Sep 17, 2012
comradeazazel started following you
mhsena started following you
Hellllooooooooooo!
seen from South Korea
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Germany
seen from Greece
comradeazazel started following you
mhsena started following you
Hellllooooooooooo!
The Minor Fall and the Major Lift ll Azazel&Mystique
Raven sat in the middle of Clint's apartment, her things in a box in front of her. She just sat there... not moving, not talking... Just sort of... staring... Her eyes stung as she looked around, an ache in her chest, a hand resting on her stomach. She couldn't stay here in anymore. One because, obviously, Clint wouldn't be paying rent anymore. But that was the farthest thing from her mind. The main reason she just couldn't stay there anymore was because it was Clint's apartment... All of it reminded her of him and it was far too painful for her to be there anymore...
The Brotherhood was too far for her to walk with the box of her belongings... She could hail a cab, but she was emotional... The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable in front of some... stranger...
Her mind went to Azazel and she bit on her lip. She went over to the landline and picked up the phone, her finger hovering over the dial. Finally, after quite a bit of... internal debate, she dialed out the number to the Brotherhood headquarters.
N, O, P, R and V?
N. Would you consider yourself vain or narcissistic? - Me? No. I don't consider myself either.
O: Are you open minded, or do you judge people and things before you give them a chance? - ah... Depends, I guess. I tend to be a little bit quicker to judge of humans... But other than that, yeah I think I'm pretty open-minded.
P: Politics, what are your thoughts on them? - That they don't include enough mutants and probably wouldn't favor us if they did. Going through politics gets nothing done.
R: Religion, what is yours? Do you believe in a god? - I'm an atheist. I learned that if God were real, he wouldn't be so unkind. Then growing up with Charles admittedly influenced that as well.
V: Do you ever want children? - well... I used to not want any for a long time but... waiting is kind of out of the window now. I'm... Excited though.
A, B, D and K.
A. Who was the last person to piss you off? What did they do? - Loki. He freaking has me collared for three days. Though today is the last day.
B. Do you miss your ex? What would you do to get them back? - I guess technically my... ex would be Hank. And I kind of was the one to break it off. I guess I miss him a bit. But I left for a reason so... nothing. I wouldn't do anything to get him back.
K. Would I ever kill someone? What would be a good reason too? - mm.. Charles probably would be disappointed in this answer but yes. I would. Sometimes necessary, especially in defense. I don't.... really know what the situation would have to be for me to kill someone...
Tumblr Crushes:
marching-to-the-sound-of-iron
they-call-me-professor-x
ask-charles-x
deceiver-of-fools
comradeazazel
technicaltechnicality
telepathic-labrat
certifiedeinstein
thebamfblueelf
comradeazazel started following you
Well damn, you're like a human strawberry! Pleased t'meet you, I'm Kaylee Frye.
behindthestripes started following you
comradeazazel started following you
Unless you're here to offer me a job, or y'got somethin' I can chug back, I ain't gonna have much to say. So state your purpose. I ain't got all day.
Oops
((WHOOP sorry this is delayed. My brain works best at drabbles apparently when I'm miles and miles away from any wifi access points and it's late at night. wELP here you go here is my crap.))
Oops: I will write our characters getting into some trouble.
“What are the masks for?”
“Do you want to get caught? It’s NYC. There are cameras everywhere.”
Azazel tilted his head up, surveying for said cameras. Before he could find any, Quentin elbowed him—cueing for him to lower his mask and enter the crowd.
“This is how you protest?” Azazel tugged at the scarf around his neck and ears. It was essential that there was no way they could be recognized, so covering up skin was important. He’d wondered why Quentin didn’t bother wearing a hat to cover his trademark hairdo, but the boy insisted that in this crowd, he was far from unique. Azazel thought this foolish regardless, but upon entering the fray, picket signs in hand and backpacks loaded with explosives, he could see that Quentin wasn’t the most radical looking one at all. He’d never seen so many pastel colored hair and mohawks and Guy Fawkes impersonators in one place.
“This is how we protest.” Quentin nodded, thrusting sign into the air. Humans and mutants were gathered—Azazel was sure they were not the only ones. Since the Schism of the X-Men, Sentinels had been distributed en masse across the globe. Sentinels were destructive technology programed to hunt mutants, Quentin had explained. From what Azazel understood, what little mutants where left were in worse danger than before, all thanks to Quentin’s outburst on public television. The teen argued that it was a good thing; that they should be feared—it was just the starting steps in the right direction for mutant supremacy—but Azazel failed to see his reasoning. It was a stupid thing to do, and now mutants were being actively hunted again, and here they were, side-by-side with the very people they hated, protesting the NYPD’s decision to bring about more hi-tech Sentinel technology to deal with mutant crimes.
“The crowd has a fair number of mutant sympathizers and mutants.” Azazel could hear Quentin inside of his mind—despite Emma having done it so many times, he still hated the feeling of it. Telepaths were always so invading. It was good, though, considering that he was quite sure he lost him in the ocean of teenagers playing anarchy. “But the majority of them are humans. Half of which wouldn’t mind paying extra taxes to fund these damned things. They’re all here for their own interest. It isn’t about rights; it’s about not getting caught in the crossfire.”
Everyone had eyes focused on the top of the steps of the mayoral building and the podium readied for someone of importance to speak. Officers were trying to subdue the impending crowd when the doors opened. Azazel recognized the man stepping out as the mayor, and following just behind him was a representative for Kilgore’s weapon distribution corporation. Azazel dodged passed several angry humans to get a closer look when Quentin piped up in his head again. “Showtime.” With a BAMF! Azazel disappeared in a cloud of smoke and reappearing next to Quentin in the alley way outside of the crowd.
“You remember where the room is?” Quentin was rearranging the contents of his backpack as he spoke.
“Da. It is under the stairs; within a hundred feet, no?”
“Something like that. We should hurry. The mayor’s about to announce NYPD’s new Sentinel system…” he flung his backpack over his shoulder. “And we wouldn’t want people to know about that, now would we? God forbid they start an uproar.”
“You have gotten the location of where they are keeping them?”
“Of course; I’ll send you the locations en route to the basement.”
“Let us go, then.”
From there the explosives would be set up below the stairs, timed for three minutes. They would be long gone by then. They would blow, and the ground just a few steps ahead of the mayor would collapse. The room below, which had been used for holding the NYPD’s weapons, would be revealed, empty, and vandalized.
WE ARE THE BETTER MAN
SURRENDER BECAUSE WE WON’T
And then the mayor will get a call that the unmarked warehouses where the Sentinels were being kept before activation have all been bombed—nothing left intact.
Later that day, Quentin would be watching it all play out on television with the rest of the Jean Grey School’s student body huddled around, watching wide-eyed as their lives had just been put at risk, and moments later, saved by an unknown assailant. Azazel was probably watching it too, wherever it was he always went.
As far as anyone was concerned, Quentin was terribly ill when those events transpired. His friends could attest for that. Since the Schism, Quentin’s Omega symbol had become a sign of the revolution underground to mutants worldwide. For all they knew, the one that appeared below the message was a copycat. Quentin, after all, could barely handle coming down the stairs to see the news.
The NYPD wanted something to fight against? “Let’s give it to them.”