#destructivesummers

send me “wake up!” to wake my muse from a nightmare.

Charles broke into the waking world with a harsh and strangled gasp. He jerked upright, numb to the painful pop in his shoulders as he scrambled back, scrambled to get away get away from me I didn’t mean to I’m sorry–

–and then, with his arms over his head and his heart a drum inside his chest Charles’ telepathy finally tuned in. There wasn’t a threat in the room, he realized and as he did he peered over his makeshift-shield. Sure enough he met the eyes not of Magneto, not of the Diamond Queen but an old friend. Charles lowered his arms and tried to pull himself together.

“A-Alex..? You’re…what…are you doing h-here?”

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he bumps into him in the middle of the isle at the grocery store, where the guy’s suddenly halted to a stop, eyes glazing over when faced with the rows and rows and rows and rows of cereal. it's not like alex summers has ever been a particularly patient man, but there's something jarring about smashing face-first into some guy's existential crisis over a child's breakfast-or maybe he's never seen the inside of a trader joe's before-that it's kind of funny. there’s so much of it-so much of everything, not just cereal; square boxes of colors a bright splash against the monochrome-fluorescent floors and lights swinging overhead. jars of brand name food stretch out for miles, and erik's clutching a stamp card from the university and is regrettably, painstakingly aware that he's holding up a good crowd of people now. they're impatient to get by, but the impact caused him to drop his ill-gotten gains and the box crashed over alex's shoes, sprinkling them with corn flakes and dehydrated fruit. "i-" have no idea what to say. the stranger breaks out into a funny little smile, head tipping back toward the ceiling, as the other patrons huff and edge past them both. his hair's a bit on the lengthy side, covered by a black cap and his clothes are dressy, ironed and fitted a tad too-big. "apologies, sir. i'll find custodian."

With two very talented psychic mutants in the school it was really hard to plan anything at all. Carefully, when both seemed preoccupied by a visitor, she slipped off in the night. A violet blanket of stars above her, the scent of evergreen in her nose, she wrapped in her riding jacket, helmet in her hand and ruc sack on her shoulder, and headed to the place off the campus where she'd stashed her bike.

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@destructivesummers

“I definitely wasn’t,” Warren said, looking over his shoulder. He was in just his pyjama trousers and had been trying to clean up his wings in the mirror by removing the frazzled wing. 

“Yo Alex,” James said, hustling down the hall of the family’s Institute. “Got a serious question for you.” He stopped short, his eyes,  yellow eyes like his mother’s (but only the pupils) gleaming with intent.

So drinking with Alex wasn’t really uncommon for the elf. Not really. They were friends and he did go drinking with his friends. Which was why waking up, in a bed with a ring on his finger was defiantly not how he expected things to end. Waking up half naked in a bed with one of your friends was… not good. Even more so with rings involved. Groaning low he was going to pushing Alex, grunting as he leaned up his head spinning sharply as he did so before  he closed his eyes.

“Alex, alex was… mein gott I think.. we got married.. after gambling a lot.. und drinking too much.”

Alex sat back on the railing, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette slowly and watching it curl in the air. He was supposed to be meeting someone here. Someone who he was going to take somewhere safe. It was late at night and the lights were barely enough to illuminate the empty train station but his eyes clearly caught moment and he tensed up a bit, watching. ((Destructivesummers))

@destructivesummers