#logan001

[xherrgottseigelobtx]

continued from ( X)

@logan-t78a

At the information, a warm smile stretched on Kurt's features. He was always rooting for Logan, for over a decade now, through thick and thin, he had always prayed for him to find peace and happiness and reconcile with the human being that he was. "I'm very happy for you , meun Freund" he spoke and hugged him. "Congratulations. "

[bubblegumxjubes]

She clapped in her hands. "NICE" then she gave him that look , trouble would come his way....one day , not now, butg one day. "Oh by the way, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to accompagny me, there is this bike sale and I've been dying for a new bike , and while I know most of everything about new models, the older ones are still a bit tricky with value and prize ...so I was thinking that we could go aaand wat greasy and you can negociate me a super awesome prize ? "

Logan rolled his eyes and her justification and if he ignored the first question, he got amused when she asked again. “Badly.”

[oh-oliver-hedley]

where: Diagon Alley

who: Logan Buchanan ( @xavecamour )

Oliver was truly, utterly, undeniably - a complete idiot. 

“Wear a disguise”, his brothers had said, “you’re going to a very public place and you are going to be bombarded the minute someone recognises you.”

“No,” Oliver had said, idiot that he is, “I’ll take the risk, and, besides, I love meeting our fans.” 

“Change your outfit, at the very least,” his older brother had suggested, “Something less...flashy, would be good.”

Oliver hadn’t listened, naturally. And now he wished he had.

Fans are great, they really are - until said fans won’t leave you alone long enough to step into a single store. Oliver had been surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls the second he’d stepped foot in Diagon Alley, and spent an hour signing autographs and smiling for cameras that had shown up from god alone knows where.

He’d just managed to slip away after, upon having a stroke of genius, he yelled “is that Lorenzo de Rose?!” and pointed in some vague direction. This diverted the attention of his fans long enough for him to turn and run. 

He bolted into the nearest side alley - and almost immediately, collided bodily with another person. He let out a soft oof, and found himself clutching the arms of the man he’d run into to avoid falling over. They were nice arms, firm. His fingers itched with the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath his palms. 

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, “I was -” 

The words got caught in his throat when he looked up and met the gaze of possibly the most handsome man he’d ever seen. 

“Uh,” he said, stupidly.

☄♕✧*ﾟ

[icebobbles]

@logan-t78a​

Everything felt so familiar, yet so foreign to him.  He remembered good days here, but everything just reminded me of what had been done to this world, to him. He didn’t feel like himself for the longest time now. He had signed to be left alone , and he was not in the business of being a hero so he didn’t mind that much, maybe it was a bit naive of him. He came back to check in with Jean , she asked him to, and he was left to wander afterwards. That’s when a name tag on a door caught his attention and he stayed at the doorframe.  “I remember the time you swore to not be a teacher here... all it took was a war with aliens. ”

[stormofxarchive]

@prjectx10

If she could be forgiven for the bad joke, after all these years Ororo was good at reading the temperature of a room. She had sensed something ... disapproval, distance, censure, she knew not what exactly, from Logan since she had arrived at the Nomads’ base. She knew him well enough to see it in his eyes, even if he’d said nothing yet. It was far better to poke a wound than let it fester, in her mind. But first, she had to admit to some rustiness in her combat skills. Too much time spend in front of a classroom these past few years. “It’s no Danger Room,” Ororo began, looking around. The training room was in essentials fit for the purpose, but she felt a brief flaring of nostalgia for their old base, for the simpler times. 

Still, some things were the same, Ororo reflected, her gaze on Logan as analytical, preparing for a fight, as it was reminiscent. She had missed this, but mostly, she had missed him. “But it’s the partner that means more than the dancefloor, no?” She took wary steps, her stance defensive, before striking out, aiming to land a hit between Logan’s ribs. “I’ve missed dancing with you, Logan.”

[mccncreatures]

Beau knew Logan was just trying to be prepared. Hell he couldn’t blame him. The whole situation was precarious. Everyone was bound to end up at each others throats. Still he strolled up beside him with two beers as he almost ripped some poor guys head off and looked down at the other. “You know, there’s a saying. Something about more bees with honey or something of the like. Think we gotta work on that one.” He offered, sitting beside him. “Hear any good word yet?”

Beau, too, wasn’t a fan of the territory. But for entirely different reasons. He never minded the witches, it was how he’d ended up with Yasmin. However, Yasmin was the very reason he minded being in that area. “Have a drink, try to relax. You look like one of the legs of the stool got shoved up your ass.” He joked as he looked around.

open to all !

Logan's fingers drummed on the bar, tense and trying to release the built up anger. After Hope's return and the incident with the witches—though he still believed it to be fabricated, if anyone were to have fucked up the witches, it would have been him, and his hands were unfortunately clean of blood—the pack had tightly wound overall. All itching to do something, but with no direct order.

While he, of course, always listened to his alpha, he couldn't help but feel the desire to visit the local coven himself. If they were planning to retaliate, the crescents needed to know about it, right? So there he sat, at a bar solidly in witch territory, tense fingers tapping away as he waited for a drink that still hadn't come. "You just gonna keep staring or you gonna say something?" he snapped, turning his head to the side to glare at the patron whose eyes had bored into the side of his neck.

[glcsshousex]

location: neon nights who: @lohastings

“Looks like a frat house in here tonight,” leaning over the bar so she could hear him, he smiled. A rarity in itself but provide enough alcohol and a person he actually liked to be around? It worked wonders for his expressions. “Beer please, Lo, and whatever your fine self wants this evening.” Jace sat down on the stool, an undeniable grumpy frown as his eyes looked out at the rowdy crowd of hipsters. He sighed to himself, pleased that he was only going to be here until she finished her shift, which hopefully, would be soon. “Ay,” turning his phone around for her to see, displayed the menu to a takeout shop on their route home. “Hungry?” Either way, he was going to pre order something for himself as his stomach remained a bottomless pit. 

[cohengoddard-blog]

yikes! - cohen & logan

preferring to stay far from the cacophonies of the three broomsticks, zonko's and honeydukes– all of which found themselves heaving with students and staff by the early afternoon, thanks to it being the year's first visit to the village –cohen took it upon himself to wander off from his usual crowd. it's not that he didn't like being around large gangs of people, nor that the excitement had passed him by. his mood was buoyant. simply, he had rather tired of visiting the same places. from one cobbled turn to the next, he felt the autumn chill bite at his hands and began to warm them up with his breath. soon the high winds would come. followed by heavy rains, maybe hail and definitely some snow. cohen hoped the influx of new students had been warned about the highlands' turbulent northern weather. although, he had to admit, it would be hilarious if they hadn't. thoroughly amused by his own thoughts, cohen may have looked somewhat mad as he stepped up to the window display of dervish and banges grinning. he admired the peculiarly pearlescent broom, floating proudly among other shiny bits and bobs. "beautiful, isn't it?" he commented to the tall lad already stood in front of the shop.

@logan-davenport

[jessdrew]

for @multiple-wars

It had been a long day. A long one. Jessica Drew would be the first to tell you that she was no stranger to long days—it came with the territory of being a private investigator who had to do things like stakeouts, not to mention the ridiculous hours that being an Avenger had required back in the day—but it was for that reason that she had such a firm commitment to some good ol’ TLC. Though, to be fair, her form of TLC was generally pretty lowkey: as long as it consisted of greasy food and a hot shower at some point, it was pretty much a winner. Alcohol was a bonus, as was company.

That was why she was spending her night at the weird diner bar on the corner, near that alley where she’d once been thrown by a fifteen foot robot—it had a dartboard, greasy food, cheap alcohol after five p.m. and a crew that had never once batted an eye as she came in covered in blood and muck and everything else she’d been covered in over the last however many years. To make things better, she was with Logan.

“So,” she said, selecting a fry from the bowl on the table, and glancing up at Logan as she ate it, “anything new and horrifying screwing you over in your life this week?” Apart from the obvious situation of riots and infringement on mutant rights, she meant, though that was fair game too. If she was talking to anybody else in the world, that sentence might sound sarcastic, given there were few people in the world Jessica considered as, or even more, screwed over than she was herself, but Logan was one of them. “Also, these are really good, holy shit—you should eat some,” she added, pushing the bowl towards him. Salt and grease were incredibly important to the Jessica Drew Theory of TLC.

[antagcnisms]

shame comes from vanity.  

It’s peaceful. Standing on the edge of the treeline, watching as the carnival lights go out one by one. It’s clear out, no clouds in sight, the moon high up in the sky—and if Logan tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that his life hasn’t just fallen apart in a single day. He’d tried closing his eyes at one point, but the image of Merrick’s silhouette as she’d walked away from him is burned into his mind and—

His eyes hadn’t stayed closed for long.

He leans against the closest tree, feeling the rough bark tug at his football jersey and he lowers himself to the ground, knees tucked against his chest, thinks maybe if he stays still enough, the world will just go on without him. He’s not sure how long he stays there—his phone had died sometime during his second shift—but when he finally comes back to himself, the field is empty and he’s the only one left.

His joints are stiff when he pushes himself back to his feet, but he ignores the discomfort as he heads over to his truck. The drive home is shorter than he would like, but at least the lights are out when he pulls into the driveway. Is this going how it’s going to be the rest of the year? he thinks, leaving his house at the crack of dawn and only coming back long past nightfall; anything to put off having to face his parents.

Eighteen years of being Logan Norris, and then suddenly he isn’t. God, he’s not even a person anymore at this point, not when his father looks at him and only sees a stranger’s son, not when his mother can’t even look him in the eyes. He’s living, breathing proof of his mother’s mistake, the personification of her biggest shame.

He slams the truck door shut with more force than necessary, heavy feet dragging all the way to the front door. The first thing he notices is the shiny new lock. No, he thinks, they wouldn’t— He knows it’s not going to work, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to jam his key into the lock anyway, even though it does nothing but scratch some of the new varnish off. He wants to hit something—needs to get this ugly anger out of him—but he thinks of Lori, asleep in her bed, and his hand stills.

And so he makes his way back to his truck, exiled from the only home he’s ever known. The duffel bag he’d packed in the morning is still in the backseat, and he almost laughs at the sight of it. He plugs his phone in to charge before starting the truck, just barely paying attention to the road as he drives—the streets are empty anyway, and he’s busy trying to think of places he can park for the night without being chased away. 

The phone screen lights up as it comes back to life, and the first thing he sees when he glances over is the notification for a text from his mother.

I’m sorry, it says, like that makes anything better. Like it does anything besides make her feel better for choosing her husband over her son.

“Fuck you,” Logan says in response, and he keeps on driving.

[bubblegumxjubes]

"Yes!!" Jubilee beamed. "Omg, what am I going to wear... omg omg omg...euhm okay...that part really does not speak to you and I will spare you the pretty woman show...so let's say... garage in about an hour ? " she suggested, having a thousand ideas in mind. She did not really wait for an answer to give him a kiss on the cheek and run off to get dressed.

Logan found a fine smile, glad he picked right. He looked at the info and everything, connecting the dots. He knew this place, he went there many times. "I know some guys there." He finally shared. "We can go with my bike, looking good with it and all that shit." He offered, coming with a nice bike was already saying a lot, a good way to sympathize with some sellers. "Sounds good to you kid?"

[hutchingsb]

DATE: December 7th, around 8pm LOCATION: The Bar AVAILABILITY: closed for @loganjaimes

It’s funny, being this side of the bar bench. Hutch thought he’d be more put off than he actually feels. Perhaps he missed his true calling, staying in Blackrock his whole life tending bar at the Ugly Mug. The idea makes him want to cringe as much as his heart longs for something that simple. He’s proud of the man he’s become. Or, at least, he tries to be. But how different would it have been if he never left his hometown at all? How much would have changed? And if he ultimately made it back to Blackrock, did it matter that he left at all?

He doesn’t think having an existential crisis behind a bar is exactly what he signed up for. The Whitegrass’s might not be too pleased with his current performance. With a small sigh, he schooled his features and looked up only to be greeted with a familiar face. Hutch couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his features. 

“Never thought you’d see me this side of the bar, huh?”

[dranyakowalczyk-blog]

Anya: I know I saw you this morning but I'm sort of impatient (character flaw - hello) and I figured this couldn't hurt, right?

[bloodfxre-blog]

“You’re not sneaky – I can hear you.”

[mccncreatures]

“I think the they you’re referring to is just a bit too close for you to be talking blatant smack.” He joked as he sighed looking around. “Some of Yas’s crew is here. Which means inevitably she’ll make her way down and make a scene. Or shoot me a text, light up my night with sardonic comments about lack of commitment and some cheap shots about Hope. Off a number I’ll have to block, before finding some other way to be batshit crazy.”

Logan had been the first and the loudest of his friends to admonish his relationship with the witch. Bayou witches were, if nothing else, unpredictable and Yasmin had lived up to that reputation well when she practically blew him up over refusing to break a sire bond he wasn’t afraid of. All the latent jealousy over Hope had come out then, and it was clear the relationship had no place in his life. “Then again, I think I was a bit of a prick at the end. Took a note out of your book. Called her a psycho bitch.”

Beau knew Logan was just trying to be prepared. Hell he couldn’t blame him. The whole situation was precarious. Everyone was bound to end up at each others throats. Still he strolled up beside him with two beers as he almost ripped some poor guys head off and looked down at the other. “You know, there’s a saying. Something about more bees with honey or something of the like. Think we gotta work on that one.” He offered, sitting beside him. “Hear any good word yet?”

Beau, too, wasn’t a fan of the territory. But for entirely different reasons. He never minded the witches, it was how he’d ended up with Yasmin. However, Yasmin was the very reason he minded being in that area. “Have a drink, try to relax. You look like one of the legs of the stool got shoved up your ass.” He joked as he looked around.

[xherrgottseigelobtx]

"Ja...I know. " Kurt's tail moved a bit. "I just lack in ...tact sometimes I suppose...but I am here . " He looked at his friend. "You smell different" he sat straighter and really look at him. "You're glowing....if you were ein Fräulein (a woman) I would say you're pregnant"

xherrgottseigelobtx​:

.

Not expecting a conversation but the comfortable silence of just being here, Kurt fell back into a silent prayer until Logan’s voice echoed in the room. He tensed his back and extended his neck backwards to look at Logan upside down. “ Ich (me) ?”  he turned his body followed by his head to face Logan. “Ja (yes) , i am well. “ he assured. “Powerless when it comes to certain people , but what can you do besides praying for them ?”

-

Logan cocked an eyebrow at the first question but didn’t reply to it, because seriously? Who else? The pope maybe? He listened, his eyes distracted by this place, by all those stories on the wall and glasses but seemed amused by the question. “Be there.” He replied, looking back at his friend. “Just be there for them.”