#bamfblueelf

Something my muse has written about your muse. ( Could be a letter, drawing, etc. )

Send in a name of a muse from any fandom and I will try to play that muse out in one ask.

"Elf." His voice, already coarse from years of abuse, of drinking and smoking and rough cowboy growling, came out as only a hoarse, barely audible whisper. Because if he spoke to loudly, if he moved too quickly, the spectre would disappear. In a puff of smoke, perhaps, just to be cruel. Just to dig the knife that pierced his ribs deeper into his chest, carving a hole that certainly would not heal. 

It was strange how little a healing factor could help matters of the mind and the heart. Strange how, at the same time, for the first time, he would do anything to forget - but that he didn't want to forget at all. 

Then, in a rush, his courage found him. The pain and the longing turned into movement and his body moved forward of it's own accord, broad palms reaching for blue fur and expecting not the soft touch of fur and flesh but rather air - intangible, untouchable, and gone. 

He was there, though, undeniably so. For a moment, Logan's hands rested upon his friend's shoulders, his eyes tearing up and down Kurt's form, breathing in his scent deeply. It was him. It had to be- But it wasn't, It couldn't be.

So many people described rage as hot - as a fire that burned deep within. But this was an empty sort of anger, the greedy, cold kind, that sought out energy and fire and devoured everything in it's path. Black tinged the edges of his vision and he lifted the imposter, slamming him against the wall with a guttural cry of anger and pain.

"---The FUCK-?!" 

Who did they think they were? Who did they think they were fucking with? They would regret it - he would make sure of it.

"Take off that fuckin' disguise or so help me god-" Now that was a snarl - near feral and promising pain, Logan growled as he pressed his fist against the man's throat, two claws inching out on either side. Nicking his flesh, drawing blood, though the savage mutant hardly cared. The third, centre, and final claw hovered - pressed just barely against their skin, waiting for it's chance.

//You have a prooooblem~ XD

Head reclined, eyes closed, the gentle sounds of Adele playing out of her ipod dock, Natalie was quite enjoying her bubble bath. And, of course, by ‘gentle sounds’, she did mean ‘blaringly loud enough to get her evicted if someone complained’. After the day she’d had at work, though (night? evening?) she considered herself more than due for a little bit of letting off steam. 

She didn’t really notice the sounds of fighting coming from outside the thick outer wall of the apartment building, and if she did, she certainly didn’t chock it up to giant mutant fighting robots and a blue furred devil. However, as her wall exploded inward and chaos ensued, that was exactly what she got.

For a moment, she sat, rather stunned. She didn’t even scream, too shocked by the turn of events to do much of anything. She was covered in dust and her tub was filled with filth and rubble, and she was quite sure that something on her was bleeding. Dark eyes darted toward the collapsed man in a pile of rubble on her floor, and she stared hard at him.

He was blue. And..had a tail.

It then occurred to her that he had likely not blasted through the wall all by his one-some, and that something else was more worry than he was. That ‘something’ appeared to be a large and purple hand that was about to cram it’s way through the wall of her apartment, thus ruining whatever was left of her after work peace. 

Mother fucker. 

[Target acquired. Preparing for capture. Authorized for terminatio-]

She knew what these things were. Hell, she’d been avoiding them for a while. Technically, using magic didn’t class her as a mutant, but it also didn’t class her as a normal human. She’d never been tempted to test her fate against the giant Sentinels that hunted down the mutants of New York, but at this point, it didn’t look as if she had a choice. This guy probably hadn’t done much other than exist… though, he was wearing a strange outfit. Spandex, it looked like.

Setting her jaw and hauling herself out of the tub, a chant was rolling off of Natalie’s lips before she could think better of it. She should have run. She should have stayed out of their line of notice, or fire. Never one to do what she should, though, the witch wasted no time in hurling the hex at the robot. It shuttered. Convulsed. Let out a strange whistling noise. Then, with a less than satisfying pop, it exploded into golden light. What landed on her floor was far from a giant murderous robot - instead, it was a small and vaguely purple rabbit. It’s fur held a metallic sheen and it’s eyes were red and glowing, but it was undeniably a bunny. 

Unaware of the presence of it’s friend and uncaring of her state of dress (She was a stripper, what did she care if some fuzzy man saw her tits?) she moved cautiously closer to the man on her bathroom…rubble. It wasn’t exactly a floor any more…

“…Hey. Are you…alive?” Okay was really a relative term, and even Natalie could see that he wasn’t exactly ‘okay’. Alive, though, she could settle for.

She was careful not to get too close to him, though. While she was fairly certain that he wasn’t dangerous, contrary to the MRD’s attempts to make the entire world believe otherwise, there was still a chance that he was bat shit crazy. Or, just defensive. Either way, Natalie didn’t want to be on the receiving end of powers she knew nothing about.

Ben had gotten back from a very tiring mission, after showering and dressing he headed over to Kurt's house for some much needed relaxations and maybe a meal. He so wanted to spill about all the hoops he had to jump through but the agent knew about Kurt's distaste in SHIELD activities.