cxrebral:

                       c x r e b r a l ; ;
      the world is a strange place                                           indie & semi-selective.         — cruel & oppressive —                                                post-xmfc; pre-dofp.          but I have not lost hope.                                         6 years writing experience.           we will overcome this,                               many verses available; including modern.               and we will do it                                              mcu with some 616 influences.                         together.                                                          home | msg | rules | begin

cxrebral:

                       c x r e b r a l ; ;

      the world is a strange place                                           indie & semi-selective.
         — cruel & oppressive —                                                post-xmfc; pre-dofp.
         but I have not lost hope.                                         6 years writing experience.
          we will overcome this,                               many verses available; including modern.
              and we will do it                                              mcu with some 616 influences.   
                    together.                                                          home | msg | rules | begin

magnetisedcatharsis:

             image

                           [She remembers all too well what they lived through.
                            Remembers the struggles and sacrifices just as
                            much as the smiles and salvation that had followed.
                            She loved Max the minute she met him, handed over
                            her heart and forever forged that immortal bond of
                            camaraderie. He was her family as much as he was
                            her friend, and she adored him for it. Just as much today
                            as she had done back then - even if nowadays it
                             wasn’t quite enough.]

"To nie jest twoje imię."

                             [Magda’s stubborn. Too stubborn perhaps,
                              as she hides behind a language that isn’t his own.
                              She protests on principle, because as innocuous as
                              his new name is, it still wounds her. She grew up with
                              Max Eisenhardt. Married him, even. And now he’s
                              gone. Just a memory fading into nothing. The concept
                              bothers her, but not enough for her to deny Erik
                              acknowledgment of his new identity.]

“Normal is overrated.
I’m no more normal than you are.
But if a storm is coming, Erik ,
Then take care to weather it.
Even in the downpour, please don’t forget to
stop and stomp in puddles once in a while.”

                               [She means it literally as much as metaphorically.
                               Storms scare her, but not nearly as much as the
                               threat of war. Wasn’t one enough? Hadn’t they
                               paid their blood debts already? She knows Erik won’t
                              stop and back down. She knows he fights because he demands
                              it of himself. But she worries for him all the same.
                           Worries that this crusade will become all he knows and all he lives for.
                            Worries that  it’ll be the death of him.]

“I learnt to read properly, if that counts?
English and Polish. And I travelled a little.
Mostly around the Soviet block and places I couldn’t
be found, but enough to feel like I was still home. I didn’t
find anyone new though, and I didn’t make much of a life.
I just tried to keep hold of the one I had left.
I can’t really afford dinner, ahuvi. But I can probably stretch to a hot chocolate?
You’re right about needing to catch up on a lot.”

                           { And perhaps she was right. It wasn’t his name.
                             It wasn’t him. But wasn’t that the point? To
                             change, close that chapter of his life, erase all
                             the hurt she, they, everyone had put him through,
                             the pain and the agony, to put that away, to tie
                             his sins and his mistakes to a name he no longer
                             used. To start fresh? Didn’t he deserve that? He
                             thought he did. For the longest time after she’d
                             left, Erik was angry. Angry and hurt and sad and…
                             Alone. He changed his name. New identity. New
                             purpose. Underneath it all though, of course, he’d
                             be Max. A scared little boy, ushered into camps
                             stripped of identity. Scared. But with a friend. 
                             Scared and not alone. Why had everything been 
                             altered so much? He supposed that’s what being 
                             an adult meant. }

    
"Mmh… Perhaps. Though I’m 
     certain I will be more than a
     little preoccupied to stomp in
     puddles all the time. I’ll not 
     stand idly by when I can prevent
     terrible things from happening. 
     Again. I will not let fear rule me.
     Not anymore. But I want you safe.
     You. I want you safe and out of
     the crossfire. You should be there
     when I need to stomp in puddles
     again. You’re— The only one….” 

                           { The only one he had left. And it was perfectly true.
                             And to be honest, he was grateful it was her. She’d
                             meant the world to him once. Still did in some 
                             respects. They’d gotten married. Had a child. 
                             Had a life. Perhaps he didn’t love her as he did
                             when he asked for her hand, but she was still…
                             There. In his heart. There is no erasing bonds 
                             forged from childhood, strengthened by hardship
                             and sealed by survival. Erik offered her a soft 
                             smile. Poetry. Fanciful and— Erik had used to 
                             think it pointless. She traveled. Spoke English…
                             Grown as a person. And it was beyond exciting. 

 ”What if I bough us dinner and you
     treated us to hot chocolate? I am
     under the impression that there are
     lots of stories to tell, lots of questions
     to ask and answer. We’ve lived full
     lives, you and I… And I’d like to hear
     all about yours.”

yo. so while I get this last reply out of the wayyyy, does anyone wanna do the plotting thing? I need to go in my inbox, i think it lied to me earlier this week. but yeah. it’s open, and ready for you guys. 

.

ignatiius:

image

            ❝The honour is mine.❞

      [ He has to  stoop very far down in  order to adequately  examine and treat
      the wounds. Bending low, the Being scrutinizes the damage to Erik’s face
      in  silence  for  several  moments   before  nodding  curtly  to  himself  and
      hastening away  to bring something  with which to  clean the blood. When
      he returns, it is with a dripping rag  clutched in his fist; and, stooping once
      more, he carefully sets about wiping away the stains of blood that sit half-
      dried upon the mutant’s cheeks and brow. ]

            { Erik remains still as Apollyon moves away, staring 
              ahead intently. This, he thought, this is why human
              beings were not to be trusted. Charles was so so wrong
              about them, about them being able to change, about 
              peace being something they could actually obtain. No.
              Erik had been torn irreparably and he would not tolerate
              the same kind of treatment he’d witnessed first hand
              befall those who are different at the hands of those he
              considered lesser. No more. He only flinched once, face
              breaking into a strained smile when his friend returned. }


     ”Thank you… Your kindness is much 
       appreciated… You, my friend, are
       strange. To have suffered so greatly
       and still be able to hold such a kind
       heart is truly amazing.”

cxrebral:

Send " >3< " for my muses reaction to yours kissing them in a moment of great excitement.

image

                         ❝ —— Erik? ❞

    his lips are warm, softer than charles would
    have ever thought, would have ever imagined. 
    but more chapped by days of hard sun than 
    expected. the kiss sends his heart ( which had 
    previously been filled with excitement ) careening
    into his throat, and charles’ mind scrambles to 
    find purchase. what the hell is going on?

       { oh. charles’ lips are soft. very much
        so. erik didn’t know what else he’d
        been expecting. nothing really. he hadn’t
        planned on kissing charles like that but
        his fingers splayed over charles’ cheeks
        and their lips slotted together like they
        were meant to and by the time erik pulled
        away he was confused and… elated. 
        his mind hummed, heart hammered even
        more than it had been when his body 
        simply reacted to the excitement of progress. 

        his fingers slipped to charles’ shoulders. 
        as if erik was going to apologize for that.
        not in a million years. though perhaps now
        was not the most opportune moment for such
        an act. }

                                   "Charles…."

        { the word was a whisper, a praise more than
         anything and erik cursed himself for even 
         opening his mouth. the mutant cleared his throat
         and shifted as he blinked. what was one to say
         to the man they’d just planted one on without
         warning. }

cxrebral:

       ❝ One: I am most definitely not a mouse.
          Two: I’ll simply call Raven.
          Really, Erik, I do know other people. ❞

                                                                he catches the key, though not without a
                                                                small fumble, and gratefully slots it into the
                                                                lock. charles’ fingers are cold from the spring
                                                                chill, and he bustles into the small flat with vigor.

                                        ❝ ———- Come in. ❞

          “Not a mouse, perhaps… No….”

                                     that other statement, however, drew a long
                                     chuckle from erik and he followed his friend
                                     into the flat, closing the door softly behind him. }

          ”You know, Charles, it doesn’t 
           seem like you know other people.
           always calling me first. If I didn’t
           know better I’d say that you like
           me better than other people.”

                                       his words were teasing and erik made sure
                                       that the door was locked behind them. just
                                       in case. }

          ”What were you doing outside anyway?”

cxrebral:

image

       ❝ Do try and be kind, Erik.
          Hank spent quite a long while
          coming up with the designs for
          them. ——— I’m sure the yellow
          has a very, ah,  specific purpose. ❞

                                     his words are sincere, but the tone is equally
                                     as teasing as erik’s. it seems to be a good night.

             ”Yes, the very specific purpose of
                  making us stick out like a sore
                  thumb. I see exactly what our
                  dear Hank was thinking. My 
                  apologies, my friend.”

                                                         { the twinkling in Erik’s eyes suggests
                                                            that he is, of course, merely
                                                            teasing. though if one were
                                                            being honest, the yellow is a 
                                                            bit much. }

© OCTOMOOSEY