#i'm already buzzin for this

[giveafike]

One where Jude and his girlfriend/wife go for a swim and she‘s scared? Thanks!

TLDR: Wife!reader x JudeBellingham on holidays, but he doesn't know about your fears.

Word count + info: 2.3k! Blurb! Tiny bit of Spanish incorporated, some dialogue too : )

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Mention of Thalassophobia + a panic attack, if that is a trigger, proceed w caution!! Otherwise, nothing more : ).

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! First ever Jude ask here! I'm sorry it took me a while to get around to this req, anon! I hope I did it justice for you, I was struggling with writer's block for this prompt for some time, thinking how to flesh it out.

Also, I made a twitter ( @azziegivesafike !!) Feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

————————————————————————

Waves - J.B.

The sun hung high and lazily over the quiet Mediterranean countryside, casting long shadows on the rolling hills of olive trees and wildflowers. You and Jude had stolen away from the world, far from the roars and pressures, to a little coastal town where time felt like it had slowed down and life felt more gentle. Jude’s off-season was sacred, a time for just the two of you, to reconnect without the distractions of football, press, and the ever-present hum of expectations. No obligations. No noise. Just love.

It wasn’t out of character for Jude to plan some sort of surprise during your time together. Sometimes it was a romantic dinner; other times, it was a helicopter ride over a city. But this time, he had gone a step further, maybe even a step in the wrong direction.

You walked hand in hand down to the dock, the scent of saltwater thick in the air. Jude was rambling on, his voice bright with excitement. He had planned a surprise: a yacht, just for you two, to spend the day on the open sea. His voice lilted with that familiar Birmingham cadence, thick and warm like the breeze that carried your laughter.

“I’m tellin’ ya,” he said, his eyes glimmering as he spoke. “Pre-season training camp’s gonna be intense, but I’m already buzzin’ for it. New lads seem sound, and we’ve got a proper chance at the title this year.” His hand squeezed yours as you neared the marina, the glint of the water stretching endlessly ahead. “But none of that matters now. Today, it’s just you and me.”

You smiled at him weakly, though your heart had already started its familiar, uneasy thud in your chest. The yacht, sleek and pristine, bobbed gently on the water. All you could see was the endless expanse of ocean beyond, that shimmering surface stretching far beyond the horizon.

You had been trying to get better, to be better, to manage your fear. But this was a step far out of your comfort zone. You're not really sure what or when your fear of water had really sunk into you but all you could remember was that prickly, hot, sickly feeling when you stood near a deep pool or saw videos of massive waves engulfing everything around it. The anxiety is all too familiar, the numbness in your body taking over each time.

With Jude, you’d started dipping your feet into pools, sometimes even wading up to your hips, standing at the shallow end of Jude’s villa pool in Spain. But that had taken everything, deep breaths, quiet pep talks, and the promise that you were safe. It made you feel awful seeing Jude splash around, wide-smiled and unafraid, while you sat by, fearing you might accidentally fall into the pool if you dangled too far in. You felt as though you might even hold him back in that sense. You had convinced yourself that in this bubble with Jude and his quiet and still pool, you were secure and okay.

But here, staring at the open sea, none of that safety was present. Still, Jude’s excitement was infectious, his beaming smile too bright to dim with your fears, his big brown eyes shining. You bit your lip, your fingers twitching in his as your pulse began to race.

Jude caught up in his excitement had barely noticed. He was a great husband, always attentive but his excitement overcame was overcoming all his senses and thoughts.

“Just wait ‘til we’re out there,” he said as you boarded the yacht, the sun catching the sea in dazzling shards of light. “You’ll love it. The water’s clear, you can see the coral and fish. It’s so perfect. No one or nothing around, just us.”

You stepped aboard, the fabric of your sundress flowing in the salty breeze, trying to focus on his voice, his plans for the afternoon, his talk of peace and quiet. But as the boat moved further from the dock, the tether to the land slipped further from view, replaced by the endless, glassy water that stretched on all sides. The small town grew minuscule in the distance as if it was swallowed entirely by the rippling waves.

The boat stopped near a small private swimming spot, the crystal-clear water below revealing hints of vibrant coral and fish darting below the surface. You could see Jude’s eyes light up as he gazed down at the water, his joy palpable. He blabbered on about all sorts of fish he could see, how quick they were, how clear the water was; all of it wasted on your deaf ears as you tried to slow your breathing for the umpteenth time. You could barely nod along, but your heart now thundered in your chest, trying desperately to ground yourself in the conversation.

“Uh-huh, and what’s the coral like? Pretty?” you forced out, voice thin and tight.

Jude grinned, already pulling off his shirt, his skin gleaming in the sunlight. “Yeah, proper beautiful down there. You’ve gotta come in with me, babe. You’ll love it.” He gestured to the water as he stood on the edge of the boat, his excitement undiminished. “Look how clear it is!”

You gently rose and glanced down at the water, the clarity revealing the depths below, a whole world of coral, fish, and sand. Your breath caught.

How far down does it go? What’s lurking beyond what you can see?

The distance between you and the ocean floor felt infinite as you stood a few steps from the edge, a chasm of the unknown. You tried to distract yourself, to hold onto the sound of Jude’s voice.

“I think I’ll stay here,” you called back, your voice small, like it might shatter if you pushed too hard. “I’m good on the boat.”

But Jude had already dived in, his sleek form cutting through the water, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing with a joyful whoop. He tread water effortlessly, his laughter echoing across the calm sea. “Babe, you’ve gotta feel this, it’s like bathwater! Perfect day for a swim!”

Your stomach churned as you watched him, so comfortable in a place that made you feel so small. The water cradled him, bright and blue and endless, while you stood on the deck, now tiptoeing towards the edge, gripping the railing like it was your last anchor to safety. Your knuckles were white and your hands clammy as you peered down. The gentle sway of the boat beneath your feet seemed to pull you toward the water, a slow, inevitable tug that made your head spin. It was almost as though it was mocking you, the waves teasing you, the fish swimming in hypnotic patterns to try to pull you to them, the gentle waves hitting the boat as a threat; it was far too much stimulation.

Your thoughts became your enemies. That clear water, once serene, now felt like a mouth, gaping wide, ready to swallow you whole.

It’s so deep. The ground’s gone. You’re so far from land.

You tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the warmth of the sun, the distant cry of a seagull. But the waves inside your head began to build, crashing over your mind in relentless surges.

Your pulse skyrocketed, your heart pounding like a drum inside your chest, each beat louder, more frantic. Your breath quickened, short, gasping. The air around you thinned, each inhale shallower than the last. You felt that bundle of knots twisting painfully, feeling sickly and disgusting inside, the feeling of sweat prickling against your skin, tears burning your eyes. The sounds around you went mute as your ears rung loud; you knew full well what was coming.

The boat, once a place of peace, now felt like it was moving beneath you, rocking harder, tipping you toward the water. Your grip on the railing tightened, your knuckles bone white, but the world blurred as though the sun itself had turned against you. It was too bright. The horizon was too far. Everything spun as if the boat was dissolving into the sea.

“Jude...” The word barely left your throat, choking on the tightness that had coiled around your chest. When you moved, your legs gave way, useless, wobbling like they no longer belonged to you.

You’re going to fall if you stay standing here. You’re going to drown.

Panic seized you.

It crashed into you like a tidal wave, slamming you against the rail, knocking the breath from your lungs. You staggered, your knees giving out, collapsing onto the deck, falling onto the small step rather than off the boat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air that wouldn’t come, the world shrinking to nothing but the wild, frantic roar inside your own head. The sensation was like drowning, without ever touching the water. You crawled and wobbled to the sunbed, digging your nails as you landed your hands on it. Your limbs were heavy and useless like they were trapped under an invisible current, the weight of it pulling you under.

Your cries felt muffled, swallowed by the sea of your mind. The world spun violently. Your vision blurred, darkening at the edges as your throat burned, air refusing to fill your lungs. The boat swayed, or maybe it was just you, thrown again and again against an invisible tide, your body curling in on itself. Your hair stuck to your face, tangled, distorting your vision as if the water had already risen up to surround you. You could feel it, cold, wet, suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Your limbs felt like dead weight, too heavy to move, too weak to fight.

You were drowning. Drowning on dry land.

The harder you fought to breathe, the more your chest constricted, the pressure unbearable, your vision narrowing to nothing but the dark tunnel in front of you. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe. The sound of your own gasps filled your ears, and the world dissolved into nothing but the relentless, terrifying roar of the panic gripping you.

Jude’s laughter stopped, his voice barely piercing through.

“Babe?”

His voice felt so distant, a muffled echo in the chaos of your mind. You barely registered the splash of water as he pulled himself back onto the boat, the pounding of his footsteps as he rushed toward you.

“Hey, hey, love, I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with the warmth you desperately needed. His voice, once carefree, was now a steady anchor in the storm thrashing through you. He wiped away the tears you hadn’t even realised were falling, his thumb brushing your skin with gentle strokes.

“Shh, it’s okay, cariño. You’re okay. Breathe with me, yeah? Just breathe.” His forehead pressed gently against yours, grounding you, bringing you back to something real.

Your lungs ached, your chest still tight, but you fought to follow his words.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You struggled to match the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. His chest rose and fell against yours, a steady, calming presence. Slowly, painfully, your breath began to slow, the sobs leaving your mouth, the grip around your lungs loosening little by little.

“Eso es, my love,” he murmured, his lips brushing soft kisses across your forehead, through your hair. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.” His hands stayed steady on your face, never leaving, his voice a constant, unwavering presence, pulling you back from the edge. He swept your hair back, away from your face, rubbing circles on your back.

“I-I didn’t know that you were scared of- well I-,” he whispered, the guilt heavy in his voice. “I wish I had known. I should’ve known. God, I would never put you through something like this,” His voice cracked, and he hugged her tightly, pulling her against him, his arms wrapping around her like a shield. “I didn’t see it. I really didn't know. I’m so sorry, cariño. I should’ve seen it.”

She let out a shaky breath, her body still trembling, but the worst of the panic had ebbed, her head resting against his shoulder, safe in the circle of his arms. She could feel the regret and sadness in every breath he took, his chest rising and falling with the weight of it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I never knew how...” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to ruin it for you, you were so excited, Jude.”

“You could never ruin anything for me,” he said softly, his lips brushing her temple. “Never. If I’d known, I would’ve never brought you out here, love. I’m such an idiot.” He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tighter. “I should’ve realised. I was too caught up in everything…”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, her breathing finally steady, the calm returning as she clung to him, his solid, comforting presence pulling her back to herself. He kept whispering soft reassurances, holding her close until the panic had all but faded, replaced with the warmth of his embrace.

After a while, Jude pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and spoke softly. “I’m taking us back to land. Somewhere small, quiet, just us. Somewhere with your feet on solid ground, yeah?”

She nodded, breaking a small smile while tears still clung to her lashes, but she felt safe. “Somewhere dry would be nice.”

He smiled, kissing her one last time before getting up. “No more surprises, I promise. There's a little village close by, waiting for just the two of us.”

As the yacht turned back toward land, the pier coming into view in the distance, she knew that with Jude by her side, she could face anything.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚂

description: in which lucy bronze and the england captain feel like four years is long enough to hide a relationship especially since they have just won the euros

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Lucy Bronze x female reader

this is all fiction!

warnings: fluff, a 4 year age gap and sarcastic lucy and reader

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

liked by, leahwilliamsonn, mbrighty04, and 439, 222 others

tagged lionesses, lucybronze, leahwilliamsonn, Lj10, mbrighty04, bethmead_ and 18 others

y/n It's set in now. Five days later, and it has set in.

This team, these girls, this journey has been nothing short of amazing, determined and fantastic, I have been so incredibly lucky to be able to be a part of it.

Thank you England,

Thank you football,

Thank you Lionesses.

And I'll tell you what?

The kids are alright x

view 5098 comments

username1: SO EXCITED TO HAVE YOU BACK IN BARCA!!!❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

username2: I'm crying omg 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username3: best england captain EVER ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

leahwilliamsonn: Such a sap, but the best captain we could have asked for ! ❤️

^

y/n: Couldn't have done it without my best friend/vice captain holding me up! ❤️

lucybronze: <3

^

y/n: <3

keirawalsh: I will never get over you and Sarina cutting your wedding cake ... 😭🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

^

y/n: shoulda seen the proposal ;) 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

stanwaygeorgia: I'm still crying at your dance moves in the locker room 😂😭

^

mbrighty04: fucking decked herself 😂😂😂

^

racheldaly3: just laid there for a sec too. 😂😂😂

^

1maryearps: "I'm okay, just tired of how life hates me" - y/n after just winning the euros 2022 and decking herself in the locker room. 😂

^

username4: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH

jillscottjs8: Still crying even now !

^

y/n: the look on your face was worth any pain we went through! xx

alessiarusso99: Just Buzzin' ❤️

^

y/n: Buzzin man

^

ellatoone: just buzzin dude

^

alessiarusso99: hate you both sm smh! 🙄

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lucybronze just posted

liked by, keirawalsh, marialeonn16, and 209, 218 others

lucybronze back to Barca!

view all 2098 comments

username1: ayyyyyyyy!!! VAMOS BARCA!!! ❤️💙❤️💙

username2: SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU BACK IN BLUE AND RED 💙❤️💙❤️

username3: ArE YOU DATING Y/N!!

^

username4: I think they're just friends! 🤷‍♀️

^

username5: NA they are dating! They live together!

^

username6: AND? people can live together without dating

^

username7: EYES DON'T LIE 😩

keirawalsh: lovely picture of me there, thanks!

^

lucybronze: welcome mate! 😁

y/n: that photo of me, really?

^

lucybronze: had to give the fans something to thirst over 👍

^

y/n: i hate you sm 🙄

marialeonn16: happy to have you back! ❤️💙

see more comments…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lucybronze just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

twitter/X

y/n.bronze: Here is a thread of instances which confirm that Lucy and y/n are together in my mind - the bottom of the thread is where it gets good!

How Lucy looked at her during the post match interview after beating Spain??? Like, her eyes were literally heart shaped??? I want that!

When y/n was knocked over during the Sweden game and Lucy didn't even hesitate to square up, her face was so worried, and she only stopped when y/n GRABBED HER HAND?!

Ellie, in a livestream for City YESTERDAY saying that she would stay with Lucy and y/n, confirming they live together - which we already thought!

Then going on to say they have a spare room - even though Lucy has said multiple times she lives in a two bed apartment and y/n has never said anything about her 'place'!

The fact when y/n scored in the Sweden game she ran at Lucy first??? AND JUMPED ON HER

The fact y/n left ARSENAL - her childhood team - to go play for Barca only months after Lucy had and she even admitted in an interview LUCY WAS A BIG PART OF THAT DECISION

when Lucy called y/n in an interview the other day and she answered with 'hi my love???' LIKE????

THE FACT THAT THE MOST RECENT BARCA TRAINING PHOTO Y/N HAS LUCY'S TRAINING TOP ON - AND WHEN KEIRA NOTICED SHE MOVED SLIGHTLY TO PLACE HERSELF IN FRONT OF THE NUMBER SO THE CAMERA COULDN'T SEEE

^

fr I need friends that dedicated to hiding my relationship

LASTLY - the fact they went on holiday together after the euros after Ibiza, and the photos ... the PHOTOS

okay, I'm done, they're soooo dating, thank you.

^

username1: omg this is so good!

username2: ELLIE SAID WHAT?

username3: omg this is Sherlock level of deduction ability

username4: THE PHOTOS???????? IS THAT THEM

^

y/n.bronze: 'rumoured' to be - but look at the hair! It is SOOOOO y/n!

username5: nahhh Wonze for life!

^

username6: how can you read all of that and still pick the wrong answer?!

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lucybronze just posted

liked by, keirawalsh, leahwilliamsonn and 321, 111 others

lucybronze sunshine in my life, even when the sky is dark...

comments limited

alessiarusso99: her body looks so good here omg 😭😭

ellatoone: 😏😏

mbrighty04: this feels illegal omg 😳

^

racheldaly3: TELL ME ABOUT IT

y/n: 😶

leahwilliamsonn: heheh 🙂

Lj10: this is sweet :)

keirawalsh: sunshine and hair goals apparently 😚

stanwaygeorgia: hmmmm 😌

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

twitter/X

y/n.bronze: OMG LUCY'S NEW POST - IS THIS CONFIRMATION???

^

username1: AND ALL THE TEAMS COMMENTS???

^

username2: the caption? the photo? the comments? the lack of tag?

^

username3: they have to be together?

^

username4: SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH

y/n.bronze: THE NEW TATTOO! IT IS A STRAWBERRY ON HER SHOULDER - lucy uses the strawberry emoji allllll the time!

^

username5: it has to mean something!

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

liked by, lionesses, leahwilliamsonn, and 498, 399 others

tagged lucybronze

y/n idk what you guys are on about - we're just friends ??

view all 5183 comments

lucybronze: I know right?

username1: UMMMM? 🧐🧐🧐🧐

username2: went from soft launch to MAYBE HARD LAUNCH realll quick?

username3: but like this makes me feel as if they aren't dating?! And that this is just a joke !

^

username4: yeah this feels like they are laughing at the rumours

keirawalsh: two besties, that's all I see

^

y/n: I know, how odd ! 😁

alessiarusso99: it is weird!

^

marialeonn16: I agree! So obvious!

^

ellatoone: SAME!

leahwilliamsonn: I thought it was so obvious as well.

^

lucybronze: People loveeeee to talk ig 🤷‍♀️

username5: I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE 🥲

y/n.bronze: okay, this has thrown even me off I won't lie!

^

username5: maybe we were wrong?

^

y/n.bronze: I really didn't think so tho ...

alexiaputellas: clearly just amigas 🤷‍♀️

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lucybronze just posted

liked by alexiaputellas, mbrighty04, and 207, 388 others

tagged y/n

lucy.bronze Happy four years 'best friend' ;) xx

comments disabled

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

liked by, keirawalsh, leahwilliamsonn and 409, 281 others

tagged lucybronze

y/n Four years of the best 'friendship' I could have asked for xox

comments disabled

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

twitter/X

y/n.bronze: FUCK ALL OF YOU - I WAS RIGHT

^

username1: 4 years ... 4 goddamn years

^

y/n.bronze: I KNEW IT - I FUCKING KNEW IT !

^

y/n: that you did :)

^

y/n.bronze: omg

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END

okay really did enjoy this one - (hope this is what the anon wanted) the amount of Lucy Bronze content and fics I have queued is kinda worrying but I have been a fan of Lucy since she played for SUNDERLAND

which is insane that's a bit too long really

my gay ass

but I am a die hard West Ham Fan and a Sunderland fan (due to my best friend WEST HAM TIL I DIE FORST AND FUCKING FOREMOST) - I know, it is hard - so it is insane how long I have been a fan of her but I reallyyyyy enjoyed writing this and I enjoy writing these actually.

When I originally started drafting these they were just for myself and when I posted LJ's I thought no one would really see it - so to have people be so kind and so happy to request has really made my smile!

So thank you for your support! And more incoming!

Love

Queenie xo

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

[areyouwell]

Memento Mori

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Violence, slight body horror

Word Count: 8.1K

A/N: Took me long enough. New long-fic comin' in from the left! i know i teased this around three weeks ago (ish) but here's chapter one. not sure this is gonna be as long as Phobophobia but i'm really excited about this one. it's a little darker (yeah i know) but i already love this MC. if anyone wants tagging in this pls lmk, i don't wanna assume everyone who i tagged in Phobophobia wants to be tagged again so i'll start a new list <3

Dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

“So, as detailed here, there have been a string of these… murders, I suppose.”

Logan sighed heavily. When he woke up this morning, the one thing he didn’t expect was to be called into Charles Xavier’s office so soon after having breakfast, let alone be greeted with grainy photographs of some of the most horrific murder scenes he’d ever had the displeasure of looking at. Entrails, bones, flesh, eyes. None of it was where it should be, which most of the time, seemed scattered around the floor rather than attached to whichever poor, unfortunate soul who’d had the shitty luck of running into their silent assassin. Charles pointed the telescopic stick towards the mangled jacket of one of the equally mangled victims. Logan couldn’t even tell what gender they were, their face nothing but a bloody pulp.

Almost as if it had been exploded from the inside out. 

“This symbol here is the only string that connects the murders, and after doing a little digging,” he nodded thankfully to Ororo, her white hair bobbing with her dip of acknowledgement. “We found they all belonged to the same company, here.” With a click of the remote in his hands, the projection flipped to the next slide, a map of San Fransisco, a large red circle drawn around a location Logan was only somewhat familiar with, only because he’d walked past it a few times. 

“It’s a warehouse,” he offered, several heads turning to look at him. “I’ve walked ‘round there couple times. Nothin’ special, s’always buzzin’ with life.” He shrugged thoughtfully, tugging a cigar from his jacket pocket and flicking the Zippo lighter open and shut with his other hand. Charles gave him a slightly irritated look, but he pretended not to notice.”So… What? Our killer’s just popping caps in the head’s underpaid workers? Doesn’t make much sense.” 

“That’s what we thought too,” Ororo continued, placing down a few pieces of paper and spreading them about the table. “Until we started to notice a pattern. They’ve been picking off specific shift workers, mainly those on the late shift. But it’s never new members of staff either. Always those who’ve worked there for at least two years. Lately, their security has increased, but once they leave work, they’re basically on their own.” Storm took the remote from Charles and clicked to the next slide, a list of names and hours flaring onto the screen, the names of victims having been crossed out, though their hours were still visible on the row of the rota.

“Ya don’t think this has anything to do with that orphanage incident, do you?” Kitty piped up, cupping her mug of tea in both hands, either for comfort or for warmth, Logan couldn’t tell. She had a good point. It must have been around a month ago now. A fire had started downtown in the dead of night. Officials had said it was a discarded cigarette from one of the employees, but that didn’t explain why all the windows and doors had been locked.

Everyone within burned. Children included. 

“It’s certainly a theory…” Scott mused, rubbing his hand against his jaw in thought. “A terrible accident sounded far too much like a cover story. Think this killer had something to do with it?”

Charles sighed heavily. “Ordinarily, yes, I’d have some kind of suspicion, if it wasn’t for the fact our killer was elsewhere at the time.” He nodded to Ororo, who clicked the remote once again. “This was taken not an hour beforehand, on the other side of the city. Unless the killer can teleport, there’s no way they could have made it across town in such a short amount of time, let alone take all the precautions and set alight to the building. Though I do not believe it was merely a terrible accident, I don’t believe they had anything to do with it.” Charles finished before Ororo leant over the pages she’d spread on the table, spinning one to face the rest of the team.

“Though we do have this. A pattern of all the attacks and locations,” Logan stood up to skirt around the table, standing between Kitty and Marie as he inspected the red pen. With every X, the attacks almost formed an exact circle around the warehouse, almost as if the killer could predict which ways those victims would take home. Especially after the first attack. “We think the next one will happen here,” Ororo pointed to a side street far between the locations either side. “The most recent one being here, it’s logical to think they’d take the opposite side. At least, that’s what we’re hoping…” She trailed off, and Logan returned to his seat, having an idea as to what this meeting was actually about.

“You want us to lay a trap, right? Trail several employees home and jump in before Killer McGee can get their hands on ‘em.” He clarified, and Charles nodded a little too darkly for his liking. 

“Exactly. Which is why I won’t be asking you all on this mission. We need to avoid detection and sending all of us would be too much of a risk. Whoever this is, we must assume they’re a mutant. These attacks happen quickly and viciously, and to cause such damage in such a short amount of time, we must assume they possess some sort of ability.

“Scott, Ororo and Logan, I trust you can handle this task? I will be in Cerebro with Jean on hand, and the rest I want you on standby in the Blackbird in case backup is required.”

“Wait, we’re doing this tonight?” Marie squeaked, casting a wary glance to Kitty who returned her expression. Logan was relieved neither of them would be actively on the mission, he’d come to care for them both deeply, and whilst that didn’t mean he didn’t care for either Ororo or, though he’d never admit it, Scott, he was glad the two girls would be on standby rather than active duty.

“The attacks seem random, as if they flipped a coin to see if they would head out each night, but when you look closer, they’re only on the days the older members of staff are on shift. We think they’re looking for something, or someone, specific.” Ororo explained, pointing back to the projection on the screen. “These three here have been working at this specific warehouse for three, four and seven years respectably,” she clicked the remote again for each of their work ID cards to flash onto the screen. “Scott, you’re tailing Alec,” she gestured to the string bean of a man, blonde hair styled into several spikes atop his head, two silver snakebite piercings adorned his lower lip.  

“Logan, you’ve got Manuel, he’s been there for four years,” Logan didn’t think they could have found such a different-looking guy to the previous one if they fucking tried. Manuel was built like a brick shit house, a buzzcut of dark hair dusted the top of his otherwise bald head, ears like fucking cauliflowers. Of course, that’s who he’d be tailing, probably because a punch from this guy would send anyone else across the damn room. 

“And I’ll be tailing Henry, he works in the office upstairs but is still very much a likely target. We’re hoping to locate and pin down the killer before their shifts even finish, but in the eventuality The Professor can’t get a lock on them, this is the backup plan. Got it?”

Both Logan and Scott nodded in unison. It didn’t seem too much of a problem mission if this killer was cowardly enough to be picking these guys off one by one, he didn’t think they had much in terms of fighting prowess. Taking an enemy by surprise was the coward’s way out, in his opinion, though he supposed not everybody could heal the way he could. 

And taking this killer by surprise was exactly the plan…

Maybe he should rethink his principles. 

“Be suited up and ready to head out at ten. Gives us at least an hour to locate and set up.” Ororo gathered the papers on the table, tapping the small stack against the surface before tucking them beneath her arm. “Right, I’ve got a class to teach, pretty sure you do too, Professor.” She turned to Charles who simply smiled and nodded, ending the meeting just like that. With a huff and a stretch, Logan stood from his seat, instantly reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a thick cigar, earning himself a sharp look of disapproval from Xavier, the Professor glancing pointedly to the chilly air beyond the window. Logan knew what he was saying, and usually, he’d tell him to go fuck himself and smoke indoors. But he needed a breath of fresh air after that stuffy, slightly nauseating meeting, and if he could kill two birds with one stone, why wouldn’t he?

With an acquiescing shrug, he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning on his heel to stalk from the boardroom, shoving the door open with his shoulder and almost walking chest first into Jean. His heart skipped a beat or three, lips pulling up into a small smirk to hide the fact he was borderline giddy to be running into her outside the meeting. She’d been the object of his affection ever since he was brought to the mansion and she checked his vitals. He couldn’t help it. There was just something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that drew him to her the instant he was in her presence. He didn’t find himself thinking of her much outside their interactions, but when they were in the same room, all he could think about was her. It would be frustrating if he cared about anything said in those meetings. 

“Watin’ f’me now are ya?” He teased lowly, savouring the way her lips pursed to stop herself from smiling. There were times Logan thought she felt the same magnetic pull toward him that he felt toward her, times like this, where she didn’t look away from his gaze, and entertained his relentless teasing. 

“You know Scott’s still in there. We have plans,” she responded, feigning an attempt to look past him and back into the room where Scott was discussing various strategies with the Professor. Logan raised a brow as he followed her wavering line of sight, keeping that brow raised as he looked back at her. 

“Plans? Hope you don’t mean dinner, doesn’t look like he’ll be out anytime soon.” If she could just see how terrible Scott was for her. If he could just make her see how he would be so much better. Would suit her better. Would take care of her better. He wasn’t willing to change for many people, but if Jean asked, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d change himself for her.

“Yes, Logan, dinner plans before the mission. And you know this is a tradition because you comment on it every time.” She huffed, her hair bobbing slightly with every emphatic move of her head. Logan chuckled lightly, his eyes briefly glancing from her gaze to her lips, how perfect they looked, and how perfect they would look wrapped around his–

“Then we both have our little traditions, don’t we? C’mon, doll. Why don’t we stop this dance?” His fingers curled through a strand of her hair, feeling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Haven’t I shown ya I can be the good guy?”

Jean sighed, and Logan half expected her to move away, but instead, she just closed her eyes, shaking her head softly. Was she mournful? Disappointed? It was hard to tell. 

“Logan, I don’t–”

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Scott’s voice slashed through the charged atmosphere between them, and Logan found his hand falling away from Jean’s hair almost instantly. 

“We were jus’ talkin’, Scotty.” Logan shot back, trying to keep the defence from his voice. There was no need to let Scott know just how irritated the interruption made him feel.

“Yeah, like hell you were. Back off, Logan. I don’t wanna have to tell you again.” Placing his arm around Jean’s shoulders, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way she shrank slightly, looking almost humiliated. He tensed his jaw. If she hated Scott’s attention this much, she knew what he had to do. Logan didn’t know how much more obvious he could make his interest in her. All she needed to do was take the leap. “Yeah yeah, ‘stay away from my girl’, I know.” He mocked, sending Jean a wink before continuing on his path to the courtyard. Now he really fucking needed that cigar.

The city was so pretty in the twilight. Silhouetted buildings scattered with twinkling lights against a deep blue sky, it almost made up for the lack of stars. And there was nothing like watching the city skyline descend into darkness that had you more prepared than ever for your latest chosen victim. You hadn’t learned nearly as much as you should have by now, nobody you’d tortured knew anything about what you were looking for and it was starting to piss you off. But you didn’t bury those feelings. Instead, you harnessed them. Used your frustration to your advantage and honed yourself like a forged weapon. Every burn of urgent irritation sharpened your slices, focused your fileting, and pinpointed your precision. 

For the greater good, you reminded yourself as your watch beeped ten, and you spun the small knife in your palm before sheathing it in your boot. Your specific target of the night finished early every other week on Thursdays, hence your change in schedule today. In fact, a good few of them did. You assumed it had something to do with specific shipments on the warehouse floor but you didn’t bother yourself with the details. You knew his schedule now. You’d been watching for weeks. And you had every single detail of his various ways home. He was a bus-taker. Though, to avoid you, he’d been taking different numbered busses to other parts of town, before heading home. But the moron used the same three in rotation. There was no cause to wonder why he worked in a warehouse…

Although you had a good feeling about this one. You’d already scored one victim of the night, who was currently unconscious in your chosen location. You were one hundred per cent sure he knew what you were looking for, and you had a fantastic feeling about this one too.

Standing from where you’d been lounging against a rooftop balcony, you stretched your arms high above your head, listening to your bones and joints crack slightly before securing the steel mask over your features, cursing the phantoms of your past for providing you with such memorable makeup, and, shrugging the hood of your short-sleeved jacket over your head. Your hands dipped into the various sheathed across your waist, double checking the various blades in your belt. You were thankful you never needed to go through any kind of metal detector, because it would likely take you the rest of the night to remove every weapon dotted about your body, from the little holsters on your biceps to the sheathes in your boots, to the retractable blades in the bracers on your wrists. A wise woman once said you can never have too many knives.

A phrase you really should copyright before anyone else claims it. 

Five past ten. Go time. Taking a few steps back, you broke into a sprightly run, leaping like a dexterous cat across the rooftops, every step measured in surety. You’d done this too many times to start second-guessing yourself now, and it wasn’t like you were a stranger to the city’s rooftops and sketchy alleyways before you started doing this. With little effort, you crossed blocks in a matter of moments, skipping over crowds and traffic like it was child’s play before you landed with a deft roll above the side street tonight’s victim would take in a matter of five minutes. 

Like you said. Child’s play

You crouched low, removing the serrated knife from your belt, and flicking it in your palm over and over. It was a habit you’d developed when waiting in anticipation for something. It kept your hands occupied whilst your mind focused on the events to come, picturing exactly how you wanted things to play out. It was difficult. Capturing and torturing these assholes was like shooting fish in a barrel. 

“Fourth clear, no signs of our guy.”

You ducked low on the rooftop, an unpredicted obstacle walking into view wearing some shitty leather getup, fingers delicately perched at the side of his horizontal glasses. Though they weren’t exactly glasses. How would you describe it? Eye-guard? Some weird single glass as opposed to glasses? Whatever the fuck they were, you didn’t exactly want to find out what they did. He was holding them as if they were some kind of weapon. 

Shit, this really wasn’t good. If he didn’t move on now, you’d have to take him out and risk alerting your victim to your presence. Fuck, fuck and fuck again. And just as luck would have it, Alec appeared at the other end of the alleyway, nervously looking about before entering hurriedly. People didn’t watch enough movies. Did they really not know that entering dark alleyways with a killer on the loose was practically the same as signing your own death certificate? In any case, this actually worked in your favour. With Mr Visor patrolling the other end, you sliced open your hand, your blood humming as you pulled it from your veins to wrap around the metal drainage pipe before you swung off the rooftop, the crimson rope twisting and writhing as if it were alive as you descended, landing quietly a few paces behind him.

Now, if he wasn’t on such high alert, he would have most likely chalked the slight thud of your landing to the sound of a street cat, or perhaps a fox. But the way Alec jumped with a yelp, staggering as he turned to face you, didn’t exactly scream discreet. You held your hand up in front of you, contorting your fingers as your mutation felt for his pulse, slowing down the blood flow in his veins as quickly as you could. Not fast enough, a strangled yell flew from his now pale lips, and you swore viciously as your latest obstacle jogged back into view between the alleyway’s walls. 

“Shit, HE’S HERE!” He called to nobody you could see, and you barely had time to duck before a searing red beam of pure energy shot above your head, illuminating the dingy street in the crimson glow. You thought it slightly ironic, as your knife slashed through the palm of your hand, the colour of his mutation and who he was up against. Curving your arm in a wide arc, you manipulated your own blood cells into a wide blade, propelling it forward whilst you took a few steps toward your now collapsed victim. With Glasses now distracted by what you assumed was him discovering your own mutation, you felt around his veins for his heartbeat, tracing the blood flow back until you found the source, and you poured all your energy into slowing that one too. 

“He can manip… manipulate bl… blood.” Once again he spoke aloud to nobody you could sense, his knees giving out before he crashed to the floor. You huffed out a breath, fishing a small bandage from the pouch on your belt before wrapping up your hand and pulling the tie tight with your teeth. The one thing you found frustrating about your mutation was your inability to heal. How fucking helpful that would be, if every time you had to slash yourself open, you could just reseal the wound? Instead of running the risk of bleeding out. But you guessed everything had its drawbacks. Even blood manipulation. 

You bent to pick up Alec’s ankles, dragging him a few feet back the way he came, before you stopped, and looked back to the unconscious mutant at the alley’s mouth. You should kill him. Things would be easier if you did. And so, dropping your victim’s feet without much care, you strode over, finding a small gap in the wrappings around your palm, you extended a small spear from your flesh with the intention of jabbing it through his head and silencing what he saw here forever. 

But there were little voices calling out from a small earpiece nestled in his ear canal. You tilted your head, plucking the bud from the side of his head and holding it up to your own ear.

“Scott? Scott can you hear us?!”

“We’re tracking your location, hang tight!”

“I’m en route, stay alive asshole.”

A kaleidoscope of voices blended together, though the last one had you dropping the earpiece and crushing it with the heel of your boot. Someone was coming. A big someone. Someone whose voice you really hoped didn’t match his body. 

You should kill him. You really should kill this Scott guy, but something about the concern and fierce loyalty of those in the earpiece stopped you. This man was loved. He was cared for. Most of your victims didn’t have anyone. No family, very little friends, and all with some kind of penchant for criminal activity. Alec, for example, was finding himself becoming a little too familiar with the gates of a primary school. The more you watched him, the more you found yourself utterly repulsed by the way he would try and get the attention of those kids. Those children. 

But Scott had people who would care if he died. And so you let him be, pulling and pushing him upright against the wall before jogging back over to your actual victim and resuming your strained attempts to drag him off to your chosen location for the night. 

An ancient, local church, ironically enough. 

Logan raced through the streets, across busy roads and through closed parks, leaping over fences and gates effortlessly. He knew Scott’s location, Jean begging him over coms to do what he could. He was still alive, The Professor could sense it, but how the mission had immediately gone south, he had no idea. But at least Scott was still alive. At least, he was for now. 

“SCOTT!” He called, slowing his steps as he closed in on his location, his claws sliding from his knuckles. The metallic scent of blood flooded his senses, but it wasn’t Scott’s. He knew what Scott’s blood smelled like, having punched him in the nose a few times for the scent to be memorable. No, this blood was new, unfamiliar, and reeked of mutation. Which he supposed made sense.

Blood manipulator. That was the last thing Scott had said before he fell silent and before his channel died completely. And stalking up to the mouth of the alleyway, he could see why. Scott’s earpiece lay crushed on the concrete, little pieces scattered across the floor. Peering into the alleyway, Logan’s heart raced as his eyes cut through the darkness to find Scott himself lying slumped against the wall, his head hanging low. Logan bent to one knee, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel his slow yet strong pulse. The same pulse that would be associated with someone unconscious. But there was no head wound. Nothing to indicate he’d been completely knocked out. 

“Is he–” 

Logan looked back to see Ororo landing behind him, her hair slightly wild from the wind. She must have flown her way over, avoiding the nightlife altogether. 

“He’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. You heard what he said, right? Blood manipulator. I think our guy must have slowed his heartbeat or somethin’. There’s no wound anywhere…” Logan gently moved Scott’s head in search of any kind of blunt force trauma but found none. Not that he was expecting to find anything, since the only blood he could smell was unfamiliar. And it lead right down the alley and out the other side. “Gonna need ya t’stay here, Storm. Make sure Scott’s alright.” He kept his eyes focused on the darkness ahead, and the small sliver of light beyond. 

“And where’re you going?” Ororo asked, crouching beside him as if to physically demonstrate she’d stay with Scott. Logan sniffed the air again, almost able to see the blood trail the scent was so damn strong. 

“Followin’ our man. We don’t know if he bagged his victim, but if he was here with Scott, then he was after Alec, and I don’t see him anywhere, do you?” He asked, raising a brow to the woman by his side, who shook her head. 

“No. And I didn’t see him from above either. Alright, you go. But be careful, Logan. He’s unpredictable and now we have an idea as to how dangerous. If he can knock Scott out cold like this, he shouldn’t be taken lightly,” Ororo implored, watching as he rose from his crouch. Logan huffed an irritated sigh, having to restrain himself before he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine. Look after Cyclops.” Was all he said, before taking off down the alleyway at a light jog, following his nose and turning left at the end. 

“Logan, this isn’t a good idea. You can’t charge into the unknown with no information other than blood-manipulator.” Jean’s voice echoed in his ear, and he once again felt his lips pull up into a small smirk. 

“Why, you worried about me?” He provoked, chuckling when he heard her deep sigh, pinching the earpiece between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll send up a flare if I need ya.”

“Logan don’t–” 

Whatever Jean was about to say was lost when he tossed the coms unit onto the ground, leaving it and all methods of communication behind as he continued on toward his target. He couldn’t believe his eyes when his nose led him to a looming church, stained windows dark from the inside, spires towering high into the night. This couldn’t be right. Either his nose had failed him, which was unheard of, or the killer had a wicked sense of humour. It must have been the latter, the stench of blood increasing tenfold as he crossed the neatly mowed lawn outside, taking the stone steps two at a time and up to the wooden double doors. 

His ears twitched as he caught distant screams from inside, deep enough that anyone passing by would be completely oblivious to any goings on within. Once again, he released the hold he had on his claws, razors slicing through his muscles and flesh as they slid from his knuckles. He took a breath, bracing a hand on the centre of one of the doors before he pushed slightly, the hinges’ echoing screech causing him to freeze, letting the sound settle before he moved. The screams continued, and as sick and twisted as it was, he used that to gauge whether or not he’d been heard. So far, remarkably, so good. 

Stealth wasn’t his strong suit. Never was, but he cursed every heavy footstep that bounced off the wooden beams and stone walls, even the stained glass seemed to be mocking him, some ridiculous depiction of a halo-wearing baby with the proportions completely incorrect, being carried by an equally disproportionate-looking woman who seemed to be bathed in holy light. Once upon a time, he may have found comfort in the frieze. Now he simply thought it ridiculous. How could there be a god when mutants like him walk the earth? When mutants like this killer were allowed to wander around completely free? 

He shook his head of the thoughts. Now was not the time to contemplate divinity. If he wanted to discuss religion, he’d have a conversation with Kurt. He followed his senses, down the aisle between the pews and up to the lectern, his head snapping to the right and through the door to the sacristy. Once again measuring his steps, Logan crossed the altar and into the shadows behind the pillars, that same coppery scent of blood lingering on the slightly crimson-stained doorknob, the faint smokey smell of mutation told him this was the killer’s blood. Had the victim fought back somehow? He assumed he’d done the same thing to them as he had to Scott, knocked them out before dragging them away. 

Shoving the door open, Logan took a moment to look around. Nothing much, other than a large closet, a chest of drawers and a small bathroom sink with a mirror. A rug covered a large portion of the floor, the patterns almost psychedelic in nature, but this was where the scent was strongest so far. Here, in this room. Then where the hell was all the screaming coming from? He could still hear it, in the distance, beyond several walls of stone, or deep beneath–

Logan paused, his eyes flickering from the bare walls to the rug on the floor, one corner ever so slightly raised from the ground. With determined curiosity, he tugged on the fabric, pulling it back from the ground before tossing it completely into a corner. There, now revealed, a wooden trap door. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cliché, to have a trap door leading down to some kind of torture chamber, but if the chosen location told him anything, it was that the killer had a flair for the dramatic. 

To hell with stealth at this point. Logan crouched, gripping the large brass handle and throwing up the door so it clattered loudly against the floor. He was glad he had excellent vision, as the darkness beyond would be enough to turn away even the bravest of souls. And yet, here he was, taking step after step down into the pitch black, his eyes reflecting what little light there was. Perhaps the setting was more fitting than he originally thought because it truly felt like he was descending into the pits of hell with each careful step. The scent of blood now fused with the acrid scent of urine, and the musk of sweat. It was enough to have him almost gag, but he kept on going, led by the sounds of broken screams. 

Until those broken screams were cut viciously short. 

Logan stopped in his tracks, bracing a hand against the damp wall, a crippling sense of failure weighing heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now Alec was likely dead. He couldn’t think of another reason why the killer would just cut off his screams like that. But what unnerved Logan further, was that now one voice had been silenced, another was rising up the dark, dank tunnel. There were two. The motherfucker had managed to grab two victims in one night. What the fuck was he using them for? Why torture them? What was he looking for?

A pinprick of flickering light teased him from the distance, the literal light at the end of the tunnel winking in the distance. How far down had he gone for the exit to only now be visible? Had this guy really dragged two bodies down these stairs already today? A picture was forming in Logan’s mind. He had to have some kind of muscle on him to be able to carry weights such as these. But he couldn’t let himself get comfortable in his predictions. That would only lead to chaos. So he kept his mind open, the only thing he was fairly sure about was the fact this killer was a man. 

Not that a woman couldn’t be capable of this kind of thing, but he’d seen the size of some of the victims. Either she was some kind of bodybuilder or a man. One seemed more likely than the other. 

He felt like he’d been in this stupid fucking tunnel for years by the time his eyes needed to adjust to the flickering torchlight, the steps levelling out to a long, claustrophobic stone hallway, the low arch of the ceiling barely high enough for him to stand up completely straight, the tips of his brushed up hair lightly brushing the damp brickwork. He continued creeping forward, a cone of more flickering torchlight illuminating a doorway ahead of him and to the right. 

The secondary voice gurgled another agonised scream, and Logan felt a decent amount of urgency fuel his steps, half jogging the remaining feet up to the archway, peering around the stone.

His stomach clenched, eyes widening. Well, that would show him not to make assumptions. The killer wasn’t a man. 

You were a woman. 

The two victims were strapped to chairs, back to back, a knife in the mouth of one, the other’s head– Alec’s head, hung limp. In the lap of the other, you held a map, blood dripping from both your palms.

“Point.” You spat, delivering a harsh slap to the side of his face. “And so help you, your answers better match up.” 

With shaky movements, your captive craned his neck down, pointing the quivering tip of the knife against a random point on the map you’d lay in his lap, tears flowing down his face as he whimpered in utter terror. Logan watched as you raised your hand over Alec’s head, contorting your fingers as he groggily returned to consciousness. He couldn’t see his face before, and Logan would spend a long time wishing he could return to that ignorance. Two dark, bloodied holes replaced the sockets where his eyes should be, tears of sanguine had rolled down his cheeks, staining his flesh until it bled into the exposed muscle of his cheek. 

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You took a step back, snatching the map from your second victim and drawing a circle with the bloodied tip of your finger. After so many deaths, the cacophony of screams that kept you awake at night, finally you had a lead. “And what is it exactly th–”

You stopped, your nerves alight with alert. 

Logan whipped back behind the archway, pressing his spine against the wall and keeping his breathing steady. He didn’t hold out hope you hadn’t seen him, and he was incredibly thankful for that, clenching his fists when your voice echoed in the expanses of the chamber. 

“I can feel it. The mutation in your blood. Scott’s friend, I assume?”

With a long sigh, Logan stepped out from behind the archway and into the light. 

“Friend is a strong term. Associate.” He responded, his eyes flickering to each of your palms as crystals of crimson extended from the two wounds in your flesh, taking the form of jagged blades. Your head tilted to the side, hood shifting slightly for the light to catch your eyes. 

“Scott’s associate…” you mused lowly, striking out with surgical precision to the two captives, keeping your wince locked away as your two blades crunched through their skulls with a sickening squelch. 

Logan clenched his jaw, keeping his chin held high. “No explosions this time? Entrails seem far too organised for you.” 

“A fan of my work? Sorry, I don’t tend to do meet-and-greets. Although I’d be willing to sign your corpse for you.” You held your blood blades tight in your palms as you bent your knees. You wouldn’t be getting out of here without a fight. And whilst you could feel the mutation in his blood, you had no idea what it was exactly that he could do. The claws were an obvious giveaway, but was that it? You’d come to learn to put all assumptions to the side and be prepared for anything. 

Years on the streets had taught you that.

“Why?” Logan asked, taking a steadying breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why?” He repeated with just as much conviction. “Why do this? What’re you looking for? Why’re you doing this?” He watched you falter slightly as if genuinely taken aback that he was interested enough to ask. “You coulda killed Scott, but you didn’t. Y’not afraid of causing pain, but you left him unharmed. Why?”

Too many thoughts were running through your head. Truthfully, you didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t. He had nothing to do with this, and whilst yes he got in your way, he was innocent. None of these people were. None of your victims were. Least of all, you. 

“Why ask? Did you want me to? Yikes, that’s some rivalry you got there.” You deflected, twirling one of your blades in your hand. “Tell ya what, I’ll finish the job for you, free of charge.” You grinned behind your mask, taking a step toward him, dragging the tips of your crystalised blood blades along the ground, leaving little crimson trails as you walked. 

“Got a lotta lip, ya know that?” He growled, watching you like a hawk as you slowly stalked forward, step by careful step. 

“If only you knew the trouble my mouth gets me into…” You paused for a moment, crouching low. Anticipation crackled in the air, sparks of adrenaline igniting the room before you launched forward, keeping low to the ground. 

Logan tracked your movements, bending his knees and bracing his claws in front of his body before your blades cracked against his, literal sparks flying from the contact point as you stay low, your other hand braced against the floor, leaving bloodstains on the stone. Your leg swept toward his, and he wrenched his claws from where they’d tangled with your blades, taking a quick step back to avoid your jab.

Using your momentum, you pushed off from the ground, spinning upright just in time to parry a slice from his claws, your blood thrumming with the impact. He was strong. Really fucking strong. Annoyingly strong, in fact. You hated having to manipulate the vessels and cells within your body, but the moment his fists arced down toward you, you had no choice but to increase the blood flow to your biceps, wincing slightly as they shuddered and flexed in response, but it was just enough to catch him off guard, your two blades crossed between his six claws. 

You didn’t let the moment linger, delivering a harsh kick to the centre of his stomach and using the almost rock-like surface to send yourself a few steps back, sweat already trailing down the inside of your mask. 

Logan bent double, grunting in discomfort before lowering into a similar crouch to your own, watching closely as your blades dragged along the ground once again, leaving little slices of crimson. You raised your head in challenge, the flickering torchlight catching two sparks of sanguine red eyes, pulsing slightly as your mutation shimmered from your hands, veins bulging up your wrists. Something tugged at his chest, and he stilled for a moment. It looked almost… painful. The way he could see every pulse of your heart thumping within those bloodborne blades. 

His head tilted to the side, and you felt discomfort crawl over your skin. Was he… studying you? In the middle of a fucking fight? And not the ‘I’m studying you to see your next attack’ kind of way. You grit your teeth, irritation flaring in your gut as you launch forward, anger and frustration now fuelling your movements. How dare he. How dare he try to read you like this. He didn’t even fucking know you. But the way his features slackened slightly, the ever so small tilt of his head. You wanted to tear him to ribbons. 

Logan shook himself from his thoughts as you surged forward, once again bracing himself for the flurry of swipes he could sense was coming his way. Only–

You ducked to the side.

Your blades retracting back into your palms as you slid past him, grazing the centre of your hand against the floor in a wide arc. What the hell were you doing? What the fuck was with all the acrobatics. You’d done nothing but flip and spin around him, barely going in for any hits. He whirled around, claws still held before him in closed fists, but you looked… done. 

Like you’d already won. 

“Well, this has been a pleasure. But I’m afraid I’m a very busy woman,” you paused, placing a hand on your hip as if you were having a casual conversation in a shopping centre. “And you’re wasting my time.”

Logan barely had time to think before the bloodstains on the ground shifted, and in every place you’d dragged your palm across the stone, a sharp spear shot from the marks towards him, impaling through his suit and into his chest, his legs, back, and shoulders with a sick, wet crunch.

Through agonising pain, he finally understood what you were doing. Setting up a fucking trap. Any attempt to move resulted in tearing fire through his body, a rough cry of pain flying from behind his gritted teeth, before it became too much as he sank to his knees. Your sigh almost sounded disappointed, and he watched through hazy vision as you brought out a bandage from your belt and started to wrap up one of your palms with a slight hissed wince. 

You’d expected him to be dead by now, and yet somehow he was still clinging to life like a tenacious limpet. An irritated huff warmed the interior of your mask as you flicked your unbound hand, another jagged spear of ruby sailing from your palm and through the centre of his stomach, wrenching another agonised cry from his throat. 

“Fucking hell… still here? Most would be dead by now.” You folded your arms across your chest, wandering over to where he was still bent double on his knees, heaving rasped breaths. 

“Most of ‘em can die.” He snarled back, his strength slowly returning as his regeneration worked overtime to remove the whipping spears from his body. You watched as they shifted in response to the resistance, fascination curling like smoke in your head. What the hell was this guy?

“And you can’t, I presume?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Huh,” you shrugged, your eyes flaring as you wormed those tendrils back through his flesh, something twinging in your chest as you did so. “That’s… unfortunate,” you crouched in front of him, running your fingers along one of the tendrils of blood holding him still, your eyes falling to the little X symbol on his leather collar, recognition striking you like lightning. “Wait… I know you. You’re one of Xavier’s, right? Never thought he’d meddle in simple human murders,” you thought for a moment, regarding him. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being nothing but a weapon to him? Just a gun to point at the enemy whilst he’s the one who claims the victory?” You provoked, finally garnering a response as he all but growled at you, bloodied teeth bared. You had half a mind to use his own blood to sew his mouth shut, but you were curious about him. A mutant who couldn’t die, running around playing soldier for someone who would never walk the battlefield himself. 

Sure he should be the one pulling the strings. 

Logan knew you were trying to get under his skin. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, you’d already achieved that, the sharp bolts of agony with every slight movement told him that much. But he needed to get under yours. 

“I know what these people did,” he breathed, chest searing with each fiery inhale.  “The ones you choose. I know why you kill them, but why torture them?” He continued through gritted teeth, tugging against the lashing spears through his body.

“You think that’s what this is? Me cleaning up after this world’s scum? I should add myself to that lengthy list.” You growled back, gesturing wildly to the walls around you. “These people know something. The fact they’re all child predators is simply luck. But don’t you think it’s strange? An orphanage burns down and none of the bodies are found?” 

Logan stopped his struggle. “What…? How d’you–”

“Nothing. Not even skeletons. Doesn’t that make you wonder where the hell those kids went? The disappearances throughout the city, all kids. All mutant kids.” You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you were saying, and what it meant. 

“Y– you’re looking for information…” He muttered with understanding, and you nodded.

“The men at that warehouse… they’re always hanging around schools and –before it burnt down– the orphanage,” your eyes flickered to stairs beyond the archway, and the distant shouts echoing down the hall. “It’s a slave trade. A mutant slave trade.”

“How d’you know?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.” Something twisted in your gut as his expression shifted to something softer, despite the obvious pain he was in. You didn’t want to hurt him. It was a sudden realisation that you’d acted too hastily. Assumed he was here to eliminate you after the series of events you’d caused. But you should have known the moment he started asking questions. Sure, he was probably here to put a stop to what appeared on the surface to be a sequence of grizzly murders, but he’d asked. He wanted to know why. Not many others had done that. And there was something else flickering in his strikingly haze eyes. 

He didn’t want to kill you. Not now he knew. 

Your head whipped back to the archway, where those distant shouts had increased in volume and, terrifyingly enough, proximity. You could clearly catch the repeated calls of a name. His name. 

Logan. 

“Look, if you want to help, there’s a gala happening at Thornbury Hall, west of the city. Saturday the 18th. Meet me there or don’t, it’s your choice. But you come alone. I’ll know if you don’t.” You hissed hurriedly, flicking your fingers to withdraw the countless spears from his body, and he screwed his eyes shut as his wounds immediately began to knit back together, muscle and tissue reforming with an unbearable itch, the crystalised blood liquifying once again, staining the stone red. 

“Logan?!”

Your breath quickened as you looked back to the archway, and Logan could just see the fear reflecting in your barely visible eyes as you took a few steps back. He wanted to stop you. Wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to take this on alone. They could help. He could help. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wasn’t going to take the olive branch you’d just extended. 

“How’ll I know it’s you?” He asked as he stood to his feet, eyes narrowing in suspicion despite himself. He hadn’t seen your face. Just two scarlet eyes behind a rather unnerving, featureless mask. Your head flipped between looking at him and looking past him to the archway skittishly, hurried footsteps growing louder as his other associates honed in on your location. 

“When you get there, look for a man with a runic tattoo on his neck and ask for Alecto.” You explained, continuing backing up into what looked like just a regular wall. But the greatest thing about ancient buildings such as this was the secret little entrances and exits installed for servants, refugees. Criminals.

“Alecto?” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the slight smirk on his face, the amusement lacing his tone despite your efforts to try and kill him not moments ago.

“Look it up.” Was all you said, before slipping through one of the cracks in the wall the moment he turned around as two other mutants rushed through the archway. You barely caught sight of Scott and the other before you were gone. 

“Logan! What the hell? You can’t just go dead like that, what happened to your coms?” Storm ranted before falling silent, panic entered her eyes as she registered the state he was in. “What… what happened to you?”

Logan looked back to where he’d last seen you, finding an odd kernel of relief to see you’d completely vanished into seemingly thin air. “I found our gal. Put up a good fight. Slipped out when she heard ya comin’ and I was immobilised.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just let the very same killer they’d come here to hunt slip away.

“She– wait, she?” Scott asked, clearly having recovered from whatever Alecto had done to him. 

“Yeah, she,” he nodded, before sighing heavily. “Look, no point in standin’ round here ‘n chattin’ about it. Charles is gonna wanna know what I know.” 

“And what is it exactly that you know?” Scott asked, suspicion lacing his tone, his arms folding across his chest almost in accusation. Logan rolled his eyes.

“A helluva lot more than you, Slim. Let’s go.”

[another-goblin]

I really liked "Luminary Wardance", maybe even more than the main quest from that patch. But I have a problem with Boothill's involvement. As I see it, either the writing was bad for that part even by the HSR's uneven standards, or I'm missing something (which is quite possible, so please correct me if I'm wrong), but that's my problem.

1. Boothill is described as "extremely optimistic and unrestrained. He is a member of the Galaxy Rangers who swore to punish the wretched by any and all means." That little event before his release described some of his crimes: wild, fun, and chaotic; I don't remember him derailing trains full of orphans or something. He was appalled when Aventurine accused him of killing his bodyguards. So basically I understood him as a character who, despite all the hardships, under his inhuman appearance and gruff manners, hasn't lost his humanity and fundamentally is a good person, valuing human lives. 

Was I wrong?

Because now he has no problem killing an innocent, disabled, and severely mentally ill kid in this supposedly friendly competition, basically for no reason.

Look, he's grinning maniacally; he crearly has no qualms about this; he's aiming for the head:

2. But let's imagine Luka wasn't swift enough. The floor of the arena is covered with his blood, brain matter, and skull fragments, exactly as Boothill threatened.

Luka's father receives terrible news back at home (would Boothill send a little apology letter? like, "whoops, sorry", or "same, bro", or "he had it coming"?) He's left alone to grieve the violent loss of his child on this dying planet, once invaded by the IPC and abandoned by the universe. Wow, well done, Boothill. That will show the IPC!

As a writer, how little should you care about the story and the characters you are writing about to not notice the obvious parallel?

3. But why did he do that? The writers give us the flimsiest excuse: 

Boothill: I wanna see every news outlet in the cosmos buzzin' with the headline "The IPC's most wanted man stole the spotlight at the Wardance. He came out with the fudge blazin' and sure made them IPC shirtbags choke on the humble pie."

Okay, let's pretend he killed Luka, this fan favorite underdog, in front of the whole universe. Let's pretend he wasn't spooked away by some IPC cops (and we'll talk about it later). He fought Yanqing and killed him too. He just proved in front of the whole universe that he's actually as cruel and dangerous as the IPC propaganda said. And he got a new powerful enemy (because I don't think JY would be reasonable about losing his child like this. I mean, how many greiving fathers can we get in one hypothetical scenario?)

I don't think the IPC higher-ups will lose any sleep over it! 

4. Was there even a need to kill anybody? It's explicitly stated several times that "by holding the Wardance, they're demonstrating to everyone that they've returned to a state of peace and safety" (and it's not to satisfy people's thirst for blood or something). It's a festival, not some kind of death fight. I've got the impression that it's mostly for younger people to have fun and prove themselves. Most of the competing powerful adults don't even show their full strength. Nobody is expected to kill anybody. Yanqing decisively defeated Luka, and they ended up being friends.

Don't tell me Boothill isn't skilled enough to aim for Luka's arm to disable it with a shot (I mean that's what ended up happening but not for his lack of trying!). Or, if he wanted blood, why not just shoot Luka in the kneecaps? He'd probably need two new prosthetics, but he'd definitely be alive.

5. I already showed that Boothill would've achieved nothing if he won. But what about Luka? Maybe it's his fault? Was he too prideful? Was giving up an option for him? Absolutely not. He wasn't just representing himself, the children of the Underworld who believe in him, and that little girl who died, but his whole planet. It's the first time most people even hear about Jarilo-VI. And the first impression is crucial. Jarilo-VI is far from being safe, their chances for survival are tiny. Any support he can gain might be the matter of life and death for his homeworld. And we know that it worked because JY offered the Luofu's help to Jarilo in the end.

6. Btw, he only "fought" Luka because he knew he's much weaker than him, and then he ran away from some random IPC cops (who wouldn't have arrested him anyways because the Luofu clearly don't consider him a criminal, and they probably wouldn't allow the IPC to just arrest people on their territory). I'm not making this up, he literally says it himself:

Boothill: This kid (Yanqing) is young, but he's got some serious skills. Facing him will take too long and there's no guarantee of winning. It ain't worth gettin' caught by those forkin' IPC hounds over a competition.

So "I don't want to try and kill that kid because he can actually win". Our hero, everybody.

I mean, I'm not the only one who sees this, right? Again, it's very possible that I'm missing something important, and it all makes sense. Is he supposed to be a coward as well as a cold-blooded murderer? I don't believe that. It looks like a terrible slander of Boothill by the game's writers. Is everybody okay with it?

7. This whole confrontation kind of makes sense as the lowest point in Luka's story until you look closer. Getting to their lowest point is an important part of a hero's journey, but it usually happens in the beginning, indicating the need for the hero to change and grow, or in the end, as a test. But it happens in the middle. And it kind of doesn't change anything much?.. He gets over it and just continues competing.

The kind of character our hero loses to is also very important. It might be a mindless goon or a "for me it was Tuesday" type of villain, unrlated to our guy in any way, allowing the story to concentrate on the hero's journey. Or the antagonist's personality might be important for the story, highlighting their personal relationship with the hero or their conflicting ideologies; our hero overcoming the antagonist not only physically but mentally too, probably allowing them both to grow.

But it's neither. Boothill isn't a faceless goon, he's a complex character, a protagonist of his own tragic story. Their ideologies or goals don't clash (other than the serfuce level "I want to win this competition"). They don't have any personal history either. Boothill just appears, attempts to murder Luka, and basically disappears from the story.

8. Speaking of, you know what would be great? If instead of threatening Luka and then shooting him point blank, they actually talked. If Boothill had some character development by realizing that other people's struggles might be more important than his own pursuit of revenge sometimes. I mean, Luka was literally fighting to save his planet.

But instead, it feels like the writers just used Boothill as a tool in Luka's story, ruining him in the process.

9. Okay I'll shut up now. I'm too wordy and anal retentive. I just needed to get it out of my system. But I could go on and on. The more I think about it, the more problems I see. Like, why was their confrontation clearly styled after a classical cowboy standoff when only one of them had a gun? It makes no sense. Why did the journalists and fans have problems with Boothill's gun after the match? Didn't we just fight Topaz and her goons, who use guns too? Why wasn't it a problem then? Why did Luka faint after shielding himself from the bullet? I don't think he was wounded. And if he was wounded seriously enough to faint, then how did he manage to recover fast enough for the next match? Especially considering that the Luofu's healthcare mostly consists of feeding people normal food and giving them pets. Speaking of which, what was that dialog with Natasha in the beginning? Is he also terminally ill?… And why was Boothill borderline abelist about Luka's prosthetic arm? Yes, it was IPC branded at this point, but it's not like he just hates everything related to the IPC. He's basically good friends with Aventurine, and he had no problems sharing a small ship with Topaz and Jade. Btw, despite HSR being as vague about characters' ages as possible, it's kind of implied that Luka's underaged ("The tea served there isn't suitable for someone his age", "That red-head boy is actually… Luka from Belobog?" and so on). Boothill nearly killed a (probably) actual child in cold blood. A kid from a planet that just nearly survived IPC's military invasion. What were the writers thinking???

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Shared Interests [Pt.3]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1][Pt.2] [Pt.4]

Daryl's pack loves parties, so you agree to throw one in honor of your daughter.

While you loved having the pack around for celebrations, now was a little too early.

Baby Lily was born all but two days ago and the family members started trickling in already to bring gifts and talk about the big party to celebrate the little one.

Right now all you wanted was rest.

You had allowed the calmest pack mother to come help around the house and teach you about taking care of an infant werewolf, which Daryl also found very helpful seeing he had no clue on how to be a father.

You learned their feeding habits were different from human babies and were shown how the little one easily chowed down small pieces of meat at only a few days old.

Daryl's pack had proven to be a persistant bunch, each member coming over to drop off gifts ranging from full ready meals to toys for the pup. One of Daryl's cousins, the one who had built the crib you had now, had offered to build a kiddie bed too. "for when the kid got too big for her crib."

It was still weird to be so welcomed from day one. Even while being the odd one out you were immediately seen as a part of the pack.

So here you sat with Daryl, discussing when to give the pack their party. It was a tradition and you weren't going to withold them from celebrating. You just had to set some ground rules.

You blessed the weather being nice enough to celebrate outside and planned all the necessary things in record time.

Daryl suggested two weeks would be enough for everyone to have dropped by for their initial visit so the focus could be more on getting together instead of hovering around the newborn.

Laura, your cousin in-law slash house help told you pack stories of herself and other mothers.

Surrounded by their closest pack members even while the pups were being born. All the ladies had seem multiple litters being born because of how normal it was to share those moments. But she also knew Daryl wasn't one of the people who needed folk around him every day. After admitting on one hand she found it sad to not be there when your child was born, she also understood you were human and had other preferences. Besides the fact that your pup came unexpected, a few days early and in the middle of the night.

Two weeks of slow visitation and party prep passed and you had fallen into a pleasant routine around the pup that worked for both you and Daryl. But you started noticing the leftover benefits from carying a wolf pup were fading because the bitemarks left around your nipples weren't healing as quickly anymore.

Daryl had caught your discomfort and made quick work of cornering you for a chat.

"Yer mind's loud. Hear it buzzin' through the walls." You were captured between his frame and the kitchen counter, unable to escape and admit your annoyingly loud thoughts.

"I'm just sore. The wolfblood is filtering out of my body I think." You automatically sulked into him at the annoying confession. You were so used to the faster healing and improved endurance you were sad your weak human self was returning.

"How 'bout we have a serious chat after the party. Cuz I don' want ya feelin' like yer weak just cus yer a human."

You gave him a soft kiss and agreed to wait for the party to be over. Now focusing on getting everything ready for tomorrow.

The day started slow like any other. You were blessed with a child that slept throigh the night as long as she got fed before bed.

While you prepared breakfast Daryl made his way around the house with a complaining Lily in his arms. The second she saw you she wanted to be fed, but making breakfast and feeding her were no tasks to be combined.

Daryl had given her a slice of ham already, but that didn't suffice. Her whines made that very clear.

"Daryl?" Your voice was picked up by your husband and within moments he was at your side. "Just the bacon left. I can go feed her if you wanna finish this?" You already held your arms open to take Lily from him.

Your kitchen held enough space for you to hang out comfortably as Lily had her breakfast and also give you a lovely view of Daryl cooking bacon to go with your egg sandwiches.

Today was gonna be a good day. You had it all planned out and were excited to see the in-laws again.

But first breakfast. With Lily done feeding you could finally start eating. Thankfullyneach pack mom had the same idea and each gifted you a large basket full of puppy items and a note informing the basket itself and the added blanket were perfect to place your newborn in for a bit to rest your arms. You kept one in almost every room, including one next to you on the table.

You coo'ed at her as you placed her in the soft basket, much to Daryl's amusement.

You found the baskets a bit strange at first, but Daryl had convinced you to give them a chance and now you couldn't function without them.

Just as your butt touched yoir chair again, Daryl came up to the table with two large plates of food.

You two ate dinner and went through the day's plans again before cleaning up the dishes and taking turns taking a shower and setting up the last party prep.

You made sure to give Lily her lunchtime feeding so she'd be asleep just before the people started coming in.

With the large double doors to the back porch opened up you had a perfect view of her living room nap spot and worried a bit less about having to stay at her side the whole time.

Folks started coming in, quickly finding you and Daryl to share congratulations and more small gifts.

The farmers had come empry handed, but not without a promise of a large produce delivery coming in tomorrow. The eight wolves living there took care of greens, eggs, milk and meat.

Some parents had brought their kids too, who were all too eager to grab your hands to be lead to the newborn for a look. You admitted to be a bit anxious, but they all behaved exceptionately well. They sat down on the floor and said quiet hello's.

While you were away from the parents one of the older teens came to you. She had a worried look on her face and sat down close to you before speaking softly.

"Can I ask you something?" She had her head almost laying on your shoulder with how close she got, but you let her stay and let her speak.

"How did you react when you found out Daryl was a werewolf?" The question came out so careful, she was clearly afraid of something she didn't share out loud but the memory made you giggle a bit.

"My dad told me, because I love monster movies. Let's just say I reacted really well to it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here and have a kid with him." You gave her your kindest smile but couldn't help to ask what was bothering her so much.

This younger generation was almost perfectly human with the amount of control they had outside of the full moon, so they were allowed to mingle way more than their parents. Ans so it turned out the girl had developed a crush on a human boy.

She had come to you for advice on humans, not having told even her parents yet.

"It's never easy to show your real self to a human. We're not used to seeing werewolves outside of books and TV." Truth was, the monsters on TV were nothing compared to the beautiful creatures that surrounded you now.

"I think my best advice would be to just be you for now, figure out if he likes you as well and then think about more." You had picked up Lily from her spot and were holding her in your lap now. "Maybe the guy ends up being a weirdo, in the bad sense of the word." The comment managed to get a laugh out of her, luckily brightening the mood again just as Daryl came by.

"There y'are. Lost ya for a minute." He bent down to kiss your head as he stared at his kid nephews and nieces all surrounding his wife and child.

And said nephews and nieces were quickly surrounding uncle Daryl, bombarding him with questions. "Why do you only have one puppy? Can we see missus's wolf? Uncle, when are you having a big family we can play with?"

They swarmed him, clinging to his leg and begging for answers. He had picked up the smallest boy and bribed the kids to be calm around the baby if he'd give them answers. "Now listen y'all. 'N sit yer asses down." In a heartbeat the rowdy bunch plopped their butts down in front of him and stared up. "Momma here ain't a wolf. I thought yer parents told y'all tha' already." An array of "whaaat?" and "woooww"s sounded through the room and pairs of eyes peeked over at you before Daryl continued. "The other pack mommas are all wolves, fhey ca have more pups in one go. She's human, an' human ladies only have one pup at a time." Daryl had sat down on his haunches and had let go of his nephew again. "So be kind to 'er. She's family."

"So is the puppy only half puppy?" The genuine curiosity was adorable, knowing they would never mean harm with their questions. But Daryl's carefully chosen words when he answered were so sweet too. "Neh, Lily's all pup. See human ladies can have lil' ones with all kinds of creatures, not just other humans."

Another wave of "woooowww"s came in reply as some got up and ran for their parents to share the newly aquired facts, and others made sure to come to you and state how cool you were.

"So, humans and wolves really do mix better than most humans think, right?" Your original conversation was almost forgotten thanks to the little ones' questionaire.

"Usually humans are scared of things they don't know. But if you show you're not a threat, it could end up going really well." You gave her a soft side-hug and pat her shoulder, Daryl stepping in on her other side. "There's always gon' be older wolves tha'll think yer wrong fer likin' a human. But fuck' em. Ya can date who ya wan'."

Of course Daryl would be the one who agreed with more modern ways of life when it came to befriending humans. He considered his human best friend a brother and now even had a child with one.

"Thanks for being so open towards the pack, about all of this."

Daryl took her hand and pulled her to her feet, grabbing her and giving her the biggest bear hug. "My folks woulda hunted 'er for sport. Glad they ain't around no more. Nothin' wrong with humans when ya pick 'em well."

She gave him a happy nod in return, thanking you both again before heading out to grab a drink.

Parents had started to round up their kids, getting ready to head home after saying their goodbyes. Just in time to catch Merle come in with his truck stacked to the high heavens with moonshine. The older wolves, and even the ones just turned eightteen were offered to take a jar from the crate Merle took to set on the table on his way to his baby brother.

Without missing a beat he grabbed Daryl's wrist, yanked him towards him and put him in an inescapable hug, praising him and congratulating him on the healthy pup. When he let go he went in to give you the same bone crushing hug before he spotted the pup in your arms and backed up. He stepped up a lot more calm and offered a soft squeeze of the arm instead, congratulating you as well in a much softer voice. "Ya look great, momma. 'N so does the lil' nugget." A choked laugh escaped your lips at the name. "Nugget? Your baby niece has a name you know."

"'Course I know 'er name's Lily. Wha' kina uncle would I be if I didn'?"

You laughed together as Daryl silently appriciated Merle's ability to adjust his behavior around the pup.

The men went back outside after you excused yourself to feed Lily one last time today and try and get her to sleep in her nap spot until you were going to bed and taking her upstairs with you.

"Hey, dontchu drink tha' one! Aint yers!" You heard Merle's voice call out, making you head over outside just that bit faster.

Not that there was a fight, but you didn't want to deal with badly behaving wolves.

Merle noticed you walking through the door and handed you a bottle. Not moonshine, but an expensive brand of wine. "Weren't sure if ya'd be drinkin' cuz of the lil' one. Ya can drink it whenever."

You thanked him and brought the bottle inside, not drinking yet for as long as Lily still drank from you.

Outside the adults were getting loud, howling with laughter. You caught Daryl's voice immediately, he was toasting to you, "his pride and joy", praising you until he was out of breath.

You stood at the oposite end of where he was and watched from a distance, appriciating your loving husband's words.

"And cheers to lil' baby Dixon!" Merle shouted after his brother's speech.

While the men were being their rowdy self, the younger wolves had all banded together and were hanging out at the far end of the property while the women had swarmed you to chit chat. Talks about your daughter and husband were what filled the hours until you could barely keep your eyes open. Some of the mothers had decided then it was time to go round up their teens, get them to help drag dad to the car and head back home while you had gotten up to kiss Daryl goodnight.

"Night, momma~!" Merle's voice slurred as he swayed to wrap an arm around your shoulders and kissed the side of your head. "Good night, Merle. See ya in the morning?" Your sweet smile went straight to his heart, giving you that drunk giggle and nodded. "Ya know I love tha' hammock, find me passed out til' ya bring me some eggs 'n bacon."

You bid him goodnight and moved to find your husband who was still very invested in his conversation about mechanics.

"Baby I'm gonna go sleep." You let him know with a hand on his shoulder to keep his attention. He was drinking, but from a glass instead of a jar, having promised to get at most a bit tipsy tomight and make sure the house was left in a neat state before going to sleep himself.

"Hmhm, goodnight Bunny. Takin' Lily witcha?" He grabbed your side from where he sat next to you and tugged to get a kiss from you.

Bending down you smiled into the kiss, tasting the nasty moonshine.

"Lily and I will be upstairs. Love ya." You gave him another kiss to temple and heqded inside with a few waves to the others still hanging around.

Once upstairs in your bedroom you placed Lily in her crib, babbling soft apologies for waking her up until she slept again and putting yourself to bed as well, falling asleep to the howling of your celebrating family.

A/N: There's so much to write about Daryl's pack, it's so big!!

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Characters are completely aged up and this takes place after what will happen in beyond the spiderverse. I just made a little MJ variant and I think she's neat. I've been writing standalone scenes of her life after meeting Hobie and my friends really liked it so I thought I'd polish it up a little and post it. Nothing serious just some silly fun. (also I'm sorry I'm just not a y/n person, I just want to make characters who are developed and can have their own distinct personalities.) My MJ may not be for everyone but I hope you give her a shot.

Can also be read on Ao3 X

Chapter 1

She’s wiping off the counter and looking over at the small dodgy stage the pub has in the corner. She’s surprised the thing hasn’t collapsed in on itself. It has a couple of the instruments set up already for the band tonight. She feels someone bump her hip and she looks over to see her coworker raising a brow at her.

“Why don’t you wrap up early? You’re meeting your friends, right?” Andy asks her smiling.

MJ shrugs, “It ends in like fifteen and the band doesn’t start for another twenty. It’s fine, I don’t even think they've walked in yet.”

“Go on, grab a good spot at the front. I got it back here.” Andy encourages.

MJ rolls her eyes and keeps cleaning, “No seriously. I don’t even know who this band is. My friends want to see them. I’ll wrap it up in ten and look for them. I need to change out of these clothes anyway.”

“Whatever, you know half of the girls in here are already buzzin’. They’ve been drinking for the past hour looking for a shot of courage.” Andy says laughing.

MJ nudges her letting some giggles out too, “Stop, Andy! Leave them alone, they’re barely old enough to get in. They just want to see some hot musicians.”

“Who’s gonna tell them that most of the musicians are indeed, not hot, when they do small pub shows like us?” Andy says starting to pop open a beer for a customer.

“Oh, come off it, apparently this band does everything and anything. Good too, at least my friends say.” MJ says handing Andy another beer for the same group.

“You better clock out, you’ll miss your window to not be trapped back here.” Andy tells her looking at the clock.

“Oh shit, thanks!” MJ quickly dodges around the bar to get to the back so she can grab her bag and change.

She rushes into the bathroom and quickly changes into something a little cuter than her pub shirt and black slacks.

She pulls her rosy pink slip dress out and easily slides it on. Shoving her other clothes into her backpack. She adjusts her necklaces and looks into the mirror, checking to make sure her hair’s still passible. She adjusts the twin buns but just shrugs a minute later. It’s a punk show it doesn’t matter if she looks nice. She checks to make sure nothings on her and makes her way back out.

She throws her bag back where her other belongings are and wades through a decent sized crowd. She can’t find her friends but does make her way to the front. She checks her phone and sees that her friends had texted and canceled coming last minute. She groans in irritation, and turns to try and leave but the crowd has gotten thicker and she’s stuck. She’s jostled into someone who grabs her waist and she whips her head around smacking the hands.

“Hands off!” she growls looking up at the man. He throws his hands up but his grin is slimey. MJ keeps her glare.

“You bumped into me sweetie.” He chuckles.

She rolls her eyes, “Doesn’t mean you get handsy with me.” She mutters turning back to the stage. 

She sees her coworker Lars come out to push the crowd back, she feels a little better knowing she has an easy escape if she needs to. He settles in the corner of the stage, watching the crowd. Within a few seconds the band comes out and she settles a bit. She might as well enjoy the show.

She feels someone sidle up to her side, pressing into her, and she turns her head to see the same man from before smiling at her.

“Back up. I don’t play this game.” She hisses out shoving him off of her.

“C’mon, not a big deal, it’s a massive crowd in here. It’s tight is all.” He says slurring his words.

MJ puffs her cheeks in irritation and points her finger into his chest, “Do not fucking touch me again.” She flashes her eyes over to Lars and he nods his head, acknowledging her.

The guy takes a step back but is still looking at her in a predatory way that makes her skin crawl. She turns to the stage to try and pay attention to the band.

The music’s loud, booming, and it has her moshing with a small group near the front. She’s having a blast for the first few songs, then she feels it.

The guy that’s next to her starts to grab her bum. She turns around and slaps the guy across the face, “I said to not fucking touch me!” She shouts at him. The music’s too loud, the lights are in her eyes, and her bodies hot with rage and adrenaline. She turns to try and spot Lars but the man grabs her by the arm tightly, pulling her closer.

“C’mon I know a slag like you when I see one,” He starts to say, mouth too close to her face so she can smell how intoxicated he is.

She reels back her free arm, hand curled into a fist, but before she can deck the drunk someone else does.

She sees combat boots fly by and her eyes widen as she sees the guitarist drop kick the guy who’s grabbing her.

Her jaw falls open in shock as the man lands perfectly fine in front of her. His guitar strapped to his back is all she sees as he stands between her and the man he just sent to the floor. She for the first time in a while, is stunned speechless.

“Mate, I don’t know who raised ya, but we don’t touch people without consent at my shows.” The guitarist says, voice deep and his face hard as he glares at the man on the ground.

The man tries to crawl off the ground, the crowd around them parting to see what’s happening.

“She’s with me man! What’s your problem?” the man tries to defend pointing at her.

Her anger continues to boil and she opens her mouth to defend herself but the guitarist responds first.

He nudges his head back to her and gives a bitter laugh, “Ya need a better lie cause she’s with me.” He tells him.

She shuts her mouth, looking at him like he’s mad for only a second. She most certainly is not with him but she sure as hell will act like it. She doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night with some creep touching her.

Her eyes flash to the other guy who’s face pales, “Sorry, sorry!” He throws his hands up in defense laughing, “Didn’t know she was yours!”

The guitarist shakes his head and crosses his arms tsking at the man. “Wooooooooow,” he drags out exaggeratedly. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.” He says, and gives a small chuckle.

The other guy is looking at him, a little in fear, as he tries to laugh along with him. The guitarist quickly stops chuckling and throws a quick but hard punch to the creep’s face.

“Apologize to her.” The guitarist demands voice harsh and cold.

The man’s holding his bruising cheek, looking at her eyes filled with fear, “M’sorry alright! I won’t touch you again I swear!” he shouts rushing through his words.

The guitarists steps forward getting closer to the guy at eye level, “For the record, it shouldn’t take me lying about us being a couple for ya to respect her.”

The second he steps back MJ sees Lars come through and grabs the guy dragging him off. He tries to fight against Lars but that man is bigger than most and he works in security for a reason.

“You alright?” The guitarist asks his voice much softer, turning around to face her.

She’s stunned for a moment and just nods her head, “Uh yeah, yeah, thanks.” She says shocked.

“No problem.” He grins and jumps back on the stage.

She’s a little floored at what just happened but she looks around her and the crowd has closed in again, looking back up at the stage.

“Sorry for the delay there, but a not so friendly reminder, don’t act like a prick and touch people without consent ya? You will not be escorted out without a black eye.” One of the other band members says addressing the crowd.

The crowd roars with cheering as they start up another song, MJ really can only laugh and just rolls with it. The whole time making intensely too much eye contact with the tall guitarist whose wicks frame his face as he vibes with the music.

By the time the shows over, she’s able to wiggle herself out with the help of Lars. A lot of the crowd stays, still high off the show.

“Great save back there Lars, maybe we should hire that guy when people get handsy with the staff.” She jokes smacking his chest.

“Piss off MJ, I was gonna throw him out after you clocked him but, well, I didn’t have to.” He laughs holding the door to the back open.

“Night Lars, seriously though, thanks for taking the guy out.” She laughs going to grab her backpack and head back home.

He shakes his head at her and steps back helping to pack up the band’s equipment.

“Oi! Hey,” The guitarist from before comes up to Lars, “Is that girl here? The one who had that prick touch her? I wanted to talk to her.” He says.

Lars looks over him curiously raising a brow, “Oh, no she left. She works here if you wanted to try to find her.” He offers casually.

“No, no, just wanted to know she’s okay.” The guitarist replies shoving his hands in his vest pockets.

“Oh, I promise she’s fine, takes a lot more than that to shake her.” Lars chuckles. “She gave me a warning look and I was ready to grab him when he put his hands on her.”

“Good, good.” The guitarist nods in approval. He starts to walk back towards his band, who’s packing up the last of their stuff.

He keeps the name of the pub in the back of his head with the image of a pink girl with maroon colored hair.

Two weeks pass and MJ’s behind her bar working on a few drinks when she sees a seemingly familiar face plop a seat.

She gives the person their drink and turns to address the new face, when she’s met with a familiar voice. “Hey stranger.” The guitarist from before greets cheekily leaning into the bar top.

She beams at him, “Hey! Lars told me you were asking around for me after the show. Sorry I didn’t stay.”

He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No biggie, just wanted to know you were fine is all.”

She gives a soft laugh shaking her head, “Trust, I’m good. I was gonna clock him and let Lars handle him but…” She trails off giving him a pointed look, “You handled it just fine.” She teases.

“Oof, I woulda loved to see ya give him a mean right hook though.” He chuckles.

She shakes her head in disbelief, “Maybe next time.” She smiles softly.

“Oh? Already planning the next time we’ll hit someone who’s being a sexist prick?” he smirks leaning closer to her on the bar top.

She gives him a genuine laugh, loud and it shakes her body. “Absolutely.”

A beat of silence passes between them before she decides its time to do her job, “So, what can I get ya?”

“Your name preferably.” He replies easily flashing her a smile.

Genuine surprise flashes across her face and then a hot flush across her cheeks.

“Depends,” She fires back, teasingly. He raises a brow at her.

“I’m MJ to most people, especially the ones I’ve just met.” She says easily. Grabbing a clean glass.

Something lights up in his eyes for a split second, like he’s found something he’s been looking for.

“I like that, what’s it short for?” He presses.

“Mmmm, I don’t know, you are asking for my government name and I don’t even have your first name.” She says playfully tilting her head.

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He says without giving it a second thought.

She bites her lip, hesitating, but caves under his warm eyes. She feels a pull towards this man, and maybe she’s just projecting because he stuck his neck out for her, but she feels pulled to him none the less.

“Mariana Jimenez-Watson.” She gives him.

He grins so big it could almost split his face, “I like Mariana.” He tells her softly.

Her face warms up again and she turns to fill the glass with water. “Let’s settle for MJ alright?” she says.

“Alright.” He murmurs.

[karlachismylife]

The way Ghoap are just a package deal in my head...

Like, I already struggle with making everything poly (cuz why can't all my faves just be one huge ass happy family huh??), but ghoap take it to some other level. Whenever I think about Karlach x Soap (which I do every day) I find myself spiraling into Karlach x Ghoap in like twenty minutes max.

Ghost would fight so hard to stay a brooding traumatized mess with two certified golden retrievers absolutely BUZZIN with love. My man, I'm so sorry, I think you'll have smile lines engraved in your face.

Poor poor baby Simon who doesn't get to view himself as a shell of a man unworthy of love. How can he survive? I dunno. Must be tough being adored by two literal sunshines.

[twopoppies]

hi, gina! i'm curious to know where the term "buzzin larrie" came from. i already know what it means, but i'm just wondering how that came to

Hi, sugar. Honestly, I have no idea what that term means. It’s some weird Twitter term that started during quarantine because suddenly people weren’t just larries anymore and instead there were all these random variations. Maybe it’s larries who don’t think Louis is a dad? Or people who think he is a dad but still want to call themselves larries? I have no idea because people also say nonsensical things like “do you believe in babygate?” which drives me insane.

Anyway…

I assume they took the term from the fandom concept of larries being Louis’ “army of bees” and Louis’ use of the word “buzzing” when sarcastically referring to how excited he was to be having a fake baby.

Btw, there’s no need to fill my inbox with the definition of “buzzin larries”. I don’t really care. You’re a larrie or you aren’t. I’ll be a curmudgeon about that until the day I die. (That’s not aimed at you, anon) 💖

[simsstuph]

I parked my bike and chained it to the railing on our stoop. The school day felt as long as winter does compared to the other seasons.

Danny: Hey June, what's buzzin' cuzzin?

June: I don't want to talk to you.

Danny: Oh c'mon now, don't act like big cheese.

June: I mean it, skidoo back to your side of the steps. I really don't like you.

Danny sighed: Ain't that a bite cause we're talkin'.

June: It's been a long day already, I don't need you adding to it.

He put his hands on his hips and his eye brown hardened into a hard line: Why do you always gotta be so difficult? Can't ya ever just listened without yappin' all the damn time?

My eyes opened as wide as they could: You've got some nerve walking over here with this attitude after our last encounter.

Danny smirked: SO you think about me do ya? [he slipped a quick wink]

June: My mama taught me that if I don't have nice things to say, don't say them and boy, I sure don't have any nice things coming to mind right now. How's that for thinking about you.

He put his hand out as if motioning me to calm down: Woah dolly, don't let me ruffle your feathers.

Oh, but he was and I couldn't hold back the frustration anymore. I turned a cheek and closed my eyes letting out a long sigh. I would not let myself angry cry in front of this jerk.

He stopped for a moment and grabbed my wrist as I waved him away: Now just a minute, June.. I was kidding with ya. I wasn't tryin' to hurt your feelings..

My voice cracked as I quietly said; Just go away, Danny. I mean it, would you just leave me alone.

He turned and scratched his head: Screwin' up is all I seem good at these days...

He looked back at me, his eyes were such a light green with the sunlight shining in them: I know it means nothin' but I'm sorry for the other night. Chuckin' that cigarette butt at you wasn't right and I'm sorry.

He walked away and I didn't say a word. I hated him and his apology meant nothing to me.

[maplehazelnut]

Just got a third FFQ on neopets . com and I'm so excited I don't even know what to do with myself. I already got my alien Aisha and the buzzin avatar - now what????

I am SUCH a faerie lover but the paint brush is so cheap now that the festival is happening?

Literally this is gonna be my whole day.. trying to figure out what to use this quest for.

[lady-lycany]

In the first two december weeks, we already had snow and now it almost feels like we have spring, even though the winter technically just begun. God, can we just skip the upcoming 2-3 months? Y_Y

I want spring, I want trees and bushes to bloom, I want green grass & flowers, mild breezes, buzzin bees and more animals outside...

I'm definitely not the type of Wolf who likes the winter. Playing in the snow would be nice yeah and the landscapes can look nice too, but mostly for me it's too grey, too calm and snow just triggers my desire to walk and run on all fours, what I can't do anyway so... It's all just meh to me lol TwT

[punemy-spotted]

choosing questions was hard bc i feel like we've talked abt everything before 🤔

Post a snippet from a wip.

What is your favorite location and position to write in?

What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

What area of writing do you want to improve in?

What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

No i had the same problem i tried so hard I love youuuuuu

To the surprise of literally no one, I rambled, so all of this is going to be under a cut for the sake of everyone's dashboard.

Content Warnings for the Snippet: Discussion of death, Religious characters, Mention of Religion in a Small Town, Religious Control/Corporate Control, AGGRESSIVELY PRO-UNION OPINIONS

Want some more? Here's the fanfiction writing asks!

Post a snippet from a wip.

There’s a whole different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ ‘round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. You knew it from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on yours, keepin’ you from losin’ your footin’ on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — bet you I can get Ed to take care of that  tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubblin’ outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life. Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was a meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt. Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife an’ children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own Holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands. Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom. You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

What is your favorite location and position to write in?

I feel like this always changes depending on my mood. I still love sitting at my desk with my laptop on a riser so that I'm not completely killing my back with bad posture. Using my mechanical keyboard to write makes me so happy, and I can really only do that on my desk if I want to be nice to my already repeatedly injured wrists — thanks, crocheting. Plus, since I tend to edit by handwriting, it means I'm not hunched over my notebook and re-herniating my spine.

What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Oh man. Uh. Nothing? Maybe the character development, even though I know I have a slightly unconventional way of writing Reader-inserts. I really really get passionate about making my Reader-inserts feel like real people, like they would actively be a part of and have a hand in the growth of the world that they live in. Even my oneshots, I've written out pages and pages of backstory about why the Reader is doing what she's doing, what brought her to where she is now. Do I ever really expect to be able to explore it? No, but that's not the point. The point is that they are real to me, and I always want the people reading my fics to feel like they have become someone while reading the story. I want you to feel immersed. Transported.

What area of writing do you want to improve in?

Uhhhhh. Everything? Dialogue, probably, but also smut. I have no idea how to write smut. I'm not joking or being like... humble about it either, everything I write when it comes to smut always feels very... clinical to me — am I a narrator of a nature documentary? I'm definitely working on that.

What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

NOTHING BLEEEEHHHHH MY WRITING IS BAD AND I SHOULD FEEL BAD AAAAAAAA—fine, fine uhhhh... I'm gonna say it's probably just the fact that I'm still doing it, honestly. Writing is hard, y'all. Writing for fun when it's something I'm supposed to spend my whole career doing as a lawyer is a choice and it's not an easy one to make, but I'm still here. Slow, sad, a little crispy on the edges, but here. Support your local writer, y'all, cuz we're going through it.

[justicefanged]

Raven hears Linus before he sees him, and he briefly considers keeping his distance - he wasn't in the mood for yet another fight, for something else to go horribly wrong. But it occurred to him, then, that things were going terribly for everyone at the event, and if he really cast his mind back he understood that - in his own particular flavor - Linus had somehow become as staunch an ally as he could have made.

He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck, until another mouse waiter walks by, squeaking as it offers him champagne from its tray. Sighing, Raven nods his thanks, and takes two of them.

"Hey." Pushing the second flute into the other man's hands, Raven taps their glasses together - perhaps a mite more forcefully than he meant, but intended well enough - before he takes a long swig.

Squinting into his flute, Raven pointedly ignores the watchful eyes of the elementals as he murmurs under his breath, "I'm almost waiting for them to get bored."

Considering things had gone a bit different than what a lot of people were expecting, Linus wasn't trying nearly as hard to rein himself in. He'd caught sight of Lloyd several times, but his brother was so far leaving him be; he'd either not been too bad yet, or Lloyd was stuck in his own head again. Hm, might need to crack him out of that shell so that he could try to have some fun or something, but...

For now, he's just going to enjoy himself a bit. Which meant drinks with people he hardly knew, rat food that was actually pretty damn good, and making a generally light-hearted ruckus as people danced or mingled.

Being loud came natural to him, but it was nice to be in a space where he could be loud and it wasn't entirely out of place for once.

"Hey."

It's a short, soft greeting. A somewhat rough but now familiar voice speaking in the undertones of the music and other conversations happening around them.

Linus rakes over Raven with a surprisingly careful expression, like he was trying to gauge the gesture. It didn't last long. Linus took the glass the other was pushing into his hand, face breaking out into a grin as Raven even clinked their glasses together -- they both did it too hard, thank the Saints whatever magic was here made these things sturdy or there would have been shattered glass on the floor.

"Well, hey there yourself, Red. Didn't take ya for the drinkin' sort, even if it's this stuff," Linus remarked, swirling the liquid around to watch it bubble and fizz for a moment before downing it in one go.

Just a drop in the bucket, really.

Linus barked out a laugh, leaning into Raven's shoulder and speaking conspiratorially in his ear, "Ain't no way one of 'em doesn't! Already feelin' some kinda way myself. Got this...buzzin'. More 'an usual, at least." Wasn't exactly out of the realm of normality for him. He didn't like to sit still or quiet for too long, so filling up empty spaces was what he did.

Considering the ones they'd dealt with before, he wouldn't be too surprised if things got a bit...chaotic for one reason or another.

"So," he hummed, his friendly grin shifting into a mischievous smirk as he brought his hand up to Raven's line of sight, the crackling mark of lightning aglow on his battle-roughened palm, "Care for a dance? Y'know. To stave off their boredom, or whatever."

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 29th January

Elvis isn't quite the person I've posted most about (Frankie Laine still currently has that honour, I think?) but he's getting there. And after today, he's gonna be two songs closer! Which is fair enough, because he really is the biggest name we've met so far, on our travels. I can think of a few I think rival him, but not at this point in time.

One Night - Elvis Presley (double A-side, peaked at Number 1)

Well, this is a real bluesy song. Elvis sounds tormented, throughout, desperate, hanging on the title line just a fraction of a second longer than you expect. There's an earnestness to it, lots of bold, emotional lines about how you can just call my name / And I'll be by your side, and about how life without you / Has been too lonely too long. Elvis is pining, simple as that, singing about how he's led a quiet, unremarkable life, he just wants this one thing: one night with you / Is what I'm now playing for / All things that we two could plan / Would make my dreams come true.

It's heady stuff, and backed up wonderfully by this heavy blues guitar, deep and steadily plodding along. It's like the moody predictability of Elvis' lonely but well-behaved life has turned into this chugging, emphatic sound. It works stunningly well, and makes it all the more effective on the "too lonely too long" line, where it all cuts away, leaving just Elvis' impassioned voice for a brief, shining moment. And he delivers a hell of a performance here - it's some of his rawest-sounding stuff yet, without ever sounding wild or uncontrolled, big where it needs to be, small where it needs to be, and without any of the goof or cheesiness that Elvis sometimes has. This is very good stuff.

It wasn't originally an Elvis song - the song was apparently originated two years previously by one Smiley Lewis, a black R&B musician from New Orleans, who had this signature slow rocking style that you can absolutely hear here. Except his version was called One Night of Sin, and lines about how one night of sin / Is what I'm now paying for. Racy stuff! I guess in this telling, the story is less about a man pining for his love, and more about a man regretting sleeping with her unwisely but still pining after her? Honestly, it feels like quite a different story - a much messier, morally greyer one.

Not that there's not a touch of innuendo to a whole song about Elvis singing, with maximum passion, about how he simply wants one night with you. It's already a sexy song. So yeah, I'm not surprised that Elvis didn't want to be linked to anything any more suggestive that this already was. And the lyrical change is satisfyingly neat - whoever came up with the amended line muist have been proud!

I Got Stung - Elvis Presley (double A-side, 1)

Holy smokes, land sakes alive! So this is where all the spare cheese that Elvis had left over from the rather more serious One Night went. This song is maximum goof, all silliness. Thankfully, this is a mode that Elvis can do pretty well - there's a charm to him that lets him get away with lyrics like that rather clunky opener. Not that I'm entirely sure what "land sakes alive" means. I thought it was "snakes alive" for the longest time, honestly.

Anyway, it's mostly there just to preface a song that centres on one solid metaphor - Elvis is in love, and it's likened to a bee sting. Hence lines about how I got stung be a sweet honey bee, about how she started buzzin' in my ear, buzzin' in my brain, or about how if he lives to 102, I'll be buzzin' round your hive every day at five / But I'm never gonna leave once I arrive.

The latter doesn't actually make any sense, when you think about it. If he doesn't leave, how's he arriving at five. And is this set-up one where 102-year old Elvis lives elsewhere and just comes to visit his lover? That sounds... weird, for such a marriage-obsessed era. I'm also not entirely sold on lyrics about how you give me just one little peck on the back of my neck, because "peck" is a bird word, not a bee word. And while it's also a word for a kiss, who kisses their love on the back of their neck. And then it makes Elvis break out in a cold, cold sweat, which is definitely not a beesting symptom, unless he's talking about anaphylaxis? In which case, get yourself to a hospital, dude! And there are a whole lot of other lyrics here that don't really work. It just feels a bit sloppier, a bit less carefully worded. Which is a shame.

Still, it's a bouncy, goofy song, at the end of the day. We're here for Elvis' cheeky little aha-he-ha, yeah interjections, the pacy piano backing, and what's almost certainly the best bit of the song, the little bits where the backing singers go oooh-oooh and there's a little pause while somebody bangs on the body of the guitar that's accompanying them. It's a small touch, but if you listen to the song, it jumps out as just this fun, cool sound. It's catchy, and it leaves you with a spring in your step, and Elvis is giving it just as much welly as he is in more serious songs like One Night. Which is fun. I can definitely see why the songs were packaged as a double A-side, because you absolutely get something for everyone and for all occasions, between the two songs!

As I Love You - Shirley Bassey (1)

Oh, and Shirley's back, too. This song has a delightfully dated vibe. The intro, in particular, sounds like something you might see being used as the theme song to something on the BBC in the 1960s, to me - I can't quite place my finger on what it is. Perhaps it's the audio quality, perhaps it's the vibes layered over the top, perhaps it's the cheery big band stylings. Weirdly, it feels like a 1960s sound, to me, though, which actually makes it a little ahead of its time for 1959. Honestly, I could even see the Beatles doing a banger cover of something like this - or perhaps the tune in the intro just reminds me of a specific pre-existing Beatles riff. Again, though, I can't remember which. Grrrr.

Anyway, back to the song we actually have. It's a big ballad, and Shirley's on top form, her voice warm and inviting, soaring and belting to match her big band backing, then falling away to give the title line a bit of soulful tenderness, trailing off and holding back the final word of the line as she fades out at the end, so as to finish on a repeated line about how every kiss seems warmer and better as I love you more and more and... I don't know, it looks weird written out, but trust me, in audio form it feels like a classy touch.

The whole song's softly romantic, and I genuinely really like it, as a song focussed on the experience of being in love and staying in love long-term, and how Shirley's love is just getting stronger. It's not a song about the fireworks of first love, it's about how I will love you as I love you, all my life, and about Every moment spent with you makes me more content with you. And that's the dream, right? It's sweet. It's romantic. It's what Elvis actually meant when he sang about hanging rought until he's 102. It's the happy ending, after the film finishes, the gold-toned montage they play over the end credits. Or if it's not, it should be!

And this was actually used in a film, The Big Beat. Except weirdly, it's apparently a film about a young man who is trying to persuade his record exec father to sign more rock and roll acts. Which is only interesting insofar as this is pointedly not a rock and roll style song, though it's also not really old-fashioned enough to exemplify the sort of old, "fuddy-duddy" music that his dad presumably is still trying to produce. So I'm not sure how this would have been used....

Honestly, I can't find much information on the film - it seems to not be very available nowadays, and all the musical artists featured are very much unknown quantities to me. Charlie Barnet, anybody? Buddy Bregman? Alan Copeland? Jeri Southern? The Del-Vikings? (Side note: I wish I'd heard of the Del-Vikings, they sound rad!)

I like all three songs today, and I appreciate that they all gave me entirely different tones and moods. We've had hopeless, slightly suggestive yearning, the goofy joy of realising you're in love and being silly about it, and then the warm contentment of continuing to be in love for potentially years. All worthy contenders. Only one of them made it into my regular Liked Songs list, though.

Favourite song of the bunch: One Night

[physically-freezing-demoman]

"Eheh.. could ye blame me? Ghost sword musta settled me fate." He grinned.

"Plus, I'm rare. Ye should've seen tha other guy, I'd rather be a ghost than be in whatever limbo he's locked in." The cyclops went on, only somewhat noticing Jane's change of expression.

Jane had a problem with him being a ghost, but Demo knew that already.

He perked up at the mention of his sword again, and if he could then he'd be tilting his head. "Landie has always been picky weh his owners. But if they're jes buzzin', means they can't completely hate ye." He assured. "Cuz if they didn't know ye or somethin', they'd probably jes leave."

Demo clicked his teeth, chuckling to himself. "But ehh.. I hoped taking him along with us would make 'em like ye more. I like ye." As if it wasn't obvious enough, but Tavish needed to be all positive about everything. Anything else and Jane would take a severe hit in the mental health aisle.

One of those nights again.

Yes, those nights. With those nightmares, which had once been dreams of what they couldn't have, turned to what had to be.

He was just sittng there, waiting for Soldier to acknowledge his presence. He always did eventually, and he got used to it quicker by now. He honestly just enjoyed watching Soldier fumble on the cold, stone floor. It was almost endearing, the way he threw himself to the ground just to get close to him.

"Are ye ever gunnae get used tae this?" He chuckled, the only thing moving was his face, the rest of him still and pressed up against the wall. It'd look like he was just sitting there to anyone else, but only the two of them knew. It'd start and end the same, and Demo would humor the man before him for as long as he was allowed.

Staring into the two bright blue eyes they contrasted the dark spots and heavy lids of his bestfriend, wishing he could just pat him on the cheek and tell him he'd be alright despite how not alright everything was. Life was unfair to those who didn't deserve it-- and Demo knew Soldier didn't deserve an inch of what he had to go through, let alone go through it alone.

"I've been tryin' tae visit ye, if even fer a second. Ye always seem so sad." And his concern was genuine, even if the visiting was just to remind Soldier that he was there, just completely out of his range, to his dismay.

( @physically-freezing-demoman )

"...think I got reason." Jane shivered. He was shivering even before. He felt like a fly sometimes, hopelessly stuck in the threads of some gargantuan web. The more he struggled, the worse he wound up caught- and one day, some big nasty mother of a spider would eat him inside out. Maybe it already was. He always woke up hollow in the middle of the night when he was alone. Hollow and cold. Still sitting on the floor, clad in white tank and grey-blue sweatpants, Jane pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His skin was covered in goosebumps. This time, though, his tears remained yet unshed, shining a quavering reflective sheen over his eyes. "...want to talk to you. Got plenty I need to say to you. Christ, so much. But you're always gone. You're a goddamn mirage, I reach out for you and you were never there." The clone's breath shook in misty plumes. "...and I know why you weren't."

[karlachismylife]

Okay I kinda overwhelmed myself with the amount of WIPs I wanted to whip out asap and hit the dreaded stupor, I'll try and calm down to take stuff slow (damn I get so nervous every time about the anon asks cuz like. what if people get tired of waiting for replies and get upset huh)

And in the meantime I'll post the non-fic post that I kinda thought might be useful, although now I'm already kinda scared that no one will need it or even worse, people will judge me for it. My head is not okay I'm telling you. Right.

But yeah, dear anons that sent me asks - the reason I'm not replying is cuz every one of them is oneshot-worthy at the very least (ngl the trolls one smells like multipart or a looong oneshot to me so it might take even longer since I am buzzin' about it) and i am just simply writing these oneshots as well as fighting my own head. Yeah. Yupee. I am anxious and thus my thoughts are sooo all over the place, I literally get distracted by new ideas every five minutes and forget them before I even write them down, which is a pity. And stuff.

I don't like being insecure about my writing cuz it makes me write slower...