in which my creative imagination far outweighs my actual abilities
I want to come up with ... chibi cross-stitch versions of the characters, or at least Charles and Erik and Raven. Except I a) haven't sorted out how to do cross-stitch, and b) can't design all that well. Pixel art is pretty much the same thing in some respects, and can be done digitally, but again, design.
I want to do custom My Little Ponies -- Raven, painted brighter blue than any of the standard ponies, preferably with the patterning, and orange-red mane, and a ? as her haunch logo thing. Charles, a yellow unicorn with a black circled X as his logo, and extra-thick brown mane. Erik, with possibly-removable helmet, and a magnet as his logo. Etc.
And there's still the knitting bunnies of Moira's hat (and Charles' fingerless gloves, though I wouldn't be able to get closer than "they're sort of tealishly blue. and fingerless"; there's a good clear shot of Moira's hat (which happens to be a similar color of course) in the Russia scene. And yet I am bad at reconstructing patterns from a visial, and I've already talked about this.
And there are so many things I want to *draw*, and I can't; even when I had the physical mbility I wasn't that great at drawing, but I'm out of practice and can't reach stuff and digital doesn't really work for me and it all goes back to not being able to do it. (This is true of many fandoms; I get glorious images in my head that don't translate well to words but I haven't a chance in hell of being able to capture them with a pencil and paper, or the digital equivalent).
#
Erik pulls back sharply; Charles can't figure out why until he realizes that he'd flinched and flung a non-verbal /don't/ in Erik's direction. And Erik looks like he's trying to hide how much he has no idea what triggered this from Charles, so he's backing off, but Charles grabs at his wrist.
"Touch me," he gasps out, and moves Erik's hand back so that warm fingers are touching his temple again. He's used it as a locus -- sometimes casual, sometimes overt -- for his powers often enough that it is something like a telepathic raw spot, and the contact with Erik has him shivering and unable to breathe, only barely managing to keep his mind separate enough from Erik's that they can distinguish whose thought is whose.
#
ngh. *tries to lure porn fairy for ficwriting purposes*
#
Charles says something-- Erik doesn't even really process the words, just the tone, the casual flippant attitude towards blending in with normal people-- and he tilts his head and just *looks* at Charles until Charles shuts up, and then he says, "You don't get it, do you," and it's not so much a question as it is a realization, again, and his stomach feels like it's trying to twist inside-out.
He can explain, but that wouldn't be enough; he wantsx Charles to actually *understand*, to feel what it's like. So he grabs Charles by the nape of the neck and brings their foreheads together (not that Charles' telepathy is limited by touch, but this is the fastest way for him to indicate /get the fuck in my head/) and *thinks* at him, image after image: metal crumpling under the force of his rage, items shifting without his conscious direction, heavy iron gates bending towards him, all from before he knew that he could control the demon inside him. And then Raven in her normal form -- Charles flinches mentally away from that and Erik snarles and tightens his grip on Charles' neck and makes him look, makes him see, not the blonde pretty girl he presents as his sister but the real Raven. The real Erik.
"Some of us can't hide," he snarles out. Charles' eyes are closed, attention more focused on processing and blocking the flood of mental images Erik is flinging at him, and Erik gives him a little shake. "Look at me, dammit," and when they open inches from his own eyes, he repeats firmly, "Some of us can't hide," and then, equally fiercely, "Some of us don't *want* to hide," and then he releases Charles and shoves him away. "You have to understand that. You won't succeed if you don't."
And then he takes a deep breath, quiets down all the metal objects in the room that had started to rattle and shift uneasily, and then turns and walks away.
#
It only takes the slightest of tugs for Shaw's helmet to float down to Erik's waiting grasp; and Charles, still holding Shaw in thrall, is still linked to Erik enough to know his thoughts. Know his intentions.
Thought can come faster than speech, faster than action, and in the time it takes for Erik to slip the helmet on (it fits like it was made for him, sleek and shiny and oh so beautiful), the two of them have practically a full conversation -- //Don't,// Charles begs him. //Be the better man.// Those are the words that manifest; beneath them, an undercurrent of sheer panic. For Erik, that he is making a choice he can't unmake; for himself, that he will be alone again.
//I came hear to kill Shaw,// Erik thinks back. He doesn't know quite how strong Charles is, whether he can *make* Erik stop even while he's holding Shaw, but he doesn't want to find out.
The helmet slides on, and with it, blessed silence. Erik can feel Charles' presence outside the helmet, slapping desperately at the barrier, but nothing comes through except for one last desperate thought.
Charles is afraid he will be damned, that killing Shaw will start Erik down a dark path.
Charles thinks Erik can be saved.
Erik's face is still and composed as he looks at Shaw (and also through them at Charles), but he wants to laugh, wants to weep; of all Charles' delusions (for he has many, as all men do, particularly men of power), this will be the most painful for him to learn the truth behind. //I was lost a long time ago, old friend,// he thinks, even knowing Charles can't hear him.
There was never any chance of salvation.
Cross-posted between DW (here) and LJ. Comments welcome in either place; DW has
comments
I want to do custom My Little Ponies -- Raven, painted brighter blue than any of the standard ponies, preferably with the patterning, and orange-red mane, and a ? as her haunch logo thing. Charles, a yellow unicorn with a black circled X as his logo, and extra-thick brown mane. Erik, with possibly-removable helmet, and a magnet as his logo. Etc.
And there's still the knitting bunnies of Moira's hat (and Charles' fingerless gloves, though I wouldn't be able to get closer than "they're sort of tealishly blue. and fingerless"; there's a good clear shot of Moira's hat (which happens to be a similar color of course) in the Russia scene. And yet I am bad at reconstructing patterns from a visial, and I've already talked about this.
And there are so many things I want to *draw*, and I can't; even when I had the physical mbility I wasn't that great at drawing, but I'm out of practice and can't reach stuff and digital doesn't really work for me and it all goes back to not being able to do it. (This is true of many fandoms; I get glorious images in my head that don't translate well to words but I haven't a chance in hell of being able to capture them with a pencil and paper, or the digital equivalent).
#
Erik pulls back sharply; Charles can't figure out why until he realizes that he'd flinched and flung a non-verbal /don't/ in Erik's direction. And Erik looks like he's trying to hide how much he has no idea what triggered this from Charles, so he's backing off, but Charles grabs at his wrist.
"Touch me," he gasps out, and moves Erik's hand back so that warm fingers are touching his temple again. He's used it as a locus -- sometimes casual, sometimes overt -- for his powers often enough that it is something like a telepathic raw spot, and the contact with Erik has him shivering and unable to breathe, only barely managing to keep his mind separate enough from Erik's that they can distinguish whose thought is whose.
#
ngh. *tries to lure porn fairy for ficwriting purposes*
#
Charles says something-- Erik doesn't even really process the words, just the tone, the casual flippant attitude towards blending in with normal people-- and he tilts his head and just *looks* at Charles until Charles shuts up, and then he says, "You don't get it, do you," and it's not so much a question as it is a realization, again, and his stomach feels like it's trying to twist inside-out.
He can explain, but that wouldn't be enough; he wantsx Charles to actually *understand*, to feel what it's like. So he grabs Charles by the nape of the neck and brings their foreheads together (not that Charles' telepathy is limited by touch, but this is the fastest way for him to indicate /get the fuck in my head/) and *thinks* at him, image after image: metal crumpling under the force of his rage, items shifting without his conscious direction, heavy iron gates bending towards him, all from before he knew that he could control the demon inside him. And then Raven in her normal form -- Charles flinches mentally away from that and Erik snarles and tightens his grip on Charles' neck and makes him look, makes him see, not the blonde pretty girl he presents as his sister but the real Raven. The real Erik.
"Some of us can't hide," he snarles out. Charles' eyes are closed, attention more focused on processing and blocking the flood of mental images Erik is flinging at him, and Erik gives him a little shake. "Look at me, dammit," and when they open inches from his own eyes, he repeats firmly, "Some of us can't hide," and then, equally fiercely, "Some of us don't *want* to hide," and then he releases Charles and shoves him away. "You have to understand that. You won't succeed if you don't."
And then he takes a deep breath, quiets down all the metal objects in the room that had started to rattle and shift uneasily, and then turns and walks away.
#
It only takes the slightest of tugs for Shaw's helmet to float down to Erik's waiting grasp; and Charles, still holding Shaw in thrall, is still linked to Erik enough to know his thoughts. Know his intentions.
Thought can come faster than speech, faster than action, and in the time it takes for Erik to slip the helmet on (it fits like it was made for him, sleek and shiny and oh so beautiful), the two of them have practically a full conversation -- //Don't,// Charles begs him. //Be the better man.// Those are the words that manifest; beneath them, an undercurrent of sheer panic. For Erik, that he is making a choice he can't unmake; for himself, that he will be alone again.
//I came hear to kill Shaw,// Erik thinks back. He doesn't know quite how strong Charles is, whether he can *make* Erik stop even while he's holding Shaw, but he doesn't want to find out.
The helmet slides on, and with it, blessed silence. Erik can feel Charles' presence outside the helmet, slapping desperately at the barrier, but nothing comes through except for one last desperate thought.
Charles is afraid he will be damned, that killing Shaw will start Erik down a dark path.
Charles thinks Erik can be saved.
Erik's face is still and composed as he looks at Shaw (and also through them at Charles), but he wants to laugh, wants to weep; of all Charles' delusions (for he has many, as all men do, particularly men of power), this will be the most painful for him to learn the truth behind. //I was lost a long time ago, old friend,// he thinks, even knowing Charles can't hear him.
There was never any chance of salvation.
Cross-posted between DW (here) and LJ. Comments welcome in either place; DW has
comments