telepathictyranny-blog

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Starters | Heroes & Villains

|HERO|

“You’re not getting away this time!”

“Your tools are impressive, but they can’t beat natural born power.”

“Don’t you ever grow weary of the same routine?”

“You’re a monster.”

“I must say, of all the people I put behind bars, you’ve got to be the worst.”

“I don’t want to play your sick mind games, I’m not one of your victims!”

“You can’t control me like you can your little puppets, can you?”

“Ugh, I feel bad for whoever has to sort all this mess out.”

“I’m just…tired. I’m tired of everyone’s lives lying on my shoulders.”

“Why can’t these people just learn to take care of themselves?”

“I enjoy my work, I’m a savior! I wouldn’t trade that for anything!”

|VILLAIN|

“What’s the matter, are you afraid of me? Good.”

“I have to say, you are giving me quite a bit of trouble.”

“You’re about to piss me off, brat.”

“Come on, you can get out of that, can’t you? At least try.”

“Go on, at least put on a show if you’re going to challenge me.”

“The last guy didn’t end up so well, if you’ve heard. I admire your bravery.”

“As much as I appreciate tenacity, I don’t appreciate annoying flies interrupting my plans.”

“Now that I’ve got you, what should I do first?”

“Relax, kiddo. Not everyone’s out here for mass murder or world domination. Maybe I just wanted to take this car for a joy ride.”

“Why do you always have to ruin my fun?”

“Why did I turn bad? Why do heroes ask such inane questions?”

“You don’t need to understand me, I don’t WANT you to understand me!”

“Not everyone can be pulled into the light, hero.”

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Why didn't you just kill Pietro instead of doing what you did to him? That's a fate worse than death.

“KILL him?” The mutant snorted quietly to himself with a growing smile that began to etch it’s way across pale and worn skin. “My poor MISGUIDED child, where would the FUN be in THAT?” 

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Important 18+ note about President X’s personality:

This version of Charles Xavier is NOT a nice person. In his world the majority of mutations either kill or harm the person from who they manifest or, at least, lead them to accidentally hurting the people around them. In an effort to prevent this, President X set up a prison in Texas where found mutants are sent against their will, where he makes them control their abilities. Instead of helping them or trying to guide them, Charles has been known to actually mutilate mutants to make them safer.

E.G. He had Pietro’s arms and legs severed from his body, he blinded Scott Summers and left Kitty to die when she tried to phase through the wall of her cell and got stuck.

President Xavier also had Wilson Fisk as a warden in the prison where he delighted in assaulting mutant prisoners with his baton. Wilson was also said to have heard the telepath’s manic ramblings, as well as the common occurrence of Charles taunting the mutant’s in his ‘care’. So, please be aware that the Earth-9591 version of Charles is VERY different to the one you all know from the mcu or Earth-616.

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Filth 2013

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notjustpainandangcr:

“A different version?” Erik echoed, raising his eyebrow in amusement. The mutant before him had either the strangest power he had encountered or he was merely crazy. For now, he decided to go along with it, or at least not point out that fact out yet. “Is that your power? To know a lot versions of different people?” he smirked and took a step closer, wondering how many things the other man knew about him –or about Max. “I don’t happen to know any version of you. So who are you?”

“A DIFFERENT version.” The telepath cemented vocally, hands quietly tucking into his jacket pockets as his formal stature lessened, all in discreet attempts to lower the other man’s guard, at least enough to gain even the TINIEST amount of trust. “No, I’m afraid that’s not my mutation. I’m what you would call, a TELEPATH.” He knew such an admission wouldn’t necessarily tip the scale in his favour, but he was also very aware that lying would do him no good at this stage either. He HAD to find common ground. “Charles Xavier.” He paused with a growing smile. “PRESIDENT Charles Xavier.”

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magnetician:

It does sound mad, to be sure, but the implication of what this man says is realistic enough; if there is to be another version of the Charles he has come to know and care for, it stands to reason there would be another of himself as well. He has not always done right by others, nor had the sturdiest of moral compasses, but he cannot imagine what this other Erik - this other Max - must be like to have fallen in line with a Charles who is so clearly and so radically contrary to the one he had come to know all those years ago. 

It doesn’t occur to him, somehow, that they may not have ended up with the same sort of (sometimes painfully and precariously strained) bonds. Perhaps, wherever this Xavier comes from, their positions had been switched. As they stand here, Erik eyeing him sideways with suspicion and some other, more drastic instinct that sends his pulse racing and his senses at the ready for fight or flight, this Charles says plenty that Erik can recall saying himself, if not using identical words and phrasing. 

Once, those had been his only beliefs. But once, those had also been his only options. 

“You look like you’re doing just fine.” Altered mindset or no, he wouldn’t have risen high enough to call himself President if not for having control over his ability rather than cowering from it and allowing it to overwhelm him. What Erik doesn’t ask is whether that same power had found casualties of its own in other mutants. Something tells him he does not want to know. 

The man had spoken casually enough, but upon being prompted to open his mind, Erik would swear he already felt the faint phantom tendrils of another’s consciousness approach his own, curious, nosy, and brazen enough to take what it wants. Charles does the same, often enough, but he still refuses to think of this being as Charles; alternate version from a different time and place or no. The contact had often times been a source of comfort or even intimacy, provided Charles was not attempting to stop him doing he had his mind and heart set on, but he is surprised by the instinctive desire to shrink back and flinch away from it now. It’s horrific and unexpected, not unlike stroking a kitten only to pull one’s hand away and discover it stained with blood. 

“I do what I MUST to survive.” The ambiguous response came almost automatically, unwilling to give away anything that might deter the powerful mutant before him. OF COURSE, despite the blinding cruelty that ran through the telepath’s vein, despite the loss of SANITY, Charles was still an infinitely smart man. This, however, wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

The President was a manipulative man, he always had been, and not always with the use of his abilities. There was, after all, once a time when this version stood very much like the alternate of this world, he’d TRULY believed in doing what he could for both human and mutantkind, lead them from the growing darkness that was their home. But that man was gone, beaten and PULPED into the depths of madness, leaving only the tyrant that would do anything to see his tainted dreams come to light. ANYTHING.

“This world needs direction, just as mine did. I did what I could for those in my care, but... there is only so much I can do for souls so DEEPLY LOST.” For a moment, there was a fleeting look of compassion that flashed across his face, a seemingly genuine look of heart felt emotion. This, however, wasn’t real, it was a MASK, a mask to cover the sheer joy such suffering brought him. He could still hear the sound of their voices, the mutants in his Texan prison that he would maim and taunt without mercy, each pained cry adding to the creature’s REPELLENT ego. “I want to keep your world from the darkness that has infected mine. Surely, you MUST understand that?”

Pleading eyes stared at the towering mutant, revealing a gaze that wouldn’t look terribly out of place on the likes of a sad puppy. But to those who KNEW this man, it was quite clear that there was barely an ounce of compassion left within him. He had to use this world’s Charles to his advantage, use his WEAKNESS for caring to gain trust, and if that didn’t work, if trust didn’t WILLINGLY fall his way, he would TAKE it. “Please, my friend, I will NOT let another world fall to ruin.”

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clockworksmutant:

“Not as hard to keep the crazy one in line either,” David was pretty clear on the fact that keeping him out of control was much more beneficial. Perhaps that wasn’t the entire plan, but despite his shortcomings, David wasn’t stupid. Struggling to function, struggling to deal with the voices and the hallucinations and powers stronger than he could ever reign in made him a very potent potential weapon and a very easy person to manipulate. And the President was more than capable of wresting control if he wanted it. “I guess I’m just wondering what’s left to be done. Most of our kind locked up. DC in ruins. What could you need doing?”

Charles couldn’t help but grin, his lips curved at the sides, revealing a look that could only best be described, as MANIC. “That, my friend, is EXACTLY what I’m counting on.” Out of all the mutants that had been taken into the President’s ‘care’, none could compare to David. Some had limbs taken, others blinded or chained to keep them from using their abilities, but where did he even START with the likes of this one? He was a ticking timebomb, and that made the boy a dangerous yet VALUABLE asset. “You underestimate my dreams, David, my INTENTIONS. My time of triumph has yet to come... as has YOURS.”

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Of course, the telepath is WELL aware of the young man’s presence, yet it’s through his own LACK of humanity that he stares downwards at the papers that line his desk, only letting his gaze stray when spoken to once more. SLOWLY, he lifts his head, a smug expression quite settled into callous features.

"Your WILLINGNESS, my friend. That’s ALL I ask.”

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“ Sir. “

He’s lucky that he grew up with a sense of manners instilled in him. Being a young black mutant growing up, a sense of manners is what kept him alive. And that was before the world went to shit. 

“ Did you need something from me? “

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“Are you feeling alright? You don’t look it.”

“Repo! The Genetic Opera” sentence meme

“My well being is NOT your concern.” Charles replied in a sharp tone, unmoved by whether or not he did indeed look unwell. Many a year had trailed by since the telepath TRULY cared, either about the mutants around him or, in fact, HIMSELF. They were each surviving, one way or another, and that was good enough. Everything he did was for everyone’s own good, including his OWN. Or so he genuinely believed.  “I’m FINE.”

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“I do what I MUST, David.” The response was almost automatic, unwilling to divulge any true emotion into the topic. Although, was it REALLY that he was unwilling, or perhaps he’d simply grown... UNABLE to? After all, this was the mutant who quite happily dismembered the mutants in his ‘care’, CAGED them like rabid animals, and regularly TAUNTED what was left of them. Little remained of the compassionate man he once was. “You have your uses...” He uttered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “-- - MORE than you might imagine.”

@telepathictyranny continued from x

David honestly didn’t know. What would it mean to be different? He had no idea. He had no idea what it would even mean to be in control. “Just wondering if you actually enjoy deciding all the things you decide,” He paused. “And I’m wondering how long til I end up in Texas or you decide I need to be dealt with.”

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A CRUEL smirk quakes the mutant’s lips. “I, my PITIFUL friend, am what you COULD have been.”

“Put me in my place.”

@telepathictyranny​ – — angst starters       accepting // not accepting

           ❛  who –  ❜ he checks himself,visage the absolute picture                    of bewilderment, ❛WHAT are you? what is this?  ❜

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❝ Would you change who you are, if you could? ❞

“Repo! The Genetic Opera” sentence meme

There was a pause in the telepath’s response, WIRED blue eyes glued to one spot as his gaze hardened in silent thought. “NO.” Charles suddenly spoke up, lifting his chin with a bitter look of SICKENING PRIDE that had embedded itself into tired pallid skin. “I wouldn’t.” He concluded, eyeing David with blatant judgement. “– - would YOU?”

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I’m not well. I hear voices, Chrissie. I see things, all the time.

-Filth 2013

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@unlcadedgun​ liked for a starter.

As much as the manic mutant believed otherwise, not ALL of the man he once was had diminished, not ALL of his most notable traits and faded. There was one that still tugged at his heartstrings, few circumstances that would grind the telepath’s CRUEL endeavours to a temporary halt, the faces of people he’d once known, once CARED for. “Moira?” His usually bitter voice spoke up, an UNFAMILIAR quake in his tone as conflicted feelings battled behind tired blue eyes. “You... you SHOULDN’T be here.”