♥Inspire Me♥

This is now an archive. New Blog

[moonbeammuses-a]

// ...

I did... the thing... 

@moonbeammuses

[moonbeammuses-a]

// ignore this everybody i am just making a post so that my blog is “active” and doesnt get grabbed by one of those bo.ts bc i logged in and saw that i’ve been followed by twenty-seven of them and most looked like abandoned RP blogs that were taken over by those. 

[moonbeammuses-a]

domuslux​:

Sullenly, he followed each movement. From the moment Arioch was picked up to the moment he was safely tucked into bed. Jim refused to believe that he was dead and all sorts of things were fighting for dominance inside him but most of all he chose anger because it’s alternative, grief, was not only unacceptable but more than anything, Jim didn’t know how to cope with losing him. Anger he could do. Anger meant that he was not falling apart. Yet.

After pacing for minutes inside his living room dressed in his suit pants, a very expensive white shirt folded to the elbows and bare feet, he decided to play the piano. His caged emotions bled out in each note but he lost his nerve as he got more and more into it and slammed his fists against the piano keys and started shouting in frustration. He felt weak. Helpless. Useless. It was simply unacceptable for him to feel this way so he roared it all out and did all that until he noticed with the corner of his eye a presence he long waited for. 

With his fingers still hard-pressed onto the piano keys Jim rose from his seat and with eyes wide and shinny (something that he would never admit to), he slowly started approaching Arioch as his fingers dragged across the keys and the piano yielding obediently in their wake.  

His mouth was slightly parted, eyes wild in their exploration and Jim’s hands rose to cup Arioch’s face. He had such lack of concern for personal space as Jim’s front came in contact fully with the other but the gesture was not in any way sexual but more possessive in its nature. 

Jim wordlessly studied him, hands flowing down from face to neck, down arms and hands that he cupped in his, rising them and placed them on his chest pressing them down with his own. 

He didn’t say a thing as he smirked wickedly. He knew. Somehow he knew that Arioch was not an angel anymore. He felt it inexplicably clear and Jim smirked. “Such a fragile little thing you are.” he cooed softly, hand cupping the back of Arioch’s head as he landed a soft kiss on his cheek, staying there for a few moments, cheek against cheek, breathing him in, in a moment of peace. He allowed himself this one moment to feel peace.

Jim knew. Of course he did. What hope could something mortal have of imitating that born of the cosmos itself? As to what, specifically, was Jim’s clue, Arioch wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sorrow in Arioch’s eyes as he beheld how his apparent death had set Jim off. Or perhaps because of the heart beating in Arioch’s chest, which only sped faster as Jim approached. Maybe it was the way his hands shook a fraction- they never shook- as he placed them to Jim’s back, holding on to him for the briefest moment before Jim studied him. Arioch didn’t need heightened senses to tell Jim was seeking surety. Proof, in the evidence of his eyes and hands that yes, Arioch was here with him, alive. 

Mortal. 

Jim pressed Arioch’s hands to his chest, and the once-angel tilted his head slightly, unused to having to feel for things beneath the surface. But Jim’s heartbeat was there, fluttering rapidly in his agitation, and Arioch felt an odd tightness in his throat at the sensation. 

“Such a fragile little thing you are,” Jim said, and for a terrifying moment, Arioch thought he would be rejected. Sent away for no longer being interesting. He let himself be leaned down, closing his eyes at the feel of Jim’s lips on his cheek, newfound heart trembling in his chest. Such a fragile little thing indeed. 

Arioch didn’t dare break the quiet moment with words, savoring it as something precious. Something he’d been sure he would not have again. His hands, still alight on Jim’s chest, felt for his heartbeat, felt for the way it slowed as he calmed himself. Arioch’s calmed with it, a calm sort of gratitude sweeping aside other emotions temporarily. 

Several moments passed before anxiety to his situation settled in despite his best efforts to avoid them and enjoy the moment of quiet peace. Arioch stirred, tilting his head to kiss Jim’s temple. “I’m sorry if I worried you, James,” he murmured quietly. “I’m-” Well. Not alright, surely. But, “-alive. Luckily for the piano.” 

[soulmemesarc]

words of comfort prompts

all those soft and reassuring vibes we know and love!

" it's going to be okay. "

" i can fix this. "

" come here, i got you. "

" hey... who did this to you? "

" let's get you inside, huh? "

" don't worry. i can handle this. i'll make it right. "

" you're worth so much more than that. "

" oh, honey, you're shaking... let's get you a blanket, yeah? "

" i made some tea. "

" you know, you don't have to tell me anything. you don't owe me an explanation. but if you ever want to talk... i'm here. "

" it wasn't your fault. "

" people are flawed. we make mistakes. and at some point, we're all bound to mess up and be seen as the bad guy. but the important thing to know is that while we make mistakes... we can also learn and improve from them. "

" this wasn't on you. okay? i swear. "

" listen to me. you're not a bad person. anyone says different will have to go through me. "

" i made you some dinner, if you're able for it... "

" here. you're not going anywhere in this state. i made up the spare bed; stay as long as you like. "

" nothing bad is going to happen to you. not if i can help it. "

" you're safe here. "

" i ran you a nice hot bath. that should calm your nerves a little, yeah? "

" would you like a hug? "

" nothing about what you've been through is easy. you don't need to push through anything... just rest. recover. heal. nobody is rushing you. okay? "

" look at me, look! it was a nightmare! not real, okay? you... hey... i've got you. it's alright... "

" i'm not going to let anyone hurt you. "

" here. i had some old clothes in the laundry basket, you can wear them. should be a lot comfier and cozier, yeah? "

" don't worry. i have a plan. "

" i made some cookies, if you want some? fresh out of the oven. "

" let's order in some pizza, huh? "

" listen. i'm with you. all the way. if you want to call the police, i'll dial the number. if you want to stay here, i'll cut you a key. i support you, 100%. "

" oh, love... you made a mistake. that doesn't mean you're stupid. "

" don't worry. i'm fixing this. "

" i got you a blanket. "

" it's okay. i'm here now. "

[moonbeammuses-a]

// so I (sort of?) made the brothers Marion, Orion, and Wolfe in Artbreeder because I hyperfixated on that site for a while LOL

I definitely didn’t come back to this post with updated versions of Marion and Wolfe because they were kind of terrible. nope.

And a word to the wise, if body horror/the uncanny valley gets to you, stay off that site, people make some weird shit on it. 

[moonbeammuses-a]

@domuslux​ cont. from an ask

Jim just finished off a business meeting in a very permanent manner and even though it had been entertaining, it had taken quite some of that raw energy out of him, as these things tend to, so he decided to walk.

As he strolled along, a familiar figure lying on the ground caught his eye and he wouldn’t have stopped or cared if there wasn’t something annoyingly familiar in that shape. As he got closer, Jim crouched down and with his pinkie finger pulled away the strands of dark hair that veiled the other’s face.  He blamed it on the tiredness because Jim gasped slightly and his brain froze for a second as his body reacted on instinct. His hand caressed the angel’s face on its way to the throat to check for vitals and he couldn’t seem to feel for any, not that he had any knowledge in how angels work and it’s not like there were youtube tutorials in first aid for angels. Slowly losing his shit, Jim knelt and cradled Arioch’s head “Come on….. stop it! This is not cute!” and gave him a few slaps on the cheek “If you don’t open your eyes this instant!!!!” he spat aloud and clenched the angel’s face “I-I–” Jim’s lips pressed together and his face crumpled like paper, eyes burning with the tell signs of tears but he digressed from what he was about to say “You shall be my taxidermy project!” he whispered menacingly

Worried that someone might have the audacity to see him, Jim rose up and slapped at one of his cheeks with the back of his hand, wiping away the tear that dared to escape and fixed his suit as he looked down on him.

“Fine!” he yelled “Be like that! I don’t need you anyway!” and made a sharp turn on his heels and walked in the opposite direction a few steps, lips pursed, feet nearly stomping but his energy level couldn’t hold that up and he tried a glance over his shoulder to where the angel lay.

“FUCK!!!!” Jim yelled and went back to him, taking out his phone and calling in for help to get his angel off the streets.

He’d never meant to worry Jim. He was an angel. For all intents and purposes where humans were concerned, he was immortal. They could as much harm him as a fruit fly could hope to combat the sun. 

Other angels, however, stood a far better chance. It had taken three of them, and a foolish mistake, to offset him. He’d trusted them. He’d trusted them, following across the planes to speak with them, and instead of listening as they’d promised to, they’d revealed him to Michael. Arioch had fought as though he stood a chance of winning. As though he were unafraid of losing. But he lost all the same, and his only solace was that Earth was unharmed by it.  

Arioch believed he would die. He thought of Jim, of what his disappearance would do to his fragile human, and prayed an apology as Michael’s Grace seared him, grabbed and tore at him. 

There were no words, in any language, for the feeling of having his Grace ripped from him. Or of his access to the limitless expanse of all Creation narrowing as he was confined into a vessel so small he would doubtless be crushed within it. Everything he was, stripped and burned away, until Arioch was sure Death was all that remained. The Nothing of the end of an angel’s existence. 

But something happened. A thunderclap that slammed through all planes, scattering the five of them to the wind like leaves. Arioch barely registered, blinking at dingy grey stone buildings, that he was on the mortal plane once more, before darkness took him. 

He never felt the slaps. Never heard the shouting or saw the tear. It would have ached in him if he had. But Arioch was limp and lifeless as he was taken away, neither breath nor heartbeat moving his frame. Placed in a bed he was still, and it was nearly an hour before that changed. When he woke it was all at once, as a pulse rushed through him. Arioch thought he felt an invisible hand leave his chest as he heaved in a breath, eyes flying wide. His head pounded, lungs burned, and as he rolled to his side to catch his breath, Arioch was painfully aware of his inability to feel his wings. 

Shouting. He heard someone- Jim!- shouting, and Arioch forced his breaths to slow, determined to get his wits about him. He made his way from the room, the ache in every step highlighting what he already knew. Impossible as it was, he was human. 

Arioch thought his heart might stop from sheer relief when he rounded a corner into a study and Jim came into view. He wasn’t sure precisely why. It was him they’d been after. But failing that, it was a blessing to see that Jim was unharmed. 

“James.”

[moonbeammuses-a]

💔 from my Stephen Strange to your boy Loki

29. Your muse visits mine in prison.

“Well. Isn’t this a surprise.” Despite the hoarseness of his voice, Loki smirked across the magical field that separated him from Earth’s ‘Sorcerer Supreme.’ “When they said I had a visitor, I will admit, it was unexpected. But you?” He chuckled.  

“You must excuse my appearance, I didn’t realize you were coming.” His appearance being the disheveled state he found himself in. Bruised, bloodied, and with a particularly sore neck. The collar wrapped around that neck beeped steadily, a testament to his inability to magick his way out of the situation. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy visitors, of course.” Loki raised shackled hands to rest his elbows on the countertop before him. “But you made it clear you’re not a fan of mine last time we met.” 

[moonbeammuses-a]

// Artbreeder is dangerous because I can spend 3 hours editing portraits from it AFTER i’ve recognized that my arm hurts and i really shouldn’t be drawing LOL 

So anyway, I fucked around and drew Arioch using an artbreeder portrait as a base. 

I didnt realize the portrait was too young til it was too late but I still think I did okay. 

[ofhotheads-blog]

THE MEME FOR PEOPLE WHO HATE HAPPINESS.

Who doesn’t love soul-crushing angst? Send me a 💔 and I’ll generate a number, 1-75, and post a starter based on what scenario I get. 

Please note that some of these scenarios may be triggering.

Keep reading

[moonbeammuses-a]

Limited || Accepting Specify Muse~

[moonbeammuses-a]

theseancekid​:

@moonbeammuses​​ liked (x)  

     “I…don’t even know where to start.” He chuckles, perplexed expression set on the wall decorations before him. It was fun at first, taking his mom out of the house to do some proper Christmas shopping— he doesn’t even know if she’s ever been to a proper Target before, but even so, she’s got Dad’s credit card and it’s fucking loaded, so it’s sure to be grand either way. 

     But it’s overwhelming in a bittersweet sort of way, trying to celebrate Christmas like a normal family, as if their bastard old man hadn’t put a ban on the holiday for as long as they lived under his roof, as if he hadn’t spent his entire life isolated from this culture, as if his mother will somehow know how to fix everything now that she’s free of him. He still feels a pang in his chest, as he glances at the little Santa ornaments, remembering all those nights he’d stayed up wondering why Santa never came to their house, why they never got presents like all the other children around the world. 

     Still, the sorrow of the past doesn’t stop him from picking out an ornament with childlike fascination, turning towards his mother to get her opinion. “This one’s weird. We have to get it.” It’s a pickle with a Santa hat, and Klaus is very, very amused.

“Neither do I,” Grace admitted, walking the aisle slowly, fascinated. There was a shopping basket tucked neatly into the crook of her elbow, but she hadn’t placed anything into it yet. “But there are so many beautiful things here, I’m sure we’ll find something wonderful.” 

The realization that they could decorate, that they could celebrate, had been very exciting, and she was glad Klaus wanted to be here with her. She was going to decorate the entire house, and she’d warned Pogo as much with a cheerful smile before they left. “Oh that’s so silly,” she laughed, holding the basket forward. “You find the strangest things sometimes, Klaus. Let’s buy it. It will certainly get people talking when they see the tree.” 

A new thought occurred to her, and Grace tilted her head slightly as she turned back to the shelves. “Do you think the other children celebrate Christmas?” she asked, curiously turning a set of gold ornaments. Maybe she could find something for each of them. Something to make them remember home, but fondly. Another set of ornaments caught her eye, and Grace plucked the box from the shelf quickly, breathing a small “oh” of delight. A set of ten clear round ornaments, each with a slot to place a picture inside.  “Klaus, these are perfect. I could put a photograph of each of you on the tree. There’s even enough to have  Claire and Pogo.” 

A beat, as she hesitates, tries to decide if it’s safe to ask. “There’s one more. Is there anyone you’d like to add a picture of, Klaus?”

[moonbeammuses-a]

// so I (sort of?) made the brothers Marion, Orion, and Wolfe in Artbreeder because I hyperfixated on that site for a while LOL

I definitely didn’t come back to this post with updated versions of Marion and Wolfe because they were kind of terrible. nope.

And a word to the wise, if body horror/the uncanny valley gets to you, stay off that site, people make some weird shit on it. 

[moonbeammuses-a]

Where does your power lie? 

Marion Damzky

THE LUNGS

breathe, just breathe. whether it's to calm yourself or raise your voice, your control has always been your strength. in, out. you feel, you observe, you hold it in, and you release that which you cannot use. and you sing. and you sing.

Orion 

THE HEART

your power is steady and driving. your power is fickle, it skips and it races and it bleeds and it burns. your strength is in how much you care, about everything. your strength is cold and it is stone and it is soft and it is on your sleeve. and you love. my god, do you love.

tagged by: @theirvoices  tagging: The dash!

[moonbeammuses-a]

// alright, i took a week off streaming and im holed up at home resting, so the chances I’ll finish archiving and remaking this blog in the next week is high af. (tentatively) expect me! 

Four years and ten thousand posts, wow. My first RP blog here. It feels weird to let it go. but I need the fresh start.  I’ll update you all when it is done. 

[moonbeammuses-a]

@talktoten​​ cont. from an ask

It was not the first time he had heard it - and it would not be the last. There was age, in his eyes. The weight of galaxies, and people with nobody to remember them besides the Doctor, besides this solitary man in a solitary box. He met Jimmy’s eye for a while, wondering what aptitude it was that humans had, for noticing that. How human it was, to know that happy was not suited to lonely. 

 But he wasn’t. Lonely. He was here. The Doctor blinked, breaking the stare he’d unintentionally started, and he shook his head a fraction, “Just tired.” Meant as dismissal. He swirled the lime water in the last half of his glass, watching the way the bubbles tried to surface, and when he had finished swallowing his latest sip he nodded, upwards, in Jimmy’s direction, “Is there anything tourist-y, to do around here?” Invitation? A beat. “Whatever it is, I’ve got tickets.” Definitely invitation.

Jimmy held the stare. Let the Doctor know that he Saw. That they weren’t empty words. His eyes might be going, but Jimmy still saw a lot of things in people that they didn’t always mean to have visible. He didn’t push it. “Just tired,” the Doctor said, and Jimmy nodded. Sure. But what kind of tired? Instead of asking, he went back to the task at hand, disassembling the taps from the beer dispenser for cleaning. Dumping them in hot water now made the prep for tomorrow easier. 

The question made him laugh. "In Manhattan? I’m sure there’s something,” he joked mildly. “Tickets to anywhere, huh? Right, sure. Well, there’s the statue of Liberty, if you care about that sort of thing.” Didn’t really strike Jimmy as particularly impressive, when her message was so easily forgotten. 

“They’ve got a few art museums around, not just the Met. We’re not far from the theater district, either. An’ if you’re telling me you’ve got tickets to Wicked, I’ll lock the place up right now.” More a joke than anything, sure in the belief that the Doctor’s claim had been, too. But there was something, in the way the Doctor regarded him. Something not-quite-a-smile there, at Jimmy’s expense. “What? You can’t seriously expect me to believe you just have tickets to Broadway.”

[neopastel-dreams-deactivated201]

ABCs of your OCs

a list of oc questions in alphabetical categories - i made each category based on the first word I could think of in alphabetical order, so enjoy!

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young? 2. what activities have they participated in? 3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for? 4. what things are they bad at? 5. what is their most impressive talent?

B: Basics 1. what is their hair color? 2. what is their eye color? 3. how tall are they? 4. how old are they? 5. how much do they weigh?

C: Comfort 1. how do they sit in a chair? 2. in what position do they sleep? 3. what is their ideal comfort day? 4. what is their major comfort food? why? 5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

D: Decoration 1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name? 2. how would they decorate their child’s room? 3. how do they decorate their own room? 4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear? 5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? 2. do they do things that conform to the norm? 3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? 4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? 5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

F: Fun 1. what do they do for fun? 2. what is their ideal party? 3. who would they have the most fun with? 4. can they have fun while conforming to rules? 5. do they go out a lot?

G: Gorgeous 1. what is their most attractive external feature? 2. what is the most attractive part of their personality? 3. what benefits come with being their friend? 4. what parts of them do they like and dislike? 5. what parts of others do they envy?

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room? 2. do they prefer summer or winter? 3. do they like the snow? 4. do they have a favorite summer activity? 5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

I: In-the-closet 1. what is their sexuality? 2. have they ever questioned their sexuality? 3. have they ever questioned their gender? 4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT? 5. how long would/did it take for them to come out?

J: Joy 1. what makes them happy? 2. who makes them happy? 3. are there any songs that bring them joy? 4. are they happy often? 5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

K: Kill 1. have they ever thought about suicide? 2. have they ever thought about homicide? 3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who? 4. who would miss them if they died? 5. who would be happy they died, anyone?

L: Lemons 1. what is their favorite fruit? 2. what is their least favorite fruit? 3. are there any foods they hate? 4. do they have any food intolerances? 5. what is their favorite food?

M: Maternal 1. would they want a daughter or a son? 2. how many children do they want? 3. would they be a good parent? 4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter? 5. would they adopt?

N: Never Have I Ever 1. what would they never do? 2. what have they never done that they want to do? 3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? 4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? 5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? 2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? 3. are they good at giving advice? 4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? 5. were they always optimistic?

P: Personality 1. what is their best personality trait? 2. what is their worst personality trait? 3. what of their personality do others love? 4. what of their personality do others envy? 5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

Q: Questions 1. do they ask for help? 2. do they ask questions in class? 3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable? 4. do they ask weird questions? 5. are they curious?

R: Rules 1. do they follow rules? 2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent? 3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule? 4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking? 5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

S: Streets 1. are they street-smart? 2. would they give money to someone on the streets? 3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets? 4. has anything happened to them on the streets? 5. are they cautious when out?

T: Truth 1. are they honest? 2. can they tell if someone is lying? 3. is it obvious when they’re lying? 4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about? 5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

U: Underdog 1. have they been bullied? 2. have they bullied anyone? 3. have they been physically attacked by a bully? 4. have they ever been doubted? 5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

V: Vomit 1. do they vomit often? 2. do they get lots of stomach aches? 3. are they good at comforting someone ill? 4. what do they like as far as comfort goes? 5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

W: Water 1. do they drink enough water? 2. have they learned to swim? 3. do they like to swim? 4. can they dive? 5. can they swim without holding their nose?

X: Xylophone 1. what is their favorite genre of music? 2. do they have a favorite song? 3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer? 4. can they sing well? 5. can they rap?

Y: You 1. how old were you when you created them? 2. what inspired you to create them? 3. were they different when they were first created? 4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters? 5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

Z: Zebra 1. what’s their favorite animal? 2. do they like animals? 3. cats or dogs? 4. what’s their dream pet? 5. do they have any pets at the moment?

[pristinepastel]

please guys??

[moonbeammuses-a]

theirvoices​: 

Logan waved a hand, dismissing the notion right off the bat. “Been hanging around here long enough to know better.” He shook his head, remembering the last time he’d doubted or underestimated someone’s abilities. Still, that made up an interesting set of abilities. “So… if I’m getting this right, your sister infected you, and now she’s in your head… right?” Well, that wasn’t exactly ideal, but it did explain a bit.

The older mutant whistled at the second part of his story. “Shit.” They sat like that in the quiet for a moment, before Logan spoke up. “Well… this calls for some harder stuff. C’mon.” He nodded his head towards the doorway, pushing up from his seat. “I got a stash of some whiskey in my room. Was savin’ it for a special occasion, and…” he shrugged. “This works.”

That was fine. Most people weren’t in a hurry to be told what to do by a normal person. It was unsurprising that they’d want to avoid it coming from him. 

“Basically. Only reason I’m sitting here this lucid is cause you kicked my ass a little earlier,” he joked, before the humor fell away again. “Luka... I don’t think she gets that it’s wrong. But even if she does, she’s not going to stop trying to get to me. I don’t know why she didn’t show up by now, honestly.” 

“Guess that means I qualify for weird, even in a place like this,” Marion said, tone filled with wry amusement as he stood to follow Logan. “I can always spot you for it later. When I said I’d let you buy me a drink, whiskey was more what I had in mind anyhow.” 

[moonbeammuses-a]

theirvoices​:

Logan took a swig from his own beer as he held out Marion’s, nodding as he swallowed. He knew how hard it could be, just starting to talk, to get the words out. Not everyone needed a damn pep talk, and he was happy not to have to find the magic words to fix things. So… he listened.

The story he was told was a wild ride, to be sure. Once he was done, Logan knew two things for sure: kid had led a hard life, and secondly, these were all issues that were definitely too big for Marion to be shouldering on his own.

“Shit,” Logan exclaimed under his breath, at a loss for words for the moment. Taking a long pull from his drink, he set it aside, turning in his seat to face Marion more fully. “So, wait… you can tell people what to do? Like… like the professor?” He asked, scrunching his nose in confusion. A shifter and a telepath? What kinda collage of mutations was this kid?

Marion was grateful that Logan did as he asked and let him talk. Starting was hardest, and it didn’t get much easier as he spoke, but there was a difference, the more he said. Of course Logan asked about that, who wouldn’t? “Yes, and no,” he tilted his head to the side. “It’s not telepathy. It’s.. similar, I think. But I have to speak. Or sing. I have to be heard. I could prove it, if you don’t believe me.” 

After a minute, he kept telling his story. “We worked with Erik, for a while.” No doubt Logan knew who he was. “Nothing too bad, actually. Mainly outreach, support. Finding scared mutants and helping them build a better community. It didn’t take much for him to figure out something was wrong. So he separated us. I don’t remember how. And here I am. At a school, full of kids. Where somebody that I have an untameable urge to kill is trying to cure me of a virus my sister used to control me.” 

He chuckled, tilting the empty bottle to catch the light. “And you wonder why I’m stressed out.”