#his inner scott came out

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

based Doctor who

[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!!

[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 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 time 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.

[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 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.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

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 ;)

[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

[sansculottides]

Maximilien Robespierre was executed on July 28, 1794, or the 10th of Thermidor in the Republican Calendar. A conventional textbook may mark the end of the French Revolution with Napoleon’s coup in 1799. But Ralph Korngold, Marxist historian, wrote:

“No one man creates a revolution or carries it on, but the currents of revolution may sometimes range themselves in such a manner that the fate of one man becomes the fate of the revolution itself. ‘We did not realize,’ said Cambon, ‘that in killing Robespierre we would kill the Republic.” (From Robespierre and the Fourth Estate–the “fourth estate” here referring to the budding proletarian class of the time. Korngold gave particular attention to Robespierre’s role in the attempt to enact the Ventôse Decrees, the most revolutionary laws proposed during the Republic which would have expropriated the wealth of counter-revolutionaries to be redistributed to the propertyless.)

Napoleon’s ascent ten years after the start of the Revolution only marked the final stab in a Republic that was already good as dead. The death of Robespierre and his allies was the death of the Revolution’s radical aspirations, and allowed the propertied men to fully take charge. Though I also appreciate the sentiment that we can also mark the Revolution’s end a bit after Robespierre, with the death of Babeuf, the “proto-communist."

Anyway, what I really wanted to do was talk about a phenomenal short film that came out this year (on Robespierre’s birthday), “La mort de Robespierre” by smileyfaceorg/Janelle Feng (who has done so much amazing art about Robespierre and the French Revolution).

The film focuses on the night before 10 Thermidor, before Robespierre’s forceful arrest. This historical episode has been depicted before, in various ways. In the 1989 movie La Revolution Francaise, Robespierre had gone insane at this point, an interpretation that fed off of years of black propaganda. In Feng’s film, Robespierre is depressed, remorseful and self-loathing, an interpretation that does have its footing in historical record. In the months leading up to his arrest, Robespierre was frequently sick from the mental exhaustion of running and defending the Republic.

Mental health isn’t a new thing, though we have admittedly only recently begun to be articulate on the subject. Mental health amongst revolutionaries isn’t new either. Even Lenin died of sickness likely compounded by the stress of protecting the Revolution’s gains. In the 1871 Paris Commune, the commune council was “a working, not a parliamentary body [but] executive and legislative at the same time,” which allowed members to fully dedicate themselves to the cause of building a socialist future, but also burdened them with a punishing workload with little room for rest, and the mental exhaustion that naturally follows. I’m sure every person in any radical movement knows the weight of the struggle, but that’s one reason why it must be a collective effort.

At one point in the film Saint-Just looks at the 1793 Declaration of Rights on the wall and comments “To think we made that.” It’s another historically-rooted moment, as there was at least one eyewitness account claiming he did something like that on that night. I think the presence of the 1793 Declaration also ties the film in with the radical tradition of interpreting the Revolution. The ‘93 Declaration was more egalitarian than the initial 1789 Declaration, signed off by a pressured Louis XVI and also the one more textbooks would remember.

I love the use of comic elements too. Comic devices in film would make me think of stuff like Spiderverse or Scott Pilgrim where it’s fun and wacky, but in this film Feng uses comic devices to contract and expand space and time to an introspective yet claustrophobic effect. Especially the scenes where panels surrounded by negative space hint at Robespierre’s inner turmoil. It works really well; comic elements can work like poetry, after all.

I love stuff like this, art that is rooted in history (with quite scholarly rigor) while also aiming to go beyond academic scholarship. You can’t quite explore things like emotions and human experience the same way you can through art. Art like this film looks at historical facts and tries to fill in the gaps. How did they feel about this, what kind of effect did it have? And it explores how these historical people and episodes were human. More importantly, it does so with empathy and purpose, keeping in the “spirit” of the historical figures depicted. If you truly read Robespierre, you wouldn’t give in to lazy portrayals of a mad dictator. In contrast, Feng’s short film shows so much care and attention for this person in the past.

I’m so happy that someone like Feng is making art about the French Revolution. Most of the films, novels, games, etc that come out about the French Rev usually just follow the boring, very liberal and mainstream narratives, and calumnies about Robespierre being a dictator or various other kinds of monsters (not true). Korngold wrote about this too: “The Red Terror appears unpardonable to the Whites, and the White Terror to the Reds. Carlyle penetrates closely to the truth when he says that the reason the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution has received so much scathing comment, is mainly because it was directed against the privileged classes and their followers and not against ‘the voiceless millions.’”

Like the rest of history, our interpretation of the French Revolution exposes the undercurrents of ideology, conscious or not. Our ideas of who should be in power, who should be listened to. Ultimately, it did end as a revolution of the budding bourgeoisie, but before that defeat, there were revolutionaries who imagined and fought for a new future for all. Not just a political revolution, but a social and economic one. We should remember their revolutionary example. There is a reason, after all, why the Soviets held the likes of Robespierre, Saint-Just and Marat in high regard.

[mjr-acourtofdreams]

Dancing On My Own

Azriel x y/n, Eris x y/n

warnings: angst?

summary: this was heavily inspired by the song dancing on my own by calum scott. It kind of gotten in a different direction then I wanted it to go but yeah!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I made sure that I looked absolutely beautiful well the best that I could for being me I was definitely not as flawless as Elain I didn't even come close to compare. My eyes where not that pretty brown that shines in the sunset just right or my hair wasn't soft and had that golden glow to it. Look at myself in the mirror one last time the midnight black dress hugged my curves just right my curls flowed down my back a small smile ghosted on my face maybe he will finally notice me.

The party was at full swing by the time Rhysand picked me up and flew me to the house of wind everyone was already dancing, mingling and drinking their fill. "Thank you for the lift." I glanced over at Rhys he lightly bowed his head "The pleasure was mine y/n, please enjoy the party." he smile and made his way toward Feyre who looks stunning in her starry gown her smile grew has she made eye contact with Rhys her eyes caught mine and she grab a little wave I smile and then made my way towards the bar table. "Wow! You look absolutely stunning y/n!!" I nearly choked on my drink I turned and came face to face with Nesta and Cassian I nod my head "thank you, Cassian." I gave a small smile and turned "Nesta" I nod my head to her she did the same "I didn't think you would actually come." Nesta raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Well, I think it would have been rude if I didn't since Feyre invited me in person and I needed to get out the house..." I took a drink she just nodded and turned and walked away I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding in "It will be okay." Cassian put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a soft smile and went to find his mate.

I still haven't noticed the two that I've been trying to avoid, well mostly I was hoping to at least see Azriel and for him to notice me and then maybe just maybe I'll tell him what has been on my mind since the before that day my sisters and I was dumped into the cauldron. I glanced my eyes to the dance floor and that's when I saw it. Elain in Azriel's arms dancing across the floor she smiled up at him, he looked at her like she was his whole world. The tears in my eyes started to form but that didn't compare to the pain in my chest that started it ripped through my soul tearing my apart slowly, a slow painful death but I couldn't look away from the sight in front of me and I don't think it would even help ease the pain if I did.

I forcedly wiped the tears from my eyes and turned towards the drink table grabbed a glass and downed it as quick as I could and then reached for another and did the same. if I have to stay here all night and watch those to fall in love in anymore, I'm going to need a good buzz to do so, fuck this. I glared back up and see the whole inner circle and my sister gathered around chatting and laughing without me figure that much. I have all ways been on outcast of our family, being the youngest of the sisters made it was I was pushed even farther aways from the afterthought of everything and everyone else I would think after turning High fae and after everything things would change clearly, I was so wrong.

Holding the glass so hard it might bust into a million pieces staring at the perfect found family that acts like I don't even exist I didn't notice the male approach my side and stood there "If you don't let go of that poor glass, we are going to have a mess to clean up." I jumped so hard and grabbed my chest trying to calm my racing heart, turning my body to face the person who scared the life out of me. "Oh, Eris!" I set my glass down and glared at him "You just scared me to death! Don't seek up on people like that!" putting my hands on my hips looking up at him and he gave me his devilish smirk. I never minded the new High Lord of Autum we actually grew a very close friendship through the short years I have been fae. "Why are you over here guarding the bar table?" he looked into my eyes, studying them. Shaking my head I looked back out towards the dance floor "well someone has to." I smirk playing on my lips I soon forgot why i was so angry a moment ago. I felt him move closer bending down close to my ear and he whispered, "well why don't you give up your post for a moment and come dance with me." I shiver ran down my back "looking has exquisite has you do you shouldn't be hiding on the side lines." I turned my head coming nose to nose with Eris looking into his eyes "I-I w-well..." I couldn't get my words out before he grabs my hand and drag me into the middle of the dance floor a smile grew across my face and I threw my head back and laugh, I real laugh Eris glance back at me with a smile across his face and a glow in his eyes.

Azriel's POV

A smile ghosted across my face while I took in my family all gather together laughing and smiling, glancing to the side I see Elaine holding her glass close to chest smiling brightly at Feyre and Nyx while the talk about something I am not sure I lost track of the conversation moment ago turn to see if anyone needs another drink I heard the my joyous laughter fill room bouncing off the walls, I could pick out that laugh anywhere. Turning to find the person behind the laugh, looking across the dance floor I see her, y/n spinning around the middle of the dance floor, smiling and laughing like I never seen her do she looks so free, so happy and at peace it made my smile grow even wider until I see the arm that reached out and grabbed her and lifted her up spinning with her... Eris, the smile that cover my face vanished and my blood ran cold my shadows started to swarm around. "Azriel... Azriel?" I felt a hand touch my arm and a shook it off and whipped my head around to see a worried Elaine and a confused Feyre looking at me the glance at Rhys, I felt claws coming down on my walls "what is he doing here?" I spoke to Rhys in my mind he took a moment to respond, "all the High Lords attended this year's Starfall, he is the new High Lord of Autum." I just glared at Rhysand and turn back to the dance floor now see them both in each other's embrace he smiled down at her, she looked at him like he was her whole world. The tears in my eyes started to form but that didn't compare to the pain in my chest that started it ripped through my soul tearing my apart slowly, a slow painful death but I couldn't look away from the sight in front of me and I don't think it would even help ease the pain if I did.

[deadlyhuggles6]

Cold

Tiny bit of wild life fanfiction with some fanart! very Pearl-centric

consider giving the ao3 version some love as well?

~

Pearl didn’t notice anything had changed until the first session ended.

To be fair, there had already been so many changes to her body that when her skin began to tingle and lose sensation after that first, early death, she didn’t even notice anything had changed. Scott gave her some weird looks when she got back, but she was more than used to ignoring him.

It wasn’t until after Grian called the session to a close for the weekend, turning off the wildcard and allowing everyone to take a break that Pearl had time to slow down and notice the change.

The rest of her teammates had already dispersed for the night- with nothing but a handful of chests at their base and friends happy to host elsewhere on the server, it wasn’t worth it to stay. So, they’d gone off in search of greener pastures and warmer beds. Only Pearl had stayed behind, with her loyal Billy. 

Pearl groaned, rubbing at her face with trembling hands. Her skin still itched, tingling like she was constantly changing sizes. Billy circled around her legs, pressing his cold nose into her thigh and leaned against her. She threaded her fingers into his thick fur, past the thick winter coat and into the soft undercoat and let him guide her down towards the river. 

She fell to her knees at the riverbank, barely managing to push her sleeves up before plunging her hands into the river. The freezing water was a shock to her system but not enough to stop the itching. Leaning down, she splashed water up into her face, droplets of ice cutting into her nerves in a horribly familiar way.  Billy nosed under her arms and put his paws and head up in her lap, not quite careful enough to stop his nails from digging into her bare skin.

For a moment Pearl forgot where she was. Alone except for the wolf in her lap, scratched and so so cold- she reached past paws to harshly pinch the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

Her dog barked, teeth snapping at her fingers, and the sound rattled through her chest like an ax crit, breaking through the haze for a minute. She plunged her hands into the river again, chasing the clarity it gave her. Canine jaws closed around her arm and pulled, forcing Pearl to pull her hands out of the river.

A wet nose dug into her hands, and she cupped her hands for her puppy to nuzzle into. She scratched at velvet ears and cooed at wide black eyes. Right, she wasn’t alone, she had her puppy, and she didn’t need anyone else. Because Scott could hate her, but this little animal would always love her.

She continued to run her fingers through the dense fur, but she quickly came to notice a distinct difference between both hands and the level of sensation she was picking up- mostly in her right hand. 

Pulling her hands out the long white fur, she froze at the sight of dry, unnaturally grey skin creeping up her hand and wrist. It was something she’d seen other red names experience, but never herself, and never like this. It was supposed to come all at once, not like this.

“That’s new.”

She wasn’t supposed to be red now. Scott said they were gonna be friends till the end, she couldn’t be red yet, because then he’d leave her alone in the cold with only her dog and- another loud bark, sharp nails pawing at her legs and pushing against her hands. It only broke her out of the spiral for a moment.

“Shhhh,” she tries to soothe, “shhh Ti-”

Pearl stopped, feeling hazy. There was a hearth in her chest, a shallow bed of coals that she’d doused with snow, and she knew she’d done it herself, but she didn’t expect to be so cold. Every breath was a pump of the bellows, flaring sparks through her limbs, tender bursts of adrenaline and pain, but there was no dry timber to catch. She shoved Ti- Mi- her dog out of her lap and put her head between her legs, trying not to throw up.

She stared down at the water, forcing her lungs to expand and contract. Scott would never forgive her if she suffocated them both with a panic attack. He’d deserve it for leaving her all alone here, out in the cold with only her dog for warmth. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t started pinching her arms yet, punishing her for the ticks of damage she inflicted upon him. She focused on her eyes, using the red as a beacon. There was her distorted image, overly pale skin, messy brown hair, one red eye-

She squinted, looking for the second bit of red in her reflection, but there was nothing. Pearl pulled her comm out of her pocket and turned it to selfie mode.

Oh.

She understood now why Scott was looking at her like that.

Her left eye was her normal shade of blue, but the right one was deep scarlet and drooping into an unfriendly scowl. She tried to force it into a different facial expression, but it didn’t budge. The skin around it barely moved either, totally grey and dry to the touch, and now that she was paying attention, she could recognize that it had lost a lot of feeling, same as her hand. The way it crept over her right cheek, leaving a crescent of normal skin on the left side of her face, made her shiver. 

She dropped her comm beside her and groaned. Billy was immediately up in her lap, licking at her face and doing his best to distract her.

“What am I gonna do, Billy? Scott is never gonna forgive me for going red early again. He’ll make us leave and we’ll have to go be on our own in a tower with no friends or allies and it’ll be so cold. And I can't stop it this time.”

Not that she could stop it last time, but it wasn’t so physically obvious before. Her skin wasn’t a constant physical reminder of the red bloodlust lurking below the surface.

She buried her hands back into Billy’s fur, hiding her hands in his fur. She didn’t want to be cold again. 

She told herself that again when she messaged Grian, asking for a set of gloves for the season. She didn’t want to be cold again.

The black, mid-forearm length gloves fit her perfectly. She wouldn’t be cold again.

~

She and Billy ended up crashing at BigB’s for the rest of the break, steadily avoiding the searching eyes of her other teammates for the comfort of her fellow Nosy Neighbor. Something in her untensed when faced with BigB’s quiet, unquestioning nature. When the second week had been called to a close, despite her new assurance that Scott and Cleo wouldn’t leave, and the newly developed and heated downstairs in their base, Pearl still slipped away, a wolf in the night, to the pale garden where BigB made his home.

She only briefly stopped by his face shaped house, passing through the front doors on her way to the back one. BigB appeared to be getting ready to leave already, a change of clothes and a pale moss blanket in hand.

“I’m going to the campfire, don’t come looking.”

BigB made no move to stop her or convince her to stay, just reached out to squeeze her shoulder, a form of affection that had become common to them in past seasons.

“I’ll be with your group tonight, feel free to come back whenever you're ready. I’ll see you tomorrow.” BigB’s glowing amber eyes should’ve been unsettling, but all Pearl felt was relief. He was predictable in the best way, gentle, accepting, and the exact opposite of catastrophizing. They’d worked well together, as allies and friends, for that exact reason.

The session one campfire in the pale garden was somewhere no one but BigB would expect to find her at, which made it perfect for this. She lit the campfire and settled onto the white wood seats. Billy circled around her before nosing into her right side, where he’d refused to leave. Kicking her feet up onto a pale oak log, Pearl bit the bullet and pulled off her sweatshirt and gloves. Sitting in just her tank top and shorts, puppy by her side, she began to catalogue the changes to her body.

She already knew it was bad; she’d checked her face in her comm after her second death and knew that the grey death had already begun to creep over the right side of her mouth, making it just a bit harder to express herself. But her arm-

It’s getting worse. There was no denying it. It was all the way up her elbow, creeping up the soft underside of her arm. It was moving so quickly- her next couple deaths would only make it move faster. Would it retreat if she went from yellow or red back up to green? Or would it only continue to get worse, inhibiting her movement and dulling her to pain even as a green name?

Billy pressed his nose into her side and began to lick at her exposed thigh, distracting her from racing thoughts of the future. Pearl immediately began to scratch his ears, settling him down.

“I know, I'm here. We’ll survive this. We won’t be cold again.” if she kept saying it, surely it’d be true.

She threw her jacket and gloves back on and whistled for Billy, jumping down the mountain back home. In some ways, life was so much easier when she was fully scarlet and had no one to care for but herself and Tilly, but she couldn’t be cold and alone forever.

[bisexualbrainrots]

first snippet from chapter 2! next morning at the clinic and test taking. I will always abide by suspension of disbelief with this since I know very little of healthcare.

They kept chatting in whispers until a guy, a nurse, came out calling for them, and Tommy decided to carry Scotty himself as they woke him up, receiving a lot of complaints from the child who kept rubbing his little eyes to try and desperately get them to stay open. 

The nurse, Xavier Ramos, explained to them the procedure: they would take a sample from Buck and Scotty's mouth using cotton swabs, and they all could be in the same room if they felt safer that way. They looked at each other for a few seconds and agreed to it, waiting for nurse Ramos to bring them items needed for the test.

They could've bought the home kits to take the test privately, since they were doing a personal paternity test and no legal procedures were required. However, they had been so nervous about it that they practically begged the nurse at the reception to let them take it there, and she was kind enough to get them a spot.

“Are you still okay to hold him after this long?” Buck asked as he read a pamphlet about genetic testing he had grabbed from the reception, glancing up to meet with his fiancé’s eyes.

“It’s not a problem really, Evan, I… it sort of helps that I can't keep freaking out when a seven year old is hugging me like this” he gave Scotty a soft smile, the kid had his arms wrapped around Tommy’s neck like a koala and didn't seem to want to get down.

“Six and a half”

“You won't let me forget it, don't you?” 

Buck grinned, kissing Tommy in the cheek “Not until you get it right without me reminding you” 

Tommy rolled his eyes and planted a chaste kiss on his partner's lips before explaining to Scott why he had to get his arms off his neck, just in time for the nurse to appear with the kits. The kid was turned to the other side, facing the table, receiving praises from both Ramos and Tommy while they swabbed his inner cheeks, and the cotton swabs were out, placed inside an envelope.

The same steps were taken for Buck, although the only one complimenting him was Tommy, which made the younger blush and the nurse giggle.

“Your husband's very loving Mr. Buckley” They both smiled brightly at the confusion, the word ‘husband’ feeling like music to their ears.

“I’m not his husband… yet”

“We’re engaged” Buck said proudly, a smile so big you'd think it was going to hurt his face.

Nurse Ramos’ cheeks turned a bright shade of red and he apologized for the mix up “It’s just, I mostly see married couples act the way you do, that and the rings” they all chuckled. Tommy and Buck have been compared to a married couple for so long that now that it was going to be a reality they realized they loved it when others assumed they were already one.

chapter one snippets: one, two, three

link to ao3 here

tag list!

@beanarie @crimsonwildcat-blog

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 14

🧡❤️🩶💛🚒🐦‍🔥

"So what's the plan?" Rigby jogged up alongside John.

"Here," John pressed a button at his wrist and the rock face in front of them opened; much the way a garage door might.

"Impressive," Rigby mused aloud. He let out a long, low whistle as he stepped inside.

"We need to clear a path around the pool. Jetpacks just won't cut it if we're gonna try n' stabilize One," John pointed to his brother's green Bird.

"Need me to pilot her?" Rigby's face held more than a trace of excitement.

"Oh...no, sorry," John scratched the back of his head.

"You'll be driving one of her pods. When we've cleared enough of the debris, and the villa has been stabilized; I may need you in Phoenix's carrier to help with moving One."

Rigby straightened and gave a nod.

"Time is scarce. Reports say Alan's okay, but we have a further three people in the villa who may require urgent medical attention, and I can't risk McCready's team in there until we know they have a chance at making it back out again," John sighed.

Rigby cleared his throat; his face visually construing a silent inner-debate.

"What?" John urged, then winced inwardly at his tone. Adjusting to Earth's gravity appeared to be even more wearing when fearing for your family's well being.

"You know, you can call them by name - Virgil and Gordon. We...we have your back," Rigby gave John an awkward clap on the back.

The clap echoed around the cavernous hangar.

John swallowed hard to staunch impending tears. There was a second's pause, before the astronaut stepped into his missing brother's Bird.

*. *. *.

"Knock, knock!" Parker called to signal his arrival outside of Alan's door.

"Erm...am I supposed to say who's there?" Alan's young voice came back.

" 'Oo's there? Well, hI'm glad to see that yer haven't lost your sense of humour along with yer bedroom!" Parker chuckled as he worked the lock on Alan's door.

There was a satisfying sound of the latch clicking, and the door swung open.

"Looks like you could use an 'and, Master Alan," he smiled, extending a hand.

"F-A-B-," Alan enthused, hauling himself up, and into the corridor, with Parker's help.

The teen cracked his back.

"Welp, I think I now hold the Tracy Island record for the longest pull up!"

*. *. *.

"We had to make an 'ole in Master Gordon's window to get to you. 'Fraid your brother's parking had made somewhat of a mess," Parker gestured towards Gordon's rooms.

"Didn't you teach him to drive?" Alan grinned.

"Cars, young Master Tracy, not rocket ships! And, I'll 'ave less of yer cheek! Scott might not be firin' on all cylinders at the moment, but you mark my words - I 'ave a memory like an elephant!" Parker chuckled, wagging a finger.

"You look like one too!"

"Oi!" Parker swatted at the teen as he ran.

*. *. *.

John and Rigby had made light work of clearing the debris surrounding the villa, and the structure was stabilised enough for a team to head up to help locate Virgil, Grandma, and Gordon.

"HELLO? VIRG? GRANDMA? GORD-"

"-OVER HERE!" Gordon hammered a small rock against a metal support beam.

The team tentatively picked their way over splintered floorboards and around mounds of rock that lay strewn across what was left of the comms room.

"Allie, is that you?"

"The one and only! I've brought some friends with me. Didn't wanna hog all the glory, y'know?"

"Phoenix?"

"Yup!"

Jonesy took a step closer, with a small hydraulic whine from the suit.

"Jonesy?"

"S'up Gords? I like what you've done with the place. You're kinda lacking in the door department though."

"Well y'know what Virgil always says; if you can't find a door, make one!" Gordon called from behind the fallen rocks.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"WAIT!" Tycho was almost pulled forwards into the rock face as he tried to stall Jonesy's suited arm.

"The structure's too unstable. Any attempt to move these boulders risks the whole lot coming down on top of Gordon," Tycho gesticulated wildly.

"Yeah, let's not do that." Gordon deadpanned.

"So what's the plan?" Jonesy couldn't deny that the thrill of using the exosuit had him itching to use his new superpower again. Two tonne boulder? No problem! He'd just shifted it like....kapow!

Tycho dragged his hands down his face as he thought.

"Hmm...we need to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Right here, we can only see half of the puzzle." Tycho pensively ran a hand down the largest boulder.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jonesy was under the distinct impression that Tycho wasn't referencing the exosuit.

"I think I have just the thing!"

The scientist bent down and unfastened the clasps of a small metal case he'd carried down from the carrier.

"Jonesy, meet Mini Max.”