maybe labour wouldn’t have performed so badly if they had marcus rashford as the leader of the party
hngh i am panic
so i drew techno and might have taken SOME creative libertys anyways ill turn this into digital art later (sorry about the quality)
I need to draw my tenth class oc more but fuck I’m lazy and I don’t know what to do aside from gORE and MuRDER
Like I wanna make actual oc content but ok blood it is
My prof: *after critiquing me* you may want to revisit the original lecture to better understand the assignment. But I'd be happy to answer any questions you have as well!
Me: *doesn't even know what I don't know* yeah I'll look at the lecture again, thank you! :)
This is a bit of a slow burn, but boy is Magneto worth the wait!
Erik’s life is defined by loss.
First, it was the loss of his family during the war
which triggered the loss of his innocence and hope.
Then, by his own choices, he lost his place with the X-Men.
He waged his own war to stop the loss of those he held most dear
but ended up losing them in the fight.
Finally, he lost his way.
After his attack, his scene on the White House lawn, Erik grew exhausted of losing.
So, he disappeared and made Magneto a ghost story.
At least he tried to.
People squinted at him, pointed out similarities if they got too close.
Needless to say, when you met Erik, he was definitely not looking for someone to love.
Mostly because he knew that he would, inevitably, lose them too.
So, at first, he was a bit boorish.
Granted, when you met him, he was reading a book in a cafe, undisturbed.
You eyed the title of his book, Irving Chernev’s Winning Chess, and wondered if he even played chess as he had no board.
You also wondered, if he did play, if all chess players looked like him: handsome.
Every so often, you glanced up from your own book and cafe beverage to study him.
He sat in a plush armchair that perfectly rested in the sunlight that shone through the window with his book pinched between his fingers.
It seemed that everyone else in the cafe was oblivious to the mysterious, good-looking man reading about chess.
“Take a photograph.”
“It will last longer.”
His eyes lifted from the pages to meet your gaze.
Immediately, you were struck by the blueness of his eyes and the sadness in them.
It was then you realized he was speaking to you.
“Sorry, I was-”
“Staring. Quite rude.”
You swallowed hard and let your attention fall back to your book.
Yet, while you tried to compose yourself, you could not shake the feeling of the handsome man’s eyes on you.
Then, it was Erik who was staring.
He traced the curves of your face, watched your fingers flick the pages of your book.
Then, just as he managed to force his eyes from your features, you, with a stern look on your face, looked back at him.
Your embarrassed anger was evident in your slightly pursed lips and furrowed brows.
It almost reminded Erik of Charles when he got upset
but you were different...more alluring in your wild expression of emotion whereas Charles was always so reserved.
He liked you and your sudden outburst.
“I was just interested in whether you were a chess player or not, but I imagine they would have more tact.”
Erik only watched as you gathered your things and strode out of the cafe.
He watched you through the window for as long as he could before you turned down the street.
When you were out of his sight, Erik shook his head and returned to his book
with a smile on his face.
He could not get you out of his head.
He thought about you and, when he returned to the cafe a few days later, he was disappointed when he did not see you.
Then he shook his head at himself, his thoughts.
You were a stranger.
You were someone he saw in a cafe one time
someone who had no bearing in Erik’s life.
You were just another person that he could not get attached to, someone Erik would lose.
Even though you were a stranger, he did not want to risk that, risk you.
You and your upset, furrowed brow, your whirlwind tongue
or your beautifully, seemingly ordinary existence.
You were someone for Erik to brush off.
So, when the bell at the cafe’s entrance jingled to announce your arrival, Erik hated how he could not help but stare.
You, on the other hand, tried your best to ignore the handsome man that had so arrogantly chastised your curiosity (though, he had been right in assuming you were stealing glances at his good looks….you just didn’t want to admit it).
It was a stand-off: both of you waiting for the other to give.
After a week of this strained silence and distance, the tension was finally broken.
You were working on what you brought with you to the cafe when a ‘thump’ on the table caused you to look up.
“If you’re still interested,” Erik said as he pushed Winning Chess over to you.
Before you could respond, the man walks away.
Of course he was the one to break
because, despite all that he has lost, Erik found you so...intriguing.
When you opened the book, a slip of paper fell out from between the pages.
‘Perhaps you’ll play me sometime - Erik’
You never did read that book.
Instead, the next time you saw Erik at the cafe, you sat beside him and started to apologize.
Erik did not stop you as you detailed how, the day you snapped at him, you were already dealing with quite a lot of stress.
He just listened to you, watched how animated you became in your retelling.
When you were finished, you sat back and realized that he hadn’t said a word.
Though, he wore the faintest hints of a smile on his lips as he said:
“Incredible, and I don’t even know your name.”
“Y/N,” you said, trying to quell the burning embarrassment that coursed through your veins at his borderline mocking tone.
“Y/N,” he echoed, as if trying out the sound of your name on his tongue.
His smile bloomed a touch wider as he held his hand out to you.
“I know,” you said, relieved to finally have some sort of the upper hand. “I read your note.”
“But I take it you didn’t read the book?” He asked as you took his hand.
You tried to suppress the bashful, slightly nervous smile that spread across your face as you shook Erik’s hand.
Turned out, it was nearly impossible to hide anything from him for very long.
Erik’s ability to read through bullshit was one of the first things you noticed about him as your friendship progressed.
When you told him about a rather nasty run-in with an old schoolmate, you brush off your feelings about them.
“You hate them.”
“I don’t hate anybody, Erik.”
“Hate is a strong word. I dislike them.”
“Sure,” he conceded with a smile.
While Erik hated the idea of hiding his powers, his mutant identity, he didn’t want to scare you away or put you at risk.
You both meet up at the cafe, nearly everyday at some points.
Once, you caught Erik outside the door smoking a cigarette.
The day was grey and gloomy and his dark clothes fit so perfectly.
He looked like a painting and, the closer you got to him, you could hardly believe anyone that beautiful was willing to befriend you.
His ribbing tone proved annoying enough to pull you from your thoughts.
He was beautiful, but he was also a dick.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he countered as you stood beside him.
You glanced down at the sidewalk for a moment and Erik took your moment of distract to look at you.
He didn’t allow himself to stare at you
as he feared that if he did, he was sure to grow close and then lose you too.
Then, suddenly, you looked up and met his gaze.
Erik’s breath caught at the slight glint in your eyes.
“I’d like to know you.”
He was speechless at first, dumbfounded by your words, before he nodded
and flicked his cigarette out.
“Then let’s head inside.”
Little by little, Erik began to share pieces of himself with you.
Not about his powers, not yet,
but about his past.
Even his family, though he withheld some details.
And you shared your life with him.
You even brought him to your place once, when the cafe closed for a holiday.
“It’s not much, but it’s home.”
Erik took in every detail of your place, the colors, the warmth, and how it smelled like you.
It was moments like those that confused you.
Underneath the joking and provoking, Erik had these softer moments.
It made things difficult for you heart and feelings.
Despite the teasing that bound you two together, and despite the occurrence of these softer moments, neither of you are willing to take it further.
At least, at first neither of you are.
Then, Erik surprises you, and himself.
The two of you have a tradition of sharing books with each other.
Sometimes, they’re joke books (How to Read a Room, Tea Etiquette for Dummies) but others are more serious recommendations, that took into account your interests.
Once, Erik gave you an anthology of German poems that he liked.
“Poetry is easier than chess.”
“I think that may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
Erik seemed genuinely caught off guard by your teasing reply and you were shocked that you had even said it.
Luckily, the next time it came to swapping books, he gave you a book he found a thrift shop that was about the bad comedy of the 1930s.
So, maybe your accidental (slightly purposeful) flirting had not ruined everything.
One time, you found the perfect joke book about the history of clowns to give to Erik but, when he shows up to the cafe, he’s seemingly empty-handed.
“No material for me this evening?”
Erik eyed you in that strange way he often did
with a twinge of sadness in his gaze.
“Not a book, no,” he said as he stuffed his hand in his coat pocket.
You cocked your head to the side as he pulled out a tiny, cardboard box.
“I do have this.”
You reached across the table and flicked open the lid to reveal a polished, metal ring.
You picked up carefully and brought it close to inspect it.
Different tones of metal, some copper, some silver, wound around the band that, judging by the break, was adjustable to suit the size of one’s finger.
You glanced back up at Erik, head still cocked to the side.
“Did you make this?”
You held his gaze for a second longer, jotted this down as another softer moment, and looked back to the bracelet.
Erik began to gift you little metal trinkets, from jewelry ( rings, bracelets, necklaces, body piercings, whatever goes with your style) to small statues.
One night, at your place, he presented you with a copper daisy necklace.
“I didn’t know that you were a metal worker,” you said, half-joking, as you tried to close the clasp of the chain.
“I’m not,” Erik admitted as he moved behind you.
His fingertips gently nudged yours away from the necklace’s chain
and kissed the skin of the back of your neck as he latched the closure.
Both of you were so focused on keeping your breathing steady and overwhelmed with the wild beating of your hearts to have noticed how the other was affected by the close proximity.
“You’re not?” You asked when Erik’s hands brushed past your shoulders.
When he trailed off, you turned and lifted your eyes to study his face.
You had never seen Erik nervous before, but, in that moment, you saw a flash of fear.
He had held back, fought his feelings, and kept the darkest parts of his past, himself, hidden from you.
“Erik? Are you alright?”
At the sound of his name on your lips, the fear melted away.
Something in your face, in your voice numbed all of the losses he had endured.
He left like he could rest with you
like he could be himself with you, he just had to give you the chance.
“I’d like to show you something.”
He led you out of your home and down a few streets, through alleys, until, finally, Erik reached out to stop you midstride.
Before you stood a rather decrepit barn house; though, rather than stonework, the walls seemed to be made of metal as some of the edges were lined with rust.
“Where are we?”
Erik said nothing as he walked over to the door.
You barely saw him open it, still distracted by the way the abandoned building seemed to veer to the right.
It looked as if a stiff wind could topple it over; but Erik just walked inside.
You followed him, wary of getting too close to the walls of the barnhouse.
When you saw Erik stood in the middle of the empty barnhouse, with his arms outstretched and lifting up towards the roof, you wanted to laugh and
ask him what he thought he was doing and why he brought you here.
Then, you felt the pulling.
At first it was just one of your fingers, the one that wore one of the rings Erik had made for you.
It was being lifted up, by the very ring.
He held your gaze despite the space he had put between you
you could feel his blue eyes and all their intensity trained on you.
It was then you saw the scattered sheets of metal begin to float too.
That included the metal sheet you were standing on, partially covered in dirt.
Erik watched you as he lifted you and the metal scraps into the air.
He did not make out your expression or tell if you were scared of him.
So, he stopped lifting his arms and, instead, drew his hands in towards his chest.
The metal you wore and stood upon moved slowly towards Erik, as if on a conveyor belt aimed directly at him.
You saw his hands and knew then, in that moment, he was doing this; that Erik was a mutant
and he knew that you knew: based off of your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth.
When you were perfectly in front of him, but still levitated with the metal above him, Erik let rested his arms back down to his sides.
With the movement, you and the metal scraps fell slowly back to the group.
Quiet pervaded the space of the abandoned barnhouse
and you both stared at each other, too nervous to say anything.
Erik’s mind was going a mile a minute, racing through every possibility.
Would you run away from him now?
Did he make a mistake?
What if he had just doomed you, like the rest of those he cared for?
Finally, Erik grew the courage to speak up.
“Are you scared?”
His voice sounded so small, so unlike himself, it made your chest ache.
“Yes,” he said in breath.
Before you readied to close the gap, Erik extended his right hand and the necklace shifted around your neck, lifted from your chest.
In a rush, you were pulled towards him, the necklace serving as the metal focus for his power.
Your hands lifted just in time and you braced yourself against his chest.
Through his jacket, you could feel his heart pounding in his chest
all the while, Erik had not taken his eyes off of you.
He dropped his hand, which let the necklace fall back against your chest, only to wrap his fingers around your wrist.
A moment passed before either of you spoke again or made a move.
“Now, who’s staring?” You asked through a breathy laugh, unable to fight the smile that made its way to your lips.
Erik smiled too, the widest you had ever seen before he ducked his head down and captured your lips with his.
After that first kiss, things move quickly.
Now that you know how he will use the gifts of metal jewelry to pull you in for kisses and the like, you blush everytime Erik gifted you with a new metallic creation.
The cafe becomes a special sort of ‘date night’ place because you and Eric, when you’re not both working, are at the other’s home.
Erik likes to stay at your place a lot.
“It feels like home.”
“I just have better water pressure.”
“That too, love.”
‘Love’ is the only thing Erik called you, besides your name.
You found out that he was not a morning person.
He is a slow riser and you found yourself waking before him most days.
“Tired?” You asked teasingly one day.
You were fully dressed, ready to face the day, while Erik was just beginning to wake.
“No,” he murmured, “just comfortable. I haven’t been comfortable in a long time.”
Erik started to really share things about his past with you.
His past with the X-Men, Charles, and how he found out about his powers.
“Do you want to go back?”
“I...I want a world that won’t turn against me, my kind, but I fear that’s too out of reach. And Charles, he...he doesn’t understand, he never did. I’m too tired to keep fighting.”
“Too comfortable, you mean?”
Erik smiled softly before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.
“Yes, and you’re to blame for that.”
“There’s worse things to be guilty of.”
On the rare occasions where Erik was awake before you, he would just marvel at you, your sleeping form.
Never had he seen someone so peaceful.
Even with your own worries, anxieties, and nightmares, (and the little, strange murmurs the slipped out your dream state) you looked so serene.
Erik was a sucker for waking you up with kisses.
The back of your neck, the slopes of your shoulders, every inch of you was fair game.
He loved every inch of you
just as you loved every inch of him.
Every freckle and scar.
“Good morning, love,” he whispered between kisses.
It was those softer moments that made your arguments seem so dull.
You two don’t fight, per say, but, like with any couple, there are squabbles.
Erik, being as stubborn as he was, was bound to get annoyed with some of your habits
just as you grew tired of some of his.
Yet, you always found your way back to each other
and, when you did, Erik was able to let go of his fear.
No matter what, you would find each other.
He would never lose you, not really, not forever.
“I love you,” he said it for the first time late at night, when you were sat, basically on top of each other, on the couch.
You tore your eyes from the television and looked up at him.
The arm he had slung over your shoulders tightened as he said it again
“I love you.”
Where there was once fear and sadness in his eyes, there was only love.
“I love you too.”
Your love made everything worth it.
Hhhhhhh bestie bestie hush
not me and another woman in french class bonding over the fact that all the gifts we ever got were NOT a dog lmao
im skipping online class and making criminal minds pride icons do u think my immigrant ancestors who left their life and country behind to escape the war are proud of me
my boys !
here is the colored version :)
ps: you can actually leave requests! i’d love to draw characters for you !! :)
i can’t believe how in denial i was about being mentally ill
Got a B+ in my graduate course. I am still in the running to become America’s next top programming clown 😩
"if you had to pay $4 million in taxes you would laugh when you got that letter. You would laugh in your car while you drive to the IRS and laugh in the poor guys face has you pay your $4 million in taxes. Do you know how much money you have if you pay that much in taxes? Shut the fuck up, if you wanna complain about taxes we will drop you out of the program."
-my finance professor, to a class of 600 college freshmen, aspiring to become CEOs and want to be as rich as Jeff Bezos.
Hot take, but the greedy rich people are not the ones who go to school for business
um don't get a pet if you don't have the time to look after it