#like it's not even my fault it's erik and his dramatics

[monaetheworldsdestroyer]

ahh i love doing research for a thing i'll mention in one(1) sentence in my fanfic to then never think about it again

at least now i know what time zone finland is in 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

and i constantly have to google synonyms for words to not repeat them 3 times in one sentence that's fucking annoying (⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)(⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)

[stillalivebydemand893]

Kissing lessons part 1

18+(repost)

Story:You desperately beg your best friend Erik to teach you how to kiss. He’s all sass, spilled coffee, and zero patience,but also low-key an expert in sarcasm and accidental charm.

“CAN YOU HELP ME OR NOT?!” you screamed at your best friend, veins practically popping from your forehead.

“JESUS, TAKE THE GODDAMN WHEEL! I’M NOT TEACHING YOU THAT!” he yelled back, nearly spilling his precious coffee .

“WHY NOT?! THIS IS WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR!” you cried, hands clenched like a televangelist begging for salvation.

“Listen to me,” he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction, “it’s not my fault your virgin ass hasn’t kissed anybody until now!”

“YES IT IS!” you stormed toward him, trying to channel intimidation but mostly just looking like a very angry, undercaffeinated raccoon.

“No. No, it’s not. Fuck off.” He fled to the living room like a man dodging a lawsuit, refusing to meet your eye.

“Don’t you DARE walk out mid-fucking-conversation! This is a matter of LIFE and DEATH!” you chased after him like a drama queen on a mission, slamming into his back and making him spill his coffee all over his once-pristine grey tee.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!” he screeched. “Fuck, it burns!” He peeled off his shirt, glaring at you like you were the reason dinosaurs went extinct.

You couldn’t help but smirk. Oh, he was so dramatic.

“See? We’re already at second base. One more argument and your jeans’ll be off.” You winked.

“Can you STOP—” he groaned, hands on hips, “being such a BRAT?!” He paused, glaring. “Please, for the love of whatever god still tolerates your bullshit, explain how any of this is MY fault.”

You pushed harder. Agitating Erik was your favorite pastime. You’d even listed it under “special skills” on your fake CV: “Making assholes angry.”

“Because, you fuckface, I’ve spent so much time with you that every guy in this town with a working dick thinks I’m TAKEN.” You stood tall like you were testifying in court.

He gasped. “Oh, POOR LITTLE PEACH. Here’s a radical idea: get on a dating app. Pick some dude at a bar. HELL—TAKE MY BROTHER. I OFFER HIM TO YOU AS TRIBUTE!” He pointed dramatically at Bobby, who was half-asleep on the couch and 100% not listening.

“HE’S UNDERAGE, YOU PSYCHO.” You threw your arms up like you were about to summon a demon.

“That didn’t stop you from swinging at that kid in the playground last summer,” Erik muttered.

“HE WASN’T A KID. HE WAS A MIDGET.” You were fuming. “And it happened once!”

“Guys, maybe you shoul—” Bobby tried to interject, as always.

“SHUT UP!” you both screamed in unison, instantly giving Bobby two new reasons to book therapy sessions.

You sighed, switching tactics.

“Okay, listen. All I’m asking is that you teach me how to kiss. That’s it. And I’ll be off your dick forever—” You paused. “—unless you’re also down to teach me reverse cowgirl. That’d be, like, really helpful.” You were spiraling. Your brain was full of Friday-night panic. You had a date with your longtime crush, and the last time you tried to learn kissing from YouTube, you ended up watching someone twerk on a watermelon.

Erik, ever the drama queen, gasped. “OH MY GOD. PLEASE. STOP. TALKING.” He stormed outside, coffee in hand, hoping Mother Nature would silence you.

“ERIK, PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU!” You followed him to the garden. Time for the nuclear option.

“I’ll pay for your PS5 subscription for a whole YEAR.” Silence. Not even a twitch.

“I’ll give you my signed Iron Maiden vinyl.” Nothing. He was at peace. Like a smug monk.

“There’s gotta be something you want—” You trailed off as he turned toward you with a devilish smirk. Shit.

“You know what I want.” He was playing with fire. And you were gasoline.

“NOPE. I’ll go make out with Paco the Turtle before I stoop that low.”

“No you won’t. Come on, Peach. Say it.” He held out his hand, cocky bastard.

You groaned. “But my baby—” You were practically sobbing.

“Do you want this guy to laugh in your face? Or do you wanna kiss like someone who belongs in the major leagues?” He raised an eyebrow.

You stared at him, internally screaming. Fine. FINE.

“Okay, fine. But if you even scratch her, Erik, I swear to God I’ll rip out your dick piercing while you sleep.”

He gasped like you’d insulted his ancestors. “How DARE you! She’s my baby too. We share custody!”

“I fucking hate you.” You chucked him the keys to your green Dodge Challenger. Your shared pride and joy—the one you rebuilt over three summers of soul-sucking jobs. The one he got banned from driving after defiling the backseat with a cheerleader and her stomach contents.

“Come to Daddy.” He slipped the keys into his back pocket like he just won the Super Bowl.

“Now TEACH ME.” You stood there, furious, arms crossed like a war general.

Patience, Padawan. The Force hasn’t awoken yet.” he said smugly, sipping his coffee like a little Jedi with way too much ego and not enough shame.

“That made you sound like you’ve got morning erectile dysfunction. Do you?” you tilted your head with faux concern. “Because I was really looking forward to learning reverse cowgirl but—”

He choked mid-sip, spitting coffee everywhere like an offended Victorian woman at a scandalous tea party. “What the actual fuck—” He looked at you like he was this close to throwing you into a trash bin.

“IN. MY. ROOM. NOW.” he roared.

“Whoa whoa whoa—truce, truce!” you held up your hands like a hostage negotiator and turned toward the stairs, hiding your triumphant smirk.

“I’LL BE WAITING, MY ANI!” you shouted over your shoulder as you disappeared up the stairs, voice full of sass and just the right amount of chaos.

Behind you, Erik froze.

He blinked.

He stared into the void of his coffee mug like it held all the answers to his unraveling sanity.

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, sipping what was left of his coffee like it was whiskey, fully ignoring the little blush rising on his cheeks—the one that showed up the second you called him “my Ani.”

Shit.

He was screwed.

And not in the way he used to pray for.

You plopped down on his bed like a Victorian child waiting to die of English fever, head dramatically resting on his pillow.

“When will my husband return from war…?” you sighed, one hand to your forehead, channeling every tragic widow in every BBC miniseries ever.

Erik stormed in, already exasperated. “On my day off, you decide to be a full-time brat.” He slammed the door shut like it owed him money and flopped beside you on the mattress with all the grace of a man ready to end it all.

You scooted closer like a gremlin seeking warmth. “What do I do, Erik?! He’ll figure out I’m a virgin loser and then I’m screwed!” You let out a dramatic sob, burying your face in his chest like he was a tragically scented therapy dog.

Finally—finally—there was silence.

He exhaled slowly, like he was about to speak to a feral child. “Come on, Peach. If he really likes you, he’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You raised your head, eyes locking onto his. There was a softness in the air now—brief, dangerous, not at all welcome.

You placed your hand gently on his cheek. “Erik, I’m going out with a man born in this century. Not the prehistoric era.” You paused for dramatic effect. “No decent man walking this godforsaken planet wants a virgin anymore. We’re like… endangered. Like pandas. Or VHS tapes. Or emotional availability.” Your voice got more intense. “We’re rare. We’re fragile. We’re expensive on the black market.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes so hard you feared they’d get stuck. But deep down, something in his expression changed—subtle, barely there.

Because as much as he hated your dramatics, he did feel sorry for you. Not because you were a virgin. But because you thought that made you less. Because you genuinely believed you didn’t deserve someone who would wait. Someone who made you feel wanted just for existing.

He wanted to tell you that.

But that would be weird.

So instead, he said absolutely nothing and just… lay there. Silently screaming into the void like a man who suddenly found himself one thigh-touch away from emotional collapse.

You blinked. “Are you… buffering?”

“Shut up, Peach.”

“Okay,” Erik exhaled like a man about to be beheaded for treason. “Get up. Come sit.” He patted his lap, looking every bit like he was regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

“I’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Santa. Please don’t bring me chalk again this year.” You plopped into his lap like it was your throne—comfortable, familiar, dangerous.

“I’m at my fucking limit, Sweets.” He warned, jaw tight.

And maybe he meant emotionally. Or maybe… not.

Something about this position felt hot. Erik under you, his hands resting on your thighs like they belonged there. His bulge pressing up against you with absolutely no remorse. And your brain—your dumb, horny, self-destructive brain—decided you could get used to this.

Wait, what?

No.

Delete that.

Backspace.

Abort.

This was practice. Like rehearsing for a school play. With tongue.

“If it’s too much, just tell me to stop, alright?” Erik muttered, his voice softer now. Tired. Like he didn’t want to admit he might be a little out of his depth too.

You nodded. “Okay, whatever. But like—what’s the game plan?” You were this close to grabbing a notebook and diagramming this out like a MLM scheme.

“**The game plan—**what?” He blinked. “Oh, right. Shit. I forgot you can’t learn anything without a theory section first. My bad, nerd.” He smirked, then grabbed your waist and yanked you closer.

You nearly moaned.

Nearly.

He continued, totally unfazed. You, on the other hand, were having a spiritual experience.

“So first, you start slow. Not like a peck—that’s for Mormons. You want it soft, like you’re about to ruin each other’s lives. It’s the pre-course meal. Come closer.”

His fingers caught your chin, guiding you in. Your lips were one inch apart. Maybe less.

“Put your hands around my neck. Don’t stand there like Elsa. Jesus.”

You obeyed. Hands around his neck, trying not to spontaneously combust.

“You can even play with his hair. Tug a little—not too much. Just enough to make him—” he paused, “—you know. Moan. Maybe. Sometimes. Whatever.”

Your face burned.

You hadn’t expected this. Not this. Not with Erik. The sarcastic menace who once put a frog in your backpack and called it character development.

And yet… here you were. Thinking of his lips like they held government secrets.

“Peach,” he said, squeezing your thigh. “Are you listening?”

You snapped out of it, caught mid-daydream of biting his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, you were saying?”

He rolled his eyes. “I said—press up against him. It makes the kiss more intense. You want him to feel it. All of it.”

You swallowed. “Okay. Got it. What’s step two?”

“Step two is the move—either he goes for it or you do. Catch the moment when his lips are parted, slide your tongue in. The rest is muscle memory. You should let him do it first, though. Makes you seem more innocent. That drives them wild.”

“And what do I do with the rest of my limbs?” you asked, not missing a beat. “Like, do I just T-pose? Or…?”

Erik laughed. Nervous. Definitely nervous.

“The moves usually happen on reflex. You might grind on him. Arch your back. Dig your nails in. You’ll know what keeps the mood going. Just… feel it.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I get it.”

He looked at you for a second too long. Like he was thinking. Or deciding. Or panicking.

“So… should we give it a try?” you asked, tone perfectly innocent. “You know, we have to demonstrate the theory in practice for it to count.”

He chuckled. “Nerd.”

But he didn’t say no.

He didn’t push you off.

He didn’t break the tension.

Nope. He just looked at your lips.

And this time…

He didn’t look away.

It happened so fast.

His lips—soft, sure, devastating—met yours.

Like gravity.

Like a drug.

Like the thing you didn’t know you needed until it hit you, and then—bam, you were gone.

You burned instantly under his touch, like every cell in your body had been waiting for this exact fire. His lips pulled back an inch, breath shallow, eyes dropped low. You looked up at him like some wide-eyed, overwhelmed, dangerously turned-on forest creature.

A horny doe.

An endangered virgin in heat.

“That was step one. All good in there, Sweets?” he asked, voice rough, eyes glassy, face flushed in a way that was not helping.

Words were not in your vocabulary anymore. You just nodded like you’d been unplugged from reality.

“Okay. Now just follow my lead.”

And then he kissed you again. And this time?

It was need.

His lips moved like they’d missed you for years. You tightened your arms around his neck, one hand threading into his hair, tugging gently.

He moaned into the kiss.

You ached. Viscerally.

He pressed you harder onto his lap and you couldn’t help it—you arched, body instinctively chasing more of him, a needy little sound slipping from your lips.

He took the opening—literally—and slipped his tongue in.

You felt like you were going to explode.

How could it feel this good?

How could something that was technically educational feel like your soul had just relocated to your pelvis?

You followed everything he’d said: let him in first, tease with pressure, respond with your body. Your tongues fought like they had unresolved drama. Moans broke through between kisses, your bodies flush, skin too hot, air too thick.

And then you both broke for air, gasping. Foreheads resting together like that was the only thing keeping you tethered to the Earth.

“Like this, you mean?” you asked, breathless, eyes wide, voice syrupy with innocence.

Erik nearly short-circuited.

Everything in him screamed danger.

He didn’t care.

“Yeah,” he panted. “Just like that. Good girl.”

Good girl.

Your brain glitched. Your entire body melted into that phrase like it had a chokehold on your nervous system.

Good girl, good girl—oh god.

You needed more.

“Can we do it again?” you asked quickly, too quickly. “You know, I’m a perfectionist. Gotta get it right—”

He didn’t even let you finish.

His mouth was on yours again, hot and hungry and insatiable. And you were right there with him—matching every movement, chasing every high, your fingers gripping tighter, your body moving against his like instinct took the wheel.

And then—his lips left yours.

You gasped at the loss, ready to whine—

Only for him to trail down to your neck.

Your breath caught. His tongue. His teeth. The softest scrape, the gentlest suck.

“I’m just giving you a bonus lesson,” he murmured into your skin, voice dark. “Is this okay?”

You could barely breathe. But you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

It felt like you were in a bubble—just you and him and this blistering, reckless gravity between you. Like nothing existed beyond his lap, your lips, the throb in your chest and the heat flooding your spine.

And in that moment?

You didn’t want it to end.

Not the lesson.

Not the feeling.

Not him.

Erik’s mouth was on your neck, and it was criminal how good it felt.

His lips grazed the sensitive spot just below your jaw, and your hips shifted instinctively, pressing harder into his lap. He let out a muffled sound—somewhere between a growl and a curse—and you felt it vibrate against your skin. You gripped his shirt tighter, knuckles white.

“Erik…” you whispered, breath shaky, voice barely yours.

He stopped.

Just for a second.

Long enough for his hand to come up and cup your jaw, tilting your face back so he could see you properly. His pupils were blown, lips red and swollen, breath heavy.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, dangerously low—but his eyes searched yours, full of that annoying, beautiful softness that always snuck through when you least expected it.

Your heart thudded against your ribcage like it was trying to escape.

“Yeah. Just—” You swallowed. “This is more intense than I thought it would be.”

He let out a quiet laugh, one hand brushing hair from your face. “That’s because you’re sitting in my lap making the world’s hottest sex noises and grinding like we’re in a club bathroom.”

You smacked his chest. “I was following instructions!”

“You were doing way too well.” he muttered, looking almost angry at himself.

You looked at him—really looked at him.

His face was flushed. His voice had gone lower. He wasn’t playing anymore. This wasn’t the same teasing Erik from five minutes ago. This was a man hanging on by a very thin thread.

And maybe, just maybe… you liked the idea that you were the one unraveling him.

“So, what’s next, Professor?” you whispered, intentionally lacing your tone with sugar and trouble.

His jaw clenched. You felt it under your fingers as he gripped your waist a little tighter.

“Next?” he said, voice rough. “We stop.”

You blinked. “What? Why?!”

He exhaled, resting his forehead against yours again, like maybe physical closeness would help him think straight.

“Because if we don’t, I’m gonna do shit that definitely isn’t part of the kissing syllabus.” His hand slid from your waist to your hip and stayed there like a warning.

You were quiet for a moment.

Then, softly, carefully:

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

He pulled back, just enough to look at you.

Your face was so close. His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and for a second, the whole world was silent.

“Don’t say shit like that unless you mean it, Peach. I swear.” His voice was strained, shaking at the edges.

You felt like your skin was too small for your body.

“I mean it.”

It came out quieter than you meant it to. But honest. Raw. Real.

Erik stared at you like you’d just broken something in him.

“Fuck.” he breathed, hands tightening on you, dragging you in again—mouth crashing to yours with no more warnings, no more rules.

This wasn’t a lesson anymore.

This was want. This was hunger.

And neither of you were pretending now.

The kisses turned desperate. Wet. Open.

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs to your lower back, like he couldn’t decide where to touch first, only that he had to.

Your shirt rode up. His fingers found your skin.

He groaned against your mouth. You felt yourself tremble in his grip.

Clothes didn’t matter. Words didn’t matter.

It was just hands and breath and teeth and mouths—moving together, faster now, harder now.

Until—

A sudden knock on the door.

You both froze like two teenagers caught by the cops.

“Hey Erik, can I use your laptop? Mine’s updating—”

“FUCK OFF, BOBBY!” you both shouted in horrifying unison.

Silence.

Then footsteps. Retreating.

You collapsed onto Erik’s chest, trying to remember what breathing was.

He let out a laugh, breathless and ruined. “We’re going to hell.”

You giggled into his shoulder. “Already halfway there, might as well enjoy the ride.”

He looked down at you, brushed his fingers over your cheek, then whispered:

“Still want that reverse cowgirl tutorial, or should we… save that for the next class?”

Your grin could’ve lit the entire room on fire.

[haechvn]

So That's It Then, Huh?

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

Warning: Angst. Yearning!Terry. Just sad really.

Summary: He’s been fighting for your love and you have trying your hardest to break his heart. Your plan is working.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Author’s Note: Got inspiration from this post. Ugh i just love angst so much. Y'all better hate y/n by the time you done reading this. Lowkey features Erik and Fontaine. IFYKYK.

Taglist: @planetblaque @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @prettyinpikk @theinsidefeelingofateen

‘Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.’ This was the self-taught mantra he began to loop in his mind.

Wrinkles danced between his eyebrows in anguish as his wide-set nose flared furiously. It was almost as if he was vibrating, shaking at such an alarming speed with his anger radiating off of him like a soft tidal wave. Agitation ripped through his body, his innately rancorous emotions thrashed around inside him yet there was still a chilling calmness to his rage. Your alluring voice no longer sweetened his spirit but simply urged him to pull his heart from his body. That's what your words were already doing to him anyways so what would be the problem if he actually tried?

He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. His irises are a darker, moodier shade of grey as opposed to the usual vibrant green. His chest is tight and hot as he begins to wonder if something outside of him is slowly gnawing away at his life source — feeling less and less in control of his breathing as his mind swirls in confusion. He’s so overwhelmed with emotions he doesn’t even notice the tears that cascade down his cheeks, eyes piercing yours, searching for any semblance of solace only to be met with venom. Eyes that captivated him upon first glance. Eyes that once brought him peace. Eyes that once threw themselves out into the rapid waters of life and anchored him back to shore. Eyes that belong to the soul he loved with all his heart and knew as his. Eyes he loved with his entire being.

How can you stand there and say these things to him? It’s hard to tell what has gotten into you but you have never made him feel so insignificant and small. He spends every waking moment of his life trying to express his gratitude for your existence and yet you can’t even begin to process the amount of pain he is in. As if you even care. You want to leave him? After pouring every fiber of himself into this relationship you two share? No. Hell no. Fuck n— 

“But how can you say that though? You talkin’ like I don’t take care of you or dedicate myself to you or like I haven’t given you my all… Man what the fuck?” Terry is at a loss for words. His heart can’t handle the insane statements you are making. He is seconds away from passing out.

“I feel like you are being so dramatic right now Terry,” you say, backing up away from him in attempt to create more space between the two of you. Is it your fault that you weren’t feeling the relationship anymore? In your eyes, you and Terry want two different things at this point in time; one person wants a long-term committed partnership and the other wants to continue seeing different people. As if y'all haven't been together for a while now. You didn’t anticipate meeting another man that would give you the same type of butterflies you got when you first met your soon-to-be-ex Terry. If anything, you have been looking for a reason to leave him for a long time. Things just didn’t feel as organic as they used too. His kisses don’t feel the same. Your heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at you anymore. There’s a part of you that feels out of touch with him no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that he’s it for you. You have found yourself falling out of love for him and leaning in closer to other men. The late night texts and calls with other lovers wouldn’t technically be considered cheating right? What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him as far as you’re concerned.

The atmosphere in Terry’s home was unsettling. Honestly you are a bit taken aback by his reaction to your words but nonetheless, you aimed to achieve your goal and that was to rid yourself of this "man" standing before you. It’s not like he did anything to you directly but sometimes if you wear the same pair of shoes everyday, you might eventually get bored and wanna throw them away. It’s not the best feeling in the world to see his face stained with sadness and disbelief but somehow a wave of peace washes over your body, the soothing reality that you won’t have to deal with him much longer cemented itself in your shared space.

“I’ve been meaning to bring this up to you for a while Ter,” you continue, causing him to slightly wince as you use a pet name of his as if you aren’t currently trying to break him down to his core. “I can’t say this has been the most fulfilling relationship for me and—,”

“Bullshit! What are you even talking about right now princess? I love you. I know you love me. Why are we even doing this? Where is this all coming from? We was just good yesterday and now you on some other shi—“

“Terry stop fighting me on this! You know you have felt a shift too. It’s not the same anymore. You don’t feel familiar to me,” you say, twisting your diamond bracelet that Erik— or was it Fontaine— gave you a few days prior. Talk about applying pressure. Those men really know how to make a lady feel special and it just made Terry look so different in your eyes. Sure the two of you made lot of memories, special moments together and lots of “love” but okay? You wanted something different. Why are you all of a sudden the bad guy? Even if the two of you have been together for about a year, that doesn’t warrant Terry's overemotional reaction does it? How in love can one person be after a year? That’s like saying you’re deeply in love with someone after two months. Be so for real. Terry is a grown man and he can get over this. Heck, you already are. Wait. Didn’t Erik plan a dinner date for the two of you tonight? Oh shit! You should probably hurry up because you know he doesn’t like waiting and oh how could you forget! He sent the most beautiful dress over to your condo with priceless jewels and these absolutely gorgeous shoes that have these—

“Yo. Are you even listening to me?” Terry’s tear-stained face lowers to meet your gaze, his body closing in on you in a way to make his presence known but not scare you away. This is not how he had planned on his day going. You are what makes it easier for him to wake up every day and push forward no matter what lies ahead yet you don't even seem the slightest bit moved by his outward display of emotions. He can’t decipher whether he is simply dreaming or if his worst nightmare is truly taking form in front of him. He reaches out to you, placing a soft touch under your chin forcing you to look up at him as he towers over you. His thumb rubs against your skin, wishing it were his lips there instead. He so desperately wants to just kiss you with all of his might and throw you over his shoulder but no matter how upset he is, he knows hearing you out is more effective than seducing and pulling you back into him with his actions.

“I’m not letting you go. That is not up for discussion. Whatever it is you need me to do just tell me and you know I gotchu,” he whispers lowly, tucking a braid behind your ear. Though his touch is gentle and warm, that doesn’t negate the fact that you no longer want to be in a relationship with him. You checked out months ago. Somehow, seeing him vulnerable like this actually made your heart thump a lil bit. Crazy right? He was definitely a good man when it came to loving you and treating a woman the way she deserves but that doesn’t mean you have to stay with him because of it. You take a few steps backwards, moving your face away from his grasp, the tension in his living room thickening as you internally plan your exit strategy. Terry is absolutely wrecked and two seconds away from truly experiencing his breaking point. What the hell is going on?

“There’s nothing you can do Terry and that’s the problem. It’s actually not me. It’s you,” you huff tugging at the rose gold ring that rested on your right hand. How can you still be wearing this piece of crap he gave you? He probably lied about the price to be honest. No way he actually paid ninety thousand and you still don’t think it’s that cute. Maybe for someone who doesn’t have any taste. Terry’s eyes remain focused on your face so he doesn’t see you toss the piece of jewelry he had custom-made for you onto his couch, slightly blending in with the beige material.

“We are done and that’s it. I don’t want to talk about this anymore because we don’t have anything else to discuss. Goodbye Terrence. Don't fucking contact me.” With that, you spin on your heels that Fontaine personally delivered to you with a side of dick last night and skipped your way out of his life. You have places to be and people to see and somehow this man thinks he’s more important than that? Yea fucking right. He’s actually lucky you didn’t even tell him about the other men because that would have just sent him into cardiac arrest.

Terrence. Terrence? In all the time that you two spent together, you never once called him by his government. You spat it out as if if was poison or a disease you wanted to rid yourself of.

The door slam was the final nail in the coffin for him. What the actual fuck just happened and why were you so happy — overjoyed even — to leave him? What did he do? What didn’t he do? Too many questions and yet no answers could sooth the aching pain he experienced within his entire body. Harsh sobs escaped from his lips as his knees grew weak as he dropped to the floor. He buried his face in his right hand in attempt to quiet himself but of course that just made him want to cry out more. His broad shoulders shook as his breathing pattern became unsteady and short. It had been a while since Terry experienced a panic attack or maybe he was just so overwhelmed that his body and emotions couldn't continue to sustain itself. He can’t even make himself angry or upset. All he wants is you. For you to be by his side for the rest of his life, grow and share a beautiful family. That’s what the two of you agreed on when you joined this union. Terry tried to wipe the tears from his eyes but they multiplied by the millisecond.

No. No. No. Not today. Why today of all days? That didn't just happen. You two had such a beautiful lunch earlier in the day and he had brought you back to his in hopes of you sharing the same sentiment in spending the rest of your lives together. He planned on proposing. The ring sat tucked in his left pocket. So close to being yours but not so much anymore. The most expensive diamond ring he could find with your shared initials incrusted on the side. Upon remembering this, his heart was beating rapidly as his mind began badger and belittle him. He had just lost Mike and now you? He doesn’t believe that he will be able to recover from this type of heartbreak. Is he supposed to just get over you and find someone else? You are the only one in the world who knows him like the back of your hand, aiding in him becoming the man he is today. Now you have unknowingly created a monster out of the ashes of a man who would once obey your every command.

[rimaiahwrites]

His bliss—

Chapter 8

"You called?" Erik's raspy voice rang through her ear smoothly. She bit her lips and slumped down more into her Blankets and pillows on her bed, The sound of his voice made her feel so small. She Swallowed, tucking herself under her covers.

"Um...I just wanted to talk that's it..." she tailed off. She didn't want to come off as awkward but she knew she was. She didn't do stuff like this with anyone because She hated talking on the phone, she always felt awkward and if there was nothing left to be said there was always this weird silence. That's why she dreaded talking to her grandma when she would talk for her birthday or holidays.

"Mm. How was your week?" Erik said just to get the Conversation started. Simple, straight to the point. Israel pouted a little bit.

"Not good, when you dropped me off jay was home and saw you we got into a argument and I may have gotta a little carry but he called me a hoe that just sleeps with random men..." she said quietly feeling the embarrassment creep up.

Erik cringed as He hear the sadness in her voice, he couldn't help but feel guilty about it. "I didn't even know what to say after that so I just went upstairs to my room and cried, he's been treating me so coldly and we been fighting a lot. I'm just so tired of being treated this way." She sighed rubbing her runny nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. Her eyes were still puffy from crying all day and her throat was a little scratching but not enough to notice. Just this morning he threatened to tell her parents and Noah had to break the argument up before it got worse.

"You want me to come over there and handle it? cause' I will." He stated sitting up on his couch as he straighten his back out and puffed his chest up.

"No erik it's fine plus if you do that my brother will most likely tell my parents and then I'll won't be able to come outta the house until I move out." She chuckled, sadly knowing it was only the honest truth.

Erik rub his hand down his face slowing, Knowing that this was his fault.

"Are you ok though?" He asked his voice getting a bit softer and lower now. Israel could feel the butterflies in her the pit of her belly move up to her chest. She bit her lip to stop smiling. "Yeah I'm fine I'm just...I don't know tired?" She more so asked herself then Erik. Her smile turning into a frown the more she thought about what she wanted to say next.

She took a deep breath in then out finally finding the words. "I'm tired of being treated like The black sheep of my family, like I'm the worst out of my siblings when I'm really the quiet and shy one of them all, I listen the most... I do everything my father tells me to an-and-" Israel struggled to finish her sentence as the lump in her throat got tight and harder to swallow. Erik stayed quiet letting her get her words out.

"he still hates me" she whispered feeling tears run down her face for the second time today. She wasn't being dramatic. Anyone that knew how she and her father relationship was knew it too. She was her father least favorite and she had no clue as to why, she always tried to please him growing up. She always looked for his validation growing up so that's why going to the school of her dreams were was so conflicting to her. She wanted to go to her dream school but always wanted to please her father.

"Princess..." Erik tailed off not really knowing how to Comfort the crying girl on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry that you're going through this I wish I knew how to cheer you up," he sighed, knowing he suck at this soft shit. "Can you come over? I really just want to talk to you tonight, all of my brothers are gone so I'm low key scared of being home alone at night." She chuckled softly as she wiped her tears away with the back of her sweatshirt sleeve. Erik gave a loop sided smile before getting off the comfortable spot on his couch. "I don't know Israel It's getting late..." he could hear her whimper through the phone. Her brat ass knew exactly how to make him break.

"Please E? Just for tonight?" He Sigh.

"Israel I just spent the night with you last week-"

"But I want you to come over tonight... and I haven't been able to hang out with you for a whole week and a half," she said folding her arms across her chest.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Israel, look I can hang out with you tomorrow I'm not doing nothing and I'm off work," the pout on Israel's face melted away as a small smile replaced it. "Where are we going?" Erik thought for a second to think where exactly he wanted to take her.

"I'mma take you to the mall so you can buy whatever you want,"

"No Erik I don't want you spending your hard earned money on me." Erik shrugged and chuckled, before closing the refrigerator door shut. "Princess, you had a Rough week and you deserve it. Imma pick you up around 2:30 so be ready."

"But Erik-"

"But Erik nothing I'm picking you up at 2:30 alright?" He said jokily Stern. His eyebrows raised waiting for her response. He knew she wouldn't be able to say no to him.

Israel bowed her head as her cheeks felt hot against her phone that was passed on it as she fiddled with the strings on her fluffy blanket. "O-ok that's fine."

"Ok I'll talk to you tomorrow, get some sleep." He said and she could hear the smirk in his tone, embarrassing her farther now knowing that he knew he had her flustered. "Goodnight," she said softly as she hung up placing her phone on her bed next to her.

Her heart beating so fast she could almost hear it, her chest was warm and filled with butterflies, Erik alway made her feel so warm inside it was overwhelming for her.

Erik had truly made her day better even though their conversation was only 15 minutes. She couldn't even understand the feelings she was having for him but she knew that she was loving this new found friendship.

The next morning Israel was up at 9:30 and started her Morning routine which was, pray, make bed, do her skin care and hygiene routine, eat, did her hair. She waited until about 1:30 to get dressed since Erik wouldn't be picking her up until 2:30.

she went to her closest and started picking her favorite clothes items that she had thrifted. Today she decided to wear her baggy jeans, a cropped white tank top, her white Air Forces and a little handbag. With her hair out and fluffy. She had put Flexi rods in her long natural hair so it hung down to her shoulders.

She did very light makeup look, she put on her Colorpop tinted moisturizer, a little concealer under her eyes to hide any imperfections and she topped it off with her natural wispy mink lashes and a coat clear plumping lip gloss.

She sprayed on her Ariana Grande cloud perfume all over her body and took a look in the mirror. She was very satisfied with her hair, makeup and outfit today so she decided to take a few pictures for instagram. She set up her tripod and started posing. Even though she had about 10k followers on Instagram it wasn't something she took that serious, it was only something she did for fun.

After taking pictures, picking which ones she liked the most, then editing and posting them, it had gotta close to the time that Erik would be picking her up so she went downstairs to get a snack. Soon as she was done she hear Her phone go off with a Notification.

Erik: I'm outside.

She sent him a thumbs up emoji And went outside, she made sure to lock the rooms since her parents still weren't home from Chicago. She haven't really talked to them since but her mother filled her in with everything that was going on. Her aunt got in a car accident with a drunk driver and she spent out of control causing her car to flip over. She had broke both of her legs one of her arms and she Suffered from a minor concussion. Her mother was going to be staying with her for a few weeks but her father would be back in two weeks since he had work.

"Hey Pooh," Israel called to Erik as she sat in the passenger seat. Erik looked over her outfit and grinned. She looked good as fuck. "Wassup mamas what you so fine for?" He asked swiping his tongue over his bottom lip before pulling it in between to teeth. Israel got bashful and lower her head before looking back up at him with a pretty smile on her glossy lip. "Thank you you look nice too,"

"Damn that's it? Just nice?" Israel rolled her eyes playfully at his childish behavior. "Ok lemme redo it." She turned her head towards the window and turned back to him with a fake look of shock. "Oh my god you is fine as fuck!" She squealed making Erik laugh loudly. "Stop gassing me, ma stop gassing me" he said with a smirk on his face as he popped his fake collar and shook off the imaginary dust on his shoulder.

She laughed and rolled her eyes at his shenanigans. "Put your seat belt on." He said before pulling off with his Radio with free smoke from drake on full blast.

Soon as Erik pulled into the parking lot eyes were on his car, even though his windows were to tented to see who was inside.

Before Israel could reach for the door Erik was already out and jogging to the passenger door.

"Let's go princess." He said grinning at her as she put her handbag on her arm.

Erik drooped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close to him, so close that she could smell his Cologne. It's smelled musky and smooth. It was soothing almost. She was crazy over the way he smelled and she felt a little crazy that she was was obsessed with his scent not knowing he was the same way with her, her strong Vanilla scent was so blissful to him not only that but also had the ability to make his dick hard all at the same time.

"Where you want to go first?" She asked as they made their way into the big mall. This mall had literally every thing designer store from Chanel, Gucci, dolce gabbana to Louis Vuitton and Christian Dior.

"This about you remember? Where you want to go?" He asked with a Charming smile on his face. Israel bit her lip as the butterflies in her stomach went wild from his smile beaming down on her.

"Erik I know what you said but I just don't feel all to comfortable with you buying me stuff-"

"Why you feel so uncomfortable? " He asked randomly. Her scrunch her as she thought about it. "With?"

"A nigga spoiling you. You acting like I ain't got it like that or some." Erik said as Israel rolled her eyes. He was right, if he really had the money to spend on her why not let him?

"You supposed to be a princess ain't you? So act like one shit princesses get spoiled all the time." She giggled and finally gave in. "Alright since you want to buy me stuff so bad I'll just point you swipe your card, call me miss-make-his-pockets-hurt" She said as she grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards Christian Dior. "You pushing it Shawty," he chuckled.

Soon as they walked in she gasped and ran over to the clothing racks.

Israel was bit of a fashionista, having a bomb ass fit on was something she was passionate about.

Sometime she spent hours on deciding what she was going to wear, or would have to keep changing because of her father. sometimes being a fashionista was difficult with strict parents but she made it work most of the times but when she move out her parents house there was no one stopping her from wearing what she wants to wear but for the meanwhile she'll stick with putting jackets over her outfits even if it was the summer time and hot as hell.

After 20 minutes of dragging Erik around the store  she came out with a cute little pink Dior handbag and a blue and gray Dior printed swimsuit. Something simple. Next stop was  Chanel: which was one of her favorites Designers.

First thing she saw was this shorts-One piece, with the Chanel symbol on the top front of it, it was always light gray so she knew her ass would look good in it.

She picked it up and went to the front check out desk so she could get a dressing room. "Hi um I would like to try this on, you think you can show me the way to the dressing room?" The older white lady that was the cashier smiled sweetly at Israel's and showed her the way to the dressing room and unlocked it for her. Erik followed close behind.

Once Israel went into the dressing room she showed Erik where he could sit. Then turn to him before she left and asked "is that your girlfriend?" Erik grinned cockily, before saying "yeah some' like that."

"Well you guys are really cute together." She said winking at him as she went back to work. Erik chuckled slightly as he Sat back on the small black couch that sat in front of some mirrors. The place was nice, he thought before grabbing his phone and checking some emails.

Seconds later he heard the sound of the door knob to the dressing room and out comes Israel in the skin tight Gray one piece. The curves of her body were definitely more enhanced in this little get up.

She stood in front of Erik waiting for his opinion. But he just sat there stuck. I mean could you beam him? Her body stunting, he didn't even know she looked like this. She would normally wear a lot of baggy pant with crop tops and if it wasn't that it was shorts with a baggy shirt.

But this...this was something Else.

Her hips were wide and her rib cage was curved in giving her a hourglass figure. "So what do you think?" She asked turning towards the mirror her ass now facing. He grunt lowly when he saw her ass, it wasn't really fat but it was there and it was cute and plump.

Erik got up and stood behind her pulling her back to his chest. Israel's breath got stuck in her chest as he wrapped his big arms around her waist.

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth as he stared at her through the mirror, his eyes low and his head bent down to the crack of her neck, smelling her in the process. "Erik what are you doing, do you like it or what?" She tried to sound irritated so he couldn't tell his touch had her squirming a bit. "I'm just tryin' figure out when you you had all of this, I didn't know you looked like this under all those baggy clothes you wear." He

Said chuckled "Why you be trying to hide this?" He asked as his big hands grabbed her right hip in a tight grip catching her Off guard. She giggled nervously, as she shrugged. "My parents are kinda strict." She replied. He hummed and stepped back smirking at her, "yeah I like it, get it." He said before sitting back on the black couch with his legs spread wide open giving her a good view of his dick. She tried her best to stop her traveling eyes but them still seemed to find their way down there.

The sexual tension in the small area thick. Erik was pro at shifting the mood from fun and playful to sensual and hot in under a minute.

Erik just knew what buttons to push to have her imagination going wild with Erik and herself in different scenarios, different positions.

She severed slightly at the thoughts and tried to shake them as she broke her trance from his crouch area and went into the dressing room to change back into her clothes.

Soon as she pulled her pants down her panties came down a bit with them and embarrassment washed over her face when she saw the small wet spot in the middle of them. "Fuck," she whispered to her as she went to pull them back up.

Ever since Erik showed her his homemade video She has been a bit to horny when around Erik. She tried to hide it the best she could but even a simple touch from him would have her yarning for his touch more. His big hands gripping her almost had her whimpering, she felt as if his hands were still on her since he grabbed her so tight.

She slid her clothes back on and stepped out but didn't see Erik sitting there anymore she walked farther into the store and saw he was by the shoes, checking out a pair of black, white and gray sneakers with the double c sign on the side of them. "You want these?" Erik asked her holding them up to her. She smiled at them and grabbed them from him.

They were really cute.

"Yeah I just need a size 6-" erik snorted looking between her face and her feet.

"Already I'll go ask...baby feet headass." He mumbled to her jokily as he walked away from her trying to get away from her attack.

"Asshole!" She said to herself, smiling brightly.

-

Six stores and four bags later, they found their selfs in a ice cream parlor, looking at the different types of ice cream.

"Ok but should I get bubble gum or cotton candy?"

"Bubble gum, cotton candy taste like ass." Erik said scrunching his face up at the memory of the taste of the funky ass ice cream. Israel chuckled. "I'll like two scoops of bubble gum in a bowl." She said to The young white boy at behind the glass of ice cream that smiled at her shyly.

"And I want two scoops of chocolate chip cookies dough in a cone." Erik ordered. The boy gave them their ice cream and Erik Stepped back to follow Israel who had already made her way to the toppings. Her dumped gummy bears and sour patch kids all over it while Erik just stuck to his regular cookie dough ice cream. "You ready to sit down yet?" She nodded her head with a mouth full of the sugary sweets that sat in her bowl.

She sat on one of the booth and he sat on the other. They sat quietly, only the sounds of Israel stuffing her face were heard. Memories from the day they went out to eat flashing back into Erik's mind causing him to snort softly.

"What?" She asked with cream on the side of her mouth. She looked adorably confused. Erik found himself staring at her lips longer then he intended to, but god he couldn't help himself. Today felt different then all the other days he felt a strong urge to feel on her and just be close, he question himself on rather it was him falling for the sweet girl in front of him or was it the fact that he hasn't had the time nor energy to find someone to fuck. His right hand could only do so much for a man like Erik.

He didn't mean to make it like something it wasn't but it was hard for Erik to keep his mind from wondering off into a dirty ditch of thoughts.

Erik licked his lips softly before bringing his hand up to her face and slowly whipping the stickiness off her lip.

if only. He thought.

Israel mumbled a soft thanks before digging back into her bowl.

After both his cone and her bowl was finished they were walking back to Erik's car, his hand on her lower back.

Erik was quite the whole walk there stuck in his thoughts, debating if he should do what his body want so badly.

Israel payed him no mind, just happy that they both had a fun day together. Soon as she got to the passenger door and tried to open it erik shut it back softly.

"Israel." He called to her making her turn around. he stepped closer pulling her in close by her waist. His heart was beating outta his chest.

Why am I so nervous this isn't our first time? He asked himself once again.

His hand gripped her chin softly pulling her face to his now, Israel froze and kept her eyes on him, shocked that he was going to kiss her.

Erik just went for it and their lips came in contact with each other's. His lips guiding her through the motions.

It felt so different this time around now that she was completely sober. And this kiss wasn't as hard and rough as the other one was it was soft and gentle.

Israel whimpers and feel her knees buckle slightly making him grab onto her tighter pulling her up, since he was so much taller then her holding her up to his face had her on her tippy toes.

She lost her Balance and fell into him making him stubble back a bit. Erik grinned brightly grabbing her and spinning her around making her giggle.

He slowly sat her on her feet with his forehead pressed against hers.

"Why you making me so happy ma?" Erik asked before he could stop himself. this feeling was new, something he hadn't felt before with anyone...why was he feeling it now?

He was scared and he didn't know what this was all he knew was the little brown skinned girl in front of him had him in a state of bliss.

Bliss.

His bliss

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hey! I’m not sure if you still do Cherik fic recs but the ones on your blog are FAB so I was wondering if you could rec any (or have a list already?) of protective Charles?? I saw protective Erik and I gobbled them up lol

Thanks @what-on-io for the ask. I still do Cherik fic recs and I have some excellent fics for you. This list is not as extensive as the Protective Erik one, but I hope this list will have some you like.

Protective Charles

A Dangerous Game – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: When a familiar enemy of Erik's returns to the city for some old-fashioned revenge, Charles is sucked deeper into the world of the mob than ever before.

Could I need You This Much – lanasauli

Summary: Charles is all too familiar with prejudice - it's one of the more unfortunate consequences of being a telepath. It's easy to ignore, until it's directed at Erik.

Or: Charles and Erik encounter an antisemite while recruiting. Charles overreacts and almost loses control.

Line in the Sand – ikeracity

Summary: The CIA agents on the base are bullying the children, mocking them for their mutations. Charles will not tolerate it.

Or: Charles has a line, and the agents cross it. Several times. And Erik discovers that perhaps Charles is not so much of a pacifistic pushover as he appears.

Caught in the Middle of a Crossfire – Linzanity

Summary: Charles was busy counting sheep and DNA helixes when he was wrenched mind-first into Erik’s nightmare.

That which is beneath, that which we share – ninemoons42 

Summary: Someone brings a knife to a gunfight, and Charles does everything he can to make sure everyone is okay, and he doesn't know why Erik is surprised by that.

For These Two Men – novera_nope

Summary: When Erik has a panic attack on the plane, even an emotionally stunted man as Logan realizes the nature of the relationship between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr.

All the Nightmares (Here to Stay) – InsertSthMeaningful

Summary: On that fateful day in 1962, on a beach in Cuba, Charles successfully pulls Shaw's helmet off of Erik's head. Moira still takes the shot - and changes the course of mutant history.

Here to Stay (Remix) – UisceOneLove

Summary:The beach in Cuba still has bloodshed.

The road diverges down another direction.

Sleep don’t weep - baehj2915

Summary: Erik has trouble sleeping. Charles sort of makes him a little bit. Fluffy AU from the movie where they stay together--because I want them to and for no other reason--and Erik extemporizes about their relationship. Not nearly as dramatic as the title indicates. I just picked that because it's a Damien Rice song I like.

Mind’s Eye Blind – Sperare

Summary: As far as Erik is concerned, if you want to scare a person into talking, you have to present him with something more compelling than what he stands to lose...

And there is nothing in the world more compelling than Charles.

Subject E – Ook

Summary: In which Subject E, unwilling medical experiment, runs away from the lab which has him captive, and is taken in by Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

These Cindered Bones – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik gets attacked by something unknown and when his health starts to decline, has no choice but turn to the x-men for help after seven years of separation.

Vulnerability – TheRedGlass

Summary: An attack while recruiting leaves Erik horribly injured but Charles faces a challenge in getting him medical help and has to improvise.

Lost hope (thank god I have you) – OneWithoutAName

Summary: They hadn’t known better, Charles had told himself when everything had come back to him weeks later, terrified of what he’d done. It wasn’t their fault. If they had known him better, they wouldn’t have tried to kill him. He promised then to play by their rules. If he didn’t give them a reason to mistrust him, then they would accept him. Moira had accepted him, accepted them. Trained with them. Lived with them. She knew them. And she didn’t think twice before she tried to shoot Erik.

Diamond Dust – Fullmetalcarer

Summary: Charles shouldn't fly a thousand miles, then a hundred more, then trek through a snowy wilderness to help Erik. He shouldn't, but he does.

You’re Not Doing This Alone – flightinflame, lynds

Summary: What's meant to be a simple recruitment mission leads to both Erik and Charles being de-aged back to thirteen years old. Terrified and out of their depth, the boys try to hide their situation and help each other until they can work out what is going on.

Be dead, be alive, be something in between – The_Aleph

Summary: “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Major.”

“Forgive me when I say the feeling is far from mutual.”, he grimly took the hand: “Goodbye, Professor Xavier.”

He turned to walk out of the room, but before leaving he stopped by him, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up to whisper in his ear:

“You are no longer my problem. The Professor is now your Master. I heard some things about him. I wouldn’t anger him. See you.”

Stryker threw him back on the floor and left without another word. Left him alone. Alone with a foreign human. The room was warm. He started to tremble.

At the end of the war, the allies freed the prisoners in the concentration camps all over Europe. Thousands could walk free for the first time in years, millions would never walk the surface of the earth again. And a few just disappeared. Some fled. Some were killed. Some were captured.

Only one was send away. And now, years later, his remains are discovered by one Charles Xavier on the mission to save his little sister. But there is not much left, not even a name. Who is this man?

[muschiettistrashmouth]

Carving Pumpkins - X men

Hello There! I'm back posting here. I don't know how many stories i'll post before halloween bc now I work like everyday.

Requested? No

Prompt: carving pumpkins

Ship? No

Being an x-men didn't mean you couldn't do anything fun for Halloween, usually, you guys were afraid of coming out of the x- mansion even if the world now accepted mutants. It was all Magneto's fault, some would say. It wasn't his fault if humans didn't like different people than them. It was actually pretty depressing that every mutant has to hide like this.

This year it would all change. If you could manage to change Charles' mind at least.

"Okay, we're going to buy pumpkins." You put your notebook down on the table, sitting with Charles and Erik - that ironically got back to the school after the last fiasco.

"Why do you need pumpkins?" Erik asked not even bothering to look up at your face.

"It's almost Halloween!"

"And?"

"I think the kids want to decorate the house for Halloween..." Charles said, still sipping his tea.

"Yes! It would be amazing if we could do that." It was really simple, just you and a group of teenagers going to buy some pumpkins to carve. But then Erik sighed dramatically. As always.

"There are humans out there and they won't be that receptive of us."

"They're not monsters, you know? We can all live in respect and peace."

"Yeah, and then when you least expect they try to kill you for being yourself. No, thank you very much."

You looked at Charles, trying to ask for permission without speaking.

"Get one of my cars. But please no running. Or anything else I've already said."

"Yes! Thanks, professor!"

The car ride was fun, you and Jean were gossiping all the way to the pumpkin patch, Peter was really excited to have his first Halloween with his father, Scott was there just to have some time with Jean and Ororo just wanted to understand why you were all excited.

The pumpkin patch was beautiful. Everything was orange, the pumpkins were big enough for you to have trouble carrying it alone.

"Okay, I see why you like this place." Ororo nodded, exchanging looks with you.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smiled at her, holding her hand and pulling her towards the various pumpkins. "Guys, let's get the best ones!"

Everyone was having a good time, you could buy the pumpkins and then play a little, no one cared you were mutant or didn't even realize that, either way, you were happy and Magneto was wrong. That meant you could get out trick or treating and no one would be mad!

"A little help here?"

Logan was outside smoking when you parked the car back at the mansion.

"You were really out buying pumpkins?" He asked amused, he left his cigarette in his mouth before helping you put the pumpkins inside.

"Yeah, I think we got the best ones."

"And it was so much fun!" Ororo smiled, hugging her pumpkin. "What do we do now?"

"Now we get knives and start carving." Scott explained.

At night, everyone started to make the designs for the pumpkins. It was adorable, if Charles or Erik could say something. You all ended up making ghosts or bats, faces or horror movie masks carved on the pumpkins. In the end, each one chose somewhere to put their pumpkin, in the stairs in front of the mansion, in the windows... A little bit of light to the darkness of that night.

[rookie-critic]

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022, dir. Ryan Coogler) - review by Rookie-Critic

Okay. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. As with all MCU reviews, this will be vague because I know at least some of y'all have not gotten a chance to see it yet. Does it live up to the near-insurmountable legacy the first one left behind? I think not. However, as mentioned, that was going to be almost impossible, and it shouldn't take away from how great Wakanda Forever really is. Firstly, and unsurprisingly, Wakanda Forever serves as a way to mourn the loss of Chadwick Boseman and King T'Challa, and it is in these moments that the film works best. It is unfortunate that this is mainly felt in the opening and closing scenes of the film. That's not to say it is only in those moments, because it's not, Boseman's presence is felt throughout the entire film, and I think that works both for and against it (even though the latter is not in any way the fault of the filmmakers).

Boseman is missed. Letitia Wright, great actor that she is, has the slightest amount of trouble carrying the film on her shoulders. Thankfully, she doesn't have to entirely. Angela Bassett, an absolute legend, gets to own her fair share of screen time reprising her role as Queen Ramonda, and, in a lot of ways, is just as important as Shuri is to the overall story of the film. Also really bringing it is newcomer Tenoch Huerta Mejía as Namor, the Sub-Mariner, who is a character that has been hotly anticipated for quite awhile by comic book fans. Mejía was, without a doubt, my favorite part of the film. Following up a villain like Erik Killmonger/Prince N'Jadaka is no easy feat, and they pulled it off without even breaking a sweat. Mejía commands your attention, and his cause and reasoning for wanting to do what he wants to do is every bit as empathetic as Killmonger's was the first time around. Dominique Thorne is also incredible as Riri Williams (who comic book readers probably know better as the new-age hero Ironheart). Where Multiverse of Madness failed in their portrayal of America Chavez, Wakanda Forever absolutely succeeds in their portrayal of Riri, and I can't wait to see more of her in her upcoming solo series on Disney+.

It isn't without its problems: a lot of the late stage decisions/revelations feel a little unearned, a big bulk of the middle of the film feels unneeded (and at a whopping 2 hours and 41 minutes, there definitely could have been some fat trimmed), and I could have used about a million more percent M'Baku. Winston Duke is an absolute scene-stealer and deserves so much more screen time than he is given. Not only as a comedic character, but surprisingly as a dramatic one as well. In a way, I'm glad the movie did not try to beholden itself too much to the original, it helps it stand a little better on its own two feet. In another way, though, it loses a little of that magic that made the original one such a triumph of modern film making, even if it was only a little. Regardless, Wakanda Forever shines very bright, and I like to think that part of that is Chadwick beaming at how well his MCU family is doing in his absence.

Score: 9/10

Currently still playing in some theaters, but is probably on it's way out. Look for it soon on Disney+.

I'd also like to point out that this film is led almost entirely by women of color. Letitia Wright, Angela Bassett, Lupita Nyong'o, Danai Gurira, and Dominique Thorne could all be considered main characters in their own right here, and that is something worth majorly celebrating.

[kimoralov3]

Hello, Old Friend

Requested by: @nuclearpizza84

Word Count: 2449

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x gn!black!mutant!reader

espèce d'imbécile = idiot in french according to google translate

Warnings: swearing, talks of attempted murder, mention of racial slurs

Charles’ POV

“Who’s the next person on our list?” Erik asked as he sat in one of the chairs, propping his feet up on my desk. I pushed his feet off of my desk then picked up the notebook filled with mutants we could possibly recruit.

“Someone by the name of (Y/N) (Y/LN). They live in Atlanta, Georgia, and as of now it doesn't seem as if they have a job."

"(Y/N)? I used to know someone with that name. Do you have a guess as to what their mutation may be?" Erik sat up straighter in the chair. Oh, now he's interested now that this person has the same name as an old friend of his?

"No I don't, but I guess we shall find out soon. If we want to make it there and back before midday tomorrow, we should leave in the next 30 minutes." Erik nodded and stood up, walking towards the door. "What if this person happens to be your old friend?"

"If this is the same (Y/N) as the one I know, they'll need a lot more convincing than us being in the same boat as them. They're quite stubborn in that way." Erik said as he stopped and turned to face me.

"Like you?" I asked as I titled my head to the side slightly. Erik glared at me before exiting the room, not bothering shutting the door behind him. There was definitely something else going on between Erik and his supposed old friend.

----

Erik's POV

I stepped out of the car, buttoning up my coat as I took in my surroundings. We had taken a taxi to a small town, not too far from Atlanta. There was a corner store across from us, some restaurants down the street, and a combined book/coffee shop. Of course you would run away here. It's the perfect place to escape from your past. 

"Well, it certainly is quite lovely here. According to Cerebro, (Y/N) comes here every other week to get some more books for the orphanage across town. Very nice of them." Charles said as he made his way towards the book/coffee shop. I followed him, taking one last look at the street before stepping inside.

One half of the shop was filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves, all marked with whatever genre of book filled the shelves. If we were to walk about a foot forward, we'd be standing directly in front of the white and grey display case. There was a counter attached where the coffee machine sat. The back of other side of the shop was filled with bean bag chairs and pillows, while the front is where the tables and chairs sat. 

"Welcome gentlemen, would you like a cup of- Erik?" A voice said as they came from the back. I turned my attention towards the owner of the voice and smiled.

"Hello, (Y/N). How have you been?"

"Wow, he wasn't lying, he actually has friends. I'm impressed." Charles said with a hint of mockery in his tone.

"Erik, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed to never look for each other again." (Y/N) asked as they walked around the counter to stand in front of us.

"Well that was then, and this is now. We need your help." I said. They haven't changed a bit. 

"Oh, I've heard that before. You can fuck off Erik, I'm never helping you again." They said as they glared up at me. You always did look cute when you were upset.

"I don't know what the history between the two of you is, but he's not asking for your help. I am. In return I'm offering to help you control your mutation. If we could sit down I could explain everything further." Charles said as he looked between the two of us.

"Mutation? What are you talking about, I don't have any type of mutation. And who even are you?" (Y/N) asked as they finally turned their attention towards Charles, giving him a once over.

"I'm Charles Xavier. You see, the three of us all have a gene- well, a mutated gene- that gives us specific abilities. I'm a telepath, and Erik can control metal." 

"You're crazy. The whole time Erik and I worked together, he never showed signs of having any special 'abilities'. Other than being an asshole." (Y/N)'s lips curled into a slight smirk at the insult.

"It's not my fault you kept getting in the way." I said.

"You pushed me off a fucking train, Erik. I think it's safe to say that that wasn't my fault."

"You're the one who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. I told you to stay in the train and wait for me, but you just couldn't follow directions." 

"So you decided that the safest bet was to push me off a moving train?"

"Exactly."

"Erik, you're not helping. (Y/N), I understand that you probably don't trust Erik, but you can trust me. If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility. So what do you say?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, looking between the two of us. I was beginning to think that they'd say no and kick us out, but they finally came to a decision. "Fine, I'll help. As long as Erik doesn't double cross me. Again."

Charles looked at me expectedly, making me roll my eyes. Please, we need all the help we can get. Charles communicated to me telepathically. "Fine, I won't double cross you."

"Excellent! (Y/N,) let's take a taxi to your place so you can gather some of your things. On the way, I can tell you all about my research and what exactly it is we're doing here. I'm sure you'll find it all very interesting." Charles said as he led (Y/N) out of the shop. 

"You coming, espèce d'imbécile?" (Y/N) asked as they got in the taxi. I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and got in the taxi.

----

(Y/N)'s POV

Charles had spent both taxi rides and most of the plane ride explaining his findings about mutants. To be honest, I didn't understand most of it, but he seemed excited to share this information with someone new, so I wasn't going to stop him. All I knew was that I had another reason for people to call me a freak. Once the plane landed, Charles drove us to his house- excuse me, I mean mansion. "Well shit. You lived here by yourself?" I asked as I got out of the car. 

"Well, not entirely. I have a sister named Raven, you'll meet her soon." Charles said as we walked inside. I can't believe I'm in a fucking mansion. If only my parents could see me now. 

"Oh good, you're back! Hello there, I'm Raven." The blond girl said as she smiled brightly and ran over to me and gave me a hug. I was shocked for a second, but I quickly hugged her back. Is this usually how people greet each other?

"I'm (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. You're Charles' sister, right?" I asked as she pulled away. She nodded and turned to Charles. 

"The boys are sitting in the kitchen. Can you take (Y/N)'s stuff to their room while I introduce them to everyone else?" She asked him. He nodded and grabbed my suitcases, walking somewhere down the hall. She then turned to Erik. "Are the two of you getting along well?"

Erik scoffed. "Me and Charles or me and (Y/N)? Because me and Charles are getting along swimmingly, but (Y/N) is being a bit dramatic if you ask me."

"Says the man who spent 30 minutes crying because he lost track of some stupid guy." I shot back quickly. Erik's jaw clenched as he gave me a once over, then walked in the same direction that Charles went.

"Well that was rude of him. Anyway, come on, let's go meet the rest of the boys." She said as she grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the kitchen. One boy was standing in front of the sink with a beer in his hand, another one with glasses sitting at the table with a bunch of files in front of him, and a messy brown haired boy digging through the fridge. "Boys, we have a new friend. Introduce yourselves please."

"Alex." The boy with the beer said.

The boy rummaging through the fridge stood up, holding a bottle of water in one hand and waving at me with the other. "I'm Seth."

"I'm Hank, nice to meet you." He gave me an awkward smile.

"(Y/N), nice to meet you all." 

"So, what are your special abilities?" Alex asked as he threw the bottle in the trash.

"Anatomy manipulation. You?" They all looked at me like I was crazy. Did I say something wrong?

"A-Anatomy manipulation? That's a pretty violent thing." Hank said as he pushed his glasses to sit correctly on his nose.

"Yeah, it can get pretty ugly. That's why I don't really like to use them. Hurting people isn't really my style."

"I learned that the hard way." Erik's voice came from behind us. I swear this man gets on my fucking nerves.

"Hey Erik. Did you need something?" Raven asked as she turned around to face him. She is definitely interested in him. 

"I would like to speak to (Y/N) in my room."

"Why would I go anywhere with you. You gonna try and kill me again or something?"

"I promised not to, remember? Now come with me." He grabbed my hand and dragged me to his room, closing the door behind us and locking it. First of all, that's creepy. Second of all he could've given me a chance to walk without him dragging me along like I'm some child.

"What do you want, Erik?" I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I want to apologize. For being an ass. And for anything else I might have done that caused you pain. Will you forgive me?" He said. His words were rushed, he stumbled a little and he seemed out of breath. He must not be used to having to apologize for his actions. Typical.

I stared at him for a moment, switching my focus between his eyes before speaking. "Well I'm not going to say that I forgive you, but I'm glad that you decided to apologize. What made you want to do that?"

"Charles helped me see something that I couldn't see before. Although there's something I need to do to prove his theory."

"And what's that? Be nice to everyone for a day? Well good luck with that because the day that you're nice to people is the day that hell freezes over." 

"Has anyone ever told you that you make things extremely difficult?" Erik asked as he looked down at you. Why did he have to be so tall? 

"No, but then again I've never had to work with someone as stubborn as you."

"Oh I'm the stubborn one? Aren't you the one who refused to leave a bar until the bartender apologized for calling you that horrid word? Then when he finally did mutter out a half assed apology, you still wouldn't leave? Or am I just remembering things incorrectly?" Erik stated, his smile growing bigger at each sentence. I chuckled and shook my head.

"You see, that was different. He called us both slurs, and I wasn't just going to let him get away with that. Plus you know you enjoyed it, you sat there laughing the whole time." I said as I poked him in his chest. 

"I always did love the way you would stand up for what you thought was right." 

"Oh, so you don't hate me? Well there's a shock. You are full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"Why would I hate you? You're the closest thing to a friend I have at the moment."

"If I'm the closest thing you have to a friend, you seriously need to work on your social skills."

"Yeah, Charles said the same thing. Just a lot more complicated, honestly I stopped listening about a minute in. He tends to take the long way of explaining things."

"I think he's just excited to be with other people. He's been alone in this big house with only one other person to talk to. I'd be happy to be around other people too."

"That's fair. So what have you been up to since the last time we talked?" Erik asked as he sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. I sat down and smiled at him.

"You mean since the last time you tried to kill me? Nothing much really. As you see I moved to Atlanta, and I was working at a coffee/book shop. Sometimes I babysit the owner's kids while she goes away for work, and when I'm not at work, I volunteer at the orphanage. Pretty boring stuff if you ask me. How about you? Still chasing after Shaw?" I ask as I look up at him. 

"Of course, he has to pay for what he's done. This is the closest I've gotten to catching him."

"I understand. But what are you gonna do once you finally kill him? Are you gonna move away again?"

"No, I don't think I will. I think I might stay here and help Charles with his plan- even though it sounds utterly insane."

"What plan?" 

"He wants to turn this place into a school for people like us- his preferred term is mutant. He wants to help other people in the way that we never had help."

"That's actually very kind of him." Charles does seem like the kind of guy to put others before himself.

"Yeah, I guess. You should stay too, you've always been more of a people person than I."

"Maybe I will. It'd give me more time to annoy the hell out of you." I said as I nudged his shoulder. He chuckled and nudged me back.

"It's getting late, you should head to bed. It's been a long day." Erik said as he helped me off the bed.

"Yeah, I am getting pretty tired. Thanks for the trip down memory lane."

"Any time. Goodnight (Y/N)." He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I smiled and waved as I walked away, in search of my new room. Maybe Erik Lehnsherr does have a heart under all those steel walls after all.

[flowercrown-bard]

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - part 4/ 5

for @ban-aard  <3

read on AO3

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It was almost too easy. After the initial shock of seeing them together no one batted an eye, at least not as openly as they had done before. If this was all it took, holding Jaskier’s hand, letting him drag him around and look at him like he wanted to, then maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe Geralt would be able to get through this.

Of course, it could never be that simple.

“I didn’t think you’d actually have the guts to show up.”

Geralt felt Jaskier’s hand tighten in his. He turned to the side and saw the man who had given him the contract - the one whose fault it was they were in this situation now – look at them with unhidden disdain.

Jaskier had a pleasant smile plastered on his face but Geralt could see the burning anger bubbling underneath.

“Of course we came,” he said, his tone just clipped enough to border on impolite. “Wouldn’t miss the chance at a romantic outing for the world.”

Erik scoffed. “Romantic? Him?”

He didn’t even bother looking at Geralt, just nodding his chin in his general direction.

Jaskier stiffened. “Yes, him. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Oh no, not at all.” He gave a pause as if thinking about his words. It fooled no one. “Except of course that he is disturbing our festival. This is no place for an unfee-“

“Careful.” Jaskier’s voice was dangerously low. “You are talking about the man I love.”

Geralt felt like he had been punched and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Oh, it was sweet to hear Jaskier say those words. It was unspeakably cruel.

Everything in him screamed to turn to Jaskier, to see the look in his face, to search him for even a hint that he could have meant it.

He didn’t. That hint wouldn’t be there and as long as Geralt didn’t find the blankness of false love plastered on Jaskier’s face, he could let himself hope; he could let himself pretend. He could imagine that were this situation any different, he could dare pull Jaskier close and whisper the same words into his ear.

But as it was, all he could do was stand stiffly next to the man who pretended to love him and pray his reaction wasn’t enough to make Jaskier suspicious.

Erik’s scorn turned into pity. “Clearly you do. I just would have thought that after how long you’ve been with him you would know better than to give your heart to someone who wouldn’t be able to return those feelings.”

An ashen taste filled Geralt’s mouth. “As if anyone could be loved by Jaskier and not love him in return.” The words were out before he could think about them. They hung in the air heavily.

Erik’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? When did you realise then that you could love?” There was an unmistakable challenge in his words. A dare to admit that there had been no such moment. The certainty that Geralt wouldn’t be able to come up with a moment that made him fall in love.

Geralt felt more than he saw Jaskier open his mouth to protest, but no words left him. Geralt felt his stomach drop. Even Jaskier couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Geralt loved him. Or maybe he didn’t want to imagine.

“I knew I was in love with him when he asked me to stop take a break from the Path, only for a day.” Geralt hadn’t meant to speak, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth without his permission but with an unknown desperation. He wasn’t saying it because some rude man he didn’t care about provoked him. He didn’t say it for their stupid pretence. He said it for Jaskier, because this was the closest he could come to a confession. “I didn’t want to, but Jaskier insisted. He took me to a place he knew, a small lake just far enough from any towns that we wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.” He could feel Jaskier’s eyes burning into him, mesmerized. “It was the first time that I found I didn’t mind when he braided flowers into my hair. And it was the first time I looked at him, lying in the sun with closed eyes, a smile and a hum on his lips that I thought this was the man I wanted to spend my life with.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Geralt didn’t dare speak and he couldn’t decide who looked more gobsmacked, Erik or Jaskier.

It was Jaskier who finally broke the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d even remember that.” His voice was so quiet. So awed, as if Geralt’s remembrance was an unexpected and precious gift. It almost had Geralt convinced. Jaskier was too good an actor for Geralt’s heart to not wish to believe him.

The man nodded, his forehead still wrinkled with doubt but there was something in his eyes, a hint of hesitation. “Doesn’t sound like a grand moment. Nothing special.”

“It was to me,” Geralt growled. And it was the truth. With one small exception. When Jaskier had brought him to that clearing, that small getaway from the harshness of the world, Geralt had already known he was irrevocably in love with him. Geralt could have picked any moment, small or grand, spent with Jaskier and it would have been treasured by him. But that one moment, the one where he truly had realised he had fallen, he wouldn’t share. It was too precious. It was his and his alone. And Jaskier’s, even though he didn’t know it.

“I take it back,” Erik said and lowered his head in a hint of a respectful bow though it still wasn’t as deep as he would have gone for anyone who wasn’t a witcher. Still it was the best outcome they could have hoped for. “You do know how to be romantic after all.”

“Being with a bard will do that to you,” Geralt said and his heart skipped a beat when Jaskier chuckled and swatted his arm playfully.

--

Jaskier’s mind was reeling. He didn’t listen to what else the man was saying, he was too preoccupied with telling his heart not to read too much into Geralt’s words, not to try and find truth in them and the softness of his eyes.

Geralt didn’t look at him in the sunlight. Geralt didn’t let him braid flowers into his hair without complaining. Geralt didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with him.

Especially not after this day. Once the festival was over, it would be a miracle if Geralt didn’t realise that Jaskier didn’t want to let go off what they had pretended to be. This day would finally be the tipping point. Geralt would see that Jaskier was too much, felt too much and he would leave him with only the memory of what he could never have.

Jaskier was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed when the crowd around them shifted their attention to the stage in the middle of the market place, excited voices rising in anticipation.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s concerned voice brought him back to the here and now. To the few hours he still had left before it would all crumble around him. “Are you alright? Is it too much?”

Yes, it was. Too much to still pretend he didn’t want this with all of his heart.

“I’m fine,” he said instead, beaming at Geralt though his smile didn’t look convincing judging from the way Geralt’s eyes darted between his own, searching for the truth.

“Are you sure? I meant what I said earlier about calling it quits whenever you want. We don’t have to stay here. I think we already proved –“

“Just a little longer?” Jaskier cut in, quiet enough that only Geralt would hear. His voice was too desperate, too open with what he wanted. “It would seem suspicious if we left now, wouldn’t it?”

Geralt looked at him doubtfully, but he didn’t protest.

An older woman climbed up on stage, her smile wide and her arms stretched out dramatically.

“It is time once more,” she declared once she had all the attention on her, “to honour the legend of Marijan.”

Jaskier leaned closer to the stage, soaking up every word as the woman told the story of how centuries ago, the beautiful lady Marijan - told by a jealous suitor that her love to her chosen partner must be false - was cursed to never see nor hear her lover again. And yet, her love was as true as could be and she needed neither sight nor hear her lover’s voice to find them again.

“And so,” the woman concluded her tale and gestured widely at the crowd. “I ask those of you who think their love to be true to come up here and try to do as Marijan did. The rules are as always: the lover will have their eyes covered and the beloved must remain silent until they are found amidst all the other contestants.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out to grab Geralt’s arm.

“Jaskier…” Geralt gave the obligatory sigh, but even before Jaskier caught his eyes he knew Geralt would not put up any real resistance.

“This is perfect!” Jaskier couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. “Just think about it. With your witcher senses and all, you’re going to recognise me within seconds and –“

“Immediately.”

“What?”

Geralt shuffled uncomfortably, looking to all the world as if he already regretted having let that one word slip. “I would recognise you immediately. Not within seconds.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s heart gave a jump. He let out a nervous laugh. “My greatest apologies. I didn’t mean to underestimate your delicate senses.”

Geralt gave another sigh, but his time it looked slightly more relieved, which was definitely helped by the way he turned away to hide the little smile tugging at his lips.

“But if anything, this makes it even better. Imagine their faces when you recognise me immediately.”

The smile became a full blown grin.

Geralt didn’t even put up token resistance when Jaskier weaved his way through the crowd. Geralt followed him as steadily as if he had never done anything else in his life.

Once they were on the stage with a dozen other pairs, Geralt looked around their competition with a raised brow, before leaning in close to Jaskier.

“They are trying to cheat,” Geralt muttered in Jaskier’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “See that girl over there? She’s wearing tons of perfume that her lover will recognise. And that guy? His wristbands will make clinking sounds when he moves.”

Jaskier couldn’t contain his giggles anymore. “Truly, we are the only ones playing completely fair without any advantages.”

Geralt snorted with a twinkle in his eyes, a look that he rarely ever showed in the confides of their room or a secluded forest, but never in front of anyone else. It sent Jaskier’s heart racing having Geralt look at him like that, as if Jaskier’s name was engraved into his heart, as if he wasn’t ashamed to let others know he felt this way.

Jaskier turned away, unable to bear those soft eyes on him for any longer.

His wish to not see Geralt’s expression anymore was soon granted, though in a different way than he had anticipated.

The woman from before handed Jaskier the blindfold. When Jaskier stared at it with a sense of budding dread, she lifted her brow.

“Make sure you really don’t see anything. We can’t have any cheating.”

Jaskier risked a look around. The woman with the perfume and the man with the wristbands were too binding the blindfolds over their own eyes with sour expressions.

With a sigh, Jaskier lifted his blindfold. He hissed when he tried to tie the knot at the back of his head and caught some of his hair in it. In his struggles, he almost pushed the flower crown off his head. It was only stopped by a steady hand catching and righting it for him.

“Let me help,” Geralt said and his rough voice sent goose bumps down Jaskier’s arms.

Achingly gently, Geralt took the blindfold out of his hands and secured the knot.

“Is this alright?” he asked. “Not too tight?”

“No.” Jaskier cleared his throat when his voice broke on the one word. “It’s perfect.”

He was almost tempted to take it back when he felt Geralt’s hands fall away from his hair.

After a brief pause of only the struggling sounds of the other contestants being heard, Geralt spoke up again, only loud enough for Jaskier to hear.

“Don’t worry. If you can’t recognise me.” His breath ghosted over the shell of Jaskier’s ear. “It’s not – I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Jaskier huffed indignantly. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he lied. What if he truly couldn’t find Geralt? It was a stupid thing to worry about. The answer was a clear ‘nothing’. Nothing would happen if he didn’t find him. This was just some tradition. Some game to make the festival more fun. And yet… “If I manage to find you every spring after months of not seeing you, I won’t have any trouble doing so on a small stage.”

��Finding me?”

“Why yes. That is literally the whole point of this.”

“No, I mean…” Geralt stopped as if he was fighting with himself whether he wanted to continue. As if he was scared to continue. Which was a ridiculous notion, of course. In a tone much quieter and far more tentative, he added, “You ‘found me’ after the winter? You were looking for me?”

Jaskier froze. A sudden gratefulness for the fact that he couldn’t see Geralt’s face right now flooded him.

“Well, yes. Of course I did,” he gave a short laugh that sounded far too strained even in his own ears. “What did you think? That it was a coincidence bringing us together? Destiny? I always thought you didn’t believe in all that.”

“I – no. I always thought that I was the one who – nevermind. The game’s about to start.” The relief in his last words was palpable even without seeing him.

Jaskier didn’t know if he should be relieved as well or frustrated that he didn’t get to find out what Geralt was going to say.

The voice of the woman who had announced the game cut through the air. “All the lovers without blindfolds to me.”

Geralt left his side without a word, brushing against Jaskier on accident. The sudden absence of his presence next to his left Jaskier cold and feeling strangely lost.

A different, foreign hand guided him into position, probably in a line with the other blinded ones.

“Now,” the woman said. “One after the other, the beloveds will walk down the line of blinded lovers. They are not allowed to speak or make any sort of sound that could tip them off. The lovers can take as much time as they need. Wave them away when you are sure they are not your beloveds.”

Nerves spiked up in Jaskier when he heard the first beloved make their way over to the line of lovers. He heard clothes shuffling as the blindfolded ones reached out to touch, to feel, to try to find something familiar.

With every passing second that his blindfolded peers struggled to recognise the person in front of them, Jaskier’s heart beat faster.

What if he won’t recognise him? What if Geralt came before him and Jaskier dismissed him as if he wasn’t the one he wanted to keep forever?

Heavy steps announced someone coming to a halt before him. The steps were too loud. Even when Geralt purposefully tread louder so as not to spook Jaskier, he never sounded quite as ungainly.

Jaskier waved the person in front of him away without second thought.

Quiet steps. Not as quiet as he knew Geralt to be when Jaskier was already in bed waiting for him to return and Geralt didn’t want to wake him just in case he was already asleep.

He waved them away.

Jaskier started to sweat. How many people had he already told to leave? Too many, surely. Enough that there was a high chance that Geralt was among them.

The next person came before him.

It’s him.

The thought shot through his mind even before his head had caught up with the whiff of a familiar smell that came to him. Had Geralt been in his stead, he would have been able to name all the things Jaskier smelled like. Jaskier could find nothing but the smell of horse that always clung to Geralt and – Home. Safety. Geralt.

If Geralt had been in his stead, he would have heard and maybe even recognised Jaskier’s heartbeat. All Jaskier had was the way Geralt’s breath hitched when Jaskier smiled and reached out to him.

Even before his hand found Geralt’s cheek as surely as if his body had always known even unseeing how to find him, he knew what he would find. He brushed a strand of long soft hair away; his fingers ghosted over a scar, traced the line of lips that were slightly parted and tilted up just enough for Jaskier and no one else.

Jaskier could have said his name then. He could have said it even before and ended this even without ever needing to touch. He knew this was Geralt.  

But Jaskier was a selfish man. A part of him knew it was wrong to take advantage of this situation.

A different part of him was begging for more, for it to never stop.

He had never had this before. All the touches Geralt allowed him were purely functional – as was this right now; it was all part of the performance – and never simply because Geralt enjoyed his touch. Jaskier had tried, of course, before he had known how much Geralt despised it when Jaskier reached out to caress or embrace or hold tight. Whenever he had risked it, Geralt had become tense. Without fail he stopped moving altogether and looked at Jaskier with a stoically blank expression as if he was expecting the touch to become painful. His breath always hitched as if he was bracing himself to shake it off. Just as he did now.

Jaskier drew his hand back, as if burned. Geralt didn’t want this and Jaskier had no right to take it without his permission.

But Jaskier also didn’t see. He couldn’t know – it had to be coincidence that when he let his hand drop, it brushed against Geralt’s. It was nothing but instinct that made him turn his hand to prolong the contact.

But it was all Geralt who enclosed Jaskier’s fingers with his own. It was all Geralt who gave his hand a squeeze so light as if he were afraid anything more would crush Jaskier’s fingers.

It was all Jaskier who lifted Geralt’s hand to his lips, slowly to show Geralt that he could pull away any time, to press a soft kiss against it and it was all Geralt who refused to let Jaskier break the contact again and brushed his thumb against the corner of Jaskier’s lips.

“Geralt.” The name left Jaskier in the same way a fighter dropped his sword when returning home – ready to let all armour fall away, ready to lay themselves bare and trust no weapons would be turned against him.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier barely heard the woman from before announce that the truest lovers were found over the ringing of his own name on Geralt’s tongue, spoken as if it was something precious, as if Geralt was in awe with the name itself. Geralt had always been a man of few and simple words, but oh the weight of the words he used…

Though Jaskier thrived on applause, none of the roaring cheer of the crowd reached his ears as gentle hands reached behind him and loosened the knot on the blindfold.

When the cloth fell away, he didn’t look at the brilliant grins of the people congratulating them. He only squinted from the sudden light, as if he was looking directly into the sun when in truth he looked into Geralt’s eyes instead, knowing that just like the sun it would burn him if he sank in too deep, yet unable to look away just yet.

“Told you I’d find you.” Jaskier’s voice was little more than a breath. No one but a witcher would be able to hear him over the applause, but it was enough. There was only one person he needed to hear.

Geralt didn’t respond, but there was something in the way he kept looking at Jaskier, the way he made no move to release his hand that made Jaskier almost think that –

“Congratulations!” The woman’s voice cut through the moment like a dagger and Geralt jerked his hand away, broke the eye contact. “As customary, the truest of lovers will have the first dance of the night.”

There it was again, the way Geralt tensed and looked at Jaskier like he wanted to flee.

Still they could do nothing but oblige when they were ushered off the stage and onto the space that was quickly cleared for them.

Musicians stroke up a soft melody and Jaskier knew it was too late to escape this and spare Geralt the ordeal of having to dance with Jaskier while all eyes were on them.

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

into you

request: 51 w Makar? I love that smiley guy sm !

prompt: “Smile.” - “No.” - “You’re smiling, though!” / number 51 off of this list with Cale Makar.

summary: Cale’s teammates like you, but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to chirp him for how into you he is. 

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

“I don’t know how you managed to trick me into this.” You huffed as you exited your apartment, your ever-smiley best friend waiting patiently for you to lock your door. 

“Because you love me?” He offered, just enough teasing in his voice to have you grinning despite the sleepiness that still had its grips on you. Cale, the redheaded boy who occupied most of your thoughts, led the way to the elevator, chuckling softly to himself at your response, which was little more than an annoyed grumble. 

See, you couldn't let him know just how accurate his teasing response was. You had been head over heels for the sweet boy the moment you saw him offer to pay for an old lady's coffee at the small cafe you worked for. He was cute, sweet, and the way he stumbled over his words as he ordered endeared him to you almost instantly. After him coming into the cafe a few more times, he was brave enough to ask when your shift ended so you could get a cup of coffee with him. You wasted no time in agreeing to go with him, hoping that it would be an impromptu first date, but he gave no sign that he was interested in being anything other than friends. So, you remained in his life, but as the supportive best friend.

Which was how you found yourself in your current position, waking up early on your day off just to go shopping for a charity event that you weren't even sure you wanted to go to. 

The charity part wasn’t the problem, the whole getting up early to shop for a completely new outfit was why you were so annoyed. And since Cale insisted that he paid for you, no matter how vehemently you told him no, he had to come shopping with you. 

Cale, bless his heart, was doing his best to find something you liked. You had given him a gist of what you were looking for, and he finding pieces that actually fit your style. Still, he not everything his picked were winners.

“What about this?” Cale asked, brows furrowed as he studied the fabric. You knew he was serious, but the clothing his picked out was so absolutely ridiculous, you couldn't help but giggle. 

“Cale, it’s neon yellow.” You explained when he looked to you to explain what was wrong with his choice. The redhead’s cheeks turned even more rosy, and you turned back to the rack to try and distract yourself from intrusive thoughts telling you red was now your favorite color. 

He was going to be the death of you.

A few days later found you all dressed up and following Cale into a ballroom packed with people. Your hand was clasped tightly around his wrist as he used his hockey frame to maneuver you through the crowd. A few times you were stopped by someone usually thirty years Cale’s senior to talk to him about hockey statistics and all things related. 

You could tell he was just humoring everyone while looking for an escape. His usual smile replaced by a tight-lipped one that told you he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, though he would never admit it. 

Just because he had to entertain the old men didn’t mean you had to, and when you spotted three blondes standing off to the side, somehow avoiding attention, you knew it was your one chance to get away. Waiting until it was Cale’s turn to talk, you squeezed his forearm and whispered that you were going to talk to Mel before separating. He shot you a pained look that only you spotted, and you grinned mischievously at him. You both knew what you were doing, but it didn't make you feel bad about leaving the redhead with the men that were asking a thousand and one questions. 

As soon as she spotted you, Mel Landeskog was calling your name. Her husband Gabe was standing next to her, arm wrapped securely around her waist. Beside them, Erik Johnson stood, having decided this was an occasion to wear his fake teeth. Shortly after your friendship with Cale developed outside of the cafe you worked at, he introduced you to his team. They were fun to hang out with and you grew close to Mel like she was your older sister, with Gabe and EJ being the annoying brothers. 

“You look fantastic.” Mel complimented, pulling you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach. You returned the sentiment, Gabe and EJ both taking turns to embrace you annoyingly tight after. The smug look on both of their faces almost made you want to turn back and rejoin Cale in the stifling conversation about Colorado’s third period goal statistics and how to improve them. 

“You two make me nervous.” You chuckled, looking between the boys before raising a brow at Mel for an explanation. You knew you were screwed when you saw she was also grinning at you with a mischievous look on your face.

“So you’re the rookie’s date, huh?” EJ started, wiggling his brows dramatically and in a way that made you cringe. 

“We're just friends, Johnson.” You huffed. Your relationship status with their defenseman was always a topic of interest between the two blondes, and it got even worse when the rest of the team jumped in on the joke—Burky could be relentless in his teasing when he wanted to be.  

“Mhm.” He hummed, looking thoroughly unconvinced, much to your chagrin. Instead of taking the bait like you knew he wanted you to do, you rolled your eyes and turned to Mel, engaging her in conversation about anything other than hockey and boys, more specifically, hockey boys.  To give Gabe and EJ credit, they knew when to draw the line and take a step back. Well, at least you thought they did when they let you and Mel be for all of two minutes before their teasing started up again. Only this time, it wasn't directed at you, though you still were at the center of attention.

“How’d you get such a good-looking date, Cale?” Gabe started, unable to resist the jab and a chance to cause his teammates cheeks to darken. Cale appeared at your side, cheeks just as rosy as you figured they would be but he was taking the chirps in good humor. You, on the other hand, were getting a little annoyed. With the boys constantly making jokes it would only be a matter of time before Cale put together the fact you had a massive crush on him. You were dead set on the idea that of he found out about your feelings, he would be weirded out and you would lose one of your closest friends. 

“I asked nicely.” Cale teased, earning a barking laugh from his teammates. You rolled your eyes at his adorable comment, having expected nothing less from him. 

“I’m not that good-looking.” You absentmindedly commented, causing Cale’s head to whip around to face you. Your own cheeks started to get rosy, and you could only meet his confused look with one of your own.

“You look amazing, I’m lucky that you came with me.” Even more so, your face flushed at his compliment to the point where you were certain that you matched the color of his hair.

“Oh, my god. I’m just going to tell them.” EJ sounded so exasperated, but there was still traces of his smug grin. You and Cale both looked to him for answers, but he was just looking to Gabe and Mel. Gabe seemed to be on the side of EJ spilling whatever it was but Mel was shooting him a stern look. There was some silent discussion, Mel nudging her husband’s shoulder in reprimand for a fault you weren't sure he had made.

“Remember what we were talking about the other day after practice?” Gabe turned his focus to Cale, who for a moment looked at his captain dumbly. You watched with confusion as Cale registered what Gabe had been talking about, before nodding slightly, his lips set in a firm line. Gabe gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the balcony, and Cale nodded once more.

You tried not to jump out of your own skin as Cale threaded his fingers through yours and tugged you in the direction his captain had just suggested. You shot Mel a look over your shoulder, but the blonde only gave you two thumbs up, and encouraging smile on her face. 

The Denver night was cold, but it felt nice against your flushed skin. Once the balcony door was shut, Cale dropped your hand and moved to stand at the railing, his grip tight on the metal. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you moved closer to him, placing a shaky hand on his bicep to try and silently coax an answer of what was going on out of him. 

“The guys chirp me a lot.” He leads, and you stay quiet, knowing that was not what he needed you to follow him outside for. “Mostly because I’m the rookie, but also because of you.”

“Me?” The question fell past your lips in little more than a whisper. Cale nodded, turning to face you. You weren’t sure if he meant that his teammates didn't like you, but you felt like that wasn't the reason. At least, you hoped. 

“I’m like, so into you, and they give me so much shit for it.” He confessed, and you felt the corner of your lips turn upwards. 

“I mean, if you’re being sappy then I don't blame them.” You couldn’t help but tease, and you could tell he knew you felt the same when you noticed you beaming up at him. He groaned at your comment, dropping his head back at your comment as he cheeks turned red. “Smile.”

“No.” He shot back, but despite his comment you could tell he was grinning widely.

“You’re smiling, though!” He chuckled at you comment, tilting his head forward to look at you once more. His smile was soft, gaze flicking from your eyes down to your lips and back up. You leaned forward a bit and that was all the invitation Cale needed to duck down to your level press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

The kiss was slow and sweet, just as you expected it to be with Cale. Ever the gentleman, his hands found home on your waist but never explored any further. When you pulled away for air he used his grip on you to anchor you to your spot right in front of him. You weren't sure who was grinning brighter, but you were certain an argument could be made on both of your behalves. Cale was the first to break the silence, you were still too shocked to do speak.

“Yeah, I am smiling.” 

[avaantares]

Imma rant for a minute. (This is me being critical of a thing, so if you’re eschewing negativity right now, feel free to scroll on past.) :)

Sooooo I took a break from replaying FFVII:R tonight (last night, by the time this posts) to watch the stream of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Love Never Dies, a show I already knew to be terrible (but hey, you can't argue with free musicals, right?). Long before the musical opened, I’d read The Phantom of Manhattan, the book it’s based on, and that was... like... Hmm. Think of a bad fanfiction you've read. I mean a really bad one, one that gets every single character wrong, has the stupidest of stupid fiction tropes, includes ridiculously contrived scenarios to kill off characters and weird medical "science" and historical inaccuracies and a totally implausible plot, all mashed together just to reinforce someone's OTP which was kind of an unhealthy relationship to begin with and got considerably more unhealthy in this story, AND it includes a lengthy author’s note in which the writer bashes the author of the original work his story is based on and explains everything that author did wrong and how it should have been written, using examples from the fic writer’s own work to demonstrate.*

Then picture that as a $24.99 hardback.

So I knew the general story already, and I'd seen a couple of clips from the stage show, and from what I remembered it was all pretty forgettable. But like I said, free to watch, right? Nothing to lose but a couple of hours.

Oh. My. Goodness. I was not prepared for the full experience. It's like Phantom of the Opera and Cats had a (secret) baby that got shoved in a blender with all of circa-2004 Fanfiction.net and then pasted back together by a YA fiction editor’s intern. Despite a truly exceptional cast and some strong visual and set design, it wavered between cringe-y and I’m-going-to-hurt-myself-laughing levels of bad.

Mind you, it’s still better than the book, in which (SPOILER ALERT if anyone cares, which you probably don’t because if you’re the type of fan who would, you’ve probably already seen the show) Christine’s son is not the byproduct of a willing affair she had with Erik after she became disillusioned with her marriage, but was conceived after he kidnapped her at the Opera House, and... let’s just say consent was dubious, at best. (IIRC she was “half swooning” and not entirely aware of what was happening.) Also there’s some nonsense about Raoul being impotent from a war wound and never having consummated their marriage... But broadly speaking, the story is the same as the musical -- by which I mean it completely negates everything good and symbolic and meaningful about ALW’s Phantom of the Opera, to which the book was as much a sequel as it was to the original Gaston Leroux novella.

Love Never Dies fails as a sequel for a number of reasons: Every character you liked in the original? Assassinated. Raoul, who was willing to sacrifice his life for Christine in POTO, is now an abusive, alcoholic wastrel who has gambled his family into crippling debt. Christine cheats on her husband with a guy who has made a habit of kidnapping and threatening her, and who has actually murdered a number of people. Meg, Christine’s dearest friend and confidante, is now a washed-up burlesque dancer who -- again, SPOILER ALERT -- tries to kill first Christine’s son, then herself, then finally succeeds in killing Christine. The broadest take-home message of POTO, that kindness and love can heal even the deepest wounds, is undercut by these dramatic character reversals. Even the show’s title anthem “Love Never Dies” is contradicted by the love triangle at the center of the plot. Maybe love never dies, but that doesn’t stop Christine from cheating on her husband, Raoul from walking out on his wife and son, Erik from threatening to kill Christine’s child if she doesn’t do what he wants, Meg from betraying and murdering her best friend... yeah, let’s not take relationship advice from this group. 

But beyond that, LND is just bad structurally. The Phantom’s opening number builds up to be a “Music of the Night”-style anthem -- a dubious choice, since it makes everything he sings for the next half an act feel flat by comparison. Then we go into a surreal Coney Island segment for a while, then a bunch of really awkward dialogue exposition gets crammed in, and then twenty minutes into the show we finally meet Christine and her family, which kicks off the actual plot. The pacing is uneven. The tone is all over the map, too, bouncing between Phantom-like operatic ballads and Jesus Christ Superstar-esque carnival rock numbers. (All of which, I have to say, the Melbourne cast knocked out of the park. The vocal performances were definitely not a weak spot in this production.)

While I really like a lot of Andrew Lloyd Webber's stuff -- I've seen a number of his shows on stage, some of them three or four times -- his titles seem to be hit-or-miss. For every Phantom, there's a Whistle Down the Wind. Some of that isn't his fault; a mediocre lyricist or book writer can do a lot of damage, even with good music. This musical had two lyricists and four writers, and it shows. But IMO, this is also not Lloyd Webber’s best work. Apart from the title song, which I’ve heard often enough to know it outside of the show, I can recall the melodies of... two songs? The score isn’t bad, it’s just not as instantly memorable as Sunset Boulevard or Joseph or Phantom. And a weak story plus average music doesn’t equal a great show.

I’m sure I’ve complained more than anyone cares to read, but I have one final rant about something that caused me to startle my dog by making some very screechy noises: When Christine arrives by ship, the Phantom sends a horseless carriage to pick her up at the pier. Mind you, this scene is specifically stated to take place in New York in 1905. The crowd of onlookers is utterly SHOCKED by a vehicle that moves by itself. “There are no horses!” someone exclaims. "How does it work?"

Apparently all four of the credited writers slept through history class, and also couldn’t be bothered to Google a photo of New York at the turn of the century. Automobiles have been around since the 1880s, and by 1905, New York had so many cars on the streets that the New York Supreme Court had to hand down a ruling guaranteeing that horse-drawn transportation still had the same right-of-way as motorized vehicles, because the motorists didn’t want to share the road. Heck, my own great-grandfather owned a car by 1895! Glaring, easily-avoided errors like this jar me so far out of the story -- even good stories, which this one wasn’t -- that they actually bother me more than other, more significant failings. At least do your basic research, people. Use Google. Grrr.

Anyway, I’m just rambling now because I can’t sleep and I'm on prescription narcotics for pain and my dog is tired of listening to me grumble. Don’t mind me; I’m not actually this negative in real life. 😅

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

* I am not exaggerating. In the foreword, author Frederick Forsyth bashes Gaston Leroux and gives examples from his own works to explain how Le Fantôme de l'Opéra could have been written better. Like. DUDE. NO.

That book went straight into the donation box the moment I was done reading it. When Love Never Dies came out, I briefly regretted getting rid of it, but then I remembered how bad the story was and stopped feeling bad.

[spam-monster]

Helsaween day 7: Westergaard Family

Reposting the fic I wrote for Helsaweek in 2017 for “How It Should Have Ended” because it features my headcanons for Hans’ nieces and nephews - his 12 older brothers are probably mostly all married, so it makes sense he’d have a bunch of them. Also there’s not much Helsa technically...yet...

---

He thinks about what he could have done differently. Of course he does. Isn’t that what villains always do?

If he had let the queen be shot back in her ice palace, if he had not revealed his treachery to the princess so soon and let her die thinking that it was her fault true love’s kiss hadn’t saved her, if he had killed the queen as soon as she had fallen out there on the lake instead of sparing her a moment of sympathy for her perceived loss.

Those are the ones he tries to think about. The ones a monster like himself should think about. But there are other thoughts, ones that come to him unbidden when all is quiet and dark and still.

If he had been honest. If he had gone with Anna from the beginning instead of staying behind and feeding his ego. If he had confessed his deception and tried to help her find another way to break her curse instead of shoving it in her face and laughing as he slammed the door behind him.

If he had not pretended to love Anna at all, and had tried to win over Elsa instead, like he had intended. She would not have been fooled so easily. But maybe if he had been honest with her instead. Maybe if he had taken the time to befriend them. Maybe they would have let him come back, after that day. Maybe if he could have spent time away from his cruel brothers, with people who were kind and loving and good, maybe he could have learned such things himself. Maybe…maybe he could have found true love.

Instead he had let himself become the monster of their story, vanquished and cast away, never to be spared a though again.

But there is no use in dwelling on such things, he thinks.

He thinks.

Because it is hard not to dwell on these things when your nieces and nephews insist on him telling the story over and over and over again.  

***

He spends more time with them now.

There is a small fountain in the village, near the castle. The children of the local village play there with the children of the royal staff. His nieces and nephews didn’t use to play there, with the lower-class children, but one day he had gotten tired of having to repeat the story to them after he had already told it to the village children that day, and from then on he declared he would only tell it once, to whomever was gathered at the fountain when he was finished with his duties for the day. So all the children play there together now while they wait for him.

His brothers are rather annoyed at him for encouraging this. He can’t bring himself to care. Maybe if he had contact with normal loving families earlier in his life, he would have been quicker to realize what his family had lacked.

Hilda is the eldest, the first-born of his oldest brother, strong-willed and fierce. Fredrick is the first born of his second eldest brother, clever and charming. Christian is the son of Lars, his third eldest brother, and he is as stuffy and studious as his father, and his little sister Margrete is a hopeless romantic. And there is Erik and Harald, Magnus and Frida, Charlotta and Valdimarr and Vivi and Johan…

He had memorized their names out of convenience before. Lately, it had been out of sympathy. Twelve married princes with several children each made it hard for the staff to keep track and easy for the children to get lost in the crowd, and he knew all too well what that had felt like.

They made fun of him, of course, as they forced him to tell of his defeat over and over again. But they also listened to him, now that they knew he was willing to tell them stories if they behaved. It was kind of…nice.

So he comes to the fountain, and waits for them to settle down, and he tells them stories. He throws other fairy tales in sometimes, when they agree, for telling the same story all the time would be dull. But the story of Anna and Elsa is still their favorite, and he has agreed to tell it again today.

***

The beginning is easy.

He does not know much about what happened in Arendelle before he arrived, but between the history books, rumors from foreign travelers, and what he had heard from Anna, he manages to put it together. He then tells them of his arrival, of meeting Anna, of the coronation and the party and his clever wooing of the princess. He re-enacts the dances and the songs with great enthusiasm, even letting the children get up and participate themselves (Fredrick and Margrete often steal the show at this point, unless another child has managed to bargain with them for a chance to play himself or Anna).

After the dancing has settled down, he tells them of the argument. Of Elsa losing control and fleeing across the lake while Arendelle froze behind her. Of how Anna decided to go after her alone, while Hans stayed behind and took care of Arendelle.

“You should have gone with her!” one of the girls pipes up, as they always do.

“You’re just saying that because you’re mad I don’t know what happened to her after that.” He replies.

Because they are annoyed, of course. They don’t care about how Hans helped protect Arendelle’s citizens by organizing food and shelter for them when they were cold and afraid. They want to hear about how Princess Anna braved climbing the mountains to find her sister, and Hans doesn’t know that part of the story.

He’s heard there was an ice harvester involved. And snow monsters. And somehow Elsa ended up freezing Anna’s heart. That’s about it.

So he skips to the part where he traveled up the mountain himself to confront the queen. He emphasizes how he saved her from the Duke’s henchmen and brought her back unconscious but unharmed.

(He knows he does it to try to compensate for what he did later. He doesn’t think they’re fooled.)

He returned to Arendelle’s castle. And so did Anna.

(He hates telling this part.)

(He should be smug about how easily he tricked her. He was, at the time. It’s a lot harder to feel good about yourself for fooling someone into believing you loved them only to throw it back in their face later when there aren’t dozens of small, disapproving eyes watching you.)

So he glosses over it. Just tells them that he hurt her, admits that she probably didn’t deserve it.

(Sometimes he even tries to explain to them that it wasn’t her he was mocking, it was himself for being as naive as she was once. They just glare at him. They don’t understand yet, and that’s a good thing.)

He never tells them exactly what he said to her, although he remembers every word.

(He was wrong, anyway.)

And then, he tells them how he chased after Elsa.

He tells them that he thought killing her was the only way to stop the endless winter and save Arendelle.

(He had thought that, at the time.)

(It’s easier to tell himself that than to admit that he had wanted it to be the only way to stop the winter.)

And then…

He usually lies.

They know he’s going to lie about how it ended. They expect it by now. And as an expert liar, he tries to make it as extravagant as possible.

Last week it had ended with him having been secretly hiding that he had been born with power over fire the whole time, and he and Elsa engaging in an epic magic battle. This week Elsa summoned a giant ice dragon that he had to defeat before she would give up.

(His lies often involve Elsa fighting back somehow. It’s hard to admit now that he was about to kill a defenseless woman in cold blood.)

So he lies, for as long as they allow him to, because he is a very entertaining liar. But eventually they grow bored of it, as they always do.

And he relents, and tells them the truth.

He tells them how, as he went to deliver the final blow, Anna had appeared out of nowhere. How she had protected her sister who had neglected her for all those years, who had frozen their kingdom; how she stood in front of him and blocked his sword as she froze even though the woman she was protecting had been the one to curse her heart to freeze in the first place.

And then, well…

“You really don’t remember anything?” They ask.    

“What part of ‘knocked unconscious’ do you not understand?” he retorts.

But even though he doesn’t remember Anna or the kingdom unfreezing, he can tell them now why it happened.

“An act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.” He tells them. “Even after everything Elsa had done, Anna still loved her enough to save her. Her love for her sister is what freed her heart, and then inspired Elsa to find a way to undo her magic and save their kingdom from the endless winter.”

(He knows that he shouldn’t feel happy at this part. He certainly wasn’t happy when he had woken up, back then. But he sees the light in the children’s eyes when he tells them this part, when he tells them that true love is real and it is out there, when he sees siblings and cousins quietly holding hands or pulling each other closer despite his brothers encouraging them to fight and argue among each other as they once had done.

And if he can give them the reassurance he had never gotten as a child, if he can encourage them to hold on to that hope instead of letting it be buried under abuse and loneliness and neglect, then maybe there’s hope for his family yet.)

But they are still obnoxious children.

“You haven’t told us the best part.” Christian complains.

“Isn’t Anna and Elsa saving the kingdom the best part?” he says sweetly.

(It never works, but it’s a tradition by now.)

“Just do it,” Hilda demands.

He sighs. Then he stands up and reenacts Anna’s reaction to him after he had woken up.

As he mimes getting punched in the face and tosses himself dramatically in the fountain, the children laugh and cheer hearty. Little brats.

Well at least someone is satisfied with the end of his story.

 He doesn’t notice the fountain water feels icier than usual or that the children have become oddly silent until he hears her.

“Well that’s funny. I certainly don’t remember the dragon.”

---

(And then the kids end up thinking Anna and Elsa are the coolest ever and are really mad that Hans didn’t marry one of them and pester him about it.

“I could have had an aunt with magic ice powers! Uncle Haaaans!”

“So I know Miss Anna has a boyfriend now...but does Miss Elsa have anyone? Because my uncle’s still single...”

*flustered Hans noises* “FOR GOODNESS SAKES - COULD YOU NOT - I TRIED TO - SHE DOESN’T... I...apologize for them, your highness. They don’t understand the severity of the situation -”

“But you feel bad about what you did now, right uncle Hans?”

“...What...feelings? I don’t have feelings! Obviously! Someone like me have feelings that’s ridiculous who has feelings nowadays why-” 

*more flustered Hans noises*

*Elsa snickering in the background*) 

[lothirielswanmarvel]

FACING GALACTUS: Avengers x Guardians of the Galaxy x X-Men (movie versions)

Word Count: 2904

Romantic interest: Thor (+ Star-Lord Love Triangle)

Summary: Our favorite Marvel heroes across cinematic franchises come together to battle the Destroyer of Worlds: Galactus.

—Character List: Movie Versions—

(NOTE: This list is provided because some Marvel characters may be referred to as their actual names, and not their hero titles. Also: two Fantastic Four characters were added to this sneak peak, but they may not be included/have a major role in the actual story.)

Reed Richards . . . Mr. Fantastic (member of Fantastic Four)

Shuri . . . Badass Princess of Wakanda (member of Avengers)

Susan Storm . . . Invisible Woman (member of Fantastic Four)

Scott Lang . . . Ant Man (member of Avengers)

Erik Lehnsherr . . . Magneto (member of X-Men)

Thor . . . Thor (member of Avengers)

Peter Quill . . . Star-Lord (member of Guardians of the Galaxy)

Mantis . . . Antennae Lady (member of Guardians of the Galaxy)

Steve Rogers . . . Captain America (member of Avengers)

Wanda Maximoff . . . Scarlet Witch (member of Avengers; relations with X-Men)

Sam Wilson . . . Falcon (member of Avengers)

Jean Gray . . . Dark Phoenix (member of X-Men)

Ororo Munroe . . . Storm (member of X-Men)

Carol Danvers . . . Captain Marvel (member of Avengers; relations with Guardians of the Galaxy)

Stephen Strange . . . Doctor Strange (Antisocial Sorcerer Supreme; relations with Avengers)

Evangeline Green . . . Angel (member of Avengers; relations with Guardians of the Galaxy)

Galactus . . . Galactus (Planet-eater. Douche of the universe. Do not engage under any circumstances)

—*—

I had three options. I was selfish, and I was a coward, so I chose the third.

“Just like Star Trek,” Reed Richards murmured at the control panel, next to Shuri.

“I’m more of a Star Wars guy,” Scott Lang said, stuffing his face with a peanut butter sandwich. To any other person, it was a harmless action. Innocent, even. In the dim lighting of the spaceship, all I could see was Scott’s jaw moving up and down. Destruction was rhythm. Crushing. Grinding into paste. Then he swallowed.

I shivered and turned away.

The first option was the simplest: killing myself. A few months ago, after the Moon Experience, stuck in space with no memories, I would’ve happily obliged. It would have been so easy. Quick, even. But I was selfish, and a coward. I chose the third.

Erik Lehnsherr and Susan Storm took up positions beside the massive machine. Their job was to keep the projector from becoming overwhelmed and obliterating us all.

His footsteps were loud. I felt his presence before his huge arms wrapped around me, holding me together like I would break into a million pieces if he didn't. Thor whispered softly in my ear, “You worry too much.”

Thor didn't really care who was around: he made it a known fact that we were together. I shook my head slightly, the back of my head brushing against his shoulder. “Can you blame me?”

“No. I don't blame you.” He was talking about more than just my nerves.

“Do you think I made the right decision?” I bit on my lip to keep it from trembling.

“I will support whatever decision you make,” Thor noted, pressing a kiss into my hair. “I don't like the thought of putting you in danger, but...I agree that there is no simple way to end this. It may be difficult, but I trust your judgement.”

“Do you really mean that, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No—I will never lie to you, my love,” Thor assured me. I felt his hot breath against my ear. “However, I am starting to favor that dream of yours where you bail on everyone and flee to the realm called Mexico.”

I sighed, and tried to enjoy the comfort of his closeness. “Don't cross that one out yet. Wade said he had some extra sombreros in his apartment.”

Wanda Maximoff floated above the ground and landed near us. She looked out the large glass window that displayed the vast vacuum of space. She nodded to us. Her expression was steady, but in her eyes, I could see the terror. “He’s getting closer.”

People gathered about the machine. Wanda joined Jean Gray, Carol Danvers, and Ororo Munroe as they positioned themselves by the massive cannon-like structure.

Option two was to restrain my advanced manipulation of gravity that brought Him here. Weaken them. Weaken me. The people in this room detested the idea. They stood against it. I knew Stephen Strange didn't imply anything personal with the proposition, but I couldn't go along with it. I was selfish, and a coward. I chose the third option.

I spun around to face Thor. He cupped my face in his hands. They were strong, large, and warm. It broke my heart to drag him into this.

“If this doesn't work…” I started, knowing he wouldn't like the proposition I was about to make.

“Then we leave this world together.” Thor prompted. His confident yet swift answer shocked me.

“Wha—no! I refuse to drag you down into the fiery pits of hell with me—and I know that’s where I'm heading, I've stolen too much of Tony’s scotch that's not for company. If there is any possibility of you surviving…” I trailed off underneath the intensity of his cerulean eyes.

“Evangeline, I am not going anywhere. You are all I have left—”

“Your siblings are still alive.”

“But they’re annoying and depressing. They stab everything.” Thor’s expression turned foul for a minute, his thoughts traveling to Hela and Loki. He shook his head and returned to the present. “You are the light of my life—you are my life. I've already learned of a world where you don't exist, I don't wish to return to it.”

The last line sealed my lips. The last few months hadn't been kind to him. They weren't exactly a walk in the park for me. I looked down. Thor’s hands fell from my cheeks and captured my hands. He squeezed them gently.

“Together.” I repeated. “If we die, that's all I want.”

“So do I.”

“...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.”

Thor raised my hand to his lips, pressing a loving kiss on one, then the other. “None of this is your fault. And if this is the price to pay for a future with you, it's worth it.”

Thor’s hands returned to my cheeks and leaned down for a kiss. I tried to memorize every detail. The clash of his soft lips and the scratchy, ticklish feel of his beard. The hotness of his breath. Every detail of Thor’s exterior should’ve been rough and intimidating, but it was too soft, too gentle.

“I love you,” He murmured against my mouth. “Just remember, darling: the glass is half full.”

“Only if that glass is full of vodka, sweetie. I love you.”

He laughed against my lips, pulling me in for one last kiss. We broke apart reluctantly. Thor tucked a loose hair behind my ear, and joined the others by the machine.

Wanda and Scott stood together. They must’ve watched the exchange, like the infamous eavesdroppers they were. Together, they wore dubious looks.

I glared and did something that Wanda hated. WOW MY THOUGHTS ARE REALLY LOUD, SOUNDS LIKE I'M SHOUTING, GOOD THING NO ONE CAN HEAR ME.

Wanda flinched. Jean Gray tossed a scowl at me. Carol glanced between Wanda and I. “Are you guys doing a staring contest? I used to do those with Nick, I'm really good.”

“Nick Fury?” Scott asked.

“Yeah.”

“Woah. He lets you call him Nick? He doesn't even let me address him in public.”

“Hmm.” Carol stayed quiet, but her eyes widened as she turned away. Scott didn't miss this detail, and ate his sandwich with more intensity.

Peter Quill approached me next. He wasn't thrilled that after my four months spent in space with the Guardians, I rejoined my old life, specifically my giant of a boyfriend.

He stood two feet away, hands hanging casually around his belt buckle, but his shoulders were too stiff to be nonchalant.

“All the tech’s good to go.” Quill said.

My head tilted to the side. “You don't have to be here, Peter. I don't want you to risk your life because of me.”

“I want to.” He insisted. The way he said it reminded me of a kid. I smiled slightly, and Peter must’ve taken it as a good sign.

“I'm not goin’ anywhere. But...it's times like these that I wish I was still half god,” He mused.

We glanced out at the extended panel of stars. Night and light, mixed into one. Mystical and frightening. If I wasn't about to die, I might’ve found the display beautiful.

“It's a whole new world, Jasmine.” Peter replied. It was his hobby to nickname me after Disney princesses. I didn't feel like a heroine: I was dooming everyone on the ship.

“Unless you stole a genie lamp that can get us out of this mess, I don't want to hear it.” My tone was mocking, yet somehow I managed to smile.

Quill shook his head, reinforcing his hands around his waist. “Nah. But you know...if I got one wish…”

His face turned from the glass to me in a sly yet dramatic way. His gaze was trained on me. His expression was almost peaceful, day-dream like.

“...It would be to make that smile reach your eyes.” Peter replied softly.

I didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Reed Richards came to the rescue. “Star-Lord, we need you at this control panel.”

He winked at me as he backed away, and returned to the board of buttons. Sam Wilson glanced around the room, “We look good...as good as we’ll get. I think we’re ready.”

Erik’s fists tightened. “We will be.”

Jean Gray straightened. Her red curls fluttered around her elbows like thirsty flames. “It's time.”

Steve Rogers and Mantis appeared at my side as my moral support. I looked out the window, and I knew I would need it.

Option three was the most difficult, the most impossible. Galactus wanted me to become his new “Herald” for my manipulation over gravity. One incident—I barely made the planet move an inch—and I was being hunted across galaxies. I harbored these abilities for four months now, after the Moon Experience, and it felt like I was fully connected to myself, like there was an extra sense of reality that I was now tuned in to. I didn't want to dispose of them. I didn't want to die. I was selfish, and a coward. I was going to fight Galactus.

I knew He had arrived, because the lights in the sky were going out. Something was blocking our view of them—something colossal.

As the lights were snuffed out across the horizon, Mantis’ hand fell upon my shoulder. “Relax,” She said. Her tone was usually silvery and light, but now it was brittle and cracked with fear.

Steve held up his shield—everyone knew it was useless, but it was a failed attempt to calm my nerves.

“We are Vul-CANS, not Vul-CANTS,” Shuri sounded younger than before. “We can do this. Begin firing!”

They reacted in unison. Thor, Carol, Wanda, Ororo, Jean—all took aim at the massive machine in the center of the room. I looked away as the room was filled with light. My eyes burned, and dark splotches danced before my gaze as the brightness seared every surface. The air in the room was alive now, like electricity. My skin was riddled with bumps—from the fear or immense energy source, I couldn't tell which.

I watched the reflection of the spectacle on the glass. Erik and Susan had the most tortured expressions, hands outstretched, trying to keep the machine together under the stress of so much power. I unclenched my fists at my sides as pain overwhelmed my palms.

“It's not enough!” Reed shouted over the noise. Lightning crackled from Ororo and Thor. “Scott, deploy the Pym Particles!”

The machine roared out with distaste. Steve pulled Mantis and I close, his shield angled at the source of blinding light. Apparently, his discomfort with technology hadn't lessened. In this moment, I couldn't blame him.

I could feel the energy against my scalp and rushing across my cheeks. I glanced back at the window. Most of the stars were gone in the sky. It was just darkness now. Night and light were separated by the fragile glass barrier.

“They didn't do this in Star Trek!” Shuri cried out.

“Everything Zachary Quinto does looks effortless! We’re almost there, keep up the pressure!” Reed’s eyes were protected with thick sunglasses. His dark hair whipped about his face.

“Didn't Uhura dump his logical ass?” Sam shouted.

“He still has Kirk!”

“STAR WARS IS BETTER! STAR WARS NEVER PUT US IN A SITUATION WHERE WE ALMOST DIED!” Peter nearly screamed to be heard.

“STAR WARS NEVER HAD LEONARD NIMOY—SHUT UP AND DO YOUR JOB, QUILL!” Reed’s face was slick with sweat.

The entire ship started to groan. I was focused on our view of space. Two lights now flickered in the sky. They were perfectly aligned with each other.

He's here.

Erik’s reflection staggered. His arms remained up, but one knee touched the ground, and I could see veins popping out across his face. Ororo’s lips were spread apart, teeth clenched together as beams of electricity flashed from her fingertips.

Mantis’ touch couldn't stop my heart from staggering when my gaze flickered to Thor. He was doing alright...sort of. His face was shiny with sweat, but that wasn't the most concerning part. Jagged bolts of lightning protruded from his body and flashed across the interior of the ship, sending up a shower of sparks. Erik and Susan could barely handle the projector—could they keep the ship from tearing apart?

“NOW!” Reed Richards held onto the edge of the panel for support.

Shuri pulled a lever. Energy shot out of the projector, exploding across the dark canvas.

It was what the light illuminated that made me hesitate. The outline of the helmet was like the hands of God coming together, slightly caved in on themselves, but never meeting. The grooves of a face were sketched with light, creased but not wrinkled, and the rest was hidden by the massive helm, like it was shielding the being from any association with humanity. It was a face that asserted dominance, even cruel regalty, with two inhuman orbs that showed no emotion.

This was the cosmic terror that the Silver Surfer warned be about. This was the monster that left Xandar as a dust cloud. This was Galactus.

The ship had gone dead silent in the absence of the energy surge. Reed’s voice mustered me from my terror. “Evangeline! Now!”

Every action from that point on was instinctual. I was just an observer, floating out above my body watching the spectacle. I saw my arms rise in front of me, almost cupping the little speck of light in the sky. I focused on that tiny little pinpoint, pressing down against the laws of reality, imagining myself punching a hole in space.

I hoped I was doing this right. I never made a black hole before.

I caught a flicker of movement at my side. Wanda had moved to the window, crimson bands weaving between her fingers. Her second job was manipulating density. Susan joined us as we concentrated on our task.

My focus remained on the light. It started to shrivel, becoming smaller and smaller. I heard the hiss of someone’s breath. It sounded painful. I felt a new pressure pull down on my limbs as I continued to condense the tiny sun.

The small spark of light slowly shrank and melted from existence. An eternal horizon of night lay in its wake.

“Alright, that's enough. Scott, send in the rest of the Pym Particles. We need to get out of range—activate the teleporters, Quill.”

The voice sounded faint, blurry even, like it was submerged underwater. I think it was Reed’s.

It took a minute to will myself to stop. My role as an astral observer wore off and I reconnected with reality, feeling aches and pains. Susan collapsed on the floor.

Light consumed my skin and my surroundings vanished. We returned to the Grandmaster’s ship.

I winced at the brighter walls leaned on the nearest wall for support. Wanda lowered herself to the ground and lay flat, staring up against the ceiling. “I think...I’ll take that little yellow pill that Wade Wilson offered me a long time ago.”

I sank down to the floor next to her, sitting up against the wall. “Do you think I’ll get a neighbor discount?”

Thor’s boots appeared before me. I couldn't make my chin move up. He sat down next to me, wrapping a burly arm around my shoulders. His skin was usually hot, but it was blazing against the back of my neck. We communicated without words as I scooted closer to him and our fingers entwined.

Stephen Strange walked up to our party. “Did it work?”

Reed’s arm stretched out and clicked some of the buttons on the wall. The surface became reflective glass. “Let’s find out.”

I glanced over Thor’s hand at the endless night. It was too dark. Too deep, too terrifying. And those two orbs still penetrated the black veil, inching closer.

Thor’s quick reflexes shielded my eyes before the explosion of light hit. It was blinding and made my body freeze, like I was Cap stuck in the ice, numb. It was that moment in the movie theater when the music escalated unexpectedly in the dark and it made your heart skip a beat and you stiffened with terror.

The light faded. I turned, feeling Thor’s chest press against my back as we looked out at the result. Everyone was eager to see—even Wanda propped herself up on her elbows to witness the outcome.

“What...what is that?” Jean Gray was the only one standing besides our tech support. An eerie yellow shade made her porcelain skin glow.

“The event horizon,” Reed Richards answered, his words tinged with awe.

Shuri gasped. “I should add this to my story...that would really show my brother and his pathetic cat videos.”

Scott nodded dully. “Yeah...I’m never watching Star Trek ever again.”

Carol Danvers leaned forward, peering at the fiery ring at the center of space. “Hold on...I’ve seen black holes, and that is not supposed to happen.”

I felt Thor grow rigid behind me. Three words escaped my mouth. “Oh my God.”

The pitch black of the sky morphed into a magenta hue. The mass of color moved, seeming to swat at the black hole.

The swarming mass dissipated.

The magenta background gave off it's own luminescence, and the face of Galactus reappeared. His expression was still neutral. Undaunted.

“Holy shit…” I heard Peter say. “What now?”

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

Author's Note: Hi Awesome Adventurers, thanks for reading! I’ve been playing around with the idea of this novel for awhile, but I’d like to hear personally from you guys before I start publishing actual chapters. But thank you so much for reading, and please, if you enjoyed this, I’d love to hear from you! If I do start hearing from people, I will post this story on Tumblr, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad. Your words are powerful, and I’d love to hear them c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

*Also, a few other things on this chapter: I included the Fantastic Four, but it is highly unlikely that they'll have a huge role in this series: they're just kinda thrown in here for the hardcore Marvel fans and to poke fun at Chris Evans. I also consulted a relative of mine with a physics degree, including my own research done on the topic, for this chapter. I know it's not the most perfect theory, but the idea came to me and I thought it would be cool to do! Thanks for reading!

[langernameohnebedeutung]

to your expert german ears, how was the german in the Argentina bar scene in X First Class?

The bar scene!

So, first things first, the guys playing the Nazis hiding in Argentinia are respectively Wilfried Hochholdinger and Ludger Pistor who are German, don’t have an accent and are good to go. They don’t have the typical regional accent I’d associate with being from Düsseldorf. Instead they speak Hochdeutsch (Standard German) which means they don’t feel out of place either. I guess for their time they’d come across as a little snobbish speaking that way and the probably unintended implication is that they come from a pretty wealthy, educated background so it’s not unlikely that they were high-ranking officers and since that one guy insists that his father made the best suits in all of Düsseldorf, that actually seems likely.

Which leaves Michael Fassbender. (the bartender is German too according to imdb but he only speaks Spanish). I already once wrote about Fassbender’s accent when someone asked me how to get rid of their English accent when speaking German and I referenced the bar scene in Inglorious Basterds as a frame of reference.

I wondered for a a long time how much German Fassbender actually speaks (as much as I hate to speculate about actor’s private lives usually) but I always found it weird that his German seems a lot more natural to me in Inglorious Basterds than it does in this bar scene in First Class. My lovely friend @timemngmtoptimisationproblems who's an insider in the business suggested once it might be a budget thing and that re-shooting and changing a scene can be very expensive so maybe they simply did more shoots in Inglorious Basterds and gave him more instructions than they did in First Class? because IB definitely puts a strong emphasis on language. Plus accents and fluency actually have a huge influence on the plot of the film. Meanwhile in First Class, Fassbender and Bacon phone it in pretending to be native German speakers. (It’s kinda funny how the main-Nazi in the film is played by an American and one of the German main-characters is played by a Scottish guy, an Irish guy and … I’m not sure where the kids are from. And Nightcrawler was also not played by a German. But they actually imported real Germans for the roles of these two extras. I don’t mind but it’s…a strange priority to make sure that these two random guys who get killed after saying a few lines are native speakers)

Because I was curious about it, I read a few interviews a while ago where Fassbender speaks about his German background and he’s downplays it a lot and says he speaks very, very little. Basically a few words. Which honestly surprised me, because he does a pretty solid job acting out his German-speaking scenes, emphasising the right words (even if the doesn’t necessarily emphasise the right syllables) and he seems pretty effortless compared to that flashback scene with Schmidt young Erik who are clearly have to focus on their words. Also directors clearly seek him out to play Germans so he seems to have a reputation that he can do that. A lot of my questions were answered when I found an interview of the Dark Phoenix cast in a German show where Fassbender actually speaks some German with the interviewer (× - starting at 2.00) -and he seems to be the ‘understands more than he can speak’ type. He definitely can speak more than a little German and hold a solid conversation, but he struggles with finding the right words sometimes. That’s obviously not a problem when you have a script but it also explains while he seems as little…stiff with his pronunciation and phrasing sometimes and why he misses some mistakes in the script.

To answer your actual question – I said that Fassbender’s German is not as good as in First Class Inglorious Basterds, but he actually does a solid job. You can tell that he knows what the words coming out of his mouth actually mean. Which is rare when English-speakers play Germans. Not so rarely, we have to turn on the subtitles to figure out what’s going on. And yeah, we’re not the only one with that problem. So I’m really nit-picking here. His acting is fine, you understand him and he doesn’t do the thing where an actor makes an effort to ‘sound German’ by hissing and snarling and making weird guttural sounds.

Especially “Was hat Sie nach Argentinen verschlagen” und “Meine Eltern kamen aus Düsseldorf” almost sound native, although he does struggle with the “e”s a little (he either pronounces it too much or too little like an ä and honestly, I feel like a horrible person for faulting him for that bc it’s really the line between a perfectly fluent C2 German speaker and a native speaker to get something like that right. It’s really instinctive and not…a mistake, it’s just a very subtle difference and honestly, I do the same thing when I speak English.  

Another thing that English-speakers in particular struggle Is the German “r” (one good example of him getting it right is in Alien: Covenant in the final scene when he asks the computer to play “Das Rheingold” by Wagner) but here, we can tell he doesn’t quite roll it the way it’s supposed to when he says: “Was würden Sie gerne zuerst verlieren.” Which is a lot of r-s to be fair.

Now, for me one of the biggest issues is when he says his parents had his names taken away from them (….) “pig farmers”! And “tailors”! – because the preposition in the middle is missing, changing the entire impact of the comment depending on which preposition you mentally insert into that line.

What he says is: “Ihre Namen wurden ihnen weggenommen” *clinks glasses* “Schweinebauern! Und Schneidern!” – “Their names were taken away from them. Pig farmers and tailors.”

And yeah, there should be a preposition between that. It should either be:

“Ihre Namen wurden ihnen weggenommen – von Schweinebauern und Schneidern” – their names were taken by farmers and tailors” or –

“Sie hatten keine Namen. Ihre Namen wurden ihnen weggenommen. *clinks glasses* Auf Schweinebauer und Schneider!” - “Their names were taken away from them. (clinks glasses)(here’s TO) pig farmers and tailors.” – which would from Erik’s perspective be a really sarcastic way and cynical way of saying  “you false cowards are a dime a dozen and I know your type and I hold you responsible” while at the same time keeping them guessing about who he is and what he is about to do until he finally reveals the tattoo on his arm. So yeah, what he says is definitely wrong but also…you can’t just set it right in your head because…you don’t know what he is supposed to be saying. (according to the subtitles it’s supposed to be “von/by” which also fits that he’s using the genitive case instead of the nominative, but honestly, I would prefer ‘auf/to’ because that would be darker, sharper and wittier and really has that very peculiar sense of sarcasm that people associate with Magneto.)

In short – he really does a good job. He couldn’t trick anyone into believing that he’s a native German speaker, but I saw people comment that in the bank scene his French is better than that of the guy who plays the banker and that while he has a strong accent while speaking Polish, he still puts in a good effort so I’m going to commend him for consistently doing his best. It’s just weird that he…starts speaking English at the end of the scene which honestly. Doesn’t make any fucking sense whatsoever. Like imagine you’re speaking to some guy and you’re both English native speakers and there’s a Spanish guy in the room too and suddenly he starts speaking…Italian? That would be weird. But the scene is fine and the accent doesn’t really distract you from the gravity of the scene (like it does in that flashback scene in the beginning). Honestly, I’m probably not going to see the day they cast a Jewish German actor for the role of Magneto (and honestly, I give the first part priority over the German-thing because you can simply have actors speak English and pretend it’s German) but I also prefer having him speak German over speaking English WHEN IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE TO SPEAK ENGLISH. Imagine if they had kept the entire film in English. They would have avoided the weird accents in French, German and Russian AND I wouldn’t have had to wonder for the rest of the franchise why Magneto is speaking English in a particular situation. Why is speaking English to Schmidt? Why is Frankenstein’s monster IN ENGLISH? Why is he speaking English to his Polish daughter? Why is he speaking English to his Polish coworkers who are …. Factory workers in cold war Poland. He’s speaking English to god too. I know it’s to make these scenes more dramatic but at least be consistent. So yeah for me it's an either or situation in the greater context but the scene itself is good.

[sunshineandfangs]

Klarosummer - Baseball || Intuitivnaya Prozorlivost

@klarosummerbingo

Caroline’s money had been running low recently which was why she found herself at Fenway Park on a Saturday. Watching the Baltimore Orioles vs the Boston Red Sox in a baseball game was certainly not her idea of a good time, but betting promised funds. Plus, all those people? All those fans with their explosive energy? Sometimes bills got lost, caught by the wind, dropped in a crowd, people could just be unlucky.

She placed her bet, fluttered her lashes at the more confused witnesses, claimed she was her husband’s good luck charm and he was a rather superstitious man. 

The Red Sox would win, she declared.

Nine innings later, and the Red Sox did indeed win and she went off to collect her money. Today had been a good haul and she had a slight bounce to her step when she finally made it out of the packed stadium.

Her good mood instantly plummeted, steps slowing some as she noted two men approaching her from her peripheral vision. She covertly peered at them from under her hair, mind rapidly analyzing their appearances.

Both had brown hair and were on the taller side at about six feet. One seemed a bit more severe, hair slicked back, darker colors and a leather jacket. The other held himself more affably and dressed more elegantly in a dove gray sports jacket and a light lilac button down. 

She didn’t recognize either of them, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but she had a sharp eye for the people who might hunt her. Ducking toward a more isolated corner of the parking garage, though still within hearing range should she need it, she felt them both follow her.

Without warning, Caroline whirled to face them, not even pretending that she hadn’t notice them. 

Raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow she drawled, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

The one on the left, the more severe looking one, offered a slight nod of acknowledgement, “I’m Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Charles Xavier,” said the other, a slight British accent in his voice.

“Good for you,” she replied, a bit annoyed, about to repeat her question when the British one - Xavier - spoke into her mind.

Please, forgive our abruptness. I’m sure we must have startled you.

Caroline’s eyes instantly narrowed, letting a tendril of her power seep into her mind.

Xavier let out a slight grunt, raising a hand to his temple. Though he looked to be grimacing a bit, he seemed strangely delighted rather than upset. “Marvelous! How are you doing that?”

“You think I’m just going to tell you?” She bit out, incredulous, shifting her weight when she noticed Lehnsherr’s stance change.

“What is she doing, Charles?” He asked, his hand twitching toward her.

She crouched slightly in preparation as Xavier replied.

“It’s like her mind suddenly got distorted, like a bad radio signal. Probably why I couldn’t sense her with Cerebro.”

From behind her Caroline felt the air stir as something rapidly approached, and she nearly attacked before she recognized the presence.

A familiar voice, one with a much more prominent British accent, sounded from her left.

“Two on one, gents, that’s hardly sporting, now is it? And against a lady at that.”

Caroline would never admit it, but she was somewhat glad to hear Klaus’ voice, knowing no matter their...colorful history, he would side with her over these strangers.

She angled her body a bit towards him as he came prowling out of the shadows, eyes carrying a glint of feral gold.

Lehnsherr looked even more wary and a bit annoyed.

“Charles are your powers broken today?!”

Xavier spluttered, looking a tad offended. “No! Both their minds are particularly unusual though. His seems,” he trailed off, looking a bit confused, before offering, “like an animal’s?”

Klaus smiled, teeth and dimples on display, hungry and hunting. “A wolf, if you want to be precise.”

Caroline refrained from rolling her eyes, exasperated by his dramatics. Sure it wasn’t a very useful bit of information, but must he?!

Irritatingly good at knowing the direction of her thoughts, Klaus shot a quick glance in her direction, a trace of mirth in his eyes, before he became grim and guarded once more.

“Well?” He asked again, his mien a mix of his typical faux-politeness and menace.

Xavier, clearly the less confrontational of the two (a piece of information Caroline filed away under potential weaknesses to exploit), held up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

“Wait, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. We don’t mean you any harm, either of you,” he said glancing between her and Klaus. “We’ve been searching for people like you, like us,” he emphasized, nodding to his partner. “But if you’re not interested we’ll leave, I promise. No one will bother you.”

Caroline suppressed a disbelieving scoff as Klaus mocked him.

“Isn’t that cute, sweetheart? He thinks they simply get to leave.”

That seemed to set Lehnsherr off as he threw his arm out, ignoring Xavier’s cries to wait, and metal beams shattered concrete, reaching out with a groan as they attempted to wrap around them.

General telekinetic or metal specific? Caroline wondered, even as she moved to dodge.

She leapt, knowing exactly where to land in order to jump on and over the beams. Klaus was flashier, flexing his suddenly claw-like nails and tearing through the metal like tissue paper.

Their attacker cursed, while Xavier got out of the way, still looking concerned. Another hand flex sent the metal pieces shooting back at them, and Caroline jumped in front of Klaus.

Probably just metal, she concluded, as she tugged at her power, every projectile inexplicably missing.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Klaus growled from behind her, his gruffness doing nothing to hide his concern for her. She smothered a smirk, cute, but hardly called for.

Though it surprised her not at all when he whipped out from behind her, form a blur as he slammed Lehnsherr against the concrete wall. 

Xavier, hand once more at his temple, seemed to squint at Klaus. At first nothing happened, and then Klaus snarled, his body convulsing as his eyes flashed from gold to blue and back.

Caroline cursed her stupidity. How could she not consider mind manipulation, when he demonstrated clear and powerful telepathy?!

She glared, sprinting toward her new least favorite person, plucking more delicately at her power as she worked to undermine his control. 

Klaus flexed his spasming hand, still pinning Lehnsherr to the wall. “I will take his bloody head off if you don’t stop!”

Meanwhile, Caroline barreled into Xavier, tackling him to the floor and expertly pinning him down.

She leaned down to snarl her own threat.

“I’ll take your head if you don’t release him.”

Klaus’ snarls quieted. “That’s more like it,” he drawled. Only to let out a pained grunt a moment later.

Caroline looked over to see metal had slammed into Klaus, though his enhanced strength prevented it from throwing him back as was no doubt the intent.

She watched as an angry, panic entered Lehnsherr’s expression more metal bombarding Klaus as he reached his own arms up to try to pry off the hand strangling him.

And then she had to refocus on her own opponent, a sharp migraine suddenly assaulting her as he turned his power on her. She bit down on her lip, drawing blood as she fought through the pain, struggling to counter his unexpected assault.

Suddenly, it stopped. 

Caroline panted out a breath, sneered at Xavier’s apologetic expression before glancing toward Klaus, realizing something must have halted their fight.

She sucked in a breath as she saw what had happened. Lehnsherr’s sleeve had gotten torn in their scuffle, black numbers stark against the pale skin of his forearm. An empathetic pang twisted in her gut as she watched Klaus slowly shift his gaze from the numbers to Lehnsherr’s eyes.

He didn’t release his grip, but he did loosen it.

“We’ll hear you out.”

---

Author’s Note: Title means “Serendipity” in Russian. I made Klaus a victim of Russia’s actions during WWII rather than Germany’s like Erik. Additionally, as this was a fusion/cross-over with X-Men: First Class which takes place during the Cold War, I thought choosing Russian was appropriate when trying to find a thematically relevant non-English language. (I’m glad there’s only two more for me though because the language picks have been one of the harder things to do. Which is my own fault lol).  

FYI, Charles and Erik more or less stumble into Klaroline after leaving Logan at the bar. Caroline’s power is extreme probability manipulation and knowledge. While Klaus has enhanced physical prowess drawing from wolf-like traits along with blood manipulation abilities.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Erik and 4?

#4 with Erik. I feel like that could go a number of ways

4. “just pretend to be my date.”

word count: 449.

a/n: some angst, friendship, no pronouns used as always, manipulation (as a favour to both reader and himself).

Phantom of the Opera: @bingewatchingmylifegoby @sky-the-squirrel @suddenlyitisntwhatitusedtobe @shamrocklesbian @phantom-of-the-keurig @oddybutgoodie @phantomphanaatic @shingeki-no-julchen @keithmoonmoon @wolfwithabook @morningisnotalright @sanity-is-overratedxp @phantom-triumphant @daaerik @gargoyleunderrain @barefootwitch @chris–daae @fangirl-127  @everyday-imfangirling  @chill-satan-chill @liecheepaint @somethingbeautifulandtragic @iamacuteprincess @battlechicklove @squidtheanon @meridele473 @phantom-fangirl-stuff @oops-its-all-fandoms @lyoly

JUST Erik: @allthatyoudreamedicould @babyfacedadult @nessaroseeast13 @im-wlkn-here @meridele473

SFW ONLY Erik: @my-lingering-soul

The hour that would announce the beginning of the Masquerade was drawing near and you were panicking. Everyone who worked in the Opera House - cooks, cleaners, wait staff, members of the orchestra or corps - was expected to attend the event with somebody.

You had yet to find a date. You also knew that Erik didn’t have a date either. For all of his bravado and dramatic flair, he was just as alone as you were. The only difference between you was that you had chosen your prolonged solitary habits. Erik had been thrust into his from the moment of his quickly regretted birth. 

You watched the clock tick, feelng a mounting sense of tension in your shoulders. You would happily go to this even alone but rules were rules and no dancing partner (of any gender, the footnote had said) meant no admission.

Erik had been aware of your issue ever since he’d read your invitation over your shoulder. He had stood close to you, his chest just brushing your back, but he had made a conscious effort to not touch you. He watched you watch the clock and he rolled his eyes, clearing his throat.

“The solution is obvious, Y/N.”  Erik’s deep voice broke the silence of the room wihout warning - well, the clearing of his throat had been deliberate on his part as he tried to not startle you - and you jumped. Erik gave you a wry smile but offered no apologies. It wasn’t his fault if you didn’t pay attention to his overly subtle ways. 

“I know, but I can’t ask that of you.”

“And why not? It is to be the one night of the year that I can be outside with the public in plain sight, when it is considered strange to not wear a mask. What is a dance between friends?” 

Your heart panged to hear Erik’s voice become poisoned with the yearning inside his heart. How could you ignore an unspoken plea? His words gave you something else to think about, other than the worries of an understimulated brain.

“You’re right.” The dawning realisation that crossed your face was completely visible to Erik, and he grinned to himself. Two birds, one stone was the saying, he believed. 

“Just pretend to be my date, Y/N. You are unobligated further than tonight.”

You nodded your agreement and wondered how Erik had turned the situation around onto him, so it seemed that you would be doing him a favour, though you both knew that it was, in actual fact, the other way around.

Still, at least you had a date for the Masquerade.

One question remained - what would you wear?