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ROUND FOUR >> Rules post. Flat view. Updates Post (WIPs only) Fills Post (completed Fills only) damalur's
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Volunteers always welcome. There may be some delay on posts appearing when there is a URL in the message body as they are automatically marked as suspicious and I
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But Erik just looks at him when he suggests it, that narrow, calculating stare like he's trying to read Charles' mind, instead of the other way around. Raven, she just looks crushed. He doesn't need to read her mind to know that--how can you believe that, she thinks tenderly. That everything about you is so fundamentally wrong?.
She doesn't expect an answer. Charles doesn't give her one.
'We're mutants,' is all Erik says to him when he finally screws up the courage to ask how they know what he is, how they know he isn't just mad. Because he's thought it often enough, hasn't he, although he knows that can't be it. He can make people cry, for God's sake, he's not making that up, but sometimes...sometimes he wishes that was it. He really does. He wishes this was the sort of thing chloropromazine could take care of.
'Mutants,' Charles repeats. 'Mutants. That's...that's why I can do this.' He gestures vaguely in the direction of his own head. 'So, can you...?'
'We're not all telepaths,' Raven says with a flick of her hand and then a thousand flicks of her skin, and there is a naked girl standing before him. A naked blue girl, with ridged skin and cat-bright eyes and her jaw set, defensive, like she's just waiting for him to say the wrong thing. Like she's heard the wrong thing a thousand times before.
She looks inhuman and fierce and dangerous, and she is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. My God, he thinks, and she tilts her head, so he knows she can hear. Look at you. You're...that's amazing. He's rewarded with a bright flash of canines, a pleased gleam of golden eyes. Next to her, Erik relaxes and looks slightly less murderous.
'She's beautiful,' he snaps, though, and his eyes are like flint, like steel, like broken glass shoved into tender skin as they meet Charles', sharp and painful.
'She is,' Charles agrees. I'm nothing like her, he doesn't say.
(so short, so sorry)
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'She is,' Charles agrees. I'm nothing like her, he doesn't say.
Oh Charles. He's so broken. I love you so much for this fill. Keep writing it, please oh please!
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And bonus for the title, I love the Dresden Dolls.
:D
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I love the way you've drawn Charles' relationship to his telepathy, the way he treats it like an animal he doesn't want to hurt but doesn't trust. It's so deftly done, and so, so sharp.
Please say this hasn't been abandoned! It's one of my favorite stories on here, and I'm desperate to see where it goes.
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