wyslyyzr

[wyslyyzr]

erik: i am calm under stress. i can do anything i try to do. charles: one time when you couldn’t remember what the english word for ‘butterfly’ was you almost cried. erik:

[wyslyyzr]

some quick important bullet points:

while i dont detest the idea of krakoa--as i said when i originally rebooted this blog 4 years ago--i largely disdain how marvel went about handling it. for erik to be happy, krakoa has to be both 1. a mutant separatist nation but not an ethnostate (he has seen what the latter does, first hand, especially as he was briefly part of the IOF--and yes im not calling them IDF--in the 1960s), and 2. nazi-free.

plus, i really cannot vibe with the idea that this erik--who has largely made amends with the x-men for years now, who has developed genuine bonds with people who used to hate him--wouldn't know what was happening to logan, and wouldn't intervene. theres a good deal of things he can turn away from, but not that. it needs a heavy rewrite.

he also has not and never will abscond of his faith. erik and judaism are intertwined. he would never in a million years proclaim that he or any other mutant is God.

given erik's nature as an orthodox jew who experienced the shoah first hand and largely watched the development of the israel-palestine 'conflict', while i do believe erik may have been naive about the nature of this as a young man--baby erik, while angry, was not the revolutionary leader he becomes, and stood up only for himself and his family--i do want to make it very clear erik is staunchly anti-israel. he is not a zionist. he would rather die than subject people to the same abuses he went through. i don't anticipate this coming up in threads or anything, but i just needed to make it clear, i fucking despise zionist erik jokes, which yes i have seen. yes, he was part of the IOF in the early 60s, but it was to hunt nazis. yes, he has since developed awareness about this period of time and recognizes that israel in function is just as evil as the nazi party. forgive him, he was very young.

as ever, the twins and grandkids are his children and grandchildren.

[wyslyyzr]

like this for a starter while i prune out the dead content from this blog. :)

[wyslyyzr]

also, i am thinking of putting erik on the intersex spectrum / as an androgynos,  with primarily masculine / ‘male’ characteristic sex organs and, by posek decree, would be considered no different than a zachar. either way, i have no interest in fully divesting what he is or would be on a sexual and genetic scale because it really does not matter, and his external genitalia appears mostly “male”, but that at the depth of his person or the core of whom he is, he would be most closely associated with an androgynos. but would be considered male / treated no differently than a cut-and-dry cis male.  i guess if you need a reference the closest thing i’m thinking of is the “V” on the prader scale even though these scales arent entirely accurate since intersexuality can occur in a number of ways. 

[wyslyyzr]

The drunken slur of a man once confused for a god for a father, bellowing for what he no longer has: belief and worship, the fat and the bone, the flower-wreathed daughter tossed at his feet.

https://twitter.com/godlessbot/status/1486315927217999874

[wyslyyzr]

killsfirst​.

          it  crosses  his  mind,  albeit  briefly,  that  maybe  this  is  a  set  up.  fear  is  a  foreign  sensation  to  slade,  nearly  forgotten  over  decades  of  being  near  the  top  of  the  food  chain,  but  caution  is  not.  he  knows  when  to  walk  away,  when  to  regroup—  when  he’s  outgunned.  understanding  his  own  limits,  few  as  they  might  be,  is  part  of  what  makes  deathstroke  efficient.  rarely  does  he  make  unnecessary  expenditures,  every  step  is  calculated  within  the  breadth  of  his  ability.  a  hand  that  had  been  sliding  for  the  knife  holstered  away  at  the  small  of  his  back  falters,  drops  to  his  side  uselessly.  slade  doesn’t  frighten  easy,  no,  but  the  helmet  does  make  him  reconsider  his  standing.

          “  yeah,  i  watch  the  news.  “  slade  sniffs.  he  doesn’t  degrade  himself  by  raising  his  hands  in  surrender,  but  isn’t  exactly  itching  to  reach  for  a  weapon  either.  outgunned  indeed.  “  you’re  that  magneto  guy.  seen  your  work,  big  fan,  even.  “  a  pause,  he  cocks  his  head  to  the  side,  “  gotta  say,  though—  the  proverbial  dick-swinging  is  a  mite  unnecessary  though.  just  so  we’re  clear.  i  know  who  you  are,  know  what  you  do,  yadda  yadda.  .  .  whatever  it  is  you  wanna  know,  i’ll  tell  you.  “  

          if  he  has  managed  to  walk  himself  into  some  sort  of  trap,  then  slade  thinks  it  best  to  at  least  attempt  to  skew  the  odds  of  survival  back  in  his  favor.  a  paycheck  isn’t  worth  the  inconvenience  of  getting  turned  into  a  pretty  pink  mist  or  a  smear  on  the  concrete.  “  .  .  .  that  good  enough  for  you,  or  should  i  be  running?  “

verbal  outpouring  ticks  the  side  of  erik’s  cheek  into  a  subtle  line,  though  it’s  difficult  to  discern--especially  with  the  depth  of  shadow  his  helm  casts  across  his  features--if  it’s  amusement,  or  annoyance.  though  the  dam  of  his  temper  was  a  brittle  and  frail  one,  he  isn’t  skewering  him  with  rebar  sifted  from  ruined  concrete,  or  freezing  his  blood  in  his  veins,  so  that  was  more  than  likely  a  good  sign.  people  recognized  the  helmet,  the  look,  the  name;  without  it,  he  was  often  simply  another  old  man  meandering  through  buzzing  crowds,  unrecognized  and  subtle.  there  wasn’t  a  particular  need  for  subtlety,  here.  

‘  for  now.  ‘   an  electrical  surge  pulses  through  the  facility’s  power  grid.  the  lights  flutter;  erik  thoughtlessly  lifts  a  hand,  and  the  power  restablizes,  despite  the  murmurings  of  movement  beneath  them.   ‘  i  believe  i’ve  seen  you  before.  ‘  not  personally.  he  preferred  not  to  cross  paths  with  mercenaries;  the  tenacious  sort  sometimes  managed  to  get  the  jump  on  him,  but  only  just.  in  shield  files,  before  it’d  gone  down,  in  reconnaissance  performed  by  his  allies--mystique  slipping  into  any  and  every  clandestine  nook,  extricating  what  they  needed.  

the  coloration  of  his  gear  looked  familiar,  at  least,  perhaps  a  passing,  grainy  photo.  the  eye  of  the  government  was  watchful,  at  least.   ‘  if  you  are  a  mercenary,  what  say  i  buy  you  out,  hm?  i  am  not  entirely  unkind,  and  allegiance  oriented  about  fear  or  submission  is  hardly  any  allegiance  at  all.  i  don’t  care  whom  employed  you;  allow  me  to  purchase  your  temporary  loyalty,  and  you’ll  go  unharmed--and  paid.  ‘  erik  extends  a  hand,  the  other  held  at  his  hip,  in  offering.  

[wyslyyzr]

anyone remember the pryde of the x-men line up where erik was SIX FOOT TEN 

[wyslyyzr]

@bothsidesofaquestion​

though  his  focus  remains  honed  upon  papers  that  required  signatures,  markings  of  approval,  erik  lets  out  a  slow,  gentle  sigh;  he  pushes  his  reading  glasses  further  upon  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  casting  his  gaze  toward  the  doorway  of  his  office.  ‘  kurt,  ‘  erik’s  voice  is  stern,  but  not  unkind;  an  exclamation  of  his  name,  more  than  a  question,   ‘  come  down.  you’ve  no  need  to  hide  from  me.  ‘  no  matter  what  his  personal  opinion  on  erik  was,  it  did  not  change  his  principles:  he  had  net  zero  desire  to  harm  him.   ‘  what’s  on  your  mind?  ‘

[wyslyyzr]

when push comes to shove, even if erik is deprived of the wealth of his abilities for this or that reason (since the 616 really enjoys de-escalating and depowering him), he’s still trained in physical combat and can hold his own in a regular fight. he’d lose to people who are geared around physical fights, like wolverine, captain america, etc, but he’s not completely untrained; he was a subterfuge IDF operative in the 60s after leaving haifa, and had been employed by the israeli government to capture or kill nazis that escaped justice. he can fight if he must rely on it.

[wyslyyzr]

while erik takes threats to mutant kind very seriously, he doesnt, like... consider his adversaries much of a force unless they show they are. its not that he underestimates them--he’s not that dumb, even when blinded by pride. its that he’s simply very self assured.

[wyslyyzr]

btw since it is, for once, relevant: i really hate leah williams’ portrayal of erik as this overbearing, controlling father regarding lorna, and employ literally none of that in my characterization. regardless of his relationship with lorna--which, i portray erik as having at least partly raised her because it makes the most sense to me, but even if he hadnt--the only thing erik would really be disappointed / skeptical over would be her dating alex, and thats about it. shes a grown woman who can make her own decisions, and he loves her; he’s her father, not her fucking warden. 

[wyslyyzr]

(via uqd40uiq16n71.jpg (480×530))

[wyslyyzr]

also a reminder that erik is an omega level mutant based on it’s previous meaning at very least (like,,,..., theres no way he wouldnt be) with no upper power limit, who, at full output, could very much tear apart the earth and probably the vacuum of space if he had a way to maintain oxygen and pressure. 

[wyslyyzr]

@killsfirst​

for  a  man  so  well  equipped,  erik  feels  an  instant  sense  of  peculiarity  in  finding  him  here,  boxed  away.  perhaps  they’d  arrived  at  this  facility  for  the  same  purpose:  to  take  a  life.  in  erik’s  case,  it’s  more  than  the  mere  act  of  murder.  he  intends  to  entirely  flatten  this  building,  and  dig  so  deep,  he  might  upend  the  roots  of  where  this  facility  goes--what  it  traded,  whom  it  trafficked.  it  isn’t  the  first  of  it’s  kind,  and  he  doubts  it  will  be  the  last,  but  he’d  expected  to  be  alone.  it’s  tucked  deep  in  the  chihuahuan  desert;  erik  had  felt  the  electromagnetic  pulse  of  it’s  steel  and  iron  walls,  the  wires  holding  it’s  external  doors  shut.

every  other  life  force  he’s  encountered  as  of  yet  had  either  been  what  he’d  come  to  liberate--mutants  stolen  away  from  their  mothers,  many  young,  some  latent  and  broaching  middle  age--or  their  human  captors,  armed  guards  both  from  the  US  and  mexico,  scientists  conducting  experimental  research.  

he  does  not  appear  to  be  either.  erik’s  helm  shadows  his  face,  a  subtle  rumbling  twitching  his  cape  with  it’s  movements.  he’s  searching  for  the  support  beams,  every  bit  of  metal  like  an  industrial  ribcage.   ‘  do  you  know  who  i  am?  ‘

[wyslyyzr]

the way erik’s morality tends to work, now, as opposed to the past, is that he will give you a chance to explain yourself, to fix things, if he thinks what you’ve done is not entirely irredeemable. if you fail to provide an adequate explanation that he can conclude is sufficient for him to stay his hand for the moment, he will kill you on the spot. he can be persuaded to stand down or stay his hand by people he loves--scott, sometimes charles, emma, sometimes raven, his children--but its only through their external influence that he won’t take action. he walks a neutral line, where he’s willing to dip into total villainry or heroism to achieve his goals, but there’s still a limit. for a man whose so involved in the proverbial chess game, he is surprisingly forward and blunt, and prefers not to take roundabout paths or employ subterfuge methods unless its the most appropriate course of action. 

its really, like, a scale. he won’t kill a human who doesn’t have it coming anymore, but he will implicitly kill a human who assuredly deserves it (whereas a number of his loved ones would prefer to incapacitate or jail). he doesn’t lose sleep over people getting in his way who end up dead, but he will try to save someone if he can help it who has nothing to do with whats at hand. like, he’s always going to try to save even human bystanders, so long as he knows they’ve nothing to do with what he’s going after. he never hurts children.

in the past, erik kinda just didn’t care; if you were in his way, you were probably going to die, because you’re the one who put yourself there. it was not his business to deliberate on if every person deserved to die; they put themself in a place where they would encounter someone like magneto, and that was their choice, so he simply would assume they did deserve it. this is why the x-men and other mutants thought he was “evil”, because it was more of a lack of regard paired with a desire for complete safety and mutant “supremacy”. 

now he just wants to survive, he wants to stop burying children and friends. he’s “nicer”, but, make no mistake, he will still completely obliterate you if he must, especially if you’ve managed to anger him.

[wyslyyzr]

@massoccurs​

these  dissidents  are  lined  up  in  a  singular,  neat  row,  bent  at  the  knee,  arms  locked  by  twisted  scraps  of  metal  behind  their  backs;  to  resist  would  be  to  rend  open  flesh,  the  braces  of  steel  so  tightly  wound.  erik’s  helm  has  been  removed  with  care,  white  curls  matted  to  his  brow  burned  with  sweat.   it  settles  on  the  shelf  of  his  hip,  held  beneath  his  arm.  he  gestures  with  his  opposite  hand,  palm  open  and  pointed  toward  the  sky.   ‘  these  men  have  been  robbing  the  graves  of  the  recently  departed,  stealing  the  corpses  of  mutants  to  dissect,  to  scrape  the  tissue  from  their  bones,  to  harvest  their  genetic  material.  vehement  anti-mutant  protesters  in  their  topical  lives,  yet,  desecrators,  monsters  when  the  eye  is  turned  away.  ‘   no  one  speaks  a  word.  erik’s  voice  rattles  bones.  he  softens  when  he  looks  upon  jezebel,  his  hand  falling  flat  at  his  side.  ‘  what  would  you  do  with  them?  ‘

[wyslyyzr]

‘  don’t  cower  behind  corners.  it’s  unbecoming--i  can  feel  you  there  anyhow.  ‘  despite  the  nature  of  erik’s  words,  he  sounds  blissfully  calm,  without  even  a  hair  of  hostility.  he’s  in  thought,  legs  crossed  over  one  another,  his  hands  spread  across  his  knees--and  his  form  suspended  a  good  three  or  four  feet  in  the  air.