is doing her best to stay calm and motherly, which sadly doesn't get her very far. She knows they've hurt Reader, and it doesn't feel good, for Reader or for them. But they need to own up to it. The best they can do is apologize, and hope Reader forgives them, or at least doesn't hurt themself further. Perhaps getting Hank to talk with them would be better... Hank would try and help them, would try to talk with Reader. He wants to provide therapy, or at least get them to have a medical exam. He needs to know how bad they hurt themself. But they're not budging. He doesn't want Charles to force Reader. No. But if they want to help them, they need them under their care. And sadly, Reader does not want to be under their care or protection after everything...

Rogue, Evan, and Logan feel guilty. They know they didn't trust Reader at first. That they didn't want to give them the benefit of the doubt. But seeing how bad it's hurt them, that they'd rather hurt themself than them... It's a tough pill to swallow. Reader already had trust issues. They already didn't have a high opinion of themself. And they just made those a whole lot worse. Rogue is truly sorry, wanting to have Reader stay with them so they don't hurt themself or disappear. She's scared that if they look away from them, they'll be gone. That Reader will leave, or worse, be dead. Evan wants to apologize, but he also wants Reader to give them a second chance. Even his aunt is in on it, and maybe Reader would believe two of them over just one? He really wants them to not give up on them... Logan knows he hasn't handled knowing Reader very well. He knew about some of their past, and wrote them off as a bad influence. And they weren't. They're the cub of his "brother" (he doesn't know if that fuzzy maniac is his brother or not), but they've never even met the guy, let alone know who he was. It wasn't fair of him to get mad with them, to treat them as a potential threat. Seeing them harm themself though... It makes him realize that they had every chance to go after all of them, but instead they turned on themself. And for that... he realizes he shouldn't have been been hard. So cold.

The Brotherhood teens want to throw up. Their favorite assistant teacher, the one who tended to see the best in them, is missing parts of themself, or has cut them down. And it scares the cr*p out of them. This is their favorite teacher! Their go-to adult in school when things go wrong or people won't leave them alone! And they've. Hurt. Themself. They didn't want to use them! They swear! But... they're not sure this is an easy fix. This isn't as simple as saying sorry. This had consequences, and they've (mostly) learned that one has to own up to them, no matter what they be. Lance doesn't want to imagine Reader leaving them. They're the one adult he trusts. And now they're scared, or at least wary, of all of them. The X-Teens are in the same boat, so while he hates to say it, he might have to work with them to get Reader to stay, and hopefully heal and regrow their claws and fangs and fuzz. Todd feels sick. He didn't realize they could do that. They could actually remove parts of their mutation? Just like that? Thinking about it gives him shivers. Who would give their powers up? Who'd willingly hurt themself? He understands why they'd do it, he just wishes they hadn't. Fred wants to hug Reader and cry. His favorite adult (who's only a few years older than all of them) just hurt themself. And is upset with them. And is sad. He doesn't want them to be upset! Or hurt! He's trying to apologize, and is on the same boat as Lance to get the X-Teens help in apologizing, if it means Reader might forgive them. Pietro knows what they did. He knows it was wrong. Is he sorry?... Yes. But he still wants Reader with them. Seeing them they way they are... he still thinks they should be with them, even more now. They need help. His dad can get help, okay? H*ck, if they have to, they can pull Sabretooth in, okay?! He just... he doesn't want Reader to hurt themself even more. They're nice, and pay attention to him and his sister, good attention. How can they let them hurt? Wanda is asking Reader why they did it. She wants to know Reader's perspective on this, on why they did it, how they feel about them all. She doesn't want to hurt them, and she won't, but Reader needs help. She will not have her favorite adult die on her or hurt themself, so they'd better hurry up and go to her father or Xavier and get them involved, otherwise, they're going to have a problem. Mystique feels for Reader. Being distrusted by everyone. Having mutations that single them out. It hurts. It hurts her even more knowing she has hurt Reader with her actions. But this proves to her Reader needs a team. A group. She's grateful Reader hasn't taken their anger or hurt out on them, like their father might have. She knows they deserve it. But... she isn't sure if they should turn to... the X-Men... blegh... or to Magneto... who she's mad with... And unfortunately, those are her two options. The joys of being an adult, being responsible... Hopefully they can reach Reader before it could be too late...

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday Scottish actor Rory McCann born 24th April 1969 in Glasgow.

Six foot six inches tall, with brown eyes and dark hair, Rory McCann began his working life at the top - as a painter on the Forth Bridge. He came to notice in a television commercial for Scotts' Porage Oats, in which he appeared as a scantily-clad hunk in a vest and kilt and little else wandering snowbound streets but warmed by the inner glow of the porage. He claims that as a consequence he was often approached by people demanding that he "lift his kilt", I can quite believe that as who out there among us has never had that asked of us?

In 2002 he was seen in the TV comedy-drama 'The Book Group' playing a wheelchair-bound lifeguard, a part for which he won a Scottish BAFTA award for the best television performance of 2002. Since then he has taken television roles as Peter the Great and a priest in 'Shameless'. He made his Hollywood debut in Oliver Stone's 'Alexander'. Rory has never been in Taggart but did appear in another well known Scottish show, Monarch of the Glen.

Of course the role he is most famous for is, apart from the porage ads,that of Sandor "The Hound" Clegane in the popular Game of Thrones.

Film role have included, Beowulf & Grendel, Hot Fuzz and xXx: Return of Xander Cage

Rory used to be the frontman of a defunct band called Thundersoup in the early 90s. In 2017 he made a musical appearance as the drummer of Texas, a Scottish rock band, in their music video of Tell That Girl. He also plays the piano, banjo, guitar, and Mandolin.

Rory divides his time between homes in London and Glencoe, eh hates technology and loves being cut off and is known for living a solitary, transient lifestyle, he describes himself as such "I'm a man's man. I go out climbing and live outdoors." He used to solo rock climb and broke multiple bones in a near-fatal rock climbing accident in Yorkshire when he was 21. And ladies he is single, he says "I don't have a mortgage, I don't have a wife and I don't have kids, so I'm quite happy bumbling along."

In 2019 Rory was seen in the Jumanji movie with fellow Scot Karen Gillan. In 2022 he became the narrator of the ITV1 series DNA Journey., last year he voiced a character in the animated show Knuckles, based on the video game Sonic the Hedgehog. He also appeared in a horror film called the damned and Gladiator II.

More recently in 2025 Rory was in the period drama Tornado, which gets a good score of 7.5 on IMDb, next up he is set to appear in season two of Ahsoka the a TV Series set in the Star Wars universe.

[ipowlin]

So we all know that gem and pearl together is a force to be reckoned with. They have intimidated everyone on the server and rightfully so, they do not only have the bark but also a giant bite.

Now pearl. Pearl alone has so much potential.

She uses something that hinders her performance to her advantage, that thing is her ping.

She has the skill and strategy to solo half of the server if she went rabid again.

And that's the thing. She won't go rabid. She's kind and patient. Pearl has a potential that she couldn't show due to her loyalty and kindness.

Now you see, gem does not have a problem like that.

She's ruthless and blood thirsty whenever she feels like it. She is a leader, someone to look up to in a war. Gem brings the worst in pearl. She tells her things. She tells her to kill, to chase, to hunt. And pearl listens. She listens well.

Gem without pearl is like a warrior with nothing to fight with and for.

Pearl without gem is like a weapon without a wielder to protect and assist.

Gem knew. She knew that if she had gotten her hand on pearl she could rule the server alongside a witch with undying loyalty.

Pearl just wanted to be friends with gem because she was fun :3 she's silly like that

They've set plans, and strategies to defeat the enemy together. But before they know it, They've become each other's enemies.

Pearl asked gem

“gem. You don't want to do this, right…?”

And gem told her with a heavy heart. Knowing that there's no way that they could be together without betraying their day one alliances.

“No. I don't…”

gem ran away, feeling disappointed and betrayed as someone that promised to be her friend had attacked her without warning.

But before they could finish their conversation. A MASSIVE F[redacted]G C[redacted]T SHOT AT GEM. MAKING THEM FLEE. NICE JOB JOEL. (/Lh I love Joel beans)

And pearl, The weapon. Does what she does best and started to attack whoever her allies targets. Like a loyal wolf.

And being betrayed by pearl. That's something that happens once in a millenia.

She hid in her cherry peak as the mounders surrounded them. Gem sees pearl in the distance, stalking thought the forest to find a prey, and they locked eyes. Yet weirdly enough, none of them opened fire. Or even pulled out their bow.

They just shook their head at eachother as a symbol of peace and alliance. Friendship. Because that's what they were, they didn't want to kill eachother, they did not want to hurt one another. but their alliances. They forced them to do so. And they did, out of loyalty.

At that moment gem panics and jumped across the trees to tell both of them to stop shooting. But Scott just ignored her pleas and kept on going. Giving pearl no other option but to retaliate.

They stood their ground, looking at eachother with looks of pity before Scott pushed gem out of the way and shot at pearl. (GREAT JOB, SCOTT. 😡) She dodged before firing back at Scott.

Pearl told gem that she cannot stop what she is doing. But also that she does not have the heart to harm her either. She only wanted the Scotts.

Pearl went deeper into the inner walls of the scottages and was pummeled by arrows, yet she still presisted. impulse died without warning.

Shortly after she heard the yells of her allies and sprinted towards them. But she was too late for Scott and gem had killed them both.

Gem had thought. Maybe. Just maybe if she did not have her allies, she does not have her loyalty. And that she might join them.

Because gem knows that she could beat her. She knows that for a fact.

As she searched through the middle of the battlefield Scott ran up to her and started yelling at her to kill him. To take his heart and to not lose without a fight.

Without any other option she just did it. She stabbed him, gaining his hearts. And shortly after. Pearl came.

Not alone though, like she has hoped. She was with scar

Without any second though pearl shot at gem without mercy. Something that if un-character like of her. Pearl told her “dont make me do this, gem.”

I'm wich gem replied. Without sending her any arrows. “im not making you do anything! Why are you doing this.” as she ran away from them

Pearl chased after her. Though yelling “i don't know!”

Gem asked her “we’re friends! Why?!” and pearl repeated herself. “i don't know!!”

When they met again, pearl has not attacked gem. She tried to talk to her. To megotiate, anything that would mean not killing her. But before she could do that scar had jumped in and attacked gem again.

And what does a weapon do when given a target? They attack. So pearl ran in with her sword. And quite literally stabbed gem in the back.

Killing her.

Pearl got a wielder in the end. And it was not gem.

It was scar