◊ H i g h l y suggested you peruse them ◊
(Copy-pasting this over here, you know, for posterity.)
Well, if you thought I was dead, you’ve made a grave mistake.
Reblog is you think Tommy is faster than Pietro.
His miracle will need to be a bit larger if the glare she’s leveling at him is any indication. “I never! I do not look old. I’ve half a mind to…” No. No, this was neither the time nor the place to cause a scene. Throttling the magnet could wait. “I’ll deal with you later.“ The sour expression melts from her face, quickly replaced with a smile that positively drips honey. She crosses the room with a stern ‘click’ of Chanel against linoleum. “Gentlemen. Hello…”
There’s something a little therapeutic about watching that sweet porcelain complexion get utterly destroyed, however briefly. Something very calming about knowing Erik can bring Lottie down to his level without having had intention of doing so. It certainly makes his smile a little more genuine, the line of his shoulders a little more at ease, and following those little guillotine-sharp steps a lot less dreadful. Beautiful as a field of flowers. Even in his head it sounds as wry as it ought to.
“No. I’m sending you off like a man prone to violence. Am I mistaken in my assessment?” She could mask her irritation, but she doesn’t bother, lips pursed in a delicate show of distaste like a proper Xavier woman. Her grandmother would be proud, God rest her soul. “I don’t think either of us believes that, but fine. Just don’t do anything rash. Please?”
He could push for a ‘pretty’ to precede that please, but it works wonders on its own. “As long as it’s quick.” It wont be painless, but, it’ll do. Just enough to be honest and reasonable. He can handle five more minutes, can’t he? Maybe even ten if heaven’s willing to send a little miracle. “And stop looking at me like that. It makes you look old.”
Is this the beginning of a noir detective film because.
“Please. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Mm, perhaps not,” she agrees, though she’s already tidying her hair and pinching colour into her cheeks. Charm has never been her greatest weapon, but it’ll do in a bind. “But they’re hardly worthy of your time… or a prison sentence. Go wait in the car.”
At that, he sputters. Erik will deny, to his grave, that it has anything to do with the idea of sending her in alone and being a lady. He’ll eat sand before calling her that without sarcasm riding on the words. But he balks all the same. “Are you sending me off like a child? I can behave myself.” He’s not convincing himself. “… I can act civil. For a while longer.” Which is a more generous lie.
“If there is one thing those men are not, it is ’nice’, dear Charlotte.” The whole sentiment is as smooth as sandpaper and even the falter in her expression isn’t enough to soothe those grumpy lines away from Erik’s face.
Alright, maybe just a bit. A flicker. Nothing more.
Charlotte Xavier aesthetic!
This is my first aesthetic, hope you guys like it!
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“The flowers destroyed by war, the bees visited blooms of rust in the ruins. The larvae grew strong on iron honey, wielding stings of steel.”
-QuietPineTrees