cyclops was right.

an empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism) indie scott summers written by freddie

[sykeclops]

DISDELUSION​.

“inherit? oh, ohhh. uhhh. a bit.” he says with his mouth but the rest of his sentence is audible to minds only: “maybe too much.”

“i’m david. david haller. and i’m guessing he… didn’t mention me.” he’s speaking normally again. there are walls around the other guy’s mind and he doesn’t want to take them apart. there’s no reason to break and enter for the second time today. instead, david smiles in a weird way that makes the corners of his lips look dry: “he must have been a busy man, i mean– lazy guys don’t get statues when they, um, die– man, imagine that! a statue, huh?? what, what is that, uhh, ivory?”

‘ marble. ivory’s illegal in the us. ’ it’s hard not to be defensive, especially when scott’s generally hopeless at finessing tough conversations. he can say exactly what’s on his mind or circumvent it completely, there’s no middle ground. ‘ he was a very busy man,’ to an unhealthy excess if it’s true he never spent time with david in life. something that’s partially his fault, since playing scott’s father figure was heavy on the agenda from the day he arrived on the doorstep. while that could also be said for many other mutants who've decided to make westchester, new york home, it’s how the old saying goes: out of sight, out of mind. they aren’t here to share the guilt.

' if you want to pay your respects, i won’t stand in your way. ’ 

[twoidiotswatchcartoons]

[sykeclops]

did i dream up an end credits tag foreshadowing mr sinister in an xmcu movie or was that real... also hello i have stable internet again, do u want a starter? i can make that happen 

[sykeclops]

theres no header no icon but i do have a mutant sideblog in progress that the ten of u should follow @newestmutants

[sykeclops]

MZONE.

   “Sure! Oh, yeah, totally, sure, if you say so.” She puts her hands up to really bring it home that she is being completely hands off, and it’s totally up to Scott what he does next, because she won’t tell him what to do, and this is a chill space where you can do what you like, and it’s up to him, so don’t even worry about it.

But now that that’s established Ziggy’s going to barrel right ahead. “You don’t have to go right downstairs - you can chill up here if you want for a bit. There’s like ten people right now I think.“ Again, she pulls her hands to her chest - it’s not her call, but he is looking like he wants to flatten himself into the wallpaper. “I can introduce you, too. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

‘ actually, introductions might be good.’ in spite of first appearances, scott’s whole reason for being here was to make friends, branch out, and build an independent social life. now that ziggy has renewed that spirit by being chill, he’s actually gotta put in some effort of his own. he pulls himself off the wall and pats down his denim jacket, which doesn’t really get the creases out, it just makes it look like he’s trying. 

‘ does everyone like, know each other already? or is it a new people every week kinda thing? ’ 

[sykeclops]

DISDELUSION.

“yes! that’s all i wanna– ugh, okay, let me think, give me a second.” he presses the heel of both hands to his eyes, giving himself a moment of frantic privacy. the consensus inside him was clear: no unnecessary attention, david. sometimes telling the truth is the easiest way out, david. especially when daddy’s stone eyes are watching us, david. he drops his arms and locks them into an impatient shrug. fine! fine, he can play along.

“you’re going to think i’m crazy but that man over there–” he glances at the ivory statue in the distance. “–he’s my dad, okay? was, i guess. charles xavier, right? i mean, he gave me away when i was a baby, so i don’t know him that well but– i’m doing, uh, a self-discovery journey so i wanted to find him and…” the longer david talks, the quieter his voice gets. maybe this was a mistake.

the confession is almost funny, if only it could completely teeter over the edge of being a joke and become laughable. now scott has to come to terms with the fact that charles has lied to him (by omission, but that’s semantics) for the umpteenth time. he won’t bother countering with a “that’s impossible!” because it wouldn’t be out of character for xavier to hide something this size from his surrogate son. actually, this is kind of par for the course.

‘ jesus christ. ’ he shifts his weight from side to side before settling on the right leg and popping a hip. the angry little voice in his head, what most people would call a conscience, has ordered him to be at ease. ‘ you’re his biological son? ’ he taps two fingers against his forehead, ‘ how much did you inherit? ’

[sykeclops]

i didnt forget i had this blog shut up 

[prisonhannibal]

Professor bitch

[sykeclops]

DISDELUSION​.

@sykeclops​

“hold on, hold on now–” he stretches out his arms in a gesture that was probably meant to look placating. dyplomatically stoic even. it doesn’t achieve that. he just looks like he’s scrambling to put any sort of distance between him and the other guy. “technically i’m not even trespassing, you know. it’s complicated but–”

he makes a frustrated noise ( we don’t have time for this ). his neck stretches desperately as he glances over the shoulder of the man who just caught him. he can make out some white gravestones ( so close ) and an oddly blurry statue. david doesn’t think statues are supposed to be blurry. another frustrated noise ( use your words ). “look, i just. i just want to see his grave. that’s all. i just want to look at his grave and then i’m gone. i promise. i just need to make sure, that’s all.”

scott’s standing like a rail, scarily good posture coupled with tight folded arms that scream “i’m in a bad mood” and “i think i’m better than you.” he doesn’t really believe the latter, but it’s internal monologues of that (deluded?) nature that get him through the day. run of the mill affirmations don’t really cut it anymore, his ego’s too battered.

‘ you sure that’s all you want to do? fine, now convince me. ’ he doesn’t look back over at the grave. he wants to, but his head feels stiff and heavy at the thought. if he looked, it might be gone...or worse, it would still be there, staring back. at least this shortcoming comes with the advantage of not letting this guy, this complete stranger, out of his sight. he looks like he’d make a break for it if scott blinked for a second too long, if people could tell when he blinked. 

[sykeclops]

MZONE​.

@sykeclops​

Still fifteen minutes till the meet starts officially, so there’s still time for the hot guy from last week to show. And then Ziggy can just stare at him all evening and try putting out psychic waves that he should talk to her. The odds are high that there’s a telepath in the room who’ll hear her but so what? Like they’ve never given a part-time supermarket cashier the eyes hoping to be acknowledged as cute-ish in some way?

She’s so deeply entrenched in this argument with the strawman mind-reader that Ziggy doesn’t notice the newcomer until he’s standing two feet away. He looks confused, like most people do when Ziggy’s mom greets them at the front door and tells them to go through the kitchen and into the converted basement for the meet. But that’s why Ziggy’s sitting alone in the kitchen, biting her nails and imagining conversations with cool people she’ll never talk to. She’s not the life of the party. She’s the party planner.

   “Hey! First timer?” she waves. Shades indoor is a choice. Unless he needs them, in which case… “Are you - so the meet is downstairs, in the basement, which is why there’s Post Malone playing through my floor right now. Uhm, I’ll be taking the aux when I get down. We usually put one of - you know the lo-fi study beats girl? So, yeah, will you need a hand getting down the stairs or anything?”

‘ oh no, it’s okay. i’m good. i’m fine, thanks.’ it feels necessary to say the same thing three times just incase she’s nice, or curious, because being both nice and curious could lead to a conversation and scott can’t handle that right now. he’s turned a phase in teenagedom where the solution to everything is to take up as little space as possible, say very little, and hover near the wall. angst that probably could’ve been bypassed if he’d gotten to stay at home in his own timeline, the one without an older, stupider, and extremely public version of himself that everyone can identify by a universal constant: red  (extremely prescription) glasses. 

as you can now imagine, it took a heavy rotation of pump up jams for scott to drag himself here-- a youth group made up of the only demographic that could do the math and kick him out... if they felt like it, or whatever. even though it’d suck more, he’d be less stressed at the christian rock appreciation "gathering” happening now in another basement across town.