#this is so short and bad guys

[araluendunedainofluna]

In the ancient corridors of the deep, dark night, he wakes. 

The dream has wrapped around him like a hangman’s noose. It has crushed the air from his lungs and now he gasps, choking on the sobs that lurk at the back of his throat. Bindings tangle round him. He thrashes against them, driven further into wildness by the desperate need for air.

Old fear curls in, and the voices rise to power. 

They know you left him. The one thing asked of you, and you failed. Undeserving. Worthless. Despised. You left him. You were only ever given one task. Incompetent, forsaken…

Terror and guilt well within him. He makes to rise, to spread his wings, to soar up and away from the dark confines of memory and ache, but something jerks him back. Blind panic swells steadily larger. His left wing. Beneath a weight. Gone numb. Chained--

Coward. Wretched--

His brother’s eyes plead with him, come back. Two spots of blue sky lingering in a desecrated wasteland.

He pulls with all the strength in him. In an instant the weight vanishes. The force sends him tumbling out of the trapped place, down, the bindings trailing behind him. They still tangle around him, thought there is little they can truly do. 

But before he can spread his wings and soar, the ground smacks into him, and he knows nothing except his lack of air. For a long, long moment, he lays there, cold stone burning him, fighting to breathe.

And then a woman is before him, a glowing pillar in the moonlight. 

"Artham," she whispers, Caution fills her eyes, concern inscribes lines in her brow, but not fear is nowhere to be found. 

“No,” he strains, flailing away till his back meets the wall. “I’ll not go back. I won’t-- non’t-- not, not, not, no, never, bever no gack, gever nack there, no.” 

“You’re not back there,” she offers, settling down opposite him, rooting there in an instant. 

“He has broken me,” he chokes, “I am broken, what more woes de hant from me? Was he front mum fee? Fum mree? From me?” 

Shaking consumes him, as though fever burns his veins. He curls up tight and rocks back and forth, whispering to the black madness things no words can say, things he does not know how to translate into letters and sounds. 

But the woman is rooted there in front of him, and she slips the soft fingers of her hand into his grip.

At her touch a sharp, high whine seeps from him. 

“No, no-no-no-no,” he babbles, so she releases instantly. 

In the next he misses her touch profoundly. 

“Sharp, sharp, don’t get cut,” he keens, “don’t get cut on me.”

So her hands lace into his, cradle him, trace gentle circles over the scaly skin, till his breathing settles down some. 

“Back there was so dark,” he manages, after a long, long time. 

Tenderly, she reaches out, brushes the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eyes, settles the ruffled feathers on his wing. In the light of the moon, her own tears shimmer on her lashes. 

“I know, my love,” she whispers, all brittle and crumbling. “But we’re here now. We’re home now.” 

And his mind at last clears. 

Guilt renewed washes over him in nauseating waves, and he gags. He grips his wife’s hand like he’ll strangle it. She  squeezes in response. And now she’s there. Arms round him, holding him so close. Too close. He might hurt her, doesn’t she know? It will only be a matter of time before-- No.

He breathes in the beautiful smell of her and forces himself to be grounded. 

“Arundelle?” he rasps. “By the… I’m so sorr--” 

And then her lips crash into his, silencing his apologies before they pour from him, and he kisses back, fiercely. 

They tremble, and kiss tastes of salt. 

They break apart at last, and he presses their foreheads together. 

“Just… a dream?” he concludes. His gaze snags on the floor, and intangible iron walls prevent him from looking anywhere else.  

She tilts her head, until his hurricane eyes at last meet hers. They shine a soft gray-green. Silvery birch leaf eyes, burgeoning with rainfall. “Just a dream, beloved.” 

He breathes once more. 

“Do you think you can sleep again tonight, or shall I put on the kettle?”

He makes a dubious noise. “I… I want to.”

“Can you try?” 

He swallows. 

“I can try,” he manages at last. 

She smiles, and kisses his temple. They stand, and sometimes who is supporting who is indistinguishable.  He lays down once more on his side of the bed. His pillow is damp. He realizes belatedly that the covers still lie upon the floor. Arundelle shakes them out, climbs in beside him, and they hold each other close, so close. 

And in the arms of his silver-shining wife, he sleeps.

[damian-lil-babybat]

They're judging their sibling's life decisions, and they are not impressed.

(And to think Jason and Dami have pit-madness in their system)

[moonyflesh]

🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]

WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)

🐾 .*.. 🕯️

Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.

Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.

As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.

Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.

You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.

“You alright, Lo?”

You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.

“Mmmh,”

He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.

You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.

Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.

A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.

Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.

“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”

Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.

“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.

“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”

He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.

“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.

“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”

You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’

You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.

“G’night, bub.”

You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.

“Goodnight, kitty.”

[raindropsyndrome]

So, no one will headcannon that Donnie would be thrilled to help raise a kid? No? 🤨

Alright then… I’ll do it myself

Prev

More

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[1v31182m5]

[ferrariseventeen]

since someone has to say it…vernon with a stupid baseball cap that he refuses to take off even when you’re sunk between his knees,and it’s so low on his eyes all you can really see is his pretty mouth fall slack when you start sucking on his balls

[thatdeadaquarius]

So like I just went through almost all your language posts and I was wondering what if like the creator sometimes just switches languages out of no where and everyone is just like:😃. Cuz like they don’t understand what they mean and it happens randomly too or when they’re irritated and they just start cussing in like 3 different languages at once

IM SO SORRY TO DO IT TO YOU-

but i think ive written some stuff abt this before?

u know what tho.

ive got an even better idea. my “go-to” if you will.

Torture Alhaitham.

>:)

^^^ ALHAITHAM RUNNING U DOWN AFTER YOU SAY EXACTLY (1) WORD IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE HE’S NEVER HEARD-

☆

Sun: Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT headcanons-ish?, Language shenanigans!

Stars: Alhaitham (suffer lol)

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: None Known & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

he’s watching you. constantly.

he’s always writing about you.

he’s following you around Sumeru City.

he’s following you around Port Ormos.

he’s at your house-

Alhaitham learns you speak multiple languages before any other akademiya schloar, and he’s submitting a thesis about “the Greatest Lords languages from their home world”

before you can even say “I’ll think about it” in any language u know lol

people have definitely mistaken him as your favored acolyte (not that he does much to deny it)

and talk to him like he’s your secretary?? …oh, welp.

Alhaitham knows your schedule for the next month within a week of following you

mans is willing to do the MOST to get you to sit down and just start talking in a language at him

want food? his specialty dish ingredients are always at the ready at his house

want literature? he’s offering to literally break into the akademiya (or giving you a copy of his house key to have access to his personal library all the time)

(tho kaveh is practically hugging you to his chest as you walk around perusing as he talks ur ear off lmao)

Haitham (he sometimes insists you call him when it’s just you two) wants to singlehandedly be the first person who understands every word you say when u coo at dogs in another language

or cuss out a fictional character for being stupid

CRYING U CANT EVEN GET MAD AT HIM BC

every time u get pissed he’s interrupting every other word you say to ask for definitions/clarifications of slang 😭

send help he’s made a red string theory board of all the languages you’ve used to try and just- make sense of all their rules and when you use them and how to tell the difference and oh no-

Alhaitham’s hanging pictures of you mid-sentence with ur mouth open or even worse when ur yelling.

…u know maybe its not for an akademiya project, maybe he’s just trying to humble you. 💀

☆

thanks again for sending this ask in!! :D

language sagaus my beloved <3

tbh i have likeeeee 54 things in my drafts rn? so needless to say im slow, BUT IM SO HAPPY U GUYS GAVE ME THIS MUCH TO FAWN OVER, REQUESTS OR NO <333333333333

:]

an iced coffee? for me?? :O

☆

Safe Travels Ariasdream,

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

[iid-smile]

hello! so, i don't know if you take requests, or write for blue lock in your blog, but if you do, may i request an interviewer!reader x the blue lock boys? the specific characters i want are: sae, rin, nagi, and kaiser. but feel free to add or remove characters as you'd like. but if you don't take requests and or don't write for blue lock, just tell me, no problem! thank you, and take care! also, i love your work!

crushing on the job

various blue lock boys x gn!interviewer!reader !

rin, sae, nagi, bachira, kunigami

author's note: this is a first because ive never thought id get a request for blue lock 😯 unfortunately, some sacrifices have been made since i don't read the manga, and kaiser has been eliminated... (im sorry i literally know nothing about him 😞) SO i added in bachira and kunigami in to make up for it

note: i wrote this as if they were normal footballers, so nothing from blue lock and whatever happens after is mentioned. the drabbles really very in length and definitely aren't equal.

synopsis: how they act when they fall in love with an interviewer at first sight. headcanons + drabbles!

itoshi rin I pre game interview

it's VERY obvious that he's caught something for you, because the way he looks at you is different to other interviewers

he's often at a loss for words and asks you to repeat your questions a lot. his head is in the clouds, and none of them get answered properly

he's overall a lot kinder and lighter with his words and ways of speech. his stance is much more relaxed than usual

the chances of either of you asking each other out are slim, so one of his teammates would do a bit of digging to get your contact info for him. if not, he'll be thinking about you nonstop and it messes up his performance

your feet move and twist around on the grass outside of camera view, as you stand beside one of the most skilled strikers in japan. the struggle of trying to put off this interview had to be abandoned at some point, and it's been months, yet it still feels too soon.

once the cameraman gives you a thumbs up, you take a deep breath and start to speak, completely forgetting to introduce yourself and the player. "so, what do you think the score will be in the end?"

rin just stares at you in the eye blankly, and it took you the small movement of turning the microphone towards him to snap him out of it. "huh?" his eyebrows raise a little.

you've seen how his other interviews have gone, and you were more than nervous to have your turn, fully expecting yourself to be belittled to some degree. but is it just you, or does he seem a bit... different? "t-the score? your predictions on the score?" you repeat, a small stutter in your voice and decreasing in volume as you go.

"uh..." he wipes his nose with his thumb and looks off to the side for a few seconds, before turning back to you again. "the score... yes." he answers mindlessly, nodding his head. it wasn't even a yes or no question...

in confusion, you blink, not even knowing how to respond. you were trying so hard to not let how uncomfortable you are shine through. you really have not a single clue what this man is thinking. "how are you feeling? about the upcoming match, i mean."

"a bit excited, i guess... i've been training." he looks at you and replies quietly before looking away again and scratching the back of his neck. "and other things..."

this is a first. anxiousness? rin always struck you as a confident man, or at least from what you've seen he is, so what does he have to be nervous about?

itoshi sae | meeting by chance (not)

(im sorry guys this may or may not be the most ooc and corny thing ever + im going off of the tiniest clips of him in the anime)

he just so happened to recognise you after a match

you interviewed every single player on his team except for him. coincidence? he thinks not. he's the best player, isn't he? why wouldn't you want to ask him anything?

for some reason, he finds it extremely entertaining when you're intimidated by him as a whole. he doesn't visibly show it though. you've got to have some confidence if you intentionally ignore THE itoshi sae

it's not that he's in love (probably in denial), but he's intrigued by you. he's a lot more pushy about things, but he doesn't mean to make it overwhelming. that's just his presence alone doing that

every interviewer out there knows how dry yet valuable sae's answers are. they ask the same questions, he gets the same answers, all the time. that's precisely why you don't want to interview him yourself. being shut down every time you try to question something is more embarrassing than people think, and you cringe just thinking about it.

so imagine your relief when you successfully get through an entire match without crossing paths with him. you would get to send in your notes, go home all happy and jolly, and sleep peacefully without a care in the world. but luck can only last so long.

you were just about to take a much needed bathroom break, but before you could turn a corner, there's a figure blocking your path. "you avoided me." it's itoshi sae in front of you.

your mind draws a blank. there's no one from your team within sight, or rather anyone in sight, and not even the comfort of your notebook could save you.

not only were you so confident in the fact that you wouldn't meet him that you hadn't written down any questions under his name, but you also told your team to wait in the car because you wouldn't take too long. "oh... i did?" a clear lie. "well, the producer and cameraman aren't here and stuff, so..." you attempt to get yourself out of situation, sheepishly at that.

his facial expression didn't change. he just continues to look down at you, and it was impossible to hold eye contact for more than a second. "unfortunate. because i want to hear what you have to say."

"i-it's nothing important, really... it's nothing you haven't heard before—"

he cuts you off. "i want to hear you say it."

something about the way he said it really freaks you out. conflict was running through your thoughts, your fingers twisting in the metal rings of your notebook. "okay... just a short one."

while your head was turned, you managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes squinting slightly, dare you say softening, and you pull out a pen from your pocket. "make sure you write down every word."

oh, you definitely were; with shaky hands. "will you say something different?" you ask. it was stupid, but still, you were eager to know.

for a beat, he stays silent, then tilting his head to the side. "...we'll see."

nagi seishiro I photobomber

this guy is in the background 24/7. he's honestly just a a bit lost and a curious little thing

he gets closer and closer until you finally interview him. at first he'll just be a blur, and he comes all the way up to behind you. he doesn't even mean to sneak up on you like that, he just wants to talk to you. his shadow would be so scary when he looms over you from behind

he's so weirdly energetic when he talks to you? not by a lot, but definitely more than when he normally speaks. he can actually be bothered to answer you properly, which is unexpected by many

he doesn't really flirt. if he does, it's unintentional. he's honest with his words and it kinda makes things awkward

"yes, thank you. i'm here at the saitama stadium to—" your eyes glanced down at the shadow on top of yours, growing larger and larger, and eventually overtaking the size of yours.

all of a sudden, there's a hand on your shoulder. "are you an interviewer?"

your head whips back and you take a step forward. you really shouldn't have been as surprised as you were, since you literally saw it coming. but you recognise this face. messy hair, much like a eskimo puppy, and dark eyes with permanent eyebags. nagi seishiro, who just happened to be a must have on your 'to interview list'.

"yes... yes, i am an interviewer."

nagi's hand remains on your shoulder, and he glances up at the camera in front of you. "is this on?" he points at it.

with a small glance at the device yourself, you nod. "mhm. and live." now that he's right here in front of you, you have to seize the opportunity. "since you're already here, would you like to...?"

lifting his hand, it's almost as if he took offence to the offer, his eyebrows furrowing. "who wouldn't want to with an interviewer as pretty as you?" he says, loud and clear.

you thought you were hearing things. him calling you pretty? that can't be real. "o-oh..." was the only thing you could say, a chuckle automatically leaving your mouth right after. it seems like he hadn't realised the effect of what he's said, moving on as if nothing happened.

bachira meguru I a silly pest

shameless and playful

the type of flirt that has you giggling and forgetting what you have to say because he's so smooth with it OR he's just so confusing that you accidentally agree to his advances

the type to say "this goal is for you" or "if i win this, you give me your number" and makes a promise to score as many times as possible

either he really embarrasses himself and you find his reaction cute, or he looks unexpectedly cool when he makes all of his shots like it's nothing

during one of his celebrations, he holds his hand up to his ear (🤙) so it's pretty much set in stone that you give him your number

you came prepared. interviewing a player very known for childish antics and trolling wasn't going to be easy, but you're always up for a challenge, especially when it'll reward you with some good material to work with. once the cameraman gives you the thumbs up, you finally start to speak. "are you disappointed that you haven't won an away games in a while?"

"hm..." bachira pouts, pretending to think as he rolls the ball beneath his foot. the entire time since the camera's been on him, he hasn't looked up from the ground. yet. "i'm more disappointed i haven't had the chance to meet you earlier. really had me missing out on life, you know?" he glances up at you as if that was the most normal thing to say, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

keep your cool, keep your cool. "how do you feel about being one of the youngest players on the team?" purposely, you don't expand on his answer, and move on to the next.

"i don't know. how old are you?"

as much as you'd like to entertain him, it wouldn't be appropriate. "too old for you." you reply, keeping your tone light with a chuckle.

"ah... you'll just have to wait for me then, huh?" oh. you don't think he was lying about that.

the smile and light atmosphere of the interview drops in an instant, replaced by a slightly stunned look that you know won't look good airing. how does he say these things with a straight face?

you quickly school your expression into a more neutral one. it's not like you can reprimand him on live tv, as much as you'd like to. "you don't think that's a little inappropriate?" you say.

bachira just shrugs, rolling a shoulder. "inappropriate is subjective." he doesn't give you a moment of rest, shifting his bodyweight to the other foot and continuing to toy with the ball. "can you ask me another question? this one is boring... actually, i'll ask you a question."

"oh god..." you mutter, your hand twitching and ready to facepalm.

"how about..." his eyes stare deep into yours, as if he was searching for something inside of them. "if i score a hat trick, i get your number."

your face scrunches up, since you thought he would take the hint already that you have to keep this professional. "that's a request." you correct.

"exactly."

"what?"

"so... number?"

"yes—" in that split second, your real personality slipped out, your brain subconsciously wanting to accept his offer. a brief moment later, the damage was already done, yet you were trying to fix it. "no! no!"

but he was already running off, a little skip in each step. "thank you~!" your manager won't be happy at all.

kunigami rensuke I press conference

probably wouldn't shoot his shot publicly/verbally, no pun intended. it's a respect sort of thing and a barrier between careers

might be ooc, but he really reminds me of this moment (i know its basketball, but still) are you seeing what im seeing?

accidentally threw his towel or water bottle at you at some point during his warmups, and then the sight of your pretty self was stamped into his brain

the clips would get really popular, and your company pretty much pressured you into going to his next game, and then the one after that, and the one after that...

even with all of the lights flashing in his eyes, kunigami could see you as if some sort of spotlight was on you, glancing around and hesitantly trying to find a moment to speak up. how could he not recognise you? you were that pretty interviewer that he threw his towel at by mistake. your face truly was unforgettable, and his first interaction with you happened to go like that.

usually, he would let thinks like this go, since it's not really something he needs to deal with, but he still feels like he owes you something. "hey, let them speak." he voices, firm and unyielding. anyone in their right mind wouldn't mess with a guy that clearly works out on a regular basis.

"so, you were saying?" he puts on his best smile, and you're so stunned by his kindness that you forget what you were going to say in the first place. luckily, you managed to put together some sort of random question that was good enough.

"ah, yes." you take a minute to look at your notes; they were completely blank. not very helpful... "you did really well during the game, but you didn't score as many goals as you did in your previous match. do you believe that you could have performed better, or are you satisfied with your results?"

he takes a second, and after a moment he responds. "well," his eyes gleam with pride. "i'm pretty satisfied with my performance. but i could do better, and i plan to in future matches as well."

and your little interest in passionate people ignites. "how do you do it? how do you keep improving, when you're already so good?"

he chuckles, slightly embarrassed by your compliment. "really, it isn't that amazing. i just love football, you know. i can't help but to always strive to do better. the people who are close to me motivate me a lot." a staff member moves over to adjust the microphone as kunigami has his head down, writing something on an unopened bottle of drink that his team was sponsored by.

by the time he lifts his gaze up to you again, he's suddenly struck with a certain dazzle in your eyes, a spark of curiosity. it felt like an attack straight to his heart, and that's when he knew you might be the one. perhaps it was naïve, but he's never felt this way before.

you knew it was best to step down before you get too ahead of yourself, so you nod and hand your mic to your assistant at your side. other people need their turns too, right? you also fail to notice kunigami giving the bottle to the staff next to him, whispering a few words to them.

only a few minutes later did you find yourself with a free drink in your hand, his number scribbled over the label in a thick black marker.

[mysticalcats]

i hate these guys

[groovygrub]

[whereismyhat5678]

I have a confession to make.

And you can bash me all you want about it. BUT I STAND FIRM ✊✊

*clears throat*

I’ve had a crush on all of these men.💀

Edit: HOLD YOUR HORSES- I forgot at least 2 ✌️ I fixed it now!

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[confettiibunny]

Headcannon that Gallagher is super ticklish under his chin like a puppy!! You caught onto this when you first sat in Gallagher’s lap and your hair brushed against the underside of his jaw, eliciting uncharacteristic giggles from him akin to childlike laughter. And oh, how you abuse this little weakness of his so much. A few scratched under his chin and he’s letting out these dreamy sighs that are near pornographic, his eyes fluttering shut and everything. Or if he’s down for whatever reason you tickle that sweet spot, watching with glee as his glum expression is quick to fade away. Dragging him into the bed just to clamor on top of him and push his body against the bed so you could kiss and suck the flesh of his neck. The sparse hairs on the underside of his jaw tickle your lips but you could care less with how loudly Gallagher sounds and how his body squirms under you. Eventually gets you to stop by grabbing your face and kissing you silly, large hands wandering all over to tickle you back in playfully revenge :(( He’s actually so cute I need him so badly <333

[farmhandler]

Idk if you’re still doing prompts but if you are would you consider doing Wade (with Logan) meeting up with weasel after a while and weasel doing his usual quips about Wade’s scars. & Wade tries to laugh it off and is like ‘lol good one’ but Logan is having NONE ❌of it

I am a sucker for protective Logan.... At least in movieverse I don't think Weasel would go out of his way to insult Wade if we're looking at a more grounded approach to their relationship, so here's my take on it!

Either unspecified established relationship or could take place in my series we're just going to say Logan is fine in a bar for this scene if so

---

"It's a bar," Logan said, at Wade's expectant look. "Seen a lot of 'em."

"It's not just any bar." Wade placed his hand on Logan's chest. "And you're not just any man. You're—"

"Holy shit, is that the Wolverine?"

Logan didn't even know what random shithead had spoken up. After over a year of living in this new world, he'd gotten over the glamor of being recognized as a hero and now he just wanted people to leave him the fuck alone when he was out.

"Fuck off," Logan said, loud enough to cut across the noise. They moved away from the entrance, and he followed Wade through the crowd of people, noting the way Wade's body language changed. It was interesting to watch the way the flair he threw into every action mostly evaporated. The patrons, too—they looked at Wade the way you looked at a viper: you hoped it didn't show its fangs.

Him wearing his mask probably helped, aided slightly by Logan's leather jacket sitting on his shoulders. He'd gone through an entire theatrical routine to get Logan to give his jacket to Wade because he was just 'too cold to survive even a second longer in this frozen hell'. It was nearly summer.

"Weasel, my man, how the fuck have you been?" Wade said loudly as soon as he sat down. Logan settled into the stool next to him, fiddling with a cigar. No smoking, but it felt good to hold.

“Wade,” the infamous Weasel greeted, turning around briefly to put away a couple glasses. “Haven’t seen you in a long while. You said you’d stop by.” Weasel glanced at Logan. “This the boyfriend?”

Weasel glanced at him again. Wade had talked a lot about Weasel. Sounded like an interesting character.

“Hey,” Logan greeted. “Wade’s talked a lot about you. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, Wolverine. Mr. Wolverine?” Logan went to put his cigar in his mouth, and Weasel’s eyes drifted to his arms. “Wow, you are…very strong. You look strong.” Weasel blinked. “I mean that in the straightest way possible.”

“Uh huh,” Logan said.

“No hitting on Logan. He’s off-limits,” Wade said. He moved to pull off his mask. “But if you hit on me, please give it your best shot. I’ve been working my ass off trying to make Logan jealous and it hasn’t paid off yet. But I’m patient.”

“Wow,” Weasel said. “You haven’t been here in so long I forgot what you look like.”

Logan’s head snapped up from trying to read what someone had scratched into the surface of the bar as soon as those words left Weasel’s mouth. He looked at Wade to gauge his reaction, to see if he’d somehow misunderstood, but he looked shocked.

Not angry; just shocked. The look was there and then gone.

That was worse. Worse than Wade being angry was Wade being surprised into being hurt. To say Wade felt insecure about his appearance would’ve been an understatement. His current circle of friends would not have said a word about his scars—he didn’t know Weasel to know if this was usual for them.

Like it fucking mattered. To say that Logan’s hackles were raised would have been an even bigger understatement.

“What the fuck did you just say to him?” Logan said, pulling away his cigar and leaning forward. He curled his fist and slid it in front of him across the bar. “I think I misheard.”

Weasel blinked. “Uh—"

Wade barked a laugh that mirrored the look that had been on his face.

“Angel baby, calm down. Put the claws away. This is just our thing. It’s funny. Weasel, don’t listen to him.”

Weasel’s laugh was quick and a little nervous. Logan bit back his response, because as much as he was protective of Wade, this was Wade’s friend. He stuck his cigar back in his mouth and watched them.  

“I’m still me,” Wade said to Weasel. He shrugged. His fingers reached out to slip over the edge of his mask on the bartop, pulling it closer. “We haven’t had our banter in fucking ages. What would you do if you were me? Come on, hit me.”

Logan curled his fist tighter. He made sure to tell Wade at every opportunity he loved the way he looked, and they had worked so fucking hard to get to a point where Wade didn’t talk about smashing his face in every time he looked in a mirror.

“Well, if you insist.” Weasel shrugged. “If I looked the way you looked, I’d cover up every reflective surface. I’d smash them, so I couldn’t even be tempted.”

“Tried that one,” Wade said flippantly. “Logan just replaced them. I kind of miss the avocado comparison. Run that one by me again?”

Weasel turned around briefly to grab a few bottles. “Were they moldy, or just ugly?”

“Maybe both?”

Wade’s laugh was not a good laugh. He’d pulled his mask in his lap and kept fiddling with the velcro. Logan realized what was happening an instant after weasel started talking.

“You look like the baby of those two avocados came out ugly, only the ugly baby look never went away. The baby just grew up like that and everyone had to pretend it was normal until—"  

“All right, that’s it. I’ve heard enough,” Logan said. He pointed a finger at Weasel. “You do not fucking talk to Wade or about Wade like that. Period.”

“Sorry,” Weasel said immediately, raising his hands. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“Logan—” Wade started.

“I don’t care what this is,” Logan interrupted. “I don’t care that you two have been friends for years or that this is some fucking game for the both of you. All I’m hearing is you telling my fucking boyfriend in front of my face things that aren’t true. There is nothing wrong with the way Wade looks. Wade is not ugly. Wade is beautiful, and you will apologize to him right fucking now.”

“Logan, it’s fine,” Wade said. “This is our thing. We used to talk like this all the time.” He nudged him. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I—I really didn’t mean anything by it,” Weasel said. “Sorry.”

Logan turned to Wade. “You are not ugly, and I won’t fucking stand hearing it. Not from you, and especially not from anyone else. You think I don’t see how you’re—”

He cut himself off. Later. He’d save that for later.

“Whatever you two talk about on your own time, that’s not my business,” Logan continued. “But I’m not putting up with it while I’m here.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Christ.”

Wade was staring down at his mask now, holding it white-knuckled. The bar was packed and loud, and as far as Logan could tell, no one was really paying them any attention, thank fuck.

“Sorry,” Weasel said, sounding like he meant it. He nodded at Logan. “Shit, man…yeah, you're right, I'm—I'm sorry.”

“Is he?” Wade said, his voice unexpectedly quiet.

“Yeah. When we said all that shit, you thought…we thought you’d be able to fix it.” Weasel cast a glance at Logan, who raised his eyebrows. Weasel nodded at his glass. “The way you look is fine, Wade. You’re not ugly. Sorry I said all that.”

“Yeah.” Wade sighed. “I’m just me.”

Logan slipped his hand over Wade’s and squeezed. Wade squeezed back.

"Hey." Logan caught Wade's gaze. "You are perfect the way you are. In every way. I mean it."

Logan probably should have considered how this was Wade's usual haunt when he went in for a kiss, but if anyone cared, he was pretty certain the claws would convince them otherwise.

“Let’s talk about the fact that you clearly haven’t showered in a week,” Wade suddenly said to Weasel, leaning onto the bar. “Your hair’s usual straw-like quality means it holds all the grease incredibly well.”

“I’ve been busy,” Weasel said, hurrying to busy his hands and not look at either of them. They went back and forth like that, conversation moving to safer topics. Logan shifted his hand to Wade’s knee and held it there until they left.

[dykedvonte]

Honestly I see Jimmy's refusal to put Curly out of his misery less about his weird feelings of envy or his delusions but the fact Curly is all but stated to be a shield to Jimmy from his actions and people seeing the worst in him.

The only characters that Jimmy really interacts with one on one before the crash are Curly and Anya, two individuals he has wildly different relationships with. It's likely that Curly really did most of the talking between them as the pilots and the rest of the crew as staff. They didn't know of Jimmy's more reprehensible behaviors cause they never really had the chance to and Jimmy is subconsciously aware. If they had disliked him more than Anya would have told Swansea earlier or even Daisuke when things got really bad.

It's why he takes the immediate opportunity to blame Curly; He's the shield. He's saved Jimmy's ass more times than he can count and more times than Jimmy would ever admit. Even when he can't really do it anymore, he mentally shields himself from his own faults by putting Curly between them. Letting Curly die puts too much on him because he doesn't know how to function without a safety net.

In the end Curly only lives because Jimmy needs the idea that Curly will inevitably make things better to stay alive, meaning Curly has to live, no matter how much it pains him to do so.