#erik heap

[vithcy]

Happy Sep Heap Sunday, have some boys ft. Edd & Erik "Bear Hug" Heap. Images have ID!

[friedwizardwhispers]

Septimus Heap really starts its first chapter with the death of a baby and its second with discrimination against wizards and a government with very obvious parallels to real life.

But it's lighthearted book... I promise.

[variouspolltournaments]

Anti-Propaganda is not allowed. Please only give reasons to vote for something and not give reasons to vote against something.

[wishchip106]

he was just a little baby ☹️

GAWDDAMMIT 😭😭😭

Shaw totally deserved getting killed 🫡 sorry Charles but in this scenario killing is totally acceptable and i would do it again

hrmm where can i find the fics where Erik and his mum escape before Shaw gets his grubby hands all over everything

they’re probably somewhere i just havent found ones that arent modern au

[vitalphenomena]

louis - dolokhov - beck harris - erik - stolas - cain pyotr

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Gerda: Wait, you have a child?

Erik: Is that so hard to believe?

Gerda: Did you... donate sperm?

[wishchip106]

i know i asked for this but damn ☹️

thank you for the 747 words of pure angst urgsgshdg ☹️☹️

you should totally post this to ao3 🤩

imagine if in dofp Charles dies because he overdosed and Erik only finds out years later after he breaks out of prison

he shows up to the mansion completely empty because Hank couldn’t bare living in that place anymore

Erik finds Charles’ grave in the backyard

couldn't get this out of my mind, so have 747 words of pure angst. you're welcome.

The metal of the wide gates rung out to Erik, the bent rod iron vibrating at his presence, being pulled to him as he approached the drive. The front entrance looked slightly overgrown, the shining emblem of the manor-turned-school obstructed on its edges by vines; but much like he changed, so did this place. Despite time punctuated by before prison and after prison, Erik felt as if he never left. His hand brushed against the lock, and it bent to his will; he swung the gates open, shutting them firmly behind him and beginning up the gravel path.

The greenery lining the drive cascaded onto the stones, and the bushes alongside the walls of the manor produced climbing growth, trailing up and around the bricks. As Erik approached the front doors, he stretched his abilities to cover the manor, winding their way through the various metals scattered throughout. The structure felt the same, Erik recognizing the crack in one of the roof beams, the old piping well past retirement, the pots and pans in the kitchen, and the metal-lined chess pieces still in their familiar spot. A pang of regret resonated in his chest, and Erik took to the front steps faster.

The front door swung open as he approached it, and the sun's orange rays shown down on the foyer, the light twinkling from the stain glass high up on the staircase. The door shut behind him with resounding finality, and Erik simply stood. The tendrils of his abilities narrowed further reached for whatever movement they could find. Quickly finding the place Hank called his own, Erik patiently waited for a pen to move or a staple on a stack of papers to shift; but the metal stayed frozen in place. Erik drifted to another familiar space, aching to sense similar movement in the office in which he spent most of his time; but yet again, he found rigidity, the metal cold. Finally, he shifted his attention to the room he feared the most – feared the emotional and passionate memories formed behind those walls – and Erik pushed back against the metal he felt, as if scalded.

In the middle of the room sat a wheelchair – his wheelchair – full of metal and moving parts that Erik memorized body and soul the day he returned after the incident. Erik never expected to be let in, but the balcony doors were opened for him; and his heart was laid bare that night, two bodies moving as one in new yet familiar ways. He stayed only for the night, vowing to return, to make up for his mistakes; but he never did. And fate was cruel and pushed Erik further from what he wanted and tossed him into a cell, forced to suffer in his mental prison day in and day out.

Feeling his chair, feeling the frigid metal, Erik's heart beat quickened, and the metal within the foyer started to quiver. He fought to hold his abilities in, but Erik couldn't shake the growing feeling inside that something was wrong. He stretched himself further, travelling beyond the walls of the manor and out to the backyard, the gardens, beyond. Most felt similar, but one area was changed. The ground was disturbed under one of the large trees past the rose garden, the metallic bits in the soil slotted together differently than the surrounding area.

The walk to the backdoor felt long; and the walk through the back garden felt even more arduous. Erik resisted the urge to run, still taking in his surroundings; and the garden, once well-kept and trim, grew wildly. Paired with the front walk and the empty rooms, a pit burrowed in Erik's stomach as he approached the shade of the tree. His eyes fell on the small, carved stone sticking out of the ground, the disturbed soil in front of it; and Erik dropped to his knees, his shaking hand touching the smooth stone.

Charles Xavier Teacher, Leader, Friend Rest now

A tear dropped to the ground, then another, and another; and blinding anger and sorrow raged in Erik's mind. The sound of metal warping and bending echoed behind him; and the manor rattled as its metal twisted towards the gravestone. Across the table in the room housing the wheelchair that blinded him slid a syringe, its needle red hot. Erik collapsed forward, gasping for air; and he wrapped his abilities around the wheelchair, aching to feel the warmth of Charles' mind one more time.

[velvet4510]

Nina Górska Lives fic recs

Here are my favorite X-Men fics in which Erik’s zoolingual daughter Nina lives and gets the development and big happy family that she deserves. (Most of these are also Cherik fics.)

All of these are finished; I don’t want to put myself or anyone else through the pain of getting into unfinished/abandoned fics.

I hope in time this list will grow as I find new fics and add them. Nina deserves all the love from this fandom, and every possible salvation from those Apocalypse writers.

(And btw yes, her surname is Górska; the common spelling among the fandom, Gurzsky, is not accurate Polish spelling.)

Beautiful Dreamer by waxrhapsodic (40k words). After Nina’s arm is injured by the arrow that killed Magda, she goes with Erik to the mansion, where, in the aftermath of Apocalypse, they build a new family with Charles, Peter, Wanda, and eventually, David and Lorna. *Easily my all-time favorite Nina fic, a true masterpiece that develops her character, her powers, and her family dynamic so well.*

Celebration by @dick-helmet-magneto (1.2k words). Charles, Peter, Wanda, Lorna & Nina cook a meal for Erik’s birthday. *Family fluff.*

Finding Home by weethreequarter (24k words). Charles fakes his death after D.C. and runs off to reunite with Erik in Poland, where they start a new quiet life together and adopt Nina. *Lots of fluff and angst.*

Glitter Bombs and Chess Matches by xXQueenofDragonsXx (726 words). Peter and Nina play chess and prank their dads. *Great sibling fun in this one.*

Sibling Naps by xXQueenofDragonsXx (826 words). Erik finds Peter, Wanda, Lorna & Nina asleep in a tangled heap. *Dadneto feels.*

Tell Him Already, Peter (8k words) and its sequel Surprise! You Have a Brother! (4k words) by WolfMeister. Anya survived the fire so long ago and now she, Erik, Lorna & Nina move into the mansion, where Peter struggles to tell them the truth about him and Wanda. *All of Erik’s kids, from every canon, are alive and thriving in these.*

too late to play savior, in time to play brother by callie_caje (935 words). Peter finds Erik and Nina in the woods immediately after Magda’s death. *Another great focus on sibling dynamic.*

Trust by @dick-helmet-magneto (10k words). Erik seeks Charles’ help after Nina is paralyzed by the arrow that killed Magda. *poignant Charles & Nina disability parallel here.*

You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now by @mrs-understoods-blog (2k words). Charles comforts Nina after a nightmare while Erik is sick with the flu. *Soft Dadneto and soft Cherik.*

[m4rv3l-girl]

Territorial

Erik Lehnsherr x Y/N

Erik doesn’t like the way Charles looks at Y/N

Requests Open - See Blog!

Warnings: none.

The golden hues of late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the X-Mansion, casting a tranquil light across the grand dining hall. The usual buzz of laughter and conversation hummed in the air as the mutants enjoyed a rare, peaceful evening.

The long wooden table was laden with an assortment of dishes, steam rising from bowls and platters. It was a typical evening for them—no villains to thwart, no missions to carry out, just the simple joy of being together.

Erik sat at the far end of the table, his eyes subtly trailing Y/N as she spoke with Raven and Angel. She was radiant, as she always was, her laughter lighting up the room.

To him, she wasn’t just another gifted individual; she was his anchor in a chaotic world.

His love for her had grown quietly, without the need for grand gestures or declarations. It was in the small moments—the shared looks, the gentle touches, and the comfortable silence they often found themselves in. They belonged to one another in a way that transcended words, but to the outside world, they were merely companions.

Their relationship was an unspoken secret, known only by the two of them. They weren’t ones for public displays of affection, something that often led to misunderstandings. A brief hug, an occasional kiss on the cheek—that was the extent of their visible intimacy. And in a place like the X-Mansion, where everyone’s personal lives seemed to be under scrutiny, it often led to assumptions that weren’t quite accurate.

On this particular evening, Y/N sat across from Charles, whose sharp blue eyes had always seemed to linger on her just a little too long. Charles admired her, not just for her abilities but for her grace, her intellect, and the way she carried herself. He had never known her to be romantically involved with anyone, least of all Erik. To him, Y/N was a mystery, one he was eager to unravel.

"Y/N," Charles began, his voice carrying that familiar air of confidence and charm. "I wanted to commend you for the work you did today. The way you interacted with the younger students was truly remarkable. They look up to you, you know. Your compassion and strength are rather… inspiring."

The words were a kind sentiment, but they carried a weight that made Y/N shift slightly in her seat. She could feel Erik’s eyes on her, his usual calm demeanor now a little more guarded. She smiled at Charles, hoping to keep things light. "Thanks. It means a lot coming from you." She nodded, her voice steady, though a slight edge of discomfort crept in.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw the subtle change in Erik’s posture. His body stiffened, his hand, which had been resting on the table, slowly curled into a tight fist. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. His usually relaxed expression hardened, his brow furrowing as he listened to Charles heap compliments onto her.

Charles, either oblivious to Erik’s growing unease or choosing to ignore it, pressed on. "And, if I may be so bold, you’ve grown into a truly exceptional woman. Your beauty is matched only by your wit and intelligence. It's no wonder all of our students adore you."

The silence that followed was palpable. Even the casual hum of conversation at the table seemed to falter.

The firelight flickered across Erik’s face, casting sharp shadows that only highlighted the intensity in his eyes. His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he bit back his words.

"That’s enough, Charles." Erik’s voice, though quiet, cut through the air like a knife. There was no mistaking the edge to it—the sharp, possessive warning that lay beneath the surface. "I think Y/N is well aware of her qualities without you needing to list them."

Charles, ever the diplomat, raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "My apologies, Erik. I meant no offense. Just stating the truth."

Y/N could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The tension between Erik and Charles crackled in the air, threatening to escalate.

She appreciated Charles’ compliments, of course, but she knew Erik too well. His silence spoke volumes, and while he rarely displayed his emotions outwardly, she could see the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Charles," she said, her tone light but firm. She stood, making her way to Erik, her hand gently brushing against his shoulder in a silent reassurance. "But Erik’s right. There’s no need to go overboard."

The touch seemed to soothe Erik, if only a little. His gaze softened, the storm behind his eyes beginning to calm as he reached for her hand. "Let’s go, Y/N," he muttered, his voice low but carrying a quiet urgency.

Y/N nodded, understanding his need for space, for her presence. Together, they left the dining hall, walking hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. As they walked, Y/N glanced back at Charles, who met her gaze with a knowing smile.

There was something in his expression, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between her and Erik. He understood now, perhaps more than either of them realized.

They made their way to Y/N’s room, the door closing softly behind them as the tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

The room was warm and inviting, the soft glow of a lamp casting a golden light over the space. Erik sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression still somewhat brooding, though the sharpness had dulled.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she watched him, the corners of her lips twitching with amusement. She could see right through him, could read the jealousy he was trying so hard to deny.

"What is it, darling?" Erik asked, his own lips quirking up in a small smile as he caught her expression.

"You were jealous," she said, the amusement clear in her voice. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement of fact.

Erik scoffed, shaking his head in denial. "No. No, I was not jealous," he insisted, though his tone lacked the conviction he was going for. "Absolutely not."

Y/N laughed softly, clearly unconvinced. "You were upset because Charles was saying those things to me. Because you don’t like the thought of someone else looking at me like that."

Erik’s gaze met hers, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No. ‘Jealous’ implies that Charles has a chance," he corrected her, his voice low and serious. "I’m not jealous. I’m just… territorial."

The word hung in the air, and something about the way he said it—possessive, firm—sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. She felt a strange fluttering in her chest, a reaction to the raw honesty in his voice.

"Territorial," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Right."

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing heavier as the space between them felt charged with something deeper, something more primal. Erik’s eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"You do know that you’re mine, don’t you?" His voice was a low murmur, but there was no mistaking the gravity of the question. It wasn’t just a statement—it was a challenge, daring her to contradict him.

Y/N held his gaze, her heart racing in her chest. "I don’t know," she teased, her voice playful but tinged with anticipation. "Am I?"

Erik’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by something darker, more determined. He moved closer, the bed creaking softly as he shifted his weight. His hand reached out, cupping her cheek with a tenderness that belied the intensity in his eyes.

"Then I’ll have to show you," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "Make sure you know the answer next time."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze, her body reacting to the promise in his words. There was no doubt in her mind—she was his, and he was hers. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can we get another for Erik :3

"Where is Y/N?" Erik asked, slipping into the 'dilapidated' building that served as the nerve center for your network. A rundown strip mall that once housed a strip club and a pawn shop and what might have once been a place to cash checks.

The two women sitting at desks opposite yours look up and he can see them restrain eye rolls with effort. "Probably halfway to Boston," Mina answered, "she usually drops pins for us along the way."

"Boston?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow. You hadn't mentioned it. But then, you tended to not mention a lot of things... inconvenient when he was trying to keep you alive.

"Supply run," they answer in unison.

Rehearsed then. The canned response. Mina and Robin were the closest people to you. One mutant one human. They shared your vision. Were your left and right hands- it was unlikely they didn't know where you really were. It was equally unlikely they'd tell him unless he applied pressure and that was... not going to help.

Erik frowned and Robin cleared her throat, "We tried to keep her from going alone, but-"

"Robin!" Mina hissed, "You know-"

"She's no good to anyone shot dead in the woods, Mina," Robin sighed. "There's a fine line between brave and stupid. She won't carry a gun and she's going to see her grandparents. For fuck sake. They're in their 80's!"

"How long ago did she leave?" Erik asked, "And did she take her trash heap of a car?"

"About an hour and yes," Robin said, ignoring Mina's protests and fixing Erik with a level look before he swept back out of the back office

"She's gonna be so fucking mad," Mina groaned, sinking down in her chair.

"Oh absolutely livid," Robin said, picking up a stack of papers, "but as long as she's alive to tell the tale and bring us some of her grandma's sugar cookies I'll take the sulking."

[pedges-world]

The Urge: Our History of Addiction

I absolutely LOVED the #getDietersober challenge last year by @bitchesuntitled. Besides being an excellent writing prompt, it's a tre cool personal achievement and I send KUDOS.

Pedro Pascal has oft recommended the book "The Urge; Our History of Addiction" by Carl Fisher, and after reading it, Pedge and I are even more excited to help Dieter on his road to recovery, however bumpy it might prove. We are exploring some of his trash panda escapades at Dieter's Art Studio, drop on by!

“While there may be no natural cut point between people with addiction and the rest of humanity, the fact of a continuum does not mean we cannot discern one state from another. There is a philosophical problem called the paradox of the heap: If a heap of sand is taken apart one grain at a time, at what point does it stop becoming a heap? There is no natural dividing line in that” “I wanted to be honest and to live life without the looming fear of having to hide something. Also, as I had noticed in rehab, there was something that felt unhealthy about the desire to drink in the first place. I wanted to drink, but I also wanted to be free of the urge to drink—someday, if not that day.” ― Carl Erik Fisher, The Urge: Our History of Addiction

Thanks @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I did this a while ago, and can readily see my progress over the last few months... @littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 2

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they head to the study in stark silence. the mansion is eerie covered in cobwebs and without noise. sean's laughter wasn't echoing in the halls. there was no thudding of alex with a punching bag. no raven to whisper the secrets of this old house. no surprised yelps from hank as he dealt with some miscalculation or another in his lab. no moira fussing nearby. just creaks and the whistling wind keeps them company. he doubts even the kitchen feels the same.

the study is in even more disarray than the rest of the house. charles' precious books, always stacked precariously high ("i will get to them at some point, erik."), have been shoved off, laying in a heap on the floor. other books from the shelves have been left in messy piles around the room. little statuettes lay covered in dust.

charles goes straight to the cabinet he kept, taking out two wide glasses. he pours one for himself and downs it like a shot. it is nothing erik hasn't seen before. charles was always an impressive drinker— one night he and alex had gone toe to toe on tequila shots. yet now he only gets a terrible sinking feeling, like when he had tried to hold on to shaw's submarine the night they met.

after he smacks down the glass, he pours them both a drink. from the bottle, erik can tell it is a decadent bourbon. he sets the glass down for erik and plops himself down on the couch.

"you could have told me you were coming."

"and have you leave?" asks erik, picking up the glass, "in truth, i panicked. when i realized i had two twins with mutant abilities. i didn't know where else to go."

"you? panic?" charles asks with no small amount of skepticism.

erik sighs heavily, taking a sip from his glass, "believe it or not it can happen. i don't have the helmet. look into my mind. you'll see nothing but the truth."

"i can't."

erik pauses, looking up at the telepath from where he is tiredly leaning, "you can't?"

charles frowns, downs his drink, gets up and grabs the entire bottle of bourbon. he pours himself another glass before setting it down between them, the liquor sloshing around like liquid bronze. erik finds his heart pounding in his chest. charles made no move to explain himself.

"…did you lose your powers somehow?"

charles downs another half of his drink and erik wants to slap it from his hand.

"hank uses a serum to control his transformation. i use it to numb the pain in my spine, but it costs me most of my power," charles explains, "but in this state i have the ability solely to use telepathy on my own body."

"you gave up your powers so you could walk?"

charles chokes on a broken laugh, "i gave up my power so i could sleep." he tries to cut himself off on the last word, it becoming nothing more than a whisper.

downs the drink. pours another.

"the school is closed. i can't help your twins."

"charles. i don't know how to take care of children," erik insists.

"so you want me to take care of them for you?" he snaps, "i'm in no state to care for children."

"clearly," erik finally acknowledges it, "you aren't caring for yourself. why?"

as soon as he says it, he regrets it. betrayal and anger streak across charles' face. he tosses the drink at erik, soaking him in the thick bourbon until he smells as as bad as charles' breath.

"fuck off," charles hisses, "get out of my house."

he gets up fiercely, letting the glass roll along the carpet, forgotten. charles throws open the door to the study. erik only has moments to grab charles by the wrist to drag him back.

"let go of me!"

erik pulls him close, staring at the death of those crystalline eyes. they are drained of their life. he is staring at a phantom of his closest friend.

"what has happened to you?"

charles actually laughs, loud and broken, "you."

"i regret what happened to you. i would do anything to undo it," erik said, not trying to plead, just trying to be honest.

"this has nothing to do with that."

"i don't understand!" snaps erik, growing frustrated, "if you don't forgive me, fine, but—"

"you abandoned me!" charles practically roars, "you took her and you abandoned me!"

"and where have you been?!" erik grabs him by both shoulders, metal knick knacks flying, the house's metal shaking, "our people are being hunted and you abandoned us! to what? give up everything?"

how can he describe that riptide is missing? he is not someone that charles knew beyond a name. all he had been to charles was an enemy. erik had sent him on a mission to investigate any hidden mutants in the government when he'd disappeared overnight.

while he was the only member of erik's brotherhood that had gone missing, emma had found that he was hardly the only one that had gone MIA since their reveal on the beach.

and through it all charles was not at his side. a hole was left next to erik, one mystique could not fill in the way it needed to be. they both knew it. they were not the merging labyrinth he and charles made. mystique was an excellent right hand, but she was not charles.

"we were supposed to do this together," charles replies.

"you gave that up. you chose to side with them."

charles' nose wrinkles as he glares, cruel, mirthless smile breaking through his face, "you didn't leave me a choice."

"there is always a choice," erik huffs.

"not with you," charles replies, "you accept your way or nothing. which means i'll be strong armed into caring for your children while you run off elsewhere."

"i'm worried about my children's safety with me but i don't want to abandon them."

charles shoves him away, "but you will won't you?" his voice is tired and cruel, "just like everyone else who loves you."

erik stands stunned while charles storms off. never in his life had he heard such cruelty from charles. it was as bad as a knife to his heart. there was something broken in his charles. the brilliant man he knew was fading into a monster.

he goes to the kitchen where the kids are enjoying a feast of milk and chocolate chip cookies. briefly, erik wonders if magda had them eating kosher, realizing he doesn't know. they're old enough to tell him or hank. he can question them on it later.

hank looks up at erik, "didn't go well?"

"an understatement."

hank sighs as he pulls over a washrag and hands it to pietro who's fingers are a chocolate mess, "i'll set you guys up in some rooms."

"charles made it pretty clear i'm unwanted," erik replies ruefully.

"but your kids need this place," hank says and picks up a cookie, "these were snickerdoodle when i bought them."

"wanda," erik sighs. does his daughter have one power or many?

"i wanted chocolate chip!"

pietro and wanda are borderline conjoined at the hip so erik and hank set them up in the room next to the one erik plans to take. the one charles had given to him before. variously through the sleepless night, he hears shuffling around the house. part of him is tempted to get up and stop whatever charles is doing, but he can't bring himself to.

does he abandon all the people who ever loved him?

erik rolls over, hand clutching the pillow. part of him can't help but think of charles' study, trashed to high heaven. he knows he should sleep, but instead he gets up and traipses to the study.

the rest of his night is spent putting the books and knick knacks back into some semblance of order. he cleans the used glasses and puts the liquor away. part of him is tempted to crunch the handles to destroy any access to it, but he's already made himself unwelcome. the last thing he wants is to jeopardize his children's ability to stay here.

eventually, he crawls back into bed only for pietro to join him a few minutes later. he puts an arm around the boy, who is trying not to sniffle.

"nightmare?"

"you weren't here earlier. i thought you left us," pietro admits bitterly.

erik feels part of his heart break, "i will never leave you. i promise."

"don't make promises you can't keep."

"i don't."

pietro burrows his head into erik's chest, "the drunk guy said you left him."

erik sighs, "so you were running to eavesdrop every time hank's back was turned?"

"maybe," the little speedster mutters.

erik presses a kiss to his head. he is only guessing at what he's supposed to be doing. he is all these two darling children have in the world now. the only thing he can hope is to show them the same love his own parents had given to him. whether that love remained inside his jaded heart or just in the confines of his feeble memories remains to be seen.

"i'll let it slide this once, but it's impolite."

"you sound like mom."

"good," erik replies with no amount of amusement.

"…you left her too."

erik runs a hand over his son's head, letting the soft white hair muss beneath his fingers, "your mother and i parted…" amicably would be the wrong word, "understanding each other. charles and i— that was different. and you and wanda? you are my children. had i known you existed nothing would have kept me from you."

pietro snorts dismissively, "yeah, right."

erik sighs, "believe me or not, it's your choice." this boy is smart mouthed and too witty for his own good, but he is far more jaded than he lets on as well. life has already hurt him so he has clearly decided to hurt life back. such a young fighter… erik's heart aches.

[dross-the-fish]

I agree with your thoughts on the PotO play, I thought what they did with Carlotta didn't make much sense. But if there was a few things about the 2000 movie that I did like about her. Is the fact that made her a bit of a dog mom and did actually care about her husband. But I think your take makes much more sense. I think the only time where a talentless Carlotta made sense was the Charles Dance movie.

It works in the Charles Dance miniseries because she's the owner's wife so her being a terrible singer but still being allowed to perform isn't that much of a stretch and they still manage to make her inability to sing funny in a way that ALW doesn't.

I love Cherik, even if he's pretty far off the book canon I have such a soft spot for him. The reason it doesn't work in the ALW musical boils down to the fact that she sounds terrible for one reason and one reason only, to make Christine sound better by comparison. That NEVER works, if you have to make the rival character incompetent, hard to work with and completely undeserving of their status to elevate your protagonist you've fucked up. You've weakened the impact of your main character's abilities. It doesn't work in the stage version of the musical but you kind of let it go because her lack of vocal ability isn't really made a huge point of but in the 2004 movie we get shots of people putting cotton in their ears and an adoring crowd asking for Christine. At that point keeping her is a liability to the managers because she's extremely difficult to work with and no one actually seems to like or respect her.

In the book Carlotta did have adoring fans, enough that she could fill the opera house with them as a way to bully and intimidate Christine. Her problem is that despite being a good technical singer she lacks passion and she's described as heartless and soulless. The toad scene is particularly telling to me of what kind of performer Carlotta is. The way everyone reacts with dismay instead of laughing or booing her off of the stage.

Later when Erik is explaining the trick he refers to Carlotta's voice as "-Carlotta's golden throat, Carlotta's crystal throat," now, he could be giving us some sarcasm there because earlier in a letter to the mangers he said she "sang like a squirt," (What does that even MEAN you goofy weirdo?) but I take most of what Erik says with a heaping tablespoon full of salt because he is very biased and just generally very unreliable. I believe the book gives more than enough enough substantial evidence to conclude that Carlotta is, in fact, a very good singer. And she needs to be for one reason and one reason only. Because if she's not then her rivalry with Christine doesn't pay off.

Making Carlotta no threat to Christine actively takes away from the strength of Christine's character and makes her triumph over her rival meaningless. What's the point of winning against someone who can't properly play the game in the first place? ALW turns Carlotta from a threatening rival for Christine to defeat into a paper-thin bully for Erik to humiliate.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi, I'm the bunny anon's writer. They forgot I haven't actually published the fic yet because I'm waiting on the sensitivity proof-read to come back lmao but anyway, the reason why Erik calls Charles 'bunny/doe' is because Charles pinches or scrunches up his face when he's puzzling something out, like a bunny. I think it fits because he also has a lot of babies, is extremely passive aggressive petty when he feels it's appropriate, and has big ol' ears that hear literally everything (his hair used to dampen the sound but with the shiny dome he can hear ALL). Plus there's heaps of cool symbology with cunning, fertility, innocence, the moon, in some Native American beliefs they're important contributor to the creation of the world AND in Jewish folklore Rabbits are associated with cowardice. Plus, their feet are considered good luck tokens which is funny in relation to Charles. Idk I just think it's neat I researched a fair bit about it lol

OH so thats like a lot cooler and more interesting than what i was expecting !!!!!

[sweet-self-indulgence]

Bleeding Out Part 2

The first chapter is here.

I really liked the first part of the prompt, but it didn't feel very Sam x Mika since he was unconscious the whole time.

Part 2 is from Sam's perspective!

Warning for graphic depictions of pain, blood, and gore.

They had been winning the fight handily at first, but those damned devils are dragging this out. Sam can sense it, the turning of the tide, and it’s not in their favor. It’s time to get out, now. He signals his brothers. James meets his eyes with a firm nod and Erik reciprocates the hand sign without taking his eyes off his opponents. 

Sam’s eyes flick over the carnage, where did the runts get to-FUCK!

Sam speeds to intercept the devil poised to thrust an evil looking spear at Matthew and Damien’s unprotected backs. As he runs, he yanks on the red string tied to his finger.

Sam looks down to see metal protruding from his chest. I must have made it in time, are his last thoughts before darkness consumes him.

Pain.

Agony is the only sensation, the only thought. Pain consumes Sam’s entire being. It has no location, no feeling. Some kind of instinct  kicks in and Sam tries to move, to escape, to fight.

Suddenly the word is darkness again.

Then for a few moments, Sam exists in a twilight of consciousness. Pain radiates from his abdomen. It burns white-hot and fierce, but it feels distant somehow. Other feelings tug at his senses. Crimson magic pulls at his organs, stitching a barrier around the fire. Blue and purple auras flicker to his left, they seem brittle from fatigue and anxiety. Black energy swirls around his head, it seems to grow weaker and weaker. The shadow over him briefly lifts and Sam moans as the pain becomes tangible again. Then the black tendrils drift back into his mind, they shimmer with golden flecks that bring a comforting warmth. Darkness slowly overtakes him, and Sam relaxes into it.

The scent of blood startles Sam into awareness. He focuses on the scent, demon blood. Sam’s eyes snap open. The world rotates wildly for a second before snapping into place. A hand comes up to hold his throbbing head, horns? Shit.

He looks around the room, craning his neck as much as his horns will allow him. At one end of the room Matthew and Damien lie in a heap on the sofa. Matthew has dried blood caked on his shoulder. Sam can just make out red hair matted with blood tucked into Matthew’s elbow. Behind him James’ head rests on his shoulder as he sits slumped in an armchair. In the matching chair, Erik’s head falls behind him at an awkward angle. His right hand is covered in flaking blood.

Sam struggles to make sense of the sight, something seems off, but his brain feels sluggish. Pieces slowly click into place. We’re in our demon forms, which is weird cause we’re in the human world. All the blood is dry, hours old. Why is there blood? The fight…Sam looks down at his chest and frowns at the white gauze wrapped around his ribs.

Mika’s head and hands lay by his side. Sam’s heart flutters a little as he gazes at her sleeping face. She’s beautiful, even with her hair and cheeks smudged with blood. My blood, Sam realizes, she worries so much about me. I should let her know I’m okay.

As Sam opens his mouth, Mika opens her eyes, and her face takes his breath away. He can feel a goofy smile pulling at his lips. 

“You all look like shit.”

As if his words were some kind of spell, the room suddenly buzzes with activity. His brothers swarm around him, asking him and each other a million questions that Sam can’t seem to fully understand. His attention is focused on Mika. She’s grasping his hand with tears in her eyes.

Shit I made her cry again! Sam tries to sit up and pull her into his arms, but he only moves a few inches before blinding pain sucks him back into unconsciousness.

The next time Sam opens his eyes the world comes into focus more easily. He’s lying in bed in what used to be his room. Mika is slumped in a chair pushed right next to the bed. Her hand is limp in one of his own, he can feel the faintest trickle of energy flowing between them. Sam quickly cuts the connection. That was stupid, she could get seriously hurt letting me drain her like that.

Sam opens his mouth to ask her but only a rasping sound comes out. His tongue feels impossibly dry. He notices a bowl of half-melted ice chips and shoves a few in his mouth. As he lets the melting ice soothe his throat, he ponders the feeling of the spells holding his insides together, must’ve been cursed or something.

After the second handful of ice Sam’s mouth finally feels normal enough to swallow a sip of water. His empty stomach cramps painfully around the scant bit of liquid. Sam grimaces and forces himself to take two more slow swallows.

He replaces the now-empty bowl on the side table and starts testing his extremities. He had no problems moving his head and arms just then. His legs feel stiff, but otherwise fine. Sam clenches his core experimentally. A dull pain reminds him of the exact shape of the spear that stabbed him, but honestly his stomach feels worse.

Sam swings his feet to the floor and succeeds in hoisting himself out of bed quietly enough not to disturb the sleeping human. He wobbles dangerously on his first few steps but manages to adjust to the weakness in his knees so that he shuffles fairly efficiently across the room.

Thud.

Sam hisses as the unexpected impact of his horns on the doorframe sends a wave of pain to his head. He sighs and twists his broad horns through the doorway.

Damien suddenly skids into the hall. His eyes look frantic, and his hair is sticking up on one side, but he has enough energy to glamor, Sam notes with relief. Damien dashes at his brother but stops two inches shy of crashing into him. He drops his forehead onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam wraps one arm around his brother and uses the other to smooth his bedhead, It’s alright, bubs. I’m okay.

Damien shakes his head, and Sam can feel tears on his chest. He tilts his neck to smoosh his cheek into the top of Damien’s head. Stop being a dumbass! We were all getting our asses kicked! You can repay me by helping me get some fucking food.

A wet chuckle bubbles out from Damien. He guides Sam’s arm over his shoulders and helps him shuffle down the stairs. They find James and Matthew at the dining room table, also back in their human forms.

“You’re up! And I’ll bet you’re hungry!”, Matthew’s darting into the kitchen before Sam can even nod.

Sam collapses into chair across from James and manages to rasp around the hoarseness in his voice, “Update?”

James looks at Damien who runs off the to kitchen before responding, “You’ve been mostly unconscious since the fight a little over two days ago. The devil syndicate is still a problem, but likely not an imminent threat. Erik, Damien, Matthew, and I received only minor injuries. Mika is unharmed. We are all recovering from critically low energy, though.”

A glass of water slides into Sam’s hands and he thanks Damien silently while slowly sipping from it. “So, why’d you let Mika give energy to an unconscious Incubus?”, Sam’s voice sounds almost normal now and James does not miss the danger in his tone.

Exhaustion is abruptly apparent on James’ face as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, “Believe me, I tried to explain the risks, but the lady insisted.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up, he’d never seen James fail to convince anyone of something important. She must have ‘insisted’ pretty violently. I’d give anything to have seen that! Sam huffs a laugh and immediately regrets it as the dull pain in his chest becomes sharp.  

“Don’t go pulling your stitches!” Erik chides as he slides into a seat next to Sam.

“Stiches?” Sam glances down at his demonic body. He quite literally does not have a stitch of clothing on.

“It’s a human expression. But a web of spells is the only thing keeping your blood on the inside until you have enough energy to heal properly…” Erik trails off as he checks on the spells with gently fingers strumming lightly over Sam’s bandaged torso.

Just as he nods in satisfaction, Matthew places a large pizza on the table. “Should I reheat another if everyone’s up?”

“That’s not a bad idea, Matthew. I’ll go see if Mika wants to join us.”, James offers before quickly disappearing up the stairs.

“Sorry it’s leftovers, but I figured fast and filling would be better for now. And-and I’ll cook something fresh for dinner in a few hours. But we’ve just been ordering food while we get our energy up and—”

“C’mere” Sam interrupts Matthew’s rambling.

Once he gets within range, Sam snares Matthew in a one-armed headlock.

“Hey!”

“See? I can still kick your ass, so stop acting like a weird-o”

Matthew escapes Sam’s clutches with a wide grin plastered across his face, “You’re the weird-o!” He gives Sam’s arm a playful smack before retreating to the kitchen.

“What did I just tell you!”  Erik hisses, “Don’t over-do it!”

Sam only shrugs as he begins stuffing pizza into his mouth.

James rejoins the group with Mika in his arms. She quickly clambers out of them when she lays eyes on Sam. She shoves her face into his neck and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He can feel her breath shuddering as she tries not to cry, “Hey, no need to be dramatic, doofus!”

“Dramatic?!” Mika draws back to look at Sam with mock indignation, “You’re the one who’s been sleeping all day like some kind of freeloader!” She sniffles and quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sam grins and ruffles her hair. Mika grins back at him and grabs a slice of pizza.

For a few minutes everyone is quiet while they refuel with warm, cheesy goodness. Sam is disappointed in the effects of the food on his body. Instead of feeling his energy increase, his insides seem to move and shift uncomfortably.

Sam instinctively moves his hand to his bandages as the discomfort morphs into a dull ache. When he pulls his hand back, his palm is red with blood. “Shit.”

Mika darts off in a flash. Mere seconds later, the dining room dissolves as Sam materializes in the bedroom. Mika pushes him to sit on the bed.

“Hey, call someone else to get some help—”, Sam starts to complain. But as he notices Mika’s swift, practiced movements his, stomach churns for a different reason. Sam watches Mika’s face as she applies a clean bandage. She’s disturbingly calm, but there’s a slight pinch of worry around her eyes. How often has she had to do this?

“I’m so sorry”, he whispers.

Mika’s breath hitches. She finishes the final few wraps. As she smooths her hands gently over the new bandage, a sob wrenches itself from her body. Her hand flies to her mouth as tears squeeze from her eyes.

Sam feels his heart clench in his chest. He pulls Mika to sit next to him and leans his forehead down to hers. He cries with her, breathing shakily into the narrow space between their faces. His hands come up to cup her cheeks. His thumbs carefully wipe away each tear that falls.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For the 🍯Honey and Venom🧪 AU, I kinda headcanon that the way Reader met the VenomWings is because they took care of one the adults when they were wounded and unable to connect to the HiveMind.

It could be Logan/Wolverine, having gotten into a battle with an enemy and who ended up crashed into a wounded, dazed heap, and Reader spent several hours moving him somewhere safer, then spends the next several days to a week or two nursing him back to health, and he grows attached to this weird-looking dragonet who acts like a hivemate and is sweet as any VenomWing honey. When he is back in the HiveMind he plants the thought of getting Reader to join them, to become a young VenomWing...

It could be Charles Xavier/The Professor, who tried to go on a diplomatic mission, ended up separated from Erik/Magneto and the others, and who ends up being in the company of Reader. Who then proceeds to guide him back to the edge of VenomWing territory, all while distracting or fighting off any dangerous dragons or deadlier prey animals. He would try to invite Reader to join him and his Hive, and if met with a no, finds it no problem to do an impromptu tour anyways (read: he decides to forcefully adopt and kidnap them, and Erik/Magneto is there to keep an eye on them)...

It could be Victor/Sabretooth, who might have ended up imprisoned or was being hunted, then Reader throws the hunters off, maybe even bites two or three. They spend the next several days trying to protect him, all while he is confused as h*ck and slowly growing attached to this tiny whelp of a dragon. The moment they're a few hours' flight from the Hive, he is dragging them back with him, sedated and too dazed and tired to fight him, and he's making plans to get his brother to also adopt them...

It could be Ororo/Storm, who helped Reader find food or water or a safe place to stay during bad weather, and they bonded. Reader would try to tell her stories and share food with her, and Storm would enjoy talking with someone about plants and weather and anything and having the chance to hug them. She'd be the one most likely (after Xavier) to convince Reader to freely come (and yes, both would leave out the HiveMind and VenomWing transformation and if it's the 🥚Tiny Sting🐝 AU variant, the fact they venom would turn Reader into a baby dragonet)...

To be fair, it could be any adult (or older teen, maybe?) who would meet then, grow attached, and try to get Reader to join them. They would all be quick to the idea of another member of the HiveMind, and have no problems with Reader not being a born VenomWing or even a partially a SilkWing or HiveWing like their ancestors. They love them because they are nice and were kind to them when no other dragon was, and because Reader helped them and continued to do so even after things became dangerous.

They'd definitely want to help Reader pick a VenomWing name after Reader was possibly converted. They are just very excited they get to have their new dragonet/sibling/hivemate with them, and are glad that it won't be much longer until Reader does accept them and their Hive as their family...