❂ + ❤️ "We made it out /alive/, that's what matters."
“S-so you say,” she lightly jokes as a cough comes out, the smoke still cloging her breath only slightly, course she’d argue it wasn’t so much the smoke rather than the woman helping shake her out of her stupor, effectively stealing any oxygen left. Seeing the red coating her arms snaps her straight, running her hands over them, worry clouding her judgement.
“Moira, what exactly happened,” she says, leaving no room for nonsense, not that she would receive that from Moira of all people, but she needed honesty right now, not sugar-coated words for comfort. She still holds her wrists gently in her grip, no other reason than to be close.
medea smiles;
an empire falls
what to do with a girl
whose lips can burn down kingdoms?
the greeks, they were terrified
of pretty girls with unpretty hearts
and poison in their veins
take this from medea,
the girl who loved and was unloved:
you are made of embers
so shatter castles with your spark
— king unmade | m.j. | commission a poem (via astoriamalfoys)
Here in L.A. the standard of beauty is kind of ridiculous. I want to be doing this when I’m in my fifties and sixties and this isn’t what I’m going to look like.
flame and candle meet, fire meet gasoline (X)a moira mactaggert appreciation post ♥
"Ah, Miss Frost. I um, I've heard you've become a friend of the CIA."
[Grins] “You would be correct, Charles.” [shrugs] “Friend might be a little bit of a loose term, but–”
The swell of emotion nearly sent him over; hastily, he raised a mental barrier.
“Yes.” Charles managed, once the other woman’s turmoil dulled. “But I feel it’s more appropriate you tell me, yourself.” That, and there was only so far inside her head he wished to venture. Erik’s nightmares were enough.
The male telepath stepped away from her conscience, furrowing his brow. If the answer was as difficult to speak as her thoughts suggested, he’d know for certain if she was worth trusting.
The telepath struggles with her next decision, her next words, finally growling out her verdict not too long after. She sighs in finality. “Fine,” she barks, running a hand through her hair.
“If that’s what it will take, I… wanted to be free from the ridicule. I didn’t want to everyday wake up to a world that wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t see past the translucent freak of nature. Figured if the bull was stubborn, it’d meet it at it’s worst. And I… I found my answer in the wrong place, it turns out.” she swallows, the bitterness of her words too much for her, the thought of Shaw making her stomach turn, making her want to rip her own insides out.
“Found it didn’t truly satisfy any sort of need, only what seemed appealing at the time. So… once I saw what Moira was doing, I, saw a different solution. Saw what might bring a different sort of world to light. And that’s really all there is to it.” she ends, though some words noticeably remain held in her mouth, not willing to unlatch them into the open air just yet.
He couldn’t help himself: he smiled.
“That’s wonderful.” Charles encouraged, and meant it, truly. Hope was such a fleeting thing, these days. That she’d found it anyway was truly awe-inspiring.
Why? Because you’ve lost your own?I still have hope. Look at my family.
For them and them alone.Something that might qualify as envy slithered through his heart
. The greater good despite her powers. What happened to you?It passed a moment later. His smile held in place.“I’m glad to hear it, Emma. I’m sure this division will benefit greatly from a telepath’s assistance. Especially one with your - experience. “ Those in need of reparation often worked hardest to redeem themselves.
Her heart seems to sing rejoicefully with the recognition, somehow lightened by the comment.
“Thank you, Charles, truly. Though you must realize something yourself,” she continues, taking a couple steps forward, a solemn expression reaching her features.
She breathes in, then out, “For as much faith and belief you instill into others… you seem to not offer yourself the same amount of courtesy, sometimes. At least try… sugar.” she says evenly, willing him to understand her words in their importance.
“Emma–” he stopped himself, swallowing apprehension. To condemn her invading his thoughts when he himself desired mutation equality… he had to draw a line somewhere. No matter how uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry.” He said instead, should she have detected that. He hated how it made him feel, but hated too, his hatred towards it. “…I appreciate your sentiment, but a.. lot has happened, since I last saw you.” He then switched to telepathy. ‘I’ve seen how people treat our mutation…we’re outsiders, even amidst other mutants.’ Shame crawled around his heart. Nonetheless, he continued. “Acceptance is a tricky road when few offer you the same. But…” and this really was more for his own benefit. “I want to try I’ve been - trying.” And he’d keep at it, until hopefully he believed it. (And if that didn’t work… he knew when to hold his tongue.)
She barely had a second to register her own rudeness before his voice broke through. The invasion at times made Emma feel the slightest bit off, regardless of the company, but she brushed that errant though aside, still adamant in her earlier thought.
‘I’m sure the effort you put in will pay off, Charles. It has to, or what justice will there truly be in that…’ she speaks solemnly, not meaning to sound quite so prophetic. “It’s quite a hard road to walk, when you worry about every broken crack in the pavement. Please keep trying, your strength is quite admirable, whether you yourself believe that or not.” she smiles softly, willing him to understand.
Hello everyone! So sorry it’s been so long since i’ve been on here, work has sucked away a good chunk of my time, and i was almost worried i forgot the email to this blog! But thankfully i was able to finally find it lol
“Ssh, I’ve got you. You’re not going to sink, okay? I won’t go too deep.”
Moira forced her body to relax, trusting the mermaid she had come across a couple of weeks ago, her beautiful white scales flickering against the ocean. “Okay,” Moira breathed in deep; an irational fear of drowning that spiked up, slowly trying to push her away. “I trust you, I trust you.”
Moira giggled as Emma took her hand, the flushed look on her cheeks was lovely. “I still won’t be able to thank you enough, though,” She sat up a bit upright, the ocean around the rock she sat on was calm and collected. Her breath calmed. “What do you suggest we do now?”
Her face’s scarlet hue doesn’t let up at the woman’s modesty, “I assure you it won’t take a lot. In fact, just granting me your company is most certainly enough right now, sugar.” she smiles softly.
Emma cocks her head, thoughtfully, taking in her question with a soft hum. “I may have some ideas,” she suggests, her tone low with a hidden tease. “Quite a lot to do under the sea and all…” she drags on, swishing in the water, trying to decide her new direction.
Her heart pounds at the suggestion. Under the sea? Oh god, there was that childish fear again, kicking and screaming back up.
But in this small, very fractured moment in time, Moira was willing to overlook that and trust Emma, who’s blue eyes promised excitement, trust and fun. “Alright,” She said in an exhale of air. “What do you suggest?”
The illuminated telepath swims back around, concern etched into her features as she softly grips Moira’s shoulder, “There is absolutely nothing to be war– okay actually, scratch that, there’s a few things to be wary of under the seas.”
“But I will make sure none of that harm comes to you, or else it’ll come down to me attempting to punch a jellyfish in the bell,” she says with a laugh, not a whole lot of bite. In fact, the blonde knew for a fact they wouldn’t come close, and even if they did… well, the stingers weren’t so harsh anymore. Almost as if she’d built up immunity. “I was thinking… we go visit the turtles, for now. Start with something easy.” she grins, holding out her hand.
they-call-me-professor-x-deacti:
Wandering alone at night.
He’s on his way home from work, driving carefully through the fog - the weathers been fickle for a few weeks now; they’re due for snow soon.
He doesn’t expect the sudden whiff of telepathy. Or its owner, walking a ways away from the road. Curious, and maybe a little concerned, he slows the car, and taps his temple.
‘Emma? What are you doing out there?’
Emma’s gaze is still on the ground, not minding the bright so much in her line of vision. Once she feels the interference of telepathy though, her eyes lift up to their owner, shocked. But she quickly buries that, and answers him.
‘Just…’ she breathes out slowly, her air visible, ‘Thought I would get some fresh air, is all. Collect my thoughts, what about you?’
“I wouldn’t call it a war, exactly. That suggests both sides stand an equal chance of winning.”