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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Telling the Truth

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, but also Magneto and Peter father/son interaction!

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others finally defeat Apocalypse, just to end up stranded together until a way home can be devised. During the wait, you get to clear up some things with Peter on your feelings for him. Yet all goes sideways when Peter finally works up the courage to tell Magneto the truth about being his son.

Notes: For those that know the movies by heart, I made some more changes closer to the comics obviously. You’ll see.

Warnings: Some cursing, especially during the impromptu therapy session of Magneto and Peter unleashing their emotional baggage.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

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You didn’t know what you felt anymore. In a way it was like being outside of yourself. Just watching from somewhere far away even as you were pouring every ounce of strength you had left into your hands, blasting Apocalypse’s shield over and over.

You were trying to cause even the slightest, tangible bit of damage to him, just as Magneto was, just as Scott was. And yet, even with the three of you giving all you had, the monster had already gathered himself up again. With just the movement of one hand, he’d thrown Hank violently to the side when Beast had gotten too close while trying to help you all.

And only moments after Hank’s unconscious body had come to rest, Scott had faltered as well. In exhaustion, he’d finally had to close his eyes, pulling his glasses back down as he’d staggered backward. Then with another flick of the wrist, Apocalypse had all too easily slammed the boy into a building, the wall he hit then swelling out to cover and encase him like some living horror.

You could still hear Scott screaming even as you realized Apocalypse had now turned his attention towards you. With his every step closer, that numbness grew within you. You were too weak to fly away now, after all the energy you’d thrown at him, you were barely still standing.

But you could see the irritation in his expression. It was obvious that he couldn’t understand your loyalty to one another. Why any of you would be fighting this hard, just to die.

He kept reusing the same tricks, but they were effective. As the earth shot up around you like tendrils on a vine, you couldn’t break free. As quick and flexible as it was, it only felt like concrete wrapping all around you. It pinned your arms to your sides and wrapped around your legs, chest, and throat.

With a clenching of Apocalypse’s fist, it all drew tighter. And when your energy field finally gave out, the last of your shielding went away with it. As that light faded, the pain of being slowly crushed exploded through you. But you couldn’t scream when you couldn’t even breathe.

Apocalypse would have Xavier. That was all he wanted, then outright ignoring the straining of Magneto in the sky above him, Erik desperately trying to still do anything on his own now.

But as your sight blurred and your senses faded, it was the most surreal thing, you could still recognize Jean’s silhouette as she also moved out into midair.

Yet it wasn’t her, at least not as you knew her. Somehow that thought had still floated through your dying mind, before the world exploded all over again.

Even without being powered up, you could feel that surge. Like a pressure wave of pure, raw force. It seared across everything, hot and burning. But like a warm fire, for those far enough from the center, it only revitalized them. Hank was awakened suddenly, soon enough breaking the pieces that held you and giving you a chance to breathe again before he ran on all fours to also free Scott.

And yet for Apocalypse, someone far too close to that center, and the real target of Jean’s fury, the only option was to burn.

You were on your knees as you still tried to catch your breath, but you all knew opportunity when you saw it. She’d broken through his shield, torn through his armor. But even as his flesh seared away, it was still trying to heal back just as quickly.

Magneto had impaled him to the spot with multiple steel bars as soon as his shield had fallen, but Apocalypse was a coward. As soon as that tide had started to turn, he tried to flee.

Hank called out, “He’s getting away!” As Apocalypse tried to teleport, an energy shield rebuilding to close around him.

Even digging as deep as you possibly could, you only had enough left to make a large orb from one palm. That white light encasing just one of your hands rather than your whole body as you realized you had to make this last shot count.

And just as you thought you were not going to have another opening to get past his shield, lightning began striking down right on top of him. A hole broke in his field with the force, the white haired girl from before surprising you all with a sudden change of allegiance.

You threw your orb at once then, controlling it to come right through the opening she had made. It exploded directly against Apocalypse’s head and neck, further blasting away muscle and bone that no longer had time to heal under all the combined attacks.

But it was still Jean who dealt the killing blow. With one final powerful surge of her energy, screaming, she erased the last of him. His body broke into only ash under her red aura. It spread into the sky all around her, like wings of flame before extinguishing at last.

You were still waiting for some final confirmation that it was really over though, that you’d won. After a few moments of only the sound of the receding wind, and the sand lightly blowing past with it, it was like a collective acceptance at last.

You fell back with a large exhale, exhausted as you laid onto your back in the dirt. In the sky, you could see Magneto and Jean hover back to where Xavier was, no doubt to check on him now. You could only imagine if Magneto would soon be apologizing to his old friend, or not, for his part in all this.

But you didn’t rest in your silence for long. As you heard footsteps, you turned your head enough to see Hank’s clawed feet approaching. But he wasn’t alone. He had Raven on one side and Peter on the other, Peter more so the one he was propping up with that broken leg.

“Raven wants to go see Charles,” Hank said by way of some explanation, awkwardly helping Peter sit back down beside you as the other winced in pain. “I need you two to stay here while we see if there’s any medical supplies intact nearby, and while we try to figure out how on earth we’re going to get home now.”

While Hank spoke, you thought Raven might have still been giving you a kind of odd look. As if she was trying to make sense of something. You could assume what, after the abrupt display between you and Peter before. But you were just too tired to feel anything other than relief right now that everyone was still here at all.

“Okay,” You said, maybe just to check that you could talk, as much as your throat still hurt from being squeezed earlier. But the two older mutants were then gone just as quickly. Hank had picked up Raven, jumping over to the exposed second floor of the building where the Professor and the others were.

Peter was unnaturally quiet afterward. At least for a while before he finally looked down at you. “So holy shit, right?”

You glanced up. That phrase really could reference about anything that had happened today. You smirked tiredly. “Could you be a little more specific please?”

“I mean, your friend just vaporized that dude.” Peter answered, waving one hand. He couldn’t stop from being animated even if he tried it seemed, even when injured. “Did you know she could do that? Like damn, we could have been done an hour ago.”

You tried not to laugh. It’d hurt your ribs too much if you did. “No. I’d say she didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Well, I know who not to piss off,” He said, before going quiet for a bit again.

You still hadn’t been around him all that long in actual length of hours. But for all you’d now been through since first meeting at the mansion, it seemed like this morning was lifetimes ago. And you could sense that his mind was churning with something else he actually wanted to say.

You looked up to him again after a while. “You okay?” You asked. Which probably was still a bit ironic for you to question, as even though he had the broken leg, you were also the one laying in the dirt, too tired and hurting to properly sit up.

It still took him some time to respond though. Which told you he actually was trying to weigh his words somewhat before speaking. But when they did finally start to come out, he was still pausing and hesitating. “I’m, um, first of all, sorry about the whole surprise kiss there. I figured you’d just slap the crap out of me or something. But I thought we were going to die too, and I...I just-”

He was looking at the ground now, like there would be some answer there that would help him verbalize what he was trying to say. “I know I screw up a lot and let things go that I shouldn’t let go I guess. I already flaked out with the whole reason I came up to your house this morning, the whole Magneto thing. And I didn’t want to do that twice, not telling someone the truth again all in one day just because I was being chicken shit. You’re just really cool, and you know...I just wanted you to know that.” He looked back at you at last, as if trying to judge if any of this was making sense at all.

It did and it didn’t of course. You didn’t understand at all what he meant about why he came up to the house in the first place, or anything about Magneto. But you didn’t want to question on that when he was already making himself vulnerable with the main point you thought he was trying to make to you at least.

“Peter, I kissed you back remember? I mean yes, there was a lot of stress involved. But it doesn’t make it a mistake.” Now you were the one perhaps putting too much optimism in your thoughts here, and taking a risk. “Maybe it just made it happen a lot sooner than it naturally would have. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want that, you know, eventually.”

Again, you’d only known each other for a day in real terms. Of course it was too much. But everybody had to start somewhere, right? You had no idea what a serious relationship could be like though, you’d never had one. Just awkward first dates that never became second dates because it was always just weird. You didn’t feel anything that way for those people and it was always evident so quickly.

And yet here came this guy, dropped into your life like a bomb in a time of utter chaos and danger, and you thought you were now finally understanding why your friends seemed to go so crazy when they told you about their “crushes” at school. It was just something that clicked. You couldn’t put rational thought to emotions like this.

“So you wanted to kiss me?” Peter finally asked in a way that was somewhat silly to you, because of course you wouldn’t have done anything like that if you didn’t actually want to. And yet you couldn’t make any dry reply to that effect when you saw the honest expression on his face as he’d asked.

Was it really so hard for him to believe that he would be wanted? You were surprised, genuinely. Of course he was quirky and odd, well maybe a great deal odd. But for all the flashy appearance and smugness you knew he could radiate, did he not actually see his own worth?

You touched his hand lightly, as you sat up at last. It hurt, but he needed to see your eyes to believe you now. You knew this was important. “You’ve had me flustered since you first introduced yourself this morning. I’m not used to that, at all, so it’s really new. I don’t really know how it’s all supposed to work, or what I’m supposed to do next. But I can at least speak to how I feel. I want to be around you more, I want to be close.”

The physical and the emotional went hand in hand really. But, you’d both have to figure out your own comfort level on that. You continued, trying to put that into words. He didn’t owe anything to you. “You need to remember it depends what you want too though. I can like you with or without kissing again. If you just want a friend, that’s okay too.”

He chuckled, seeming kind of taken aback. “Hell...” He looked away a moment, running his hand through his hair. It was obviously a nervous gesture, as it only made it look messier. “I’d really be a pathetic boyfriend you know. Like, epically bad.”

“You think so?” You asked, trying not to press too hard, but also not wanting him to keep seeming like he didn’t deserve any of this kind of attention.

“I’ll annoy you eventually, you’ll regret it.” He kept on, a little bit quieter then.

“How do you know I’m not annoying?” You countered. Of course you hoped you weren’t, you seemed to get along well with the other students, and they ran the gamut of so many kinds of personalities. But really, how was it fair for him to assume any fault would only be his?

“Pfft.” He looked back to you. “You literally glow. It’s not even metaphorical. You’re like perfect, and-“

Did Apocalypse ding him in the head too? You were having none of that. “I’m nothing of the sort. And neither are you.” But you smiled before he could take that negatively. “And I’m totally good with that.”

He quieted again, just watching you for an awkward while, before finally responding. “I guess we can try. I mean as long as you’re admitting now that your taste in guys is really this bad and you won’t get mad at me later for saying I told you so.”

It didn’t seem proper to laugh, but he made you want to. “I’ll overlook you insulting the both of us. But yes, if you want to try, then so do I.”

“Okay.” He answered. Then seemed to realize the depth of this a little more. “Shit...didn’t expect to get mutant-napped by the government, fight a god, break my leg, and become a boyfriend all in the same day.”

“And rescue a whole mutant school,” You added.

He shrugged purposefully for effect. “That’s what heroes do, babe.”

The pivot from so self conscious that he could barely accept your attraction to him, to now wanting to brag again really was something to behold. You started to quip something back, but stopped when you saw his face go serious. He was now looking at something abruptly in the distance, so you turned your head to follow his gaze.

It was Magneto.

You straightened up as well, now fully sitting up before Erik landed in front of you both.

He was direct, speaking immediately. “It will still be some time before Charles’ little CIA friend can get her cohorts to arrange your transport out of here.”

You didn’t know if the distaste in his tone was more about Moira being a government agent, or just dislike to her presence here entirely, but he only continued. “And given that Hank has no idea how to field dress wounds without access to his full laboratory, I get that responsibility.”

Peter shifted, abruptly realizing the meaning then. “I’m fine,” He lied.

Of course he absolutely wasn’t fine. But clearly distrusting about whatever Magneto now had planned and the inevitable pain it could mean for him. Peter hadn’t moved his leg at all in the entire time you’d been sitting here together.

Erik only answered him sharply, “You need a splint before you do even more damage to yourself.”

As he then raised his hands, metal rebar started to drag itself out from the broken buildings all around you, leaving no question that this was no longer a choice for Peter.

It was hard not to think that just a short time ago, Magneto had been using that same kind of power to impale Apocalypse over and over again. And yet now he showed how controlled he could be, breaking the thin rebar into lengths that could run all the way from Peter’s thigh to just above his ankle, and even bending them slightly to match the natural curvature of the knee.

“Lift his leg.” Erik spoke.

You’d been so distracted with watching him work the metal, that it took you a moment to realize the command was for you. You looked briefly to him, then to Peter. You and Peter both shared the same nervous expression.

If you just used your hands, you felt like you would only hurt him, not being able to support his whole leg in a way that wouldn’t put more pressure on the break. But you also didn’t know if you’d rested long enough sitting here to use your powers at all either.

Someone as intimidating as Magneto standing over you both impatiently certainly didn’t help.

But if it meant less discomfort for Peter, you’d at least try. You lifted both your hands, facing your palms towards Peter’s leg while focusing as best you could. Normally what would have been fairly simple now took a good deal of effort in your still drained state. But a faint white glow did start to move across his leg, eventually covering it from his hip all the way to the end of his foot.

Once enveloped, you raised just your fingertips, lifting his entire leg gently, just high enough that Magneto could place the metal bracing around it.

You heard Peter make a small sound of pain as Erik had circled other metal strips around the longer ones that ran parallel with his leg, snugging it all into place. But beyond that, the unconventional first aid seemed to be successful. His leg was effectively now immobilized as you let it back down softly, the light fading away as you let go.

“I look like a Mad Max reject,” Peter commented absently, breaking the silence after a moment as he poked at the new metal contraption.

“You’ll be running and finding trouble again soon enough I’m sure. We still heal faster than the lesser species.” Magneto responded, but not all that surprising to you really that he would still find ways to throw jabs at non mutants even in an unrelated conversation.

What did surprise you was that when Erik had started to turn to no doubt leave again now that his task was done, it was Peter that stopped him.

“Hey, wait a second.”

You didn’t think you were imagining a new anxious sound in Peter’s voice either, and it bloomed all new nerves in you as well. What was it between the two of them? There had been confusing hints of something ever since you’d gotten to Egypt, but Peter had never elaborated to you. Not that he’d really had much chance either though.

But just because of who Magneto was, it was easy to imagine things taking a dangerous turn if the wrong thing was said or done, but you had no idea how to help when you didn’t even know what had Peter so focused on him.

You felt him touch your hand, like a physical desire for support, as he asked Erik in the most serious voice you’d ever heard from him. “Do you remember a woman named Magda Eisenhardt?”

Magneto went rigid, and you froze as well. Very suddenly you were wondering if the others could still see you from here. If they were paying you any mind at all right now. But the only person here fast enough to actually get away from Erik, was here beside you with one wing clipped essentially. There’d be no escape.

“How do you know that name?” He’d turned fully back to face you both, eyes locked on Peter.

By the way Peter had seemed to pause his breathing, he wasn’t immune to the sense of threat either, but he still answered. “Well she goes by Maximoff now. She’s my mother.”

You felt like a helpless bystander watching some kind of disaster unfolding in slow motion. The frightening look in Magneto’s eyes versus the way Peter was now almost squeezing your hand painfully. The mental gymnastics your mind was now going through were chaotic. Did Magneto do something to Peter’s mother? Were they enemies? Was this some vengeance quest?

But if any of that were true, why on earth would Peter confront him now? With both of you already injured with not a chance to survive or defend against someone of Magneto’s power?

Whatever frightful things were burning through Erik’s mind as well still silenced him long enough for Peter to speak again though. And it all came out then.

“I was too afraid to tell you earlier, but I guess I’m just ripping the damn band aid off everything now. She told me about you. How she left because she was afraid of you too. But she didn’t tell you about being pregnant. She went to the states, changed her last name and had me. Me and my sister Wanda. Twins. But I didn’t know any of that about you when I busted you out of the Pentagon those years back. I didn’t know who you really were. That you were the guy I thought had just run off, or maybe you were dead. I didn’t know my father was in a damned plastic cell less than ten fucking miles away all those years when we had nothing!”

A chill went through you. The anger in Peter’s voice towards the end only added to the shock as you were forced to process everything at once. This was why. God. Just...shit.

You were all silent after that. For an unbearable amount of time there was silence.

When Erik finally did speak, you heard the anger in him too, but it was different. There was a raw pain in that, something so extremely deep coming out of him now. His fist was clenching. “She was right, boy. If it’s all true, then Magda was goddamn right to do everything in her power to hide you from me and to try to put an ocean between us back then.”

With a little horror, you could see the smallest fragments of metallic debris starting to quiver along the ground. His emotion carrying over into the environment now.

“I did remarry after I escaped Washington and went back to Europe. We even had a little girl. Anya.” There was the slightest sheen of wetness in his eyes, even though sheer anger was the only look still coming from them. “They killed them. My wife. My daughter. The humans killed them because of who I was!”

He gritted his teeth, and you could plainly see a couple tears escape his eyes then before disappearing back behind the sides of his helmet.

“They would have done the same to you and your sister eventually. To Magda too. She knew she’d be caught in the crossfire even when I didn’t. She knew what I really was.”

“It doesn’t make it right!” Peter’s voice surprised you as it broke, uneven and just as emotional as he yelled back at Erik. But he looked down again afterward, his hand trembling against yours. “I’m sorry what they did, that was our little sister too then. But you can’t just lie to someone their whole life. My mom shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me! I could have helped you...maybe it could have been different. Maybe we-”

“It would have been the same result.” Erik said coldly. “Because I would have been the same.”

With that he flew off abruptly, completely out of sight before Peter cursed under his breath, looking defeated. “Goddamnit. He really is an asshole...”

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe to try and comfort him, but then hesitated. There was so much to digest on both sides here. “I think he might just need time to cool off...” You finally said, as delicately as you could.

“Correct.” The Professor’s voice popped into both your heads then, leading you both to glance towards the broken building where the others had been, to now see they were all standing on the edge looking towards you.

“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Xavier continued. “But you were getting quite loud, both verbally and mentally, and I wanted to make sure you were safe as I had instructed the others not to interfere.”

Peter sighed, maybe a bit embarrassed at the audience, but also still clearly unused to having anyone in his head as he replied aloud. “That’s so damn weird. Guess you’re good now then?”

“Getting there, thanks to all of you.” Xavier answered with a slight amount of humor, “But helmet or no helmet, I don’t need to read Erik to tell you that he’ll be back. His anger is only towards himself, not to you. You did the right thing by letting him know the truth. He’ll come around.”

There was another odd feeling of amusement from the Professor after a moment though. “In fact, knowing how possessive Erik can be, I dare say you may get more than you bargained for, Peter, in parental attention. Good luck to you too, (Y/N). Though I’d think he’ll approve of you once he realizes how much you genuinely care about his son.”

You stared, knowing Xavier couldn’t see your ‘are you for real/horrified’ expression from this distance but that he’d definitely feel it.

You saw Raven make an exaggerated gesture of a thumbs up from way over there and Peter laughed tiredly. “We’re totally screwed aren’t we?” You sighed and he just leaned into you, teasing. “See? Too early to say it yet? Nope, it’s not. Told ya so. Told ya so. Terrible choice of a boyfriend, babe!”

You put your head on your knees as he rubbed one of your shoulders. You mumbled numbly. “I just want to sleep for sixteen hours.”

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(Continued in next chapter here)

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 2: The Ballad of Duke Balloney or “I’m Flintheart Glomgold and I Always Will Be!” (Commission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people. I”m Jake, I review stuff and today continues my look at Ducktales season 2 story arcs, of Moons, Millionares and Mothers. And while this arc as a whole is paid for by WeirdKev27, due to the Arc’s length, 17 parts including 15 episodes and 6 comics (2 of which will be in the same review), this one’s special as he’s using his patreon review every month to do so. If you too want me to review something of your choice simply hit up my ask box or join my patreon at patreon.com/popculture buffet. You get access to my discord, to pick a short when I do a group of them for characters birthdays, help me hit neat stretch goals like my next which is reviewing a darkwing duck episode a month, and best of all EXCLUSIVE REVIEWS. And I just added one this saturday of a carl barks story centerting around wigs, legal battles and attempted murder, both by our villian.. and by our heroes...

I will never get tired of that panel nor the boys inexplicably finding a blowgun. Point is it’s there if you want it at THIS LINK, but enough plugging so I can help pay the streaming bills and keep doing this... let’s get to the meat of things shall we?

This episode begins the second arc of this retrospective, The Glomgold Arc. And this arc was inevitibly going to come to this blog for two reasons. The first is that I have made no secret, in fact i’ve shouted it as loud as I can the neighbors are concerned, that I fucking love the 2017 Version of Flintheart Glomgold.

Glomgold is Keith Ferguson’s best role, tied with Lord Hater obviously, but it is indeed a tie. No one but Keith could’ve pulled off glomgold’s combination of ego, ham, and batshit insanity. He just makes the utterly stupid and wonderfully ludicrious things that come out of the mans mouth sound so damn natural with such an unearned confidence. It’s very clear that Frank had Keith in mind when putting this version of everyone’s faviorite South African Billionare pretending to be a Scottish Billionare and wisely built the characcter around him and his immense talent. I was not familiar with Keith at all, wasn’t even aware he voiced hater before this show but damn if that hasn’t fully changed.

Glomgold was also just in general a brilliant update of the character: While I know a lot of duck fans weren’t happy with this version at least at first. As the action figure sitting on my shelf that once road in a car with my david hasslehoff baywatch funko pop I have entirley due to my love of baywatching, this insane music video hoff did in the early 2000′s, and just in general how gloriously rediculous the man’s life is when you stop and think about it for a second from a pay per-view concert that ended up falling on the same night as The OJ Chase, to his kung fury cameo , to his weird insetence they never had sex on baywatch desspite mounds of video evdience and the fact the show was buit around the bulk of it’s cast’s sex appeal, to the fact the model of his pecs used for the spongebob movie was sold in an auction and on and on... I was going somewhere with this...

Oh right as the action figure, and previous praise, shows I am not one of these fans: The original isn’t bad, in fact one of my faviorite life and times chapters that i’ll be covering this week and talking about later in the review has him as the main antagonist and a pitvitol figure in Scrooge’s life in the worst way possible. Rosa GETS what’s needed for Flinty to feel specail: to have him be an evil mirror to scrooge, what he could’ve been had he kept down the path he started down in Africa. A ruthless, amoral asshole who will do ANYTHING to get rich.

It’s just often that isn’t emphasised enough and he’s instead just another one of the millions of generic assholes trying to get scrooges money sometimes with hired goons...

Not only that but Frank really COULDN’T have him at full effectivness. See an arch enemy in the Silver Age, which STARTED the same year Glomgold Debuted no less, wasn’t a big deal. They were still considered your deadliest foe but they’d often, much like Flinty be shuffled into the rogues gallery, show up for an issue to meance the hero, then either escape, get thrown in jail only to escape from that easily later, or be presumed dead. The last one I bring up because it happened to Magneto a LOTTTT pre-claremont. For Fuck’s Sake Charles have those teenagers train to look for a body once in a while!

Original Flinty was built for that, and brilliantly so as Barks had a talent for it , as seen by the fact The Beagle BOys, Flintheart and Magica have stuck around ever since and even in comics overseas where Flintehart is replaced.. it’s by Rockerduck who Barks ALSO created. The 87 Show followed the same formula, which was just as standard for 80′s cartoons. It’s why Megatron took until his toy was canceled the movie to shoot starscream in the face.

The problem is villians evolved and the expecation became more that a true arch enemy had to be a true threat. While Frank and Matt COULD’VE made Flintheart a real and honest threat, he also would’ve had to make him a Big Bad. The probelm was those seats were clearly taken: while i’m pretty sure some ideas came as they went, the main story beats were clearly planned out well in advance: Webby being a clone was always the plan, as was FOWL, Darkwing being a fan of a fictional Darkwing who became the real thing, and Della being on the moon. So he presumibly carefully choose each season’s big bad... and thus Season’s 1-3 would be full up wise. Season 1 had Magica, who he made into a TRUE threat, yet left the door open for her to return as she did, Season 2 had Lunaris who even if they hadn’t fully thought him up, they probably had thought up the moonvasion, and Season 3 was what they’d built the series towards with FOWL.

Details probably changed, it’s very clear to me they were likely going to have all three buzzards be important and ended up deicding to pivot to it just being Bradford over time. But given how well they though tout the general framework, I highly doubt Flinty was ever considered as a seirous big bad.. and I know i’m saying this in an arc that tried to set him up as one, but i’m getting there simmer.

So they could wait for a season 4 that might not happen.. or make him a recurring villian. So Frank and Matt decided to do that and leaned into comedy. Centering him around keith who Frank worked with previously on Wonder and thus knew he could play a hammy manchild like no one else, they simply leaned into the goofier aspects of his personality. His being similar to scrooge became him being an intentional and blatant knockoff. As Scrooge himself perfectly summed up in episode 1 “The poor man’s version of me.. which to be fair still makes him insanely rich”.

It’s another reason to really love this version as while yes, they did make him a bafoon.. he’s a wonderfully, redicuously layered bafoon: He still contrasts scrooge perfectly, manically hammy to Scrooge being calm, especially around flinty, blantatly crooked to Scrooge’s died in wool honesty, and wasting money on revenge instead of spending it on his actual company. There’s more obviously but some i’m saving for the review.

Not only that but his insane schemery has a rhyme and reason to it: He attacks Scrooge every week like the saturday morning cartoon villian he is, but his schemes are always unwieldly and massively stupid, and he always goes with the first draft. It’s something the team enforced: the first version is what they role with because that’s how his sad brain works. He also is obssed with sharks and explosives, the former being given a suprisingly heartfelt and unsuprisingly insanne origin story towards the series end, and works them into every plot no matter how much itm akes no sense. He’s pure ego, pure stupid and pure fun.

So yeah circling back to him being the big bad, I felt he was made one for this season for two reasons: the first is while a lot of fans (raises hand) enjoyed this version, some didn’t like how inept he was, so this would give them a breif bit of Flintheart being a genuine threat again. The other was frankly... they didn’t want to play their hand. Lunaris WAS the big bad... but fans would get supscious if there was seemingly no true threat on the horizon. Magica popped up in episode 4. We didn’t know her full plan yet true, but all we needed was lena SAYING HER NAME and fans of any other version of teh Disney Ducks would instantly go “Oh shit there she is”. So fans would now have the expectation of a main antagonist.. but would be instantly supscious of Lunaris and Penumbra if there wasn’t one for the first third of a season it took to them, and it’d leave a gap in the story to not have someone driving the plot on earth.

So Flinty got an upgrade.. a slight one and we’ll talk about the eb and flow. And thus he got a proper origin. Now granted they could’ve planned this too, but this one’s harder to tell as the curse you me gag could’ve been a clever setup or could’ve just been a one off gag they somehow turned into an entire episode. So Flinty got an arc.. and a comedic foil, the other reason this was inevieble, and Kev’s faviorite character, Zan Owlson. So how did it work out for them? Well we’ll begin that journey under the cut.

We begin our story a few months ago.... on every level really: the months ago shadow war aired when this episode originally good, the months ago I reviwed Shadow War (which via counting I found out was my 200th episode not counting Patreon. Nice), and most importantly for this story, the four months ago before the present day of Season 2.

Glomgold saying curse you me as he fell into the bay during the Shadow War.... only for once in his life he dosen’t somehow get out of it unscathed and instead passes out, almost drowning. He’s found by Fisher and Mann, two fisherpersons... Mann is specific about that due to being a woman despite the obvious irony. It’s a good gag. Flinty acts like he normally would.. hostile, demanding that they know who he is.. and while they don’t.. neither does he.

Cue credits and cue present day. Via a newscast with Roxanne we learn what I mentioned earlier: It’s been four month and Glomgold’s been missing. The general mood.. has been about what you’d expect.

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Yeah Roxanne turned on him real fast. I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he later openly bragged about stealing scrooge’s money during the shark thing on live tv at some point, making Roxanne look terrible for enabling him and for blatantly supporting him earlier. I mean.. how else do you get a corrupt journalist to do anything decent.

But with Glomgold gone SOMEONE’S gotta replace him.. and that someone is Zan Motherfucking Owlson. Top of her class at Mouseton Univesity, Owlson is the show once again updating things: previously they added Mark Beaks to the Rogue’s Gallery as he contrasts the 50′s (scrooge ) and 80′s (glomgold) idea of billionares from previous versions of the property being a modern tech weasel. Though instead of just one thing Owlson represents a few: The most obvious is she’s a woman of color: Having a black woman in such a high position of power is something disney would’ve outright vetoed in the 50′s and 80′s. Here it’s well accepted as it always should have been. It also feels like a delebrate move on Frank’s part: There weren't’ any major african or african american coded characters in season 1, despite the show being very open and accepting, so that needed to change. The other is frankly outside of Brigtaa MacBridge, whose also weirdly absent from this series for some reason and has taken Fethry and Rockerduck’s place as the most major overseas duck character to never get adapted, there are hardly ever any females on Scrooge and his richer foes level. He’s had the occasional female rival or suitor, but only Brigittta had staying power and while I love the idea of her, another person as rich as scrooge whose willing to spend more and has a crush on him, she badly needed an update as she’s essentially Adventure Era Amy Rose in a grown ass woman’s body.

Owlson also provides a diffrent dynamic in that she portrays the ideal of what we’d want from a ceo: She’s honest, works hard, earned her way as square as scrooge did, gladly donates to charity and is extremely charismatic and intelligent. Granted most CEO”s are nothing like this but still, she’s what we WANT them to be. Using the money not for themselves or taking big paychecks but to help people. She also provides something Glomgold needed: a straight man. While he has one in Scrooge at times, Owlson unlike both of them is a fully functional resonable human being. Scrooge, while a good person deep down, can be reckless, impulsive and greedy, and Glomgold had a tarzan like experince with sharks, goes on to name his dummy son sharkbomb, and tried to murder Scrooge on live television twice that we know of. She’s the calm, snarky, put upon sane person trying to reign in the crazy shark explosion man.

Owlson dosen’t get a ton to do here, but that will change and she does get a decent amout in the final scene. But what she does here establishes who she is and how sh’es FIXED Glomgold industries; She’s shut down the vast number of money sinking scheme related departments, set ups everal charities, and is even setting up a new one with Scrooge, Dimes for Ducklings. In short she knew exactly what was needed to fix the company and it’s image and did so in FOUR MONTHS. Probably even less given they had to be sure Glomgold wasn’t coming back right away. I guarantee he’s faked his death like 10 times just to try and kill scrooge. They have to make sure it’s real first. As one last note before we move on, Owlson is played by Natasha Rothwell, a producer and writer who i’ve only seen outside of this in Love, Simon and Sonic the Hedgehog.. that is a weird combo of things that mean a LOT to me I haven’t been able to bring up here again.

We find the tv this was all playing on on the docks with a non-anthro segull pecking it while a bunch of fisherpersons go about their day. We also get this guy.

Add him to the list of spinoffs I want THE LIST OF SPINOFFS JAKE WANTS: 1. Darkwing Duck 2. Donald, Daisy and the Kids 3. The Sabrewings 4. Tailspin Reboot 5. The Flintheart Glomgold Show 6. A Sequel Movie 7. This Guy Punching A Fucking Fish

So you might be wondering when any of our main cast are going to show up.. and why the fish puncher isn’t in said main cast. Well that’s about now as Webby and Louie are fishing. Well okay more acuratley webby is fishing because she genuinely enjoys it and Louie is tagging along so he can nap on a boat while Webby paddles him around. That plan is threatnned by her spear fishing and he suggests using rods instead, but they need bait for that.

Naturally, given we need to get this plot going our heroes run into Duke Baloney, aka an amnesiac Glomgold. Understandably, both of htem think this is some sort of scheme at first because waiting for someone related to Scrooge to stroll by his fish stand for some sort of shark themed trap, especially since he’s right near the water so he dosen’t have to worry about keeping them hydrated like that time he dropped one from a plane onto scrooge’s board meeting with two chainsaws strapped to it. But .. it’s not. While we the audience saw him amnesiac, and at first I thought that spoiled the episode... it really dosen’t. He still ACTS like himself on instinct, so your not sure if he faked it as part of some elaborate scheme or is really gone till this scene shows that, no he really isn’t there. And the how is simply in knowing the guy: Glomgold is not good at subtley. He has disguises and such, but their never remotely convincing. He could NEVER pull off actually being a humble fish monger nor have gone four fucking months without yelling at scrooge or remotely contacting him. There’s also the fact Fisher and Mann 100% belivie in duke and back up his very real story of being dredged out of the bay. There’s also his south african accent, which actors including David Tennant himself have admitted is one of the hardest to pull off but Keith does swimingly, which is a hint.. but only on rewatch or for those who know his comics origins.

Louie isn’t convinced which is fair: even if Glomgold isn’t good at this sort of thing, he’s still tried it a lot. Webby however correctly figures he has amensia. So the two simply try talking to him. Fisher and Mann do get a bit dickish laughing off the idea he’s possibly Glomgold.. despite the fact you know you dredged him out of the fucking water 4 months ago.. and if you actually looked at the news, would see Glomgold disappeared around the exact same time you found Duke. It just annoys me because otherwise these two are great characters: Friendly loveable fisherpersons who love their job, have no comeptiviness and genuinely want to help their friend duke. The encounter does have them seeing a fancy money clip Duke has but with no other options they leave for now.

But while Duke has forgotten who he was... bits of glomgold still stir within him. And that starts when Duke spots the McDuck Industries fishing boat, the best fishing boat on the sea, something his friends are okay with.. but Duke naturally isn’t. So while Duke was a calm sane fisherman before the true glomgold in him is on full display as he comes up with insane schemes involving fish and explosives, before presenting a rather insane scheme to his friends involving getting engineering degrees and other stuff.. it’s as poorly drawn and wonderful as you expect from him. But what’s telling is that he reigns it in when his friends show obvious concern with his actions... something Glomgold would NEVER do. For one he dosen’t have friends. For another, he doesn’t care about anyone else’s feelings or thoughts.

By now Webby is also championing that Duke is a diffrente person.. which is true. Duke is Glomgold stripped of his hate and resitment towards scrooge. He’s who the man COULD’VE been had he not sworn eternal vengeance on Scrooge. Louie is doubtful that he’s amnesiac still.. but neither can quite figure out the full story so it’s time for research.. and for Webby to accidentally knock Louie into some lobster traps.. which given he’s spent the entire episode assuming an amnesiac man isn’t that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he earned that. That said these two were the perfect choice for it: All of the boys have a bit of skeptic in them, and we already had a plot with Huey being skeptical.. and even he would’ve given up by now as would dewey since he only has a pinch at best. Webby.. has none. She can question motives and stuff sure, but at her heart she’s a kind forgiving soul who belives the best in everyone. And.. its’ paid off fo rher. Look at the whole Lena situation, she believed in her, even while Lena was actively manipulating her,.. and it truly changed her, convinced Lena to do the right thing despite the cost, to choose love over the abusive monster who made her. It’s the only missed opportunity in the episode for me. Character wise it has exactly the 8 it needs to tell the story and focuses heavly on the five it truly is about. But not having Webby bring up Lena when we don’t hear her mentoined AT ALL during her absence (though to the shows credit they did a good job showing Webby still had never remotely given up), and it made the wait more agonizing and would’ve made her motivations hit even harder: that she belives in duke because she believed in lena and it was real. And while this thank christ isn’t remotely romantic, the point does stand: She wants to see the best.

Louie is a conman by nature so he only sees the worst, the weakest in people, the things he can use to take htem down or take hteir money. He can’t fathom someone doing good because he can’t fathom HIMSELF being good. And that.. says a lot.. but he’s accepted himself as a shady conperson who cares only for himself.. even if that’s not the truth. His inclusion here enhances his own arc much like Huey’s role in quack pack enhanced his. It shows that deep down Louie dosen’t think much of anyone.. and probably not himself. That he has to be shady and greedy to survive when that’s not tru. Sharper than the sharpies yes but also square.

One last bit before we moved on I just found out though: The Crew originally had this as a straight up origin story: no kids, none of the rest of the duck family, except presumably Scrooge’s parts here, just Glomgold’s struggle with amensia and his past leading to who hei s now. Honestly I think that version could’ve worked, but likely given disney seems TERRIFIED of making a show starring an adult without a chlid and had to be talked into the child light Golden Lagoon, that was a non starter but I think it still works fine. I also foudn this out via a twitter thread of Frank’s rewriting history that goes in deep on teh production of each episode. Had I known this existed before writing this one, I would’ve used it for the other two arcs and most dangerous game night, but I intend to read through it so I have everything on the table from here on out.

For only the second time in her long career of researching stuff though, Webby has hit a dead end. Mostly because she couldn’t find anything on Duke.. and NOTHING on Glomgold’s past pre-Duckburg. The most she has is his visa...

I want to frame this on my wall.. and someone is actually seling id cards out there, so I want this one at some point. It’s not Disney because they don’t care about fan merch like this, but then that just means they don’t get the money because they didn’t think of it or put the work in then huh.

But yeah with nothing else our heroes go to the only person they know who knows him well... Scrooge.

Meanwhile Duke has .. this... I just.....I can’t put words to this truly bizzare surreal dream sequence.. it involves Glomgold going insane, the kids dancing on a bagpipe, and owlson is there.. despite the fact that Glomgold should have zero idea whot hat is. I think the kids mentioned here but even then, he somehow knows exactly what she looks like.

Otherwise good stuff and it’s raining hard as Duke goes in. Fisher and Mann have formally added him to their sign, and warmly welcomed him in and Duke says “this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me I think” which is probably true. and makes what’s coming all the more heartbreaking.

But before what’s coming Duke has another thing coming.. Scrooge who the kids brought to talk to him. The two talk casually, the kids watch not knowing.. and then Scrooge comes back to them. Turns out Webby was, unsurprisingly right on the money, Flinty does have amnesia, and unlike what Louie thought.. he isn’t inherently evil. Duke is just duke.. and Scrooge has no intention of fixing the amnesia. And while that SOUNDS bad.. his intentions are noble: Glomgold.. was a throughly miserable person. He was never happy and never would be till Scrooge was dead by his hand and that was never going to happen. It isn’t even taking an enemy off the board: Flinty is only a threat on occasion. Scrooge clearly ENJOYS their conflict: it may annoy him from time to time, but he clearly enjoys upstaging the guy. And as he points out, it’s not a brain injury or anything: Glomgold is practically immortal as Louie put earlier, and Scrooge outright mentions Glomgold’s taken a LOT of explosions to the face. So he’s in no real danger physically or emotionally.. he’s happy. He has friends, a calling he truly enjoys. There’s another reason too but we’ll see that in the final scene.

So Duke is finally happy... but it doesn’t last... the kids go out but a storms a coming, and Duke selfleslly heads out to save them.. only to get hit on the head and fall in the ocean again.

It’s here we get the 2017 version of Glomgold’s origin story. We did kinda get one with life and times, as we saw his first meeting with scrooge and why he hated him, long story short with the long story coming later this week Glomgold left Scrooge for dead and Scrooge’s response was to come back, kick the fuckers ass, tar and feather him and utterly humilaite him, leading to Flinty swearing vengance.

But while I love that version..t his one is just as awesome if not better. And it’s without having Scrooge ride a lion. Here we instead meet Flinty as a child Scrooge’s age... and as a shoeshine boy. Yup just like Scrooge Duke, Glomgold’s birth name, was an industrious young boy with big dreams. He also had unwieldy schemes from minute one, but Scrooge saw in this lad the same fire he had and tried replicating his own origin.

The problem was... the different context ruined it. Scrooge was paid by an equally poor ditchdigger the us equilvent of his pay: still useless in scotland, but a good lesson in hard work and not being swindled. Scrooge tried that... as the richest duck in the world and without giving flinty the same amount of money.

So Duke/Flinty took umbrage at this yelled at scrooge.. and pick pocketed his money clip. In the only bit taken from the rosa version of their first meeting, Scrooge never realized he’d met flinty already. There and then duke came up with his first true, and first insane scheme: Save the money and use it to mold himself into a richer, more scottish version of scrooge dedicating his life to one upping him and killing him. A “single white female” type thing as Frank put it.

It’s.. utterly brilliant... taking Glomgold being a knockoff as mention and just running with that... making Glomgold a LITERAL knockoff. This was indeed the plan all along: A way to have him be both south african and scottish and it was brilliant. It also gives him more depth and more tragedy: He COULD’VE been the next scrooge.. but instead of being his own man or learning any of the hard lessons scrooge did he doubled down on never learning anything and getting vengeance on an old man’s well meant but accidently classist gesture.

So Glomgold reawakens and while it first looks like he’s going to save the kids... he instead throws Webby into the raging sea, and steals their fish. Webby is heartbroken and Louie asks him “what about duke.” His response is heartbreaking as it is character defnting

“I”m Flintheart Glomgold and I always will be!” the lightning shot, the cackle..i t’s just such a damn good moment that underscores the tragedy of the episode as Glomgold’s new friends are horrified by what he is now and what he was always meant to be and Glomgold leaves to go stalk scrooge once again. He indeed is Flintheart Glomgold and always will be.. because he threw the decent person he could’ve been away. He’s miserable.. because he can’t let go of his rage or ego and just move on from something that happened to him when he was ten! He has to be in his 60′s now! Glomgold may think Scrooge is his worst enemy.. but it’s really Flintheart Glomgold.... and it always will be.

So naturally his first actoin is to storm into his company and scream at scrooge. How he found him there... honestly not a huge suprise it’s his company and he likely knows how to find scrooge anywhere because he’s a creep like that. Scrooge and Owlson’s reactions are both worth a look at:

Given Glomgold bursts into an already annoying meeting of Scrooge trying to get the dimes part knocked down to nickles (and likely lower before that given he mentioned Pennies earlier), to accuse Scrooge of trying to trick him by appearing as a boat in his dreams her bafflement is both understandable and hilarious. Like she probably HEARD what Glomgold was like but gennuinely didn’t belivie it and her face is just now frozen in a look of “oh my god they were not exagearating what fresh hell is this”.

She tries to be professional and introduce herself but he just brushes her off and yells at Scrooge blaming him for being forgotten (”You literally forgot yourself), with Owlson also considering calling security. She only dosen’t because Scrooge points out he’ll tire himself out eventually and as usual for their jousts, is not remotely threatened or worried. He’s just..sad. And getting back to his reaction.. that’s what’s telling about his plan. He probably KNEW this would happen. He in his heart knew Duke Balloney would be gone soon, and he’d have to deal with Glomgold again. It helps soften the implicatoins: it wouldn’t last and fraknly if it did Scrooge would probably have people check on him regualry to make sure he was okay. He’s not a monster.. he just wanted Flinty to be happy for five minutes and to not ruin that out of some misplaced sense of right and wrong.. when the right thing was to simply let the man be happy till it inevitably blew up.

Glomgold however, furious at being forgotten and cast aside has decided to take a huge poorly thought through gamble and challenges scrooge to a classic Scrooge comics trope between the two, but with higher stakes: A contest to see who will be the richest duck in the world by the end of the year.. and given Christmas happens right after this i’m just assuming he means a year from now. Winner gets both companies and fortunes. Scrooge scoffs at this.. till Flinty pulls out the clip, taunting him with how he did it and “If I can beat you once scrooge i’ll beat you again”. And this, Flinty revealing he stole from him and he NEVER KNEW it or realize it, enrages scrooge enough to agree and to take him seriously... meanwhile Owlson.. just tries to get actual work shit done and just forges their signatures. Look she is a woman of color in the business world with genuinely good motives... she’s probably used to using white nonsense to get things past two idiots having a peeing race.

Final Thoughts:

This episode is truly excellent and like Most Dangerous Game Night! i’d forgottne just HOW good it was. The pacing, the comedy, and the character work is all on full blast and i’ve gushed plenty enough about how great an origin story is. it’s a character piece that explains why this doofus is the way he is and that is what holds him back.

Next time on MMM: Louie’s back as he pulls a ghostbusters to make quick money and Storkules starts rooming with Donald with predictable results.

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon and i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #flintheart glomgold #scrooge mcduck #the ballad of duke balloney #webby vanderquack #louie duck #fisher #mann #fishing #weblena #disney plus #disney xd #disney channel

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 3 years

Note

"Your food will get cold."

“Let it,” Pyro said, arms crossed in front of him, fingernails digging viciously into the flesh of his biceps. The problem with storming off on a boat was that there was nowhere to go.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me,” Haven said softly. “But you should eat. Don’t harm yourself out of anger.”

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about harm right now,” Pyro snarled. The fury burned through his innards, licking around his heart, until he could taste ash in his mouth. He gripped his arms even tighter, not trusting what his hands would do otherwise. Kill no man…..

“I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, nor do I expect forgiveness. But it is true. I am sorry.”

“Bullshit you’re sorry!” Pyro shouted, turning towards her. “You’re just like the rest of them! Magneto, Exodus, they didn’t give a damn! Even that shit Empyrean was just using me! I was ‘tainted,’ I was ‘unworthy,’ I had bad genes or a weak constitution or whatever the fuck. Better to let people like me die off, right, so that evolution can keep marching on!”

Haven was shaking her head, eyes shut as if in pain. “It was wrong. It was of me to think that way, and I’m ashamed that I ever did.”

“I thought you were different, you know that? I thought you were actually kind and decent. Most of those rich pricks just fake it for good PR, but you….I thought you actually meant it. I thought….I thought you were real.”

“I am…..real,” Haven said haltingly. “I am as real as any other in this world, and as flawed. I have been blind and arrogant. I have done terrible things. I am still capable of terrible things.” She whispered the last sentence.

“So am I,” Pyro said, his voice menacing. “So stop whining excuses at me and get out of my sight before I do something really awful, you lying, two-faced cunt.”

Haven lowered her head – a nod or a bow, Pyro couldn’t tell and didn’t care - before turning and disappearing below decks. Pyro remained where he sat, watching the waves break against the prow, stars glittering on the dark sea.

Playing with fire at the moment was dangerous, he knew that, but he flicked his wrist to send a jet of it into his waiting hand. Sometimes he needed fire. When he burned, it burned with him, until the anger would melt into a comforting warmth in his chest. He would wrap it around himself in a protective embrace, until nothing could touch him, inside or out.

In his fingers, the fire twitched and danced, forming abstract shapes, complex spirals and patterns. It became Haven torn apart by lions or sliced in half or simply brutally beaten by firy hands. It gathered into a tiny ball and burned intensly hot, turning blue-white and starting to melt the nearby sunglasses Shinobi had left on the railing. It relaxed back into a ball of flame. For a moment, it shaped itself into his own face, looking thinner and more haggard than usual – then Pyro sent it flying out into the water with a sound of disgust.

Fuck it. He really needed a drink.

It was sometime later, halfway through his second bottle of whiskey, that Pyro realized he was no longer alone on the deck.

“There, you see, Madelyne? He’s fine. He had his dramatic little snit, and now he’s crawled into a bottle. As I expected. Soon he’ll pass out, and the problem will solve itself.”

“Problem? What problem?” Pyro felt strangely offended. He wasn’t the problem.

“The problem of you getting wasted and possibly falling overboard, firebug,” said Maddie. “Or just getting hypothermia from lying on the deck all night. We’re not exactly in the tropics right now, you know.”

“I know,” Pyro said, shivering suddenly, as if just noticing the cold.

“Madelyne was concerned.” Shaw’s face wrinkled around the word, as if tasting something disgustingly sweet. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t damage the ship with your tantrum.”

Someone was putting hands on him, tugging at him, and Pyro realized that Madelyne was right there.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, and then were was a sudden, strange lightness on his back.

“Don’t!” He repeated, louder and panicked. He flailed at her, trying unsuccessfully to stand. “Don’t, I need it!”

“Easy, easy,” Maddie soothed, “I’m just putting it away for tonight, okay? You’ve had enough for tonight.” The whiskey bottle had disappeared as well.

“Not that, I need….need fire. Fucking sitting duck without fire.”

“Yeah, that’s going up on the shelf until you’re sober, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen tonight.”

“Everything’s bad tonight,” Pyro slurred as Madelyne tried to pull him to his feet.

“Oh, please stop your whining, Allerdyce! Acting personally wounded just because Haven fell off the pedestal that you chose to put her on. How utterly childish. Not exactly her brave, chivalrous knight anymore, are you?”

“Sebastian, this is really not the time for this,” Madelyne said sternly.

“She said, she said…said I deserved to die,” Pyro muttered.

“She didn’t say that exactly – “

“She said it was a cull! The Virus was a cull!” Pyro insisted. “Let the world be cleansed….of people like me, right? People like me ain’t good enough to live. Sweep us all out of the way for….paradise, or mutant supremacy or whatever the fuck.:”

“Yeah, that was a shitty thing to believe,” Madelyne said. “And she had a demon inside her pretending to be a benevolent god. You know she doesn’t think that way anymore. There was a time when I believed that I should sacrifice my infant son and let demons overrun New York. I thought I was owed vengeance for the wrongs done to me, and innocent people paid for it.”

“He doesn’t care,” Sebastian put in. “Allerdyce only cares about past sins that affect him personally. His moral code is very self-centered in that way.”

“Oi, fuck off, Shaw!” Pyro attempted to point vaguely in Sebastian’s direction. “You’re the most….selfish fucker I’ve ever met.”

“I am self-interested, Allerdyce, there’s a difference. I take care of myself and expect no one else to do it for me. I take what I have earned, and respect those who do the same. I don’t put people into boxes of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ You’re really surprisingly naïve for a criminal, but I suppose that’s to be expected with your romanticized view of yourself -”

“Sebastian, shut up and help me with him, okay? You can be smug tomorrow.”

“Can I, then? I’ll hold you to that, Madelyne.” Pyro felt himself lifted, and carried, none too gently, down the stairs. Soon he was in his own cabin, being tucked into bed like a child, and feeling very much like this had all happened before.

“Just get some sleep, okay?” Madelyne was saying, and in the shadows her skin took on a greyish cast.

“M’okay, Raven,” Pyro mumbled. “I can still do the job.” He was no longer sure exactly where or when he was – just that he was lying weak and helpless in bed while the world lurched confusingly around him.

“Seriously, St. John. Sleep it off. Things’ll be better in the morning.” Maddie said, backing out and closing the door.

“It won’t, though. It’ll still be there in the morning,” Pyro muttered, but he was alone. As he had done in a different life, he shut his eyes, and quietly waited for oblivion.

(OOC: Don’t mind me, I’m just taking completely innocent asks on a trip to Angst City. Pyro just found out about Haven’s views on the Legacy Virus back when she was being manipulated by the Adversary. I promise the next Haven ask will be much nicer. Pyro will stew for a few days, then get over it and probably apologize for saying horrible things to her.)

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knives-out20 · 3 years

Text

Magnetic Push - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 1

Fandom: X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for Days Of Future Past, Magnetic Pull spoilers,

Notes: Hi! Welcome to the sequel of Magnetic Pull, titled ‘Magnetic Push’, it is advised you DO NOT READ this if you have NOT finished Magnetic Pull. But that is an obvious given. Grimm, as you all may remember, is an OC of mine. Enjoy!

Logan and Hank sat in front of Charles' desk in his office.

Charles bent over sluggishly, looking at Logan under a big desk lamp. "So, you're saying...that they took Raven's power, and, what? They weaponized it?"

"Yep." Logan nodded.

"She is unique" Hank commented.

"Yea, she is, Hank" Charles agreed, standing up properly.

"In the beginning, Sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants, who would eventually have mutant children, and grandchildren" Logan explained, watching Charles walk over to sit on a big couch at the side of the room. "Many of the humans tried to help us, but it was a slaughter. Leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars...I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with her."

"Now, let's just say that, for the sake of...the sake, that I- I choose to believe you, that I choose to help you, Raven won't listen to me" Charles sighed, smiling sadly. "Her soul belongs to someone else, now. Hers isn't the only one."

"I know" Logan admitted, standing up. "That's why we're gonna need Magneto, too. And Climber."

Hank looked up, as if he hadn't heard those names in ages. "Erik? A-And Karmel? You do know where they are?"

"Yea."

Charles grinned in disbelief, laughing to himself. "Could you give me that one more time, please?" He rhetorically asked.

"You heard me" Logan replied, promptly standing his ground.

Charles continued to laugh as he stood up. "He's where he belongs. Him and Karmel both" he told, facial expression rapidly changing to one of disdain as he passed by Logan.

"Well, that's it? You're just gonna walk out?"

"Ooh, top marks" Charles raised his eyebrows, sassing Logan. "Like I said, you are perceptive" he pointed at Logan, walking backwards towards the staircase.

"The Professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path" Hank noted, watching Charles walk away. "Especially someone he loved."

Charles stopped at the foot of the stairs. He took a step back, then one more before speaking again. "You know...I think I do remember you now" Charles said, walking back over to Logan. "Yea. Tall, angry fellow with the contentious hair. We came to you a long time ago, Erik, Karmel, and I, seeking your help. And I'm gonna say to you, what you said to us then..." he leaned in, getting right up in Logan's face. "'Go fuck yourself'."

"Listen to me, you little shit" Logan growled, grabbing Charles' shirt. "I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die. Good people. Friends. If you're gonna wallow in self-pity and do nothing, then you're gonna watch the same thing, you understand?"

Charles searched Logan's eyes, confused at the audacity this man had.

Logan let go of Charles.

"We all have to die sometime" Charles walked away, for real this time.

"I told you there was no professor here" Hank reminded.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, turning around.

"He lost everything. Erik, Karmel, Raven, his legs" Hank sighed. "We built the school, the labs, this whole place, then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted. It broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help, do something, so I designed a serum to treat his spine, derived from the same formula that helps me control my mutation" he shook his head. "I take just enough to keep myself balanced, but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back, as did Grimm, but he just couldn't bear the pain. The voices. Grimm tried countless times to- to help Charles, to slow him down to the dosage I take, but like I said, Charles, he...couldn't be helped."

"Grimm, uh...blue-haired guy, talks to and controls the dead?" Logan arched a brow.

"Yea. Grimm didn't want to waste away trying to help someone who couldn't be helped, so, he broke it off with Charles, and thus, Charles lost him. The treatment gives Charles his legs, but it's not enough. He's...He's just lost too much" Hank concluded.

Charles lay on his bed, eyes shining on the brink of tears. He looked over at his bedside table, specifically at a framed photo of Raven. Charles' chest went up and down with his restrained breathing, thinking back to the first time Raven and him met, as kids. His vision glided over the photo of Raven, to a tie. Not any tie of his own, or Hank's, but...an old friend's tie.

Karmel's tie. He had forgotten it at the X-Mansion back when he resided in it, and Charles kept it with the underlying hope of seeing Karmel again and returning it to him.

Charles knew how much Karmel's ties meant to him, and why they meant to much to him; all of Karmel's ties belonged to his father. He groaned softy, thinking back to when he first met Karmel.

"Uh, Karmel" Karmel repeated, outstretching his hand, "Karmel Rosenstein."

"Charles Xavier. Friend of Moira's?"

Karmel shrugged.

"Acquaintances, actually? Mutual friend" Charles corrected.

Karmel furrowed his eyebrows. "Yea...How did you- never mind- you?"

"Very recently acquainted. She brought me here to meet you."

Karmel's eyes went wide. "Uh- w-why? Why'd you need to meet me? What's happening? Moira, I- I don't like boys, but it's fine if you do Charles, but I-"

Moira raised a hand, putting back the book she was holding and cutting Karmel short. "I didn't bring Charles here to set him up with you, I know you like girls. I brought him here because I feel that you both have something in common."

"An obvious interest in girls?" Karmel insisted, hands on his hips.

Charles held back a chuckle. He knew Karmel had been locked up in Erik's heart for the past ten years or so- and vice versa. Charles thought that surely, today, Karmel was more embracing of his sexuality than he had been back then, when he used to live in fear of it.

"Karmel, Karmel-" Charles called, putting a hand on Karmel's shoulder. "It's okay."

Karmel slowly dropped his hands, raising an eyebrow. His vine art of Erik grew purple flowers, which bloomed quickly. Karmel's breath hitched at that.

"It's okay now, remember? I know, you know, we both know here. And I'm a hundred percent okay with what I know. As of our quick trip to Russia, so are you. It's okay, you're safe here. You can be who you truly are."

Karmel took slow, deep breaths, nodding. "Yea, I- I just...I guess I'm gonna forget sometimes, that it's okay. But it's hard to forget that on a scale of one to ten, he's a certified twenty. I'm...I love Erik, man."

"Which is okay" Charles cracked a comforting smile. "I'll be around to remind you. It's a slow process."

Charles could still vividly remember the way Karmel's vines looped around the wall of the mansion to form Erik's face, the pure detail of it all- Karmel had Erik's entire being memorized. He moaned in annoyance, getting out of bed and passing right by the tie and framed photo.

Back downstairs, Hank was organizing the study while Logan tried thinking of what to do next.

"I'll help you get her" Charles stood right outside the study. "Not for any of your future shite, but for her."

"Fair enough" Logan quickly replied.

"But I'll tell you this, you don't know Erik, and you definitely don’t know Karmel. No one knows them like they know each other. Karmel follows in Erik’s footsteps, his pain and anger pushing him to go faster and faster. Erik, that man is a monster, a murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change? To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles scowled.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here, together."

Charles stared deep into Logan's eyes, determined. "And- And what about Karmel, huh?"

"Listen, Professor. What Karmel does or doesn't do in the future isn't important. What's important is that we can change Erik, and that means him, too. Y'just gotta believe me."

***

"The room they're holding Erik and Karmel in was built during the Second World War, when there was a shortage of steel. So the foundation is pure concrete and sand. No metal. The walls are too thick for Karmel to grow vines out of, and the glass ceiling, he isn't strong enough to break his vines through" Hank described.

"They're being held a hundred floors beneath the most heavily-guarded building on the planet" Charles added, the three men looking over an aerial map of the Pentagon.

"Why are they in there?" Logan inquired.

Charles looked up at Hank, then over at Logan. "What, Erik forgot to mention?" He snickered.

"Uh, JFK" Hank timidly answered.

"...They killed-" Charles cut Logan off.

"What else explains a bullet miraculously curving through the air? At the perfect level from around some trees? Erik's always had a way with guns, and Karmel's always had a way, for the way Erik has a way with guns" Charles chuckled.

"Or just, Karmel's always had a way with Erik" Hank shortened what Charles said, down to its bare minimum.

"Are you sure you want to carry on with this?"

"This is your plan, not mine" Logan reminded.

"We don't have any resources to get us in" Hank complained, Charles chiming in by chirping "or out. It's just me and Hank."

"I knew a guy. Yea, he'd be a young man now. Grew up outside of DC" Logan giggled, shaking his head. "He could get into anywhere, I just don't know how the hell we're gonna find him."

Hank tore his gaze from Logan, to Charles. "Is Cerebro out of the question?" He whispered, Charles silently hanging his head as an answer.

"If only you guys had internet."

Charles looked up at Logan, eyebrows raised in interest.

"What's 'internet'?" Hank furrowed his eyebrows.

Logan sighed, shifting where he stood and turning back down to the map.

"We have a phone book" Hank then suggested.

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luci-cunt · 3 years

Note

Tell me about Magneto🤭

MAY YOU CAN’T SEE IT BUT IM KISSING YOU SO PASSIONATELY RIGHT NOW

Ok so listeeennnn tooooo meeeee, okokokok, so a while ago I went on this James McAvoy bender--don’t ask--and I saw he was in the X-Men movies, whic hi haven’t watched since the Wolverine movies/ Last Stand when I was like, actually a baby. So anyways I flipped them on thinking “yeah what could go wrong?” except I watched them in the wrong order

Anyways here’s an essay on why neither Erik or Prof X was right and the actual answer would be to compromise and these movies how how because they’re both too stubborn and couldn’t it destroyed their friendship and fucked everything up.

Also the fact that X-Men: First Class is the best Villain origin story to ever cross the screen.

Ok so spoilers ahead for X-Men: Days of Future Past and X-Men: First Class

Now, it should be noted that I’m no an X-Men expert I just love these two movies.

So for some context: First Class and Days of Future Past are both kind of prequels, except DoFP is a prequel-sequel?? becuase of time travel?? I’ll explain don’t worry. The point is, they take place in the past where all the characters are younger. James McAvoy plays Professor X (who I’ll just be calling X for this whole thing), Michael Fassbender plays Magneto (aka Erik), oh and Jennifer Lawrence plays Mystic--who will be appearing in this essay XDD.

Alright so first of all have a plot summary: DoFP is about Wolverine getting sent back in time so he can convince a younger Prof X to stop Raven (aka Mystic) from getting caught by this guy Trask who then uses her DNA to create super weapons that irradiate all mutants. The current future Wolverine is in, he, prof X, Magneto, and a few other mutants are trying their best to survive but it’s a losing battle and their only hope is to literally change the past.

This one takes place after the events of First Class, which I will now explain.

So in First Class a younger Prof X and Magneto team up to find and recruit bb mutants to X’s school because the government wants to use Mutants to help fight the Russians (oh head this takes placee in the 1960′s right before the Cuban Missile Crisis). This is essentially a Magneto origin story and also--in my opinion--the best villain origin story to ever cross the screen.

OK so now some details on our main characters:

Magneto/ Erik Lehnsherr: a literal holocaust survivor who’s only goal in the begining of the story is hunting/ killing nazi’s, specifically one nazi who tortured him specifically and I will get into him later don’t worry.

Professor X: super smart rich white boy with a heart of gold but also enough naivete to make a lamb look like a Stephen King character.

Already you can see very stark differences between the two of them. Erik is set up as being a staunch pessimist while X is a vivid optimist, and that makes sense. X’s grown up sheltered and never wanting for anythign while Erik suffered a trainwreck of the greatest traumas in human existence hitting him over and over and over again from like age fucking 9.

Ok also tehre’s J-Law’s character Raven, who is a mutant that can change her skin to look like anythign she wants it to but her actual form is blue/ scaly/ “not pretty” (bullshit but ok). She met X when she broke into his house one night to steal some food and then they became friends, their relationship will become important later but for now that’s all u need to know.

ok so anyways, in the begining of First Class Erik is hunting + killing Nazi’s, specifically looking for this one called Schmidt because when Erik was little he and his family were carted away to a concentration camp where Schmidt witness Erik use his metal bending powers and decided to “train” him. aka physically/ mentally abuse him for years. The whole thing starts with Schmidt trying to get Erik to lift a metal coin with his mind, when he can’t (because he’s a child who didn’t even know he had his powers until literally hours ago) Schmidt puts his mother’s life on the line and when he still can’t Schmidt kills her. This sends Erik it’s a rage and he crushes some nazi heads but then Schmidt is still standing and mentions how “oh gotcha, so it’s rage and pain that’s the key to your powers huh?” anyways this tidbit and the coin will become important later trust me--

Meanwhile Prof X is graduating from Oxford/ generally being an idiot pretty boy. He’s a telepath who knows about his powers and has used them from an early age. He also wrote some big paper on mutants, which gets the attention of an FBI agent who witnesses the villains being mutants and wants his advice

However, the villains just so happen to be Schmidt, who’s going by “Shaw” now, so when X and the agents catch up to him Erik is already there and on a mission to murder his ass. Some bs happens, Erik tries to pull a submarine out of the water but can’t (T-T this will be important) and X jumps into the water to stop him because the mental stress is literally killing him.

That’s how they meet.

It’s important to note: up until this point, Erik didn’t know there were other mutants, so meeting X, who’s friends with Raven, is kind of a big deal for him. He and X become very fast friends and also have a very homoerotic montage where they become dads for a bunch of mutant teenagers, because they realize they can use X to track all these baby mutants, collect them, and train them so they don’t grow up fearing their powers.

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Anyways, the other thing about this is that now that Erik has this newfound group of people that are just like him, he’s opening up, and X is helping him realize he’s actually so much more powerful when he taps into happy memories rather than fueling himself on pain and rage. This scene always makes me sob oh my god--

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Also, fellas--is it gay to “access the brightest cortex” of your homies memories and remind him that hate and pain are not good motivators before reminding him that he has good memories he can draw on and showing him that his life has not been entirely painful?

YEs, the answer is yes are u shitting me??

ok so anyways--something to note about this is that X and Erik are both very protective of all their new kids, but Erik is especially so. I’m going to be getting into this more but just tab thsi thought for later :)

Now, the plot’s kicking up a bit, because it’s at this point that Erik and X capture one of Shaw’s (aka the nazi’s) main lackies and they question her until she gives them the info that Shaw’s planning on using the Cuban Missile Crisis tensions to start a nuclear war to wipe out all humans so that only mutants survive in the new world.

Obviously they want to stop him, but also, you can kind of tell that Erik is not totally against this plan, which only gets to be more later but that’s for later.

Right now I wanna take a quick break to talk about Raven--aka Mystic, aka J-Law. She and X were childhood friends and she kind of clung to him because she doesn’t have family/ anyone she can really be herself around besides him.

X insistently says throughout the movie he sees her as a sister, but it’s kinda obvious she’d be down to fuck. She has this big plotline where she keeps trying to get X to understand why it’s so frustrating for her to have to be using energy to look “human.” Because her natural form is the one with the blue skin. X doesn’t understand this because his power is easy to hide, it’s simple for him to just fake-human and have no one be any wiser, Raven, however, doesn’t have that luxury and when she tries to explain this to X it just flies over his head, insisting she hide her natural self to better fit in if that’s what she really wants.

Queue Erik, who comes in as a king of self love. He’s pretty blunt about it, but his point is basically “you’re wasting energy by constantly pretending you’re something you’re not--stop” and she responds essentially with “yeah but then no one will like me” to which he responds “then make them.”

Raven’s relationship with both the boys is used through both First Class and DoFP to really highlight their faults. X believes humans and mutants can coexist but he thinks we go about doign that by completely ignoring the pages of history of abuse mutants have suffered--and it’s mostly because he hasn’t experienced it.

Erik on the other hand will do everything and anything he possibly can to protect his new family/ people, and in his head that means exterminating any and all threats. By the end of the movie--humans become one of those threats.

The point of this whole ramble is that: they both represent utter opposites, BUT, X’s blind optimism and Erik’s blind pessimism are equally bad.

Ok so back to plot for a second to prove this.

Shaw is revealed to be a mutant himself and he also has a helmet that can block telepathy. (yes it’s the magneto helmetjasjd;fkjaskl;dfjasldkj jsut wait).

His plan’s complicated but basically: he’s going to poke America and Russia until they pop and incite a nuclear war. And it works. The whole pre-climax of the film sees X, Erik, Raven, and the other mutants all working double time to stop Shaw’s plan (AND IT INVOLVES ERIK SUCCESSFULLY PULING A SUBMARINE OUT OF THE WATER!!! BECAUSE NOW HE’S USING HAPPINESS INSTEAD OF ANGER/ PAIN!!!).

Anywho, they’re doing all this, but then some bullshit happens, the plane they’re on crashes oh and -- yeah there’s this part where Erik uses himself as a seatbelt for X it’s fantastic but anyways--

This is finally the climax of the film.

Also possibly the greatest scene in film history in my humble opinion.

Because listen--in order to stop Shaw they need the helmet off of him so that X can telepathically freeze his ass and they can arrest him or whatever. So they split up--Erik rushes into the wreckage to find Shaw and X stays behind ready to freeze the guy as soon as the helmet comes off but--

Well, vengence is just too tempting.

So when Erik gets Shaws helmet off, X freezes the guy, and he’s ecstatic, at least until he realizes Erik plans on killing Shaw.

He’s pleading with Erik because this is vengence and he can’t chose that but Erik just puts on the helmet and--taunts Shaw, pulling out the coin Shaw taunted him with all those years ago and in a mimickry of the game Shaw forced him to play as a child and killed his mother over--he slowly floats the coin at Shaws head, telling him “I’m going to count to ten, and all you have to do is move.”

But he can’t--because X is holding him--and that’s the point, Erik wants him as helpless as he was, and X can’t let his hold on Shaw go because that would mean putting Erik in danger but he’s also in Shaws head so he feels the coin go through his head as though Erik was doing it to him and the fucking cinematography in this scene is so fuaksdjf;laksjd;fjasd;lkfjadsl;asdjf;ljL:DKJFL:SDKJFL:D KFUCKKKKK

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This scene is cinematic perfection don’t fucking lOOK at me unless you agree.

T-T and then, it only gets worse, because now Erik’s finally finished his original purpose--killing the man who killed his mother and ruined his life--and now he’s got a new one, aka protecting his new family aka the mutants.

AND HE’S ONLY PROVEN RIGHT THAT HUMANS ARE A THREAT BECAUSE THEY TURN AND TRY TO KILL ALL THE MUTANTS IN THE PLANE CRASH AND JSUT--

And so he stops all the missiles flying their way, and turns them around on the humans and X has to stop him but he’s not listening and the rawest fucking line in the whole movie comes when X says

“There’s hundreds of men on those ships--innocent men. They’re just following orders!”

And Erik simply replies, “I’ve been at the mercy of men ‘just following orders’--never again.”

And then he goes to blow up the shipsthen one of the other characters goes to shoot Erik and he deflects the bullet wtihout thinking right. into. X’s. back.

Paralysing him.

And just akjd;fjasdflkjasd;lfkj this scene speaks for itself

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Listen just--akjdsf;ljasdlk jguys this movie has no right being this good.

And then the movie closes off with X and Erik literally begging one another to just see it their way--because they both want so badly to be on the same side but they’re too stubborn and they refuse to see compromise and just ajkdf;lja;sdkfja;sdljkfsadlkf

Ok I realize now that I barely talked about DoFP but this is already so long. The major things I was going to bring up was teh absolutely fantastic bitter exes energy that McAvoy and Fassbender bring to that movie it’s excellent but also the fact that X is literally the only person Erik goes out of his way not to kill despite standing directly in the way of Erik’s goal.

Like, you remember my whole deal with Raven??? yeah that’s x10 in DoFP (which takes place quickly after this movie) yeah so her and Erik are close, and shown to be close, but the second he thinks she endangers his fam he literally 180′s so quick and tries to straight up murder her.

BUT HE FUCKING BENDS THE BULLET AROUND X’s HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! X!!!!!!!!!! WHO’S LITERALLY 100% AGAINST HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST

Ok, that’s all. By the way I don’t want to like, up your expecations too much because I actually kind of hate X-Men: First Class almost as much as I love it?? it’s very..... of it’s era, and cheesy, and dumb--but fucking magneto you guys holy SHIT

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mistressxfmagnetism · 3 years

Text

my heart is gold...

WHO: Lorna Dane and Julio Richter ( @rictorscales ) WHEN: 7 days before [redacted] WHERE: XFI HQ, NYC Docks WHAT: A grieving, angry Lorna seeks out Rictor to help her find something to break or fight. Rictor ignores the red flags, and Lorna’s distractions end in tragedy. WARNINGS: Violence, death, trauma, memory alteration, PTSD, bigotry, guns, suicide ideation

LORNA: It had been a week, or almost anyway. A week since she'd run from Genosha, from her father, from Jean. From her memories and her hurricane of emotions. But the only ones to follow her had been the last two, trying to tear her apart as they did. She hadn't slept in a week, far too wired, and had barely stopped moving either. When she stopped, the grief began to undo her (youkilledheryoukilledheryoukilled--). No, far easier to keep moving, to focus on the anger she felt towards Erik for the way he'd meddled with her mind. For hiding what she'd done. For making her witness what he'd done to her step father and then erasing his guilt with her memories.

She didn't know who could help her with any of this. But when it came to anger that threatened to burst out, and powers that could destroy when that burst happened, Lorna turned to Ric. Maybe he could help her ground herself, with that connection to the earth he seemed to understand better than others. Or maybe he'd let her be angry and not tell her enough for how furious and hurt she was with Erik. That was how Lorna found herself letting herself into XFI to find him, unlocking the door with barely a thought. It was like unlocking the memories had unlocked more of her powers too, it was too easy.

RICTOR: A few months ago, things were quieter. Rictor could feel vibrations in the back of his mind, like a movie soundtrack. It was there, but it wasn’t overpowering. You didn’t notice it until certain notes began to swell, didn’t hear it until it needed to be heard. It was different, since Genosha. He’d pulled an island from the sea and everything was louder now. He heard the lock moving without a key, heard the thump thump thump of a heart in a chest, felt the vibrations of a body moving. Everyone on Earth gave off a slightly different frequency of vibrations, and he recognized Lorna’s the moment she got close. A few months ago, that might have been all he recognized. But now…

Anger was an energy. In theory, Rictor had always known that. He had felt it surge in his chest, felt it overpower his heart, felt it burn him from the inside out. He’d never felt it in other people before, but right now? Lorna’s heart was vibrating at a frequency he knew so well. Anger was an energy, and Lorna Dane was a goddamn nuclear power plant, an instant away from an explosion. And Rictor knew how that felt. He understood that better than he’d ever understood anything else.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” He called from the couch as she walked in, twisting his position to face her. “Because I’m sure I deserve it, but Tabby’s gonna be pissed if you kill me. I told her I’d buy beer for the fridge.”

LORNA: She should've known he'd know from the second she walked in. But she was still surprised by it. "No, Ric. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at Magneto." And Jean. And herself. But Erik bore the brunt of it.

Lorna’s head wouldn’t stop spinning, even now. Her mind kept replaying the events of that night. Of how her powers had manifested because of the argument, because she'd been so scared for her mother, so upset by the shouting. She'd crashed the plane and killed them. Only she’d not killed them both, had she? Erik had killed Arnold Dane. Those screams wouldn't leave her mind either. Even if it had not been her, was it not Lorna’s fault? Lorna had practically summoned Erik to the scene by causing such a disruption to the magnetic field with the pulse that crashed their plane in the first place.

The destruction of the block seemed to have destabilised Lorna more than she could've expected. Part of her life so fundamental to everything had been a lie, had been hidden. Her powers were on edge, all week things had been sparking and creaking around her. "He fucking--He erased my memory when I was a kid, Ric. He had some telepath put a block in my head and then left me."

RICTOR: Magneto. The way she said it caught him off guard, had him freezing in his seat because it wasn’t right. He’d never heard Lorna refer to her father as the title before, but up until now, it had been Erik. It had almost been dad, sometimes. It had never been Magneto. There was a question in his eyes as he studied her, a silent inquiry that felt too deep to say aloud. So he said something else instead. He kept his voice light, he deflected from the seriousness of her tone. “Well, if you’ve come to talk daddy issues, you picked the right guy.”

(It wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew that. But if Lorna wanted someone to say the right things, she wouldn’t have come to Rictor to begin with.)

He didn’t ask her to explain, but he knew she’d do it anyway. Rictor might not be a master detective, might not have ever really earned the P.I. title he boasted, but he knew Lorna well enough to know that she liked to offer explanation to her anger. It wasn’t something he did himself, but he understood the appeal. Giving a voice to your rage allowed it validity. Explaining why your hands shook could steady them sometimes. And Rictor had never much cared about the validity of his anger, but Lorna did. So he listened, and he let the fire in his own chest burn to match hers.

“What an asshole,” he said, and he meant it. When he was a kid and Cable had wanted inside his head, Rictor had left his team, his family behind to prevent it from happening. Erik hadn’t given Lorna the chance to do the same. He’d made a choice for her, the same way Rictor’s father had always made choices for him. He didn’t have to feign anger on Lorna’s behalf --- it was an easy thing to feel. “What are we doing about it? What do you want to do?” Erik had taken a choice away from her, and Rictor couldn’t change that. But he could offer her a new one. And that wasn’t enough, but it was something all the same.

LORNA: She caught the way Ric froze, the question in his eyes. But she didn't want to address it straight on, letting her anger speak for her choices instead. And Ric, proving exactly why she'd come to him now, didn't ask. Didn't pry. He made a quip and then waited for her to get out what she wanted to say. Despite herself, she snorted at his comment, rolling her eyes. Trust Ric.

Getting it out in the open didn't still the shaking, nor dampen the burning anger--or the lighten the crushing guilt that she was still hiding from him--but it did feel good to hear someone agree with her. Someone else call Erik an asshole, and not even try to defend him. It felt good to have someone on her side 100% in this. To assure herself that she wasn't overreacting, to quiet that little voice that said she was only angry to absolve herself of what those memories had revealed.

"I don't know. I just... Fuck, I want to break something." She wanted to fight Erik, but Jean wouldn't let her and Erik wouldn't fight back. So she had to find another avenue for it.

RICTOR: If Lorna wanted to talk things through, she wouldn’t have come to Rictor. She would have gone to Rahne, to Terry, maybe even to Monet if she was feeling particularly brave, but not Rictor. Rictor was a man so incompetent about conversations on feelings that his first - and last - attempt at therapy nearly ended in a fist fight. He was a man who’d climbed to the roof of a building and contemplated exit strategies more than once without ever making an effort to talk about any of them. If Lorna wanted to talk about what was bothering her, she wouldn’t be here.

So Rictor didn’t talk.

He studied her, waited for her to tell him why she was here, because there was some reason for it. She’d left the group chat, left Genosha, could have left him along with them and he wouldn’t have been angry. (Hurt, maybe. But for all the anger that made a home of him, he rarely felt any aimed towards Lorna Dane.) When she finally spoke, when she told him her reasons for coming to him, they made sense. She wanted to break something, and everyone knew he was good at that. So he nodded, pursing his lips and getting to his feet. “Okay,” he said, stretching his back, “so let’s break something.”

LORNA: She trusted Ric. Despite what even he would say, Lorna trusted him. She knew he wouldn't judge her, that he'd side with her, and he wouldn't run back to Erik to tell him everything. Lorna didn't want anything getting back to Erik until she was ready. Eventually she would be, she knew that already, but not yet. And Ric would understand her need to break shit. To be destructive until there was nothing left. Until even she was barely left. Until she wasn't haunted any more. If anyone wasn't going to talk her out of it, it was him.

"Great. Let's go." She waited for him to get anything he needed, heading back to the door, which opened before she even reached for it. And if her hand trembled as she caught the door handle, she wasn't going to mention it. Anger was easier than grief or guilt. "I don't care where. You pick. Just not Genosha. Preferably not too far either."

RICTOR: If there was one thing Rictor understood, it was the anger that came with grief. The first time he shook the world was when his father’s body hit the ground, when he leveled three city blocks and called it mourning. No one ever really warned you about that. They told you there were stages in grief. He’d heard that as a little kid trying to wrap his mind around the death of a mother he hardly knew, heard it in the whispers of the adults who wanted to comfort his father not because they were concerned for him but because Louis Richter was a man everyone wanted at their side. You have to let yourself go through it, one family friend had said. Let yourself go through the stages. And Rictor thought he understood that. He thought he comprehended it. He didn’t.

Grief wasn’t ticking boxes as you moved from one stage to the next. It wasn’t wrapping up denial with a pretty bow before moving on to anger. For Rictor, grief was anger. It was anger and anger and anger and nothing else. It was tearing the earth to pieces beneath him as if shaking it enough would keep his father’s body from making contact with the dirt, as if keeping the body upright kept the soul inside, as if you could do anything for someone after they’d had a bullet put through their head. It was nearly bringing a roof down on his team’s head after Rusty died, it was standing in the graveyard and feeling the still heart beneath the dirt, it was shaking the ground, the soil, the casket. Grief was anger. Rictor knew that.

And Lorna was angry.

He gave her a nod, grabbing his phone from the table and sticking it into his pocket. “I’ve got a lead on some anti-mutant pendejos nearby,” he offered. “Don’t know how many, but I’m sure there’s enough to keep us busy. And they’re nowhere near Genosha.”

LORNA: Lorna had thought she'd known grief. Grief in the black dress she'd been forced into for her parents' funeral, grief in the doctors they made her see, and the nights she cried for her mommy, not knowing why she couldn't come. But this was different. This unburied all the grief she had thought she'd grown out of, and mixed it with guilt, heavy and poisonous, until it seeped into her very being. She remembered so clearly now that feeling of strength when she'd torn the plane apart. How powerful she'd felt for a split second when her parents had stopped shouting, only to scream as her world dropped out from under her and she tumbled from the sky. She'd never gotten a chance to wrap her head around any of it. Fresh in her mind, like the memories had happened yesterday.

"Perfect. The more the merrier." Lorna was itching for a fight. And anti-mutant assholes were a fight she didn't even have to feel guilty about. She didn't have to think. Just antagonise and piss off some assholes who hated her. No complicated feelings, no conflicting emotions or thoughts. She could turn all that off. It was exactly what she wanted. "Lead the way."

RICTOR: When you were in tune with the Earth, when you were as familiar with the spin of it under your feet as you were with the beating of your own heart, you could feel certain things in the air. Rictor had learned that a long time ago, learned it with the faint hum that always emitted from Shatterstar or the heat that seemed to rise off Tabby. It wasn’t limited to things like that, of course, wasn’t limited to just the quiet additions of people’s powers shifting the air around them. There was more to it. There was always more.

You could feel grief, if you tried hard enough. You could feel trauma. The way someone’s heartbeat shifted just a little to make room for it, the way their breaths came out more hitched than they ought to. Grief wasn’t a feeling --- it was an environment. It was in the air around you, in the ground beneath your feet. And it was in Lorna now, and if Rictor were a better friend he might do something more than he did. He might make tea or cocoa or whatever liquid people used to put the world back together when they themselves weren’t held up with duct tape and chewing gum. He might have turned on a movie, might have grabbed her a blanket, might have gotten a box of tissues. He might have done a lot of things if he were anyone else, but he wasn’t. He was a man in tune with the Earth and angry all the same. He was a man who poured violence into the hole in his chest and called himself fulfilled.

He grabbed his coat.

“They’ve got a spot at the docks,” he said, already walking that way. “They’re getting organized now, you know? Probably better we take them out anyway. Nip it in the ass before it starts.” His tone was casual, easy. As if the world wasn’t closing around her, as if this were a normal day, as if grief wasn’t a weight tied to her ankle while she stood on an unstable boat. “I was gonna kill ‘em. That cool?”

LORNA: "Stop it before they hurt anyone," Lorna agreed, walking beside him. Stop them before they needed to avenge people. Ric spoke so casually, as if he noticed nothing wrong with her. She knew he was more aware than that, but smart enough not to mention it too. Not to mention the crackling storm that followed her.

But if there was ever a red flag that Lorna wasn't okay, it was the lack of reaction to Ric's proclamation of intent to kill. Only twice had she ever even attempted to kill those who attacked them for being mutants. The second had been the attack on the Underground from Enforcers. The first... she rarely spoke of. Another memory, buried where others wouldn't see it, only this one she buried herself. "Whatever. Fine." Most days she tried so hard not to kill. To only do what was necessary. Today, she didn't care.

As they approached, it wasn't hard to spot the small crowd gathering. Individually, they were all dressed in nondescript clothing, but together it made for a suspicious crowd. Too many people trying to get away unnoticed. Lorna suspected they didn't just plan to protest, but to hurt. And it fueled that spark of anger well, enough that the weight didn't hold her back. "Come on," she said, not bothering with anything like a plan. Her plan? She'd figure it out as it came.

RICTOR: She didn’t argue. Rictor voiced his plans, and Lorna didn’t argue. He knew that was a bad sign, knew it meant nothing good would come, knew it meant he ought to turn her around and march her back into XFI to settle onto the couch, but he didn’t. He didn’t do any of those things. (Rusty would have. The thought was like a knife between his ribs, settling for a beat before twisting itself up in his insides. Rusty would have made sure Lorna was okay, would have never suggested what Ric did in the first place, would have talked to her instead of this, whatever this was. Rusty would have done everything right. Sometimes, Rictor thought that was probably why he was dead.)

Rictor fell silent as they walked, afraid to speak, afraid to pop the bubble of tension between them. The walk was a silent one, the kind where their footsteps seemed to echo only for a moment before being cut off, the kind where the darkness swallowed up every noise they made. When he saw the crowd up ahead, he was relieved. This tension, this not-talking when they should have been talking, it was unfamiliar. It was a strange weight, an uncertain heaviness. But violence? A fight? Those things were etched into his bones, tucked within his marrow. This, at least, was something he knew how to do. This, at least, was something he was good at.

(It was, he thought, the only thing he was good at.)

When they got close, Rictor waited for Lorna to stop. He waited for her to come up with some plan, some battle strategy. That was never Rictor’s scene. For all the violence he’d known, none of it had ever been organized. Rictor’s brand of violence was chaotic. It was wild, limitless. It wouldn’t do well against a crowd of this size, but… Lorna didn’t have a plan. And it was another moment where he should have stopped, another beat where he should have turned them around, but he didn’t. (He’d hate himself for that later. He’d hate himself for so many things later.)

“All right,” he agreed with a shrug. “Let’s kick some ass.” The ground rumbled. Surprise, too, was not a thing Rictor did well.

LORNA: As they walked, it was like pushing everything down. Instead of tears, instead of guilt, she found strength and anger. The silence only helped. She didn't want to stop and think, knowing that if she did she'd only find reasons not to continue. Rictor wouldn't stop her unless she suggested it, it seemed, so she wasn't going to. Forget thinking; she'd spent a week overthinking everything.

The gathered humans looked up when the ground rumbled, destroying any hope of a surprise attack. Oh well, Lorna wasn't about to back down now. "I heard y'all are looking for mutants. Lucky you, you found them. Unluckily for you, you found us." She was far more used to keeping her balance as the ground shook than they were by the looks of things. But they recovered quickly, their shock turning to anger and anticipation. Perfect. Lorna smiled wryly, her hands glowing green as she hovered half a foot off the ground.

"Do your worst," she dared them. Half of them pulled weapons immediately, making Lorna laugh. So much metal. "Don't know know who I am? Or did you not expect someone like this?" In an instant, their weapons were pulled from their hands, turning towards them instead. But she hesitated before she could kill them. Because despite the lack of fight she'd put up against Ric's plan, she didn't want to. A flash of her mother's dead body rang in her mind before she tossed the weapons into the water.

RICTOR: There were more of them than he thought there’d be. That should have surprised him, but it didn’t. Rictor had learned a long time ago that there were numbers in hate, that nothing attracted a crowd faster than the promise of someone bleeding, that everyone preferred it when the person bleeding didn’t look like them. Genosha wasn’t a solution to the oppression mutants faced. It wasn’t a cure-all. It was a band-aid on a gaping wound, a quick patch-job on a mortal injury. Nothing drew people together quite like a common enemy, and no one made a better common enemy than a group of people not like you who lived on an island out of sight.

In place of surprise, perhaps he should have felt apprehension. There were more of them than he thought there’d be, and he didn’t have to be shocked by that but maybe he should have been hesitant. Maybe he should have taken a breath, taken a step back. He didn’t do that, either. They could handle it, he told himself, him and Lorna. They could handle it.

(He heard Guido’s voice in the back of his mind, low and gravelly and as close to gentle as Guido knew how to be. You ever hear of suicide by cop? The words echoed, bounced around in his head, and he wondered if there was a term for this, too. He wondered if there was a phrase that summed up his tendency to throw himself into death’s grip and be disappointed when he slipped through her fingers.)

The crowd noticed them quickly, but Rictor had known they would. He wasn’t subtle, and Lorna wasn’t in the right frame of mind to try to force him into that box. He didn’t flinch when the guns came out, didn’t look away, and the weapons were ripped from their hands in an instant. The weapons were gone, sinking into the ocean, swimming with the fishes, and Rictor snorted lightly. A few of the men charged forward, and he waved a hand. The ground rippled beneath their feet, rising up like an ocean wave. “She’s got the skies, I’ve got the ground. And you guys have jack shit.”

He could have told them to run, could have turned it into some kind of lesson. Stop being bigots, or picking on someone your own size means not picking on anyone bigger than you, either, maybe. It was what Scott or Jean would’ve done, what Rusty would’ve done, what Lorna would’ve done on any day but today. It wasn’t what Rictor did. It wasn’t who Rictor was. “So, do you guys like metal or rock? For, like, death. Not music.”

LORNA: They could handle it. Lorna knew they were outnumbered, and by a lot, but she didn't care. She could pull planes from the sky, tear them to pieces, at just three years old. These humans, these men--and they were almost all men--wouldn't touch her. Just off the ground as she was, Ric's powers didn't affect her as they did their attackers, leaving her to laugh as they were knocked off their feet.

But her laughter stopped quickly at Ric's comment. Metal or rock? For, like, death. Metal, like Arthur, pierced by the metal Erik controlled? Or rock like Suzanna, who hit the ground without a parachute? Or was Suzanna's death metal as well, the tearing of the plane under her feet? Lorna felt sick, blinking hard to push the images from her mind. Now was not the time. She couldn't afford to let it distract her, to consume her as it had threatened to do all week. Aside from one conversation with Scott, Lorna hadn't even begun to process it. But she couldn't allow that now.

She steeled her features, but her momentary distraction had allowed one opportunistic human to get closer than she intended. Lorna was quick to respond, beginning to summon a nearby discarded fixture to push the human back, but not quick enough. Before her projectile hit, he swung a wooden plank at her head. Lorna's feet hit the ground as she stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood there, but it wasn't enough to have her down and out yet. Pushing back to her feet, she scowled. The man who'd attacked her was down, having been hit half a second after he'd managed to hit her, but Lorna had plenty of others who seemed encouraged by the first blow.

RICTOR: Do you have to make everything a fight? It was something his cousin had asked him once, tired and irritated and disappointed, because those were the emotions Rictor had always been the best at drawing from the people around him. He couldn’t remember the specifics of the context now --- some argument with his father that had gone farther than he’d meant for it to, some petty disagreement that had become a war --- but he remembered those words. He remembered the way they drew a strangled laugh from his throat, the way he’d leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, feigning indifference instead of heartache. Everything’s already a fight, he’d replied. I’m just the only guy smart enough to see it.

That was still true. Other people, people like the X-Men, they figured things could be solved with peaceful discussions and bloodless wars, but Rictor knew better. You couldn’t talk someone into seeing you as a person. You couldn’t convince someone to love you. Rictor knew now, just like he’d known as a kid in Mexico, that it was always a fight. You just had to be smart enough to throw the first punch.

So he did. He shook the ground, invited the men on it to come to him. And he lost himself, in the fight. There was one man, then two, then three. Enough to keep him focused. Enough to keep him entertained. Rictor was having fun. He usually did, when there was violence.

(And he didn’t see Lorna’s hesitation. He didn’t see the way she faltered on the battlefield. He didn’t see the enemy landing punches. There was a fight. There was always a fight. But Rictor had a bad habit of focusing on the wrong one.)

LORNA: Her head pounded more than her heart right now. If the man who'd hit her hadn't been hit hard enough to knock him out by the metal fixture, she would've hit him again. But as it was, she pushed the nausea--and the desire for revenge for that pain--aside to deal with the rest of them. You're still thinking small, though. Scrap is easy for your opponent to see, easy to predict... Erik's voice echoed in her mind, making her lip curl. But he was right. She was thinking small. You could tear a plane to pieces. There's metal all around you. Use it. The voice still sounded like Erik, mostly. But at the same time it sounded like her. She knew what he'd felt when he'd killed her step-father, that righteous, murderous anger. The knowledge that it'd be so easy, that she held the power in her fingers. Had she not felt that anger and want to do something powerful just minutes before that in the plane?

Lorna pushed it aside. Instead, she pulled a fence, using it to shove three men to the water, and wrap the next two who tried up tight. She didn't kill them--she couldn't bring herself to. Until she heard one of the hurl insults at her. Echoing words she'd heard so many times, pushing and pushing and pushing her closer towards the edge of that cliff she had always danced on. People so often saw her as a hero, as a leader, as good. They didn't know how close that edge was. How similar she could be to the worst sides of her father if she wanted. Or that she feared that she might not just become angry or cruel, she might just break.

She stalked towards the man, reveling in the way his confident anger turned to genuine fear. That satisfaction seemed to fuel her. Especially as she finally finally tapped into that power Erik kept trying to tell her to use. Metal could be whatever shape she wanted. And she wanted something sharp. Only when she held it to the man's chest, threatening to push it through him, she heard screams. Her own. Her step father's. Her mother's. Lorna hesitated again, stumbling as her breath caught in her throat. There was no time for this. No time for memories overwhelming her. But the memories didn't care. They'd waited twenty years to be heard, to be seen. They wouldn't leave her alone.

Lorna dropped the metal, closing her eyes for just a moment. All she could hear was those screams, and the salt of the water around them was replaced with smoke in her lungs. She gasped, trying to force it from her mind. But in those precious seconds, one human saw his chance. He still had a gun, one he hadn't pulled on Lorna initially and so hadn't ended up in the water. Lorna felt it when he fired, but too late. Half a second, quarter of a second, but too late nonetheless. As her eyes opened, it tore through her chest. Pain erupted as blood blossomed onto her shirt. The force of it pushed her back, knocking her from the docks. As she fell, her powers--trying in vain to stop the projectile that had already hit--pulsed outwards. A wave of electromagnetic energy shocked through their surroundings, rippling the water and destroying electronics in her range. Echoes of it spread far and wide to those who knew what to look for. Perhaps as far as Genosha. But none of it could stop what had already been done. Lorna gasped for air as she hit the water, aware only of the cold for a moment before everything went dark.

RICTOR: When he was a kid in Mexico, Rictor remembered playing in the streets with his cousins. He remembered the lot of them taking two fingers and a thumb, shaping them into guns and pointing them at one another amidst giggles and squeals. He remembered his father watching from the window, a furrow in his brow that Rictor hadn’t understood then, a concern he hadn’t recognized. He’d been so small, barely old enough to move from the title of baby to that of toddler, and his father hadn’t yet started putting the pressure to take over the family business on his shoulders. He’d had a few years yet, even if he hadn’t known it then. The memories were hazy, hard to grasp, coming in bits and pieces. Flashes of the laughter, flashes of his father’s face, and a conversation remembered only in fractions. ’It isn’t a game, Julio.’ His father’s voice, stern and serious as it had always been. ’These things aren’t a game.’

Rictor should have listened to him, back then. He should have taken those words to heart. Even if nothing else his father said was true, that still was. Violence wasn’t a game. War wasn’t a hobby. It was cold and it was bitter and it was unforgiving and Rictor was good at it, but there would always be someone better. No matter what.

But he got cocky. He got arrogant, got reckless. He was so in the fight, so in his own head, that he didn’t recognize anything outside of it until the vibrations changed. A gun firing was a distinctive thing. The way the trigger acted as a catalyst, the way the firing pin shot forward and set off an explosion so small that most people didn’t know it happened at all. The way the gunpowder ignited, the way the pressure changed to force the bullet out of its casing. Those things didn’t happen with two thumbs and a finger, but with the real deal? It all went very quickly. Everything happened at once.

It was close by, close enough that he knew it could only be coming from one place. A trigger released. The dominoes fell. Rictor was a kid in Mexico watching his father hit the ground. He was a directionless twentysomething seeing Rusty fall from across the battlefield. He was a hanged man turning just in time to see a muzzle flash and blood spreading across a shirt, splattering out onto the tips of green hair. It was all happening at once, and for a moment ---

For a moment, the world stopped, and all Rictor could think about was the stupid magic eight ball his uncle bought him when he was eight years old. He remembered his cousin, a few years older and already so deep within the family business that there was no hope of any way out, furiously jealous that Rictor got a toy that was not a gun, bitter that Rictor got something to play with that wasn’t designed to hurt anyone. He remembered the way he’d slammed the plastic ball against the wall hoping it might shatter, remembered his own relief when the ball seemed unharmed at first. It was only when he tried shaking it that he realized the dice inside had gotten stuck somehow, realized it wouldn’t move off the same side, realized it answered every question with the same reply. Ask again later. No matter how hard he shook it, the dice stayed where it was. Ask again later, ask again later, ask again later.

The world was frozen, but it wasn’t because he was moving it. The whole damn planet was shaking furious and desperate and looking for an answer and those three words were burned into the inside of his eyelids even now, impossible to get away from. What had happened? How had they gotten here? How had they gone from having it under control to this in such a short amount of time? Why did tragedy always happen all at once?

Ask again later, ask again later, ask again later, ask again later, ask again -

The world stilled all at once, and Rictor realized, belatedly, that he was the only one still moving. The protestors left standing were on the ground now, blood pouring from their eyes, their ears, their noses, and it occurred to him that it wasn’t just the world he was shaking, but them too. Their insides, their outsides, everything that made them them. None of them were breathing, none of their hearts were beating and ---

And neither was Lorna’s.

He felt sick at the realization, felt her in the water and understood that she’d already been in there too long. He should have jumped in immediately, should have stopped the gun from firing, should have saved his father, should have saved Rusty, should have saved her.

The distance between him and the edge of the dock disappeared before he knew he’d moved, and water rushed around his ears before it registered that he’d jumped in. ’You’re dissociating.’ That therapist’s voice in his head, just as smug now as it had been in the one session he’d sat through. ’Separating yourself from the trauma. Is that something you do often?’ He pushed it aside, eyes burning with salt water as he swam down, down, down. There was red in the water. There was green, too. Like traffic lights giving off opposing signals, signs telling him stop and go at the same time. His fingers found skin, and he gripped her tightly without knowing what he was holding, swam to the surface with all the strength he had in him. Later, he wouldn’t know how he’d pulled her back onto the dock. He didn’t think it mattered much.

They were out of the water, and her skin was still warm. That meant she hadn’t been in there long, he figured. But her heart was still in her chest, heavy like a stone, and Rictor fought to keep his mind here and not in the graveyard outside Xavier’s years ago, when he’d felt Rusty in his coffin, felt his heart unmoving in his chest, felt helpless in every way. His throat ached in that ‘about-to-cry’ kind of way, or maybe in the ‘already-crying’ kind. It was hard to tell, hard to concentrate on anything except for the fact that she wasn’t breathing and her heart wasn’t beating and ---

Another memory. Illyana -- no, Darkchylde, looming a few feet in front of him. I’ll pop your heart like a fucking balloon. Stopping a heart was easy. He’d just done it on the docks, done it to twenty odd men at once without even trying, without thinking.

Wasn’t starting one the same idea?

Rictor closed his eyes, clenched them shut so tightly it hurt a little, concentrated on that still, unmoving rock that was settled inside her chest. He concentrated on his own heart, racing and nervous but beating. He put a hand on her chest, and it wasn’t necessary but it was a comfort. A security blanket, a way of easing his mind. He focused on his heart beating, on hers laying still until ---

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound was deafening. Rictor fell backwards, choked on a sob as he landed on his back in a puddle that might have been water or blood or both. He let himself go still for a moment, a quick, shared heartbeat, and then dragged himself to his feet again.

She was dying. She was still dying. He started her heart, but he couldn’t keep it going indefinitely. He couldn’t keep it beating if there was no blood for it to pump through her veins. And there was only one place to take her.

He could see the lights across the ocean, and there were no ferries this late. It wouldn’t have mattered if there were, wouldn’t have made a difference because Rictor carrying a bleeding, unconscious woman onto a boat would raise too many questions and waste too much time. Steeling himself, he scooped her up into his arms and walked towards the dock, stiff and uncertain. A foot hovered over the ocean, and he could feel the earth beneath the water. He called it up to meet him, and there was a stepping stone of dry land.

He put another foot forward, and there was another.

Closing his eyes, Rictor nodded to himself. He could do this. He could. It was just one foot in front of the other and a soundtrack of two beating hearts.

He ran.

LORNA: Her world went dark. But there was a few moments before it ended. Before her heart stopped, as water filled her lungs. As blood soaked her shirt as much as the water did. And those moments stretched into eternity. Anger, finally, bled away, leaving her only with grief and sorrow. Leaving her only with the pain she had tried to escape, that ached worse than the bullet that lodged itself in her chest. Regrets bubbled up with the final gasps of air escaping her lungs. Leaving as she had, refusing to return even for the holidays she had so looked forward to (their first on Genosha), holding so tight to her anger as her shield.

All she could feel was pain. And yet, she still heard screams. Still smelt smoke. Tasted metal in her mouth. Was that the plane she'd torn apart, or her blood? Were those whimpers of fear from her step-father or the men she'd towered over as she gained only satisfaction from their fear? Anger was easier than grief, than guilt, than tears. But it made her reckless. She'd always been prone to recklessness. Episodes of feeling untouchable. But it was just that; a feeling. The pain was fading now, and Lorna regretted that she had left her family on such an angry note. Now that the anger left her as her heart beat did, what was she left with?

She didn't expect to feel anything else. Did not expect the pain to come rushing back like she'd been shot again, as air forced water to spill from her lungs, from her mouth. (She should've expected more of Ric. People underestimated him, but he'd just saved her from her own destruction.) Light filled her world again, but only for a moment, before pain eclipsed it, pulling her back under with an echo of the first pulse, rippling out across the water as she sank back into darkness and oblivion.

#c:ric #violence tw #death tw #ptsd tw #memory alteration tw #trauma tw #bigotry tw #guns tw #suicide ideation tw

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rubidusmagnet · 3 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES? / NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO. (Though I do think he is when compared to the other two captains)

Were they relevant for the main story? YES (With current fight but practically background otherwise) / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES? / NO (I personally don’t think Kid has been manga relevant enough to matter like that)

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD (In terms of in world) / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon? — As much as I possibly can! And that’s really not a lot considering how little beyond his violent personality and care of his crew we’ve seen him express. Hopefully one day he will have more fleshing out by Oda but for now I won’t hold my breathe on him getting the ‘Law’ treatment anytime soon.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. —

Other than being the most ruthlessly violent of the worst generation, Kiddo has them magneto powers! I’m betting it’s not all about that push and pull and definitely a lot more moves like his massive mech bot! He got that bright red vibrant hair, them cool badass goggles, and a devil may-care attitude! Who doesn’t love a guy like that?

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). Guess his violence could definitely put off a bunch of people, nad his looks and intelligence may not be the best, but that’s what flaws are! Kid can’t be perfect... Maybe it’s the lack of eyebrows? Dunno, but I’m thinking his craziness could be what’s ‘too much’ to handle for some.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — It really kinda came outta the blue, technically i could’ve started with any of my six other muses besides him and yet when I did choose him, I couldn’t help but quickly fall in love. Match made in hell I guess!

What keeps your inspiration going? — Seeing Kid being able to stick it to the other muses when appropriate. Dude is not just gonna sit still and take it, and the awesome thing is, he is plenty strong enough to back up his bark with his bite. Essentially, I live to see Kid destroy things.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO. (Need to do MOAR)

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES (But need more) / NO.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO. (Honestly not really got other muses too ya know?)

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing? YES? / NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — Absolutely. So long as it is not a straight up bash all over his character, I’m fine with taking critique, otherwise bashers can be blocked and sent the hell away from me.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — Yup! Come at me with anything you want to know about Tulip-ya, I’m always prepared to expand on his emotional development beyond his rage.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — Maybe, that really depends on the situation and if it’s something impactful RP wise.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — Not everyone is gonna like what I dish out, So I’m gonna just take it with a grain of salt and shrug it off, just don’t get noisy with the disagreement and we good.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — If they are in my face about it then that is a fat block right away. They can complain all they want in their own dark corner, I’m not gonna give much of a shit about that.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — YES! Please do tell me if there is something either majorly or minorly off about my writing! Sometimes I won’t catch everything even when I check it thrice.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — I think so! I feel like a big marshmallow and all someone has to do is say hi and we can hit it off! Bonus points though if you’re just as into using memes as I am.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @xdiez

Tagging: idk seems like a lot of people are already tagged

#(Dash games)#Something to do #Now that the salt storm has finally passed #Hopefully It's time to have some fun with kid again

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 3 years

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Every story has an end. After months of Wanda Maximoff controlling the town of Westview via her reality rewriting Hex, the WandaVision broadcast was dropped along with the barrier. As the barriers were set free and the Avengers rushed in, two confrontations occurred. Witches, corrupt government agents and the inescapable finality of loss all collided in one explosive finale that showed nothing would ever be the same.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

AGATHA: She’d heard enough, seen enough — no more theories, Agatha had all the answers she needed. And that could really only end in one way in her eyes. Wanda had no idea what she was or what she was really even capable of for that matter. Whether or not that made her dangerous was irrelevant — because more importantly : it made her powerful. And if there was anything Agatha had been drawn to after all these years like a moth to a flame, it was power. Power to get out from beneath her coven — her mother — Oh the things one could do with the ability to shape reality. She’d be much more finely crafted with it too, this little world Wanda had created was impressive, but it wasn’t finely tuned. It had it’s kinks and tears — starting with her star contenders falling apart the second it caved. As the witch appeared in the center of the town square, Agatha clawed the air and curled a strike of purple magic at her back. Fitting. the beloved best friend striking her where she least expected it. “Did you know there’s an entire chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold?.” She asked, revealing the grimoire of dark arts before her. Its ember glowing pages flipped to a page for a creature of myth. “—It’s the book of the damned.” A sneer. “The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged — no need for incantation, or coven. Your power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. Your destiny... is to destroy the world. —Don’t believe me?—Here.” Agatha contorted her wrist and like snatching scarlet spiderwebs from her mind, she plucked David free from the crimson witches spell. “James Buchanan Barnes.” Agatha grinned. “Welcome back.”

WANDA: Every game had an end. Maybe Wanda was the queen of denying the inevitable. The part in her brain that was unable to heal was backed by an excess of power she had never understood. It all made more sense now even though Wanda was fairly certain that she knew nothing at all. Darkhold, runes, spells. The Scarlet Witch. How fitting it was to have that as her true identity. Years of hurt and pain had left her feeling powerless but that was never the case. There had always something inside of Wanda that stopped her from falling back into the abyss. It was power, and she had never known how good it could feel. Her body was sore after being thrown around by Agatha. Everyone seemed to have found their way to the town square, every narrative now connecting into the big picture. These people were captives and the woman holding the key was in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She had been forced down memory lane and had her children almost hurt. Vision and the boys remained in her peripheral as Wanda spun to face the Winter Soldier that Agatha had freed. Her chest was heaving from an earlier display of power, her now shriveled hand extended towards the crowd. “--You were happy. You were fine. I’m sorry.”

BUCKY: Mind control was supposed to be easy - a simple switch flipped and lights out to the occupant. Whatever narrative, whatever brainwashing, whatever storyline created would supplant and override, signaling movements and forcing conversations that were unoriginal and baseless. That was the idea behind it, but for someone who had been submerged and pulled from the depths for decades of his life, James could feel the pull against his mind as he emerged and took a breath. It was alarming and painful, as much as it had been the first time he'd look through his own eyes and saw Sam clearly -- saw Yelena stare at him blankly before slipping into a mindless smile --- the thoughts came back to him in waves as he started dumbly before him, settling back into his skin. Going under was supposed to be easy, coming to was supposed to be easy, but it felt more like he was being dismantled and put back together again. James sucked in a breath and felt his body move forward - his first autonomous movement in only Wanda knew how long. "Happy?" His voice cracked from the rush of frustration and anger - the swell of panic from years of torture much in the way of Wanda's methods. "You think I haven't heard that before?"

WANDA: They would never understand. They would never understand and Wanda couldn’t blame them. Her actions had been wrong. They had been selfish and self satisfying. Her grief had become an excuse but no one would accept it anymore. She swallowed thickly, automatically taking a step back away from Barnes. It didn’t matter that she could easily take him down. Wanda was done hurting innocent people. “I just -- I didn’t mean,” Her words were caught up when Dottie approached, now free as well. Sarah Proctor. Eight year old daughter -- please let her out of her room so I can hold her. Dottie then Herb. Phil. Dennis. The citizens were all there with her accusatory stares and Wanda was unable to ward them off. She tucked her hand against her side, the spot where the magic had been extracted shriveled and brown. “Agatha!” That was a shot towards the sky where the witch hovered. “Stop. Please. Just -- stop.”

BILLY: His ties to reality ebbed and flowed, drawing images of a world he didn't recognize, of feelings and emotions that he wasn't connected to - and Billy had always dismissed them. He'd complained to Tommy a few times, even his mom, but they were always dismissed. Dreams, Billy, they're just dreams. But as he stared at Agnes, he was slowly starting to process the mix of memories. He had them both and could reconcile neither and even as the sky cleared, Billy almost wished he could go back under. Stepping back, he searched for Tommy, that instinct to find a brother he had now grown up with and not tugging at him. He didn't know if he wanted to be here, seeing faces he recognized - Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Magneto -- his eyes traced over heroes and mutants that weren't here to help, but they were all awake, and they'd all been dragged into this hell by his alternate reality mother.

YELENA: A glitch in the code. Wanda said they were happy. That meant they were happy, right? Her face twitched as some of the townsfolk cornered Wanda. She wanted to join in even if she couldn’t quite remember why. None of it made sense but there was one thing that Yelena and the the other unconscious residents knew: Wanda needed to stay happy. People were offering her things but she just took a step up towards the man who was supposed to be her husband ( that felt wrong, for some reason ). She didn’t care where the kids were. They didn’t feel like hers anyway at that moment. “I think you should drop it.”

PETER: Peter had been one of the lucky few in Westview that were granted awareness prior to today, and while he couldn’t say he understood just exactly what people like James had been through, the ordeal they had now shared was certainly something he wasn’t eager to get back to. He however, was probably one of the few that harbored more sympathy for Wanda than anger, and the urge to speak up had never been stronger. But Peter knew he’d be outnumbered in his beliefs and doing so would get him nowhere, despite how much his spidey sense was leaving his stomach in utter knots. So he kept quiet, watching from the sidelines as the woman he’d come to know as Agnes hovered above their heads, ready to strike at a moment’s notice should any harm come to Wanda or any of her family.

SAM: Talk about an escalation. One second he was back on his fuckboy shit and the next he was blinking away a massive magic headache again as Wanda’s spell wore off. It wasn’t just him though. Barnes had already engaged in direct contact with her along with a few residents. There were some still asleep judging by the vacant looks on their faces but the whole shebang was rapidly coming to an end. He joined Bucky and Yelena a step closer to Wanda than he preferred, attempting to give her a tight smile. She looked like she was falling apart. A little satisfying, but they had years of light friendship between them. “No one wants any trouble, Wanda. These people just want to go home. Wouldn’t mind it myself, either.”

BUCKY: Sam's voice had felt a lot like Steve's when he'd first heard it in Romania - a tether to the reality he'd been pulled away from. His gaze didn't waver from Wanda's, even if he wanted to turn and confirm that Sam was a real live person next to him, and not more manipulation by Wanda, but the look on her face, the awareness in the people surrounding her was enough confirmation to keep his eyes trained. "Speak for yourself, Wilson." it was clipped, angry. His fingers twitched as the panic continued to rise in his chest, almost overriding his sensibilities. James knew they just needed to get people out, but he couldn't get past how tired he was of people meddling with his brain.

SAM: Shifting from one foot to the other, Sam shook his head. “Nuh uh, nope. I’m not letting either of us getting erased from reality right now.” They had lost Wanda’s attention but she looked like a deer in the headlights. Only issue was that when she panicked she was liable to take everyone with her. “Parker,” Sam turned to Spider-man. “Good to see you’re with us. You ready for ugly?” Not that he was trying to will it into existence. “I’m hoping we got back-up waiting out there.” Knowing Carol, he was surprised she hadn’t smashed through the barrier like it was a spaceship yet.

PETER: Peter was mildly startled when Sam addressed him directly, his head snapping in the direction of the man in question. “—huh- oh yeah. Of course. I mean, not really. But I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter.” Offering up a smile that slowly began to morph into a grimace, Peter gave Sam a halfhearted salute followed by a not so convincing “Ready when you are, Captain.”

WANDA: They were loud. Their thoughts, their desires. Now, more pressingly: their fear and anger. Norm -- no, Albliash Tandon was talking. When they dreamed - when they were allowed to sleep - they were subjected to her nightmares. This was all a twisted perversion of a fantasy. The people in Westview wanted to die rather than live under Wanda’s thumb any longer and she couldn’t blame them. This was hell on Earth presenting as heaven. Each voice chipped away at her and Wanda crumbled inside. “No, you’re fine.” She reassured them. “You’re fine. I kept you safe in here. You -- You feel... at peace.” A lie. They felt her pain. Wanda was crying and pleading with them like a madman. Her grief was poisoning them. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop Stop. She kept repeating it but they would’t listen. A scream exploded from her chest, hands clutching her face as scarlet tendrils wrapped around their thoughts and everyone in the square dropped. Her children remained off to the side, Agatha in the sky. Wanda didn’t notice any of them as she doubled over. As they writhed and choked, realization set in. “No, stop. Stop.” It took two shakes of her hand before the magic faded. She stared down at them, one whole and one ruined. How had she turned into this? If you won’t let us go, just kill us. No -- no, Wanda would let them go. She’d fix this. And then there was Agatha, goading her. Heroes don’t torture people, The voice of the Witch voice rang out somewhere in her mind above the din. A hero. Wanda was one, past actions excluded. She cared about people. She wanted to change a world that had hurt her. Heroes didn’t hurt people. Wanda was done. Sneakers planted on the ground, Wanda’s spine curved as the force of her magic began to bend her backwards. The column of red energy hit the roof of the Hex and exposed its edges and corners. It felt like ripping a part of herself apart but she still managed a pained, “Get out! Go.”

YELENA: It was incredible to go from being mind controlled into a zombie to being choked out on the street. Her first conscious thoughts were trying to make sure she could breath and then flipping onto her back to blink against the red glow of the Hex. Hex. Barrier. Wanda. With a grunt, Yelena climbed first to her knees and then her feet. Maximoff was there but divided. She was in pain ( not as much as she’d inflected on them though ) and vulnerable. Killing her was tempting, but her belt held no knives or guns. Even though whatever outfit Wanda had forced Yelena into was gone the clothes she had been wearing that night were weaponless. “Блядь,” she spat. “This is where we kill her, isn’t it?”

CAROL: Carol had parked it just a few yards away from the glowing red wall, the force of the magic hot enough to feel like she was standing in front of the sun, but still, she didn't move. She sat with her knees pulled up, forearms resting atop, and she contemplated her options. Behind her, commotion was ongoing as they watched Westview dissolve and they were losing signal because Wanda was losing it and Westview was quickly going dark. It was only a matter of time, and if necessary, Carol would find a way through, even if it pissed Wanda off. She was ready for a head to head. Itching for one. But just as her eyes made the rounds again as she scanned the corners she could make out, the ground beneath her began to shake, responding to a sudden rush of energy. Carol jumped to her feet, the hex splitting open and spilling out light from the other side. She didn't look back, she didn't wait for confirmation. Sending a rush of energy to her feet, Carol shot forward as soon as she saw the trees on the other side, emerging and landing heavily in grass. She didn't even give a glance back - by the accounts she tracked during the observations, she had a pretty good idea where Wanda was -- even if there wasn't a beam of red energy erupting from ground zero.

BUCKY: "Yes." James shoved himself to his feet, the shifting of metal a suddenly phantom feeling as his shoulder accustomed to supporting the weight of his arm again. He didn't even want to think about what else Wanda had changed - what narrative she had forced down their throats. "It sure fucking is."

SAM: Well, shit. The town was glitching. It was rapidly beginning to cycle through the different decades that Wanda had subjected it to. Already in go mode, Sam began waving civilians towards the widening gap. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda could sustain it, but it didn’t look like very long. “No, we’re not going to do that.” He shook his head at Yelena. If she and Bucky wanted to duke it out over who got to deal the final blow, that was awesome for the assassins. Not for Sam though, and he planned on keeping everyone alive. Belova wasn’t pregnant anymore and Barnes had his arm back. His metal arm back, that was. “She hurt more than just us. Right now, our job is making sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else. We get them out of here with her alive. I’m not willing to risk what happens if this barrier comes down on us.”

PIETRO: He’d been standing outside the barrier for what felt like centuries. Each second ticked by like agony as he stared at the sea of red encasing everything he’d ever loved within its clutches. The spread of it was slow at first, crimson stretching apart until it tore — his eyes dropped to the narrow opening just as it shuddered open and he was gone. A deafening boom of sound obliterating the air around him as debris dusted in a wake of blue and silver streaks. He tore through the opening, moving with so much momentum that gravity barely had the chance to acknowledge his presence before he was gone again, across the side of a building in a wide take on the ninety degree angle turn, nothing but a gush of air as he raced down the street. Luna. Crys. Wanda. —Wanda.—Crys. — Luna. wandalunacryslunawandacrys. His mind was racing and then all at once it didn’t matter. She was standing there with their baby in his arms and he slid to a pavement shattering halt with a thunderous snap just thirty feet from them. “Crystalia—“ he appeared in front of her, searching her face—searching Luna’s. “Are you okay??”

HAYWARD: The crack was enough. They were already ready, beyond ready now, as their technology flew out ahead of them, disappearing through the separated barrier to complete its given commands. Hayward packed himself into an armored vehicle and lead the pack of vehicles and tanks as they climbed over the terrain to finally enter Westview. Their concern had little to do with the citizens and more to do with handling the mutant that had created this alternate reality mess. When the truck hit asphalt and entered the town square, he was finally facing down Wanda, depowered and looking exhausted. The town must be empty, he concluded, the citizens fleeing from the twisted story she'd subjected them all to. All that was left was just a minor handful of people, those Wanda seemed closest too considering all the video feeds he'd watched.

AGATHA: Agatha watched the scene before her, floating above the chaos she’d snipped the stitchings to with all the amusement of someone detached and cold. It didn’t really matter to her how Wanda felt. That wasn’t what she was after. “Careful Wanda, your precious babies are tied to this messy little world you’ve created.” Agatha sighed. “Collapse it all now and ..” she tsked “well, look at them. they’re writhing.”

BUCKY: He was seething, struggling to see beyond the slew of memories he had that weren't his -- how happy he had felt, and how that was being soured by betrayal. All he wanted to do was rush forward, even if Wanda snapped him out of existence before he got the chance. But he forced his feet back, forced himself to grab onto Yelena's arm --- something he wouldn't have done under normal circumstances but nothing about this screamed normal -- and started moving away. "This conversation isn't over, Sam." James said with a finality as he turned to usher out the crowd towards the nearest fault in Wanda's wall.

PETER: Peter was suitless, now clad in the same oversized hoodie and baseball cap he’d been wearing the night he was sucked into the hex. Thankfully, however, past Peter had been smart enough to not come unprepared, and present Peter thanked his lucky stars as the familiar feeling of his web shooters materialized around his wrists. Watching James and Yelena nervously, he opted instead to assist Sam in evacuating civilians, using his webbing to pull collapsing debris and obstacles out of the way of the crack in the hex.

DAISY: Daisy had been waiting for the order like everyone else to go into the hex, and as she watched the walls began to collapse she didn’t hesitate to aim her gauntlet covered hands to the ground and sent a shockwave large enough to propel her into the air. It got her far enough to where she was just trailing behind Carol, and she used her powers again to break her fall before breaking off into a sprint towards the town center. As civilians ran past her, she did her best to give them some encouraging words. “You’re all going to be safe soon! Just run towards the edge of the wall as fast as you can!” She didn’t have time to usher people out, though. She needed to find Hayward and stop him from making a strike on Wanda, and everyone else that was still in the surrounding area.

WANDA: It hurt. That was what her mind was focused on. It hurt with every fiber of her being to exert that much energy at once. As the town began to revert and glitch Wanda felt silent tears streak down her face. She deserved this on some level. Her creation and ruination combined. Wanda channeled everything she had into the rectification of her mistake until she felt it. An untethering. There was screaming but then there was the sound of her husband, her sons. They were dying -- again, in Visions case -- and Wanda wasn’t ready to let them go. There was a scream that left her throat and then the barrier was closing once more. They were tethered, tied. That was mostly true. There was no Vision outside of Westview. The world had saw to that when they took him away from her. But her boys, they persisted. The dissolving aura that surrounded Vision faded away while remaining on the twins. Just like it had happened before they were conceived, a division occurred. Two boys were left coughing on the pavement while their original selves - the older ones - were once again separate. The red faded away and Wanda was left breathless and weak. Even though she felt like she was going to fall over if she took a step she somehow managed to drag herself to her younger boys and her husband. “Are you okay? Look at me -- are you okay?” She grabbed the twin’s by the face, her attention on them and not Hayward’s militia.

SAM: At least everyone was working together. His head tipped in Bucky’s direction as he grabbed the Widow by the arm. Better to let them work it out among themselves. “Didn’t think it was, Bucky.” He turned his attention then towards the current effort. “Hey, spiderthing, you got any reservations about throwing old people?”

TOMMY: He couldn’t quite separate it any more — the younger version of him he’d been combined with and the person he was before, so much so that it was hard to tell which one was falling apart anymore until he finally thought it was just him. All of him being stretched and pulled and ripped away until finally it was like a rubber band snapping and he gasped, staring at a version of himself that didn’t even look like him when he was a kid. “What the fuck?” Tommy said, sitting flat on his ass in the middle of the street. His hands flapped around his torso, checking for—for holes or janky missing parts— maybe parts that weren’t his but nothing, none of that just...him. all him. “...Billy....???” He called out warily.

MONICA: Monica didn’t want to talk about where she had been or her unfortunate experience with Ralph Bohner. That was for another day. Ultimately, she had wasted time getting to the town square. The barrier was closing again but the space had been inundated with familiar faces. “Hey, S.H.I.E.L.D.” She tilted her head towards Daisy as their paths intersected. “Wanda -- is she alive still?”

YELENA: To say she was angry was an extreme understatement. Yelena had been indoctrinated for as long as she could remember. Her entire being had been reduced into being a replacement for a woman who had decided to move on. Yelena was not Natalia. She had learned that over time, even though they had denied her own name. She was her own, and yet, Wanda had erased that. An American. One who made pies and gave a shit about what people thought about her. Yelena was not the pretty one. She never had been. That was Natalia, lithe and delicate. Yelena hid in curved edges. She wasn’t a beauty queen and suburbia was never in her cards. Having someone who loved her was almost as ridiculous. Two assassins as parents? No. She refused to let her hand touch her stomach like it had when she was pregnant. Yelena knew what was there: a scar. no signs of life. She made it approximately five steps before pulling her arm from James’ grasp. “Ты не мой муж, James ( you’re not my husband). Отпустить (let go). I’m not leaving.”

PETER: Peter continued in his efforts of getting civilians to safety as quickly as possibly, but Sam’s voice once again snapped him out of it, “—do I what? You can’t be serious, dude!” Yelena was clearly growing angry pretty quickly and Peter was growing overwhelmed. The sounds of Wanda’s distress mixed with that of utter chaos were almost becoming too much to handle, but Peter stuck to it, launching himself toward the Captain with his webbing and landing beside the man with a soft thud. “You want me to — “ he held up a web shooter and vaguely gestured in Yelena and James’ direction with a shrug.

SAM: “Desperate times, desperate measures, man.” The octogenarians weren’t really moving fast enough and Wanda had finally lost steam. They were going to be trapped but the heroes could at least take care of themselves. As Peter moved to stand by his side, Sam’s shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t speak Russian and I know she can kill me. He could too, but we’re friends. Mostly. Think we let them work it out?”

VISION: It wasn’t the first time he’d felt himself being torn apart at the seams—at the barrier, he’d felt it then. The popping of parts as they flew loose, chunks of reality melting away into stardust and matter. He strained to reach them—his wife, his children. “Wanda!—Boys!” he gritted through his teeth, pushing through an invisible force that allowed no headway. Then all at once, he collapsed, all his pieces flew back into place and he caught his breath. His sons had once again separated into their older and younger selves. “I’m alright.” he assured her, looking to his children for any missing chunks.

WANDA: They were okay. They were fine. Maybe they wouldn’t be in the long haul, but in that moment her family was whole once more. No missing pieces, no slipping away and dissolving into the air. Wanda exhaled a sigh of relief, kissing the top of Billy and Tommy’s heads. The barrier was back in place and they had once again stolen a few extra minutes. “Go home, boys.” Wanda released them. “Get to safety.” Not that anywhere was safe. Their house had been a haven. At the very least it put a few walls between themselves and Hayward’s agents. Wanda had warned them off. She had told S.H.I.E.L.D. to leave her alone but they clearly no longer feared her. No fear, no respect. Wanda was just another obstacle. She squeezed Vision’s hand, relief bubbling in her chest. Wanda had barely made it to her feet when something slammed into her and a vice grip was around her neck. White hands led up white arms and a ivory form. It was the Vision but it was not. There was something cold and calculating about his blue eyes. Even though she had just seen her husband, there was something unsettling about his quiet form. He was achingly familiar. “Vision?” She rasped. He just stared at her before his grip tightened. “And here I thought you were supposed to be powerful.”

PETER: Peter spoke to Sam in a manner akin to a student whispering to his friend in the back of class, careful to not let the teacher catch them, “— yeah, but if we leave them be - won’t they go after Wanda? I don’t know if I can take them both — “

TOMMY: Grabbing his correct twin, Tommy took a fistful of the back of his shirt and raced them both out of Westview before the barrier could close back up.

CRYSTALIA: There was a chance that Crystal was the only one who had willingly entered Westview. She hadn’t really know what she was signing up for but knew she had no choice. The second that Luna had vanished there hadn’t been a single thing in the world that mattered more to her than setting things right. There was a crippling fear that it was Crystal’s fault it had happened in the first place. Realistically she knew Wanda’s powers, but as a young first time mother it all seemed so pivotal on her inability to hold on when it mattered. And so, she entered hell. Crystalia wasn’t a Princess anymore. She had a ridiculous backstory and always felt exhausted even when she smiled. And she was always smiling. Her child screamed and she was helpless to do anything until Wanda fixed it. It felt impossible to say how long it had been, but the second the red cloud began to leave her mind Crystal began to panic. Luna was awake but wasn’t crying. The infant almost seemed solemn. Had Wanda hurt her? Crystal would kill her if so, but the baby betrayed nothing. Everyone in the town square was loud. They were panicking but Crystalia was trying to center herself. She was naturally attuned to the world -- being in elemental meant being grounded. She could feel the vibrations of the earth and the moisture in the air and that was reassuring. That being said, it’s hard to be grounded when your not sister in law decides to choke an entire town out. Crystal had pressed Luna against her, resting the unaffected baby on her chest as she hit her knees. Pietro loved Wanda. Crystal had spent her abbreviated pregnancy watching him all apart. He loved her, but Crystalia hated her. She hated what she had done to her and her daughter. At the thundering sound, the Princess instinctively tucked Luna against herself. Head spinning, she took a step towards her baby daddy Pietro. “It’s you.” As in, not the fake version she had been forced to marry.

SAM: There was a noncommittal grunt. “Bucky, no. He wants to but he knows what we’re focusing on. Yelena, I’m not sure. It would be easier if Nat was here.” Not that the sisters relationship was outwardly anything other than contentious. “I’d say lovers quarrel but that wasn’t real.” Technically their sleeping together was but Sam wasn’t sure if that was public knowledge. “Speaking of lovers, you see a Carol shaped comet yet?”

PIETRO: When they’d vanished he felt the last parts of himself that he’d been clinging to, crumble. Wanda had been rejecting him in more ways than one and ripping his new born and Crys from him just days after Luna had been born had broken something for him that just hadn’t operated right since. His mind loosely drifted to his twin but he was more focused on this—Wanda could handle herself. Right now he needed to hold his daughter and her mother. Pietro pulled both of them against him, tucking Luna between their bodies as he wrapped them in his arms. He felt a breath fully expand his lungs for the first time in weeks. “It’s you.” he said. “Both of you.” He kissed the top of her bright red hair. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

DAISY: Daisy smiled a bit when she saw Monica, glad to see the familiar face. “S.W.O.R.D.” She breathed out in a sigh of relief before she stopped in her tracks and nodded as she pointed over towards the big red beam in the sky, but then it faded again and her head tilted to the side. The borders were closing, but thankfully she seemed to still be in her right of mind. For now, at least. “Where the hell is Hayward?”

CRYSTALIA: Folding into him, Crystal allowed herself to take a shaky breath. She wasn’t sad, only angry. Her child had been endangered for no reason at all. “It’s me. As of a few minutes ago, at least.” There was the sharp curl of humiliation in her stomach at the thought of who Wanda had forced her to be. Her family had to be worried. She was an adult but she’d always be the baby of the family -- forever the princess, never the queen. It was a miracle that the Inhumans hadn’t taken any kind of action against Wanda. Or, she assumed they hadn’t. Although it was nearly physically painful, Crystalia angled her body to offer Pietro his daughter. “She hurt us.” It was hard to explain the feeling. “Every second. Just grief. But you, you were there.” Wanda mourned her brother. Maybe she knew Crystal’s connection to him and let her share in that sorrow. Falling silent as her processing spun slowly, the Inhumans brows furled. “She had me get married to some knock off version of you who smelled. I had to live with him.” Not that he cared or was attentive. It was just part of the game.

BUCKY: James stopped, giving the collapsing Hex a glance before he shifted his gaze to her. "И что вы будете делать, Yelena." and what will you do? He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to deal with it. With regret already settling into his skin, James bent and scooped Yelena up by her hips, hinging her over his shoulder, his metal arm tight around her waist. He knew he was taking her choice from her just minutes after she'd gotten it back, but she could take that out on him outside of Wanda's hell fantasy. He followed Sam and the rest.

PETER: Peter was shocked to notice James scoop Yelena off her feet and carry the assassin to the break in the Hex, but he didn’t question it, gaze instead flicking to the sky to check for any sign of the Carol shaped comet. “I don’t know? Thought I saw her earlier, Quake was nearby too — she shouldn’t be too hard to spot!” he spoke a bit louder, almost a yell, over the rumbling chaos.

YELENA: Body thrashing slightly, Yelena knew five ways to break his hold that would also bring him to his knees. She knew how to fight back but she was exhausted. Her body didn’t know how to handle going from being pregnant to remembering that it was impossible to exist in that state. “я собираюсь убить тебя ( i’m going to kill you ),” she hissed, knowing that his ear was right by her mouth. Going slack then, the spy allowed him to carry her away from the place she wanted to be and the person she wanted to kill.

VISION: He was flying over Westview, scanning for his wife among the scattered bodies running around below. When he finally passed over their home, he found a startling view: a being, stark white in nature — and worse, he seemed to have Wanda by the head. A visual that sent his vital organs or lack thereof plummeting to the earth below. Vision rocketed forward, slamming into the other synthezoid with a force that sent them tumbling into the ground like an asteroid. They left a crater in their wake as he carried him far away from his family. Vision threw the synthezoid up, chasing him higher into the sky—farther away from Wanda.

MONICA: “Hayward’s where Wanda is.” Monica replied, knowing it to be true. “He wants Vision and she’d do anything to protect him. That’s where I’m going.” Without waiting, Monica turned to move towards the glowing epicenter with the notion Daisy would follow. As the red column began to die down she hurried her pace into a run until she skidded to a stop. Hayward was looking smug and his shoulders were at the ready. It was then that they fired at the retreating forms of Wanda’s twins and without any hesitation Monica threw herself in front of them. She had been the one to help deliver them. Even if it was all fake, she had handed the newborns to Wanda and watched that love grow. One bullet entered and then the other. There was no pain or skin breaking. For a moment it was just light. It was like breaking through the barrier. Monica felt them enter and exit in a surge of energy. She blinked through a new golden glow, mind trying to comprehend the sight of Vision wrestling what looked like a ghostly version of himself away from Wanda. “It’s over, Hayward.” It was easy to say when you had just tapped into the light spectrum. “It’s done.”

SAM: Holding both hands up, Sam shook his head. They were going to sort it out. The Winter Soldier and White Widow were well equipped for one another. Maybe Belova would try to kill Barnes. He couldn’t see it going the other way. Not that Sam was actively betting on Barnes’ love life. “If you want to go, kid, I don’t blame you. I’m going to stay here though. See if anyone needs help.” Leave no man behind. Sam was trying to be the best Captain he could.

PIETRO: An actual twinge of pain ebbed through him at her words. She hurt us. They echoed through his skull like gun shots. He felt his tongue go dry and his legs go numb as he pulled her to him a little tighter. They weren’t words he’d wanted to hear, but he needed to. The part of him that twitched to run to Wanda in any capacity was subdued by a haunting feeling of guilt. He had missed her but the joy of seeing her again was squandered by pain she’d caused. To his daughter. Crystalia. Him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—I should have protected you.” You never should have been there. I should have stopped her. She should have never done this. The words died on his tongue before they had a chance to form. It didn’t matter. The damage was done. And no amount of words would remedy the scars that had been left. “What can I do?” He asked into her hair, smoothing a hand down her back. At her comment about the awful imposter that had been branded with his name, a subdued scoff of a laugh left his throat. “He smelled, huh? Well at least you don’t like him better.” He mused, an ill attempt at a joke. Of course she wouldn’t have. He’d been awful.

DAISY: Daisy quickly followed suit behind Monica, with absolutely no hesitation. They needed to make their way over there, and fast. There was no telling what Hayward had planned. And sure enough, Daisy ran up just in time to see an ivory tinted version of Vision and the real- er, hex vision flying up into the sky with him. “Shit..” She muttered under her breath as she sped up her pace. And when she ran up to Hayward and saw him opening fire on a couple of kids, her heart sank as she realized that she was too late. She quickly held her hand up and tried to pinpoint vibrations on all of the guns to shake them apart, but the bullets had already exited the chamber. In fact, he fired several rounds before she was able to destroy the guns. But then Monica was throwing herself in front of the kids and Daisy’s eyes widened as she watched the bullets go straight through the other agent. That must have been a new development. And she very quickly quaked most of the bullets in a different direction before they could actually hit Billy and Tommy. And then, she turned to Hayward and narrowed her eyes before tilting her finger and using her powers to snap all of the bones in his hand and his wrist. “Stand down, now. Or I’ll break a lot more than just that.”

PETER: Peter debated his next move for a few seconds, and while Sam was partly right - he did want to leave, to go home, to call MJ and Ned, and make sure everyone was okay - he also knew what he had to do. He was Spider-Man. Maybe he didn’t quite look like it at the moment, sans suit, but there was no denying it - and there was no walking away from that. “No — I’ll stay, I’ll stay. Just - tell me what you need me to do.”

CAROL: She felt sheer force slam into her shoulder as Carol full bodied the nearest armored truck, smashing it into the nearest one and then cascading that energy through the tank nearest to the rest. It was a calculated move -- they were aiming guns at children and the tank was setting up to fire. Now, she had put enough force and energy through the vehicles that they were little more than metal boxes now as she peeled herself out of the metal and took a moment to crack her back. "You really underestimate us, Hayward." She said casually just before she registered Monica. She didn't have nearly enough time to address that situation before she spotted Sam. She didn't say anything to him, she didn't know what she'd say, so she looked to Monica and Daisy. "Nice teamwork guys. Now. Where's our mutant?"

SAM: Peter was a good kid. They had a strange introduction but Sam could say that about everyone he knew at this point. He was offering his mouth to respond when the Carol comet he had inquired about smashed into Hayward. Coughing from the dust that rose from the rubble, Sam jutted his chin towards where Wanda was sucking in breath. “Looks like we have a Vision problem.”

LORNA: As it stood, Lorna was positive she was going to go back towards being an only child. Erik didn’t even like Pietro and they had basically just met him. The mutant had come to alongside her father. Her green hair was a dull brown that was only just returning to its normal hue. It felt ridiculous to be standing in a full cape and headpiece in the middle of the town square, but Lorna had other things to focus on. Carol Danvers ( ugh ) was smashing into Hayward and someone Lorna didn’t recognize was apparently casually breaking his bones. Striding up, green flared around the guns of the soldiers before they snapped in half. The bullets unloaded to clatter pointlessly to the ground. “God, I love guns. More than I love this family at least.”

MONICA: Teamwork made the dream work. Monica had been trained as an agent to learn how to balance working with a group. It made life easier. She became a human target, Carol was Carol and the new Agent was inflicting pain on Hayward that Monica would personally have loved to be responsible for. “She willingly took the barrier down.” Monica said as she strode in Carol’s direction. “But it was killing her family. That was before another Vision showed up. And, also, there’s a witch.”

PETER: Peter watched on in a slight crazed panic, at the scene Sam alerted him to, and a broken smile forced its way onto his face, “Hey then we better get some glasses — you know..? Because - vision problem,” he quipped, regretting even opening his mouth before shaking his head and launching a web toward the wrestling duo, the tendril managing to cling to the bottom of one of the ghostly vision’s feet. Peter gave a sharp tug, but it didn’t appear to do much besides briefly interrupt the fight, “Uhh - what do I do??”

CAROL: "Another Vision?" Carol shot a look at Hayward, but he was too preoccupied dealing with his bones and the loss of his firepower to pay Carol any mind. "Witch?" That also caught her attention. "Another mutant then or?" she didn't know why the questions mattered. They didn't. They'd just been so out of the loop for so long she was itching for answers. "So let's go get her then."

VISION: The sky lit up in an array of blue and gold as the two synthezoid’s went at one another, each determined to destroy the next. In all the thrashing, he kept them steered clear from anyone below. “What are you?”

CRYSTALIA: It was over. Or, at the very least, it almost was. Wanda was out of her mind and the absence of the spell left the clarity of uninterrupted thought. Pietro pulled her even closer and there was a comfort to be found in a firm embrace. He was strong -- maybe not strong enough to stop his sister -- but solid nonetheless. All Crystalia wanted to do was rest. If she broke down it would not be there. Her pride was too persistent. “It’s not your fault,” Crystal shook her head, one hand briefly resting above his heart. “Any anger I have is towards Wanda. There was nothing you could have done.” Once Wanda wanted something no one had been able to stand in her way. There was a hurricane of emotion that could be sorted through later. Right the she just wanted to make sure her daughter was safe. “You can take us home.” Wherever that was. New Attilan or the Avengers Compound. Home was anywhere but Westview. Even then she doubted that she’d sleep well but at least it would be on her own terms. At the mention of “Pietro”, Crystal shook her head. Her hair was down and loose in strawberry curls, fly aways blowing into her face. “He didn’t come around much and he didn’t care about Luna. I can’t even remember marrying him.”

THE VISION: What was he? A good question. He was functional, capable. He was built with a purpose to last. He was, most importantly, real. That was more than the synthezoid he grappled with could say. Their twin bodies phased through one another, mental beams hitting empty air. “I am the Vision.” The reply was simple, syllables plain and straightforward. This was not something he struggled to understand. His being was laid out in code and his object is clear. Body twisting in the air to get a grasp, the synthezoid managed to get hit a hit in that sent his counterpart hurtling through the air and crashing into what appeared to be a library. His descent was slower, cape gently fluttering around his legs as he hovered above the wooden floor. “And I am here to neutralize the Vision.”

DAISY: Once Hayward seemed to have given up, Daisy stomped towards him and grabbed him by the arm, glaring down at him. As she glanced behind her and spotted a couple other S.W.O.R.D. agents who made it through the barrier with them, she practically shoved him towards them and shook her head. "Take Director Dick here back towards the base once the barrier opens back up. We'll deal with the paperwork there." She insisted, and the other two didn't even question it as they got him in handcuffs and loaded him into one of the nearby vehicles. She approached Monica and Carol at the tail end of the conversation. "I'm sorry did you say another witch?" As she glanced up towards the sky, she finally saw the woman who was surrounded by a purple aura and her eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. That's another witch. Let's find Wanda."

VISION: Vision rose to his feet, facing his ghostly counter part once again, head on. He charged at him, tangling them in a web of vibranium limbs, he twisted White Vision into a headlock, stilling them for a breath of a moment. then it occurred to him: “But I’m not the true Vision. Only a conditional one.”

WANDA: It was time for it all to finally end. Wanda had kept up the ruse for as long as possible but the walls had done more than cave in. There were Avengers - friends - and there had been innocents. Wanda had walked through her reasoning and watched it go down in her minds eye. She had been many things, but fear was the root cause of everything. It all traced back to her fear -- and she was terrified no more. There was just calm resolve as she left Carol and the others with Hayward. Rising into the air so that Westview became a map below her, Wanda gave it her all. She tried to enter Agatha’s mind as the Witch had once done to her. It was a failure of an idea, the coven of witches that Agatha had drained instead turning on Wanda. In some ways she was out of her element, but there was also a part of her that had been waiting for this moment. Agatha wanted to know how she did it? Fine. She wanted her power? She’d let her try to take it. Wanda couldn’t escape her fate. She threw blast after blast and felt her body start to shrivel up. If Agatha wanted it all, she could have it. Red poured from Wanda into Agatha, purple and red mingling. She gave her everything she had until she was left floating with red eyes and withered skin.

AGATHA: Agatha had asked for it — but the funny thing about wishes — you had to be careful with them. After all the universe did like to screw you. Honestly she was a little surprised to see the red witch cave so easily — not that it stopped her from draining her of everything she could. Her magic tasted hellish on her tongue and it filled her with a sense of power she’d only ever sensed in beings of the cosmic scale. Her arms stretched wide as the tendrils of chaos flowed through her—and then...suddenly...it stopped. No. No—that wasn’t right, they weren’t done. Agatha tried to draw more, only nothing happened, not even a sputter of sparks from her finger tips. “What?”

MONICA: “Y’know, I really wanted to be the one who did that.” Monica shook her head. Hayward had taken something her mother had created as a labour of love and exploited it for power. There was a sharp sting of disappointment that she couldn’t be the one who finally got to haul him away in sweet retribution. But this was reality. You didn’t always get to be the hero you wanted to. Hayward had been taken care of and Monica had to be happy with that victory. “Agatha Harkness. Turns out Agnes wasn’t just a nosy neighbor.” They had only interacted marginally. Geraldine had no reason to pay her much attention. “I know where Wanda is.” A finger pointed upwards. “And I’m not getting involved.”

PETER: Peter jogged up to Monica and the others, having just witnessed the immense transfer of power between the two witches, “Does anyone have any idea what’s happening?? I don’t think my web shooters will do any good against that,” he pointed to the sky, worriedly.

REMY: Plenty of them had stood at the border, waiting for something more than silence and occasional updates on the happenings of inside. But then the Hex had fractured and teams had been ordered in for extraction - save the people, evacuate the town - and Remy had done his best to follow that order, but he didn't know how to be a hero. Not really. Not in the selfless capacity. He slipped down back alleyways to avoid the crowds of people and just followed where they were fleeing from until he emerged in the center of the town. There were trucks, SWORD had made it in, and a few stray heroes were incapacitating them. But his attention was drawn elsewhere, because goddamit he was tired of the loss and gain of their relationship. "You gonna keep making me chase you down?" he said, just loud enough to grab Lorna's attention. "I'm starting to wonder if it's on purpose" there was no immediate threat, nothing he could attack, even if they, and he, were still on high alert. And this was the only way he could manage because presently, he wasn't managing well at all.

CAROL: Carol followed Monica's gaze and she almost shot a load of energy into her boots but forced herself to stay planted. As much as she wanted to engage, it would be out of her own selfishness, not because she was needed. "Fine." she looked straight at Monica. "You wanna explain to me what the hell is going on with you then?"

DAISY: "He's all yours once we get back to the base." Daisy insisted, knowing that Monica would love to be the one who did his official intake. She may have let her anger get the best of her back there once she saw him firing at those kids, but then she was reminded of those bullets floating straight through Monica like she wasn't even solid matter. And then Carol mentioned it and Daisy couldn't help herself from commenting too. "That was really brave of you back there. Stupid, but brave. Did you even know you would be able to do that? That's new, right?" She didn't remember powers being mentioned at all when it came to Monica.

PIETRO: It didn’t matter whether or not it was his fault, he didn’t do his job. Against the one person he should have been best at it. Her words stung, but he understood where they were coming from. She had a right to be angry — he was still angry. Loving Wanda more than he could handle didn’t exclude him from holding her accountable. You can take us home. He nodded, relief flooding him to know they’d be sleeping under the same roof tonight. They were alive and well and his. He smoothed the stray pieces of her red hair from her face and kissed her. “Then don’t. Marry me instead.” He proposed. It seemed to come from no where, but he’d been thinking about it before. He’d only stopped himself because he hadn’t wanted it to happen just because of Luna. Now though — he just didn’t care what it looked like. He was tired of tripping up on calling her his girlfriend because it was so much more than that between them. “Yeah.” he said, tilting his head and tucking her hair behind he ear. “Marry me.”

WANDA: Surprise. It turned out that Wanda was an incredibly quick study. She was barely able to stay afloat and it felt like Agatha had taken everything from her, but Wanda persevered. That was what she did. Time and time again she found a way to survive. As Agatha’s realization began to dawn Wanda found herself revitalized. Runes. They began to glow as the giant shapes lit up the sky. “In a given space, only the witch who cast them can use her magic. Thanks for the lesson, but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.” It was like the floodgates were opening. This was chaos unleashed. Agatha was pleading but the world was a red blur. It encased Wanda in its blinding light. She felt it solidifying around her temple, infusing her with pure potential. Destiny, fate, burdens. All words that had been thrown at her. At that moment, Wanda didn’t care. She was everything and she was nothing. She was, without a doubt, the Scarlet Witch and as a nexus of powers potential personified. Maybe Agatha was right. She didn’t fully know what she had done. Encased in magic, the new scarlet of Wanda’s outfit reflected the failing borders of the world she had built. For so long she had lacked a name, and in some ways, a higher purpose. That was no more. Red swirled around her palm as Wanda lowered herself and the defeated Agatha back towards the ground. She dropped the Witch unceremoniously before gently drifting down herself. Something was different. Everything was different. Red died from green eyes as Wanda turned towards the small crowd of people she knew, silent as her power threaded itself through her veins.

CAROL: Carol shifted her attention abruptly, calculating the woman who stood before her. She always knew Wanda was powerful - she'd dealt with enough powerful mutants to build a roster and by now, her instinct was to defend. "Wanda-" she started, but she made no move to approach. "You've got a lot of things to own up to." If Wanda attacked, Carol would defend -- but the last thing Carol would do was retreat, no matter if Wanda got a fancy new outfit in the last ten minutes up in the sky.

PETER: Peter couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Sure he’d fought in battles by Wanda’s side before, and even fought - well tried to fight - Wanda herself. But this was different. This was a whole other level — and Peter felt almost frozen in place as he watched everything commence, only broken from his trance-like state at the sound of Carol’s voice addressing the now grounded Wanda.

THE VISION: The two fought. They were beings forged with great power but remained intellects at heart. He required further elaboration. The two talked then, quick debate spurred on by processing cores and a desire to learn. This was the Ship of Theseus, the dilemma of a conundrum. They were both Vision and they were not. One was memory and heart and the other the tangible devoid of that which had once made him. He could not destroy the Vision because he was the Vision. Alternatively, neither of them were the Vision. They had been twisted by greed -- both that of Wanda’s love and Hayward’s thirst for power. Together, perhaps, they could be one but that was not to be. Life had made them diametrically opposed through intentions he did not understand. It was with a quiet hesitation that the Vision let Vision touch the processing chip that had once housed the Mind Stone. And then -- clarity. Wanda. Sokovia. Wanda. Ultron. An accident that rendered a man paralyzed. This was the Vision as he once was. He was machine made more. Recoiling backwards, the blue of his eyes began to clear. “I am Vision.” Where that left the other he knew not, but the revitalized Vision shot out o the building without another word and escaped the barrier to find a place to enter deep contemplation.

VISION: Vision watched him go, left to float by himself among the now quiet air of the library. After but a moment or two, he soared out of the hole in the roof of the building to find Wanda and the boys. He didn’t know where any of it left the other synthezoid in his programming to destroy himself, but he was hoping it would override it. Upon landing, Vision phased through Carol to get to Wanda. “Captain Danvers.” he said on the pass through. “With all due respect, while I understand your qualms with my wife, they can wait another ten minutes — we’ve our children to get to.”

DAISY: Daisy watched in awe as Wanda fought it out with Agatha, still kind of in shock that this was the level of threats she was dealing with nowadays. That really was an Avenger up there, and she was standing next to freaking Captain Marvel. She was practically in the same amount of shock as Peter was as she stared dumbfounded with him, only to snap out of it at the sound of Wanda’s feet hitting the grass. She glanced down at Peter and raised her eyebrows at him in an attempt at a silent conversation, knowing he’d probably get her amazement.

MONICA: For what felt like the hundredth time in her life, Monica stood with her head tilted up towards the sky. This time there was no stars or Aunt who had turned to legend. It was a broken woman and a force set out against her. “I think what’s happening with me can wait.” Monica’s voice was quiet. She understood aliens but magic was new to her. She wanted to hate Wanda -- and a part of her did. Didn’t change how beautiful she looked dripping in scarlet and power. Turning towards Daisy, Monica nodded a few times before she remembered to speak. “Westview side effect. Looks like a lot is changing now.”

SAM: Carol was right. Wanda did have a lot to own up to, but they also had a lot to process and a lot of people to deal with. There was an arm extended in front of Carol. It wouldn’t stop her. It was purely a gesture. “It’s time for goodbye.” He said quietly, knowing what Vision meant. Besides, he was tired. They all were.

DAISY: Daisy blinked when she realized she was being spoken to. She turned her head to Monica and nodded. “Oh yeah, you went in before..” She could only imagine how having your entire reality rewritten and unwritten like that twice could effect your molecular anatomy. Daisy just knew that FitzSimmons would have a field day with trying to figure that out. “Still, that was super cool you know.”

TEDDY: Teddy Altman had been through a lot in the last couple of months, let alone the year. He’d lost his boyfriend twice—once to death, a second time to his scary mom. He’d been crowned the emperor of two empires that hated each other and was somehow expected to hold them together. His time on earth was limited most days, and while it made the frustration of not being able to get his boyfriend out of the hex — he was pretty floored to find out it was not only open, but the woman he’d been told about was involved. “Monica Rambeau?” Teddy said, approaching her. “My name’s Teddy. Can we talk?”

CAROL: Carol's eyes snapped to Sam, an incredulous furrow in her brow. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." she said on a breath but ultimately, she took a step back, actually turning around fully and away from Sam. "Good to know. I'll keep this in mind for the next villain we face."

CRYSTAL: Marry me instead. Crystalia’s mind was torn between the subtle swaying of rocking the baby and the processing of what had happened. Wanda would always be in her life, even if she wasn’t with Pietro. They were bound forever by blood and bone now. She was lost in touch - actual touch not being controlled by another - and the feeling of his lips against her own. “Marry you?” Of course she had thought about it. They had a child together and it was all but expected by an aristocratic family that worked on tradition. Crystalia had a child out of wedlock. Not only that but it was with a mutant who had a terrorist sister nonetheless. “Marry you.” The word was a sigh. She loved Pietro. She loved the family they had made. He wasn’t on one knee and they stood in the middle of a possessed town, but there was an odd romance to it. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Crystalia leaned up to kiss him. It was nice to have a choice this time. “I love you. All this craziness aside. I do.”

PIETRO: He wanted Crystalia and the baby out before he could think much of anything else. They had to be safe before he could get to Wanda and once he knew that Crys had Luna cradled to her chest, he’d picked her up and ran both of them back to Attilan in the Hudson. The entire ordeal had really only taken just minutes — mostly because he’d had to separate himself from them once again and convince his now fiancée to let him go speak to the same woman that had caused all of their pain. Even if that person was his sister—his twin, the same flesh and blood of his own—it still left its scars.

WANDA: They stared. Wanda sensed their indecision and, in some cases, their anger. Let them. It didn’t matter anymore. She knew what she had and what she had to lose. “A villain.” She repeated softly. There had been times in the past Carol had defended her. She hadn’t wanted Wanda left at the mercy of the mutants. But that was a different time before unforgivable transgressions. “Maybe, but it’s not that simple.” She had been villainous but that was over. This was the after. Taking Visions hand, Wanda nodded at Carol. “My husband is right. We have to focus on the boys. I’ll come back. I promise.” The last word was spoken quietly. She’d come back. Not Vision, not the boys. Just her. The twins had returned to town square, two children with expectant faces. Wanda would not let her last moments with her children be defending herself against Carol Danvers. Without waiting for permission, Wanda turned towards her home. “The barrier is falling. Westview is returning,” she called over her shoulder. “It will be right once more.”

MONICA: “Went in and got thrown out.” Monica confirmed. Carol was getting upset and she instantly tensed up to see if there would be conflict. When Sam intervened Monica exhaled. She was turning to respond to Daisy when she was approached from the other side. “Emperor Dorreck?” Of course she knew the Skrull leader. Space had always been a part of the Rambeau’s life. She excused herself to the side. “Yeah, of course. I’ll meet you as soon as we’re out of here.”

WANDA: It was the beginning of the end. No, not the beginning. The end had come five years before even though it felt like yesterday to a woman who hadn’t been around to live through it. The end had come the moment the Vision had died in Wakanda. His empty shell hitting the dirt heralded a new phase in her life and Wanda had tried her best to live in it. She socialized and tried to smile. Her tears were regulated to moments of privacy. Wanda had tried - she really had - but she couldn’t do it. She rewrote the story, added a chapter. There was no end then, only beginnings. Westview was real. Westview was hers. Westview had crumbled. People were flickering back to consciousness and red still sparked in the sky. It was her home that had never really been. A promise that had never been lived out. When the Vision had signed the deed and secured the land had he ever fathomed just how much Wanda would pervert it to keep it? The white android with his hands on her throat hadn’t remembered but Wanda always would. After months of games and manipulation she was quiet as she rested a hand on the twin’s backs. The elder version of the boys had long since departed. Not that she could blame them. They were all people for her to answer to but they had all the time in the world. The three souls who walked beside Wanda were pinned now into a finite box. She was going to lose them. They were never hers to lose. As Tommy and Billy obediently moved towards their house their mother took the hand of their father. It was silent except for their boots on the now cracked pavement and the quiet slapping of their capes. One day, there would be too much to unpack. Wanda felt a new thrumming in her chest and magic in her veins. The Scarlet Witch was more than just a name now, it was a point of being. She wore the mantle and the crown with a heavy head. The second their feet hit the threshold of the door the new costume faded away to more mundane clothing. A soft sweater, jeans. Some sneakers. Wanda felt stripped bare and the hardest part had yet to come. “Go get ready for bed, boys.” Her voice was hoarse as she tipped her head towards the stairs. When she looked back at Vision there was a plea in her eyes. The barrier was a soft static hush in the background as it inched closer. She couldn't do this. Not again.

VISION: They’d been moving at an immeasurable pace toward an end that he wasn’t entirely sure sealed much of anything at all. Time seemed slow and fast all at once, which led him to consider that it was merely a construct after all. A simple tool for humans to capture moments of life in numbered little bottles. Not that any of it mattered now — it did — but it could wait. If not for just for the moment: their moment. After all, that’s all life was, wasn’t it? A series of moments that molded bodies and souls all the same. Certainly Wanda and Vision had shared theirs. And while he spent most of their short time in Westview without the memories of their life prior to the Hex, he’d witnessed them within the precious past of a body that was never his to inhabit. And he felt that perhaps now, he understood her more than ever. He understood what they shared, but not what he was. He had all of this history that he couldn’t claim, children, a wife—love, yet once this world closed, this form of his being would cease along with it. What did that mean? What did it matter? Vision took her hand in his red palm and gently intertwined their fingers. They weren’t gone quite yet — he didn’t want her to mourn them before she’d truly lost them. He was determined to outshine the bitterness of what inched closer with the sweetness of what was still left. “Let’s say goodnight.” he said, and though his feet stayed on the ground, he felt himself floating up the stairs into their children’s room. For once he went to Tommy’s bed first, and sat at his feet. He watched Wanda with all the tenderness and normalcy that he could, hoping to leave her with something fond to remember them by. An ounce of reality in all the fiction.

WANDA: Goodnight and goodbye. It was with a bowed head and her heart in her throat that Wanda followed behind her husband up the familiar stairs to the boy’s room. The house hadn’t looked like that at first. It had expanded with her narrative to fit their new and extended family. Two boys at the top of the stairs, the heavy pounding of their footsteps heralding every new day. Her natural instinct would have been to move towards Tommy, but she settled instead by Billy. William, Vision had said. Billy, like Shakespeare. Wanda couldn’t say if she always planned to have twins. She knew Tommy the second he had started to grow in her stomach, but the joy in her husband's face had brought a new life to light inside of her. Smoothing back Billy’s hair, Wanda fumbled with unscripted words. “Snug as a bug. Big day today,” she patted the sheets around him. They were a family. This was the kind of evening that could have happened on any night but Wanda didn’t want to betray what she knew. They were kids. How could she tell them this was the story’s end? Looking to Vision, Wanda took a breath. “It was a big day. Your father and I are… very proud.” She exhaled. “But family is forever. We could never leave each other, even if we tried.” Had she not carried a part of Pietro around in her heart for years? He had always stayed near to her even as his bones turned to ash. “You know that, right?” As Tommy nodded and smiled across the room something inside Wanda fractured. She kissed Billy on the head before rising, trying to mentally document every scent and curl. They were hers even if they were never meant to be. Wanda would always be theirs. She and Vision met in the middle of the room, hands squeezing before she was kissing Tommy’s head. For all the messy parts of Wanda that there were, she had somehow managed to compile only the best of her and Vision into their children. This was her duty as a mother. Her tears were kept so far back she didn’t even have to blink them away as she playfully shook Tommy. Giving Vision his space to say goodbye, Wanda eventually drifted with lead coated feet towards the door. As she looked back the glow of the Hex began to coat the room. “--Boys?” Wanda tore her eyes away from their undoing and back to the boys in their bed. “Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.” Billy smiled, but Wanda knew he had some semblance of an idea even if he couldn’t read her mind specifically. The light flicked off and for a second it was so tempted to stop the Hex’s progression and create the blanket of the barrier again. The red haze was now tinting everything with its light and Wanda took one last look before closing the door on that chapter of her life.

VISION: He hated the idea of missing this, — the mundane nights spent in, tucking the boys to bed and retiring to themselves in front of the TV. He ached of not knowing what would come next for her and not being alongside her to share it. But most of all, he hated the idea of ceasing to be — even if he had no real claim to feel such a way. To have had so much, only to be greeted with a nothingness at the end of it...no promise of paradise, or rebirth. He supposed it was the most human thing he’d ever experienced. Vision let Wanda do most of the talking, trying his best to exist in the precious seconds that ticked by. He forced his gaze on his son rather than the claustrophobic barrier that rapidly closed in from the window. He ruffled Tommy’s hair and stood, forcing one food in front of the other. “Goodnight, Chaps.” prompted a resounding “Goodnight, Dad!” from the both of them and he held onto the warmth it blossomed in his artificial chest. They lingered in the doorway for as long as time would allow until eventually Vision found himself descending back downstairs, after his wife. He turned on a different lamp as she turned hers out, eager to see her face in the light rather than night vision. “Sorry. I read somewhere it’s bad luck to say goodbye in the dark.” He offered a soft smile at that.

WANDA: Over time, Wanda had forgotten how to process. She lost the ability to move through the stages of grief and had nestled into denial as easily as if it were her second skin. Wanda lost and she lost and she lost. She ached, and for what? A moment of reprieve? She had those before the waves crashed back in and she was lost once again in the surf. It was wrong what she had done. After being coaxed through her memories by Agatha she knew that. It was wrong, but it was also the only time she had felt any semblance of right in years. The barrier was cutting its way through the town. She could feel it even if it was out of sight. Grass would grow yellow and wood would grow soft from moisture and lack of upkeep. Westview would return to its bitter self that she had first stumbled upon. Her dream had been their nightmares. The shiny veneer of Westview Wanda had painted wasn’t real. Her hand hovered over a family portrait. No one would remember it being taken. It was just filler anyway, an object in a house to keep up the illusion. No, not a house. Their house, even if it wasn’t this Vision who had so lovingly procured it for her so they could have a home. He would have done the same, Wanda liked to think, as the Vision had. He didn’t know the scope of her tragedy but he loved her. He looked for ways to brighten her life. No sooner than her lamp had clicked off did the one she had already turned off bloom back into light. Wanda couldn't help but start before she turned to see Vision standing by the lamp. “No,” a smile somehow found its way to her lips despite the situation. “You didn’t.”

VISION: He mirrored the soft sadness in her smile with his own. “No…no” he trailed, having grown comfortable in their shared silences...or maybe he just wanted time to stretch longer. “Perhaps not...perhaps I just wanted to see you..clearly.” He gazed at her softly. “And there you are.” He murmured more to himself than anything. She’d always been so beautiful — in more ways than just the high slopes of her cheek bones and the delicate look in her eyes when she allowed herself to be vulnerable. It was difficult to imagine he’d never see that face again...never do anything again.

WANDA: No one had seen her clearly in years. Pietro always had a sharp gaze that could cut through her vague indecision, but without him he had been adrift. The Vision had seen her, too. She felt the Stone that powered him and he looked at her with clear eyes. Dumnezeu, she had loved him. Past, present, future. Wanda knew now that he’d always exist in her breastbone, right alongside the after effects of the Mind Stone. Two ghosts, both shadows of their former selves but spurring her further nonetheless. There you are. It was heartbreak and love all wrapped up as one and reflected in Wanda’s smile. But the Hex was collapsing. She wasn’t the only one who could tell and she gripped his hand by the window. It was too soon. It was five years overdue, and yet, it was too soon. When he turned to her she found a way to tear her gaze from the sight of Westview shifting and locked her eyes on the flickering face of her husband in the red light.

VISION: “Wanda…” Vision started, suddenly feeling their world grow so much smaller as it crashed around them. Hungry scarlet swirls of the red barrier ebbed slowly around them in wait, allowing him to finish. He cast it only the briefest of glances before his gaze returned to his wife. “Before I go,” He begun softly “— I feel I must know… I want to know.....what am I?” Even as he felt himself ask, he wondered maybe it wasn’t his place to — or that it was even a question she could answer, but still he had to at least try. Closure was, in his opinion, often rather loaded. People wanted it, but weren’t prepared for whatever shape it came in. They had expectations, hopes for the way things would end...and often the reality of it was painful. And while he struggled to know if he was ready for closure now, he supposed it didn’t matter. It was never really his story. So maybe what he was really asking now, was for his writer to fit him with an honorable ending — whatever shape it took. He trusted her with that, even if the rest of westview and the world didn’t.

WANDA: This was her fault. All her fault, like so many other things. To her, it had never mattered what he was. He was hers and she was his. It was that simple. Couldn’t two people just be in love? Maybe, but not them. It wasn’t simple and in their case it wasn’t pure with Wanda’s interference. She had made him as she remembered him, but Vision was more than a memory. The Vision had many intricacies and complexities that could never be replicated. She had done the best she could but still had left hollow holes in her husband. It wasn’t fair to the Vision or Vision. “You, Vision,” her hand moved to caress his cheek. People heard synthezoid and assumed his flesh would be cold like metal but it was warm and real under her palm. “Are the piece of the Mind Stone that lives in me. You are a body of wires and blood and bone that I created. You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.” His hand had fallen over her own at some point and Wanda finally lost the battle with her tears. She loved, she loved and she lost. This time had to be different because she had to accept it. She had look at him in the near darkness and remember just how all encompassing it felt to love and be loved by him in the days that would stretch out when he was gone.

VISION: He grounded himself in the warmth of her palm against his cheek, comforted by the melody of her voice — even with a vastness awaiting him the moment her lips stopped moving. It didn’t matter, he took those precious seconds to kiss her with all the tenderness he found even the complexities of 6,500 human language could not express. “I’ve been a voice with no body...a body but not human...and now…” he met her sad eyes “A memory. Made real.” He wanted so badly to leave her with hope, desperate not to let her drown in her own grief. “Who knows what I might be next.” What we might be. The barrier was closing in now and with it he found himself suddenly feeling the loss of time as if it were a loss of breath — he gently pulled her to him, placing his hand on her cheek in a delicate cradle. “We’ve said goodbye before...so it stands to reason…”

WANDA: Their kiss was bittersweet. It was the first hello of two beings who finally saw each other as they were and the last goodbye between tragic lovers. As a tear tracked down his cheek, Wanda caught it with her thumb. The moisture on her finger pad was real. Androids could cry. Perhaps not all, but hers was special. Vision had always been special and that would never change. To her it would be impossible for him to be reduced to just a memory. She would see him out of the corner of her eyes in the hall or hear a rustling and expect to see him phase through the wall. Scents would escape the kitchen and she would wonder for a second if it was him attempting a dish just because it would make her smile. Wanda had seen sides of the Vision no one else had. She had seen goofy and soft. He was the full spectrum of being, and his quiet steady nature even in the face of oblivion made her cry. She had never deserved him. Not really, at least. He was worthy to hold the hammer of Thor and Wanda -- she broke things, she threw fits and hurt people. From the moment she had sensed him in dreaming under Ultron’s watchful eye in the Cradle she had been doomed. Wanda felt love in her life but she never managed to hold onto it. It was a stream and the water always flowed right past her before her thirst was quenched. Vision was a memory made real, sure. But in Wanda’s mind he would always be real. We’ve said goodbye before, so it stands to reason... Wanda clutched either side of his head as her eyes frantically traced the lines of his face so she could memorize every one. “...That we’ll say hello again.” She was nodding quickly as the red raced through the town and finally made contact. The house began to fluctuate through all the variations that Wanda had forced upon it. The reality began to unwrite herself right in front of her eyes, but she was going to hold onto her husband until she couldn’t anymore.

VISION: The barrier came for them rapidly, then, and all he felt was her. Her hands on his face, her being somehow tethered to his as his body began to come apart much more gently than before. It wasn’t a ceasing to exist, merely a return home — a return to where he’d existed from the beginning: within her. It wasn’t painful, and it wasn’t something to fear anymore. So many more things he wished to say to her, seconds he’d ask for if they could. But they were out of time. “So long, my darling.” Until, hello.

WANDA: It didn’t end with a bang. It ended with a soft smile and the echo of a voice before its owner ceased to be. She felt him slowly fade out of her grasp until she was left clutching nothing but the air. The house -- their house -- had reverted back to a foundation that would never be built upon. Wanda wouldn’t sell but she could never live there either. Her happiness had lived and died within those fallen walls. Her heart was splintering in her chest. Clothed once more in the outfit she had worn when she arrived in Westview, Wanda slipped her hood up over her hair and ignored her car as she began her funeral procession of one back to town square. A promise was a promise, but Agatha’s words were heavy in her heart. There would always be pitchforks or women like them. Stepping into view, Wanda kept her head held high. “It’s over.”

SAM: His lips flattened into a tight line. “Jesus, Carol.” So much for a happy reunion. “Wanda fucked up -- bad. But she’s going to say goodbye to kids. Her kids. Give her ten.” He believed she’d come back, and she did. Defeated but present.

LORNA: Her sister had just turned and left with the family she had made. Lorna had a sinking feeling that Wanda would be the only one she saw again. “What can I say?” the words felt flat in her mouth. “I like to feel desired.” She turned to look at Remy then. He looked the same, if not ragged. It was hard to tell. Lorna felt like someone else all together -- which was fair, situation depending. “They let you in here?”

CAROL: Carol shot Sam a look, one that was one part confused and one part angry. She knew she struggled with the grey area, but rarely did her and Sam grate so blatantly. "That in comparison to torturing people for months. Sure." She was tired of the passes, but she'd relented and thrown her hands up. Once Wanda came back in to view, Carol didn't even make a move to approach her. Like Sam, Carol was tired too, but for an entirely different reason. "You did the right thing." She said, though there was no sense of sympathy in her tone. "The people of Westview are being extensively checked for neurological damage or magical after effects. They'll be lucky if they don't suffer from PTSD after this." she knew she wasn't making any friends here. Carol didn't care. But still, she shifted slightly so her body was turned towards Monica. "This is your case, Rambeau. By all means,"

REMY: "You know I have a habit of getting in even when I don't belong." He said passively. He was looking at her, but not really. He was exhausted, the feeling dragging him down over the past few weeks Lorna had been in here. He truly was spending most of their relationship losing her and it stung a little more every time. Still, "Are you okay?" it was a question said off to the side, because there was no way that conversation could happen now. He just had to ask.

WANDA: Two women forged by Infinity Stones. Carol and Wanda were powerful but in different ways. “They suffered.” She replied simply. “Extensively. And I’m sorry. I never meant to make my pain theirs as well.” That, at least, was true. It had not been her original intention but she had perpetuated willingly later on. “You’re not arresting me. But I’ll go with you willingly, Captain Rambeau. I owe you that much.”

MONICA: “Me?” Monica arched a brow. “Yeah, I’d say that’s fair.” Wanda had thrown her from town and caused Monica’s cells to metastasize. She had also used her powers to throw her around another time. Monica had felt Wanda’s pain first hand and was left with a detached pity. “Wanda Maximoff,” she began the formalities. “I’m Captain Monica Rambeau. I am officially bringing you into holding under the authority of S.W.O.R.D. I am not required to read you your rights as you register as a threat to the Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division and will be treated as such. Do you understand?”

LORNA: Normally she’d launch flirtatious barbs back with him, but Lorna just gestured around slowly. “Not really a desirable place to be. At his question her brow furrowed. “No. Not really, but I will be.” Insanity did run in the family. “I need to find my Father. We need to go to Krakoa.”

REMY: "Why do you think we're here?" he asked, though there wasn't much room for answering. "There's no reason we should stay now. There's a gate close by." it was a suggestion for them to leave now, to turn away from Lorna's sister being taken in by SWORD.

LORNA: “Maybe you’re a fan of the show,” her tone was sardonic at best. No reason to stay. No reason to watch Wanda hauled off. The two sisters had ever been closed but it rattled Lorna more than she wanted to admit. Her family didn’t handle grief. No member of the Monarchy of M seemed to be sane. They threw tantrums and raged. Would she have done the same as Wanda? Maybe, if Lorna loved anyone that much. Far more agreeable than usual, Lorna turned away from Wanda in the square.

WANDA: “I understand.” Wanda nodded. She could never give the citizen of Westview the last two months back but she could at least own up to her own shortcomings -- of which there were a multitude. As Wanda took a step towards Monica her clothing rippled. Magic was always present. If she was going to leave Westview it was with a shrivel of her dignity intact. The hood of her jacket had redesigned itself into a cloak, red fabric falling over bare shoulders. There would be time later to address Agatha and wrap up that plot line. “And I’m ready.”

PIETRO: Pietro arrived in time to see S.W.O.R.D. and F.B.I. swarming the area like bees in a frenzy. A boom snapped through the air as he slammed to a halt, feet ripping up chunks of pavement — Christ, he had to get better at that. Fixing his sleeve, Pietro stood up straight and rolled his shoulders some, shoving his snowy hair out of his face. “I’m gone five minutes and you already want to get yourself arrested.” he said, walking around from behind her. He cast a glance to the others — Monica, Carol, Sam — scattered agents all braced for anything. “Just like old times, ah?” They had a lot to talk about — but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her. She had to have known it was coming even though he didn’t ask, he just lifted her off the ground and shot off with a sonic boom, leaving nothing but a breeze and a standstill in their wake as he put over a hundred miles between them and Westview in two seconds flat.

DAISY: Daisy was waiting patiently in the back for the potential of Wanda running off, although she wasn’t quite sure any of them besides Carol were prepared to be able to stop that sort of escape. Even if she did feel for Wanda’s situation, there were rules they had to follow. And rules she swore to uphold when she became an agent. She blinked in surprise when she saw Pietro run up, surprised at how fast he was. She knew he was a speedster from the files she’d read, but it was an entirely different thing to see it in person. And then before anyone could even say anything, there was a loud boom and just wind blowing by them and both Wanda and Pietro vanished into thin air. After a few beats of stunned silence, Daisy let out a sigh and shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Now S.W.O.R.D was going to have to look for both of the Maximoff twins after this whole mess. It was definitely a frustrating ending after being so close to getting Wanda to willingly come talk with them, and Daisy could feel a nagging irritation prickling under her skin as she shook her head. “I’m going to go help with those extractions.” She stated to Carol and Monica before turning and walking off back towards the direction of the base.

WANDA: This was the last thing she needed. Denial, anger, bargaining and now, after a painful breakthrough: acceptance. Wanda wasn’t resigned but renewed. They were mad and could have their moment. The energy from Darkhold whispered in her ear even though it was out of sight. Wanda was ready to face the stake they would inevitably try to force her to burn on, but then someone was making quips. The reverent air of a battleground that hadn’t completely found an ending was charged with a boom that rattled her teeth. Five minutes? It was five years and then some. Her eyes drifted closed. Wanda’s Westview was gone and her constructs with it. Everything left was real, but was he? This was a question she had turned over in her mind again and again. Acceptance. He was hers. He always had been. Agatha had laughed that he couldn’t be returned because his body had been left broken and isolated on foreign soil. Wrong and wrong. Vision and the boys had been tied to the town. It anchored their reality. Pietro was the exception. His accidental resurrection was tied to the one who had been half of his being. Pietro existed as Wanda did, their connection once again rekindled even though it was tainted red. There had been no reunion yet. Their interactions were tense and filled with a one sided disgust. Wanda had clung to an illusion because she was terrified of the fact that there was one thing she couldn’t replicate. This was real but Wanda did not deserve it. Not after what she had done. As her eyes fluttered open, Wanda’s lips parted. She was going to tell Carol it changed nothing, even though everything was different. She was culpable still. Instead her feet were pulled out from underneath her in the same disorienting blur that had once been familiar. Hair whipping around her face, Wanda’s hood had fallen off by the time he skidded to a stop. Blue and silver streaked the air behind him. The only thing new was the scarlet that threaded through the afterimage, the trail of magic that was still fresh on its mistress. The ground crunched underneath the wedged heels of her boots once contact was made. There was a cold wind but the heat of her magic still flushed her cheeks. “Pietro?” The word fell from her lips and hung in the air between them. Where did she start? You’re back? I’m sorry? I need to go face my fate? Wanda just stood there and stood for a long moment. It didn’t matter that she was the Scarlet Witch, chaos bound in flesh. It didn’t matter how powerful she was. Right then she was ten years old and flat on her stomach as the Stark missile ticked away. She hadn’t known then it was her power stopping it from going off as probability twisted. Pietro was the one keeping them safe as he held her close. She had always assumed it would be him who filled that role but now she had years of experience and tragedy that had affixed itself to her being and turned her into the woman she had become. But that was for later. She could be strong and suffer in a silent dignity later. Right then she was closing the space between them until her arms were wrapped tightly around his chest and her head pressed over the spot where his heart beat a little too quickly. “Îmi pare rău, frate. Îmi pare așa, atât de rău. ( I'm sorry, brother. I'm so, so sorry. ) If Wanda kept her head down she wouldn’t have to look at his eyes and see if disdain still lived there. “I lost you.”

PIETRO: He’d thought about what he might say to her if she ever did finally speak to him again — without all the facade of Westview to deafen her ears from everything he said. He wondered if he’d hold on to his anger—but it had morphed. Mutating into a hurt he didn’t know how to place. That he could. He knew it wasn’t intentional, but that was the sad part...it...it didn’t matter. Crystalia didn’t want Wanda anywhere near their daughter and while he understood her reasons, that didn’t make the cut any shallower. He shared everything with her, as a being he very much considered an extension of hims own, it was difficult not to bring her into the life of his child. And so he was crossed between the boy that would sever his own limbs just to quell the quiver of Wanda’s lip, and the man that wanted to stand by his soon to be wife. Maybe he fueled that into the mad dash he did away from Westview, because he didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he started to smell salt. It was different to run so long with her, but she’d always been a light load. Pietro finally stopped when he hit the west coastline—kicking up an array of sand as he slid with her. It was one of his more graceful stops, but that wasn’t saying much. He set her on her feet and for once kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to say—literally anything. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but as she fell into him he felt his world tip a little, back into place. His hands gently smoothed the curls of her unnaturally strawberry red hair and he wrapped both arms around her. “nN pentru totdeauna” not forever, he said. In the most predictable way, his anger melted away, but it did leave welts in the wake of its fire. Dor the first time in their lives he didn’t know where her head was at—and he’d never needed telepathy to do that. And though he could never hate her, and he could never want her out of his life, he didn’t know where that left them. And he silently dreaded the problems having wanda in their lives would inevitably cause with the mother of his child.

WANDA: She lost him, but she had found him. Wanda couldn’t put into words how much that meant. “And now I have so much to tell you but it’s not the time. I have to go back, Pietro. I need to face what I’ve done.” It was the right thing to do, after all. Wanda owed the people she hurt and had given Monica her word. Flicking her hood back on so it cast a shadow over his face, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, frate. We’ll be together again soon.”

MONICA: There was no reason for handcuffs when the woman they would shackle was a literal witch who could apparently teleport when she was in the mood to. Monica was immensely grateful for Wanda’s cooperation and had her own opinions on the matter. Wanda had been wrong. Her actions were more than just hurtful, they were dangerous. Monica knew that just as well as she knew that if she had been in Wanda’s shoes with her powers she would have done the same. It didn’t make her actions excusable or meant that Monica forgave her. She just had a throbbing sense of balanced justice instilled in her by her mother. Wanda would face the jury and it consistent of more than just Monica. But then, Pietro. Shit. He had been a little bit of a wild card ever since Wanda yeeted his kid and girlfriend (?) into the Hex. Now he was in a place to potentially cause an escalation with Wanda -- who had just returned and was compliant. “Maximoff,” Monica took a step forward and found herself blinking away grit that Quicksilver’s feet had kicked up. He was gone and Wanda had vanished with him. “Jesus.” Monica resisted the urge to turn and smack the solid army truck behind her. She could survive being shot but something told her that all she’d accomplish was becoming the owner of a broken hand. Nodding at Daisy, Monica made no move to follow her. Instead she turned to Carol, who had proven herself to be a powder keg consistently in danger of exploding. Had she always been like that? Monica couldn’t remember but childhood memories were faulty. They were blurred fact with fiction. Sam, at least, looked more stoic with his arms crossed over his chest. “--she’s coming back.” Monica pursed her lips. “Wanda was ready to go in, she was listening.”

REMY: "Haven't bothered to watch." His tone remained level as they started for the break in the wall. He had come prepared for a fight, but he was leaving with none, and he could feel the dissatisfaction even if he'd ultimately won in the end. It had been a tough few weeks and all his sitting had caught him in a loop with no outlet. "Your sister will be fine." He offered as the neared the edge. "We know people who have done far worse and are sitting on our country's council."

CAROL: Carol stared at the spot where Wanda had disappeared for too long, her eyes boring into the gravel of a city that had returned to its poorly maintained state. Though her features remained neutral, the tension in her shoulders was immense and all she wanted to do was strangle not one, but two Maximoff’s now. Forcing out a breath, Carol completely missed Daisy's comment and instead turned towards Monica. "I know." she acquiesced. "And yet here we are." Standing in the center of a town that had been pulled through the decades by magic, its citizens mind controlled and tortured, and the only person to blame was gone. "Maybe we should coordinate with Krakoa." she looked towards Sam, but it was nothing more than a passing glance. There was a lot to unpack there, but their personal lives could never cross into their professional. "As much as I'd love to argue with Frost that, although Wanda is a citizen a Krakoa and therefore untouchable, her mass mind manipulation of US citizens stands to reason she needs to face a trial. It's not a witch hunt," she said pointedly. "But Pietro did just implicate himself in this mess."

SAM: Maybe. Sam shifted before straightening up. “Last I heard, Wanda was pretty estranged. If we talk to anyone, it’s Magneto.” It was unlikely that the Master of Magnetism was going to be biased because it was his daughter. “But outside of Krakoa, Wanda isn’t a U.S. citizen either. There’s not a home country we can send her to for trial anymore.” That made her their problem. It was a little less messy internationally. “The guy was dead up until two months ago and hasn’t gotten to actually talk to her since. Guess we should have seen that coming.”

LORNA: What, could he not be bothered to tune into the home torture network to at least see that she was alive? Lorna just snorted, Westview now fading into the background. “Good for you. Hope Wanda gave me a new liver when she rewrote reality because all I’ve done recently is get wasted and make out with would be frat guys.” Which had never been her type. “Wanda is Wanda. She makes big messes and everyone finds a way to forgive her. She lays low and then the cycle repeats.” Not that Lorna could take another Decimation. The glow of the emergency gate that the mutants had situated by the barrier emitted a soft glow. “Like my father.”

REMY: Remy had avoided the broadcast because he hadn't been privy to watch, even if he knew he wouldn't have bothered given the chance. It was...a complicated mess of feeling, and he was still sorting through it. Lorna's words didn't help, but he didn't comment on them. He wanted out of Westview, he wanted to be back on Krakoa. They emerged together through the breach and he led her to where the mutants emerged originally - the closest gate back to Krakoa. "We can talk more once we're back." He wanted out of here. Away from the mess Wanda had formed. If he could, he would've rather pretend it never happened.

CAROL: "Guess we should've." Carol muttered, eyes flitting up to the sky and then back down again. "We can send a team in to do a clean sweep, gather up any evidence we may need. Otherwise, I think we need to get started on the citizens. Make sure everyone is okay." It wasn't necessarily their job to aid at this point, but Carol felt separated from victory, and she needed to do something. "Monica can make a call, I'm sure."

MONICA: She was not about to be in the middle of a lovers quarrel. It felt like she had been in her S.W.O.R.D. sweater and training pants for days. Her skin was sticky with sweat and the adrenaline had begun to wear off. Carol, Sam and Monica were some of the last remaining, three Captains who covered the spectrum in how angry they were. “Sam,” she turned towards Wilson. “We need a trauma evaluation. They’re not letting us do anything until after that.” It was just standard protocol. They’d need to find Wanda and the White Vision who had smashed through the town before vanishing. Agatha Harkness was still weak on the ground, stuck in stasis. They couldn’t restrain her. They needed Wanda and her fancy magic shapes for that. And, S.W.O.R.D. needed a director. It wouldn’t be Monica. She didn’t want it. That had been Maria’s job and her daughter didn’t want to squeeze into her shoes. She had always preferred walking beside her too much. It would be Abigail she talked to after Brand finished her counseling as well. S.W.O.R.D. would heal. Maria would never be back but her legacy would persevere. “We’re going to find Maximoff.” Monica sent a look to Carol as she began to take a few steps back. “She promised, and I’m big on holding people to their word.” She’d make her call. She’d do what she needed to, and at some point Monica would sleep. Westview was free. They were free. Why didn’t it feel like it?

#event: maximoff anomaly #maximoff anomaly: finale #momevents

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inky-duchess · 5 years

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Heroes to Villain, A Guide:

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

— Harvey Dent, a.k.a. Two-Face, The Dark Knight

A hero is someone good, somebody whose morals are never in question and someone who stays the course of good for all time. Until... they don't.

A hero who has battled through horror and loss can easily lose their way and find themselves on a darker path. We have all suffered something in life and in the throes of that, we often find ourselves thinking dark thoughts or not acting like ourselves. This can be one of the hardest things to do right in any story, so let's have a look at it from the inside out using 5 characters: Book!Theon Greyjoy, Anakin Skywalker, Book!Tyrion Lannister, Carrie White, Magneto.

In the Beginning

If we accept that your protagonist was a hero, we need to know what kind of person they were. Who were they before hand? Everyone, even if their life has been shit, sees goodness in life at first. Begin when we are first introduced to them.

Theon Greyjoy: He was a smiling playboy with notions of grandeur who loved nothing more than hunting and whoring.

Anakin Skywalker: He was once a slave but made himself into a Jedi Knight during the Clone Wars.

Tyrion Lannister: He was an intelligent, kind playboy.

Carrie White: She was a picked-on, plump and unpopular girl with a terrible home life but with a hope things would improve.

Magneto: He was a caring son who had only his mother in the world.

Though each has a different beginning, we see positivity in all of them. Every hero is hopeful and believes in good.

Sowing the Seeds of Darkness

In every hero, there are seeds of some unsavory trait lingering under their persona. No person is squeaky clean. Having a bad trait doesn't always mean that character will turn bad however. But when looking at any character, you can see how they COULD go bad.

Theon Greyjoy: He has illusions of grandeur, he wants to make his father proud, he is rash, he is sullen, he is resentful

Anakin Skywalker: He can be a sullen person, he is comfortable in battle and can be very rash and violent.

Tyrion Lannister: He's intelligent, prudent, pragmatic, shrewd and sharp

Carrie White: She's a religious fanatic with deep disgust for anybody who doesn't follow her mother's brand of fanaticism.

Magneto: He is very comfortable with inflicting violence and horror upon people, he doesn't trust in people, he is full of unsated rage and hatred.

Peering through the Veil

You ought to let your characters show these through their actions. Even if it is just a glimpse. Percy Jackson is a great example of this. We have watched him grow up since he was 12 but in the newer novels, we have begun to see a darker side to him. He tortures the goddess of misery and even begins to share some startling traits with the primary Hero turned Antagonist, Luke Castellan. Though I doubt Rick will turn Percy villain, showing the seeds beginning to flower is enough to plant doubt in our heads. Harry Potter also experiences this when he tortures one of the Carrows for spitting in Professor McGonagall's face. Even his deadpan comment would chill you, "I see what Bellatrix meant, you have to mean it."

Theon Greyjoy: We first begin to see Theon's nature in the scene in A Game of Thrones, after he kills the wildling threatening Bran. When Robb points out the rashness of the action, Theon answers back in a distant tone.

Anakin Skywalker: He went to go see his mother after a vision, finding her dead. Anakin goes on a rampage and kills everything in the village before burning it down.

Tyrion Lannister: In a Clash of Kings, Tyrion has his first taste of power. The exchange between he and Janos Slynt shows Tyrion's villainous side.

Carrie White: Carrie is walking home and she begins to think bad thoughts about a neighbor, using her powers to shatter the window. This shows her disdain for the people in her life.

Magneto: When he is sitting before the banker in the Swiss Bank, he snaps and pulls the metal filling from the teeth of the banker. Then his torture of Emma, when he almost shatters he diamond form.

The Reasons Why

Every Villain has a sob story. Especially those who were once heroes.

Theon Greyjoy: Was taken from his home aged ten by the man who invaded his home and destroyed his father's kingdom. He was raised with the knowledge that he would be killed by Ned, if the Ironborn threatened Westeros.

Anakin Skywalker: Anakin saw a vision of Padme dying and believes the Sith have the power to save her.

Tyrion Lannister: He is abused by his father and Westerosi society for his dwarfism.

Carrie White: She is abused by her mother, humiliated by her peers and abused by society.

Magneto: His mother is shot by Nazis nd he is abused by them

The Breaking Point

Though we may laugh at the tragic villain backstory trope, there is an interesting flip. Heroes can have a sad backstory and fight through it to still be good but what makes a person turn evil. The Breaking Point is the tipping point between hero and villian. This is the final straw that drives the hero into the arms of Darkness.

Theon Greyjoy: His rejection from his family, the Starks and then the people of Winterfell. He murders two farmboys, one who could very well be his son as he was banging the miller's wife, orders the death of many people he knew well and betrays Robb, his best friend.

Anakin Skywalker: Padme refuses to help him and then he strangles her to death beginning his turn to darkness. He casts off Anakin to become Darth Vader.

Tyrion Lannister: His wife is gang-raped by his household guards with his unwilling help, his girlfriend betrays him, his father tries to kill him after years of emotional abuse, he is cast down and vilified by those he thought his allies. He soon begins to talk openly of destroying Westeros, his dreams of killing and raping Cersei and the destruction of the legacy of House Lannister.

Carrie White: She is humiliated with a bucket of pig's blood at prom leading her on a path of destruction and revenge.

Magneto: After slaying the man who killed his mother and saving humanity from a Nuclear war, Erik joins the others on the beach. When the humans try kill them via missiles, Erik snaps and tries to kill them all.

The Hero Turned Antagonist: The Failure of Dave and Dan and the Destruction of Daenerys Targaryen.

Now that we have looked at how to turn a hero into a villain, I want to point out the dangers of the trope and how it can be done wrong. Daenerys is never shown as a possible villain until the last season. There are no prior points and scenes to back up her turn to darkness. Tyrion's speech to Jon even highlights how stupid casting Dany as a villain is when he points out that killing the slavers was evil. Anybody with the wits of a pea would gave listed this as a good act of Dany's, though a violent one. It is a long and difficult road to turn a hero into a believable antagonist and Dany, though with her troubles and issues, does not fit the template. It was lazy writing that killed a perfectly good character.

For the ever patient @kathryn-anna

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Ok so everyone and their mama is being resurrected on Krakoa and so many people in marvel have gone through the revolving door that is death. So please tell me just one little thing. Where is Irene Adler? Is she still dead? If not, then why is she only just now being brought back? Why is one of the most iconic imo queer couples still suffering? #GiveMystiqueHerWife #LetMyWLWBeHappy #BringDestinyBack

She is still dead, but she hasn’t been forgotten - this is actually a long-running subplot Marvel laid down, though I’m with you in wanting them to Get To It already. My guess is we’ll start to see more building towards this particular plotline once X of Swords is done, though it won’t actually be the NEXT major storyline. Just a hunch, but my bet is the next focal storyline the X-books concentrate on after X of Swords wraps up is the conflict brewing with the Children of the Vault, after Darwin, Laura and Synch got taken prisoner by them in one of the earlier issues of the core X-Men title.

Alternatively, the next major focus is going to be on what’s brewing under the surface with Vulcan (though its also possible these are going to be one and the same. Gabe’s stories have always been linked with Darwin’s more than anyone else, and given that he’s front and central to whatever’s front and central with whatever’s coming with the CotV, it wouldn’t surprise me if our next face to face with Gabe’s ‘dark side’ ties into that same story. Ugh, Gabe going all Emperor Vulcan again and teaming up with the Children of the Vault....now there’s a scary thought. But dammit, just let Gabe be good, I’m so tired of this ‘there’s something just innately dark and evil inside of him’ crap, bleh. BUT I DIGRESS).

But anyway, the thing with Destiny is actually an ongoing subplot. Back in Powers of X, it was explicitly ‘decided’ by Moira, Xavier and Magneto that they were actively going to try and keep any precogs from being resurrected on Krakoa, including - and ESPECIALLY Irene - because basically, they’re afraid of the precogs, and the fact that there’s no hiding from them Xavier’s big secret.....for all his big talk, he doesn’t actually know what the HELL he’s doing. The thing they’re hiding from everyone else is that they actually already TRIED the Great Krakoa experiment at least once before, or at least to some degree, though we do know they’ve done at least some things differently this time around.

But that was the future shown in Powers of X, where Moira ended up living 1000 years into the future before dying and resetting the timeline....and coupled with the fact that the three of them believe that they’re now on the LAST of Moira’s predicted eleven lifetimes, this is their last chance to ‘get it right’ so to speak, and to find a way forward that allows the mutant race to survive and flourish past any of the endpoints Moira’s previous lives and foreknowledge have shown....

Basically, the fear seems to be that if everyone else on Krakoa knew this background for how they came up with all of this and the futures they’re trying to avoid, as well as the fact that quite simply, they do not know if the course they’ve charted this time is going to be any more capable of circumventing the doom they keep butting up against lifetime after lifetime....this would undermine all faith in them and what they’re doing, and fracture the tenuous alliances that so far have everyone from the X-Men to Apocalypse and Sinister and Selene all working side by side.

They ‘built’ modern Krakoa according to blueprints gleaned from actual knowledge of the future.....but they’re afraid of competing blueprints getting in the way of the road they’ve taken everyone down and derailing their own plan of action. Especially if everyone else were to find out that for all their confidence, they can’t say with certainty the road this time around is going to actually lead where they’re trying to go....and that in fact, they actually have a track record of a good half a dozen previous attempts where they got it disastrously wrong.

So even though Xavier explicitly promised Raven that he would resurrect Irene in exchange for her cooperation and her place on the Quiet Council.....he, Magnus and Moira have been shown meeting in secret to say that they are actually deadset against that happening. But Raven is no fool of course, and she’s suspected from the start that Xavier’s just playing her, and he has no intention of ever resurrecting Irene. (I mean, she was married to the man once, after all, as blergh as that Bendis-bite was. I may think it made for a spectacularly shitty and pointless story, but just saying, few people know how much shit Xavier is full of better than Mystique does).

So we’ve been treated to scenes of Raven brooding deep in her underground Krakoan lair over a glance of wine and an angsty look at Irene’s old mask, vowing “I’ll get you yet, Xavier, and your little dog too,” because idk, why pass up a good Wicked Witch of the West allusion when its right there. Mystique works hard for her Brand, let her enjoy it.

She definitely knows the game that’s afoot, and she has no intention of letting Xavier get away with it. So she’s very clearly scheming on how to circumvent him and get the Five to resurrect Irene without Xavier’s help....but that’s easier said than done. She either needs leverage to force his hand, while still probably not knowing for sure WHY he’s stalling or trying to avoid bringing back Irene, and thus having no way to judge exactly HOW deadset against it he is, and thus how great of leverage she’d actually need to pull that off...or else, she needs a telepath she can trust (or y’know, trust that she has them securely in her pocket) but who also is strong enough to take Xavier’s place in the resurrection/brain download process....as well as needing access to the Cerebro archives where the back-ups of everyone’s consciousnesses are stored.

(Incidentally, part of how Xavier’s been stalling here is he’s claimed once or twice that he only has back-ups stored of mutant consciousnesses from the point when he started actually preserving them, and Irene died BEFORE he started doing this so he just doesn’t have her in Cerebro, but this is pretty blatantly a lie. He brought back Petra and Sway, after all, and they very definitively died LONG before David killed Irene on Muir Island back in the day).

But yeah, I’m as impatient as anyone to see Irene back in action in all her chaotic cryptic glory, and for Raven/Irene to finally fucking rise the way they deserve. And oh holy hell is Raven’s wrath going to be an absofuckinglutely beautiful thing once she finally has her proof that Xavier - her ex-husband, lol, oh X-Men soap opera tangles - has been lying and scheming to keep her wife dead all this time. Like she’s literally said the words “I will burn Krakoa to the ground,” and I mean, its Raven. When she talks about razing Rome to ashes, she’s not joking. The woman does not bluff. She lies, she deceives, she steals, but she never ever fucking bluffs. There’s a big storm coming here and this particular one’s name is Hurricane Raven, not Ororo Munroe. I want it, and I want it nooooooooooow, lol, but I can’t actually claim that this has been overlooked by Marvel rather than just allotted a time table that isn’t to my liking because -

OH I DON’T KNOW ITS NOT LIKE WE HAVEN’T ALREADY BEEN WAITING FOR THE RETURN OF IRENE ADLER FOR 84 BAJILLION FUCKING YEARS ALREADY, LIKE LOGAN HAS LITERALLY GONE TO HELL AND BACK A DOZEN TIMES SINCE IRENE FIRST EXITED PURSUED BY BEAR AND JEAN’S ASCENDED AND DE-PHOENIXED SO MANY TIMES DEATH HAS BASICALLY HANDED HER A PUNCH CARD THAT’S REDEEMABLE FOR ONE FREE RESURRECTION AFTER ITS ALL FULL AND C’MOOOOOOON.

I mean.

WILDSIDE is back. After dying in Neverland in Tieri’s Weapon X run, RICHARD FREAKING GILL was brought back to life before IRENE FUCKING ADLER, I would simply like to express my undying HOOOOOOWWWWW??? to that.

BUT.

DIGRESS.

Ahem. Sorry, I just have very strong opinions on the subject of Irene, lololol. And well, everything. I probably have strong opinions on kumquats and I can’t actually recall at the moment if I’ve ever even eaten one or if I’m just particularly fond of that word and the saying of it. Look, you get what I mean.

Anyway, yeah. We’re getting Irene back eventually. There’s absolutely no way we’re not at this point. Even my cynicism can’t pretend otherwise. They haven’t just left Chekhov’s gun locked and loaded sitting on the mantlepiece here, they commissioned an entire arsenal of Chekhov’s guns and renamed them Irene Adler’s guns in her honor and left them all gift-wrapped on the front porch. Its coming. Its just not. Here YET. (Cut to me being a five year old on a long car ride are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet how bout now - )

So yeah. That’s the scoop, the skinny, the shit(ake mushroom) on this particular subject.

Incidentally, on a related note, I am still of the opinion that pretty much all of Powers of X was one giant red herring, and the real direction all of this is building towards, with Moira, with the Five and the resurrection protocols.......ultimately, I think its all really been about IRENE’S machinations from the start, and Moira and Charles have actually been marching to the beat of HER drum ever since the very first time Irene and Moira encountered each other way back in Moira’s fourth lifetime.

Basically, I think it allllllllll really comes back to the fact that....

Irene Adler is a beautiful fucking liar who lies as only Raven Darkholme’s One True Love possibly can, and she played Moira like a fiddle from Day Fucking ONE.

Full theory on that can be found here:

https://bigskydreaming.tumblr.com/post/188290623176/so-house-of-x-2plot-hole-or-lie-when-destiny

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

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Braving the Elements

Chapter 17: Gone Girl

Part 1/2

Tw: Swearing, fighting

(Driving to the farm/following him into the woods)

(Fight scene)

“It was him, Apocalypse. Vision heard him I’m assuming on purpose. He wanted something, but I don’t know what.” Wanda explains frantically to Tony after detailing what she had just told you a few minutes ago.

“Shit.” Sam says from the kitchen, where he had gone to get coffee after being woken up by Wanda.

“What?” Wanda asks as she and Tony enter the kitchen. “She’s gone,” he says holding up the note stuck to the fridge.

Bucky, who had just gotten back from securing Roman with Steve, feels his heart drop.

“Idiot.” Wanda whispers

“At least she left a note.” Sam says

“Where’d she go?” Bucky asks, trying not to sound panicked.

“She must have gone to find him.” Wanda says

“How does she even know where he is?,” Nat asks. Wanda shakes her head, at a loss for words.

“Whose car did she take?” Steve questions.

“God damn that woman. MINE!” Sam yells closing the cupboard where the keys were kept. Tony manages to locate your coordinates with the help of the tracking device implanted in the car, “There she is.”

Wanda eyes are wide “He’s going to kill her I should never have told her. That must be what he wanted, he wants her powers.”

“Well that’s just not going to happen.” says Nat, loading up a gun “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

“We have to go. Now.” Bucky stresses grabbing his own set of keys and proceeding down to the garage with the rest of the team in tow.

You speed along the road to the abandoned farm house where you first went to find Apocalypse. You’re about half way there when you find yourself thinking about the possibility that this was some kind of trap, but his voice continues to taunt you and so, against your better judgment, you continue. You pull up just outside a rundown barn parking in an empty field filled with old farming equipment. You exit the car, not bothering to lock the door you make your way towards the barn.

The air is crisp, the night still. Crickets chirp and the summer breeze rattles a wind chime made of old shards of stained glass as the wheat growing in the nearby fields rustle against each other.

“Apocalypse!” you scream, “Come out and face me you fucking coward.” Your voice piercing through the silence of the night.

“We’re close.” Vision says, giving Wanda’s hand a reassuring squeeze, as Bucky speeds along the winding road.

“Hello, (y/n).” Apocalypse says from the tree line. “You’re much stronger than I remember I can feel it.” He turns walking into the forest.

“How do you know who I am, what do you want with me?” you ask, stopping at the edge of the forest, but with no reply you follow him into the woods.

“I don’t want something, I need something. You.” He maintains his pace despite the density of the forest.

“For what?” you’ve lost sight of him amidst the branches and vines which you move out your way with your powers.

“To help me restart the world. Get rid of all these people who want to hurt us, to kill us, to wipe us out entirely.” His voice echoing around you, disabling you from identifying his exact location. He was getting louder with each step you take, he must be close.

“Haven’t you already tried that once? Besides why would I want to do that?” you ask, as you happen upon a small clearing.

“Because it’s your destiny. I have foreseen it, planned it from the day you were born.” You can see him clearly now, he’s larger than you expected, more threatening up close. The x-gene has evidently affected his physical appearance, he’s unlike anything or anyone you’ve ever seen.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Think, you're smarter than this, or have I misjudged your intelligence.”

You tried to piece it together “You stole me from my family?”

“Try again.”

You feel ill, It seems impossible, but you say it anyway, hoping, praying you’re wrong. “You sold me. You’re my father. I don’t have elemental control. I have multiple powers, ones that you stole from the mutants you murdered. ”

“Partially, pyrokinesis and aerokinesis, they were a gift from me, but your mother was a powerful mutant as well, she controlled water, and all things made up of it.” He explains.

“Why would you sell me?” you spit out tears forming in your eyes.

“In order to unlock the full potential of your powers, we needed you to feel abandoned, we needed to foster your anger. Xavier put a hole in my plan by giving you a home, but we knew you would still come when you turned 18. Despite his teachings you're anger only festered and your powers continued to grow. Magneto got in the way by showing you how I achieved my powers. That night was supposed to be the beginning of the end. Then Roman failed, he managed to free you from the prison, but you slipped through his fingers. So now I’ve sent the only person who can get the job done.”

“And that’s you? You know what screw this, Charles stopped you once he’ll do it again.” You remark, any sadness you had felt a moment ago had manifested into rage. You turn to leave.

“Do you even realize how powerful you are? Stop trying to control it, let it take over. Join me and together we will rule over a new world. A free world, where you will be loved by all. That's all you ever wanted isn't it? To be loved.” You turn back to face him.

‘You’re not the first man who promised me that." you say through gritted teeth. Your nails dig deep into the skin of your palms causing blood to drip down onto your wrists as you try to suppress the rage and resentment coursing through your veins.

‘No but I am the first one who's meant it. Face it you cannot defeat me, if you will not join willingly then I will take what I need.”

“You would kill your own daughter?”

“Only if you refuse me and I’m not the one who killed a member of this family. After all, how do you think your mother died?” Then something that hasn’t happened in years occurs, you lose control

As they pull into the field they see Sam’s car, but they don’t see you. They park the cars and split into two groups, one searching the field while the others head into the barn. Bucky searches the wheat fields with Nat and Tony, before entering into the barn where the rest of the crew was. His mind can’t focus, where were you , why had you left, where you okay.

“Anything?” Sam asks. Bucky shakes his head holding back tears.

“Y/N” Wanda yells pausing for a response before shouting again.

As Steve looks up through the rotted roof he sees you rise above the treetops, a pale blue aura glowing around you as bright as the stars in the sky. “What the?” He starts, before seeing a second figure appear across from you. You move towards the figure hitting your fist against his, a flash of light erupting upon contact and a battle ensues above. The team runs back out into the open field.

“We have to help her.” Bucky says trying to make his way into the woods but he’s stopped by Wanda who grabs his arm.

“We can't, it's too dangerous. She’s lost control, she could kill any one of us.” She yells above the noise.

“So we just have to sit back and watch her die!” he shouts back, she quickly releases him taken aback by his harsh tone.

When she doesn’t answer he storms off.

“I’ll go see what that was all about, shout if anything changes” Steve says exiting in pursuit of his best friend.

In the sky blow after blow, and hit after hit echo throughout the forest, each connection lighting up the sky creating the illusion of a thunderstorm.

‘Hey!” Steve yells after Bucky, jogging to catch up to him.

“What?” he snaps, not slowing his pace.

“You can’t do that, you can’t just yell at people! Wanda was just looking out for you!” Steve huffs, grabbing his friend's shoulder.

“Well who's looking out for (y/n) huh Steve?” He hadn’t seen this much anger in Bucky since he was the Winter Soldier.

“Seriously Buck you need to calm down no one forced her to come out here.”

“So she deserves to die?” His voice wavers, turning to face Steve, eyes wide.

“Bucky that is not what I’m saying. What is wrong with you?” Bucky doesn’t respond, avoiding his gaze.

“Bucky,” he says, moving to stand next to him “tell me what’s going on, I’m worried is all, have you been going somewhere dark recently?” No answer. “Please Buck, talk to me.” Bucky’s shoulders relax slightly, his rage subsiding, suddenly feeling very small.

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry it’s just,” he falters, “I just can’t lose her.” Suddenly Steve gets it.

“You won’t, she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“What if he’s stronger?” Steve hugs his friend not really knowing what to say next.

“So those articles were true then, you’re welcome by the way me and Nat set that up. Man, who would have thought I’d be the one helping you with the ladies?” Bucky manages a small chuckle patting Steve’s back as they break their hug.

Upon returning to the group Bucky apologizes to Wanda realizing her best friend was currently up there. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it.

The air goes still, the temperature drops and they see you float towards Apocalypse, trees surging upwards behind you. A wind tunnel forms beneath you dredging water up from the ground and into the sky. You scream, the trees around you turn to ash, collapsing down onto the forest floor. The water turns into shards of ice which hurl towards Apocalypse, impaling him all over. He falls slightly, but catches himself in time for you to deliver the final blow. Lighting flies from your hands hitting him square in the chest causing him to plummet to the forest floor. The light around you begins to dim and you regain consciousness for a split second before passing out.

#bucky x oc #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers fanfiction #braving the elements #bucky barnes #bucky barnes slow burn #james buchanan barnes #Spotify

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anunvalidcritic · 5 years

Text

The Boys: SN1.2

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

CHERRY

Oop looks like he’s still alive after all.

Now, where are they headed to with TRANSLUCENT in the back?

damn, she looks like she can be a supe with those eyes.

french rap music

wow BUTCHER you owe ya boy money?!??

“Double of zero is zero.” - FRENCHIE

FRENCHIE was ready to kill BUTCHER

dang ig it’s a good thing that he’s chipped idk

“Really? You’ll teach me to outrun cancer?” - Cancer Kid

BLACK NOIR said fuck STARLIGHT deceased

Shocked behind bars = beyond scared straight (for adults)

Damn they’re really talking about killing TRANSLUCENT right in front of HUGHIE

“Frankly I think it’s amazing that a woman your age can have a baby, period.” - HOMELANDER

so fucking disrespectful

THE DEEP is a snitch

HOMELANDER looks sick af after being confronted.

Ytf is she babying him??

They have a weird-ass relationship. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up doing some freaky shit together.

Did he really need to drink out of that cup??

BUTCHER is really out pulling out assault rifles like it’s nothing,

STOP PUNCHING THE FUCKING WALL!

HOMELANDER = Fake Ass Smile

I swear only people with issues smiling like that on tv and movies.

Oh don’t get all scared now DEEP

Stuttering like a fucking fool (no disrespect to those who stutter.)

LA FOULE!!!

FUCK THE BULLET HIT THE CEILING!!!!!!

Damn leave Anika alone she’s just trying to do her job.

ytf is THE DEEP talking to STARLIGHT like their best buds?!?

“Jesus Christ. Cry me a fucking river alright, I took my fair share of shit when I first got here.” - THE DEEP

Oh, really so whose dick did you have to suck??

This shit looks so staged, fake as hell.

I knew it!

BUTCHER really broke into this woman’s house to speak to her?! (her name is SUSAN)

Usin’ the same fucking cup I see.

Who tf just rolled up?

oh it’s at another location

“KEEP YOUR HANDS CLEAN” - BABY COVERED IN SPAGHETTI

Something tells me that she’s about to fuck this senator up.

STARLIGHT is about to fuck these dudes up!

FRENCHIE tells his heartfelt story

I KNEW SHE WAS GONNA FUCK THIS SENATOR OVER!

Is this dude really staring at his own fucking picture... oh...nvm...

The next scene is summed up in the gif below

ASHLEY really tryin’ to run up on STARLIGHT! Bitch is bold.

Great now HOMELANDER is running up on Anika smdh

Don’t tell him your fuxking name he might get you fired girl

“What the... something doesn’t feel right.” - TRANSLUCENT

wow these superheroes are really some punk bitchies

POPCLAW

HOMELANDER ZOOMIN’

Oh shit this dude can read lips

THE DUDE ON THE FUCKING NEWS LOOKS LIKE MAGNETO

TRANSLUCENT is escaping!

this ol’ bicth has no right to check the back of that van.

his life changed when ROBIN died asshole

AAAHHHHH OH MYY FUCCCKING GOOOOD

________

this shit is insane my dudes just REMEMBER EVERYONE’S A CRITIC WHEN THEIR OPINION MATTERS THE LEAST

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years

Text

Dark Phoenix

We owe a lot to the X-Men. Lest we forget the halcyon days of Y2K, superhero movies weren’t always a guaranteed blockbuster hit or taking up real estate at the multiplex for 80% of weeks in a given year. But some terrible CGI, brooding Canadian sideburns, and a terrible line about a toad and its relationship to lightning later and Marvel comics properties are suddenly in the conversation as a sure bet at the box office. And now it’s 2019 and the X-Men have had some...let’s say ups and downs. With Dark Phoenix, we’re allegedly saying goodbye to this crop of actors playing these superheroes. So was this a bittersweet farewell or a “don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya” type situation? Well...

Somewhere in the middle, like when you see your uncle who used to give you piggyback rides and pull quarters from behind your ear when you were a kid but now you only see him at Thanksgiving and you only ever talk to him about 1) the weather 2) whether you’re still at the same job (you are) or 3) how good Aunt Judy’s pie was this year and he gets up to leave and you’re like “Oh you’re leaving? Well it was good to see you, drive safe!” and you share an awkward side-hug.

Do you need a synopsis? It’s an X-Men movie. Mutants are getting up to mutant-y shit. Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) is all like “we can help the humans and they’ll like us if we save them from space disasters!” and Erik Lehnsherr is all like “mutants are better than humans and we should conquer them but since I’ve tried that a couple times and got caught I’m just gonna build a little island mutant utopia” and honestly both of them are kind of side characters in their own franchise which is a bummer because I think we can all agree that the Charles/Erik dichotomy is the beating heart of why people connect with this mythology. The main plot is about Jean Grey (Sophie Turner) getting dosed with a bunch of space energy that she can’t really control and shit happens and people get hurt and she’s like I like hurting people but also she doesn’t. Jessica Chastain is wasted as a woman with very ghost-like features who’s trying to convince Jean to use her powers for EEEVILLLL. You probably heard that this movie was terrible. It’s not. But it’s not good either. It just...is. Frankly, I feel very zen about the whole thing.

Many thoughts:

During the first opening narration, Sleepy Gay leaned over and said, “I already hate this.” And uh, that mood was about right for the narration throughout. Unless you’re doing a true film noir, you have to have a DAMN good reason besides laziness to have voiceover do this much heavy lifting.

#onlyninetieskidsremember the 1992 space shuttle because we don’t care about funding NASA anymore!

I know the production of this film was fraught, and there were some massive reshoots, which obviously means a quick and messy editing session. But that slapdash feel permeates the movie into even the most mundane scenes - an early example is Hank (Nicholas Hoult) turning into Beast at the end of a conversation to reply, “Yeah.” Was...was that necessary? Is that how he ends all his conversations?

And the emotional beats feel really weird. Like when Jean gets back on the ship from space, the vibe feels completely wrong for the scene we just witnessed.

I will say, it’s a thing of beauty to see just how 10000% done Jennifer Lawrence is while she languishes in this movie with nothing to do but die (listen they spoiled that shit in the trailers, don’t @ me). Her snappy line, “The women are the only ones who do anything around here, maybe you should change the name to the X-Women” is delivered with such exasperated can-you-believe-we’re-still-doing-this spice, it’s just *chef kiss* gorgeous.

In spite of all the crying she does in this film, Sophie Turner’s eye makeup is FLAWLESS. I want to know what eyeliner she uses.

I’m feeling very uncomfortable with the fact that when I was a kid, I agreed with Charles on his whole “it’s our duty to protect the humans and show them we’re good” manifesto but now........idk, maybe it’s because Nazis are like, a big thing again, but I’m kinda with Magneto here? Maybe it’s the existential nightmare that’s swallowing us all but uh I just can’t really hang with respectability politics any more? This is like that moment in The Little Mermaid when Ariel says, “I’m 16 years old! I’m not a child anymore!” and you know where you’re at in life by whether you say, “Yeah, tell him Ariel!” or “Back those fins the fuck up and go to your room, young lady!”

Scott (Tye Sheridan) is just the most boring character and he has NO chemistry with Jean whatsoever.

Question - if you have sex in the X-Men house, does Charles know? I’ll bet he does. What a perv.

In spite of his terrible conversation enders, I will say Nicholas Hoult is looking damn fine these days. DAMN fine. However - I’m a fan of his work overall, I really am, but he must have been having an off week when he filmed his angry grief confrontation with James McAvoy (a frankly incredible actor who elevates every single thing he’s in so...let that sink in). Going from quiet to loUD VERY QUICKLY over and over again is not the same as portraying grief, my dude.

I don’t understand why you would get an actress as magnetic and arresting as Jessica Chastain and then make her act like the love child of a ghost-robot one night stand. Her only sparks of something interesting are when she’s doing the big energy transfer with Sophie Turner, because frankly, that read as very homoerotic to me so like...into it.

Wait but did they hurt that dog. There’s no resolution about the dog and that is VERY upsetting.

How are we this far in the franchise and no one has told anyone involved in production “So uh. The floating thing the mutants do when they enter or exit a room in a big scene. Are you guys like...married to that? Have you thought about maybe not having floating be such a big part of the final emotional confrontation between Jean and everyone she’s ever loved trying to destroy her?” Because if there’s one thing I know of that creates and amplifies dramatic tension, it’s floating.

Is Michael Fassbender the most handsome man alive in these movies? It’s possible. At one point he’s in a collar and that really felt like someone involved in that script punch up was giving the fans anything at that point to keep them engaged, but I’m not complaining about it.

How many fights have these X-Men been in? Isn’t the first day of X-Men school devoted to “Don’t make significant eye contact during a fight!”

Did I Cry? I probably should have, but the most I got was a slight tearing up.

Overall, this is a mess. It’s kind of a fun mess if you already like the characters, and there’s certainly some eye candy for those interested in all genders. If you like the other films, give this one a gander just for completionist reasons and try to remember the good old days when X-Men actually meant something.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #dark phoenix #dark phoenix review #x men #x men dark phoenix #sophie turner #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #jennifer lawrence #jessica chastain #tye sheridan #nicholas hoult #movie reviews #film reviews

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years

Text

Another self-indulgent fan-fic, this time with Blob and Pyro drinking, fighting, talking, and bonding over bullying a teenager.

This was an attempt to give Blob a little more depth beyond just the crass asshole of the Brotherhood, and show that he’s got some feelings, too. I also wanted to deal with some stuff with Pyro that Marauders hasn’t really gotten into, especially his death and relationship with the rest of the Brotherhood. There’s also some discussion of Pyro/Avalanche. I will forever headcanon original Pyro as a closeted gay man, who had a kind of undefined friends with benefits thing going on with Avalanche (I don’t care how many fantasy Jean Greys he kisses in Marauders), and who still feels uncomfortable being open about it, even if attitudes have changed somewhat.

Warnings for - Very nasty language, some body-shaming from Pyro, some discussion of homophobia. Blob says some things that maybe aren’t quite homophobic, but kind of insensitive. Behind a read-more, because it wound up being long.

Pyro was absolutely not nervous when he knocked on the door of the small habitat building nestled just at the edge of the Krakoan jungle. It was a nice spot, with one window offering a view of the beach, but the trees providing a bit of protection from tropical storms. There was a little garden plot to one side, so neatly and delicately arranged that he wondered if the man he was there to see had a tidier room-mate.

He wasn’t nervous. And he hadn’t been putting this off, he’d just been busy. He’d fallen in with a whole new team, after all, who had accepted him with a surprising amount of tolerance, and he was spending most of his time having high-seas adventures. Not much time on Krakoa itself, to drop in on an old….friend? Acquaintance? Former team-mate who could snap his spine in half if he happened to be in a foul mood? Pyro wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with any of them now. But he wasn’t nervous. Sod that.

The door swung open, the view inside immediately blocked by the massive fleshy mountain that was Frederick J. Dukes, the immovable object.

“Hey Fred. I brought booze.” Pyro held up the wine bottle like a peace offering between them. It was entirely possible he was about to get his face bashed in, or possibly smother to death under Blob’s sizable buttocks. And sure, he’d get resurrected, but he wasn’t keen to go through all that unpleasantness.

“Aww, hey matchstick! Get in here!” Blob grinned and swung an arm around him, practically clobbering him forward into the living room. “Where ya been?”

“Um….dead, mostly. Yah know,” Pyro quipped, not willing to admit to the relief that was flooding into his chest. Because he hadn’t been nervous. He had just been…curious….to see where he stood with the mutants who had been his team-mates for years. Just wanted to catch up and see how they were.

(To see if they all hated him.)

“Haw, haw, yeah, don’t I know it. You shoulda seen Avalanche cryin’ into his beer over that,” Blob guffawed, pulling him in close and hugging him against his side. Pyro could smell body odor and coconut oil.

“He cried, huh?” He murmured, his mouth muffled against pillowy flesh.

“Blubbered like a damn baby.” Fred released him so that he could step back and gasp air.

“What’d you do to your face, man? You going emo on me, now? C’mon, buck up. You only died the one time. Not like those X-Men, they got a whole revolving door thing going.”

“It’s not emo,” Pyro protested, running his hand over the skull tattoo covering most of his face. “It’s ‘cause I’m a pirate. I’m runnin’ round with the Marauders. We’re wrecking ships and stealing supplies, it’s a blast.”

Blob scoffed. “You’re running around with X-Men, matchstick. You’re basically an X-Man, now.”

“The hell I am!” Now Pyro really felt insulted. “I’m not wearing an X anywhere. We’re the Marauders, not the X-Marauders or whatever. We’re pirates, doin’ pirate things! Like fighting the military and helping mutant kids get to Krakoa – “ Except that wasn’t exactly what pirates did, was it? That was more of a hero-type deal. “-and sinking ships –“ and delivering medicine to people that needed it around that globe, but Pyro wasn’t going to mention that. Even if it did give him a bit of a warm glow in his chest to be helping the sick and desperate. He knew what it was like to be sick and desperate.

“Everyone on that ship is a goody-two shoes X-Man!” Blob sneered. “Storm, that phasing girl, Ice-nerd.”

“Bishop’s pretty cool,” Pyro felt the need to interject. The man could fight, and he respected that. He was also extremely good looking, something Pyro tried to not notice.

“Still an X-Man. You’re one a them now. I shoulda expected it after the way you died.” Blob stepped back from him, shaking his head. And oh, there it was.

It didn’t seem quite fair. Pyro couldn’t even remember what he’d done. What he’d been thinking at the time.

“I mean….does it really matter?” He tried. “We’re all one big happy mutant family on Krakoa now. Xavier and Magneto getting all chummy. Seems like the X-Men and the Brotherhood don’t even exist anymore.”

“Seems ta me like there’s a bunch of X-Teams and no Brotherhood. They split up all us nasty “bad” mutants and stuck them on teams with the wussy good guys ta keep us in line. Except when they need their dirty work done, then they’ll send out those of us with criminal records. I dunno who’s really running the show on Krakoa, but it ain’t the Brotherhood.” Blob slumped down on his sofa, but gestured to Pyro to sit in one of the chairs. At least he wasn’t being thrown out.

“Guess you might be right there,” he mused, tossing himself down sideways across the chair, both legs hanging over one arm. The X-Men were in an awful lot of positions of power, even with the attempts to balance the Council. And they seemed to dominate most of the island’s strike teams.

“I guess there are more of them than there are of us.”

“Guess running a school for mutant kids is better recruitment strategy than a creepy dude in a metal helmet that’ll throw his own people under the bus in a heartbeat. Did I ever tell ya about how he chucked an explosive at me? And that was back he was tryin’ to recruit me!”

“Many times, Freddie,” Pyro was a little relieved that the conversation was meandering away from his own status – X-Man, Brotherhood member, Krakoan or whatever the hell he now was. He wasn’t sure himself.

“Wine?” He held out the bottle again. Blob swiped it and held it up between two fingers with another guffaw.

“What is this, matchstick, booze for ants? That ain’t gonna be thimbleful for me.”

“Oh, but this is a very special bottle, Freddie.” Pyro took the bottle back. “Have ya got a bucket? I’m gonna be like Christ with the loaves and fishes here.”

“Doncha mean water into wine? That was one of the miracles, right?” Blob came back with a massive stew pot.

“Yeah, but there’s no water involved here. Watch and marvel!” He upended the bottle with a dramatic flourish. Moments later, Blob’s mouth dropped open as the stew pot was half-way filled, and the bottle showed no signs of emptying.

“Ain’t that a hell of a trick. What’s the deal, Aussie? Some kind of mystical Outback dream-time thing?”

“Nah, just a bribe from a wizard. Bottomless bottle. Never runs out.” Technically, Dr. Strange had offered the gift as a gesture to the entire island. But technically didn’t matter, because Strange had given the bottle directly to him, which meant it was basically his. He certainly wasn’t going to hand it over to the Council to use in their fancy-pants secret meetings. Better to keep it among the people, right? Pyro was willing to share. A bit.

“Well, tell Harry Potter thanks. That’s one hell of a gift.”

“Who?”

“C’mon, don’t fuck with me. You haven’t been dead that long.”

“True,” Pyro grinned. But being dead was certainly a convenient excuse for bowing out of whatever must-see pop culture phenomenon he was supposed to be familiar with. “Sorry mate, I was dead at the time,” usually shut people up.

Blob took the full bucket, downed half in one gulp, and held it out again for more. Pyro took a moment to fill his own glass to the brim before pouring again.

“Damn, that’s good stuff. Usually bulk wine is pretty crappy.” Fred licked his lips in appreciation.

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” Pyro shrugged. He’d gotten invited to a few fancy parties, way back in the day when he was journalist/writer St. John Allerdyce and “Pyro” didn’t exist. But it hadn’t exactly refined his palate. He’d rather have a full goon bag to himself than a dainty little glass of something aged and expensive.

“Well, we can’t all be sophisticated gourmets,” Blob said airily, swirling the wine around and giving it a sniff. “French grapes, I’d say. Black currant, acai, cherry, and just a hint of chocolate. Probably a ’78 or ’79.” He proceeded to down half the stew-pot again.

“Freddie me lad, you are absolutely full of shit.” Pyro obligingly poured a refill. Maybe he should get some kind of stand for the bottle, or he’d be doing this all night.

“I aim to be full of wine, so keep pouring, toothpick,” Blob laughed. They lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence while Pyro finally had a chance to drain his own glass.

“So how’s it feel to be back in the land of the living?” Blob ventured. “Ya know they cured that Virus just a few months after you croaked. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

“I wasn’t gonna last a few months at that point. I wasn’t gonna last even a few days, so…whatever.” Pyro shrugged. He still couldn’t remember the moment of his death, but he remembered some of the time leading up to it, feeling incredibly frail, and wondering every night if he would wake up in the morning. Is it gonna be tonight? Today? Will I just drop dead trying to walk down the street? Even if some miracle cure had appeared, he suspected he would have been too far gone at that point.

“It’s just good to be healthy again,” he added. And wasn’t that the truth. Just walking around, breathing the ocean air freely and without pain had been heavenly. He’d made it a point to get laid the first time the Marauders spent the night in Taipei – hadn’t seen any of that action for months before his death. He didn’t want to touch anyone after the diagnosis (he was a selfish bastard, but not so selfish as to potentially spread the disease), and pretty soon pain and fatigue had meant his cock was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah, I bet. Ya made a real spectacular flame-out at the end, there,” Blob said, and there was something left hanging in the air at the end of that sentence. What Pyro might have called a “pregnant pause,” in one of his novels. He gulped down another large swallow of wine.

“Yeah that was….I dunno. I dunno what I was thinking, exactly.” He hadn’t been able to believe it when Mystique showed him the headlines. Sure he’d tried to help her save her shitty racist spawn Graydon Creed (a spectacular failure, thanks to X-Factor), but it had still been him playing Follow the Leader, trusting Mystique to know the right thing to do. Apparently he’d made that final decision completely on his own – turning on his comrades to save the man they’d once tried to assassinate. He didn’t like to look at the articles – all splashed with that one famous picture of Kelly cradling his dead body. It made him feel sick to look at it.

Blob just grunted in response, and the silence became uncomfortable. Pyro sighed.

“All right, you want me to say it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for turning on you guys. I can’t say I’m sorry for protecting Kelly. I guess I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, and I’ll stand by that. But I’m sorry for going against you guys. And especially for killing Post.” Blob snorted, but held the stewpot out for more wine.

“You were gettin’ real soft near the end there, toothpick. Can’t completely blame ya, I guess. You were starin’ death right in the face, and Legacy was probably eating away at your brain. Avalanche said you seemed half-delirious near the end, whenever he went to see ya.”

“Maybe I was.” Time had gotten fuzzy back then – long patches of confused dream-like haze, punctuated by sharp, painful clarity. Dominic would be there one moment and gone the next, conversations evaporating mid-sentence. He’d lay down for a moment in the morning and wake up in the evening two days later.

“It was just all starting to seem a bit pointless, ya know?” He continued after another swig of wine. “All that violence….well, I won’t deny it was fun. I don’t need an excuse to start a fight. But it was also for a cause, right? And things just kept getting worse no matter what we did. I guess I just thought….if I could change the guy’s mind, maybe things would be different.”

“Well, ya did change his mind, I’ll give you that. Too bad he got himself killed right after that,” Fred smirked.

“Yeah. That’s the real kick in the teeth. More than dying before the cure, really. Bloody pointless.” Pyro poured again.

“I reckon everyone was pissed at me, yeah?” At least the wine was giving him the courage to ask certain questions.

“Heh, yer lucky you croaked when ya did, really.” Blob grinned. It was not a nice grin. “I woulda snapped you in half for Post, invalid or no. Lady Mastermind wasn’t real pleased, either. But you ain’t really here to ask about how I felt, are ya? You wanna know whether yer boyfriend is pissed at ya.”

Pyro was suddenly sitting up very straight, tension running up and down his spine.

“The fuck did you say?” he snapped.

“Oh, come off it, man. Don’t act like I’m stupid! I know you had this whole ‘don’t ask, don’t tell thing’ going on back in the day, but I figured it out. We all did.”

“I don’t know what you’re blathering on about, mate,” Pyro said, each word coldly annunciated. The tension from his spine was spooling tight in his mid-section. “You’ve been watching too many soap operas.”

“You’re the one that watches that crap, matchstick. I gotta listen to you talk about ‘Home and Away’ every time you get smashed. But don’t change the fucking subject.”

“What subject? Some made-up bullshit you imagined in your head?” Pyro’s hands were clenched tight around the glass. Some logical part of his mind wondered why he was even making a fuss about this. Times had changed a great deal in the years that he’d been floating in a void of nonexistence. Iceman was openly gay, Mystique referred to Destiny as her wife, and no one batted an eye.

But still. When Pyro was growing up, you didn’t say it. You didn’t dare say it, because it would it ruin you, at best, and possibly get you killed, at worst. It had been something he’d kept locked up tight in his chest, even when he was boldly and proudly “coming out” as a mutant. And what he’d shared with Dominic over the years, secret little intimate moments slipped under the surface of their public friendship, had always rested on a foundation of silence. They didn’t talk about what they did. Didn’t even really acknowledge it to each other or try to define it. It was their own special, private thing, and it was meant to remain unspoken.

And now, here was Fred J. Dukes putting his fat, clumsy, grubby hands all over it, like a toddler smearing chocolate on a cashmere sweater.

“Quit bein’ so stubborn about it,” Blob continued. “Ya think I’m stupid, that I couldn’t figure it out? You guys were always slipping off together, locking your door. Fuck man, I heard you two dumbshits in the shower together a couple of times when we were doing that Freedom Force thing. My room was right next door, you know. Haw!” His laughter was an ugly sound.

“What, were you getting off on it?” Pyro snarled. “Were you alone in your room jerking it to us, you fat fuck? Probably the only action you ever see, ain’t it? Assuming you can even find your dick.” He paused, suddenly wishing he could hook the words back into his mouth, because he’d basically just admitted to it, hadn’t he? But he didn’t think he could stop now if he tried, with the anger burning in his chest, a familiar, almost comforting heat.

“No, I was just sick of you both lying about it. Pretending it wasn’t happening, and making the rest of us pretend, too! Acting like we’re all idiots!” Blob was on his feet now, red-faced.

“Well, you never made that very hard, did ya, Freddie?”

“Ya know what?” And Blob had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder with one meaty hand. “I’m tired of your bullshit!” Then Pyro found himself flung across the room, smashing into the wall and knocking crockery down to shatter on the floor. Maybe he was going to get his spine snapped after all – but the way he felt at the moment he didn’t much care.

“You always act so superior, like you’re sooooo much smarter than me. What, just ‘cause you wrote some crappy books to help lonely women get their panties all moist?! ”

“At least I know how to write. Least I can get a woman wet,” Pyro quipped, while trying to climb to his feet. Hell, Blob had just handed him that one, hadn’t he? There was a blur at the edge of his vision, and suddenly Blob had grabbed the front of his shirt and tossed him again.

“You ain’t smarter than me!” Pyro could hear Blob bellowing through the ringing in his ears. “You and Avalanche always acted like you were better than ol’ Fred Dukes, gangin’ up on me all the time. Well, I danced on both of your graves, didn’t I? I’m glad you died like you did. Mr. Smart Fancy-pants, wasting away to nothing. It was funny!” Blob was towering over him, fists clenched. Pyro raised his wrist and sent a jet of flame up at the man, mentally intensifying it enough to hurt as he darted for the door.

“Augh! Pyro, you asshole,” Blob roared, slapping at the flames on his clothing. They’d keep right on burning if Pyro wanted them to, and he had half a mind to let them. Why not have a pig roast right there on the beach? But in another moment he shook his head and let the fire gutter out. Perhaps a mistake, as Fred charged out through the door.

“Don’t think you’re getting away, you skinny little fucker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Freddie, just getting myself a little more room,” Pyro said through clenched teeth. “Go ahead and come at me if ya wanna get burned again.”

Apparently Blob did wanna get burned again, because he ran at Pyro, arm raised to swing. Pyro shot out another blast of fire at Dukes as he dove out of his path. Blob tried to duck, but it was hard dodge fire that Pyro could mentally send wherever he pleased. That was one advantage he’d always enjoyed over the fire-producing mutants. This time it singed Blob’s eyebrows and licked at his shoulders. Blob howled.

“Cut that shit out!”

“What, so you can hit me again? Ya know, this is why no one likes you, Blob! You’re always flying off the handle. Gotta turn everything into some big fight. I was tryin’ ta be friendly, coming here- “

“Bullshit! You didn’t come here for me, you came here for news. You wanted to know if your boyfriend hated ya after what you did. You only came to me because I’m the only one here who was with the group when it all went down. The only one let alive, anyway.”

“I came to you ‘cause I wanted to drink with ya, Blob. And you started acting like a dick, like ya always do!” Pyro protested, although he couldn’t quite suppress a guilty twinge. Blob wasn’t entirely wrong…and if Avalanche was alive again, it probably would have taken him even longer to get around to visiting Dukes.

“You’re the one who started getting all hot under the collar when I was just tryin’ ta talk to ya! But I ain’t surprised, I know where I rate! None of you assholes give a shit about me!” Blob charged again. Pyro sent more fire swirling towards him.

“You wanna keep getting singed, Freddie, I could do this all da – oof!” Pyro grunted as Blob ran right through the fire and slammed into him, shoulder first, knocking him back into the well-tended vegetable garden.

“Pyro, you jerk, I worked on that for weeks!”

“Ya knocked me right into it, ya stupid wanker!” Pyro jumped to his feet, brushing ruined squash and pumpkin off his uniform. “I’ve been pulling punches, but if you come at me again, I will absolutely barbeque you, you fat piece of shit. Then you can wait in line for resurrection behind all the people that actually deserve to be alive and breathing right now!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me gone, and you all alone with your precious Dominic and your new X-Men friends. I know you wouldn’t miss me. Nobody would! Ya know I tried to kill myself, back when I lost my powers? And who was there for me? No one, that’s who!”

“….ya tried to kill yourself?” Pyro paused for a moment. Dropping his guard was a mistake, as Blob charged again and belly-slammed him several feet away. It might have done some damage if he hit a tree, but luckily he just rolled on the soft sand.

“Freddie, wait, what’s this about – “

“It was a fucking nightmare. I had huge folds of skin hanging off my body. I looked like….like melted wax or something. Couldn’t go out. Couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. It hurt just to move. I tried…tried to cut my own throat, and I couldn’t even get through the skin. And none of the Brotherhood lifted a goddamn finger to help me! You had Dominic holdin’ your hand and cryin’ over ya, ya think anyone spared a thought for me?!”

Pyro clambered to his feet, feeling uncomfortable. Angry Blob he was used to. People called Pyro a hothead (and maybe it was just a little bit true), but anger seemed to constantly run under the surface with Fred, coloring every interaction – snide remarks during briefings, playful banter quickly turning into explosive outbursts, laughter that always had a cruel undertone, always at someone else’s expense. But this was new. Fred’s voice was shaky, threatening to crack.

“Freddie, are ya serious? Look mate, I didn’t know. I was – “ Dead, he was about to say. But they were interrupted as a sudden telekinetic force lifted Pyro off his feet, leaving him flailing uselessly in the air.

“The fuck?” Blob slurred. Something was tugging at him, a psychic force attempting to lift him skyward. Attempting, and failing, as he remained solidly on the ground.

“Haw! Who’s tryin’ ta lift me?” he laughed, digging his feet into the sand for good measure. “Ya must be really stupid, whoever you are!”

The pressure around Blob increased, and the sand at his feet flattened as Blob pushed down with his personal gravity field.

“Keep tryin’, Chuckles! That tickles!” Blob yelled.

“Hey, whoever you are? You wanna put me the hell down?” Pyro called out, from a good six feet in the air. “Unless you wanna see me blow chunks all over this beautiful beach.” He’d been tipped partially upside-down, which was really not helping his drunken nausea.

“All right, that’s enough, lad. We’re just here to break it up, and it’s broken up.” Banshee stepped out of the jungle, accompanied by a scowling boy with pink hair that Pyro didn’t recognize.

“Aww, are you the one tryin’ ta lift me off the ground?” Blob cooed nastily. “That’s cute. Nice effort, kiddo, but ya obviously didn’t do your homework. Nothing moves the Blob!”

“I could telekinetically hurl you into the sun, you simple-minded tub of lard,” the boy snapped. “I’m only holding back because of Krakoan rules. But by all means, feel free to try my patience.”

“Try my patience?” Pyro repeated incredulously. “Hey Freddie, this kid thinks he’s Magneto or something. Simmer down, junior.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be mocking the mutant who was telekinetically holding him suspended in the air, but booze had ruined Pyro’s already less-than-stellar decision making skills.

“It’s Kid Omega,” the boy corrected, and whatever he wanted to say next was drowned out by Pyro and Blob’s obnoxious, jeering laughter.

“Kid Omega, you’ve gotta be bloody kidding me! That’s so adorable!” Pyro stopped laughing as the boy bounced him up and down in the air a few times. “Seriously, ya don’t wanna do that. I’m gonna – “ he interrupted himself by spewing wine and stomach fluids all over the ground below him.

“Gross, dude,” Blob said casually.

“Listen, we’re here because you boys are causing a public disturbance,” Banshee said, hands on his hips. “Remember, you’re expected to follow certain rules and keep the peace if you wanna stay on Krakoa. Pyro, I thought you might be better than this since you joined Kate’s crew, but I guess you’re still just as dumb and violent as always. I don’t think Storm’ll be pleased to hear about this.”

“Aww, c’mon mate, “ Pyro sputtered, still trying to spit the taste of bile and sour grapes out of his mouth. The wine wasn’t nearly as good coming back up, and his stomach was roiling. “It was just a little scuffle that got outta hand. We weren’t hurting anyone. ‘Cept each other.”

“Oooooh, you’re in trouble now, Pyro! Banshee’s gonna tell on you,” Blob drawled. “Then they might kick you out of their little heroes club.”

“Piss off, Freddie.” Pyro would never, ever admit to that particular fear, buried deep under a shit-ton of apathy and forced bravado. He honestly kind of liked the Marauder crew, despite having tangled with most of them in the past (although in some respects, he really liked them more because of that.) He knew he had the reputation of being the loose cannon of the group, given how frequently he was reminded not to kill (as if Sabretooth’s horrific fate wasn’t enough of a deterrent), but he was following all their bloody rules, wasn’t he? He wasn’t keen on getting thrown out. He’d go stir crazy on the island without a way to burn off all his energy with “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, Blob,” Banshee said sternly.

“Awww, whattaya gonna do? Use Lady Mastermind to force me to be a good boy?” This apparently struck a nerve, as Banshee blanched for a moment. He’d have to ask Blob about that later.

“Maybe we should, if that’s what it takes for morons like you to behave yourselves,” said the kid snidely. “No wonder the cause of mutant rights never got anywhere before if it was championed by you two losers.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna listen to any lip from some brat that hasn’t even grown pubes yet,” Blob snarled. “I was out busting my ass for mutant rights while you were getting conceived behind a bowling alley at 3 AM!”

Pyro was about to chime in with something equally nasty, when suddenly his entire world shifted. The beach disappeared, and he was floating with the vastness of space stretched out before him. Stars and planets that he had never seen, that he couldn’t even conceive of, glittered in impossible colors against the darkness, and it would have been extremely cool, if not for two unfortunate facts. One – he couldn’t breathe, and his lungs spasmed and choked in a horribly familiar way when he tried. Two – it was cold. It soaked through his skin, into his bones, seeming to devour him from the inside.

And then, just as suddenly, he was back on the island, still shivering in the tropical heat, taking deep breaths of the moist air scented with the ocean, the faint perfume of nearby flowers, and the strong scent of sour wine. He’d been dropped onto the sand, and was lying in his own vomit. Well, he’d always said it wasn’t a good night if you didn’t puke on yourself at some point.

“Whoa, that was a hell of a thing,” Blob stammered, still shaking as Pyro sat up.

“All right, boyo, that’s enough. I’m not sure what you did, but I’m sure they deserved it,” Banshee said briskly, putting a hand on Kid Omega’s shoulder.

“I made a universe in my own mind, you know. And I can put people there anytime. So don’t piss me off,” the boy said, staring daggers at Blob.

“Yeah, yeah, nice tricks, pink hair,” Blob waved his hand dismissively, quickly recovered from the ordeal. “I used to work with a guy who can do illusions. You’re nothing I ain’t seen before.”

“I’m Omega level!” the boy snapped, as Banshee just shook his head.

“i’M oMeGa LeVeL!” Blob mocked, and Pyro couldn’t stop himself from snickering.

“Forget it, lad, they’re not worth it. They’re just drunk and stupid. Very, very stupid, “ Banshee said. “I’m giving you idiots your one warning, got it? If I have to come back out here, you’re gonna spend the night in the drunk tank – which is NOT built for comfort – and spend all day doin’ community service tomorrow. There’s bathrooms to be cleaned, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, message received. We’ll be good,” Pyro said. He almost wanted to apologize, it was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in front of that posturing little brat. Banshee he could respect, but not this pissant half his age that thought he was the next Big Thing for mutantkind. There was always one of them running around.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna keep junior here up past his bedtime,” Blob added. “He’s obviously already cranky.”

“Shut it, or I’ll let him put your minds through a telepathic blender,” Banshee snapped, but he grabbed the boy by the arm, and walked off into the jungle. There was a quiet moment, while Pyro staggered none too steadily around, gathering up the wine bottle and their respective glasses (or pots), then collapsed against Blob’s side. He needed something to wash the taste of stomach acid out of his mouth. And besides, throwing up meant he was entitled to more – it was like hitting the reset button on intoxication, right? He could feel Blob quivering against him, and realized after a moment that the man was shaking with laughter.

“Can….can you believe that little twerp,” Blob gasped. “Strutting around with his boots and leather jacket like he’s hot shit. Oooo, look at me, I’m Kid Omega!”

“I think pink hair is a substitute for having a personality!” Pyro chimed in. “Probably jerks off to…..I dunno, what are kids into these days? Is it still Harry Potter? NSYNC?”

“Fortnite? I think?”

“What the fuck is Fortnite?” Blob shrugged in response.

“Christ, Freddie, we really are over the hill.” Pyro shook his head and filled Blob’s stew-pot to the brim.

“Well, you ain’t. You missed some years an’ I’m pretty sure they brought you back younger. You’re missing some lines there.”

“Missing scars, too.” Pyro stretched his arms out in front of him, as if he could see through the spandex. Underneath, they were disturbingly smooth, no trace of the marks life had left on him. Like Blob’s skin, which was almost impossible to pierce. But he probably had scars hidden somewhere.

“Hey, Freddie.”

“Yeah, string bean?”

“About that whole….suicide thing. What you said earlier. You wanna talk about it?” Blob shifted against him.

“Nah, it…it wasn’t really such a big thing. Just went through a rough patch, is all. You know me, I can bounce back from anything. That’s why I made it so long. I was kicking up shit way back in the day, and I’m still kicking now. No need to resurrect the Blob,” he finished proudly.

“Yeah, you got me there. Me, and a lot of others.”

“Too many.” Blob shook his head. “I been waiting forever for Unus to come back, but seems like he’s low on the list. Most of us are. Same old story.”

“Yeah.” Pyro had asked Mystique when Avalanche’s turn would come, but she couldn’t give him a clear answer – given that Destiny hadn’t been resurrected yet, it seemed like she didn’t have a huge amount of power over those decisions, despite her position on the Council. Would former terrorist criminals come before or after the millions of mutants that had died at Genosha? Meanwhile other Council members’ family and friends got pushed to the front of the line, and Magneto couldn’t be bothered to stand up for people like Avalanche and Unus and the old Mastermind – but he’d still brought back several of his Acolytes (even Fabian Cortez, who, according to what Frezny had told him over a couple of drinks, was the absolute worst.) Of course Magneto would bring back fanatics that worshiped the ground he walked on. He couldn’t completely quiet the fear that lingered in the back of his mind – that this whole thing would eventually fall apart, before certain people came back.

“I guess I was lucky to be a guinea pig after all, otherwise I’d probably be at the back of the line somewhere.”

“Fuck it, man, it’s all political. They just bring back their people, or the ones they think’ll be useful. I’m lucky I ain’t croaked,” Blob sighed.

“They’d bring ya back, Freddie. You’re one of a kind. Look, mate, I’m sorry about what I said. That no one likes ya. It’s not true. I like ya. Toad likes ya. Dom liked ya, even though you picked fights all the time. I’m glad you’re here and not dead.” Pyro wasn’t sure why he was being so generous after some of the crap that Fred had said, but to hell with it. He was probably feeling soft ‘cause of the whole “suicide” thing. And when it came down to it, he didn’t have that many friends – and his very closest one was still dead. May as well appreciate the ones that weren’t six feet under.

“Only picked fights ‘cause you guys were always looking down on me, acting like your powers were so much better,” Blob grumbled.

“We only did that because you were always throwing your weight around, pretendin’ you were too good to follow Mystique’s orders, bein’ nasty to everyone – “ Pyro abruptly stopped, biting his tongue. This wasn’t where he wanted this conversation to go, and he was still just sober enough to remember Banshee’s threat if another fight broke out. He sighed deeply, then poured Fred another generous serving of wine.

“Fuck, Fred, let’s not do this. We’ve been through some shit together, yeah? We all acted like dicks sometimes back in the day, but it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry I said you were a fat piece of shit.”

“Well, I kinda am, ain’t I?”

“If you’re a fat piece of shit, I’m a skinny piece of shit. None of us are exactly saints in the Brotherhood.”

“You’re a saint. It’s right in your name.” Blob poked at him clumsily.

“Yeah, real ironic, that. Gran wanted a good Christian name so I’d be good Christian lad. Buckley’s chance of that.”

“You get real Aussie when you’re drunk, ya know that. Can’t barely understand ya.” Blob was starting to slur now, having gone through the equivalent of several vats of wine at this point. “But hey man, I’m sorry I said that I was glad you died. I mean, I was glad right when it happened. I was mad at you ‘cause of Post. But it was a shitty way to go, wasting away like that. You didn’t deserve that. Gettin’ eaten up inside by your own power. I remember when that happened to Unus. He…he died right in my arms, man.” Blob’s voice sounded shaky again. Pyro reached up and patted his side – somewhere below the armpit, since he couldn’t reach huge man’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Freddie. I’m sure Unus didn’t deserve that, either.” Pyro had never met the force-field wielding mutant, but he’d heard stories when Blob was feeling especially drunk and sentimental. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen this kind of raw vulnerability from Fred J Dukes before. He’d blame the wine – stupid wizard probably cursed it with a sadness spell or something. Get the mutants to drop their guard by making them all soppy.

“He sure as hell didn’t.” Blob actually reached up and rubbed his forearm over his eyes, and Pryo diplomatically pretended not to notice. “I miss him, man. He was a real stand-up guy, you know, for a criminal piece of garbage, and he didn’t let anyone push him around. Don’t think I’ve ever clicked with anyone like him. And now they’re danglin’ this resurrection thing in front of us, and who knows if they’ll ever get around to him? Must be worse for you, with Dominic, right man?”

“I sure as fuck miss him,” Pyro admitted, downing another glass. “He’s my best mate.”

“Hey look, man, what I said earlier, I wasn’t tryin’ ta –“

“Freddie, I really don’t wanna talk about it.” Pyro abruptly found himself pinned as Blob swung an arm down around him, holding him pressed against his side. “What the hell, Freddie, are you tryin’ ta flirt, now?”

“No man, just listen. Listen, listen man, shhh, listen,” Blob said in what he probably thought was a soothing whisper, while Pyro pushed uselessly against him. “I don’t wanna start another fight, but I got stuff I wanna say. I wasn’t tryin’ ta be a jerk before, okay? When I brought it up. I just wanted to say that, you know….we knew. We ain’t that dumb, and you guys weren’t that slick. We figured out you were – “

“Don’t say it, okay?” Pyro snapped.

“Fine, but dude. Listen. We don’t care. That’s the important thing here. I mean, we probably cared a little back in the day. I admit I made some pretty shitty jokes, but, you know, times were different. I mean, ‘homo’ was the worst thing you could be back when I was growin’ up. Until mutants started becoming a thing, of course.”

“Yeah, same here,” Pyro muttered. Apparently this conversation was happening whether he liked it or not. He downed more wine to try to stop his insides from twisting up.

“But everything’s like, different now. Most people don’t give a shit anymore. Including most of us in the Brotherhood. I mean, it was stupid to ever care in the first place. We’re already a group of outcast criminals, and we’re gonna judge you guys for wanting to bang each other? It’s cool if you don’t wanna make out in public or get married or anything, but you don’t haveta sneak around anymore. I’m cool with it, Toad’s cool with it. I think ‘Tazia had you figured for gay even before Avalanche came back. ‘Cause you weren’t drooling over her like Toad an me.”

“She was a perceptive one.” Pyro wondered for a moment whatever had happened to Eileen. She had been close-mouthed about her past – and Pyro could respect that – but extremely intelligent, and fun to talk to.

“The point is, it’s a brave new world and all that. Dudes are marrying each other, chicks are marrying each other. There’s a whole show starring drag queens that’s run for like, 10 years or something. It’s all mainstream now. I mean, I still don’t get it. Making out with another dude sounds gross to me. But I ain’t got no problem with other people doing it.”

“That’s real decent of you, Fred,” Pyro said, and he wasn’t totally sure if he was being sarcastic. This was a surprisingly heartfelt comment coming from Dukes. “You spend a lot of time writin’ that speech up?”

“I’m tryin’ ta be nice here, okay, matchstick? And I’m just sick of you pretendin’ ta be straight, an’ me havin’ to pretend I don’t know.” He trailed off, and gulped down his pot of wine, finally releasing Pyro from his grip.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Pryo conceded. Even though actually dragging all this out into the open felt horribly uncomfortable. Exposed. “Don’t expect me to do some big ‘coming out,’ thing or wear a rainbow or any of that crap, though. I’m not into that. My private life is my private life, right? I’ll just….stop trying so hard to hide it, you know?”

He’d already started to relax his guard a little in front of the Marauders, even picking up a guy at one of the bars that Iceman always dragged them to – although he’d waited until Storm and Bishop had left for the night, and Kate and Iceman seemed too drunk to notice. Iceman seemed to think Pyro was straight, as he’d asked him, with a mix of nervousness and defiance, if he “minded” the first night they went to a gay bar. That probably would have been the time to say it, if Pyro was a little braver, but instead he’d just shrugged and said, “No worries,” like a good tolerant fellow. Of course they wouldn’t care. For all he knew, maybe none of them were straight. He’d seen Kate give sideways glances to girls, Storm and Calisto seemed to have some chemistry between them, Bishop never seemed to mind men hitting on him at clubs. But still. A literal lifetime ago, he’d been afraid of getting his teeth kicked in, or worse. Things were different now, but actually coming out and saying it….it was not so much baring his chest, more like stripping completely naked and handing the other person a knife.

“Hey, fine. Do what ya want. But I’m still gonna make fun of you and Dom if you get all lovey-dovey in front of us. Not because it’s gay, just because I hate that hearts and flowers crap.”

“I would expect nothing less, Blobbo.” Pryo took another long drink of wine, refilled his glass and downed it again, until the tension eased out of his spine.

He supposed it had been stupid to assume that no one noticed. Everyone living in close quarters, both in Brotherhood safehouses and government facilities (not to mention prison). They’d all known. Had they gossiped about him? Laughed behind his back? Been disgusted?

But then, Toad and Phantazia had both hovered over him protectively in the first stages of his illness, when they were all on Empyrean’s private island together. Toad had even talked about how glad he was that Avalanche could be “there for him,” and wow, there was probably a coded message that Pyro had been too dense at the time to pick up on. Mystique was certainly not one to judge, and she’d figured him out ages ago. And if Fred Dukes, of all people, was accepting, then…well, it was probably okay, wasn’t it?

“Hey, matchstick.”

“Yeah, Freddie?”

“You and Dom. Who tops? Be honest, ‘cause I got money riding on this.”

“Shit, Freddie, I gotta be way drunker for this conversation.” And he poured again. The bottle continued to oblige.

When he opened his eyes a crack, the sun pierced right through to stab into his brain. Pyro groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again, bringing one arm up clumsily to better block out the light. He felt like utter shit, and that realization caused a sharp spike of alarm in his chest.

Sick. I’m sick again.

Or maybe he’d always been sick. Because it was all too good to be true, wasn’t it? Dying like a hero, coming back to life on this magical island where mutants from all sides of the political divide were having nonstop raves and orgies, getting to sail around and play pirate with the X-Men, who accepted him as a team-mate without question. How could that possibly be real? Wasn’t it more likely that this was all just the fever dream of a dying man, still lingering comatose in a hospital somewhere?

Except Pyro realized in a moment that he was lying on sand, with ocean waves creating a comforting rhythm just at the edge of his hearing. And the pain he was feeling wasn’t quite the same as what the Legacy Virus had done to him. His head was pounding like a drum, he ached all over, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get through the morning without barfing at least once – but he could breathe without pain. He sucked in a deep, cool breath and slowly let it out again. No coughing, no burning in his lungs, no constricting weight on his chest.

This wasn’t Legacy, it was a very familiar kind of suffering. One he’d inflicted on himself many times before.

“Heya, toothpick!” Blob’s voice boomed cheerfully in his ear. “Had a little too much last night, huh?”

“Uggghhhhh…..fuck off, Fred,” Pyro mumbled, trying to roll away from the sound of his voice. Moving made his stomach flip-flop, and he stopped for a moment.

“Haw, haw, ya shouldna tried to keep with me, ya scrawny little light-weight,” Blob guffawed, but he didn’t sound as mean as usual. Pyro feel something cool being pressed against his face.

“Here man, drink this and come back to life.” He opened his eyes again, wincing, and accepted the water bottle that Blob was holding out to him.

“Probably gonna take a few of these, Fred,” Pyro said, carefully sitting up, pausing for a moment to swallow saliva and wait for his stomach to hopefully quiet itself. Then he began sipping the water cautiously.

“You’ll probably need a couple of these, too,” Blob offered, slipping him some aspirin.

“Thanks, mate, right neighborly of ya. You’re in a good mood this mornin’ aint ya?” He swallowed the aspirin and gulped down more water.

“Well, I actually was smart enough to drink water last night, so I didn’t totally wreck myself. Plus I never get hit too hard with hang-overs. Got all this extra body mass cushioning me.” He laughed again, slapping at his belly. “Besides, it was hilarious watching you last night. You were trashed, man.”

“Well, I had good company, didn’t I?” Pyro looked around, squinting in the bright morning light. He’d wound up sleeping sprawled out on the sand at the edge of the jungle, just a few feet away from Blob’s hut, thankfully some distance away from the puddle of vomit he’d left the previous night. He remembered that part clearly – the fight, the encounter with Banshee and that little pink-haired shit acting as Krakoa’s rent-a-cops, some of the heartfelt conversation that had followed. And then, the night dissolved into a dream-like haze. Well, they weren’t locked up in the drunk tank, so they must not have gotten in any more trouble.

“Least I know how to handle my liquor,” Blob chuckled. “You wanna shower, toothpick? You smell like something Wolverine rolled in.” Pyro grimaced as he realized that the sour aroma of dried puke and smashed pumpkin was wafting up around him.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

He spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, using Blob’s surprisingly luxurious bath products, then gave his uniform a thorough scrubbing, and fire-dried it. He’d get a clean one from the Marauder later, but he didn’t feel like sitting around smelling like garbage in the meantime.

Vague images kept floating up out of the haze while he washed, little snippets of memories dissolved in wine.

…..Blob putting the stew pot over his head and fastening a curtain around his shoulders, staggering around shouting, “To me, my Brotherhood! Throw yourself under the bus for mutant rights! I’m a self-important jackass and I don’t actually care about any of you, my loyal soldiers!” while Pyro rolled around in the sand laughing hysterically…….

……Pyro splashing into the waves, yelling back at Blob, “I’m gonna do it, you’ll see! I’m gonna fight one a’ them sharks with my bare hands, then fry up it for dinner! We’re gonna have a barbeque right on the beach, yeah.” Blob was bellowing laughter while pulling him back with one hand, so that he was helplessly flailing around, swimming in place. “C’mon mate, I can do it! Aussies aren’t scared of sharks! We’ll kick the shit out of any animal!” “C’mon dumbass, this won’t be nearly so funny if you drown,” and then he was being hauled back up onto the beach……

…..then he was draped across the stomach of a maudlin Blob, who wasn’t even bothering to hide the tears that dripped down his cheeks. “It’s just….what am I if I’m not the Blob, right? You’ve got those stupid books, but what have I got? I mean, I’m nothing without my powers. I tried to make it work back then, I really did. Got my own reality show, got real popular in Japan, but it just wasn’t enough. I was miserable not bein’ the Blob.” Pyro was patting at Blob’s stomach, almost kneading it like a cat, in what he probably had thought was a comforting manner at the time, muttering encouraging nonsense,” Nah, Freddie, c’mon mate, you’ve got lots to offer, you got a big heart and a big personality……”

….then the two of them were chucking the last of Blob’s squash and pumpkins at the trees. For some reason they were both singing “Highway to the Danger Zone” at the top of their lungs……

Pyro just sighed and tried to blink it all away. It wasn’t actually the worst drunk memories he had. At least neither of them had gotten naked. He hoped.

“Hey man, you took your sweet time. You jerking off in there?” Blob said as he emerged, piling eggs and bacon onto a plate and passing it to him. Luckily his stomach had settled a great deal by then.

“Nah, I wouldn’t be so crass, Freddy. I only jerk off in my own shower.”

“Guess it’s not as much fun without Avalanche, huh?” And Blob actually winked at him.

Pyro opened his mouth to snap back at Dukes, to tell him to shut up and mind his own damn business. Then closed it again, because he couldn’t actually detect any malice in the other man’s tone. Not needling him, just…playful joking, in Blob’s own crass way.

Instead, he just shrugged and grinned. “Guess so. Thanks heaps for the food, Freddie. And the bloody aspirin, I really needed that.”

“Well, what can I say, I know my manners. I’m a hospitable guy,” Blob chuckled, sitting down to his own breakfast. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after what you gave me.”

Pyro paused with the fork mid-way up to his mouth, thinking back. What had he given him, besides a whole fuckton of wine?

“’Fraid I don’t quite remember what you’re referring to there,” he said cautiously. Had he promised his services or something? Given up some of the booty he’d stashed from raids with the Marauders? (He didn’t feel at all bad about that, as the captain herself was actively encouraging them to take as much booze and money as they pleased.)

“The wine.” Blob jerked a thumb over to the shelf on the wall, where the bottle sat surrounded by little ornaments, as if occupying a place of honor.

“Oh yeah, well I’m always glad to share – “

“No man, the whole bottle. You gave me the bottle.”

Pyro’s fork slipped out of his hand. Fuck. Fuck! He hadn’t. Surely he hadn’t been so stupid as to give up a priceless treasure like that, just because ol’ Blob had gotten a little weepy last night. Surely not.

“Oh hell, I didn’t really, did I?”

“You did! You insisted.”

And much as he wanted to deny it, there was a memory creeping back into his mind. Himself, holding the bottle up to Fred with a grandiose air, waxing poetic about how he would be Krakoa’s Dionysus, Life of the Party, Keeper of the Mysteries, and the other mutants would frolic around him like the Maenads. Christ, he really was a pretentious sot when he got drunk, wasn’t he? (But hey, he couldn’t help that he’d gone through a pretty heavy Greek mythology phase as a kid. It was just so interesting!)

“I….guess I might remember something like that,” he conceded hesitantly. “But that doesn’t count, does it? You can’t hold me to that! I was trashed out of my mind!”

“Not so trashed that you couldn’t blather on about a bunch of Classical bullshit!” Blob declared. “It was damned funny. And if you think I’m givin’ this bottle back to you, you’ve got another thing coming.” His tone stayed light, but a sharp gleam in his eye suggested the promise of another fight.

“C’mon Freddie, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Look man, I thought this might happen. So I got video evidence. I got a message from Drunk Pyro to Sober Pyro.” He held out his cell phone.

“Fuuuuuck,” Pyro moaned, not even wanting to see. He took a side glance at the bottle, so inviting out in the open. He should just grab it and run. Instead, he heard the sound of his own voice, slurred with wine, Australian accent even thicker than usual so that he was running his words against the backs of one another.

“I, St. John Allerdyce,” the figure on the video stopped to belch, “bein’ of sound mind an’ body, do hereby bequeath this bottle of never-endin’ wine to Frederick J. Dukes, the Blob, forever an’ ever, no take backs! Be’cause…..’cause….he’s my good mate, an’ he needs somethin’ for himself, an’ I’m fulla good will tonight.” The figure was bleary-eyed and staggering, but at least he seemed to be happy, judging by the wide grin stretching his face.

“Fuckin’ hell, Drunk Pyro,” Sober Pyro groaned, laying his head in his hands. That bastard had gotten him into more scrapes than he could count.

“But!” Drunk Pyro continued on the video. “There’s….conditions. One….no….two! Two…two conditions.” He swayed for a moment, seeming to look up at the stars before pulling himself back together. “Condition the first! You gotta share the wine, Freddie. Share it like, like I’ve been…been sharing it. Bring it to all the parties. Pour for….for eeeeveryone.” He made a sweeping gesture and nearly fell over. “Condition the two! You gotta….gotta give me special access, right? I get ta come over and drink as much as I want, any time I want, yeah? No matter what!”

“I accept your conditions,” came Blob’s voice from behind the camera. Drunk Pyro grinned again.

“Then I now pronounce you man and bottle!” He crowed, holding it aloft. “You may kiss the …wait, no, don’t put your mouth directly on it. Everyone’s gotta drink that.”

“Now make it official by singing Waltzing Matilda. That’s Australia’s national anthem, right?” Blob’s voice suggested on the video.

“No, it isn’t, “ said Sober Pyro.

“Yes, mate, you’re exactly right!” exclaimed Drunk Pyro. He made it through one off-key verse and chorus before fumbling the words and collapsing to his knees, laughing.

“Hey man, thanks for this,” said Blob’s voice on the video, as a hand reached out to take the bottle from Drunk Pyro. And Blob actually sounded a bit sincere. “I really appreciate it, ya doing something like this for me.”

“Well, you’re my special mate, right? We’ve been through loads together. And I feel sooo wonderful tonight. I’m fulla…..fulla love for everybody!” Drunk Pyro spread his arms out to the stars. “The world is so bloody beautiful, yeah?”

“Who do you love, Pyro?” Blob asked from behind the camera.

“Everybody! All the little mutants, and even the humans, too! The ones that aren’t too shitty, anyway.”

“Who do you really love?” Blob asked pointedly.

For a moment, Drunk Pyro looked up at the camera in confusion, then he lit up with the nicest smile Pyro had seen on his own face in a long time. It wasn’t cruel or sarcastic, not sloppy drunk or wild with adrenaline. It was the kind of genuine, soft smile he’d described in many novels over the years.

“I love Dominic!” Pyro exclaimed, hugging arms around himself and slumping down against the sand. “I love Dom.”

“Oy, you fucker!” The video switched off abruptly as Sober Pyro made a grab at the cell-phone in Blob’s hand. “How dare you, how fucking dare you pull that shit! Fucking shit-cunt!”

“Hey man, chill out! You gave me the bottle fair and square!” Blob held the phone over his head, while Pyro began trying to clamber up him.

“Forget the bottle, I don’t care! Why would you make me say that! On video, for fucks sake? You lookin’ to blackmail me?”

“No man, no!” Blob plucked Pyro off with his other hand, and deposited him back in his chair. “That’s not what that was about! I ain’t gonna show it to anyone. Here, look, I’m deleting it. Geez.” Blob pushed a couple of buttons in his phone.

“You were tryin’ to make me say it, though, weren’t you? Why would you want me to say that?!” Pyro glowered at him over the table.

“I dunno man, I was loaded, too! I just….thought it would be nice, I guess. I thought maybe….maybe you’d feel a little better if you said it.” Blob looked confused, and again oddly vulnerable. Not mocking or mean.

“You thought I’d feel better? Seriously?” Pyro gave a breathless laugh.

“I mean….yeah, man. It’s like what we talked about last night. You’re so uptight about this shit, but no one cares anymore.”

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Pyro sighed, putting his head in his hands again. Fucking Blob. Fucking Drunk Pyro, spewing everything out into the open.

But….it probably had felt kind of good to say it in the moment, hadn’t it? All open like that? He couldn’t deny, Drunk Pyro had looked beatifically happy when he said those words, his eyes soft and gentle. Perfect for a scene in a romance, even if he was absolutely humiliated to see that expression on his own face. He supposed there was no sense in denying it. He’d said it, after all.

“Don’t spread it around about Dom, okay? I mean, I know what I am. I’ve known for a long time, and I guess I don’t mind people knowing, now that we’re all enlightened these days. But I think Dom’s still working some things out. Or at least he was.”

“Yeah, sure, man, my lips are sealed,” Blob agreed. “So, are we cool?”

“You deleted that video, right?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re gonna give me free wine whenever I want, just like you promised, yeah?”

“Of course! I’m a generous fellow, and I don’t go back on an agreement!” Blob pressed a hand against his chest, proudly.

“Then, yeah. Freddie. We’re cool.”

Notes: Apologies to poor Quentin Quire, he didn’t deserve the crap Blob and Pyro were throwing at him. I have nothing against the character, he just seemed like the kind of arrogant young hot-shot mutant that Pyro and Blob would have no respect for (even if he could absolutely destroy them).

#pyro #st. john allerdyce #blob #fred dukes

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