#Lesser mutant

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I love about Leo is that, canonically, he IS capable of cooking, he’s just completely incapable of using a toaster. He’s banned from the kitchen not out of an inability to make edible food, but because being within six feet of a toaster causes the poor appliance to spontaneously combust.

[tmntkiseki]

I'm really glad I've been making the slow but steady effort to rewatch season one because there are so many great interactions and characterization moments that I either missed the first time around or completely forgot about because of how long it's been.

(All clips are from "Notes from the Underground - Part 1")

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than dreams

Nerfed signposts!

[mitunafishsaladsandwich]

is anyone else a liiittttle tired of how ROTTMNT like absolutely dominates the tmnt tag and community in general? like i really love it, but i wanna see some love for 2003 and 1987 too :(

[unspeakable-imagination]

Not just a One Night Stand || Logan Howlett

Reblogs, likes, and comments always appreciated

My asks are open find my masterlist here

18+ below the cut MDNI

Cw:takes place between origins and xmen 1, porn with little to no plot,nipple peircings, primal kinks, breeding kinks, choking and other breath play, probably a little blood his claws cound as knifeplay?, p in v, cunnilingus/(F receiving oral),he talks you through it🤌, use of alcohol and tabacco, cannon-typical violence, obviously curse words

First time writing smut, tell me how I did

Logan, or as the tags around his neck say, Wolverine, had been living without memories of his past for two years. All he had was a truck, a trailer, and a bike, all of which he won some way through the cage fighting that made him good money.

He knew what he was. He learned it rather quickly, in a world where mutants were cursed apon. That's why he didn't tell a single damn soul, and if they found out, he'd either leave the city or kill the problem that made him loose his patience in the first place.

That was one thing about Logan. He was shockingly patient. Unless it came to the dumb fucks constantly trying to take back the money they'd lost. This night was like any of the rest, fight, drink, find a girl and fuck, then start over again the next night. Or atleast it would have been.

He'd just finished his final cage fight of the night, and gripped the thick envelope filled to the seem with bills of all sorts. he thumbed through and took out some of the lesser bills, ones and fives, then stuffed the envelope inside of his inner coat pocket.

He strutted to the bar while he pulled a half smoked cigar and a basic lighter from his other pocket. By the time he was sitting, he was already twisting the cigar in the flame, lighting the edges to get an even burn. The bartender already knew his order, given that he was here the night before and was already sliding a glass filled with whiskey to the brim over the counter to his place setting.

Then, it happened as usual. Drink, smoke, and look around the bar. And then, like the pretty little thing that you were, you slid into the barstool next to him. "Hey there," you said. Your hair was pulled back into a half up half down style, and your neck was covered in glittering silver chains. Your ears had similarly matching jewley, dangling earrings that hung to your collarbones. You were wearing a tiny black dress with thin straps and stocking with a pair of pumps.

"Hey," he said, looking you up and down. "Ain't you pretty, doll?" He purred. You blinked, flitting your lashed at him.

"I'd sure hope so if it meant I caught your attention," you hummed. You motioned to the tender and asked for something simple, but logan didn't hear what it was. He was to focused on drinking you in, staring at you, noticing every little detail of your body that he could see. He almost had to stop himself from groaning when he noticed the special way that your dress perked around your nipples, the shape of peircings peeking through. You glanced over as you received your drink,

"Mind if i have a drag, please?" you hummed, raising your head and watching him carefully. You're eyes looked to his cigar and back up, your tounge darting out to lick your lips. You watched a cloud of smoke that was bearly falling from his lips suck back on when he took a deep breath.

"Here," he said, pulling the cigar from his lips to hand it to you. He watched your fingers, dainty as they were compared to his, gently pull it from his grasp. He watched as you brought it to your own mouth, taking a pull. He watched the embers glow and recede, he watched the way you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. He watched the way the vein on your neck throbbed to your heartbeat, and thought about how badly he wanted to bite it. He had to stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

"What are you thinking," you peered at the name on his dogtags," Wolverine?" He swallowed thickly and then he leaned in, closer to you.

"Logan. I think we should go talk somewhere eles," the way he said it was low, deep, and his voice rumbled like thunder.

"[Name]. And I think so, too, Logan." You nearly purred at the way he sounded and tiped back your drink, swallowing it whole as he did mostly the same. He helped you slide off your seat, plucking the cigar from your mouth as he did so and putting it back in his own. He stood and gripped you by your waist tightly, stepping with you towards the exit.

Shockingly, the moment you two were walking down the hallway of the hotel was rather controlled. Nobody was making out, slamming into walls, nobody was moaning. It was painstaking keeping your hands off of Logan.

Constant glances at eachother while murmuring sweet compliments about how pleasing one another looked, teasing words like "Oh I don't mind coming with you," and other phrases.

The moment you slipped into the room, words were no longer small whispers, and instead real, volume reasonably added.

Logan wasn't shy. He'd pulled the money to pay for the drinks in the room of the fridge, even adding a bit extra to get a smokers room. He didn't take his time grabbing a beer from the tiny fridge and slamming the necks against the counter to pop the caps off.

You had already relit the cigar that you were forced to put out in the lobby, leaning your torso out the window, your ass in perfect view. You looked so angelically sinful.

"The moon is so beautiful, tonight." Logan's eyes didn't leave you, and when you turned, he offered you a beer. You took it, pleased. "Thank you."

Logan looked out the window, seeing the full moon, and then back to your eyes. The lighting in the hotel was dim, but he was able to see your face.

"You're beautiful, too." He sat down on the edge of the bed and you footed towards him, slipping one leg at a time around his waist till you straddled him. He took a drink and you extanged the cigar back to him to take your own.

"You know the moon used to have a lover," you said. Logan cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah?" You nodded and hummed.

"Kuekuatsheu. Him and the moon lived in the spirit world and would dance together across the sky, every night." He leaned foward a little putting his elbows on your thighs then looked up at you.

"But there was another spirit, a trickster in love with the moon. He was jealous." You used your free hand to comb your fingers through his hair, over his ear. "So the trickster told Kuekuatsheu that the moon wanted flowers, and that he should come to earth to pick them for her."

"Never trust a guy named trickster," he uttered, kicking his lips. You giggled, lightly and gently.

"Well, people do stupid things sometimes. Kuekuatsheu didn't know that leaving the spirit world meant he could never go back. He's trapped, and every night, when he sees the moon he calls out to her. They can never touch eachother again" you frowned, drawing a line on his face.

"Well, Koo-koo-ka-Choo got screwed." You reached down to his dogtags and fiddled with them.

"Kuekuatsheu. It weans The Wolverine, like your tags." He watched her fingers fiddle with the thin sheets of metal. He put the cigar on the ashtray at the end table and gently grabbed your wrist.

You watched him carefully as he kissed right under your palm.

"You should be scared of me," he said, and kissed up your arm.

"I'm not, I know you won't hurt me in any way I don't want." Thoes words made him still.

"What do you mean?" He said. Another kiss to your elbow.

"I like it rough, Logan." He kissed your shoulder blade.

"I can't be anything but rough," he murmured against your shin. He moving his head to the dip of your breastbone. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what is it?" You brought your beer up to your mouth, taking another sip. He did the same.

"Not being able to stop," he admitted. He looked up at you again and swore the light framing your head from the window was really a halo.

"I can stop you if i wanted. I can take it, please, Logan." He tossed his head back, palming your thigh that was holding onto you. He swallowed, his mouth going dry.

"Say my name again," he put his drink on the nightstand and took yours, doing the same.

"Logan," you hummed, dipping your head down to his throat, gently nibbling at the flesh in the crook. He groaned and lifted you by your ass, putting your pack onto the bed.

"God you gave no fucking idea what's going on in my brain, baby. I could fucking destroy you," leaned ontop of you, supporting his weight on his elbows and knees. One knee was between your legs and he pushed it between your thighs.

"I could devour you right now." He kissed your collarbones, then up to your neck and bit you in a similar fashion how you did him. "I could ruin you the same way I'm about to ruin this dress."

You only hummed, your arms latching around his neck. What suddenly shocked you was the clean sound of metal, three claws extending from between his knuckles on one hand, right next you your face.

You felt your heart speed up and he kissed your cheek, then breathed in your ear. "Don't worry, you know I won't hurt you in a way you wouldn't like," and it sent a shiver down your spine. You almost moaned.

He sat up, bringing his claws to the neckline of your dress and pulling the down, slicing the dress in the respective places, small cat scratches underneath. The shallow cuts, like that from paper, beaded tiny drops of the crimson fluid every few inches. Nothing to heavy.

The cool air hitting your now hot skin made you whine, "Oh God's, logan," you watched, eyes open as he cut your stocking waistline elastic, and once slice above each thigh around the bands of your underwater.

"You don't need these anymore," he said. His claws retracted and he shrugged off his beater. You watched him lift the hem and when you saw skin, you latched your fingers onto it. You dug your fingers into his hips above his belt and jeans and tugged your bottom lip in your teeth. He slid off the bed, leaving your grasp.

You sat up to watch him get on his knees, looking at him with confusion. "What?"

"M' just gonna help these off, don't worry," he said, yanking at the destroyed fabric thag was still on you. Your heels fell off with your irrepreably damaged stocking and gasped at the cold hitting your heated core. He took a deep breath and growled. Literally growled.

He gripped above your knees and dug you to the edge of the bed, burring his face in the middle of your thigh and sunk his teeth into it, you head lolled back in a moan.

"I could just tear you to shreds," he said between bites as he traveled up your legs. He but you so hard, you'd sure you'd bruise in no time.

"Please, Lo," you hummed squirming and opening your knees a little further.

"Come on, baby. Beg for me more." You began to open your mouth, prepared you beg, to scream for him to touch you, but you never got the chance. He dug his teeth into your thigh where it meets your hip and you moaned your back arching and pushing your considerably soaked cunt into his chin.

"Fuck," he hissed, grabbing your hips and pushing them back down. "Stay, be good."

"Please, please, Logan, I need you to touch me," you preened. "Please I need you to touch me,"

"There you go," he hummed and used his hands to open your knees for more than just his head. He adjusted his shoulders between your knees before he lifted one leg above and onto his shoulder.

"Oh," you gasped as he nosed his fave into your country, taking a deep breath. He licked a stripe upwards between your folds and you swore you felt your hips jut, just a tad, and you breathed out a shaky sigh.

"Don't go quiet on me now, baby girl. I got you," he nuzzled his face in deeper. Lolling his mouth open, he did just what he said he'd do, devouring you. He sucked your clit into him mouth and your hand flew into his hair at you moaned, sure it would shake the paper walls of the place.

You grappled and tugged his hair, while also trying to shove his face deeper between your legs. He groaned into your folds, vibrating your whole being, which only made you whine more and forget to swallow. The sensation of his mouth sucked around you made you nearly cry when he prodded a finger into you, not even realizing one of his hands left your leg.

He ate you like a starved man, "Lo, i," you panted. It was hard to think, or even speak,

"You what?" He pulled away for only a second but you shaved his fave back down.

"Don' stop, please. M' so close," you nearly cried. He only laughed into your body and added another finger, his lips placing themselves wrapped around your core again. You felt ever fiver in your being tense and began you hurriedly day pleases like a prayer over and over, wrapping your calf around his neck to dig him in further and practically ride his face.

All it took for that rope to snap was his teeth lightly grazing over your clit and you fell off your elbow that kept you propped, your head flung back into a moan. He didn't stop, though. He lapped up whatever juices fell from your hole and grumbled, almost feraly. You shook beneath him and wiggled, until he slurped up ever drop of arousal and release that was left in you before he pulled his face away.

His chin and parts of his chops glistened with what parts of you he couldn't consume and he gave you a toothy, mischievous smile. "Oh baby, I'm hardly done with you."

You panted, still trying to catch your breath, but your hand in his hair hand long went slack, snaking up your hips to grope yourself.

He stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand, up half his arm and then reahed down to undo his belt the metal clanging, then his zipper, hill his pants fell to his feet. You hadn't even noticed he stepped out of them.

He grabbed you, pushing you further up the bed till he settled on his knees, cock standing proud. Your droopy-lidded eyes widening at the sheer girth.

"Don't worry, baby it will fit, I'll make it" then he grabbed you by your legs pressing them over his shoulders and locking you into a mating press. He ran a thumb over your clit. Then spit into his palm, pumping himself.

"I can't wait, please lo," your eyes locked onto his and your lips parted. He grabbed you by your jaw and tilted his head.

"Open thoes pretty lips more," he demanded and you obliged. He spit into you mouth and then shut it for you, massaging your throat as he whispered for you to swallow. When you did, you opened your mouth, all pretty and he broke. "Fuck it."

He pumped himself a few more times, quickly before grabbing your hips the the point that they dimpled and turned white, sure to bruise, and shoved you onto him, hilted in just a moment. His head lolled back his mouth flew Open in the most feral, gut churning groan, or maybe it was your organs readjusting. You were to busy moaning, writhing and shivering underneath him. "Good girl, that's my girl."

He laid one arm next to your ribs to keep balance and the other one grabbed the bearly breathing cigar. He took a drag, slowly beginning to pump his hips. The tiny, almost exhausted embers in the cigar burned back to life and began to blossom the heat through the bud. He left the cigar in his lips and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly while you were in a trance, softl, gummed moans leaving your blissed face with every thrust. He lifted your head slightly and blew the smoke in your face, letting you breath in the smoke, then squeezed again, and let go. He grabbed the cigar and dropped his head to your neck, bending his supporting elbow. You choked at the way he went impossibly deeper, but he didn't care.

"You got this, baby," he whispered in your ear. He latched his lips onto your vein and began sucking splotches, coloring your neck in reds and purples, occasionally stopping to suck down another portion if cigar. He moved and pressed his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into your mouth, which you greedily accepted.

He put the cigar back down, sat up, and used one hand to lube his fingers with some of your juices before playing with your clit again, watching you but at the overstimulating feeling. "I got you, hey, it's okay," he muttered. His other hand locked around your throat once more and he used it to pull you up and down on his cock, effectively making you ride him from the bottom

You whined and pleaded, asking him for more, that you were going to come again. He responded with a squeeze. "Then come on me, baby, all over."

Your hands found his thighs and you dug your nails into his legs, trying to ground yourself, " Yes, yes," you chanted. He watched the drool fall down tour cheek and grinned.

Your hips stuttered and your legs jerked, but the hand from your troat flew to one of your knees to hold you in place. "lo, lo, i," your face scrunched and his hand on your core stilled the same way his hips did as he felt your pussy clench onto him. He felt his thighs grow wet as fluid gushed from where you met, and he leaned back and watched.

"Good, baby. What a good girl," he hummed, pulling himself from you. You winced at the feeling of emptiness, but laid there, eye closed as you tried to recover. You listened as he stoked himself, listened to him groan, and opened your eyes just in time to watch him ejaculate all over your stomach. His warm, thick sperm painted your abdomen and even reached your ribs and then he backed up, putting your legs down gently on the bed.

"Just wait right there, don't move, okay?" He took your humming as a good response and scooted off the bed, walking to the bathroom. You listened to the faucet run and listened to him shuffle around. You heard the faucet shut off, and he appeared from the doorway with a washcloth, damp and warm. He came to the edge of the bed and knelt down, gently wiping your thighs and your mound, moving down to gently dap at your folds before he brought it up to wipe the cum from your stomach.

"You did so well," he said careful to avoid the scabbed slices from earlier. When he finished cleaning you, he climbed back onto the bed and fell to your side.

"Stay with me, [Name]. More than just tonight." You curled into his arms and he pulled the blanket over the both of you.

"Okay, Logan."

[kaznejis]

He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

You scoffed then, drawing the eyes of everyone sat throughout the common room; including Erik, the deceitful side of your brain chimed gleefully. He raised an eyebrow at you, cocking his head; physically daring you to speak. You did so anyway, “What the hell is your problem with me, Erik?”  “-Y/N, please-”  “My problem?” Erik spoke over Charles; his eyes hawk-like as they watched you, his cheeks turning with mirth as he grinned at you, his sharp teeth glinting in the evening light. If you hadn’t been overtaken with anger, with embarrassment; you would’ve thought that he looked devastatingly attractive, in some twisted way. “My problem is that lesser mutants, like you, shouldn’t be put on patrols that ensure the safety of the other, more important mutants in this house.” 

A/N: So I hadn't touched this in over a MONTH. Never fear, I had a zap of inspiration and prevailed- I hope you enjoy! I'm considering doing a short fic from Jean's POV of Erik after the battle so look out for that! :)

Word Count: 9,391 / Read it on AO3! / Feel free to send any requests!

BEFORE

“No, Y/N isn’t taking part.” Erik’s words were final, as according to his tone and the silence that ensued; even Charles seemed shocked, his eyes flicking between you, sat upon one of the leather couches, and Erik, stood at the front of the room, hands on hips. 

“Erik-” Charles began, adjusting in his wheelchair and clearing his throat. Jean, beside you, too shifted; her anger visible as she sent daggers Erik’s way with her eyes, he seemed entirely unaware. “I- Y/N is an incredibly capable mutant, in the missions she has gone on-” 

“-Which she shouldn’t have-”

“Erik! In the missions she has gone on,” Charles repeated, shaking his head, “She has proven herself to be one of the best; her Geokinesis has the potential to be-” 

“Potential,” Erik shook his head- whilst your eyes had not left his form, his eyes were yet to stray towards your own as he resolutely stared at any other catching aspect of the room. “That’s all you seem to care about Charles, not the actual raw talent of a mutant.” 

You scoffed then, drawing the eyes of everyone who sat throughout the common room; including Erik, the deceitful side of your brain chimed gleefully. He raised an eyebrow at you, cocking his head; physically daring you to speak. You did so anyway, “What the hell is your problem with me, Erik?” 

“-Y/N, please-” 

“My problem?” Erik spoke over Charles; his eyes hawk-like as they watched you, his cheeks turning with mirth as he grinned at you, his sharp teeth glinting in the evening light. If you hadn’t been overtaken with anger, with embarrassment; you would’ve thought that he looked devastatingly attractive, in some twisted way. “My problem is that lesser mutants, like you, shouldn’t be put on patrols that ensure the safety of the other, more important mutants in this house.” 

Your mouth downturned unwillingly as a clogging feeling entrapped your throat, unadulterated sadness filling your gut at the cruelty of his words. Beside you, Jean sprung from her seat; hurling insults at Erik as Scott attempted to hold her back. At the edge of the room, Charles simply rubbed at his brow, but not before sending you a sympathetic, apologetic look. It had been like this for months now; Erik disregarding your every word, suggestion, and proposal; it seemed that he simply had no interest in anything you had to offer. 

You had been appointed to the X-men with wide, open arms; having scored ridiculously high marks in your training. Erik had even been a friend, in the beginning, one of your closest- hence, the outright obvious, and regretful, feelings you harboured towards him. He had once treated you with kindness; helping you in your training, the similarity in your abilities allowing him to provide advice, tips on how to truly harness your powers. Whilst Erik could control the direct elements of the Earth; Iron, Zinc, Potassium, amongst many others- you could control, as stated within your mutant file, ‘photosynthetic eukaryotes’. You had laughed upon first seeing the description, shaking your head at the severity it suggested; Erik had corrected you then. “You can wield more than you know,” He had nodded, gesturing to the screen before you, “Your powers may seem simple to you now; but there is always more to discover,” He had paused then, turning towards you directly, smile discreet, “I will help you discover that.” 

“What more is there to discover about plants?” You had laughed, genuinely unable to grasp the supposedly absurd concept of your power being of any worth other than discreetly fixing an elderly neighbour’s yard, speeding the growth of the tomato plant they had incorrectly cared for despite their best efforts. 

Erik had shook his head, eyes misting slightly as he watched you, “More than you would know.” 

Your feelings for him didn’t exactly come as a surprise to you, whilst you did regret them greatly, you couldn’t deny the kindness he had provided you during your first months at the school; the guidance he had offered you during the day and the friendship he had offered you at night- it had been everything in contrast to the loneliness you had felt since discovering your mutant gene. Harrowing, stomach-turning nightmares would procure directly from your memories; Erik would always be there to wake you, running into your room before anyone else could even rise, shaking you awake and halting your sobs with the strength of his embrace.

In his shift, his silence; you had learned to quieten your cries- to wake yourself up from your nightmares, scared of bothering him even in sleep. 

You could pinpoint exactly when things had changed; when Erik had suddenly slipped away, succumbing you to the darkness of your own mind; to navigate the dingy, griping hallways of your mutant powers alone. It had been the depths of Summer; the sun hot and blazing upon the grounds of the manor- you spent many a day in the gardens, tending to the plants and honing your powers; barefoot and free. Sometimes, Erik would join you, using the seasonal bloom of the flowers as a ‘training opportunity’. 

The day it ended, you had been manipulating the vines of ivy that had grown upon the fence; learning how to move them as if they were one of your very own limbs. “Focus.” Erik had spoken from behind you, his arms crossed and gaze severe, “Clear your mind of everything other than that plant.” 

A difficult task, you had bemused to yourself, when the sole occupier of your mind and the object of your desires stood only a hair’s breadth away. “I’m trying,” You had gritted your teeth, pushing a splayed palm towards the ivy; your fingers trembling slightly, the sun blazing through the spaces between your fingers. 

Just as you had been about to give up, a touch lay upon your wrist, effectively silencing any thoughts intruding on those regarding the task at hand. “Here,” Erik had mumbled, his breath hot upon your neck, “Hold your hand up like this.” As he parted your fingers, practically intertwining his fingers with your own- you had found clarity in your own worry of revealing your nerves to him, of revealing the heat that clambered upon your chest and upon your neck where his breath lay, goosebumps rising in its wake. Within that sense of clarity, you had linked your powers with the twines and inky green leaves of the ivy- lifting the ivy from the fence and guiding it to hover above you; Erik’s fingers still intertwined within yours. You breathed; shock coursing through your body as you stared wide-eyed at the life-form levitating above you- the ivy floated upon the air, drifting languidly as if upon waves of a tranquil sea. The moment passed then; the initial calm of your powers passing as euphoria replaced it. Laughing,  you had instantly turned to Erik, dropping his hand in favour of throwing your arms around his shoulders; gasping and blubbering as tears of joy had formed within your eyes. Erik, too, had matched your fervour at first; grinning and burrowing a hand within your hair, another moving to rest upon your waist. 

Looking back on that moment, you knew that the pulse of power within your fingertips and the warmth within your chest and the hand within your hair had blurred your judgement entirely. So, looking back, you could see why you had pulled away and immediately pressed your lips to Erik’s. 

In other words, you had kissed him. 

At first, he had reciprocated; the hand within your hair deepening, the grip upon your waist tightening. He had guided your face to the side, gasping into your mouth as you intertwined your tongue with his own. You had felt so alive in that moment, your entire body thrumming like a tightened cord; held aloft by the grip of his hands and the heat of his tongue. 

However, the moment ended as quickly as it had begun. You had felt it as he had frozen, his body going ramrock still against your own; the heat between you retreating like a dying flame. 

You lamented yourself for that kiss everyday; whilst you knew that objectively, there had been nothing wrong with it, and it had been the best kiss you had ever experienced, even in its lacklustre length; you couldn’t see past the detrimental effect it had projected upon your relationship, your life as a whole. He had retreated instantly, some wayward excuse tumbling from his lips as he fled the garden, fled the warmth of your touch. The lingering sense of something more hanging stale, dead in the air. 

You had never forgotten the sound the ivy had made as it had slapped upon the concrete; the stems withering and rotting instantly in the projections of your regret, the scent of it bleating from you in waves. You had used every last ounce of your might, your power, to revive it; pressing your hands incessantly to the blackening stems. They did not return to their living state, too far gone in the influence of your vast emotions. Your nightmares took a new turn then, dreams of rejection, isolation; of your powers overtaking you and destroying the foundations of the world, any semblance of emotion desecrating nature and instilling desperation. Those dreams were worse than your own memories; you grew afraid of your powers, afraid of yourself, your own inability to control your emotions. As you became a shell of yourself, of the barefoot girl who grew geraniums in the palm of her hands; Erik drew further away, you could only chart it up to disgust- you had gone too far, flung yourself upon him in the light of the risen sun where others could have seen. He had been embarrassed of you. Why wouldn’t he be? You were a semblance of everything Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, was not; whilst he could control the very foundations of the earth’s core, you could barely maintain its creations. Whilst he could stand before the students and present any lesson he desired, you shied away from an authoritative position, opting to hide in the comfort, the secrecy, of your gardens.

You felt as though you were a disappointment of a mutant; a waste of genetic advancement. Entirely undeserving of the gene. 

Days without Erik turned into weeks, and then gradually months. Day after day you sat alone in the cafeteria; staring at the side of his head, watching the crinkle of his cheeks as he smiled at something Charles said; as he enjoyed the company of those within his own mutant league. 

But, as Erik had departed from your life, Jean had entered. Silver linings, and all. She had barged into your life with her fiery hair and even brighter personality; the powers so strong that they would immobilise the average person, the average mutant- but Jean simply took it in her stride, using her staggering, incredible powers for good. 

You would forever be thankful for the way she had taken you under her wing that one random morning at breakfast. You had been sitting alone, meagerly sipping a mug of tea, your nightmares leaving you unable to stomach any solid food; unable to do anything but longingly stare at Erik across the hall, able to think of nothing but the way his lips had felt against your own. It was set to be an entirely normal morning, the same as every other; stare at Erik, tend to the plants, wallow in your lonesome. However, before you could embark on your pathetic routine, your line of sight had been blocked by a figure before you, Jean, placing her tray upon the table and chatting with you as if it were nothing new. 

“-Honestly, it’s ridiculous.” You had blinked, tearing your vision away from Erik; your finger hanging limply at your lips where you had been chewing at a loose hangnail. Shaking your head, you had been able to do nothing but gape at Jean, your brain unable to compute what had been said, why she had been sat across from you, how you had managed to find your way into the dining hall at all. She had simply nodded her head at you, gesturing blatantly down at her provided breakfast tray, “The fact that they’ve only been serving brown bread for toast recently, I mean- nobody wants to eat that.” 

You had practically shifted yourself into first gear, inwardly slapping yourself awake as you had processed what she had said, what she was saying as she continued to complain about the discrepancies the cafeteria had allowed in recent months. “Maybe you should complain to Charles, go straight to the top.” You had managed to contribute, visibly sighing in relief as she nodded enthusiastically. 

“You know what, you’re so right.” 

From there, Jean’s presence had become a normality, walking arm-in-arm with your new best friend through the halls of the manor became a daily pleasure. 

You had almost forgotten about Erik. 

But, you found within yourself, you just couldn’t. He had been so kind, so understanding, and so ridiculously attractive- to which he, in fact, was potentially even more so. 

It eventually reached the point that you had been at in the common room; the only interactions being him hurling insults in your direction, exposing every insecurity you had ever had regarding your abilities; and you sitting there utterly befuddled as to how your relationship had deteriorated so severely. The conversation had initially revolved around assignments, specifically who would enact the nightly patrols of the grounds; groups of two would simply walk the outskirts of the land owned by Charles and ensure that everything was in order. It had been clear that you were perfect for the job; the edges of the land were uncared for; flooded with wildlife and overgrowth- you would practically be in your element. And yet, Erik had vehemently argued against you taking part, so passionately to the point that it was past being insulting, and just outright deranged. 

“You are such an asshole!” Jean’s shouts brought you out of your thoughts, blinking harshly as you zoned back into the conversation to which you were the main component of, “Do you ever climb down from your high horse, Magneto?” She spat his superhero nickname in a derogatory manner, practically laughing as she procured the word; as if one of the strongest mutants on the planet was merely a joke to her. She turned to you then, where you were still sunken into the leather of the couch; gesturing towards you passionately, “Y/N is an incredible mutant, if you had showed any interest in her recent training, you would know that; in fact, Charles is right, she’s on track to be better than you.” Ending the sentence with a jab in his direction, she turned and stomped back towards the couch; muttering angrily under her breath, you could only offer her a shallow smile in appreciation. You had filled Jean in on everything that had happened between you and Erik, whatever didn’t sound like dreamful vitriol, anyway. She had simply sighed, shaking her head, “Men.” She had tutted, turning the page in her book. In turn, she had filled you in on her situation with Scott; there really wasn’t much to it, other than the usual will-they-won’t-they denial of feelings on each end. You knew for a fact that Scott harboured similar feelings for her, it was only a matter of time.

Erik had recovered from Jean’s berating easily, simply brushing off her insults with a swallow and a hand through the hair, “Y/N isn’t taking part in patrols and that is final.” 

“Charles,” You had sighed, sending him a pleading look, hoping that your other superior would take some stance against Erik, recognise your need to be useful, “Please?” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Charles shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Erik has just as much a say as I do; I’m afraid his decision is final.” 

*

Despite your confidence in Jean and Scott’s mutual feelings for each other, it seemed that the potential couple themselves had been entirely unaware as to this likelihood. 

“Y/N!” Jean cheered, bustling into your room with multiple piles of clothing, you had sprung from your bed; heart thumping from the sudden nature in which she had appeared. She shook off your shock, dumping her clothes onto your bed and spinning towards you, “I need you to help me pick out a dress.” 

“What’s the occasion?” Furrowing your brows, you picked through the masses of colour that now laid upon your bed; clothes suitable for a myriad of situations.

“I’m going…” You waited as she paused for dramatic effect, “On a date!” 

“Oh!” You gasped excitedly, jumping to grasp your friend by the shoulders, “With Scott?”

Jean’s energy died instantly, freezing beneath your hold as she cleared her throat, eyes flickering nervously, “Oh- what? No, why-” 

“Wait- who is it with then?” 

“Um, well, you know Oliver, right?” You nodded, still confused, “We were in classes together and we recently started talking again and, yeah, he seems nice!” 

“Nice?” Grinning, you raised your eyebrows amusedly, moving to sit beside her pile of clothes, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Y/N! Don’t be mean, he’s more than that, I- just,” She huffed, moving to sit beside you, on the other side of the pile, “He’s actually giving me attention whilst Scott,” She shrugged, eyes sad, “He’s not giving me much to work with.” 

You nodded, completely understanding, whilst you were determined in your belief of Scott’s feelings; the theory was based entirely on conspiracy- Cyclops’ nerves tended to evolve into silence when in the presence of Jean. You moved to rub her shoulder; a grin upon your face, “Let’s pick you out something nice then.” 

After a considerable length of time spent rifling through clothes and testing a combination of outfits in your mirror; Jean spoke up, turning towards you suddenly, “Oh! I also have a way this could benefit you; you know how Erik forbids you from taking patrols, well, since I’m going on a date tonight; I need someone to take over my shift-” She practically sung the words to you; her eyes sparkling with glee. 

“No!” You said instantly, shaking your head and hands at her, to which her form drooped; her lips curling downwards, “Erik said no, Jean; not even Charles could dispute that-” 

“Come on, Y/N!” Jean cried, her arms dropping to her sides as the dress within them drooped to the floor haggardly, “I don’t want anyone I can’t trust taking the shift I’d usually have with Scott, and I know you wouldn’t flirt with him.” 

You shook your head, becoming even more steadfast in your refusal, “Jean, I am not hanging out with Scott, I’m sor-” 

“What?” Jean’s face dropped, her eyes resembling that of a kicked puppy, “Why would you not want to hang out with-” 

“And, that.” You pointed directly at her, other hand on hip, “Is exactly why, you’re going on a date Jean-”

“So?-” 

“So?” You mimicked, “I don’t want to be the one that deals with Scott tonight, I have plans-” 

“Plans? What- spying on Erik?” 

Your mouth snapped shut, opting only to glare at Jean; as she cackled to herself. Traitor.  

“Y/N.” Jean’s tone was deadpan, posture straightened, almost stern, “Believe me, patrols are entirely uneventful; I mean, really, you aren’t missing out- but, I know you want to take part so-” 

“Fine.” You relented, allowing Jean a small, genuine smile, “I’ll cover your shift.” 

Later, traipsing through the sloping mud and overgrown grass at the edge of the grounds as rain fell in think sheets, you couldn’t help but curse Jean in that moment- curse her for deciding to go on that date and neglect her obvious feelings for Scott, curse her for being a good friend and prioritising your own troubles in the meantime, curse her for asking you to take over her patrol shift. You were all for a bit of friendly, healthy jealousy- but, oh, this was unbearable. Any joy you had initially had at being able to, finally, take over a shift was long gone. 

“Why would she do it, Y/N?” Scott practically whined behind you, stumbling along behind you; you could feel blisters beginning to form upon your heels, “Why would she go on a date? I mean, I’m right here. Do you know how many times I’ve tried to ask her out?” 

“Keyword, ‘tried’.” You huffed, spinning to watch him as he traipsed towards you pathetically; hair sopping in the rain and lips pouting like an emotionally unregulated toddler, “Scott, if you had asked her out; I would know about it, and I don’t, so you obviously haven’t tried hard enough.” 

To your chagrin, his pout only deepend; his cheeks going rosy with embarrassment, like a forlorn puppy- it made you feel slightly guilty, but only slightly. You ignored the slew of stuttered, random words that followed, opting to turn around and, physically, get to the portion of the shift that would take place beneath the canopy of trees across the field. 

Whilst you were at it, you decided to curse Erik too; curse him for forcing you to exercise such desperate measures and take whatever shift became available to you. If it had been up to you, the two of you would have shared a sunny evening shift- filled with banter, good conversation and maybe even some light flirting, if you felt brave enough. But instead, he had decided to end your friendship and had shared a shift with Raven the previous night, according to the schedule pinned up upon the notice board; to which you could only assume was a great time, seeing as though the two had entered the communal lounge smiling and laughing after it. The page of the book you had been pretending to read had almost ripped in your seething as he had paid you no mind, instead opting to continue his conversation with Raven on the couch across from your own. 

Your night had, effectively, been ruined from that point onwards; as you had been able to do nothing but listen to your so-called ‘crush’ recount memories of his long friendship with another woman. If you had not known better, if you had not known of the hatred he harboured towards you; you would’ve thought he was trying to make you jealous. You definitely did not fall for that metaphorical bait, absolutely not. 

“Did you see that?” Scott’s, grating, voice broke you from your reverie; he seemed to be on high alert- his stance frozen, like a guard dog on alert. 

You turned to him, confused, “No-” 

“Shhhh!” He hissed, moving you both to a crouch below the grass-line; he seemed to be staring at something just past the tree line, his hand poised at the ready. 

‘Scott, what the f- '' You were instantly silenced by a loud, jarring clatter; a shout following it. You squinted your eyes, attempting to spot whatever had made the noise through the dark of the night. Before you could register what was happening; Scott shot upwards, taking off towards the trees, you could only scramble after him, parting the thick reeds with your powers as you followed. Scott reached the trees before you did; instantly throwing himself head first into the darkness. You could only follow, stumbling blindly as you stretched your powers forward; making any attempt to identify what exactly was unravelling before you. 

“Scott, Scott!” You hissed, the thick bushes procuring your sight as you peered into the darkness of the canopy; nearby leaves rustled alongside the clattering beat of your heart, your powers at the ready. “Scott, answer me.” Whispering as loudly as you could, you begged him to answer, to show some indication as to what the hell was going on. 

Before you could call for him again, a beam of light flashed before you, sending you tumbling backwards from your crouched position, your pants instantly becoming drenched in mud. Scott appeared then, panting; his goggles askew, barely concealing his eyes- you gasped at the sight of him, leading him to spin around; his head flitting side to side as he desperately searched for you. 

“Y/N? Y/N, was that you?” It was his turn to hiss now, the sound quickling turning into a squeak as you wrapped a branch from the bush around his ankle and yanked; usually, you would’ve laughed, cackled even, at the sound he had made whilst falling, but instead you had dragged him backward and placed a hand over his mouth, effectively silencing any further sound. As soon as he was tucked into the overgrowth, an entourage of armed men emerged from the dark; armed to the teeth, guns drawn. As they appeared, you felt Scott’s breath quicken against your palm, your own heartbeat hopping in tandem. 

“Was that Cyclops?” One of the men called to the others; flashing his light into the trees, not far from the bush you crouched in, “Do any of the others use laser beams?” 

“Can’t be sure…” Another man replied; cocking his weapon. The entire entourage were on alert, their torches flashing dangerously close; you didn’t allow the fear to swallow you, the adrenaline and the buzz of your powers rendering you silent, aware. 

Slowly, carefully, you slid your hand away from Scott’s mouth; pressing a finger against your own in demand. He nodded, lips trembling as he kept his hand held aloft; ready to shoot if necessary. Shaking your head, you turned towards him, hoping to convey the necessary declaration within your gaze. When you spoke, your voice was barely there; lower than a whisper, each word spoken slowly, “You need to go.” 

You widened your eyes incessantly when Scott opened his mouth in protest, shaking your head firmly- eventually, he broke past your protests, managing to hiss out a word, “What?” 

“Scott,” You gripped his arm; clasp firm and angry, “You need to leave, now-”

“-I’m not leaving you here.”

“Scott, please,” You were begging now, eyes filling with tears as you sniffled at him, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Look at their weapons, Y/N-” 

“Scott, listen to me. We both know that if they manage to get those goggles off, you are a liability to everyone, to me.” You watched his face fall, his mouth falling ajar slightly in despair; his head shaking adamantly all the while, “I need you to go and get help-”

“Y/N, please, I can’t-” 

“You can.” You nodded, gathering him by the lapels of his shirt; jostling him slightly, “You can, Scott, please.” 

He nodded then, understanding. He was visibly stricken, breath laboured, traumatised by the thought of leaving you there. He spared you one last look, one last squeeze of the hand, before he took off; crashing through the bushes and onto the fields- sending any stray laser that he could towards the men. 

“Shit-” They yelled, aiming towards him and beginning to make chase, though before they could, you shot your hand forwards- the branch of a tree effectively impaling three of the men at once; connecting them all by the same gaping hole as they instantly hung limp. The remaining men froze, guns held half-aloft in shock as they stared up at their comrades hanging above. Rising from the bushes, you cocked your fingers; summoning roots from underground and wrapping them around the ankles of the men, dragging them through the mud and back into their place of origin; silencing the velocity of the men’s screams as they suffocated. The rain was blinding, falling in thick slashes, your hair clung to your neck as you manipulated any semblance of nature you could grasp; the roots, vines, leaves, branches- all elements moved in tandem, fighting back against the weapons of the men. You walked into the clearing, untouchable, unobtainable; your powers bursting at the seams as you discovered the potential you had withheld from yourself. 

As a lone soldier sprinted towards you, baton held high above his head; you spun your wrist, leading a nearby tree to reach forward, plucking him from the ground and flinging him into the air. You could almost have laughed, your powers unvanquished even by the sheets of unforgiving rain. In that moment, you felt yourself channeling Erik, the way his face hardened in the pursuit of revenge; the harshness of his stance and the cool of his metal. For the first time, you didn’t see yourself as weak compared to him, as not good enough- you felt like him. Like him in the essence that you could manipulate whatever you wanted, as long as it tuned to the rhythm of your powers. 

Though, your reign was short lived as a flash of light beamed upon you; you squinted, hand held aloft before your eyes as you looked up at the helicopter above you; it allowed only a second of thought before a heavy force knocked you to the ground, the abject press of an electrified baton burning into your side; leaving you convulsing and screaming beneath its hold, face down within the trenches of mud. A hand instantly clasped the ends of your legs, sharpened nails digging into the bare skin of your ankles, and begun to drag; your face and hands and hair sliding in the choking thick of the mud- you knew in that moment that something was going to happen, that you were going to die, even. The thought shot through your rambling brain as you heaved at the mud filling your mouth and eyes, desperately trying to blink it away. With every ounce of your being, you attempted to utilise your powers as you had been only moments earlier, stretched your convulsing fingers forward, nail beds thick with mud; but it was to no avail, the electricity having dulled the receptors within that allowed your powers to course through your bloodstream. 

To your abject relief, your perpetrator dropped your ankles, leaving you moaning and gasping in relief, a smile almost gracing your face as the pain almost stopped. You laid there, face down in the mud, unable to do anything but comply as rough hands fastened a collar around your neck; any semblance of hold you had on your powers vanished- for a long moment, you felt human, normal- no longer were you attuned to the grass bristling upon your legs and the tree branches dancing above you. They simply became fixtures of nature, living bodies unrelated to your own; the tether snapped. 

“We need to get out of here.” A voice rushed above you, the sound of a gun clicking in the deafening drum of the rain, “Leave the other one, this one’s a real freak- I mean, look at this place, look at how many we just lost-” 

The voices around you blurred as raindrops soaked the side of your face; your sopping hair strewn across the base of your neck and chin- your body could only attune to a constant shiver, your teeth chattering against the mud and the blue of your lips. You could only watch through bleary eyes as the helicopter landed beside you; men instantly jumped from it, armed to the teeth, and running to where you laid prone upon the ground. You knew that you were losing consciousness; your human body no longer strong enough to fight your injuries. 

As your eyes fluttered, your body and mind sinking into the mud; you could only watch in confusion as the helicopter’s rotors began to spin, the base of the vehicle lifting clumsily and sending soldiers scattering. It was apparent that had been the warning signal; as the clearing instantly exploded into chaos above you- gunfire and mutant force alike thrashing upon the night’s quiet. The ground below you reverberated as something fell beside you; as it did so- the pressure of the collar upon your neck eased, the device being torn from your neck as a hand shook your shoulder, turning you on your back. Warmth overtook the shiver that had embedded itself within you as a hand landed upon your cheek, calloused touch brushing the sodden hair from your face and caressing the skin that remained in its place. You knew that someone was talking, encasing your body in their hold as the chaos surrounding you continued. Allowing your head to roll to the side, you watched bleary eyed as Scott mowed down the soldiers with his lasers; his finger not straying from the button upon his goggles. A voice sounded above you, causing Scott to spin and immediately sprint towards you, he took over the hold upon you then; lifting you effectively into his arms and breaking into an immediate sprint. The jostle of his movement was the last straw; the final source of pain your body could handle. As you slipped away; slipped from consciousness, from the forest- you watched as a figure stepped further into the clearing, brandishing nothing but a long dark coat and a raised hand. The last thing you saw was the raising of hell; every last man brought to their knees as the force of the dark figure beckoned upon them.

AFTER

Thistles sung as you awoke; their tune long and drawling, carrying upon the wind that fluttered into the room. Trees just beyond the windowsill waved and chattered, their leaves basking within the midday sun. 

You awoke to their calls with a start- an intake of breath so sharp that your chest caught, a sharp strike of pain ricocheting through your belly. Cringing at the light that shone through the crack created by the stretch of curtain that didn’t quite meet the hook upon the wall, you formed your eyes into slits, peering at the room you had awoken in. It was the infirmary within the house- small, cozy but adequately equipped for the petty injuries that students with mutant abilities tend to acquire. You had accompanied a number of students to the infirmary yourself, the gardens with their thorns and brambles tended to be somewhat of a hazard to inquisitive students. 

The room was empty save for yourself; the resident healer was nowhere to be found. Even Hank, who tended to occupy the room with his technology and experiments, was absent. Adjusting the duvet upon you, you used the opportunity to unscramble your mind, to attempt to recall the events that had led you there. 

Rain, mud, light, gunfire, a dark effervescent figure. 

Sounds about right. 

Shaking your head, you moved to sit up; wincing as your body ached and creaked, your back in particular procuring a sharp burn that shot up your spine. Twisting slowly, you lifted the gown you were wearing and picked at your bandages, only to gasp. A grizzly red mark sat at the cusp of your back, tendrils of bruising and burns spanned from the focal point; the wound spread like spiderwebs, eventually meeting in identical patterns spanning over your back and hip. You could feel the pain, the burn of the baton as if it were still happening, the base still prodding upon your back as electricity coursed through your veins- muting your ability to think, see, to feel the very base of your mutant gene. 

In that moment, you struggled with that thought; turned it over and over within the palms of your hands, the reality of how easily, how simply, your mutant gene could be dulled, could be practically removed, rendering you silent, unable to think of anything but that. Before the school, before your new life, you would have jumped at the chance; burned your body until the gene that had ended your life, sent everyone you had ever loved fleeing, was gone. 

But now? 

Now, your mutant gene had given you everything; the lessons you had learned, the friendships you had made, your place within the very house you healed upon. The thought didn’t pleasure you now, it terrified you. 

Would the X-Men, the students, your friends, your family, still accept you even without the gene? If you had emerged from the attack powerless, unable to exercise your main purpose? You wondered if that was why Erik had turned such a sour note towards you, had he realised that your existence within the X-Men was fruitless? You shook the thought from your head, willing yourself to remember the way you had held those men aloft; each incapacitated by the branch that tore through their chests and left them practically dangling from your hold. 

If only Erik had been there to see that. 

Thoughts of Erik lead you directly to that cloaked figure in the clearing, the person who had saved you (alongside Scott, of course). Had it been him? Your mind whispered insidiously, the dark depths of your mind that harboured your feelings for Erik secreting poison into the, well, rational parts of your brain. 

Stop, you chastised your own mind, mentally batting away the insidious thoughts. Erik hadn’t paid any form of positive attention towards you in months, he wouldn’t drop that facade in a heartbeat just to come to your aid, surely? 

But then, no one else in the house had that form of presence. Nobody could step forward and brandish a hand, fortifying the fates of countless men, all armed to the teeth, other than Erik. His presence was always breathtaking; with his lithe, long legs and perfectly coiffed hair. Though that wasn’t the Erik you had fallen in love with, that Erik had shaggy hair and rumpled plaid shirts, pushed up to the elbow. That Erik, your Erik, kissed the girl in the garden; intertwined her petals into his own arms, clutching them between his fingers ever so gently- allowing her into the fortress made of metal. He was your own to keep, to cherish, because he lived in the safety of your own mind, locked away behind thorns and brambles never to be touched again. 

Sighing, you allowed the sadness to fill your gut for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in it; alone in that room, in an unfamiliar bed and unfamiliar clothes. 

That is how Jean found you. 

You had scrambled at the click of the lock, sitting up straight in bed and staring wide-eyed, slightly terrified at the door. A series of events had transpired then. Jean had entered, a mug of coffee balanced on one hand and a book stored beneath the same arm, and had made direct eye-contact with you, very much awake for the first time. She gasped, freezing in place for a moment before remembering the cup balanced on her hand- which was by then falling to the ground. Luckily, her telekinesis caught it just in time, leaving you staring, wide-eyed at one another as the cup and its contents hung precariously in the air. 

Jean was the first to break the silence, essentially crushing it by immediately bursting into tears, the cup finally smashing against the ground along with its contents and the book as she raced towards your bedside. “Y/N! Oh my g- I am so sorry-” 

Confused, you shook your head, moving to face her; your voice croaked brokenly before you eventually managed to speak, “Sorry? Jean you have nothing to be-” 

“No!” She interrupted you, eyes shining and tears coating her cheeks; her lips trembling all the while, “If I hadn’t have gone on that date-” 

Instantly, you shook your head, silencing her by grasping her by the hand, shaking it until she looked back at you, “This isn’t your fault, if anything, it’s Erik’s for stopping me from going on patrols in the first place.” 

Jean’s eyebrows lowered instantly, her eyes crinkling as she looked at you, confused, “Well-” 

“What is going on in here?-” Scott burst into the room then, having been summoned by the crash of the cup; he seemed ready for battle, though his fight-or-flight immediately withered upon seeing you, a grin instantly gracing his features, “You’re awake!”

“Hey Scott,” You smiled tiredly, lifting the hand that wasn’t clutching Jean’s in greeting.

“How are you feeling?” He smiled kindly, moving to pull a chair beside Jean- interestingly enough. 

Nodding, you sighed; feeling the pain within your once petrified muscles and the chill that seemed to sit within your bones. “I’m- I’m okay.” 

Both Jean and Scott looked upon you remorsefully, their eyes forlorn and mouths twisting with emotion. Scott was the first to speak, breaking eye contact and staring down at his hands, “Y/N, we-” He chewed on his lips, flexing his fingers, “We thought you were dead, I- when we got to you, you were just laying there, face down and unmoving.” 

The breath that left your nose was gusty; heavy in its weight and volume, you found yourself tearing up at his words, “Thank you for listening to me.” 

His breath resembled that of a meagre chuckle, his head shaking all the while, “That’s alright.” 

“And thank you for saving me-” 

Scott looked up immediately, his forehead creased beneath his goggles; he shared a silent look with Jean, she too opted not to speak. “Y/N-” Scott began, his posture going straight, awkward, ‘I can’t take credit for that.” 

“Sure you can. It’s the last thing I remember, you carried me-” 

“No-” Scott spoke stubbornly, refusing to take any credit, “I wasn’t the only one to help.” 

“Oh,” You spoke, shocked, despite the memory of the hand upon your face feeling all too familiar. 

“Erik was the first to reach you Y/N.” Jean spoke, her voice low, almost apologetic. 

Oh. 

You remembered then, not just the hand that had lingered upon your skin, perforated your everlasting pain with warmth and, just maybe, something akin to love. Your mind healed, and what had seemed to be poison; welling at the once-dormant temperaments of your mind, receded- the waves crashing and swelling before dissolving into a calm flow. 

Erik had saved you. 

But why? 

Had he been so furious at your inability to comply with his orders that he had taken his anger out on those soldiers before (conveniently) saving you? A job well done, a well-due pat on the back from the rest of the team for making the right call, before he inevitably celebrated his victories by screaming the walls down in your favour. 

Great, you shuddered, practically awaiting his presence; red and pulsing with fury as you had laid there, vulnerable and pained. 

All in your own stupidity. 

Jean and Scott seemed to sense your discomfort, sharing a look before both turning towards you; practically disagreeing with what they knew your internal thoughts entailed. 

Scott spoke first, his tone impeding and determined, “Y/N-” He sighed, running a hand through his hair nervously, “I’m sorry but- you didn’t see him. He was furious.” 

Chuckling, you moved to sit up, shaking your head, “Nothing new there-” 

“No, Y/N.” Jean interrupted you, her own tone identical to Scott’s severity, though her voice lowered to a whisper, “Not at you.” 

You shook your head confused, Scott spoke; cementing the gaps that Jean had created, “He almost tore the place apart whilst you were under, when he found out that you had taken Jean’s shift,” He shook his head, breathing heavily, only calming when Jean intertwined her fingers with his own, “We thought he was going to tear the house down-” 

“What?” You gasped, shaking your head, throat clogging, “Why- he doesn’t-” You paused, collecting your thoughts; the truth gaping in its clarity, “Erik hates me, he wouldn’t-” 

“I think you need to talk to him Y/N,” Jean’s tone was firm, almost angered, “I know what he did to you but- something isn’t right. A man doesn’t act like that when someone he hates almost dies.” 

Jean and Scott didn’t stay much longer than that; the confusion and the clarity of almost dying rendering you exhausted. Jean left with a kiss to your forehead, a promise to return, a command to heed her advice. 

Despite being allowed short walks throughout the house, you didn’t leave the room until your discharge a week later; with only your thoughts, and the occasional visitor to accompany you, you utilised them a lot that week. That long, drawn-out week. The days limped by, minutes feeling like hours; yet still, your mind allowed no time for outside entertainment. On the second day, Jean bought you a collection of your own clothes, smiling sadly as she saw you slumped against the headboard, eyes misty as you watched the trees beyond the window. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to your own room?” She had whispered, stroking the hair away from your eyes, ‘I made sure your favourite sheets are on the bed..” 

Shaking your head, you turned your eyes to her, mustering your best reassuring smile, “No, I’m okay here.” 

He’ll be able to find me there, you had thought to yourself, watching Jean’s back as she left; eyes latching upon the door even after it had been pulled to a close. 

Eventually, the week came to a close and you were fully healed; physically cleared to embark on X-Men missions whenever you wished. As you walked to your own room, a bag of dirty clothes tucked securely beneath your arm, you found yourself eyeing every corner, waiting for Erik to turn it; practically creeping through the house, the necessity of not making a sound hanging over the creaks of your movements upon the floorboards.

Part of you, that insidious part of your brain that sung at the worst of times and had apparently grown and swelled in your solitude, hoped that Erik would turn one of those corners; crash right into you and be forced to speak to you- finally, after all these months. 

It took you two weeks to muster up the courage to go back to your garden, Jean sneakily having slipped the state, or lack of, of the plants within your garden; no student able to match your own power. With a huff, and many puffs, you pulled on your dirtiest clothes and trekked down to the garden. The scent of jasmine wafted upon you like a fresh breath of air as you pulled off your shoes, hand clutched against the gate of the garden for balance. After a number of pairs had been lost to the swell of the bushes with many an evening spent searching for them, Erik had eventually rolled his eyes and forged a small metal shelf; just big enough to safely slide your shoes into them. You had kept it there, beside the gate, even after his rejection, its convenience too precious to your time in the garden. 

However, when you went to slide your shoes into place; another pair of shoes already sat there. 

“I see you kept my creation.” A voice behind you spoke; your breath immediately sped, heart thundering in your ears. Slowly, carefully, terror filling your veins and pulsing at your fingertips: you turned, immediately coming face to face with Erik. Erik, with his broad-shoulders and messy hair; lips turning upwards discreetly beneath his crooked nose; his gorgeous, beautiful crooked nose. As the usual residual shock mellowed, the love you felt for him receding slightly; the anger took over; teeth gritting and fist curling anger. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your time-”

“What do you want Erik?” You spat, lip curling in anger; your own torrid emotions instantly combatting his calm front as he tensed immediately; his eyebrows lowering in confusion, his hackles raising slightly. 

“Well-”

“What are you doing here?” Voice lower than a whisper, your words were almost a replica of your previous demand, almost. The tremble of your voice manufactured a shell of your anger, cracking and splintering at the seams. You found yourself trembling; staring straight at him, fear, dread, something awful prevalent in your eyes. 

Erik’s eyes widened, his lips pursing; he looked as if he was on the verge of retreating, waving the white flag, calling the truce. You knew that wasn’t him though; if Erik was going to do one thing, it would not be backing down from a fight. You watched as he visibly rebuilt his walls, composing himself before speaking, “I wanted to see how your recovery is going,” He paused, visibly attempting and failing to string his words together, “So that you can get back out onto the field.” 

Truly, you could have laughed; a hacking cough right in his face, right at his words. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The anger burning the back of your throat and fizzing in the air, lingering upon the garden’s roots, stopped any semblance of amusement, procuring only venom; only white-hot anger. Shaking your head, malice filling your tastebuds, you spat in his face, the sound of it echoing against the walls of the garden, “Back in the field?” Your amusement returned immediately, but it was manic; frenzied, “Your refusement to put me on patrols; your adamance that I be benched? That is what put me in this position.” 

You only felt slightly guilty as he slowly reached upwards, wiping the saliva that had landed directly upon his chin. “Y/N, you know I didn’t mean-” He seemed desperate, voice almost pathetic, his hands clenching at his sides; seemingly stopping himself from reaching for something. 

“We were supposed to be equals, Erik.” You interrupted, voice calm; frighteningly collected. 

“We were!” He objected, his own voice now seeming frenzied. You could only shake your head, unable to face him, unable to face his willingness to lie. 

“Then why? Why did you treat me that way? Why the sudden change?” Demanding, you fired off the questions in a spitfire manner, allowing him no true chance to procure an appropriate answer. 

“I had good reason-” 

“Good reason, my ass. This is the first time you’re not yelling at me in-” 

“Will you let me speak?” Erik’s words shocked you to the core; his voice abrupt and loud, nostrils flared and chest heaving. You could only muster a nod, silenced in the face of his outburst. He too nodded then, scratching at the stubble upon his jaw nervously; his demeanour changed entirely, almost shrinking within himself. “Do you know how worried I was about you?” The question shocked you; you expected anger, fury- but his eyes remained soberingly soft, gaze sad. He continued in the wake of your silence, “I knew something was wrong before Scott even reached the house; but when Charles told me that he couldn’t hear your thoughts anymore and then-” He swallowed thickly, his gaze straying from yours to the ground, he cleared his throat before continuing, “Then I saw you face down in the grass and-” 

“I’m sorry,” You whimpered, sniffling into the palms of your hands as they moved to cover your eyes, “I’m sorry I’m so useless-” 

“No.” Erik’s tone was demanding, his grip severe as he moved to lower your hands from your eyes; his face was stricken, lips downturned and jaw trembling as he looked down at you. His hands moved upwards then, cupping the skin of your cheeks,  “You were, are, incredible; you were a fighter out there Y/N, so so strong; and-” 

Moving from his grip, you shrunk into yourself, finding any semblance of comfort, respite from your own conflicted mind, within the embrace of your own arms, “Then why- why did you treat me that way?” Harried, hagged breaths heaved from your chest as you stared at him, confusion and shock and disgust prevalent within your demeanour, “You were awful to me, ever since-” 

“No, Y/N, please-” 

Stepping forward, coaxing the shock he made available to you forward; you went straight for the kill, voice lower than a whisper but sharper than a knife, “Why did you leave me here?” His inhale was sharp, lips quivering and wet; eyes sheening with tears. He incessantly attempted to hide his sadness, his fear; but you could see it clear as day. Stepping directly into his orbit, you rubbed your nose against his jaw, lips brushing against the base of his neck, “What are you so afraid of, Erik?” You repressed your shock masterfully when you felt his hands encase your waist, his head lowering to the crook of your neck; you waited, waited for him to lay his lips there, waited for him to devour you whole. Though he only cried, quiet shudders as the skin of your neck grew clammy from his tears and the moisture of his breaths. Instincts succumbed to hunger, rendering you silent as you simply stood there and practically drank the affection; the linen of his shirt brushing against your chest, your mouth against his hair, the smell of his musk and the oaky shampoo he had always used. You were being greedy, overindulging on the touch he was offering you in his lowest moments- you never wanted him to let go, wanted him to raise his head and- 

He did exactly that. 

You could only gasp against his mouth as he pressed his lips to yours, his hands moved to cup the sides of your neck as he practically devoured you. With greed and hunger and lust still residually pumping through your veins, you could only thread your fingers through his hair; desperate to reclaim what you had lost all those months ago. He seemed to not know exactly what to do with his hands, too indecisive to choose a specific spot; you gasped and moaned as his fingertips skirted your sides and front and back, his tongue entering your mouth at the opportunity you allowed him. Any semblance of apologies or hatred had vacated your mind by the time his hands reached the bottom of your thighs, only able to gasp as he effectively lifted you against a nearby wall; the cold of the concrete against your back was nothing compared to the warmth in your mouth and chest and unsurprisingly, your groin. Just as you had mustered the confidence to reach down, to pull at the ends of his shirt; he pulled away, lips red and shining, eyes hooded. 

The only word he seemed to manage to gasp was your name, the syllables spoken wetly into the space between your lips; you stared into his eyes, not blinking, not breathing. Erik seemed to be at war with himself, his eyes flitting conflictingly from your lips back to your eyes. Allowing him the time, you simply stared back, blinking owlishly as you awaited the confession that seemed to be brewing. Finally, he came to a conclusion; his eyes clearing, gaze taking a sense of clarity you had not yet seen in him before. Shaking his head, he chewed at his lip, moving his hand to cup the back of your head; allowing it to tilt back slightly, you were prone beneath his gaze.

“I was just trying to protect you.” His lips curled as he spoke, blue eyes brimming with tears. 

You moved forward at his words, pressing a kiss to the crinkle of emotion at the side of his mouth, “What from?” Your voice was quieter than a whisper, more of a movement of lips rather than a true form of speech. 

Once again, Erik shook his head; tears now spilling from his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” 

“What from, Erik?” 

“Myself.” 

He whispered the words immediately, his eyes closing in turn; his head bowing into your awaiting palm, the course points of his stubble creasing against your fingertips. 

Shaking your head, you watched him, “You were so mean.” 

Swallowing visibly, Erik met your gaze; his eyes doughy beneath a stray hair breaching his forehead. He, almost, grinned; teeth flashing and lips curling, “I don’t know how to be nice.” 

“You were nice to me.” Nodding, you moved your thumb to trace his lips; dragging along the sharp points of his teeth, breaching the jaws of the wolf. 

“I destroy everything I touch Y/N-” 

“Well, I can revive things,” Smiling, you removed your thumb from his lips, placing your own there instead for a chaise kiss. Pulling away, you repeated your words, “I can revive it, Erik.”

Grinning, truly now, Erik lowered his stance before rolling his forhead against yours, brushing your noses together in a dance only known to yourselves, “Let me help you,” He smiled, voice mellow in its tone, “Let me help you fix us.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

Beautiful Darkness

It was hard feeling like an outsider even within the community which was meant to accept you, until someone notices you.

Like always my requests are open!

The world had always feared your powers. They were a manifestation of darkness, something that seeped from within you, an ever-present shadow that twisted and turned, hungry and insatiable. Where others controlled fire, light, or the elements, you controlled something far more sinister. Your power was the ability to manipulate shadows, to bring forth the hidden fears and nightmares lurking in the minds of others. It was a gift, but one that felt like a curse—an alienating force that set you apart from everyone else.

Even at Xavier’s School, a place meant to be a haven for mutants, you found yourself on the fringes, isolated by the very nature of your abilities. The other students kept their distance, their unease barely masked by polite smiles. Even the professors, with all their wisdom and experience, looked at you with thinly veiled concern. They feared what you could do, what you might become if your powers were pushed too far.

And so, you withdrew, hiding in the shadows of the mansion’s grand halls, where your powers felt most at home. It was in one of these dark corners, far from the laughter and light of the others, that Magneto found you.

Erik Lehnsherr was a figure of power and authority, his very presence commanding respect and fear. When he appeared before you, a part of you wanted to shrink away, to avoid his piercing gaze. But another part—the part that had always longed for understanding—held its ground.

“Why do you hide?” he asked, his voice as smooth as steel.

You looked up at him, surprised by the directness of his question. “I’m not hiding,” you replied quietly, though you both knew it was a lie.

He stepped closer, his cape rustling softly as he moved. “Your powers are extraordinary, yet you treat them as a burden.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Everyone else thinks they’re dangerous. Even here, among mutants, I’m… different.”

Erik studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Different does not mean lesser,” he said finally. “It means powerful. It means unique.”

His words caught you off guard. You had grown so used to hearing caution, fear, even pity, that his admiration was a shock to your system. “You’re not afraid of what I can do?”

“Afraid?” Magneto’s eyes gleamed with something close to amusement. “No. I see beauty in it.”

“Beauty?” you repeated, unable to comprehend how someone like him could see anything beautiful in the darkness you wielded.

“Yes,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “You command the very essence of fear, the shadows that hide the truth of the world. There is a purity in that—a strength. While others dance in the light, you thrive in the places they dare not tread.”

For the first time, someone didn’t look at you with fear or disdain. Magneto’s gaze was one of approval, of respect. It was a look that made you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in your life.

“Why do you care?” you asked, the question spilling out before you could stop it. “Why do you care about someone like me?”

Magneto smiled, a small, almost wistful curve of his lips. “Because I have seen what the world does to those it doesn’t understand. I have felt the sting of rejection, the pain of being told you are something to be feared rather than cherished. But power, true power, comes from embracing who you are—even the parts others would reject.”

He reached out a hand, and for a moment, you hesitated. But there was something in his eyes, something that drew you in, made you trust him despite the warnings you had always been given about him.

“Join me,” he said, his voice a soft but commanding whisper. “I can help you see your power for what it truly is—a gift, not a curse. Together, we could show the world that the darkness is just as beautiful as the light.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This was Magneto, a man who stood against the very principles you had been taught to uphold. But in this moment, he was also the only one who saw you, who saw the beauty in the powers you had always feared.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, reassuring.

“I’m not like you,” you whispered, the weight of your choice heavy on your heart. “I don’t want to hurt people.”

Magneto’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Then don’t. But never apologize for the power you possess. Embrace it, control it, and let it be a part of you—without fear.”

For the first time, you felt a spark of hope. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was a way to accept the darkness within you, to see it not as a monster lurking in the shadows, but as something beautiful, something powerful.

[ocherednoe-dno]

none of the principal figures of the Imperium actually followed its rules or dictates. the Emperor created mutants [the primarchs and space marines cannot be called anything else], Malcador did forbidden things with xenotech, Bob Guilliman has received help from xenos and screwed around with xenos artifacts [hello, Pharos beacon!], the Lion allowed traitors to rejoin the fold, Oud Oudia Raskian consorted with xenos, Belisarius Cawl is a blasphemer and heretek, several of the above are psykers. in order to uphold the Imperium, they do that which the Imperium forbids. and when they are done, it all remains forbidden. it all remains shunned, and anyone of their lessers who tries will suffer horrid punishment. the Imperium is upheld by actions that directly contradict its founding principles [hatred of the alien, the mutant/genetic deviant, extreme caution around technology, and obedience to one's superiors], and yet the people breaking the rules continue to uphold the system that keeps these rules in place.

[bangs-coffee-fandoms-unite]

I am in the middle of rewatching the 2003 version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles during my summer break from college, this time with my father, who had only seen bits and pieces of it when I watched it as a child. We are currently on season four, which fans often refer to as the "post-traumatic stress disorder arc" for Leonardo, as it depicts his mental deterioration and increasing anger, even surpassing that of his notoriously hot-headed brother.

While doing the dishes, I asked my father what he thought of the arc so far. He simply said, "He seems angry." I agreed, replying, "Yeah, he's angry at himself." My father responded, "Yeah, but he's also angry at his brothers." This made me pause. I knew Leonardo had moments where he was upset with his brothers for not training enough or for goofing off, but I had not thought of him as being outright angry with them.

Then my father elaborated, "He's angry because they're not perfect, like he expects himself to be." This was a revelation for me. I had always interpreted this arc as Leonardo being angry at himself for not being good enough, but it makes a lot of sense that if he holds himself to such a high standard, he would hold his brothers to the same—and get frustrated and angry when they inevitably do not meet it.

I think a less explored aspect of this arc is that Leonardo is exhausted from carrying the burden alone and was trying to share it with his brothers. However, they do not carry it the same way he does, which does not make them lesser—it just makes them young and still wanting a life outside of crime fighting. Michelangelo captures this sentiment best in the same season when he says,”I think all of you should just lay off the poor guy. I mean, it can't be fun. Always being the responsible one, and we’re the ones who really benefit. Raph's free not to think cause Leo does all the thinking for him, Don's free to dream, And I'm free to take it easy, all cause Leonardo is busy being responsible enough for all of us.”

Anyway, at the ripe age of twenty-two and in graduate school, I find myself once again feeling melancholic over little green guys.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day four: teratophilia (the attraction to monsters) | NSFW MDNI 18+

You were raised in an anti-mutant household, which meant you were constantly exposed to the kind of negative rhetoric that painted their kind as dangerous, lesser, or unnatural. Every family dinner or news segment seemed to include some passing comment about the threat they posed, how they didn’t belong, and how the world would simply be better off without them. It was almost inevitable that those opinions seeped into your mindset, shaping the way you viewed mutants, even before you had the chance to really understand who they were.

You're entire life, you were told that they were monsters, and you believed it.

But now, here you were, living next door to one, and it turned your entire world upside down. Logan was everything you had been warned about and yet somehow, despite your life-long terror, he drew you in like a moth to a flame.

At first, you kept as much distance as possible, only peeking through the curtains of your window, observing him as he moved about in the outdoor world. You'd lock your doors when he'd be home, barricading yourself from any potential contact with him. A few times you had been caught peering at him from your bedroom above, he'd stare holes into your glass trying to decipher your surveillance. There was an intensity in his gaze that sent a thrill racing through you, a raw power that naturally made your heart pound. He had a rugged handsomeness that felt almost primal; the scruff on his jaw accentuated his strong features, while the glimmer in his piercing eyes hinted at wisdom and untamed desires.

When he moved, it was with animalistic intention, every motion deliberate and prowl-like. You noticed how his muscles flexed beneath his fitted shirts, how the tension in his body oozed strength and danger. It made you feel alive in a way you’d never experienced before. It was wrong, but felt so good.

As time went by, you grew slightly more comfortable with the fact that you coexisted on the same plot of land with someone of his kind. Logan was handsome, and if you didn't know what he truly was underneath that attractive exterior you would also find him quite charming as well. When you'd cross paths he'd give you a simple wave of a hand or a smile, and once in a blue moon, you would receive the "How ya' doing?" or even the "Nice day today, huh?"

Some of his attributes were stereotypical monster-like traits that both terrified and fascinated you: the sharpness of his teeth that peeked out when he smirked, his canines ground into finer tips at the ends. Hair covered his limbs from head to toe in thick dark curls. His sharp adamantium claws that protruded from his knuckles when he was angry. When he was, it wasn’t just a simple outburst; it was a full-blown rage that sent shivers down your spine. You’d watch in awe from your window as he sliced through miscellaneous objects outside in fits of anger, showcasing the lethal power hidden inside of his human exterior. The way he seemed to tap into that primal fury was horrifically mesmerizing, drawing you in even further to the glass as you found yourself wrestling with an undeniable attraction to the very characteristics that were drilled to repulse you.

It was maddening how someone you were taught to fear could also make you blush and fantasize at night. Your attraction bubbled beneath the surface, fueled by a mixture of desire and confusion. With each simple encounter, you felt your walls beginning to crumble, leaving you exposed to feelings you hadn’t anticipated. How could someone so captivating, so fierce, also be the very monster you were told to fear?

The night was thick with silence when a sudden roar shattered your stillness, yanking you from the depths of sleep. Heart racing, you threw off your covers and swung your legs over the side of the bed, the coolness of the wood hitting the soles of your feet like a jolt. You padded to the window, pulling your curtains to the side.

You squinted as illumination from the streetlight poured into your room. After your eyes adjusted slightly, you identified Logan in his yard, dressed in only a white tank top and pyjama bottoms. His primal rage echoed through the darkness, throaty screams that sent your stomach whirling into a knot. You could almost feel the tension crackling in the air as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess.

You didn't know what it was, but something inside of you was bringing you out to him. You slid on your silk robe, crept out of your room and made your way outside mechanically. Your legs moved on their own, not processing the danger you were about to confront. As you stepped out, the cool night air bit at your skin.

You followed the shrieking sounds and found him in the backyard, surrounded by scattered debris, his metal claws gleaming under the moonlight as he sliced through anything and everything in his path. Blood dripped from his knuckles, painting the dried grass beneath him red.

“Logan!” it came out before you could knew it. His rabid attention snapped onto you, and for a moment, the wildness in his eyes made the hair on the back of your neck stand. He didn't speak, the only sound coming from him was the exhorted breaths that escaped his flared nostrils. You kept your eyes locked on his not wanting to let your guard down for a second. You stepped into the beast's lair and there was no longer a simple way out. You approached him apprehensively, your voice stayed strong despite the turmoil around you. “What’s going on?

"Go back inside." He rasped sharply, scanning your concerned features.

"Why are you destroying your yard in the middle night?" Your voice hitched in a mixture of genuine care and nervousness.

As you spoke, your eyes traced the outlines of his massive form. The seams of his tanktop barely hold in his muscles. His metal claws glinted menacingly, still extended and glistening with blood as he began shredding through branches again like they were nothing but paper. It was an entirely different experience to witness it up close, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as his strength coursed through him. Blood flew in the air as swung mindlessly, and a drop landed on the tip of your white shoe.

“Logan, please,” you pressed, stepping closer despite the urge to retreat and lock yourself back in your house. “You’re hurting yourself. You need to calm down.”

He turned his head slightly, the tension in his jaw stark as he fought to retract his claws, but they remained locked in place. The frustration in his eyes flickered with something deeper, something raw and untamed. “I can’t,” he growled, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest.

Your heart raced as you took another step forward, drawn to his intensity, yet cautious of the storm that surrounded him. “What’s got you so worked up?” you asked, your voice softer now, trying to break through.

“Just… stay back,” he warned, his voice strained, a desperate attempt to keep you at a distance, but you could see the frustration etched across his face. The claws seemed to pulse with his agitation, and you felt a mixture of fear and empathy tugging at your heart.

"Logan," you said, your tone steady and firm, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. "Let me help you."

His gaze flickered to you, conflicted, as if he were teetering on the edge of control. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that you couldn’t ignore.

“You need to talk about it,” you insisted, your resolve strengthening. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

As the words left your mouth, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his thick arm, a tentative gesture of support. The contact seemed to snap something within him, and he let out a deep, frustrated sigh, the tension in his body wavering just enough for you to see the man beneath the beast.

"They won't go back in. Can't go out like this, I look like a fucking monster." He snarled, looking down at his claws.

His words hung in the air, heavy with self-loathing. The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly. It was as if he were battling an internal war, torn between the primal instincts that coursed through him and the desire to keep you safe from the chaos within.

“Logan, you’re not a monster,” you replied softly, your heart aching for him. “You’re just… different. And I kind of like different.” You could feel the rhythmic thumping of your heartbeat in your throat.

His brow furrowed as he studied you, equally in disbelief of your boldness as you were flickering in his eyes. “You say that now, but—”

“Seriously,” you interrupted, stepping closer. At first, you hesitated to reach out and cradle his face in your hands, but with a deep breath, your fingertips dug into his facial hair. “Those claws? They’re just part of who you are. They don’t define you.”

A flicker of vulnerability passed over his face, and you felt the tension in his body begin to ease, just a fraction. “You’re playing with fire,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, laced with something that felt dangerously close to desire.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” you teased, a playful smile creeping onto your lips. “Monsters can be sexy, you know. I've been watching you.”

He snorted at that, a half-hearted chuckle escaping him, but the weight of the moment shifted as his gaze grew more intense. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all,” you replied, your heart racing as you leaned closer, emboldened by the growing chemistry between you. “There’s something powerful about owning who you are, even if it means embracing the monster inside. Besides, I don’t think I mind a little danger.”

“Dangerous is an understatement,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened with something primal. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Try me,” you challenged, biting your lip as you stepped even closer, daring him to meet you halfway. The air crackled with an electric tension, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a blur.

Logan took a step back. “The claws,” He began to warn you.

“I don't care” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between you grew palpable, a charged current that ignited the space around you. He hesitated for a moment, but you could see the walls he had built slowly crumbling as he fought against the primal instincts urging him to take you right there.

With a sudden movement, you closed the distance, your lips crashing against his in a fervent kiss that felt like the collision of two worlds. Your hands tangled in his hair and you knew in that moment you were both stepping into uncharted territory.

You pulled him to the tree he was slicing before your kiss, your back hitting the bark. His tongue glided against yours skillfully making you moan into his mouth. He dug his claws deep into either side of the trunk caging you in between his arms. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Gotta make sure I don't accidentally slit your throat while I fuck you." He let out with a smirk.

@back2thebasics @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove @kbear8863 @squishyfruitloop, @v3rdee @instantpersonawombat, @a-leg-without-fear, @cherrypieyourface

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[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Gravity Olympics (Fluff)

FF!Raphael x reader

A/N: Don’t mind the year. Who knows, maybe there will be Olympics in 2105😂

Warnings: None❤️

“He has to be dumb if he thinks he can make that jump clear”, Raph said, his eyes never leaving the holographic screen in front of the red couch. You hummed in agreement, watching the jumper from Mars getting ready to make their jump.

If someone had told you, two years ago, that you would find yourself in a long term relationship with a mutant turtle, and that you, your mutant boyfriend and his mutant family somehow would be sent to the future, now having resulted in you and him watching the Intergalactic Olympics of 2105, you would have called for the police. But here you were, with your head resting against Raphael’s chest, watching the Gravity Jumps.

“He’s going to jump at gravity greater than Earth’s”, you said, snuggling closer against Raph’s chest.

Gravity Jumps was one of the things you and Raph had found strangely fascinating after first learning about it. The goal was for the jumpers to jump a certain distance at several different levels of gravity. The closer to the distance that they are, the more points they get. Is the jump too short or too long, lesser points. Person with the most points wins.

“Yeah, he’s screwed”, Raph said, placing one hand on your head so he could play with your hair, still not taking his eyes away from the screen.

You watched the Martian do a few leg lifts, in order to estimate how much force he had to put into his jump. No jumps beforehand - that’s against the rules. Immediate disqualification or no points.

“What do you think?”, you asked Raph. “From 6 to 1, how many points do you think he’ll get?”

“You believe he can go all the way to 6 on the close side? Nono, he’s falling on 2 if he’s lucky”.

“I say 5”.

“You think he can go further than the guy from Pluto? No way. Pluto will have the highest points on this jump”.

“No, that will be Celber 224. I think they’ll get 7”.

“Celber got 2 on the last one, tho”.

“Yeah, because they jumped too far. Celber will definitely not make further than 3 on this one”.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out”, you said, smiling up at your boyfriend, seeing him smile back at you before he ruffled your hair.

The Martian got ready before he started running, and at the line he jumped aaaaaand…

“8?! How the fuck did he get 8?!”, Raph yelled out and sat up, almost making you fall off of him.

“There’s no way”, you mumbled, supporting yourself against him, staring as the Martian jumper celebrated the highest points on this gravity level so far, while Celber walked out on the field.

“This shit just got interesting”, Raph said, pulling you closer as the two of you got ready to watch the next jumper.

[invested-in-your-future]

I think some people don't understand how crucial the Cyclops' choice was in Episode 9.

Whether Scott consciously realizes it or not, in that split second, he is picking between two "bad endings" - the possibility of Magneto succeeding and the possibility of Bastion succeeding.

IF Magneto is defeated, Bastion comes back to full power and so do all Prime Sentinels. Gold Team would likely be dead then. And not just Gold Team but likely all mutants worldwide.

IF Magneto is not defeated, then Earth is doomed and all humans die even if mutants survive.

So essentially Scott's choice is between which he thinks is worse - there's no moment to hesitate or to think things through - he has to pick.

The decision he made, whether he realizes it or not, indicates that Scott would rather let Magneto win than Bastion - no matter how much he protests and shouts this episode, deep inside his mind, the idea of "Earth/Humanity Dying" is the lesser evil to him.

Throughout the show, we have seen him slowly veer closer toward that kind of outlook where he is likely well on his way to being disillusioned with humanity in the same way Magneto is, while also growing disappointed in both Magneto AND Xavier.

Not only the decision was in character for the conflict we have seen within him, but also that split-second decision where he chose to stop Xavier feels like a turning point.

Now, he gets to grapple with that decision, the consequences it brought, and what having made that choice means for him as a person.

It's yet another step closer to the comics Cyclops - a more militant and disillusioned leader willing to cross some lines.

[crevicedwelling]

rank five bugs uou can see from where you're sitting

Alfonso (Phrynus whitei) - he’s my son. you too congratulate him on his recent molt.

Rank: Skittering-Prince of the High Earth, Twice-bejewled

Nauphoeta cinerea: a common knave who did shit upon my hand but spared me the usual bile-expulsions. gracious I suppose

Rank: Gnawer of Filth (Greater)

Scolopendra dehaani pedeling: chaos

Rank: Great Crawler of the Lower Earth

Pink mutant Porcellio scaber: a goodly beast and one I’m proud to have produced

Rank: Gnawer of Filth (Greater)

random springtail: *nods back*

Rank: Gnawer of Filth (Lesser)

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 2

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Here to present this week's chapter art is @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Hello, I have a quick message that I would like to add to today's chapter. I want to make note of something that happened in the past week. I received an uptick in messages asking about when the next chapter of Soft Spot would come out. While normally I try to make myself as accessible as possible, the way these comments/questions were framed were incredibly disrespectful. I will make my stance as clear as possible.

Do not go on my other works and mention updates of others.

Do not ask me repeatedly when an update will happen.

I strive to post weekly, but when I am bothered, these types of repetitive comments make me not want to indulge. I write at the speed at which I do because I like it, but the fact that that is somehow not good enough or that another of my works is supposedly is lesser to you because of it is a form of disrespect that I will not tolerate. I should not even have to say this because it violates common decency (which is comical considered that's a mention in this chapter). I understand you are excited about this new content, I am as well, but please understand that I am a human being. I will still be open for any and all questions, but do be mindful. Thank you for your understanding.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜

“You must clarify if that was instigation.” Donatello had a death grip on your bare knees.

You weren’t exactly sure when you had lost your pants, but it made sense they were gone. “Donnie.”

He squeezed you tighter.

You covered his hands with yours. “It’s starting to hurt…”

“It is the only thing keeping me sane. Answer.” He didn’t relent.

You dug a nail under one of his digits to alleviate some pressure. “I’m not against having sex again, but I mean it.”

“Truly?”

“Donnie!”

“Y/N!”

“Yes, I mean it! I want to have a kid with you! I’m not hitting up your breeding kink; I’m telling you I’m ready!!!”

He only gaped.

“Do you really not believe me…?”

He made a weary noise and you could feel through your bond that he wasn’t the least bit convinced.

“How many times do I need to say it?”

“More.” He begged.

“Help me clean up.”

He nodded and flew to grab tissues.

“I want to have kids with you.” You told him the moment he returned.

He helped wipe you clean.

“I want to have a kid with you.” You told him the moment you felt dry.

He helped you to your feet and you headed to the restroom.

You went, washed your hands, and cracked the door with the hand towel still in your grip. “Kids, me and you.”

You caught him flapping his hands excitedly as he disappeared around the partition.

“Let’s have kids!” You called out as you walked after and felt painfully aware of how you only had half your outfit on.

He thrust an arm out from behind the wall with your pants and underwear.

You took them and chuckled. “It’s so crazy you’re being shy because you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me naked when you, you know, knock me up.”

You heard some part of him slam into the wall so hard you thought he might break through.

There wasn’t a crumbling sound so you put your bottoms back on. “Like with a baby.”

You heard his footsteps plod wayward and you finally gave proper chase.

You found him with his fists in the air where he appeared to be thanking your rooftop garden. “Baby.”

He turned in a blush.

“Baby, baby!” You ran at him.

He fled around the couch.

“Donatello!! My sweet and darling husband and mate…?” You sang for him.

He was nearing the dividing line between rooms and peaked at you between the fingers covering his face.

“Would you like to have a child with me?”

He nodded once.

“You sure?”

He nodded again.

“Sure, you’re sure?!”

“Yes!!!” He launched himself over the back of the couch and pulled you down with him into the cushions to snuggle.

“There you go, believe me now?” You teased as you wriggled to get comfortable.

“Ah!” He popped a waiting sound.

You stilled and looked up at him. “You don’t-?”

“Not that!” He scolded and righted you. “My preparations!”

“Donnie…?” You let him sit you on a cushion.

“You’re not staying there either.” He was up and moving towards his computer.

“Donatello, I need you to say you believe me.”

“It will come with a demonstration.” He said and tapped a screen to wake the system.

You listened to him tap in a flurry and got up to follow.

A dozen or so screens appeared and when you tried to look them over, he blocked you with his body.

You crossed your arms.

He grinned and then pulled his office chair out for you.

“Is this where I’m allowed to sit?”

“Yes. This is your preferred seat.”

You took it and he immediately spun you around so you could watch both him and the monitors. He then stepped back, appraised your distance and began to adjust. It came with about a dozen tiny tweaks to the chair’s position that were barely perceptible to you, but he eventually appeared with a self satisfied nod. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.” You shifted bored, but ready in the chair.

He took a step back, checked the monitors about as much as he had your seat before he flicked forward.

Screens projected off their spots and curled around him for a globe of information.

“My dearest. My heart. My love. My partner in this life and any others.”

You waited with a hopeless smile.

“I would love to have a child with you.”

You twitched wanting to meet him again.

He watched you with a similar gambit, but shook himself to stay in place. “What you see here is all my research associated with our childbearing.”

You tabled your excitement as best as you could and looked over the data.

He blinked and it began to scroll to show that it was even more than what was being displayed.

Your lips rounded in surprise.

“Years worth of calculations, studies, notes, and any other information necessary for our push to have progeny.”

You flicked your eyes over the screens one last time before you settled squarely on him. “How long?”

He quirked a brow.

“Have you been building this?”

“From the moment our intent at sexual relations arose.”

“Donnie! What?!”

“It starts with birth control!” He rebuffed your irritation. “To not have children means I needed a basic understanding of how we might in order to negate the possibility!”

You straightened a little as that was sound enough logic.

“I… didn’t examine otherwise until we expressed the possibility.” He looked a little embarrassed and moved a screen for the sake of it.

“Then you looked into how we could?”

“You expressed concerns that we might not be able to conceive. A reasonable worry. We also mentioned adoption.”

You nodded.

He followed suit and then sat back to look at his many years of computations.

“I’ve-”

He outright startled at the sound of your voice.

“Come here, the chair placement doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“It does!” He dragged out his whine but collapsed onto his knees in front of you regardless.

You pulled his head into your chest and cradled him.

The chair’s wheels slid, but Donnie held you in place.

“I love you.” You told him.

“I love you.” He replied.

You urged him to look at you before you carefully lifted his mask to place a kiss to his bare forehead.

He churred as you then put the fabric back in place.

“We don’t have to hurry. Presentation or not, let’s go through this however we want. Sound good?”

“Yes… No rush…” He spoke the words as if to convince himself.

You kissed his clothed head this time.

He churred louder and moved up to catch your lips once before wondering, “What were you about to say? Before.”

“I’ve…” You gave a little struggle. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ve never asked you how the birth control works...”

He lit up with excitement.

“Will you tell me?” You nurtured the prospect.

“I love you!” He yelled before flying to his feet. “My birth control!”

You watched as he sent some screens away and brought more forward.

“When I set out I was limited…” He addressed a specific hologram. “This one of my own volition, mind you.”

You tilted your head.

“I swore not to track you and while I didn’t swear to your secondary statement, you mentioned you did not want to hold my hand through the relationship. While the latter was difficult for both of us, I found duty in the first and saw to it not to manipulate that holding.”

Your brow came down to enhance the question on your face.

“I personally vowed to respect your privacy then, as an extension. In that moment.” He told you earnestly.

You hadn’t known that and your face warmed a bit.

He took you in with tenderness. “A choice made rash, but thankfully one that ended up falling in line with the accursed common decency.” 

You bobbed your head in both agreement and for him to carry on. 

You could hear his churr from where you were. “As such I was not aware of your body’s make-up, meaning I did not gather samples of your DNA or the like. After our first kiss, it felt as though a dam was broken and I got to necessary work. By our first date… It didn’t seem far-fetched to believe we might also partake in relations. I thought myself over-prepared until we saw one another.”

You remembered that night fondly.

“But that is moving too far forward. Planning began after our first kiss as a precaution. I tested local and Hidden City condom brands. I also dabbled in making my own until I found a suitable one for my member if that was what you so chose… We were meant to discuss such an option…”

“But you had already put yourself on the birth control.”

“Yes… I hoped your proclivities aligned with mine…”

“Breeding kink.”

He shot you a heated look. “I converted you.”

“I never said you didn’t.” You responded the same.

He chirped as an outlet and blew out necessary air. “Ahem. Again, I had no bodily data on you and I needed to prevent my sperm from fertilizing your eggs if they were to be introduced. Birth control typically functions the same amongst all forms: stop fertilization. This can be done in a number of ways from negating ovulation, release of an egg, to making the ureteral environment one not suitable to support pregnancy.”

You nodded.

“Altering your make-up was out of the question as it tampered with bodily will-”

“You wouldn’t slip me something without my knowledge.” You remembered.

He nodded appreciatively. “That meant I needed to stop my own gamete. How to stop a sperm and a mutant one at that?"

You nodded.

“It proved… difficult. As you surmised, I was additionally designed to breed. Be it leftover DNA structures or the fool Draxum’s concoction, species hinge on viable offspring and my fabrication made it especially so.”

“Obviously your sperm are mutated because you are, but what? They get their own superpower…?” You chuckled.

He didn’t not share the comedy. “Yes, actually.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” He sighed. “When tested they were especially resilient. Commercial and yokai brand spermicides were inefficient. The condom kept them contained, but they were tenacious. A typical condom, we’ll consider both human and non in this case, is 98% effective when used correctly… In my case that number bobbed around 83% because even a single one of my sperm, given the necessary liquidity and need I remind you most condoms are lubed, had the strength to search true for its host.”

You gave a frown.

He nodded with large eyes. “I looked into mystic concoctions then. So many side effects, so many impurities, none made even close to a facsimile of my unique chemistry!”

“So you made one.”

“I made one.” He agreed. “I dug into male contraceptive research and found one that disabled sperm. As that was my exact intention, I chose that particular medication and ran with it. There were hormonal and non-hormonal methods, but I needed complete assurance that my sperm would not inseminate you under any circumstances. That led me to my current concoction, the one I am still on, a shot that inhibits tail maturation in sperm.”

You blinked once. “Your sperm…”

“When examined under a microscope, have tails that do not provide motility.”

“So you’re not shooting blanks, you’re shooting… sperm that can’t move.”

“Exactly. If you’ve seen films regarding fertilization, you will note that it takes quite a bit of mobile effort for a sperm to breach an egg. With the necessary mobility, they sit useless until they perish.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, I had to hyper-escalate study and production to ensure it was viable in time for our meeting.”

“We barely set a few weeks for our date.”

“A dangerous prospect, but I had checked that morning before and found a sample was completely immobile and thus felt assured we would not have issue.”

“Donnie…”

“While I would still prefer that I never injured you during our first meeting, I must admit your recovery was advantageous as it gave me time to further refine the product for its necessary long term use.”

You nodded.

“While my personal study was rushed, the medication was undergoing the usual technical trials at my lab. We found it reversible given time as it will evacuate the system. It works by suppressing the necessary enzyme production. For the typical specimen, it took longer to go into effect and there was a lengthy duration for its dissipation, but again, completely safe and repeatable. For my dosage, I take a monthly shot that covers my needs…. Our needs.”

You smiled at him.

“Which… unfortunately leads me to my heat…” He grimaced.

You made a nervous noise and vaguely remembered something from a certain video.

“We had no idea what was going on. I had only summations. Barely a hypothesis. It was a scientific nightmare scenario.”

“You overdosed…”

He blinked wide at you.

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. showed me some security footage that first time. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I remember him being worried about side effects from some shot.”

Donnie looked at you with a sort of hopeless affection. “You are a delight.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“As much as it pained me, I had to go off conjecture which was that my sperm production would be increased. If that were the case, it reasoned that my body ramp up enzyme production. In studying mammalian heats, in which I have mammal DNA along with reptile, there was an exhausting list of side effects that could tamper with the medication: heat, hormones, and more. I had to cover them all while not being lucid, which I wasn’t, and therefore I created a hyper concentrated dosage of the birth control which had the threat of untested side effects…”

He stopped completely.

You watched your mate hang in the air.

“Donnie…” You whispered.

“There was… a chance that my enzyme production may not stabilize if I were to ever stop the medication.”

You straightened. “That…”

“Is not something I have been able to test as I continue to take the medication. There is a chance my sperm motility might not recover.”

You tented your hands over your mouth.

“A necessary risk. Your safety superseded all else. At the time of my first heat we had never yet discussed children. I wasn’t going to let an accident like that fall upon you due to my inane biology.”

You nodded, feeling a little weepy.

He broke from his presentation and came to you.

You hugged him as soon as you were able.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head.

“I am. It was not something you had a say in.”

“None of it was. We didn’t know what was happening.” You squeezed him. “You made the best decision you could at the time.”

He gave one nod before he buried into you.

It bothered him more than he admitted.

How long had he been struggling with that knowledge?

It must have been a hanging bitterness against his dream.

He’d endured it all alone.

“I should have asked sooner.” You told him. “About the birth control and all this.”

“You trusted me. I meant to earn that. Plus, it is not known for sure.”

“But you worried.” You pulled back to see his watery eyes which he tried to hide. “You’ve been worried about it all this time.”

He gave the barest nod.

“You could have talked to me…” 

He wilted against you. “I prepared the presentation. It seemed a waste to bring up any sooner. Unnecessary discomfort that would have taken us several months to test. Between that and time to re-establish my medication, I would prefer to spend it making love to you and not concern myself with some unknowns.” 

You kissed his temple. “There’s a lot to plan and see. We had a feeling this wasn’t going to be so easy. We’re… you’re still… okay with adoption… if we need to?”

“Of course!” He spoke without hesitation. “It is the same in my mind. No less.”

You nodded and tapped the tip of your nose to his beak.

He gave a cutesy mating call for it.

You trilled one back.

“Let’s see…” He stayed close and looked back at his screens. “Where does that take us…? It will take approximately two months for the birth control to evacuate my system. We will know around then. It’s not exact. Then there’s your ovulation schedule if we were to try to conceive. What are your thoughts on giving birth?”

“That’s…” Your gaze shot away. “W-wasn’t this about your notes…?”

He didn’t pressure you in the slightest. “I’ve explored many possibilities. What I discuss next depends on what we’re considering…”

You snuck a glance at him.

He pet your leg in a soothing way.

You let him stroke the limb until you built up a bit of courage. “It’s… scary… In general and… and I don’t mean this is a bad way… but with a mutant… partner…”

Donnie nodded and dipped down to gently rest his chin against your leg.

You ran your hand over his head and whispered. “Can I pass a spiny carapace…?”

He looked up with a gaze that was both sympathetic and unsure.

“Pregnancy and childbirth… take everything from you. It ravages your body…”

He laid his hand out as a comforting weight.

“I know that’s what you’d prefer, but…”

“I prefer nothing. I prefer you.”

It was the perfect moment to interject.

“It’s a fear as old as time itself. It has gotten safer, but the dangers are still incalculable.”

You nodded.

“I only ask for the sake of direction. You do not need to decide now. I will not pressure you as there is no provocation.”

You thumbed over his cheek.

“Raising a child is no different than creating one in my mind. Whatever instinctual itch will be scratched.”

“You’re lying…” You whispered. “I know what you thought about a sonogram...”

He was similarly as caught as you had been and looked away.

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t.” He snapped back to attention. “Your concerns are founded. I am the concern. My mutant status…”

He made a little move and you released him.

He stood and summoned more screens.

He pointed to one in particular that had a set of chromosomes on it.

“The truth is… and this labeling is the best I have considering, but my DNA is elastic in nature, so to speak. From the many times I have examined myself, the closest labeling I have is that I suffer from a form of aneuploidy.” A few more chromosome maps popped up and had a different number of sets. “They can vary between cells. They have changed both with an increase and decrease throughout my lifetime. It is a wonder I am a stable organism.”

You took to your feet and came closer.

Donnie passed off his medical records.

You looked between them and the dates and saw they ranged throughout his lifetime. 

“Even if my sperm do recover, there is a likelihood that we are not compatible. That may come in the form of my inability to fertilize you to an inability of our cells forming a viable fetus.”

You pushed the screens away.

Donnie held a deeply saddened look.

It was yet another thing he’d held onto his whole life.

You hugged him.

He held you.

“I treated my ability to impregnate you as a grave concern, but the reality is I have always tempered my expectations. I never outright believed we were compatible in that way. I never believed it with anyone. I suppose that added to the taboo and enhanced the aforementioned kink. A space in which I can… have such a fantasy.”

You squeezed him as hard as you could.

He rubbed your back. “Mind, I also never expected to have a life partner or… make it this far in existence. My love, it’s alright.”

“But you got those things!” You lifted up and sent him a dewy gaze.

“And I will have more…” He smiled reassurance. “I… will admit… fine, adoption does not satisfy my instinct the same way as the thought of you round with my child…”

He took a little too long in his daydream and your lids fell, unamused, against your heartache.

“It’s not the same, but being at odds with my instinct is no new feature. Logically and emotionally I will be sated and I imagine my hindbrain will eventually make the necessary connections.”

You thumped your head against his plastron.

He swept his hands over you for a while.

You eventually gave in to a slight sway and he rocked with you.

“You need to check my DNA?”

“A blood sample ideally, yes. We could calculate compatibility.”

“Have you never checked with another human?”

“I’ve never run this analysis with anyone.”

You cuddled closer.

“Though… I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that genetics is a bit of an introductory topic. Meant non-demeaning as I am aware of the US educational system, but it is… as one might say, child’s play.”

“Bad pun.” You told his scutes.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to take your DNA to know our chances will be low. I would only need your genetic material to know exactly how low, but even that has a level of chance. Do you know of mules?”

“Donkeys?” You looked up at him.

He stared down a warm gaze. “Mules are a cross between horses and donkeys actually. The parent pair have differing chromosomes, but can produce offspring… only such creations are usually infertile.”

Your gaze widened with concerns.

If you had a kid with Donnie would they be sterile?

You knew this choice wasn’t going to be an easy one, but the amount of things to consider only seemed to grow.

“Usually. Not always. It can occur. Mitosis and meiosis. I can already tell you our chromosome numbers differ. Meiosis spits up our homologous chromosome pairs to create sperm and eggs which would meet for reproduction. They seek to match back up with their compliments, but ours leaves gaps which increases room for error. In mules, the lacking chromosomes from the donkey mean that all male mules are sterile, without question, but females can occasionally be fruitful due to the repeating chromosome formations.”

Your head spun a little.

“Without practice it’s hard to say. Those are separate species and they can produce offspring, but the next generation can’t. Lions and tigers are the same species, but also often create infertile offspring. I am part human and novel… We can go off what is known, but there will always be an element of unknown as a pairing such as ours has never occurred.”

“You mentioned mitosis…?”

“The process from fertilization on that creates a baby. The errors I mentioned would show up here in whether the pregnancy was viable.”

You made a little noise of vague understanding. “What about test tubes or clones…? It’s hard to believe yokai haven’t figured out some mystic cheat code too… You told me about womb tattoos.”

He almost sweat with guilt. “I may have indulged in a bit too much hyperbole…”

You hummed dry interest and waited.  

“Yes, womb tattoos have served to aid in fertility issues, but yokai constitute something that supersedes human rules of species. You have creatures who can naturally shift their form. If they chose to have offspring, which some do not, long life and all, little drive to reproduce, they have what I’ve been referring to as that elastic genetic material. It can match form to create those homologous pairs intrinsically. If the creatures are too different though, even mysticism has not superseded that. They’ll use surrogates if need be.”

You watched on.

“Clones and test tubes…” Donnie sighed and seemed obvious about trying to make the subject matter palatable. “I would still need other genetic material, I could not solely clone you or me. I could stimulate or even fertilize your eggs myself in a lab setting, but they would need to be gestated in a host. Artificial wombs are not something I can imagine we will crack in this lifetime. There is still too much we do not know. All that simulates the necessary environment in which a new organism can be created… The longest trials of gestation in an artificial setting have been about six weeks… or something similar? I theoretically could take that a few weeks further, but that would be asking me to break through an estimated hundred years or so of science on top of mixing our DNA? I… I fathom many unknowns. I’ve broken countless barriers, but that would be… our child! I would be the one directly responsible, using my own two hands, to make the fertilized cells. All that would go into their existence would lie on me! The mental toll of failure in that regard…!!” His closing throat cut him off.

You released his middle so you could tug down his neck in a tighter hug.

He dropped to his knees to give it. “Trial and error is a stage of science I usually relish in, but asking that while using our components…!”

“You don’t have to say it. I understand. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

“You couldn’t have…” He rooted into you and you felt him let loose a few tears.

You kissed his head over and over.

He slowly, but surely pulled himself back from the possibility.

“Not that. Never that.”

You felt his apology through his ring and cut him off.

“No, Donnie.”

He begrudgingly relented.

You moved to scratch his shell, but his battle shell was in the way.

It nearly immediately withdrew from the spot and you dipped down his collar to grab the dormant plate.

Donnie opened up his posture enough for you to pull it out of his shirt, then you returned your nails above the fabric and scratched in the way he liked.

He slowly melted into you.

“We are not doing artificial gestation. Not at all. Where.. did that leave cloning?” 

“It is a similar impossibility to clone me. My unstable DNA. Finding a genetic match to mix with. Finding a host.” 

“You would only be able to clone me…” 

He squeezed you. “A child that is wholly not ours is one thing. I…” 

You felt anger bubble up in your ring. 

“The thought of another’s genetic material… applied in vitro… to yours…” He seethed. “I can’t stand it. I apologize. I refuse. The same with donor sperm. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“No… It’s okay… I wasn’t really interested in pregnancy already… I don’t care about it being me… I wanted… If anything I wanted it to be you.” 

He couldn’t muster a churr, but a faint loving squeak emerged from him. 

You breathed in the air. “There’s… so much… Is trying to have a baby… even worth it?”

Donnie was quiet.

“We should make adoption our go to, shouldn’t we?”

He gave a bare nod.

You leaned your head against his.

He sat still for a long time.

Your thoughts morphed. You thought about what you’d imagined in the park earlier today. Your mind’s eye saw Donnie and his little green duplicate. From the way your husband talked, there would be no way to even know if the child would be his color. There seemed to be thousands if not millions of possibilities and the outcomes recombination was even more with his mutant status.

You closed off the line of thinking and thought about adoption. There was the state paperwork to complete. There were thousands of children up for adoption across the country at any moment. They needed families and parents who would love them. You could easily see yourself providing that. You saw everything from troubled infants to even teens who you could care for.

That was only considering the human side of things.

Though Donnie had talked down about the yokai birth rate, there still had to be young ones who needed help. Their ages were further skewed and you wondered how you could provide with a human lifespan. You supposed that would help Donnie as he was going to outlive you, but wasn’t that in and of itself a negative way to think of things?

You pulled yourself from the thought only to find a mental image of you plump. You were waddling wide and had to stop for a break in that same park you were in just a few hours ago. You were in discomfort and blew out an exhausted breath. Donnie appeared doting with water and tales of pregnancy books he had read. He had done all the obsessive planning he had for your wedding, but in a new extreme form.

He was going to be an amazing dad.

How selfish were you?

There were children who needed help and you dared to imagine having a child of your own?

You cuddled closer to your mate.

Why would you cling to the scariest possibility?

Not only were you not sure you wanted to go through with it, there was a high likelihood that you couldn’t.

You were incredibly selfish.

An angered part of you also screamed.

You’d given up before starting.

You hadn’t even tried.

Hadn’t the odds always been against you and Donnie?

It was a miracle the two of you dated let alone married. 

You were happy on top of that. 

You’d endured endless trials.

You had never given up in the face of uncertainty. 

All you cared about was being with Donnie.

You’d done that.

You were here.

You were all better for it.

You pulled away from him.

He looked after you and searched your face for whatever it presented.

No one ever called you a saint.

You were just a person.

You pulled your hands from Donnie’s carapace.

He continued to examine you.

Donnie was the same.

Morality was subjective.

Lifetimes were about choice.

You’d chosen Donnie.

You would make more choices.

“I want you to do that blood test.”

His expression opened up to the possibility.

“Let’s try. There’s time. It’ll take some to get the results. It’ll take more for you to get off the birth control. There’s adoption wait times. All of it. We can take each thing as it comes and see what works best for us.”

“You’re… sure?”

“Are you?”

“I’m sure of anything that relates to you.”

You pinched his cheek. “This won’t be just me.”

“Part of you, whether in paperwork or DNA, is still you.”

You soothed the skin you pricked.

He smiled. “I’m sure.”

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Beta baby babes? The triple B's? @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[tonkysexist]

So, why are so many iconic comic characters the product of Jewish creators? I’d love to answer that.

Superhero comics were primarily the creation of Jewish people. You might not know Stanley Lieber, Jacob Kurtzberg, Robert Khan, or Milton Finger. But, if you’re a comic fan, I can guarantee you know Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Bob Kane, and Bill Finger. These pen names were adopted to make their Judaism less obvious out of concern for the stigma and their safety. Comics (in general) were an industry populated by Jewish creators, because they were seen as a lesser art form that mostly existed outside of the mainstream newspapers. Many Jewish creators went to comics when they struck out in other fields (I believe the creators of Superman originally tried to go into advertising).

Jewish ideas and culture contributed so much to what we see in comics. Kal-El is Hebrew-named baby who shares an origin with Moses (Superman is Moses not Jesus. That particular choice in any media is a pet peeve of mine). The earliest version of Captain America was golem-like and fought Hitler directly. And the well… everything about the X-Men is Jewish. The ideas about them being a “human passing” minority. Fights about integration. Constant questions of identity. The importance of the “coming of age” for young (13 y/o) mutants. Even before Chris Claremont put it more explicitly in the narrative, the X-Men were always Jewish.

There are plenty of contemporary examples of Jewish and Jewish-coded characters and stories in comic books, and I hope to have 8 different posts this Chanukah explaining a few of my favorites.

[artbyblastweave]

Another loose thesis about Fallout’s overall implementation of the retrofuturistic aesthetic-

 From an environmental design perspective 4 and 76 knock the 50s retrofuturism out of the park. As a MA resident, Fallout 4′s version of Boston is extremely immediately recognizable as a retrofuturistic version of the real city, which also happens to have unrelatedly undergone an apocalypse; both components are visible and prominent, and in that order. In Fallout 3, by contrast, the salient aesthetic element is “rubble” and this much more immediate sense of oppressive environmental devastation, rather than the sense you’re specifically in a 1950s version of D.C. The fifties stuff, the art deco stuff is still there, certainly omnipresent when you remember to start actively looking for it, but in my experience it was an element concealed an inch below the grit. 

(New Vegas has the same thing going on to a lesser degree- the 50s elements are definitely present, but in a way that comes part-and-parcel with setting something in Vegas. A lot of the rest is rubble, and the western elements are mixed in as a confounding thing. Harder to describe what’s going on with New Vegas aesthetically, particularly when you throw in asset reuse due to the short turnaround time.)

But. One area where I think Fallout 3 and New Vegas actually surpass fallout 4 and 76, one area where I think the newer games back-tracked a bit in terms of 50sishness, is the mutant design. FO3/NV Mirelurks are a big example of this. The regular ones went from bipedal near-humanoid crab people of the sort you’d see in a b-movie from the fifties, to.... semi-plausible Big Crabs. The super mutants went from kinda looking like guys in yellow rubber costumes to lovingly-detailed-and-animated abhuman colossi. Ditto for the feral ghouls, who went from looking almost sculpted (and textured with pictures of raw meat!) to the twitching, crawling, lurching serkis-folk of Fallout 4. The 3/New Vegas deathclaw feels to me a bit like a Ray Harryhausen sculpted clay thing, while the Fallout 4 deathclaw is, well, the Fallout 4 deathclaw.  And fundamentally both games and films were subject to the same process here- better fidelity became possible. The monster designs of Fallout 3 and Fallout New Vegas were informed by the limits of what was technically possible within the engine of the time, and did a great job within those limitations, just as the cheesy rubber-suit b-movie beasts were informed by the limitations of their effects budget, and often did a great job within those limitations. The budget improves, the tech improves.... insert Brian Eno’s quote about medium emulation, you know? Fallout 4, Fallout 76, those are monsters you fight in a green-screen environment. Fallout 3, those are monsters meant to be fought in a rented quarry that’s doubling for a new planet every single week.