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Our Flag Breaks Bad, Part Four

Read Part Four here!

Or read from the beginning HERE.

Summary:

A brilliant high school chemistry teacher with a terminal illness.

An ex smuggler desperate to keep his boyfriend around longer.

A criminal seizing the opportunity to reconnect with his best friend the only way he knows how.

A musician down on his luck who gets more than he bargained for.

Stede gets lung cancer. A few months shy of his forty-eighth birthday, he’s told he may not live to even make it to his fiftieth. What happens next is a natural response to this.

(this is a breaking bad au)

Chapter Preview:

Thus begins a new routine - Stede cooks on Friday, which leaves him drained for seeing the kids on Saturday, but he doesn’t complain about it. Then Tuesday rolls around and it’s chemo time, and this has him out of commission until it’s Friday again.

Eventually Ed goes back to work because he can’t drop the ball on them that he’s expecting money to come out of their illegal side hustle. But he always makes sure to go home early on Tuesday to be with Stede. At least once the changes start to happen. 

His weight starts dropping, his clothes get looser. And his hair - well, Stede won’t talk about his hair. It's only thinned a little from the nearly three weeks of chemo, and he dreads the mere thought of it getting any worse than that. 

Monday rolls around. Two cycles of chemo down. And they’re in Dr. Wilson's office again, about to go through the results of the latest round of tests. 

"The tumors haven't responded to the treatment as much as we would've liked to see," is the doctor's blunt opening. His eyes flick to Ed, clearly expecting him to be truthful, "Have you been monitoring your oxygen levels as regularly as we suggested?"

...read more on AO3...

[friendlytikek]

Our Flag Breaks Bad, Part Three

Part Three is up now!

Read from the beginning HERE.

Summary:

A brilliant high school chemistry teacher with a terminal illness.

An ex smuggler desperate to keep his boyfriend around longer.

A criminal seizing the opportunity to reconnect with his best friend the only way he knows how.

A musician down on his luck who gets more than he bargained for.

Stede gets lung cancer. A few months shy of his forty-eighth birthday, he’s told he may not live to even make it to his fiftieth. What happens next is a natural response to this.

(this is a breaking bad au)

[friendlytikek]

Our Flag Breaks Bad, Part Two

Part Two is now up!

Read from the beginning HERE.

Summary:

A brilliant high school chemistry teacher with a terminal illness.

An ex smuggler desperate to keep his boyfriend around longer.

A criminal seizing the opportunity to reconnect with his best friend the only way he knows how.

A musician down on his luck who gets more than he bargained for.

Stede gets lung cancer. A few months shy of his forty-eighth birthday, he’s told he may not live to even make it to his fiftieth. What happens next is a natural response to this.

(this is a breaking bad au)

[friendlytikek]

#just soulmate shit

[friendlytikek]

where is my mind? (there's nothing in it)

Available on AO3.

Summary: She'd said, "Charles needs you," and everything after that was a blur. Suddenly, nothing else had mattered, not blossoming Genosha, not politics, not decades-old debates. Charles needed him, and so, the next thing he knew, he was here.

Preview below the cut:

The land around the mansion's grounds was thick with fog, rendering anything beyond the walls impossible to see through dense, white-grey clouds. 

Erik stepped through the wrought-iron gates, out of the fog like a spectre emerging from brickwork, and stared at the mansion up ahead. His chest ached at the steadfast familiarity of it. Though he'd never stayed at the mansion for more than a handful of weeks at a time, nowhere else drifted to mind when he thought of home. This was the first place he'd felt comfortable being himself since… So long ago, the memories were fuzzy, and Erik was sure the sense of security he felt during his earliest years was only thanks to the protection of his parents, who had most likely hoped against hope that the torment of their community would abate as he grew older, not develop into – 

"Genocide," Charles said, voice soft, his brows drawn together as he stared at Erik across the board. Neither of them had made a move in some minutes, their debate having grown too heated for the tiny figures and their fictional lives to matter any more. "That's what you're talking about, Erik, you realise?" 

A scoff escaped Erik. "Don't," he said, pointing at Charles with one finger, the rest wrapped securely around his glass of whiskey. "Don't compare me to them," he said. He raised the glass and gulped down the amber liquid within. Then, he snapped, "Don't twist my words. Human extinction is inevitable. So what if they're given a helping hand? The world would be better off for it."

"It will be a long, long time before mutants are the dominant population of the planet, my friend," Charles said. "It certainly won't happen in our lifetime. It definitely won't happen if you kill all of the non-mutants now. The X-gene isn't anywhere near prevalent enough." 

"I didn't say to kill them all now," Erik said, irritation nipping at him. It felt as if Charles was making a conscious effort to be obtuse. "I said we should be open about who we are and willing to eradicate those who oppose our very existence –" 

Erik breathed in deeply and squeezed his eyes shut, shoving the memory back into the corners of his mind. The cold air chilled his throat, his lungs, but worked to ground him back in the present moment. When he opened his eyes again, the mansion was still there, solid, unwavering. No matter how many disagreements he had with Charles, he wouldn't abandon him in a time of need, and that was how Mystique had described it. 

She'd said, "Charles needs you," and everything after that was a blur. Suddenly, nothing else had mattered, not blossoming Genosha, not politics, not decades-old debates. Charles needed him, and so, the next thing he knew, he was here. 

The skies above him were dark grey with water-laden clouds. That, combined with the fog, in addition to the total silence enveloping the mansion and its grounds, more than established the mood. Westchester itself seemed miserable. Whatever was going on was nothing good. But then, perhaps the fact Erik had been summoned at all ought to have been indication enough of that. 

As he began the long walk up the driveway, the sandy gravel crunched underfoot. Nobody rushed out to protest the arrival of Magneto. In fact, nobody appeared at all to greet him. There wasn't a soul in sight as he approached the front door of the mansion. The feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only grew. His gut told him to turn tail and run, whatever was going on within the mansion's walls causing his stomach to churn with anxiety. Inexplicable panic crawled up his throat. He couldn't pinpoint why until he realised he hadn't felt the warmth of Charles touching his mind in greeting. He hadn't brought his helmet, so there was no reason for him not to have said hello and welcomed him back home. 

Fighting the urge to flee, Erik raised his hand to knock on the door, only for it to open before he could. Before him stood Beast, who sighed at the sight of him. His blue fur was a welcome splash of colour after the miserable grey of the outside world. 

Hank gestured for him to enter and follow him through the mansion. His quiet was unsettling, but all Erik could do was trail after him. "What's going on?" Erik asked, stomach writhing. "Mystique - Raven - didn't really… She hasn't explained."

They were heading for the elevator. Even the metal of that didn't bring him any comfort. Everything felt so cold and sterile. Hank was quiet as they entered it and then pressed the button to take them down into the bowels of the mansion, where Cerebro and Hank's lab and makeshift medical clinic were located. Only a year ago, he'd been here, checking over the final details with Charles –

"Don't tell Hank," Charles said, lips twitching up into a smile. He was admiring Erik's handiwork, looking up at the angular plates of Cerebro. It was one of the last things to be done, only justifiable to complete once all the children had a roof over their heads again. "But I think this version of Cerebro is even better than the last."

"Of course it is," Erik said, resting against the console, meeting Charles' smile with a playful smirk of his own. "I built it." 

Which was only right, considering he'd contributed to the destruction of the original. "Careful," Charles said, eyes bright as he teased. "Wouldn't want to have to take the place apart again to get your head out." 

" – telepathic attack," Hank was saying. Erik blinked back to the present again, trying to focus on the explanation. The elevator came to a smooth halt and the doors slid open. "It hasn't just hurt his mind, but the brain itself. His brain activity has been decimated. He's scoring a three on the Glasgow Coma Scale." 

That was practically nothing. Erik's stomach churned again as he stared along the white corridor ahead and let Hank lead the way. "And what about…" Erik gestured to his temple. "Can't someone go in? Repair the damage?" 

"We can't risk a telepath venturing in there," Hank said. "Not yet. He's too unstable. Once he's stabilised, we can try, maybe. For now, the best thing to do is just talk to him. Let him know you're here."

Once he'd stabilised. Not if he stabilised. That wording, at least, gave Erik some hope. He let out a breath. 

They stepped into Hank's medical clinic, which was as professional and sterile as a legitimate hospital and in the centre of the room was a bed, upon which lay Charles. The soft, baby blue bedding contrasted starkly with the white and silver walls and equipment of the room but Charles' pale hands, in turn, stood out against the bedsheets. There were wires all over him, trailing under the hospital gown, running down his arms. There was a tube rammed down his throat, a machine helping him to breathe. No, not helping him – forcing him to breathe. Keeping him alive.

The breath was knocked out of Erik's lungs as he approached the bed. There was a seat beside Charles, which Erik allowed himself to sink into and then he reached out to touch Charles' cool hand. He glanced over his shoulder, but Hank had vanished, likely sensing he'd be intruding on a private moment if he stayed. 

It was awkward, at first, words failing Erik. What was he meant to say? Even if it was to argue, he was used to Charles being able to reply to him. He never just talked at him. He cleared his throat, fingers absently drawing a pattern on the back of Charles' hand, and wracked his brain, searching for the right words. 

"I don't know if you can hear me," Erik said, swallowing down any embarrassment at the reality of talking aloud to an unconscious person. "But I'm here. For what my presence is worth. If it's worth anything at all. I should've been here sooner. I could've helped," he murmured. He should've been here to help, not playing at being a leader on an island nation with only a handful of occupants. 

Of course, if a telepathic attack had done this to a telepath as powerful as Charles, Erik shuddered at the thought of what it would do to a non-telepath. But, at least Erik would've had his helmet. You couldn't be attacked by a telepath if you blocked them out and killed them – 

"You haven't killed me," Charles said, not turning his head to look at Erik. "Though it might have been kinder if you had. You have some nerve coming here."

The hospital in New York was state of the art, handpicked by Hank for its expertise in spinal injuries, or so Charles had said a few minutes previously. It wouldn't be enough to make much difference to Charles' recovery. Though it hadn't been a complete spinal injury, the delay in treatment had resulted in extensive nerve damage which there was little hope of healing enough to allow Charles to walk again. 

"I had to see you - when Mystique said…" Erik's throat closed up. "Charles, I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies," Charles snapped. "We both know you're only here to make yourself feel better. I won't be forgiving you today. Look at what you've done to me." He gestured down to his motionless legs. "If you have an ounce of humanity in you, you'll go and leave me in peace. And you can tell my sister to stay away, too, if she doesn't have the strength to actually talk to me instead of skulking around in a nurse's skin."

Erik's mouth opened and then shut again. His eyes burned. There was another apology on the tip of his tongue, but Charles was right. He was here for the sake of his own conscience, and he didn't deserve forgiveness. He certainly wouldn't be forgiving himself for his carelessness any time soon. 

Would Charles send him away if he were awake now? Maybe not. Probably not. It had been over twenty years since Cuba and though he still didn't deserve forgiveness, a lot of healing had happened in the weeks following Apocalypse's destruction. The two of them had healthy, productive conversations as the mansion was slowly rebuilt. Erik's fingers continued to trace patterns on Charles' hand. They'd had fleeting moments where their hands had brushed while the mansion was being rebuilt, but they'd been a long way from 1962, and the memory of Magda had been too raw for Erik to dare push for anything more. What Erik wouldn't give now for Charles to return his touch, to even just wiggle his fingers a little. 

Erik lifted Charles' limp hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm sorry," he said. He squeezed his eyes shut and then rested his head on the mattress by Charles' side, unable to find anything more to say. He had time to find the right words. He had no intention of leaving until Charles opened his eyes again. 

...continue reading on AO3

[friendlytikek]

the great campus bake off (2/5)

Chapter Two Is Now Up! 

(Or available from Chapter One here!)

It’s taken me a lot longer than I anticipated to start writing again but it’s finally here, with the rest to follow much, much sooner than this. 

Summary:  Mutant Politics seminars wouldn’t be nearly as interesting if it weren’t for Charles Xavier, but that doesn’t mean Erik likes him. In fact, he hates him. A series of unfortunate events, however, leads to them being paired together in Baking Society’s annual Campus Bake Off.

Art masterpost here! Art by the amazing @belgianreader2

[friendlytikek]

X-Men Remix 2021 - OFFICIAL SCHEDULE

Thank you to everyone who expressed an interest in participating this year; we’re happy to announce the following schedule for X-Men Remix 2021!!!

Sign-ups begin: May 15 Sign-ups end: May 23, 11:59 PM EST Assignments out by: May 28 Assignments due: July 1, 11:59 PM EST Archive goes live: July 8 Authors/artists revealed: July 15

Watch this space for further instructions during the next few weeks as well as information on X-Men Remix Madness 2021. If you have any questions, you can send this account an ask, or email the mods at xmenremix13mods@gmail.

For those of you who don’t know what Remix is, please visit the X-Men Remix 2021 page for detailed rules and FAQs. Highlights are also provided below:

What is X-Men Remix? X-Men Remix is a challenge where you rewrite someone else’s X-Men story or redraw someone else’s X-Men art the way you would have written/drawn it if it were your story/art.

What kind of Challenge is Remix?  Remix is a gift exchange, which means you are signing up to create a gift for someone and will receive a gift in turn. Each assignment is randomly chosen from the pool of signups with writers matched with writers and artists with artists; the person you write/draw for will not be the same person that writes/draws for you!

What can I change when remixing a story? Just about anything you want! The only things you may not change are the pairings and the basic plot. Otherwise, you can do whatever you like: you can write from a different POV, in a different tense, with different characterization; you can write the story you think happened before or after the events of the story you’re remixing; you can put a twist/spin on the events of the story to give it an entirely different meaning; you can take a shippy story and make it gen/background the pairing and focus on other stuff; you can take the secondary pairing and focus on them instead of the main pairing of the original fic; again, pretty much anything you want!

Please signal boost thank you!

[friendlytikek]

So you know how you love me because you haven’t had a single meeting with anyone since I became your assistant? That’s because every time someone calls and requests a meeting with you, I always schedule it for March 31st.

[friendlytikek]

Hi my name is Ever Given Ever’Green Imbari Golden Class and I have a long green hull (that’s how I got my name) with white letters that reach across my back and a red bulbous prow like a dolphin’s fin and a lot of people tell me I look like Sapphire Princess (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Conti Cortesia Ever’Green Marine but I wish I was because she’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a Golden Class Container Ship but my deck is straight and wide. I have smooth green paint. I’m also a Cargo Ship, and I sail in a shipping lane called called the Suez Canal in Egypt where I’m part of a caravan (I’m three). I’m a ship (in case you couldn’t tell) and I sail mostly in the ocean. I love Hot Topic and I ship all my clothes to there. For example today I was shipping a thousand black corsets with ten miles of matching lace and a lot of discounted black leather miniskirts, pink fishnets, and combat boots. I was carrying black containers, white containers, black half-containers, and wearing red eye shadow. I was sailing through the Suez canal. It was windy and full of sand so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of tugboats told me I was about to run aground. I put my middle finger up at them.

[friendlytikek]

can’t remember why but I woke up last night and wrote ‘tog dungarees’ in a note on my phone and went back to sleep. and while I have no idea what I was thinking of I decided to roll with it so. here’s the guard in dungarees.

[friendlytikek]

X-MEN: DAYS OF FUTURE PAST (2014)

[friendlytikek]

This is what me, a diehard Cherik shipper, thought of after last week’s Wandavision episode

[friendlytikek]

Curious Zelda

https://twitter.com/curiouszelda

https://www.instagram.com/curiouszelda/

[friendlytikek]

idk if I can trust marvel with professor x and magneto’s relationship. do I think they can pull off the confidants/bffs to mortal enemies who are in love, look at each other tenderly in the quiet moments, and call a truce every month to play chess on the patios of chic cafes type of dynamic? no I truly do not

[friendlytikek]

#and they say romance is dead

[friendlytikek]

vader: *cuts off luke’s hand while trying to get him to join the empire*

obi wan’s force ghost: ....do you take constructive criticism?

vader, watching as luke falls down the shaft: absolutely fucking not

[friendlytikek]

Bonus +