mcntalism-archived

[mcntalism-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐧. )

31st October, 1998; Boo’ed Up || @mcntalism​

“Well, well!” Blake beams unabashedly as she settles herself into the seat opposite Jackie, leaning back with the weight of earned confidence and a couple of drinks. She brings the mental tally of ‘people here I’ve already slept with’ to three. “I think we might be doing this whole thing a little backwards, don’t you?”

“That’s cute, princess.” Jackie takes in the unabashed smile, the leaned back posture, with a couple of leaps and bounds. The cockiness is cute, but Jackie just smirks right back. “But I didn’t hear you complain,” she continues, looking at Blake up and down. “I don’t think I can take that back, but you know. We’re big girls. You wanna make small talk on a timer, or you just wanna flirt and smile?”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧.​ )

status: closed for @mcntalism​ location: boo’ed up when: 31 october

          It  seemed  like  most  people  were  enjoying  his  costume  and  honestly  that  was  part  of  the  reason  he  was  wearing  it  even  if  it  was  outside  his  comfort  zone.   “I  believe  you’re  my  next  match,”   he   said  with  a  smile  on  his  face. 

“Hey there.” Her voice echoes on itself, just like cavern walls that echo upon itself, a chorus and a verse packed into the same sentence. Jackie knows her voice is freaky to people, especially with the demon eyes and the gill things on her neck, but scaring people, and talking to some’s been a great way to pass the time. “Nice shirt,” she jokes, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “You plan the costume for the event or something?”

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@atticus-bellefield​—

“Speed dating, huh? Not where I’d expect to find you, Bellefield. We gonna try or are we going to brush past the fact that this is definitely awkward?”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐨.​ )

“S-sorry,” muttered Diego, unsure what to do with their hands as they swayed awkwardly. “I just don’t know that I’ll ever get used to the- like- the visual mutations, or whatever you might call it.” Not to mention, Diego was uncomfortable even discussing the matter of mutations at all.

•

Jackie could deal with it. A choral tone of voice, inkwell eyes and gilled markings on her throat wasn’t exactly something a regular person learned to deal with well. She’d seen people run terrified of her, or cross the street as she walked through the city. Now though, she wasn’t surprised one of the more normal-looking people in the Institute was uncomfortable. She was just surprised that he mentioned it at all. People like skirting around things.

“You don’t have to get used to it. We do.” Jackie said, a little matter-of-factly. “There’s a lot weirder than me here, you know. Don’t tell me you gawk at them too.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐧.​ )

“Sweetheart,” which Blake only called her because it seemed like the utter antithesis of what this woman was, and Blake liked that. “You haven’t even told me your name, and I’m still inviting you up. Does that make me sound like the jealous type?”

Blake turns lightly on her heels with zero disregard to the mess they’re leaving behind, fixing her companion with a mischievous smile. “Kawasaki, actually. The ZX-10R. I prefer something a little sportier.” They exit the alley and Blake gestures to the left, the matte black powerhouse of a sport bike parked unassumingly at the curb. “Trust me, though, you’ll still look amazing sitting on the back.”

"Jackie,” she says, snorting at the comment. The jealous type, eh? It’s been a while for her, but she’ll ride along with whatever this woman wants, until it turns on her heel. Or gets away from her. Then, she has free reign to slip from a window off into the night, like her usual style. She wasn’t normal, but who was?

Looking at the sports bike, Jackie is at least a little impressed internally, even if her face is as hard as stone. “I always look amazing, Blake.” The tone is pointed, a smirk in it, even if she only looks at her with anything but a hint of warmth. “At least I know you have good taste. Can’t be seen riding in anything bad now, can we?”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐬.​ )

         “oh,” he says, falling silent for a moment. he thinks that given the chance, he would go. but maybe it’s something common up here. something so inconsequential, that nobody even thinks about it anymore. “do you know anyone who’s ever been?” he asks, hungry for more information. as he always is. this world might as well be the moon, for as much as he knows. even seeing the moon for the first time had struck him speechless, to think about walking on it… that someone could walk on it… was almost overwhelming.

         eyes shifting to look at the familiar building, his gills puff out in relief. he doesn’t know how late he is ( or even… what time it is at all ) but he hopes that the teacher in question isn’t upset with him. then again, when has she ever been? “would you really?” he asks, turning to glance down at jackie. “i don’t want to take you away from anything important… but it’d be nice to take a break from letters, afterwards.”

"Of course I would, big guy.” She smiles at him, finding it easier to do so now that they’ve established a rapport. Fluttering gills—a tell. Maybe a good sign. Jackie pats his arm and puts a smile on her face, trying to compile a lesson fitted to his skill level. Maybe she can have him adding and subtracting bigger numbers when she’s through with him.

Patting his arm, she simply leads him forward, to get him to a class that he wants to take, to better himself. Which is more than she can say for most people. There isn’t much fanfare, but what Jackie knows is that she’ll keep this memory filed away, tucked and ready like a picture that she cherishes dearly. “You ready, Fins?”

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@sleepyiist​—

"You know, we’re all mutants here, but you don’t need to stare at the weird gill things on my neck.” She says, raising her eyebrow, the amusement in her hidden deep behind several layers of emotional firewall. “Or do. It’s a free country.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐧.​ )

There’s a pause as the woman glances Blake over, and Blake simply waits, unapologetic. An exhale comes like an admission, and Blake tilts her head curiously, still smiling. “Full bar, of course. Pick your poison. On the off chance I don’t have it, we can pick it up on the way.”

‘Before I get back to my place.’ Curious. “Got someone waiting for you who doesn’t like the fact you go to town on muggers every now and again?” Blake starts taking a few backwards steps towards the mouth of the alley — at one point she has to step over an arm — and gestures over one shoulder with her thumb. “How do you feel about motorcycles?”

"No. I just like my privacy. Why? You gonna get jealous?” She smirks, promptly stepping on and over a body as she walks through the alley. Jackie, even if she was surrounded by friends and students was always feeling the specter of solitude, of being alone when there was no reason to be. Perhaps Blake, a stranger could always help her with that. There’s nothing for her right now, except ash and bone and the horrible rattling in her chest that signals grief. It all goes to the back of her mind, though, as she focuses on Blake.

Crossing her arms and gesturing towards her leather jacket, there’s a moment of intrigue as she talks about her motorcycle. “Took apart a couple. Don’t tell me you got a Harley stashed somewhere there.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐬.​ )

         despite his best efforts to keep his curiosity contained, fins is unable to reconcile with this new fact of reality. the idea of leaving earth at all is incomprehensible to him—but then, not that long ago, so was leaving the world underneath. so was sitting above ground, with the people who inhabit it, sharing in an experience that’s been entirely denied to him. “you think i could go to the moon?” with a mind full of questions, he feels confident enough to ask very few. that seems safe. and so does… “have you ever been to the moon?”

         gratefully, fins bobs his head in a nod. he isn’t entirely convinced of his own fine motor skills, but if the rope was thick enough, how hard could it really be? “i would appreciate that.” he doesn’t hold any obligations over her, though. if it ends up that she can’t make it work, he can accept it without losing much sleep. he knows there are lots of things that someone like him just can’t do. “i’m good with that,” he agrees, offering another nod. “how much farther is the library?”

"Nah, big man. Never had much to do with space. I liked looking at it from a telescope as a kid, though.” It was a solace, she thinks. To look up at the sky and find comfort in the fact that she saw the sky with wonder and amazement as those before her; a through line to history that she had always appreciated. It was the one thing she was sentimental about, if she was honest with herself. Though she rarely was. But maybe she should get Fins a telescope. Adjusted to his size, at least, so he doesn’t have to worry about breaking it.

Without missing a beat after his question, she waves at the library, just a few blocks down. “Here you are, Fins. If you want the class after you try to learn the letters, I can always come on in.” She grins again and she feels someone wince as they see it. Off-putting, but shark body language isn’t her specialty. He seems to like her smile, at least. “If you want to do it another day, I’m good.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐱.​ )

      the worry of losing control had always been prevalent for the woman, it just mattered a little less when she was being the disciplinary figure in the house. her own father had both shunned and used her at the same time - how had that even happened? emmeline had done well to keep it under control, no, buried until she had come out the other side of death. it felt different and her lack of understanding and control could never be ignored.  she stared towards jackie, defensiveness kicking in with her comment. “i’ve been able to before.” when she was less volatile. there were a different set of rules now and more and more people would be against her and want her to pay for what she had done. 

       the thought of ‘training’ is a strange one as she wouldn’t even know where to start - it had been a miracle that she hadn’t been the cause of any more  catastrophes as it was. “right. i will be able to do it, you know. it just feels new.” perhaps a flare up was a more accurate way to describe her outbursts, the issue being deep-rooted in her. her ability to handle external stressors was non-existent and it had been in discussing that oprah interview that she had lost it. “i don’t want him there. he made it very clear he didn’t want me there. i’ve not spoken to him since. i hurt him despite everything. i know he’s kind but sorry isn’t going to cut it.” emmeline had let that brief feeling of louis turning on her, in her eyes, take over and spiral out of control. “i’ll sort it.”

Finally. Joy of joys, she’s off it and doing something. Jackie can’t ask for more. “Then book a session or start training, Essex. If you don’t want to be a danger. You’ll get through it.” She claps her on the back, much less friendly, but more of a reassurance than anything. "This fucking Institute’s lined with trauma. If they can deal with it, well—what’s to say you can’t get out of the pit you found yourself in?”

It’s pragmatic enough that she offers, so that she doesn’t make a one-two punch against the staff or the students unknowingly when she’s hit by another attack. It’s not going to be easy, or it’s not going to be pretty, but maybe she can get Summers or his girlfriend to deal with her. Jackie’s still on the fence about the whole thing, but if they can’t find anyone, it’s going to be on her and she’ll have to turn on that emotive part of her brain yet again. Maybe she can go get Cordelia or Nicholas to deal with the psychological component of... whatever she’s dealing with. “Don’t screw up, Essex. You’re going to have to make up for a lot.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦.​ )

“No, Jackie I–” Laurel cuts herself off with a hiss and shakes her hand. They were both surprised that her last hit connected; Laurel so much so that she hadn’t actually had her fist in the right position and managed to hit the wrong nerve in the right spot, an unnerving tingling sensation up her arm. She jumps back for a little distance, letting them both assess whether or not they need a minute. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know better than to doubt you like that.” Still shaking her hand, Laurel gives her a wide, too-proud grin. Finally, after probably too long, she’s finding her rhythm. 

“I’ve heard the stories from people who’ve seen you at the shooting range. You’re kind of a legend, you know that?” But then, so was everyone here in some respect. A sidestep to dodge a blitz attack, and she rolls her shoulder, still deciding whether or not the pinched nerve can be ignored or not. She doges again, but this time her other hand grabs her shoulder and she swings her leg to catch the back of Jackie’s in an attempt to send her sailing towards the floor again. 

Pinched nerve. Ringing head. Jackie could go for the coup de grace, but instead she takes a beat and lets her recover. A wrong move, but she’s feeling generous, which wasn’t exactly her M.O. at all. Perhaps she just needed a break, some place to get out of her head and put her fists to good use. Math classes were great and all, but she needed to do something that didn’t involve numbers. Something that could have turned her brain off for a moment. God—she would have taken anything at this point. Drinking. Fighting. Being back in Silicon Valley to threaten some dickhead heirs. Anything.

But the kids keep it interesting, and she’s grateful, at least, that she’s not somewhere bleak and barren. Somewhere with people. At the legend remark, she smirks and shakes her head. “I gotta die sometime, and one of you has to pick up the pieces after.” and at least she knows that Cunningham tries to make her dive again, but she lets her weight drop in a moment, so as to unbalance her and throw her over her shoulder.

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐧.​ )

Blake’s newfound friend, because that’s immediately what she’s considering her, doesn’t offer a name in return. Blake doesn’t particularly mind, since the offer for a drink comes after anyway. “I would love a drink,” she decides easily, glancing down at her hand once it’s released, lightly smudged with blood. She doesn’t balk; she’s seen much, much worse.

“My place isn’t far, if you’d prefer somewhere more private.” It’s not a line. Okay, it’s a little bit of a line. It’s a line if her companion wants it to be. But Blake won’t pressure if the woman brushes her off. “It’s also seen its fair share of blood, real and fake.”

A proposition? After a bloody fight? Jackie can’t help but smile at the proposition, a stilted, feral little thing as her eyes scan over Blake and gauges whether or not it was worth it. To go over, to pretend like she’s half-normal. To have a life, however shit it is. A second. Then two. A long thought, before she exhales and relaxes.

“You better have good booze, princess.” She kicks one of them again, probably catching a tooth as he tries to get up. Wiping her knuckles against her jacket, she shoves them back in her pockets, the intrigue in her face all too prevalent. “And I need to clean myself up before I get back to my place.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐲.​ )

“You know, hotshot, you’re going to give me Disney Princess syndrome if you keep calling me that.” Cordelia bites her tongue, holding back from saying something a little too flirtatious in response to the ‘working up a sweat’ comment. The Institute is full of gorgeous women, but she knows that mixing work with pleasure would be a terrible idea. Still, she can’t help herself. She winks at Jackie, takes another bite out of her sandwich. “You wanna work up a sweat with me, Rumley? Now you’re talking.” Her tone is jovial enough for it to come off as nothing more than a harmless joke. 

She shrugs a shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Would it be so bad if I am worried about you? You’re a friend, as well as a colleague.” Cordelia doesn’t need to pry apart Jackie’s mind to see that she’s excellent at masking her true feelings. She won’t push, though. Not today. “No therapist shtick, just me wanting to make sure you’re doing alright. Scout’s honour.” 

"Damn if we can’t get any one of your animal friends to come and help you or something.” Burke was already a good shot, and if she could at least manage to get Cordelia up to their level, or halfway there? Well, she thinks that working up that much of a sweat is something she can’t wait to do. At least, she’s doing something. Maybe not thinking. Not thinking that much.

Her eyebrow, sharply raised only inches a little further. “You’re a therapist and a friend—I’m not calling it bad, it’s just not my thing. All the emotive shit,” she says. A knife is holstered in her boot, an alloyed plate enough to stop sniper rounds. She understands violence better than anything. “But I appreciate it.” Sitting down, she takes gulps of water, and gestures for Cordelia to join her. “What? Do I look that bad, princess?”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐬.​ )

         “on the—” unable to blink in surprise, fins is left with a many-toothed guffaw. “the moon? you can—you can go to the moon?” the idea of a differing weight, or calculating price, is completely lost to him. all he can think about is the implication of someone being on the moon. in the sky. the same shining, silver orb ( or sliver. does that change anything if someone goes up there? ) that lights his way to the pond some nights, more soothing than the harsher lamps that line the city’s streets. it’s always possible, of course, that it’s just calculable as far as moon-weight is concerned. theoretical, as opposed to literal. but that’s not a concept fins has experienced enough to grasp, either.

         still bursting at the seams with questions, fins forces himself not to get carried away. the way jackie speaks about it, it must be something casual on the surface. the moon. someone being on the moon. casual. he’s stunned beyond belief. “i’ve never untied a knot before,” he admits, despite knowing that this statement is less literal. “but i don’t know if i can.” his hands are large and ungraceful, not capable of the fine movements that such a skill would require. “maybe numbers will be easier for me.”

Warmly, she gave Fins a smile, still stilted and odd. “Yeah, big guy. You can go to the moon. Who knows, maybe NASA can get you go to the moon too��probably after you learn your numbers.” She pats his back, the way that teachers are supposed to. Mostly, she handles high school kids. People who do weird five-dimensional bullshit math. Not the younger ones and not people who don’t have a grasp on the subject yet—but if she can get Fins to perk up like that? Well, maybe hope’s not all lost.

“Hell, I’ll teach you how to tie a knot, then untie one, if you want,” she says. How hard can it be? The fingers are large, but anything with fine motor skills can be taught. Probably. Looking up, she sees that there isn’t long ‘til they arrive at the library. Maybe she’ll need to come up with a lesson plan? Coordinate with the person teaching him letters? “One step at a time, though. You good with that, big guy?”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐱.​ )

    self-pity was something that emmeline knew greatly. her eyes were finally opening up to the true atrocities of what both her and her father had done - it was too late for her to do anything about it. nathaniel already had a target on his back and she was sure to be next. the woman would try to prevent it but whatever she did wasn’t going to be good enough. she never had a chance and after the truth came to light, it was unlikely that people would be willing to give it to her. although emmeline was an open book, she had kept secrets, mostly about her wrongdoings and the extent of nathaniel’s treatment of her, but those were things she didn’t want to be out in the open. he had hurt her but that wasn’t going to matter - the fact she had hurt others would overrule that. 

     “i could.” that was her response to all of the above. independence wasn’t something she had a grasp on, even after over a year, and her decision-making herself was rather questionable. “that’s not really going to help anyone though, is it? that’s what nathaniel‘s done and i’m not him, i don’t want to be him. i just need to get control of it, then i can start really writing my wrongs. i’m grateful for xavier but being grateful isn’t enough.”

"And what if you don’t, Essex?” It’s a matter of fact. They had students with uncontrollable powers come through once in a while. Perhaps due to trauma, due to an alien understanding of reality, or simply because their power, by nature of itself was hard to even grasp. There isn’t a catch-all to everything, there is no solution, but at least Emmeline wants to do something. It was better than weeping in the hallways or walking around like a mouse.

Jackie sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, turning the exhaustion and anger to the back of her mind. She wants to help. In her rational mind, she does, but the coffin in her chest makes her want to beat someone with it. ”Well, at least go to the Danger Room. You’re a mutant on the grounds that has power, but any flare-ups can be monitored.” Her eyes are cold, as cold as space, as cold as the void that holds the stars. It’s a concession. She wants to be better first? Fine. Jackie will watch. She won’t help yet, but she’ll watch. “We can even bring Bhatt in, but if you turn him into paste, I don’t think I can help with that.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐧.​ )

Now Blake can feel the anger radiating off of her in tantalizing waves, calling to the beast nestled deep in Blake’s chest that hasn’t even bothered to stir before now. Her war aspect was hardly interested in two-bit muggers with crap training, but it was interested in a woman with such multifaceted rage. Blake can feel it but she can’t see it, locked all too tightly behind a stony facade.

Blake is intrigued. More than she already was, anyway. The stranger offers thanks but Blake shrugs it off.

“I know I didn’t have to. I just wanted to. And not in a ‘always happy to help, ma’am,’ kind of way. A ‘these guys deserve it’ kind of way.” She plants a neat little offhanded kick into the stomach of a man curled at her feet. He groans and rolls over as she offers her hand to shake. “I’ll answer to Princess. But most people call me Blake. And you? It’s a pleasure.”

"Usually I’d put a bullet in them, but honestly? They’re lucky I don’t kill anymore.” She wants to, of course. It’s an ache to the hurt—the bullets and the anger, mostly reserved for CEOs with black books too large to wipe clean or dictators who entrench themselves in politics with heinous force. That anger spills over in her life now, the unjustness and unfairness of living making hard to even live without being angry. Her eyes turn to Blake, and nod.

She puts her hand out to shake, and Jackie grasps it firmly, no slack and no give. “Pleasure’s all mine, Blake.” The first eddies of emotion trickle out again, and she gives her a smile. The blood hasn’t washed off, but for Jackie, she hopes it never will. At least then, she can understand that she has something in her hands.

“I think Princess has a nice ring to it, personally.” Her hand doesn’t let go, and she stares her down, inky black void against brown eyes. “You wanna grab a drink or something? I think one of the nastier bars here won’t mind the blood on my hands.”

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( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐬.​ )

         “you do?” he blurts, surprised. fins has never had a proper expert—or rather, what he would believe to be one—in his company, before. plenty of people have helped him along when it comes to words, but numbers? his struggles with that are ongoing. down with the other morlocks, they had only been used in passing. we need two pieces of fire wood. we need seven bits of scrap metal. smaller sums and never written out for him to see. the world above deals with concepts much more complex than he’s ever thought possible.

         her smile doesn’t ring any alarms, nor does it provide any unease. if anything, it’s almost nice. real. something closer to what fins can manage, himself. “what’s hard about them?” he asks, head slightly cocked to one side. it seems a bit strange, but then… fins has always expected things to be more difficult for him than average. most of the things he struggles to understand come so easily to everyone else. “do you like it that way?”

“It’s—well, hard to explain. But you can do a lot of things with numbers. I can figure out how much you weigh here, then how much on the moon with numbers. I can figure out how much I can buy on Earth.” She shrugs and expounds, listing the ways as they walk off, slowly going to the library. “And you can learn all of it with numbers. I don’t think there’s nothing you can’t. Pretty cool, really.”

As he asks, Jackie blinks. Do you like it that way? “I—huh. Yeah, yeah, I guess I do.” Mathematics are easy art—the beauty of things making sense in a number of different ways, arriving at an answer closer to enlightenment. “It’s like untying knots. You can do it a lot of ways, you know? But even if you do it differently, you’re still supposed to come up with the knot undone. I think it’s pretty, big guy.” She pats his arm, larger than her, and gives him that stilted smile again. “I hope you do too.”