#Erik saying ‘people like you’ instead of ‘us’ making his statement much more direct to Peter 🥺

[nathanbellamy]

Giffing notable moments from the xmen scripts, pt 3

(*, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11)

[disasterlesbiansunite]

Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

--

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

--

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

--

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

--

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

--

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

[truglori]

Game Night...

(Heads I win...Tails you lose)

Synopsis: Game night at Erik’s crib with a twist...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Plus size OC

Warning: Language, Smutt

A.N- Inspiration was this picture

It was Game Night at Erik’s. He held them every other Saturday night and it was starting to become a ritual for Kaila to attend within the last month. When being surrounded by coworkers ,who became good friends, food, drinks, and music how could anyone turn down a time like this. Along with his beautiful luxurious bachelor’s pad Erik made a pretty good host.

Everything from wings with different flavors, a meat and cheese board, warm soft cinnamon pretzel bites, chicken and beef quesadillas, as well as different chocolates and chilled high class wine ,that Kaila wasn’t used to, had covered his antique walnut wooden dining table. Like she thought, he was a great host who had great taste and wasn’t cheap at all.

Standing in front of the miniature buffet with an empty plate Kaila was indecisive on what to get and how much. Still fresh to the friend group she was conscious on how much she ate in front of people that she wasn’t really comfortable with yet. Out of the six times she’s been here this was only her second time eating with them after getting pressured by her cubicle buddy ,Celina, telling her to make a plate before everything was gone.

Hearing the chatter coming from the livingroom, Kaila decided on a few slices of the quesadillas instead of the wings. She didn’t want to look like a pig knowing that she would try to suck the sauce off of her fingers afterwards. Filling up her red plastic cup with the cool wine she headed back into the huge living area. Spotting her purse and coat she sat in her spot and cuddled up with her belongings.

“See I told you, the food is good.” Celina smiled while sipping on her wine. She brought a hand to her hair stroking the box braids and giggled.

Kaila noticed that she had three cups prior so she knew that she was starting to become loose.

Laughing with her, Kaila shook her head and dug into her finger food. Looking at the small group she wondered how she was able to fit in with them. The group consisted of three women and three guys, Erik including as one of them. Every single person in their clique was extremely attractive and in shape. Her body type did not belong at all. There was always rumors going around the office about them setting up date nights to throw orgy parties. At least that’s what people assumed because they were so tight and never invited anyone else.

But Kaila had to take a chance and ask, since her desk buddy was a part of the famous group. So one day she asked Celina if it was true only to earn one of the most hysterical laughs in her face. She shut it down immediately and informed her the reason behind their closeness was because they all trained and got hired for their jobs at the exact same time and have been inseparable since.

Celina thought it was funny and invited her out so she could see that she wasn’t lying. Kaila refused the first few times but gave in after Celina had another one of their members, Leah, tag team against her insisting that she’d come. Kaila wasn’t an extrovert at all. Her regular day included work, talking on the phone with her baby sister who was away for college, and tv time with her cat, Snuggles.But she wanted to change that so she made Game Night at Erik’s a part of her weekend routines.

“Y’all mufuckas ready to get this bitch started.” Erik walked in finally making his presence known after being upstairs for half an hour. He was changed out of his work attire into something more relaxed. Nike grey sweats, a crisp white tshirt with his gold chains falling over it, and his Nike slides to match. His dreads were out of the braids that he only kept in while he was at work, now they were wild and free.

Kaila took in his frame. She watched as his muscles flexed from the slightest movements. Twisting open his personal bottle of Hennessy, she watched him take a long swig and shaking his head at the taste afterwards. She did a short giggle when she seen him hiss making his gold canines show. When Erik’s eyes turn to her direction she quickly averted her gaze to everyone else praying that she didn’t get caught staring.

This crush that she had for him was starting to be too much. At first she thought it would go away once she would find out that his body and personality didn’t mix but it became worst when she started to hang out with them. Erik was nothing like how she thought of him to be. Before hand she for sure figured him out as a smug and arrogant jerk but he was the total opposite. He was such a gentleman, sweet, and a charmer when it came to the ladies.

The littlest things he did like hold the door for her, or making sure that she wasn’t the last one going into a building whenever they went out for lunch to grab coffee. Kaila was falling for all of it. But after hanging out with them for so long Kaila noticed a few things about him. Yes, Erik was a sweetheart but he had a rough edge to him. When the drinks were in his system Erik liked to talk his shit, and he was nasty with it too. Of course all of the girls in the group would openly let him know that he could fuck if he wanted to. All except Kaila, she would never make a statement as bold as that no matter how much alcohol she had.

“About time nigga. The hell was you doing back there?” One of the guys, Tyler asked sitting in between Leah’s legs on the floor.

“My shit, my business bitch ass nigga.” Erik retorted playfully. He walked in front of his coffee table sitting in his chair. On the table had a display of all types of games. He sorted through them taking his time.

“Erik hurry up and pick a gamee.” Celina whined as she still sipped.

Glancing up he eyed everyone briefly. “The fuck is it, rush Erik night or sumn shit. Y’all niggas know without this y’all wouldn’t have shit else to do so calm the fuck down for I throw all y’all ass out.” He laughed drinking out his bottle.

“Hold up I didn’t say shit. I hope that’s not for everyone.” The thick dark skin girl who’s name was Keisha came in and sat down. Kaila thought she was the prettiest.

“Nah not you Keisha, you know you my boo.” He smirked.

She giggled doing the “period” motion with her hand. Kaila smiled sitting her plate on the floor beside her making a mental reminder to throw it away before she leaves.

Erik cleared his throat picking up a box. “Aight I got one. Do or Drink!” Sitting the other games to the side he placed the box in the middle.

Groanes and curses came from the other people. Kaila faced them amused with their reaction wondering what was wrong with the game he chosed.

“No Erik you always pick this game.” Leah flopped her hands to the side of her.

“Yeah I don’t like this one bae. You be making everybody drink and get drunk while playing this. Can we play something else.” Keisha sighed picking up her glass.

“No y’all only get drunk cause y’all mufuckas don’t know how to drink or hold ya liquor. Besides she ain’t never played this with us yet.” He spoke sorting the cards.

All of the attention went towards Kaila. Trying her best to shrink in her side of the couch she felt her cheeks heat up. Kaila hated when she was put on the spotlight in front of everybody. Bringing her cup to her mouth she sipped some hoping to calm her nerves.

“Kaila you ain’t never played this with us?” Troy asked.

Shaking her head she smiled timidly. “No but I guess I will tonight.”

“Kaila the game is real simple, all you have to do is draw a card, read it aloud so that everyone can hear you and you can either choose to do what it says or drink instead. Don’t worry about all that extra shit. Got it?” Erik asked her shuffling the deck.

“Yeah I got it.” She answered softly.

When he eyed her up and down part of her had to clenched her thighs to keep the wetness she felt down there from damping her panties and the other part wanted to run away from his gaze. The way he looked with his dreads covering his eyes was so enticing and it had her excited. Something she haven’t felt with a man in almost two years.

There was an order on how the rotation went. It was Celina, Keisha, Troy, Tyler, Leah, Erik, and lastly Kaila. She was okay with going last just to see how the game was to be played. It was easy to catch on to after the first few turns. Some of the draws that Kaila picked up were to risky for her so she had to drink for not doing them. Because she didn’t drink hard liquor Erik allowed her to take shots of the wine but for everyone else it was either tequila or some of his Hennessy. She was definitely starting to feel warm from the drinking she’s been doing.

Now it was going on the second round and it was Leah’s go,she had to draw a card. “Okay it says let the group go through your phones photo gallery for 60 seconds. Do this or take two shots?” She threw her card down looking for the shot glass.

Erik jumped up from his seat. “Unh uh hand it over. You passed the last time. Gimme your fuckin phone.” He chuckled walking near her.

Kaila laughed watching Leah try to keep her phone away from him but failed due to his tall and bulky stature taking it clean straight out of her hands. He held the IPhone to her face unlocking it and went to her gallery. Erik’s eyes went from entertained to lustful within seconds. Sucking in his bottom lip he glanced back at Leah.

“Damn girl. Yo shit pretty as fuck.” His low voice crept throughout the room. His eyes traveled down to her covered area.

Kaila, knowing what he was referring to, felt herself get jealous and turned on at the same time. She wanted him to look at her like that and speak to her the same way but she was to shy to say anything.

“Nigga let me see.” Tyler hopped up standing next to him. His mouth dropping when he saw whatever that was on the screen. “Damn Leah.”

Rolling her eyes Leah snatched her phone from their view. “Okay y’all niggas not bout to be fantasizing over my pussy.” She sat back on her end of the couch.

Erik shook his head walking to his chair. Picking up a card he read silently before trying to pick a new one. Celina sat up when she saw him and called him out.

“Uh Erik you never skip cards. What you doing baby boy?” She sat on the edge.

Erik smack his lips. “Nah not that one. Plus it’s my shit I could do whatever I want.” He spoke lowly going to the next card.

Keisha got up walking over to him. “No let me see the card because I ain’t never seen you skip one a day since I met you.” She tried picking it up but Erik snatched it away.

“Chill Keisha, watch out.” He grabbed her wrist lightly.

Keisha laughed. “Boy stop playing with me and let me see.”

Distracted by her going back and forth with him Erik wasn’t aware of Celina sneaking around the other side of him and successfully grabbing the card. She ran behind the couch and read it.

“Let’s see why Stevens was act like a pussy.” She slurred her words. “It’s says motorboat the person to the right of you for 15 seconds, even if they don’t have boobs. Do this or take three shots?”

Everyone looked to the right of him. Sitting at the end of the couch left only one person, Kaila. For the second time that night all eyes was on her. She wished that she could find a hole to crawl in and just die but that wasn’t possible for her. Hearing Celina read the card had her wishing that she would have just left it alone when he skipped the first time. She was embarrassed but she didn’t know if it was because the card dared him to put his face in her titties or that he wanted to skip the turn.

“Celina sit your drunk ass down and just leave the card alone.” Leah grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“Oops sorry.” She burped putting the card back.

There was silence for a few minutes. For almost the whole night Kaila skipped her turn or declined when someone had to do something to her causing them to lose. She didn’t want to be the party pooper of the hour so she spoke up.

“You can do it if you want.” Her voice coming out lightly. Avoiding the stares from the others her eyes stayed on Erik’s.

His brows lifted up surprised. “Look don’t let Celina’s drunk ass pressure you into something you not down for Kaila.” The way he said her name made her squirm and Erik peeped it himself.

“She wasn’t but if you don’t want to I get it-“ She stopped her sentence when he stood up from his chair.

His body was now in front of hers. Kaila couldn’t help quickly glancing at the print that stuck out through his sweats. The feeling of his hand under her chin tilted it up startled her a bit.

“You wanna do this out here or we can go somewhere private? It’s up to you.”

The room was now quiet as everyone watched the two under the influence and yet still drinking from their cups. Kaila nodded as she stood up signaling that she would rather do it somewhere not in front of them. Stepping to the side she went in front of him and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t take longer than 15 seconds.” Celina laughed sticking her tongue out when they briefly looked back at her.

Kaila looked around aimlessly as Erik led her down his dark hallway. The only thing that could be seen was the faint wall art from the infrequent lightening outside that came through his windows due to the rainstorm they were going to have tonight. The closer they were to their destination the more the butterflies in Kaila’s stomach start to appear one by one.

“Here we are.” Erik pushed a tall black door opened revealing his master bedroom.

Kaila didn’t stop her eyes from wondering as she looked around. The theme color to his room was black and red. His king sized bed was placed in the middle with a Versace Medusa logo cover resting on top. Laying on the ground next to it was a large black and gold Persian rug. But what caught her attention was the wide mirror that was over his bed.

“You have a nice room Erik.” She sent him a light smile standing in the middle of the floor.

Erik closed his door with the weight of his body. He smirked watching her stand there timidly barely keeping eye contact with him. Erik knew that Kaila had some sort of crush on him but he never said anything about it because he didn’t want to embarrass her. She was always shy around him but was okay with talking to everyone else in the group. Erik couldn’t stand that shit. Watching her round face give her sweet smile to Troy and Tyler always made him jealous. He wanted to be the one to put it on her face but could never get the chance with her always running away from him.

Before she became a part of their group Erik already noticed Kaila around the office. The curve of her wide hips and thickness of her thighs that she would cover up lured him into her. There would be days when she wasn’t wearing her turtleneck and he could finally get a peak at her smooth and chocolate double D’s along with a whiff of her perfume. Erik’s mouth would began to salvitate as he became curious wondering how they would taste. Now he had the chance.

“Thank you. I appreciate that baby.” He chuckled walking to stand in front of her.

Kaila’s eyes averted down at the new pet name. Looking back up, his russet eyes met her chestnut colored ones. His teeth held the full bottom flesh between them. The moment she inhaled for the first time with their closeness Kaila smelled his cologne that sent signals down to her vagina. She could feel the sticky wetness that he was created and he hadn’t even touch her. Her chest rose and fell as her breath hiked up.

“So you ready? It’s only 15 seconds.” The sound of his deep voice had her doing kegals on an imaginary dick.

“Yeah let’s do this.”

The sudden movements of his hands going up to her breast spooked her. Wearing an off the shoulder ribbed dark grey long sleeve tub top Kaila was able to feel his fingertips against her skin. She did a soft moan from the contact hoping that he didn’t hear.

“Big ass fucking titties.” Erik spoke out loud not caring if she heard him or not.

He began to grope them. Bringing his hands to the cuff of them he played with her breast. Lifting them up and down. All of a sudden he was like a kid in a candy store. Kaila could feel her nipples harden on his hands, that frequently rubbed against them. She bit her lip.

Erik smirked watching her get aroused in front of him. He could feel the pebbles turning into rocks from his touch and when he saw her suck on her bottom lip his dick jumped. Wasting no time he lifted her breast up and dove straight in face first. With the combination or her soft titties and her scent Erik’s dick started to get rock hard. He knew then that he now wanted to add titty fucking to the list of nasty shit he wanted to do to her.

“Mm.” Kaila tried her best hide her moan. She didn’t want him to think she was a prude for moaning at something as little as this. It was all a part of a game for goodness sake, but she couldn’t help it. Reaching up she gripped his dreads holding on to him while he moved his head side to side.

The fifteen seconds was long and over with but he was still down there. What was only supposed to be a quick playful motorboat session turned into love bites and delicate sucks. Erik took his time placing a kiss on to each breast. Tracing his tongue over them and then giving a soft suck. He could hear her trying to suppress her moans, but he was working for them and wanted to hear them clearly.

Reaching behind her he slid his hands around her thick waist and then traveled down to her ass. Gripping her cheeks roughly through her leggings he pulled her body into his pressing her down on his thick and solid member. Still continuing his sucks on her breast he groaned hearing her give in.

“Erikk.” Kaila felt the flutters in her stomach and her toes curl when she felt his package bump her area.

“Hmm?” He was now moving up to her exposed neck never losening his grip on her ass.

“The game.” Her words came out as a whine.

“Fuck it. You can’t tell me you not tryna let me fuck right now. Letting me suck on you and shit. I know you wet as fuck down there.” The confidence he spoke with had her dripping even more.

Kaila brought her hands up to his biceps. She turned her head to give him more space to kiss. Squeals left her mouth every time he would grip her cheeks separating them. Kaila wanted to submit badly but was still undecided as she worried about the others listening to what could happen in this room.

Erik pulled away from her seeing that she was hesitant. That’s when an idea popped into his head. His dick was too hard for him to leave without feeling any type of warmth. Going into his nightstand he found the coin and flipped it before walking back to her.

“Alright I have this coin here that’ll decide on what I can receive from you. Since you’re so worried about that dumb ass game out there. We can play our own.”

Kaila’s knitted with confusion but she was curious.

“What type of game?” Her soft voice asked.

Erik licked his lips as she watched hers move. He tugged on her lower lip with his thumb and index finger before showing her the coin and handing it to her.

“If it flips on head I get some pussy and if it flips on tails I get some head. You down?” Stepping in her space he bent his head kissing on her neck. She was so soft to him and it was hard for him to stop.

Kaila observed the gold naughty coin. She never tried anything like this in her 24 years of living. It was new and exciting and with Erik being the person behind it tempting her, she wanted to give it a chance.

“Okay. You flip?” She handed the coin back rubbing her sweaty palms up and down her black leggings.

Taking the coin he strolled over to his bed. Sitting on the edge of it he patted the space next to it offering her a seat. Kaila worked up the nerve to walk over from the liquid courage that she was feeling from the wine. It was making her feel frisky and horny all in one. She sat next to him and smiled sheepishly.

Erik leaned back and smirked. He wrapped an arm behind her as he got ready to flip the coin. “Heads I win...Tails you lose.” He chuckled as she understood the double meaning.

He tossed it up just a few feet above them and caught it quickly with the same hand.

“Hold your hand out.” He demanded and placed the coin flat on her palm. There was a pause for a few seconds before he lifted his hand. It landed on tails.

“Hope you know how to suck some dick.” He reached his hand behind her smacking her ass.

Kaila got up and stood in front of him. Rolling her eyes at his cockiness she pulled her braids up into a bun wrapping them around to keep them out of the way. She pushed him back causing him to lean on his elbows. Getting on her knees he started to rock his leg side to side. Tugging at his sweats she pulled them down along with his briefs making his semi-hard long and girthy length pop out. From the size alone Kaila got intimidated know that if he knew how to work with it he would make her go crazy.

Erik pulled on the hem of his shirt hiking it up to show his abs. He reached down grabbing the base of his dick whirling it back and forth. “I don’t wanna feel no teeth. You hear me?” His command coming out crystal clear.

Nodding her head Kaila leaned forward giving him a gentle kiss. The thick mushroom tip felt good against her lips. She hasn’t been with a man in almost two years so she wasn’t sure if she still had it. But tonight she would find out knowing that Erik would have no problem letting her know.

Getting her mouth wet she let a long sting of saliva drip on to his length. Sticking out her tongue she ran it against the sides wetting his stick up before taking him into her mouth whole. Erik was a challenge so she wasn’t going to get him down in one fit. She’d have to work her way down. She let him slide in and out of her mouth twirling her head when she would reach his tip. Taking one of her free hands she stroked his shaft while shoving her other hand in her leggings rubbing her clit. The feeling of having a dick grow in her mouth made Kaila’s pussy drip and nipples hard.

Looking up she watched as Erik kept his eyes on her. His jaws tightening from her locked jaw that she had on him. The ‘gawking’ sound coming from her made his balls jump. Erik’s eyes now became low as he reached for her braids unraveling the bun and created a ponytail with his fist.

“That’s how you sucking Daddy dick?” He asked surprise as he now sat up leaning on his free hand watching her perform her work of art.

When she felt him hit the back of her throat she answered him on purpose so that he could feel the vibrations. “Mmhm.”

“Ahh SHIT!” Erik threw his head back feeling how her throat had clenched around him. Kaila surprise the fuck out of him. He never expected a head monster behind that quiet little desktop bookworm facade she had put on, but everyone know that they be the main freaks.

She was sucking his shit sloppy just the way he liked it. Her tight warm jaws had his heads in the clouds. Kaila’s head game was starting to get so good Erik felt like he had to do or say something to throw her off.

“Let Daddy slut this muthafucking throat out....gah damnn.” Standing up he lifted his crisp white shirt up to his mouth tucking it in between his teeth. Grabbing her braids and making a ponytail with one hand he cupped her chin with the other as he fucked her throat.

When the spit began to run down her chin and hit her top it reminded Erik of her big chocolate melons that he wanted to fall asleep on. He had got to feel them now he wanted to see them.

“Pull them big ass fuckin titties out.” He spoke with his shirt still clenched in his teeth making his dimples show.

Kaila heard comply to his orders. She pulled the top down and her strapless bra up and began to play with her nipples for him. Using the spit that dripped on her chest she rubbed it on her pebbles as her mouth became wetter with her arousal. She brought a hand back into her pants and tweaked her nub.

Erik watched her play with herself knowing that head wasn’t the only thing he was trying to get from her for the night. If she could suck dick this good he only imagine what that pussy was feeling like.

“Mouth to fuckin good to not try and fuck. You gon give me sum pussy after?” His hips still stroking in her mouth. Kaila tried to push him out by his thighs but he pushed her hands away. “Move them fuckin hands and answer my question.”

Closing her eyes trying to breathe through her nose she nodded her head. Erik smirked as he pulled out of her mouth. Dick standing up and dripping with her saliva.

“Get yo ass on this bed.” He took off his shirt and stepped out of his sweats and underwear leaving him in his naked glory.

Kaila got on the bed, kicking of her shoes she laid on her back looking at herself in his mirror that was above them before she felt him pulling at her leggings. She squealed from the quick action lifting up to help him get them off. The moment the air touched her thighs she grew self conscious of her appearance. Erik noticed when he opened her thighs climbing between them.

“Instead of being worried bout how thick these thighs are you should be worried about how you gon take this dick.” He leaned up and tapped his heavy meat on her covered clit.

“Ooh.” Out of reaction Kaila moaned and shut her thighs closed.

Erik grabbing them and pushing them back to their previous position. “Unh uh. Open ya fuckin legs. I know you got some good warm wet ass pussy. I can feel the heat coming off that muthafucka and I ain’t pull ya panties to the side yet.”

His dirty talk was making her pussy throb. Kaila wanted to feel that heavy dick split her open even if she cried right after. Erik spoke with big dick energy because he know he had big dick to deliver.

“I want some dick.” Her shy hushed words coming out. Kaila didn’t usually speak like this but Erik brought it out of her.

He smirked and grabbed her the back of her thighs and lifted them up pushing them on her stomach. “Oh you gon get this dick, but I wanna eat this pussy first.”

Without warning he bent his head down between her thighs. Using his teeth he dragged her panties to the side. Kaila jump feeling his breath on her lower lips. She started to brace herself when she felt a long lick go up and down her slick coated slit. Taking his hand he used it to separate her meaty flesh. Her natural juices sticking to the sides

Erik groaned biting his lip. “Mm I know you be making niggas drown in this shit.” He watched her hole open and closed as he spoke to it.

Spitting on her clit he went straight to sucking on it. Erik had to stop her legs from snapping on his head. He used the all the upper strength he had to hold her thick thighs down all the while never letting up on her clit. Keeping his mouth around her he flicked the bud repeatedly. Her juices started to drip out already soaking his beard. The smell of her sex made his dick jump with anticipation. He was ready to feel her in some type of way. Bringing his tongue down he began to tongue fuck her tight hole. She clenched down on him as he slid in and out of her walls. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit adding to her pleasure

“Ohh fuuckk....I’m about to cum babyy.” Kaila covered her mouth to try and lower her whining moans but the way he stuck his tongue in her made it impossible.

“Let that shit out.” Smacking her inner thigh he went back sucking her clit. Erik felt how tight she was on his tongue. He knew he had to open her up a bit to get her ready for his dick. He took two fingers and slowly worked them into her.

Kaila lifted her hips to meet his strokes as she felt herself come undone on his fingers. The suction he was applying on her clit brought tears to her eyes. Her legs shook already giving out. Erik lifted up bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking her essence.

“I’ll have game night every day just to get up in this pussy.” He rubbed his tip against her clit. Using her natural lubricant he made himself slick enough and sat at her tight opening. Erik lifted her thighs back to as far as they were able to go and used the weight of his hips and thrusted inside of her.

“Ahh FUCK!! Gah damn. Wait a minute.” He pulled out instantly and closed his eyes. He chuckled lowly shaking his head. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m not beatin this shit down.” He gripped Kaila’s thighs pulling her to the edge of the bed. He had her at an angle and was standing up.

Kaila squeaked. “Erik wait don’t go too deep-“ She was cut off feeling him sink inside of her. Her arms flailing over as she gripped his sheet. Mouth ajar and formed into a silent ‘o’ as she felt herself getting stretched open to max she’s ever been.

—

Erik wasn’t playing when he said he was going to beat her pussy up. The size or weight of her body didn’t stand a chance to him. He was in beast mode as he drilled her shit in. Kaila’s cry’s and moans fell on deaf ears as he was hitting her spot. No matter how much pushing at his chest she did, it didn’t change the pace or motion he was going in. She had already came on his dick two times but that didn’t mean anything to him.

Kaila whimpered as she brought her hands to his hips to try and stop him. “Daddyyy please l-I can’t.” She brought a hand up to her mouth and bit on her knuckles.

Erik ignored her knowing that she was only speaking because of the sensitivity of her pussy started to probably grow higher the more he stroked her out. The minute he felt her pussy wrapped around his dick Erik got stuck. Her warm and gushy walls clenching him every time he tried to pull out. There was no way she wanted him out of this pussy.

“Move ya fucking hand and take some dick.” He barked as his dreads hung over his eyes and chain swung low. He pulled out tapping on her clit only to slide back in deeper this time.

“Unh..okayy.” She cried frustrated that she couldn’t run

He had her thick frame bended up like a pretzel. Looking between their bodies that was starting to sweat up, Erik watched the way he slid in and out of her. Her coat attached on to his dick. The way he could see her pussy throb around him. But the way she would involuntarily clenched her walls around him when he would pull out only leaving his tip in had her flipping Erik’s crazy switch.

Erik wanted to laugh when he saw the tremble in her lower lip and her tears coming out the corner of her eyes. He was giving her that good dick and he loved watching her get ruined in front of his face. Leaning over her he started to suck her nipples while his stroke never faltered.

Glancing up at the cieling Kaila watched him stroke deep inside of her in the mirror. The rotation of his hips along with his slight curve he had on his dick was sending her to another dimension. He was digging so deep inside of her it had her mind making up scenarios of having a family with him. It was the way he stroked her and fed on her nipples at the same time that had her seeing stars on his wall.

Kaila gripped his dreads. She moaned and whimpered with panted breaths. She couldn’t control the level of her voice. When his strokes were short and fast she’d moan but when he started tapping at her bottom her toes would curl and she’d whimpered and shake underneath him. Kaila didn’t have a clue when she would be able to find another person to hit it the way he did or if there would be another at all.

“Ohh daddy....you so deep in my pussy.” Her sexy moans in his ear had Erik ready to bust. He lifted from her tittes and gave her a nasty kiss. Tongue and all. Kaila moaned and clenched down onto him. Erik’s fingers dug into her skin and sucked on her lip.

“You gon let me nut in this tight ass pussy?” He whispered in her neck.

Kaila shook her head yes willing to agree with anything while he was laying that pipe on her. “Cum in me daddy.”

Erik wanted to hold off but the pussy was hitting too good. He stood back up and stroked until he bottomed out inside her. He’d always get his best nuts when he would go deep. Tucking his lip into his mouth his deep long strokes started to slow feeling his balls tightened. Erik closed his eyes when she gripped his meat and pulling his seed right out of him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and continued to stroke his nut out until he was empty. He pulled out of her with her cream coating his member.

His dick was still hard. Kaila was laying in the same position. Her thighs sore and unable to close from staying open that long. Sitting up she rested on her palms to observe him. Erik’s eyes was glued to her pussy before taking his hand and rubbing her clit.

“I can’t stay out this shit.” He licked his lips.

Kaila shyly smiled as she was about to speak when she heard laughing on the other side of the door.

“Now y’all niggas know them 15 seconds been up.” Celina stated loudly before laughing along with the others.

Her hand covered her mouth as embarrassment clouded her face. She pushed his hand away.

“See Erik I told you.” Kaila whined getting up.

“Wait,where you going?” He asked stepping in front of her.

“I’m going back to the game.”

“We not done here yet. Now come flip this coin to see what you could get. This head...or... this dick.”

_____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(Going to have to edit this later)

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee-blog @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaanime @bellanay @skylahb @toni9 @iambabyharry @kiabialia @youlovetkay @lahuttor @kehlaniswifee @childishgambinaax @readingaddict1290 @sociallyawkward18 @iamching07 @sourbabynaee @unholyxcumbucket @ladymac82 @efonteno @xsweetdellzx @shalynn-m

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

4. Dancing

(Soooo it’s almost October… but that’s okay, right?)

Who wants some Dadneto feels? Who wants pining Erik?

If you do you’ve come to the right place!

Charles is nanny to Wanda and Peter, who’ve lost their mother, Magda. Erik is living a half life as an overworked single father, feeling the loss of his wife. Charles brings them back to life. This is the moment Erik realizes he’s desperately in love with Charles.

This exists in the Nanny Fic verse, but stands alone as a sort of prequel. You don’t have to have read Nanny Fic for this to work.

~2300 words

*

Erik knew the exact moment his heart had gone into free fall. One second in time when everything had crystallized, when notions and feelings that had been vague or easily ignored all shifted into place and could no longer be so easily denied.

Everything had been hard for so long, work especially, or completely, as work was virtually all he did. His entire existence boiled down to a desk, in an open space office, downtown. He got to work early, always early, trying to eek out the extra time needed to get caught up, even though he never quite succeeded in doing so. The day was spent in a haze of stress and tension, trying to meet unmeetable deadlines, and failing. He, and the rest of the team, would get scolded like school-children, belittled, until all the metal in the office vibrated imperceptibly. Imperceptibly because he needed this job— the stable pay, the incredible benefits, the mutant friendly culture. In the end, they all stayed late, too often, too late, to make up for the aforementioned deadlines. Overtime? Never. It was their fault, their incompetence, after all.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was no way for anyone to live, because it wasn’t a life. It was an existence, maybe, barely, but not a life.

Wander and Peter deserved so much more.

Every day he missed his kids. It was an ache like a stone in his shoe, but lodged instead in his heart, and he could see no way to remove it. Quitting, finding something else, it wasn’t an option, not in this economy. So the ache was always there. Always always always. When he finally did get home, he was tired. So fucking tired. He tried. He really did. He rallied as best he could for them but, at best, they got half of him because he was living a half life. Worn down, worn out, nothing left.

They had already lost one parent.

Magda.

Forever.

They barely had half of the other.

At least they had Charles.

Thank god for Charles.

His gratitude for the man and everything he did for him, for the twins, was staggering.

He shouldn’t have been able to afford a full day nanny/tutor after the education system had shut their doors on two young, volatile, mutants who couldn’t control their powers. Charles had swept in and hadn’t balked, like every applicant before him, at what Erik could pay. It was such a non-issue, Erik hadn’t looked a gift horse in the mouth, and had hired Charles on the spot.

Every day since, he had left them in Charles’ capable hands and, every day since, he had come home to bright smiles and happiness, to little people bursting with the need to tell him what adventures they’d gone on that day. There was joy, laughter and stability in the Lehnsherr household again. How could he be anything other than staggeringly grateful?

That’s all it was, gratitude, or so he told himself, until he couldn’t any longer.

When he ran his powers over his watch that lightning-strike evening, he was getting home around what should have been the tail end of dinner time. Charles stayed when needed, Charles cooked, even though contractually he was obligated to do neither. Erik paid him overtime, of course, but each day the clock ticked past 5:00 he half-panicked that when he finally made it through the door, Charles would throw his hands up and say ‘enough is enough,’ balking at yet another 12 hour day and justifiably disappearing from their lives forever.

Erik thought they would be seated at the table, finishing up— once again finding himself missing dinner, missing that precious time where he could talk to them, share a meal, share their day. If it had been a bit earlier, if he’d been on time, he usually found them finishing up their studies. Though he’d seen both many times already, he never failed to boggle at his kids sitting politely to dinner, or engrossed in whatever lesson Charles was offering that day. His kids — Peter especially — sitting. Engrossed. Learning. Sitting. They’d come farther, faster, under Charles’ care, than they had in an entire year at school. He was a miracle worker.

Today, however, he saw neither. They weren’t eating dinner, as expected, or even watching TV, as they did if he was particularly late. They were…

Dancing.

Well, Wanda and Charles were dancing, Peter was moving around the room erratically, random bursts of his incredible speed, that sort of resembled dancing, if you squinted. The control was itself incredible and something he never could have dreamed of before Charles. It was also incongruous because the music was— a waltz? Or, something like it. Erik wasn’t particularly versed in ballroom music.

Wanda and Charles, unlike Peter, were dancing in time to the music, in the proper way. Wanda was perched atop Charles’ feet in the manner small children sometimes did. She was smiling up at Charles with bright eyes, and Charles was smiling back with just as much warmth. The reddish glow that signified the use of her powers was escaping from her hands, though she didn’t seem to be using those powers in any way he could discern. She just seemed… happy.

“1, 2, 3, 4. Yes, just like that Wanda, you’re doing splendidly!”

Her smile got wider.

They turned about the cleared out living space and he came into Wanda’s line of sight. “Papa!” She leapt out of Charles’ grasp and surged toward him, tackling his long legs hard enough to knock him back a step. “I’m learning how to be a Princess, a real princess! Like they have where Charles is from!”

Peter stopped just short in front of him, after another burst of extreme speed, startling him back another step. Erik wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. “I’m the court jester!” he announced, proudly.

Erik laughed, “Of course you are.” The warmth of their happiness began to chase away the weariness, the cold ache ever present in his chest, and replaced it with something else.

“We had a tea party!” Wanda went on and gestured to the kitchen table, where the remains of little tea sandwiches, cakes and biscuits were strewn about, along with a teapot Erik didn’t recall owning. “It was so fancy!”

Peter speeded to the table, knocking into it, and nearly upended the contents. He picked up a tea cup. “We held it like this! It was so silly.” He held out his pinky finger in that cliched way.

“Watch me dance!” Wanda all but plowed back into Charles, who winced as she stepped back onto his feet with just a bit too much force. He bore it in stride and picked back up where they had left off. “Do you see, Papa? Do you see? I’m dancing just like a princess.”

Erik reached out and stroked her hair as they passed. “Du bist eine Prinzessin, Bärchen.”

Peter began “dancing” erratically again. “I didn’t want to be a prince.” He crinkled his nose in distaste between bursts of speed. “Jesters are way cooler than stinky princes.”

Wanda did not respond but held her head higher, more haughtily.

Erik felt suddenly, wildly, close to tears.

As they made another pass, Wanda gasped and released Charles, lunging at Erik again. “Papa! You and Charles can be the King and Qu—” Her face screwed up in momentary confusion. “—King. We can have two Kings, right?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

With that settled, she went on. “Then, the kings should dance too!”

Erik’s eyes immediately flew up to Charles’, who looked just as taken aback by the sudden suggestion as he.

“Oh Bärchen, I don’t think—”

“Papa, the kings have to dance too!” It was a statement of inarguable fact. The sky is blue, the sun shines every day, the kings must dance. Peter stopped to nod his agreement.

Erik sidestepped. “The king could dance with his princess.”

That earned him 5-year-old exasperation. “Why don’t you want to dance with Charles? That’s silly. He can teach you. C’mon Papa!” She physically nudged him in Charles’ direction. Catching Charles’ gaze, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “It appears Princess Wanda has spoken.”

Charles’ face was alight with amusement. “Yes, it does appear that way.” He straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, sire?”

That hand was warm, when Erik placed his own on it, and soft. When those same hands settled on Erik’s upper back and waist, the heat seeped through the thinness of his dress shirt. He hadn’t been this close to anyone, hadn’t been touched, not since… All at once he wanted both more and less, to fall forward and pull back.

Charles was no less beautiful this close up— blue eyes still sparkling with amusement, a quirk to his very red mouth projecting the same emotion, a loch of his unwieldy hair falling playfully across his forehead, a sprinkle of barely there freckles across his nose. There should have been flaws. With their nearness, Erik should have been able to pick them out, but he couldn’t find a single one.

“Papa!” Wanda jolted him back to the room. “You’re not dancing!”

So they weren’t. Feeling very caught out, warmth rose to his cheeks. Blushing? Was he blushing? Erik didn’t blush.

“Have you waltzed before?”

“No.”

“Like this.”

Charles was gentle. He lead with authority, but

somehow managed to be gentle at the same time. It seemed to sum up everything he had learned about the man, watching him nurture his children back to life. After a few awkward steps and bumping knees, Charles’ lead was easy to follow and Erik found himself gliding across the floor in no time at all.

“You have a natural grace,” Charles murmured, as they turned about the room.

“Hardly. You’re an excellent teacher.”

“No.” The word was said with surprising firmness. “You’re very fluid, you feel the music. Musicality like that cannot be taught. Not easily. Certainly not this quickly.”

Something burned in Erik’s chest at the words, at the sincerity behind them. The feeling took a moment to recognize, but it was pride. When was the last time he’d felt proud about anything he’d done? The warmth spread, trickling outward from his chest, from where Charles’ hands were still pressing against him. Could he feel it too, through the small, open space between their bodies? He felt like he could.

Around them the kids danced too— Peter in his manic way, Wanda with an invisible partner.

He wanted to drop his forehead to Charles’, wanted to disappear in his warmth, his kindness, his care. Experiencing this small taste of it, he suddenly, desperately, wanted more— wanted to be the object of the same support, encouragement and comfort his children received. A nanny no longer, but a father to his children, a partner to him. All at once, he could see it so clearly, what it would be like if Charles didn’t leave at the end of each day. If he stayed, if they were…

Oh god.

To not be alone in this.

He couldn’t think the word.

To be whole.

He shouldn’t think the word.

To be a… family.

In that moment, he wanted it so badly he could scarcely breathe. He was gripping Charles too tightly now. He knew he was. But, he couldn’t stop. It said everything he couldn’t and absolutely shouldn’t— please don’t go, please stay, please be here with us.

We love you.

I love you.

The clarity of it was striking. You’re Charles. I’m Erik. I love you. Please stay. Now. Always.

Striking, real, clear, but terrifying.

He let go. Too fast.

“Are you all right?” The concern on Charles’ face deepened the ache that had taken hold with such fierceness in his chest.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t been. Not for a long time. But, for an awful moment, he thought that he could be. With Charles, he could be. “Fine,” he ground out, unused to losing his composure so completely. “I’m fine just… tired. It’s late, isn’t it? I’m sure you want to be getting home.”

Was that…? No. He was projecting. Surely, he had not seen a fleeting burst of disappointment in Charles’ features. The man was nodding. The children were protesting.

“You know I’ll be back tomorrow.” Charles chided as he bundled them into a group hug which Erik had to restrain himself from joining.

“Can we play princesses—”

“And jesters!”

“—again tomorrow?”

“Of course, your highness.” Charles stood and gave them both a bow. Wanda giggled and curtsied in return. Peter bounced. “Until tomorrow then.” His gaze flicked from the children to Erik. “Have a good night, King Erik.”

Erik swallowed. It was painful. “And you, King Charles.”

When he was gone, Erik was half nibbling, half tidying the remains of the tea party, trying to ignore the prickling behind his eyes, trying to dispel every last feeling Charles had provoked, trying to banish every last thought and box up every last ridiculous hope. Wanda sat at the table watching him. She did so with eerie quietness for awhile. So lost in his own thoughts, he startled when she finally broke the silence.

“I like Charles, Papa. Do you like Charles?”

The way she looked at him, boring into his soul and past his defences in a way entirely too reminiscent of her mother, he knew the answer was in someway important, someway meaningful.

“I— yes, Bärchen, I like Charles.”

She nodded and having apparently received the desired response, she hopped off her chair and went to pester her twin.

Somehow he knew the word they had both meant wasn’t like, but love. A word neither of them dared say aloud. The people you loved, especially when you loved them most… they didn’t always stay. They could be taken and it hurt in a way you could never fully heal from. Maybe if you held back, maybe if you didn’t give it all, maybe they wouldn’t go.

Erik gave up on his tidying and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs.

He couldn’t be with Charles.

Could he?

*

If this has perked your interest in the original fic here is the link to Nanny Fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898845/chapters/29467485

8 chapters. Unfinished. Not abandoned.

[heliads]

A Matter of Metal

Based on this request: “an alternate version of magneto’s son and been in shield and been really close to hill and fury so sword has sent him to investigate the hex with the trio and he has the same powers of magneto and basically wants what agatha wants wanda powers and basically betrays sword/shield”

masterlist

Three people sit at a table. They are each dressed in shades of navy and black, guns obvious on hips and knives hidden on shins. The flickering glare of a fluorescent light casts shadows across the room. Despite all the resources of S.H.I.E.L.D., they’ve never bothered to get it fixed. The man, one black eye patch hidden in shadow, sits closer to the woman, whose dark hair is clinically pulled away from her face. They stare at a second man, one who returns their gaze without a shard of hesitation. Between the three of them, they know enough secrets about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the various governments to tear down the entire fabric of the world.

Instead, their focus is on a manila file folder, one that’s been slid across the table to the second man. He eyes it coolly. “You want me to investigate Wanda Maximoff?” Fury nods. “S.W.O.R.D. claims to have it under control. I’m not sure how much of that I believe.” Maria Hill gestures towards the folder. “You’ll be there as our eyes and ears. S.W.O.R.D. is willing to accept our help, but we’re fairly certain it’s only as a way to get us off of their back. You’ll have to be careful, Y/N, but we think you’ll be able to find out more than they’re letting on.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “At this rate, I’m not sure whether you’re sending me because you trust me or because you want to see what would happen if you sent another agent with abilities to tangle with Maximoff.” Fury chuckles at that. “Are you sure your powers don’t include mind reading? I can’t keep anything from you.” Y/N lets his stony facade break for a second as he laughs. “That’s why we’re such good friends.”

Hill smirks. “If you consider Fury a best friend forever, I’m getting worried about your mental state. You sure you’re up for this job?” Y/N grins. “I’m the only one you trust. If I wasn’t ready, you wouldn’t have asked me about it at all.” Fury nods. “You’re not just there to watch and wait, L/N, you’re there to act. If you feel the need to intervene, do so at will. We’ll defend you to S.W.O.R.D.”

The barest hint of curiosity flares across Y/N’s eyes. “You want me to go behind S.W.O.R.D.’s back?” Fury shrugs. “We want you to make the right decisions, even if they happen to be against S.W.O.R.D. direction. Use discretion, but do what you must.” Y/N nods, then begins to rise from his chair. “When do I leave?” Fury and Hill stand as well. “Whenever you’re willing. The first trucks leave in a couple of hours.”

Y/N turns to go, but a call from Fury makes him glance over at the man again. “And L/N? Take care. From what I’ve heard, things aren’t exactly smooth sailing over there.” A devil-sharp grin makes its way onto Y/N’s face. “Trust me, Fury. I can take care of myself.” Just as he says that, the room begins to shake. It’s not much, barely noticeable, but still there. Every metal thing in the room begins to contort for just a second, and then the moment passes and they smooth themselves back out again once Y/N disappears from the room.

Y/N heads quickly to his apartment. It’s not far from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, carefully chosen for an easy escape if necessary. In this case, Y/N won’t be running away from anything. Instead, he’ll be running towards something, a risky shot that just might plunge him into a scenario far more dangerous than either Fury or Hill realizes. That’s why they’re sending Y/N, after all. No matter what, he always comes out on top, regardless of how deadly the situation ends up turning. In fact, the darker the scene, the better he works.

Y/N begins to fill a black case with a number of supplies. Clothing, weapons, you name it. Just as the case begins to fill, he pauses, and turns to a gunmetal gray box almost hidden in the back of the room. Y/N kneels before it almost reverently, and lifts the lid. Inside lies a helmet of dark metal, one that would be snug to the skull but extends down, cut away from the eyes like those of the Ancient Greeks. Y/N’s eyes close as he holds the helmet in his hands. It was not his, not at first. No, it belonged to his father. Erik Lehnsherr.

Erik had raised Y/N, both by his presence and his absence. They both shared the same ability to manipulate metal, to raze the earth if they wished. The only difference was that Erik was long gone, and Y/N was forced to stay here today. Y/N isn’t sure if Erik was dead or alive, or if that even mattered. Erik had vanished one night in a cloud of smoke, with the yells of men echoing over the pounding of heels on asphalt. He could be dead, or missing, or simply choosing never to return. In all honesty, it didn’t matter. Y/N remembers the key detail- the look of anguish on Erik’s face as he realized he was losing his family again, one final blow in a sea of countless injuries.

When Y/N leaves for the S.W.O.R.D. encampments, there is a metal helmet hidden in the black case on the seat beside him. He does not let it out of his sight for a second.

The truck is rocking back and forth, heavy tires digging deeply into muddy ruts as it travels along an only semi-paved road on the way to Westview, New Jersey. Y/N sits in the back with a couple of other new arrivals, but he does not speak to them. He rides with these nervously chattering brains and muscle only because he does not wish to stand out amongst the residents of the Westview encampment. Few people know the true importance of Agent Y/N L/N, and it’s best to keep his high level under wraps. This want for secrecy, however, is not enough to force him to converse with the others. Everyone has their limits, he supposes. This is his.

Y/N can sense the Westview encampment before he even looks out the tinted windows to see it. He can feel the boundary pressing in around him, the tendrils of magic practically reaching out to wrap around his brain. Y/N’s power is raw, has always called to others like it. Apparently his magnetism doesn’t just extend to metals. As the truck carries him closer to Wanda’s energy barrier, a pounding in his skull gets worse and worse, feeling like an anvil slamming against his temples.

Y/N does his best to hide any signs of weakness, but he must have a slight sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead or something, because S.W.O.R.D. Director Hayward raises an eyebrow when he greets Y/N outside of the truck. “You alright there, agent? What, you get sick on the way over?” Y/N isn’t in the mood for politicking. “You might consider questioning your driver instead. I think I’ve seen more technical skill in a fifteen year old with a learner’s permit.” As Y/N strides away, he sees a trio of friends exchange glances as they try to hold back laughter. He recognizes them in passing- Woo, Rambeau, Lewis, present in the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases thanks to their experience with Avenger-level threats.

Y/N arrives late in the afternoon, and sits in on a couple of debriefings before night falls over the encampment. S.W.O.R.D. isn’t exactly following through with the laissez-faire attitude they highlighted in their project write-up, but Y/N assumes that a few details were embellished to make sure Fury didn’t come after them. These details would include an accidental send-off of one Monica Rambeau into the so-called Hex, and a later disappearance of a S.W.O.R.D. spy at the hands of Wanda Maximoff when the man had been discovered creeping into Westview via the sewer system.

Clearly embarrassed to present these findings to an extension of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hayward had decided to wait on any further activity regarding Westview until the next day, or at least until things cooled down with Wanda herself and with the tensions already simmering between Director Hayward and the trio of Woo, Rambeau, and Lewis. Y/N waits until action on the encampment is beginning to settle down, when the dark cloak of night will hide his silhouette, and then slips out of his assigned bunk, heading towards the barrier to Westview.

If he thought the call to the magical energy was bad in the truck, it is a thousand times worse here. Yet the pure power of the boundary calls to Y/N even as it pushes him away. Y/N walks until he’s mere inches away from the shimmering scarlet surface. Around him, guards ignore his sudden appearance, their scopes and tech not picking up his figure. Y/N smiles to himself. It’s funny how easy it is to manipulate all that metal. Erik would have loved it.

Y/N turns his focus back to the barrier of Westview. He considers it for a moment, then pulls his father’s helmet from where it was hidden under his coat. He slips it on, and the pain dissipates to almost nothing. What remains instead is that same hunger, that same want for the power right before his eyes. Y/N reaches out a hand to touch the barrier, and his eyes widen for just a second as he makes contact. It is amazing how much is right there for the taking. Without another glance, Y/N steps through the barrier into Westview.

Agent Y/N L/N has been missing for only a couple of hours. Director Hayward issued a statement telling everyone at the encampment that L/N was out on a S.W.O.R.D.- authorized mission, that he will be back soon. Some people believe him, but more notice the crease of fury that has appeared on his brow, or the clench of his knuckles as he storms into the tech center where Darcy Lewis and Monica Rambeau currently watch the live feed of a drone,  one that has just been sent into Westview.

Hayward stomps up to the group, considers the monitor for a second, then nods to an awaiting technician. “Take the shot.” Monica, who had been speaking to Wanda through a microphone, freezes. “What?” Her panic is not enough to stop the missiles from clicking into position on the drone, or to have any impact on Wanda, whose eyes glow red as she shuts down all S.W.O.R.D. control of the drone. Monica’s live feed flickers into static.

Scarlet bands of energy wrap over the drone, and she turns away from it. Wanda does not notice the failsafe missiles still preparing to fire, or notice that anything is wrong at all until the launched missiles crumple in a tangle of wires and screeching metal. Wanda whirls around to see a man in a metal helmet standing across the street, his eyes fixed impassively on her. He releases his clenched fist, letting the buckling metal fall to the ground in tandem with his lowered arm. Wanda stares at him. “Who are you?” Y/N returns her gaze. “Someone who can help you get what you want.”

Scores of S.W.O.R.D. agents are clustering around the Westview barrier, watching as it flashes scarlet, rent apart as a woman steps through. She is dragging a broken drone, which she tosses at their feet. As she speaks, fear and apprehension begin to dawn on the faces of the gathered agents. Monica Rambeau steps forward and attempts to reason with Wanda. Director Hayward realizes that this negotiation tactic isn’t working and tries another option: outright threats.

Yet Wanda Maximoff does not seem concerned by the soldiers pointing guns at her, or at least not until Hayward snaps his fingers and a wave of fully automated weaponry focuses on her. “They’re not humans,” Hayward calls, “You can’t control their minds.” Then another voice echoes out from behind Wanda. “But I can.”

Y/N L/N, clad in his father’s metal helmet, steps through the barrier. He raises his arm, and all scraps of metal crash and crumple together, surrounding Hayward with piles of useless waste. Hayward stares. “Agent L/N? What are you doing?” Y/N laughs, the sound deep in his throat. “I’m making my choice.” Hayward seems taken aback by this betrayal. “What would Fury say?” Then, quieter, “What would your father say?”

An edge of stone hardens in Y/N’s eyes. “I wouldn’t know, because he is gone. Do you know what I remember from that night? I remember my father fighting to get back to me, but he was forced away because of your organizations and petty squabbles, all because you’re scared of people like us. People with powers. So, now that you mention it, I think he would be proud of me. I’m finally continuing what he always wanted.”

Hayward’s eyes narrow. “You would turn your back on S.H.I.E.L.D., on S.W.O.R.D., on everything, for what? A chance to use your powers whenever you wanted? You could do that here, you know.” Y/N appears disinterested. “Where you’ll hold it over me for the rest of my life? I’d rather not.” Hayward glares. “This is your final warning. We will be coming after you.” Y/N raises his arm again, and the gathered S.W.O.R.D. agents flinch away. “Actually, you won’t. I plan to make that very clear.”

Y/N’s eyes glint, and the entire encampment begins to shudder. Hayward turns to his officers as he realizes the unfortunate truth- everything here, the walls, the weapons, the tech, it’s all made of metal. A cold smile spreads onto Y/N’s face as he watches the encampment crash to the ground in a hail of sparks and ruined scrap, weeks worth of research gone in an instant. Y/N turns his back on S.W.O.R.D., holding out a hand to Wanda. “Ready to go back?” She nods, smiling, and accompanies him back inside the barrier.

Wanda is grateful for a new ally. It’s a shame, though, for if she were to see inside Y/N’s head she would see no desire to help her. Instead, what lurks underneath that helmet is an all-consuming want for vengeance, for power, for everything Wanda can give Y/N and even more that he can take from her. Even after just a couple of hours in Westview, Y/N realized that Wanda represents an untapped source of power, one that Y/N could call to himself as easily as drawing breath.

His lip curls when he thinks of Hayward’s last words to him. Mentioning Y/N’s father? That was a low blow. And besides, it didn’t even work. Y/N could laugh to think of how little Hayward knew of Erik Lehnsherr. Had Hayward known a fraction of Erik’s true goals, of all of his attempts to reinstate control to mutants and people with abilities, he would never have allowed Y/N onto his little base in the first place.

What would Erik think of Y/N’s decision? He’d be proud. As Y/N disappears into the shrouded city of Westview, feeling his own powers grow with every second that he spent around that beacon of energy known to the world as Wanda Maximoff, he sends out one last thought to his father. I’m doing what you would have wanted. I’m continuing the cause. S.H.I.E.L.D. had always held Y/N back, but he’s finally broken off all chains. It’s time to begin again. It’s time to create a new world, one where power is given to those deserving of it.

If Wanda Maximoff had any idea what would happen to her perfect little town, she would have run long ago.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 14: “A Masterstroke by the Lover of Trapdoors”

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Raoul and Christine are still running away from the shadow on the rooftop when they encounter the Persian, who tells them to run in the opposite direction. Raoul makes another try at getting Christine to run away with him on the spot, but once again, she refuses and repeats that Raoul will probably need to make her go against her will if he wants to elope with her (what is he supposed to do though? Drag a screaming and kicking Christine through the opera house? Drug her or knock her unconscious and roll her up in a carpet?).

She tries to convince him that Erik has not overheard their conversation on the rooftop because he is working on „Don Juan Triumphant“, but doesn’t seem to quite believe it herself. When Raoul bitterly says how brave she was to play his fiancée, Christine reveals that she had actually told Erik all about the engagement game she was playing with Raoul, and that he was willing to tolerate it under the assumption that Raoul would be leaving for the North Pole soon.

It is also obvious that despite the kiss Christine has given him in the preceding chapter, Raoul is still unsure of her feelings, which might also be due to her speaking of it like a one-time thing:

“Are people unhappy when they’re in love?”  “Yes, when they’re in love and aren’t sure of being loved.” “Are you saying that for Erik?” “For Erik and for myself”, answered Raoul, shaking his head with a thoughtful, forlorn expression.”

To a certain degree, Christine might be asking that first question for herself, too, since she is obviously unhappy and has shown signs of crying before. Keep in mind that this is the last interaction we see between Raoul and Christine before her abduction. Raoul is still uncertain at this point if Christine actually loves him, which means that he is soon going to risk his life for a girl whose feelings remain a mystery to him. We’ve got to give him some credit for that…

In her conversation with Raoul, Christine calls Erik a “man of heaven and earth” - not a ghost, monster or demon. She has seen his face, and even though she feels horror, she apparently also sees him as a man here. Raoul is once again taken aback by how Christine talks about Erik, making him question her determination to leave. She also tells him that no matter where she calls, Erik will always hear her. This is certainly due to the acoustics of the building and its secret passageways, since Erik apparently used similar techniques in the palace he built in Persia. On a deeper level, this is a symbol of how strongly they are still bound together, and seems to extend into the supernatural.

We also learn that Erik has promised Christine to stay away from her dressing room and her bedroom in his house, and that she trusts what he says. It is quite poignant to see how far Erik and Christine apparently trust each other, and how each of them is not fully deserving of the trust put into them even if they seem to be trying. In „Apollo‘s Lyre“, Christine also mentions how she instinctively trusted Erik.

Erik has given Christine a key to his house, which must be a pretty big thing for him as he puts his own safety into her hands with this. Christine shows Raoul the key but refuses to give it to him when he demands it because it “would be a betrayal” (apparently, she doesn‘t consider what happened on the rooftop a „betrayal“ and is also unwilling to betray Erik). But then she realises that she has lost Erik’s gold ring, probably while she gave Raoul the kiss on the rooftop - which is symbolic, of course. When Erik gave her the ring, he told her that she would be safe as long as she wore it - but if she parted with it, he would take revenge. She is greatly distressed, fearing what Erik might do to both of them - but even that is not enough to get her to run away. As she seems to have lost the ring on the rooftop, and Erik has it back in his possession two days later, saying that he had found it, it is likely that he directly picked it up after Christine and Raoul left the rooftop.

Raoul then goes home, cursing Erik and resolving to save Christine while he goes to bed. In the darkness, he thinks he sees Erik’s glowing eyes watching him from the balcony, and turns on the light to see if the eyes disappear. He takes his pistol and fires a shot at Erik’s eyes, which wakes the entire household including Philippe. Philippe thinks Raoul, who is rambling incoherently, has gone completely mad and asks him who this „Erik“ is that Raoul seems to be so obsessed with. Raoul states:

“He’s my rival!”

That statement is significant because it shows that Raoul views Erik primarily as a romantic threat to himself - not just as a threat to Christine’s safety or a general nuisance that he needs to get rid of, but as a serious contender for Christine’s hand. Raoul considering him his rival also puts them on more or less equal footing. Raoul also starts to worry that he should not have been so rash because if it really was Erik, Christine might not forgive Raoul for hurting him after all.

From Raoul’s description of his glowing eyes and the fact that there really is blood on the balcony and the drainpipe, we can conclude that it was indeed Erik standing there, and that he has been wounded by Raoul’s shot to a significant degree, considering there was enough blood to have seeped through his clothing and dripped onto the balcony in a very short time. The explanation of Raoul having shot at a cat doesn’t sound very likely, given that cats wouldn’t usually slide down drainpipes to get off a balcony.

Raoul and Philippe go on to quarrel over Raoul’s plan to elope with Christine. Philippe will not tolerate Raoul marrying a girl from the opera, but Raoul seems to be determined to go through with his plan anyway and defy Philippe’s wishes.

The next morning, there is an article in the newspaper “L’Époque” revealing that Raoul and Christine are engaged and about to marry. It is somewhat strange though because we never see Raoul and Christine actually getting engaged in a serious fashion. There’s the “engagement game” of course, but it cannot be considered the same as a serious marriage proposal. In addition to that, the last time we saw Raoul and Christine discussing their elopement, there were distinctly no plans of marriage included, as Raoul promised to take Christine away and then leave her to herself, as she has decided *not* to marry. It is not clear when that plan changed, or if Christine is even aware that his plans have changed. Philippe is very much embarrassed by Raoul’s behaviour, and swears that he will stop Raoul if he still plans to go through with his plans of elopement with Christine. Raoul leaves without saying anything more to Philippe, and spends the day making preparations for the elopement until 9 pm.

There is a curious detail that Leroux draws attention to, but I’m unsure about why he mentions it at all: Raoul’s carriage is driven by a coachman “whose face was largely hidden by the long scarf he wore” (They might have picked up on this in the 2004 movie). It cannot be Erik here though, as he now appears on scene to observe the carriage while the coachman is still sitting on it. In this scene, Erik is wearing the attire we have come to associate with him because of the musical mostly - the black cloak and felt hat.

During that night’s performance of Faust, Christine appears in the role of Marguerite again, but this time, the rumours about her engagement from the morning paper cause the audience to react with hostility to her since they see her as a social climber. This gives her (and us) an idea of how Parisian society would have reacted to her if she had ever become the Viscountess (or Countess, if Philippe is dead) de Chagny (and it would most likely have been far worse if she had married the man suspected of having killed his brother over her in public). Christine is quickly losing confidence when she suddenly sees Carlotta appear in one of the boxes, and her defiant nature is awakened. Not wishing to appear weak and succumb before her enemy, she regains her confidence and sings with all her soul again.

In the final scene of „Faust“, Faust and Mephisto come to rescue an insane Marguerite from her prison cell, but even though she and Faust confess their love for each other, she refuses to escape and asks the angels to take her soul to heaven instead (you can watch it here, for example: https://youtu.be/i2C4ezHUF1I).

Final scene from „Faust“ performance at the Metropolitan Opera (image from bruzanemediabase.com)

When Christine pleads with the angels in the final prison scene, Leroux makes use of the ambiguity of the „angel“. Raoul stands up from where he has been sitting in the amphitheater (not the de Chagny box where Philippe is sitting), but the Angel of Music is quicker: the entire stage is plunged into darkness, and when the lights return, Christine is gone. A great commotion ensues, with everybody trying to explain where Christine could be, but her co-star Carolus Fonta then announces publicly that she has disappeared, and that no one knows what has really happened.

Erik’s action here is both daring and desperate. From his perspective, he needs to act now before Christine will be out of his reach forever. He has overheard the escape plan, and I guess he also saw the newspaper speculating about her impending marriage, and now sees his hand forced before it’s too late for him. The chapter‘s title calling it a „masterstroke“ („coup de maître“) highlights the extraordinary skill and boldness that were necessary to stage his abduction of Christine in the fashion that he chose. The „lover of trapdoors“ is a nickname that was given to him in Persia, as we will later learn from the Persian.

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

[songficsbyrissi]

I Luv Your Girl (Erik Killmonger x Reader)

“Your Girl chose me, Don't be mad.

Kelly told y'all don't bring 'em in the club,

The way she rock that, got the boy in love,

And I pray that y'all ain't serious, cause seriously shes on my dick.” - The Dream

************************

Tory Lanez’s “Broke in a Minute” emerged from Erik’s Audi R8’s speakers as he drove to the club with 3 of his boys in the car. They’ve been talking about this club for the longest and have been bugging Erik to come with them. Erik finally took a break from his work and decided to come to the club with them.

I ain't been broke in a minute, don't get offended

Tore off the bow in a Bentley, fucking your ho in her kidney

Fuck up the city, I do not dance, I jiggy

Gun is tucked under this Fendi

I like it, I spend it, I just came right out the jeweler

The ice on my neck, and my wrist, and my fist, I ain't finished

Once Erik pulled up to the nightclub, he put his luxury vehicle in park and glanced at the sign on the front of the club.

Envy.

‘Interesting name’ he thought to himself. ‘Shit could be fun’

His boy Jason broke him out of his thoughts by shaking his shoulders from the backseat.

“Oh shitttttt! We here! I’m telling you, my nigga, this club is lit!”

“They got the finest bitches in here.” Another one named Trey who was sitting next to Jason, added.

“You won’t regret this shit, my nigga.” The one in the passenger seat next to him, Sean concluded.

Erik glanced at all of them. “I better not or y’all niggas paying me gas money.”

The men guffawed at Erik’s statement as they exited the vehicle but Erik was as serious as a heart attack. He was fine with the usual club they went to that was closer to his house and not in another city. Unlike his friends, Erik wasn’t hitting the club, desperate to find a woman to take home. He came to have fun and if a shorty caught his eye, he might fuck her in an alley or his car. He avoided taking girls home since that crazy one-night stand that wouldn’t leave that one time.

Erik shuddered at the memory. That was another reason he didn’t go to the club looking for women. Because 95% of the women in there are crazy, horny bitches and he didn’t have the time to deal with that.

Once they got inside, Erik could see his friends weren’t lying. The club was pretty live. Intoxicated and sober people dancing, drinking and having a good time. It was too soon to tell if this club was going to be a waste of time or not. The friends separated and Erik went to the bar to order a drink. He noticed a group of girls staring at him, barely being discreet and whispering amongst themselves. Someone in the group liked him but was too shy to come up to him. Erik scoffed to himself.

He hated it when women never shoot their shot. They expected him to do it all the time. The worst he could say was no. Just come up and ask. Erik knew he was looking handsome with his red v neck t-shirt, black jeans, and Bred 1s on his feet. To top it off, he was wearing gold jewelry which consisted of his gold studs, gold chain, and gold Rolex to match the gold canines in his mouth. He leaned against the bar with his drink in his hand and surveyed the area. That’s when his eyes fell on you.

A beautiful black woman with her natural hair styled in a top knot bun. You were dressed in a sexy red 2 piece bandage spaghetti body con dress. The color complimented your skin tone. You wore it with gold heels. You were matching with him and didn’t even know each other. Erik didn’t think too much into it because 1. You weren’t the only one in this club wearing red and 2. You were sitting on the lap of some man and the way his arm wrapped around your waist, he knew you were taken.

He clicked his tongue. Damn shame. You were the only girl who really caught his eye.

As Erik continued to chill at the bar and downing his drink, he kept getting the stares and looks from beautiful women who couldn’t use their words and considered the stares as them shooting their shots.

“What are you drinking?” Erik heard a woman next to him ask. He turned to see that it was you. Probably getting a drink for your man.

“It’s Henny straight. Your man don’t seem like A Henny drinker. He seems to do light.”

You glanced up at him and he expected you to have an annoyed face but you were amused instead and began to laugh.

“Fuck him. This drink ain’t for him. It’s for me.” You turned to the bartender, leaning over the counter. “Let me get Henny straight.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, observing you as you waited for your drink and once you did, you didn’t babysit it like he did. You drank it all right then and there and he was amazed. Your eyes fell on him and his drink, causing you to giggle.

“Is that one drink your child? Why you babysitting?”

Erik glanced down at his drink and back at you. “I’m DD tonight so I can’t get fucked up.”

“How responsible of you.” You responded in a flirtatious tone, closing the gap between the two of you. Erik was getting turned on. You stuck your hand out.

“I’m Y/N.”

His hand took yours, shaking it. “Erik.”

“Erik.” You repeated his name as if you were trying it out. “I like it. I like how it rolls off my tongue.”

Wow, you were a bold woman and that turned Erik on even more. You weren’t beating around the bush. You were making it clear that you wanted him and it made him want you even more.

“You got a girlfriend or anyone who would be upset that I’m talking to you, Erik?” You questioned brushing a piece of lint of his shoulder. He was astonished now. Who are you?

“Besides those girls over there that have been taking their sweet ass time to talk to me, no. I’m single. I know you’re not.”

You rolled your eyes as Ms. New Booty by Bubba Sparxxx began to play.

“Ooooh that’s my song! I’ll see you later, Erik.” You winked at him, grabbing your second drink and heading to the dance floor. He watched you go and dance and continued to slowly sip his drink. A man tapped Erik on the shoulder and his nostrils were flaring. It was your man. Erik thought he wanted to fight but his anger is mainly directed at you.

“My girl was over here flirting with you?” He inquired, still glaring at you on the dance floor.

Erik was stuck. He was beginning to like you and didn’t want to get you in trouble with your man but on the other hand, if he lied for you, your man was probably not going to believe him. Besides, Erik had better things to do than to get caught between a lovers’ quarrel.

“Nah man. We were just talking about drinks.” He decided to lie so he wasn’t caught in some drama. It’s like the man didn’t hear one word Erik said when he turned to him, clenching his fists.

“You know she’s just doing this shit on purpose? She just flirting with you to piss me off. Don’t take her seriously because I promise you she coming home with me.”

Your boyfriend walked back to his seat and when the song ended, you returned to the bar to chat Erik up some more. You two were in a deep, engaging conversation when Erik looked above your head to see your man glaring at you two.

“Ooh this my song! Dance with me, Erik!”

Before he could say anything, you got up from the stool you were sitting on and grinded slowly against his crotch as he held your waist going along with the rhythm. You turned around, rubbing your pelvis against him and he felt the blood rushing to a certain area of his body.

“Whine slow for me, Tic-Tock for me, Baby you drop it like that.” You sang along as you continued wining with your arms around his neck. Erik looked back to see your man still mugging you guys and put his attention back on you.

“Yo, maybe you should go back to your man. He looking mad as fuck right now.”

“Fuck that nigga.” You replied, still dancing on him.

Erik didn’t stop you. He really liked your ass. Practically loved you. When the song ended, you two returned to the bar where you ordered another drink. Erik could still feel your man burning holes through you two.

“Yo, shorty, your man....you sure you don’t want to go back to him?”

You let out a dry laugh as you stirred your drink. “Didn’t I tell you fuck that nigga?”

“Well that nigga came over here when you were on the dance floor by yourself and said you were just trying to make him jealous. You fine and all, baby girl but I ain’t letting no female use me to make their nigga mad. I’m good on that.” Erik made an effort to leave the bar when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him. You sighed deeply.

“Listen. At first, when I started talking to you, it was to piss him off, I’m not going to lie. I’ve caught this man cheating a couple times before in our relationship and I forgave him each time like a dumbass. Tonight at the club, I caught him flirting with some bitch here and I decided that two can play at that game. I picked the wrong nigga though because once I got to know you, I started to like you and I’m realizing that my relationship with Gerald has died a long time ago. We were just together for convenience at this point.”

Erik began snickering and you had no idea why. “Your nigga’s name is Gerald?”

You joined in on the laugh fest. “Yes! Do you realize how hard that was to moan out? Whenever he asked “whose pussy is this?”, I would just fake a moan. How am I going to confidently say a nigga named Gerald owns this pussy?”

Erik kept chuckling, with his hand sliding up and down your bare thigh. “You’re better off screaming out any other name.”

You smirked deviously. “Would Erik be a better name?”

A smirk grew on his face as well. “Yes it would.”

You leaned in close, pressing your lips against his and he kissed back passionately, holding the back of your neck to suck your bottom lip and your tongue.

You smiled when you broke away from the kiss. “Looks like my birthday is turning out better than I expected.”

“It’s your birthday? Well, I can make it even better if we get out of this club.” He bit his lip, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

You pulled back with a force and saw a very angry Gerald right in front of you. His back was towards you and he was facing Erik.

“Nigga, you crossed the line kissing my fucking girl!” He roared clenching his fists, ready to strike.

You pulled him back stepping between them. “I ain’t your girl! Not anymore!”

His glare softened as he looked at you. “What do you mean?”

Erik decided that he was gonna get in the drama. “Your girl chose me, baby boy! You fucked up too many times.”

You pushed Gerald away. “We’re done. Let’s go, Erik.”

Erik saw the pissed expression of Gerald’s face and held his hands up in defense, suppressing a laugh. “Your girl chose me. Don’t be mad. I’ll tell you one thing tho. Imma love her better than you did.”

Gerald took a swing at Erik but Erik dodged in time, causing your ex-boyfriend to spin and fall on the ground. He groaned in pain as everyone stared at him. Erik got in his face, cackling.

“YOU GOT KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT! BY YOURSELF!” He held his stomach, releasing boisterous laughter and calmed down. “Ok being deadass though, I kinda feel bad. But not that bad.”

“Imma....kill...you....nigga.” Gerald groaned while turning to the side.

“Hey this ain’t my fault, playboy. She chose me and you mad as hell at me. But shit, I would be mad too.” Erik glanced at you biting his lip and you smirked in response. He turned back to your ex. “She bad as hell.”

Erik grabbed your hand, leading you out of the club when you two ran into his group of friends he came with.

“What the fuck? Nigga we’ve been here almost every weekend and never picked up a bitch and this nigga E gets one on the first try? Ain’t that some shit?” Sean commented folding his arms as the other two shook their heads.

“Watch your mouth. She ain’t no bitch.” Erik stayed and dapped his boys up. “Aight y’all, be easy. I’m out.”

“Nigga, we came here with you!” Jason exclaimed in disbelief.

“Nigga turns into Mr. Bitches and forgets about his niggas.”

“Damn I forgot.” Erik looked at you. “You cool if I drop these niggas off?”

“Of course. They’re your friends.”

“Damn I like her already!” The 3 boys left the club with you and Erik. Once Erik dropped them off, he looked at you expectedly.

“So what you wanna do, birthday girl?”

“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” There was a hint of lust in your eyes, causing him to pull you in another kiss.

“So How about I take you back to my house and celebrate your birthday right?”

“I would love that.”

And that night was the best birthday for you and the best club experience for Erik.

TAGS:  @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelmaree @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @heavenwrites17 @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14 @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @mareethequeen   @destinio1 @madamslayyy @thehomierobbstark @fd-writes @semianta @raysunshine78 @rbhp @fandom-fangirl22 @shaekingshitup @bakarilennox @queengodiva619 @this-glitter-pussay @itsqu33n @niqui87 @muse-of-mbaku @thickemadame​

[sickandtideeeee]

By Bast - Chapter 11 (Erik x Reader)

Bast truly had a riotous sense of humor.

Who could have foreseen that you would end up in the exact same operating room you had been revived in, attempting to save the life of a man who had nearly murdered you? Your eyes followed the same distraught physician who had taken care of you scurry around to gather surgical supplies, desperate to keep her license. You probably would have laughed had the situation not been so dire.

With the pressure of your closed fist inside his chest being the difference between his life and bloody exsanguination, N’Jadaka seemed almost harmless. Your arms and knees were almost numb from how long you had held position, straddling the estranged prince. You mustered all your strength and willpower to keep your right arm as straight as possible. You could feel the transmitted vibrations of his weakly pulsating heart… his heart? How human he had become now, how vulnerable he now was, as are the rest of us.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you missed the surgeon alerting you that she was finally ready to begin the procedure. T’Challa placed a hand on your shoulder softly but firmly.

“That’s enough. You can come down now,” he instructed, his tone impassive. You obliged, your gaze still focused on Erik, and dismounted the table. The doctor took a curiously long look at you as you hesitantly stepped away, then she hurriedly got to work.

--

How quickly we forget.

N’Jadaka killed your father, but somehow you had some pity for him.

How quickly we forgive.

N’Jadaka had overthrown T’Challa’s reign, but T’Challa had chosen to absolve him of his sin of treason.

Or had he? You could not totally be sure what his plans were. All you knew was that there seemed to be a gag rule in the palace about the prince. Not a word had been spoken about the battle or its aftermath. In fact, to your amazement, things seemed to have fallen back into place almost instantly once T’Challa officially announced his return, never mind that this was the first civil war on Wakandan soil in centuries. N’Jadaka’s reign had been subversive but brief, and a collective sigh of relief befell the land as the rightful heir was reinstated.

A week had passed painstakingly slowly. Spirit unsettled, it had become difficult to concentrate on your bioengineering work. To quell this unease, you had begun to make rounds at the Mujaji orchards to pick fruit much like Zuri had the habit of doing before. However, this time the fruit would go not to the children who visited the temple, but instead to the homes of the warriors who had been killed in battle. No matter how much the monarchy wanted to suppress the reality of the mutiny, it had happened, and real people had died.

It was while you were on such a mission, humming softly as you picked fruit, that you heard T’Challa call your name.

Surprised, you turned slowly and bowed low in greeting. It was the first time you had spoken since that day. Usually T’Challa would have a playful smirk for you, with gentle eyes unlike N’Jadaka’s cocksure ones, but this time he was accompanied by Okoye whose disdain for you was palpable.

You didn’t blame her for being bitter. She was newly single, given that her husband had not needed much convincing to side with an intruder. Unfortunately, W’Kabi did not have the protection of being blood-related to the king, and now was rumored to have been exiled even further beyond the borderlands.

“What brings you here, Nkiru?” T’Challa asked. You held out one of your baskets to him with a soft smile.

“I was just filling baskets for the temple… Like Baba used to.” A half-truth.

He wore the slightest of frowns in response, which made you mildly anxious.

“Good.” He affirmed to your relief. Okoye scoffed, the slightest of sounds, and T’Challa gave her a nod. She nodded back and turned to exit, leaving the two of you in the garden.

He knelt down to pick up a mango from the full basket at your feet, tossing it up and down in his left hand as he stood before you. While he meant to appear entirely harmless, you could feel your whole body tense up. T’Challa seemed to measure his words before he spoke. Whatever he had to say would not be good.

“May I ask you a question, about N’Jadaka… my cousin?”

You nodded, your eyes following the fruit he played with as it rose and fell. Your heart began to beat fast. The word cousin came out clumsily in his mouth as if he was still getting used to the concept of having a cousin – or rather, having this person in particular as a cousin.

“What is the nature of your relationship?” You now looked at T’Challa in confusion.

“Relationship?” You repeated in shock, then irritation. You had thought T’Challa, someone you had grown up with, would be above listening to ridiculous gossip.

T’Challa now gripped the mango firmly in his hand, looking at you straight in the eyes. Almost as if to warn you that he could detect any lie, no matter how small.

“There have been some reports that suggest something of the sort.”

You wanted to remain respectful, but indignation surfaced instead.

“Reports?” You repeated again, this time with an edge to your voice. He sensed this and once again wore that controlled regal look of disapproval, waiting patiently for you to speak.

You had nothing to say. You expected better from someone like him.

Instead of dignifying him with an answer, you picked up the basket on the ground, hoisting it on your hip. A hand outstretched, you silently requested for him to return his newfound toy. He did not oblige, which made you angrier.

“With all due respect, it is distasteful to implicate me in any sort of liaison with my father’s murderer,” you seethed. At that, T’Challa’s expression softened, if only for a moment, but you would not let him off the hook.

“I cannot help the fact that people around the palace see things where there are none. It also does not help that your cousin found some particular interest in tormenting me further. Please do not do the same.”

With that, you bowed once again to exit, but his hand on your wrist stopped you. You whipped around with the fiercest look possible, but T’Challa’s was fiercer.

“Nkiru, he has asked to see you every day since he’s been in isolation.”

You feel a heavy thump on your chest.

“Every morning for seven days, he says nothing else to any of his attending guards, aside requesting to see you. He even addresses you by name.” He clarified further. That was damning, alright.

“I don’t understand.” You said, your voice now small. T’Challa raised an eyebrow.

“I decided to speak to you in private, particularly because I did not want to cause a scene. However, rest assured that I will get to the bottom of this.” His gaze was hard and fixed, and with his emphasis on the word ‘will’, you effectively lost all your bark.

“If you would like to leave, now, you are dismissed.” He directed, his hands clasped behind him. You turned, wordlessly, feeling the heaviness of his gaze on your back as you walked away.

--

Shuri, your brother suspects me of some… misconduct. I need to get to the bottom of this. This really is the best way to do it.

??? I don’t exactly see how this will make him less suspicious, but I guess I can help! LOL

Shuri and her Americanisms, you thought as you closed the text message. Shuri was kind enough to modify your communicator to securely and most importantly, covertly, to broadcast into N’Jadaka’s cell. As she said, if caught, this would be a lot more condemning than anything. However, you were curious as to what N’Jadaka so desperately needed to say. You acknowledged that you were connected somehow, by something. You had known each other before knowing each other.

You checked the time. It was the early hours of the morning, where the guards would be at their most relaxed state in terms of surveillance. Either way, Shuri had remotely soundproofed N’Jadaka’s cell so no one would hear the two of you speaking. You had told her it was fine if she listened in herself, but she seemed disinterested.

She truly trusted you wholeheartedly and you were grateful for that.

He probably just has some creepy crush on you. I heard about the lunches, you know. What a weirdo…

You didn’t have a good response to that statement at the time. The very thought was repulsive… mostly.

You glanced at the clock again. It was time.

You checked one more time to assure that your quarters were locked and soundproofed, then sat back down on your bed, cross-legged. In all fairness, you were unsure what to expect. Nevertheless, you started the communication.

A full minute passed where all you could hear were the soft sounds of his breathing. Not exactly sleeping, but not exactly active.

“Hello?” you attempted.

A soft rustling of clothing filled the air, the sound of someone moving around to a sitting position. Another minute passed. You were already losing faith in this operation.

“I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah?” Dispassionate was the tone he aimed for, but it held a hint of pleasure. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” You could practically see the smirk.

You grimaced. “Say what you needed to say.”

“You’re gonna have to come down in person for that, babygirl.”

Typical.

“I’m serious,” he said, filling the silence. The jest had truly left his voice.

“In that case you’ll forever hold your peace.” You responded. N’Jadaka paused for a second, then must have decided it was not worth the silence.

“Since y’all are probably planning to kill me soon, I thought I could make a few confessions to you. Since you saw things.”

You didn’t respond, so he continued.

“Not like excuses or none of that. Just, I wanted someone to talk to. I’ve never had anyone I could just talk to… You know, with the tragic backstory and all… With you, there’s none of that explanation I gotta give.”

That confession hung in the air for a few seconds like a thick fog. You readjusted yourself in your bed, pulling your sheet covers onto your lap. He let out a sigh.

“You still listening?”

“Yes.”

--

You must have dozed off at some point as he was speaking, because you awoke groggily to find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. A soft breeze whistled through the grass in the savannah that now stretched before you. You sat up, back pressed against something hard. A tree. An acacia tree.

To your left, a body shifted itself awake. N’Jadaka also sat by your side, the two of you sharing the same bemused look. It was as if to ask ‘where are we’ but the two of you already knew.

This dream state was different from all the times before. For one, N’Jadaka seemed to be sporting his own consciousness this time. In fact, he was wearing a plain brown linen shirt and pants, probably prisoner grade, and looked almost deflated in his clothing. Dark rims lined his eyes, and a gray pallor underlay his skin. You wondered if he had also refused to eat in the past seven days.

“Here we go again,” he murmured. Your feelings exactly. Nothing surprised you at this point.

The heat would have been blistering if not for the cool currents circling between you two. He sighed deeply and got to his feet.

“I’m tired of games. Or maybe just tired.” He started walking ahead of you, and you quickly followed suit, deciding that following this volatile character was probably the lesser of two evils. Who knew when some wild beast could appear and maul you to death.

“You think I’m dead already?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so.” He said.

Then why did you ask? You wanted to say, but instead decided to say nothing. You stared ahead of you at the plain which seemed to extend for miles. Neither of you were sure exactly where you were going, but it felt nice to walk nevertheless.

“You said you had things to say, right?” You looked up at him to see him nod.

Suddenly he stopped and raised his head to the sky, eyes closed. Then he looked back at you.

“How do you do this?”

The question surprised you.

“Do what?”

“Stop being angry.”

Again, he was that young boy crying over his father’s fallen body. You closed your eyes as if to rid yourself of that image and looked down at the dry earth at your feet.

“Who told you I stopped?” You replied, a lie. You truly had stopped being angry. That unnatural peace within you had made you forgive, and you could only muster some frustration at the very fact that you were no longer enraged. Even that upset was inconsequential at this point. Bast had made you forgive him and it felt like a violation of your own free will. It was as if you had developed an entirely different character, and as uncomfortable as it was, there was nothing you could do to change it.

N’Jadaka didn’t respond to that and resumed his pace.

“I wonder what she wants this time,” you mused. No reply.

The two of you continued to walk.

Two statues, comprised of pure obsidian stone save for the twinkle of vibranium ore permeating the structures, appeared to rise at the horizon. Twin goddesses, Bast and Sekhmet, locked and intertwined in a struggle frozen in time. Sekhmet stood slightly higher, the sundisk atop her head, glowing alive with a fiery red-orange hue . The two of you watched in awe at the larger than life figures, casting immense shadows that washed over you the further you walked. At this point, you were no longer walking of your own accord, your feet moved itself.

If he dies, Sekhmet wins. There will be no more balance.

You prostrated yourself at the statue of Bast. N’Jadaka did the same at Sekhmet’s feet.

If you die, Sekhmet wins. There will be no more blessing.

You turned and faced each other. Both hands before you, your fingers interlaced, and you too were locked in struggle. N’Jadaka stood taller than you, mirroring the goddesses in battle. What lay behind his eyes was him no longer, neither were you yourself. A glow of red lined his irises, matching your own purple tint.  

Then everything faded out, and you awoke again in your bed, in a cold sweat. The dots had finally begun to connect.

N’Jadaka could not be executed because this would cause discord between the goddesses. And if the goddesses were angry…

Bast had tasked you with his protection, even if it did not make sense. Did she pity him? Could he be pitied?

Either way, until there were more answers and more revelations, N’Jadaka had to continue living.

Tagging:  @syndrlla97@iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger @chasingsunlight @hoopshoney@destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright @stark-red19@ruruly20 @bossyboyd03 @autumn242 @heybriheyyy @thelovelyliterary @muse-of-mbaku @bidibidibombaclaat @supersizemeplz @romanceoftheeveryday @chaneajoyyy@lildashofmelanin

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

They Ask You to Stay [Doctor Who]

Alternate ending of It Takes You Away based on my very self-indulgent hopes and dreams. The Solitract attempts to coax the Doctor into staying with echoes from the past.

“You can stop being Trine, now. Now, please – this universe is going critical.” The Doctor leaned on the wall for balance as the house quaked. “If it blows, it’ll take out the anti-zone and my universe with it – you’ll destroy everything you’re trying to connect with.”

The Solitract held her gaze, and bright white light streamed in through the window. She was blinded, and the tremoring stopped, giving way to a dreamy wave of calm. For a moment before her vision returned to her, she feared that she had been cast into Limbo or the Void, trapped in the space between universes.

She was in a long, soft white corridor, supported by triangular beams. Not quite Limbo, then; more like a blank canvas. The interface had disappeared – she was alone. With her itchy foot getting the best of her as always, she chose a direction and walked.

“Hello?” she called hopefully.

Ahead of her was a white mist that backed away as she walked to reveal no more than she had left behind. The Solitract had to be all around her. What was it doing? Why wouldn’t it answer her?

The Doctor had no sooner started to wonder if the silhouette she could make out was a trick of her eyesight than it spoke to her: “Hellooo? Who’s that?”

Her hearts skipped, and her footsteps stopped. No.

“Bill?”

“Doctor, is that you?” She had glee written all over her face, that beautiful confused smile that had caught their attention a lifetime ago. “Mate! Looking so good.”

She extended her arms for a hug, but the Doctor didn’t move any closer. She didn’t know what look she had on her face, but Bill, reading it, dropped her arms and her smile. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Don’t do this. Please. Stop it, I know you aren’t real.”

She frowned and scrunched her mouth up as her eyes moved to the A-frame above their heads. Her puzzle-solving face. “Welll… I feel real. I think I’m real. That means I’m real, right?” She cracked another smile as she looked at the Doctor again. “Metaphysics week.”

The Doctor couldn’t bring herself to repeat what she’d said. Here was Bill, looking at her like she’d always looked at them, being funny and smart and confident. But she wasn’t real. Here she was again, an after-image trapped in glass.

“When did you become such a sceptic?” asked a disapproving voice, and the Doctor whipped around. Missy had her feet propped up on a stool as she sat in an armchair, reading a book. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “All that ‘hope’ and ‘possibility’ nonsense, what happened to that? Honestly. What is it like when I’m not here making your life worth living?”

“When did you get here?” Bill said.

Missy looked up with a convincing display of surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed she was there. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m sure it’s all very heartfelt, carry on.” She licked her finger and turned the page of her book.

The Doctor felt a sensation like static in her hands, and when she looked at them, they were aberrating, like a glitch on a computer screen. “You’re still not in control of this reality.”

“You’re wrong,” said Missy and Bill at the same time. Just mouthpieces for the Solitract, she reminded herself. Don’t get caught up in it. “We control everything here.” They still sounded like themselves. She expected them to sound possessed or puppeteers, but instead it sounded like they had had a rare moment of simultaneous agreement.

“So you can see that this world is still unstable. Me being here is going to kill us both. This can’t work, no matter how much you want it to.” The Solitract was well-intentioned, but it was lonely. It wanted connection at the expense of everything and everyone around it. It had to see that.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned, expecting to see Bill – but a different familiar smile took her breath away instead. “Sweetie,” River said, “it’s alright. The Solitract can cope with one person, you said so yourself.”

Maybe she – it, the Solitract – was right. It could just be an adjustment period, recalibrating after losing Erik and gaining the Doctor. There had to be a difference in volume – it could just be compensating. Still cautious, but optimistic, she nodded.

River smiled wider and let her hands slide down the Doctor’s arms so that their fingers could link. “Let’s go see the stars.”

She took an apprehensive breath and kissed River’s hand, unable to look her in the eye. “I’ve already said goodbye to these people. These are only… echoes. They’re not real. Please let them go.”

Her wife smiled sadly. She returned the kiss onto her hand, and then evaporated into stardust. Behind her, Bill did the same with a small wave, and as she turned, she caught Missy blowing her a kiss before she disappeared too.

The Doctor let herself imagine the particles of light settling back into her hearts, where they belonged. Where they would always be real to her.

She carried on down the passage, surrounded again by white mist, until she made out another silhouette, and despite herself, she felt a flood of relief. The old design was more geometric, with more conventional controls, but she was unmistakable as always – home. The very first version, before they’d worked out how to change the theme, before they’d found all the rustic charms (as Susan liked to say) of an antique TARDIS.

She ran a hand over the rim of the console and remembered how she’d felt. The universe at her fingertips, and…

“What is it like out there, Grandfather?” Susan asked from across the console.

“Susan,” she said dumbly, more of a reaction than a statement.

The girl had a childlike wonder about her, eager for adventure. She remembered how they’d spun it, all that time ago. Running away to see the stars was Romantic with a capital-R, the kind of whimsical and mysterious and reckless adventure that all young people craved.

They wouldn’t think about being cast out. They wouldn’t think about fleeing with their lives, just barely. This was a road trip – the biggest and most fantastical road trip in the history and the future of road trips.

“Tell me about the universe,” she begged.

Lost for words, the Doctor found herself smiling. “You think words can do it justice? It’s really big… and incredibly beautiful.”

“So show it to me,” she said, looking at the console as if to press forward into the unknown, but seeming unsure how. “Show me all the wonders of your universe.”

She thought about the little house in the fjord in Norway, where one man and his wife lived. Such a little world to work with. She considered the vastness of time and space, the blazes of suns and winds of nebulae, and then, of course…

The people. Complex, beautiful people, who were never ever small or insignificant. Each one a masterpiece worthy of their own canvas. She remembered the way the Solitract had started to collapse when it was dealing with all of them at once. Trying to compensate around all their hopes and dreams, their pitfalls and weaknesses, had made it crash.

This wasn’t going to work.

“I can’t,” she said.

Susan’s face fell, and she felt her hearts break a little.

“My universe isn’t meant for yours. You’ll break,” she said. She wasn’t sure how well the Solitract could understand her feelings, but she hoped she was conveying regret. She wished she could alleviate their loneliness, she did.

Susan looked hurt. “You’re lying to me because you want to leave.”

“No,” the Doctor replied quickly, and skirted the console to stand closer to her. “You’re my… friend. And friends help each other face up to their problems, not avoid them. This is…” She gestured to the mist all around them, unable to articulate what she was feeling. “You are maddest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Susan looked up and smiled, but it was a compromising smile. The Solitract was starting to understand that she had to leave – she knew that face.

“I wish I could stay,” she said sincerely, “but if either of us are going to survive, you’re going to have to let me go and keep on being brilliant by yourself.”

They looked down. “I miss you,” said the voice of her granddaughter, and she couldn’t pretend that didn’t ache. “I miss it all so much.”

She put a hand on Susan’s cheek and stroked it gently with her thumb. “I know. But if you do this, I promise… I will hold you in my hearts. Along with all of the others that I’ve lost. You and I will be friends forever.”

Susan smiled brightly and their hand went over hers, lingering. Then they released her, and as the Doctor backed away, she pressed two fingers to her lips and blew a kiss.

“Goodbye.”

[dragonshost]

Now Leasing: New Beginnings

Chapter 2: Water

Rating: T

Pairing: Cobra x Lucy

Genre: Humor/Romance

Summary: Lucy has finally achieved her dream, and finalized the purchase of her family's former home. When she goes to inspect the Heartfilia mansion, however, she finds some very familiar people already occupying it. For CoLu Week 2018.

Word Count: 2,025

On FFN

On AO3

Excited that it’s already day 2 of CoLu week!  I’m having a lot of fun reading everyone’s entries!

“There are squatters in the property,” Lucy hissed into her portable lacrima from the safety of the bathroom.  “Please explain to me as to how the inspection missed that!”

On the other end, her real estate agent began to sputter.  “Excuse me, there’s what in your house?”

“Squatters!” Lucy half-cried.  “One of which was actually popping a squat when I found him!  In my bathroom!”

“Squatters?” repeated the agent meekly.

“Yes!”  Lucy inhaled deeply, and then let it out in a great rush. “Trespassers, home-invaders, what have you.  How did that get missed, exactly?”  A knock on the door echoed in the small space.  “You know what?” Lucy told the stupefied man.  “You get back to me on that, because now I have to go deal with these assholes.”

She hung up and placed her head in her hands.  This was terrible.  This was indescribably horrible.  The only saving grace of the situation was that she recognized the two people she’d seen. Otherwise, she would have already drawn her keys and blasted Cobra off the damn toilet.

“I heard that!” came a muffled shout from outside the bathroom.

“Good!” Lucy shouted back. “I hope you realize that you’re an asshole!”

“Was never in debate! Ouch!  Dammit, Meredy!  What was that for?!”

The familiar, sweet voice of the pink-haired woman arose from the other side of the door.  “I’m sorry, Lucy!”

“I’m not!  Ouch! Seriously?!  What is wrong with you?!”

Meredy ignored him. “I promise there’s an explanation for this!”

With a sigh, Lucy opened the door.  Meredy stood there, apology clear on her face, beside a grumpy Cobra who must have put the reading glasses away somewhere because they were nowhere in evidence now.  “There!” he said, rolling his eye.  “Was that so hard?”

Meredy gave him a swift elbow to the side, paying no attention to his answering hiss.  “Lucy,” she said.  “It’s… it’s good to see you?”

Stepping forward, Lucy hugged the other woman.  “Yes, it’s good to see you, too.  But what are you doing in my house?”

“Living here without permission,” Cobra chimed in, bluntly.  “I thought that was obvious.”

Instead of refuting the statement, Meredy squeezed Lucy back and then stepped away from the embrace. “Again, I swear there’s a reason.”

“Out with it,” the celestial mage demanded.  “While you’re at it, where’s the rest of your group?”  She held up a finger before Cobra could make another snarky comment. “Don’t even start with me right now. I know they’re here, too, I’m a lot stronger than I used to be, and I’ve already wrecked this place a couple of times before.  I have no qualms about doing so again if I get to smash your smug face in.”

“Oooh, scaaaary,” Cobra muttered.

“Where are they, Cobra.” Lucy wished her glare could turn people to stone like Evergreen.  “I have a few words to say to your fearless leader.”

Cobra snorted, aware of exactly what those words consisted of.  “The others are out right now, but they’ll be back later.  Sorano is the only other one here.”  Abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway. “Come on, she’s in the kitchen.”

With no other choice, Lucy followed him.  Meredy tagged along close at her heels.  “Would you buy that we didn’t know it belonged to you?” Meredy asked nervously.

Lucy gestured to a family portrait on the wall as they passed it.

The woman winced. “Okay, we knew it used to belong to you, but we had no idea that you’d bought it back, I swear!”

At Lucy’s incredulous expression, she took a deep breath, and began to explain.  “Well, you see after Ul and I busted Jellal out of prison, we happened to come upon this place during a storm.  We were able to get in through a window that the storm had ripped off…”

“Excuse me?” Lucy squeaked. “A storm did what?”

Meredy nodded, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.  “Ripped the window right out.  It nearly hit us, actually.  So we took shelter in here that night.  I swear we didn’t know at first – there was no power because of the storm so we couldn’t really see much in here.”

“You had to have figured it out sometime,” Lucy said, as they entered the kitchen.  She raised a hand in greeting to Sorano, sitting at the small staff eating table with a sandwich halfway to her mouth.  “Hello, Sorano.  So what happened after that, Meredy?”

Sorano peered at her fellow celestial mage, the blonde woman taking a seat with her.  Her gaze flickered back and forth between Lucy, Cobra, and Meredy in silent, confused entreaty.

Meredy gave her an apologetic glance, and then turned to Lucy, sitting down next to her.  “We stayed here a few more times after that,” she admitted.  “We were on the run, no one lived here anymore, and there was power and running water. Your father had already started his life as a merchant, there were barely any buyer prospects coming by, and you were… lost, on Tenrou.”  Shrugging slightly, she continued, “We used this place as a sort of… home base, I guess.”

“And not much changed once we joined,” Cobra stated, leaning on the counter next to the fridge.  “I would warn everyone else if a showing was about to happen, and we’d clear out for the afternoon.  Other than that, it was a pretty sweet deal.”

“Which begs the question,” hissed Sorano, “as to why you didn’t say a word this time!”

“I was on the toilet!” he protested.  “What more do you want from me?”

Lucy placed her head in her hands.  This was not how she pictured life with her home back would go.  Loneliness, she had anticipated.  Gutted rooms, ghosts of the past around every corner.  Maybe even finding some hidden water damage left over from when she and Aquarius accidentally flooded the third floor when Lucy was a child.

What she had not predicted, was that a group of seven formerly wanted mages would be living rent free within the building.  “And once you guys were pardoned?  Why didn’t you leave, then?”

The three grimaced, but it was Cobra, not Meredy, that responded to the question.  “Do you really think people were all that willing to rent to us?  Or that it was easy for us to find legitimate work?”

He had a point, but anger stirred still inside Lucy’s chest.

Meredy patted her back soothingly.  “I’m sorry, Lucy.  If we had known, we would have cleared out and you never would have known the difference.”

The celestial mage sighed, and then raised her head to look into the other woman’s pleading eyes.  “Give me one of whatever Sorano’s got, and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

Lucy felt immensely better after she’d gotten some food into her stomach, and she was beginning to see the upside to having Crime Sorciere living in the mansion all this time. Meredy was able to give her a pretty precise idea of what family valuables still remained after the creditors had swept through.  She hadn’t gotten a great look at it all when she’d been here before, and it at least gave her some notion of where to begin looking for specific items.  A game plan was already formulating in her head as to how to box up what she needed to, and whether she would need to restore others. Sadly, Lucy knew she did not have the funds to hunt down the things that were gone forever, like her mother’s old jewelry or her father’s rare book collection.  Those were long gone and sold off by the creditors along with countless other mementos.

As it was starting to heat up in the kitchen even with its superior ventilation, Lucy decided to call it good.  “Can you guys point me in the direction of a bedroom that doesn’t have a whole lot of dust?”

“Most of the bedrooms are in good shape,” Meredy informed her.  “They had a cleaning service through here a couple of weeks ago.”

“And that didn’t raise a warning flag with you guys?” questioned Lucy.

The three collectively shrugged.  “They come through here every once in a while to clean the place,” Cobra stated. “Didn’t think much of it at the time. It’s not like they were told that the place was selling.”

“Surely the inspector could have clued you in…?”

Sorano gave her a half-hearted shrug.  “There’s been some near purchases before.  We weren’t confident that it would go through this time, either.”

“And why’s that, exactly?”

“We did a fairly good job of convincing them that the place was haunted.”

Lucy’s mouth fell open at Sorano’s confession.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Cobra said with a grin.  “It was never purchased until now because of us.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I thank you, Cobra,” Lucy hissed at him.

“Is that a challenge?”

Sorano slammed her open palms down on the kitchen table, startling Lucy and Cobra with the sound. She pushed herself to her feet and shook her head at the duo.  “Look, Erik, I realize how much fun it is to push her buttons, but it’s way too goddamn hot for that right now.  So stuff it.”

“Stuff it up your ass, you albino turkey,” Cobra responded, grouchy at having his fun ruined.

As the two descended into bickering, Lucy cast an inquisitive look at Meredy, who shrugged helplessly.  “They’re always like this,” she informed the celestial mage.  “It’s hard to tell beneath all of the arguing, but I’m fairly sure they love each other.  You know – sibling stuff.  What’s really funny though is when they drag Macbeth into their fights, and Richard feels compelled to stop them.”

Lucy couldn’t help but snort at the mental imagery.  “They sound like Gray and Natsu, honestly.”

Both Sorano and Cobra rounded on Lucy.  “You take that back!” they demanded in unison.

“You see?”  Lucy gestured at them but addressed Meredy. “Exactly the same.”

Meredy giggled, glancing over at her steaming friends.  “I think I see it now.”

“Et tu, Meredy?” Sorano grumbled.

Suddenly, the pink-haired woman brightened.  “Oh, I have a wonderful idea!  Why don’t we all swim in that one pond?  It’s only a few minutes from here, and it would cool us down.”

“I think I remember that pond,” Lucy mused aloud.  Although, when she’d known it, it had been full of leeches.  But maybe those had been gotten rid of?  Meredy sounded as if she’d gone swimming there before.  “But what’s wrong with the pool?”

“It was drained a while back,” Cobra explained.  Mischief glittered in his eye.  “Needs to be cleaned, too.

Lucy nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  That makes sense.  Let’s go to the pond, then.”

The pond had not been cleared of leeches, as it turned out.

The group found themselves back at the mansion in short order, dripping wet and miserable.

“Just wait until they’re done drinking,” advised Cobra with a grin.  “Once they’re full, they just roll right off.  Or so I’ve been told.”

“You’re an ass,” Lucy informed him, which only made his grin wider.  “You waited until we went in to see what would happen, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”  He snorted at her.  “Do I look stupid to you?”

“No, just half-blind.”

Instead of angering him, Lucy’s words glanced right off.  “Right.  Well, you all have fun with the leeches.”  He then walked off, laughing at their plight.

Sorano’s eyes narrowed at his retreat.  “I say we dump these guys in his bed, see how he likes the surprise.”

“I heard that!”

As the white-haired woman started swearing, Meredy gave Lucy a small smile.  “At least we’re cooled down now, right?”

“I think that’s more from the blood loss than the water.”  With a gesture at the courtyard fountain, Lucy suggested, “How about we just use the fountain to cool down from now on?”

Water ran down the side of Meredy’s face, but Lucy couldn’t tell if it was from the pond, or if it was sweat.  “Yeah. That sounds like a safer plan.”

A sudden wave of dizziness overtook Lucy, forcing her to grab hold of Meredy’s shoulder to keep from falling over.  “Um… I think I’m going to go lie down for a few minutes,” she told her.  “And then I’m going to… give Wendy a call.  You know.  Just in case.”

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

Due to the increasingly hostile tension between the nation of Krakoa and President Osborn, the Quiet Council of Krakoa held a meeting for mutants on Emma Frosts’ ship in the sea beside the the Island nation. As a result they reached the conclusion that they would need to divide and conquer in order to cover all of their bases.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

MOIRA: Her presence wasn’t supposed to be known. Moira Kinross ( Mactaggart ) was not a prideful woman. She had lived ten lifetimes and had worn many faces, but pride had never gotten her very far in any of them. Quite the opposite, actually. Her proudest moments had led to her flesh melting away by Pyro’s powers and Mystique’s rage. But that was seven lives ago. In this one she had come the closest she ever had to achieving her goal of mutant peace. She let Charles and Erik walk in the sun while she hid in the shadows. If Moira Kinross died, so did Krakoa. Her tricky little mutation would reset everything and once again she’d have to labor through trying to get people to unite and work together. She, Erik and Charles had conferred and the safest place for her was what the three dubbed Moira’s No-Space, sector 18. She stayed quiet and advised but the world needed to think she was dead so it didn’t lose its progress. That was, until Charles Xavier went missing. It was peculiar timing coupled with Osborn’s rise to power but there was little they could do if Cerebro couldn’t detect a trace and the mutants who covertly searched couldn’t either. Knowing that she might have had three lives left - if she was lucky - made it more complicated than just showing her face. Still, she sat in Charles’ place at the table on Emma’s opulent boat, a founder of Krakoa most didn’t even know was a mutant. She had put a vision in his mind decades ago and they were too close to perfection to lose it. “Obviously we have much to cover.” Fingers drummed against the cold white table. “Our children being arrested, our team being copied and, of course, Charles. I’d prefer to not be here for the sake of us all, but it seems we’re past the point of preferences. Anyone like to begin?”

KATE PRYDE: The rock of waves against the hull wasn’t as prominent here, in Emma’s yacht that made her supply ship look like a pontoon. In fact, it sat remarkably still, as if undeterred by the ocean carrying it. Sitting at the far end of the table, she felt remarkably still and intrinsically, she missed the lull of a rocking ship. Crossing one leg over the other, she examined her fingernails while Moira spoke, a lingering question on the back of her tongue that she knew wasn’t the time to ask. Near her, Kate could feel the presence of Emma, and while they had moved to better terms, things were still complicated between them. Namely, the broken nose thing. As much as Kate hated to admit it, she knew she was developing a habit that was causing her to spiral and react to things, instead of work through them. Looking up just as Moira closed her statement, Kate went ahead and scanned the eyes of everyone else that sat with them, skipping over Emma, Jean, and Scott. When no one else seemed to make an immediate move, she dropped her hand into her lap and sat forward. “Dismantling Osborn did rank top priority, but with Charles gone, everything got a lot more complicated. But Osborn had the ability to poison the mutants from the inside, so I don’t know if reallocating our resources to finding Charles is smart right now.” It was a difficult statement to make, and a difficult direction to suggest, but Kate still remembered the chaos from Emma sitting on the Cabal, and how little of a threat that was in comparison to whatever Osborn had planned.

ERIK: “Charles has the potential to have incredible influence over people-- you all know that. In the wrong hands, that potential could be devastating.” Erik’s view on the topic at hand was being pulled in two directions, and he was doing his best to make himself seem impartial. He wasn’t, of course. And that wasn’t exactly a secret. But he tried to make it seem as if it wasn’t too drastic. “I’d argue that finding him should be closer to the top of the list than the bottom of it.”

MOIRA: “He was always supposed to be the figurehead.” Moira’s head nodded in agreeance. “It’s not just his telepathy we’re losing.” They had omega telepaths but they needed Charles and everything he stood for. The face of the X-Men, the face of Krakoa. “If they keep arresting minors, however, we’ll lose footing outside of the nation as well. From all accounts they’re dehumanizing our children.”

KATE: “Than what does go to the bottom, Erik? The kids being arrested and having who knows what done to them, or a sociopathic Avengers? Not to mention the, you know, evil X-men. Sounds like we’re juggling our weight and then some in total bullshit and there really isn’t a right way to go about this. All I know is that we can’t have Osborn in our team anymore and we can’t keep letting him kidnap minors with abilities. You want to talk about weaponizing for the wrong reasons? You give him a bunch of untrained mutants and what do you think will happen?” Despite the aggression of her words, Kate’s tone was level and as calm as she could keep it. She loved Charles, most of them did, and it felt more like an impossible decision, but the matter at hand was they were facing a threat with more power than they understood at the moment.

EMMA: Letting them all onto her pristine boat was the least Emma could do after her involuntarily abhorrent behavior. Moira’s reemergence had come as somewhat of a surprise but she had brushed it off with the cool indifference she had decided to permanently adopt until her pride could heal as flawlessly as her face. “If the Cabal knows where Charles is they never let me be privy to any details. I’d be surprised though. Egomaniacal sociopaths don’t care much for anything outside themselves.” How sad it was that they thought it plausible she could be from their ranks. She was sitting rather close to Scott, one gloved hand lingering near his own. Sometimes you needed people to tether you and Emma was, on occasion, flesh and blood. “I can assure you his mutants are very trained. Madelyne has done nothing but cause trouble,” her eyes danced over Nate noncommittally. “And Mesmero is far more equipped than he should be. My concern will always be the children and their wellbeing. We have no future without them.”

ERIK: “There really isn’t a bottom to the list, you’re right.” He replied with a side, eyes glancing down to a non-specific and unfocused place. After a few seconds there they slid over to Moira, making it look as if his next question was solely for her. It was meant for the entire group, but perhaps he was looking for specific answers that he thought she might have. “So how do we decide which lives and which problems to put first?”

MOIRA: She had shared the lives she had lived before but it had never been done well before. Xavier, Apocalypse, Magneto. She had tried and failed to achieve what Krakoa was. “Perhaps we need to put them all first, divide our strength and energy. That’s how this Island was created, mind you.”

SCOTT: “We might not have another choice.” Scott said grimly from his place at the table. The dull throb of a headache that had existed behind his eyes for two days was front and center again, and even with the aid of his glasses, the lights were still too bright. From the Cabal infiltration to the aftermath of rescuing Emma, Scott hadn’t been sleeping much. And now, with news about Charles. “I agree with Erik, regardless. Charles has to be top priority. We don’t leave people behind.”

KATE: “That’s under the assumption we have the resources to exhaust. I’m not trying to be a pessimist, but we don’t want to stretch too thin and then lose everything.”

JEAN: For a number of reasons the baby had been left at home, one of which being Jean got seasick and an infant + a boat seemed destined to fail. She had remained quiet for the most part by Logan’s side, but her gaze had repeatedly fallen on her husband across the table. Her head turned slightly to the side, mind brushing out to meet his in a brief brush of what was intended to be relieving. “We have more than most know. X-Force has been working around the clock looking for Charles and trying to give warnings of C.R.A.D.L.E. to mutants. Dividing may not be a bad idea when you think about the number of heavy hitters we have. We do have some range.”

BETSY: "I do have some contacts.” Betsy reclined in her chair, armor clinking. There was always something going on in Otherworld and she had come straight from some mystical mess. “Pete Wisdom with MI6 is a good friend. He can’t get involved in your politics, obviously, but there’s resources we can use to look for Charles.”

ERIK: Erik glanced around at the seats around him, taking it all in. He gave Scott a nod in agreement and then spoke after Betsy finished. “Not only do we need to get the job done, this is a good opportunity to once again show how resilient we are; to show the world how we will protect our own, no matter what. We will stay together, and we will fight for each other. Giving them another reason to second guess meddling in our affairs in the future isn’t something I’m necessarily against.”

LAURA: “We can burn down C.R.A.D.L.E.” Laura shrugged a shoulder. Ever since they had left the facility it felt like her claws were about to extend involuntarily and the last thing she wanted was to hurt someone she cared about. Maybe it would be cathartic. “Some of us don’t have much to do otherwise.” Just hide on the Island. They had already asked the Wolverine’s to track Charles’ scent but it had been a dead end.

LOGAN: “I don’t blame you for wanting to, and I can’t believe I’m saying this.. but that might not be the best idea.” In the past-- yeah, Logan might have been all for it. He would have done something like that solo. He looked to Laura, a bit stern and a bit concerned, but he understood where she was coming from. “Runnin’ around with claws out gets us the wrong kind of attention.”

KATE: Forcing herself to swallow a breath, Kate settled back into her seat, trying to relax. She couldn’t really get the image of Emma out of her head — of the words she spoke and the way her cold eyes raked over Kate like she didn’t deserve to breathe the same air. Kate had come a long way since being the girl with the small voice entering Xavier’s school, but she still looked up to Emma as a friend. As a mutant. As a person. And a driving force behind her urgency was her need to put a stop to Osborn for what he did. Even if she could admit that they had the resources and the people, Kate never actively saw that. It wasn’t entirely real to her — but Osborn was. “We’d have to secure Avengers support. They weren’t a big fan of us last time, but it’ll be impossible without them.”

LAURA: Her hands twitched slightly but Laura kept them by her side. She had been sitting as silently and stilly by Warren as possible but now the restless energy that had been bothering her was flaring up. “I’m not running around with my claws out. I’m going one place, taking them out and doing what I have to do.” Gabby would understand. It was almost hurtful that Logan didn’t get the urge to burn a facility to the ground when he knew what they could turn you into.

CABLE: “Who’s gonna take one for the team and talk to them for us?” Nate piped up, leaning forward with both arms against the table in front of him. “I mean, I don’t have the best track record when it comes to getting people to side with me. Otherwise I would bodyslide over there right now and give it a shot.”

LORNA: “You’ve got an Avenger for a kid.” Lorna’s words were directed at her father, spoken as if she wasn’t blood related to Wanda as well. “And she helped us when we needed it. Think maybe you could try and see if they’d do more than focus on whatever bullshit Osborn is throwing at them?”

LANA: “My teammates work with the Avengers. Former sidekicks, mentees, whatever. I can float it with Spider-man, Amadeus and the others.” However, it still felt weird to contribute in any way to a mutant thing. It felt like she didn’t belong. “That being said, we have our own C.R.A.D.L.E. @#$@# to deal with. Ms. Marvel is still... Well, there’s a lot going on, y’know.”

LOGAN:  “You don’t want more blood on your hands, do you?” Logan wasn’t saying it to be hurtful. It was just to try and make Laura take a step back and think about it for a second. In the end, he knew he couldn’t stop her if she had her heart set on it.

EMMA: Even though she registered hearing Kate speak, Emma’s eyes remained fixed on a spot over Logan’s head where a white clock was silently ticking away. When she decided to speak once more her gaze was anchor-less and one hand hovered by white painted lips. “Katherine is right.” She still didn’t glance over, mostly because she hated feeling embarrassed and Emma was bursting with shame. “But that may not be enough. Osborn’s little Cabal I had the pleasure of sitting with is making their work turning distrust away from the Avengers and their adjacent’s.”

LAURA: “They already gave me more.” Laura hissed. They didn’t have to kill people. They just needed to wipe it clean. For a moment her mind registered the hot sting of how much she hated Warren seeing her covered in blood with a snarl on her face, but sometimes that X-23 was the one who got the job done. “It would be worth it if it kept others safe.”

ILLYANA: Most of the time their conversations were boring. Illyana listened because it was the smart thing to do but she very rarely focused in. As they discussed Illyana moved down the tiny buffet they had set up, a singular bite taken out of a finger sandwich. “Scott,” she swallowed bread and lettuce. “You’re Captain Commander. Designate some teams. The Council gives their blessing, we stab who we need to and then we can leave the Island without getting picked up by some stupid American.”

ERIK: “I could talk to Wanda, yes.” Erik glanced between Lorna and Emma. “There are a few different paths we could take, different connections we have available to us. And even if the public is losing their trust in the Avengers, we luckily know better. It’s a smart option-- perhaps the best one we have right now.”

WARREN: “What about you though, Laura?” Warren spoke up before Logan could answer. “We want you to be safe too. I mean-- don’t get me wrong, I know you can take care of yourself. But I’m not big on the idea of you going back there.”

LORNA: “I feel like she owes us, considering the -- you know...” Lorna waved a finger in the air as if that would clarify decimated our race and took our mutations without straight up calling Wanda out. Her elbow was resting on the table, hand tangled up in the green. “So, it’d be a real dick move to not step up right now.”

REMY: “Neither am I,” Remy’s voice carried from where he sat near Lorna, lounging back in his chair. His eyes weren’t focused on her, rather, they were watching the drum of his fingers against the table. Though his demeanor indicated boredom, his tone towards Laura did not. “But Logan,” he didn’t even bother addressing Warren, “It’s not our place.”

BETSY: “I’ll phone Pete and see what he can do. Otherwise, Excalibur needs to focus on the Otherworld. That’s a whole pot we don’t need to get into right now.” There were moments where Betsy resented her new life and the role she used to play. Even throughout the struggle it was, in some ways, simpler. “Do we know how much time we have before the public tears us apart over his disappearance?”

SCOTT: His eyes swung to Illyana, a fraction of this moment spent humoring her. “It’s not that simple.” he then settled back into the conversation bustling around the table. “If Wanda can convince them on mutant behalf. I feel like we’ll need more reach than that to get everyone on board, if they’re not sympathetic to the cause. If anything, they’ll want to take down Osborn just as much as we do, and we can allocate people to other duties instead — like finding Charles.”

LAURA: What they were saying made sense but Laura didn’t want to admit it. She had made so much progress but after seeing red once again she couldn’t shake it.  A stubborn part of her - the part that probably came from Logan - had tricked itself into believing that if she eliminated the thing that had hurt her, the thing that was bad, everything could once again move. “I have to.” She replied simply to both her father and Remy ( who may as well have been family ) while also leaving Warren out. “You.” Her sights locked on Cable. “I saw what they did to your girlfriend.” The words were spoken as if Lana wasn’t beside him, and she didn’t even try to get into whatever was going on with Quire. “Jean and Scott can help look for Charles. We can handle C.R.A.DL.E.” It was then that she finally looked at Warren. “They can’t kill me. I’ll live.”

JEAN: ���I think it’s going to be hard for us to get the Fantastic Four to help us.” Jean sighed. “Not with everything going on with Franklin, but if the Avengers help us they might as well.  I know things have been tense with Reed and Sue as late, but we need all the alliances we can get.”  That being said, one ear was being kept on the other situation to make sure it went smoothly.

ILLYANA: “Well I’m a Captain of Krakoa,” Illyana set her appetizer down. “So maybe I should designate. Laura goes to not get killed with other youth, Lorna and Erik appeal to their treacherous blood traitor and then you can decide who looks for Charles and who fights the reject X-Men.” A snarky smile briefly passed her lips. “You’re welcome.”

WARREN: “Laura--” Warren was looking at her, expression tense and eyes full of concern. “You’re pretty damn near indestructible but..” What could he say to convince her? He wasn’t sure. But he was scared for her.

KATE: “Yeah I’m starting to see why, Yana.” Kate shot a glance in her direction, not one of malice or ill-intent, but also not one of amusement. Somewhere in the middle. “I don’t know if you’re helping.”

ILLYANA: There was a noncommittal shrug before Illyana returned to her bread and lettuce on the peripheral of the room.

LORNA: “Sometimes you just need to blow stuff up.” Lorna knew that all too well. “Can we just get someone to supervisor this explosive visit?”

CABLE: Nate took a quick glance at Lana before facing Laura again. He took a pause, thinking it over but not sure if he should say everything he was thinking. “They’re bastards, that’s for sure.” That was the truth. Part of him was itching to get them back for what they did. “They deserve it.”

LANA: Even though she had been rudely ignored, Lana leaned forward slightly. “I have a really bad habit of blowing things up, so I think I can help. I just can’t get arrested again. I ran out of strikes like three times ago.”

CABLE: “See, that’s what I’m worried about. That’s why I’m not.. 100% on this idea.” A thumb jutted out towards Lana after she mentioned not wanting to get arrested again. “They deserve it. But is it worth the risk of you guys going there again?”

JEAN: “Logan.” Jean shifted in her chair to face him fully. They were on shaky ground but finding their way back together once more and she was grateful for that. “The Council can’t authorize a suicide mission. Not when we have so much at stake already. Of course, there’s a chance we might get ignored altogether.” That was directed at Laura. “So let’s find some middle ground here.”

LOGAN: He heard his name and turned to Jean, locking eyes with her for a long few seconds. He got lost in that connection briefly, and then found his words again. “Is there middle ground here? I dunno if I can see it.” His voice was at a low whisper-- hinting at his frustration. “I can’t let those kids run off like that but I have a feelin’ we’re gonna have a hard time keeping ‘em down. Had this been ten, fifteen years ago, I might have even been in Laura’s shoes.”

JEAN: As much as Jean wanted to enjoy their recently awakened connection the buzz of tense minds around her was beginning  to build up behind her eyes. “Ten to fifteen years ago I would have tried to stop you.” Bright eyed and bushy tailed, a fresh X-Men. “I know they hurt you.” Jean’s voice softened. “A lot of you. And that’s not okay. It’ll never be okay. Scott, you wouldn’t mind helping assemble a team that could deal with C.R.A.D.L.E., would you? We can do this but it needs to be the right way.”

LOGAN: One corner of Logan’s lips perked into a smile for a split second before disappearing again. The two of them were good at being nostalgic at the worst times, but he welcomed it anyway. Then he glanced to Scott, not saying anything but waiting for an answer.

SCOTT:  Just parked in this chair, on Emma’s yacht — it had Scott itching to jump up and do something, anything. The nervous energy that bounced around was felt in the drumming of fingers, the restlessness of legs bouncing, and of the constant chatter. They were also fighting for solutions to something that seemed impossible. Hearing his name drew his attention to Jean, who he saw facing Logan, though her words were directed to him. “It doesn’t have to end there, but yeah. We’ll have to figure out what resources we can allocate towards what causes, and that’ll be after we find out how much help we can get from the Avengers. It’s a lot like sitting on our hands, but if we just react, we could end up making this worse for ourselves. And for Charles.”

LOGAN: “Gotta love when we’re on the same page, Summers.” Logan replied, his tone only slightly sarcastic. He wasn’t here to ruffle feathers. “These kids are about ready to jump ship--” Pun definitely intended. “We can’t let ‘em run off.”

EMMA: “While you all blow up that torturous playpen I have a very specific date with Mesmero. Which means I’m officially appointing myself head of the Cabal and X-Men task force. Any issues with that?” Emma only waited for a singular beat with an arched brow before continuing. “Scott, darling, I’ll just be needing a few people for that. Katherine, Quire, the standard fare.”

KATE: For the first time since arriving, Kate’s eyes landed somewhere on Emma’s face. She had meant to meet her eyes, but her gaze instead landed on her nose and she involuntarily winced a little. “Sounds like a plan,” it was as much of a response as she could give in return.

EMMA: The blonde’s lips twitched downwards in displeasure momentarily at Katherine’s gaze. “Most excellent. As much as I’d love to, I’ll comply with the Council and will not kill him. I make no promises to his mental state.” In other words, she’d rip him apart.

QUENTIN: Quentin, from where he sat with his feet up on the table, gave Emma a lazy two fingered salute-- small sparks of blue energy trailing behind his hand as it moved.

LAURA: Sitting rigidly, Laura watched them all debate while knowing that in the end they ultimately might not change her decision. Not even Warren, with his sad eyes. A part of her felt betrayed by Logan but that was ridiculous. Then he was making eyes at Jean and Laura’s head was shaking. “As long as it gets done and I’m there then I don’t care. But we don’t have time to wait on you to rally your troops.” She gutted her chin at Scott.

JEAN: For some reason it would always feel a little wrong when Scott and Logan got along, but Jean was grateful for it all the same. “I’ll keep looking for Charles then. I’ll use Hank and Monet to start. Erik, you’re welcome to join after you talk to the Avengers.” The offer was really just  to be nice.

SCOTT: The brief, subtle movement of Scott’s hand just brushing against Emma’s was a tell that he didn’t want to broadcast, but he wanted to make her aware of his presence next to her. He’d been there in the immediate aftermath, and he’d been there through most of the healing. “The Cabal will be dealt with accordingly and will fall within the laws of Krakoa.” But he agreed with Emma, and he’d stand by her decision to deal with Mesmero however she saw fit.

ERIK: “I appreciate that, Jean. And I might just take you up on it.” Erik gave her a nod. “It will give me something to look forward to.” Talking to the Avengers was certainly not on his list of favorite things to do.

EMMA: Perhaps a different woman would have been abashed by the fact that she was sleeping with the husband of the woman across from her, but they had settled into a strange normal. She and Jean were of no threat to one another and as Scott brushed her hand there was the slightest sigh of internal relief. They’d get everyone off her boat and she would drink champagne on the deck, diamond tears plinking into the ocean. “Love your enthusiasm, Laura, but we have an image to protect. We need a statement ready.”

ERIK:  “We can keep it simple: “Be ready.”” Erik gave an almost playful sideways glance to Emma.

KATE: “So it’s settled then.” Just like the rest of them, Kate was ready to get off this boat and get back on solid ground — which lately, hadn’t really been her thing. She was already gripping the arm rests and beginning to stand. “We designate teams, we try not to stretch ourselves too thin, and we take Osborn down. Now we just need a when, a game plan, and we’re set.”

LAURA: As soon as they were dismissed Laura’s chair was pushed back and she was heading out of the room without a word. She needed to get off the boat. Wolverine’s could drown, after all, and there was enough shit to worry about.

MOIRA: She had remained silent for a large part of the conversation deliberately. Her role in Krakoa was not supposed to be participatory at this stage. Moira knew what she knew about the world, and it was more than most. She always maintained a fear she would be the one to knock everything off its proper course. “Then I believe we are through. I’m sure we can count on the Council to be efficient.” Moira rose, looking everyone over. “If they were better circumstances I would say that it’s good to see you. It’s not, however, so all we can do is strive  towards improvement.” With that she turned to leave, back to the No-Space where she could no longer pretend like she did not exist. They were all in the thick of it now, for better or worse.

[briangroth27]

Dark Phoenix Review

The final installment in Fox's X-men franchise, Dark Phoenix, is unfortunately not one of their best, but it doesn't deserve the hate it received from critics (or the box office) either. Like Apocalypse (which I also enjoyed for the most part), Dark Phoenix falls into the middle of the X-pack; not too shabby considering there are some legitimately great movies in this series! I was looking forward to this film—I like the cast, they've got most of my favorite X-men on this team, and the Dark Phoenix Saga had been wrecked by The Last Stand so I was ready to see them give it another go—but while Dark Phoenix has some really solid ideas and cool moments, it needed another draft to fully realize its potential (another unfortunate similarity to Apocalypse).

Full Spoilers…

The X-men starting out as public superheroes with a direct line to the White House was a fun change of pace! Giving them fans that cheered them on was a cool reversal from the protest groups we saw in X-men, though for this development to really make an impact we should’ve seen more civilians hating/attacking mutants in the movies beyond the brief glimpses we got in X-men and Apocalypse, both in fight club scenes (The Gifted explored the idea that everyday racism would come from the people just as much as the government in much more detail than the movies ever have). Regardless, I loved that they were able to retain a very "X-men" quality to this new status quo, with mutants’ acceptance hinging on their continued best behavior and the idea that they would unendingly risk themselves to save the world. It was smart to not have bigotry solved only for Jean (Sophie Turner) to wreck it with her newfound power (and also because solving it off-screen would’ve been a disservice to the entire mythos as well as those who face it in real life), but to instead keep them constantly on the edge of losing everything they'd gained. Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) was absolutely right that mutants shouldn’t have to save the world (or worse, keep saving it) to be accepted by the rest of humanity, and I wish the movie had come back to that point by the end of the film. Her argument with Charles (James McAvoy) ties back to his insistence in First Class that humanity would accept them in exchange for stopping war really nicely though. Forcing mutants to always be over-and-above model minorities works perfectly, but they should've done more with this point instead of just creating a rift between Raven and Charles and using it as stakes for Jean's fall. I would’ve liked some closing statement on where mutants’ standing landed after the events of the film; maybe even Jean or someone making Mystique’s argument to the public to force them to face themselves and the position they’d put the X-men/mutantkind in.

Speaking of Jean’s fall, Phoenix was done much better here than in The Last Stand. I think X2's idea of making Phoenix a natural evolution of Jean is a fantastic choice (as was X2-writer Michael Dougherty’s idea to have her continue to evolve into the cosmic Phoenix in his version of X3), but making Phoenix a split personality ruined that by taking it out of Jean's control and stopping it from being Jean’s story. I’d argue this is the same problem the revised comic canon has, with a space bird taking the place of a split identity but resulting in the same lack of control/meaning/development for Jean’s character. Here, they do the cosmic origin fairly faithfully, but oddly ignore Apocalypse’s revival of the "secondary mutation" plot when Apocalypse forced Jean to evolve into full-firebird status through conflict (which, by the way, is perfect for him). They could’ve easily resolved this rift by having Hank (Nicholas Hoult) tell Jean her powers had been boosted "even beyond what Apocalypse caused" or that En Sabah Nur’s “upgrade” enabled her to survive absorbing the cosmic energy into herself in the first place. As it is, that's not a big leap for viewers to make, but it should've been said in the film.

Getting into the actual mechanics of Jean trying to deal with all this new power, I think this was a mixed bag. I liked her senses opening up at the party and would’ve liked to see that enhanced awareness continue. Her crushed reaction to her father (Scott Shepard) giving her to Xavier because he couldn't forgive her for the accidental death of her mother (Hannah Anderson) or handle raising a mutant child was a rough, powerful reveal that Turner acted perfectly, but then we got to an element of Jean being confused by what she can/should do with all this power rather than acting with that power, which slowed the momentum of her character (and the story). I’d really like to see a version of the Phoenix Saga where Jean runs with her new powers rather than being manipulated or confused about what to do with them, especially if they’re insistent on doing it all in one movie. Her talks with Erik (Michael Fassbender) and especially Vuk (Jessica Chastain) offer insight into what she could be and I wouldn’t want them to have less character-building conversations in favor of meaningless fight scenes, but I wanted to see Jean take action and deal with the fallout of her choices rather than only get to the point where she’s ready to make those decisions in the first place. I would've much preferred her trying to, say, forcibly fix the world so they don't have to keep saving it like Mystique was worried about or something (especially given their obviously strong bond at the beginning).

This is another unfortunate similarity to Apocalypse: while En Sabah Nur said a lot of great stuff in that movie, despite getting rid of all the nukes and leveling Cairo, it felt like we were constantly on the cusp of him escalating things instead of actually getting to see him do what he talked about. Here, I felt like we were on the verge of Jean taking ownership of her powers, only to have her talked into denying them, try to give them away, get captured by the government, get attacked by aliens, etc. Similarly, they really needed to dig into her decision to leave Earth on a bigger level than just being scared she’d hurt people she cared about. Why not make it her choice to see what’s out there and to see what she can become instead (which would be a cool parallel to mutants as a whole not being able to develop while stuck in savior mode for humans)? Leaving Earth should’ve been something that tied to or conflicted with her hopes and dreams for her life during and after the X-men (which would’ve been nice to know before she’s forced to give all of that up in the face of this power), rather than falling back on what feels like a much more simplistic “the power is just too unsafe for her to have on Earth” idea. That idea almost looks like humans are right to fear mutants, because even they can’t safely use their powers here, and that’s the wrong message for a X-men story. I did like that Jean acting with her emotions rather than burying them was shown as a good thing here that made her stronger: that’s a great rebuttal to Xavier trying to block them off and hide pain from her to protect her.

I was very glad that the movie didn't have Xavier blocking her split personality this time, but rather that he'd covered up Jean's accidental manslaughter in an effort to help her have a normal, happy life. That was always my read from the trailers—she didn't seem like she knew she killed her parents in Apocalypse—but I didn't expect the twist that her dad had survived and didn't want her at all and I loved it. I fully bought into Xavier's "you are not broken" reassurance to young Jean (Summer Fontana), so that moment worked really well to help sell the betrayal Jean felt. I wish we’d seen Scott (Tye Sheridan), Ororo (Alexandra Shipp), Kurt (Kodi Smit-McPhee), and Peter's (Evan Peters) reaction to what Xavier did as well though. I also would've liked to see their opinions on Xavier's massive hubris here ("All I did was create a world where we can all live in peace"), as well as his insistence that they be superheroes to earn their keep. Despite the lack of opinions from everyone but Mystique, I did like seeing this side of Xavier and thought it was just as interesting to see how he handled winning as how he’d handled mutants being the underdogs for so long. I'm glad this movie didn't agree with him that it was right to manipulate Jean's mind like Last Stand did, and Charles thinking she shouldn't experience any kind of pain is a nice callback to his own attempt to ignore the pain of the world in Days of Future Past (his older self told him that hope would allow him to bear the pain of the world without breaking, and it seems that Xavier decided he should be the only one to take on that pain rather than let others bear it as well). It also works well as an early form of his attempts to keep mutants safe even to their detriment (like making them superheroes to stay in humanity’s good graces). This habit of ignoring pain was especially evident in his almost cavalier discussion with Hank after Mystique’s funeral (with a side of “you can’t criticize me when I’m hurt too”), and it took me a bit to understand that he’s trying to do the same thing to Hank that he did to Jean, just without using his powers: he can’t process the pain of his loss and doesn’t want to see anyone else “stuck” in their feelings either. I’m glad he actually apologized on the train; I wasn’t expecting that and it was a solid development. Of the things Kinberg improved this time from Last Stand, Xavier as a not-so-great guy was definitely handled much better, precisely because he was proven wrong and dealt with it.

Erik nicely (and finally) transitioned into the peaceful existence promised by Apocalypse, even if (as others have noted) the disconnect between his crimes in that movie and the government respecting him here is a little jarring. I really liked him running Genosha, though it would've been nice to comment that this community was the last stop on the mutant Underground Railroad Mystique was part of in DOFP and Apocalypse. It didn't have to be and worked just fine without that connection, but it would've been nice to say that she helped build his mutant paradise (especially given the impact losing her has on him) and that effort would’ve buttressed her argument with Xavier nicely, since she would’ve had a hand in creating a better life for mutants as well. Erik's talk with Jean about letting go of vengeance once he realized it wasn't helping was solid (he learned something from Charles back in First Class!), but I wanted the movie to bear out that he really had changed. I hated that this movie again relied on a woman getting fridged so Erik had a reason to get murdery (with added Hank rage!): that's lazy, especially since they used that already-tired plot in the last movie. I wish both of these films had Erik as a teacher at the school, but if we couldn't get that bit of 80s comics lore, surely there was another way to use Erik here. Maybe his point of view should’ve shown us what everyday mutants think of the X-men as the poster children of the atom, and how that affects their ability to have a modicum of respect/tolerance from humans. If they couldn’t find something for Erik to do except try to kill Jean, he shouldn't have been included so they could focus on the other characters more. I did like his life on Genosha essentially proving Mystique's point and enjoyed him telling Xavier to shove his speeches, even if it was in the midst of his rage. I'll also say that the ending they found for Erik and Charles—Erik taking him back to Genosha to live out the rest of their lives together—was perfect.

I loved where they took Mystique over these prequel films! We got the badass villain in the original trilogy, so seeing her morals develop for the better in these movies was a breath of fresh air and a chance to explore new, original possibilities (even if they were inspired by her actions in the Age of Apocalypse comics timeline). I liked that she came so far as to be the field leader of the X-men and thought her argument with Xavier here was great. It meshed nicely with her opinion in X2 that they shouldn't have to conform to human appearances (or, here, their expectations) to live in peace. This was an important truth to bring up and I'm surprised that it feels like the first time I've seen it addressed in an X-story. I can almost accept her bristling at fame (and the unfair burden that fame represents) as the reason she shifts into her human appearance so often, even at the mansion, but that needed to be spelled out. I liked the rapport she had with the team, especially Jean, and I wish we saw more of an impact on them when she died (if we're wishing for things, I wish she hadn't died at all). Storm especially should’ve had more of a reaction, given Mystique was her hero. The younger students get a moment, but it's more about Jean as the culprit than Mystique's loss. I wish Mystique had let Jean know she agreed with her sense of betrayal and stuck with her instead of trying to bring her back to the mansion (even if I do see why she'd want to play up their family relationship to calm her down). It also wasn't the best strategy for the team to wear their X-uniforms to meet Jean at her house: what kind of message does that send? Having Mystique run with Jean and perhaps toy with the idea that they could change humanity for the better with Jean’s new powers so they could stop fighting to earn their peace might have been a cool development of her argument. Mystique could've played the role the Hellfire Club did in the comics & the Brotherhood did in X3, but with altruistic intentions. If she had to die, I wanted it to have more meaning and purpose: it should’ve been about her and what she stood for instead of immediately being about Erik/Hank's anger and Jean's culpability. I wonder if being impaled is an echo of how Wolverine “killed” her in X-men?

I was generally disappointed by Hank's role throughout the whole movie. I didn't like that he was in his human form so often: so he never got what Mystique was saying about loving himself as he is, even with the world loving the X-men? That’s depressing and if it was meant to be a conscious decision on his part, it should’ve been explored as his own self-hatred (or maybe he is secretly afraid that humanity will turn on mutants again, so he doesn’t want to fully give himself over to embracing his Beast appearance), not brushed aside like a common secret identity. And shouldn't he have shifted into his Beast form at Mystique's funeral, since his transformation was triggered by his emotions? I liked that this borrowed bit of Hulk mechanics revealed what he truly felt in DOFP: that was a cool comment on trying to suppress your real self and way to dramatize who Hank actually was. Here, he has full control but chooses to look human most of the time, which is not a good look (even if I bet a lot of it was about letting Hoult act more clearly without the Beast prosthetics). Like others have said, Hank getting fired up to kill one of his students is an even worse look and if they had to go there, I wish it had more fallout. The movie doesn’t bother much with the betrayal Scott & Co. must feel about their leader turning on one of them like this (instead, that anger is directed at Erik as if Hank didn’t go to him). Then they just let him come back as the headmaster of a school renamed after Jean after all that? No way. Not that I don't believe in forgiveness, but his actions were brushed aside way too easily (just like Erik and Storm's team-up with Apocalypse was in the last movie). I wish he'd retired like Mystique wanted to (if nothing else, to honor her wishes) and left the school to Scott and Ororo instead (they're nearly 30, after all).

I wish there had been less focus on the First Class characters and more of a passing of the torch here. In fact, we needed a lot more of the younger team members' opinions on everything happening in this movie, especially Jean's turn. They’d spent 10 years fighting and living together, after all: surely they have strong opinions. Ororo gets the point of view that Jean’s shown who she really is and isn’t coming back, but then she immediately acts counter to that by backing Scott’s effort to bring her home (and all of this is beside the fact that she too was party to massive loss of life but got to waltz onto the team, which would’ve been an interesting perspective to bring up). I also would’ve liked to see their reaction to Xavier's betrayal (if I were them, I'd be asking how much of their own lives he might’ve changed) and their fame (how do they see their (much safer) world vs. how do the older characters (who fought for it) see it?) as well as the implications of that celebrity status. The short shrift they got was a big negative for me. I was here to see Jean, Scott, Ororo, Kurt, and Peter as the leads, but we only really got Jean out of this bunch. Scott gets some solid moments with Jean—enough to sell their romance and connection—and it’s obvious there’s a friendship amongst the younger generation of X-men, but I feel like the things Jean was going through should’ve created more shockwaves amongst her closest friends. Even with a relatively small roster, you’d never know Storm and Nightcrawler were major X-men from their showing here and Peter is almost completely sidelined after getting his own spotlight scenes in the previous two movies. I would’ve liked Erik to know Peter is his son after he awkwardly didn’t find out in Apocalypse, though it wouldn’t have fit into this movie as it is. Kurt being Mystique’s son would’ve given a unique flavor to their mission interactions, but I guess we’ll have to wait for the MCU to get that relationship.

Another conversation/argument the younger and older generations of mutants could’ve had was about whether Jean’s powers were acceptable within the mutant subculture (which is something we also need to see more of in live-action), much less to the rest of humanity. How much is “too much” mutation (Kurt might have some feelings on that vs. the others’ invisible mutations, not that he’s any more a mutant than the rest of them)? Is there a line where a mutation just won’t be acceptable to non-mutants, no matter what goodwill they’ve gained in society? What about to other mutants (and crossing that line should really come without also making Jean a killer)? With the X-men becoming accepted as the backdrop, Jean’s evolution into Phoenix and the fight against her could’ve been played as a metaphor for people who accept LGB rights but are Transphobic, which would’ve fit the themes of the X-men as a franchise and would’ve added a new layer of complexity to the mutant metaphor (though as a straight cis guy, I defer to the LGBTQ community on whether that'd actually be a good idea and a story worth telling, or if it would hurt more than it helps; it might be preferred to bring in more trans mutants to the team and deal with mutants who are transphobic rather than piling another metaphor onto it, particularly as Jean is already a white woman dealing with racism & homophobia via hatred of mutants). It could also simply be about power & control: maybe Charles and Erik ironically can’t accept the new kind of mutant Jean is (Hank’s apparent self-hatred probably wouldn’t let him either), and they could’ve built the heroes’ split out of that lack of tolerance rather than killing Mystique.

The D’Bari mostly worked for me as antagonists if that was the way Kinberg wanted to go: they made for solid, tough cannon fodder that required mutant powers to defeat. I appreciate that they included that bit of comics canon, but ultimately them being Shi’ar who’d detected Jean's growing power signature and came to extinguish the Phoenix before it destroyed another solar system would’ve worked better IMO, since they could be the authority figures for Jean that humankind couldn’t (also opening the door to the conversation of whether she needs authority figures or if she should be trusted with her power). As it is, even still being the D'Bari could've worked if they'd come to put the Phoenix Force on trial for destroying their world, with Jean an unfortunate "accomplice" to the power. With them wanting to use the power to recreate their world instead, I would’ve liked more comparison between the D’Bari wanting to reclaim their home and mutants saving the world to maintain their place in society. You can also draw a connection between their willingness to manipulate Jean into bringing back their world (or coaxing her to give up her power so they can do it themselves) instead of the harder path of accepting and dealing with their loss and Xavier trying to ignore pain altogether (I do like that parallel a lot). Both the D’Bari and Xavier reached obsessive levels, and the aliens’ obsession with recreating their home at the cost of Earth serves as a nice foreshadowing of what could happen to Jean if she doesn't deal with her pain. I understand that in a two-hour movie we can’t see nuance to every faction, but it would’ve been nice to see some variance between the D’Bari’s goals: were any of them content to live out their lives peacefully? Were these just the fanatics of their species? Did any of them initially buy in before seeing what Vuk brought them to and thought, “this is too far?”

The action was solid, with a mostly good range of power use (even if they weren't as creatively applied as in previous installments). I liked the space rescue sequence a lot (minus apparently not caring about covering Kurt's hands in the vacuum of space) and the fights in New York City and on the train were well-done and comic booky. I was disappointed in the Quicksilver super-speed scene this time and agree with others on Twitter that every character should get spotlight moments like his. Regardless, it was cool that the team didn't hold back their powers and that the effects budget had the capability to let them cut loose. Weaponizing the team’s powers through the X-jet was a great idea! The one character cutting loose that seems weird in hindsight is Kurt’s murder spree on the train: at first it didn’t strike me as particularly odd, given the X-men aren’t at a Superman-level of not killing their enemies and all comic book heroes tend to get their bloodlust elevated in live-action, but after hearing my brother and others online point it out, yeah, it’s an odd choice for him.

Simon Kinberg’s writing and direction carried over a consistent feel from the previous installments, which (like others have noted) was not the case in the transition from X2 to Last Stand. Whatever my wishes for things that they could’ve covered or done differently here, these at least felt like the same characters we’ve been following for the past 1-3 films. He kept the action clear and managed to juggle the characters who did get the most focus pretty well. The scope could’ve been a bit bigger given Jean’s potential and left me wanting more, but I liked that they kept personal focus on the characters instead of having Jean gain absolute power and then stand behind Magneto, saying nothing. I wish they had used the 90s setting a lot more: the only 90s thing about this is that the space shuttle is still in regular operation. First Class and DOFP used their decades to enhance their respective stories; I’m sorry Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix fell short of that. They could’ve at least made a nod to Scott being an X2-canon boy band fan! I get the reason for the team’s matching uniforms—Xavier wanted an orderly image—but they really should’ve used the 90s-inspired ones from the end of Apocalypse instead. They looked so much cooler! I wish they’d brought back John Ottman’s main theme as the X-theme here, because this score didn’t resonate with me like the music of the previous films did.

Dark Phoenix is definitely a mixed bag, but overall I enjoyed a lot of it while wishing it had taken things further. I admire its ambition, even if its success is hampered by the same mistakes of previous films. I’ll buy it on home video, but for the first time I’m looking forward to the MCU’s X-men relaunch more than feeling sad about losing Fox’s version (though Feige is right to let the franchise rest for a bit). While this movie doesn’t have the emotional impact that Endgame does as a culmination, the X-films (along with Blade) kickstarted the modern superhero film and the weight of the franchise’s reach and impact is not lost on me. This series has been a huge part of my life for more than half of my life and I would’ve followed these actors and characters into another adventure—I still genuinely love or like nearly all of the movies in this 19-year franchise—but I do think they’ve kinda run their course. I’m happy that this felt like an ending even though it wasn’t planned as one, and I know I’ll revisit these films even after Disney releases their take on the franchise (which should really be a long-running TV series rather than films, but that’s neither here nor there). It feels weird to say goodbye, but it’s time.

If you’re into the X-men or a fan of these films, don’t let the rotten reviews scare you off from seeing this one. It’s not perfect, but it’s well-acted and there are solid themes with good action. It’s definitely worth a trip to the theater to see this version of Marvel’s merry mutants on the big screen one last time!

 Check out more of my reviews, opinions, and original short stories here!  

[sickandtideeeee]

By Bast - Chapter 9 (Erik x Reader)

A/N: maybe things will start moving from here haha. Please comment/reblog if possible! <3

Did you really want to hear this tyrant’s sob story?

It didn’t matter how you answered that question – there was an absolute need to hear him that sprang from somewhere deep within. In mere moments, you were consumed wholly by the hellish childhood that unfolded unsteadily before you. Erik – his American name was Erik Stevens – spoke clumsily and nonlinearly, sorting through the events of his life as though they were an endless tangled mess of cables.

It was an unnatural retelling of his life up to this point in time. When he had first started speaking, his tone was as flippant as usual as he described growing up as a child like any other believing in “fairy tales” of a fantastical land, Wakanda, imparted to him by his father. He paused suddenly and briefly, undoubtedly wondering if it was worth divulging this much personal information, but then something else seemed to seize control of his voice. He opened his mouth and words now seemed to tumble out, shakily, far from his own volition. His tone grew from confused to angry and finally evolved into a calmness that sharply contrasted the fiery confidence he always exuded.

What was even more unnatural was that some of the words N’Jadaka spoke would trigger memories in you that were not your own. Through his eyes, you saw his father in health, trying to instill a sense of self-confidence and pride in his son, teaching him where he came from. Through his eyes, you saw his father slain, and you knelt over a lifeless figure many times larger than the then-preadolescent N’Jadaka. The blood splattered in and around the deep claw wounds in his chest had already begun to dry or congeal, betraying the many hours he had lain there, all alone in the center of a small, dimly lit apartment. Vibranium claws glistened, protruding from his chest.

What kind of evil person leaves a child to bury his father and fend for himself?

Through young Erik’s person, a hastily packed suitcase slung over his shoulders, you knocked and knocked on a familiar apartment door only to find that ‘Uncle James’ who lived down the street seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Little did young Erik know that ‘Uncle James’ had long returned to Wakanda, and taken charge of another child, yourself, as though he had not abandoned another in dire need.

You watched him navigate the horrors of the foster care system, a preteen committing his first homicide while defending himself from a sexual predator who also was deemed the man of the house. As he progressed through adolescence, you felt the silent, caustic rage that emerged from his constant abandonment and disregard.

He graduated from university with honors despite growing up disenfranchised. He joined the military immediately. He flew through the ranks. He murdered, lied, stole, cheated and manipulated others his entire adult life. He threw out any hope of a normal life for the sake of wrath. He worked with international criminals, including one well-known to Wakanda, Ulysses Klaue, in order to get access to what he needed. Revenge.

You saw him keep score on his body, life after life after life.

You had seen enough. You shook your head as though to rid yourself of any further images. Had you been in a trance? At some point, your fingers had curled gently around his wrist. Withdrawing your hand rapidly, you stood up shakily, head still spinning.

N’Jadaka stared at you incredulously.

“You didn’t just hear what I said. You saw it.” He said this in a low whisper. His statement didn’t quite sound accusatory.

You didn’t respond, but your eyes began to glisten. It was enough for him to know for sure.

“Shit!” This time he bellowed, and you reflexively covered your ears, cowering as he seemed to fly towards you in a flurry of anger. For a split second, you wondered if you would become another raised mark on his skin.

“You fucking-!“ You closed your eyes, waiting for the blow. When it never came, you opened them to see him towering over you, hands clenched into fists. He glowered at you with eyes now tinged blood-red, his face hot; he seemed to literally be giving off steam and you could almost feel it off his skin, he was so far into your personal space.

“That shit was private. Don’t you ever fucking do whatever you just did again.” He spat, his face merely millimeters from yours. His intimidating glare lingered just a few seconds before he turned his back on you.

“Get the fuck out.” He said, without looking back. You recognized that this was a small act of mercy. If he had to take another look at you, he would change his mind and snap you like a twig. On that note, you took no time to gather yourself and skittered over to the door. You had entirely too much information to mull over the rest of the day.

But before you left him to his own, you stopped at the doorway. For the first time since he had arrived, you had garnered a tiny kernel of sympathy for him. Mustering the courage to speak, you faced his direction one more time.

“They were wrong to do that to you.” You croaked softly. You watched the muscles of his back tense up in response, but he did not respond. Your words hanging in the air just a little longer, you promptly turned and left.

He was and is still wrong to be who he is now, but they were wrong too, you thought, letting the door slam shut behind you.

--

It was not as though you hadn’t expected N’Jadaka to be above holding grudges – this was a man who was harboring anger against an entire country, after all - but this was excessive.

“So you really will not let me leave this room?”

The Dora standing in front of your doorway, facing outward, turned her neck to you and shook her head. She was clearly enjoying this, as indicated by the mischievous smirk that crossed her face.

Your stomach growled audibly, and you let out a defeated sigh. You had been confined to this room from the moment you woke up this morning at sunrise, and it was now approaching mid-afternoon. The guard turned on her heels suddenly as you attempted to close your door, almost startling you. She was at least 6 and a half feet tall and had to almost bend over to whisper to you.

“What did you say to him anyway? We’re all wondering.”

“Nothing.” Of course you lied. However, you weren’t sure if it was for your sake or for his.

She scrunched up her inappropriately cherub-like face in disappointment.

“That’s no fun,” she grumbled, crossing her arms as she returned to her post. You narrowed your eyes slightly in irritation, but quickly forgave her. Her earnestness could be useful. There was something about the softness of her voice that earned some trust. You decided not to lose this opportunity to ask about Amina. To your dismay, she frowned and kept mum, turning away from you.

You decided not to press - at least for now.

Instead, you retired back to your desk. Just from her facial expressions, you had gleaned enough important information. They had been alerted to her disappearance, but she did not appear to have been captured… yet.

Sitting at your desk, you used an AV Bead from your Kimoyo bracelet to access the internet. Through the grapevine, you had heard rumors that N’Jadaka was preparing to impose some censors to the network in a couple of weeks to limit the possibility of insurgency. Prideful as he was, he was tremendously aware that in the hearts of his citizens, he was only secondary to his much-preferred cousin and decided to block any discussion on the latter through the networks.

Today, you were shocked to see a trending, flashing headline that suggested the deployment of vibranium weapons to the Western world was happening in just a few hours.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Accessing the link brought you to a giant countdown timer with mixed commentary on the subject:

- how can this man just appear like this and make us meddle in things that have never concerned us?

- Finally someone understands that if we do not show ourselves to the world, they will feel like they have discovered us

- this man is very unstable. idiot ilali!!

- ^^ Tchaiii, my friend. Have you not heard that he has his people patrolling day and night? I beg, if you want to survive until sunrise please hold your fingers.

All of a sudden, you heard a muffled cry and a loud thud outside your door. Startled, you immediately went offline, almost dropping your beads. You faced the door with wide eyes. That had sounded too much like incapacitation.

Outside the door was a familiar voice.

“Nki, it’s me!”

It couldn’t be.

You ran out the door, crashing into Shuri, and the two of you both laughed and cried. Amina stood beside the two of you, the unfortunate young lady who guarded your door now slung over her shoulders, entirely unconscious.

Before you could ask any questions, Shuri thrust a Kimoyo card into your hands.

“My brother is alive and we’re about to bring this entire mess down. Please take this to my lab. If you see a mediocre-looking American, he knows the rest of the plan.”

Confused and overwhelmed with joy, all you could do was laugh.

“I’m serious, just make sure he stays out of trouble,” she insisted, already jogging away backwards. “I have to go!”

You nodded as she ran off, and then looked over to Amina, who thankfully looked well albeit a little tired.

She gave a small smile back at you, adjusting the human weight on her shoulders. Through her eyes, she gave you a promise to return and explain.

“Be careful,” she warned, motherly as always. Then she ran off as well.

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