#Jubilee Press

[uwmspeccoll]

An African Fine Press Friday

As we continue to celebrate Black History Month, I was introduced to this handmade, hand-printed little book by noted African American book artist and letterpress printer Amos Paul Kennedy Jr. (b. 1948),entitled How Wisdom Came to the World, printed in Oak Park, Illinois at Kennedy’s Jubilee Press in 1992 in an edition of 50 copies.

The piece is an adaptation of a Yoruba folktale about a man named Ijapa who tried to keep all the wisdom of the world to himself and, with the help of his son, comes to realize that wisdom is for everyone. Ijapa literally means “That which moves around awkwardly” in reference to a turtle or tortoise, which is an animal trickster of Yoruba legend. Therefore, this accordion book is printed on pages that are hand-cut in the shape of a turtle. Although the pages are unnumbered, each page has has a different number of small, printed turtles to indicate the order it should be read. The accordion folds down into a 10 x 13 cm square that is housed in a handmade, four-fold amate “paper” enclosure with a turtle motif on the outside.

View more posts on the work of Amos Paul Kennedy, Jr.

View more Black History Month posts.

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- Elizabeth V., Special Collections Undergraduate Writing Intern

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Wall Street Journal goes to bat for the vultures who want to steal your house

Tonight (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Tomorrow (June 6), I’m on a Rightscon panel about interoperability.

The tacit social contract between the Wall Street Journal and its readers is this: the editorial page is for ideology, and the news section is for reality. Money talks and bullshit walks — and reality’s well-known anticapitalist bias means that hewing too closely to ideology will make you broke, and thus unable to push your ideology.

That’s why the editorial page will rail against “printing money” while the news section will confine itself to asking which kinds of federal spending competes with the private sector (creating a bidding war that drives up prices) and which kinds are not. If you want frothing takes about how covid relief checks will create “debt for our grandchildren,” seek it on the editorial page. For sober recognition that giving small amounts of money to working people will simply go to reducing consumer and student debt, look to the news.

But WSJ reporters haven’t had their corpus colossi severed: the brain-lobe that understands economic reality crosstalks with the lobe that worship the idea of a class hierarchy with capital on top and workers tugging their forelacks. When that happens, the coverage gets weird.

Take this weekend’s massive feature on “zombie mortgages,” long-written-off second mortgages that have been bought by pennies for vultures who are now trying to call them in:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/zombie-mortgages-could-force-some-homeowners-into-foreclosure-e615ab2a

These second mortgages — often in the form of home equity lines of credit (HELOCs) — date back to the subprime bubble of the early 2000s. As housing prices spiked to obscene levels and banks figured out how to issue risky mortgages and sell them off to suckers, everyday people were encouraged — and often tricked — into borrowing heavily against their houses, on complicated terms that could see their payments skyrocket down the road.

Once the bubble popped in 2008, the value of these houses crashed, and the mortgages fell “underwater” — meaning that market value of the homes was less than the amount outstanding on the mortgage. This triggered the foreclosure crisis, where banks that had received billions in public money forced their borrowers out of their homes. This was official policy: Obama’s Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner boasted that forcing Americans out of their homes would “foam the runways” for the banks and give them a soft landing;

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

With so many homes underwater on their first mortgages, the holders of those second mortgages wrote them off. They had bought high-risk, high reward debt, the kind whose claims come after the other creditors have been paid off. As prices collapsed, it became clear that there wouldn’t be anything left over after those higher-priority loans were paid off.

The lenders (or the bag-holders the lenders sold the loans to) gave up. They stopped sending borrowers notices, stopped trying to collect. That’s the way markets work, after all — win some, lose some.

But then something funny happened: private equity firms, flush with cash from an increasingly wealthy caste of one percenters, went on a buying spree, snapping up every home they could lay hands on, becoming America’s foremost slumlords, presiding over an inventory of badly maintained homes whose tenants are drowned in junk fees before being evicted:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

This drove a new real estate bubble, as PE companies engaged in bidding wars, confident that they could recoup high one-time payments by charging working people half their incomes in rent on homes they rented by the room. The “recovery” of real estate property brought those second mortgages back from the dead, creating the “zombie mortgages” the WSJ writes about.

These zombie mortgages were then sold at pennies on the dollar to vulture capitalists — finance firms who make a bet that they can convince the debtors to cough up on these old debts. This “distressed debt investing” is a scam that will be familiar to anyone who spends any time watching “finance influencers” — like forex trading and real estate flipping, it’s a favorite get-rich-quick scheme peddled to desperate people seeking “passive income.”

Like all get-rich-quick schemes, distressed debt investing is too good to be true. These ancient debts are generally past the statute of limitations and have been zeroed out by law. Even “good” debts generally lack any kind of paper-trail, having been traded from one aspiring arm-breaker to another so many times that the receipts are long gone.

Ultimately, distressed debt “investing” is a form of fraud, in which the “investor” has to master a social engineering patter in which they convince the putative debtor to pay debts they don’t actually owe, either by shading the truth or lying outright, generally salted with threats of civil and criminal penalties for a failure to pay.

That certainly goes for zombie mortgages. Writing about the WSJ’s coverage on Naked Capitalism, Yves Smith reminds readers not to “pay these extortionists a dime” without consulting a lawyer or a nonprofit debt counsellor, because any payment “vitiates” (revives) an otherwise dead loan:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/06/wall-street-journal-aids-vulture-investors-threatening-second-mortgage-borrowers-with-foreclosure-on-nearly-always-legally-unenforceable-debt.html

But the WSJ’s 35-paragraph story somehow finds little room to advise readers on how to handle these shakedowns. Instead, it lionizes the arm-breakers who are chasing these debts as “investors…[who] make mortgage lending work.” The Journal even repeats — without commentary — the that these so-called investors’ “goal is to positively impact homeowners’ lives by helping them resolve past debt.”

This is where the Journal’s ideology bleeds off the editorial page into the news section. There is no credible theory that says that mortgage markets are improved by safeguarding the rights of vulture capitalists who buy old, forgotten second mortgages off reckless lenders who wrote them off a decade ago.

Doubtless there’s some version of the Hayek Mind-Virus that says that upholding the claims of lenders — even after those claims have been forgotten, revived and sold off — will give “capital allocators” the “confidence” they need to make loans in the future, which will improve the ability of everyday people to afford to buy houses, incentivizing developers to build houses, etc, etc.

But this is an ideological fairy-tale. As Michael Hudson describes in his brilliant histories of jubilee — debt cancellation — through history, societies that unfailingly prioritize the claims of lenders over borrowers eventually collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

Foundationally, debts are amassed by producers who need to borrow capital to make the things that we all need. A farmer needs to borrow for seed and equipment and labor in order to sow and reap the harvest. If the harvest comes in, the farmer pays their debts. But not every harvest comes in — blight, storms, war or sickness — will eventually cause a failure and a default.

In those bad years, farmers don’t pay their debts, and then they add to them, borrowing for the next year. Even if that year’s harvest is good, some debt remains. Gradually, over time, farmers catch enough bad beats that they end up hopelessly mired in debt — debt that is passed on to their kids, just as the right to collect the debts are passed on to the lenders’ kids.

Left on its own, this splits society into hereditary creditors who get to dictate the conduct of hereditary debtors. Run things this way long enough and every farmer finds themselves obliged to grow ornamental flowers and dainties for their creditors’ dinner tables, while everyone else goes hungry — and society collapses.

The answer is jubilee: periodically zeroing out creditors’ claims by wiping all debts away. Jubilees were declared when a new king took the throne, or at set intervals, or whenever things got too lopsided. The point of capital allocation is efficiency and thus shared prosperity, not enriching capital allocators. That enrichment is merely an incentive, not the goal.

For generations, American policy has been to make housing asset appreciation the primary means by which families amass and pass on wealth; this is in contrast to, say, labor rights, which produce wealth by rewarding work with more pay and benefits. The American vision is that workers don’t need rights as workers, they need rights as owners — of homes, which will always increase in value.

There’s an obvious flaw in this logic: houses are necessities, as well as assets. You need a place to live in order to raise a family, do a job, found a business, get an education, recover from sickness or live out your retirement. Making houses monotonically more expensive benefits the people who get in early, but everyone else ends up crushed when their human necessity is treated as an asset:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Worse: without a strong labor sector to provide countervailing force for capital, US politics has become increasingly friendly to rent-seekers of all kinds, who have increased the cost of health-care, education, and long-term care to eye-watering heights, forcing workers to remortgage, or sell off, the homes that were meant to be the source of their family’s long-term prosperity:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

Today, reality’s leftist bias is getting harder and harder to ignore. The idea that people who buy debt at pennies on the dollar should be cheered on as they drain the bank-accounts — or seize the homes — of people who do productive work is pure ideology, the kind of thing you’d expect to see on the WSJ’s editorial page, but which sticks out like a sore thumb in the news pages.

Thankfully, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau is on the case. Director Rohit Chopra has warned the arm-breakers chasing payments on zombie mortgages that it’s illegal for them to “threaten judicial actions, such as foreclosures, for debts that are past a state’s statute of limitations.”

But there’s still plenty of room for more action. As Smith notes, the 2012 National Mortgage Settlement — a “get out of jail for almost free” card for the big banks — enticed lots of banks to discharge those second mortgages. Per Smith: “if any servicer sold a second mortgage to a vulture lender that it had charged off and used for credit in the National Mortgage Settlement, it defrauded the Feds and applicable state.”

Maybe some hungry state attorney general could go after the banks pulling these fast ones and hit them for millions in fines — and then use the money to build public housing.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in London and Berlin!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/04/vulture-capitalism/#distressed-assets

[Image ID: A Georgian eviction scene in which a bobby oversees three thugs who are using a battering ram to knock down a rural cottage wall. The image has been crudely colorized. A vulture looks on from the right, wearing a top-hat. The battering ram bears the WSJ logo.]

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Fountains of Living Waters

14 And I said unto him, lord, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are those who came out of great tribulation and have washed their long robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

15 Therefore, they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple, and he that is seated on the throne shall dwell among them.

16 They shall hunger no more neither thirst anymore; neither shall the sun be thrust upon them nor any other heat.

17 For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall govern them and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. — Revelation 7:14-17 | Jubilee Bible 2000 (JUB) Jubilee Bible 2000 Copyright © 2013, 2020 by Ransom Press International Cross References: Leviticus 26:11; Psalm 23:1-2; Psalm 121:5-6; Isaiah 1:18; Isaiah 25:8; Isaiah 35:10; Isaiah 49:10; Ezekiel 34:23; Ezekiel 37:27; Daniel 7:16; Daniel 11:35; Daniel 12:1; Zechariah 3:3; John 1:14; Revelation 4:8-9

Read full chapter

What are the springs of living water?

[watchilove]

Lang & Heyne Friedrich III Remontoir Sincere Platinum Jubilee Edition

Commemorating Sincere Fine Watches’ 70th Anniversary, Lang & Heyne proudly introduces the Friedrich III Remontoir Sincere Platinum Jubilee Edition, limited to 7 pieces. As a valued partner, Lang & Heyne was among the three distinguished manufacturers to launch the inaugural SHH Editions at the opening of Sincere’s concept boutique, SHH (Sincere Haute Horlogerie), in Singapore back in 2022. This…

[raincitygirl76]

Read this!!! Read it, read it, read it! So good and insightful! You’ll be glad you did!

Okay, at this point I am officially abusing exclamation marks. And the bold button. But read it anyway.

I absolutely did not expect Wilhelm to take back his denial of the video in season two, and especially not publicly. I know we were all talking about it and hoping he would, but I don't think any of us had actually prepared for it to happen. Simply because of the repercussions it would have.

So when he did take it back, and did so publicly, I lost my damn mind, and here's why:

Simon agreed to be a secret. He agreed to be a secret for two years if he needed to be. He told Wilhelm he loved him anyway. And even after he knew Wilhelm would face essentially zero consequences of living in secret with Simon, he still went against his parents and the royal court and came out.

He didn’t have to.

He didn’t do it for Simon. He did it for himself.

If Simon had said that he still didn't want to be a secret and that they couldn't be together unless Wilhelm came out, then Wilhelm taking back the statement in any capacity would be for Simon. If he did so privately or publicly, it would all be because Simon wanted him to. But that isn't what happened. Simon said he didn't have to.

Wilhelm took back that statement for himself. For his own freedom. For his own autonomy. And that is significant.

It might just be the first time we see Wilhelm make a decision for himself and only himself. Up until that point, while some of his decisions and actions are selfish, they are always influenced by someone else. Mostly they are influenced by his title and his image.

Pretty much every decision Wilhelm makes is to benefit the Crown Prince. This is the first time we really see him make a decision for Wilhelm. The only other time we see him make a decision purely for himself is before Erik died, and even then he struggled with it because of his title.

Wilhelm publicly taking that denial back, against his parents and the royal court, without pressure from Simon, is the first time Wilhelm makes a decision for himself as a person and not as a figurehead. Not because he was told it was right, not because he was given no other option, not because it was what he was told to do. But simply because he knew he would be happier after he did it.

[allbookedupblogstuff]

Jubilee by Stephen K. Stanford

Source: Netgalley – Thank you so much to the publisher!Tl;DR: This was a big miss for me. Simple writing, a bit of a nonsense plot, and overly sexualized women. No thanks. Plot: All over the place. Perhaps if we’d taken time to break things down and move slowly this could be a good series? But it didn’t work for meCharacters: Con was pretty much our only character of agency. Women were described…

[imaginedisish]

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

[ex-jock-enthusiast]

Hot off the presses - Jibraan Mustafa (@jbbrsh) appearing in Jubilee's 'Natty or Not' vid, plumping up fast on a protracted bulk. Natty? Perhaps. Fatty? Fingers crossed ;)

[raincitygirl76]

This!!! Absolutely this!

That said, I don’t think Wilhelm telling the truth during the speech was something he actually planned to do beforehand on a conscious level. It was spontaneous. But it was absolutely a factor in his attack of truth telling. That discomfort in the coat room scene at realizing he FINALLY has Simon back, but must hide it from everyone. Because that’s what a secret relationship entails.

We know that the joy of Simon's "I love you" gave Wille the courage to go rogue during his speech. But I think we also have to thank the discomfort and pain of this moment. It's saying, "Ok this is what you just agreed to! A secret relationship where you can't kiss each other in public! Enjoy!" And it sucked and Wille did not enjoy and he did something about that.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

This is purely self-indulgent smuttiness for Kurt, because sometimes cuteness aggression surfaces as really wanting to suck a man's dick. I know we haven't actually seen him in the 97' show yet, but I couldn't help myself. Think of this as a mixture between show Kurt and Comic Kurt. Or imagine any Kurt really.

Tw: MDNI!!!! Oral, slight cursing. Reader was pictured as AFAB while writing but no specific genitals or pronouns are mentioned.

Trying to relax in the X mansion was near impossible. There's always some event, some drama or loudness taking place. Living with gambit was hard enough with the explosions and shit, but after Jubilee moved in…

There was just no Peace in this house. Even though you wouldn't trade it for the world, there wasn't exactly any "me" time, If you catch my drift. It was ridiculously hard to find time for yourself, leaving you a bit more pent up than normal.

On top of that, there was almost always some sexual tension in the house. Rogue and gambit, Jean and Scott. Morph. Literally just Morph, and their innuendos. It was hard enough to see Rogue and Remy tip-toe around eachother, But Jean and Scott? You can't remember a time they weren't sneaking off together to get laid.

All this had left you ridiculous stiff. No free time, surrounded by the adult equivalent of horny teens, it was taking a toll on you. When Kurt came back to the mansion, you were over the moon to see him.

You loved your boyfriend so incredibly much, but never before had you been thinking such sinful thoughts about him. You'd steel glances of his toned arms when he'd hand you something. Glance at his ass when he walked by. Hell, just his smile and laugh would get you going.

He was just so cute. He's loving, and caring, and kind. You felt so lucky to be with him, but that didn't change the fact that you wanted to jump his bones, bad. You wanted to suck this man dry, and as embarrassed you are to admit it, you didn't hesitate to. The moment you finally had him in your bed, you knew you were going to give this man the best head of his life.

“You want to-?” Kurt’s breath hitches, the faint pupils in his yellow eyes dilating. His adam's apple bobbs as he looks away from your heated gaze and sets his eyes on your hands, idly stroking down his soft abdomen. You lean down to kiss him again, tenderly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his tail swaying back and forth on the bed. It takes a moment for you to be able to focus enough to get back on task.

“Please, Kurt.” You beg, breaking the kiss with him. He chases after your lips, and the action is so cute you can't help but kiss him again, and again. You kiss the corner of his mouth, before kissing the crook of his neck, and then his collarbone, dragging your teeth across the velvety blue skin. His soft moans are music to your ears as your hands drag lower, gently cupping the bulge that had started to grow. The air catches in his chest, but you don't tease him for long, moving your hands up and down his chest once again. His tail wraps around one of your wrists.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, one of his hands reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. You can help but lean into the touch with a sigh, mouth watering at the prospect of having him against your tongue. You smile at him, scoffing just lightly.

“Of course I am, silly.” The words come out breathlessly. “Why wouldn't I be?” You trail kisses lower, paying special attention to the curly hair of his happy trail as you softly run your fingers across his skin. Kurt swallows, letting out a quiet whine as you start to slide his sweatpants down to free his cock.

“ ‘Just… Don't want you to feel like you have to, Schatz- Hng..” He lets out a choaked groan as you start to press kisses along his inner thighs as you remove the pants completely. You giggle a little, aiming to make him moan just a little louder as you start to stroke and kiss along his length.

“Believe me, love, I wouldn't be begging for it if I did.” You respond. Kurt opens his mouth to speak again, only to cut himself off with a sharp “Ah!” as you take the head of his cock into your mouth and start to suck. The end of his tail twitches, still wrapped around your wrist, and he chuckles.

“That was a dirty trick,” He says, reaching down to move the hair out of your face. You hum in appreciation as his hand gathers your locks, holding the hair back so he can see you better. You reward him by taking more of him into your mouth, reveling in the noises you receive in return. His skin is smooth and soft, and you find yourself appreciating every inch of him you can fit in your mouth.

You're doing your very best to give him exactly the kind of head he deserves for being so sweet and loving and caring. You think about the chores he's done without asking since he's been back as you swirl your tongue around his tip. The book he brought you as a souvenir as you glide back down, nosing the dark blue patch of curls. God- he was just the most perfect man you had ever met, and you were determined to reward him for that.

“Scheisse- I… Liebe, I'm going to…ah!” Kurt begins to writhe underneath you, and it gives you the best satisfaction when you open your eyes to see his face contorted in the throes of pleasure. You savor the taste of his skin as he begins to twitch in your mouth. His grip tightens around your hair, he free hand opening and clenching as he scrambles for purchase on the bed. You take hold of it, lacing your hands together as best you can just in time for him to reach his peak.

You never really liked the taste or texture of cum, but for Kurt, You'd swallow every drop he gives you. You work him through his high as he squeezes your hand, moaning at the sensation. His moans turn to whines as he becomes sensitive, his tail unwinding Itself from your wrist. You can tell just by looking at it that it might bruise, but you wouldn't dare tell him that.

His grip loosens on your hair as you pull away from him. His yellow eyes are teary and his muscles are relaxed and boneless, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up a little and sliding his hand behind the nape of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His kisses are loving and passionate, they leave you breathless when he pulls away. Kurt licks his lips as he takes you in, chest heaving. You can only imagine how you look with messy hair and swollen, spit stained lips, but there's nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you.” He says, after a moment of silence. “I'm in love with you. You know this, Ja?” His other arm wraps around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. You can't wipe the smile off your face as you lean in, resting your forehead against his own, pressing a chaste kiss against his nose.

“I do. I promise.” You reply. Kurt grins, and you can briefly hear the sound of his tail swishing in a way you know means he's thinking about doing something mischievous, and the next thing you know, there's a *Bamf!* as you fall into where he was once sitting on the bed. You have the slightest moment of confusion before Kurt is behind you. He grabs hold of you, leaning back to make you fall backwards into him with your back against his bare chest. He presses kisses along your neck and maneuvers you into his lap. Your legs are hooked over his own, his knees widening the space between your thighs as his hands trail so close to where you want him to be.

“Please, let me return the favor, my love.”

[ellecdc]

hiya elle!!!

could i request a first-time dad sirius fic of siri introducing his baby to the other marauders?? 🩷🩷

so. stinkin'. cute.

dad!Sirius Black x mom!reader who are introducing their first child to the Marauders

You felt as though you were experiencing the world through glasses that weren’t your exact prescription, riding out the last of the adrenaline coursing through your veins after the past 24 hours. You were floating in this liminal space between discomfort and euphoria, pain and joy, worry and love.

You thought perhaps though the love was beginning to win out.

You were sitting in your hospital bed as you watched Sirius gently bounce the tiny bundle he was holding up to his face.

“Isn’t her nose just perfect, sweets?” He asked you (for quite possibly the 13th time in the four hours your daughter has been earth side) without moving his gaze from said nose.

“So perfect.” You agreed readily, smiling softly at the picture and hoping that this image in your memory didn’t fade as you became more lucid. 

There was a gentle knock before a mop of wild hair and a pair of spectacles shoved its head in through the door to your room.

James gasped quietly yet no less dramatically as he looked between you and Sirius.

“Can we come in?” He whispered, adorning quite possibly one of the biggest smiles you’d even seen on him (which was really saying something, considering he has been notoriously sunny since the day you met him), before Lily shoved her head in just below his. 

“I promise we’ll behave.” She added.

Sirius chuckled and nodded his head in invitation. “You were never the one we were worried about, Red.”

In a way that only happened throughout the history of humanity at the precise moment family members or loved ones entered the room of a newborn and their parents; Lily, James, and Peter all tiptoed in, for some reason even hunching low as if their lack of height would somehow make them any quieter.

James gasped again as he and Lily peered over Sirius’ shoulder to get a glimpse of the newborn in his hands; all three friends sharing identical beaming grins. “She’s beautiful, Sirius.” Lily whispered in awe.

“Bloody perfect, is what she is.” James agreed, leaning around Sirius to look at you. “Way to go, mum. Brilliant job you’ve done.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” You replied, turning a little shy as Sirius turned his lovesick gaze to you, which was very embarrassing considering he literally just watched you push his fucking child out of your crotch. 

“What’s her name?” Peter asked, standing in front of Sirius like an eager kid waiting for their turn to pick a toy from the treasure box.

“This is Aurora Jubilee.” Sirius said proudly, turning his daughter slightly so that Pete could get a look.

“Bloody perfect.” James reiterated when you heard a quiet commotion outside your hospital room.

“I said I was sorry, Reg. The baby can’t tell time yet, she won’t know you’re late!”

You then heard something that sounded an awful lot like someone being whacked with a bouquet of flowers.

“Idiot.” Regulus hissed. “I’m trying to make a good impression; just because you don’t worry whether or not Harry finds his uncle to be untimely doesn’t mean I want to set the same precedent for my niece. Tu as tellement de chance tu es une bonne baise.”

The door pushed open slightly further as Remus and Regulus quietly stepped in, furious blushes adorning their faces when they realised that you all had paused in order to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“How nice of you to finally join us, little brother. Your niece has been asking for you.” Sirius deadpanned. 

Regulus scoffed and Remus grimaced as Regulus came rushing over to your side and pressed a kiss to your hair. “How are you doing, mama?” He asked, pulling back to consider your form as Remus pressed his own kiss to your head. 

“I’m good, uncle Reggie, thank you.” You smiled at him.

“Good.” He said with a curt nod. “I worry, leaving you in the care of my brother - you deserve better.”

“Sod off.” Sirius muttered, causing Lily to gently swat at his back.

“Watch your mouth, Sirius. There are little ears now.”

“Yeah, watch your fucking mouth, Sirius.” Remus volleyed.

“Christ, our kids are doomed.” Lily complained as she moved to sit on the end of your bed.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore; let me hold her.” James demanded, making grabby hands to Sirius.

“Okay but Prongs, I swear to god if you fumble this like you fum-”

“I didn’t fumble that pass! You threw it too hard!” James quickly negated with a petulant whine.

Moving in slow motion, Sirius relinquished his hold on his new favourite person into James’ capable and seasoned dad hands before moving to perch himself beside you on your bed. 

“‘Lo, Aurora. I’m uncle Prongs; your favourite. I’m going to buy you so many stuffies, your dad and mum will need to buy a second place  just to have somewhere to put them all. And Haz is going to be the best big cousin you could ever ask for; he’s already trying to convince me to buy you a bike so you guys can ride together. And-”

“Okay.” Lily interrupted. “My turn.” 

James harrumphed but acquiesced and passed her over to his wife.

“She has her mummy’s nose.” Lily cooed, causing Sirius to gently pull you into his side and pressing his nose into your hair.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” He said, causing you to snort.

“No. You just kept saying it was perfect.” You argued.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s just hope you have your mummy’s smarts, too.” Lily concluded, passing Aurora to Pete.

“Oi!” 

“Hi, ‘Ro.” Peter said, smiling down at the infant as she started to stir slightly. “No, no. Please don’t wake up. Oh god, oh god, James take her - take her! I’m not ready for this!”

“Oh hand her ‘ere.” Remus mumbled, moving to take the tiny bundle from his mate. “Wormy smells, doesn’t he, little love?” He cooed at the baby who, much to Peter’s chagrin, stopped fussing immediately. 

“Oh you and I are going to get into so much trouble, darlin’. I’m going to teach you so many swear words, and I’ll help you prank your dad any time you want - you just give me a ring and I’ll be there.”

Any contention between Remus and Regulus from their arrival melted quickly as Regulus leaned into Remus’ side to gaze at the newest Black family member. 

“You wanna hold her, love?” Remus asked him quietly, causing Regulus to shake his head quickly. 

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

Sirius scoffed. “Please, we let Peter hold her.”

“Sod off!”

“What if I drop her?” Regulus continued.

“Just don’t drop her. God, you’re a weird bloke.” Sirius muttered under his breath, though Regulus seemed to catch it as he levelled his brother with a glare. 

His face softened considerably as Remus shifted his hold in order to transfer Aurora into Regulus’ careful arms.

He spent a few moments just looking down at his new niece, a silent conversation seeming to pass between them as Remus reached around him to stroke the downy soft skin on the side of her face.

“Okay, I’ve only known Aurora for three minutes; but if anything ever happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” He said simply. 

Peter let out a nervous laugh before he realised Regulus was quite serious. 

“Good.” Sirius said with a nod. “That’s why we picked you to be her godfather.”

Regulus’ head whipped up at that as he seemed to strengthen his hold on the baby in his arms.

“You what?”

“If anything ever happened to us, we know you’d do everything in your power to give her a good life - the best life.” You explained.

“I- but…really?”

“Yeah.” Sirius said emphatically. “Besides, you inherited all of mother and father’s dirty money anyway, might as well use it to spoil our girl.”

Though there were clearly tears forming in Regulus’ eyes, he turned his attention back to his goddaughter with a derisive scoff. 

“I was planning on doing that anyway, Sirius. Je suis vraiment désolé de te dire ça, Aurora, mais ton père est un idiot.”

Remus snorted. “Already teaching her important life lessons.”

“Get bent, Moony.” Sirius sneered.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Saw your most recent thought about writing Gambit, PLEASE DO ITTT!! He has been my favourite ever since i was young... After watching Deadpool & Wolverine, the one who played by Channing Tatum... OH GOD I need him more now 🤚😔💥 ((But please take your time to write tho!! Don't wanna rush or pressure you about it ✨️

Part two here

‘What if this is it. What if this is the ending we get because we were the unlucky ones and that this is where we were meant to be regardless of how hard we try.’ You say one day and Remy stopped shuffling his cards.

‘And what made you come to that bleak conclusion, mon cher.’ He asks softly, having a feeling that you had been withholding this thought inside for a while, and it wasn’t only until now did it feel like coming to light in the presence of someone you felt safest with, or at least he assumed you did with how often you tended to stick to his side. You had lost your friend Jubilee a while back to Alioth and ever since then you’ve been stuck to Remy and admitting things to him in confidence that he beloved you would’ve told Jubilee…had she stayed a little while longer.

You shrug. ‘Merely an educated guess. That and the copious amounts of times where we’ve tried and failed to escape but I’m pretty sure that’s evident, considering that we’re.still.fucking.here.’

Remy sighs, gets up from the table and walks across the room and takes his place next to you, shoulder to shoulder and as your thighs briefly touch. ‘You may think me stupid for thinking this mom cher, but it is the truth of my heart, and that truth is that I’m glad we’re here.’ He admits but starts laughing soon after upon looking at your confused face, finding it adorable.

‘Care to elaborate on that?’ You then said as you started at as though he had grown a second head. What did he mean by that? That he was happy he was trapped here? Had Remy finally gone mad, you weren’t quite sure but decided that you would hear him out in hopes that there was a logical explanation after a confession like that after all.

‘With pleasure,’ Remy began, ‘the reason I say this because if I weren’t here then I would’ve never met you, built a friendship with you and so on, so while I share your want to leave this place.’ He then leans in real close to you, so close to the point you could feel his breath fanning your face and his lips ghost over your own as your heart went nuts in your throat. ‘I can’t help but thank it for brining us together, for I wouldn’t have thought to experience a love quite like ours mon cher.’ Remy concludes and you couldn’t help but smile.

Remy has once told you that you did exist in his timeline, just with a minor detail in the fact that you weren’t a mutant like him. You were friends, close friends, but one day you died protecting him, he’s never forgiven himself since and still hasn’t. ‘Brave soul, courageous heart you had.’ He had said while fighting back tears as you held him just as he began to weep over a you that wasn’t you; Regarding whether or not you were together was a question that was never answered nor asked, for you didn’t want to reopen old wounds Remy chose to close for a reason.

You had a Remy back home but he was with Rouge and you weren’t even remotely as close as Remy and his variant of you were. You were barely even on speaking terms because of how little you interacted with one another. So needless to say your absence wasn’t felt nor missed in the slightest, but you didn’t have the energy nor the ability to care about that anymore.

You gently shove him in the chest. ‘Cheesy bastard.’ You muttered as Remy chuckled, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in as you melted into his warmth, feeling safe from all harm and most importantly; loved.

‘Don’t you know. All Remy’s to ever exist are romantics at heart mon cher?’ He playfully said as he tightened his grip on you, planting one more kiss on your forehead, humming in content.

‘No. I only know one Remy who’s a romantic at heart,’ you told him as you lifted a hand to gently boop him on the nose, ‘you and that’s the only Remy I need to know, for you are the best Remy out of all of them. At least in my opinion.’ You finished as you then kissed him on the cheek.

Remy smiles softly at you as he felt himself becoming more content with his fate if it meant sharing these moments with you for the rest of his life, you made life here bearable and he couldn’t imagine going back to a life where all he had to remember was your name scrawled into a cold, unforgiving headstone. ‘And your opinion is the only opinion I ever want to have for the rest of my life.’ He says as he held you tighter before smothering you in kisses, smiling widely as he heard you giggle and squeal for mercy, while back home you may not be anything to him, but here? You were everything to him and more.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Circumcise your Hearts

Circumcise, therefore, the foreskin of your heart, and no longer be stiffnecked. — Deuteronomy 10:16 | Jubilee Bible 2000 (JUB) Jubilee Bible 2000 Copyright © 2013, 2020 by Ransom Press International Cross References: Genesis 17:11; Leviticus 26:41; Deuteronomy 9:6; Deuteronomy 9:13; Deuteronomy 30:6; Jeremiah 4:4; Ezekiel 44:7

[awkward-walking-potato]

Heyyy!

This has been on my mind for agesss <3

Because nightcrawler's skin is actually furry. Do you think you could do like nightcrawler x drunk reader.

The reader comes home drunk and immediately latches onto nightcrawler and starts calling him a teddy because of the fur? (I imagine the fur is like a soft velvet)

💕

I have written this like a part 2 of this as he is the biggest fluffy little kitty cat

Fuzzy Comforts

The night at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was quiet, with most of the students already asleep. Kurt Wagner—Nightcrawler—had just finished his evening routine, settling down in the common room with a book. The mansion felt peaceful at night, the soft glow of the lamps casting warm light over the room. Kurt’s tail swayed lazily as he read, the stillness of the night a comfort to him.

But the calm was soon interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. Kurt’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of slightly unsteady footsteps, and he immediately knew who it was. You’d gone out with Rogue and Jubilee, insisting that you’d be fine and that you wouldn’t get into any trouble. He’d been a little worried, as he always was, but he trusted you.

Now, as he listened to the sound of your approach, Kurt couldn’t help but smile, already able to picture your tipsy state. He closed his book and stood, ready to greet you.

You stumbled into the common room, your movements slightly exaggerated by the alcohol coursing through your system. As soon as you spotted Kurt, your eyes lit up, and you practically lunged toward him with a wide grin.

“Kurt!” you exclaimed, your voice a little louder than usual. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest as you held on tight.

Kurt laughed softly, his arms instinctively wrapping around you to steady you. “Hallo, Liebling,” he greeted you, his voice gentle. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your voice muffled against his chest. “But now I’m home with my favorite fuzzy teddy bear.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then he chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. “Teddy bear?” he echoed, amused by your drunken affection.

You nodded vigorously, rubbing your cheek against him like you were trying to snuggle deeper into his fur. “You’re so soft,” you murmured, clearly enjoying the feel of his blue, velvety fur against your skin. “Like the best teddy bear ever.”

Kurt felt his heart swell at your words, a mixture of affection and amusement filling him. He’d always been a little self-conscious about his fur, but the way you seemed to adore it made him feel more at ease in his own skin. “If I’m your teddy bear, does that mean you’re going to cuddle with me all night?” he teased, his voice filled with warmth.

You looked up at him, your eyes half-lidded and a dreamy smile on your lips. “Mmm, yes,” you mumbled, your fingers tangling in his fur as you pulled yourself even closer. “So warm and cozy… like a big, fluffy kitten.”

Kurt’s laughter turned into a soft, almost involuntary purr, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He couldn’t help it—your affection, your touch, it all felt too good, too comforting. And hearing you call him a kitten of all things? It melted any resolve he might have had.

You froze at the sound, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. “Did you just… purr?” you asked, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice.

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. “Ja, I suppose I did,” he admitted, his voice slightly sheepish. “It happens sometimes when I’m… happy.”

Your smile grew even wider, and you pressed your cheek against him again, as if you could get him to purr louder. “You’re even cuter than I thought,” you said, your words slightly slurred. “My fuzzy, purring teddy bear.”

Kurt’s heart raced, and he couldn’t stop the continuous purring that rumbled from his chest. He stroked your back, his hands gentle as they moved up and down in soothing motions. “I’m glad you think so, Liebling,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “But perhaps we should get you to bed, ja?”

“Mmm, only if you come with me,” you mumbled, already half-asleep in his arms. “I need my teddy bear to cuddle.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with affection as he looked down at you. “Of course, Schatz. I’ll always be here to keep you warm.”

Carefully, he teleported the two of you to your room, the soft bamf barely noticeable in your sleepy state. Gently, he laid you down on the bed, but you refused to let go of him, your arms still tightly wrapped around his waist.

“Kurt… stay,” you murmured, your eyes closed as you snuggled deeper into the blankets. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he promised, sliding into bed beside you, allowing you to cling to him as you drifted off to sleep. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as his tail curled protectively around your legs. Your head rested on his chest, right where you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and you sighed contentedly, finally relaxing completely.

As you fell asleep, Kurt couldn’t help but smile down at you, his heart overflowing with love and adoration. The purring sound continued to vibrate softly from his chest, lulling you further into a peaceful slumber.

“Gute Nacht, mein Herz,” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Sleep well. I’ll be right here.”

And as you slept, Kurt held you close, his love for you stronger than ever. You were his world, his everything, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure you felt safe and loved in his arms. Even if it meant being your purring, fuzzy teddy bear.

[pandapetals]

Book Club

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

You start a book club and drag Logan with you.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"You're still doin' that book club thing tonight?" Logan grumbled from where he lay sprawled across the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily over his chest. His eyes followed your every move as you stood at the mirror, adjusting your shirt, and checking your reflection.

"Yes," you said with a knowing smile, smoothing your shirt. "And you are coming with me."

In the reflection, you caught the moment Logan's relaxed expression shifted into a frown, his brows knitting together like a child being told it was time for school. "Why can't we just stay up here and, I don’t know, cuddle or somethin’?" He shot you a hopeful look, his voice low and gravelly, as if that would be enough to sway you.

You laughed softly, turning to face him, your arms crossing over your chest as you raised an eyebrow. "Now you wanna play the soft guy?" You teased, walking over to the bed and leaning down just enough for your lips to hover near his. "But no. You're coming with me."

Logan huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I ain't cut out for book clubs," he muttered. "What do I even talk about? Romance arcs? Plot twists?"

You smirked, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Well, I hope you did the reading," you teased, standing straight again. "Besides, the kids love you. You’ll be fine."

He grumbled something under his breath as he pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Did the readin'," he muttered, "but don’t expect me to be all enthusiastic about it." His eyes softened slightly as he stood, running a hand over your arm in a gentle, reluctant gesture of surrender. "Guess if you’re goin', I’ll go."

The common room was buzzing with energy when you arrived, Kitty, Jubilee, and a handful of other younger mutants were already gathered around, chatting excitedly. The makeshift circle of chairs and bean bags was cozy, and you could feel the buzz of anticipation in the air as they settled in, clutching their copies of the book.

"Hey, Professor!" Kitty beamed as she waved her book in the air. "We’re ready! This book was so good !"

You smiled warmly, taking a seat. "I’m glad you’re excited, Kitty. We've got a lot to talk about tonight."

Logan, however, had slunk in behind you, arms crossed, scanning the room like he was sizing up a battlefield instead of a friendly book club. He leaned against the wall in his usual gruff way, trying to stay out of the spotlight.

Jubilee shot him a curious glance. "I didn’t think you’d be into this book club thing, Mr. Howlett."

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, just grunted in that noncommittal way he always did when he didn’t want to commit to an answer. You tried to suppress a grin, knowing full well how this evening was going to unfold.

"So," you started, glancing around the circle, "who wants to start? What did you guys think of the book so far?"

Kitty immediately raised her hand, bouncing a little in her seat. "I loved it! Especially the historical stuff. It's intense but also really well done."

Jubilee nodded enthusiastically, flipping through her book. "Yeah, the battle scenes were so detailed, like you could feel the tension."

At that moment, Logan’s expression shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. He finally uncrossed his arms and moved closer, still silent but intrigued. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely. They had no idea they were about to strike gold with Logan's knowledge.

"And the whole section about the soldiers trying to get through the winter—" Kitty started to say, flipping to a page.

Jubilee cut in. "—Yeah, that was crazy! Do you think they really had to deal with that stuff?"

Just like that, Logan spoke, his deep voice cutting through the room as if he couldn’t help himself. "Yeah, they did," he said, stepping forward, his usual gruffness slipping away as he slid into lecture mode without realizing it. "Winter campaigns were brutal. Most soldiers weren’t equipped to handle the cold, and those who made it through had to deal with frostbite and infection. Supply lines were unreliable at best. Most of the time, they were fightin' more against the elements than the enemy."

The room went quiet as all eyes turned to him. Kitty and Jubilee’s faces lit up like they’d just discovered a secret weapon of knowledge.

"Wait," Kitty said, looking impressed. "You know a lot about this stuff, right?"

Logan shrugged, his tone casual as he took a seat. "Lived through enough wars to know what they were like." He paused, leaning forward, suddenly more invested. "In the book, the author’s got it mostly right, but there are some things he’s glossin’ over."

Jubilee raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Logan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again, but now he looked less grumpy and more like he was into it. "Well, for one, the way they’re talkin’ about battle formations—ain’t no way a general would have his men lined up like that in the middle of the terrain they were in. That’s suicide. And the supply chain issues? It was way worse than what the book says."

A hush fell over the room as the students hung on his every word, completely captivated by his unexpected expertise. Logan had gone full history professor on them, diving into the nitty-gritty details about troop movement, the harsh realities of war, and the subtle inaccuracies that only someone who had actually been there would catch.

You sat back, your arms crossed, a smile tugging at your lips. It was amusing, watching him go from reluctant participant to star of the show in under ten minutes. Logan had no idea, but he was teaching more than any book could.

Kitty’s eyes were wide with excitement. "Okay, wait. So you're saying the author actually got some stuff wrong? Like, they would’ve done it differently?"

Logan nodded, leaning forward. "Yeah. It’s not bad for what it is, but you can tell he’s never seen the real thing. Ain’t no shame in it, but there's a difference between readin' about it and bein' there."

Jubilee turned to you, grinning. "You picked this book on purpose, didn’t you?"

You gave a small shrug, unable to hide your smile any longer. "Maybe," you said, casting a playful glance at Logan, who was still explaining historical details to the wide-eyed students. He didn’t even seem to realize how animated he’d become, his hands moving as he spoke, his voice deep and authoritative, drawing them into the world of history with every word.

By the time the discussion wrapped up, Logan had fully taken over, his initial reluctance long forgotten. The students were buzzing with excitement, asking him rapid-fire questions about battles, weapons, and the realities of war.

As the kids began gathering their things to leave, Jubilee turned to you, still grinning. "Okay, this was way better than I expected. Logan’s like a walking history book."

"Yeah," Kitty chimed in, "we gotta have him come to the next meeting."

Logan shot you a look, one that was part exasperation, part amusement. You raised your hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. You’re the one who just gave them the best history lecture they’ve ever had."

He huffed, shaking his head, though you could see the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Guess I ain’t gettin’ outta this next time, huh?"

"Nope," you teased, linking your arm through his as the two of you made your way out of the room. "You’re officially the history consultant for the book club."

Logan grumbled under his breath, but as you walked side by side, his hand found yours, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud. He might grumble about book clubs and reading assignments, but when it came down to it, Logan couldn’t resist sharing what he knew—especially when it meant impressing you and the kids.

[obriengf]

Jubilee || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You find moments of clarity throughout your boyfriend's birthday. Words: 1.9k Warnings: totally added tay swift references - not really a warning (: Notes: despite the photo used in the banner, the reader is non-gender specific, non-race specific, etc.

April 8th, 1995 - Happy Birthday Stiles Stilinski ・❥・

You weren't sure what it was, exactly - maybe it was simply just how his eyes would widen with excitement, a childhood gleam that twinkled so exuberantly as he smiled. Or, it could be how his body jumped with so much positive energy, the balls of his feet built with springs as he bounded around with pure enthusiasm. Perhaps, it was really the way in which he couldn't stop talking, in absolute Stiles fashion, his mind and mouth running with stories and ideas and honest happiness. Selfishly, you would like to say that it was when he encased his body around yours and provided loving kisses with every 'thank you' during his never-ending expression of gratitude. Whatever it was, it made this time of year your favourite of them all. Nothing could beat celebrating your boyfriend's birthday.

His twenty-ninth year started with a tender peck - lips pressed to his cheek as they covered a freckled canvas, his skin warm as it remained settled under the morning sun that filtered through the blinds. It twitched from such a delicate sentiment and was followed by lashes dancing as the boy began to wake. He was so beautiful, and it prompted your heart to clutch in absolute awe.

His arm was heavy as it remained slung over your waist, despite pulling you closer to his chest in oblivious movements from his still-slumbered state. He hummed lightly against the shell of your ear, a sound of acknowledgement, wordless contentedness to the complacency you helped him feel. It made you kiss him again on the upturn of his nose and he groaned as it scrunched.

"Hi." You whispered so quietly, his caramel toned eyes fluttering once again as they tried to adjust to the morning light. Stiles smiled at you, completely loving with just a simple glance. A hum pushed past your lips, "Good Morning, handsome."

"It is now." He replied, so smooth, so swift. The truth embedded in such little words and encapsulated with sleepy raspiness.

Noses brushed as you giggled under your breath, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye, "And Happy Birthday."

He leaned into your touch as if it were moulded to fit his face, love exuberating from his features with ease, "Thank you, baby."

It was amusing to watch as Stiles shovelled his face with pancakes - the breakfast dish easily branded as his favourite, and seen quite evidently as he moaned loudly in satisfaction. The plate was stacked high and you knew that the sugar rush could potentially be catastrophic, but it was his day, and he deserved everything he desired.

An incredulous look was etched deeply into the furrowed brows and confused lift of Noah Stilinski's lips as he watched his son across the table. The coffee mug in his hand was teetering on the edge of lukewarm by now, but he couldn't tear his focus away. You'd think that after twenty-nine years, the man would be somewhat immune to the quirkiness of his son. Noah's eyes glanced briefly around your small kitchen space - an area where you and Stiles spent much of your time since you moved in together. He had always admired the varied elements representing you both and how easy it was for your lives to merge. It was as if soulmates were united, and this is how your beings were destined to be intertwined.

"You spoil him." Noah's deep voice broke through the silent chuckle you expelled toward your boyfriend, eyes managing to break free as they looked to the man beside you. Appreciation filled the small smile he shone your way and you couldn't help but release an elated exhale, your head nodding in agreement.

"I know." Your reply was simple but was spoken with the utmost adoration for Stiles, observing as a childish spark embodied him with joyousness; a light that took a while to finally settle within his heart after years of trepidation and great wars. A sigh pushed past your lips, "But he deserves it, all of it, after everything he's been through."

And you would give him the world on a silver platter if you could, but you knew that all Stiles truly wanted was to be content. He craved silly grown-up routines and times when he could relax without the threat of worry. He wanted to relive mundane moments from his teenage years that were short-lived due to monsters that lurked in the shadows. He yearned for endearment and safety and just simply knowing that you would be there every morning and night, curled up in his arms, loving him unconditionally. Stiles never asked for a lot, so days like today were ones you strived to make special. Because he deserved special, every last speck of it.

Noah snickered to himself, pride filling his chest as he looked between yourself and Stiles. "He deserves you most, ya know." His words struck a chord - one with melodic tunes, strummed hard enough to get your heart beating fast as a red blush pinched at your nose and cheeks. You reached across and placed a hand over his, your eyes bright as you looked at the older Stilinski.

"Thank you." That was all you ever wanted.

Stiles could work a room, especially when the buzz was centered around him. He had bounced across your living room several times by now, excitement filling his veins as he couldn't stop talking to the friends and family who came to see him for his birthday. You were standing off to the side, half listening as Scott was making conversation about his week at the Clinic - your focus was mostly on Stiles, admiring the way he was utilising his over-energetic nature and definite possible sugar hype from his breakfast. He had never looked happier as words flowed from him, a bottle of beer clutched between the fingers of his right hand as his left arm hung jovially over Liam's shoulders in deep narration.

"You're not listening, are you?" Scott spoke up, amused as his arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back casually against the wall.

"Sorry, Scotty." You offered a smile, apologetic tones seeping through and your friend couldn't help but shake his head as he returned your smile amiably. You took a sip of your own drink, making sure to turn your body slightly, attempting to provide full attention even though your mind still wandered whenever you heard your boyfriend's laugh. "I was, I just got a little distracted --"

" -- It's all good." He intercepted your explanation, a look of knowing putting you at ease. He knew well the effect that you and Stiles had on each other, for the most part, and how you were both connected so seamlessly by an invisible string that without fail drew you back to one another. It only made sense that a part of your focus would always be on him. "But kudos on the party. You definitely decked the place out, and Stiles seems to definitely be enjoying himself."

You hummed, eyes picking up the array of decorations that you so carefully placed only a couple of hours ago. "You know more than anyone that I'd do anything to just see him happy. After all, today is Stiles Day and honestly..." You trailed off, features already beginning to scrunch up as joviality shaped your words, "I think I like it more than Christmas."

You laughed, and Scott joined you. He agreed wholeheartedly as his hand splayed over his chest, head nodding and lopsided smile growing by the second.

It wasn't too long after when the crowd gathered around your dining table with Stiles perching at the head as he sat tall. The lights were turned off and the room became swallowed by darkness - building anticipation, creating an atmosphere of smiles and eagerness for the theatrics to follow. It was the sound of hissing that made ears perk and eyes swiftly track the source as it entered from the kitchen. You had gentle hands as his cake remained in your hold; silhouettes sitting against the walls from shoots of sparking fire that sat atop his cake. His gaze grew large, and the normal caramel tone of his eyes shifted to a glowing golden hue from the reflecting sparklers.

You placed the cake in front of Stiles before planting a tender kiss against the apple of his grinning cheek, your nose nuzzling into his favourite spot under his ear, "Happy Birthday, my handsome man."

The crowd began to sing, mismatched harmonies growing louder in the small space of your apartment. It was hasty as Stiles' large hands gripped at your waist, your body falling toward his own before he sat you in his lap. Legs dangled over his knees and it made you giggle against the curve of his shoulder. Stiles pecked your template before replicating your nuzzle, his nose dragging against your hairline, "I love you."

You watched as the sparklers danced patterns across his affectionate expression, completely mesmerised by him and the fortune you felt, before you smiled up at him, "I love you too. Now blow out those candles!"

It wasn't much different from your usual Monday night; the television played some reruns of comedies from the 90's, every light in the room was turned off except the dingy floor lamp beside the couch, and the coffee table was graced by Chinese takeout containers and leftover plates of birthday cake. Stiles slumped back against the soft cushions with his feet perched upon the table, socks cladding his feet as they moved in tune with the opening credits of an old sitcom. He was in complete comfort, only made better by your frame as it was situated under his arm with your head pressed to his chest and hands curled in the material of his t-shirt. His touch was absentmindedly dragging up and down your side with dancing fingers, the sentiment just barely felt as the movements remained delicate and featherlike.

"Today was amazing." He said so nonchalantly, voice hardly competing with the television as the sound remained low.

You burrowed yourself closer to him, tiredness beginning to takeover, "I'm glad."

Stiles grinned lazily, his lips puckered before pressing kisses down the expanse of your cheek as his nose trailed after them, "But this?Right now... full of cake and chow mein, us cuddling and watching Friends reruns... this is my favourite part. Without a doubt."

"But we do this practically every night." You mused, voice laced with humor and confusion before gently pulling away from him. Your brow was raised, but the puzzled expression across your features was captured with a smile.

"Yeah, we do, but... just knowing how much effort you put into making today the best birthday, it just makes it all mean so much more."

Your heart pattered, a rush of endearment and affection. It was loud and fast in your chest, but one would never have guessed from the quiet squeak of your voice that followed, "I only ever want the best for you."

"And all I ever want is you. Period."

The light from the television casted a blue glow as you leant forward, your arms encasing themselves around Stiles' neck as thighs straddled his own. The programme was long forgotten, and his face settled against your shoulder. You could feel him breathe you in as his own arms wrapped around to your back, his large splayed hands pushing your body further against him.

You kissed the crown of his head, fingers gentle as they tangled themselves in the loose locks of his hair, "Happy Birthday, Stiles."