#phoenixwxngs

[threeclaws]

@phoenixwxngs: cont.

            Most hits he could take. But there was a certain kind of ringing that didn’t go away when he hit metal on metal. While there was no soreness in his scalp, the ice pack seemed to help. Squinting up at Jean for a moment, he sighed and pulled the wrapped pack back so she could see. “I’ll be fine. Advantage of a healing factor, eh?”

[threeclaws]

@phoenixwxngs: cont.

          He cracks a grin, the attempt to hide the grin failing exceptionally. “Who?” he asks, faux-innocent. It doesn’t last long - he’s bold enough to reach for her hip, stepping into her space. “You seein’ something I don’t?”

[threeclaws]

📝 [phoenixwxngs] LETS DO IT

@phoenixwxngs: meme.

Send 📝 for a letter my muse has written for yours to receive after my muse has died!

         I killed you, in the other life. In the one that doesn’t exist, but I remember anyway. You died trying to save all of us. And then you died when I had to kill you. I killed you, Jean, in that other life. But I don’t regret it. You were hurting people, and I know that’s the last thing you want. So I don’t regret it. Only when I think about you and me. Which I guess is most days.

         Why is it that I keep thinking we could be happy together, when all our lifetimes have been screwed up? I want to be in the world where there’s no firebird, where there’s no Scott, where it’s just you and me. I think if the world stopped, we could be happy.

         It’s not this world. I’m sorry, Jean. I don’t know how the fight tonight will end, but if it’s bad for me, I want you to know that all the pain’s worth it. All the lifetimes where we’re not allowed to touch, they’re going to be worth it - even for just one world where we’re happy together, Jean. 

Promise me, after all this, that you’ll find me there.

                                       - Logan

[threeclaws]

43 [phoenixwxngs]

@phoenixwxngs: meme.

43. Reunion Kiss

         Laura had started crying when he died - didn’t really stop actually, even after he was pulled off the stumpand started breathing again. Rictor started when they reached the meetpoint at sunset, three hours after they were meant to arrive, only to find an empty field.  Sparky boy (Bradley’s boy, he’d fucking met Chris and he was a good fucking man, christ-)/ had started when Logan had made the mistake of setting his hand on his head while he was assuring the kids that they’d figure out what to do next. A few more, once their escort had finally arrived to guide them to Eden. The rest followed as soon as they stepped foot on the land, saw the house up ahead - and they were told that the fight was over, that they were home.

         He thought he was all cried out, after looking up at Laura’s wet face, breaking his damn heart like she’d known what to do with it from the start.

         (Everyone who loved him did.)

         He was strong though. Aside from the fact he had to be, he felt… a little empty. Maybe dying on your kid did that to a fella. He’d heard her, after all. He was pretty sure he was never gonna forget the way that tiny name warbled out of her throat. Ain’t no one cry like that over their genetic donor. He was her dad. She’d nearly lost her dad. Jeez, what did he know about being a dad? Half the time he was convinced he was a test tube baby too. The other half… Well, didn’t matter, did it? He was dead and buried.

         People were coming out of the house, batting huge, interested eyes at the children. The first new mutants in over a decade, it was a miracle worth witnessing. Appropriate, for a place called Eden. Logan turned his attention to nudging the kids forward, encouraging them to go ahead. That was how he didn’t notice that familiar flame, so preoccupied with his herd that by the time he looked up, he’d managed to get the kids to the waiting arms at the doors.

         But then was Jean. In one moment, there was only the crowd, the faceless allies, and in the next, she was in front of him. He froze, like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe it was reverse - like he was a ghost, and he saw someone alive for the first time in his ancient life. She was breathing, she was alive, and she was right in front of him. In the end, he couldn’t speak. There was so much to say, so much to ask, so much to explain. But there was only the moment, and Logan couldn’t stop himself. Shaking hands took her and pulled her in, clumsy and desperate, but alive. They were alive.

         Maybe he had a few more tears in him.

[threeclaws]

@phoenixwxngs:

look tada the thing we were crying about

          In the world he came from, the apocalypse came about with the rise of the machines, twisting humanity's mere mutations to their advantage, programming the ultimate defense and offense. He hadn't lied to Charles; he’d been in a lot of wars. His memories of the wars before his memory loss were jarred, mere patches of a past that refused to be seen again, but even those grisly images were nothing compared to the overwhelming loss Earth faced against the Sentinels. Bodies in walkways, as if flesh were the new pavement of the world.

          In this world, the apocalypse came with the rise of the dead. Everywhere Logan turned now, he saw a smiling face - a face he'd seen pale and cold, with an empty gaze looking back. The dead were alive in this world, but they were not hungry for flesh. They craved mere normalcy. It was positively domestic. Logan was a history teacher. Him! A fucking honest-to-God teacher! That was the life he led here, educating the dead unturned from their graves.

          He was supposed to be okay with that.

          And - he was, he was more than okay with everyone he'd seen die in fact being perfectly fine. It was what the war was for, to make sure they could save everyone. Every man, woman, and child. But it didn't negate the fact that for him, it still happened. It didn't stop the memories from coming back at night, never letting him forget where he came from. Logan had been forced awake by the nightmares once again, reminded of one crystal clear fact: what could have been was what had been.

          Funny, how he kept wishing for a bit of that amnesia that'd plagued him for so long. Scrubbing at his face, frustrated, Logan pulled himself out of bed. He'd checked the first week he'd come to this lifetime - still no beer in the fridge. But he could manage to whip up something to settle his chaotic mind.

          For some reason, in a house as full as this one, he managed to be surprised to see that the kitchen wasn't empty.

           “Oh,” Decades after losing her, yet he was still the same tongue-tied idiot. Some things never change, alternate timeline or not. His throat worked, and he was careful to avoid making eye contact as he shuffled over to the cupboards, “Guess you couldn't sleep either, huh?”