#unwaveringforce

[obscuriium-archive]

Magnus: Ye

Magnus: YE

mako tako: u doof.

Magnus: ye

mako tako: stop it kanye.

Magnus: kan ye not?

mako tako: ...

[fangedfirecracker]

#//Nude is way better than Crimson & Turquoise just saying.

Agreed.

[magnetisedcatharsis]

Decimation

"Papa!" The word is short and strained, once melodic tones truncated and wary as plumes of thick black smoke wound their way through the air. Like vines of ivy they found their way to her, choking life from her delicate throat. "Pa--cough cough--pa!" It's a sound neither of them had ever wanted to hear, and it stabs forcefully, sending pain and panic through the both of them. It's Magda that shifts to move first, ready to run back inside and brave the flames that seem hell bent on devouring her only child. But the hands are there all too soon, holding her back and barring her way. Before long, she too was coughing in the struggle, down on her knees in half-melted snow as blood and soot spluttered from her mouth. She'd always been weak, but now wasn't the time to face the wrath of her own mortality. She needed to be in there, she needed to be with her child. And so the task fell to Erik. He'd been ready to run as soon as he'd seen her at the window, pleading and crying for the father she knew would rescue her. He'd promised to take care of them both, and for the last five years he arguably had done - so why now should any of that change? From the corner of his eye, he could see his wife's plight, but it pales in comparison to the tiny life ebbing away upstairs. Without hesitation he bolted for the door, ready to face the fires of hell itself to rescue the angel he'd created, yet it's not burning wood he comes face to face with, but solid flesh. "Move." He orders, shoving aside the man that blocks his path, only to find another in his stead, and another, then another. The coughs above are getting fainter, the flames licking ever higher and he can't control it. He can't fight the rising anger that is rippling within him. His daughter is dying, and so is his patience. Why can't they see the fatal flaw in their plan? He wonders briefly if they have any humanity at all, before a fist flies to his temple and sends him to his knees. The answer apparently is no. Through gritted teeth, he dares to fight back, rage seething and boiling him from the inside out. He shows them no mercy, just as they have shown him none. When hands force him to the ground, his own fingers curl tightly, knuckles white and emotions raw. He doesn't mean to do quite as he does, but by this point it's beyond his control. The ground is shaking much like his own hands, the tremors of aggression bursting forth as metal and iron rip from the Earth. Buildings topple without their foundations, anything and everything composed of metal flying to his aid in this darkest hour of need. In a sea of rubble, girders tear through unworthy flesh, piercing and puncturing in an artistic display of sanguine rain. For others he's less bohemian, instead winding layers of cabling around pleading throats, tightening his grip until words of protest die just like the lips that have uttered them. Erik can barely breathe as adrenaline surges, his exhalations short and sharp as his anger begins to fade, replaced instead by an incandescent surge of shame for his actions. Anya. He thought of her finally, his eyes drifting upwards to the window she had once stood, his ears registering nothing but the deafening sound of silence. It couldn't be…he tells himself inwardly, making the journey into the battered building to retrieve his oxygen starved daughter, only to find that it's too late. He cradles her petite body, holding her close to his aching chest as he seeks out the respite of the snow and the forgiveness of his wife. "Magda…" There was audible pain in his voice as he approached the crying heap, apologies dying upon his lips as she glanced upwards, looking not at him, but through him. The man before her wasn't her husband. He was a murderer and a monster. A man that had been too caught up in the slaughter of half of their village, all while her daughter had burned. "You're a monster!" She screamed on impulse, tears streaming down soot streaked cheeks as she drew back instinctively. Her hand pressed into scarlet splattered snow, the crimson taint coating her with a degree of filth from thereon in she would never be rid of. She couldn't tell which was worse, the fact her daughter was dead, or the fact her husband's humanity had apparently died along with her? She felt sick. A hand rising to her head as she retched compulsively, her body spasming in shocked protest as she shirked away, trying to force distance between herself and the man turned monster she'd once professed to love. Her world was rapidly falling apart, crumbling away at the seams and her sanity was left to fracture along with it. None of this made sense anymore. None of this seemed right. She couldn't live in a world as polluted as this, to build her life on the blood of other people. Channelling what little strength she still possessed, the gypsy rose to her feet in that instant, hesitant and conflicted, eyes awash with sadness and fear, before she turned on her heel and ran.

[magnetisedcatharsis]

Three Erik/Magda drabbles spawned by boredom and not nearly enough sleep. 

[grandenchanterfiona]

unwaveringforce answered your question: What happened to Magneto if his mother, and...

I believe it’s covered in the comic “Magneto: Testament”?

I need to find that.

[onlytalia]

unwaveringforce started following you

"Good evening."

[sapphirescales-archive-blog]

you're breaking my heart

[levoleurcinetique-blog]

◎ What was it like trying to get along in Jean Luc 's household?

"Culture shock is th’ best way I can describe it. You’re dumped in a new place, given all this stuff you don’t have t’pay back, have a new set of rules enforced on you, meet a ton of people who judge you, an’ are told t’fit it or you won’t survive. Everythin’ you do is wrong an’ you’re pitied fo’ not bein’ taught proper. You can’t get away wit’ nothin’. You don’t know who’s your friend an’ who isn’t.”

"My first week there was terrifyin’. I didn’t sleep at all my first night from feelin’ guilty as hell I had friends starvin’ an homeless on th’ streets while I’d hit th’ jackpot as well as tryin’ t’figure out what I had t’do t’pay this all back. I was convinced dat if I made one li’l mistake, I’d be thrown out back into th’ street on my ass. Not a lot of folks there were too inclined t’be helpful. A lot of th’ old guard hated my guts an’ most of ‘em were still alive back then. They recruited their allies an’ kids t’make things harder on me. Tante Mattie, Henri, Mercy, Theo, bless ‘em, did what they could, but they only had so much time t’spare fo’ me. I learned who was top dog an’ who wasn’t fast.”

"Th’ longer I stayed, th’ better things got, but it made me one paranoid son of a bitch. Even when they claimed I’d been accepted, it was only makin’ nice in front of my father. There were multiple discreet attempts on my life while I lived in dat house. An’ while Julian made it clear dat if I ever got Belle pregnant, he’d cut de baby out of her t’keep her from bein’ soiled by me, even if it meant she bled t’death, he was de only one who was upfront about it. Believe me, there were folks who shared his opinion. Why’d you think we wanted t’elope?”

"Things have gotten a lot better, but I still don’t like goin’ home. An’ really, wit’ what all I’ve told you jus’ now, can you blame me?”