[ a teen wearing a trenchcoat reaches towards the shoulder of a distracted werewolf. The room is dark and reeks of death and destruction. ]
I don't want to hurt you, Kevin, [ you say, taking steps towards him. Your palms are sweating, you feel every breath in your chest. ] But I won't let you kill anyone else.
[ The face of the boy in front of you isn't human. It's warped almost beyond recognition, his skin is sallowed, teeth like fangs, and eyes black pits simmering with loathing and hatred. He whips away from the pregnant wolf-girl in front of him, a snarl. ]
[ "Foley! You're not going to let me kill anyone else?" There's a verge of a sick smile on his face, every word dripping with mockery and amusement. "I'm going to kill everyone! Once you're dead, we'll go back to your little island. And I'm going to kill Frost, and Mercury, and Hellion... I'll find Moonstar and your parents. I'll kill everyone you ever cared about!"
You flinch. ]
Kevin, please... Don't make us do this... [ Rahne tenses behind him, her lips pulling back into a snarl. ] Rahne, no! Don't touch him. Let him come.
[ He lunges towards you with hands extended. Your own snap up, grabbing hold. The golden glow is bright, but whatever is wrong with him is something beyond your capacity to fix. You feel pain radiating from where your fingers are locked with his, your skin withering and decaying against his touch.
"Do you know how long that killing you has been all I can think about?" he whispers, and there's euphoria in every single word. "And now? I"m going to do it."
The face is distorting. Teeth growing too large for his mouth, jaw distending. He clenches harder, and, harder, and harder - but you're not rotting the way he clearly wants you to. He's incensed, furious, and shoves his face closer to yours. "Laurie is dead because of YOU! You didn't protect her! I would have! Never never cared, about her, Foley... You're supposed to save people..."
The fabric of your suit is flaking off. Holes appearing as the material degrades. He's absolutely screaming now, angry beyond any reason.
"AND YOU LET HER DIE! You deserve this, Foley! All of you deserve what's coming to you!"
Your grip tightens. Clenching hard in turn, locking your hands against his. The golden skin of your arms washes black, leaving a cold feeling in place of the warmth usually associated with healing. The surprise on his face is evident - coming out of whatever fantasy he was living, seeing now that you're fine and that he doesn't know your powers as well as he thought he did.
His skin is starting to glow, flaking off. But he isn't healing as it does. ]
"Kevin..." [ You say, your voice empty. Nothing about what he's saying is untrue. ] "I loved her, too."
[ You lift your gaze to the massive glowing woman that the rest of your team is fighting, shake your hands clean, and start to run towards her. You're not done yet. ]
[ Nori told me what you did in the training exercise. Josh, what's going on with you? Why won't yo talk to me?
A younger Laurie Collins has followed you out onto the quad. You brush by her, trying to dodge around this conversation. She's not having any of it and it makes you angrier, your heart is pounding. Your throat aches.
Look, I know it's my fault and I'm sorry. ]
For what?
[ For telling you to train. You don't belong on Miss Frost's team. You're better than that. ]
You don't know what you're talking about! [ You snap, stepping away from her outstretched hand.
Yes, I do. She says, her voice soft and reassuring. All this... this violence and fighting... It isn't you, Josh. You're a healer. What you do is beautiful. This... This is just ugly and wrong. ]
If I'm a healer, [ you say through grit teeth. ] Why can't I fix your arm?
[ Kevin held it too long. There's nothing left to heal. You know that. She reaches out, her hands on your shoulders. One is cold, stiff and withered. My arm... the bus... They are not your fault.
You wrench away from her, snarling. ] Don't tell me about the bus, Laurie! You weren't there!
[ I know, she's not backing off, stepping towards you. But Sam told me what happened -- how you tried to save everyone. ]
Yeah, I tried. [ You spit, literally spit. You're trembling, angry and frustrated and bitter all at once. ] But everyone I touched was dead... Everyone but DJ. I... Could feel him dying... His life bleeding out of him. I held on to it with everything I had... I didn't let go... My hands, my bones, and my blood burned but I never let go... But he still died...
[ Your hands clench. Gaze dropping to the ground. ]
And when he died, he took a piece of me with him. A piece of me died, too. Now I feel cold - dead - empty. And I'll never get that piece back. Never! [ Your gaze snaps up to her face. Horrified by what you're saying, by where this is going and what you're promising. Your voice is a dangerous hiss, a fucking promise. ] So whoever did this to us... to me... is going to die. And I'm going to be the one who kills them.
[ Josh, no. ]
You don't know anything about me, Laurie! So stay the hell out of my way!
[ Something hot splashes against your face the second the words are out of your mouth. You don't comprehend it at first. Did she spit on you? Is it suddenly raining? It happens too fast. One moment Laurie's looking at you, broken hearted by this stupid temper tantrum you should know better than to throw. The next she's on the ground. Your heart hammers violently in your chest, breath seizing in your chest, because you know she's dead. ]
L-Laurie?
[ Your knees give out. You hit the ground in a heap, frozen. Maybe if you were't, maybe if you were faster, this wouldn't be happening. She wouldn't be gone when you finally start to move, crawling over to her prone form.
Laurie? Laurie? Laurie, no, Laurie, no, no no no, no, Laurie, Laurie wake up. [ She's still warm to the touch, still there, not gone long, you can - you can fix this, can't you? You're a healer, a healer.
But you can heal the body, mend the hole through her beautiful face, but that isn't the healing she needs.
You pull her into your arms and hold her close, babbling, desperate. Your head bends down to touch hers, there's something else hot running down your cheeks. ]
[ Somewhere, distantly, you hear the voices of your professors. The rumbled jesus christ and the dear god. He's going to kill himself and Logan help me as they wrestle you away from her body, and then you're hysterical because at that touch reality slams back into your full force. You're screaming her name at the top of your lungs and struggling against their hold, oblivious to the fact that you're all still very much in danger. ]
you fistbump a boy with headphones (now useless to him, so much classical for nothing) as he steps onto the bus. about forty kids peer out the windows at the handful of you left behind, some in tears, others simply looking terrified of the future they'd never envisioned having to live.
the night feels bitterly cold for this time of year.
you've felt it since the orders came down from miss frost, that all your depowered friends no longer have a place at the only home so many of you have ever know. your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your letterman jacket, shoulders hunched to try to block out the chill as you turn back towards the tunnels you'd just crawled out of. ]
This sucks. [ you say. someone murmurs their agreement. you open your mouth to say something else, turning towards the blue haired girl at your left, when suddenly someone screams AMBUSH
you turn just in time to see the missile strike the bus.
the feeling of death slices through your senses. that chill becomes sub-zero, ice through your mind as that dark feeling of death crawls through your mind. a girl made of liquid mercury screams to your left, julian keller shrieks BRIAN at the top of his lungs. noriko surges forward, and santo's knees give out and he hits the ground.
you run towards the only life you feel. there's a chunk of shrapnel through the boy's chest, mark is trying to flirt with a dark haired girl with claws as she tries to hack the debris away from him. his voice is weak and you can feel the thrum of his heart start to stutter. ]
DJ? MARK! [ you skid to your knees, reaching out. ] I'm here, buddy! You're going to be fine, you're going to be -
[ he's dead the dark haired girl says, reaching to grab your arm as you reach out to touch him. ]
Get away from me! I can save him! [ you snap, both hands dropping onto the (most certainly fatal, well beyond your understanding) wound through his gut. you miss the fact that the girl wrenches her hand away from you as if she's burned, you're too focused. you can feel the shred of life left in him and you hold onto it for all it's worth, babbling as you do. ] Come on, DJ!! You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay... I can fix you, I can fix you.
[ it's cold. it's cold. its cold, and dark, and awful, and you feel like you're suffocating. your own life burning out as you try to hold onto him, following him as his life ebbs from his body. your blood burns, your bones ache, and your breath rattles so loudly in your lungs that you can hear it.
but he's gone. gone. laura finally yanks you away from him and you scream at her before the full brunt of the horror that has just happened crashes over you, and all you can do is sob. ]
[ the sun has long since set on this miserable day. night has fallen, leaving everything dark and dismal, and you... you can't do this anymore.
the shores of genosha reek of death. there are still thousands and thousands of corpses littering the ground, bodies bent and broken where they'd fallen once selene had drained them of their life force. some are salvageable, the virus that brought them back to life can be shaped back into true life. you've done what you can to help them, even with your healing powers suddenly unstable and the act of healing suddenly Sisyphean. but the rest... someone has to try to give them some dignity, and you said it'd be you.
unfortunately, you really have no intention of doing that.
you glance at your phone. at the blinking messages from worried friends, wondering where the hell you are and what the fuck is going on. your thumb starts to move towards one, to click it, intent on giving some kind of reply. that you're fine, you're okay, but you take one look at the lead color of your skin and stop short.
you are not fine.
and you know, you know, that the second you open that message you won't be able to do this. you'll go back to utopia, you'll say yes to whatever is asked of you, and it will cost you what's left of your soul.
you lock the phone. you direct your eyes to the starry horizon line, where sky meets ocean, and you wind up. the phone is light as it flies from your hand, sending it sailing off as far as you can. it skips across the surface of the waves and disappears beneath them. ]
... I'm sorry.
[ and you are. even as you grab the edges of the rowboat and shove it into the water, climbing inside and grabbing the oars. you're sorry because you know what this is going to cost them, that leaving means they're down a healer - but you're not a healer anymore.
this, protecting them, took that from you. now you need to protect them from what you're becoming. ]
you're not naked - not yet, at least. but your pants have already been discarded for 'more mobility' and because the studio is 'too warm' and its not like these form fitting shorts are leaving much to the imagination.
this yoga studio is your retreat and you spend most of your free time here now. not that you get much of it. your days are split between the infirmary, x-force missions, and every other awful thing that decides it wants to happen.
three beautiful, identical girls sit in front of you. not wearing a hell of a lot more than you are. you grin, they grin in turn, and you have all night to get those clothes the rest of the way off. there's no way in hell they haven't come here with the intent of doing just that. you don't need to be a mind reader to know their intentions here. ]
Kundalini means "coiled" in Sanskrit -- it means the coiled serpent power that rests in the base of the spine. The Sleeping Goddess. That power -- that energy, ladies -- that's what we seek to awaken here today with our yogic practices. 'Kay?
[ it's kind of a farce. like, you like yoga. you're pretty good at it. but you're pretty sure nobody's buying that the stepford fucking cuckoos are here for that. ]
Our work will be intense. Prolonged. Epic. So grab onto your chakras, girls. We seek a complete and total transmogrification of the psycho-spiritual self through tantric sex magic.
[ their smiles widen. Is it supposed to be so hot in here? If we took off any more clothes we'd be naked... but everything is negotiable in the name of enlightenment. ]
I gotta say, I'm loving the enthusiasm ladies -- but we've got all night.
They should have just killed me! I came back wrong! I can't get this under control, I'm beyond salvation!
[ you're screaming. loudly. all of the other residents of xorn's temple are keeping a wide berth - when you're like this, you can hurt them. have hurt them. your control over your powers is utterly laughable, how the hell are you supposed to revive your decimated species when you can't even handle healing a scratch without trying to kill everyone within a hundred yards.
exodus, for his part, doesn't look particularly impressed by this tantrum. its difficult to say how he actually feels. you don't know how you feel about him, either - he did almost kill you and your friends once upon a time. your hands fly up as he starts to approach, dark orbs of energy surrounding you. you're seconds away from attacking him, and you know you could kill him, you know, you know -
the only one here who believes you should be dead is you, joshua.
his hand lands on your shoulder. you tense, but he's allowing his power to flow through you. stabilizing your own, pulling you back from the dangerous ledge.
You know mutants are bad news. You've seen the actual news. Been at school when it was put on lockdown because some big bad mutant was terrorizing the city and the X-Men had to come stop them. Only for it all to happen again next week, and the casualties keep piling up.
But you doesn’t think it’s right to… well, do half the stuff people do to them.
Like maybe if people just laid off things wouldn’t be so shitty for everybody. Like, you hit something dangerous with a stick enough times can you really be blamed when it finally lost it and hit back? You'd thought that when the neighbor’s dog had been put down for biting one of your friends - Duncan had hit that dog through the fence every single day on the way to school. It wasn’t its fault that when it snapped he couldn’t take what he dished out.
Dunca hadn’t even needed stitches. But his folks had kicked up enough stink about how bad it looked that there’d just been no choice. Felt like that was how most things went.
But that’s not for you to think about. You're all of thirteen and you can’t take another minute of your dad ranting about your bad grades (why can’t you just be more like your brothers, joshua? what will your friends think if you get held back? smarten up!) or else you're going to go nuts. You hit the street, fire off a text to Duncan and ask if he wants to meet up and go smash stuff or something, and checks your pockets to see if there’s any smokes left and finds one.
( you doesn’t like them, they taste like total ass but everybody else is doing it )
You're only about halfway to the park when you see the guy. Sitting in an alley, his clothes are in shreds ( actual shreds, not like his own stylishly ripped jeans and sleeves) and he looks hurt. If you were with your friends you'd keep walking and maybe crack a nasty joke or two at the man’s expense, but there’s nobody to impress here. And despite common sense telling you to keep going and not stop because some gigantic homeless dude is breathing kind of funny because that’s how kids get murdered, you do. Frowning as you pat your pockets for – something, anything, because the guy has to have been through hell and back to look like that.
But before you can take a step towards him, towards that moment of compassion, Duncan pops up behind you. He's got a rock that he wastes no time whipping towards the man, who despite being three times your sizes, only flinches and curls in on himself. get the hell out of our neighborhood, mutie!
you don't tell him to stop. you don't encourage him, either, not until he looks at you expectantly. then you're laughing, like this is funny, but it really isn't. you say yeah! because you don't know what else to say. duncan chucks a few more rocks then he's bored, over it, and you're heading towards your favorite hangout spot. ]
[ You jab a finger towards Magneto's chest, snarling. Skin flickering to lead, blank eyes narrowed to faintly glowing slits. ]
People hate us. And if they don’t hate us, then they want to use us. And that’s no way to live!
[ the old man inclines his head, like you've just said something he was hoping you'd say. you already know you can't stay here forever, this monastery was never meant to be a long term solution for all of your terrible problems. you're no longer having violent fits, and when you do start to lose it you've mostly been able to pull it back.
so then, he says, extending a hand. join me in the fight for a better life. if you do not then the enemies of our people will win. ]
... Fine. But don't think this means I'm just gonna do whatever you tell me to. [ you jab a finger towards his chest. ] In fact, I'm not going to do a goddamn thing I don't want to do.
plain and simple, you were dead. eyes empty sockets and nose left a hole. your healing factor withered away to nothing.
you were dead.
and now you aren't.
the sensation is hard to describe. like a car abruptly being jumpstarted. you lurch upright, coughing and gagging as your airless lungs desperately fill themselves. the last thing you remember it was the middle of the night, there were barriers and shields up and no way to escape. now it appears to be evening. there are no guards posted at these doors, and your fellow captives are long gone. ]
... Laura?
[ you turn your head. slowly getting to your feet - your limbs are heavy and unco-operative. they don't seem to want to hold your weight. everything aches. you chance a glance down to your arms and find them withered and thin. you have no idea how long you've been here, how long it's been since you lost consciousness.
all you know is that you're alone, and you don't know how the hell you're going to get back to safety. ]
[ a man is ranting. hysterically ranting. talking of sin, of absolution. that this is what you deserve, the smell of blood in these supposedly safe halls. nearly fifty of your friends - your family dead. your hands are still covered with laurie's blood.
he doesn't hear you coming.
your hands itch. blood burning, bones aching, skin aflame. your heart is hammering so hard none of what he's saying makes it over the pounding.
your hands snap out - bright shiny gold until they make contact, abruptly losing all their shine and tarnishing to a pitch black. the man starts to say something but you don't fucking care, he's had enough time to talk. enough time to preach his hatred. enough time to ruin all your lives.
he tries to pull away, your hands become vices. clamping down on either side of his head as your pour all your anger into him, your hatred, your fucking loathing. ]
You killed Laurie! DIE!
[ his head swells underneath your touch. tumors springing from previously healthy flesh, purpling, bursting. you don't let go. you press harder, an animal fucking scream ripping from your throat. he thrashes - but he's already dead, involuntary muscle spasms as his body goes from very much alive to dead, dead, dead.
he hits the ground.
that's about when you realize what you're doing. your eyes lift to the gathering of your friends in front of you, all of them horrified, and then drop to your hands. the blackness is spreading, crawling up your forearms.
[ you pull your hand back from the body of man you'd just paralyzed. he's alive - they're getting annoyed that you keep doing this, but you can't bring yourself to kill them. someone else always has to do that job.
you get to your feet, tucking your arms into your armpits and stepping back as someone else steps forward to do what you can't. ]
Maybe, if we just... get a little further away, they'll stop...
[ when are you gonna grow up, foley? one of your companions says, standing up after finishing the job. the guy's head is at the wrong angle. you shouldn't be bothered - he was a Friend of Humanity, someone who wasn't your friend. ]
[ the words are automatic, panicked. the plan has just been lain out and you haven't agreed to a fucking second of it, but here you are. wolverine's grip on your arm is iron and you've never been so goddamn scared in your entire life. ]
No, Mr Logan, please. I don't want to. I - I - I can't, I don't want to be a killer again -
[ You're not going to be a killer, Domino says, leaning against the nearby wall. Nobody's asking you to kill him. Just persuade him a little. ]
You're asking me to give someone CANCER! What if I - the brain is delicate, what if I mess it up, what if I -
[ Wolverine shakes you. Stop making excuses. You don't got a choice, kid. Welcome to adulthood. ]
only this time the air is stale. you're not in your ratty clothes, but rather funeral finery. an outfit you're all too familiar with, one you've buried so many of your dear friends in. the space is small, and dark, and when you reach out your hands only find soft fabric covering unyielding wood.
you scream. cry out for help. but there's no one there to listen. ]
[ you're healing. then you're not. it's such a fine line, you realize. life and death. a narrow ledge you're forced to walk, again and again, manipulating forces beyond mortal understanding. the warm golden glow emanating from you switches, becoming a pitch so dark it absorbs the light around it. ]
Life.... Death... Spilling back and forth, from one cup to another... And I'm caught... I'm in the undertow.
[ the people around you are screaming. it - feels good to hear them cry out. to have this power.
and then you feel the thread of psychic fingers reaching out, trying to pull you away. you whirl around, had snapping out. ]
What are you DOING?! Get out of my HEAD! I'm SAVING these people! You're not going to stop me -- not now! Not like the Dark Riders!
[ You lunge forward. The psychic doesn't even have a chance. Your hand is a vice around her throat, hefting her up. Your lips curve into a nasty little smile, grip tightening. ]
I wonder... That nasty little parasite that's rooted in your system, Monet... Should I burn it away? I could -
[ you don't manage another word. claws are suddenly slicing through your back. severing your spine - your grip on Monet loosens, but you don't drop to the ground like you should. Your attacker slashes you again, and again, but the pain is over almost as soon as it's inflicted.
Sorry about this, kid. Sorry I couldn't save you before.. Sorry I can't save you now. But you've got a darkness in you. A darkness that can't be controlled. And I know a little about that.
You stagger away, trying to come to grips with what has just happened. He's still talking, complaining about your new powers. How hard it is to kill you. A growl forms in your throat. ]
I can sense your ailments too, Sabretooth... [ you say, low and dangerous. you push yourself back up to your feet just as he lurches towards you again. your hands fly up, and at once he's stopped in his tracks, shrieking as you begin systematically shutting down every process of his body. ] BUT I DON'T THINK YOU'D LIKE WHAT YOU'D BECOME IF I CURED YOU!
[ the metal in the area begins to swirl. magneto is talking, pleading. Stop this, Elixir. We're not your enemies. We need you. Mutants need you! I can train you... Guide you... ]
Whaat do you know about healing, old man? [ you snap, every part of you tense. ] You can't teach me anything! All you know is how to destroy! The world doesn't need you, Magneto!
[ he drops. they all drop. withering as you waste their bodies to nothing. your breathing is labored, hands coming up to press against your temples. ]
I can feel it... Feel it's faint pulse... Its labored breath... I have it right in my hands... Weak... Sick... And I can heal the entire --
[ the world slides back into focus. you can feel the pain you've just caused, feel the lives you've almost ended. ]
Oh... Oh God, no. No, no, no, I didn't - what did I do?
[ mean to. you didn't mean to. bodies surround you, on deaths door. their breathing labored, their bodies sick with the plague you were meant to cure. ]
One cup... Filling the other... I didn't mean for this to happen! I didn't want this to happen!
[ you raise your hands. they're shaking. what have you become? what has death made of you? ]
All right. We're not done just yet. Again. [ you say, but you can't see what you're doing. you're on an island. a deserted one, it looks like. perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking a deserted beach. ] Rise up.
[ something in the water moves. ]
You know... I never thought about using healing as a weapon... as an implement of torture... [ you muse, one hand tucked under your chin. the other is extended out towards the shore, towards whatever it is that is moving there. your skin loses its golden shine, turning as dark as the night. the thing stops moving.] Not until you and your Dark Riders came along, Gauntlet... Now, though... I can't help but think of the pain that comes with healing.
[ gold again. something in the water burbles. it sounds agonized. ]
Bones mending... Flesh stitching itself back together... Nerves firing back up... Healing is pain... And coming back from the dead? That was agony.
[ the thing breaches the surface of the waves. vaguely humanoid. your hand washes dark and it stops moving. ]
You taught me that, Gauntlet. And now, I want you to experience it. [ your voice is deceptively pleasant. ] Again, and again, and again...
[ a plane flies overhead. you barely pay it any mind. they're already flying out of it before you can turn to acknowledge it. Joshua Foley -- Elixir -- ]
Let me guess - [ you say, cutting the entire diatribe off before it can begin. ] You've come to help me. And, just like always, you're too late to do any good. "Welcome to the X-Men! Hope you survive the experience!" That's the joke, right?
[ you shift on your seat, clicking your tongue. ]
Well! I didn't survive. [ you say, pleasantly but too quickly. you're someone in a fit of mania. someone who has been here a while. sanity is crumbling, you're crumbling, this is all that's anchoring you to the here and now. this routine. gold, lead, gold. healing, reversing, healing. ] But it's alright! It's cool. I'm all better now. Better than better, in fact. Here, let me show you!
[ you turn your attention away to the thing on the shoreline, slumped over and foul smelling. its pushed forward as another wave crashes against it, unmoving as it rolls against the rocky surface. ]
One more time for the newcomers, eh, Gauntlet? [ and immediately, the jovial tone is gone. replaced instead with something cold and sinister. ] Drag your pathetic carcass back up here.
[ you extend glowing golden hands towards the shoreline. your new audience shifts uncomfortably - you sound unhinged, completely devoid of sanity and rationality, but you clearly don't hear it yourself. your fingers flex and the thing in the water begins to stir. it hauls itself up on half-rotten elbows, revealing itself as a waterlogged corpse.
it screams.
Josh, the woman among the group says, hesitantly. What are you doing here? ]
I think it's pretty obvious, Monet! [ you snap, your attention shifting from the corpse - no longer a corpse, very much a living thing in tremendous amounts of pain, as it staggers towards you.
After all you've been through, you need...
Recognition dawns on your face suddenly, you're not listening to her at all. ]
You... held me, as I died... You cradled me in your arms... I think you might have cried.
[ your gaze snaps away, towards the body. the gold of your skin washes to a dark lead color, you flick your fingers towards the corpse and it falls again. ]
I bet you saw it as weakness, didn't you? But -- look at you. I can see it now, the true sickness... The true frailty... Embedded deep in your cells.
[ you shrug it off, hopping off of the rocks you've been sitting on for - you don't remember how long. ]
Your tears were comforting, though! They made me feel like I'd be missed... After the Dark Riders killed me. Remember when that happened? You were trying to help me then too. [ you spin around, looking at them. the look on their faces should tell you that you're not making any goddamn sense, but you're not registering it.
Elixir, the oldest member of the group tries. You could be putting yourself and others at risk. We do not know how this transition has affected your physiology. Your abilities are changing in -]
Why now? [ you cut him off, you're not even looking at him. your eyes are out towards the horizon, your voice broken. ] Why didn't you check sooner? Why did you leave me to claw through the mud?
[ your mood changes on a dime, you whip around to face them. the calm in your voice is gone. it's a raw, angry scream. ]
YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I WOULDN'T STAY DEAD! Nothing in this world stays dead!
[ Magneto's eyes find yours. Sometimes, death is as it should be... sometimes, death is forever.
You laugh.
not a nice laugh. something raw and unhinged. you spin around on your heel and throw your arms out wide. ]
You're wrong, Magneto! Oh, so, wrong! [ it's practically a sing-song. you splash into the water, practically skipping over the corpse of your killer. ] I'll prove it to you!
I'll bring them back... Everyone who died here! I'll bring them all back!
[ at once, the ocean begins to glow, bubble, and boil. the strain is enormous, you feel it the second you begin to extend your powers. but you're not going to stop. death isn't forever, nothing is forever.
[ you haven't felt like yourself for a while now. like someone watching through a window, going through the motions - someone said that it was residual trauma, from the experimentation that was done to you. you're weak, and emotional, and you were never built to handle this much garbage.
let alone without the person that had become your rock here. being without joey is like being without a limb. the whole world feels wrong, you love him so god damn much you physically ache without him. anyone with eyes can tell you that it's codependency, and its bad, but you don't really give a shit. you just want him safe.
( you don't know how to get him out, you need to get him out, but that feels so impossible. the ball isn't in your court here. )
you killed someone and your first instinct is to find someone living to hide beside. it wasn't the first time, and you know it won't be the last. every time it does something to you, frays you to pieces and leaves you struggling to remember how to heal.
when you arrived at his apartment you were pitch black and riddled with bullet holes. he'd had to pull the fragments out of you, some of those fucking things broke the geneva convention. there'd been not a single spot of gold left. you can't go outside anymore without someone coming after you - you're fucked because you'll never pass for human. it had taken hours of talking to bring you down from the near hysteria, and hours longer of just laying here before the gold started to win out again.
your head is on david's shoulder, eyes shut. his bed isn't big enough for the both of you and you aren't feeling well enough to go to your own safehouse. not steady. sort of not totally sure whether you can get there on your own right now. all you want to do is to take a nap, to feel in control of yourself when you wake up, and not further away from whatever it was you used to define yourself as. david is the one uncomplicated factor left in this whole rotten fucking world, and if it wasn't for him you'd probably have lost it already. he's been judgement free every time you've come into his store to have a meltdown and hide, patient while you hung onto him like a lifeline.
right now, you're basically laying on top of him like some kind of depressed blanket. once upon a time you'd be teasing him about it, remind him that you're both dudes with needs and you know he finds you hot. but it's an old, worn joke and you haven't felt up for much of anything.
you can sense that sort of thing, the neediness, the touch-starvedness, and usually, usually you'd be more attuned to it. but you aren't. you miss it.
and that's why you're so surprised when his lips touch yours.
you're lonely. bad, bad, bad at being alone. afraid of it. afraid of yourself. afraid that if you pull back and snap what the fuck dude, i have a boyfriend you might not have a best friend, even if the words are bubbling up and the indignation is cutting through the messy haze of your depression.
you pull back and his hand is on your cheek, apologetic, but he still says, i could make it good for you. you don't pull back any further. nobody needs to know goes unsaid, but not misunderstood.
david kisses you again and you let him.
he makes it good for you. he does. gentle, and caring, and thoughtful. you feel better physically when you're done, like you always do, like all you really need is to touch life after death to negate the worst of it. you forget, in the moment, that you shouldn't be doing this and what you want is for joey to be here, not david.
but in the morning after, you stare at the ceiling and contemplate your mistakes. ]
[ it's a beautifully decorated room in a dingy house. a man, a woman, and a glowing man are before you. the man with claws and the glowing man are fighting, going toe to toe. exchanging banter, this is familiar, you know this. this isn't a new sight.
but your friend isn't here. the glowing mutant says to the clawed man. ]
I'm here. [ you say. he turns to you as if he's just remembered you exist. you step out from where you'd been hiding in the shadows, a coward, terrified to hurt anyone and reeling from what you felt when you touched the suffering this mutant has inflicted on others. you do this for one reason and one reason alone.
while he was gloating, while he was bragging, you realized you hate him. ]
Those people... I've never seen such trust in anyone as I saw they had for you. [ your eyes shut tightly, heart pounding with fury. the words come out hard, and fast, and mostly through your teeth. ] A parasite who made them pay him to kill them all.
[ your gaze lifts to the target. he regrows the hand that the clawed man - wolverine - just sliced off and you feel the rhyme and reason of his power, the beat of his heart and the swell of his lungs. you understand his physiology as it rebuilds itself, and there's a sudden sense of calm trickling through your mind as pieces slot into place. ]
I understand now.
[ it's nuclear radiation. he's a nuclear reactor. promising a miracle cure only to impart suffering and death. the people down below, the ones he just sucked dry and killed, had come here seeking solace. begging for their powers back. people like david, and sofia, people who had loved their bodies and their gifts and had it ripped from them. its all around you, boiling your skin, your blood, your bone marrow. you can feel the way it rots your cells, like it rotted their cells. your fist curls and the mutant begins to grow larger, and larger, and larger as he begins to bloat and swell, unable to control what is happening to him. his expression twists with pain because this isn't him.
this is you. ]
I understand where rage comes from. And what it feels like to want to kill. [ you aren't talking to him. you look to your teacher, your mentor, and you can see there's something dawning on his face. fear? horror? you've never known him to be afraid of anything. ] To want to stop a person forever [ kid, he's nuclear. you let him blow and everybody dies for miles. wolverine interjects, but you continue on like you didn't hear him speak. ] but then it stops.
[ meltdown's head smashes through the roof. his body collapses the building under it. he can't move an inch, isn't proportionally strong, only suffering as his body grows too large to sustain itself. you watch without feeling a thing.
kid, snap out of it. this ain't you, think about what's about to happen. wolverine's trying for a gentler tone, a paternal voice of reason, and you hate it. he grabs hold of your wrist. ]
Take your hand off me.
[ you barely even shift and he does, dropping like a stone as your power courses through him. you're still gold, bright shiny gold, when you should be lead. you don't notice. ]
Can you feel it? [ you ask. his hand is swollen to three times its normal size, tumor ridden and oozing blood. unlike meltdown, you don't crackle with untold power. yours is subtle, nuanced, and precise. ] That's what I feel when I heal them. That's what they've got inside of them.
[ your voice is flat. cold. you don't even recognize it as your own, barely register you're saying these words. your eyes swing to the massive mutant in front of you, the one radiating all of this power. the one you're making radiate all this power. it's intoxicating, a terrible thrill. you like it, you like it, you like it. kid, wolverine hisses between grit teeth. there's something wrong with your head. this cancer they've got inside them, it's made you sick.
you want to hurt him. it'd be so easy to hurt him. this feels good, this power. being the strongest person in the room and able to prove it, able to crush someone underneath your thumb without any effort at all. he reaches out with his other hand, grabbing your wrist again.
i'm sorry, the woman whispers at just the same moment, and breaks for the door. you let your power flare and wolverine stumbles back, hitting the ground, and that same arm snaps out to grab her instead. your grip is iron around her wrist, tighter than it needs to be.
you're going to kill her.
the way she'd sold those people out, the way she'd profited off their agony, she deserves it. there are so few mutants left, and you'd lost so many to senseless hatred. to find more suffering due to one of your own kinds greed? it's sickening. you hate her and you're going to kill here, there's not a question in your mind about it. ]
You don't get to escape this. [ you say, and you're still calm, so calm, but the rage is starting to leak into your voice as her cowardice irritates you. it isn't right that she gets to live when the people she'd lured here all suffered and died, slowly. she got her gifts back, got an extension on her life because of what they gave up, and that isn't fair. you can right this wrong, you can
I know that look on your face, the giant mutant rumbles from behind you, his voice an approving thunderclap. he's a giant now, something out of legend, and you're the prized golden goose leading him to his death. he's slowly being crushed under his own body weight, a beached whale. The power of death. Total power over everyone around you.
you feel her trembling in your grip. see the way she presses her lips together to try to stave off tears.
It is glorious. he says, and your eyes lift to his face. you think, maybe, if he had the dexterity to he would be smiling. there's something awed in his tone, something you don't like. something that says you and i are the same that makes your skin crawl with every new word said. I never thought I would see it in someone else.
the world snaps back into focus. the reality of what you're doing suddenly hits you.
you let her go as if you're the one whose being burned. ]
I don't want it.
[ she hits the ground, the strength gone out of her. instead you turn to him. a bolt of energy burns your cheek, but the second you register the pain it's gone. your hand curls to a fist, you don't even reach out to touch him, you just watch him curl into himself, shrinking down as the pain wracks him. you rob him of his powers, of his strength, and you stare emotionlessly down at his contemptible husk.
what... did you do with my power? he rasps. dying, but not dead. you could make him dead, but you don't want to, though you understand that this is just a technicality. this isn't the first time you've done this, primed someone to meet their end and then stepped aside as someone dealt the finishing blow.
you understand it will not be the last time you preform this role, either. that there's no point in fighting it anymore. this is reality, this is your reality.
this is your childhoods end. this moment, when you realize that all you've been doing is futile. healing the people that come after you, trying to kill you. pleading for reason when wolverine shows his claws, begging for people to stop before things come to this. it was a dream, a childish fucking fantasy, and you're wide awake now.
meltdown lies before you. a shriveled old man in a decaying body. pathetic.
but you don't want to be like him. you don't want to be like anyone in this room. ]
I gave it all back. All that sickness that you spread, it's now yours.
[ wolverine is back to his feet. you don't know if you fixed him or not, your eyes are on the man shaking at your feet. his eyes are wide and wild, a scared animal. kid. you coulda killed me back there. there ain't ten men in the world i'd say that to.
meltdown reaches towards you. wordlessly begging for mercy. you shut your eyes. you hear wolverine walk past you and towards where he lies prone. ]
I don't want to be a killer again.
[ and then you turn away.
you aren't deaf to the distinct snkt of claws extending and slashing through flesh, one fluid motion, but you don't look as they do. you take stock of your surroundings. remember the feeling of the people below - all dead, dead before their bodies were crushed underneath your little stunt, you felt their lives blink out and feel a hole now. the building is on fire - you're not sure when that happened, you feel shaky and out of sorts. wolverine doesn't try to touch you again and you think that's for the best.
once outside the building, you hear the woman say that she doesn't deserve to live. she'll stay here, on this unsalvagable and irradiated land, and die with it.
you don't tell her not to. you still think she deserves it.
we all got shame for the things we done. and i got more than most. wolverine says, his eyes are on the fire. ]
And yet you keep on. How do you keep on going, knowing what you've done?
[ he glances back towards you.
i don't know any better'n you what makes me tick. i fight every day with what i've got inside. and every night, i go to bed regretting all the things i done wrong in this world.
you hear the woman sob. wolverine slides his mask over his face again and steps around you, towards the motorcycles you'd ridden here on, yours is gaudily marked with an X and his something sleek and dangerous looking. it will be a long ride home.
and when i wake up, i decide today to try and do things right. ]
[you love him so god damn much it kind of makes your head spin every time you see him.
like, really love. the kind of love that has you flopping back against him when you watch movies, and pressing lazy kisses to the pale column of his throat when it proved bad. you love him when you have stupid fights and you love him more when you're both able to admit you're stupid and get over it.
this is one such time. the car fight had been such a drawn out affair that it could only be funny in hindsight. you're still sort of giggling at the spot on impression of miss piggy your boyfriend had. it's not sexy, he keeps kissing you to shut you up when you try to replicate the sound.
you like this, you like being open and honest and weird and unafraid. totally yourself. it's not sexy. but you've been together long enough that you're not worried about being sexy during sex.
but
he's a picture underneath you, face flushed and lips kiss swollen, eyes half lidded and pupils blown wide with lust. the sun has mostly set, the soft fading light is flattering across his features.
you're on his lap in the car, which actually is pretty spacious and great for this kind of thing so you'll concede that maybe luxury cars are actually kinda worth the money. the windows are fogged - who knows where you actually are, far away from the city. he's hard in your hand which is glowing ever so faintly as you use your powers to really work him up. your pants are halfway down your hips and you open your mouth but he fixes you with a if you're going to make a sex drive joke we're through kinda look and you promptly shut it. ]
He ports in at sixteen, weeks after killing Reverend Stryker. That's how they find out what he can do. The healing comes later, after they've sat him down and discussed the delicate balance this world holds. He pulls his sleeves down over his lethal hands and ducks his head, nodding along to pretty words that justify heinous acts.
He says no. He just wants to heal people. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else. He lives the normal highschool experience.
He ports out. Sees what goes on behind the scenes. Sees the effort that goes into keeping peace. Almost loses more friends to extremists.
He isn't really sure how it started. How they'd suddenly gone from distant friends to deeply entangled lovers. How a conversation with David had gone from something he'd dreaded - all the explanations he owed, all the promises he'd broken - to one of the only real highlights of his day.
They aren't prisoners here. He has to remind himself of that. There are no bars on the windows here, by all means they're free to leave at any time - but he's certain the moment they try, they'll hit an invisble barrier. One build of obligation, and knowing too much. They'd be little better than birds crashing into windows.
By now David's used to this - the resurfacing of the mysterious Josh who'd forgone shirts and seemed to break from reality. He gets like this after missions. Clingy. Horny. Bordering on manic. Desperate to channel his energy into something that isn't hurting people, to suppress the memory and the guilt with something carnal and easy.
"He called it Krakoa," Josh murmurs in the dark. His fingers are entwined with David's, the only thing either of them are wearing is a tired smile. "Cyclops did. When he was here."
David snorts. "Like the living island?"
"Not like. The living island," he hums, dropping his head down against his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his pulsepoint. "Said it was a new mutant paradise."
"They said that about Genosha," David points out, tilting his head back with the faintest of sighs. "And Utopia."
"This time it's different," Josh says, though he doesn't quite believe it. He pushes David down, straddling him. "This time we flipped the script."
"Since when do you buy into what Scott Summers says?"
"Since I know we can. That I can."
David raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth to say something, but it's immediately lost in a moan as Josh sinks down onto his length. One broad hand settles on his gold hip, steadying him.
Josh leans down to kiss him, stealing away whatever other thought he might have. It's cheating and they both know it. His power flares and David chokes. Josh pulls back, cradles David's face in both hands.
"Let's conquer death. You and me."
"Let me give you a little death right now," David hums, redirecting his attention with a thrust of his hips.
Later, after they're spent, one Josh has refocused and has gone silent and lost in his own thoughts, David rolls over on his side and throws an arm around him. He buries his nose into soft white locks and closes his eyes.
"Let's do it then," he says, not serious.
"We just did," Josh mutters into his pillow.
"Not that," David squeezes him gently, a solid reminder that they're safe. They're together. Reminding himself just as much as he is Josh. "Death. Let's conquer it."
Joseph Kavinsky slots into his life like a puzzle piece. Hours after he stumbles in from taking his first life, a boy sits down next to him in a bar they're too young to be in and offers to buy him a drink. He flashes cash, grins a wicked grin, and from that moment on they seem inseparable.
If there is such a thing as soulmates for friends, that's what this is. Easy, effortless, like breathing. Josh never tires of his company. They spend hours and days together, catching up between missions and stealing lunches together.
David Alleyne is the first man he kisses, after months upon months of denial and avoidance. Kavinsky is the second by about a week, after a heart to heart on the rooftop about the complexities of human sexuality.
The order of who he sleeps with first is reversed. One almost immediate, the other another two months out. Laurie enters the mix sometime in between.
No commitments, he says again and again, but they're dating before he really knows it. Two use that word, capital D. The third doesn't give him a straight answer. Josh realizes at some point that though the doors are wide open for him to fuck around, he's making no effort to pass through them. He's contented, his life is balanced, life here is good. No complaints.
At least up until he wakes up almost outside the safezone. No idea how he got there - his skin gone lead, his hands terribly cold. He'd been missing for two days. Ported in and out, just picked a direction and walked. When they ask him why he has no idea how to answer - he'd clawed his way out of his own grave. After two more years of murder and torture to his dodgy ledger in this world, he couldn't handle it anymore.
He talks about Krakoa. Quietly at first, in hushed whispers in the bedroom. With David, with Laurie, with Kavinsky - and only two listen with actual interest. They spend time drafting plans, drawing up lists and recruits and on and on and on and Joshua works and works and works until they have enough goodwill to make it happen.
Construction begins. It's complete within six months.
When he says, "I'm leaving tomorrow" he hopes the response is that Joseph's bags are already packed. That he's coming with them, though he's shown no interest. Josh is draped across him like a blanket, Kavinsky's tattooed fingers making a mess of his hair.
He knows the answer is going to be a tight smile that says this is something of a betrayal, on some level.
Perhaps he's projecting. He feels unjustly betrayed. He's the one leaving. This was never anything tying Kavinsky to him - no commitments, after all.
They don't see each other for a year. Krakoa is a terrible amount of work for a handful of barely twenty-somethings and a bunch of children. They're parents, they're mentors, they're teachers. Kavinsky's climbing up the ranks of the White Tower faster than he can keep track. Josh settles into domesticity, allowing himself to think this will last forever so long as he agrees to sell slivers of his soul in exchange for peace and freedom.
When they meet at the Synod and he sees Kavinsky's confident smile, his growing power and influence, he can't help but wonder if perhaps they'd all have been safer staying.
When Joshua Foley was sixteen he killed his first person. Furious and out of his mind with grief, Josh had clutched the sides of this bigoted monster's head and twisted his body. He hadn't been recognizable when the young mutant was through with him.
He never wanted to kill again.
So how was it now, at eighteen, that was part of his job description? He sold his soul to the White Tower like all the rest of them. In big bold letters his job description read healer, eager to mend all who came his way. But when night fell and shadows darkened the door of his office, he set out for the fine print.
He knew what went into keeping a nation alive.
Killing ImPorts is pointless. But human politicians? That was easy. Had impact. Anyone who worked against the Tower's best interest was noted, and though they never saw him, he would kill them. He would twist their bodies in subtle ways, prime them for sudden and unexpected deaths, and then he would go home and wait for the obituary to appear within the next few weeks.
Kavinsky always waits up for him on these nights. He'll find him outside his door, regardless of how late it is.
Tonight there's a rainstorm. A downpour. The night had been dry once he'd stepped out, but the moment he'd altered the politician he'd heard the first rumble of thunder. He knows that there's no real sign to it - weather turns on a dime here, but the forecast hadn't called for it and it had felt ominous all the same. Josh never has the foresight to bring an umbrella, he walks home soaked and thanks God that he's immune to pneumonia.
Kavinsky, however, is not. Not without Josh's intervention. His clothes are too expensive for him to risk getting soaked. He waits with an umbrella big enough for two. A cigarette dangles between his lips, the negative impact of it eased the moment Josh is within range. There's a smile and a wink, then shield of the umbrella shifts, covering them both. A tattooed hand claps to his shoulder and the other teen steers him somewhere else, far from the bed and the night of quiet contemplation and guilt that would chase sleep from his mind.
Together they forget, they laugh, they make the worst part of the night a distant memory. The White Tower's dream drug - hedonism and lust serve as the cure for the soul. Eventually they crash into Kavinsky's bed as a tangle of lips and grabbing hands.
One hand trails along the expanse of the dreamers back, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. There's a new tattoo there that he mindlessly accelerates the healing on, a bruise he mends without a thought.
His other is folded under his head. Still clothed in a white glove, the skin has gone dark and shineless, lethal to the touch. It's been spreading for a while now. Worsening the longer he stays here.
Worse still after he'd spoken to Scott Summers, who had promised that there was a very different world waiting for him at home.
"We're gonna be living the good life here," Kavinsky says half into the pillow, more unconscious than not. Josh feels his body trying to give way to sleep, the buzz of whatever magic inside of him amplifying as it waits to take hold.
It's not a plea to stay. Or a promise of their future. Josh hasn't really asked him to go. He doesn't have a where in mind, but the fact that he wants to is obvious. The compulsion to get out in a way he can't resolve the usual way has been eating at him, making him stray longer and longer when he leaves the confines of the city. They're dancing around it, the incompatibilities in how they find happiness.
Eventually they won't be able to.
But for now he leans over and kisses his shoulder, trailing a line to his lips. Presses their foreheads together, pulls him close, and eases him both into a deep and restful sleep.
The weight of reality doesn't pull them down in dreams.
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timeasmymeasure
MARCH 2020
Date: 2020-03-14 05:22 am (UTC)prompt a. necrosha. tw death
Date: 2020-03-14 05:27 am (UTC)[ a teen wearing a trenchcoat reaches towards the shoulder of a distracted werewolf. The room is dark and reeks of death and destruction. ]
I don't want to hurt you, Kevin, [ you say, taking steps towards him. Your palms are sweating, you feel every breath in your chest. ] But I won't let you kill anyone else.
[ The face of the boy in front of you isn't human. It's warped almost beyond recognition, his skin is sallowed, teeth like fangs, and eyes black pits simmering with loathing and hatred. He whips away from the pregnant wolf-girl in front of him, a snarl. ]
[ "Foley! You're not going to let me kill anyone else?" There's a verge of a sick smile on his face, every word dripping with mockery and amusement. "I'm going to kill everyone! Once you're dead, we'll go back to your little island. And I'm going to kill Frost, and Mercury, and Hellion... I'll find Moonstar and your parents. I'll kill everyone you ever cared about!"
You flinch. ]
Kevin, please... Don't make us do this... [ Rahne tenses behind him, her lips pulling back into a snarl. ] Rahne, no! Don't touch him. Let him come.
[ He lunges towards you with hands extended. Your own snap up, grabbing hold. The golden glow is bright, but whatever is wrong with him is something beyond your capacity to fix. You feel pain radiating from where your fingers are locked with his, your skin withering and decaying against his touch.
"Do you know how long that killing you has been all I can think about?" he whispers, and there's euphoria in every single word. "And now? I"m going to do it."
The face is distorting. Teeth growing too large for his mouth, jaw distending. He clenches harder, and, harder, and harder - but you're not rotting the way he clearly wants you to. He's incensed, furious, and shoves his face closer to yours. "Laurie is dead because of YOU! You didn't protect her! I would have! Never never cared, about her, Foley... You're supposed to save people..."
The fabric of your suit is flaking off. Holes appearing as the material degrades. He's absolutely screaming now, angry beyond any reason.
"AND YOU LET HER DIE! You deserve this, Foley! All of you deserve what's coming to you!"
Your grip tightens. Clenching hard in turn, locking your hands against his. The golden skin of your arms washes black, leaving a cold feeling in place of the warmth usually associated with healing. The surprise on his face is evident - coming out of whatever fantasy he was living, seeing now that you're fine and that he doesn't know your powers as well as he thought he did.
His skin is starting to glow, flaking off. But he isn't healing as it does. ]
"Kevin..." [ You say, your voice empty. Nothing about what he's saying is untrue. ] "I loved her, too."
[ "What... What's happening? How... How is this... No! NO! JOSH, STOP--" He's in pieces before he can get any further, skull and bones hitting the ground along with what's left of his clothes. You pull your hands back, feeling hollow. ]
I'm sorry.
[ You lift your gaze to the massive glowing woman that the rest of your team is fighting, shake your hands clean, and start to run towards her. You're not done yet. ]
prompt b. laurie's murder. tw gun violence, teen death
Date: 2020-03-14 05:57 am (UTC)A younger Laurie Collins has followed you out onto the quad. You brush by her, trying to dodge around this conversation. She's not having any of it and it makes you angrier, your heart is pounding. Your throat aches.
Look, I know it's my fault and I'm sorry. ]
For what?
[ For telling you to train. You don't belong on Miss Frost's team. You're better than that. ]
You don't know what you're talking about! [ You snap, stepping away from her outstretched hand.
Yes, I do. She says, her voice soft and reassuring. All this... this violence and fighting... It isn't you, Josh. You're a healer. What you do is beautiful. This... This is just ugly and wrong. ]
If I'm a healer, [ you say through grit teeth. ] Why can't I fix your arm?
[ Kevin held it too long. There's nothing left to heal. You know that. She reaches out, her hands on your shoulders. One is cold, stiff and withered. My arm... the bus... They are not your fault.
You wrench away from her, snarling. ] Don't tell me about the bus, Laurie! You weren't there!
[ I know, she's not backing off, stepping towards you. But Sam told me what happened -- how you tried to save everyone. ]
Yeah, I tried. [ You spit, literally spit. You're trembling, angry and frustrated and bitter all at once. ] But everyone I touched was dead... Everyone but DJ. I... Could feel him dying... His life bleeding out of him. I held on to it with everything I had... I didn't let go... My hands, my bones, and my blood burned but I never let go... But he still died...
[ Your hands clench. Gaze dropping to the ground. ]
And when he died, he took a piece of me with him. A piece of me died, too. Now I feel cold - dead - empty. And I'll never get that piece back. Never! [ Your gaze snaps up to her face. Horrified by what you're saying, by where this is going and what you're promising. Your voice is a dangerous hiss, a fucking promise. ] So whoever did this to us... to me... is going to die. And I'm going to be the one who kills them.
[ Josh, no. ]
You don't know anything about me, Laurie! So stay the hell out of my way!
[ Something hot splashes against your face the second the words are out of your mouth. You don't comprehend it at first. Did she spit on you? Is it suddenly raining? It happens too fast. One moment Laurie's looking at you, broken hearted by this stupid temper tantrum you should know better than to throw. The next she's on the ground. Your heart hammers violently in your chest, breath seizing in your chest, because you know she's dead. ]
L-Laurie?
[ Your knees give out. You hit the ground in a heap, frozen. Maybe if you were't, maybe if you were faster, this wouldn't be happening. She wouldn't be gone when you finally start to move, crawling over to her prone form.
Laurie? Laurie? Laurie, no, Laurie, no, no no no, no, Laurie, Laurie wake up. [ She's still warm to the touch, still there, not gone long, you can - you can fix this, can't you? You're a healer, a healer.
But you can heal the body, mend the hole through her beautiful face, but that isn't the healing she needs.
You pull her into your arms and hold her close, babbling, desperate. Your head bends down to touch hers, there's something else hot running down your cheeks. ]
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't go, please don't leave me, please don't go.
[ Somewhere, distantly, you hear the voices of your professors. The rumbled jesus christ and the dear god. He's going to kill himself and Logan help me as they wrestle you away from her body, and then you're hysterical because at that touch reality slams back into your full force. You're screaming her name at the top of your lungs and struggling against their hold, oblivious to the fact that you're all still very much in danger. ]
prompt c. the bus attack. tw terrorist bombing, child death
Date: 2020-03-14 11:08 pm (UTC)can we ever come back?
where are we going?
you fistbump a boy with headphones (now useless to him, so much classical for nothing) as he steps onto the bus. about forty kids peer out the windows at the handful of you left behind, some in tears, others simply looking terrified of the future they'd never envisioned having to live.
the night feels bitterly cold for this time of year.
you've felt it since the orders came down from miss frost, that all your depowered friends no longer have a place at the only home so many of you have ever know. your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your letterman jacket, shoulders hunched to try to block out the chill as you turn back towards the tunnels you'd just crawled out of. ]
This sucks. [ you say. someone murmurs their agreement. you open your mouth to say something else, turning towards the blue haired girl at your left, when suddenly someone screams AMBUSH
you turn just in time to see the missile strike the bus.
the feeling of death slices through your senses. that chill becomes sub-zero, ice through your mind as that dark feeling of death crawls through your mind. a girl made of liquid mercury screams to your left, julian keller shrieks BRIAN at the top of his lungs. noriko surges forward, and santo's knees give out and he hits the ground.
you run towards the only life you feel. there's a chunk of shrapnel through the boy's chest, mark is trying to flirt with a dark haired girl with claws as she tries to hack the debris away from him. his voice is weak and you can feel the thrum of his heart start to stutter. ]
DJ? MARK! [ you skid to your knees, reaching out. ] I'm here, buddy! You're going to be fine, you're going to be -
[ he's dead the dark haired girl says, reaching to grab your arm as you reach out to touch him. ]
Get away from me! I can save him! [ you snap, both hands dropping onto the (most certainly fatal, well beyond your understanding) wound through his gut. you miss the fact that the girl wrenches her hand away from you as if she's burned, you're too focused. you can feel the shred of life left in him and you hold onto it for all it's worth, babbling as you do. ] Come on, DJ!! You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay... I can fix you, I can fix you.
[ it's cold. it's cold. its cold, and dark, and awful, and you feel like you're suffocating. your own life burning out as you try to hold onto him, following him as his life ebbs from his body. your blood burns, your bones ache, and your breath rattles so loudly in your lungs that you can hear it.
but he's gone. gone. laura finally yanks you away from him and you scream at her before the full brunt of the horror that has just happened crashes over you, and all you can do is sob. ]
prompt d. leaving.
Date: 2020-03-15 02:41 am (UTC)the shores of genosha reek of death. there are still thousands and thousands of corpses littering the ground, bodies bent and broken where they'd fallen once selene had drained them of their life force. some are salvageable, the virus that brought them back to life can be shaped back into true life. you've done what you can to help them, even with your healing powers suddenly unstable and the act of healing suddenly Sisyphean. but the rest... someone has to try to give them some dignity, and you said it'd be you.
unfortunately, you really have no intention of doing that.
you glance at your phone. at the blinking messages from worried friends, wondering where the hell you are and what the fuck is going on. your thumb starts to move towards one, to click it, intent on giving some kind of reply. that you're fine, you're okay, but you take one look at the lead color of your skin and stop short.
you are not fine.
and you know, you know, that the second you open that message you won't be able to do this. you'll go back to utopia, you'll say yes to whatever is asked of you, and it will cost you what's left of your soul.
you lock the phone. you direct your eyes to the starry horizon line, where sky meets ocean, and you wind up. the phone is light as it flies from your hand, sending it sailing off as far as you can. it skips across the surface of the waves and disappears beneath them. ]
... I'm sorry.
[ and you are. even as you grab the edges of the rowboat and shove it into the water, climbing inside and grabbing the oars. you're sorry because you know what this is going to cost them, that leaving means they're down a healer - but you're not a healer anymore.
this, protecting them, took that from you. now you need to protect them from what you're becoming. ]
prompt e. for erotica. cw; nsfw themes
Date: 2020-03-15 03:35 am (UTC)you're not naked - not yet, at least. but your pants have already been discarded for 'more mobility' and because the studio is 'too warm' and its not like these form fitting shorts are leaving much to the imagination.
this yoga studio is your retreat and you spend most of your free time here now. not that you get much of it. your days are split between the infirmary, x-force missions, and every other awful thing that decides it wants to happen.
three beautiful, identical girls sit in front of you. not wearing a hell of a lot more than you are. you grin, they grin in turn, and you have all night to get those clothes the rest of the way off. there's no way in hell they haven't come here with the intent of doing just that. you don't need to be a mind reader to know their intentions here. ]
Kundalini means "coiled" in Sanskrit -- it means the coiled serpent power that rests in the base of the spine. The Sleeping Goddess. That power -- that energy, ladies -- that's what we seek to awaken here today with our yogic practices. 'Kay?
[ it's kind of a farce. like, you like yoga. you're pretty good at it. but you're pretty sure nobody's buying that the stepford fucking cuckoos are here for that. ]
Our work will be intense. Prolonged. Epic. So grab onto your chakras, girls. We seek a complete and total transmogrification of the psycho-spiritual self through tantric sex magic.
[ their smiles widen. Is it supposed to be so hot in here? If we took off any more clothes we'd be naked... but everything is negotiable in the name of enlightenment. ]
I gotta say, I'm loving the enthusiasm ladies -- but we've got all night.
prompt f. for failure. cw; suicidal ideation
Date: 2020-03-15 03:51 am (UTC)[ you're screaming. loudly. all of the other residents of xorn's temple are keeping a wide berth - when you're like this, you can hurt them. have hurt them. your control over your powers is utterly laughable, how the hell are you supposed to revive your decimated species when you can't even handle healing a scratch without trying to kill everyone within a hundred yards.
exodus, for his part, doesn't look particularly impressed by this tantrum. its difficult to say how he actually feels. you don't know how you feel about him, either - he did almost kill you and your friends once upon a time. your hands fly up as he starts to approach, dark orbs of energy surrounding you. you're seconds away from attacking him, and you know you could kill him, you know, you know -
the only one here who believes you should be dead is you, joshua.
his hand lands on your shoulder. you tense, but he's allowing his power to flow through you. stabilizing your own, pulling you back from the dangerous ledge.
let us help you. ]
prompt g. avoidance. cw; animal death, bigotry
Date: 2020-03-15 04:13 am (UTC)You know mutants are bad news. You've seen the actual news. Been at school when it was put on lockdown because some big bad mutant was terrorizing the city and the X-Men had to come stop them. Only for it all to happen again next week, and the casualties keep piling up.
But you doesn’t think it’s right to… well, do half the stuff people do to them.
Like maybe if people just laid off things wouldn’t be so shitty for everybody. Like, you hit something dangerous with a stick enough times can you really be blamed when it finally lost it and hit back? You'd thought that when the neighbor’s dog had been put down for biting one of your friends - Duncan had hit that dog through the fence every single day on the way to school. It wasn’t its fault that when it snapped he couldn’t take what he dished out.
Dunca hadn’t even needed stitches. But his folks had kicked up enough stink about how bad it looked that there’d just been no choice. Felt like that was how most things went.
But that’s not for you to think about. You're all of thirteen and you can’t take another minute of your dad ranting about your bad grades (why can’t you just be more like your brothers, joshua? what will your friends think if you get held back? smarten up!) or else you're going to go nuts. You hit the street, fire off a text to Duncan and ask if he wants to meet up and go smash stuff or something, and checks your pockets to see if there’s any smokes left and finds one.
( you doesn’t like them, they taste like total ass but everybody else is doing it )
You're only about halfway to the park when you see the guy. Sitting in an alley, his clothes are in shreds ( actual shreds, not like his own stylishly ripped jeans and sleeves) and he looks hurt. If you were with your friends you'd keep walking and maybe crack a nasty joke or two at the man’s expense, but there’s nobody to impress here. And despite common sense telling you to keep going and not stop because some gigantic homeless dude is breathing kind of funny because that’s how kids get murdered, you do. Frowning as you pat your pockets for – something, anything, because the guy has to have been through hell and back to look like that.
But before you can take a step towards him, towards that moment of compassion, Duncan pops up behind you. He's got a rock that he wastes no time whipping towards the man, who despite being three times your sizes, only flinches and curls in on himself. get the hell out of our neighborhood, mutie!
you don't tell him to stop. you don't encourage him, either, not until he looks at you expectantly. then you're laughing, like this is funny, but it really isn't. you say yeah! because you don't know what else to say. duncan chucks a few more rocks then he's bored, over it, and you're heading towards your favorite hangout spot. ]
prompt h. brotherhood.
Date: 2020-03-15 04:18 am (UTC)[ You jab a finger towards Magneto's chest, snarling. Skin flickering to lead, blank eyes narrowed to faintly glowing slits. ]
People hate us. And if they don’t hate us, then they want to use us. And that’s no way to live!
[ the old man inclines his head, like you've just said something he was hoping you'd say. you already know you can't stay here forever, this monastery was never meant to be a long term solution for all of your terrible problems. you're no longer having violent fits, and when you do start to lose it you've mostly been able to pull it back.
so then, he says, extending a hand. join me in the fight for a better life. if you do not then the enemies of our people will win. ]
... Fine. But don't think this means I'm just gonna do whatever you tell me to. [ you jab a finger towards his chest. ] In fact, I'm not going to do a goddamn thing I don't want to do.
revival.
Date: 2020-03-15 06:40 pm (UTC)plain and simple, you were dead. eyes empty sockets and nose left a hole. your healing factor withered away to nothing.
you were dead.
and now you aren't.
the sensation is hard to describe. like a car abruptly being jumpstarted. you lurch upright, coughing and gagging as your airless lungs desperately fill themselves. the last thing you remember it was the middle of the night, there were barriers and shields up and no way to escape. now it appears to be evening. there are no guards posted at these doors, and your fellow captives are long gone. ]
... Laura?
[ you turn your head. slowly getting to your feet - your limbs are heavy and unco-operative. they don't seem to want to hold your weight. everything aches. you chance a glance down to your arms and find them withered and thin. you have no idea how long you've been here, how long it's been since you lost consciousness.
all you know is that you're alone, and you don't know how the hell you're going to get back to safety. ]
L-Laura? ... Anybody?
tw murder, cancer, body horror
Date: 2020-03-16 05:30 am (UTC)he doesn't hear you coming.
your hands itch. blood burning, bones aching, skin aflame. your heart is hammering so hard none of what he's saying makes it over the pounding.
your hands snap out - bright shiny gold until they make contact, abruptly losing all their shine and tarnishing to a pitch black. the man starts to say something but you don't fucking care, he's had enough time to talk. enough time to preach his hatred. enough time to ruin all your lives.
he tries to pull away, your hands become vices. clamping down on either side of his head as your pour all your anger into him, your hatred, your fucking loathing. ]
You killed Laurie! DIE!
[ his head swells underneath your touch. tumors springing from previously healthy flesh, purpling, bursting. you don't let go. you press harder, an animal fucking scream ripping from your throat. he thrashes - but he's already dead, involuntary muscle spasms as his body goes from very much alive to dead, dead, dead.
he hits the ground.
that's about when you realize what you're doing. your eyes lift to the gathering of your friends in front of you, all of them horrified, and then drop to your hands. the blackness is spreading, crawling up your forearms.
then you hit the ground too. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 05:36 am (UTC)you get to your feet, tucking your arms into your armpits and stepping back as someone else steps forward to do what you can't. ]
Maybe, if we just... get a little further away, they'll stop...
[ when are you gonna grow up, foley? one of your companions says, standing up after finishing the job. the guy's head is at the wrong angle. you shouldn't be bothered - he was a Friend of Humanity, someone who wasn't your friend. ]
cw giving someone cancer
Date: 2020-03-16 05:40 am (UTC)[ the words are automatic, panicked. the plan has just been lain out and you haven't agreed to a fucking second of it, but here you are. wolverine's grip on your arm is iron and you've never been so goddamn scared in your entire life. ]
No, Mr Logan, please. I don't want to. I - I - I can't, I don't want to be a killer again -
[ You're not going to be a killer, Domino says, leaning against the nearby wall. Nobody's asking you to kill him. Just persuade him a little. ]
You're asking me to give someone CANCER! What if I - the brain is delicate, what if I mess it up, what if I -
[ Wolverine shakes you. Stop making excuses. You don't got a choice, kid. Welcome to adulthood. ]
I... I...
[ you swallow the bile rising in your throat. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 05:42 am (UTC)for a second time you live after death.
only this time the air is stale. you're not in your ratty clothes, but rather funeral finery. an outfit you're all too familiar with, one you've buried so many of your dear friends in. the space is small, and dark, and when you reach out your hands only find soft fabric covering unyielding wood.
you scream. cry out for help. but there's no one there to listen. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 05:57 am (UTC)[ you're healing. then you're not. it's such a fine line, you realize. life and death. a narrow ledge you're forced to walk, again and again, manipulating forces beyond mortal understanding. the warm golden glow emanating from you switches, becoming a pitch so dark it absorbs the light around it. ]
Life.... Death... Spilling back and forth, from one cup to another... And I'm caught... I'm in the undertow.
[ the people around you are screaming. it - feels good to hear them cry out. to have this power.
and then you feel the thread of psychic fingers reaching out, trying to pull you away. you whirl around, had snapping out. ]
What are you DOING?! Get out of my HEAD! I'm SAVING these people! You're not going to stop me -- not now! Not like the Dark Riders!
[ You lunge forward. The psychic doesn't even have a chance. Your hand is a vice around her throat, hefting her up. Your lips curve into a nasty little smile, grip tightening. ]
I wonder... That nasty little parasite that's rooted in your system, Monet... Should I burn it away? I could -
[ you don't manage another word. claws are suddenly slicing through your back. severing your spine - your grip on Monet loosens, but you don't drop to the ground like you should. Your attacker slashes you again, and again, but the pain is over almost as soon as it's inflicted.
Sorry about this, kid. Sorry I couldn't save you before.. Sorry I can't save you now. But you've got a darkness in you. A darkness that can't be controlled. And I know a little about that.
You stagger away, trying to come to grips with what has just happened. He's still talking, complaining about your new powers. How hard it is to kill you. A growl forms in your throat. ]
I can sense your ailments too, Sabretooth... [ you say, low and dangerous. you push yourself back up to your feet just as he lurches towards you again. your hands fly up, and at once he's stopped in his tracks, shrieking as you begin systematically shutting down every process of his body. ] BUT I DON'T THINK YOU'D LIKE WHAT YOU'D BECOME IF I CURED YOU!
[ the metal in the area begins to swirl. magneto is talking, pleading. Stop this, Elixir. We're not your enemies. We need you. Mutants need you! I can train you... Guide you... ]
Whaat do you know about healing, old man? [ you snap, every part of you tense. ] You can't teach me anything! All you know is how to destroy! The world doesn't need you, Magneto!
[ he drops. they all drop. withering as you waste their bodies to nothing. your breathing is labored, hands coming up to press against your temples. ]
I can feel it... Feel it's faint pulse... Its labored breath... I have it right in my hands... Weak... Sick... And I can heal the entire --
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 06:00 am (UTC)[ the world slides back into focus. you can feel the pain you've just caused, feel the lives you've almost ended. ]
Oh... Oh God, no. No, no, no, I didn't - what did I do?
[ mean to. you didn't mean to. bodies surround you, on deaths door. their breathing labored, their bodies sick with the plague you were meant to cure. ]
One cup... Filling the other... I didn't mean for this to happen! I didn't want this to happen!
[ you raise your hands. they're shaking. what have you become? what has death made of you? ]
Please... let there be time...
tw body horror, corpses, torture
Date: 2020-03-16 06:23 am (UTC)[ something in the water moves. ]
You know... I never thought about using healing as a weapon... as an implement of torture... [ you muse, one hand tucked under your chin. the other is extended out towards the shore, towards whatever it is that is moving there. your skin loses its golden shine, turning as dark as the night. the thing stops moving.] Not until you and your Dark Riders came along, Gauntlet... Now, though... I can't help but think of the pain that comes with healing.
[ gold again. something in the water burbles. it sounds agonized. ]
Bones mending... Flesh stitching itself back together... Nerves firing back up... Healing is pain... And coming back from the dead? That was agony.
[ the thing breaches the surface of the waves. vaguely humanoid. your hand washes dark and it stops moving. ]
You taught me that, Gauntlet. And now, I want you to experience it. [ your voice is deceptively pleasant. ] Again, and again, and again...
[ a plane flies overhead. you barely pay it any mind. they're already flying out of it before you can turn to acknowledge it. Joshua Foley -- Elixir -- ]
Let me guess - [ you say, cutting the entire diatribe off before it can begin. ] You've come to help me. And, just like always, you're too late to do any good. "Welcome to the X-Men! Hope you survive the experience!" That's the joke, right?
[ you shift on your seat, clicking your tongue. ]
Well! I didn't survive. [ you say, pleasantly but too quickly. you're someone in a fit of mania. someone who has been here a while. sanity is crumbling, you're crumbling, this is all that's anchoring you to the here and now. this routine. gold, lead, gold. healing, reversing, healing. ] But it's alright! It's cool. I'm all better now. Better than better, in fact. Here, let me show you!
[ you turn your attention away to the thing on the shoreline, slumped over and foul smelling. its pushed forward as another wave crashes against it, unmoving as it rolls against the rocky surface. ]
One more time for the newcomers, eh, Gauntlet? [ and immediately, the jovial tone is gone. replaced instead with something cold and sinister. ] Drag your pathetic carcass back up here.
[ you extend glowing golden hands towards the shoreline. your new audience shifts uncomfortably - you sound unhinged, completely devoid of sanity and rationality, but you clearly don't hear it yourself. your fingers flex and the thing in the water begins to stir. it hauls itself up on half-rotten elbows, revealing itself as a waterlogged corpse.
it screams.
Josh, the woman among the group says, hesitantly. What are you doing here? ]
I think it's pretty obvious, Monet! [ you snap, your attention shifting from the corpse - no longer a corpse, very much a living thing in tremendous amounts of pain, as it staggers towards you.
After all you've been through, you need...
Recognition dawns on your face suddenly, you're not listening to her at all. ]
You... held me, as I died... You cradled me in your arms... I think you might have cried.
[ your gaze snaps away, towards the body. the gold of your skin washes to a dark lead color, you flick your fingers towards the corpse and it falls again. ]
I bet you saw it as weakness, didn't you? But -- look at you. I can see it now, the true sickness... The true frailty... Embedded deep in your cells.
[ you shrug it off, hopping off of the rocks you've been sitting on for - you don't remember how long. ]
Your tears were comforting, though! They made me feel like I'd be missed... After the Dark Riders killed me. Remember when that happened? You were trying to help me then too. [ you spin around, looking at them. the look on their faces should tell you that you're not making any goddamn sense, but you're not registering it.
Elixir, the oldest member of the group tries. You could be putting yourself and others at risk. We do not know how this transition has affected your physiology. Your abilities are changing in -]
Why now? [ you cut him off, you're not even looking at him. your eyes are out towards the horizon, your voice broken. ] Why didn't you check sooner? Why did you leave me to claw through the mud?
[ your mood changes on a dime, you whip around to face them. the calm in your voice is gone. it's a raw, angry scream. ]
YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I WOULDN'T STAY DEAD! Nothing in this world stays dead!
[ Magneto's eyes find yours. Sometimes, death is as it should be... sometimes, death is forever.
You laugh.
not a nice laugh. something raw and unhinged. you spin around on your heel and throw your arms out wide. ]
You're wrong, Magneto! Oh, so, wrong! [ it's practically a sing-song. you splash into the water, practically skipping over the corpse of your killer. ] I'll prove it to you!
I'll bring them back... Everyone who died here! I'll bring them all back!
[ at once, the ocean begins to glow, bubble, and boil. the strain is enormous, you feel it the second you begin to extend your powers. but you're not going to stop. death isn't forever, nothing is forever.
and so you reach out to fourteen million corpses.
they reach back. ]
cnc2020. david. cw dubcon
Date: 2020-03-16 08:47 pm (UTC)let alone without the person that had become your rock here. being without joey is like being without a limb. the whole world feels wrong, you love him so god damn much you physically ache without him. anyone with eyes can tell you that it's codependency, and its bad, but you don't really give a shit. you just want him safe.
( you don't know how to get him out, you need to get him out, but that feels so impossible. the ball isn't in your court here. )
you killed someone and your first instinct is to find someone living to hide beside. it wasn't the first time, and you know it won't be the last. every time it does something to you, frays you to pieces and leaves you struggling to remember how to heal.
when you arrived at his apartment you were pitch black and riddled with bullet holes. he'd had to pull the fragments out of you, some of those fucking things broke the geneva convention. there'd been not a single spot of gold left. you can't go outside anymore without someone coming after you - you're fucked because you'll never pass for human. it had taken hours of talking to bring you down from the near hysteria, and hours longer of just laying here before the gold started to win out again.
your head is on david's shoulder, eyes shut. his bed isn't big enough for the both of you and you aren't feeling well enough to go to your own safehouse. not steady. sort of not totally sure whether you can get there on your own right now. all you want to do is to take a nap, to feel in control of yourself when you wake up, and not further away from whatever it was you used to define yourself as. david is the one uncomplicated factor left in this whole rotten fucking world, and if it wasn't for him you'd probably have lost it already. he's been judgement free every time you've come into his store to have a meltdown and hide, patient while you hung onto him like a lifeline.
right now, you're basically laying on top of him like some kind of depressed blanket. once upon a time you'd be teasing him about it, remind him that you're both dudes with needs and you know he finds you hot. but it's an old, worn joke and you haven't felt up for much of anything.
you can sense that sort of thing, the neediness, the touch-starvedness, and usually, usually you'd be more attuned to it. but you aren't. you miss it.
and that's why you're so surprised when his lips touch yours.
you're lonely. bad, bad, bad at being alone. afraid of it. afraid of yourself. afraid that if you pull back and snap what the fuck dude, i have a boyfriend you might not have a best friend, even if the words are bubbling up and the indignation is cutting through the messy haze of your depression.
you pull back and his hand is on your cheek, apologetic, but he still says, i could make it good for you. you don't pull back any further. nobody needs to know goes unsaid, but not misunderstood.
david kisses you again and you let him.
he makes it good for you. he does. gentle, and caring, and thoughtful. you feel better physically when you're done, like you always do, like all you really need is to touch life after death to negate the worst of it. you forget, in the moment, that you shouldn't be doing this and what you want is for joey to be here, not david.
but in the morning after, you stare at the ceiling and contemplate your mistakes. ]
kavinsky. tw radiation sickness, murder
Date: 2020-03-22 07:33 am (UTC)the way you feel is new.
but your friend isn't here. the glowing mutant says to the clawed man. ]
I'm here. [ you say. he turns to you as if he's just remembered you exist. you step out from where you'd been hiding in the shadows, a coward, terrified to hurt anyone and reeling from what you felt when you touched the suffering this mutant has inflicted on others. you do this for one reason and one reason alone.
while he was gloating, while he was bragging, you realized you hate him. ]
Those people... I've never seen such trust in anyone as I saw they had for you. [ your eyes shut tightly, heart pounding with fury. the words come out hard, and fast, and mostly through your teeth. ] A parasite who made them pay him to kill them all.
[ your gaze lifts to the target. he regrows the hand that the clawed man - wolverine - just sliced off and you feel the rhyme and reason of his power, the beat of his heart and the swell of his lungs. you understand his physiology as it rebuilds itself, and there's a sudden sense of calm trickling through your mind as pieces slot into place. ]
I understand now.
[ it's nuclear radiation. he's a nuclear reactor. promising a miracle cure only to impart suffering and death. the people down below, the ones he just sucked dry and killed, had come here seeking solace. begging for their powers back. people like david, and sofia, people who had loved their bodies and their gifts and had it ripped from them. its all around you, boiling your skin, your blood, your bone marrow. you can feel the way it rots your cells, like it rotted their cells. your fist curls and the mutant begins to grow larger, and larger, and larger as he begins to bloat and swell, unable to control what is happening to him. his expression twists with pain because this isn't him.
this is you. ]
I understand where rage comes from. And what it feels like to want to kill. [ you aren't talking to him. you look to your teacher, your mentor, and you can see there's something dawning on his face. fear? horror? you've never known him to be afraid of anything. ] To want to stop a person forever [ kid, he's nuclear. you let him blow and everybody dies for miles. wolverine interjects, but you continue on like you didn't hear him speak. ] but then it stops.
[ meltdown's head smashes through the roof. his body collapses the building under it. he can't move an inch, isn't proportionally strong, only suffering as his body grows too large to sustain itself. you watch without feeling a thing.
kid, snap out of it. this ain't you, think about what's about to happen. wolverine's trying for a gentler tone, a paternal voice of reason, and you hate it. he grabs hold of your wrist. ]
Take your hand off me.
[ you barely even shift and he does, dropping like a stone as your power courses through him. you're still gold, bright shiny gold, when you should be lead. you don't notice. ]
Can you feel it? [ you ask. his hand is swollen to three times its normal size, tumor ridden and oozing blood. unlike meltdown, you don't crackle with untold power. yours is subtle, nuanced, and precise. ] That's what I feel when I heal them. That's what they've got inside of them.
[ your voice is flat. cold. you don't even recognize it as your own, barely register you're saying these words. your eyes swing to the massive mutant in front of you, the one radiating all of this power. the one you're making radiate all this power. it's intoxicating, a terrible thrill. you like it, you like it, you like it. kid, wolverine hisses between grit teeth. there's something wrong with your head. this cancer they've got inside them, it's made you sick.
you want to hurt him. it'd be so easy to hurt him. this feels good, this power. being the strongest person in the room and able to prove it, able to crush someone underneath your thumb without any effort at all. he reaches out with his other hand, grabbing your wrist again.
i'm sorry, the woman whispers at just the same moment, and breaks for the door. you let your power flare and wolverine stumbles back, hitting the ground, and that same arm snaps out to grab her instead. your grip is iron around her wrist, tighter than it needs to be.
you're going to kill her.
the way she'd sold those people out, the way she'd profited off their agony, she deserves it. there are so few mutants left, and you'd lost so many to senseless hatred. to find more suffering due to one of your own kinds greed? it's sickening. you hate her and you're going to kill here, there's not a question in your mind about it. ]
You don't get to escape this. [ you say, and you're still calm, so calm, but the rage is starting to leak into your voice as her cowardice irritates you. it isn't right that she gets to live when the people she'd lured here all suffered and died, slowly. she got her gifts back, got an extension on her life because of what they gave up, and that isn't fair. you can right this wrong, you can
I know that look on your face, the giant mutant rumbles from behind you, his voice an approving thunderclap. he's a giant now, something out of legend, and you're the prized golden goose leading him to his death. he's slowly being crushed under his own body weight, a beached whale. The power of death. Total power over everyone around you.
you feel her trembling in your grip. see the way she presses her lips together to try to stave off tears.
It is glorious. he says, and your eyes lift to his face. you think, maybe, if he had the dexterity to he would be smiling. there's something awed in his tone, something you don't like. something that says you and i are the same that makes your skin crawl with every new word said. I never thought I would see it in someone else.
the world snaps back into focus. the reality of what you're doing suddenly hits you.
you let her go as if you're the one whose being burned. ]
I don't want it.
[ she hits the ground, the strength gone out of her. instead you turn to him. a bolt of energy burns your cheek, but the second you register the pain it's gone. your hand curls to a fist, you don't even reach out to touch him, you just watch him curl into himself, shrinking down as the pain wracks him. you rob him of his powers, of his strength, and you stare emotionlessly down at his contemptible husk.
what... did you do with my power? he rasps. dying, but not dead. you could make him dead, but you don't want to, though you understand that this is just a technicality. this isn't the first time you've done this, primed someone to meet their end and then stepped aside as someone dealt the finishing blow.
you understand it will not be the last time you preform this role, either. that there's no point in fighting it anymore. this is reality, this is your reality.
this is your childhoods end. this moment, when you realize that all you've been doing is futile. healing the people that come after you, trying to kill you. pleading for reason when wolverine shows his claws, begging for people to stop before things come to this. it was a dream, a childish fucking fantasy, and you're wide awake now.
meltdown lies before you. a shriveled old man in a decaying body. pathetic.
but you don't want to be like him. you don't want to be like anyone in this room. ]
I gave it all back. All that sickness that you spread, it's now yours.
[ wolverine is back to his feet. you don't know if you fixed him or not, your eyes are on the man shaking at your feet. his eyes are wide and wild, a scared animal. kid. you coulda killed me back there. there ain't ten men in the world i'd say that to.
meltdown reaches towards you. wordlessly begging for mercy. you shut your eyes. you hear wolverine walk past you and towards where he lies prone. ]
I don't want to be a killer again.
[ and then you turn away.
you aren't deaf to the distinct snkt of claws extending and slashing through flesh, one fluid motion, but you don't look as they do. you take stock of your surroundings. remember the feeling of the people below - all dead, dead before their bodies were crushed underneath your little stunt, you felt their lives blink out and feel a hole now. the building is on fire - you're not sure when that happened, you feel shaky and out of sorts. wolverine doesn't try to touch you again and you think that's for the best.
once outside the building, you hear the woman say that she doesn't deserve to live. she'll stay here, on this unsalvagable and irradiated land, and die with it.
you don't tell her not to. you still think she deserves it.
we all got shame for the things we done. and i got more than most. wolverine says, his eyes are on the fire. ]
And yet you keep on. How do you keep on going, knowing what you've done?
[ he glances back towards you.
i don't know any better'n you what makes me tick. i fight every day with what i've got inside. and every night, i go to bed regretting all the things i done wrong in this world.
you hear the woman sob. wolverine slides his mask over his face again and steps around you, towards the motorcycles you'd ridden here on, yours is gaudily marked with an X and his something sleek and dangerous looking. it will be a long ride home.
and when i wake up, i decide today to try and do things right. ]
nsfw. kavinsky.
Date: 2020-03-23 06:45 am (UTC)like, really love. the kind of love that has you flopping back against him when you watch movies, and pressing lazy kisses to the pale column of his throat when it proved bad. you love him when you have stupid fights and you love him more when you're both able to admit you're stupid and get over it.
this is one such time. the car fight had been such a drawn out affair that it could only be funny in hindsight. you're still sort of giggling at the spot on impression of miss piggy your boyfriend had. it's not sexy, he keeps kissing you to shut you up when you try to replicate the sound.
you like this, you like being open and honest and weird and unafraid. totally yourself. it's not sexy. but you've been together long enough that you're not worried about being sexy during sex.
but
he's a picture underneath you, face flushed and lips kiss swollen, eyes half lidded and pupils blown wide with lust. the sun has mostly set, the soft fading light is flattering across his features.
you're on his lap in the car, which actually is pretty spacious and great for this kind of thing so you'll concede that maybe luxury cars are actually kinda worth the money. the windows are fogged - who knows where you actually are, far away from the city. he's hard in your hand which is glowing ever so faintly as you use your powers to really work him up. your pants are halfway down your hips and you open your mouth but he fixes you with a if you're going to make a sex drive joke we're through kinda look and you promptly shut it. ]
SEPTEMBER 2020
Date: 2020-09-01 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-02 09:47 pm (UTC)He says no. He just wants to heal people. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else. He lives the normal highschool experience.
He ports out. Sees what goes on behind the scenes. Sees the effort that goes into keeping peace. Almost loses more friends to extremists.
When he ports back in he says yes.
nsfw, krakoa's inception
Date: 2020-09-02 10:48 pm (UTC)They aren't prisoners here. He has to remind himself of that. There are no bars on the windows here, by all means they're free to leave at any time - but he's certain the moment they try, they'll hit an invisble barrier. One build of obligation, and knowing too much. They'd be little better than birds crashing into windows.
By now David's used to this - the resurfacing of the mysterious Josh who'd forgone shirts and seemed to break from reality. He gets like this after missions. Clingy. Horny. Bordering on manic. Desperate to channel his energy into something that isn't hurting people, to suppress the memory and the guilt with something carnal and easy.
"He called it Krakoa," Josh murmurs in the dark. His fingers are entwined with David's, the only thing either of them are wearing is a tired smile. "Cyclops did. When he was here."
David snorts. "Like the living island?"
"Not like. The living island," he hums, dropping his head down against his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his pulsepoint. "Said it was a new mutant paradise."
"They said that about Genosha," David points out, tilting his head back with the faintest of sighs. "And Utopia."
"This time it's different," Josh says, though he doesn't quite believe it. He pushes David down, straddling him. "This time we flipped the script."
"Since when do you buy into what Scott Summers says?"
"Since I know we can. That I can."
David raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth to say something, but it's immediately lost in a moan as Josh sinks down onto his length. One broad hand settles on his gold hip, steadying him.
Josh leans down to kiss him, stealing away whatever other thought he might have. It's cheating and they both know it. His power flares and David chokes. Josh pulls back, cradles David's face in both hands.
"Let's conquer death. You and me."
"Let me give you a little death right now," David hums, redirecting his attention with a thrust of his hips.
Later, after they're spent, one Josh has refocused and has gone silent and lost in his own thoughts, David rolls over on his side and throws an arm around him. He buries his nose into soft white locks and closes his eyes.
"Let's do it then," he says, not serious.
"We just did," Josh mutters into his pillow.
"Not that," David squeezes him gently, a solid reminder that they're safe. They're together. Reminding himself just as much as he is Josh. "Death. Let's conquer it."
prrrrobably noncanooon what the fuck is this
Date: 2020-09-11 08:25 am (UTC)If there is such a thing as soulmates for friends, that's what this is. Easy, effortless, like breathing. Josh never tires of his company. They spend hours and days together, catching up between missions and stealing lunches together.
David Alleyne is the first man he kisses, after months upon months of denial and avoidance. Kavinsky is the second by about a week, after a heart to heart on the rooftop about the complexities of human sexuality.
The order of who he sleeps with first is reversed. One almost immediate, the other another two months out. Laurie enters the mix sometime in between.
No commitments, he says again and again, but they're dating before he really knows it. Two use that word, capital D. The third doesn't give him a straight answer. Josh realizes at some point that though the doors are wide open for him to fuck around, he's making no effort to pass through them. He's contented, his life is balanced, life here is good. No complaints.
At least up until he wakes up almost outside the safezone. No idea how he got there - his skin gone lead, his hands terribly cold. He'd been missing for two days. Ported in and out, just picked a direction and walked. When they ask him why he has no idea how to answer - he'd clawed his way out of his own grave. After two more years of murder and torture to his dodgy ledger in this world, he couldn't handle it anymore.
He talks about Krakoa. Quietly at first, in hushed whispers in the bedroom. With David, with Laurie, with Kavinsky - and only two listen with actual interest. They spend time drafting plans, drawing up lists and recruits and on and on and on and Joshua works and works and works until they have enough goodwill to make it happen.
Construction begins. It's complete within six months.
When he says, "I'm leaving tomorrow" he hopes the response is that Joseph's bags are already packed. That he's coming with them, though he's shown no interest. Josh is draped across him like a blanket, Kavinsky's tattooed fingers making a mess of his hair.
He knows the answer is going to be a tight smile that says this is something of a betrayal, on some level.
Perhaps he's projecting. He feels unjustly betrayed. He's the one leaving. This was never anything tying Kavinsky to him - no commitments, after all.
They don't see each other for a year. Krakoa is a terrible amount of work for a handful of barely twenty-somethings and a bunch of children. They're parents, they're mentors, they're teachers. Kavinsky's climbing up the ranks of the White Tower faster than he can keep track. Josh settles into domesticity, allowing himself to think this will last forever so long as he agrees to sell slivers of his soul in exchange for peace and freedom.
When they meet at the Synod and he sees Kavinsky's confident smile, his growing power and influence, he can't help but wonder if perhaps they'd all have been safer staying.
au!joshinsky,
Date: 2020-09-18 11:27 am (UTC)He never wanted to kill again.
So how was it now, at eighteen, that was part of his job description? He sold his soul to the White Tower like all the rest of them. In big bold letters his job description read healer, eager to mend all who came his way. But when night fell and shadows darkened the door of his office, he set out for the fine print.
He knew what went into keeping a nation alive.
Killing ImPorts is pointless. But human politicians? That was easy. Had impact. Anyone who worked against the Tower's best interest was noted, and though they never saw him, he would kill them. He would twist their bodies in subtle ways, prime them for sudden and unexpected deaths, and then he would go home and wait for the obituary to appear within the next few weeks.
Kavinsky always waits up for him on these nights. He'll find him outside his door, regardless of how late it is.
Tonight there's a rainstorm. A downpour. The night had been dry once he'd stepped out, but the moment he'd altered the politician he'd heard the first rumble of thunder. He knows that there's no real sign to it - weather turns on a dime here, but the forecast hadn't called for it and it had felt ominous all the same. Josh never has the foresight to bring an umbrella, he walks home soaked and thanks God that he's immune to pneumonia.
Kavinsky, however, is not. Not without Josh's intervention. His clothes are too expensive for him to risk getting soaked. He waits with an umbrella big enough for two. A cigarette dangles between his lips, the negative impact of it eased the moment Josh is within range. There's a smile and a wink, then shield of the umbrella shifts, covering them both. A tattooed hand claps to his shoulder and the other teen steers him somewhere else, far from the bed and the night of quiet contemplation and guilt that would chase sleep from his mind.
Together they forget, they laugh, they make the worst part of the night a distant memory. The White Tower's dream drug - hedonism and lust serve as the cure for the soul. Eventually they crash into Kavinsky's bed as a tangle of lips and grabbing hands.
One hand trails along the expanse of the dreamers back, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. There's a new tattoo there that he mindlessly accelerates the healing on, a bruise he mends without a thought.
His other is folded under his head. Still clothed in a white glove, the skin has gone dark and shineless, lethal to the touch. It's been spreading for a while now. Worsening the longer he stays here.
Worse still after he'd spoken to Scott Summers, who had promised that there was a very different world waiting for him at home.
"We're gonna be living the good life here," Kavinsky says half into the pillow, more unconscious than not. Josh feels his body trying to give way to sleep, the buzz of whatever magic inside of him amplifying as it waits to take hold.
It's not a plea to stay. Or a promise of their future. Josh hasn't really asked him to go. He doesn't have a where in mind, but the fact that he wants to is obvious. The compulsion to get out in a way he can't resolve the usual way has been eating at him, making him stray longer and longer when he leaves the confines of the city. They're dancing around it, the incompatibilities in how they find happiness.
Eventually they won't be able to.
But for now he leans over and kisses his shoulder, trailing a line to his lips. Presses their foreheads together, pulls him close, and eases him both into a deep and restful sleep.
The weight of reality doesn't pull them down in dreams.