anybody still around? I've considered bringing this account back from the dead, but most of my partners disappeared before my previous hiatus ended.
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
❝ —okaytobehonest i havent been listening to you talk but i really like your hair.❞
Have you ever sat outside in the summer time and watched the squirrels scurrying up and down the bark of pecan trees, trying to stuff as many acorns into their cheeks as possible? That's about as close to an example as one could get when talking to someone like Pietro, and Rogue's expression did show her exhaustion.
" ...Thanks, I guess. "
“Then I guess that makes me a bit of both. It’s backwards but that’s the way it goes. Cap’s got a pretty good reputation, mine wasn’t been so great. You have to prove yourself I guess.”
' don't exactly seem fair. Born a certain way and y'gotta prove yourself to people for it. Think I'll just stick to the sidelines, if you don't mind. '
Rogue shifted in her stance, fingers flexing under her gaze. It was true that she wanted people to take her as a normal human, but was that even possible? she was...
' Mr. Rogers has a good grasp on how to handle a bad crowd. What about you? '
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Steve can’t imagine not being able to touch. For someone who’d been numb to certain sensations as a child, only to be gifted with the serum and feel everything… He’s not sure he’d want to give up that ability. He likes the feel of a thin pencil in his fingers and the touch of warm skin… He doesn’t say what he wants to I’m sorry because he knows she most likely doesn’t want his pity.
“There aren’t any ways around it?” He asked softly.
It was nice to not hear the usual apologies, to not hear someone looking down on her, but the look in his eyes is still there. He looks so sad-- that's how she feels, too.
' ain't exactly some little pill that can just make it go away. believe me, if there was, I'd be the first in line. '
but this wasn't about pity. this was about strength. cautiously, Rogue took a step toward him, gloved fingers reaching out to gently grasp his upper arms.
' b'sides. its not so bad like this. '
Hey there new followers! If we're mutuals, feel free to like this for a starter or come to me for plotting. I'll definitely get around to them tomorrow.
--OPEN;;
curious eyes followed the other, quite taken. she could absorb the powers of other enhanced or mutated humans, but she doubted she could ever do something like that.
" how d'you do that, though? don't it hurt? "
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WADE.
‘ oh, HONEY. it’s waaaaaaay better than bobby. iiiiiiiiittttttt’ssssss …
IF ONLY HE HAD some sort of boom box to play the most illest of guitar riffs. it’d make his life a whole lot easier if he could invest in one of those soundtracks that follow you around everywhere as you walk. that’s the life he one day wishes to lead.
‘ dammit. yeah, it’s DEADPOOL. i was gonna have a whole thing, it would have been freakin’ awesome, rogue, trust me on that. my life for a guitar riff to play on cue —
man, this is one of those bad neighborhoods, huh? christ, it was like wade had to kill seven baddies just to get to her. oh, yeah — he did. a once over the girl and his attention is directed to a yell in the distance. then the yelling stopped. shame.
‘ so, things are, uh… pretty dicey, wouldn’t ya say? didn’t think the riots over AMERICAN IDOL getting canceled would be this bad. all’s well that ends well, right? nah, i didn’t think so, either. let’s get to the savin’ the day portion of the thread, shall we?
ah, of course. she should've guessed. while there were no horns or trumpets to accentuate his appearance, it was always good to see a friend on the battlefield. or, at least, she hoped he'd be a friend. there was so much going on that she'd lost track of who was who-- hell, even Pyro had chosen a side, wrong as it was. a breath of relief was released, Rogue finally standing from her position crouched on the ground.
lately it seemed like everyone was getting their head turned around backwards. granted, she really hoped she wouldn't be around to see that actually HAPPEN to someone like Wade. or Logan, for that matter.
" dicey, yeah. i'd say so. could be worse. "
then again, saying something like that was prolly as bad as yelling Macbeth when walking into an opera theatre. the last thing she needed was some great building falling out of the sky. still, she was left with a blank. with bobby gone from her side and the other teachers who knows where, she really couldn't do much. not like this, anyway.
" i'm still tryin’a come up with how t’do that, actually.
--i dunno f i can get close enough t'anyone to really... well, y'know. "
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“so, natural!”
he hooks his ankles around the other edge, twitching as the near slip that comes from lifting a single hand outwards, awkwardly and near painfully twisted towards her. an offer, he figures – part of the manners that too many insist on, too many more call out in the most public of situations. but he wonders. what do her gloves feel like against his skin? how supple, how soft, how what?
“i’m pietro, welcome to the silver club. who are you?”
silver club? she hoped they at least had jackets for such a bold name. but all silliness aside, at least someone else had decided to introduce themselves. rogue had always been pretty awful at making friends, after-all. she eyes his hand for a moment, swallowing down her initial nervousness before reaching out to close the gap between glove and flesh, the silk causing a light static shock between the two.
" rogue. nice t'meet you. you've been heard about my personal space issues, i'm guessin'? "
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
once upon a time —— i thought i could be someone. someone brave. someone { pure } . —- now i’m all grown up — & all i am is tainted. b l o o d s t a i n e d .
(i wish i could go back. )
As much as he’d grown accustomed to living most of his life within the walls of the school, Logan always appreciated the night. There were those that were more active when the sun went down or just always up, but for the most part, Xavier’s was quiet. That was exactly the way he liked it.
Needing only a few hours himself, Logan usually stayed up late, and this night was no exception. He took care of the little things that gave him some measure of solace. Polished his boots, stitched up holes in his favorite shirts. He even read a bit. Old westerns, text books— things he might secretly want to learn about that people would likely look at him and say ‘really’?
When he heard the light footfalls heading his way, he marked his page and set the book he was holding aside, rising to his feet and wandering toward the dresser to grab a t-shirt. His own name floated softly from the door, and with the grey cotton tee in hand, he turned back and gave Marie a warm smile, though memories of that first time she’d shown up to his room were just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday and not years ago.
He never was very good at letting go of guilt.
“Hey, kid. Come on in.”
thin fingers curled around the wood of the door left ajar, peering inside at the sihlouette near the window. it was rare for her to be able to sleep the whole night through, even after al long. too many voices whispered in her mind, too many terrors made her remember what life was like before the incident-- and then the incident itself.
she gave a sheepish, little smile of her own before entering, looking around the room i silence. it was a lot better than the back of that truck had been, she'd definitely give him that. she remembered that moment quite well-- when suddenly, her life didn't seem so bad.
" still can't sleep, " said Rogue, careful to watch what she touched. already she was fumbling through the pockets of her nightdress, pulling out the tan, silk gloves that went up past her elbows. she pulled them on lazily, having neglected them ( and their important use ) in her grogginess, wetting her lips to speak. " what about you? "
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
radtracks
devil’s backbone // the civil wars
don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not he’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that i’ve got oh lord, oh lord, i’m begging you please don’t take that sinner from me
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
???.
He has revealed himself by choice— but it seems, for now, it is only one who has taken notice. With only this single prejudice in mind, he narrows his own attention to match, and offers a slow curve of his lips for the sake of benevolence that is too easy to be benign.
“Not in the manner you imagine, I am sure.”
the monochromatic female is firm where she stands, watching him the way a dog may way an approaching stranger, caution steady in her eyes. she at least had no worry for what he would do. even if he tried anything funny, a single touch to her skin would be a detrimental mistake.
" y'might be surprised what goes through my mind. “
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
metalfragments
HAND DROPPING FROM her shoulder and back to his side (the skin of his palm still itches, tingles) he finally lets his gaze withdraw from her, flicking to the window behind her. The same intensity furrows his brow, a look of deep thought appearing on his features.
He isn’t Charles. He doesn’t coddle, doesn’t abide by gentle reassurance or half-truths or sugarcoating. He’s pragmatic and blunt and honest–even if it is tactless, at times. Perhaps the pragmatic part of himself would disagree but he doesn’t when he speaks again, gaze flicking back to meet hers after a moment of thought.
“You don’t have control. Yet. You can learn it.” I did. “I am as dangerous–as lethal–as you.”
A fact Erik doesn’t care to prove. He’ll leave it to her imagination.
rogue's eyes fell from whee he'd stood to rest instead on the ground. she hadn't come here for a lesson, nor had she come here to be preached to about controlling the curse that'd been placed upon her. she did control it-- she kept it far away from anyone who could possibly get hurt, only used it when her life was in danger. wasn't tha thow a weapon SHOULD have been used? how something so dangerous should have been hand't and kept away from the light? she thought so.
" i know. " a few words without thought, and she corrects them almost immediately, righting her gaze toward the wall in a nervous tick. her hands flatten out against her legs, fumbling with the fabric of black leather to pull it over fidgeting, white fingers."...that i can learn. "
the girl swallows hard, looking somewhat like a doe caught in a truck's headlights. she always got so nervous around people like this, dangerous and unafraid to show it. perhaps a little psychotic in their own right-- she wasn't sure.
livingpestilence-blog reblogged
THE MESS is the least of his concerns, knowing he could clean it up with a wave of his hand and be done with it. Attention more focused on Rogue now, and her abilities, he touches where their palms met with the fingers of that hand, swearing he could feel tingling there still. He doesn’t know if it’s from her mutation or something else.
“Rogue.”
Erik’s tone is firm but not vicious, carrying with the same intensity as everything he says and does. A hand comes out, lithe and long, grasping at her covered shoulder. He handles her firmly but not tightly, the gesture more to get her attention.
He understands hating what she is–what her mutation has made her to be. But it’s no way to live, especially with such a unique gift.
“You hate it now, but you have so much potential.”
It’s clear he’s still thrilled by the whole experience–he’s never met anyone like her before. So much potential–such a shame the X-Men clearly haven’t taught and guided her as they should have.
“
bare fingers stretched outward and curled, repeating the action as many times as it took to rid herself of the strangely electrifying current that lingered after their touch. perhaps it was just from the simple fact that it had been so long since she'd touched another, so long since she'd been able to really feel the flesh of another against her own. he hadn't been hurt ( she didn't know why... ) but still, it wasn't any less scary that so many things had suddenly lifted up off of table and floor.
the sound of her name brought her eyes up, a firm hand on her shoulder. it was a little tighter than she would have liked it, and the girl nearly recoiled. it was habbit after so many years of hiding from the light, of hiding from contact. yet he was so WILLING to reach out and risk what he had-- life, the ability to think, feel, and enjoy-- by simple touch.
potential... yes, like the spinning, metal death trap atop the statue of liberty, perhaps. able to take on the power of controlling metal-- she'd felt it BEFORE. perhaps that was why it scared her so. rogue swallowed down the saliva that'd been building in her throat, blinking repeatedly. this was the same Erik, wasn't it? the same one that they'd joined forces with to stop Stryker. the same one who later--
" the only potential i have is t'hurt people. not t'help them. believe me. i've heard it before. i know. "
I've heard it from you.
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