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xmenfirstkink2011-12-18 05:18 pm
starkmodistries.livejournal.com) wrote in xmenfirstkink2011-12-18 05:18 pm
Entry tags:
round 3 overflow post
This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.
Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt
--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill
EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174
Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.
Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942
Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...
FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 175/?
He reminds himself, every time, that this situation is the reverse - it is people like Schmidt who are the prisoners, and people like him who are the guards, this time. For once the murderers, the torturers, are the ones imprisoned.
“Rehabilitation is exactly what I’m suggesting,” Emma says smoothly, and gestures for Shadowcat to step forward from her spot against the wall behind Emma, papers in hand. The girl starts handing them out, placing one in front of every council member. “It’s good for our image, and it removes their power if we are the ones who choose to release them. Eventually they will escape, if we don’t, no matter what we do. It’s plain statistics. If we make that decision - free them without outside pressure - we are the strong ones.”
“And if they go back to killing us off, one by one, from their little list?” Magneto asks, turning his head to look at her, keeping his voice deliberately steady and firm. “What then?”
“Then we kill them in self defence and hoist their bodies from the mainsail,” Emma says, smiling sharply. “I’m not advocating clemency. Quite the opposite - I suggest we make them our bitches.”
“It would help to win over the rest of the human population that has not yet accepted mutant rule,” Shiftscale says slowly, her pebbled skin fading from dark green to a pale lavender colour as she thinks. “Our highest disapproval rating always comes from a perceived lack of interest in human rights and equality. Anything we can do to balance that out will stabilise things considerably.”
The rumble of voices is louder this time, voices both agreeing and disagreeing.
“This is lunacy,” Azazel snaps, shoving back his chair and getting to his feet. “Let them loose? They will run and hide like rats, and shoot from behind, like always. I will have none of this.”
It’s not hard to see he intends to teleport away - before he can Magneto snaps out a hand to grab at the Russian’s wrist, catching it tight and glaring at him. “Sit back down. You can’t argue your point if you leave the discussion.”
When Azazel does as he’s told - grudgingly, but obedient, nonetheless - Magneto turns back to the rest of the room, looks at each of them in turn. With the door at the far end of the room, and him sat at the head of the table, it’s almost like being enthroned, accepting supplicants, which is exactly why he does it. No-one is more aware than he is that he took his position by force, and that while he would make it difficult for them, anybody of sufficient power could do the same to him. Most of those who would be able to - who would have the interest in doing so - are in this room.
And yet, they hang on his word, waiting silently for him to speak.
“I lost a good friend to these humans,” he says, feels his hands clench tightly on his own thighs until his fingers dig into his flesh hard enough to leave bruises. “Mystique was one of the best of us, and she was murdered by humans who want nothing more than to do the same to everyone in this room, to all of the mutants out there who want nothing more than to live their lives. She died in front of me, at a speech I was giving, when these very humans tried to kill me, for talking of peace. They have killed hundreds of us for no bigger crime than for daring to live.
“And yet,” he adds after a long pause, “I listen to Emma’s advice, although I disagree, because she tells me things I don’t want to hear.”
“How statesmanlike of you, honey,” Emma drawls, flicking her long, loose curls back over her shoulder with a quick toss of her head that draws all eyes back to her. “It’s a nice way to say you’d rather gun them all down.”
His smile is tight, curt and controlled in a way it would not have been five years ago. It’s easier, now, not to say ‘fuck you’ the way he might have done, before. “I’ve been there before, and I don’t care to revisit it. No, killing them would only invite further comparison to my upbringing.”