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.
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hi <3
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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
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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.
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anyone remember the pryde of the x-men line up where erik was SIX FOOT TEN
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@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? ‘
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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.
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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.
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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.
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(via uqd40uiq16n71.jpg (480×530))
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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.
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@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? ‘
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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.
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@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? ‘
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hi. like this for a starter. <3
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‘ 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.
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there is no one in the universe erik is neatly submissive for (i dont mean in a sexual way, i mean in terms of social obedience, anyone he’d do anything for). the only people who’ve ever come close to making him feel or behave like that are magda and charles, and there are still a small handful of limitations; e.g. if magda was alive and asked him to stop with his mutant rebellion and resistance, that would be his hard line of ‘im sorry, but i will not’, and we’ve seen time and again that erik is very contentious with and against charles even if he loves him--there is a sliver of intense anger and frustration when he thinks about charles that keeps him from obedience, because in his heart he believes that charles will always be wrong.
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