i prefer magneto

Previously with @magnokineticheiress

“Yes, but if they’re dead, I will hardly have to worry about if they were friendly,” Erik pointed out. There was a certain level of jest in his tone, but he was also pretty serious about it. It would make his life easier to just get everyone out of the way.

“Well that was hardly my fault,” he continued. “If they didn’t want me to dismantle their buildings and crush them, they shouldn’t have built them from metal and then tried to call me inferior.” He looked to his daughter for her advice now. “What would you have me do, Lorna?”

holmephobic-deactivated20170126  asked:

fuck okay my ask I just sent to you reminded me of something. alright so everyone basically sees Erik as the moody and intimidating person most of the time but honestly I think he's the biggest fucking dork in the world. not to mention he can be a huge troll. Idk if you agree with that or not but if you do do you have any troll/dorky Erik headcanons cuz I'm in desperate need of them. he's just a smoll lil nerd

I agree with you 100% Erik can definitely be intimidating and broody, but he’s also a big fucking dork. He obviously has a sense of humor (he’s hilarious in XMFC and even quite funny in DOFP) and bizarrely good with the kids??? The part when he’s leaning out the window with Alex and Raven all smiles while they watch Sean jump warms my cold, dead heart every time.

Erik is a nerd headcanons:

1. Erik legit loves the name Magneto. He thinks it’s mad clever. When Raven first says it, he plays it off all cool like rolling his eyes and sarcastically saying,”Exceptional” but in his mind he’s like “Holy shit YES WHAT A GREAT NAME I can’t believe I didn’t think of it!” After retreating to his own room, he immediately begins rehearsing how to most effectively and dramatically say “I prefer… Magneto.”

2. Erik is a sore loser. When he loses to Charles in chess, he gets pouty and sullen until they can play again and he wins. He suspects that sometimes Charles lets him win on purpose, but he’s not going to say anything because PRIDE. (As a sad aside, in a role reversal, in DOFP, when they play a tentative game on the plane, he lets Charles win.) 

3. Erik is obsessed with fashion and appearance and likes to be dressed immaculately. He’s great at sewing (needles are metal and super easy to manipulate!) and he makes all of his own Magneto costumes (obviously improving throughout the years). After he retires back to the mansion, he spends a lot of time knitting hats for Charles’ bald head instead of making outrageous outfits.

4. Erik doesn’t know how to deal with PDA (it’s never been a part of his life, hell, people have barely touched him his whole life). Even after they’ve been together for decades, he still blushes every time Charles takes his hand in public. When Charles points this out, Erik denies it vehemently.

5. Erik is a dangerous mutant terrorist but now that he’s living at the school, he’s become a favorite of the children, especially the little girls. (This reminds me of a headcanon I talked about with ikeracity one time: Charles laughs his head off when he finds Erik sitting in a too small chair, his long legs bent uncomfortably as Jean pours him imaginary tea while Ororo insists on sliding a tiara onto his head. Charles stops laughing when he tries to join the tea party and Jean scolds him, telling him this party is only for princesses and Charles is not invited. Erik smirks, and damn him, the tiara looks adorable on him.)

6. Erik gets upset every once in awhile when he thinks about how domesticated he’s become. No one fears the mighty Magneto anymore! Not even children are afraid of him! Charles has to talk him up, reminding him of how powerful and intimidating he is, and “Remember that one time you lifted a stadium? So strong!” (Charles doesn’t mind doing this because whenever he puffs up Erik’s ego it automatically leads to mind-blowing sex.)

7. Erik has a deep love of cats. He adores them. He thinks they are regal and magnificent creatures, and when he finds out that Charles is a dog lover, he’s morally offended. (Cats are obviously the superior beings, Charles.) He adopts a cat that hisses at everyone but him and is totally thrilled to be the cat’s undisputed favorite. Eventually, however, the cat grows attached to Charles (who comes with a convenient lap 24/7 thanks to his wheelchair) and Erik feels a deep sense of betrayal (but also a deep sense of grudging understanding. Who doesn’t love Charles?)

Oh man, I’m sorry, I’m going on and on. I need to stop! I also have a few more in this post of stupid cherik headcanons, including selfies and Erik being a doodler.


Erik Lehnsherr - I Prefer Magneto

Happy Magneto Monday!

None of these gifs or edits are mine - all belong to their creators. 

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In Lieu of Alexandra

Based on this meme; #4

For actually-i-prefer-magneto

Asgard, 984 AD

They were playing in the gardens near the training yard when Thor caught the eye of the girl with the gold-spun hair. He froze mid-step, grinning, and given the suddenness Loki barreled into him, sending them both to the ground in a heap of scrawny limbs and dirt.

“Thor…” he whined, detangling himself and brushing at the new grass stains on his knees with a scowl. “I just got these!”

But Thor was already on his feet and through the bushes, calling to her excitedly and pulling a training sword nearly as large as himself from the rack nearby, his game of tag with Loki forgotten.

Loki hated Sif with a passion. He hated her for her pretty Asgardian hair, for stealing his brother’s attention as soon as she walked within a hundred yards of him, and most of all for having such a deep connection with Thor when Loki got nothing. Not in nineteen damn years.

Still, maybe soon. They were still young, and it wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of soulmates with a few decades between them.

Alfheim, 1085 AD

Apparently gossip had spread between the realms, because the nobility of Alfheim kept glancing at him when they thought he couldn’t see. For a birthday celebration the thing was more about his guests than himself anyway—a political opportunity, in the end—and not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d imagined his centennial as a younger child.

Sure, he was still young, and barely edging out of nornsforsaken puberty, but it was common knowledge that those who didn’t feel their soulmate by the time they reached their first hundred almost never had one. It was remarkably rare. And rarely a good omen about the sort of soul the unlucky party had.

The court of Asgard had been treating him differently in the past few years, first with pity and then wariness. In a way, Loki was almost jealous of the children he’d known whose soulmates had died young. At least they'd had one.

Instead of brood on the matter, though, he offered his hand to one of the fair elven women and acted like she didn’t hesitate before taking it. The songs of Alfheim were quick and light like the wind, and as long as he pushed down the bitter edge he felt like he was skimming along air currents while he and the lightfooted maid spun through the dancing crowd.

Asgard, 1303 AD

The libraries had become his home more than his own room these days, because they were peaceful and secluded. If he wandered the endless labyrinth long enough he could find places even the bookkeepers had forgotten about where he could read to his heart’s content and not be bothered by rude comments of others.

Sure, he hadn’t exactly helped rumors that he was too chaotic to ever have a soulmate, or that if he did he’d probably killed them just to spite Asgard, but it wasn’t like years of trying had been able to stop them. If that was what the realm wanted to believe, then he’d play along.

Honestly, he was kind of glad in a way that he didn’t have one. It seemed like far too much work to have to deal with another person so constantly, and Odin was controlling enough as things were. The last thing he needed was one more fucking leash on his collar.

Asgard, 1791 AD

Thor had taken Sif out on some hunt or another, and Loki found himself for what must have been the thousandth time on the roof of the palace, staring up at the stars brooding.

His brother had been bothering less and less to invite him along, and it stung. Yes, Sif was the oaf’s soulmate, but it wasn’t like they were lovers for Odin’s sake! Far from, actually. They’d tried courting a total of once, and quite after less than a week because it was just too awkward  and they were happier as comrades in arms. If they’d been sneaking off to have a good fuck in the woods then maybe Loki could forgive them, but they were just hunting and it made jealousy burn dangerously in his gut.

The metal of the shears was warm in his hand, and he smiled.

Sif would regret stealing his brother away from him.

Asgard, 1932 AD

The white sand muffled his steed’s hoofbeats as they practically flew together down the beach, Loki’s hands outstretched to catch the winds of Yggdrasil between his fingertips. To his left the familiar golden spirals of his home reached skyward as though to pluck the sun itself from the heavens, and to his right the Sea of Space stretched as far as the eye could see, lit with stars and the souls of their ancestors.

A jolt of cold fear shot through his spine to curl heavily in his gut, and he grasped wildly at the stallion’s mane just in time to keep him tumbling to the ground from its back. Instinctually he looked behind and around himself to search for danger, reached out with his magic to sense the threat, but there was nothing. The horse had slowed to a canter when he’d lurched forward, but otherwise seemed unconcerned.

Still, the sensation stayed, and his muscles tensed in anticipation.

Nothing happened. The ground stayed firm, the sky stayed clear, and no weapon chose him or his mount as its mark.

Slowly the worry eased and was replaced with something warmer, almost… content. Simplistically so. It was familiar, but like he’d felt it so long ago that it was lost to abstract memory.

Loki called his mount to halt and slipped from its back with the ease of one who’d been raised as much on horseback as he had on foot. Heedless of the fact that he’d regret it later when sand was in every damn pocket and seam of his clothing and he was trying in vain to dump it all from his boots, he lowered himself to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest while waves of something other swept over him.

There was no reason to be swinging between emotions so wildly. Nothing had changed—it was just as quiet and peaceful as before—but he couldn’t stop the waves of fearconfusionhappinesslove washing over and through him like tides following something other than the moon. For a few minutes, Loki pondered the chances of having gone mad. It didn’t seem entirely unlikely, he supposed.

And then he realized; they weren’t his emotions.

Part of him wanted to cry with joy, and another burn something in rage. He had finally learned to get over his discrepancy! Had turned his solitude into a weapon, something to use for his own ends! His identity had been shaped in the knowledge that he was other, and after almost a millennium he’d ben content with his lot.

When the sun started to sink beneath the silhouette of the palace Loki pulled himself from his thoughts and climbed once more onto the stallion’s back, resolved to keep this development a secret. No one ever need know, nor would he look for his mate. There were more important things right now than people whom he had never met and likely never would, given his luck, and he’d grown rather fond of the wariness with which the realms handled him.

Frigga was the only one he spoke to on the subject, and only for advice on how to conceal his newfound weakness.

If the knowledge that he wasn’t broken after all warmed his stone heart a bit, he never said a word.