#metalkinetica

[themerrymutants]

Danielle headcanon

Every January 27th Danielle lights candles in remembrance of her and Erik's parents.

[themerrymutants]

meet the muse meme. Danielle edition

Pick one of your muses. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your muse in a new post  Tag five people to do this meme~ Tagged by: myflameburnshotter 1. What is your name?

Danielle Schoepke

2. What is your real name?

That is my real name.

3. Do you know why you were called that?

*smiles softly and chuckles* Papa never could tell Mama no.

4. Are you single or taken?

Single ((//at least in her main verse. In other universes she's dating or married. In her secondary verse she's dating(?) Toad, in her taming the soldier verse she's dating Bucky, and in her younger and what if verses she's dating Sarah.))

5. Have any abilities or powers?

teleportation and the spatial recognition that comes with, super-human marksmanship; and snake-like features, fangs, and venom.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Forgive me for having the audacity to be a woman. *gives the interviewer a rather obscene gesture*

7. What’s your eye color?

Ice blue

8. How about your hair color?

Jet black

9. Have you any family members?

My biological family is deceased however I've managed to cobble together a family of my own. Pyro, Bloodhound, Psyche, Trick Shot, Michael, Mitch, Toad, and both of my Erik's.

10. Oh? What about pets?

No

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like:

The Government, those who are abusive, bigots, and backstabbers.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing? 

Yes.

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

Yes. Some I regret, others I'd gladly kill again. 14. Ever….killed anyone before?

Congrats you know how to ask stupid questions.

15. What kind of animal are you?

Some sort of pack animal.

16. Name your worst habits:

Getting too attached to people.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Yes. Though sometimes I wonder why I still do.

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

I'm afraid I'm still not comfortable answering that. ((//bisexual))

19. Do you go to school?

No

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Yes I do. But I doubt I will. People don't fall in love with monsters like me.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

I highly doubt it.

22. What are you most afraid of?

Losing Erik or my place in the Brotherhood.

23. What do you usually wear?

Whatever's closest and most practical. And my trench coat.

24. Do you love someone?

Romantically? *nods* But he doesn't love me back.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

*repeats obscene gesture*

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

*pinches the bridge of her nose*Gott gib mir Geduld.

27. What class are you?

*raises a confused brow*

28. How many friends do you have?

Not too many.

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

I love well made pie.

30. Favorite drink?

Whatever's available and clean.

31. What’s your favourite place?

My good memories.

32. Are you interested in someone?

Yes but he's not interested.

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

*hisses and punches the interviewer as hard as she can* Ask that question again and I will kill you.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

Lake, less public, less of a chance of me being seen, and of anyone seeing my scars.

35. What’s your type?

In a partner? Caring, understanding of my "quirks", not judgemental

36. Any fetishes?

none of your damn business. 37. Seme or uke?

What?

38. Camping or indoors?

either or

39. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

Yes

40. Now it’s over!

Thank God! Now get the hell out.

Tag five people: Anyone who wants to do it.

[groovyxgenes-archive]

; random shout out to my amazing friends like rae, bee, mercy, and jamie that let me just headcanon jam with them for hours on end with no complaint, i love you guys!

[themerrymutants]

I love how Danielle is the only muse that has an "you idiot" tag.

[groovyxgenes-archive]

{dark shadows}

metalkinetica

Charles Xavier - 20 year old grad student at Oxford University, primary caregiver to his younger sister, Raven - 17 years old, lover of tea and good books. If you asked the young man himself, Charles would say he's a bit of a nobody. He's a genetics student and aspires to be a professor someday. Aside from being a bit of a genius and inheritor of the Xavier family fortune, nothing interesting really happens to him. He goes to school, studies, goes out for drinks with his sister, and leads a very normal life. He's only had a few girlfriends in the past, only one of whom he's ever slept with (and she's more of his best friend anyway), and one boyfriend that had ended poorly.

So when Charles begins feeling the odd sensation of being watched, it's very strange indeed. He's never felt that, never really been the eye of anyone's attention. He glances over his shoulder as he walks up to his university's doors, eying the crowd of students around him, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

"You're being paranoid," Raven had told him when he mentioned it, swooping her long blonde curls to the side. "No one's watching you; you're not that interesting," she'd teased.

"Thank you for that," he'd laughed, playfully punching her arm.

But he doesn't tell about the dream he's had three consecutive nights in a row now. It's always the same: he's dressed in period clothing from what looks like the Victorian age and he's in a library. It's dark, the only light coming from a dimming candle, and he's being pushed up against a bookshelf by a man, fucking into him and grunting his name. He's breathless, heated and craving more. He can't see the man's face, it's shadowed and hidden, but he knows he cares for him - loves him, even. It's powerful, heady, intense, and just as Charles is about to call the other man's name, he wakes up.

Normally, he'd try to shake if off and call it the world's oddest and most realistic wet dream, but there's something different about it. Like it's less of a dream and more of a memory. The only thing he can do is throw back the blankets and start up a shower, relieving himself with a wank and wondering if he's going completely mad.

Now - as he strides out of his last class for the day, distracted and unfocused and with an armful of books - he makes his way outside, turns a corner onto the sidewalk, and runs straight into some poor unsuspecting fellow. Books and papers go flying, his glasses go crooked on his face, and Charles is spewing out apologies before the last paper has even hit the ground.

"Bloody hell, I am so sorry!" Charles says frantically, dropping to his knees to start picking up the mess. "I can't believe I just -- I am so sorry, truly." He shakes his head, and re-stacking his books, barely noticing the man he'd just ran into. "I'm just not myself today, I really should watch where I'm..." Charles looks up and sees the man who has crouched to help him. He's gorgeous and Charles' face flushes from being such an idiot. He gulps and adjusts his glasses until they sit properly on his face again. "...going."

[themerrymutants]

would you rather have the love of your life or mutants on top?

Send my muse(s) would you rathers (accepting)

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by this but I'm going to assume you mean top of my priority list," Danielle said, "I already put him first, despite him likely only keeping me around for my use rather than also considering me a friend. As long as he is safe I'm happy, however that doesn't mean I don't care about my fellow mutants and mutates. I do. But I can't protect them all. I can however protect him, and I will. I will if it kills me."

Erik was all she had left and she'd be damned if he died on her watch.

[magnetisedcatharsis]

;Forget me not

He doesn’t mean to forget her birthday. Neither of them had, to be honest. It had just sadly crept up on them both from nowhere. Charles knows perfectly well how terrible it must feel to get another year older and yet feel completely ignored, so naturally with Erik’s help the two of them had put together an apology of sorts, to try and win their way back into Magda’s good graces. There were few things that could truly make up for this oversight, and so in essence Charles was sacrificing a little bit of himself for her sake, for one night only he was giving up his telepathy in order to grant her one seldom acknowledged wish. Erik had tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t be swayed, this was for the best, and he was happy to do it, if it would finally paint a smile back on that dear brunette’s face. Suited and booted, as was to be expected of any proper gentleman, Charles stood at the staircases edge, waiting for the woman in question, his thoughts freely wandering until at last she appeared in a lovely little red number he was almost certain Raven had picked out. Letting his jaw drop open ever so slightly, the Oxford graduate smiled brightly as he extended his arm and drank in that little element of confused shock that appeared to be written all over Magda’s face. “You’re…walking.” “Only for tonight.” “But…how?” “I would say I had help from my Hairy Godfather, but I’m not sure Hank would approve of the title.” “Why though? Why all of this?” “Darling, we forgot your birthday. This is…our way of saying we’re sorry.” “We?” “Yes, Erik’s working on the culinary portion of our grovelling, and I, my darling, am working on the far more cultured aspect of it.” Placing his hands over her eyes, with a subtle amount of guidance he manoeuvred her through the mansion hallways, through secret passageways and locked room abound until they were in a section of the sub-basement most seldom knew existed. It was a room of many talents, an adaptable location fit for any purpose. Today it looked like a ballroom, complete with polished floors and a rather decadent chandelier. Charles himself had even designed the computer sequence that saw to it’s inception, which was perhaps why he felt such an overwhelming surge of pride at the little gasp that ensued when he finally returned her vision. “Erik told me you always loved to dance, and that he was rather a poor partner. I hope you won’t mind if I cut in? It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to Tango.” Magda blinks, trying to process the situation for what it is, before she nods in earnest, perplexed as music from nowhere kicks in and sees Charles reigning her in by the waist, and setting his knee somewhat provocatively between her thighs. It’s a position that makes her breath hitch, her hand clasping his as the other rests upon his shoulder, nose to his neck at this sudden change in daring proximity. She’d never thought she’d get the chance to dance with the professor. Never thought his injury could be reversed like this until she could see and feel the very truth of it. She wonders how long Erik’s known, wonders precisely what he’s had to sacrifice in order to make this happen, but quite frankly, the minute he starts moving and her pulse begins it’s quick crescendo, she doesn’t much care. For a good half hour, Charles finds the energy to twirl and strut, to quickstep and dip her until she’s blushing and he’s grinning like an idiot. He’s missed this. It reminds him too much of the co-ed balls back at Oxford, of trying to dazzle his many conquests with some fancy footwork. He’s not so sure Magda needs to be dazzled, but he’s going to keep it up all the same, dipping her low a final time and letting his hand slide ever scandalously up the outside of her thigh. In response to this, the Pole merely stares, half amused and half something else when he returns her to her feet, and he can feel her breath against his skin, warm and frantic and deliriously overdue. It’s easy to forget this is Erik’s wife, yet also incredibly easy to understand why. Taking a moment to both recover their breath, Charles slings an arm around her shoulders, guiding her across the expansive room towards the only present chair, which he offers, quite rightly to the lady in question. She doesn’t take it though, instead she nudges him down, waiting until he’s settled before taking up residence on his lap, which seems surprisingly more firm than usual. Cupping his cheeks, she watches him with the utmost affection, stroking her thumbs over the flushed flesh until she can kiss him graciously and humbly for his sacrifice that evening. “Thankyou.” She tells him with a little rock of her hips, arms tangling around his shoulders as her mouth dips to his throat, suckling the flesh there and seriously making Charles consider precisely who is supposed to be thanking who. Groaning low in his throat, his hand dips from the small of her back to cup her shapely arse, urging her hips forward ever so deviously as he gifts her with a kiss of his own. It should be soft and chaste, he knows it should, but he’s only a man, he can’t help himself. Snaking his tongue inside her mouth, his other hand goes for a breast, guiding a dress strap down over her shoulder in the process to expose just enough skin to make him righteously hard . “Charles.” She’s purring his name and that’s it, he can’t take it. He’s back on his feet, with her in tow, holding her up so that she can lock those lovely legs around him and he can guide her to somewhere a little more practical. He hadn’t anticipated for this, it must be said, but he isn’t going to fault it. Setting his lady love down on top of the room’s grand piano, the back of her legs clink against the keys like a chromatic symphony while he urges them apart, hands venturing up beneath that dress to palm at warm skin and breathe in the feminine scent of precisely what awaits him. “Magda.” It’s his turn to say her name, to tongue it from the inside of his cheek as he plucks off each shoe in turn and kisses his way up alongside barely there stockings. She stops him then with a little half whine, fingers curling around his tie to pull him in close, slackening it off so that she can work free his shirt buttons and nudge aside his jacket. If they’re doing this, they’re doing it properly, she thinks. Charles needs little encouragement for the endeavour, already stripping aside clothes to the sound of soft giggles and a few cat calls of approval. It makes him blush again, but the minute he’s down to the birthday suit he was born in, it’s her turn to lose a few layers. Taking care not to snag her dress, he unzips that with a well practiced ease, tossing it to the floor and taking stock of precisely what’s underneath it. As if anticipating inspection, her foot extends to nudge him in the chest, black lace perfectly matched from head to toe, even as he sees the faint curve of a breast peeking out from the top of her bra. “You look…well…I…” He can’t formulate words, but he supposes he doesn’t need to. The way she flushes pink is enough to tell him he’s said the right thing, and if that wasn’t enough, the little way she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra is plenty. Sliding each arm out in turn, her legs spread again, hips rising to shimmy her knickers down her legs, but leaving those glorious stockings still perfectly in place. Charles thinks he must’ve died. He’s already dead and this is heaven. Growling perhaps a little more loudly than he’d perhaps intended, his hands shoot forwards on instinct, seizing by the hips and tugging her down with another clatter of notes as her backside hits the keys. What happens next is too hard to recall, it’s frantic and urgent, tangled limbs and shell shocked kisses, enough to encourage him to thrust himself inside that enticing wet cavern and make her feel precisely how he does. He’s glad of the soundproofing when he hears her moan, that little heady sound making him rock his hips with a little more urgency, encouraging words and praises exchanged, even after he’s finished, when he’s still going strong, leading her up to that little earth shattering precipice when she clenches all around him and tugs on his hair so forcefully he fears he might well go bald. Cradling the forgotten birthday girl in his arms, from the piano to the floor, he helps her shift, lips knotted together as the air bites the skin of his back that seems to have been clawed just a little too enthusiastically. Strumming his fingers up and down Magda’s spine, Charles takes care to keep her warm as they remain knotted on the floor, her leg resting over his hip as she nuzzles his collarbone and breathes out a contended sigh. “Won’t Erik be mad that I had dessert before dinner?” She asks wryly, hand residing possessively in his hair. “Oh darling, don’t be silly. This was this just the starter, you’ve got another two courses to go.”

[groovyxgenes-archive]

rachel and i discuss how erik was born

Rachel: Erik is so stupid‏

me: the dumbest        but we love him uwu‏

Rachel: yes we do sigh someone has to              Erik and his complexes‏

me: poor lil baby erik ; _ ; our small son‏        we made him ourselves‏        we're his mothers‏        biologically‏

Rachel: yes I remember birthing him‏

me: i held your hand the entire time‏

Rachel: damn right‏

me: it is known