the m stands for mutant

the m stands for mutant!

[mzone]

vigilan7e​:

he’s not sure what to say. technically, he could pretend it’s a backhanded compliment and get mad at that. but by just acknowledging it, aiden would be locked into a choice. few more steps down that line and he’ll find himself beaten again. the only winning move, something something.

so he disentangles by letting out a rough grunt. aiden very pointedly does not look up from the keyboard as he announces, frankly and honestly: “i am going to steal a police drone. and i am going to program it to tase you every time it spots you outside the safehouse.” he looks up now because it’s easier to lock eyes with ian when he’s threatening him with physical violence. “you ever been tased?”

   “Has anyone ever told you that you can be... I can’t even think of something. If I say ‘a dickhead’ the answer is obviously ‘yes’.”

Ian has never been tased, nor has he spent more than half a second thinking over his response to the threat of being tased. Because Aiden’s not going to tase him. He’s decided as much. And once he’s decided as much, what is there to worry about? Why overthink things?

He lays his hands in his lap and slouches more comfortably in his own desk chair, the one Aiden stopped using precisely because of the squeaky wheels Ian is now idly rolling on, back and forth, squee-squeek, back and forth, squee-squeek.

   “You’re kind of a cunt.”

[mzone]

@vigilan7e

   “I can’t imagine you being young. Without the -” He pinches his own chin between finger and thumb, tracing out the shape of Aiden’s beard on his own smooth cheeks. “It really adds a lot. I don’t think you’d be interesting without it. You’d just be some guy. More than you already are - just some guy.”

[mzone]

disdelusion​:

he’s about to ask a very surprised question before he realizes suzy is joking, as evidenced by her very loud laughter. david shakes his head but knows better than to show that he’s mad after she got him. he realizes that would be very lame.

“okay, well– that means your prom is still ahead of you. i’m sure you can make it a movie experience.” whatever that means. 

He’s so mad. He is though. People got annoyed at David when he first got to Summerland, because they didn’t get why he is the way he is, or why he does the things he does, but honestly, Suzy’s never been on side. Maybe that’s why she l*kes him - he’s got tells. He’s wired a pretty obvious way, if you’re open to people who aren’t wired like you. And, Suzy’s okay knowing she’s not wired like most people. So...

Yeah, he’s so mad. “Thanks, champ.” She gives him a forceful punch in the shoulder like an old timey sports coach, if ‘movie quality’ is the metric of success they’re going for. “Whaddyou think the odds of us having a prom here are?”

[mzone]

amelorates​:

His facial expression changes a little, eyebrows pulling together again in thought, but his hands stay up where he held them, almost forgotten. He supposes he’s been lucky with his set. There’s certainly been times where he wishes he could’ve changed his face, but god knows man to bird to man is easier. Other options would take way too much time out of his day.

He supposes the subject of identity is probably not an easy one for any one of their kind, but hey, at least he never loses sight of land. He can certainly sympathize, though.

“I mean, I knew you were funny,” he finally remembers he has hands, and remembers to lower them again too, “always showin’ up lookin’ different. I kinda just figured that was your personal preference.” He shrugs a little, and finally stumps the butt of his cigarette down into the ground. 

“Hey, it’s okay, though. Age is just a little thing, right? Plenty of other stuff that makes you, you.”

They can feel the warm light of sympathy glow all over their skin. Not even sympathy - empathy through and through, probably, if not, Gale is very convincing. It does feel like he gets it, genuinely, and that Kennedy doesn’t have to ply him with sorry for oversharing or thank you for understanding.

They feel the spiritual equivalent of being full after a wonderful meal. And if they thank him it’s for that, not for putting up with them, but for the nice feeling in their belly. Kennedy limply slaps a palm against Gale’s hand as he puts it down, just to share something in touch, if not words.

   “I have to say - I like that. Funny. I’d like to start answering the ‘what are you’ question with just ‘funny’.”

[mzone]

damnthings​:

     It’s funny–– Despite his own anxieties, Silas is a natural at bedside manner. He stands to fetch a bottle of water from a nearby cabinet and offers it with a smile. 

     “No need to worry. There’s nothing you could say that would be wrong.” Picking up on their cues, he mirrors them, setting aside the clipboard in an attempt to ease nerves. “This is all about you and your experience.”

Well shit - he’s nice. Shouldn’t that make things easier? Wouldn’t it for anyone else? They find their hand slowly opening and closing in their lap, nervously sinking nails into their thigh. It’s leaving little claw marks in the denim.

   “Thanks for saying.” They nod, which is more for them than Silas. If they make their body agree first maybe their mind will come after. “I don’t know any like... like me. Guess that’s everyone, though. Have you met two mutants? The same? Or is it always... everyone’s alone?”

[mzone]

psychexch​:

MAYBE THEY CAN SEE IT. the penchant for addiction, he means. romero saw it easily. maybe even fucking instantly. hanging out in the right crowds, not stuck behind a screen for his whole life waiting for something to happen to him. he just wants to sleep. that’s all. tried everything that is supposed to help, even some of the things krista told him to do. 

but that’s not the question. not romero’s vaguely accusatory tone. just a question that brings him up short. 

❝ not really, ❞ he admits after a moment. ❝ i don’t think that’ll be a problem. ❞

( my sleep schedule’s too fucked to dream, i think. i don’t really remember the last time i got a full night of sleep without inducing something. chemically, i mean. )

a pause. a vague memory, swimming up through the haze of sleeplessness and – well, when did he even last eat? ❝ i mean. when i do dream it’s…. vivid, i guess. but that’s not often. ❞

So by kind of no he means sort of yes. That’s not a good precedent.

Nemo rolls the pill in their palm under their thumb. Elliot’s not asking for it yet, he seems game to chat. It’s not so bad if they just talk a little longer, is it? They’ll give him the pills, of course they will, they just can’t help but wonder first.

It’s not being kicked out that’s the issue. It’s being the last one awake at a sleepover. It’s having no one to talk to. The unconscious make bad company.

   “Vivid?” They repeat. “Vivid... how?”

[mzone]

disdelusion​:

“uh, yeah.” david agrees though he’s not exactly sure what a movie-like prom entails. he stares at suzy, trying to guess why she seems so underwhelmed. this isn’t a well-exercised memory for him, so he doesn’t know the right words for dressing it up. he probably should have tried harder to impress this teenager.

“are you… high school age?” wow, that sounded bad. bad enough that david feels like he should arrest himself on the spot. he rushes to explain himself: “i’m not asking in a, a creepy way, i just– you’re pre-prom age, yes?”

   “What? David, I’m twenty-two years old.”

Is he buying it? Oh my god. He actually kind of did. Just for a second. She laughs so hard it hurts her in the nose.

   “Kidding. I’m like, fifteen, probably.”

[disdelusion]

@mzone​​ + starter call ♥

it’s friday afternoon which means no more classes at johnny mutant’s school of taking pity on david haller. he locks up the staff room and stares at the keys in his palm. there are two of them. the number of doors he locked is one. so, there’s something else he still needs to do. ( look at our resident genius go ). he looks around. ( storage room ). ah, he almost forgot. 

david makes his way to the storage room while squeezing the keys in his sweaty palm. he doesn’t like weekends. they leave him with too much freedom and too much freedom makes the mind wander. maybe he should talk to the principal ( or maybe you should leave already ) about more classes. between his fingers, david can sense that strange metallic scent of overheating keys. he jams one of them into the keyhole of the storage room. it doesn’t fit. he scrambles to change it to the right one. he drops both keys. 

sometimes it’s the littlest things that can set someone off.

david slams his forehead into the doors before him and a shockwave follows. this is his right ( you decide what is real ) and this is what happens around him. he makes the walls tremble and the shelves shake with pressure. an avalanche of dull thuds behind the doors follows the impact. david can guess that every single ball in the storage room just tumbled down and started bouncing off the floors and each other. he bangs his fist on the doors and they start to vibrate, building up to some sort of spectacular explosion.

but before that, a gasp makes it past the percussion. david gasps too and everything stops moving. he pushes the doors open and sees ziggy, trapped between various pieces of sport equipment that were now frozen in the air. 

“ziggy!” he yells even though everything is quiet again and there’s no reason to raise his voice. ( what did we tell her about trying to help? ) anger swells. “what did i tell you about–” no, wrong. wrong. ( try again ). he shakes his head, tries again.

“i’m, i’m sorry, are you okay?”

[mzone]

Tidying keeps her busy, which is great. There’s always an hour or so after class ends before Ziggy’s mom picks her up. The school isn’t middle-of-nowhere far, but it is kind of out there. Mutant schools are few and far between, but at least this one is actually within driving distance. She hasn’t really had the conversation with her mom about Xavier’s, about maybe boarding in the school, if it’s on offer.

And she could get a cab -- Mr. Mutant said he’d cover it -- or even ask one of the other students to help her home -- they’ve all offered -- but she likes a little quiet time to get a start on her homework or help out with the tidying. It makes the teachers like her and she likes being liked. If she went home there would be an A/C unit rattling like hell or the weird rotor hum of the ceiling fan or car horns outside the window if she cracked it open.

This is calm and methodical and it’s kind of out there so it’s quiet. Everything stacks and everything fits and Mr. Haller doesn’t always love it, but she’s kind of holding out that he’ll be a softie in the end, and he’ll give her some really insightful parting words on her last day.

Tidying keeps her busy, which is great.

   “No?” It’s so obvious. It’s like he’s looking at someone who just lost an arm and asking can they feel their fingers. Even if it might set Mr. Haller off, Ziggy can’t think of another way to react than pointing out the clear, painfully obvious -- “No! What the fu - Mr. Haller! No! I’m n- I’m not! You -”

Her hands twitch (but stay bound low to her knees) towards the weight balls and the blunt javelins and the basketballs with a bounce sharp enough to give you a nosebleed if they hit you square on the face. She knows that for a fact. Haller made them play dodgeball with them last week. Because he’s - he’s - “I didn’t - I didn’t do anything. I’m sorry? I’m sorry abuh - about the tidying. I just wanted to h - to h -” To help, but all the words get tangled up in tears.

[disdelusion]

DAVID HALLER. MUTANT, ADDICT, TELEPATH. SICK AND/OR GODLIKE. ( indie rp blog. find your stillness and open your mind. )

[newestmutants]

@mzone​ for neev. 

‘ no way man, you’re a nurse? that’s crazy, that’s sick. i’ve been thinking about getting emt certified, but like, for personal reasons.’ he points to his nasal cast, even though it’s already doing a pretty good job of drawing attention to itself. despite being dressed almost identically to a nose job, it looks broken. you could walk by lyle in passing and just know, in your gut, that this man’s injuries had nothing to do with elective surgery.

‘ i could never do full blown med school. 7 years? 8 years? ruh-roh, i don’t think so. my attention span is so bad i can’t even finish the fucking sopranos. ’

[mzone]

He remembers being so naive as to think he could just sit down and write a novel, if he really just felt like it. Neev was younger and dumber at the time, but he still gets little ideas like that sometimes. That it can’t be that hard. Well. Let i’ve been thinking about getting emt certified humble him.

   “Ruh-roh.” He smiles. “It takes a certain kind of commitment and hubris. Believing you’re the one who should be in charge of people’s health and lives.” He’s teasing. Sort of. Re-crossing his legs to stretch the other knee. “You might be cocky enough to be a doctor.”

[damnthings]

@mzone​ | MUTANT CALL!

     “ –– Alright. “      To call this a dream job would be an understatement. His passion and education had all led up to this point, leading a medical revolution in the field of mutations, though not as it has been done before: person-first research is his game, never one to pry and experiment for the sake of simple information. Silas wants to make a difference.      He takes a seat near Nemo wit clipboard in hand, pen ready for notes.

     “I’ve got a basic understanding of your mutation on paper, but I’d like to hear a little more about it from you.”

[mzone]

Their heart is racing in their chest, and their body has nothing to show for it. The fatigue suffocates the flame of Nemo’s anxiety. Can he tell at all how nervous they are? How many regrets hammered into their brain at the sight of a clipboard alone? It’s not even the fear of getting disappeared by an evil scientist, that’s... it’s not stupid. But it’s not what’s at stake here.

   “It’s... it’s in my...” Even the spit feels thick in their mouth. They swallow hard. “Do you have water? Being honest, I’m, nervous. About explaining wrong... that fucks up your study... and everything goes wrong down the line...”

[mzone]

seasreign​:

 it’s  been  a  long  time  since  vulko  trained  him  like  this                      it’s  been  a  long  time  since  he’d  been  so  young  and  excitable      ,      too      ,      before  the  wool  had  been  pulled  from  over  his  eyes      .      it’s  been  years  since  he  had  thought  about  that                      and  now  here’s  suzy      ,      reminding  him  of  exactly  that      .      what  had  vulko  done  when  they’d  first  started  training      ?      talking  and  teaching  and  nothing  even  remotely  close  to  handling  weapons      .      and  that  had  gone  on  for  months  before  he’d  even  gotten  his  hands  on  one  of  those  fancy  atlantean  weapons      .

 ❝          the  first  thing  you’re  gonna  want  to  do  is  slow  down     .      if  you  think  you’re  ever  gonna  learn  any  chi  blocking  techniques  when  you’re  jumping  around  like  a  firecracker  with  her  butt  lit      ,      think  again      .          ❞                                he’s  pumped      ,      but  compared  to  her      ,      it’s  like  he’s  not  excited  at  all      !      he  shakes  his  legs  and  wrists  out      ,      scans  his  little  stack  of  weapons      ,      and  pulls  up  the  lightest  and  skinniest  one  he  can  find      .      its  end  is  filled  from  years  of  use  :  a  prop  used  for  training      .      exactly  what  she  needs      .                              ❝          take  this  and  show  me  what  you  can  do      .          ❞

Doesn’t he wanna see how pumped she is for this? Suzy takes a deep breath and keeps her feet flat on the ground, but her heart is still jumping around in her chest. He can’t tell her to stop that. Can he? No one’s ever mentioned Aquaman being able to hear heartbeats, but she really didn’t study up on his Wikipedia before this. That better not bite her in the ass.

   “Oh. Love this.” Suzy takes the spear from his hand. She wiggles her wrist to see if it wobbles a little. It kind of does. To start, she puts her focus in the palm of her hand and transfers it to the spear. Her grip releases and it stays floating in the air, so when Suzy gives it a tip it floats horizontally. With a well practiced kick, she shoots it down the beach until it hits a tall piece of driftwood. The little yah! helps.

She allows herself another couple of little excited jumps. “How’s that? That’s the first trick I figured out so I’ve practiced it loads. I usually do it with... pillows and stuff. So this rules.”

[mzone]

amelorates​:

He’s willing to work with that comparison, he supposes, pulling his shoulders up into a shrug as he takes another drag. Churning his mind to try to humor them, find instances where he hasn’t found math, or the sciences for that matter, to be a total waste of brain space——but then stops in its tracks, “Wait, you really don’t know your own birthday?”

Looks to them, “There has to be a way to reverse-engineer that shit, right? Some formula or other? Add and subtract and divide on——something?” He scratches his chin with the thumb of his empty hand, lets his eyes wander again as if he’s looking for an answer in their surroundings, then is distracted with his own answer, “Ah, we’re. Pushing forty-two. But if anyone asks I’m twenty-five. Not my kneecaps though. I haven’t spoken to him in a while, I hope he’s out there doin’ good. Hey——” 

He sits up, cigarette dangling from lips, unable to let this missing age-thing go completely, “maybe someone can read your palms. I’ve heard our hands got——life lines or something.” He holds his hands up as if to show them, though he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. It’s a guesstimate; the whole hand. “Maybe that can tell ya.”

They’re thinking oh, shoot, shouldn’t have let that slip, but did they really let it out by accident or just kind of want to share? There are stranger things than this. They don’t even look so old. They’re like the physical embodiment of those stupid adverts for aging ‘gracefully’ and denying yourself the basic human right to grow old. But that’s the sticking point, isn’t it. The human part.

But what can a man who’s a bird hold against them? What human high ground does he have?

   “I... I change around a lot. Every day. I don’t know if my life lines are the same every time.” There’s a red blush creeping up their face. They can feel it coming on. “But I think I’m old. Older than you. And your brother. A lot older. But after a while you just forget stuff, like people and birthdays. It’s just been such a long time, you know?”

There’s no way he can know, but they don’t know how to close this thought without a little plea for empathy.

[mzone]

disdelusion​:

why did she just punch him. he’s getting mixed signals. david laughs politely either way.

“yeah. i’m trying.” oh, he knows he’s not the world’s best storyteller. most people have a direct link between their brains and their mouths. david thinks he has a very leaky water-slide instead of that. and not even a fun one.

when suzy asks about his prom he’s genuinely surprised by that question. or rather, by the innocence of it. he blows air out of his cheeks with a loud sound while straining his memory. “what was prom like… fun, i guess? the punch was spiked, i remember that. there was, uh… dancing… kissing. responsible kissing. more dancing. a lot of bad music. swaying from left to right when a slow song came on. stuff like that.”

She can’t decide if it’s worse that he just put ‘fun’ and ‘spiked punch’ in the same thought, or that he just said the words ‘responsible kissing’ with his mouth. Suzy tries not to grimace, but the effort shows.

   “Sounds... huh.” It’s nothing unexpected. She couldn’t be less impressed. And that’s not a slight against David, just against proms and all the teen lives they’re meant to enliven. “So it’s... exactly like in movies? So I’m not missing much.”

[mzone]

if your character had a school what would it be called in the format of ABC’s School of XYZ 👀

[mzone]

disdelusion​:

he doesn’t need permission. he scrambles. it’s disgusting but he does. he doesn’t get up from his chair, he slides off of it. lands on his knees and drags himself with his elbows towards the ceramic frog. like a cartoon man crawling through the desert to where the sign is pointing but the joke is that the sign doesn’t say “water”, it says something else and it’s funny to people who think that survival matters to everybody.

david shouldn’t have listened. it’s always the same. he listens and then the voices say everything he doesn’t want to hear. he glances at the open doors as he fumbles with the little baggie. stupid. 

“why is it blue?” he asks because benny isn’t in the room. he watches three drops land in the little water pond inside a frog. he replies to himself because, again, benny isn’t here: “it’s always blue.” 

the smoke hits. something limp takes over david’s body and he welcomes at as he slowly collapses onto the dusty carpet. heavy limbs come with silence and he wants it so he doesn’t fight gravity at all. he looks up to make sure the ghost closed the doors behind her after leaving.

but she’s still here. 

“oh shit.” he coughs out, his back convulses against the floor.

Well, look at him go. How bad he wants her to not exist. That’s a special feeling. Everyone knows what it’s like to be wished dead, very few know what it’s like to be wished undone.

   “Oisín, actually.” 

All his words now sound familiar. They leave a print in the room from being spoken so much. Like a path trodden in the grass, flat and dead where you just keep walking on it over, and over, and over.

She has to assume he won’t die from this. He survived using a lot more in her regular timeline, he’ll make it through this hit. Jesus, this would be a job poorly done if he choked on his vomit now. David is high off his fucking face and for better or worse, probably the latter, that means they’re actually getting somewhere. 

Oisín comes around to crouch at his side, her weightlessness more comfortable when she keeps low to the ground. He must have spent a lot of time down here. “It’s a boy’s name, actually. You won’t believe how it’s spelled.”

[mzone]

amelorates​:

In all seriousness, he waves, squinting towards the tiny light in the sky before lowering his hand back around Kennedy’s back. “I dunno, I’d be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. It’s dark out and we’re very small.” But he’s excited; hasn’t seen one of these in ages. Even though they’re already shoulder to shoulder, he bumps them and nods his head upwards. “Hey, you gotta make a wish.” 

   “Oh, geez.” They glance up only to look down and screw their eyes shut. A wish takes all their concentration. Oh god. What do they want. Should they be wishing for what they want anyway? Maybe someone else needs a wish? Because Kennedy has no clue what they want and that’s not something that bears close examination right now. “Uhmmm-uhm-uhm.”

They wish David gets into the college he wants to go to. And they let out a big, gusty, shoulder-sagging sigh, leaning hard into Gale like their legs can barely keep them up. (A little melodrama never hurt anyone.) “Wow, that was so much harder than it needed to be. Did you have a wish ready to go for that? I - that stumped me.”