this is a brand new problem, a problem without any clues
PROCRASTINATION TIEMZ.
Let's have a commentfic promptfest! :D
RULES:
-> Post prompts. (POST ALL THE PROMPTS. YOU ARE NOT SPAMMING EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU ARE.)
-> Fill prompts. (See above parentheses.)
-> Lather, rinse, repeat.
ETA: For ease of access, it would be great if you could mark fills in the subject line :)
FILL LIST:
( here )
Let's have a commentfic promptfest! :D
RULES:
-> Post prompts. (POST ALL THE PROMPTS. YOU ARE NOT SPAMMING EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU ARE.)
-> Fill prompts. (See above parentheses.)
-> Lather, rinse, repeat.
ETA: For ease of access, it would be great if you could mark fills in the subject line :)
FILL LIST:
( here )
she's more careful, after that. she picks her partners. (picks jobs where she can work alone.)
she's eighteen the next time. it's not a slip up. it's not even a score.
(it's scott, who is gone. it's scott who she was supposed to find, supposed to protect. scott who she lost.)
the cops aren't nice anymore. alex has grown up and filled out and they say, what's a nice girl like you doing here? with this awful twist to their mouths and alex is about to shout, just put me inside so i don't have to look at your fucking faces. instead she shoves her hands in the pockets of her awful prison jumpsuit and sets her mouth and doesn't think scott. he doesn't belong in here.
she stares at the ceiling and breathes in, and breathes out. (she can feel the plasma humming under her skin, wanting out. she's better than that. or: she doesn't want to be in here any longer than she has to.)
--
scott comes to see her. "allie," he says, "i'm okay. everything's okay."
she says, "i was supposed to look after you, scott."
his hair's all ruffled; he's apple-pie, all-american, freckles on the bridge of his nose.
she wants to lean across and hug him but she can't, the gap's too wide.
"it's okay," he says. "you shouldn't have had to. the people i'm with... they're good, allie. they're not mom and dad but-- you have to stop this."
she wants to throw up thinking of scott with other people. but he isn't lying; she knows when he lies. she loves him with everything inside her. "okay," she says. "write me letters, scott."
"i'll start collecting stamps," he says.
(he sends her letters with polaroids in them; just scott, or scott and his friends, or a weird looking bird. never his family that isn't hers.)
--
charles xavier strolls into her life wearing a grandpa cardigan, with an attack-dog of a sleek, gorgeous man beside him, and asks if she is alexandra summers.
alex is nineteen. she rolls her eyes. "who's asking?"
the attack-dog says, "the people who're going to get you out, alexandra." he has far too many teeth but not in a way that mars the lines of his face.
she flips her hair back into a knotty, messy ponytail. "in that case," she says, "call me alex."
--
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her initial plan is to split. scott doesn't need her; she doesn't need these people. she can disappear into any major city; she's a pretty blonde who can blow up buildings, there'll be no shortage of work for her. sure, erik lehnsherr's a little terrifying, but alex has known her share of terrifying, stared her share of terrifying right in the eye and spit.
they get to the facility and she's scoping around for likely exits before she even gets out of the car, subtle as she can.
charles says, "alex, i'd really like you to give us a chance." his accent is so english she wonders how he is alive.
erik says, "he reads minds. sorry about that." he doesn't look sorry at all. he's wearing sunglasses but the edge of his mouth is pulled up in a smirk.
alex says, "well, that was creepy." she tries to think, might as well do what he says, in as apologetic a tone as she can manage, but she's alex summers, she keeps casing the giant concrete block for any sign of weakness. she slips out of the car, hands in her pockets.
there's a shape against the wall, peeling out. the cloud of her hair is dark and loose.
"look," erik says. "you have a welcoming party."
the girl's tall and dark-skinned, with warm, bright eyes. "hi," she says, voice low and throaty; "you must be alex? i'm darwin." her grin is wide, sweet; her fingers are long when she stretches out her palm.
"cool name," alex says. darwin's hand is warm and dry; her grip is firm. alex almost doesn't want to let go.
darwin grins. "stick around and i'll show you how i got it."
alex shrugs. "i could do that."
(what? it's not like she has a whole lot else to do.)
--
the first time alex used her powers she was twelve and they'd just told her, scott's going away and you're staying here.
she snapped, hell no, and all this energy came roaring out of her, brilliant and fierce and angry. scott was hers. she was electric and powerful and nobody could touch her-
and the walls were crumbling down and people were screaming. she didn't care, they weren't part of anything she could see.
but scott said, alex. his face was bone-pale.
(this was the first time she ran away. she keeps coming back, but. she cannot stop running.)
--
alex is nineteen. darwin's hair is falling across her face and her hand is on alex's wrist. "you in?"
alex's power hums beneath her skin. "get out of the way," she says.
she lets it ricochet out of her, brilliant and incandescent, and does not let go of darwin's gaze.
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