#silly Jakob

[krotiation]

the CEOs should have an annual trip together ft. katagawa jr and jeffrey blake bc they're corporate girlies too

[turtlespancakeart]

the narzissenkreuz quartet is sooooo normal you guys trust me

[jiraiangelkaori]

@literally-denji don't get ICE raided in America bru then who's gonna talk to me about random shit and force me to watch Chainsaw Man 😡

[snakesanderson]

x

[depivis]

I drew the Eilander kids on a Merci box and then redrew them digitally!! They're so silly man I love them.

[voided-selfships]

Wait a second, that ain't right-

[TAGLIST]

@fagthesis @comfycozycirrus @ghost--girlfriend @kylilah @arothroughtheheart-selfship @lovebandit42069 @love-birds-stuff @permafrown @cherry-bomb-ships

[mothsgotghosts]

Dancing and spinning around teehee I am cringe but I am free (makes an au that revolves around my favorite character/those characters living)

Anyway one of my favorite things to draw rn is goofy ass redraws of silly photos w my au so. Yippee idk

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

here's my personal body type headcanons 4 these two weird old guys :3

wainwright:

upwards pointing triangle

sharp, slimmer shoulders. generally quite angular

fat and hairy. this man is a bear who drinks alcohol likes good food and doesn't leave the house

not many non-surgical scars aside from a ton of gunshots (old, from various sources) and a radiation scar (new-ish, from a cov smg)

fancy ass inverted t top surgery. he's rich he definitely would

alistair:

downwards pointing triangle

wider shoulders but more rounded

muscular but not jacked by any means. there's still some fat cushioning it and he would never dehydrate himself

so many scars. life of adventure etc etc

no top. at this age he doesn't give a fuck anymore. it's not like he has chest dysphoria or any issues passing - if he wears a sports bra (which he usually does, can't have your mammaries flopping around while on the hunt) it just looks like he has pecs under whatever shirt he's wearing

and a bonus for those intrepid enough to look under cut:

[skitskatdacat63]

I love ye olde nicknames where it's either something genuinely cool like "The Universal Spider" or "The Last Knight" or "Heart of Steel," but there's an equal or even greater amount of boring ass ones like "Jakob the Rich" or "Philip the Handsome", like damn did you even try?

[barringtonishigh]

having an Ultra Q moment

[criitterbug]

SILLY GUY PLAYDATE

(rebekah belongs to @wainwrightjakobshammerlock, and this is art for @organicbabybattles!)

[m3m3shadow]

One thing that's been on my mind is how android are Aporia (and by extension the Tenors), Antinomy, and Paradox?

My personal take is that Antinomy is an android in a sense similar to that of Synths of Fallout 4 since he's able to eat and drink. Fully passes for human in every way, but there is evident cybernetics and robotics inside of him. Sorta Gen 3 synth but not at the same time. Since he was closest to Z-one, he got the most special treatment when getting his android body.

Aporia and the Tenors are your classic Androids that are fully cybernetic underneath the artificial skin and armor. They can eat and drink too, but the process is much more complicated and too scientifically for my puny dumbass brain to properly explain. (I HC Primo, despite what he says, really likes strawberries and rarely can be seen snacking on them when Lester and Jakob aren't in the same room as him. His mind is fucking BLOWN when one introduces him to toppings, especially whipped cream toppings.)

Paradox is also akin to Antinomy, being built similar to a Gen 3 synth, but with one key difference: since his particular mission was to go back in time and turn Pegasus into the highest quality Dragon Food and if it were successful would p much wipe him from existence a la his namesake, his body wasn't built to last as long as Antinomy's. So because of this, he usually needs maintenance at some point in my AUs where he lives, and that leads to a whole heap of shenanigans I won't go into right now.

[felikatze]

i've had dwyer for .2 seconds but i support his journey to smashing his father's head in with a coffee cup

[laslow]

a kiss placed on the back of the hand as a greeting !

" no, you're mistaken, " jakob speaks as if he were instructing. little does he know, he is the one without the expertise here. "i want you to correct my form, you see. i know dancing may not be your forte, but it's been some time since i have truly done anything remotely traditional to nohrian dancing. i hadn't even participated in the ball. . ."

a dismissive wave. "i will not ask for you as my partner," in fact, it's far easier to practice the motions by yourself. who knows if laslow knows how to dance ? "but, surely, you know a thing or two about what looks awful or not ? i really can't fathom being less in any form of etiquette. i'll begin."

hand takes ahold of laslows wrist gently, a quick peck on the back of his hand - before taking a few paces back. "and immediately after that, i suppose it was . . . ah ! right," a nod of affirmation. "you side step here, and then . . ."

it looks very average, but he's trying!

international kiss day 2024!

He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, doing his utmost to remain professional. Jakob so rarely asks for help--scaring him off by gloating would be a poor reaction.

But maybe Laslow can get away with a little teasing. As a treat.

"Why, Jakob, is there a special lady you're eager to impress?" Laslow waggles his eyebrows, uncrossing his arms as Jakob speaks. "And not to worry! I happen to know a few things about dancing. One picks up so many tidbits in the pursuit of love."

Traditional Nohrian dancing isn't that complicated, anyway. They favor precise movements over a more natural flow, but it's still beautiful.

The kiss surprises him. It shouldn't, given that Jakob will follow etiquette unto death. Laslow just wasn't expecting the entire experience. His hand hangs in the air for another moment before he retracts it, attention now shifting to the butler.

Naga, Jakob's stiff. Even by Nohrian standards. The steps are all correct, but his timing is a half-beat off. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little practice.

"Alright, not bad at all! My first piece of advice? Relax your shoulders. Keep a slight bend in your knees, like when you're throwing a dagger." Laslow assumes first position. "You should move elegantly from step to step, like so..."

Side step, forward, back, side, forward again. He moves with the confidence of someone who isn't consciously thinking about footwork. "See? Nohrians favor posture and precision over all else. It's a little boring, sometimes, but it's never a bad thing to keep to the basics."

[kanasbinwriting]

Headcanons for Jacob Alden as a new dad?

JAKOB AS A DAD HEADCANONS

Thank you so much for your request! I apologise for the long wait. I hope you enjoy my headcanons either way!

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- He never thought that having and raising a child would be easy, but he didn't think it would be THAT challenging

-He insisted on being the one who has to get up when your child's crying at night, but he fails miserably so you have to take over anyway.

-He isn't good with comforting crying children

- He would be a bit too overprotective of your kid, but that's probably no surprise

-He gladly takes over the cooking as you're recovering if you didn't adopt the kid

-No matter how much time passes, he will never get over the fact that he has a CHILD with YOU

-He sometimes gets weird about it so you just turn around and act as if nothing's going on

- He loves to share his hobbies, so he'll definitely talk their ear off with random fish and movie facts even though your child doesn't understand anything he's saying

-He swears that they do though

-He's 100% against giving your child an iPad

-  He tried to calm your child with jazz once, which didn't work at all for some reason, so you had to step up and put on some of your music (plus points if it was metal). Let's just say that the child comes after you when it comes to music taste

- He was a bit bummed at first but now he finds it silly

-He loves watching you interact with your guys child and often spaces out as he watches you

- I think he wouldn't really care what gender your child has, but I think he would prefer a son a bit more

- He has his camera always ready to take pictures of every minor accomplishment of your child

-You sometimes catch him hunched over as he holds his camera against your child's face as they just sit around

- "What are you doing...?"

"Pshh! They slightly moved their foot to the left, look!"

- He loves to watch movies with you and your child and you have more movie nights as your child gets older

- He will begin to teach them more obscure facts about movies when they're older

- He would love to go fishing with them someday

- He'll support your child's hobby no matter how 'weird' it might be

-He hopes that your child will have the same interests as him so he can teach them more about it

-I think he will find enjoyment in doing things together with his child like cooking and cleaning

-He would never dare to hit or emotionally hurt your child

-There will be slight manipulation though

-He wouldn't be afraid to threaten some kid if they ever thought of bullying your child

-Nevertheless I think he would be a good dad

[im-a-wh0r3]

fuck it, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands and write a fic about James Logan ‘Wolverine’ Howlett x reader. I intend to make this a long-ass series, lmk if you’d like that. I’m gonna do it anyway but would like to know if anyone would read it.

I haven’t written anything in like 4 years so it might start a little shitty so bear with me 🙏

Second Chance

Pairing: James Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Magneto’s sister!Reader

friends to lovers to strangers to enemies to frenemies to friends to lovers (not all in 1 chapter dw)

Warnings: Historical inaccuracy (I’m not a historian pls 😩), afab!fem!reader, use of y/n, I’m shit at summaries so it’s gonna feel a bit bullet pointy (lmk if there’s more)

Added notes: considering the reader is Magneto’s sister, that would make her Jewish, you obviously don’t have to be Jewish to read this. I myself am not Jewish, however, I put myself very much into this character and I feel Magneto and myself are very similar personality-wise so making him the brother of the character that I have created made sense to me, their mutations are also kinda similar. What Erik went through during the Second World War isn’t mentioned in this because I felt that was incredibly insensitive of me considering I in no way relate to it, but if I do state anything that causes issue please inform me and I will change it. (tbh I tried not to mention the happenings of the war at all because I know very little about it but still, let me know)

Summary: You were only young when the war began. As a young woman in 1939 you could do very little to assist, so you became a nurse. What you didn’t realise was how much tragedy, heartbreak and indescribable desire this choice was going to bring you.

Word Count: 1.4K

Hope you enjoy <3

Nuremberg 1924, Jakob and Edie Eisenhardt had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl, y/n. You were an independent, strong-willed child, never ill, and learning to walk and talk long before others your age. So, when you were four, and your mother gave birth to your little sister Ruth, a sickly child, your mother’s attention was ripped from you, far more concerned with your sister's wellbeing, with her constantly slipping in and out of illness. Your father was also away a lot with work, leaving you to entertain yourself. You were never fazed much, preferring the company of your family dog, Otto, your playful 2-year-old border collie.

Your strange connection to the earth began to show not long after your little sister was born. Not thinking much at the young age of four, of the strange habit animals had of following you, the way the flames in the fireplace would dance whenever you were near, and how the wind would bend around you. Then, two years later, Max was born. He was just like you, strong-willed and stubborn. You adored your little brother, taking him everywhere with you. Walking with his pram with Otto through the fields that surrounded your home.

As you grew, you began to slowly notice not only your oddities but also your brothers. The way he would drop his knife or fork whilst eating dinner, and then command it straight back to his hand, the voice you thought was in your head, speaking to you as if it was- Otto?! Yes, very odd. You brushed it off, knowing that if you were to tell your parents, they would treat you as if you were a silly little child begging for attention. By the time you were fourteen, however, it was far too noticeable to just push aside. The flames began to roar in the fireplace, the voice which you refused to believe was Otto began becoming far too clear, and even the spiders you would remove from your house began to sound as if they were shouting at you. At least your brother had calmed down, with him being eight you supposed his childlike lack of care had faded away. One less problem to deal with.

A year later, the war began. Your father had insisted upon you taking your brother and sister to England with you, where you would be staying with your uncle in the countryside. Ruth came along easily, Max on the other hand refused to leave your mother and father, too afraid to be apart from them. After days of arguments, your parents gave in, allowing just you and your sister to travel to England, ensuring that Max would be safe with them. The following day, your bags were packed and you were ready to part from the only home you had ever known. You said your goodbyes and reluctantly waved your home farewell.

“Promise me they’ll be okay” Ruth pleaded, snapping you away from your train of thought.

“They’ll be alright Ruthie” you gave her a half smile, only half believing your own words. “Mother and father promised, remember?” you continued.

She gave a curt nod, continuing the silence.

Your life in England was different, to say the least. Your uncle Erich was a stoic man, never caring much for children, though you and your sister tried to do your best by him as thanks. At the age of 16, you left high school and began a nursing training program, in hopes of aiding those fighting in the war.

The three years were gruelling. The war had disrupted your schooling, having to break during your travels, leaving you behind the other trainees. You refused to let that hinder your progress, you feared for your family every day, the least you could do was help those who could be helped. As awful as the past three years had been, you made it through your training, and eventually, on the 10th of June 1944, you arrived in Normandy, to assist your wounded troops.

The medical tents are awful, to say the least. They’re cramped, sweaty and reek of... men. You make your way to the end of the tent and are greeted by a tall, tanned, gorgeous man. He seems unscathed, lying comfortably in one of the beds.

“Hey there soldier” you greet him. His deep brown eyes meeting yours. “Anything I can do for you?” you continue, eyeing him over once more.

“You tell me bub” his Canadian accent catches you off guard. “They sent me in here, told ‘em I was fine” There’s a slight humorous tone to his voice.

“I’ve seen all the bloodshed out there” you counter. “You trying to tell me you went through all that with not even a scratch to show for it?” he grins.

“Guess I’m just indestructible” he shrugs.

“Or just very lucky” you argue. “Well, if you’re completely fine I’d appreciate it if you could leave the space for someone who needs it” you give him a tight smile, not exactly wanting the beautiful stranger to leave, but needing to put your job first.

“I don’t see anyone out there waiting” he retorts. “James Howlett” offering you his hand.

“Y/n” you ignore his outstretched arm, staring quizzically at him.

“Well, Miss y/n” he stands. “It was a pleasure. I hope to be seeing you again” he grins at you once more and begins making his exit.

“I hope not” you shout to him, in hopes he can hear you, smiling quietly to yourself.

You continued your work for the next few days, aiding men with injuries far worse than you had seen before. Then, after the few days that followed, the stranger that you now knew as James, was back in your care once again, and just like the last time, you discharged him. It became routine, every few days, you would find James lying in one of your beds, completely unharmed. You would discharge him after a quick checkup, and then a few days later you’d find him lying there yet again, like clockwork. You began to form a friendship with the impenetrable soldier, dismissing his flirtatious remarks with witty underhand comments. The banter between the two of you came easily, taking jabs at one another constantly, and having conversations that came with no struggle. This continued for weeks, his visits becoming more frequent, your conversations once full of banter, now riddled with flirtation.

“Oh c’mon bub” his deep Canadian voice implored you. “You not even gonna check me over? I could be dying” he smirked.

you raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Oh yeah? Where are you wounded sweetheart?” you encouraged. “Here?” you placed a flat hand over his bare chest, slowly dragging it down.

“No.” he stopped you, your heart began to race, redness adorning your cheeks. Had you taken it a step too far, had you read his signals wrong, was he just- the clearing of his throat willed you back from your thoughts.

“Right here” he pointed his finger to his lips. “Heard kissing it better helps” that cocky smirk meeting you once again. He offered you his hand, this time not ignoring it, you outstretched yours. His fingers barely grazed yours, hand slowly rising to your wrist. He grabbed it lightly, giving you time to pull away, when you didn’t, he gave a sharp tug, causing you to topple into him. His eyes locked with yours, a feeling so familiar, and yet in this instance, so foreign. His hand, now placed on your lower back, moving slowly to cup the back of your head, the other grasping your waist. Your hands were firmly placed on either side of his head, unable to move in fear of falling. He slowly pulled himself up, your faces much closer than before. He waited, giving you one last chance to pull away, you didn’t, holding his gaze unwavering. You could feel his breath fanning your face, his stubble tickling your skin.

The kiss was soft. Far from rushed.

He held you gently, as if you were fragile, ready to break at any moment. The kiss didn’t last long, the sounds of the other patients snapping you both back to reality.

“You should go” you whisper into his lips, unable to now meet his gaze.

“I suppose I should” he agrees, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. You stare once again into his brown eyes, the closeness allowing you to see the green specs that litter his irises. “Till next time, yeah sweetheart?” he gives me one last kiss before making his exit.

“Next time.”