#mutants love malls

[farsight-the-char]

I hope RWBY Vol10 dedicates an episode to feelings jams and the characters having a good time. I hope Team RWBY go to a Mall, like X-men

(Uncanny X-men 244)

Just having a good time, fashion, and Mall. Weiss as Alison, Ruby as Betsy, Blake as Storm, Yang as Rogue

....

Something something, this being the Outback Era of X-men, Vacuo being Remnant’s Australia (thus outback).....

[ivoryrisuet]

ok so i was really overstimulated yesterday and couldn’t do shit and sketching this whole situation was the only thing that could ease my condition.

i don’t thik of it as a whole au but they’re kinda cute :’)

[ace-kaz-brekker]

God... I think I need to watch X-Men: Apocalypse again

[applepiewinchesters]

Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.

Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)

Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff

Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.

The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.

Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.

Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.

All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.

When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.

You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.

The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.

“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.

Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.

It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.

Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.

The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”

That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.

When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.

After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.

Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.

You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.

But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.

It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.

After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.

But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.

“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.

“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.

“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.

Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.

Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.

You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.

“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.

The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”

“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.

“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.

The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.

Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.

You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.

Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.

So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.

You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.

You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.

When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.

His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.

Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.

“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.

“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.

As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.

“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.

Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.

“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.

“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”

While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.

“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.

When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.

Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.

He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.

…

It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.

You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.

“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.

“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.

You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.

Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.

Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.

Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.

“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”

The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.

You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.

Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.

You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.

“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.

It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.

He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.

What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.

“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.

You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.

“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.

It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.

You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.

“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.

“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.

You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.

“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.

“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.

You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.

Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.

When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”

You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.

Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either.  But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.

“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.

“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.

“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.

Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”

“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.

“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.

Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.

“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.

The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.

You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.

“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.

So, you stopped, much to Logan���s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.

“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.

“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.

“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.

“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”

Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.

It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."

Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.

But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.

Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”

Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.

You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”

“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.

“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.

“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.

You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”

Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.

“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.

This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.

“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.

This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.

The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[technocite]

They’re just so funny to me like. This idea of a shitty 90’s sitcom taking place during the zombie apocalypse about a group of bisexual mutant gorgeous special agents who are all roommates living in a mall and they get into wacky hijinks with their neighbors, the state-sponsored quarantine paramilitary force that loves hugely unethical chemical warfare and the evil monster hive mind boy band that took over every radio station to play their stupid boy band song. And I’m not even talking about the deranged time travel plot

[physalian]

10 Character Dynamics the World Needs More of

Me handing out character dynamics like free samples at the Mall Food Court: “Take one! Or two! You’ll love it!”

I don’t care how many times these tropes have been done – write more of them. Write all of them. Fill out your author bingo card one by one.

1. “No one gets to kill you but me, Old Friend”

This. Right here. Primo rival content that I *live* for. All the juicy history between two old frenemies, the character drama, the backstory, the titillating unknown of what drove these two to rival status, bitter enemies that respect the heck out of each other, to the point that hell hath no fury should one get knocked down without the other’s consent.

And, of course, the moment where it seems all bets are off, when the rival comes to save their ass only to hand it back to them at a later date. The angst! The shipping fodder! Need I say more?

2. A bigger, badder villain, and their minion

You, reader, spend countless hours hating the guts of the big bad villain. They’re evil, they’re vile, they’re sadistic, heartless, irredeemable bastards. They killed your favorite character for shock value. The big bad moustache-twirling antagonist… is actually not the biggest fish in the story.

Either they’re coerced into doing evil as a puppet of the Bigger Bad, a tragic villain in their own right, or they have some reservation, some line even they won’t cross, someone else’s boots they have to kiss, someone who features in their nightmares, as they feature in the heroes. They end their stories dispatched without a thought by the Bigger Bad, or redeem themselves in death by taking out their masters. It never gets old.

3. A leader and their lancer: besties

You know what’s better than leaders and lancers who have zero faith in each other and are constantly bickering about who should be in charge? Leaders and their right-hands who adore each other (platonically). They have each other’s backs, they know each other’s greatest strengths and weaknesses and are each other’s perfect covers.

They can communicate with looks and vague gestures alone, they compliment each other’s flaws and misgivings, build up the rest of the team when they’re down on their luck, and should misfortune strike either, they pull out all the stops and show off exactly why they’re not to be trifled with, so that even the villain is afraid.

4. “I don’t even know who you are”

Oh, but you will. This one twists the knife, robbing the avenging hero of the importance in this world they’re desperate to maintain. They are their own hero, the sun revolves around them… but not to this one asshat that ruined their life and doesn’t even remember doing it.

An entire identity built upon the finding, fighting, and overcoming of this wrongdoer, every other goal in life cast aside for this one impossibility. Either the villain toys with the hero to make them irate, or gets suckerpunched by some pissant fueled by vengeance and spite and divine purpose to dole justice where justice is due.

6. The jaded badass and their naive ward

If the last 8 years of media is anything to go by, we still love this trope, whether it’s in a galaxy far, far away or a fungi-zombie post-apocalypse, or in the twilight hours of an era of legendary mutants. The best part of this trope? You get two often contradictory character types in one body. The pessimist, PTSD-ridden master of old with no living friends left and at least one dead love interest *and* beneath all that, still lies an atrophied heart of gold just waiting to be nurtured and revived.

The naive ward gets a hard lesson in how crappy the world can be, but also in how there’s still some goodness left, if their guardian cares about them. The jaded badass in turn, learns how good the world can be, that there’s something still worth fighting for beyond the next bottom of a bottle.

6. The enemy of my enemy (is my friend)

Similar to the “old friends”, this trope is often a result of the minioned Big Bad realizing they don’t want to be evil anymore. Or, bitter old rivals, sides of a war that have been fighting for generations, ideological polar opposites, fundamental polar opposites all come together when: Some evil schmuck managed to scare them both.

Doesn’t matter on what shaky ground this temporary alliance is built, or how long it lasts, equally-competent badasses on both sides finally work together and compliment each other’s strengths, and compensate for their weaknesses, in a way their teammates never could.

7. The irredeemable villain’s only wholesome connection

Not so irredeemable anymore, now are they? This trope messes with your head, taking a character you know has done heinous acts of terror, but who cares unflinchingly, unabashedly, about one thing – either their lover, their pet, their relative, or their kid.

This exists independently of the heroes and is not the same as an “oops I guess I’m your father” reveal. I’m talking this character who everyone is convinced cares about nothing and no one but themselves and their ambition still has a place in their soul for something they want to protect, they want to be loved by, or that they must spare from their atrocities.

8. Platonic Heterosexual Friendships

These two have seen each other at their most vulnerable. They’ve shared fears, dreams, desires, know each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. They’ve seen each other exhausted, frazzled, dressed up, dressed down, bloodied and broken and like a raw, open nerve. These two would die for each other, they would live for each other, and yet.

They’re not in love with each other. They’re wholly comfortable in each other’s spaces without lust and desire mucking up the atmosphere. Neither is the one, neither wants to be the one. They remain together not for the bonds of romance, but for the bonds of friendship, and nothing could be stronger.

10. The Ace and their best friend, the Self-Proclaimed Slut

These two respect the f*ck out of each other. One never mocks the other for lacking desire and in return, they’re never mocked for their promiscuity. They’ll never walk in each other’s shoes, but they don’t need to, to understand that’s just how some people are. They’re each other’s safest spaces when the world doesn’t take either of them seriously.

They’re each other’s biggest defenders against the bullies, presumers, the holier-than-thous who think they have it all figured out. They’re the perfect compliment to give advice on everything from relationships to the best outfits for an outing because there’s *zero sexual tension* between them. Or, maybe, if the stars align, they’re something more.

10. The redeeming villain, and their staunchest skeptic

This villain has lost everything – their home, the respect of their people, their worth, their evil ambition, their identity, and has begun working their way up from rock bottom doing everything in their power to show the heroes that they’re serious. They make amends, they break their bones proving themselves, they’ve swayed everyone they’ve wronged in the hero camp.

Except one. The one character that was probably their first defender, and got burned for it. The character that was naive enough to think this villain could be saved, and was wrong. The character that won’t be duped again without some serious drama and soul-bearing between them.

Now tell me which ones I missed!

[warframe1999]

Sooo…

The protoframes, huh?

i wanted to go a bit into what each member of the Hex (yay, new syndicate!!) had to say when you got into proximity of them in the relay. there’s honestly a lot here to set the scene not only for 1999 itself, but introducing each protoframe as well as sort of hinting at their interpersonal relationships, and how they interact with one another! some of my favorite kinda of lore is specifically character development and personality-focused dynamics like this so here!!!! i walked back and forth for an hour for YOU! here is all proximity dialogue for each character in the Höllvania Mall relay:

ARTHUR:

“Question. Could I take Quincy down if he turned on me?”

“We’ll find you, Doctor. That’s a promise.”

“Stop sniffing around my head, Eleanor. If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

“We need to keep Lettie on her feet. If she goes we all go.”

“Dunno why we even bothered with that cleaning rota.”

“Yeah, we can hold this place.”

“One day, Aoi. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol.”

“Still too open. We need more chokepoints.”

“Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust.”

“Well Amir’s still alive. That’s a win.”

LETICIA:

“I got nothin’ to prove to you, Quincy! Go play your little games, niño.”

“¿Qué onda? The Lady Eleanor ain’t no more freaky than the last time you checked in. ‘Less you know different?”

“Yo, Aoi. Chill, hermana. Do something for yourself, for once. Arthur ain’t going to blow away if you blink.”

“The boss says care for his sister I care for his sister. As long as you still are his sister… and as long as I feel like listening to him.”

“Being loved and being hurt? Yeah, I make no distinction. I knew someone, once, wired the same way. Kept me sane. And what of it? Te crees muy acá ¿no? Get outta my head, Eleanor.”

“Never signed up for this. I’ll be home Mamá. Your little girl doesn’t end here. No te preocupes.”

“Man, I’ve been awake so long that even the spiders in my head have all gone to sleep.”

“Wacha: unless you’re pissing blood right this second, whatever it is can wait.”

“I swear, should lock Aoi and Amir in a cuna. Didn’t sign up for no babysitting gig.”

AOI:

“I don’t wanna go on patrol. I wanna take stuff apart.”

“Nearly time for the On-lyne boys.”

“Metal, metal, metal, what do you want to be?”

“Yep. I can live like this.”

“Arthur needs to keep some fuel in the tank for himself. Goddamn savior complex that man has…”

“I oughta get some headphones. Then I wouldn’t have to hear Quincy work off all that surplus testosterone!”

“If they take Entrati out, who’s going to look after that mutant jaguar of his? Poor thing won’t last five minutes in the wild.”

“Amir! Remember to hydrate!”

“Dear past self: we finally got those super powers we always wanted. Whaddayaknow.”

“GodDAMN. Lettie would you keep your frickin’ rats OUT of my SPACE?”

QUINCY:

“Don’t look up, Doctor.”

“Arthur needs to leave the Major to me, innit. Respect my methods.”

“Don’t mind the waiting. Plenty to be thinking about.”

“You don’t know me. Never see what darkens your rooftops. Inevitable, like the rain. Handing out consolations in a transient connection. Boom. Smoke. And ghost.”

“You wiv me, Eleanor? How deep in you go? See anythin’ you fancy, girl?”

“Amir is a weak, weak boy. Like Aunty said, ‘duppy know who fi frighten.’”

“Thassit… nice and steady.”

“How many man have the opps got? Not enough t’be takin’ me. Never.”

“Oi, Lettie! Grab y’ strap and let’s go. Best a five buys the drinks?”

ELEANOR:

“Don’t expect me to tell you what I’ve seen in Amir’s head. He’s not a beautiful, broken marionette, and he’s nobody’s project. He’s one of us.”

“Quincy thinks he’s going to wake up one night to me chewing the flesh from his ribs. Maybe he’s right.”

“I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s okay, I won’t tell the others.”

“Aoi? She’s lovely and kind and strong, and… I kind of hate her a little bit. Because it should have been her spreading her happiness into everyone’s heads, and me throwing cars and trucks around.”

“I thought there were going to be two of you! Where’s the other one?”

“Blood. There’s gonna be a fight. Something… bursting. Crossed swords. Arthur!”

“What on earth is a ‘Mara Lohk’?”

“Oh, you’re going to make such a difference this time around.”

“I don’t think Doctor Entrati expected me to survive. I had a lot more than just a cough. But… survive I did. And Lettie has not forgiven me for it.

“Oh. OH. She’s wonderful! Triple-faced goddess! But there’s a shadow on her, isn’t there?”

AMIR:

“A little zap, and… infinite credit! No more ‘insert coin’! Not that we could insert coin. We have no coin. Once we had coin, but now Aoi has smooshed all the coin. Coinnnn.”

“Why did they never make a console port?”

“BAD MOVE, SPACE CAA-DET.”

“But the one thought none of them spoke out loud was - could Lettie reattach a head?”

“Hey, Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Dahh, you missed it.”

“Eleanor? Are you there? Can you - can you give my brain a hug please? Thank you.”

“We’re getting a little too excited, let’s step it down, step it down before we get the blue cracklies. In one two out one two.”

“Oi’m Quincy. Oi’m gonna blow out yer kneecaps. Mashup in yer chip shop alright.”

“Ungh! This violent video game is influencing my emotions! Societal norms… eroding! Morality… subsumed! I MUST KILL!”

“This place used to smell so good. Coffee. Cookies. Fresh clean socks. Now it’s just rust, pain, and old socks.”

[betyloca]

members of the x-men with a s/o who was in a mutant circus and his/her mutation in which she is a symbiote

scott summers

• heard that the new student came from a circus

• I wouldn't ask I wouldn't want to ask and make you uncomfortable

• but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to meet a new student

- Hi, I'm Scott Summers.

- Hello, I'm y/n.

- If you need to get out of here I know how to escape and take you wherever you want

• this boy had no idea what your mutation was, he thought you were very strong

• until he saw you create symbiotic tentacles

• He is impressed by your mutation and offers to help you in your training.

• worries when there are loud sounds that could hurt you

• is impressed with the amount of food you can eat

•He loves your full symbiote form and thinks you're very intimidating, which would help him scare people for fun.

• he lets you work with him so that you can be with him

jean gray

• found out that a new student had arrived

• She knows where you come from and what your life was like in the circus because she read your mind.

• you were in the courtyard of the mansion when you met her

- Hi I am ..

- y/n I know I'm Jean Gray

- how do you know my name?

- I'm a telepath

- oh can I sit with you?

- of course, why not

• they began to be almost always with her

• One day you showed him your mutation by making claws appear and your arm turning a symbiotic black color.

• You thought you had scared her but she already knew about your mutation. You're glad she wasn't scared.

• She knows what it's like for people to fear you so she doesn't let anyone mess with you.

• He likes to have lunch with you in the mansion garden even though you always end up eating almost everything due to your voracious hunger.

• likes it when you do stunts to impress the

• He likes it when you are in your symbiotic mass form and you are lying on his bed or couch and you are on his chest sleeping while he caresses you.

• I wouldn't let you have fun with her, she's afraid that she'll hurt you with her telepathy.

• He doesn't get scared when he sees your full symbiote form because he knows you would melt at his touch.

kurt wagner

• he was excited at the idea of making a new friend

• He heard rumors that you came from a circus. He knew what it was like to live there since he was in one.

• you were walking through the hallways lost when you ran into him

- Excuse me, do you know where the classrooms are?

- If you want I can take you

- okay thanks, I'm y/n

- I'm Kurt Wagner

• immediately became your friend

• He doesn't leave your side until he told you that he also lived in a circus

• That's how they began to share experiences of how they lived

• He likes it when you show off your stunts since you were a trapeze artist.

• One day when they were at the mall a guy started making fun of his appearance making him feel horrible.

boy: look that guy looks like a monster hahaha* laughing with his friends*

Kurt: We better go* while looking at the ground*

y/n: hey, the only monster is me, you idiot* while deforming his face making his eyes white and his mouth bigger with sharp fangs*

boy: ooh shit let's go * while he runs with his friends *

• He is impressed by your mutation and likes to ask what else you can do.

• gets worried when there are loud noises and when it happens he covers your ears

• At Christmas I give you headphones to prevent you from hearing the fireworks so they don't hurt you.

• keeps you away from anything flammable wants you to be safe

• He likes it when you are in your symbiotic dough form. He thinks you are very cute. He loves having you in his hands while he feeds you (he likes to concentrate on you).

•When this boy finds out that you can have fun with a person, he feels curious and nervous when you have fun with him.

• when he gets used to it he likes to be with you all the time talking to you while you talk to him in his head

• At first he was scared by your full symbiote form but he didn't mean to. He liked how intimidating you looked but he knows you wouldn't like him

[relaxxattack]

Jade content?? 👀

obligatory This Is Just My Personal Opinion Warning (i love hiveswap and its writers so much and anyone who gives me any alternian lore) 📢

it’s partially the fact that there is a lot of jade content, but it’s also mostly the fact that i don’t particularly like how hiveswap portrays the jade caste in general. i’ve posted about it before but i don’t personally agree with the idea that jades would be tasked to “take care” of grubs, or that jadebloods such as bronya would be promoted to leaderly positions, when the in-comic lore about that caste dictates that motherly instincts are actually incredibly rare for them, and that trolls who attempt to “take care” of grubs the way bronya was — aka the dolorosa — were kicked out of the caverns.

honestly though this is just my personal opinion, because in-comic they never really go super in depth to what living in the caverns is truly like (because kanaya is unique and weird) (kanaya being unique and weird is also a reason i really think most jades would not be motherly but i digress) but i tend to be of the opinion that the beta trolls are actually strange and outcasts for their society, much like the beta kids.

i also usually tend to be of the opinion that jadebloods need to be much more apathetic than motherly, considering they’re the ones that are committing all of the eugenics, culling the mutants, and putting the babies through the trials so that they can potentially be accepted by their lusii?? again that’s just me though

ALSO. jades are supposed to be rare as fuck and mostly trapped in the caverns? so like it’s crazy that we met not only one Entire cloister in hiveswap act 2, but were apparently going to see more background jades at the mall and stuff? like i get that they probably Snuck Out but like holy shit. thats so fucking many jades we have met SO many jades compared to the other castes when they are supposed to be not only the least populous caste but LOCKED UNDERGROUND…

generally hiveswap tends to go with the notion that all of the beta trolls are fully representative of the roles of their caste rather than the idea that they are funny little weirdos, and i like to take the opposite approach so yeah :]

[mossyivy]

Auburn | '24 Alphabet Challenge

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your son wants Eddie to be his Dad and Eddie really doesn't want to be like his father.

Words: 1.5k

Content Warning: Domestic fluff, mentions of death (briefly), mentions of marriage and an unconventional proposal. (It's Eddie, c'mon)

The sound of clattering filled the kitchen as Eddie quickly steadied the bright green bowl on the counter. A pair of wide innocent blue eyes look up at him from the floor as he shushes him softly.

"We can't make too much noise. It's too early. You'll wake up your mom." A small giggle comes from the small boy next to him as he gave him a pointed look.

"Sorry Eddie." He says, continuing his giggling as he trots over to the lower cabinet next to the fridge, ninja turtle slippers dragging against the cold linoleum.

Eddie watched the little one open the cabinet and grab a box of off-brand sugary cereal almost as big as he was. His little waves of hair bobbing as he carried it over to the counter, he set it on the hard surface, climbing onto the chair propped up against the counter next to Eddie.

"Not too much now. We don't want you hopping off the walls when we go out in the snow later." He pouts, pouring the cereal into his bowl, Eddie supervising, as he knew this kid loved doing everything himself.

"Good?" His little face looked up at him for approval. Eddie nods, watching the kid go put the box back.

"Go turn your cartoons on, I'll get the milk."

This became the normal Saturday morning routine every time Eddie stayed at his girlfriend's apartment. Being woken up at 7am by her son Oliver, mostly called Ollie, just to watch cartoons together and eat cereal in front of the TV.

Not the most extravagant tradition, but it was something he enjoyed regardless.

Time passes as they dine on their bowls of cereal and watch the newest episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ollie sets his bowl down on the floor, looking up at Eddie seated in his usual recliner. Enjoying his own bowl of cereal.

"Eddie?" The curly-haired musician stopped his chewing to look down at the boy. He looks nervous almost as he fiddles with the buttons on his pajama shirt.

"Yeah kid?"

"You love my Mom, right?" Eddie raises an eyebrow, a soft clank breaks the silence as he drops his spoon in his bowl.

"Of course I do. I love your Mom a lot." Ollie nods, looking back at the television, watching an ad for some brand new toy coming out soon.

"And you love me, right?" The brunet sat forward, having a feeling he knew exactly where this conversation was going.

"I love you just as much as your Mom, Bud." Eddie studied the profile of the little boy's face as he turned to look at the older man.

"Are you going to marry my Mom?" Eddie's eyes went wide, his mouth slipping open with a shocked 'uhh', Ollie patiently waiting for his answer.

"I'd like to some day if she wants to..." He chuckled nervously, watching the little boy nod and look back at the TV again as his cartoon came back on.

"Good, 'cause I want you to be my Dad."

Eddie stared at the kid, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. Nerves started to get the better of him as he started to dwell on the thought.

He never really pictured himself being the father type because he didn't really grow up with a Dad. Just his Uncle Wayne when he took him in at a young age after his own father went to prison.

He knew what it was like growing up without a father, and he knew about the situation of your son's biological father dying years ago in the Hawkins Mall fire. Right before you could even tell him you were pregnant.

This poor kid would never get to know his real dad, but by how you described the guy maybe it was for the best.

"You really want me to be your old man?" Ollie turned again, looking up at Eddie. His beautiful little blue eyes gleamed at the thought, making Eddie almost smile.

"Yeah, you're fun, and you want to spend time with me. I like when you play with me, or we watch cartoons together. And you make my Mom happy." Eddie finally smiled.

He knows he makes you happy, you tell him enough. But having a child notice just makes him feel all the more appreciated for his efforts.

"I'm trying to do good by you and your Mom." He knows what it's like to not have a father. Even if this kid technically isn't his son yet, he'd be damned if he didn't treat him like he was.

"You're both very important to me and some day I hope to be your Dad. You're a good kid, and I'd be proud to be your old man."

"You can't be my Dad right now?" Eddie tenses up, knowing it really isn't exactly that simple.

"It's not that easy. Plus, that would be a question only your Mother could answer."

"What question?" Both of their attentions turned to the hall doorway. There you stood, half asleep and confused with a coffee cup in your hands.

"Can Eddie be my Dad?"

Your eyes go wide staring at your son in disbelief. You knew he adored Eddie since you two started dating a little over a year ago. Introducing them to each other and becoming inseparable almost immediately.

It was obvious that your boyfriend would make a fantastic dad for your son, but you still didn't want to rush things with him and risk scaring him away.

"Oliver, honey. It's not that simple. From a legal standpoint..." Your lips draw to a line as Ollie stares at you, still innocent as ever. Glancing at Eddie, he just smirks. All the cocky son of a bitch can do is egg on the question.

"I think he really wants you to answer the question babe." Glaring at him, you think of exactly what to say, getting the idea to turn this around on him.

"For him to be your Dad, we'd have to get married. And that would mean Eddie would have to ask me to marry him." Ollie looks back at Eddie as the Metal heads face drops.

"Would you marry my Mom?"

"In a heartbeat." He answers, chocolate brown eyes locking on you.

Ollie looks back and forth between you two, little curls bouncing on his head as it bobs back and forth. His attention quickly turns towards the TV, hearing the turtles talking and remembering he was watching cartoons.

Eddie looks up at you, shrugging and patting his lap as he moves the cereal bowl off his lap and onto the side table next to him.

"C'mere sweetheart." Walking over, he takes your coffee and sets it down right before you sit across his lap. Tattooed arms wrap around your calves and waist.

"I'm sorry if he blindsided you. He's just been asking me about Billy a lot lately and... I guess since he started preschool he just sees other kids with their parents." His grip tightens on you, your head going to his shoulder as he chuckles.

"It's fine babe. I'm just a little surprised. I knew he liked me just not this much." You scoff, his head turning towards you. A soft smile on his lips as he admires your face.

"He's nuts about you, Eddie."

"Gets it from his Mom." You laugh, tapping him on his chest, sliding it up his collarbone and behind his neck past his mountain of messy curls.

"And I don't need some stupid papers to call him my kid. If he wants me to be his Dad, I'm his Dad... I'm just a little on edge about the whole thing, being a good role model."

"You already are. I don't see him causing issues or breaking any laws." Eddie grins, knowing what you mean, but that same sinking feeling won't go away.

"He's 4. I think the most I've seen him fuss about was going to bed at 8. I guess I just don't want to be like my old man, swore I'd never be like him."

"You aren't your father, Ed. Far from it. You love Ollie and treat him like pure gold compared to what you've told me about how you were treated. I'd be happy for you to be his Dad when the time comes."

Eddie beams, his chest going warm with love and endearment. You lean in to kiss him on the lips sweetly. Returning the kiss, he pulls you closer to his body. Almost like he's trying to become one with you.

"You think the Town Hall's closed because of the snow storm?" He asks, pulling away from the kiss.

"Maybe?" You look at him inquisitively, trying to figure out what he's thinking. "Why?"

Eddie moves his arm from around your calves, pulling off one of his many rings and looks at you.

"I know it's just a piece of paper, but I really do want to marry you. So, why don't we go down to the courthouse first chance we get an make it official. Make you Mrs. Munson. Would you like that?" Holding up the ring, he gestures it towards you.

You stare in shock, knowing your answer as you take the ring and slide it on your finger. The black band was way too big for your digits, but you didn't care. A rush of warmth washes over you, making your cheeks burn and your smile brighter.

"I'd like that."

[mariaxman]

PIETRO MAXIMOFF X READER

Resume: you made a bet with Jean, when you’d ask Peter out he’d turn you down. Easy made 50 bucks, right! Exept he beats you to the punch..

A/N: I really love this, I love the cliché of kissing in a Ferris wheel sm AHHH:33!!

Charles Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester,1974.

The summer breeze hit your skin like a bird’s feather, soft and gentle, as you stood outside of the institute. A year ago, a man from the future named Logan came and knocked on the door, claiming he needed the professor to save the world from ‘sentinels’, some anti-mutant, killer robots. You were 15 at the time, already having mastered your mutation, came along with them to give a hand. That, is when you met Peter. As requested you had to break out Magneto from the pentagon, and Logan ‘knew a guy’. He was JUST your type. Sure, he was a kleptomaniac and all, but god was he handsome, and a charming in his own very-weird-way. Though, it didn’t last long, as he went home the moment you stepped out the pentagon, Magneto in hand . You never forgot the handsome speedster, even ten whole years later. Sure, it was kind pathetic. But hey! Can you blame a gal? He was flirting with you the whole time AND WINKED AT YOU WHEN YOU EMBARKED THE JET BACK, of course you fell for him!

Charles Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, 1983

You never thought you’d ever see him again. Like, ever. But hey, fate works in a strange way. One second you were standing next to Beast as Havok wrecked shit, the next you landed surprisingly gently on the grass outside as the Institute blew up. You were dizzy and felt like you were about to blow chunks. Nevertheless, you stood back up on shaky legs and just stared at the mansion with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, not even noticing the speedster standing riiiighht next to you, staring intensely. Until he said a simple ‘hey’ and you yelped embarrassingly loud for a qualified X-woman. Atleast he laughed! Then you were kidnapped by.. what was their name? Oh well, then you escaped, fought apocalypse, Charles lost his hair, which is VERY pertinent, I know. And, well, you were back at the mansion soon enough, students were sat outside on lawn, huddled up as, mind you, it was totally broken down and needed SERIOUS repair. Which leads us to here, you and your friends(who are literally all teens which is.. yeah) went to the mall to pass time and buy new clothes after losing all of the old ones in the explosion, an activity you loved doing with Jean and Jubilee.. until now. You were browsing a store with said girls, grabbing a top, you held it infront of you.

‘’Is this cute?’’

You ask Jubilee, the top was simple in itself, a baby blue tank top with an embroidered yellow lightning bolt. It kinda reminded you of Peter..

‘’Yeah, that is really cute, BUT-‘’

Jubs says and snatches the top, putting it in your basket

‘’WHEN are you gonna make your move on Peter?!’’

The girls asks eagerly. Your cheeks immediately burn up in embarrassment

‘’make a move on him? W-what are you talking about?!’’

you chuckle nervously, looking away at the clothing racks. Jean chuckles from behind you, which startles you, just a little bit

‘’Come on now, Y/N. You definitely love him, you did since… 1973! C’mon!’’

The redhead exclaims, in the middle of the store, catching a lot more attention than your liking. Goddam telepath. You didn’t know what to say, really. You definitely wanted to date him, more than anything! But you just felt like Peter didn’t feel the same

‘’Okay, okay! Y’know what? I’ll tell him tonight, at the fair! But I bet you 50 bucks he doesn’t even like me a little bit!’’

You say as you walk to the cashier. Jean shoots Jubilee a look. ‘HE IS LITERALLY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER, GUESS IM WINNING 50 BUCKS’ she tells the other girl telepathically, which makes her vibrate with a giggle.

Now, at the fair, you were scared shitless. You made a promise, you gotta keep it now, huh? You’re sure Peter‘ll be sweet if he rejects you, yeah! You sigh, snapped out your thoughts when Jean and Jubilee dragged you to an attraction, giggling the whole way, which left Scott and Peter alone. The former elbows Pietro in the ribs, hard

‘’So, when are you finally gonna ask her out?’’

Scott teases, that irritated smirk on his face

‘’What? Pssfghhsss- what are you talkin’ bout?’’

the silver-haired man plays dumb, shoving his hands in the pocket of his silver jacket

‘’C’mon, dude. I know you like her— you’re literally staring her as we speak!’’

Oh, yeah, he was… it wasn’t his fault you were so gorgeous, for Christ sake! You were literally his dream girl come true, can you blame him?

‘’Okay, yeah, maybe I do like her a little. But she has great taste in music and a bitchin’ haircut! And.. pretty eyes’’

He mumbles the last part as he watched you settle in right between Jean and Jubs in the attraction, laughing your head off at something Jubilee said. God were you pretty

‘’Dude, I see the world trough a red visor and even I can see it’s definitely more than ‘liking’’’

Scott huffs, crossing his arms and looking ahead

‘’You should win her a prize, y’know, a plushie’’

The brunette shrugs. Yeah, he was right, he should

‘’Mh.. maybe I will’’

Peter grins. A few minutes later, the ride end and you stumble out with the other two, using Jubilee as support as you giggle, totally dizzy and giddy

‘’You’re not gonna throw up, are you?’’

Jubs quizzes and you shake your head no. Phew, that’d be embarrassing. You all continue walking as a group until Jean drags Scott over to the game booths. Scott grin in Peter’s direction in a ‘you go dude!’ Fashion. Jubilee catches on and lean closer to you

‘’I’m gonna go grab us a coke, okay’’

She pats your back and speed walks away before you can even turn around, leaving you with Peter. An awkward silence fall between you two until he speaks up

‘’hey, princess, want me to win you a prize? I’m pretty damn good at that game over there’’

He grins in his usual boyish manne— PRINCESS?? That was new, wow, why did that make butterfly flutter in your stomach..

You nod quickly with flushed cheeks and follow him when he grabs your hand and drags you to the booth. The game was easy, pop 10 balloons in one go and win a plushie. Easy enough. Peter walks up and pays the bored worker, who just hands him the 10 darts with a poker face. Shit job, huh. Surprisingly, he didn’t use his mutation. Which is pretty good considering the setting. He picks up a dart and shoot. POP, one balloon down. POP, two. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. Yay! Free plushie, considering-all-the-ones-you-had-got-Fucking-cremated! You giggle and jump on the ball of you feet as Pietro gets handed the big stuffed snow leopard plush. He turns to you and hands it over

‘’There you go, N/N’’

He grins when you hug him tightly

‘’Thank you Pietro!’’

You pull back and turn around when you hear your name, running over to Jubilee with two bottles of coke in hand. She raises an eyebrow at you then look over at Peter, giving him a proud thumbs up and a wink of approval. Which— to him — was a little perculiar, but honestly… you wouldn’t expect less from a girl name jubilation. Jean and Scott arrived back themselves a few minutes later, empty handed. Scott shrugged, his excuse being that his visor was at fault. Though Jean whispered that he just sucked ass at the games. You continued walking around the park, going on rides, when 23:00 hit. Many people left but you decided to do one more ride, the Ferris wheel. You still had an hour before it closed, so why not? You all went in the line, and when it was your turn, the teen boy there let Jubilee, Scott and Jean in a carrier, but told you to wait for the next one because the people limit was 3. So now, you were stuck, alone with Peter. Your crush for the past TEN FUCKING YEARS! Great. You took a quiet, deep breath and slipped in the carrier next to Peter, setting your plushie on the seat across from you both.

‘’Hey’’

The speedster jokes, grinning ear to ear. You smile back, resting your chin on your knees

‘’Hi’’

You look to your right when the Ferris wheel starts moving. You had the view on the lake beside the fair, where fireworks’ll be lit in a few minutes

‘’So, enjoyed your night, N/N?’’

He asks, cocking his head to the side

‘’Yeah, I loved it. Thanks for winning me a plushie too’’

You grin at him, full teeth, eyes scrunched and lit by the moonlight

‘’Hey, nothing less for my favorite friend’’

You laugh and continue talking, the wheel slowly moving your carrier up and up until it stops, right at the top. As if planned, fireworks goes off and you shoot around, smile as wide as your eyes as you stare out the glass at the colorful beam of light, reflecting on your face. But Peter’s stuck, stuck staring at you in awe. You looked absolutely gorgeous. He couldn’t look away, not that he wanted to

‘’It’s so.. Beautiful!’’

You chirp in amazement

‘’ Yeah.. gorgeous, even’’

Peter mumbled, still very much looking at you. You turn to look at him with a crooked grin and a raised eyebrow

‘’You good, dud—!’’ Peter cut you off by grabbing your cheeks and leaping foward, pressing his lips to your so gently. You froze, arms to your side until you brain fully apprehended what happened. Peter kissed you… PETER KISSED YOU!! You melt against him, arms coming up to rest your hands on his gently, smiling into the kiss. You were content, stretch that, you were ecstatic! Even when he pulled away, and.. whooped, huh. Strange way to react to your first kiss with a girl.. why did you find that cute? You laughed aloud, along with him. He swept you in a one armed hug

‘’That was the best decision I’ve made ALL NIGHT, woo’’

He chuckled and squeezed you against his lovingly, silence falling between the two of you until the end of the ride.

When you stepped out you were greeted by your three friends waiting for you, Jean grinned and looked over at Jubilee, who’s jaw dropped. You glance at Peter to find a lipstick mark over his lip. You snort and quickly join the girls while Pietro joins Scott, who’s deliberately holding back laughter, much to Peter’s confusion. As you’re walking out the fair, Jean leans in and whispers;

‘’You owe me 50 bucks’’

[clawsmiic]

"Good, 'cause I want you to be my Dad."

Repost from other account

1.5k words

CW: Domestic fluff, she/her use, afab reader, mentions of Billy's death (briefly), Billy Hargrove illegitimate child, mention of marriage and unconventional proposal

Early Winter 1989

The sound of clattering filled the kitchen as Eddie quickly steadied the bright green bowl on the counter. A pair of wide innocent blue eyes look up at him from the floor as he shushes him softly.

"We can't make too much noise. It's too early. You'll wake up your mom." A small giggle comes from the small boy next to him as he gave him a pointed look.

"Sorry Eddie." He says, continuing his giggling as he trots over to the lower cabinet next to the fridge, ninja turtle slippers dragging against the cold linoleum.

Eddie watched the little one open the cabinet and grab a box of off-brand sugary cereal almost as big as he was. His little waves of hair bobbing as he carried it over to the counter, he set it on the hard surface, climbing onto the chair propped up against the counter next to Eddie.

"Not too much now. We don't want you hopping off the walls when we go out in the snow later." He pouts, pouring the cereal into his bowl, Eddie supervising, as he knew this kid loved doing everything himself.

"Good?" His little face looked up at him for approval. Eddie nods, watching the kid go put the box back.

"Go turn your cartoons on, I'll get the milk."

This became the normal Saturday morning routine every time Eddie stayed at his girlfriend's apartment. Being woken up at 7am by her son Oliver, mostly called Ollie, just to watch cartoons together and eat cereal in front of the TV.

Not the most extravagant tradition, but it was something he enjoyed regardless.

Time passes as they dine on their bowls of cereal and watch the newest episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ollie sets his bowl down on the floor, looking up at Eddie seated in his usual recliner. Enjoying his own bowl of cereal.

"Eddie?" The curly-haired musician stopped his chewing to look down at the boy. He looks nervous almost as he fiddles with the buttons on his pajama shirt.

"Yeah kid?"

"You love my Mom, right?" Eddie raises an eyebrow, a soft clank breaks the silence as he drops his spoon in his bowl.

"Of course I do. I love your Mom a lot." Ollie nods, looking back at the television, watching an ad for some brand new toy coming out soon.

"And you love me, right?" The brunet sat forward, having a feeling he knew exactly where this conversation was going.

"I love you just as much as your Mom, Bud." Eddie studied the profile of the little boy's face as he turned to look at the older man.

"Are you going to marry my Mom?" Eddie's eyes went wide, his mouth slipping open with a shocked 'uhh', Ollie patiently waiting for his answer.

"I'd like to some day if she wants to..." He chuckled nervously, watching the little boy nod and look back at the TV again as his cartoon came back on.

"Good, 'cause I want you to be my Dad."

Eddie stared at the kid, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. Nerves started to get the better of him as he started to dwell on the thought.

He never really pictured himself being the father type because he didn't really grow up with a Dad. Just his Uncle Wayne when he took him in at a young age after his own father went to prison.

He knew what it was like growing up without a father, and he knew about the situation of your son's biological father dying years ago in the Hawkins Mall fire. Right before you could even tell him you were pregnant.

This poor kid would never get to know his real dad, but by how you described the guy maybe it was for the best.

"You really want me to be your old man?" Ollie turned again, looking up at Eddie. His beautiful little blue eyes gleamed at the thought, making Eddie almost smile.

"Yeah, you're fun, and you want to spend time with me. I like when you play with me, or we watch cartoons together. And you make my Mom happy." Eddie finally smiled.

He knows he makes you happy, you tell him enough. But having a child notice just makes him feel all the more appreciated for his efforts.

"I'm trying to do good by you and your Mom." He knows what it's like to not have a father. Even if this kid technically isn't his son yet, he'd be damned if he didn't treat him like he was.

"You're both very important to me and some day I hope to be your Dad. You're a good kid, and I'd be proud to be your old man."

"You can't be my Dad right now?" Eddie tenses up, knowing it really isn't exactly that simple.

"It's not that easy. Plus, that would be a question only your Mother could answer."

"What question?" Both of their attentions turned to the hall doorway. There you stood, half asleep and confused with a coffee cup in your hands.

"Can Eddie be my Dad?"

Your eyes go wide staring at your son in disbelief. You knew he adored Eddie since you two started dating a little over a year ago. Introducing them to each other and becoming inseparable almost immediately.

It was obvious that your boyfriend would make a fantastic dad for your son, but you still didn't want to rush things with him and risk scaring him away.

"Oliver, honey. It's not that simple. From a legal standpoint..." Your lips draw to a line as Ollie stares at you, still innocent as ever. Glancing at Eddie, he just smirks. All the cocky son of a bitch can do is egg on the question.

"I think he really wants you to answer the question babe." Glaring at him, you think of exactly what to say, getting the idea to turn this around on him.

"For him to be your Dad, we'd have to get married. And that would mean Eddie would have to ask me to marry him." Ollie looks back at Eddie as the Metal heads face drops.

"Would you marry my Mom?"

"In a heartbeat." He answers, chocolate brown eyes locking on you.

Ollie looks back and forth between you two, little curls bouncing on his head as it bobs back and forth. His attention quickly turns towards the TV, hearing the turtles talking and remembering he was watching cartoons.

Eddie looks up at you, shrugging and patting his lap as he moves the cereal bowl off his lap and onto the side table next to him.

"C'mere sweetheart." Walking over, he takes your coffee and sets it down right before you sit across his lap. Tattooed arms wrap around your calves and waist.

"I'm sorry if he blindsided you. He's just been asking me about Billy a lot lately and... I guess since he started preschool he just sees other kids with their parents." His grip tightens on you, your head going to his shoulder as he chuckles.

"It's fine babe. I'm just a little surprised. I knew he liked me just not this much." You scoff, his head turning towards you. A soft smile on his lips as he admires your face.

"He's nuts about you, Eddie."

"Gets it from his Mom." You laugh, tapping him on his chest, sliding it up his collarbone and behind his neck past his mountain of messy curls.

"And I don't need some stupid papers to call him my kid. If he wants me to be his Dad, I'm his Dad... I'm just a little on edge about the whole thing, being a good role model."

"You already are. I don't see him causing issues or breaking any laws." Eddie grins, knowing what you mean, but that same sinking feeling won't go away.

"He's 4. I think the most I've seen him fuss about was going to bed at 8. I guess I just don't want to be like my old man, swore I'd never be like him."

"You aren't your father, Ed. Far from it. You love Ollie and treat him like pure gold compared to what you've told me about how you were treated. I'd be happy for you to be his Dad when the time comes."

Eddie beams, his chest going warm with love and endearment. You lean in to kiss him on the lips sweetly. Returning the kiss, he pulls you closer to his body. Almost like he's trying to become one with you.

"You think the Town Hall's closed because of the snow storm?" He asks, pulling away from the kiss.

"Maybe?" You look at him inquisitively, trying to figure out what he's thinking. "Why?"

Eddie moves his arm from around your calves, pulling off one of his many rings and looks at you.

"I know it's just a piece of paper, but I really do want to marry you. So, why don't we go down to the courthouse first chance we get an make it official. Make you Mrs. Munson. Would you like that?" Holding up the ring, he gestures it towards you.

You stare in shock, knowing your answer as you take the ring and slide it on your finger. The black band was way too big for your digits, but you didn't care. A rush of warmth washes over you, making your cheeks burn and your smile brighter.

"I'd like that."

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on the Jedi in 'The Clone Wars'

Y'all have asked, and Dr. Meat Muffin might be a disgruntled old hag that chugs too much Trader Joe’s bourbon and doodles too much subpar art, but she keeps her promises!

Just so y’all know, if you’re a major character (Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, etc) you keep your name, because it was drilled into Doug’s head over 8 seasons of Clone Wars and the movies. Everyone else, though, Doug gave up and created his own catchphrases for them.

CW: This one's not as spicy as Doug's previous rants regarding Star Wars, but y'all know if y'all know. "It'll all come out in the wash."

--------------------------------------

Plo Koon: Ah, Shrimp Daddy. He looks like a shrimp that’s been boiled and left in the sun after a potluck. But my wife LOVES him, she says he has the nicest voice and she wishes he’d narrate some books. I loved him too, he was my favorite. That scene where he tells his clone boys in space that they’re important to him? Ah great. They should have him lead HR meetings. 

Aayla Secura: Babe-the-Blue-Jedi. They sent her away from the Temple because Yoda didn’t want that hotness distracting everyone. Is she and Miguel (Bly?!) dating? They are, right? 

Kit Fisto: Reggae Swamp Thing. Tell me that boy don't look like he lives in the Atchafalaya and bangs on the steel drums all day. I wonder if he stole those shorts from Michael Phelps. He’s cool but does he need to have a tank to swim in on his ship? Does he have gills? I need more info on this guy. 

Adi Gallia: Storm’s Cousin. Doesn’t this chick look like her? She does, right? Maybe she's a Jedi cause she can't control the weather. Didn’t Maul’s brother Saul impale her on his horns and that’s how she died?* Why didn’t Maul do that to Obi-Wan? Maul was obsessed with Obi-Wan, do you think it’s because he had a crush on him after he sliced him in half?

(Doug also ships Obi-Wan with Maul now? IS THERE ANYONE WHO DOUG DOESN'T SHIP OBI-WAN WITH?!)

Shaak-Ti: Ahsoka’s Aunt. They’re totally related. (“No, they’re not.” “Says who?” “Um, EVERYONE?!”) She’s cool, nice to the clone boys. I like her horns. 

Saesee Tiin : Angry Bull Boy. He looks like a minotaur whose daddy left him at a Wal-Mart instead of the Labyrinth after drinking too much.

Deepa Billaba: My Coworker Anu. Seriously! She looks JUST LIKE HER. I even texted her a screenshot, and she used that as her Slack Channel picture for the longest time. Nice lady, she's a good master to Lil Kanan. Hm, Lil Kanan sounds like a rap person my niece would listen to.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Mutant-Mall-Santa. Look me dead ass in the eye and tell me the man don’t look like he was supposed to hand out presents and ask kids what they want for Christmas and ended up hanging out in toxic waste instead. He's a snotty asshole, I don't like him, he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.

Luminara Undali: Lady-in-Drape. She’s a green lady, and she wears a drape. Meat Muffin, I'm tired and it's about to snow.

Barriss Offee: Little Lady-in-Drape. Man, she was awful, but she had good points, ya know? Kind of like Darth Maul. Do you think Darth Maul and Obi-Wan ever dated? Or would Obi-Wan’s boyfriend get jealous? 

Quinlan Voss: College-Hippie-Boy. Doesn’t he just look like one of those goofs that fart around with hackysacks all day long? I'd buy weed from him if he was selling, he looks like an exporter and consumer, if you know what I mean.

Even Piall: Dobby the House Jedi. Man he looks like he was on his way to help Harry Potter or something and ended up in a bathrobe with a light saber. Ah well. 

*= Savage is ‘Saul’ and Feral is ‘Paul’. So it’s Maul, Saul, and Paul. I strained a muscle laughing when I got this. 

Tagging my Redneck Doug stans here! @amalthiaph @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @thecoffeelorian @merkitty49 @megmca @skellymomam I missing anyone?

Let me know if I missed any Jedi, those were the ones that came up that Doug didn't immediately recognize.

[maddys-nerd-blog]

My first full year back on Tumblr after ten-ish years of being in a rough spiral. It’s been a really bad year for me; I’ve lost so much, I’ve been back and forth with stress, I’ve had three breakdowns and I’m still struggling to come to terms with the pain I’ve been dealing with.

But thanks to TMNT… I think I’ve found a reason to be happy.

I’ve met so many wonderful people because of these turtles. My closest friends— bless their hearts— have indulged my crazy love for this franchise by seeing Mutant Mayhem with me three times in theaters AND countless reruns since it came out digitally. I went to the American Dream Mall for the first time ever just for the TMNT rides. And I’ve made so many friends through this series.

But above all else, I got to interact with and befriend so many cool people and artists. It warms my heart that people are interested in my silly AU and fanfics. I’m glad I came back to Tumblr. And I’m even more glad I rediscovered the turtles 💚

I just wanted to take this time to shoutout some of the phenomenal artists/ people I admire cuz they definitely deserve the support and love!

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @lameboobah @tmnt-tychou @wasted-and-ready @figuringitoutasigoalong @thecomfortable @mermmarie @angelicdavinci @pumpkinpie59 @fabuloustrash05 @imagine4000 @x-i-l-verify @indieyuugure

Thank you all for being inspirational and for reminding me why I love the TMNT so much. You’re all amazing!!

From the bottom of my heart, Merry Christmas 🎄

[lots-of-regret-right-here]

Urghhr I am begging for DE to give us the answers to some of the big questions about the Hex- including some more in depth things because I REALLY need to know more about them all since I am currently more or less free styling it all or "ill roll with this for the sake of convenience until 1999 comes out" Is Quincy a cuddler when you romance him? Does he prefer showing off as a way of courtship??? Aoi??? If we romance Aoi is Arthur going to die in a corner or go "probably better than me" or is it a "they are in love but you can technically buckle into the others seat instead since it isnt official yet"??? Is Eleanor the "digusting kiss option" they mentioned? Will she get a mutant tongue or something because some teeth do not seem enough to call it disgusing IMO Amir? L E T T I E???? please???? they all barely have any lines and the demo only shows Arthur and Aoi in a sorta restricted setting (an exterm mission) so we only have a little to go off on besides the mall lines and their dossiers etc but those only tell us SOME parts and leave most of it open which is both good for headcanons but those will get probably blown up once 1999 actually drops anyway I am literally blowing up as an atom bomb and taking the entire world with me i swear to sol