This one’s gonna be a doozy. I apologize firsthand for throwing such content on your dashboard, but I just feel like I need to put this somewhere. My life story I guess It will be least impactful to me if I put it here. I feel like it will help me face my reality, but I’m not ready to throw it out to everyone in my immediate life. Just the anonymous ones. Anyway, allons-y or whatever the fuck y’all say sometimes.
p.s. Wow this ended up way all over the place and ended like a vent.
I suppose the best way to start this out is by saying that I’m safe. I’m a little high, and a little stressed, but I am safe.
The purpose I’m giving this post is that I need to face some amount of my reality before check myself before I shrek myself (as in destroy my career and livelihood). This feels like a first step towards honesty, because I have not been honest with myself. Even if not a single other soul reads this, I’ll know what I’ve said.
From the top: I don’t remember much. The things I do remember are not positive experiences. My earliest memories are of my parents hitting my siblings or me. Except my sister. My sister behaved like her life depended on it, AND she was their oldest daughter (almost). I think my other brother got the worst treatment though. Family systems and all that. I think I may have gotten lucky all things considered. I remember some moments where things were fine. We had lots of people in and out of our house. My cousin and her daughter lived with us for a few years at the time. I had found out years later that she was actually running from an abusive relationship. What a plot hole I could go down with that one. I digress.
Things were fine usually. I had regular problems outside the occasional domestic violence. I had my first group of friends come from far less than I did. A fraction of them have died or been relocated to god knows where. I was around people who dabbled in drugs frequently but I was unaware of it. I’m not sure so much of that affected me as their other behaviors did. The emotional detachment and neglect ran deep.
I also had some significant sensory issues as well. My shoes tied unevenly tight? Freak out. I had to eat something gooey? Gag, vomit if necessary. Shirt armpits too tight? Tear them out. Sounds too loud? Panic. Sounds too quiet? Hulk out. And god forbid I had to smell things. I’ve always been a smell-sensitive person, but it leads to some minor feelings of suffocation. Fuckin ouch.
Oh, and I was truly into the tomboy culture of the early 2000s. IFYKYK. I learned so much from those guys. If I weren’t such a snitch back then, I could’ve been so much worse had I stayed around them. We had this fun game called the “tripping game” in which we would all run around in circles and try to trip the shit out of each other. We were outside constantly, building bike ramps and playing in gutters.
I miss it so much.
When I was young, my father was disabled in an accident. Actually, we aren’t sure. It was probably the botched knee replacement that did him in.
After this his health problems began. He hobbled everywhere, ordered people around from the pure agony that he was in from his knee pain. He had a career that required some hefty labor, and ultimately this left us without an income. We lived on disability as a family of 5 and sometimes more ever since. He happened to be a victim of the opioid epidemic at the time as well.
Soon after, my grandfather passed away. It was a confusing time, but I think the anger my father had for everyone had numbed me by that time. He was truly just an angry dude. My aunt told me that I was strong. People asked if I understood what was happening, and I did. I had cried for hours over hamsters that died. Not this time! I remember watching my dad break down at his funeral and wondering what it felt like to have that outpouring of support as people surrounded him. They played Johnny Cash and people cried. I still remember the classic old man smell Pappy had. He was an angry man too, but he was too frail to do much about it by the time I came around. He just wanted his devil cakes, diet pepsi, and cigarettes, goddammit.
6 months after he passed, my brother passed away. He tried to join the military for 5 years, from 2000-2005. He passed a month into his first deployment after he finished boot camp. Sometimes, when I try to remember it, the only thing my rotten ass brain will give me is the sound my mother made when she found out. I can’t look at a deli platter. He was a beloved guy in the community. volunteer firefighter, friends with the cops because how can you hate a guy like that, that kind of guy. We got so many deli platters.
I don’t ever remember crying about it. I remember people asking me if I was alright. I’d just nod and smile and go find something to do. I was mostly co-babysitter throughout the situation as my brother’s daughter was just 8 months old at the time. I’d push her stroller through the funeral home in my handsewn dress each day. There were two viewing days and the funeral. We got to ride in a limo. Oh, and one of my brother’s exes called us and said that our other (Alive) brother was in a motorcycle accident on the way to the funeral home.
Cue panic and upset.
We get to the funeral home and he’s fine. Nothing happened.
Cue relief.
After the funeral, as expected, everyone just got worse. My sister lost a part of her soul when he died. My niece and her mother moved in as they had been living in an abusive situation with another guy while my brother was deployed. 6 months after my brother passed, my remaining brother demolished his truck in a drunk driving accident. He was with friends, far too drunk, and he tried to drive home. He was alright, I think? A lot of glass shards in his head I believe. It’s hard to keep track at times.
Cue more dysfunction.
Things settle for a few years. We all tiptoe around on eggshells because every one else is a time bomb. My parents decide to use the dead brother paycheck on gutting the house and buying a truck. Our house is completely remodeled but the fighting and arguing and shitty behavior that it took us to get there was terrible. We kids were expected to do two things: Whatever we were told to do, and whatever we should have done. My parents were very “kids should be seen, not heard” types. The “I’ll give you something to cry about” types. Sharing was mandatory, and let me tell you, the food aggression that came from having 5 family members to share a personal pizza with? Unmatched.
My dad’s health problems also increased significantly. He was now suffering strokes, heart attacks, arthritis, C-Diff, decreased mobiity, etc. At one point, he had a 6 month stint where he was in at least once every month.
I also have hit the peak of the abuse I would see throughout the years. I would like to tell them in as clear detail as I possibly can so that I can work to remember them. As I’ve become more dissociative and think less about these events, I’ve started to lose them. I’ll bookend these guys with bold words if you would prefer to skip these parts. It may also be a bit out of order due to memory bumblery.
these are the bold words-start
The niece that I had mentioned before, the one that I pushed in the stroller all over my brother’s funeral? We had a love hate relationship. As a young child, I had so much resentment for her. She got all of the attention with her being my brother’s daughter and even more so because her mother is a royal piece of shit. She was neglect heavily by her mother, leading to a growth hormone deficiency. There were guys in and out of her mother’s life, and she was fond of just tormenting my niece in every way she could. I started to realize this more and more as I hung around them and got wiser. Her mother remarried to another royal piece of shit with a few of his own kids. They were treated even worse than my niece. One of them switched between 4 households constantly, and had developed some attention seeking behaviors. The first few instances of abuse were over eating. He ate breakfast too slowly and therefore would not be allowed to eat for the rest of the day. Many times she would neglect to feed them over petty things, e.g. “you knew that these were chicken fries and not fish sticks before I asked you what you wanted, you don’t get anything now” type shit. There were a few times when the kids would wake up puking bile and she would refuse to clean it up or take care of them. “I just can’t clean up his puke. Anyone else’s but not his.” She despised her step son. His life had already been set up for horrible outcomes as he was abused and neglected by each adult in his life as they passed him around. I had only begun to notice the abuse when I turned 11 or so and began lobbying for my parents to contact protective services. We knew that she had been hitting them, but to my parents, the risk of losing my niece as we had discovered that she wasn’t related by blood. I full believe to this day that her mother lied about her paternal side so that she could manipulate my parents. She knew they wouldn’t say no. I knew that she was abusive, emotionally, physically, etc. but was powerless to do anything about it.
these are some more bolds words-end
By the time I hit 12, three years after my brother’s death, I have completely dissolved as a person. My purpose is to run my parent’s errands, learn to be a housewife, and learn to be quieter. I could never shut the fuck up, or sit still, do things properly. My mom frequently said I walked to the beat of my own drum and other shit like that. I never understood what she meant. It’s at this point that I start to see myself become a weird kid. I had no social skills. It’s felt like I’m constantly 2-3 years behind everyone else, and it starts here. My grades start to decline and enter: maladaptive daydreaming disorder.
I remember the first night I saw X-Men Evolution on tv. It was so late at night and I remember being half attentive to the tv. Kurt caught me immediately. I designed my own character in my head and off I went. I started to spin on my computer as I daydreamt. Then talking to myself as I daydreamed. Then listening to music really loudly to cover up the sound of my voice. Then just signing while I spin.
It lasted years. I would come home from school, eat till I was full, and then it was spin class until 3 am. I start sleeping through all my classes, stopped doing homework, and started fighting with all the teachers I could. It all came to a head in 8th grade. I’m not sure of the timeline, but within the year, my sister’s then boyfriend had moved in, groomed me, molested me, and also my dad was paralyzed from the neck down. 6 months after the paralysis, my brother got his second DUI a few blocks from our house. And I think I witnessed my first severe instance of abuse at this same time.
It was a busy time. I don’t think I can even properly unpack all that currently. I guess we should go chronologically then.
Here’s some bold words! Warning! -Start
The sexual abuse was thankfully, not violent. Shitty, yes. I still count myself lucky every day that it was only to the level that it was. I still cannot deal with the anything that comes with that situation. I don’t think I’ve begun to accept that it’s probably fucked a lot of me. It’s responsible for so many of my worst qualities, as am I. I learned to value myself for sex, as most young girls do. Enter: hypersexuality. I won’t say much more about that. It hurts to know that I was “the other girl” towards my sister. I hate that this was my significant sexual awakening. I hate that my sister believes that she wronged him first, not knowing that he set the record straight years before he made her believe that.
At this time, my dad’s problem spine was discovered. He had an appointment in a bigger city a few hours away and my parents had asked my niece’s mother to watch me. They didn’t trust my siblings, but for some reason they trusted her. My dad was in surgery for a few hours on the second day of their trip, and, I believe, comatose for 8 days afterwards. I stayed at their house for 4 of them before things really went south.
I remember clearly what had happened. My niece’s mother, we can call her Bitch for the rest of the story because, frankly, that’s what she is. There is no person on this Earth that I despise more. She is wholly responsible for so much destruction, and she’s prideful about it.
She had a habit of playing rough. She knew that she was bigger and therefore that her kids couldn’t do shit. She ruled with an iron fist, a fan of the paddle and the cruel and unusual. One night of my stay, she was wrestling with her least favorite child and sitting on his small 9 year old body. Eventually, he started complaining and asking her to get off. She ignored him, not even breaking her focus on her other daughter. That is, until he tried to push her off. I had not understood what was happening just yet as we were having fun. She motioned for me to pick up her daughter, and I did as told. As you do. I can remember exactly how her face changed from relaxation to anger in a fraction of a second. She slammed her hands down to the floor on either side of his head and began screaming. Nothing prepared me for the words that she had for him or how she would act next. She picked him up by the neck, held him against the door, and continued her onslaught. She turned to all four of us, between the ages of 2-12, and screamed at us to get upstairs.
Of course, we obeyed. I put the muppets movie on for the kids and just waited. I wanted the movie to drown out the sound of the scene downstairs, but it was already replaying in my head. Some time into the movie, I went to the bathroom and bawled until I felt numb enough to deal with it. I could use my iPod to record if I were able to sneak past. I was able to sneak down the kitchen stairs to listen to what I could. They had moved into the kitchen now, and she was berating him on every single level. She screamed at him that she loved him and his real mother didn’t. She screamed at him until he repeated the phrases he so dearly hated as a 9 year old boy. She called his mother a cunt and then made him repeat it as he sobbed and gasped. She made him say such uncomfortable things. He hated the word “vagina” as they do, but he still screamed it when she demanded. She hated him for anything he could be, and this was how she broke him. I can still hear her voice as she let him go: “I’ll get off you now, since I know you can’t breathe.”
I called my parents and asked if I could come home the next day. They knew I was serious and arranged for someone to come get me. It ended up being Bitch’s sister. She was a kind woman with lots of her own problems, and a 0-tolerance policy for most things. I recounted some of the most harrowing details. She seemed so downtrodden hearing what I was saying, but I can recognize the feeling now. Protective services won’t do anything once stories conflict, and everyone else knew that, including Bitch. We were stuck but I had no idea why.
A few days later, Bitch sat us down and told us that my father was paralyzed. I still hate that she was the one who found out first. I didn’t respond to the news.
My dad’s paralysis was shitty to no end. He was denied care for years, until they found the issue. As with most medical procedures, the liability was that it was his spine, the delicate little shithead. He no longer suffered heart attacks or strokes, but the resulting him that is left? He’s nothing. He hasn’t been for years now.
Some more bold words- end
At 14, my grades begin to plummet. I am removed from Honor’s classes. My friendships fall apart as I get angrier and more closed off. I dissociate more and become more involved with my daydreams. They’ve become refined at this point, I guess as refined as a self-insert fic started by a 12 year old with no business having access to the internet can be. I’m immersed in my daydreams.
We get a puppy. He was my everything. My rock in the tough times. God, do I miss him. I can’t write about it.
I start playing minecraft. I spend every day playing minecraft, listening to music, and daydreaming about X-Men Evolution. I meet the guy. He was 1 year older than me, put up with so much of my bullshit, and then dumped me for a girl with a history of stabbing people. He was truly attracted to the problem girls lmao. He said it was because she was skinnier though. The rat bastard.
Oh, and by this point, I have failed so. many. classes. I hate sitting and doing homework. I know the content, why do I need homework? If i can pass the test, why do i need to do extra work? (My educator soul is torn about this part of me). Weeks go by and I simply do not turn in work. I stop showing up. When I am there, I’m asleep. My teachers start to turn on me too. they divide themselves into three groups: those who respond with care, those who respond with anger, and those who do not respond. Most of them have seen all of my siblings and know that shit’s just fucked at home. Most of them started to call me out on my behavior and I made it clear that I truly did not give a shit. The massive behavior change went unnoted by most. No one ever reached out. Well, at least to me. One of my friends at the time had started to skip her homework as well. They called a meeting with her mom and said that they believed I was influencing her. She was redeemable. I was not.
Then I found German. Oh how I loved learning a new language. I was amazing at it as well. My first year of learning German, I won the award for best performance, but the catch is that I beat out two kids who were learning calculus II at the nearby campus. They could do calculus but I beat their asses at German. By German II, I received the highest complement from our stingy old professor. He spoke 9 languages, refused to make eye contact, and treated us like the military dogs he wanted us to do. But one day I read a passage out loud to that man and he said “If I close my eyes when I listen to you speak, it sounds like I’m on the streets of Munich again.” I digress.
My grades continue to have a huge gap. I’m achieving in specials like Art and German, but I’m failing at English and basic History courses. By my senior year, I’ve had to retake several classes, missed enough days to fail, and didn’t pass the one class I needed to graduate. What the fuck. I start therapy and they push for meds. They don’t work and I ditch them after 4 years of trying.
Highschool is still such a blur. At this time, I had really developed a sense of morals and justice that proceeded my current socialist views. And the queerness, that was kinda eh. Wasn’t notable for me but certainly still a thing. I was angry because I hated everyone for being uncaring. I hated how people treated each other. I didn’t understand how people can live their lives knowing what other people do to each other.
I graduate after summer school, go to college, fuck around and find out. I’m talking 1.6 GPA my first semester. Didn’t even attend the final for my core classes. My freshman year of college, I start dating a guy and probably treated him as poorly as I possibly could. I was dealing with my problems with zero knowledge of how to, zero emotional intelligence, no home raising. I can’t blame him for who he was anymore. I think I broke him too.
My very first semester of college, our ancient 17 year old husky passed away. He was old, and ready to rejoin my brother who left him so long ago. This only took a bit out of me. It happened right before final’s week.
The following semester, right on the first day of spring semester, my everything, the dog we got when I was 14 was declared braindead at 4 years old. Just a month after our other dog passed. He had suffered a few seizures a week beforehand but was paced on medicine. He was never the same after the first seizure. Stumbled a bit occasionally, bladder control issues, no tolerance, no energy. all the bad signs of a dog on the last few weeks on earth. When we took him to the vet, and they asked for observation, despite my and my bother’s protests, my mother asked for a DNR. She had always been resentful of my successes and my brother’s mistakes, so the dog was not ideal as a representation of both. I trained and cared for the dog after my brother brought him home and neglected him. The DNR was like a nail in the coffin for me. My mother might truly be more heartless and selfish than I thought before. her reasoning was that “if his lungs or heart stop, I think that’s his body giving out.” even though his issues were starkly neurological. Thankfully he made it through the night and they provided a syringe full of valium. Instructions were clear: If he has another seizure, inject the valium into his ass. I had been giving him his daily medicine, moved into my dorm, and finished my first class when I called to remind my mom to give him his meds. I called and heard a groaning howl behind my mother’s voice. It warbled behind her and I asked if it was him. She seemed panicked and upset that I called at that time, but had plans with friends to take him to the vet. He was a big dog, and she couldn’t lift him on her own.
A few hours later, she called and said that he was braindead. I wouldn’t even be able to hear his heartbeat try it’s hardest to keep him alive despite his condition. I kept his collar and a cute pawprint. The hardest realization that really tore through me and made me break down was that the previous week was the first time I had seen those candles that they light when someone is losing a pet. I thought it was cute, but knowing that on that day it was lit for me and my dog? Fuck that.
I still believe that she neglected to give him the valium and allowed him to die.
My semester finished out with more failed grades and the threat of expulsion looming over me. I was able to make it out and continued to pursue the more caring side of myself at the time. I had always had a knack for working with children. I found them clinging to me after the first interaction. I started to develop this skill? and found that I should switch to an education background given that I hated my major beforehand. In creating our teaching philosophies, I had found that the part that truly frustrated me was the lack of respect for children and the personhood they have. There’s no humanity for thousands of children and it disgusts me. I had already been determined to become a better person than those around me, but this was how.
I had the passion, but sadly, none of the skills. I was still failing classes and struggling to even like being alive. I hated having responsibilities and finances and thoughts and needs. It was all bullshit, and it still it. Anyway.
Shit continued to happen each final’s week for me. One semester is was my mom being hospitalized, one semester my grandmother died, the next I broke up with my boyfriend, AAAANNNNNDDDD Covid.
I was living with my ex and my ex best friend at the time. We had had several falling outs and just generally couldn’t tolerate each other anymore, and well...my ex and I did not have a good history as you can see. We dated for three years but they were hard on both of us.
Through my ex best friend, I discovered weed. Throughout covid I had a small stint of drunken nights and cross faded days. it was most likely the only way to get through the pandemic. I spent it high and ready to die, if you will.
I had started to save my grades as well. Drug that guy the whole way back up to a 3.0.
The abuse of my niece and her siblings has peaked and withered out as we are not able to contact her anymore. Our relationship exists purely within our shared abuse situations. I hate to see who she’s becoming now. the world has been much less kind to her. We heard a few months ago that she had finally realized she was being molested by her older brother as well. I had predicted that something of the nature would happen or had already happened, but to confirm it was not the best. I still struggle on a daily to deal with the emotions i have about her. She is truly one of my favorite people, and there is not one other person I would sacrifice everything for. But I will always be there. I will always support her.
But holy shit do I want to just never think about it again. Escapism has never seemed so sweet as when she comes to me with a story that takes a piece of you and lets it wither in the air until it’s gone. She deserves justice, and safety, and protection, but her mother is hellbent on making it impossible.
My problems arise now as I have to confront that this is my life. I’m addicted and dependent on marijuana, I’m failing my classes again and holding on for dear life. I can’t stand to be near other people most of the time and can’t handle such little stressors in life. Things were so good for just a few months and it’s come crashing down as hard as it can. I dissociate constantly and can’t access emotions if I tried. I’ve been in therapy for 6 years and never told a single one half of the depth of my life. I think I’ve developed CPTSD from the emotional neglect and repeated stressor events. I think I’ve got some other neurodiversity going on, but who fuckin knows anymore. I can’t complete any tasks anymore and I spend all my time being stressed by my late work, current boyfriend, and triggers every week. I hate being stuck in this spot where I can’t perform and I can’t ease myself. I’m tired of people telling me to exercise, or meditate, or practice mindfulness, even though I know! They will help me! I’m just so fucking scared. Becoming emotional has never helped me, and that fact is being reinforced for me every day.
I have to confront the fact that my reality means that I may never feel safe or hold a relationship that is healthy and supportive and long lasting. I have to deal with my shit, all my terrifying bullshit, and do it with people that I don’t trust or have faith in.
I feel like I’ve learned so much and grown so much as a person. The highest complement I receive now is that I have an unrivaled passion for teaching. Everyone who sees me teach says that I love it, that they can feel how much I care about my students. I’ve regressed in so many ways and it feels so finite now. I can’t do the things I need to do or be the person I need to be. I don’t know how to fix all the things within myself and to be honest, I just want a break. Even my break now is filled with stress and shame because I’m so fucking behind on my work.
I just gotta make it through this week.
My high wore off as I was writing this, lmk if you can tell.
the rush of validation i experience when the nurse looks at my arm and says “oh you have good veins” like yes my veins are so luscious and juicy stop or you’re gonna make my dick hard
I think Juggernaut canonically dating Banshee's cousin who is also a mutant, so maybe they let him on the island because of that? But I have no idea why Mr. Sinister is there
They needed the drama and camp.
I think juggernaut bring Xavier's brother probably did it tho
so the next kurt team book is gonna be "legion of x" coming out in april with legion, juggernaut (isn't he a human tho?), pixie (when will they leave my poor girl alone?), blindfold (imagine getting resurrected right into this shitshow. she's gonna need some aspirin...) and dr nemesis (hey look the island's aspirin supply).
Juggernaut IS supposed to be human, but who knows if the writers know that lol.
That's a team and a half tho, not sure how well everyone will mesh. Seems like they just threw random characters together
But that's the thing: Mutants are welcome. Sinister is NOT a mutant. He's a mutate who's done more harm to mutants than most of the Xmen's human enemies combined. He's also cloned himself so much that the OG doesn't exist anymore. The island is open to everyone except Precogs, humans and clones: Having him part of a mutant nation doesn't work. Having him a member of the council with Magneto, who he knows from his nazi years, is adding salt to injury. And only NOW does the plot see the problem.
I have to say I don't know fuck all about sinister other than the things from Hickman's run and how much he screwed around with Scott and Jean.
Since most characters on Krakoa are a mouthpiece for writers, I think they willingly forgot A WHOLE LOT of things like people's relationships with one another (see Bling! with Mercury) because you can't tell me Kurt, who's part of the council that oversees who joins the island or not, would AGREE to have Azazel around while also making a rule that would BENEFIT HIM GREATLY. These two things happened in the same issue. Part of me thinks it'd be hilarious if he DIDN'T know what he signed up for.
Bro I honestly, like fully and completely, believe that the writers just don't know who Azazel is and threw him in the story to make it more interesting. They just know he's Kurts dad and evil; they don't know what makes him so
The logic was that Azazel listed his war crimes at the same time as he made the "I'm your father" reveal. Since the first can't happen without the latter and I thought Kurt didn't get that, Krakoa would be their fist meeting. Why would Azazel be listed as evil if no one faced him before? Something like "Look at the way he dresses: It's obvious he's evil. But it's okay cuz what could be worst than Sinister, a nazi scientist, being part of the Council and sitting alongside a holocaust survivor?"
Hold on, I'm confused. Why is it like his character has been erased now? They obv don't care about war crimes, as you said, but they've made it clear that all mutants are welcome (except precogs)
Just wanted to ask for a lil help here. I'm trying to build a bit more of a "positive" environment for myself, and I'm finally working on my media consumption. I spend a lot of time on YouTube, so I've cleaned out my sub list, and sorted out negative videos. My only problem is that now I have very little content to watch.
So if you would, please drop some channel recs, community recs, and maybe even a topic rec.
Our red and green hens end up crashing at Kurt's tower and Margali has the equivalent of an aneurysm from seeing the thing (mattress on the floor, bookpiles left and right and beer bottles everywhere) in a "Damn bitch you live like this" kind of way while Azazel goes "Looks like a crack den" *picks up bottle* "Correction: Cheap German booze den." After Margali looks at him inquisitively he adds almost sheepishly "... It appears I have let my ghetto show. This island is definitely cursed."
Margali is still on the Winding Way I believe, terrorizing people or something. I don't know if they EVER resolved that.
P.s. please consider looking into the history and effects of the word "ghetto." If you're going to message me, refrain from using words that are historically racist and antisemitic. Thank you!
*Adding to the ask on why I think Kurt's parentage couldn't have been revealed in this timeline: Simply put, in Mystique's case, it happened because of Graydon Creed... But how can Graydon Creed exist in the Krakoa timeline? He's the perfect example to why mutants shouldn't keep their human children biological or not. Someone could've brought it up at the Council, pushed for further separation from humans and led to Jubilee giving up on Shogo for example. But it's not the case at all.
I think they're just overlooking that as well. These kinds of things don't fit what they need for the plot to work for them, so they ignore it even though it doesn't make a tinge of sense. They're trying to do the impossible task of retconning an entire half a century of comic plots while keeping it all straight and it's just not possible without ignoring some of the most basic facts of the characters histories.
so I did some research and rogue won't appear in inferno although hickman said he wanted her to but couldn't due to scheduling issues... except it would've been too late then for her to have an impact. like the anti precog rule was there since the start of krakoa many years back in comic time. are you telling me only now that irene, her mother, is back would rogue have start caring about the issue? that's a pretty terrible if you ask me. that plot point was mishandled from the start.
They're just banking on the kids having more influence than they do. It's only a matter of time before it all.blows up anyway and everyone will forget that Rogue and Kurt supported their respective mother(s). They(the writers) just needed to get her back so that they could fuck it all up again for The Plot™️
I kinda expected the Krakoa era to have more Kurt and Logan bromance moments (always saw them like that, don't blame me) and after the scene they had before the first massive resurrection, I thought it would be the case. Then Logan went to the moon and they never spoke again except for a pool game in CoTA. Krakoa artificially separated Kurt from all of his friends really: Kitty? Couldn't get through the gates (we still don't know why). Logan? On the moon. Ororo? Went on a quest for immortality.
Listen. Okay. Hold on.
We all know and are AWARE of the history Kurt and Logan have. It's borderline canon that they've hogged each other's schlongs.
However, given the Hickman way of just using characters for his own gain instead of giving them a respectable existence, I would bet ANY amount of money that when they wrote and designed that scene, they said "hey, you know what would get big points?" And then abandoned it. They already had their moment, so now Logan has to go fuck jean and scooter simultaneously while Kurt goes off his rocker on the island.
Maybe that's why he's so wrong these days, his favorite boytoy chose Jean and Scott over him 😔
I genuinely, I mean genuinely, thought the Krakoa timeline lacked the reveal of Mystique and Azazel being Nightcrawler's parents. Cuz at least his decisions would've made some sense: That rule? He didn't expect the massive child abandonment. Why would he? Margali told him he was found next to his dead *human* parents. He didn't worry about Azazel being there cuz, as far as he was concerned, he's just a villain who dresses funny, not unusual. His mother is the Council? Just another blue villain.
You don't think they forgot that Azazels his dad, right? They forgot he fucks a lot previously, you don't think they'd forget that? Right? They couldn't? Help?
"Maybe [Kurt]'s gonna use destiny for something else???" Highly doubt it. Just look at how he took advantage of the "fuck everyone" rule he made as a council member- OH wait. He didn't. He did nothing with it himself. Even if you went with Hickman's original reverse "no more mutants" idea, nothing would've come of it: That statement would've been uneventful. Ever since he got his FUZZY ASS on that chair, he's been but a mouthpiece for whatever plot direction Hickman wanted, a passive passager.
When I said Kurt would use destiny for something else, it's always with the lens of him being a completepy different character right now. I agree with you, Hickman has and will continue to use Kurt, so it also seems likely that Hickman would have Kurt use destiny to fulfill his weird plot takes
Hickman probably retconned the alien fucking at the same time he retconned the universe. Cuz this is the guy who came up with the "Leonardo DaVinci was a shield founder and Isaac Newton was sorcerer Supreme" comic plot. No fun allowed
No, he didn't. I'll retcon his retcon myself and so far people like my opinions more than his, so tough shit.
i don't like what he pulled on megan cuz it doesn't even make sense plot wise: since krakoa started they never talked to one another and prior to that the last time they met was during the Excalibur reunion where they acted like the old friends that THEY ARE. this could ONLY work if what transpired in Age of X is canon in the Krakoa time-line aka Megan and him decide to raise a child together. if that happened and some cataclysmic event tore it apart but the memories remained, it would add up.
See, after the age of x man stuff, they DID keep their memories. At least, that's how I interpreted & understand it. They kept their memories bc it was a false reality within their minds. They keep the memories but it's all fake anyway.
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