PAIGE'S BLOG HUB.

hello! this blog is the main hub for my sideblogs, DAHLBOMBII (my personal blog) and XOWRITINGPAIGES (my writing and oc blog). if you have followed any of the previous duo, than this is the blog i am following you back from and interacting with your posts through!

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“A sports bra is specifically designed to keep them secure and in-place while you’re running around.” he replied, looking down at the brunette. “It would actually be the ideal outfit.”

    “you can leave the house.” he paused, trying to think of a time where wanda did actually leave the house. fuck, he couldn’t think of a time. “well…ok, maybe not. but….we could fix that. next time mystique goes out. i’ll give you a lift, wherever you like in bayville. though it’s a pretty borin’ place.” he added, a small smile on his lips. 

he was watching him with a frown on his face, silence following her question. “i…i guess so. not really though. i mean, i usually remember stuff like movies.” he shrugged, the frown still on his face. he’d said he wasn’t going to lie to her, and he wasn’t going to. and if she somehow managed to figure out this mind control bullshit because of it he wouldn’t be sorry about it either. 

                       – SHE FIXES HIM with a look, as if to say ‘you’re kidding, right?’; then she just chuckles lightly with a shake of her head.  mystique basically kept her on house arrest.  assignments and books and, if she could, she’d probably slap an electric dog collar to make sure wanda never strayed too far.  at the offer, wanda lights up, smiling.  ❛ that sounds awesome.  thanks.  honestly, anywhere would be better than here. ❜

          it’s not fair, he wants to say.   he had his trial.   he paid the price, almost giving up his life for it.   she doesn’t know, of course, x-men preferred to keep this quiet and sweep it under the rug after they left one of their one to DIE in the middle of freezing nowhere.   remy could still remember the feeling of another entity taking over his body, him willingly offering it just so he wouldn’t succumb to the cold, or starvation, fatigue.   how can he look directly into wanda’s hues and tell her that her father held the mock trial, forced rogue to absorb his memories and RIP THEM OUT without a drop of objectivity;   no, it was a cocktail of shame, guilt and self-loathing.   this is something he has tried to hold on to, as for a reason why he was left behind, but the truth hurt more:   rogue was the only one affected by it, the others couldn’t care less.

          so how can he try and explain now, without any fear pulsing right around his larynx, that wanda’s reaction is going to be just as bad ?   there are things she’s better off not knowing, or so he thought.   now, however, he’s rethinking even that.

          ❛ maybe, i was desperate an’ dumb enough t’make a deal wit’ someone i shouldn’t ‘ave.   maybe i didn’t know any better.   wit’ my powers back then, i would ‘ave easily done much mo’e harm than—— ❜   he stops himself, his words sound like an EXCUSE, and he shakes his head.   ❛ he…   told me t’get a team, get ‘em int’ the tunnels——  i didn’t know.   not befo’e the bloodshed started an’ it was already too late.   i swear i didn’t know. ❜   he’s not brave enough to ask for an apology ( nor does he find the strength to muster up a sentence for that, he had been begging for forgiveness long enough, like a starving dog they refused to trust with a bigger bone each time ), and should this have been anyone else, he wouldn’t be waiting for her judgement either.   he knows it’s not pietro that has whispered this into her ear:   annoying as he found gambit, he isn’t angry enough.   magneto, on the other hand———but he doesn’t open his mouth to speak the man’s name still.

                       – THERE’S AN ODD kind of stillness to her.  she sits, shoulders straight, no usual tapping of her foot.  even her hands are still, fingers laced, white knuckled.  no one had said anything to her.  how blind had she been?  if her father knew, then who else?  and who else here?  how many of the x-men had seen her hang around gambit and then said nothing about this?  her jaw sets tight.  painfully tight.  looking at him, her emotions are swirling.  she likes gambit.  or liked?  she doesn’t know how to feel.  she knows she’s angry.  and upset and frustrated.  she’s practiced controlling her emotions, that comes with stillness, and silence.  if she didn’t, she knows the cost, she knows how her vision turns red and how uncontrollable it gets.

so, she sits, she stares, she tries to keep her breathing even.

“run!” ezekiel grabs her hand, pulling her into a sprint, “i may have pissed off some pixies.” 

@vestiica

          “Right! We wanted dumplings and you didn’t, so why are you even bothering             to eat them? Be happy with what you got, Barton.”

The man makes a horrible face at him but doesn’t argue, maybe because he cannot find a single argument beside unfair that will support his point. Anyway, he can’t steal anything from Steve anymore because he just inhaled the remaining contents of his bowl and uses his finger to get out every tiny crumb now. Sometimes James can’t believe that this guy is his friend. 

        “And we’re tremendously fit grandpas, Wanda,” James continues as if           nothing had happened just a second ago. “And even if not, I’m pretty           certain I could kick your asses with my crutch. So don’t touch my hair.           Don’t even look at my hair. You can smell at it, though, because the scent           of my shampoo is amazing,” he adds because he’ll forever brag about his           shampoo, no matter what. It makes Steve look very pleased, too;; he found           it on the market, after all.

                       – SHE OPENS HER mouth to try and diffuse the situation between them, but clint simply makes a face and returns back to his own dessert.  she’ll have to make it up to him.  secretly.  doesn’t want anyone to think she’s giving none else special treatment.  (even though she kind of had been giving james just that).

there’s a small amused chuckle as her gaze flickers to steve, his plate already clean.  well she certainly didn’t have to ask if he liked them.  finishing her own dessert, she sets her empty plate in the sink.  her eye roll is obvious as james continues.

         ah, of course.   he’d been STUPID to think everyone would put this to rest.  he knows, he knows it’s a mistake he’ll have to carry, but he far from appreciates it being brought up time and time again.   he can’t blame her for her anger either, he would too be FURIOUS if he found out that mutants have fallen from a pair of hands of one of his fellow x-men.   the difference is, with how much he has caused, he’s more willing to listen.   wanda doesn’t seem like she wants to hear anything except if he’d have good proof that all of this — a lie.   sadly, he cannot offer her such a thing, nor does he want to lie.   no more lies;   he’d promised that much all that time ago, to himself ( in cold, in antarctica ) and to others.

        ❛ ——i can explain. ❜   can he ?   there’s a pause.   what is he supposed to say to something like that ?no more lies, remy.   anxiety begins to take over the tips of his fingers, shaking, he presses them to the fabric of his pants to stop.   it’s the unfortunate cocktail of sleepless nights, booze and the woman pulsing anger before him.    he says he can explain, but his lips are tight shut.   it’s still an aching wound and he doesn’t want to.   ❛ do ya really think i’d do ANYTHIN’ at all t’hurt other mutants purposefully, petite ?   i might be a scoundrel, but i ain’t no murderer, an’ i hope ya can trust me enough t’believe it. ❜

                       – TENSION LIVES IN her shoulders, sharp and straight as she stares towards the man.  her father’s word echo in her ear.  she can’t block it out, can’t block out the pictures that fill her mind.  mutants, dead in the murlock tunnels, gambit on the wrong side of the fight.  wanda’s green eyes stay locked on him, never moving from him, desperate to find something.  she wants him to tell her it’s all lie, that it’s not true, it’s just her father trying to mess with her.  why was she only finding out now?  who else knew?  who else hadn’t told her about this?  her fingers flex, crescent moons dug into her biceps from her nails.

“Next time I head out, I could swing by and grab you?” Maria offered, her voice gentle. She was sure that the next time she went out, Wanda wouldn’t still be training — Maria always went out late at night, and there were some good 24 hour stores around the compound. “I’d be careful about taking Clint too literally, though. He did grow up in a circus, so his idea of normal is skewed.” 

“I can understand that.” It was always scary being burdened with something that you weren’t quite sure how it worked, even if you weren’t a child. To have the kind of power that Wanda did, and not know how it worked — she didn’t blame the younger woman for being afraid of what she was capable of, or for turning to people she thought could help.

But now that she was with the Avengers, she was going to have to figure it out if she wanted to be one of their heavy hitters. And Maria was pretty sure that she would be. “There are plenty of emotions that are just as strong as anger, but less damaging. Easier for you to control.” Maria looked over at Wanda, her voice soft. “Everyone always says love is a strong emotion. There must be someone that… maybe even just wanting to save everyone.” She hesitated before she finished her sentence, trailing off a little. Love wasn’t exactly easy, and Maria wasn’t the best person to give any kind of advice about a personal life, considering she did her best to avoid having one. “You’ll figure it out. Nat’s good at that sort of thing, if you ever want a second opinion.”

                       – AT THE OFFER, wanda perks a little.  hiding one’s ‘cool facade’ is something lost on wanda.  ❛ that would be nice.  thank you. ❜  if anything, it’d be good to go out with someone who actually wanted to hang around her as opposed to those who had been ‘assigned’ to her when she wanted to go out.  nerves and that; both the reasons why wanda stayed stuck up in the facility all the time.  a small smile draws to her face as maria continues.  ❛ skewed or not, he is not wrong, no? ❜

green eyes flicker to maria, brow quirking,  ❛ can you blow things up just by getting upset? ❜  she drawls, half-sarcastic.  she didn’t know how her abilities worked, but she knew what they did. knew what they could do.  she shakes her head lightly, sighs.  ❛ i have to control every emotions.  all the time.  or else things  …  happen. ❜

         “I will not use the internet to learn about historical personalities,” Steve insists            and luckily doesn’t hear James muttering get off my lawn under his breath.

Because come on, he gets it, he really does, the 21st century sucks a lot – just try to listen to their modern music crap, for example! – but there are also pros and the internet ist like the pro of all pros. So helpful. So easy to use. Back in their times they had to go to libraries or find a really skilled person if they wanted to know something, but now? Bam, ask google. Or YouTube! There’s a very detailed and foolproof video of everything you can think of. But no, Steve Rogers has to act like the 99-year-old he is, even though James knows for sure that he secretly loves the art app on his tablet. 

        “I’ll help you with the snacks;; say 3 pm in the kitchen?” 

                       – SHE GLANCES TOWARDS james, attempting to hide the smile as she hears his murmured reply.  they are certainly both grumpy old men, steve perhaps more.  it’s amusing, to say the least.  she forces the humour from her lips, humming quietly as she looks back to steve.  she supposes he’s a product of his time, preferring books to the internet; opposite of herself.  she doesn’t bother to think of arguing with him; if it’s what he wants, so be it.  not like she could change his mind after all.

her attention is soon drawn back to james as he speaks and she nods lightly.  if anything, she had something to plan out for the rest of the afternoon, and could give her eyes a rest from all the books she’d been reading lately.

Trish’s smile mirrors Wanda’s, still not fully aware that she does have Scarlet Witch in the car with her, and as private as Wanda Maximoff is. There is not much known on her, aside from what you see on the news, and Patsy Walker knows better than anyone that what you see is not what you get most of the time. The response makes her exhale through her nose, a half-chuckle. “You know that the pretty ones are the worst, right?” An eyebrow is quirked, and a corner of her lips twitches at the pain in her shoulder. Adrenaline having left her, it hurts a bit more now, but they will be at her apartment soon. The doctor, too.

“You too. It’s not every day that you get to meet one of the Avengers.” Eyes focus on the road again, smile still lingering, as she pulls into a familiar street, driving towards the reserved parking space. 

“I bet. I don’t think you can ever get used it, not completely.” Even though she has spent most of her life in New York, it still has the same effect on her. Loud, messy, full of people.“But give it a chance, and it can grow on you.” Another smile, as the engine shuts off once they come to a halt. “Are you okay to get out yourself?”

                       – IT’S STILL AN odd thing, to be known by people, for people to recognise her when she doesn’t know them.  this, this interaction, it’s nicer than what she’s used to.  or, at least, what she’s worried about.  it’s not as if she hasn’t seen the new coverage about herself.  she watched them almost obsessively, buried herself in it until it made her sick.  so this, the smile, the laugh, it’s  …  nice.  ❛ maybe so.  but that can be fun, no? ❜  she muses back, flexing her blood-sticky fingers, taking in a shaky breath.  it makes a pang spread through her chest and she leans heavily back into the seat, closes her eyes a moment to try and push the pain away.

a small smile quirks to her lips as sh opens her eyes, glances slightly to trish.  ❛ i am not that special. ❜  not like steve or nat or thor, even clint.  those were the ones people were usually excited to meet.  thor especially, the amount of selfies wanda had seen of him with people were everywhere online.

James can see why Wanda would choose that kitten;; it stands out among its siblings, color-wise, and it’s the smallest and thinnest. Though Mother Nature usually lets those die first, she also gave humans the unique trait of pity which is why when there are people involved, the smallest and thinnest creatures still have a chance. This is actually a metaphor that could apply to James’ relationship with Steve, but funnily it doesn’t. Young Bucky Barnes didn’t really care how big eight-year-old Stevie was or how far he could throw a stone;; no, he’d been fascinated by the boy’s sketches of his surroundings and, admittedly, by his big mouth. Young Bucky Barnes hadn’t really cared about bodies that much, per se, at least until puberty. Then everything had become tremendously important, of course, but by then Steve Rogers had become his best friend forever and ever, so there’s that.

           “Just as tiny as Steve before the serum,” he says because pre-serum Steve              Rogers should never be forgotten, ever. “Hey!” Steve complaints, lifting his              head to scowl at James who doesn’t even bat an eye. “He was even tinier than              you, Wanda. Perfect for putting your arm around his shoulders. But a huge              pain in the ass. You should keep the tiny kitten and name it Stevie. I’ll show              you a pic of him before the serum, it’s fantastic.”

                       – IT’S A CUTE little thing, stumbling around, teensy in comparison to the other kittens.  her fingers are delicate over the fragile curve of it’s head, lightly tousling the soft fuzz between it’s ears.  her hands draws away after carefully nudging the kit in the direction of it’s mother.  maybe she had a soft spot for the small and protection-needy.  her arms cross, leaning her elbows on the counter, green eyes still watching the kits stroll around, mewling.  there’s a small snort of a laugh after james’ comment, and steve’s subsequent reaction.

          she stands a little straighter, glances towards steve. ❛ it is  …  hard to believe           you were ever shorter than me, ❜  she replies, brows creasing.  she was quite           short herself and steve  …  well, jeez, he’s built like a brickhouse.  it’s incredible           to imagine all the serum did; the height, the muscle, the nigh unbreakability, all           of it.  ❛ i would like to see that photo, ❜  she adds, shooting james a grin.

He likes it better this way, Lance and Wanda getting along. They’re the two people he cares most about in the world. More than himself, even, though he won’t admit it. It makes him happy to see them getting along. Of course, he wouldn’t feel that way if he knew how they really felt about each other. He was used to Lance chasing other girls – mostly Kitty – but this was different.

Getting drunk is a challenge in itself for him. He needs a lot of alcohol in a short amount of time to overpower his metabolism. It’s easy when he has guys and girls falling over themselves to get him drunk enough to get into his tight jeans. He’s not interested in any of them, though. He’s done with people who want to use him and throw him away. So he turns them down, not nearly politely, and slips back into the crowd to find her.

He wraps his arms around her and rests his head on her shoulder. “Wandaaaa, come dance with me. You look so angry. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

                       – IT’S HARD MAKING up for all the years they’d missed, but this is a start, even if it’s not her type of place . it’s loud and sweaty people keep bumping into her (she keeps flinching due to it) and she has no interest in getting drunk tonight.  she has pietro to watch over after all.  she presses back against the wall to stay out of anyone’s way, green eyes flickering to seek out piet’s shock of pale hair.  he’s not hard to miss.

it’s not soon after that he’s dropping against her, complaining at her.  he’s one of few she won’t take issue with touching her, even if she can smell alcohol on him.  she reaches a hand up, knocks her knuckles lightly against his arm.  ❛ i don’t dance, piet, ❜  she replies easily, gaze staring out at the dancing gaggle.  the thought of being dragged out there makes her skin crawl.  ❛ i thought you were looking for fun or something. ❜