#i also think there is something interesting in the idea of jean and bobby dear friends where jean is having a sexuality crisis and coming t

[wellnoe]

thinking about butch lesbian cyclops x men again excuse me. but. if cyclops is out about this during the silver age that kind of dominos into at least both bobby and jean during that time yeah.

[elioetoliver]

loving you is no chore, destiel fic, 2.4k

a childhood friends to lovers fic of sorts, partially inspired by  this twitter exchange, and in which dean learns the value of doing chores

Parents have the remarkable ability to make breaks feel like anything but, Dean Winchester learns, visiting home after his first semester away at college. From the moment he stepped foot back in Lawrence, fresh off the tail end of an excruciating week of finals, he was put to work doing chores.

Dean, pick up your brother from Kevin’s house. Dean, wrap these presents for Ms. Missouri down the road. Dean, be a dear and buy the groceries today. Dean, clean the house. Dean, drop this pie off at Bobby’s and Ellen’s (and don’t eat any on the way!).

One task after another, until finally, finally Christmas eve and Christmas day rolled around, and all Dean was expected to do was eat and drink and spend time with his family.

But then his mother opens his bedroom door early on December 26th, tossing a roll of packing tape on his bed with instruction to “clean out your closet before I get back from work,” and he thinks MIT engineering might be a walk in the park compared to being home. Sure, he might be juggling a 21 hour courseload, a part time job at a garage, and a healthy social life at school, but at least that’s all on his own terms.

But alas, he’s in Lawrence through til the new year, and as such, subject to his parents’ every whim. Which is why he’s staring down a closet filled with clothes and shoes and relics from his past at 8 am rather than sleeping in til noon, as God intended college students to do on breaks.

He finds it between his old middle school soccer bag and the Gamecube he got on his 8th birthday, tucked in the far right corner of his closet’s top shelf. An old disposable camera, never developed. Dean has been shoving shit he didn’t know what to do with on that shelf for years now, can’t possibly begin to narrow down where this camera came from or when he used it – if he even ever did. Maybe it was Sammy’s, or Mom’s or something, packed away on accident and forgotten, lost to the ages.

He puts it in the keep pile, and continues sorting through his closet…

…For all of five minutes. At which point curiosity gets the better of him.

He picks up the little plastic camera, turns it over in his hands again and again, inspecting every inch of it, as though careful scrutiny of its exterior will reveal something about the content within. What could it possibly be? Photos from a weekend fishing with Uncle Bobby? Snapshots of a mundane suburban childhood? Moments from a Christmas from years past?

He must know.

He throws on his dad’s old leather jacket (another discovery from the depths of his closet), and pockets the disposable camera.

“Headed to the drug store,” is all he tells Sammy on his way out the house, “be back soon.”

Any excuse to avoid actually doing chores, right?

He recognizes no one from the photographs.

When he went to collect the pictures from the drug store several days after dropping them off, Dean was on edge with nervous anticipation. His mind had conjured infinite possibilities of moments from his life this disposable would unlock, and having had to wait days to find out, he would not delay uncovering the truth any longer. The moment he sat in the impala, in the store’s lot, he rifled through the photos.

They’re from a family vacation – but not his family’s.

There are shots of sunsets, palm trees, and members of a family all dressed in matching blue floral Hawaiian shirts. All of it looks vaguely familiar – the shirts in particular resonate with him something fierce – but the faces strike up no memory. There’s a smiling couple wearing leis and drinking mai tais, a little boy with shaggy brown hair and a lollipop in his mouth in just about every picture he’s featured in, and a girl a little older than him with sharp eyes and flame-red hair.

Who are these people? How old are these photos? Why were they in Dean’s possession? All of it is completely lost on him.

Until he sees his own face staring back at him from the last photo in the stack.

He’s seven, hair sun-bleached and a sea of freckles across his sunburned face. This is from the dinner cruise his family went on in Hawaii over a decade ago, his mind supplies. There’s a framed picture of him looking just like this next to Sammy down in the living room.

But in this picture, Dean’s got a stupid big grin on his face, and his arm around a boy his age with dark messy hair, bright blue eyes and –bingo– another of the matching Hawaiian shirts.  

Dean remembers him vividly. His name eludes him now, all these years later, but he remembers that he had been sitting at the table next to the Winchesters, and between every course of the meal the two of them wandered around the deck and the dining room and disrupted the other passengers with their incessant, delighted throes of laughter. He remembers how the boy’s blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when Dean said something funny, and how he tilted his head in confusion when Dean made Star Wars references. Most of all, he remembers how the big gummy smile the boy wears in the photo, when Dean saw it in person, made his heart flutter and his knees go weak.

It wasn’t until Aaron Bass kissed Dean in the back of the bus when they were twelve that he felt that again, and was able to recognize that the mystery boy he’d known for one night in his youth was his very first crush. He thought about him still, on rare occasion, and though time had erased his features and the finer details of his personality, Dean never forgot that feeling.

And now, seeing his face again, Dean accepts two truths: 1, he has always had excellent taste; 2, he really wants to know where this kid is now. Part of him wonders, perhaps even hopes, that maybe he hasn’t completely forgotten him, either.

He snaps a picture of the photograph, and tweets it along with the caption: “Hey twitter, I met this guy on a dinner cruise in Hawaii in 2006. We were basically best friends for that night and I never saw him again. I wonder what he’s up to. I need y’all to help me find him so I can see how he’s doing now.”

He's not expecting much success, but he’s got no name or anything else to work with. Probably this is his best shot.

Dean woefully underestimated the power of Twitter.

Three days later, his plea to find the boy from the dinner cruise has been retweeted over 20,000 times, and has amassed several hundred replies from people wishing him luck and asking if he’s found him yet. He’s begrudging the fact that, no, he hasn’t, when he refreshes the page and a new reply appears.

It’s a photo of a man holding a framed picture of his family of 5 in matching Hawaiian shirts. The frame obscures part of his face, but his ethereal blue eyes and messy hair perfectly match those of the boy in the picture, and there’s no doubt in Dean’s mind that it’s him.

Even with part of his face covered, it’s clear that time has been kind to him. He was cute as a kid, but he’s devastatingly handsome now.

“Heard you were looking for me ;)” the tweet says, and the name on the account reads “Cas.”

“Man, you have no idea,” Dean mutters. He retweets Cas’s reply, then scopes out his profile.

He’s barely finished reading Cas’s bio, which proclaims, “Berklee ’22. Apiarist. Star Wars Enthusiast. Expert Napper.” before he’s sliding into his DMs.

“Hey man!” Dean writes. “Glad I found you. Looks like we both go to school in Boston!”

Dean keeps folding his hands on the table in front of him, then unfolding them when, moments later, they go clammy. He keeps fidgeting. And checking the time. He should’ve ordered a calming tea or something, instead of coffee.

Really, he shouldn’t be this nervous. He’s been on lots of dates, and it was Cas who asked him out, having beat Dean to it. They’ve been talking nonstop since Dean messaged him, and he has no reason to expect this encounter will go poorly. Cas is handsome, funny, and easy to talk to. They’ve got loads of common interests, but enough varied ones to keep things interesting. On paper, Cas is perfect.

Dean is terrified he’s gonna blow it. This reunion of theirs feels impossibly significant to him. He has the chance to reconnect with his first childhood crush who, by some miracle, is also into guys and now lives in his city. It’s like the stars aligned to make this happen for him and there’s so much riding on this meeting and so much pressure for it to go well and Dean has never been so nervous in his life.

Cas interrupts Dean’s mounting panic by walking into the coffee shop. His coat collar is popped against the wind, though his cheeks are still flushed pink from the cold. He scans the crowd for Dean, eyes lighting up in recognition when he spots him. He smiles that same big, gummy smile that absolutely besotted Dean as a kid. It has the very same effect now. As he walks over to Dean’s table, he shrugs off his heavy winter coat, only to reveal –

“You’re kidding,” Dean blurts out when Cas reaches the table, which is not at all the fist thing he wanted to say.

Cas raises an eyebrow, and is evidently biting back a grin. He drapes his coat over the back of his chair. “That bad?”

He’s wearing the blue floral Hawaiian shirt. It’s dated and tacky, and it’s wholly ridiculous attire for winter in Boston. But somehow, unfairly, Cas looks good. The shirt is tucked into his skinny jeans, the sleeves are cuffed, and it is unbuttoned about halfway. Anyone else would look like some wasted indie front man wannabe, but Cas looks hot.

And Dean, despite all reason, thinks he might be in love. “No just,” he laughs, “I can’t believe you’re wearing the shirt.”

Cas shrugs, sliding into his chair. “I wanted you to be able to recognize me. Though to be fair this one’s my dad’s. Mine hasn’t fit in a good 10 years.”

“Wearing your dad’s duds to a first date? Real sexy, Cas.”

“Well, you know,” Cas presses his palms against the tabletop, leans forward ever so into Dean’s space, “how long it’s on me it is entirely up to you.” He then leans back into his chair, ever so coolly, like he didn’t just proposition Dean in a busy coffee shop at 11 am.

Dean’s throat goes dry. He wants so badly to divest Cas of the shirt right now, but instead he says: “Later. But first,” he reaches into his coat pocket, and from it produces the envelope of developed photos. He slides them across the table.

Cas picks up the envelope carefully, then flips through the photographs in quiet reverie.

Dean watches as he takes them in, delighted to see Cas beaming as he looks through them all.

“I was so upset,” Cas says, eventually. “I remember getting back to the hotel that night and realizing I didn’t have the camera anymore. I thought I left it on the boat. Thank you. I cannot believe I’m seeing these right now.” He tucks the photos back in the envelope, then, in turn, tucks it into his own coat pocket for safekeeping. He then fixes Dean a look heavy with intrigue and sincerity, “And I cannot believe I’m seeing you again.”

Dean blushes under the weight of his gaze. “Me neither. I’m just sorry it took so long. I didn’t even know I had the camera ‘til a few weeks ago.”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s ok. I’ve got them now. And anyway,” he winks, “I’d say it was well worth the wait.”

Eight months after cleaning out his closet at home, Dean Winchester is hanging up the articles of clothing that survived the purge next to Cas’s Hawaiian shirt in their shared closet in their new Boston apartment. He’s admiring his work when warm, gentle palms cover his eyes. “I want to show you something,” Cas says. He presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. With Cas’s guiding words and careful steps, Dean lets himself be taken into the living room, where he is eventually stopped. “You ready?”

“Born ready, sweetheart.” Dean says. But when Cas takes his hands off Dean’s eyes, reveals his surprise, Dean realizes he was not ready at all. The wall in front of them is covered with framed photos of their friends and family, and at the center of it all is the two of them, seven years old on the dinner cruise.

His heart swells at the sight of it, and he’s overwhelmed, as he often is, by how much he adores this man. He turns around, pulls Cas to him in a desperate, bruising kiss.

Cas pulls away infinitesimally, rests his forehead against Dean’s. “I take it you like it?”

“I love it.” Dean confirms. He kisses Cas’s cheek. “And love you.” His jaw. “So fucking much.” His neck. “Gonna prove it to you, baby.” He palms his boyfriend’s dick through his jeans.

“Later,” Cas says through a moan, and pulls Dean’s hand away. “Later,” he repeats, a bit more sobered and with far more conviction, “I’ll hold you to that. But first we have to unpack the kitchen stuff.” He kisses Dean once more, then saunters off to the kitchen.

There was a time in Dean’s life not long ago when he would have contested that assertion. He’s on break, after all, and only for a few days more. His second year of college starts up Monday. He should be relaxing, for the most part, and only exerting himself to have very noisy, enthusiastic sex with his boyfriend in their new apartment.

But really, he knows he’ll never lament having to do chores again.

In fact, he owes the very best part of his life to them.

[thefinalexperiment]

The Final Experiment Chapter 20: What Now?

A/N: Well, first off, I would just like to make some clarifications. Since this is fanfic, I can do whatever the heck I want with my timelines. That being said, I know that the events of First Class through Apocalypse happened in like the seventies and eighties etc., but in TFE, Jean, Scott, and the other younger ones are all Kaitlynn's age and Alex isn't dead. The older ones like Alex, Hank, Ororo, Charles, etc. are all their FC/Apocalypse age/actors, but Bobby, Rogue, and Pyro all exist as well and are also Kaitlynn's age.

Word Count: 1,336

**WARNINGS**: Use of a patronizing nickname that could be taken as a disrespectful reference to a physical disability, reference to murder.

Previous Parts: 1–2–3–4–5–6–7–8–9–10–11–12–13–14–15–16–17–18--19

@after-avenging-hours @casameanlock @nicolejones412 @dashingdetectivetimelady @myonly-sunshine @my-crazy-hectic-life

Tags:

@mla02 @shamvictoria11 @fanficcrapforme @procrastinatingvirgo @arie-tfw

Walking out of my room, I adjusted my gloves, silently thanking Professor McCoy for the specialized clothing to help suppress my powers. I waved at Logan--none of that “Professor” stuff with him--and continued on my way out to the gardens. At the base of the old tree, my boyfriend sat waiting. It was bit ironic, that tree. See, the very guy in question had accidentally blasted it  to pieces with his powers a while back, but thanks to a mutant with nature powers, dear Professor Xavier’s favorite tree was restored.

“Hey Scott!” I called with a smile.

Looking up, he held his hand out to me. It was a shame that my powers separated us from even just kissing or holding hands, but he seemed cool with the arrangement so I wasn’t going to complain. I had come a long, long way from where I’d started when I first got to the Academy over a year ago.

~One Year Ago~

I woke up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily. Thanks to my new mutations, I immediately noticed several things. First, there were restraints loosely wrapped around my wrists. Second, I had no idea where I was. The most likely deduction was that the Avengers had put me in some sort of SHIELD prison, but something just felt off. I mean, the walls were blue and all futuristic, and it was cool, like I was underground.

I tried to sit up, but was stopped by the restraints. Growling in frustration, I turned my attention towards escape.

“There’s no need for that, Miss Grace.”

The sudden voice in my mind made me jump. It was really strange to hear something that wasn’t my own conscience…

“Get out of my head! Leave me alone… Talk to my face, you telepathic coward. If SHIELD wants to--”

“I am not with SHIELD. Everything will be explained shortly.”

Just then, a panel slid open; a door that disappeared to reveal a scruffy, muscled man who looked like he should be working in a lumbermill. Accompanying him were a tall, sandy blond man with glasses and a woman with a shock-white mohawk.

“Oh wow, so impressive,” I snarked. “Look what not-SHIELD dropped off. A group of freaks to make me feel welcome?” I was throwing up my defenses, trying to assess the situation as I eyed a man in a wheelchair rolling through the door. “Ah, you must be the telepath. Care to tell me the name of this super secret prison?”

“Hey, calm down there, bub,” said the lumberjack.

I responded by cussing him out in Russian. To my surprise, of all people, the timid scientist-looking guy responded with perfect fluency, scolding me for my language.

“I know a guy like you. He’s a hundred-year-old stick-in-the-mud.”

“Ah, I assume you mean Captain Rogers,” said the man in the wheelchair. “He and the others are quite fond of you. They sent you here so we can help you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t be helped.”

Chuckling softly, he replied, “Of course you can.”

“Right, well rather than us agreeing to disagree why don’t you just can it and let me go, Hot Wheels?”

“Hey!” the lumberjack man said sharply. “Show some respect.”

“I think I’d rather stick needles in my eyes,” I muttered. “Or your eyes… That’s an option too.”

“Please calm down…” said the scientist, moving to change my IV. “Look, this serum should neutralize the effects of the biological parasite attached to your DNA. Your mind will clear up a bit here soon. Until then… you should rest.”

“Whatever.”

The woman was quiet through the whole interaction, for which I was glad. I didn’t know where I was, but I wanted out.

Despite my initial hostility, I did start feeling better. Eventually, the scientist, Hank, returned and released the restraints.

“You sure that’s a good idea? I might bite your head off.”

He chuckled. “No, not anymore. You might have a more… prickly personality than before, but I think crazy-psycho murder is off the the table.”

“Great.” I rubbed at my wrists. “So… Now what?”

“Now… Time to meet everyone. Come on.”

So I followed him into a small elevator and then over to an office, probably the Professor’s. Inside, there was a grand bookshelf that made up the back wall. I moved forward and sat in the chair directly in front of the desk.

“How are you now, Miss Grace? Less hostile, I presume?”

I looked up at the telepath as he entered the room. “You’re the Professor of this… school, then? I mean, it has to be a school. Probably a school for mutants… Though that side is definitely secret. Otherwise the anti-mutant groups would’ve nuked this place ages ago.” Glancing around, I noticed the same group of people who had been in the lab before. The lumberjack looking man was watching me with a strange expression. It wasn’t quite curious, but he certainly wasn’t wary. This was a man who wasn’t afraid of anything, but why? His arms were casually crossed in front of his chest as he observed me, as if he were trying to read me like I could read everyone else. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his knuckles flexing as if habitually…

“I’ve never met a feral mutant before…” I continued after only the briefest of pauses. The man’s gaze narrowed, and I turned my attention to Hank. “And you…” I smirked. “Well you’re perfectly beastly, aren’t you?” I’ll admit it, I was just showing off at this point.

“You’ve quite made your point, Miss Grace,” the Professor said, actually looking a bit amused. “The second part of your twofold mutation is quite unique. Though there are two people with mutations rather like your other…”

I paused. “The whole…”

“Yes, that bit.” He wheeled over to the window, motioning for me to stand beside him. When I did, he continued. “I am Charles Xavier, and this is my Academy for Gifted Youngsters… We provide a home for those who are not accepted because of their abilities and a place to safely teach those whose powers are not so easily controlled.”

I nodded, beginning to understand. “And the Avengers think you can teach me. Well I’ll just say it now, you can’t. I know everything there is to know about what I can do, and what I know is that I destroy whatever I touch.”

“You mustn’t assume, Miss Grace. In my experience, mutations are often never what they first seem. Like children, they will grow and change. With you, especially. Since your mutation revealed itself late, it is extremely likely that this is not the full extent of your power. While most mutants would know their complete capabilities by now, you have only begun to scratch the surface.”

“Right…”

“Look kid,” started the lumberjack guy. “You’re definitely not the worst--” He reworded his phrase at a look from Professor Xavier. “The… most difficult case we’ve ever had.”

“Indeed…” the Professor said. “Logan here was quite stubborn as well. I’m sure the two of you will get on like a wildfire.”

I smirked at Logan’s scowl. “Interesting.”

The woman was watching me a little less offensively than before, and Hank was almost smiling.

“Welcome to the Academy then, Miss Grace.”

I tilted my head slightly. “Why do you call me that? Everyone else says ‘Agent’.”

“Because you are not an agent of SHIELD here. You are my student, and from now on, you will act as such. When you are ready to return to the Avengers, you may do so if it is what you wish. But whilst you remain at my school, you will be in the care of my teaching staff, including Logan here, Hank, and our newest addition, Miss Ororo Munroe.” He nodded at each in turn, and the woman gave me sort of a half smile.

Nodding thoughtfully, I glanced out the window to see the students going about their various free time activities. “When do we start?”

Next Part

[kyashidioctober]

The 3000th Millenia: Part 6

My alarm began to blare in my ear and I shut it off. It was Saturday morning and when I realized this I jumped out of bed excited as a kid in a candy store. I immediately began to change from the dress and all the crazy that Ray had dressed me up in. When I had finally taken my dress and makeup off, undone my hair, taking out over a-thousand bobby-pins, and taken a shower I felt refreshed. Like a snake that had shed its itchy and bothersome skin to be "reborn" and be a new creature.

   I walked out into my living room in my white rainbow drip hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath, acid dipped jeans that were rolled halfway up my calfs, and black and white sneakers. My black hair with my, naturally dipped white, a strange anomaly I know honestly I sometimes felt like the main character of an anime, white tips was done up in a ballet bun on top of my head. I had my brown contacts in and my white squiggles covered in foundation. I had also decided to step out of my norm and I put a bit of lip stain on. All in all I looked cute.

   Sorin was passed out on my couch but when I stepped into the room he began to stir. I walked out into the kitchen and turned to look at the lion on my couch. Sorin's eyes scanned over me and my outfit, and he seemed to be mulling over something. Then his head turned to see that the clock on my wall read 7:30 am. A low groan, almost lion like growl, rumbled from his throat.    "Oh sush you fluff butt."    "Wha?"    "I don't know."

   An almost annoyed snarl came from my mouth before I could stop it. Sorin sat up slowly with a concerned face, I was confused why and how that noise had come from me, "did you just, did you just growl at me?" I almost snapped back, 'no, it was a snarl, there's a difference fluff butt!' but thankfully I caught myself before I said anything. "I guess, I didn't mean to, but I did. Anyways would you like to join me?" I said changing the subject quickly, "nice save" I then opened my fridge and grabbed two of my water bottles and made a mental note to fill another two and stick them in the fridge.

   "Join you for what?"    "Well I'm heading to the farmers market, and was wondering if you would like to join me."    Sorin's eyes lit up, "the farmers market! I'd love to join you!!!"    "Whoa, ok calm down bucko, there's not a bomb about to go off is there?"    "No."    "Ok, then lets go." I chuckled tossing him one of the water bottles.    "Hay Måne, could we drop by my house before we go? I don't think it would be a good idea if we went and I looked like I just crawled out of a hole."

~*~*~&~*~*~

   After dropping by Sorins house and finding it in a disarray, with every room in his house occupied, thankfully I didn't see Ray or Ace, we got him a new set of clothes, a navy blue zip up hoodie, with a gold-ish yellow shirt, a pair of jeans, and blue sneakers. We were off to the farmers market. We parked a good few miles away from the farmers market.    "Uhhh Måne I thought we were going to the farmers market."    "We are."    "Then why are we here?"    "Because this is where I drop my car off and then walk to the market then come back."

   Sorin stared at me like I was insane, but I just smiled back at him. Out I leapt with Dolly at my side, and with Sorin trailing behind us. He began to walk down the side walk and I giggled, "wrong way flu-" I shook my head, and stopped myself from continuing that sentence. Sorin turned back to me, "what other why is there?" He questioned. I walked up to a branch that blocked the view of a small path trough the woods. "This way."

   The blond haired boy immediately became interested and walked up to the path, and just like a curious kitten he began to walk down it. I fallowed and walked beside him in the trees, where he walked a path that was well worn and I walked in shrubs and a multitude of plants. The sun shown through the leaves and we became dappled with the shade of leaves. Dolly flew happily amongst other birds and the trees. A comfortable silence washed over us, almost a familiar feel trickled in the air as we walked through the woods.

   "So, what's with the new nickname?" Sorin's voice took on a new tone. It no longer had that childish feel, it sounded softer, older, like this was the real authentic him. "What new nickname?" I chirped playfully, I had no idea what was going on but, it felt comfortable, like slipping on an old used shirt that you loved. Sorin chuckled "you know what nickname, fluff butt, where did you even come up with that?" I decided to embrace the feeling, and let it stay instead of pushing it away. I laughed with him, "I don't know, it just came to me, and it fits. I don't know why." He smiled, and the way the the leaves dappled their shadows on him was beautiful. "Yeah it does, just don't use it around others, got it.~"

   I was about to respond when Sorin slapped his hand over my mouth. I was confused for a moment but he pointed out why. There in front of us sat a bobcat on a bolder. It stared us down with bronze unblinking eyes, and then I felt something nudge my leg. Looking down there was a full grown buck looking at me. I glanced over to Sorin and there were dear all over him, nudging him, sniffing him, one was nibbling at his shoe, and licking all over his face.

   The dear that nudged my leg was now nuzzling my face. I put my hand and it began to lick at it. "So tumbler was right, dear are just forest puppies..." I heard Sorin and looked over to see the mass he had begin to push him to the ground, and once he fell they began to cover his face in kisses. I couldn't help but let a giggle, a real authentic giggle, conger up in my throat and spill out.

   Sorin stopped squirming and looked over at me stunned. I would've made some comment, but I just couldn't stop myself from giggling at the silver eyed boy on the ground with a mass of forest puppies licking his face. My forest puppy began to nudge me closer to Sorin and his mass, and I let him. He licked behind my knee and I collapsed in a fit of laughter. "No, no, not there! Not there! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" The puppies continued to tickle me while at the same time being confused as to why I was laughing.

   I tripped, and the next thing I knew I had fallen on top of my new friend, Sorin. "Oof! sorry" I mumbled into his stomach. Then I noticed it. Sorin had pudge. He didn't have "rock hard abs" like everyone thought he did; Sorin had a little belly!    "Oh my god gmhmhmh"    "What?"    "You've got a little fluff on you!"    "Wha-oh! Yeah of corse I do, why would you think other wise?"    "Do you not realize that everyone in the school thinks that you're a chiseled god?"    "No, I didn't, but now I do.~"

   The bob cat let out some sort of groan like noise, as if it were saying 'oh my god, stop, just no.' "Look you're even making the bob cat cringe at your pick up lines!" All I got from Sorin was laughter. The puppies began their attack again and we were covered in dear kisses. I felt the boy under me quickly wrap his arms around me and hold onto me as tightly as he could. I was surrounded by his scent, and it was dizzying to be surrounded by it. I don't know what took over me, it felt almost instinctual, but I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him as well.

   We laid there for a while then, the dear began to nest around us. Some laid down, others wondered around, and a few of them played with each other. Sorin and I just sat there holding one another. Neither of us know how much time passed but eventually I sat up. My hands were on either side of Sorins head. His eyes were shut, and he was basking in the sunlight that splayed it's self over his face. He had a soft smile, like he had been waiting for this moment for the longest time. I let myself lean over him stopping the sun from touching his face. Slowly his eyes fluttered open, and I was met with those blue contacts, they didn't suit him.

   Our eyes were locked in an almost familiar dance, like we had done this before. Like it was something that we had done a hundred times before. It was comfortable, it was safe, it was; it was right. "Måne?" I could almost feel a connection, a rope that was wrapped around our hearts. "Y-yes?" My heart was out of control, I felt so nervous, so scared, and at the same time something in me told me that this wasn't the first time this had happened. Sorin's hand softly moved from my back to gingerly glide up to m face to hold it with the most delicate touch I had ever experienced.

   That's when I snapped back into reality. That's when the alarm in my head started blaring screaming at me, 'wake up Måne! That's enough!' I almost didn't listen to it. I almost let him draw me in like the dangerous siren he was. Wrenching myself away from his grasp from everything that had just happened I leapt up. "C-Come on! We've got to get to the market before it closes!" I stammered out and carefully stepping around the dear I rushed down the path, and left Sorin laying there with the dear. I couldn't help myself, I listened in on his thoughts.

   "Wh-What? Wait what? Ummmmm, what! Who cares about the market! What about what was happening between us just now! What about that moment, that feeling and what was going on! She was completely into it! I could tell she was into it, she wanted to just as much as I did! Then why did she pull away? Why is she leaving? Why is she denying me, why can't I get her to remember?

   I froze and whipped around my face pail, fearful, surprised, stunned. "What? What do you mean?! What do you mean Sorin?! What do you mean remember?!?!?!" I howled at him in my mind. Sorin had sat up by now, and his face almost immediately reflected my own.    "You were reading my thoughts?!"    "Y-yes, but what do you mean?! What do you mean remember?! Remember what!!"    "Calm down, it's ok, and I only know a little bit, you'll have to ask the moon for the rest of the details-"    "Ask the moon?! Sorin that makes no sense." I snarled.

   We both froze. I snarled. I snarled like a real animal wold, like a dog. Sorin stood up and carefully walked up to me. Another low snarl bubbled from my throat as he took a step closer. He stopped and put his hands up, "it's ok, you don't need to put your guard up." I was stunned, I had no idea what was happening to me, and what was going on. The messy haired boy hesitantly put his hand on my cheek. I ripped my face away from his hand, crossed my arms over my chest with a huff, and growled. "Oh, come now Måne. Pouting?" I glared over at him, "I'm not pouting." I huffed and my cheeks puffed up.    "Yes you are."    "No I'm not."    "Yes you are.~"    "No."    "Yes.~"    "No."    "Yes.~"

   Finally I snapped "NO! IM NOT!" Sorin took a step back, and then we heard it. A loud CREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK! then a low rumble and CRASH! We both turned around to see a tree had been split in half and had fallen right where the dear had been. A strange black smoke faded from where the dealing blow had been made. The dear had ran off, thank goodness, but the bob cat looked over at me as if I had just added to it's work load. It's tail twitched "sorry Existence" I turned and looked at Sorin "what?" Then a soft huff sounded behind me.

   "It's fine, I was expecting something like this to happen, that's why I dismissed the dear, or forest puppies as she like's to call them." Then I turned back to the familiar voice, "Jamie?!" Sure enough, there they were. One of my closest friends from the farmers market.    "Jamie? Is that the name you go under?"    "Yes."    I was now thoroughly confused. Jamie huffed, "well, I've got to go, good bye" I stared at Jamie as they morphed back into a bob cat and stalked off. Sorin turned back to me and gently smiled, "heh, well this is definitely not how I wanted to tell you this." He smiled and scratched the back of his head, "the dreams we've been having, and the visions we've experienced. There who we are. I'm the Sun, and you, you are my dear Moon"

   I took a step back "wh-what, no. There just dreams and day dreams!" Sorin's eyes became concerned, "Måne, their not dreams, their real." I shook my head and continued to step back on my shaky legs. I tripped on my own feet and fell over. Sorin rushed up to me and I let out the most threatening and low growl and snarl that was possible. He stopped, dead in his tracks and looked at me. Silently begging me with his eyes to believe him. I felt Sorin slip into my head to try and figure out what I was thinking, but the only thing going through my head was "no. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no on. No, th-that's impossible. No."

   That was the only thing going on, all his efforts were running out and were fruitless. He hugged me, and held me. Slowly I calmed and felt like if my mind were a cup full of water and someone had just put a drop of food dye in it. Then static then began to softly buzz through my mind, and slowly things began to fade. I felt Sorin bury his face in my hair, "it's ok...it's ok." Then just like that I blacked out.

~*~*~&~*~*~

   Just barley a millisecond passed and I was back home, in my room. I was laying face up staring at my ceiling. I couldn't remember a thing. I got up and almost collapsed, but thankfully I grabbed onto the wall to steady myself. Slowly making my way into the living room I looked around to see everything in order, but something was missing. Something- no someone was missing. Sorin! Where was Sorin! I stumbled around I opened my mouth to call for him, but my voice was horse and dry. My head whipped around looking for him, for my new friend. I couldn't find him. I tumbled out the door to find myself in the clearing from my dreams. "Hello. I am glad to see that you've finally come."

Jumping and turning around my home was gone, and standing in its stead was her. The Moon.

[wellnoe]

i've been thinking about lesbian scott, and i'd love to hear more of your thoughts about it! i really love how you think about scott in general :)

i love lesbian scott :) she is dear to me but most of my thoughts about her are just a vague fondness. also i want to point out that most of my thoughts on her are either things i have adopted from @boo-cool-robot, or things that i started thinking about while talking to them, so they are also someone you should ask about lesbian scott perhaps.

i think i have brought up most of my thoughts on lesbian cyclops in some form or another before now. but i do think she only starts to identify as trans, is only able to give a name to those feelings, as an adult, once she's been on the x-men for a while. and i think even then it takes her a while to figure out what she wants to do with that.

i also think it's interesting to think about cyclops's kind of. tendency to date telepaths in this context? like in 616 i think scott does really kind of appreciate telepathy for the ways it allows connection without explication. he does not have to be involved in explaining himself, he can let his partners gather what they will from his mind without much active involvement from him. also, i feel like he practically explicitly states in canon that he has a hard time expressing himself, he feels like he always comes across wrong, and telepathy helps him bypass some of those anxieties. his girlfriends are in his head. they know what he meant. anyway in a transbian cyclops context i feel like these things are still true? i think there's something maybe about it being comforting to her to think of her partners being able to connect to her, to love her and know her, in a way that bypasses the physical/visual. like. an escape from being gendered strictly as a man even before she comes out via the psychic.

thanks to @boo-cool-robot i tend to think of cyclops as coming out as trans/a lesbian in x-factor? which i also think is fun bc of rachel. like i think hearing rachel talk about her two moms is kind of an interesting weird experience for her. because one of those women is clearly jean. and the other one is a fun mystery!! that won't be a mystery for very long!!

i don't really like the time-displaced teen x-men, but i do think of them a LOT in trans scott contexts. the idea of kind of a reverse bobby situation is interesting to me? where with bobby you have his teen self come out and that reflect on his older self, i think a lot about teen cyclops coming to the future and seeing this older version of cyclops that everyone hates and who killed xavier and who's a woman and a lesbian and just. wanting that so badly. to be that version of cyclops while everyone else wants that version of cyclops to basically not exist. which i think is really really tough and also an awful situation but is also very interesting to me so.

ANYWAY!!! those are some of my general thoughts i guess?? like i said i am very fond of her but my thoughts tend toward the scattered. usually i think i tend to try to fit these kinds of ideas about characters into the actual x-men canon? and i think that really works with transbian cyclops. i think a lot of 616 cyclops’s hang-ups or anxieties or feelings can be related to gender or sexuality pretty easily, just by expanding on them a very little bit.

also thank you for asking!! love to talk about cyclops and gender and feelings and sexuality. truly one of my favorite topics.