Nov 5, 2024
@bothsidesofaquestion
Logan, calling Kurt on yet another payphone in some county jail south of bumfuck nowhere: babe come get me, I fucked up again.
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@bothsidesofaquestion
Logan, calling Kurt on yet another payphone in some county jail south of bumfuck nowhere: babe come get me, I fucked up again.
💗 — closed starter tagging: @silkties
the cabin was dark, a half-eaten glass bowl of popcorn resting on the coffee table in front of them and the only light coming from the lamp in the corner that needed its bulb replaced and the television screen. maybe this choice of a film had been a little inappropriate, but erotica and exploitation films had always been logan's favorites and freya had begged him to show her one of his favourites. ten minutes prior, he'd wrapped an arm around his step-daughter's waist and pulled her closer to him when she'd told him that she was cold, but now as they watched the woman on screen writhing and moaning, his mind was wandering elsewhere. he'd been handsy with her before, had given her playful pecks or smacked her ass, but he knew his attraction towards freya wasn't something he could act on beyond that. still, it didn't mean that logan didn't think about it, especially while he was mindlessly splaying his hand across her torso, fingers having dipped underneath her shirt to the warm bare skin there. his hand then slid up, cupping her breast without thinking about it. "y'know, i haven't seen any of these in a while. your mother hates them, but for a while everything i wrote was inspired by this kind of stuff." he spoke as if he wasn't feeling her up, as if it were just normal for them.
@raregcms sent: Otousan... I need you to distract Daddy for a couple of hours. Luna Snow is doing a pop-up appearance at this shop in Greenwich Village and I kind of already have a Danger Room sim tonight I'm supposed to do... Pleeeeease? (from Teej :D)
ㅤㅤㅤ“….Luna Snow?” Logan echoes the name doubtfully, a furrow to his brow as he tries to place where he's heard that before. Seems like every day there's some new superhero making headlines, the ole Canuckle Head can hardly keep up with 'em all.
ㅤㅤㅤHe straightens up from hunching over his wood working bench, manual planer still in hand, and eyes TJ with one eye squinted. “….is there gonna be fightin' at this popper thing? How're you gettin' to Greenwich?”
ㅤㅤㅤAt least she's asking. If it'd been Jubes, Logan would have found an open window and a cartoon drawing of her blowing him a kiss. The older mutant sets down his tools and reaches for the rag in his back pocket, wiping his hands. He figures as long as the risk is low, there's no harm in letting Talia play a little hooky. “Y'can go on one condition." The Canuck says, grin poking at the corner of his mouth. “…make up her the danger room sesh by joining me on the mansion grounds next week. Hunter-Prey, and y'gotta catch me three times.”
@merriemarvels sent: “Promise me you’ll never lie to me.” - for Logan from Jubilee >:3c
ㅤㅤㅤLogan stills, the axe in his hand hanging inert at his side. For a long moment, the Canuck doesn't say anything, a complicated expression flickering across his face.
ㅤㅤㅤ"...That's a bad bet, kid." He finally replies, hefting the axe once more and taking aim at a cross section of trunk. "And you know it."
ㅤㅤㅤLogan grunts as he swings, splitting the wood into two neat pieces. (Sometimes his claws aren't the best tool for the job). "...Spent half my life lying to myself. How'm I supposed to never do it to you?"
A silly starter that entered my head, for @bothsidesofaquestion
ㅤㅤㅤThat's it. Jogging? Logan hates it. It's officially for the birds. Or for the Elf, if the way Kurt's untroubled breathing and steady footfalls are anything to go by. Damn his extremely fit and tight behind.
ㅤㅤㅤ"I'm callin' it..." Logan huffs, slowing his pace to a walk and then unceremoniously sprawling, starfish-style, on the grass under a tree. "...The Wolverine ain't built for long distance runnin', Elf. Just leave me here t'die..."
@mademarveling's Ororo sent to Logan: “Even while I’m away, know that I’ll be watching you from afar.” (ILYSM)
ㅤㅤㅤ"Or maybe..." Before she can pull away, Logan catches 'Ro's fingers with his own. His voice, like his hand, is rough. "...maybe y'just don't go."
Sent from the Excellent @perditos: Blood dripped from Laura's side. Blackish red, rusting into a brown stain in her suit. Her claws retracted into her hands as she pressed to her feet and flicked dust off her knees. She frowned, twisting enough to see the gash in her side close and heal in the few seconds she spent looking at it. Unconcerned by her vanishing injuries, her gaze scanned the warehouse - the piles of bodies, the flashing computer console as Logan downloaded the data, and the final flicker, flash as he burned out the hard drive. Mission accomplished, now they could go find some public restroom to change into civvies in and embark on the long drive home. Except, predictably, Laura's stomach growled. A hamburger and fries sounded good right now. "We're getting dinner before we head back, right?" She asked Logan. They convened on the far side of the warehouse and headed towards the door, "I got more bad guys tonight, so that means you're buying."
ㅤㅤㅤLogan's always gratified when these data retrieval missions end up being pretty straight-forward. Get in; Put down the few henchmen that ain't got enough sense to flee; Then plug a jumpstick (courtesy o'Hank) into the waiting computer terminal. Bingo, Mission Success. Anything more tech-savvy than that just puts the Canuckle Head in a sour mood. He can use technology (despite what Jubilation says), he'd just rather… not.
ㅤㅤㅤLogan's watching the computer monitor and ignoring the itch of drying blood on the back of his neck (his blood? nah) when Laura levers to her feet behind him. Even from across the room, he can hear the other Snikt's stomach growl. The Canuck grins.
ㅤㅤㅤ“Heh. Sure. Why not.” Logan replies, yanking the stick out of its port and pocketing it. He turns to survey the scattered bodies on the warehouse floor, jaw jutting out mulishly as he mentally tallies each henchman's mortal wounds by their claw count. Damn, Laura's right. 6 Two-Claw kills to his 4. He must be gettin' slow in his old age…
ㅤㅤㅤFalling into step beside the other Wolverine, Logan grunts, “-- Fine, but the limit's three burgers each, plus sides. I'm not risking runnin' a credit card out here and leaving some kinda paper trail.” He shoulders open the door into the gloom of early evening, keeping pace with Laura as they melt into the woods surrounding the rural warehouse center. The place hadn't been particularly well guarded for being out in the middle of nowhere, but Logan doesn't want to count out the possibility of a silent alarm. If nothin' else, someone is gonna notice that their computer system's no longer connecting to the network.
ㅤㅤㅤThe road to civilization ain't far off, but the Wolverines stick to this strip of forest for as long as it lasts. As they near the closest town, Logan directs them southward until he and Laura can collect the duffel of spare clothes they'd left stashed in the hollow of a tree. Shouldering the bag, he jerks a thumb at the distant light pollution keeping the woods in perpetual twilight. “… Town's thatta way. Y'wanna change somewhere with runnin' water? Then we can see what kinda Greasy Spoon they got.”
@invulnerablextouch sent: ‘ sometimes it feels like someone else is wearing my body . ’ ((For Logan please))
ㅤㅤㅤLogan pauses in feeding kindling to the campfire, staring into its flames for a long, silent moment. He can't say he's surprised by Anna Marie's words, nor the sentiment she's clearly waited to share until they were more isolated from the rest of the team. For all the diverse lived experiences among members of the X-Men, the Canuck knows that not all of 'em can properly relate to the kinds of things he … or Rogue… has seen.
ㅤㅤㅤ"Yeah…" Logan sighs, sitting back on his haunches and finally looking up at Anna Marie, the firelight carving shadows into his face. "…I know how ya feel, Moonbeam. Maybe better'n most."
ㅤㅤㅤWolverine might not have the power to absorb other peoples' psyches like Rogue does, but he's got no shortage of ghosts in his head. The Canuck tips his head to one side, "There were times, I had t'watch from inside my own head while someone piloted me, wielded me like the Weapon they wanted me t'become. And then, when the rage takes me…" He grunts, shrugging and tossing another broken-off branch onto the fire. "…. Well, anyway. I get it."
ㅤㅤㅤMentally shaking off the weight of past trauma, the Canuck peers at Rogue more closely, "What brought this on, anyway? You havin' some trouble?"