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Marvel Comics Presents vol. 1, #79 (1991), art by Barry Windsor-Smith

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also hmu if you wanna do the "mains" stuff :) im not gonna do exclusives (probably) but i'll link to mains in my pinned!1

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After they shuffle inside and over to the counter, Logan takes up a stance against the bar, his forearms leaning down onto it.

Keeping it cool with a large number of people milling around him is essentially part of Logan’s job, in his opinion. Though the interior of this bar is busier than the little patio filled only with a couple smokers, it’s nothing compared to busy streets of trying-to-evacuate citizens or hordes of The Hand. Annoying, uncomfortable, cramped? Yes, maybe a tiny bit, but bars are comfortable for the Wolverine, Logan’s one to keep up appearances regardless, and this situation certainly isn’t testing him; the only thing close to testing him is Loki herself.

And speaking of the goddess, she looks a bit out of her depth. Or maybe that’s just his impression because Logan can smell her, and the minute chemical changes that accompany the changing stress levels within a person (and, from Logan’s plethora of experiences, most gods— or frost giants— counted plenty as persons). He watches her a bit longer, the stiffness in her back and shoulders, and the almost bemused look on her face. There’s a couple barstools free a foot down from them, and Logan gestures to them with a move of his lips and chin.

“We should siddown,” he mutters, sliding the menu Loki had been perusing down the bar and to where those seats stayed open. Even as they scoot over, Logan stays standing, arms resting against the bar again and head tilted down. He watches Loki out of the corner of his eye every few moments, his toothpick flicking up and down. After she explains her heritages, he nods and mirrors her wry smile, his teeth clamping down on the toothpick and finally breaking it. Logan nearly growls at the snap, but just spits it out and shuts up while the goddess finishes up speaking.

His brow raises, curious. He figured she’d know his origins, at least to some vague degree. It’s slightly comforting that she doesn’t, and yet hasn’t assumed him as an American, at least out loud. “I know complicated, plenty, girlie.” He sighs and tilts his head to the side, nostrils flaring. “I can deal with the cold, I got high tolerance. …For a lotta things, if I’m bein’ honest,” though Logan keeps it vague in words, a few thoughts race through his head. Pain, cold, trouble, just general bullshittery? He can cope plenty. “—Includin’ you not bein’ able to make a decision.” The menu’s been pushed away, now, and Logan finds this and Loki’s agreement about some sort of sweetened cocktail, her tone implying him to pick, as a good way to deflect getting too far into discussing himself. Though, as Logan waves the bartender over and shoots the grizzled man a sharp-toothed grin as he slowly walks up, he does acknowledge the conversation on the cold one more time; “I’m from Canada. Used to love the mountains and the snow, but it was a different experience with furs coverin’ yer shoulders, back then.”

Once the bartender arrives, Logan straightens up and nods towards Loki as he begins speaking. “Y’know a Hongkong Cooler?” As to be expected, the bartender doesn’t, so Logan begins to describe the drink as the man looks at him a bit disgruntled. “I tip good,” Logan grumbles, raising a brow. “Gimme two. Thanks, bub.”

-> continued from here. @tr1cked <-

He scoffs, as she shifts her posture to her full height. God of mischief indeed.

Of course, Logan's scoff is accompanied by a small smile, and another glance over his shoulder to look the goddess in the eye. She's not as comfortable here, he knows, but Logan can't really bring himself to give much of a shit, even if he understood, to some degree. He'd never really liked party-esque atmospheres himself, which is why he was often found sitting in a quieter bar or out in the woods, if he wasn't with someone who did like that sort of nature, or actively working a job or blowing off steam in a bar fight. Anyhow, if the bar was such an issue, she'd probably do some ridiculous magic thing to make the situation fit her liking and disgruntle him, he figures, but she hasn't-- not yet, anyway. How kind, he thinks, only half sarcastic. Logan looks at Loki for a second more before turning his gaze back around, staring off into the trees that almost wholly surround this secluded bar. A breeze blows their way and he huffs, breathing in the scent of wilderness and the sharpness of mountain chill.

He doesn't answer her comments for a minute, busy tilting his neck back and forth to crack his joints-- which comes out as a loud and awfully metallic sound. His mouth worries a toothpick, sharp teeth close to cracking it in half-- he would've been smoking, would have much preferred it, but stupidly, Logan had left his cigarettes and cigars in one of the panniers on his bike, some 50 yards away. Oh well.

"Not all'o us are graced with legs as long as the Carmanah Giant is tall," Logan grumbles, shooting her another look. He's not ashamed of his height by any means, but Lord, is he preparing for another overused joke. He tilts his head back and sniffs. "Ain't you Nordic?" he offers the question like he doesn't know the answer, before continuing, "I didn't figure a chill would be such a bother, but if it means another drink... sure." Finally, Logan pushes up off the rail and stands at a very reasonable 5'5, an extra couple inches given from his boots. "What, you want somethin' fruity, darlin'?"

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⚠️ Warning: Not fully house trained. Still feral.

[…] “It ain’t like I’m pissing on the floor or anything, you don’t need to phrase it like that.”

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PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME 0.2

over a year ago, i made this meme & since then, it’s blown up. so, over a year later — i thought i would make a new one. so here it is, after several requests & a pile of brains,  THE PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME 0.2 send me a  ✿  and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other 

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other 

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" did i ever say sorry? whoofs, yeah, sorry for blowing up your heart after you stabbed nick. very, totally, sorry. "

( screwygenetics ; debatable how genuine this apology is. there's at least a Little bit of sarcasm )

Logan glances over at the kid out the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing.

With his chin tucked in and his mouth a grumbly sort of line, he looks extremely unfriendly, even for his usual attitude. Daisy has approached him in public, in the shadowy corner of a near-empty, small-town dive bar; probably her best bet. Somewhere like this, especially with her barely having any of Fury’s scent on her, is the best option for not repeating anything close to what happened some time ago. Internally, Logan re-acknowledges that she’s smart.

After a moment of silence, Daisy’s words hanging in the air, he draws his chin up and then nods to the chair in front of him— its back to the entrance, while he stays back to the wall— with a gesture of his chin and lips. His head falls back into being tucked close to his chest almost immediately after, posture unchanging from a tired slump.

“Save the apology for someone who needs it or someone yer gonna be honest to, darlin’.” He won’t mention how she’s been trained well and taken on some characteristics that are a bit too familiar to Logan. He won’t. “Y’want a beer?” She’s 19, isn’t she? Perhaps, he shouldn’t offer, given that. But Logan had been drinking whisky and moonshine even younger, and the bar hadn’t even checked her ID when she came in. Director of SHIELD, official or otherwise, could handle a bit of booze, he was sure.

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A laugh came to Logan’s lips, but because of his general annoyance with Nicholas’ antics, he shoved it back down and just gave him a look.

It wasn’t as though the man was wrong, though— Logan wasn’t anywhere near against stealing a bite from him. They’d shared more than food, and if Nicholas couldn’t live without a single bite of waffle, then damn did Logan have his expectations for him a little too high. Regardless of Nicholas’ correct assumption, the teasing served to get under Logan’s skin quite well. Part of him wondered if that was the point; to poke and prod and nudge him into annoyance so Nicholas could use him to deal with something, or, on the other claw, to gauge just how shitty of a mood the Wolverine was in, and if he was going to snap.

Or maybe both, or neither, and this was just his agenda today; annoying an old friend, doubtful as that was. Not exactly an uncommon occurrence, the annoyance, but it always came with something more, in Logan’s experience.

In the quiet shuffling of the dingy cafe, Logan didn’t deign him with a response as Nicholas pushed himself out of the booth. The Wolverine’s eyes tracked up from the menu and over to the windows, doors, patrons and servers, and then to Nicholas himself. The colonel stood there a little too long, watching Logan with an uncanny sort of expression. Logan watched back, though his eye contact broke much quicker when his gaze slipped over to the doors and patrons once again, fueled by paranoia. By the time he looked back, Nicholas had turned away, his boisterous laugh still echoing in the room plastic-y, sticky diner. The Wolverine felt a shiver up his spine and forced himself to look away from watching Nicholas’ back.

Admittedly, his eyeline did dart about as Nicholas stood there, it often going back up to watch his silhouette and the way his shoulders slanted as he put most of his weight onto one foot, while still keeping some odd dignity and intimidation about him. When Fury turned back around to join him back at the table, Logan ripped his eyes away and stared out the window, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. The upcoming conversation was either going to be detrimental and serious or the stupidest, silliest bullshit he’d ever heard in his near two-centuries of living. He needed to have some semblance of being put together, like how Nicholas was able to do, to deal with this bullshit. (Watching every little movement wasn’t going to help. Logan knew that… for a variety of reasons.)

And then he sat down, as Logan realized this was about to be some doozy. Though he’d been keeping up appearances for the last little bit (and he certainly counted giving Fury some dignity by showing up at all as part of keeping those appearances), the way Fury’s shoulders straightened out and stiffened had Logan’s brow lowering and his mouth morphing into a genuine scowl. Nicholas was a manipulative little shit, and that wasn’t something Logan could keep putting off acknowledging, even directly and truthfully to himself, for the rest of this conversation. Benefit of the doubt and all, sure, but neither of the two men at the table were above slinging passive aggressive remarks or leveling their expressions into something that showed how damn pissed they were (but, perhaps, never how hurt they became from one another). Now, Logan’s matched that annoyance and suspicion to a T.

“I’m aware.” Logan leaned back in the booth, the vinyl squeaking again against his leather once again. He grunted and moved his forearms to rest against the table, before tugging his gloves off. He could hear Nicholas’ heartbeat, though trying to focus on it made his stomach feel some sort of way. At least he wasn’t an LMD.

The gloves, worn dark brown leather with barely patched knuckles, were quickly shoved away into Logan’s jacket pocket. He looked up from his movements, eye contact snapping back into place with Ex-Director Nicholas Fury. As much as Logan knew plenty of Nicholas’ tells, the man was highly trained and practice. His words were truth, as far as Logan could decipher; even with the knowledge that Nicholas could, mostly, bullshit even Logan.

“What’d you do, Nicholas?”

As a rule, being called up by him always resulted in a headache and some uncomfortable feelings brewing in the stomach.

Unsurprisingly, today was no different. Logan had gotten a few texts, and then an address, just some hour or so ago. He’d debated on answering them or even going to the trouble of driving out up until five minutes before the requested time, but had ultimately gave in when Fury sent another text marking that he could tell Logan was reading his messages (truthfully, Logan had forgotten that was a setting). At that point, it didn’t seem too reasonable to keep ignoring it, even if it would be (basically literally!) sticking it to the Man to just not show up after clearly acknowledging the prompting of a meeting. Like it or not, he did owe something to Nicholas, and Nicholas right back at him. Old friends, old rivals, old co-workers; old manipulations and pains and cares and comforts.

Of course, putting off the decision of going til last minute had made Logan late. As he’d hopped out of his truck, boots thunking down onto the ground, he’d already seen the side of Nicholas’ head waiting inside for him. With some amount of effort, Logan forced himself to walk in, hands in pockets, and expression tight but posture loose. He’d shuffled into the booth bench across from his companion, more than slightly uncomfortable with how his back was facing the entrance. At least he had his senses. There’d been some long silence after that, until Logan had requested Nicholas to hand him one of the too-sticky, laminated menus.

While Logan read over it, barely paying attention as his eyes skimmed around, Nicholas had begun to talk beyond just a brief greeting. Logan listened more than he observed the menu (he was just a bit pissed that Nicholas had convinced his sorry ass to come to a place that didn’t serve booze—), but that wasn’t saying very much at all. With Nicholas’ comment about the cook, Logan straightened up, his leather gloves squeaking against the booth seat as he situated, and looked over. Well, Fury hadn’t been wrong, the man looked disheveled; which slightly explained the minute scent of skunk weed that had permeated into Logan’s senses. But Logan had never cared about that sort of thing— he was much more interested in whatever reason it was that Fury had called him here. This was not a social call (it never really was with the ex-director), as something closer to that would have been private or teeming with alcohol; so it was a discussion about something real. Logan wanted to know what.

But Nicholas Fury wasn’t the only one who could play it cool, even with high stress. Logan was plenty capable. They could both feel each other out— in a tense, as close to normal as they could get sort of way, even if Logan would have preferred it to just be spit out already. Damn bastard Fury was, making Logan play his games. The Wolverine nodded his head down and glanced back at the menu. At least this place mostly smelt alright.

“You should get a waffle. I ain’t ever sayin’ no to a full plate of breakfast meats, though.” Logan looked up and gave a smirk to Nicholas, though his expression remained tense (something that wouldn’t always be read as just stress and anger, but also genuine worry, by some closest to him) and his fist became slightly clenched under the table. “If yers smells so good, maybe I’ll see how I’m feelin’ then.”

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Send “⚠️” plus a warning label for my muse.

(If you cannot see the emoji send “Warning”)

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ok the rest of my starters will come out in the next couple days (or maybe one tonight!) (and feel free to send in more starter reqs too please!!!!!)

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Send 📦 and I'll describe up to five items of clutter in my muse's home/office/personal space/etc!

(Remember to specify character and/or verse if relevant)

[sniktx3]

As a rule, being called up by him always resulted in a headache and some uncomfortable feelings brewing in the stomach.

Unsurprisingly, today was no different. Logan had gotten a few texts, and then an address, just some hour or so ago. He’d debated on answering them or even going to the trouble of driving out up until five minutes before the requested time, but had ultimately gave in when Fury sent another text marking that he could tell Logan was reading his messages (truthfully, Logan had forgotten that was a setting). At that point, it didn’t seem too reasonable to keep ignoring it, even if it would be (basically literally!) sticking it to the Man to just not show up after clearly acknowledging the prompting of a meeting. Like it or not, he did owe something to Nicholas, and Nicholas right back at him. Old friends, old rivals, old co-workers; old manipulations and pains and cares and comforts.

Of course, putting off the decision of going til last minute had made Logan late. As he’d hopped out of his truck, boots thunking down onto the ground, he’d already seen the side of Nicholas’ head waiting inside for him. With some amount of effort, Logan forced himself to walk in, hands in pockets, and expression tight but posture loose. He’d shuffled into the booth bench across from his companion, more than slightly uncomfortable with how his back was facing the entrance. At least he had his senses. There’d been some long silence after that, until Logan had requested Nicholas to hand him one of the too-sticky, laminated menus.

While Logan read over it, barely paying attention as his eyes skimmed around, Nicholas had begun to talk beyond just a brief greeting. Logan listened more than he observed the menu (he was just a bit pissed that Nicholas had convinced his sorry ass to come to a place that didn’t serve booze—), but that wasn’t saying very much at all. With Nicholas’ comment about the cook, Logan straightened up, his leather gloves squeaking against the booth seat as he situated, and looked over. Well, Fury hadn’t been wrong, the man looked disheveled; which slightly explained the minute scent of skunk weed that had permeated into Logan’s senses. But Logan had never cared about that sort of thing— he was much more interested in whatever reason it was that Fury had called him here. This was not a social call (it never really was with the ex-director), as something closer to that would have been private or teeming with alcohol; so it was a discussion about something real. Logan wanted to know what.

But Nicholas Fury wasn’t the only one who could play it cool, even with high stress. Logan was plenty capable. They could both feel each other out— in a tense, as close to normal as they could get sort of way, even if Logan would have preferred it to just be spit out already. Damn bastard Fury was, making Logan play his games. The Wolverine nodded his head down and glanced back at the menu. At least this place mostly smelt alright.

“You should get a waffle. I ain’t ever sayin’ no to a full plate of breakfast meats, though.” Logan looked up and gave a smirk to Nicholas, though his expression remained tense (something that wouldn’t always be read as just stress and anger, but also genuine worry, by some closest to him) and his fist became slightly clenched under the table. “If yers smells so good, maybe I’ll see how I’m feelin’ then.”

part of his job--retired or not--always seemed to come down to preventing a shit show. the act of stepping in before something worse happens; before disaster strikes and everyone gets hurt--with more or less severe consequences, depending on the situation. he would think that those situations would have concluded completely by now--let hill handle it, or daisy, or steve; or christ anyone he knew either in shield or associated with it. all of the damn heroes in the world, every different kind of avenger or x-men; whoever, really.

and yet, now here he sat in some diner that was up way too late--so late that he could hear the crickets outside and there was not another soul in sight aside from the cook in the back who was no doubt waiting for one of them to come up and finally order. how long had they been sitting there?

fury wasn't an lmd; he was him. basic human with a jab of super serum and who knows what else since coming back from being something unseen. but in the end, what was he? just a guy. a guy with a bigger closet than anyone in the world probably, with a hell of a lot of skeletons hidden deep in it; and right now his company was about this close to taking a step in and slashing his claws against the many bones he had sought to hide from anyone's eyes. he wasn't surprised, just hoping he can avoid a bigger fallout.

" y'know, this place's got some good ass waffles. n' we both got discount, y'know? should probably order 'fore the cook up there falls asleep. "

nick snorted out a laugh as he stared with slightly narrowed eyes. he was going to avoid the subject as long as possible; gauge how logan's feeling first.

@sniktx3 // semi-plotted starter

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𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝  ,  𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡  𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞  .     ݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚        a  series  of  romantic  gesture  prompts  inspired  by  historical  fiction,  period  dramas,  classic  fairytales,  poetry,  and  more.  will  likely  be  updated  in  the  future,  so  please  do  not  add  onto  this.

[   HAND   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  hand.

[   COURTESY   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  hand.

[   KNUCKLES   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  knuckles.

[   AFFECTION   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  knuckles.

[   TENDER   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver's  forehead/temple.

[   CARE   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender's  forehead/temple.

[   LIPS   ]     ,     sender  kisses  receiver  on  the  mouth.

[   SEALED   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  sender  on  the  mouth.

[   HUG   ]     ,     sender  hugs  receiver  close.

[   EMBRACE   ]     ,     receiver  hugs  sender  close.

[   KNEEL   ]     ,     sender  gets  down  on  one  knee.

[   REVERENCE   ]     ,     receiver  gets  down  on  one  knee.

[   OFFER   ]     ,     sender  offers  their  arm  for  receiver  to  join  them  somewhere.

[   JOIN   ]     ,     receiver  offers  their  arm  for  sender  to  join  them  somewhere.

[   ENVELOPE   ]     ,     sender  writes  receiver  a  love  letter.

[   LETTER   ]     ,     receiver  writes  sender  a  love  letter.

[   FLOWERS   ]     ,     sender  gifts  receiver  flowers.

[   BOUQUET   ]     ,     receiver  gifts  sender  flowers.

[   DANCE   ]     ,     sender  asks  receiver  to  dance.

[   WALTZ   ]     ,     receiver  asks  sender  to  dance

[   SILENCE   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  enjoy  a  quiet  moment  together  without  conversation.

[   READ   ]     ,     sender  reads  to  receiver.

[   STORY   ]     ,     receiver  reads  to  sender.

[   CARRY   ]     ,     sender  carries  receiver  in  their  arms.

[   LIFT   ]     ,   receiver  carries  sender  in  their  arms.

[   HUG   ]     ,     sender  hugs  receiver  close. 

[   INTERLOCKED   ]     ,     sender  holds  receiver's  hand.

[   INTERWOVEN   ]     ,     receiver  holds  sender's  hand.

[   GENTLE   ]     ,     sender  holds  receiver's  face  in  their  hands.

[   CRADLE   ]     ,     receiver  holds  sender's  face  in  their  hands.

[   CONVERSE   ]     ,     sender  has  an  intimate  conversation  with  receiver.

[   SHARE   ]     ,     receiver  has  an  intimate  conversation  with  sender.

[   COOK   ]     ,     sender  cooks  a  meal  for  receiver.

[   CHEF   ]     ,     receiver  cooks  a  meal  for  sender.

[   POEM   ]     ,     sender  writes  a  poem  for  receiver.

[   ODE   ]     ,     receiver  writes  a  poem  for  sender.

[   GIFT   ]     ,     sender  gives  receiver  a  gift  (  specify  ).

[   PRESENT   ]     ,     receiver  gives  receiver  a  gift  (  specify  ).

[   HOLD   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  cuddle  together.

[   BACK   ]     ,     sender  gives  receiver  a  back  rub.

[   MASSAGE   ]     ,   receiver  gives  sender  a  back  rub.

[   ASSIST   ]     ,     sender  helps  receiver  put  on  a  piece  of  clothing  or  jewellery. 

[   HELP   ]     ,     receiver  helps  sender  put  on  a  piece  of  clothing  or  jewellery. 

[   RAINFALL   ]     ,     sender  kisses  and/or  dances  with  receiver  in  the  rain.

[   DOWNPOUR   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  and/or  dances  with  sender  in  the  rain.

[   BASKET   ]     ,     sender  and  receiver  share  a  private  picnic.

[   WORSHIP   ]     ,     sender  kisses  and/or  touches  receiver's  body  with  reverence.

[   DEVOTION   ]     ,     receiver  kisses  and/or  touches  sender's  body  with  reverence.

[   ALTAR   ]     ,     sender  watches  receiver  walk  down  the  aisle  towards  them.

[   AISLE   ]     ,     receiver  watches  sender  as  they  walk  down  the  aisle  towards  them.

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She’s saying lies, half-lies, half-truths, truths— it’s worrying, to say the least.

It’s simple to tell when Jubilee’s bullshitting him, really. Although she can tell a lie pretty damn well, be tricky and conniving when needed, it’s harder of a task to not pick up on the tells of a kid you’ve half-raised for the last decade or so, especially when Logan can hear her heart and smell her. He struggles not to roll his eyes for a moment, as she leans down to curtsey, but inevitably gives in to the urge when she snaps back up to salute. He doesn’t need to be called sir, or to be treated with dignified sorts of respect, he just doesn’t want to be lied to. Easy, he thinks.

He’s a hypocrite.

And she’s jittery, that’s for sure. Restless, nervous, something of that realm. Impatient, more than anything, and ready to snap right back when she deems it best, or to suck up when it’ll suit her needs. Jubilation has certainly grown into her attitude just as much as her glaringly yellow coat. Logan shifts his position as she speaks— just a little frustration leaking into her vocal tone— moving so that his shoulder can rest against the hallway wall. One socked foot slung in front the other, and his arms lodging firmly over his chest, crossed. Jubilation’s words continue, and his expression morphs from exasperated, to one brow raised to furrowed again. Discomfort, wasting time; she certainly ain’t just talking about his fashion choices. Regardless, he defends them, if only to keep his own mood from turning sour. “Y’should be glad you’ve only seen the shorts.” His brow pops back up for a moment, but the rest of his face remains dire; despite the more positive tone of his voice. “There was a time where it was daisy dukes, crop tops and fishnet tank tops, Firecracker.”

Logan can’t help the sigh that comes up in his throat as she continues on, more serious and calm. There’s not much jesting, just a tinge of genuine need to get the hell out (something he can definitely understand) in her voice. He’s tempted to let her, just fling her the keys and pat her shoulder and promise to be safe. But he doesn’t— there’s something more at play here, and his fatherly paranoia is keeping him stable in his current position, rather than moving to the whims of one of his girls. She’s a grown adult, yes, but she’s something of a daughter, isn’t she (even if… even when he goes back and forth, himself, on the legitimacy of his fatherhood to these mentees of his)? And he’d be damned if he just let his worry go when there were obvious, at least to him, signs that this was something bigger than partying on the streets of New Orleans. So he doesn’t move, just taps his foot once against the hardwood floor.

“Where’re you goin’?”

He expected the attitude, though it annoys him to no end.

But, more than vague annoyance for a familiar tone of snark and sarcasm he's grown plenty accustomed to, what bothers him-- what causes him to stick his stocky mug between Jubilation and the door-- is the fact that she's up to somethin' and lying about it. And to his face, no doubt. Sneaking out and off was one thing, even if it meant she was leaving her duties unattended, but Logan has long-since memorized the scents, sights and movements of his teammates and how those change when something is up. He is a bit of a hypocrite for the reaction that'd came when Jubilee had started showing signs of this change, sure, as he is the self-centered bastard who runs off in the night for reasons at least thrice a month, but that's different. He is working on it. He is trying. And though Jubilation is no longer a girl, now a grown adult who he is well aware can handle herself (and has been handling herself, and him, and others since she was much too young for it), he can't help but keep latching onto the idea that it's his responsibility-- above all others' responsibilities-- to watch out and check on whatever the hell she's doing.

It's what she's been doing for him for years, now, anyway. Logan knows, more than most, that someone coming to stop you from sneaking out and off to whatever hellhole you've been called to is usually done out of care, no matter how frustrating it is in the moment.

So, he doesn't move from his spot in front of the door, and doesn't move to hand back the keys. Logan, wide and strong, is a perfect wall to stop her from moving forward, even if they both know she could probably just vault over him in a swift motion-- the girl's a helluva acrobat, even near rivaling the Elf. But... more trouble than it's worth, it seems, especially with reflexes as fast as his. He watches with an indignant expression as she goes through the motions of avoidance and dramatics, but it only causes him to wrinkle his nose, shut his eyes for a moment, and shake his head. "Thank you for the demonstration, I wasn't aware how a trench coat functions." His tone matches her false positives to a tee, and once his eyes are open again, they fall onto her open hand, before snapping up to meet her gaze through the gleaming pink of her too-wide sunglasses. Then, he rolls his eyes.

"Sweetheart, we ain't fightin', and I'm certainly not embaressed. I've worn denim cut-offs, if that's what you want to call 'em, 'round the X-Men since before you even joined up." He narrows his eyes again, and huffs. She's lying, bluffing, and he can damn well smell it-- and he certainly knows she must be aware of it too. "So, what're yer plans? Goin' out on the town?"

[sniktx3]

Want to ship? Feel free to tell me straight off!

Yes, shipping does need chemistry between the two muses, but if you look at my muse and think ‘You know what, I’d like to ship my muse with theirs!’, feel free to tell me, even before we start threads!

I love having a direction/goal to work the characters towards – when I write fiction on my own, I like having goals and plot points, like romances, family and friend relationships, rivals and enemies.. why wouldn’t I like having the same with RP? RP is just collaborative fiction writing!

There’s no shame in liking ships, or even RPing for ships. There’s tons of people in the world who love to read romance novels, and no one tries to tell them that’s wrong or worse than liking mysteries, or fantasy adventure. Neither preference is wrong, it’s just that – a preference!

So please – if you want to ship, or work towards a ship, in any capacity : romance, family, friends, rivals, and everything in between – TELL ME! I’d love to see what we can come up with together!