#entityshipping.txt

Anna-Marie | Rogue

Just as messy, if not worse. Just-- finds you, sits down, and tears into them. Likely ties with Logan with how messy she can get.

Likely starts sharing meal ideas then starts craving some sort of crab sandwich. To be completely honest, she prefers fish to crab, but will NEVER say no to crab.

Just in general awe at the fact she can be 100% herself with you since you seem to be doing the same thing.

Wipes crab from the corner of your mouth once she notices it, you'd likely end up doing the same for her.

Remy LeBeau | Gambit

Remy was DEFINITELY the one to get you the crabs. Anyway, he absolutely adores you no matter what and watching you in your messy hobgoblin glory devouring the crabs doesn't change a thing.

Anytime he steams crabs, he uses beer. Naturally he's left drinking the rest of the bottle after using what he needs. So he plops down beside you and steals a couple of crabs, periodically taking a swig.

Definitely has dinner rolls on standby, knowing that would be the best option for soaking up butter.

Keeps paper towels with y'all just in case. Loves to see the mess you make because it makes him feel like he's done something good (and lets him know he's a great cook).

Romy | Rogue & Gambit

As mentioned before, Remy is likely the one to make the crabs and stares in adoration at you and Anna-Marie making one of the biggest messes he's seen in a while. He also supplies dinner rolls and paper towels before joining and stealing some crabs.

Anna-Marie, as I also mentioned before, is just as messy of an eater. There is a hurricane that goes through the kitchen between you, her, and Remy.

Honestly, a 10/10 experience. They love making a mess (cough) with you.

Logan Howlett | Woverine

He looks over to you hunched over the rectangular cake pan, using it to catch whatever falls. Just... very calmly.

He grabs a couple of beers (or if you don't drink he grabs a beer and a soda) and sits down across from you before taking one of the untouched steamed crabs for himself.

I don't know what you expected, but he absolutely Does Not Care™️ that his friend or s/o gets messy. Especially with something like crab (or ribs).

In fact, he's right there with you, the mountain of remains, and the mess. In his eyes, if someone isn't afraid to make a mess with generally messy food around their friends or lovers (especially lovers), then he's won the jackpot. It does NAWT matter which variant, they're ALL like this.

Scott Summers | Cyclops

Glances at you before bringing over a roll of paper towels.

I don't see him being too into crabs (probably really hates the smell of them being cooked too) so he's not likely to steal anything from the pan. But he'll at the very least join and sit with you. Maybe talking about his day or something going on.

He's not gonna be turned off by the mess you've made, but he does keep an eye on the area because, again, the smell. Scott probably also ensures you don't eat the gills and (if you're like me) gags at the crab mustard. He's not trying to be rude.

Likely also keeps those flosser pick things in his pockets for occasions like this in case they get stuck in your teeth.

Victor Creed | Sabretooth

Weirdly starts purring.

Similarly to Logan, Victor doesn't care about the messiness of it all. In fact, he enjoys it a lot. He may keep his area tidy and may keep himself groomed. But when it comes to food and other things he might consider primal? M e s s .

You've likely seen him come home covered in the blood of something he was likely hunting, and this is no different on his end.

Also probably one to snatch a couple of crabs from the cake pan and sit there with you chowing down on them.

Wade Wilson | Deadpool

Another one to sit down and start chowing with you. Homie don't care. Probably grabs out sodas for you both to wash it down with.

If you're both living with Blind Al, she might not be too fond of the smell. And if this is after Worst!Wolverine moves in, well he probably already stole a crab. But this ain't about them.

Probably says crabs are lucky because they're always having their legs busted open and getting eaten. Feel free to shut him up if you want.

Honest to god just as messy as Logan probably. Crabs aren't his absolute favorite but any excuse to be around you makes him happy. He's just generally a messy person though.

A student calls you over to their little group, currently being chaperoned by a gruff Logan, nursing a cigar and occasionally swatting a pesky fly that refuses to leave him alone. Hard eyes lazily find yours, and though he doesn't think anyone notices, they soften the tiniest bit.

"Whatcha need?" They catch your playful tone and one of them grins.

"How old do you think he is?" They point at Logan. "We're making bets and he won't answer us."

He turns, glancing at the trees in the distance and tapping the ash from his cigar. There's a look in his eyes you can't quite place, but, regardless, gears start turning.

"Depends...who was president when you were born?"

The question sparks a mock laugh from the man, "Wasn't a president. I'm from Canada."

"Okay then...who was prime minister?" He glances at you, noticing a spark in your eyes. Now he can't quite place the look in your eyes.

Yet it intrigued him.

"Didn't exist."

"Huh..." There's a quiet murmur amongst the students, readjusting their bets as they try to figure out his birth year.

Logan stands from the bench he had been perched on, stepping around sitting students, and leans in close, "Who was president when YOU were born, Bub?"

You grin, "Didn't exist."

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Logan lets out a huff of air as his back hits the ground, you over top of him, "Give it a rest, Lo...not saying you can't beat me...just saying maybe we should take five."

For the better part of three days, he had been trying to decipher your age just as you had been trying to learn his. Neither of you could help it, really.

It became a tango, dancing around years but reciting the occasional old memory (or at least attempting to recall them on his end).

Wars fought in favor of the side deemed right.

Cowboys and The Wild West, watching outlaws and ranch hands at work, keeping heads low while finding work where you could.

More wars and some PTSD sprinkled in, watching young men needlessly die at the hands of one another.

But he had a feeling about you that he couldn't shake, deciding you both were likely born around the same time based on how your memories synced with time, almost making him question if you had crossed paths before.

He had also been secretly admiring the way you seem to dance around every fight with poise and grace. Its almost as if you could predict everything he was about to do.

And some of the styles you used he didn't recognize.

And he's been around for a while.

He attempts to get you on your back, yet you're three steps ahead, and turn it around on him. Back hitting the ground once again after getting grappled and spun to the ground, using his weight against him.

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Logan watches from a distance, heightened senses picking up on your form as you teach Kurt something he had been wanting to learn for a while after seeing you do it.

It had been one thing seeing you truly fight, whether it was on a mission or while sparring with him, but seeing whatever this was? Logan couldn't peel his eyes off of you. Was it dancing or fighting?

He picked up on what you were telling Kurt, "Capoeira. This is a style developed by enslaved Africans in Brazil. Used to hide self-defense training from oppressors, disguised as a rhythmic dance."

Kurt twists onto his hands as you do, legs cartwheeling in the air as yours does, "And where did you learn it?"

"I had been traveling with someone who came to America years ago who taught it to me," you evade one of his kicks. "Decided to incorporate it into my developed fighting style."

Logan recalls something you had told him about traveling with someone who "fought like a feather but struck with the force of a rusty nail."

It was at that moment he seemed to pick up your nature of observing others and love for learning various forms of self-defense, something important to a mutant of any kind, whether they had regenerative properties or not. It seemed meditative on your end, simply being able to move as a river and cut through air like warm butter. Even if you didn't enjoy fighting, you seemed to enjoy the motions and movement of it.

Like a warrior in a garden instead of a gardener in a war.

And that was something he had grown to admire about you.

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You stand at the front of a class of students, being tasked to help teach a history class, focusing on Colonial America. And, though Logan hadn't been around for that period, he had already made it to the classroom to join on the class out of boredom, not having anything going for him today.

"Now, the era Colonial America was around 1607 to 1776." A chunk of the students glance down at notes they had taken the day prior. "I'm going to cover a few different topics today and, considering yesterday your usual teacher stopped the class after mentioning The Mayflower, the ship I was born on, I'll pickup from there."

There was a quiet murmur amongst them before a small group sitting together started groaning, "I had my money on The American Revolution! You mean to tell me you're a Colonial kid??"

"Yep!"

The kid pipes up again, "Dude! You're ancient!"

"Hey-- watch it." You point a finger at them, not able to hold out a chuckle, mocking offense.

And out the corner of your eye, Logan's eyes widen, unable to stop the mild surprise from filling his facial features. Stoic demeanor faltering before returning back to its usual self.

The class had continued normally with the occasional question regarding your personal day to day activities during that period of your life, wishing you kept at least one piece of wardrobe from then to use for the class. Unfortunately it was likely in museum archives somewhere, unable to be accessed. Left to be on display for other generations, yet you had no idea where they were. And before long, the class comes to an end.

"Almost 400, huh, Bub?" You catch his voice behind you as you stuff an itinerary into a folder and shove it under your arm. "Beat me by a landslide."

"Yep! 1620! Born on The Mayflower as it sailed the sea." You turn to exit the room, "Looking back on it all, I'm surprised I was one of the lucky few that survived being born in such conditions."

He holds the door open, "Well... I'm glad you did. Kids seemed to like your little presentation there." Logan didn't quite want to admit that he learned things during that class he had no idea about. Then again, a lot of history books don't cover things as mundane as waking up in the morning or as chaotic as slipping away in the middle of the night to swim in the nude in a nearby channel at age seventeen.

"Y'know, I can always tell you more about my life before your time." Spinning on your heel and walking backwards down the hall, you face him. "I don't mind."

He thinks for barely a moment, wondering how many more of those chaotic stories you have, enjoying that you had more to share than meets the eye. His stoic expression doesn't leave and he lights a cigar.

"Neither would I, Bub."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Anna-Marie | Rogue

When you first joined the team, she immediately locked eyes with you. Simply because she had a gut feeling about you (a good one, don't worry). Something about you sparked something in her.

She had audibly gasped the first time she saw you use your mutation and immediately complimented it. I mean, how could she NOT?

If we're talking about after she gains better control of her powers (referring to just copying a mutation via touch as opposed to draining it), then the battle field ends up becoming chaos. Please help her with target practice, she has shit aim with these orbs.

Overall, absolutely adores not just having you around, but loves the fact you trust her enough to CTRL C + CTRL V your mutation to herself without fear of her draining and permanently taking it from you.

Remy LeBeau | Gambit

When he had first met you, he didn't think you could get anymore interesting. That is until he learns of your mutation.

Upon first seeing your mutation, he gets giddy.

Primarily because, much like how he charges things via kinetic energy, you have those orbs.

Has the dumbest idea ever: Wants to see if you can combine mutations via you throwing an orb and him throwing a charged card at the same time. It offers a fun hobby (and likely a few noise complaints).

Logan Howlett | Wolverine

When you first joined the team, he had thought nothing much of it, offering a grump greeting in his usual Logan fashion. And I'll tell you right now: He's not all that impressed by the mutation itself, but rather the sheer destruction it can cause.

(Mark him down as a lil bit scared and a lil bit horny what who said that?? must've been the wind. i'm being silly bc i'm sleep deprived.)

Seeing your mutation for the first time, however, went along the lines of attempting something new (aka, while on a mission, you had gotten trapped in a flooded room and utilized your orbs to form air bubbles and incapacitate enemies at the same time).

Overall, Logan ends up admiring your talent, especially the control you have over it.

Scott Summers | Cyclops

He knew of your mutation prior to seeing it in action due to Charles explaining it at a debriefing before you joined the team. And though he hadn't said anything, he was ecstatic at knowing about another team member with a long range mutation that involved aim.

But seeing you in action was a whole other thing and he was in awe watching you blow up a Sentinel in the Danger Room.

I'm gonna be honest, Scott's probably one of the more entranced ones and I can't explain why this is. It just is. Maybe he's secretly a Michael Bay fan ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Yet another member of the "let's do target practice together" club.

Victor Creed | Sabretooth

Watches you anytime you use your mutation. It's unknown as to why he's so fascinated by it, but he is. Usually, unless they have a feral mutation like him, he doesn't quite pay any mind to people. Just keeps surface-level knowledge.

Meeting you was one thing: Initially Victor kept a close eye on you because, as with everyone, he thinks you aren't as capable as he is. But upon watching you blow up a wall he couldn't get through via your orbs?

He had also learned the hard way not to sneak up on you and no I will not elaborate on this.

Sometimes makes bets with you on how big you can get your orbs (which has led to some backlash from others because hello??)

Wade Wilson | Deadpool

Also accidentally got hit by one of your orbs the first time he learned of your mutation. Which wasn't too long after first meeting you. In your defense he was the one to jump in front of you after you had already launched the damn thing.

"Babe-- ow?? I mean, hot. But?? Ow??"

Much like Remy, Wade's really giddy and wants to test the limits of your mutation. Target practice where y'all throw plates in the air and try to take them out, him with a pistol and you with your orbs is mandatory.

Overall, he really enjoys your mutation and the person behind it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Not only did the serum not work as it was entirely meant to; you had gotten gassed with it after being separated from Remy.

And for a while, everything seemed fine. Some burning in the back of your throat from inhaling it, but other than that? Nothing.

At least not until arriving back at the school.

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"You sure you okay, chère?" Remy had watched you pause, staring off into the distance for a moment, seemingly confused before returning back to reality.

And something seemed off, "Does it look like I'm okay, Cajun?" You spat at him. "Gotta deal with you and all these other people living in one building? It's like an overcrowded tank!" You storm off, leaving him in the dust.

His hands are up in defense as you leave the room, Scott getting pushed aside by you and letting out a surprised yelp, "What the hell was that?"

"No clue, she soundin' a lil off...might see if ol' Gambit cain't get McCoy ta take a look at her." Scott nods in agreement before trying to remember why he came in the kitchen in the first place (he does not, in fact, remember why).

Meanwhile you?

Well, you didn't know what had been going on. The world had felt fuzzy, almost like you were watching yourself on a screen yet unable to remember much of anything. One minute you had been in the kitchen with Remy and the next--

"_____, I'm talking to you. Hello?" Hank snaps his fingers, standing across the room.

What happened? You turn quizzically towards him, "What?"

"I asked if you were feeling alright," he's keeping his distance, "Scott says you were being rude earlier and that's not quite like you."

You're trying to get your bearings, "I didn't see Scott today though? How'd I get in here--" glancing around you notice you had somehow ended up on the second story of the building.

Hank narrows his eyes, clearly hearing the question you asked under your breath, perking up once he hears Remy's footfall behind him, the latter not wanting to startle him again with his quiet movements (not ending well the last time that had happened, Remy still bore the bruise on his back).

"Chère, Gambit sorry for...whatever I did... don't know what it was, but if you could tell me--" you shake your head.

"Remy you didn't do anything, what are you apologizing for?" You desperately try to remember what happened earlier and when you could've seen Scott. However it felt like something was blocking that memory, and, frankly, it was giving you a small headache to think about. "If anything, I'm sorry for...being...rude...? Though I don't really remember it."

Remy and Hank glance at each other, trying to make sense of what you had said. Maybe you had suffered a concussion during the mission? They'd have to make sure whether or not that's true, memory loss wouldn't be ideal and, though Remy doesn't want to voice the small anxiety he had, he doesn't want whatever memory issues you have to get worse (and possibly be part of a fading song).

"I think...I think I'm gonna go for a walk." And with that you had left, leaving them behind.

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For three days, it had been happening on and off and Remy can't stand to see it. This wasn't like you, and he wondered if it had to do with that mission.

"Tellin' you, McCoy. Didn't start up 'till after th' mission." He was miserable, yet persisted. Even when you had thrown that book at his head (which he dodged) or when you had been in Charles's study (snapping out of it and being very confused on why you were in there to begin with). The two trekked through the halls, Remy with a despondent look resting upon his features, "Where has my chère gone?"

Well, at the moment you were quietly sifting through McCoy's lab working to find... something. You didn't know what it was, or maybe you did, but it had to be in here s-- "_____?"

You whip around, holding the vials behind your back, trying to switch them in your back pocket for something else, "Cajun."

Remy and Hank appeared at the entrance of the room, "What are you doing in here?" Hank's concern is evident in his voice.

"Looking for something. The hell does it look like I'm doing?"

Remy leans in to Hank's side, "It happenin' again."

"I know." And before either of them could say anything else, there's a THWIP sound, whizzing in the air before you feel a sharp prodding at your shoulder blade. Everything becomes fuzzier and it fades to black as you collapse, briefly feeling a pair of arms wrap around you to keep from busting your head on the floor below.

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By the time you come to, you're lying on a padded surface with both of the men above you, "Dere you are!" Remy's irises meet your own. "Ol' Hank wanna say sorry fo' tranqin' you, but we needa find out what goin' on--" Remy, trying to keep a cool facade despite the looming anxiety and pain, gets cut off by Hank coming in.

"When you both were on that mission, did you come into contact with any sort of smoke?" He's looking at a paper, "or powder perhaps?"

You finally pipe up, "Yeah, when we were separated. I got...well...gassed with something in a hallway. Burned the shit out of my throat."

"Notice anythin' diff'rent goin' on with you?" Remy guides you to sit up, his hand finds your lower back to keep you upright.

"...I mean...memory lapses and fuzziness."

Although Hank got ready to propose the theory, Remy beat him to it, "Maybe it was dat gas. Gettin' in you and messin' with your mind?"

"Likely. Not too sure how we're going to reverse this though." Hank walks away, still looking at the paper. "Might take some time." And with that he leaves you both to look into it all.

You lean into Remy's side, "I feel like I've just been hurting everyone around me. I mean...you said I threw a book at your head the other day." Your eyes begin to burn and that familiar thick feeling in the back of your throat threatens to allow a sob through but you push through it, "I don't know what the...'other me' wants. There's been a few times I swear I heard a small voice in my head mention something about the guy we took out but--" Remy hushes you.

"Chère, day don't matter. We gonna get through dis."

And in the back of your mind, a faint voice seems to quiet down at his tone.

And for once, you feel the fuzziness, but at least this time you seem to be aware of what's happening. It's not you that speaks next.

"You seem to be putting a lot of confidence in us."

Remy quietly looks into your eyes, noticing the stark contrast in them compared to before, "'Course I do," he grins that devilish grin, wanting to lighten the mood, "we thick as thieves."

You get up, stretching your spine, and turn to leave, "Come find me, Cajun."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And so he had traveled with Jean (who only really tagged along considering the nature of your mutation and out of curiosity) and before long had made it to your location.

Your mom had led him inside the home where you had your nose in a book, Charles recognized it as an anatomy textbook of sorts.

"_____, this is your Great Uncle Charles. Remember when I said that I knew someone that could help you develop your skills?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, "This is him...not too sure who this is--" Your mom glances at Jean, offering a smile.

"Jean. Similar mutation to Charles, here."

You had marked where you were in your textbook and sat it down, not wanting to lose your place in the chapter about synovial joints, "Hi...?"

"So, you're the one I've heard so much about. I hear you have a unique mutation." He elects not to move his chair closer, giving you space.

You nod, "Yeah...I can move people's body parts. Like they're puppets... didn't really make me popular in school."

"_____, I am giving you an offer I hope that you'll take. I run a school for gifted youngsters; mutants such as yourself. I would like for you to join me." He floods your mind with mental images of the school, and, to be honest, it looked welcoming. "I'm sure I can help you strengthen your bond with your mutation and develop your skills."

Looking at your mom, she nods and ushers you, pushing you to go with him, "Go ahead! There's others like you there. I mean, you're a little older now but, it doesn't mean you can't still learn things."

"Nono, I know. I already made up my mind before he even arrived." You finally push yourself off of your bed, "When do we leave? I can throw together a bag."

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You had been settling in well since arriving at the school. Charles had ensured your quarters are near his for easy access in case his great grand [neiphew] needed anything from him. Shelves in your room filled with books on anatomy and physiology, something Charles admired. "Learning how what is related to your mutation work is a great step to take," he had at one point lamented.

And, for the most part, Charles offered one-on-one classes whenever he could.

"I'd like to know how you're able to control the bodies of others. Do you think you could move a doll or other inorganic material?" He questions one day, sitting across from you at his desk.

You think back to when you attempted to use your mutation on a babydoll, "Doesn't seem to work on a doll, but, then again, dolls don't seem to actually have joints or muscles like humans do. And it doesn't work on animals either. At least as far as I know." You pause, "But I do know it works on humans. That's why I study anatomy and how the body works and moves."

Charles smiles, "Perhaps I can set up a simulation in the Danger Room. We can test if your mutation works on a Sentinel, especially considering they have something akin to human movement."

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It comes towards you, towering over the field with its metal body. You focus on the mark, feeling the weight on your body as you manage to take over its joints, though only for a second. Losing control of it, as it's not human, it begins to move again.

And in comes Scott to cease its movements and keep it from crushing you.

"I... I almost had it." The simulation ends as he walks you out of the room, meeting with your Great Uncle. "I almost had it! Just... it's body was different from what I'm used to."

Charles thanks Scott for lending a hand and begins to lead the way down the hallway, "Some progress is better than no progress."

"It's just...I can feel the weight of the body I'm moving. And since I know what's inside and how it works, I can move them," you follow him into his quarters. "I don't know what's going on in a Sentinel."

Maybe that's why you can't control animals like you can humans as well. You think back to when one of your older school friends found out about your mutation, playfully calling it a form of possession.

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Sitting in his office after supper going over your findings with the Sentinels and the way they operated, you had gone over your notes with Charles, him listening and giving you his full undivided attention. The leg components had eventually become a topic of conversation.

"... Do you miss walking?" You question, gauging his expression to see whether or not it was a sore subject.

He ponders for a moment, "At times it can be frustrating, but otherwise my disability doesn't hinder me."

"...Would you like to experience walking again? Even for a minute?" It had been something you had been working on more lately, wanting to surprise your great uncle with a little taste of leg mobility. Though you can't heal him, you can at least give him a couple of minutes of movement.

Charles tilts his head thoughtfully, "Are you wanting to attempt to get me moving?"

"Just for a minute and only if you want to. Maybe get you to the door and back to your chair?"

He wheels around the front of his desk, grinning, visibly excited to see what you can do (as well as what it might feel like to be "possessed").

"Let's do it then, shall we?"

You stand up, focusing on his legs and lower spine, feeling the weight and tightness in those same parts of your own body. The joints, individual vertebrae, the muscle fiber, bones; all of it under your command. And within ten seconds, he was standing.

Charles keeps the rest of his body upright as you act as his legs, moving him towards the door. You can hear the giddiness in his voice, exclaiming how it felt very much like the pins and needles feeling one would feel when one's leg is asleep. You get him back to his chair and sit him down, releasing the hold and focus on his body, feeling your own muscles relax.

You're definitely going to be feeling that for the rest of the night.

"I feel...giddy. Thank you, _____." Charles has a grin on face stretching a mile long, "I had been wondering what it was like to be under the influence of your abilities and that seemed to have answered my question."

Charles had taken you under his wing once hearing about your mutation and how similar it is to his own and after you had joined the school, and he's very glad he did, thinking to himself that having you around to mentor would be a hoot.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Reference sheet is all flat color mostly to help better see the color palette mainly used.

I chose the surname Borg because despite the extreme s/i, I wanted at least some sort of name distinction. Borg (according to my sources) means fortification or castle. This will make more sense as their story unfolds.

The night of extreme stress was prior to eventually joining Charles at the school. Something was going on in their home life prior to a bunch of shit hitting the fan and they punished themself by ripping their fangs out.

I hate drawing hands :p

Aside from their mutation being heavily influenced by me as a system (which I actually post about on my main blog at times), it's also somewhat based on Tokoyami & Dark Shadow from BNHA.

I also hate drawing shoes :p

Had some free space I didn't know what to do with so...doodle.

They have a labret piercing :p (because I needed them to have some sort of piecing...might give them slightly stretched ears at some point too idk).

Note: Tentacles and back are much darker than they appear, at first I didn't make them solid black and went for a dark grey color because I wanted them to better show. But I feel Like I could have gotten away with it looking back on it.

Note #2: This is me realizing I forgot to draw the short spikes littering their shoulder blades and spine but feeling too lazy to go back in considering it took me three hours to be able to upload the image due to internet connection issues.