I keep forgetting to put this stuff here...
Here's the link to the original.
The prompt: Grampa Magnus takes the twins (aged like somewhere 6-11) out to the park and chaos (probably mutant-rights-related-chaos) ensues.
It had taken a long time for Erik to come to terms with Charles’ unflinching stance on humanity and the codependency of their species. He still felt mutants had a duty to their superior gifts, but the birth of his grandchildren had changed his personal opinion on how to reroute the world they lived within.
From the moment he had first held them, so small, so very innocent, he had known the path he had taken up to that point had only caused more harm than good. Humans had a lengthy history with destroying the things they feared. Everything from other races to an overabundance of a certain breed of animal, and all the lands of the Earth between. What humans did not understand, they feared, and what they feared, they sought to destroy. With all the clever mass weaponry at their disposal.
With his children, it had been different. He had been young, idealistic, stubborn and strong. He had learned that power, and no other means, was the means to any end. The more power one wielded, the more feared they were. Fear bred respect, but it also caused a wavering within the spirit.
Pietro and Wanda had grown up in a world of blood, sweat and tears. A world of loss and longing. Of isolation and loneliness. It had been his opinion, his drive, and his actions that had forced them to run from him. Straight into the ever patient, waiting arms of Charles. Charles, who had taken them in without a word. Who had shown them a world of possibilities, not of limitations.
There were no bars in Charles’ world. For anyone.
The pain of their betrayal had left a gaping wound within his heart that festered for years as he stubbornly refused to relinquish his ideals. Even long after he stopped seeing the truth in them.
Mending came with the birth of his grandsons, and with it the very real understanding that there was a chance that all of his actions could isolate the next generation of his family. There was no guarantee after all, that they would ever manifest, even if they carried the gene. Would he turn all the rage and hatred against his own blood?
The long wait for their birth had given him cause to reflect. Endless hours spent pouring over the measure of his life and finding himself lacking in so many ways. Yet, it was not real to him. He fought it right up until the very moment they were lain in his arms. Looking down at them, at the newness of their lives…His heart broke and swelled all at once.
Repairing his relationship with his children had taken less years than he’d expected. Pietro still harbored some ill feelings, he was certain. But he kept them to himself, tucked within his breast pocket. Wanda was swayed by the love of a mother. A mother touched by the whole, unquestioned and absolute love of her children. His grandsons loved him without the influence of prejudice, pain or the past misdeeds of his once warmongering life. They had renewed him, had given him new fears and new joys in equal measures. As well as something he had long been without: Hope.
An insistent tugging brought him out of his reverie. He looked down at Thomas, who frowned up at him. “Grandpa,” he said, voice as serious as one in Kindergarten could. “Why are those people so angry?” He pointed and Erik followed his gaze to a small cluster of humans who had stilled in recognition and were glaring balefully at him.
Small hands squeezed his other hand and a warm body pressed against his leg, the curve of William’s face disappearing behind the weather worn fabric of his trousers. Thomas bristled at his twin’s retreat, straightening and puffing up like an offended feline. Chest out, shoulders back, eyes fixed, and nerves on end.
Acknowledging the fearful wariness with a polite nod, he gently ushered his grandchildren away. A flare of his old candor burned within his chest, but he breathed through it, smoothing it away. There was more weight on the scales of his life, more important matters than proving humanity right.
“The slide looks awfully tall,” he commented as they paused beside it.
The tension in the park rose a few notches at his proximity to metal. Not that he could help that. If they wanted to split hairs, the iron in their very blood was enough…
Thomas was climbing the ladder with steadfast determination that was somewhat deterred by the grip his Grandfather maintained. Recognizing the slight, Erik forced himself to release his precious grandson and step back. “William, will you not be joining Thomas?”
“Grandpa!” Thomas called, flagging an arm. “Look at me!”
He looked up and smiled at him, acknowledging the plea for attention. Thomas jumped the last two steps and plopped down, throwing both arms up and disappearing. For an instant - one split second in time - the loss of visual had Erik’s heart suddenly pounding. Power pooled heavy within him, speeding through his veins with the rage of loss and cry for vengeance. They were surrounded by too many who would happily see his kind wiped from the earth. Down to the innocents. As they once had. As he’d once endured.
And then Thomas came running back into view, a gleeful smile on his face. He ran right through the static barrier Erik hadn’t realized he’d put up around himself and William. Grabbing his twin by the hand, he scurried off with him, towing him to the slide with shouts of excited encouragement.
“Grandpa! Are you watching?!”
He was shaken from the scan of those around them and eased his powers back into submission. “Yes,” he replied, smiling encouragingly as best he could manage. “I’m watching.”
He hadn’t meant for the edge on the latter syllables, hadn’t meant to give his words a double meaning. But the growing crowd of observant, anxious onlookers slowly surrounding them easily fed his instincts.
William’s face lit in surprise as he was shoved down the slide by an eager Thomas. Who followed behind so quickly, they may as well have gone down together. Which they did the following turn, a tangle of arms and legs and the bubbling laughter of children unaware of a situation gone amiss.
Erik was aware of hushed tones and rushed sentences. Did his best to appear to ignore them, to be unswayed by them, even as power thrummed dark and heavy beneath his skin.
A hand settled on his arm, and though startled, nothing happened as he turned to face the other man. They were about the same age. Hair gone white and eyes that knew decades of hardship. “How many grandkids do you have?” asked the stranger, with a kind smile of even, pearlescent rows.
“Two at the moment,” he replied cordially.
“Twin boys.” The man gave a laugh. “Bet they’re a handful.”
“They can be.”
“I’ve got five myself.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes drifting to a pair of children chasing each other around the jungle gym. “Grandkids,” he added, after a moment. “Little more space between, but not by much.”
The twins seemed to lose interest in the slide entirely and began chasing each other about it. Erik paused, mid forward step.
“It’s really a nice neighborhood, once you get to know people.”
He nodded, distracted by the eyes that followed his grandchildren.
“It takes a while, for the differences to settle. But they will eventually.”
Erik turned to look at him and accepted the encouraging smile, returning it after a moment. “I suppose. Old habits…” His palm rubbed a nervous gesture over the inner flesh of his arm.
The other simply made an acknowledging sound. If he’d looked to the tattooed skin beside Erik’s inner elbow, his eyes didn’t linger.
“Grandpa! We wanna go high!” Thomas shouted, standing on a swing that wobbled slightly beneath his unsteady stance. William held fast to the chains. Despite being second born, he did most of the caring between them. Thomas - in true elder sibling mode - handled all the fights. “Push us!!”
“Excuse me.”
With a nod, his companion saw him off, before turning his attention back to his own grandchildren.
People shuffled and scurried about him as he crossed the distance to the swing set. Thomas happily plopped down, before directing his twin into the swing beside him. Before he’d even closed in on them, both swings drew back as if propelled by some invisible length of rope, and swung forward smoothly. By the time he had settled in behind them, their toes were flinging up to try and touch the leaves on the sheltering trees that stretched overhead.
The swings moved with a grace and stability that proved to be more alluring than frightening. Kids scrambled into the area, clambering on swings and demanding equal treatment. Parents twitched nervously, ineffectually grabbing for passing little ones as the park’s current population of children converged upon one spot.
Without giving it much thought, Erik obliged. It wasn’t any more difficult to control twenty pairs of chain links as it was to catch several rounds of ammunition. Before long, the entire row of swings were drifting along, carrying sapien and non-sapien children alike high into the sky.
From the matched shrieks of delight, it was difficult to separate the children into any particular groups. They were all simply children. Of similar like and make. And perhaps, someday, similar futures. As devoid of trivial differentiation as a row of metal swings rising steadily above the horizon.
The prompt: Grampa Magnus takes the twins (aged like somewhere 6-11) out to the park and chaos (probably mutant-rights-related-chaos) ensues.
It had taken a long time for Erik to come to terms with Charles’ unflinching stance on humanity and the codependency of their species. He still felt mutants had a duty to their superior gifts, but the birth of his grandchildren had changed his personal opinion on how to reroute the world they lived within.
From the moment he had first held them, so small, so very innocent, he had known the path he had taken up to that point had only caused more harm than good. Humans had a lengthy history with destroying the things they feared. Everything from other races to an overabundance of a certain breed of animal, and all the lands of the Earth between. What humans did not understand, they feared, and what they feared, they sought to destroy. With all the clever mass weaponry at their disposal.
With his children, it had been different. He had been young, idealistic, stubborn and strong. He had learned that power, and no other means, was the means to any end. The more power one wielded, the more feared they were. Fear bred respect, but it also caused a wavering within the spirit.
Pietro and Wanda had grown up in a world of blood, sweat and tears. A world of loss and longing. Of isolation and loneliness. It had been his opinion, his drive, and his actions that had forced them to run from him. Straight into the ever patient, waiting arms of Charles. Charles, who had taken them in without a word. Who had shown them a world of possibilities, not of limitations.
There were no bars in Charles’ world. For anyone.
The pain of their betrayal had left a gaping wound within his heart that festered for years as he stubbornly refused to relinquish his ideals. Even long after he stopped seeing the truth in them.
Mending came with the birth of his grandsons, and with it the very real understanding that there was a chance that all of his actions could isolate the next generation of his family. There was no guarantee after all, that they would ever manifest, even if they carried the gene. Would he turn all the rage and hatred against his own blood?
The long wait for their birth had given him cause to reflect. Endless hours spent pouring over the measure of his life and finding himself lacking in so many ways. Yet, it was not real to him. He fought it right up until the very moment they were lain in his arms. Looking down at them, at the newness of their lives…His heart broke and swelled all at once.
Repairing his relationship with his children had taken less years than he’d expected. Pietro still harbored some ill feelings, he was certain. But he kept them to himself, tucked within his breast pocket. Wanda was swayed by the love of a mother. A mother touched by the whole, unquestioned and absolute love of her children. His grandsons loved him without the influence of prejudice, pain or the past misdeeds of his once warmongering life. They had renewed him, had given him new fears and new joys in equal measures. As well as something he had long been without: Hope.
An insistent tugging brought him out of his reverie. He looked down at Thomas, who frowned up at him. “Grandpa,” he said, voice as serious as one in Kindergarten could. “Why are those people so angry?” He pointed and Erik followed his gaze to a small cluster of humans who had stilled in recognition and were glaring balefully at him.
Small hands squeezed his other hand and a warm body pressed against his leg, the curve of William’s face disappearing behind the weather worn fabric of his trousers. Thomas bristled at his twin’s retreat, straightening and puffing up like an offended feline. Chest out, shoulders back, eyes fixed, and nerves on end.
Acknowledging the fearful wariness with a polite nod, he gently ushered his grandchildren away. A flare of his old candor burned within his chest, but he breathed through it, smoothing it away. There was more weight on the scales of his life, more important matters than proving humanity right.
“The slide looks awfully tall,” he commented as they paused beside it.
The tension in the park rose a few notches at his proximity to metal. Not that he could help that. If they wanted to split hairs, the iron in their very blood was enough…
Thomas was climbing the ladder with steadfast determination that was somewhat deterred by the grip his Grandfather maintained. Recognizing the slight, Erik forced himself to release his precious grandson and step back. “William, will you not be joining Thomas?”
“Grandpa!” Thomas called, flagging an arm. “Look at me!”
He looked up and smiled at him, acknowledging the plea for attention. Thomas jumped the last two steps and plopped down, throwing both arms up and disappearing. For an instant - one split second in time - the loss of visual had Erik’s heart suddenly pounding. Power pooled heavy within him, speeding through his veins with the rage of loss and cry for vengeance. They were surrounded by too many who would happily see his kind wiped from the earth. Down to the innocents. As they once had. As he’d once endured.
And then Thomas came running back into view, a gleeful smile on his face. He ran right through the static barrier Erik hadn’t realized he’d put up around himself and William. Grabbing his twin by the hand, he scurried off with him, towing him to the slide with shouts of excited encouragement.
“Grandpa! Are you watching?!”
He was shaken from the scan of those around them and eased his powers back into submission. “Yes,” he replied, smiling encouragingly as best he could manage. “I’m watching.”
He hadn’t meant for the edge on the latter syllables, hadn’t meant to give his words a double meaning. But the growing crowd of observant, anxious onlookers slowly surrounding them easily fed his instincts.
William’s face lit in surprise as he was shoved down the slide by an eager Thomas. Who followed behind so quickly, they may as well have gone down together. Which they did the following turn, a tangle of arms and legs and the bubbling laughter of children unaware of a situation gone amiss.
Erik was aware of hushed tones and rushed sentences. Did his best to appear to ignore them, to be unswayed by them, even as power thrummed dark and heavy beneath his skin.
A hand settled on his arm, and though startled, nothing happened as he turned to face the other man. They were about the same age. Hair gone white and eyes that knew decades of hardship. “How many grandkids do you have?” asked the stranger, with a kind smile of even, pearlescent rows.
“Two at the moment,” he replied cordially.
“Twin boys.” The man gave a laugh. “Bet they’re a handful.”
“They can be.”
“I’ve got five myself.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes drifting to a pair of children chasing each other around the jungle gym. “Grandkids,” he added, after a moment. “Little more space between, but not by much.”
The twins seemed to lose interest in the slide entirely and began chasing each other about it. Erik paused, mid forward step.
“It’s really a nice neighborhood, once you get to know people.”
He nodded, distracted by the eyes that followed his grandchildren.
“It takes a while, for the differences to settle. But they will eventually.”
Erik turned to look at him and accepted the encouraging smile, returning it after a moment. “I suppose. Old habits…” His palm rubbed a nervous gesture over the inner flesh of his arm.
The other simply made an acknowledging sound. If he’d looked to the tattooed skin beside Erik’s inner elbow, his eyes didn’t linger.
“Grandpa! We wanna go high!” Thomas shouted, standing on a swing that wobbled slightly beneath his unsteady stance. William held fast to the chains. Despite being second born, he did most of the caring between them. Thomas - in true elder sibling mode - handled all the fights. “Push us!!”
“Excuse me.”
With a nod, his companion saw him off, before turning his attention back to his own grandchildren.
People shuffled and scurried about him as he crossed the distance to the swing set. Thomas happily plopped down, before directing his twin into the swing beside him. Before he’d even closed in on them, both swings drew back as if propelled by some invisible length of rope, and swung forward smoothly. By the time he had settled in behind them, their toes were flinging up to try and touch the leaves on the sheltering trees that stretched overhead.
The swings moved with a grace and stability that proved to be more alluring than frightening. Kids scrambled into the area, clambering on swings and demanding equal treatment. Parents twitched nervously, ineffectually grabbing for passing little ones as the park’s current population of children converged upon one spot.
Without giving it much thought, Erik obliged. It wasn’t any more difficult to control twenty pairs of chain links as it was to catch several rounds of ammunition. Before long, the entire row of swings were drifting along, carrying sapien and non-sapien children alike high into the sky.
From the matched shrieks of delight, it was difficult to separate the children into any particular groups. They were all simply children. Of similar like and make. And perhaps, someday, similar futures. As devoid of trivial differentiation as a row of metal swings rising steadily above the horizon.