#c:blink

[merriemarvels]

which way? -- with @onlyarogue // moved from here

"I'm wounded, Rogue. To think I would lie to you like that about good cheesecake." Clarice's tone was affected, facetious offense, and she gave the girl a light nudge on the shoulder, ever mindful to keep any physical contact to cloth. The smile softened, then. "It was one of those few times we got to take a few days to relax. Morph knew this world as well as his own and said, quote, 'Blinkie, my girl, I can't let you go back to that horrible home dimension of yours without trying Dino's cheesecake'. Spoiled me forever, I haven't had any near as good since."

She pulled the door open and waved Rogue inside. "And I never forget a place I've been."

[merriemarvels]

random starter for @themarvelliteraryuniverse because i need this big dorkus and his tiny pink child

There's no such thing as normal for someone who grew up in an environment like they did. No status quo. There was just survival, getting from one day to the next with your hide more or less intact and trying to forget so you could get to the next one. She was still learning to take things in stride, learning not to let things get under her skin -- hers was never quite as thick as that of her teammates; in spite of it all. It helped that she could find small scraps of peace. Safe harbors amid the timelines' vast confusion.

Places she could run into people she loved, who knew her.

"Got time for a beer, old man?" She asked, holding the frosty bottle out as she crouched on a rock.

[merriemarvels]

❰❰ DANCE ❱❱

Victor and Clarice <3

If her life had taught her anything, it was that anywhere Clarice had someone to ground her, a solid foundation in the form of one person to keep her going, she was home. Home had been a ruined world with no one who cared but a huge man who'd taken pity on a lost child; home had been wherever she and Calvin could carve out a shred of normalcy between battles for their lives; home had been a crystalline palace and a job to do.

Home was a mansion she'd only ever known as a ruin, more friends she could have hoped for in a lifetime -- and that same man, the great celestial body around which she had orbited as long as she had memory. It wasn't the same, she never expected it to be the same --

honestly, it was better, and she was working on killing that guilt in her heart that said she was betraying the rough life they'd led by accepting this... comfort.

"I'm taking you out," he said simply, and she looked up from the book she'd been reading -- catching up on the classics, Heart of Darkness. "C'mon. You can't stay cooped up in this place forever." He had a bag over one arm, and was dressed -- well, nice, way nicer than she'd ever seen him. Were his whiskers trimmed?

"What is this?"

"Borkowski's flayed skin as a suit of armor. It's a dress, sprout."

"And why do I need a dress...?"

Victor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You aren't cute when you play dumb, pup. Just go get dressed."

She was laughing as she took the bag and went upstairs; a few minutes later she was back down, and in spite of everything -- in spite of his own reputation and a certain devil-may-care attitude, he was actually stunned by what he saw. Sure, he'd had a look at the dress beforehand -- he'd gotten Jean to pick a few options and then narrow down one that suited her -- but he hadn't quite realized how it would look against her skin. She'd thrown on some makeup, her hair was up.

Damn. Little girl grew up.

~~

Out, apparently, had meant out -- a show, something about vampires on Broadway that she'd only quietly snickered at when it got too silly; dinner at a restaurant that left her feeling like a pebble among jewels. She didn't belong in places like this, not a grubby war-orphan like her -- but Victor knew what he was doing, and smiled enough to get her to relax and enjoy herself.

It was the kind of place that had a dancefloor, and people actually using it. And sure, she got a lot of looks, when he led her out, because how often did one see a technicolor girl looking quite like she did? But did she care?

Not a whit. She was happy -- allowing herself to be happy -- for the first time in what felt like an eternity of bitter regret. She couldn't remember the last time someone had danced with her. Probably it was Calvin. Maybe it was a good memory.

This would be a better one. Thank God one of Victor's lessons had been how to dance.

[merriemarvels]

🧸

Mr. Creed rarely took her anywhere at first. She was safer at the compound, safer wherever someone could keep an eye on her -- but she had panicked the last time he'd been gone, and no one could calm her down or get anything rational out of her, so when he'd gotten the mission to take a mutant kid on the Infernal Gallop to safety in Avalon... well, it was time she started seeing how he did things. How the world worked.

She was this tiny slip of a thing in an oversized sweatshirt, clinging to Mr. Creed's shoulder as they traveled. He got looks, of course, why hadn't he left her behind? Why bring her on such a potentially dangerous mission? But he had thought maybe... maybe if she saw Avalon, maybe if she saw other kids... maybe he could leave her there.

A better life. He was no father.

He knew Raven had raised a few little ones in the jungles. Rogue had been one of her first, but there had been others. Some she raised herself, others she passed along to other mutants in the small sanctuary. This one was no different -- a little girl with wings, a faerie-like cast not dissimilar to Clarice's looks, really, and the two girls kind of hit it off, if simply holding hands and offering one another quiet support counted as 'hitting it off'.

Once they got to their destination, Raven led away the little girl -- Megan, her name was Megan -- and Victor got caught up in conversation with another of the adults. Clarice explored the area a little, she had never seen a place so green... Something was hiding in the trees. Something that was blue, with bright yellow eyes... something that was watching her.

With a start she realized it was a boy. Probably her age, maybe slightly younger. He dropped out of the tree and stared at her, head tilted to one side curiously, and she waggled her fingers in silent greeting. He didn't respond. He just pointed over her shoulder.

Victor was walking away. One foot lifted, set back down in the boat that had brought them ashore. "Mr. Creed...?" She saw him flinch, then finish the motion, lifting his other foot into the boat. She ran to the dock, stumbled on a loose board and fell, scraping her knees on the rough wood. "Mr. Creed --!!"

"No, pup. This is the best place for you."

"Don't--"

"I said no." He turned, his face contorted -- angry at her? No, it wasn't anger... "Stay, Clarice. Stay and grow up."

She scrabbled to her feet again, running to the end of the dock, trying to catch up as the boat was pulling away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her breath heaving in sobs as she tried -- too late, she skidded to a halt, the boat just out of reach. But as she watched, she saw Mr. Creed's hand come up, pinching the top of his nose a bit.

"You can't leave me behind!"

And the thing was, he thought he had -- and he hated himself for it, hated that she was going to hate him--

B L I N K

The boat tossed a little as her feet slammed onto the shallow deck only to bowl her to the side -- he barely caught her before she tumbled overboard. But the look in her eyes as she looked up at him made him jolt, just a little.

It wasn't hatred. Not really -- she was angry, her jaw set and her brows furrowed, and though tears still flowed there was a determination in her blazing jade eyes he'd never seen before.

"You don't get to leave me behind."

He sighed, and suddenly she was crushed against his chest. "No, pup. You're right. I don't."

[merriemarvels]

ATTENTION: I HAVE BREACHED CONTAINMENT. DO NOT PANIC, I AM SIMPLY GETTING A SNACK. - please, Cap!Vic muttering this while he and Clarice sneak rations 🤣🤣🤣

It was everything Clarice could do not to laugh out loud -- her hand pressed over her mouth and her nose made a quiet snorting noise. He was the most ridiculous man in history, he had to be, cracking jokes at a time like this.

Yes, it was her fault, she'd complained about still being hungry because all the mess served that night was some kind of soybean slop over stale toast that Clarice couldn't quite stomach. And because she'd complained, Victor wasn't going to let it go. She didn't risk teleporting, the bright light that accompanied it would surely draw attention. Nope, this was a stealth mission, and Victor was damn near seven feet of solid muscle, which did not make this easy -- and him cracking wise? Worse.

"Would you can it, Cap?" she said, snickering as she jabbed him in the ribs. "Just lift the edge of the tent so I can get under. Y'want the full K? I think I saw a couple'a C-cans still back there."

[merriemarvels]

"Ah, crap --"

The portal yawned wide, spat her out like so much chewed gum, and snapped closed again -- about forty feet off the ground.

"Look out below!" -- // starter for @emmatriarchy's Morph // XM97

[merriemarvels]

@fatummortem // from here

"No, I don't believe so." It's the eyes -- she'd know those anywhere, anytime, and it sent a bit of a jolt through her which she hastily covered with a a loose, casual shrug. True to her upbringing she's found high ground, a spot above the goings-on to observe and assess before engaging.

"Then again, I don't get out much. Seems I keep running into people who know me, but not me. Very disorientating, I could have sworn I was some kind of multiversal anomaly." She grinned at him. "Clarice. Most folks call me Blink."

[merriemarvels]

FEARS ... bold any fears which apply to your muse.italicize what makes them uncomfortable.cross out what they're not scared of.

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. sex. chains. inner demons. hallucinations. staring. going berserk. betrayal.

tagged by: nobody -- shamelessly stolen from @magnetic-regent-magneto

tagging: anybody who wants to ~

[merriemarvels]

❰❰ TACKLE ❱❱

If there was one thing that could be relied on when it came to siblings -- be they born, adopted, or found -- it was that the spirit of competition would forever play into the dynamic. They'd long since stopped competing for affection, and instead, simply made it a game between one another to consistently one-up the other's accomplishments. Clarice was a fairly passable cook, so Rogue started learning to cook. Rogue was (finally) getting decent grades, so Clarice actually buckled down and started the book-learning she had missed in her childhood.

The Danger Room never knew what hit it. Victor had to put his foot down and limit them to two sessions a week because of how fierce the rivalry got -- whoever's idea it had been to program a scoring feature into the system hadn't anticipated a pair of extremely stubborn young mutants eager to rub victory in the other's face. Finally, having had enough, he simply shoved both of them in there and put on his training program -- cranked as high as he dared, and then sat back and watched to see how they worked together.

It wasn't easy at first. They knew he was watching, so they were both going their own way. Stealing wins, tripping one another up. They started losing. Rogue took a nasty hit to the back and went flying, and Clarice didn't think -- she threw the lance, opened a portal, stopped the other girl's momentum with her own body and pushed her back onto her feet.

It was like a movie. A moment passed between them. Older girl frowning, checking younger for outward signs of serious injury, younger looking peeved but whole -- a shared nod.

The Danger Room never knew what hit it. When they actually started working together, when Clarice's agility and teleportation skills balanced with Rogue's flight and strength; it wasn't hard to see similar beats in the training the two had undergone since coming to the school, the flashes of the men whose skills they'd learned to mimic.

Clarice had to grin at herself. Rogue smiled like Victor when she was cornered.

They didn't beat the sim, but they were definitely winning when Victor finally shut it down, and quite suddenly Clarice found something green and brown colliding with her midsection. Rogue, laughing, hugging her around the middle, and the warm feeling in her chest made her laugh, too -- hug the other girl back, mindful to put the cloth of her uniform between her skin and Rogue's cheek -- and just basked in the breakthrough.

And sure, Rogue found her wits a moment later and pulled away, embarrassed -- but she wasn't glaring at Clarice anymore, and didn't shrug the hand off her shoulder as they walked out together.

Baby steps.

[merriemarvels]

❝ Well then, come on, which way? ❞

"Oh, hold your horses," Clarice huffed, glaring at the row of buildings. "I swear it was here last time we were in this reality, Morph practically dragged me and TJ here to sightsee before we had to leave... ah!" She pointed at a sign. "There -- see, I wasn't here that long ago. I never had a better cheesecake, c'mon."

[merriemarvels]

“I know you’ve been hurt in the past, and I promise, I’ll never let that happen, again.”

Victor to Clarice

How many times had she heard those exact words in her lifetime -- not only from him, but damn, he seemed to say it to her a lot...

Things had been, in a word, terrible since they'd parted ways. How long ago had that even been? Time didn't exist within Panoptichron, and Exiles didn't age so long as they were unhinged from their own time. Hell, she didn't even know if she was aging now. But she had no way to know, the Tallus hadn't said a thing since the last time she'd put it on, and she was more and more loath to do that.

And it wasn't just because of the man sitting next to her, trying to talk her out of being angry with herself. It was everything -- she didn't want to know how things were going without her, didn't want to think of the people who'd come and gone through that bright pink palace. People whose lives had been stolen, and maybe her disruption from her intended path had turned out alright, but so, so many more of them absolutely did not.

Like Calvin.

She hugged her knees closer to her chest, her face a scowl as the tears threatened in the corners of her eyes. She almost always got angry when she cried now. Angry with herself for being so weak.

She was just... bone-achingly tired of losing people.

"You can't promise that," she said, her voice soft but even. "I appreciate it, I do -- but don't lie to me to make me feel better. I'm not a little girl anymore."

[merriemarvels]

“You can barely keep your eyes open, go lie down.” to Clarice :)

One of the hardest things about her life now was the pace. She wasn't used to rest, to long stretches of time where a whole lot of nothing happened and she could just enjoy some good, old-fashioned boredom. Clarice had been fighting for her life as long as she could remember, fighting for a future that didn't even seem any better than the one she was in -- and then fighting for the futures of everyone, every thing that had ever and would ever exist...

it was a lot of responsibility for a girl barely into her twenties.

Bless her, she tried. She found ways to distract herself. Signed up to help with Danger Room drills, those kids didn't have any idea what hit them when Blink walked in and every last one of them ended up in a neat stack outside the doors. Took a little solo time to test one of Wolverine's exercises -- she'd left her initials scratched into one of the highest points in the room, right next to a set of the man's claw marks just to prove she could. Went out for long walks and fast runs, visited local shops that didn't give her the wall-eyes when she walked in in all her technicolor glory.

Filled the days with as much as she could so she wouldn't feel like she was doing nothing.

She was still in workout clothes, a simple outfit in her trademark shamrock green; a water bottle was precariously perched on the arm of the chair she'd only sat in for a moment to catch her breath... She chuckled softly as she heard Logan needling her about resting, though.

"Beat your high score," she replied, taking a sip from the bottle, and the way her arm moved broadcasted the all-over bone-tiredness of the mutant girl. She'd pushed herself hard this time, but it was a good tired. Besides, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

Yes, even if he was.

[merriemarvels]

open // blink // anything goes ~~

"You know what really threw me off, once I started hopping between timelines? Cold beer. Never had it that way before, the only ones we ever had in my timeline were stale and room-temperature at best. Logan and Mr. Creed would scrounge up a case now and then. First time I had it cold it was the weirdest tasting thing I'd ever experienced."

[merriemarvels]

If the world was just, if fate was kind, Clarice would have died in the raid on her home. Or maybe she'd have been born in a world where Apocalypse never existed, or never awoke, or was defeated before he could close his iron fist around the throat of every living being on the planet --

Instead, Clarice Ferguson had the unique misfortune of being born in this time, in this reality… and a direct descendant of one En Sabah Nur, one of Clan Akkaba. Not that she could ever have known, her parents certainly never knew they were carriers of the X-gene until their daughter was born pink. And worse -- that genetic heritage did nothing to help, when she was deemed weak, and tossed into the pens.

She became the favorite plaything of the madmen of the regime -- the bloodthirsty Dark Beast, and the twisted, perverted Sugar Man. Each had their ideas of what they could learn from her…

The Beast simply wanted to know how she worked… Testing her endurance, her strength, stress-testing her to induce further whatever potential her genetic heritage held…

but the Sugar Man had ideas, plans for her legacy. He was a geneticist, after all, and any geneticist had need of material…

Clarice has a number of surgical scars in her pubic region, mostly below the rise of the pubic bone (just above the top of where one's pubic hair starts) from having her eggs harvested several times after reaching puberty. A great fear of hers, come adulthood, is that the Sugar Man's tampering has left her infertile -- she doesn't even know if she still has her ovaries at all, all she knew was he was taking something that had to do with her ability to have children.

It's part of why she isn't particularly careful with sexual partners.

[merriemarvels]

The things she loved, Clarice wore on her sleeve. Anyone had to watch her for a day to find out the things she preferred; the shade of green that complimented her skintone, the subtle scents of coconut and rosemary she preferred in her soaps and lotions, the particular tastes and textures of foods and drinks -- hell, she was very vocal about her taste in beer. But the things she disliked, the things she hated, she guarded closely. She'd learned early and often that disgust, fear, revulsion -- those reactions could be used against her.

Didn't mean she didn't feel them. Just meant she didn't talk about it.

Like how there was a board that squeaked outside her room that sent shivers down her spine every time someone trod on it. How the taste of minty toothpaste made her gag, so she used children's bubblegum flavored instead. How anytime she walked past the infirmary the smell of antiseptic made her skin go cold.

How nothing triggered her flight response like the scent of blood.

How she could pick out the scent of Victor's blood.

It didn't matter that her nose was nowhere as good as his. She'd smelled his blood often enough to know its distinct aroma.

Those old wounds were scarred over, but their roots were deep. She worked hard to keep them well hidden, to never betray the things that could leave her a trembling mess, because if anyone ever knew, they would have ammunition against her. She was around friends, she kept telling herself -- no one here would ever do that to her.

But a traumatized mind is a hard thing to reassure. So she focused on the things she liked, and did her best to ignore the things she hated.

It was all she could do.

[merriemarvels]

@snkts "So Kitty's just a stalker, yeah? That's gotta be it, right?"