The Mutant Brotherhood

sebastianshaw​:

Um, ok, while going through the interview with Claremont about Shaw (whom he created), I found some quotes about him with regards to both Prof X and Magneto, and I thought I should relay them to you guys, @prfxxor @magnetic-regent-magneto @wyslyyzr @tatterdema1ion just in case it was of interest to you, being your muses and all. On Charles: “Shaw and Professor X (Charles Xavier) met long before the latter assembled the original team of X-Men. Claremont considers the differences between them to be far more deep rooted than those between the leader of the X-Men and the villain usually considered to be his arch-rival. “To me the conflict between Shaw and Xavier was much more primal and much more fundamental than Xavier and Magneto.” I um Ok I understand the idea that Shaw and Xavier’s ideals are more at odds than Xavier and Magneto’s but I am confused/concerned by the use of the word primal Also, moving on, his quote on Magneto and Shaw: ”Xavier and Magneto were always best buds, Magneto was just going the wrong way. Shaw and Magneto—if I’d got my wish and Charlie hadn’t checked out–would have been a knock-down, drag-out fight and the beauty of it is that, Magneto, for all his power as master of magnetism, for all his charisma, for all his passion, is so out of his league against Shaw, and he doesn’t know it. Charlie at least has a clue; Magneto, he’s not used to fighting Tony Stark [Iron Man’s billionaire alter ego] and this is a guy that’s even scarier in his own way than Tony Stark.” So, I’m not sure I agree that Shaw is out of Magneto’s league. At all. And I mean, the way it ended up going, Magneto pwned him. Which was awesome. But given the way that Claremont phrases this, I think maybe the “knock-down, drag-out fight” that he means, would not be physical and would instead utilize Shaw’s financial resources against Magneto in ways that his mutant power can’t combat. Which would be really cool, because that’s Shaw’s real superpower, and also I love in general when superheroes are placed in situations they can’t just force their way out of with their powers. On the other hand, I just really love the fight that actually did happen and how we got images like THIS and THIS out of it. Like come on that’s fucking hilarious.  ALSO The title of the paragraph where Claremont talks about this? “A TRIUMVIRATE OF POWER” THANKS, MAGAZINE, FOR VALIDATING ALL SHAW’S EGOSTICAL DELUSIONS ABOUT THE MAGNETO/CHARLES DICHOTOMY BEING A TRICHOTOMY THAT INCLUDES HIM THANKS A L O T

@prfxxor - “ i think by “out of his league” he means that magneto is really not good at playing the political or psychological game, whereas that IS shaw’s game. erik can make up for his political clumsiness when his opponents are several notches below him in terms of raw power (like most human powers that be), but shaw is not that far off from him as a one man army. so the ability to play the long and big game really makes a difference- “ YEAH i think so too. Like all love to Mags but he really is NOT (and in fairness, doesn’t usually have to be) It does make me wish that story had happened, since long political games are what Shaw is best at, but is NOT what a lot of X-Men writers want to do. It’s certainly fun to see him being a bruiser, but it’s more satisfying and true to his character to watch him manipulate things.  Which, bringing it back to my favorite dead horse (SORRY) is yet another disappointment of Duggan’s Marauders. Because unlike Magneto, Emma is BRILLIANT at psychological and political games, and while I don’t think Shaw can beat her in the end, I think it would have been an AMAZING political thriller style series to watch them try to one-up/outdo/sabotage the other, while also having to make sure their endeavors don’t fail since technically they’re working together and have a job to perform. And superpowers (theirs, anyway) would barely be involved against each other, since unlike in the 80s, they’re immune to each other’s abilities now—Shaw to her telepathy, and her diamond form able to resist physical damage from him. Like, this could have been really great but then Duggan would have to let Shaw have a single consistent braincell and for Emma to actually ever struggle—

I also just want to add that I think the characterization of who is who’s archenemy has more to do with the moral/social structure of the characters’ roles in mutantdom than their feelings toward each other or their raw power.

Shaw symbolizes two moral dangers-- one that Professor X faces and one that Magneto faces while they conduct their politics of resistance.

For Professor X, Shaw threatens the legitimacy of his early project to create peace between humans and mutants while maintaining mutants’ independence. Shaw exemplifies why it is so dangerous to cooperate with humans/the establishment, and he likewise exemplifies the arrogance of thinking that if you’re part of the humans’ political project/”an inside mutant” you’ll be exempted from the fallout when they launch the next war on mutantkind (see the sentinel project). At least a few of Shaw’s mutant allies are self-hating wealthy people, also. Shaw thus has the selfish motives that Magneto and his followers attribute to the X-men. He wants the establishment/status quo to continue because he likes the wealth and power it gives him the opportunity to manipulate. He makes the X-men look much worse just by existing, even as he sows enough doubt in the mutant community to help them be divided.

For Magneto, I think it’s more personal. (Later I think Apocalypse serves more of the role Shaw would have for Magneto-- if only because the way Shaw does it is more subtle and a greater condemnation of White oppressed group members’ conduct in the U.S. and the writers of X-men aren’t exactly famed for subtlety.) The Hellfire club (Shaw style) is the perfect symbol of the ways that oppressed White/White passing groups with more resources than other oppressed groups band together to "self-strengthen” and lobby for their own benefit while actively betraying and discriminating against those who don’t have their advantages. Shaw’s whole motto of pulling himself up by his bootstraps isn’t just a capitalist thing to me, it is such a knock against the politically toxic and unhelpful attitude the lower-class White culture I come from has (which is why I like his character’s addition to the X-men story). If there is one huge existential danger that confronts Magneto when he forms a mutant political group and nation, it is that Magneto’s credo (mutants can be better than humans) will change from rhetoric designed to combat a society that thinks mutants are inferior into a supremacist slogan Magneto will use to oppress others, especially other mutants. The fact that Shaw seduces Magneto into this obviously bigoted Hellfire club is, in retrospect to Magneto, this humiliating realization about how easily he can be seduced into the very attitudes and politics he hates in humans. Ultimately if Shaw is less of a rival to Magneto than Xavier it’s because:

1) Magneto finds it easier to avoid Shaw’s kind of supremacy than Apocalypse’s so Apocalypse and his followers (who keep infiltrating Magneto’s team and his mind) is more of a threat

2) Shaw tends to recruit mutant allies with more resources and affluence so he’s competing for a pool of people Professor X is more likely to recruit than Magneto. (I’m not counting that brief moment when Magneto colluded with the Hellfire Club members Shaw left behind when he got kicked out for a while). Most of Magneto’s followers would be rejected by the Hellfire Club if they even tried to apply because they’re rejects.

It’s because Magneto finds the Hellfire Club to be less of an existential threat that he later is willing to use the Hellfire Club/play them to realize his own goals. I think Uncanny X-men (2016) is the time period I’m thinking of.

"You must be a force to be reckoned with in the Quiet Council. I feel sorry for anyone trying to argue against a point you make."

Mystique did not take the hand Saal En Nat offered her, instead nodding her head in acknowledgement of his polite greeting. As she did, she crossed her arms, cocked her hip and head at an angle to scrutinize him.

'You must be Apocalypse's pretty son,' she remarked, ignoring his flattery. Saal's words were empty words because he truly had nothing to say to her. In truth, Mystique did not say much that anyone could argue with while she was at the council table. At that venue the council members were more interested in posturing than listening; she'd have wasted her breath. But since Saal was here, Mystique took advantage; she knew Magneto had some hope of dissuading Saal from becoming an enemy in the future, but neither of them were convinced. Saal hadn't stood in the way of any of his father's insanity thus far, after all. There was a big difference between espousing a genteel philosophy and taking sides against what Apocalypse stood for. 'Magneto mentioned talking shop with you.'

With a smile on his face, Saal walked on the sacred land once more. He always felt at peace on Krakoa. He found one of several people nearby, and was surprised Magneto was one of them. Giving a respectful nod to the Omega mutant, he said, "Magneto, if you are not busy this evening, I was hoping you might join me for tea. Krakoa grows me a special blend, and I would love to share some with you."

Magneto hadn't expected to be singled out from the cloister of friends, admirers, and diplomacy wonks who had gathered to watch Saal En Nat disembark. Erik himself tended to melt away soon after he briefly scanned the faces of Genosha’s returnees so that he would be the first to know if they bore ill news. Rare was the occasion when someone had the will to stop him at the docks.

As such, he raised a brow at Saal En Nat’s offer of tea and gestured to all the mutant ambassador’s would-be company. ‘I would hate to pull you away from your followers,’ he remarked, although he was being less sardonic than he would have liked about how enthusiastic Saal En Nat’s supporters were. Perhaps his tone even harbored a rebuke at Saal, for not disabusing them of the notion that they should worship any being of flesh and blood. ‘I myself have another appointment late into this afternoon--’ technically some time he’d set aside to pour over the modern political literature a few young mutants were plying him with ‘--but I could spare the evening if we need to discuss something. Your tea is growing legendary enough to pique my curiosity.’

Magneto was still warming to Apocalypse’s son slower than he was sure Saal En Nat was accustomed to or, indeed, desired. Even if Saal En Nat’s good will was as blindingly pure as Saal seemed to believe, every time Saal turned his eyes to the sky, grinning as though intoxicated by the beauty of his own vision, it gave Magneto chills. Such visions had blinded the wisest mutants Magneto knew.

@brotherhoodofm​

From what Kwannon remembered of Mystique, the woman rarely ever needed help from anyone. And yet, here Kwannon yes, ready to bust the woman out of prison at Magneto’s behest. A strange request, since the woman could shapeshift into anyone she wanted to get out of this place. But if he asked it of her, there was very little reason not to see for herself why Mystique couldn’t unstick her situation. The lights went out in her specialized cell and Kwannon slipped in from a ceiling panel overhead, groping at the confining bracelets and anklets around the woman’s feet. “I need you to trust me, okay?” A slightly dumb request, but she felt the need to make it anyway.

The moment the lights died, Mystique’s eyes popped wide open-- two yellow ghosts leering through the dim. They were livid. Kwannon hardly had time to reach for Mystique’s shackles or open her mouth to speak after the shapeshifter heard the psionic mutant touch ground inside the cell.

Mystique knew that someone breaking into her cell was as likely to be a foe come to execute her extrajudicially as a friend. She punched up with her shackled hands and tried to get them up over Kwannon’s head to pull Kwannon in by the neck. It was impossible to knee the intruder in anklets, but Mystique sure as Hell aimed a low, vicious kick at her Achilles’ heel.

Every mutant, on some level, had struggled to be accepted. To find their place. Magneto’s own story was no secret. He wore the brand still. Saal’s own was far from public. Most tended to see him as some sort of royalty. The Prince, Heir of Apocalypse. The truth was hardly so simple. A life, fifty years of it despite his young appearance, spent running and hiding from his father’s enemies. Mostly human. But from time to time, mutant as well. 

“My peace was not so easily won, Magneto. But I understand your feelings on the matter. Your mistake, or perhaps mine, was thinking the UN mattered at all. They are a relic. A tired, sluggish, thing that cares for feeding it’s own gluttony. This is my question, then. How do I best distract them?“

It was cold here, high above the ocean. It made him grateful for the thick robes he had taken as his raiment. Though washing the salt from them was going to be an annoyance tonight. “Ignore the UN. Ignore companies, and governing bodies. Bring our gifts directly to the people. Make medical technology available to them. Influence the popular culture. Make mutants something to aspire to, not fear. We can expand financial influence by breaking into markets outside the medical, and once we can buy their companies. Their schools, banks and entertainment? We will control the narrative. Control what they see of us. And those who hate us, we can condemn. Reveal them for what they are. The atrocities of my childhood were perpetrated in the dark. Shine light on them… and they will be seen for what they are.”

My peace was not so easily won.

Sometimes Magneto had to remind himself to have patience with Krakoa’s new generation. Sometimes, he had to remind himself that they hadn’t been there for the grueling lessons of the past, that they hadn’t yet caught up with the decades of arguments that he and Professor X had rehashed with the rest of the mutant resistance for decades. Sometimes, he had to remind himself not to resent or belittle their real struggles merely because they’d been delivered from the human world so much more swiftly than he and his loved ones had.

‘...forgive me,’ he said, reluctantly.

He pinched his nose as he listened to Saal En Nat’s ambitions. The mutant was clever. And he had a rudimentary grasp of all the institutions that knit the human world together. Still, it wasn’t until Magneto ground his jaw and took several deep breaths that he was able to swallow down his irritation and with it all his unrealistic expectations for Apocalypse’s son. He tried to do what he was doing for the other youth of Krakoa and simply try to hear what the diplomat wanted. That was hard when they were trying to play a game that he and Charles had been playing for almost a hundred years, much as Erik criticized Charles for being the haughty one. There were several minutes of silence while he plodded through his thoughts. His growl was marginally softer when he spoke:

‘If... you want to see what people can do if they have the privilege of ignoring the U.N. and other human leaders, the realities of their institutions, then you have to do one of two things. You can either commit yourself to blocking every move the U.N. and human leaders make, or you can create a vision for how people can be different, rather than merely seizing the same kind of power in the U.N.’s place, new faces, same game.’

Magneto was known for his dramatic entrances. It was less that he tried to do so, more that privacy always seemed expedient, and privacy was hard won without ambush. 

Needless to say, Erik did indeed lay in wait for the woman he wanted to talk to today in the dark, but he wasn’t suicidal. When he startled the psionic mutant it was by calling out as she slid the door closed behind her: ‘...if anyone asks, I wasn’t here. I don’t want them thinking I had some secret business with you.’ 

@brotherhoodofm​ original

Saal En Nat had always, he knew, been a disappointment to his father on some level. The power he wielded, it could have brought nations to their knees. But he was never the warrior. Never the conqueror his father wanted from him. Saal had devoted his life to attaining balance with his mutant gifts; and he had. It was a hard won peace, and he hoped to share it with the world. 

But the turmoil of leaders outpaced even his own.

He listened, as the wise must. It was a fool who believed they knew everything. Only by accepting the wisdom of others, by challenging them and ones self, can greater understanding be found. Uncrossing his legs, the gold burdened mutant drifted closer, the rushing water changing as he did. It shifted to become an orrery, thousands upon thousands of gallons of water rushing into position around them. He need not focus over much on shaping it all. 

The Universe knew how to find balance. He simply had to give it the excuse to do so.

“I am not a hardened man, Magneto. I have a soft heart, and a love for the humans. I have borne witness to acts of kindness, and mercy, that have moved me to tears. Watched a man shield a boy who was not his own, give his life to save that of a stranger. My own life was saved by a human woman who fought her peers.“

He sighed, allowing ever more water to flow upward. He added detail to his orrery, moons and comets. All dancing around them. “I would cull ideas, not men. Krakoa has bountiful gifts. I believe outreach to be the answer. Hate mongers will never be extinct. But we have a forever timeline. We can wait. We can be patient. And we can change their hearts. Not with force, but with mercy. And compassion.”

Magneto managed to resist the urge to flinch as a volley of seawater roiled chaotically around him, spraying his face and rustling his cape and hair. It was all too easy to imagine the flurry crashing in on him and dragging him down into the surf below, where Saal might entomb him beneath the weight of an entire sea until he drowned. Through a clenched jaw, Magneto similarly resisted the urge to snap at Saal for the theatrics, or for persisting in this exercise as though the guest he’d invited weren’t there. The fact that the water began to organize itself into a serene universe of planets and stars did not improve his mood.

Because he didn’t understand what Saal was asking him, or perhaps what the mutant had brought him here to try to convince him of.

‘I recall that you said you were calling me here because you required something more than this patience you’re referring to,’ Magneto growled impatiently. The words mercy and compassion always made him roll his eyes. Those words were nothing but propaganda that humans in power had used to demand that those they oppress excuse their crimes time and again, give them one more chance to learn-- as though they hadn’t been warned by centuries of history. The same mercy and compassion was noticeably lacking in the machines of warfare and politics said humans acted through.

‘And might I remind you that not every mutant has or will escape to Krakoa. Not every mutant has the luxury of the distance your power gives you from these human’s sins. The mutants truly suffering have no patience because they are suffering now, and they pay for every moment of delay with a pound of flesh. Furthermore, if you visit these gifts on the humans’ leadership, what will that do? Give them access to yet more resources to maintain their current status quo? Save your hubristic kindnesses for a different breed of human, if they truly exist. You won’t find them at the U.N.’

SOME DAYS HE FORGOT that erik / MAGNETO was once a monarch. one who stood tall and over the nation of genosha, had ruled over civilians, soldiers, and dissidents alike, who must have pondered and marinated in the mind-numbing task of setting up a functional system to hold up a fragile society that felt always on the brink of collapse -- or be inspired by it.

magneto indeed seemed more inspired right now. INVIGORATED and awakened by the youngsters and the prospect of a FUTURE they will create. they had gathered all the building blocks, found all the missing pieces and offered them in a package -- finally COMPLETE -- in this beautiful sandbox they made.

and why did it fill him with anxiety? hearing the excitement in erik's voice and the fervor of their constituent's desire for progress, their initiative and involvement? too quickly his mind was filled with ALL THE WAYS THINGS COULD GO WRONG.

“you know why we keep krakoa's records online and virtual, my friend.” he said it neutrally, or tried to, keeping it matter-of-fact. “in the bio-eletro-interface that sage, cypher, and black tom can keep secure. ... krakoa's physical security has been breached TWICE in the past year, by XENO's soldiers and their bio - weapons... -- we are, technically, still under attack. a physical registry could easily compromise us if the enemy gets their hands on it. and it will not be you and i in danger,” he nodded at the young mutants -- civilians ... “-- it will be the regular folks who are vulnerable.”

he peered up at erik, half anticipating the temper to flare before he raised a hand in peace - offering surrender.

“i know, i know -- i am overthinking this. a registry of a hundred or so mutants could hardly be a national security risk. but if you want to respect their ideas enough for them to flourish, then we ought to examine them with the same rigor and realism as we do our own, shouldn't we?”

there was, then, suddenly a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he smiled at his old friend, as he once would in field hospitals between scant breaks, or under the starlight in the haifa streets, in the quiet corner of a bar where nothing in the world existed but them and their debates... of life and dreams -- of a world changing and changing the world. when everything was still possible, when everything was still just a SPLENDID POSSIBILITY, not this fragile, precarious reality, and the margin of error not so small he could feel paralyzed and alarmed by mere intent.

Charles Xavier was nothing if not maddening.

Erik still trembled at having to share it, articulate it, this precious, holy thing that Krakoa’s youth had invited him into. He still balked in terror that he had somehow tainted it by trying to give it shape with his limited imagination and vocabulary. All he begged of Charles seemed simple: Bear witness with me. And yet the first words out of the man’s mouth were a lecture.

It wasn’t the fact that Charles was ignoring the caveats and benefits of a physical rather than digital registry that Erik had expounded on Rejany’s behalf not moments before. No. It was that Charles hadn’t even answered Erik, not his question nor the feeling behind it.

Erik was just opening his mouth to object when Charles pre-empted him by holding up a hand, a fact which only made him scowl deeper.

He barely even registered what it was that Charles said. No, it was the sudden look Charles gave him that dampened down his anger with a hiss. The former professor’s eyes nearly blinded, the blue bright rather than clear for the first time in such a very long time. Erik gazed into them dazedly for a moment. But then he shook himself:

‘No. Not this time, Charles. It’s because we always do this, we always decide what something has to be before it even has time to grow into what it is, and this is why we always repeat the same damn mistakes over and over. This isn’t about some contest of wits. They aren’t like you or me, they don’t need the same things, and that’s the point. I’m asking you to just-- stop! Even if only when you’re here, even if only for an evening here or there-- stop! You’re lucky I even--’

His voice broke. He didn’t finish: Trusted you.

There were few mutants Magneto didn’t have the measure of at this late stage in life. Chief among them: Saal En Nat.

To Magneto, Saal’s father Apocalypse was anathema. He haunted each of Erik's past lives. He was the face of the despotism that corrupted Erik’s separatist ambitions again and again. The way that Apocalypse's followers had ravaged Genosha had been a demonic reflection of what Magneto's own did in his name. From the time that Erik crawled out from under his mutant nation’s ruins, Apocalypse mocked him, warned him that he could not trust even his own ideals. And Erik had been warped by the experience. Perhaps that was why Erik was so often silent when he attended the Quiet Council these days. He couldn’t stop reliving all the ways this new experiment could devolve into enslavement, a massacre of his own people. When Saal referenced Magneto’s fervor it was a bitter compliment.

Yet for all that, Saal En Nat felt like another breed. Erik didn't know whether to trust it. Perhaps he continued to give the son a chance hoping that Saal would utter that blasphemy-- the strongest-- and put an end to Erik’s agonizing indecision.

'...' For now, Erik searched the waters Saal stirred as though he could divine the mutant's heart in the work of his hands. 'Their doom. Hmph. You have to be more specific.'

He folded his arms and shifted his weight to settle in and explain. ‘When it comes to the leaders of nations, you have to make them fear things personally. If you threaten to destroy their economies and kill their citizens if they don’t secede to your demands, they’re indifferent. When the fallout comes, they will claim you were irrational, escalating demands and that they did all in their power to stop you. We are such monsters to humankind their people will believe them, all too willing to blame us and the mutants among them that they can get their hands on to punish as surrogates. It is a game with little risk to the leaders who sit on the Security Council.’ Erik could have illustrated the principle by expounding the history of sanctions regimes and bombings the U.N. let larger nations impose on smaller ones and how dictators had flourished under those sanctions, but he would abstain.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

# 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂  :    1   /   2 /   3+  (Since she had that whole Germany stint)

𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴  : high /   average   /   deep  𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃  : yes  /   soft  /   no  

𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚁  : confident /   shy   /   approachable  /   hostile   /  other  

𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴  :   slumped  /  straight /  stiff  /  relaxed 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂  :   head tilting  /   swaying/  fidgeting  /  stuttering   / gesturing / arm crossing  /   strokes chin   /   ah, er, um, or other interjections /  plays with hair or clothing /  hands at hips   / inconsistent eye contact /  maintains eye contact  /   frequent pausing   / stands close   /   stands at distance

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐘  :

𝚅𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚈 : ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩ 𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 : ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘  :

𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 :  ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩ 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈 :  ★ ★ ✩ ✩ ✩ 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 :  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘.arse. ass.  asshole.  bastard.  bitch.   bloody. bugger.   bollocks. chicken shit.  crap. cunt.  dick.  frick.  fuck.  horseshit.   motherfucker.  piss.  prick.  screw.  shit.  shitass.   son of a bitch. twat.   wanker.  coward.  pussy.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓?   contractions or enunciation ?  straightforward or cryptic ?  jargon or toned ? complexity or simplicity ? finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind ?  masculinity, neutrality, or femininity ? formalities or abrasiveness ?    praise or equivocation ?  frankness or lies ?  excessive or minimal hand gestures ?   name-calling  or magnanimity?   friendly or blunt nicknames ?

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝙳𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 ?  almost always   /  frequently   /   sometimes  /  rarely/   almost never

𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 ?  almost always   /   frequently  /  sometimes/   rarely   /    almost never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ? almost always   /   frequently/   sometimes /   rarely  /   almost never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ?almost always  /   frequently   / sometimes /   rarely  /  almost never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ‘𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙼’ 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ? yes /   no   /   only ironically

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃.  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ? but  /   though   /   although/   however/   perhaps/  mayhaps

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ? walk away  /   ask if that’s everything   /  say that that’s everything  /  give a proper goodbye /   tell their company they’re done here   /   remain quiet  /  they don’t

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 ? titles  /first names /   surnames  /  full names  /   nicknames  /  codenames

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙾,  𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 ?  upper/  middle/   working   /  lower (this question is hard!!)

𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 ? accent   /   vocabulary/ tone  /   level   /  politeness /   brusqueness   /  it doesn’t

My second headcanon is that even if we take Pietro and Wanda as Magneto’s children he disinherits and never forgives them after they join the Avengers. Why? Well, let us turn to the comics... X-Factor (1986) Vol. 92 :

So first we have this hospital scene. In the hospital, Pietro is horrified at what his father and his father’s followers have done. He actually speaks and looks a lot like Magneto in each of the panels, and Magneto seems to have a similar moment of horror at the actions of Cortez and Exodus while he’s in a comatose state on his spaceship during the Genoshan crisis. But their responses to the abuses that arrive in a minority revolutionary group are very different.

When Pietro later learns that the humans have developed sentinels, Pietro is entirely sympathetic toward the humans. It doesn’t matter to him that they are the dominant class. It doesn’t matter to him that mutants’ violence is a drop in the bucket compared to systemic oppression, or that the humans are a much greater threat to the mutants than vice versa. He says humans have a right to react with fear to violence. Violence is demonized in Pietro’s worldview, stability and peace are prime.

And this is why ultimately, Pietro and Wanda seem like characters who really just want to be human. By joining the Avengers, choosing human spouses, living in human neighborhoods, they go beyond having a disagreement about revolutionary tactics or merely wanting to co-exist (the way the X-men do). They are the epitome of class traitors. They want to uphold society as it is and they think the only problem is deviants within that society. They blame racism on racists, so to speak. 

I mean for fuck’s sake, every time the narrative focuses on them and the Avengers we get logic like "there was a riot because people learned a symbol of oppressed persons’ power might be alive and therefore the oppressed might buck their literal enslaved and apartheid conditions. Panicking, the humans began a genocide... WE HAVE MAGNETO TO THANK FOR THE GENOCIDE!”

NO. NO, MA’AM. IT IS OBVIOUSLY THE HUMANS’ FAULT! But Wanda spends the whole damn ensuing battle with the avengers on Genosha basically saying “everyone is awful.” Which is the most dominant class propaganda bullshit ever.

First, she is one of few members of the Brotherhood of M who doesn’t worship him. To the contrary, she draws attention continually to how easily he is manipulated by his emotions and the moral dangers he sets up for himself. She gets this through his thick skull by comparing him to his mortal enemy. This wakes him up, helps him regain his sense of self because if it’s Apocalypse he cannot stand not to define himself in opposition.

By the same token, Mystique understands Magneto well enough to immediately echo Magneto’s denial and highlight what Magneto views as an abomination in his enemy (namely, genocide and a survival of the fittest ideology). This draws Magneto out of his self-pity by reminding him that his beloved people are still in danger, even if he’s spent the entire Uncanny X-men run being fatalistically convinced that he can’t save mutants, only punish and scare mutants’ enemies to deter them.

Better still, Magneto has spent the entire run of Uncanny X-men Volume 4 having all his allies look continuously to him for direction when he feels lost, old, failed, and nearly dead. He in turn forces himself to make hard decisions for them despite the fact he’s plagued by self-loathing after what happened with Genosha. The Brotherhood and a few remnants of the X-men continuously chastise him for not telling them everything to protect them (and amusingly he notes that he’s doing it for the same reasons Charles Xavier would). They tell Magneto he’s using them when they’re the ones looking for leadership.

Meanwhile Mystique? Mystique just goes out and does what needs done, and she’s right there waiting to save him when he needs it.

-

BONUS: And I think Magneto very specifically always seeks out women and young people specifically for this purpose of keeping himself grounded. (We see him do the same thing with Rogue, Psy, etc.) I don’t think the writers do it completely consciously, but it’s this that is the driving force behind my theory that his best version of himself would be someone who finally lets himself have faith and trust the women and kids completely.

But I think there’s something particular about Mystique, a reason Magneto keeps her around. Psy draws attention to it later in the story when she asks Mystique why it is that Magneto keeps surrounding himself with the Hellfire club and others he can’t trust. She says Mystique will always betray him, her team, because Mystique can never help her oscillations, her tendency to run away when something changes and she can’t be perfectly constant.

To be perfectly honest, I think the fact that Mystique is never going to save Magneto or even try to save him is another reason he keeps her around. Magneto consistently revisits the same traumas and tragedies over and over. He’s caught in a cycle of self-destruction, much like Mystique. And like Mystique he doesn’t want to be saved. He believes there’s something true about this trauma he’s living. That’s why neither of them patronize each other for it. Why even though the rest of the world can’t trust either of them to hold something stable they each know precisely how far to place faith in one another.

The Quiet Council was a viper’s den of would-be prophets, Cerebro’s self-proclaimed vessel chief among them, but there was only one zealot who mattered enough to earn a sneer from Raven Darkholme every time he spoke.

That was Kurt Wagner.

He spoke now, all gleaming gold eyes and blue solemnity. Mystique’s dramatic eyebrows knit curses at him in silence across the table. Normally, she would have had no qualms about cutting down his arguments with a clever quip, but now she held her tongue. Somehow, things were different now. She could not speak with the same playful mockery she had always used to keep her distance from her children, to avoid the claims they would place on her. No. Something had changed-- Krakoa was changing him.

And even though she’d only ever rolled her eyes at Kurt Wagner and all he stood for before, even though they’d never been closer than fighting to the death over his presumption that he had right to disdain or forgive her, Mystique’s fingernails couldn’t stop squeezing divots into the council table. When the session ended, she jolted to her feet. A shudder of relief coursed down her spine; she could leave, forget it.

She could, but instead, she uttered his name: ‘...Kurt.’