#the cerebro helmet took forever....

[star-lights-up]

Do not kill humans, respect the sacred land of Krakoa, and make more mutants.

saw a krakoa edit, then somehow this came into being. Drawn in my rough approximation of quentin blake's style.

[littlechocolatekitten]

Thoughts on House of X/Powers of X

((Spoilers)) ((Long Post)) ((Just finished House of X/Powers of X)) 

Okay, so here are my immediate thoughts: 

1. Xavier must have serious neck pains from having that big ass helmet on his head. 

2. Why they do sabertooth like that *tears* free my homie. 

3. Mr. Sinister is crazy and hilarious, he had me dying 

4. Was it just me, or was anyone else getting serious cult vibes from Krakoa. Like, I get the whole point of the island is to separate mutants from the rest of the world, and I’m down with that 100%, but everything just looks so fantastical and everybody is happy and dancing around and shit. And that whole scene where Storm is re-introducing the Xmen and their all naked and everyone is gathering around their naked bodies like their gods on earth…I mean, they all looked hella hot, so I didn’t mind it. 

I just feel like everything is working too well in their favor. And this is with the assumption that Moira hasn’t gone back and changed the timeline again.

5. So, basically, every time someone dies, they are copied into another body like a printing machine. Think about it, the original soul/essence of that person is forever gone, so what goes in the empty ‘husk’ is not actually that person but a copy of their essence. 

6. If Xavier didn’t know how to bring mutants back, I wonder if he would’ve sent the Xmen on the suicide mission to destroy mother mold- or maybe they would’ve came up with a better plan

(the humans didn’t know the Xmen had that information, so they did have a little time to plan before mother mold came online- matter fact, mother mold almost came online prematurely because the Xmen showed up) 

7. I, personally, do not like Moira’s mutant power. I think its interesting, but the idea that someone can go back and redo a whole timeline feels like a crutch. I can’t trust anything that’s happening, because I don’t know at what point in the story has that timeline changed (But I’m assuming everything that is happening ‘presently’ in the timeline is Moira in her tenth life). And when she dies and returns to the womb, is she returning to the beginning of that timeline, or is she in a whole other alternate universe (like a multiverse kind of thing). 

Also, every time she does a redo, she’s changing what is naturally supposed to happen. Everyone is essentially at her mercy. We see in the beginning she wasn’t initially using her powers to help mutants, she was trying to make them extinct, until Destiny threatened to end her for good. (So if Destiny didn’t exist, Moira would have ‘cured’ mutant kind)

8. One thing I like about Moira is when she finally decides to help her own kind. But the event on Genosha still took place, so for her to stand aside and let 16 million mutants die… I mean, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten Magneto on her team if she saved Genosha. Also, I don’t think Cerebro had the ability to record people’s essence when this event occurred, so all of those mutants are likely dead dead. 

9. One thing I really like was the mutants establishing their own dominion on earth. Like, we’re here, there’s gonna be more of us, and their ain’t shit ya’ll humans can do about it. And the humans prove their point over and over again on why they can’t co exist. 

At first I thought, why doesn’t Moira go back and try to reason with humans not to create dumb shit like the sentinels, master mold, and mother mold (which all lead to Nimrod). But then I realized that, even she convinced some people, they are always those few people who don’t give a flying shit and are stuck in their ways.

And I think in the comic they mention that, even if mother mold was not created, humans may create or come across technology that could potentially lead to Nimrod.

Also, even if humans didn’t create nimrod (which they still do) they would have found a way to evolve themselves through technology (hence the existence of the blue people. Its interesting that despite having essentially won against mutants and reaching the peak of human evolution and advancement, they still found themselves lacking.) 

10. Overall, it was a good read. I like the fresh take, but I’m still kind of wary on where the story is leading. Maybe they decided to change the narrative to appeal to a newer, younger audience. I don’t think the story is that complicated, but its definitely very wordy and if you have no prior knowledge of the Xmen universe I feel some aspects could go right over your head. It kind of reminds me of reading Watchmen, you may have to read it a few times to really absorb everything that’s happening (and there’s a lot happening) 

Final note: I’ve loved Xmen for as long as I can remember, and one of the things that made me love this mutant world is how much it relates to real life. I literally can relate to their struggles, their pain, and understand their reasoning because their life is my life. There are millions of real life people on this planet, who suffer just like the mutants suffer. At least the mutants got powers. 

[thorne93]

The Right Path (Part 2)

Prompt: (From request) Hi! I was wondering, would you it be okay to request a Charles Xavier x telepath!reader? Where they have a mind link since their ability first showed up and so they already know each other even before theyve actually met and then he finds her when he first uses Cerebo and he and Erik go to her first?? Its an idea ive had for a while, but im not nearly an amazing writer like you!

Word Count: 1410

Warning: language (maybe??), child abuse, mental and physical abuse, depression…

Note: I LOVED this request. Thank you for sending it in. I am so sorry it took so long to write. I hope I did it justice dear. Plus, thank you for the super sweet note ; ) Beta’d by none other than @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr​ @kaeling

James McAvoy:  @bohemianrhapsody86 @lenawiinchester

Charles Xavier: @bohemianrhapsody86 @lenawiinchester

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What else can I say to her?” Charles asked as he and Raven sat over a hot breakfast.

“Who?” Raven questioned as she bit into pancakes.

“The girl...in my dreams. Or...the girl whose dream I enter,” he corrected, a bit of a frown coming to his handsome face.

“Oh, her? You’re still doing that?” she asked with a raise of her eyebrow. “I thought you’d be past this by now.”

“Yes, Raven, I am still doing that,” he remarked, a touch of anger in his voice. “She’s a telepath like me, I’m sure of it. She must be a strong one because I can sense her from wherever she’s at, even when she’s unconscious, just think what she’s capable of when she’s awake,” he commented, more to himself than to her. He was in awe of you but other than your face in the dreams, he couldn’t get anything else from you. He was only able to hold up signs because he was awake in your dreams, manipulating himself and what he could do, but you still seemed bound by your dreaming mind.

“Why don’t you just give her your number?” she asked with an eyeroll.

“You know you’re not exactly delicate,” Charles said, his face pinching into annoyance as his eyes slid over to his adoptive sister.  

“And you’re in a bad mood because your dream-girlfriend isn’t talking to you,” she retorted as she lifted her coffee mug with a smug look and left the breakfast table.

He contemplated all week on a way to communicate more with you. Questions weren’t going to work because you couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t want to blather endlessly on signs in your dreams. You might think he was crazy, or you might not care who he was or what he wanted. He also couldn’t say he was a telepath or ask if you were, because if you weren’t, that was probably going to alarm you more than anything.

He couldn’t get past your dreams so far, probably because you were sleeping, and your mind had taken the wheel as far as where and what it was accessing so he couldn’t get a name, address, family name, last name, pet name, state you lived in, school you attended if any...He was at a loss. How could he get to know you more? He wanted to get to know you more than anything. He was utterly obsessed with you now that you visited him during the night.

Finally, he decided if he couldn’t get to know more about you, other than your eccentric dreams, he would have you get to know him.

---------------------------

Three more years passed. The dreams and Charles still appeared off and on, periodically. As soon as you graduated high school, your parents kicked you out of the house. At first, you had no idea how to deal out in the real world. First and foremost you needed a place to stay, and with no friends and family that would take you in, you sought refuge at the church. You only spent a few months there before you were granted a full ride scholarship based on your exemplary marks to a decent college and you clawed at the chance like it was your last ounce of air.

Now you were twenty-one, over halfway through your academic career. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to do, not entirely. Your ability to read minds seemed to make it difficult. You didn’t want any sort of job that would have anyone looking down their nose at you. Perhaps you could get into a scientific field, and only work with esteemed colleagues.

Charles was twenty four, in graduate school now. You knew this because he periodically updated you on his life. He told you when it was his birthday and gave you the age. He told you when he was accepted to graduate school and what he was studying. Psychology. It was fitting. You had a feeling he had the same power you had, but perhaps he could only communicate with those who were dreaming.

He was perfectly charming, or so he seemed. All you could go off of were his face, his body, and signs he held up in your dreams. But even if he had the personality of a potato, his face alone would probably make you walk on broken glass for him. You learned he had a sister, her name was Raven. You learned he was doing well in graduate school, in fact he was about to graduate. With a smiling face and a simple sign, he told you the date. Somehow, you wanted to give him a graduation present. Absurd though, considering you technically didn’t know this man and he didn’t know you. But still, you were bonded, shared a mind-link going on four years now. That must mean something, right? It wasn’t a coincidence?

He lived in New York, not the City. He lived in a quieter town up north. Quite a change of pace from you in your South Carolina home. You wanted to meet him, to hear his voice, to actually touch him, but alas you didn’t have a car. All you had was a lousy job as a waitress at a diner up the street to help pay for things the scholarship didn’t cover, there was no way you could afford a car or even a bus ticket there. Besides, what would you do once you found him? If you found him.

“Oh hi, you visit me in my dreams so I thought we could chat in person,” you thought sarcastically.

You wished you could talk with Charles. Find out all about his abilities. If he was able to control it. If he really is just confined to dreams or if he could hear anyone’s thoughts like you. You had a million questions for a complete stranger, but at least, after everyone, he seemed to be the only one who still wanted to be around you.

---------------------------

“Okay, so, uh, the electrodes connect Charles to the transmitter on the roof. When he picks up a... mutant, his brain sends a signal through a relay, and then coordinates of their location are printed out here,” Hank McCoy, the young genius in the room, explained to Charles as he was getting ready to put Cerebro’s helmet on his head. Erik was circling him, amused, as Raven watched on with curiosity and impressiveness.

“What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles,” Erik mused with a coy grin.

“Don't spoil this for me, Erik.”

“Oh. I've been a lab rat. I know one when I see one,” Erik commented.

Hank fussed over some more mechanics and dials before rushing back to Charles to check the device. “Are you sure we can’t shave your head?”

Charles calmly warned, “Don’t touch my hair.”

“Okay. It's working,” Hank informed triumphantly.

Charles could touch every mutant’s mind on the planet. Every one of them. And while he wanted to help them all, reach out to all of them, show them they’re not alone, he had one particular mutant in mind - you.

After four years of a mindlink, he finally had a chance to meet you. To find you. To help you. Hear your voice. He knew nothing about you, and yet, he felt like you two were the greatest of friends. He hoped that you wanted to be his friend too, perhaps his ever constant presence in your dream has been a nuisance and you wanted nothing to do with him, but he had to check. He had to see if you wanted to meet. Surely you were at least curious.

He concentrated hard and you were the first one he saw. In his mind’s eye he saw you in your true form for the first time, not in the dreamy, blurry, hazy world that was your sleeping mind. You were sensational. Simply stunning. He saw you sitting at a small desk, your face buried in textbooks. He marveled at the sight of you, nearly giddy with happiness as he saw the coordinates to you were printing out.

Now, he literally had a map to you and after all these years of yearning to meet you, to actually know the first thing about you. He could barely contain his excitement. So he and Erik set out, together, to find all the mutants on the eastern coast that they could for their mission.

[magnetiik]

|Reflection and Release|

            It was the little things.

     Why do people always say that? If they matter so much, why call them small?

There were things that Erik carried with him that would be considered small-- but they, truly, were the things that meant the most. It was cliché.

Being a cliché wasn’t something he enjoyed but that part of him wasn’t well known. So he let it be.

Erik’s mind was wandering and wandering and his feet carried him throughout the halls right along with it. Whether he wore his helmet or not was hit or miss-- sometimes he would, sometimes he would leave it behind. Other times he would carry it with him. There wasn’t much of a rhyme or reason to it.

          There wasn’t much of a rhyme or reason for anything at the moment.

It was a little before sunset when Erik began wandering the halls on one specific night. He left his room with three things: two he pocketed, and the third was his helmet, which he quickly drew to him last second as he crossed the threshold into the hallway. He held it tucked underneath one arm-- tonight he simply felt better having it with him. Almost like a safety blanket.

Unlike most other nights, he had a destination. There was still time to aimlessly walk the halls before he headed down, though. The sunlight filtering through the windows became warmer and darker as he made his way around, and he took slow and steady steps like he knew exactly where he was going, even if the truth was that (for the moment) he didn’t care. It was quiet and no one bothered him, which were the only two things he required.

As he moved, his left hand pulled out a coin-- one of the things he pocketed before he left his room. It weaved over and under his fingers, slowly and smoothly, helping to calm any anxious energy that he couldn’t contain inside.

But at the center of everything, it was his heart directing him tonight. At one point it finally decided that it was time to go where it needed to-- and his brain didn’t argue. Down he went, and after a short journey he arrived:

                   Cerebro

The door was locked, which didn’t surprise him. Erik found himself staring at the bright blue center as he stood there, left hand holding the coin frozen a few inches above his palm. A quick flick of his wrist flung it back into his pocket.

He couldn’t stand there forever.

Normally, it wouldn’t be possible for anyone other than the intended user to get into the room that stood before him. Erik had never had much of a reason to go in without him, so he never had a reason to break in before. But now he did.

He set the helmet down few feet off to the side and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and shutting off the world around him. Both hands lifted to a position in front of him, ready to fall flat against the cold metal surface in front of them. They were shaking-- so they never made it to the door.

In a small fit of frustration Erik made fists and sharply shot them back their place at his sides. He needed to get his control back, and it just wasn’t happening. As a result, the tension around him built and built-- the dead silence of the hall filled with the soft jingling of metal from Erik’s pocket and the dragging sound of his helmet being slowly called towards him across the floor.

Then the tension reached its breaking point.

But he kept it together. In his loss of control he somehow found it, and the movement of metal stopped as silence once again took over. Erik was able to flatten his palms against the door. 

Now he needed to concentrate.

The inner workings of the door were certainly complicated. Using his powers as an extension of himself, he felt his way through the interlocking pieces and began forming an internal map-- by the end of his journey he knew exactly how everything fit together down to the smallest detail.

                       Another deep breath.

A sharp series of clicks signaled the release of the door. Finally opening his eyes, Erik took a step back and effortlessly slid open the two sides of the entrance with his powers while retrieving his helmet. He now was staring down the bridge into Cerebro-- and after all that effort, he found himself frozen in place, unable to take another step forward. It was daunting-- almost terrifying.

They were still in the process of fixing the inside of the room-- but it wasn’t the debris that bothered him-- it was everything else. With it came that overwhelming feeling that he had failed. That he should have done more, that he did everything wrong. His heart was beating out of his chest-- so forceful and strained that it was almost painful.

His heart had wanted him here but at the threshold his head was frantically telling him to leave as fast as he could. There was no sense in being here-- it would only bring more pain. There was nothing here that he needed to see or needed to do, so why even be here at all?

              Because he needed to be.

Before he knew what he was doing, Erik was making his way down the narrow bridge. Every step echoed in the hollowed room, bouncing quietly off panels both untouched and damaged beyond repair. He made the door close behind him and there he was-- alone in his own little world. The silence was deafening-- another cliché, but he found it to be painfully true.

       In here, in that moment, Erik Lehnsherr felt like the only man left on earth.

He stood centered in front of the panel, looking out to the curved walls that surrounded him. Cerebro’s helmet was in the same place he had left it, which he found both oddly comforting and painfully sad. A quick glance down at it chilled him to the bone.

                  Charles was gone.

Why was it so hard to even think his name? He noticed that he hadn’t spoken it since the day of the fight-- and it wasn’t out of some forced habit he made himself acquire. He just couldn’t do it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Erik set down his own helmet right beside Charles’. They both faced him, mirroring one another as if they had always been meant to be next to the other. Erik had to remind himself to breathe-- something so innate and necessary was odd to think about, but as he was currently, his body needed reminders like that.

In one swift motion, Erik pulled the second object from his pocket and took to the floor, legs crossed one over the other. The surface of the console above him created an even smaller world that he gladly let himself become consumed by-- he was here, nothing outside of this room mattered even slightly.

Erik placed both hands in front of him and opened them into a cup-- in the center was a small metallic object, smaller than the coin he had been playing with earlier. He rolled it into one hand and gently pinched it between his fingers, slowly turning it around like he was seeing it for the first time.

In his hand, Erik Lehnsherr held the bullet that tore Charles’ world apart all those decades ago.

The bullet that was meant for him, not for Charles.

The bullet that to this day, had a tight and suffocating hold over him.

Erik’s life was filled with mistake after mistake. What he found to be the most cruel was how his mistakes always, always ended up hurting the people around him. The people that never deserved any hurt to begin with. Why was it that the ones he cared for paid the price for his misdoings?

Charles Xavier had been the one person he seemed to hurt time and time again, despite his efforts otherwise. Was it coincidence? No, no it couldn’t have been coincidence. He was the one person he loved most in this world-- whether he ever even admitted it to himself or not. Charles was destined to be repeatedly torn apart since the moment they met, and that was something that Erik just could not forgive himself for.

There was an emptiness inside of him after losing Charles. It was consuming him second by second, threatening to collapse in on itself. Everyone felt Charles’ loss, but for Erik it was-- it was unbearable.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in soulmates. The idea always seemed too simplistic. To say that there was one person you belonged with, meant to feel connected to with some unbreakable and inexplicable bond-- yet another cliché that he wanted no part in. His heart felt what it felt and it cared for the people it cared for. At times it was selfish and it took more than it gave, but was there truly a person alive who wasn’t guilty of that? Erik watched people come and go in all areas of his life, and soon enough he found himself casting others away before they got too close. If his heart wanted a soulmate, it never made that clear.

That’s what Erik had believed and stood by for years. But Charles had a way of silently and seamlessly breaking down every barrier he fought long and hard to build. Charles was gentle and kind, willing to always give more than he received. There wasn’t an exact moment that Erik could pinpoint-- but in time the telepath had become part of him. And that was something he never wanted to lose.

What was it that he said to him?

“There is so much more to you than you know-- not just pain and anger. There’s good, too. I felt it.”

Good? Magneto was not good. He was harsh and unforgiving. He fought hard for what he believed even when it required sacrifice of the worst kind. He was known for his ruthless ways and terrorizing facade. He was a man controlled by loss and a need for control-- because if there was only one thing he could accomplish in this life, it would be to prevent his past from repeating itself. Never again. That is what he promised the world.

Erik Lehnsherr was not a good man. He never believed that about himself.

What Charles did was make him believe that maybe-- someday-- he could be.

Perhaps the two of them were soulmates. Two sides of the same coin. The light and the shadows. Balancing each other like the sun and the moon.

One without the other-- that was something that should never happen.

Erik had never felt so alone.

In the center of Cerebro sat a man, heartbroken and unaware of just how much he was hurting.

They had gone through too much together only to be ripped apart like this. They had died and been brought back to life. They fought and they screamed and they were at each other’s throats-- but they also knew that they could never truly hate each other. They were different, but at their core they were fundamentally the same. It slowly dawned on him that they were meant to be in each other’s lives-- always being drawn together and yanked apart.

Erik loved Charles. He loved him-- wholeheartedly and without regret.

But now it was too late.

The broken bullet fell to the ground with a sharp clang. His hands were shaking again, much more harshly than before, as they lifted to cover his face. The crying began slowly but it quickly escalated into sobs that wracked his body from the inside out. For days he had held everything inside, keeping quiet and keeping away from other people as much as he could.

Was he destined to lose the ones he loved one by one? He felt cursed-- he was a poison, a disease to anyone who was close to him. Perhaps that was his punishment to bear, but loss after loss slowly chipped away at him. He pushed through it every time, because he was a survivor. But everyone had their breaking point.

If anyone’s time on this earth was meant to come to an end-- it was his. Not theirs.

Max Eisenhardt, Erik Lehnsherr-- Magneto.

It didn’t matter who he was-- death followed him wherever he went.

Through his sobs, Erik forced apology after apology from his lips.

“I’m so sorry Charles-- I’m so sorry---”

I should have been able to save you.