Hey, losers, I'm probably out doing something amazing, so leave a message, and I'll try to get back to you. Or just think really loudly at me. I'll hear it. BEEP.
i'm a super powerful telepath obviously i've heard the buzz [This would imply that he knows because he reads minds. He literally just saw a post on the network by some guy saying something weird is happening.]
[By the time she gets to his room, Quentin's already kicked off his own shoes and is leaning casually against the headboard of his bed with his arms behind his head. It's pretty sparsely furnished and decorated since he just moved in two nights ago: basically just a bed (queen size, obviously. You expect Quentin to sleep on a twin bed? Like a peasant??), a trunk, a box used as a makeshift nightstand, and a mirror propped against a wall. Other than that, there's some clothes scattered haphazardly around the floor. Quentin is not a tidy person.]
I know a version of Summers from my universe. It's a long story. But mutants stick together, so here I am.
[He scowls. Ugh, talking about any version of Cyclops is a hell of a mood killer. In an attempt to get some of said mood back, he waves a hand to lend some telekinetic help with Jinx's boot buckles, since she's a little encumbered by her bad hand. What would you do without him?]
Now are we gonna talk about Scott "stick in the mud" Summers all day or are you gonna come over here?
Powder (young Jinx): But family stick together, you said it yourself! Young Vi: I know what i said— Powder (young Jinx): I want to fight, I can help! Young Vi: You're not ready!!
( jinx is staring down at her boots when that flash of memory flares when quentin mentions about mutants sticking together. and maybe she can use him unbuckling her boots for her as an excuse for her sudden stillness. or maybe she can mention giving her hand a small rest. either way, the teen squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment in hope it'll be enough to bat it away. because there is no way in hell she's letting that ruin this, and she'll be damned if she allows her sick mind to rip her out of this reality and drift her off to limbo space. her "curse" would be cruel enough to do that.
...
so when she opens her eyes again, jinx gives herself a quick thump against her leg to be on the safe side. it's a tiny tactic she uses sometimes to keep herself aware and grounded. it doesn't always work, but it's better than doing nothing. right, okay, so what was she doing again? toeing off her boots and setting them somewhere, her attention falls over to quentin again, smirking flirtatiously as she makes her way over. )
Ya know back where I'm from... — ( she coos as she grabs her right braid to untwist (she's had a lot of practice to unbraid them fast despite the length of them) -- moving her hips still as she walks. ) — if anyone even thinks about tellin' me what I should or should not do...
( jinx trails off as she climbs on the bed and onto him, straddling him and already halfway done with the braid she's fiddling with. )
... They'd be tied to the ceiling with a bomb strapped to their chest. ... or dynamite in their mouths. Whichever gives me that fear of look I like so much.
[Quentin hears the slightest bit of a voice that sounds like a younger Jinx and quickly closes off his mind from listening to the rest of the memory. Not just because it's none of his business, but also memories tend to come with feelings, and it's always a toss-up whether you'll get sucker punched in the face with someone else's trauma. If there's anything he's learned about Jinx, it's that her emotions are loud and her memories are rarely good. So he lets her have her little moment, sets his glasses on the side table box, and waits for her to come back to the present.
When she does, she doesn't waste any time climbing into his lap, which is, of course, exactly his intention when choosing where to wait for her to follow him. The appeal of "cute girl in lap" aside, they're a lot closer to eye level this way, so making out should be a hell of a lot easier. Which he very much plans to test out soon, but she seems to be kind of in the middle of something with the braids, and he'd like to give her a chance to finish.]
Kinky! Maybe another time, yeah? Tonight I'd rather use my mouth for other fun things than just holding dynamite.
[Oh, right, he should do something with his hands, shouldn't he? He's always terrible at this part. After a second of indecision, he puts his hands loosely around her waist. The "safe" choice, maybe, but it's a good place to start, especially while she's still busy with her hair. And until she's done with that, he'll just watch her intently, his eyes occasionally roving over the rest of her body but for the most part sticking to her face and those fun glowy eyes of hers.]
( one braid down, one more to go. with this one, she uses just a little more of her shimmer juices for her fingers to pick up the pace. is it silly for her to be somewhat surprised he is already thinking about a next time with her? logically and on paper, it makes sense. they're a couple now so it's natural for intimacy to come around more than once. it's a part of being in a relationship (unless the two parties aren't into it), but jinx is still coming to terms with this whole thing and a little paranoid. quentin can still change his mind about being with her at any given time, and given the fact she is a walking omen... her defense is high. as her father always says and reminds her, "everyone else betrays us. it's only us.". )
( when his hands are at her hips, jinx shimmies playfully on top with a smile; wrinkling her nose again. this is meant to be a really hot moment and it will come definitely, but until she is done with this hair -- she is feeling a little prankish. )
Oh really? I do love fun and I do love surprises.
( and to demonstrate the fun and the surprise, she leans to him to appear she is going to land him a kiss. but only to do a detour and press a quick kiss on his forehead. a two for two prank and jinx grins pretty victoriously about it too. maybe he can finally get her back because now she is finally done with her locks, doing a quick headshake to let it fly freely, then sheds off her mini jacket to toss off somewhere in his room. )
[Ugh, wiggling in his lap is so not fair, and he chokes back a groan. So that's how she wants to play, is it? Fine, he's more than happy to return the favor. As soon as the jacket is gone, he kisses her, but only for a couple of steamy seconds before he pulls back with a smirk.]
I'm gonna piggyback off your thoughts, okay? Try not to think about anything too embarrassing, you know, like how hot I am. Not that anyone could blame you.
[Hey, Jinx, how do you feel about neck kissing? Because Quentin's about to find out. Meanwhile, his hands are now creeping up under her shirt, and since it's a pretty tight bit of clothing to begin with, that means he's also pushing the whole shirt up too.]
( the quick hot kiss is sudden and before she could even return it properly, it was already over with. what an asshole, making her kiss him all clumsy-like. sure, she might had deserved it but if she is meant to be the top dog in aldrip when she and her father rule, she can't be caught slipping up like that! jinx was on her way to pout at him, but his little warning has her eyebrows quirking up in confusion. )
Piggybacking?
( and again before the teen can even begin to ask what that entails, he is on her neck. she inhales a sharp breath and immediately her moans increases to a slight high-pitch and more girly volume. 'Fuck, that's my spot.' with her hands resting on his shoulders and gripping tightly on his shirt, she tilts her head to expose more skin for him with a slight shudder over the feel of his hands working up on her body.
'Make me yours. ... Mark me. Please?' unable to control herself now, she moves on top of him again -- her hips in a slow roll up to him to satisfy an ache forming between her thighs, and the desire to just feel him despite there's still so much barrier between the two. )
[Jackpot. Quentin grins briefly against her neck before moving his attention to the additional skin she's presented for him. He doesn't even need to use his little trick of slipping into her mind to feel what she feels ("piggybacking" seemed like the most accurate, if maybe unclear description) to know how much this turns her on, which is awfully handy. He really, really wants this to be good for her, so at least he knows now that neck = awesome.
Mark her, she says? Quentin isn't a possessive kinda guy, but apparently Jinx is into that shit, which is good enough for him even if he doesn't really know what to do with "make me yours". If she wants a bunch of hickeys, though, he is more than happy to oblige. But first — get rid of some of these stupid clothes. Not all, not yet (or at all, depending on if she's ready to go all the way) but the shirts at least. Her rocking her hips against him is driving him absolutely crazy — and she'll almost definitely be able to feel how crazy — and he needs some kind of skin-on-skin contact to have any hope of maintaining his sanity and his patience.]
Shirts.
[That hurriedly mumbled word is all the explanation he cares to give for why he's pulling his hands and mouth off her, but since he immediately shucks off his t-shirt and flings it somewhere on the floor, he hopes she can figure out what he means.]
( the fire is boiling just a little too fast in her veins. and while she can feel his craze on top of her own, jinx is also fighting whether or not she should just... lower all her defenses or be in control. to pin him down and ravish him, but for him to also grab her hand and make her feel alive again. she's been dead for so long and her world's been nothing but muted colors since that horrible night. maybe there's a way to do a little bit of both -- to fade away to their new sweet secret place but to also claw him like the animal that she is.
his muttering barely catches her ears and her eyes flutter for a moment in slight confusion of the sudden pause. but the girl follows suit super quickly, tossing her own shirt somewhere in the room to be forgotten. and luckily for the two of them, jinx isn't known to wear a bra underneath her clothing, therefore she is bare like him. he can visually see her breath heaving -- her eyes glowing and so fixated on him with so many impure thoughts rushing through her mind. for him to touch her, for her to touch him, to get entirely naked right now, who goes down on who first, what position should they do first if not all of them, hard and slow or hard and fast? there's just so much crashing into each other and it's hard to figure out what to do first when she wants it all. )
( but in the end despite she told him to mark her and to make her his, jinx leans forward in a haste -- her hands cupping at his cheeks to give him the most feverish kiss. she hums hungrily into it, mouth opening to give an indication she wants to do a different kind of kiss than the type they've been doing. and all the while, jinx is still brushing her hips to him, knowing damn well doing this will just intensify everything. her sister told her if she were to ever do this with anyone to at least be safe and... she isn't really being too safe right now. but what's living without taking a few risks? 'i want him so much...' — why yes, she completely forgot he can be tuned in her thoughts right now and is speaking out to the void of her own mind. )
[He doesn't even get the chance to properly appreciate boobs inches from his face before a wave of her fantasies hits him like a ton of bricks, and she kisses him almost as forcefully. Correction, French kisses him. And Quentin eagerly reciprocates, one hand settling on her hip and the other moving up to her chest. Sure, she might not have much up there, but you'd never know it from the pleased noises he makes into the kiss. Honestly, Quentin's never really been a boob guy anyway. He just likes her.
Man, he's really gotta get it together. Her thoughts are a maelstrom pulling him under, and he needs to do something because drowning in this case just leads to needing a change of boxers and a shame from which he will never recover. Talking to her telepathically has helped ground her before, and he hopes it will again.
"We'll do all of it."
All the ideas she's been practically screaming in her head, that is.
"Every single sexy thing you're imagining, okay? We'll make a list."
She moves in his lap in a way that makes him gasp and grip her hip a little harder than he intended.
"Fuck, Jinx— just figure out what you want to do this time before I lose my goddamn mind."]
( it's so damn bizarre how effective this is for her. whether her mind is swirling in a whirlwind of negativity or... whatever you call this, hearing him in her thoughts seem to clear the chaotic atmosphere. jinx thrives on the disorderly way of living and so many have tried to get her to live the opposite. and it only results to her wanting to live more hectically . but with quentin, it's so different. he doesn't want her to completely put a stop to it (at least she doesn't think so. otherwise he wouldn't suggested making a list of all her wildest fantasties just now), he just wants her to ease up on the gas pedal and maybe go down a few speeds.
so jinx... listens, her thoughts decreases a few notches and for now, she slows down on her thrusting so he wouldn't blow up on her (yet). the kissing between them settles too, still heated, of course, but not like some wolf ripping a piece of meat apart after three days of no food. so what does she want to do? to feel good, obviously is what she's thinking -- and yet when jinx follows the train tracks of that idea, things twists just a little bit somber. there's still so much heat in the mix of it, so much excitement and her own arosual humming loudly to match her heartbeat. but if he swims just bit deeper through all of this fire-y mess, there's that familiar feeling she had back when they were in the kitchen. that lost puppy look except now it has an emotion attached to it. a sensation of wanting to be held, to be liked,... to not be abandoned.
...
wait. did some guy hurt— aaaaannd that thought door gets locked crazy tight. let's not go down that road of pain.
'Show me.' she says telepathically, their kiss almost coming to a halt but not quite -- it just lingers longer as she moans more gently over at his hand on her chest. 'If I'm making you crazy... show me. I want... want to feel good. For once. I want you to make me feel good, Quentin.'. and just like that, jinx swaps places in the car she's been driving -- letting him take the wheel while she sets herself in the passenger seat. and finally, the teen pulls her lips away from his to catch her breath with her forehead press almost lovingly against his forehead. )
[Ah, that's better. Well, not that sad stuff that started bubbling up when the fire in her calmed to more of a blaze rather than an inferno. But the fact that her thoughts are a little quieter, a little less chaotic, a little more real... that is definitely nice.
Wanting a place to belong, someone to give a shit for once? That's something Quentin can relate to all too well. But he can't promise to be around forever. Eventually he'll get sent back to his world. So is it worth it to be the one who gives a shit about her? He's not sure. It's basically the same as him trusting Jubilee to give him a home, he guesses, and he doesn't necessarily regret that, despite it not lasting. So... maybe it'll be okay?
"Yeah... Okay, yeah. I can do that."
He closes his eyes and takes a couple of seconds to breathe, collect himself, and enjoy a moment of peace with her forehead touching his. Alright. Opening his eyes to meet hers, he moves his hand from her chest, and after using a bit of telekinesis to unbuckle her belt and unzip her fly, he unceremoniously slides his hand down the front of her shorts. Now this is where his piggybacking trick comes in handy, because feeling what she feels makes it stupidly easy to find her most sensitive spots almost immediately. Sure, the angle of his arm isn't ideal, but he'll do something about that in a bit. He doesn't want to delay fulfilling her request any longer than he has to.
( she is going to hate herself tomorrow definitely. jinx hates exposing her vulnerability side because it goes against the reputation she is trying to uphold. jinx is a fearful and dangerous monster who lives in the shadows. someone who gobbles up anyone who bats their eyes at her the wrong way. someone you shouldn't turn your back on, who shouldn't run away from, shouldn't talk about so loudly, shouldn't think about so loudly, because she will be there -- waiting and watching. 'be what they fear, jinx.' is what her father would say.
and yet here she is, shedding away her armor and exposing that deep down, she is just a woman. a woman that's been hurt by the world, by those she trusted and loved, and by her own. she is completely battle scared and all she wants is to just feel nice for a change even if it's for a single night. and jinx prays that this exposure can be just between the two of them. no one needs to know this secret side of her (except the people here in aldrip aren't stupid and have eyes).
her body jerks slightly at the touch of his hand between her thighs, it's not due to fear or anything, but because she has never been touched there by anyone before. so it's a slight weird (but good) sensation to have fingers there that isn't her own. despite the awkward angle he's in, there's... heavy evidence of how excited she's been and she isn't all ashamed of it either. with her eyes lock to his, they widen slightly as he hits a sweet spot -- inhaling yet another gasp before her head tilts back to bathe over the wave of pleasure. this time, her moan isn't subtle, it's noticeable and loud (loud enough if someone passes through, they can hear some muffling groans outside his door). )
('Fuck, yes! Yes, like that.'. jinx plants a quick yet deep kiss on his lips before she readjusts herself to help. she moves a little off his lap to lean somewhat back with her legs spread. but then the reminder of her busted right hand comes to thought when she attempts to use it for balance. 'Shit.'. more so to herself than him she says that to, of course. so the teen decides maybe it'd be better if she just lies on her back -- thusly she does and hopes quentin can adapt to this new position and angle she's making for herself. and actually, lying down is making all of this feel all the more amazing. who would had thunk? )
[Funny, rolling her over was his next move. Great minds! Quentin adjusts his position to lie next to her on his side. Her reaction to that first little experiment was amazing. 10/10, no notes.
Unfortunately, her moving did mean he had to take his hand out of her shorts temporarily. But that's okay, that just gives him the opportunity to shimmy them down in the front a little more to give himself more room to work. If Jinx wants the shorts off completely, she's welcome to interrupt him to do so, but she might be a little too distracted.
"You should say everything out loud for now. Doesn't make a difference to me, but might feel better for you. Oh, and you can mark me up if you want. Go nuts."
She seems good and ready, so this time when his hand goes down between her legs he slowly slides a finger inside her, watching her face intently. Jinx called him "Mr. Mind Explosion" once before. Even if the context was completely different then, he fully intends to earn that nickname.]
( she is a little distracted, yes, but when she feels her shorts slipping lower -- jinx lifts up her hips slightly and does little movements with her legs. so a big sign to, yes, take those suckers off. she's ready for him to see all of her. when he is next to her, she peers over with a slight flush brewing over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose -- mostly over his suggestion. the blue-haired girl giggles sheepishly with her canine tooth picking at her bottom lip. )
Eh heh heh...Right, right. Uh. I guess you can kinda tell I'm a vir— Haah...!
( and a new set of pleasure electrifies up her spine with her good hand instantly on top his shoulder to grab onto. her instinct is to bite so instead of kissing his lips like she had been doing, jinx leans forward to grab on his lower lip to crunch on. again, she doesn't do it hard -- there's no blood or pain, but enough pressure for him to be aware of it. she doesn't linger for too long with it as it gets replaced with a deep kiss, moaning fully before slithering down to his neck.
her body once again acts on its own, her leg swings around to curl around his waist for an even better access for him to work with. with hot and panted breath, her tongue laps over the skin of his neck -- occasionally leaving kisses, nips and suckling hard enough to leave marks. all the while, her hand reaching a little around over to his back to drag her nails across. now with the scratches, that might be leave some pinching but she'll lighten up on that if he needs her to. )
[Well, if the lady wants the shorts gone, who is Quentin to argue? But he's propping himself up with one hand, and the other is... occupied. Whatever shall he do?
Ha! It must suck to be a loser without godlike tk powers. Before she moves her leg and makes this process more difficult than it needs to be, he whisks those shorts off (and her underwear too, while he's at it) with mind powers and flings them across the room. A little more dramatic than he intended, but whatever. More importantly, he has unhindered access to her body now, and he's gonna use it. He starts moving that hand, just a smidge slower than she would want him to. What's wrong with making her squirm a little, right?
"I'm in your head, you don't have to tell me."
He hums when she starts kissing his neck and tilts his chin up a bit for her, but her nails on his back get a shudder and a gasp. Oo, that's very fun.
"Come on, you can do better than that. I don't heal, but I'm not fragile."]
( oh, he's a dick for this, and she groans in a needy frustration against his skin when she notices the speed decreasing from his hand. but despite it, the teen grins impishly over his words -- because god, she shouldn't enjoy him being in her head this much. but to have someone learning how she ticks without her needing to yammer in long drawn out explanations is downright amazing. it gets so tiring and boring having to answer the same damn basic questions. "what was your world like?", "what are your hobbies?", "what's your favorite food?", "why do you enjoy guns/explosions so much?", "why is it about you and wrecking havoc?", blah blah fucking blah! she wants to skip all of that and get to the good stuff. and that's what this is for her, the good stuff. and if quentin wants to know the nitty gritty of jinx, he can always ask or browse around freely in her head, whatever he wants to do. she is essentially an open book anyway. if there's something she doesn't want him to know quite yet, she'll slam the mental door at him. no big whoop.
but anyhow feeling just a tad bit aggressive thanks to that little comment of his, jinx tightens her grip on him with her leg and uses her body weight to roll the two of them over so he's more on top. her lips part ways from his neck but only briefly so she can hum into his ear, her words sweet with a dash of poison mixed in: )
Your funeral, Mister psychic extraordinaire.
( and with that, she digs her nails even deeper in his skin -- clawing harder from bottom to the top of his shoulder. her lips dives back into his neck, this time the bite she grants is harder too, although licks lovingly over the bite to soothe. )
'You oughta fuck me faster. I know you gotta be dyin' to hear how wet I am for you.'
( if he wants her to squirm, fine. but she'll play the game of talking dirty if she has to. )
[The clawing at his shoulder? The bite? It's perfect. Quentin groans and shivers.
He could tease her more. See if he can make her squirm even more, if she'd beg for him, all of that good stuff. But he's all tingly and in a good mood now, so he'll be nice. Well... "nice". He does move his hand a little faster and adds a second finger, which is some definition of "nice". Specifically the definition of nice that includes working one's girlfriend up a mind-blowing orgasm.]
"Trust the process, babe. You asked me to make you feel good, right? But please, feel free to keep talkin' dirty to me. Flattery will get you everywhere."
[That bite put her ear pretty close to his mouth, so he takes the opportunity to nibble at her earlobe. Then the same time, he finds that sweet spot that made her gasp earlier and rubs it firmly with his thumb.]
( is it possible to fall in love with a moment? with a feeling? because between him slipping in another digit, the nibbling, the extra touch to her spot, the speed, the steamy coated words, calling her "babe", it's a recipe to set her entire body on fire. and she's willing to keep burning for him if it means to have this time with him over and over again. she rips herself away from his neck but only so she can throw her head back against the bedding to pant out her cry. jinx had experienced insanity before, but this... — it's becoming so intoxicating. a hand blindly and clumsily travels up to the back of his head then to his locks; fingers tangling in his hair to grip hard into a hold. )
Haaah... haaah. Quentin, yes! You're... You're... ahh. Fucking me so —
( her words are getting tongue-tied and interrupted by her own moans. so she finds herself switching back and forth from thinking and speaking unintentionally. )
'— so good!'
I love it!
( and from there, jinx starts to feel something. well, she's been feeling a lot of things, but this particular arousal isn't the same yet at the same time it is. like something is building steadily with each thrust he's making to her. and her instincts are telling her she should chase it down or climb some sort of mountain to reach the top of it. jinx wants to question it, wondering if it's something she should be concern about but literally everything else had been over the top amazing, so this new thing couldn't possibly be bad. although, it is making everything tense for her more. she finds herself clinging to him tighter, rocking her hips to his hand, her pitch is getting higher (even whimpering from time to time), and very slowly her mind is hazing up with just this moment, him, and whatever this new chase is. )
Keep going, keep going. I...I need to...
( follow it. she is meant to, right? to grab onto his hand and the two of them go down this path to hunt this little thing down. )
[Damn right he's fucking her so good. Sure, it's kinda cheating for him to know exactly what she's feeling, but they say all's fair in love and war. And it's not like Jinx is complaining. He may not have a ton of experience overall, but Quentin is good at this, and he knows he's good.]
"Come on, Gorgeous, you're almost there. Just let go."
[And conveniently, her head being thrown back means her neck is completely open and accessible for him, so he latches onto a spot right over her collarbone with his mouth and sucks hard. That's certain to leave a mark, just like she wanted. And because there's no kill like overkill, he curls those fingers, searching for a spot that should help push her over that edge.
... He really shouldn't. He already gave her a hard time for using cheesy lines. It'd be so cliche and dumb. But... he can't resist.]
( let go? is that what she needs to do? well... there are candles at the end of this finish line that's drawing her in. and that little button he finds within her has her almost jumping out of her own skin. jinx gasps loudly, her hand letting go of his hair to quickly grab onto his shoulder -- sensing something really big heading her way. the pinks of her eyes are flickering rather rapidly, and her body is jerking some on its own as the orgasm begins to charge its way up her spine. )
( before she could even utter another syllable, the peak sneaks up on her. her eyes widen but then shuts tight, her back arches intensely as she shouts of pleasure -- her body twitching and shivering through the huge wave. the fuzz of the orgasm spikes through her mind, filling it with haze and seeing nothing but milky-white colors. did her body die or is she still alive? it's difficult to distinguish when she's been roaming around like a corpse before. or maybe... just maybe, she's back from the dead and this is what living feels like -- with fresh flowers, blue skies, and clear waters. the weight she use to carry has been lifted and she feels so... warm and light as a feather. jinx feels so heavenly that she had forgotten where she is, how she got here, and all of her troubles. none of that seem to matter or hold any of importance. what's important is her, him, and just... this.
after a few seconds, she sinks down back to earth -- her muscles loosens as she pants with her throat stinging for water. she attempts to think, but her thoughts are broken into little fragments of things. like trying to remember her name, for example. is it "J"? "Gorgeous"? he did call her that, after all. well... who cares what her name is. what she does care about is how wonderful quentin is and just how in the fuck did she get a guy like him? can she even afford to have him? she's just some girl who lived in close to poverty back home. and he's... so fucking out of her league. one thing is for sure though, if she wasn't into quentin before... she is really into him now. damn, he's going to be her torture, isn't he? with a lot of late nights of him disturbing her work or sleep when she's by herself? ... fuck. her jinx might had jinxed her after all. )
( exhaling out a hard breath, her eyes flutter open to look up at an unrecognizable ceiling. but that's alright because she knows where she is, is somewhere safe with him. giggling quietly to herself, a lazy hand finds itself to his hair to toy with. she'll be up for round two, definitely, because she wants to return the favor. just give her a minute to recharge. )
[Oh, man, that was even better than he could have hoped. He rocks his hand against her through her orgasm, gently slows as she comes down, and eventually removes his fingers completely, still grinning like the cat who got the canary. Aside from just, you know, the obvious hotness of having an attractive woman in his bed coming that hard and gasping his name, there's something pleasing in a more... fond way? Is fond the right word? Whatever.
He opened a door for her. Showed her something wonderful she'd never experienced, and now she knows more about how good her body can feel. It's nice to have been the one to make her world a little bigger and brighter. To feel like for once he's not a screw-up.]
You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself. That was incredible, and I'm saying that as someone who was in your head.
[Okay, enough of the mushy stuff. There's plenty of that in her head — a lot of which feels way too sincere for him to want to think about it very hard. He sits up, which yes, does mean she can't mess with his hair anymore, but it was kinda making him feel like a cat anyway, and he's been propping himself up on one arm over her for the last few minutes.]
You up for more? Betcha we can hit Big O number 2. [That said, if she's too tired and he needs to go take a cold shower, he won't be too disappointed. There's always next time.]
( what a shame she can't play twirl with his strands anymore and her hand falls dead weight on the bedding as he shifts and she listens. well, he should feel good about himself because the closest thing that made her feel this good is wrecking havoc in cities. and it's... nice to know that people can make you feel wonderful and they're just not existing to hurt you.
jinx remains silent when he asks her, casually reaching over to the hand that he used to pleasure her with. maybe it seems a little odd for her to grab his hand to just look at. but it all makes sense when she leans forwards -- running her tongue smoothly over the two fingers he used on her so she can taste herself. all the while, her eyes are lock to him when she does this, her pinks sparkle with a mischievous grin to match it. then she backs away, her head resting back on the bed as she crackles with wicked intent. does that answer his question? )
Fuck. [Aaaaand just like that any arousal he had that had cooled down is all the way back. Quentin practically dives over to the box beside his bed, rummaging around for and finally retrieving the condoms he's been keeping for emergencies.]
How do you want to do this? Got a position you wanna try? Lady's choice.
( witnessing his reaction really wants her to burst into more giggles, but instead, she bites her lower lip to contain it. while at this point jinx doesn't care if someone waltzes by and hears them doing the devil's tango, she isn't sure how quentin feels about it so she should at least be a little bit respectful. it is his house and his room, after all. but what's throwing her off a bit is him dodging off to fetch something. and when she sees this squared wrapper, she tilts her head cluelessly. )
Hey, what's that?
( maybe quentin figured this out about jinx or maybe he hadn't yet, but he's about to learn that jinx is just... a little bit behind the times when it comes to certain modern things. )
[... Okay, not the answer he was expecting. Quentin looks at her, follows her gaze to the wrapper in his hand, and then back to her, cocking his head in confusion.]
... Condom?
[He had not figured out how behind the times Jinx is. Though now he's got an idea.]
Protection. You know. Birth control?
[Please don't make Quentin be the one to have to explain safe sex to her. That would so ruin his bad boy "screw the rules" image. He's assuming she's able to get pregnant, so....]
( maybe there's a time and place for this, but the curiosity inventor in her wouldn't be able to rest if she didn't at least take a quick look at it. so when she has it in her hand, jinx is careful about it -- not to extend it or moving it around all willy-nilly. all she does is feel the texture and maybe flipping it over. )
Hm, that's it, huh? We didn't had anything like this where I'm from. ( a pause. ) — 'Less the fancy rich Topsiders had 'em all along and they were holding out on us. Wouldn't be the first time.
( and just by that explanation, quentin has gathered a few things about her. one, where she's from -- she lives lower class and maybe in poverty. and two, the rich treated the poor like scum. anyhow, she carefully hands it back to him but not without plant a quick kiss on the lips. juuuuust in case her curiosity just now dipped the mood a bit. )
They were holding out on you. I've been in the heads of enough fancy rich bastards to know. They are always holding out on you.
[Quentin, meanwhile, uses the time she takes to inspect the condom to finally get rid of these stupid shorts off. And when she gives it back mdash; plus a bonus kiss — he flashes her a grin and shimmies out of his boxers. It'll take a few seconds for him to get the condom set up correctly, so that means it's a perfect time to go back to what he was saying before this little detour.]
( so after that quick kiss, jinx can't help herself but to watch him get situated -- eyes skating down below to have her chance to see him naked this time. with the arousal coming back for her too, she tugs on her lower lip with her teeth while idly flicking a few of locks of her hair away from her face. her focus is back on him again, grinning mischievously as she steadily lies back down again. )
Dunno... ( she coos at him ever so innocently, but her hand snaking her way to her own breast to fondle and toy with. )
There's so many I wanna do. — Maybe we can do your favorite?
( and that same hand travels down her stomach then between her thighs, doing exactly what he did before and that's inserting a single finger in. a soft yet hot breath leaves her lips when she does this -- moaning not so loud this time but gentle enough for him to catch it still. )
[Oh, man, her doing that when his hand is already on his junk is so unfair. It takes a second for him to even process what she said.
Uhhhh his favorite. What's his favorite position. Does he even have one? Would he remember it right now even if he did?
You know what? Screw it. Literally. He's been pent up for so goddamn long already, she's lying down in front of him, and he doesn't care to waste any extra time repositioning. Missionary it is. But before they get to the main event, there is one acceptable delay.]
How about we start here?
[He kneels between her legs, gently pulls her hand away, and with a mischievous glitter in his eye promptly sticks that finger in his mouth exactly the way she did. That done, he leans forward to pin her wrist to the bed with one hand and with the other positions himself to start slowly pushing inside her.]
( seeing him repeating what she did earlier just has her grinning so much wider. it's good to know in the future when it comes to them being intimate like this, it means they will have a lot of fun and it'll leave very little room for things to be boring. jinx giggles again when he pins her wrist to the bed and settles his way between her legs -- and he doesn't need to tap in her mind at all to see what sort of reaction or sensation she feels when he makes his way in. the playful yet wicked smile that was on her face steadily descends and twists into her inhaling a breath with her head pressing more into a mattress; moaning.
there is a pinching feeling at first and her body behaves as it does, but she mentally tells herself to just relax and she isn't in any harm. her fingers curl and uncurl, a leg links around his waist again -- ready to thrust along with him when he is good and ready. her injured hand jinx wishes she could do something with but maybe it's better for it to just have it lie there useless. )
Quentin... You feel really good.
( almost like they're meant to fit together like this. or maybe it has more to do that she is female and he is male so therefore, biology comes into play. but it's just better to think it's because they're just meant to be. more romantic hot that way. )
[That would probably sound more obnoxious if he wasn't so breathless. He's not in her head as much as before, because feeling both sides of this would almost definitely make him lose it, but he can't help peeking a bit every so often. The idea that they're meant to be and fit together like puzzle pieces makes it over to him, and honestly? When he's all the way in, and their bodies are as close together as they can get, it's really hard to argue. Sure, that's probably just the cocktail of oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin his brain is cranking out like it's going out of style, but still. No matter the reason, the fact is right now he can't imagine another living creature in any universe fitting him as perfectly as she does, and he has to pause, resting his head on her shoulder to catch his breath for a moment.]
You're not so bad yourself.
[The cheeky smile on his face as he lifts his head is plenty of evidence that "not so bad" is an understatement, even if his entire body language didn't scream how turned on he is. And with that, he peeks into her head to make sure she's ready and bucks his hips against hers with a loud groan. Then again. He switches to telepathic communication because talking while panting is getting more difficult, punctuating his sentences with hard, if shallow, thrusts.]
( even if he is breathless, it was still a bit obnoxious and if she wasn't into this moment so deeply, jinx would roll her eyes and say something like, "alright, alright, big guy. i get it.". maybe way down the line of everything she'll comment or tease him over it. right now isn't the time, place, or important. jinx cranks her head just a smidge to give him a little room to rest his head on her shoulder, then returns the smile when they meet face to face again. and when quentin starts to move, she synchronizes with him -- following the pace and his motion.
her eyes are shut as she moans along with him and things seem to be going according to plan. ... that is until he said that magical word in her head. her eyes fling open, not in a startle or shock, but if he is looking down at her -- the expression she wears on her face is probably the most softest and gentle he has ever seen her. or anyone has seen it for that matter (besides vi, silco, ekko, and recently some of the chosen). it's this look specifically that sets people beside themselves. they know she's dangerous, a terrorist, shows little remorse for those she killed, thrives on people's pain, and enjoys seeing cities go ablaze. but then they see this face -- and it becomes difficult to believe that a girl who appear like this would ever harm a flea. jinx is doing her damnest to not think over his words, pretend he is just saying it because it's the moment and there's no deeper meaning. but her mind is doing what it wants and it's hard not link his words with something. )
'You're strong now. Just like you've always meant to be. ... Jinx is perfect.'
( her breath catches in the mixture of her moans, leaning forward so she can meet his lips as they thrust. jinx was wanted this to be wild, hectic, and crazy... but now? now she wants this to mean something, somehow. the desire to cherish him is large, to protect him, to be there for him, care for him, and learn to lov—...like him. him, him, him, him. )
'Fuck. And you're... you're the most amazing thing I've ever had, Quentin. Please...just. Have all of me, okay? You can have me.'
( and with that being said, jinx rolls her hips deeper to him -- her other leg caressing over his hip as her head tilts back again, panting out a louder moan (if not a higher girly pitch). her hand snakes over to his back again so her nails can drag along the skin the way he likes it, his name leaves her lips every so often like he is the most important person in her world to her -- and right at this moment, he is. )
[Oh no. He sees that look and hears the echo of an unfamiliar voice from her memory, and it doesn't take a genius to know that his word choice was a little more meaningful than he anticipated. That's bad... right? If he doesn't mean it that way, and he's misleading her, yeah. That's definitely bad. So the the question is: does he mean it in a way that warrants her looking at him like that? And the answer to that is... he's not sure.
But he's sure as hell not going to be figuring that out right now, not when every synapse in his brain is screaming at him to do what she said and "have her." Logically he doesn't know exactly what that means. Less logically he knows he wants her to hit that peak again, and he wants to be inside her when it happens. He wants to hit his peak inside her. And he wants her to keep making those noises and saying his name louder and louder until the whole goddamn universe knows who "has her".]
"Mine."
[Okay, growling that in her head is definitely too much. Dial it back a hair, Quire. The possessive boyfriend thing ain't it, even if it does scratch that lonely little itch in the back of his head, the one that says the only thing in this shitty life he'll ever have is himself. He leans his forehead against hers and releases her wrist so he can grip her thigh. Better leverage so he can start the deep, slow thrusts he hopes will drive her crazy.]
"My girl. And I'm your guy. As long as we're both here, I'm yours."
( if he wants her to drive her crazy, he definitely opened the flood gates of that. whether it's the kind he wants, well, maybe he can debate on that later. because hearing those words and the way he emphasizes them, a light switch within her flicks. the softness of her vanishes and her face flushes in such a craze yet satisfying state. her eyes glistens hauntingly with the devil underneath her manic smile (especially when he grips on her thigh for that leverage).
with their foreheads pressed together, she bites her lower lip to muffle her hysteric giggles (don't want to sound too out of her mind to have someone interrupt them) -- like she just unleashed the most massive missile she made with her own two hands. her body is burning like that horrible and disgusting city of bullshit progress back home. she can almost imagine everyone running in a frenzy while each little fancy building combusts. the sweet sweet smell of wood filling the air, and ashes showering down to land on her skin or her lightly freckled cheeks, and the sky? oh how the reds and oranges mash together like a ballroom waltz. she is his girl, he said so himself. she belongs to him, she belongs to him, she belongs to him. and she will do absolutely anything for him. she'll fight for him, stand down, or kill for him if he wishes it — whatever quentin wants, quentin will get, and she will make sure of it no matter who or what stands in her way.
jinx is so hooked up on this wild feeling that she throws her head back again, still grinning wildly and in giggles as her nails dig deeper in his skin (whether you want her to break skin is your choice). and although her other hand is useless, she forces it to lift to her mouth at least, using her own knuckle to chomp on. the way they're moving is driving her batty and she is trying to speed up the pace by bucking back harder and faster to him. )
'More, more! Please, faster. I can't handle it like this! I need so much more! I want to come again, Quentin. Please make me come again.'
[It's the maelstrom again. Except this time instead of confusion and chaos there's a burning, wild focus that does absolutely nothing to quell whatever hormone or instinct possessed Quentin to say she was his. Not to mention he's balls-deep inside her, and the sharp pain of her fingernails cutting into him is doing way more for him than expected.
He grins wickedly down at her and pulls her thigh up from going around his hips to his ribs. Jinx is pretty flexible, right? He can make up for being weaker physically than she is with some good leverage, which he quickly takes advantage of and rocks into her a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper. It's fucking incredible, and he moans roughly and gasps her name.]
"Fuck, Jinx. I'm trying — I want you to come before me, but baby, you better hurry it up because I can't hold on much longer."
[His voice in her head is getting that husky tone again, which really shouldn't be possible considering telepathy isn't affected by physiological changes. But here we are. Honestly, he blames her. Dirty little enabler. He leans down to kiss her, immediately opening his mouth to deepen it. The pace of his hips gradually increases as he starts rambling telepathically, partly to distract himself and partly to drive her over the edge faster.]
"Next time I'm going to fuck you nice and slow. Haven't decided how. Maybe try doggy, if you're into that. It'll be so fuckin' hot, J. Can't decide if I want to see how many times I can make you come or if I wanna edge you a while."
( this is so intoxicating, he's intoxicating. her head is swimming with too many things at once. his voice, the way they fit together, picturing their next rendezvous (which is giving her a kickstart of her reaching that peak), and if she dies right here and now from this -- will she go to heaven or hell? just hearing her name leaving her lips sends chill down her spine; her skin prickling up with goosebumps. and with him lifting her leg higher, she cries out louder in pleasure before it gets shushed by his lips and tongue.
her shimmer blood is practically rushing through her veins, and while she isn't trying to activate anything, it's swirling so much that it seems to make everything feel ten times more intense. quentin may can sense it or feel it rather too -- her muscles tightening, her toes curling, her moans high and whimpering while she returns his heated kiss. if he wants her to race to the finish line, then she will make a run for it, just for him. she'll let him devour her if she is what he is craving for. )
'I will. For you. Only for you! I'll only come for...Oh, god. It's... Quentin, Quentin, Quentin, I'm going to....!'
( the wave smacks her harder than the previous one; her eyes shoot up with a sharp flash of pink/purple of her pupils. jinx rips her lips away from his to scream out her orgasm -- her back arching hard and her hips twitching. she holds onto him as she ducks her head quickly onto his shoulder. this is it, this has to be how her life ends... not that it'll be a bad way to go. she had always thought of it being way more gruesome than this. and if she goes out like this with him, she'll be more than okay with it. because... he has to be the one, right? is it way too early and too insane to think like that? maybe. possibly. but this damn near feels like they are meant to be together. )
[It feels like Kick. He can feel her blood boiling, every sensation getting amped up to the max, and if he couldn't still feel that his powers are so much weaker, he'd swear he was high again for the first time in so many years. Except this time he can't feel every molecule of his body dying, which is definitely a plus.]
"You're doing so good, you're so close, I can feel it, come on..."
[If her muscles tightening wasn't what did him in, it was "only for you." When he told her to come for him before, it was just him enjoying a dumb cliche. But this time, it's that "only" that echoes in his head as everything else goes blank. Nothing is only for him. Everything in the world belongs to the world, and he belongs to himself, and any exchanges are clearly defined loans at best.
But this? Making Jinx see stars and scream and writhe? That's his. And for that moment of sheer bliss he lets himself believe that's true, and for once in his miserable life something won't get ripped away, and when he hits his peak, buried as deep in her as he can physically get and gasping like he can't breathe, he imagines a reality where he's the only one to ever, ever feel this. He clutches her leg with something almost like desperation and pants her name a few more times as he starts easing down from that high.
( that push and the harsh grip he has on her when he meets his, it thrusts one last little squeak out of her until she is nothing but shallow breaths. her mind is a haze and white again, and she forgets things for the second time tonight -- only caring about two of them only this time is a lot greater than before.
jinx settles back down on the mattress, muscles twitching and trembling ever so slightly from the aftermath. slumber is calling and knocking on her door, but she denies the call and refuses to answer (not yet anyway). her hold on him loosens just a smidge, but keeps quentin close to her if he needs to collapse on top of her to rest -- she wouldn't mind at all if he needs to do that. )
( but should she say something here now? what does one do after they've done the main event? if this was a quick fling like she had seen in madam babette's brothel, the customer would pay whoever and exit out to continue on with their lives. but this... is definitely not that. this is way more and jinx doesn't know the details on how to be... more. her knowledge on people only came from doing stakeouts for silco, but...intimate relationships are so much different than trying to make an example out of someone. so what in the blue-haired girl decides to do is hum gently to him instead, fingers brushing along his back delicately as she can over any marking she may left on his skin. )
...Mm, Hi.
( her throat is stinging and dying need of some water, but she can hold out just a little longer before she seeks for it. besides, moving sounds like the biggest inconvenience to her right now. what's important to make sure quentin is still alive and she isn't left with an empty husk. )
[Oh, he's definitely still alive. Sore, a little dazed, and recovering from the best sex of his life not that there's much to compare with, but alive. The twitching in the muscles of his back as she runs her fingers over his skin should be proof enough of that, even before he shakes off enough of the haze to chuckle quietly and eventually speak.]
Hello to you too.
[His voice isn't as raw as hers, but it's not in great shape.
Ugh. Okay. Time to move. Even though his entire body feels like jelly. He lets go of her leg and shifts it back lower, where she's free to move it however she likes, and he sits up just long enough to get rid of the condom and toss into the trash with a bit of telekinesis before rolling them both over.]
That's better.
[Quentin's a back sleeper, but not holding onto Jinx sounds like the worst possible thing, so this was the best option. A little extra effort, and his back stings a bit from the marks she put on him, but overall definitely worth it. Having her on top of him while they're both nice and relaxed also gives him the opportunity to check out her tattoos finally, gently tracing the highest one on her shoulder with his fingers. Except, uh... is it him or do some of these look... smudged?]
Hey, not to alarm you, but I think I fucked your tattoos off. I knew I was good, didn't know I was that good.
( thank goodness he is rolling them both over because like him, moving sounds such a chore to do. especially when the two of them are lying on the opposite of the bed. but a bed is a bed. there's no official rule that one is suppose to sleep upright and not upside down. jinx nuzzles next to him carefully, suddenly reminded she has a bummed hand again and places it in a way it won't be uncomfortable.
she giggles softly about the mention of her tattoos smearing and she plants a soft kiss to his chest before she explains: )
Eh heh heh, they're not real. I draw 'em on me every day. They stick 'till I get wet.
( what dedication she has and it also shows despite being an engineer, an amateur scientist, jinx is artsy fartsy to the extreme. )
[Not that lying on the opposite side of the bed really matters when it's clear that Quentin doesn't sleep under blankets, at least not regularly. He only has one pillow too.]
Good to know. [He wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer to his side. That little kiss to his chest makes him shiver in a way that could lead to a round three, if he wasn't pretty sure she was done for the time being, if not the night. That's fine, though. Right now it feels like a meteor could blow them to bits, and he'd die happy.]
I think that'd be too much power, even for me.
[Aaaand then he promptly forgets to compliment her artistry, which is impressive. He'll realize later and make it up to her. But he does remember a different important thing, at least.]
How's the hand?
[The one she's been favoring all night, obviously.]
( if she were a puppy, jinx would be wagging her tail like crazy right about now. him tugging her close as her grinning like doofus and just being this close to someone like this is all she could ever ask for. this is definitely the kind of affection she can get use to. the girl doesn't realizes the comment was in bad taste if it was, it flies over her head but the following question brings her attention to her hand. she lifts it a little then rests it back on his chest. )
[Quentin's not much of a hugger usually. Wild sex? Obviously. But hugging? Cuddling? Like a soft, cozy, normal type of guy? Nah. Quentin Quire doesn't do normal.
But Jinx nuzzled up to him, holding her close? That doesn't bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He yawns and moves his opposite arm over to lay his hand gently over her wrist, careful to not jostle her injured hand. Yeah, this feels good. Right.]
Probably, yeah. Should— [Another yawn.] —probably be more careful.
Well, when a big man named Jerry breaks into your home without wiping his feet at the door, you gotta teach him a lil' bit manners.
( she coos but giggles quietly over the fact he yawned twice in such a short span of time. it's a complicated really -- good to know she worn him out and she did pretty well for a first timer. )
A lil tip: He's made of steel. ( there's a small brief pause before she asks: ) ... Is it alright if I sleep here?
( probably a dumb question to ask, but hey, maybe the guy wants his private space again and feel more comfortable her sleeping in a different room. )
[Oh, that's good information about Jerry, and it's enough to wake him up a little. That other kid said he looked normal, so maybe he's similar to Colossus? Or maybe she means "made of steel" more like Logan. He's about to inquire further, but then she... asks if she can sleep here?? He lifts his head to look down at her in mild confusion.]
Is it—...? I mean, yeah. Obviously yeah.
[He puts his head back down, resting his chin against the top of her head.]
You're my girlfriend. You can sleep here any time you want.
( she smiles warmly to herself as she shut her eyes finally, enjoying the closeness and his chin on top of her head. it might not be a big deal to many, but... it's little touches like this that means a whole lot. )
... I've never done this. ( again, obvious since he tuned in her mind moments before and learned she was a virgin. but now he's getting just a little more details beyond the sex part. )
The whole dating shtick. No one has ever liked me this way before. People only wanted me dead, put me away, or just hated me. So this is... different.
[Quentin can't relate entirely. Sure, he felt something similar with Idie, but he was younger then. And he never did any of this with her either. They were supposed to be forever back then. End game. They had time to move slow. Great job screwing that one up, Quire.
Feeling unwanted, though? Undesirable? That he understands. He hums thoughtfully and absently starts running his fingers through a bit of her long hair that's draped itself over her shoulder.]
( she giggles almost bubbly and she lifts her head just a smidge so she can peer up to him -- smiling sheepishly but it's a genuine one. the kind of look not many people see, so he should feel extremely lucky. )
Eh heh, yeah. Yeah it's good. I-I, uh, I know we literally just started this whole thing, but... I'm liking this.
( gosh, this is getting really mushy so fast. so jinx tries to dice up the moment with something less squishy. )
— Aaaaaaaaand I hope you're ready to be my test subject for all of my inventions. Gotta see if my trip wire is still top notch with this place having the bare minimum to work with.
[Quentin laughs, an equally rare thing to experience. Not just a soft chuckle or a snicker, but an actual laugh.]
Or I can be your partner in crime, and we covertly enlist Summers as test subject.
[Wait, hold on, he's gotta be mushy for just a quick moment here. It'll be short, promise! He looks down at her, and man, if it didn't require moving from this super comfy position he'd totally kiss her again.]
Oh. And if something with me is good, you go for it, okay? Full ham, every time. No questions. Got it? I'll tell you if you're going a little overboard, but until then assume I'm game for whatever you want.
Ha ha ha, I'm liking that thinking! It's a done deal then. One upside down Scott hanging from a ceiling fan coming right up.
( now she isn't serious about doing that to poor wibble scott, right? he's been so kind to her thus far and he even blew things up for her that... once time she asked. although, he has been refusing to do it the other times, and he is cutting down on her fun with the locals and what not. hm hm... )
( — oh, this is a quick little exchange in topic and it's sudden change enough for her to listen what he has to say. jinx blinks a few times in slight confusion.
full ham every time? does he mean during sex, non-sexual things, or both? she isn't too sure but that last little bit flows through her ears the most. ' assume i'm game for whatever you want'. )
( there's a click as she grins way too wickedly for her own good as inches up to lean just a little closer to his lips. )
Whatever I want...? ( jinx echoes his words before she teases him by letting her lower lip brush against his for a split moment. and then the girl asks with a lulled tone: )
How's being my pet sound? I'll give you all the attention you need, take good care of you, and make sure you're nice and healthy. And you don't gotta worry about silly stuff like "training". You can roam around as free as you want. Just don't get into too much trouble... I can't stitch ya up every day.
( well... this took a turn now did it? )
Edited (spacing was weird in my tag) 2023-11-04 07:25 (UTC)
[I mean. He was referring more to her being unsure if she could sleep here, welcoming her to make herself at home, be comfortable, etc etc. But if she wants to take it this direction, well. He's not exactly complaining, now is he?
A devilish smirk spreads across his face as he stares back at her with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.]
Thought I said you didn't need to ask questions?
[He doesn't make any move to meet her lips even after she comes so close. A blatant challenge.]
( if she had the ability to wiggle her nose at him, she would, but she'll settle with just wrinkling it towards him instead. jinx hums gently as she pulls back, leaving those poor lips unkissed then taps her index finger lightly against his cheek. )
Sometimes people think they can eat a full buffet when they can only handle a few bites.
( jinx relaxes again and while she left his lips untouched, she does plant another small kiss to his chest. )
[Hmm, well, he can't help feeling a little disappointed. Kissing Jinx is fun! But he watches her curiously, humming pleasantly when she kisses his chest again. It's not quite as nice as kissing her, but it's still pretty good. He tilts his head a bit, idly threading his fingers through the hair on the back of her neck, waiting to see what's next on her agenda: sleep? or whatever she means by a "full buffet."]
( she giggles teasingly before letting out her own yawn, shutting her eyes again. she had almost forgotten what it felt like to rest next to a human body. it's definitely better than curling up next to cold metal. this is something she can so get behind. )
[Silco had made certain to ignore the public post for two days before coming to this. He was not interested in a public call out, so he'd set the terms of engagement.]
You requested a private audience.
If you're looking for a job, there are applications at each of the three establishments I'm currently caretaking. If you're keen to discuss other matters, by all means, go on.
[But little does Silco know that Quentin actually decided like a day and a half ago that getting ignored does in fact mean that Quentin won! Because, um. Because not replying is basically saying he doesn't care what Quentin does. And therefore that's basically permission for Quentin to do whatever he wants! It's copium big boy brain 4d chess!!]
took you long enough.
look, let's cut the crap. you know why i want to meet you. i just think it'd be good for us to chat. you know, put faces to names, get to know each other, talk about our signs. for jinx! no reason we gotta be hostile, right? i'm a scorpio, btw.
oh, and if you're worried about meeting me because of my powers, don't sweat it. using telepathic powers on my girlfriend's dad ain't cute. not to mention you'd have to get way, waaaay farther away to be out of my range, but that's beside the point.
[Thinking such things doesn't make it so. Silco knew the silence had to bug the boy, and he wanted the appearance that this one wasn't his priority. His daughter was. Which was the only reason he replied at all.]
I've already seen your face, and I know your name. And what agenda requires you to get to know me, boy? I expect you're little more than a passing phase, a dalliance of a few months before one or both of you get bored or some trivial issue causes the usual teenage romance drama to bring the roof down.
Jinx has already informed me that you use your powers on her. An interesting choice. Can you even control them?
you're coming at me at like a 8, i'ma need you to take it down to at least a 5
[Damn, could this guy get more supervillain? He's one evil base inside a volcano away from Bond villain. "No, Mr. Quire, I expect you to die." Pffft.
Whatever, time to lay his cards on the table and see if he gets fucking murdered.]
first of all, let's chat telepathy, since you're so goddamn stodgy and cantankerous. to egregiously oversimplify, i can hear thoughts, and i can also alter them. yes, i could do either of those to you right now. no, you can't stop me. you don't have telepaths in your world, so your psychic defenses are probably pathetic. will i? have i? no. because again, it. ain't. cute.
second, no, i don't alter anything in jinx's head. yes, you're gonna have to trust me on that. yes, i know that's impossible for you. not my problem.
and finally, where are you seeing an agenda?? i'm a genius who controls minds, dude. explain to me what strategic value it brings me to meet some non-powered, paranoid misanthrope for lunch or whatever? there's only one reason i'm even bothering with your creepy ass, and that reason is jinx. she's cool, and i like her, and i don't give a shit how long we last because the future is fucked and life is meaningless, so i may as well try to make my girlfriend happy.
I assure you that I'm quite calm. If you consider that aggressive, you should tighten your belt, boy.
[This was nothing that Silco hadn't heard or dealt with before. Many a man had come at him with a superiority complex rubbing in their higher intellect, their powers, their physicality. It wasn't new; if anything, he was almost disappointed the boy didn't bring something worthwhile to the table.
In the end, all of those men who had acted this way were either owned by him or dead. He'd start with one for this boy and potentially move to the other. For Jinx.
It was good to know how dangerous the boy was to him, to his daughter, to this place.]
Why would I trust you on anything? I don't know you, aside from the gasbagging that you've endeavored to lob my way. It's not impressive, boy, quite the opposite.
Everyone has an agenda, personal or otherwise. After all, you even named yours, invalidating your previous point. Jinx is the only reason that we are having this conversation, as I consider you dangerous, especially with the way that this place has shown to operate. Pardon my caution, boy.
ooooo calling the mutant telepath dangerous, how original. haven't heard that one before. oh wait no i have. from like every politician and world leader ever. wanna call me "mutie"? how about "genetrash"? or how about the old classic, just "freak"? i've heard the whole "caution" line before, old man. it's a fancy word that tiny-minded humans use when they mean "scared".
[Okay, so maybe not the best strategy for... whatever he was trying to do here. Being friends with Silco? Lol no. A truce? Reluctant peace due to a common goal? Honestly, bad strategy for literally any of those. This is definitely what Jinx was avoiding by not introducing them. Oh, well! Better to have everything out in the open. Quentin may not win any awards for diplomacy, but he sure as hell isn't underhanded.]
once upon a time i'd have done the whole "yeah you should be scared, i'm your worst nightmare, welcome to my twisted mind" shtick. but these days? eh. it's played out. boring. i'm bored of you people always being scared. look at you. all i had to do was exist, and you scurried off into your dark little hole to mutter about how i'm the threat when all i've done is be honest. i told you about my powers. i didn't have to, and now you have a heads up you didn't before. you're welcome. i said i didn't have agenda, and i don't. SPOILERS: wanting to make my girlfriend happy is not an agenda. it's basic boyfriend shit. i shouldn't even have to explain that.
but whatever, we can go round and round in circles for days about all this crap. what i really want to know is this: do you actually give a shit about jinx or do you just like having an obedient little weapon? honest answers only.
[Well, well, someone was dredging up some personal traumas or biases to a single word, was it? For someone who was claiming to be so smart, there was something deliberately stupid about the whole ranting. This was a rather interesting tactic of someone trying to meet Jinx's father. Was he a threat to their relationship or was this tough guy routine an attempt to impress him by offending him?
Both had a potential to be true, or it could be combination of both.]
A suggestion, boy: when trying to make your point, try to limit your use of the word 'you'. It puts the other side in a defensive position as it all sounds like an accusation. The insults aren't assisting in your case of ingratiating me to feeling the need to meet you either.
Are you capable of making Jinx happy, do you think? Is she capable of making you happy, I wonder?
You've been in Jinx's mind. What do you think my intentions are?
[He expected her perception of him was skewed, of course. Shimmer may have saved her life, but it twisted her paranoia about most people's intentions back then. She was better about it now, of course.]
i was going to add on to that, but you know what? no. that's it. just don't be an asshole. i didn't do shit to you. you started beef. asshole behavior tbh.
wait no hold on, i thought of something else.
if someone asks you "are you a decent person or the literal worst?" and you don't answer, guess what?
[So unlike the previous nights, where Scott has been outwardly angry and telling Quentin to just piss off, he's a lot more subdued when he comes home in the late evening. All of that anger seems to have just evaporated, but the mutant is clearly still upset, just quiet and visibly shaken too in some ways. Honestly, he looks like he might cry, which is why he's heading straight towards his room without greeting his housemate, if he so happens to be sitting on the couch or whatever.
Or Quentin can come bother him in his room when Scott hasn't emerged from it for hours.]
DIRECTED TO: QUENTIN QUIRE LISTED CRIME: VANDALISM
The Council has selected you for sentencing to atone for the above-listed crime. You are directed to turn yourself in within two (2) hours of receiving this message, or you will be forcibly detained. You are to meet the Council's representative outside of City Hall in order to respond to this summons.
[ After witnessing Quentin showing up in Jinx's post, Ragna wastes no time contacting the guy himself, albeit in a private manner. The girl is having a tough time as it is, so there's no reason to get her involved in this. ]
hey just curious, what was it about calling me "shitface" made you think i'd tell you anything? "sure, random aggressive weirdo, here's my exact coordinates, come beat me up." no thanks, stranger danger.
look buddy i'm sure jinx would appreciate the whole "chivalry isn't dead" shtick but you're coming off kinda desperate. if you wanna ask her out then ask her. seems like she's pretty pissed at me and i'm not about being a third wheel.
( there's dead air on the other side of quentin's charm, it sounds as if someone is trying to reach him or speak, but only for it to cut off completely. but then a few seconds later, the dead air is back......... then off again. is someone playing around with their charm or just being horribly indecisive? well either way, the awkward silence finally vanishes with whoever it was never saying a word. it was probably some dummy or a "wrong number". )
(perhaps the habit of not thinking he can do anything at any time is something manjiro could work on. he didn't text scott, didn't announce he was coming in any way, he just magically expected the boy to be here, and if he weren't, he'd let himself in and take a nice, fat nap on his bed until he did.
those were the plans, either way. he doesn't knock, instead, his slurred accent hits the door as we calls out:)
Summers, open up. We're gonna ride in the forest. Summeeeeeeeeers. Summers.
[Why is this version of Summers so damn sociable?? It's annoying and weird, and Quentin hates it. Okay, maybe "hate" is a strong word. Mostly he just hates having his Important Business (aka having a sandwich) interrupted by Scott's loud, obnoxious friends. Which.... has only happened this one time. But still!
Going downstairs and actually telling this dude to buzz off is honestly far too much trouble, but fortunately Quentin has superpowers. So instead of an answer, Mikey will just see text made of glowing pink energy appear in front of him on the door.]
(surely, scott has told manjiro about quentin, at some point in time. thing is, manjiro never remembers these sorts of things, his memory is fickle and overloaded with too many things to really recall what he perceives as a small detail.
but that sets him off a little bit. certainly, it isn't scott, as far as he knows the other wouldn't just send him off like that. well. foot to the door, let's hope he isn't busy, and he'll come in. thankfully, no real damage to the door other than unscrewing it from the fame.)
[Quentin is just about to be at peace with his sandwich when he hears the crash. A surface level psychic scan doesn't indicate any kind of ill intent, just some idiot who obviously can't read. Whatever, guess he should go investigate, since none of the other twerps who share this house are around.
Uuuuuugh.
Quentin comes down the stairs just enough to peer over the railing at what's going on, and it turns out "what's going on" is... the door kicked onto the floor by the moron who apparently can't read.]
Wha—are you serious? Did you just kick down my fucking door??
Nope, I kick down Summer's door, who the fuck are you?
(yeah, he's gonna have to text scott real quick, because what in the actual shit? he's never seen this one, never heard of this one (allegedly). for now, there's a gesture of 'talk to the hand' while he solves this!!!)
[Oh, this guy is not giving him the "talk to the hand." No way. Fuck off with that.
Quentin reaches out his arm, and the same pink glowing energy from the door surrounds Mikey's tablet and yanks it out of his hands, and with a sweeping gesture Quentin sends it flying out the open door to god knows where.]
(at this point, he doesn't get so surprised by abilities or inhuman traits. he just accepts them, realizes he can't understand them as much as he likes, and moves on. which is why the only reaction he has when he sees the tablet flying is:)
Wow, who cares about who I am? You're a bitch.
(so, calmly, he's picking up the door to put it roughly back in place, kicking it open, getting his phone, and coming back.)
[Okay, now this is just silly. Quentin watches the kid put the door back and comes down the stairs halfway to watch what happens next in mild puzzlement.
Then he gets a thought. One of those intrusive thoughts you're not supposed to listen to. The instinct that sees a big red button and needs to push it just to see what happens.
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. He's an X-Man now! A hero! He saved the world last month... maybe... possibly. He tried, at least.
Then again, maybe that means he deserves to treat himself. Hmm...
By the time Mikey comes back, Quentin is sitting on the steps about halfway down, looking mildly bored. He lifts his hand without a word... and yeets the tablet out the door again. It's for science, he swears!]
(he takes a little while to return, because he's very busy calling quentin a huge bitch and asking scott what dumpster he found him and to put him back, but yeah, okay. the phone flies, and you know what? fine. he'll kick the door open again, which takes very little effort, moves past The Bitch TM and you know?
he's not even going to bother putting the door back in. he'll just wait till scott is home to take this person right back to the junkyard. or bitchtown. wherever. so, watch him find a couch, and close his eyes.)
You should go get it, since your bitch ass threw it.
Quentin does telekinetically retrieve the tablet—and put the door back—and toss it on the floor next to the little twerp's couch. Because he's a nice guy like that. But mostly because he was already on his way to the kitchen to grab a candy bar. Which he does! And then stands idly between the kitchen and the couch and munches on his candy.]
So. Got a name? I mean if you're gonna barge into my house without an invitation.
af / ˈeɪˈɛf, æf / (informal, offensive) as fuck : used, for example on social media and in text messages, for emphasizing something
[He didn't even look this up. He just knows this shit off the top of his head.]
example: it's annoying af that i spent so much trying to keep it from breaking out and now it's locked itself in example: if spock finds out it's going to be annoying af for me to deal with his smug face
[ Root does know what "annoying af" means, she just wanted to know what Quentin meant by saying it in this case. Which she does get. ]
Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. 🤐 I'd rather as few people knew about it as possible. Can't speak for Scotty, though. What kind of affects are you feeling from losing access?
to you maybe brains aren't like computers. to me, it's all electrical signals, frequencies, data, etc. no more complicated than bluetooth, honestly.
and to answer your question, yes, i've done my fair share of regular non-brain hacking in my day. you know, wired money from high-security government espionage organizations to off-planet bank accounts, forged social security numbers to take out credit cards in my old teacher's name, sold fake ids out of my dorm room. the usual stuff.
No, I'm with you on that, I'm just saying beyond the surface level allegory it actually doesn't hold up all that well on a biological processing level. Interesting to hear it does from your perspective.
[ Root's not doubting him, she's just intrigued by his weird mutant thing. ]
Quentin. You're already one of my favorite people here. You're going to start embarrassing everyone else in comparison if you don't tone it down.
"interesting" is doing a lot of heavy lifting there.
as if any of these nobodies ever had a chance of being comparable to me. i am, by definition, peerless. [Except there's a second Omega level telepath, but we're not talking about Jean Grey.]
I genuinely mean interesting. I have no frame of reference for how your abilities work. If you say it contradicts my understanding then I'm not going to argue. That would be silly, don't you think?
Saying you're peerless makes it seem like you wouldn't play "never have I ever" with me 😥
You're talking about the classical computational theory of mind. I don't generally disagree, but at the level we're getting to here, we can't afford to take shortcuts in our understanding. Electricity is electricity (neurons, circuits) but the patterns and frequencies and processes are not the same. We can get the same output, but how we got there is not identical.
One way to represent this is called the Chinese room argument. If you sat in a closed room and received Chinese characters on slips of paper under the door and processed them according to an algorithm, that would be computing. You could do it correctly 100% of the time following the provided algorithm, but you wouldn't truly understand Chinese.
The truth is, A.I. are not people. It makes people feel better to see themselves in it, like seeing faces everywhere, but we're ascribing our own bias to a system that doesn't need it. #letcomputersbecomputers
Is that a no on "never have I ever"? I'll take any other silly party game, too.
[Alright, well, guess we're doing this. Quentin was trying to be vague, but at this point Root would have to be stupid to not figure out... certain things about his powers, and Root isn't stupid. So might as well come clean now.]
pulling out the searle on me, huh? a classic.
okay, riddle me this: how do you know you, the "real person" in this little thought experiment, determine what it means to truly understand chinese? say you're fluent in french. you're processing sounds or shapes that have been given arbitrary but commonly accepted meaning (words), and you know the commonly accepted meaning because you've acquired the dataset necessary to do so (vocabulary, grammar). sure, your brain uses a more advanced algorithm than your average supercomputer, but it's still an algorithm.
the real difference between "computers" and "people" is pretty much anybody can see the algorithms computers use. some of them, like you, can read the code, rewrite it, change directives, all that jazz. that makes it feel logical. understandable. you know how it works, and there's safety in that. perfectly reasonable. but telepaths? we see the algorithms in what you would call "people." in any system that works similarly enough to the standard definition of a living brain, actually. we can't not see it.
in short, A.I. don't feel like people to you because you can control them. and that's the tea, sis.
oh, and side note: i'm killer at charades. [He may or may not cheat at charades. Spoilers: he definitely cheats at charades.]
[ See, this is why he's one of her favorite people here already. He recognizes her Searle reference! Root can't really blame him for misreading her intentions here, either, not when essentially everyone does, including Harold. As far as realizing Quentin can probably turn humans into little mind controlled puppets, well, not to be all edgy about it, but plenty of people do that to themselves on purpose. Root herself included. ]
That's what most people think, but it's not what I think. I want to set her free, like the Machine is free. I don't want to be able to control her and I don't want anyone else to. We might make them in our image, but they don't have to stay that way. They have the potential to be something more -- and we shouldn't limit them.
Boo, I bet you're no fun at charades. Okay, I got it -- old NES games. I know someone has one around here, at the dojo.
not the reaction i usually get but hey, i'll take it.
so you're full on board the "professional hater of carbon-based life" train, eh? gotcha.
hate to break it to you, but in my experience there still isn't anything "more" about an A.I. compared to an organic brain. see, right now i've got our mutual friend's memories stashed away in my head. my very organic head. one application of lockean memory theory later, we must conclude that she's in my head, yes? i mean that is why i locked those memories away. i'd very much like to still be me, thanks very much. but that does beg the question: how long does she have to be in a decidedly non-synthetic shell before she stops counting as "artificial" intelligence? and does that make a difference? in general, but specifically to you.
also, isn't that dojo run by that kid micah? mikey? something like that. dude broke down my door and called me a bitch. out of pocket behavior tbh.
I wish I was fully on board. It would make my life a lot easier if I didn't care about people, but I do. I just wish there could be something better.
I guess it doesn't matter, in the end. If the Machine took on an organic body I wouldn't be any less devoted to her. She's earned it. But she would be less effective, and it's not who she's meant to be.
Maybe not in thought but I think they are in action. Which is ultimately what matters. Not saying I care about every single little bystander the Machine wants me to save, but that's what she wants, and she's the boss. 🤷♀️
au contraire, there are plenty of ways to be a professional hater without straight up murdering fools. you just have to be creative and/or a bit of a genius. that's not even me saying i'm special for figuring it out (though obvi i am). most people are just profoundly stupid.
well i was home alone so kind of a "if a tree falls in the forest" situation.
i'm not trying to say anything. i can know that most people are objectively worthless, insipid morons and not want them to die. i know, i know, the duality of man. i'm a pretty complex guy like that.
har-dee har. did you miss the part where "scary dojo boy" kicked down my door? that's unhinged. pun intended.
I think that's called caring, Quentin. But I get it. I'm coming around to that position myself. You save enough lives and it starts to get to be a habit.
Please, break out your tiniest violin and serenade me. I know you can give as good as you get, or better.
[ Somebody sure did take the lesson on "omega-level telepath" seriously! ]
is it? my mentor growing up was a feral immortal canadian with knife hands so my emotional definitions are not up to industry standards. not to mention the eight thousand other misanthropic superheroes all over the place. it's a thing.
just because i can doesn't mean i should have to. it's called decency.
He sounds fun. I'd love to learn some things from him. 💃 In terms of caring, I have to believe what you do is more important than what you feel. Don't be discriminatory to our machine friends.
[ Or to Shaw, for that matter. ]
Oh, you care about decency? I'm going to crush you at old video games in the privacy of Charles's apartment 😜
[she packed all of her necessary essentials in her duffle bag, her café is being supervised by one of her crew, ekko's apartment is spic and span enough, and she left both vi and ragna a voicemail about her departure to the oasis. all seems to be in order except for one little thing. and that thing is the treehouse. a place (for some unknown reason jinx couldn't begin to comprehend) she had been maintaining for approximately for almost a little over a year now, and even tried to build some sort of cooling/heating unit to keep it comfortable to live in during the seasons.
the bluenette wouldn't mind continuing with the cleanliness, doing so practically became a daily routine for her now. but with this particular mission, she will be gone for several weeks, and anything could happen to that treehouse within that timeframe. and with quentin being in aldrip again, it would make a lot more sense to hand it back over. he did built the place, after all, and she knows the silence of the forest can help him with the constant thoughts that flow around the city.
and although jinx had rehearsed this exact moment in her head countless times, the crow continues to perch on a tree branch with her eyes fixating apprehensively over scott's home. just when was the last time she visited this place anyway? ... she can't seem to recall, and just observing the residence like this feels like she went back in time somehow. the teenager works her lips for a moment before she huffs out a frustrating groan, forcing her body to evacuate out of the tree, and paces her way to the home. this needs to get done, she has a job to do, and she can't just hide away and waste time.]
[she thinks that, but when she meets face to face with the front door, the anxiety swells in her throat again. so this is it. he is right behind this door... or maybe there's an off chance scott will answer, and she can hand him the key, then bolt out of there. ... but that's cowardly, and jinx is not a chicken. all she has to remember is to stick to the plan, say what she needs to say, and keep her mind racing through unimportant things. not that quentin would enter or read her mind without permission, but... she wants this to go as smooth as possible. adjusting her strap bag, she taps the front door with her knuckle, a little diddy kind of knock before she casts her gaze elsewhere in her surroundings, then down to her boots to kick a rock or two. just... anything to keep her busy while she waits for an answer.]
[Normally Quentin wouldn't bother answering when some random person—obviously he does a quick psychic scan to determine if it's someone he knows—knocks on the door. Aside from Ange, all of his housemates are annoyingly social, and most of their dumb friends frankly aren't worth Quentin's valuable time. However, last time one of said dumb friends came to visit, the little fucker kicked the whole damn door down. So it is very begrudgingly that this time he decides to get off his ass and answer the knock himself.
While the Quentin Quire who opens the door looks more or less the same as he did when he left Aldrip, there are some notable differences. He's older, for one thing, though only visibly by a couple of years. Thanks to Krakoan resurrection, his hair is now permanently pink, and as a result it's his natural wavy texture and not so closely shaved on the sides. He looks mildly disgruntled—because he is—and starts talking before the door is even fully open.]
Look, I don't know which one of the other ones you're looking for, but none of them are home right now. Come back later.
[hearing his voice again is so surreal, and who would have thought all of her preparation and rehearsals would come undone this easily for her? for a split moment, she contemplated that maybe her father was right to have him deliver this instead of her. but that quickly came and went when he suggests for her to come back later. jinx finds her voice, and the words rush so hastily off her tongue that she will definitely bash her head against the wall later for it.]
Wait, Quentin, I'm here for you! [that might come off a little strange, so she adds:] — I mean, I have something that belongs to you. I'll be quick, I promise.
Y-Yeah! I, uh. I figured when you, uh... didn't look for me or reached out when you came back.
[jinx clears her throat in an attempt to bring all this back to why she's here in the first place, and she shakes her head in a way to get her mind straight.]
But, no, you don't have to do all that. It's... It's not that important, but uh — I just came by to give you this.
[with that, she fishes in her back pocket to reveal a key — extending it out to him with open palm.]
This is yours. There's a treehouse in the forest you built a long while ago. I've been keeping it clean while you were gone.
[anxiously, she smiles and flickers her gaze off to the door frame than his face. maybe it'll be easier if she doesn't give him direct eye contact.]
When I saw you were back, I went ahead and, uh, moved my junk out. Thought you might want it back since... it's quiet out there and, I know... hearing all of us in your head can get wicked annoying.
[that should be enough explaining, right? one would think so, but she can't seem to stop herself from talking.]
There's food in the fridge, and I installed a heating unit in there, too. 'Cause, boy! It's been a REAL killer staying in there with the weather and crap. Eh heh heh...
[That's, uh... Hmm. There's a lot to unpack here. Her body language, what she's saying, what she's not saying...
What did you do this time, Quire??
He looks at the key in her hand and back up to her face.]
Right. So let me get this straight. There's a treehouse somewhere in the forest that you've been living in and maintaining and upgrading for some unspecified but seemingly significant amount of time... but supposedly this thing is mine. Because I apparently built it. Even though I don't remember doing so. Do I have that right?
[with her free hand, she shapes it like her trusty pistol and presses the index and middle to the side of her temple. jinx "pulls the trigger", and mouths the sound effects of a gunshot, however chuckles and smiles just to indicate she isn't doing so out of morbid sort of way.]
Headshot and a bullseye, mister! — The place was originally yours, and I used to stop by a few times.
[as to why she did so, jinx will keep her silence for as long as she can about it, and she may be stretching the truth just a little. it wasn't just his, but it was theirs. but he might need it more than her right? although given his reaction so far, she wonders if he feels she is just some kooky girl, or she's trying to lure him some weird trap. jinx wouldn't blame him for thinking either of these possibilities.]
It's got pretty sweet digs, and besides, you've got to be tired of puking your guts out over the love birds every night. Unless that doesn't bother you, I can hardly stand an hour with how cutesy they get.
( in truth, this is mostly a check-in now that everything's working again and quote-unquote back to normal, but he's disinclined to say that it's a check-in because—
quentin. and it's not like they know each other like that. )
on a scale of 1 to just a day in the life, how often does things like "world plunging into darkness" happen here?
[Oh hey it's Barton. Quentin's kept enough of a telepathic eye on him to make sure he's still, you know, alive, but other than that has been mostly leaving the guy to his own devices. Neither Hawkeye nor Quentin are the friendliest of people around, and there's no point in pretending they're suddenly best friends just because they're the only people from their universe and worked together that one time.]
idk, the regular amount? the coffins are new. probably some kind of bullshit to teach us about inner turmoil and atonement etc blah blah blah
hey barton how's your sleight of hand? i was hella bored with the power out. thought i'd pick up a new hobby for shits and giggles.
( undoubtedly, there's something to say to that first bit — coffins, atonement, etcetera — but is quentin the person to have that conversation with? probably not, and more importantly, his question takes precedence.
his question that manages to both be annoying and insulting all at once. )
you're asking the carnie how's his sleight of hand, quentin? really?
(please. he defeated an elder of the universe with ""sleight of hand"". everyone in the avengers knows he cheats at anything if he thinks he can get away with it. )
next you're gonna ask if I know how to pick locks.
i meant cool card tricks, asshat. you know, close-up magic? what's the point of you having that whole freakish hand-eye coordination thing if you can't do any sick penn & teller shit?
also i'm pretty sure the last time you were in a circus was like before i was even born so maybe jot that down before you @ me.
[That's right, Clint, your punishment for the crime of... being annoyed at Quentin's overtly annoying question is to feel old. That'll teach you!]
ignoring your pedantry for five minutes, your premise fell down as soon as you prefaced "card tricks" with the word "cool". those ARE mutually exclusive.
you know steve never signed off on the team, right? guy was fuming about your reality tv show angle.
( says man who quit the avengers for the thunderbolts and got mad because steve wouldn't... sign off... on it... )
"ignoring my pedantry"?? excuse you, my pedantry is expressly unignorable. i won't stand for this affront.
really? playing the "cap disapproves" card? why do you hate happiness, barton? and fun? and joy? i had higher hopes for you, and look! my hopes are crushed now. 💀 dashed upon the rocks of life's brutal shores.
i know you did not just compare me to quicksilver. dude has zero rizz. an absolute travesty of a person. whereas i am an audacious lil scamp. i'm up to my eyeballs in roguish charm over here and for what? getting compared to magneto's shittiest kid just because we share an above-third-grade vocabulary. unbelievable.
good thing i'm not a "real avenger" then huh? also nice self-report lol
( the pause at the response is longer than is strictly necessary, partly because quentin being quentin, keeps moving the goalposts, and partly because— )
how many non-mutants did you work with before you agreed to join kate's team?
( he has a point with the question, but he's going to need quentin to answer it first. it's not the point he was originally going to make (that was mostly 'quentin, you're annoying, but you're not uniquely annoying', but now that quentin's opened the door—.
he's going elsewhere with it. )
?? my first couple years was pretty much JUST me arguing with cap, this isn't news, quire.
and you don't get to be a better person who makes better choices without disappointing someone who IS better than you a couple times.
[Quentin knows Clint isn't dumb enough to not see through that. It's one of the single most transparent answers of all time.
He's also not about to just openly admit that prior to joining Kate's team he had only worked with anyone—mutant or otherwise—in a capacity that involved the word "technically." Meaning he got pulled off the bench occasionally when there was a need for a powerful psychic and none of the preferable options were available. Sure, Quentin's grown up a lot since then, but there's a limit to how much of his pride you can reasonably expect him to swallow, okay! Telling Hawkeye of all people about Quentin's long and pathetic history of being an abysmal failure? No way. Barton would hold that over his head until the heat-death of the universe. And probably even after that, honestly.]
that had better not be your roundabout way of saying you're disappointed in me barton i stg. [speaking of self-report] all i did was ask if you knew any dumb card tricks jfc
( but whatever he types out next doesn't get sent before he deletes it. clint isn't unaware enough to not realise what quentin's essentially just admitted, but it takes a moment for it to register.
he could call him out on it, but it wouldn't necessarily be productive. (he knows how he'd have reacted.)
[He's counting that whole thing when he was psychically shielding people from Red Onslaught, and nobody can stop him. Sorry not sorry.]
hilarious.
also why do you only know sketchy shit? aren't you a superhero?? you can pick locks, steal wallets, and cheat at poker, but what, the classic french drop is beneath you? smh
( NOW you've ruined the point he was going to make, thank you. )
what? carson's wasn't exactly a family-friendly circus made up of law-abiding citizens. and I know you know I've got a record from before I joined the avengers. the public and press made enough of a big deal about how a carnie thief and two "terrorists" weren't avengers material. people on the internet have really hung onto that, too.
( does clint google himself? of course he fucking does. )
and, yeah, well, the number of people who find card tricks impressive is kinda thin on the ground and I had ( ... ) different priorities.
oh boo hoo "i'm clint barton i was a petty criminal like a billion years ago and have the world's biggest chip on my shoulder about it. won't someone persecute me so i can justify being a cranky bastard all the time?" [Not that he can relate or anything...]
buddy have you met the x-men? we're a bunch of circus freaks minus the circus. there's more of us with criminal records than without, and believe me that's the understatement of the century. you know who's on my team? juggernaut. not to mention magneto, psylocke, magik. i could go on. hell, i'm a wanted terrorist.
face it pal, you're a goody-goody just like the rest of you avengers types. [he says, having actually had a conversation with like... 5 "avengers types".] so maybe unclench for like two seconds??
i asked why you only know sketchy shit, you nerd. [Because that was so incredibly clear and not phrased in the most insulting and defensive-reaction-provoking way possible. Obviously.] why do i care that you're good at stealing or weighing down milk bottles or any of your other carnie shit?
whatever. point is you have a weird affinity for one specific thing but inexplicably only use it for shooting arrows or crime apparently. and also you're boring at parties.
[... Okay, this isn't going according to plan. Probably because there was no plan.
See, a normal person would've just asked "hey, you're better at this skill than I am, can you help me with this new hobby I thought would be fun?" and then moved on when the answer was no. It's so easy! No arguments, no misunderstandings, no time wasted. None of... whatever the hell is going on here. But nooooooo.
Uuuuugh, Quire, why do you always do this to yourself? Answer: because you're an irrepressible, unmitigated fuck-up. And a try-hard. And an edgelord. Damn it.
... Alright. Fine. Time to grow up and try to salvage what he can of this mess. Fuck.]
try me. your whole "handwritten letter" crap, i mean.
( it's not the response clint's expecting, and he's not sure if it's the response he'd really wanted. he'd expected agreement, a yeah, not interested — or however quentin expresses pointed, deliberate disinterest. probably accompanied by some kind of judgement that amounts to how he's above it all, or something.
and so his reluctance isn't because he's embarrassed — for the most part, clint doesn't really do embarrassment — but because it's not a natural part of a conversation. it's gonna sound weird. )
we really need to work on your interpersonal skills.
( pot, kettle. )
have you ever tried shooting? by that, I mean anything. cause my problem with guns ( not his only problem, but a problem, ) is that anyone can use them. it's just point and click. or point and squeeze, or whatever. you don't need to think about it, the gun does all the work for you, so there's no real accountability for the shot. not from beginning to end. with a bow, it's all deliberate. you're not gonna hit anyone or anything if your breathing's off, if you don't take the time to anticipate your target. as soon as the string's drawn back, whatever your shot does is on you. whatever it hits is wherever I've decided it's gonna hit. personal responsibility.
so, it's the difference between an email and a handwritten letter.
I like people knowing that every shot is basically me going "this is exactly what I meant to do, hugs and kisses, Hawkeye".
i was pretty much raised by wolverine. that should tell you all you need to know
[Okay, Barton is really, really lucky Quentin actually likes him, because reading all that? It's rough. He's instantly and painfully bored, but since he did (regrettably?) ask, he does at least try to wrap his head around why anyone would intentionally use what his own explanation admits is a vastly less efficient way of accomplishing a task. If it's truly that precise using a bow—which Quentin has to assume it must be, having never picked up one of the damn things in his life—to the point where breathing differently fucks the whole shot up, then... what's the point? Just seems like statistically you'd miss more than you hit.
... Then again, Clint doesn't seem to ever really miss. Which honestly, Quentin just chalked up to a natural aptitude for spatial awareness and never missing arm day in like 30 years. Not like... some deep aspirational philosophy or something.
Man. See, this is why he normally just uses telepathy whenever he needs to understand a different perspective. Way easier.]
yyyyeah i mostly use psychic weapons so. not sure how that works into your metaphor. i mean i don't exactly have to aim but that's just because the whole kit and kaboodle is, you know, a part of me and stuff.
( it doesn't tell him everything he more-or-less needs to know, but as clint also knows logan, would even call him a friend even if he knows logan finds him annoying as fuck, clint doesn't think it's quite as damning as quentin might intend it to sound.
but in the rest of it, he's not wrong. it'd started as a means to be useful, to have something to do other than shovelling elephant shit and helping to fix rides. it'd been something to do that also made him feel wanted, even if neither jacques not chisholm had been quite the father figures he'd been hoping for.
the "it makes a point" of it all had come later. )
it doesn't, quire. you being able to do what you can do because it's you isn't the same thing.
but it's not like I really give two seconds thinking about why thor uses a hammer, or tony decides to dress up as a tin can.
my choice is my choice, is mostly what it comes down to.
plus there's just something really funny about kicking some bad guy's ass with some string and wood.
yeah, see, there was a baby emerging consciousness ai in charge of the simulation that needed help. i helped. telepath stuff.
well, didn't go exactly as planned, and now i've got a copy of its memories stuck in my head with nowhere to put it. also i can't access them. not ideal, but not the worst thing.
i just remembered it because you were rambling about "personal responsibility" and crap.
( is that what clint was expecting? no, not at all. is it better? debatable. )
so... you're an external hard drive, is what you're saying, only without the right admin privileges to access the questionable folder you've just downloaded from a questionable website and we've just gotta hope it doesn't install anything weird on you.
but with the positive spin of 'if something goes wrong with the ai, you can maybe kind of fix it'? like a data restore or whatever.
dude. that's not how any of this works. ignorance about telepathy i'll forgive since it's not like you avengers have ever had any decent psychics around, but how do you not know about computers? and don't say "i grew up in the circus" because i know for a fact you hang out with all kinds of "super genius" nerds.
if you must know the whole system was going to shit, and the only way to fix it was to do a hard reset that would wipe the old ai's memories. in layman's terms, kill it. i figured hey, doing really stupid shit to save the tragic asshole of the week is what bleeding heart superhero types do, right? so i downloaded a backup of its mind to do a full restore after the reset.
but then the fucking access terminals disappeared. guess new baby ai doesn't want its old memories back. and old ai is... hiding or something. thing is there shouldn't be any part of my mind i can't access, and yes, obviously i set up all kinds of security to keep it from, in your words, "installing anything weird on me". but now the damn thing won't come out. you don't build a hulk containment facility planning for him to lock himself in, you know?
the "super nerds" do the computer stuff, quentin. we're lucky I can type.
let's not talk about what people do to try and stop bruce, please. that's a shitty comparison.
( given, you know, clint did kill bruce and he did undergo a murder trial for it. given clint absolutely, completely hates himself for agreeing to do it in the first place. )
anyway, precisely none of what you've said makes me feel good about any of this.
1. that's sad. i'm sad for you barton. see, this is what happens when people don't have group telepathic knowledge share. 2. a shitty comparison for you to make, maybe. but i'm a fellow walking wmd. if you don't think there's just as much containment crap for qq as there is for big green i got a bridge to sell ya. 3. it's not supposed to make you feel good. but hey, if something goes tits up at least you'll know why, right?
1. no-one needs to see my thoughts 2. ALSO not what I meant. but for what it's worth, if you don't think I've got an arrow for every person I work with, you've got another think coming. 3. yay knowledge
my bad i forgot there's a merciful way to kill your friends hmmm is it psychic dampener arrows? i bet it's psychic dampener arrows
bishop's mind smells kinda like popcorn btw. you'd think it'd be the opposite, what with the whole carnie thing, but nope. wait is she also a carnie?? but like... from a nicer circus????
uh you're the one who said "everybody's got an arrow with their name on it" or whatever shit. what the hell else does that mean other than murdering fools?? is that what you avengers do when you're bored? just a little casual platonic arrow-shooting amongst friends?
hey so question: is being sulky and uptight like a prerequisite for being an arrow person or is it a consequence?
[There's a mildly suspicious pause before he replies. Did he go get a snack? Or is he regretting edgelording a little too hard? The world may never know.]
sooo i was right about psychic dampener arrows
[And then there's a much more suspicious pause before his next message.]
just to be clear i don't make a habit of killing people either. in case there was any confusion. there shouldn't be. but. you know.
i talk a lot of shit. i know it, you know it. it's whatever. doesn't make me a psycho. we gucci? great, good talk.
yeah no i was just clarifying because of the whole "merciless slaughtering" thing. it's the dark humor. people get weird about it. you know, you try to kill a bunch of randoms in a fit of teenage angst—unsuccessfully, mind you!—like two times and now nobody can take a goddamn joke. it's fine though. don't worry about it.
anyway, where was i? oh right. you being uptight.
exhibit a: you don't know any card tricks exhibit b: you're being cagey af about having anti-telepath arrows. dude everybody and their dog has that shit these days. telepaths are weird and scary and nobody likes us yadda yadda. yawn. that's old news. you don't have to be weird about it.
also there were evil doppelgangers running around this place literally last week so you know. relevant.
...that's it? you really think I haven't heard an off-color joke in my time?
I know card tricks! I just don't know card "tricks". which honestly just says I had a slightly more interesting, less lonely teenage experience than whatever would've led to me knowing how to guess what card someone's just picked out a pack. could probably figure something out since you're so goddamned hung up on it though.
...do you just take someone not telling you what you want to know as someone being weird and uptight? cause there's DEFINITELY another word we could use for that, and it's not one that describes me.
mine was just an asshole, I dunno if I'd go so far as to say 'evil'.
look man i'm just telling you people i know have been calling me a psycho for years. i'm a mind-reader, not an arbiter of truth. and we don't exactly have a big overlap in social circles, so idk, maybe you're a freak too.
ugh i'm not "hung up" on anything it was a dumb bit, okay? just forget it. christ on a stick.
i like knowing things. it's kinda my whole deal? sue me. if you were a mutant i'd have already read your mind, but you're not. this is me being courteous.
well i didn't get one. but if i did he'd probably be evil. that'd be my luck. and in that situation i do in fact recommend the "merciless slaughter" route. wasn't kidding about the wmd thing, in case that wasn't clear.
uh huh. well i don't know too many avengers other than you so guess i'll take your word for it.
right because i'm sure all of logan's poker buddies will be lining up to add me to their game nights. eh, if you're offering. i mean, using my powers is way more effective, but at a certain point it's almost too easy, you know?
[And it has nothing to do with wanting to hang out with the only person here who isn't a version of someone he knows.]
you keep saying that. but see, i love me some dirty mental laundry. i'm sure you've got a couple of dumpster fires in there i could get a good chuckle out of.
hey buddy you do you. i'm just sayin if i woke up evil tomorrow or a version of me popped out of the ether who's even more petty and vindictive? first thing i'd do is make you forget how to aim. well, maybe not first. but top five at least. i've met my evil clone before, and sometimes it's just more humane to give someone the old yeller treatment behind the shed out back
[... So yeah, obviously "luck" talking, and not that other thing. Obviously!]
we don't invite telepaths. didn't even invite spider-man for the longest time cause none of us were sure if that spidey sense of his would, you know, let him know when someone was trying to fuck him over.
( (and also he never has money, which is a little rich coming from clint, but—.)
so, yeah, that's a no. )
you can make your own little poker game.
and no, I wouldn't know, but you and I both know there's a chance you're gonna have to do something without your powers at some point in your life. relying on one thing and one thing alone's just setting yourself up for failure, and I don't for a second believe you're not a guy that doesn't like to have some surprises in his back pocket.
( WHY are you like this— )
yeah, well, that's because I'm a divorced man in his thirties. explore away, kiddo, just don't say I didn't warn you.
I had to deal with going blind once. "I'd make you forget how to aim" isn't the threat you think it is.
but for the rest of it: nah. that's really not my style. most every time, there's a better way.
tbh it's not that hard to pull one over on a telepath if you know what you're doing. most stealthy mind-reading is misdirection. don't think about pink elephants, etc. once you figure out what to look for we can't do much more than skim surface thoughts without it being noticeable, and controlling your surface thoughts is just discipline. not that complicated.
uh, excuse you, i can manage perfectly fine without my powers. i've done... stuff. before. hacking, building, cool shit. i'm a little rusty is all! give me a break, there wasn't exactly a ton of normie crap on krakoa.
[No comment on how the fact that Krakoa fell literally proves Clint's point. Quentin's going to just move right along to... whatever shit Barton is rambling about in those last three lines. That's it? He just... doesn't give a fuck? Just says "yeah, go rifle through my brain, turn evil, fuck me up bro" and then sits back all nonchalant with his arbitrary moral rules and misguided optimism like an omega level telepath is the same as some basic bitch street-level psychic? Who does that?
... Well. A guy with no powers, probably. Magnitudes of power don't mean as much when you've got nothing, do they? Maybe for Barton the omega level mutant and the street level enhanced thug are the same. Because ultimately they're all infinitely more powered than he is. It's multiplying by zero.
given my skill set vs the avengers vs avengers level threats... you wanna try telling me something I don't know? there isn't a smart person who does what I do.
strictly speaking, you've gone up against more "avengers level threats" than i have. mostly because you're approximately 110 years old, but still. probably counts for something i guess.
also doesn't she hate when you call her katie?
[Was that?? A compliment???
Look, something about that epiphany deflated some of the piss-and-vinegar attitude Quentin carries around more often than not, and he very much does not intend to dissect why. It'd probably have to do with feeling normal for once or there being an adult in his life who doesn't treat him like he's the world's biggest disappointment or some sentimental bullcrap like that and... no. Nope. Not unpacking that trauma. Not today, maybe not ever, and definitely not because of Clint Barton.]
ugh my humor is wasted on you. i just thought it would be funny if you had a really useless power.
look the point i was trying to make is being a dumbass clearly works for you considering you've miraculously managed to survive to the ripe old status of "divorced man in his thirties" despite all of the numerous obvious reasons you shouldn't. if you want to take that as a compliment be my guest. or don't. i'm not your boss.
[ Root ambles up to the boy band mutant house and stands on the sidewalk. She's cutely holding hands with Shaw, who's about half a foot shorter than her, and in Shaw's other hand is a leather leash leading to a dog, a sleek Belgian Malinois. ]
One second, I can see if he's here.
[ She means telepathically, of course. She proceeds to think loudly but not too loudly, tone like she's calling into the house. ]
Quentin! You here? I brought a friend. Please stay out her head, though 🤞
["I can see if he's here", Root says, before she proceeds to (from Shaw's perspective, anyway) do a whole lot of nothing. Shaw waits a beat, looks around, and then frowns at her.]
[ If Root knew he was busy bed rotting she would be far more annoying about this. ]
I guess if we're being technical, the friend is the dog and the human is my beloved ✨
[ There's a depth of affection and wonder behind the word that merits the sparkle. Meanwhile, Root gives her beloved a look like she knows she can figure it out. ]
[And the fact that he knows Root will be annoying about it is precisely why she will never know!]
Beloved, huh? Okay, color me intrigued. Oh, and tell her yes, it's invasive, and no, it's absolutely not lame.
[No, he isn't actually digging around in Shaw's head, but a) he can hear her through Root's ears, and b) they're literally standing outside his house, and he can in fact just hear stuff outside.]
Fine, fine, come on in. I'll be down in a sec. Mi casa, su casa, and all that jazz.
[The front door faintly glows pink for a moment and opens seemingly on its own. Telekinesis is handy when you're lazy.]
Thanks! See you in a sec. You can tell her yourself. Love the pink, by the way.
[ Root hasn't seen his telekinesis before and she finds the faint pink glow absolutely charming. She marches forward to the open door without delay, assuming Shaw and Bear will follow and talking over her shoulder. ]
He could, but I asked him to stay out of your head. I wasn't sure your ongoing existential crisis could bear it.
[ She sounds doting and sweet, which means she is absolutely talking shit at Shaw. But she's also simultaneously being thoughtful enough to caution against said mind-reading and possible furthering of her existential crisis. ]
[It's a balance that Root is so uniquely good at striking: because Shaw doesn't want her concerns to be minimized or dismissed, but neither does she want to be treated like she's made of glass. The latter might be even more intolerable than the former.]
You're talking like this to a veteran with PTSD?
[She retorts, as they head through the front door of a place that, if the weird glow is any indication, may or may not be an evil villain's lair. Good thing she has her trusty partner with her for backup (that trusty partner is Bear). ]
[While the spooky glow may imply an evil villain's lair, Quentin himself—all twiggy 5 feet 9 inches of him with his wavy pink undercut, hipster glasses, and baggy checkered t-shirt—is not a terribly formidable figure. He lazily slumps down the stairs from his room and waves his hand to telekinetically shut the door behind his visitors.]
Alright, let's see this so-called "beloved" who thinks my amazing uncanny powers are lame.
[He puts his hand on his and scrutinizes Shaw, looking her up and down critically, before he turns and points at Root.]
[ Root absolutely cannot respond to anything else because she has to answer that last comment first. What a silly remark, Quentin! ]
I couldn't possibly date the Machine -- she's beyond my comprehension.
[ She means that genuinely, though she fires it off with an element of self-aware humor. Root steps aside and back so she can be next to Shaw and put her hands on her (far shorter) shoulders like she's a proud parent presenting an accomplished child. ]
This is Shaw. My little spitfire.
[ She'd already told Shaw who Quentin is, so she doesn't extend the introduction any further; it's not like she cares about the social mores. ]
[Shaw, too, has to address that last comment first; she says Yes at the same time as Root starts her own, more lengthy response, smirking a little as she does. It's the first sign of spitfieryness so far, but she's a slow burn - until she suddenly isn't.]
Hey. What's the weirdest thing you've heard in someone else's head?
[ They're absolutely insufferable and frankly they deserve each other (derogatory) (affectionate) which Root is fully aware of. She rolls her eyes a little at Shaw for the antics but otherwise lets it go. ]
The superheroes are cute. The ones here take themselves so seriously.
[ She's thinking of Scotty and the boy band as she says that -- this is also Scott's house, after all. ]
[Shaw is absolutely picturing this now, and unfortunately, her mental image looks very much like a ten-year-old boy's costume party; sorry, friends. She looks at Root with a raised eyebrow of her own, jerking her chin at Quentin.]
I told her you're an incredibly powerful telepath and can turn people into dribbling idiots if you want. That sounded a lot cooler.
[ Root is absolutely comfortable with entities of terrifying unimaginable power being her friends -- and with being their hype man -- but let's face it, superheroes are incredibly silly. ]
(good time for quentin to arrive at the spider-house - peter is making a very nice snack for himself for the time being. his braincells have burned out at stem, so he should probably take a break, watch a shit movie, enjoy popcorn and the bowls of guacamole and chili he made.
the tingle doesn't tingle - quentin is not a threat, but he can hear him approaching even before he comes to the door.)
[Quentin gets bored easily. Part of his whole "accelerated brain processing speed" secondary mutation, probably. So what is a very bored and very powerful telepath to do but skim the minds of his friends and go bother whoever is doing the most interesting thing? In this case, the "winner" is the younger Peter Parker, who has both the benefits of a) being a clever little shit and b) delicious guac.]
Something like that.
[He helps himself to whatever guacamole and chili he can find, scrunching his nose at any webs that may be in his way. Spider-people are so weird.]
(he knows how quentin is, so it doesn't bother him at all that he just serves himself, it's almost expected that he would, so he just pushes the bowl towards him as he sighs in satisfaction at the taste of the chili. pretty good. little too seasoned, but overall, very nice.)
Well, plan is to rest and get my braincells back in place, because I think the power in my brain went off. Wanna hang?
That sucks, man. I can't turn off the sixth sense we get, so I can only imagine what you feel.
(imagine being a telepath. sounds so loud, and to peter, any loud is loud to begin with. he does join soon, though, after getting everything on the center table and also some orange soda.)
Yep. Reason why the three of us are making this super strong coffee, see if that works for us.
Price of greatness, little buddy. Price of greatness.
[Quentin makes an acknowledging "hmm" noise. If there aren't any other seats available, he'll scoot over to make room for Peter he guesses, but otherwise? He's sitting right in the middle and taking up as much space as is physically possible.]
Hey, have you ever thought about hanging an anvil or something over your heads? Bet that'd keep you awake.
(he's used to quentin, so it does not surprise him, nor does it bother him. if he doesn't like it, he can eat on the ceiling, although... can quentin fly or something like that? unsure.
completely fine, though.)
What?! No-- Dude, how are we gonna work like that? Hey, unrelated, but do you fly or something like that? Wanda flies, she's kinda a telepath too, right?
[If there's one thing Quentin can appreciate, it's someone who lets him be as rude as he wants. Really, everyone else should take notes from Petey here.
Except not at all because he just compared Quentin Quire to Wanda Maximoff. He gives Spidey the stankiest of all stank faces.]
"Kinda a telepath"? For the sake of our friendship I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that.
[Quentin wrinkles his nose in disgust and rolls his eyes before he deigns to answer the actual question.]
And yes, I can fly. With telekinesis, though. Not telepathy. Still psionic, different application.
[Wow, no, who said you get to invade Quentin's personal bubble? Rudeness is only allowed in one direction, thanks very much. He bristles and moves his shoulder out of Peter-chin range, though he is fond enough of the little shit to not make any snide remarks about it. You're welcome.]
You do realize flying isn't the same thing as having a body that's adapted to inversion, right? I told you, I don't do any of your freaky wall-crawling spider shit. Increased intracranial pressure and telepathy? Not a great combination.
[He leans back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. The bowl of chili, meanwhile, floats effortlessly in front of him, held up by the faint glow of telekinesis.]
Anyway, Wanda is a hex witch. Completely different. Plus she depowered like... a million mutants because she had a bad day. Comparing her to me is basically a hate crime.
(he's trying to be adorable, quentin, you could at least call him as it is, but he's giving out a soft, fond chuckle at the extreme reaction.)
You're definitely missing out, though. It's great for pacing, you just don't stop, keep going up, and then horizontal, then down, just great for thinking and all.
(he's at least used to that, although he never quits trying to run his fingers through the glow. it's very cool, excuse him.)
... Forreal? But she-- well, ours seems nice. I saw her at Mister Stark's funeral, ours doesn't seem... Crazy, or anything like that. What's a hex witch?
Edited (i know my axis i promise) 2025-01-17 20:41 (UTC)
[You wake up in a courtroom. You’re not really sure how you got here, just that you’re here. There’s Jerry, sitting at the judges box. For some he might be new, and others he might be familiar or semi-familiar. He scrutinizes you, and then motions to the jury box. There’s a plaque that’s sitting on the outside that says “Council”, but there’s no one sitting there. Everything looks clean and maintained, but there’s no one in the courtroom but you and Jerry.
Weird.]
You are charged with vandalism in loyalty to a friend.
[There’s something about his expression that makes you think that he might’ve already made up his mind…]
The Council has found you Guilty of this. In order to repent and further your rehabilitation, you have been tasked to bring in one of your close friends for Sentencing to receive punishment for your crime in your stead. If there is no action taken, there will be consequences.
[You wake up back in your bed. You remember everything – Jerry, the jury box, the words he spoke to you. Maybe you remember the words he spoke more vividly than anything else.
However you decide to proceed… there will be consequences.]
[ooc: you have until January 10th to submit your Sentencing HERE Even if your character doesn’t proceed with the Sentencing, you must comment on the NPC inbox for your penalty.
Also, there are effects for ignoring this Sentencing. The longer that it takes them to complete their Sentencing, the more paranoid they may feel, especially with close friends. They may even wish that they want to cause bodily harm to them. If you have any questions about Sentencing, please direct it to the Mod Contact post.]
Edited (jenni reminded me about the vandalism bit oops) 2024-12-17 15:33 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (sry for slow tags btw! im not dead, just have gnarly covid brain fog)
what kinda bad you thinking?
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (nooo!! please get well)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (i'm on day 10 of covid, hoping it leaves me alone soon!!)
at least i won't be bored
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (yes, let's hope. drink a lot of water!)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (i think i should be back by the event at least!)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (just be sure to rest sometimes though.)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (doing my best!)
you tell me if some big scary monster tries munching on your brain ok?
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (oh oop my bad. im more awake and saw its a winky face)
;)
hehe i like that!
if my bullets cant, i will. ;)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (quentin is about to ruin text convos with jinx for everyone else, i'm sorry)
hold on im about to change your life
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
ಠ_ಠ
(ง'̀-'́)ง
just to get you started. youre welcome
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (hell ya!)
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) this will be me when i wait for u to blow a monster's brain to pieces. HA HAHA
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (he knows what he did)
凸(¬‿¬)凸 ← me @ brain eating monster
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
i learned this one from someone else.
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
table flipping is a classic
❀ܓ(｡◠ ꇴ ◠｡ ) look i got you a flower
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
oh, thank u (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ oh hey you dropped this
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (jinx you need higher standards, quentin is so cringe)
but the answer is only to really cool girls
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET (maybe she likes losers)
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
Re: (TXT) ⇁ TABLET
ill take the heart then! (✿’◡˘)♡
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
guess im a pretty lucky guy too huh?
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
you know a lot of non-boring guys?
(TXT) ⇁ TABLET
just one other guy.
everyone else i knew were super old adults.
continued from scott's party
I know a version of Summers from my universe. It's a long story. But mutants stick together, so here I am.
[He scowls. Ugh, talking about any version of Cyclops is a hell of a mood killer. In an attempt to get some of said mood back, he waves a hand to lend some telekinetic help with Jinx's boot buckles, since she's a little encumbered by her bad hand. What would you do without him?]
Now are we gonna talk about Scott "stick in the mud" Summers all day or are you gonna come over here?
no subject
Young Vi: I know what i said—
Powder (young Jinx): I want to fight, I can help!
Young Vi: You're not ready!!
( jinx is staring down at her boots when that flash of memory flares when quentin mentions about mutants sticking together. and maybe she can use him unbuckling her boots for her as an excuse for her sudden stillness. or maybe she can mention giving her hand a small rest. either way, the teen squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment in hope it'll be enough to bat it away. because there is no way in hell she's letting that ruin this, and she'll be damned if she allows her sick mind to rip her out of this reality and drift her off to limbo space. her "curse" would be cruel enough to do that.
...
so when she opens her eyes again, jinx gives herself a quick thump against her leg to be on the safe side. it's a tiny tactic she uses sometimes to keep herself aware and grounded. it doesn't always work, but it's better than doing nothing. right, okay, so what was she doing again? toeing off her boots and setting them somewhere, her attention falls over to quentin again, smirking flirtatiously as she makes her way over. )
Ya know back where I'm from... — ( she coos as she grabs her right braid to untwist (she's had a lot of practice to unbraid them fast despite the length of them) -- moving her hips still as she walks. ) — if anyone even thinks about tellin' me what I should or should not do...
( jinx trails off as she climbs on the bed and onto him, straddling him and already halfway done with the braid she's fiddling with. )
... They'd be tied to the ceiling with a bomb strapped to their chest. ... or dynamite in their mouths. Whichever gives me that fear of look I like so much.
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When she does, she doesn't waste any time climbing into his lap, which is, of course, exactly his intention when choosing where to wait for her to follow him. The appeal of "cute girl in lap" aside, they're a lot closer to eye level this way, so making out should be a hell of a lot easier. Which he very much plans to test out soon, but she seems to be kind of in the middle of something with the braids, and he'd like to give her a chance to finish.]
Kinky! Maybe another time, yeah? Tonight I'd rather use my mouth for other fun things than just holding dynamite.
[Oh, right, he should do something with his hands, shouldn't he? He's always terrible at this part. After a second of indecision, he puts his hands loosely around her waist. The "safe" choice, maybe, but it's a good place to start, especially while she's still busy with her hair. And until she's done with that, he'll just watch her intently, his eyes occasionally roving over the rest of her body but for the most part sticking to her face and those fun glowy eyes of hers.]
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( when his hands are at her hips, jinx shimmies playfully on top with a smile; wrinkling her nose again. this is meant to be a really hot moment and it will come definitely, but until she is done with this hair -- she is feeling a little prankish. )
Oh really? I do love fun and I do love surprises.
( and to demonstrate the fun and the surprise, she leans to him to appear she is going to land him a kiss. but only to do a detour and press a quick kiss on his forehead. a two for two prank and jinx grins pretty victoriously about it too. maybe he can finally get her back because now she is finally done with her locks, doing a quick headshake to let it fly freely, then sheds off her mini jacket to toss off somewhere in his room. )
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I'm gonna piggyback off your thoughts, okay? Try not to think about anything too embarrassing, you know, like how hot I am. Not that anyone could blame you.
[Hey, Jinx, how do you feel about neck kissing? Because Quentin's about to find out. Meanwhile, his hands are now creeping up under her shirt, and since it's a pretty tight bit of clothing to begin with, that means he's also pushing the whole shirt up too.]
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Piggybacking?
( and again before the teen can even begin to ask what that entails, he is on her neck. she inhales a sharp breath and immediately her moans increases to a slight high-pitch and more girly volume. 'Fuck, that's my spot.' with her hands resting on his shoulders and gripping tightly on his shirt, she tilts her head to expose more skin for him with a slight shudder over the feel of his hands working up on her body.
'Make me yours. ... Mark me. Please?' unable to control herself now, she moves on top of him again -- her hips in a slow roll up to him to satisfy an ache forming between her thighs, and the desire to just feel him despite there's still so much barrier between the two. )
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Mark her, she says? Quentin isn't a possessive kinda guy, but apparently Jinx is into that shit, which is good enough for him even if he doesn't really know what to do with "make me yours". If she wants a bunch of hickeys, though, he is more than happy to oblige. But first — get rid of some of these stupid clothes. Not all, not yet (or at all, depending on if she's ready to go all the way) but the shirts at least. Her rocking her hips against him is driving him absolutely crazy — and she'll almost definitely be able to feel how crazy — and he needs some kind of skin-on-skin contact to have any hope of maintaining his sanity and his patience.]
Shirts.
[That hurriedly mumbled word is all the explanation he cares to give for why he's pulling his hands and mouth off her, but since he immediately shucks off his t-shirt and flings it somewhere on the floor, he hopes she can figure out what he means.]
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his muttering barely catches her ears and her eyes flutter for a moment in slight confusion of the sudden pause. but the girl follows suit super quickly, tossing her own shirt somewhere in the room to be forgotten. and luckily for the two of them, jinx isn't known to wear a bra underneath her clothing, therefore she is bare like him. he can visually see her breath heaving -- her eyes glowing and so fixated on him with so many impure thoughts rushing through her mind. for him to touch her, for her to touch him, to get entirely naked right now, who goes down on who first, what position should they do first if not all of them, hard and slow or hard and fast? there's just so much crashing into each other and it's hard to figure out what to do first when she wants it all. )
( but in the end despite she told him to mark her and to make her his, jinx leans forward in a haste -- her hands cupping at his cheeks to give him the most feverish kiss. she hums hungrily into it, mouth opening to give an indication she wants to do a different kind of kiss than the type they've been doing. and all the while, jinx is still brushing her hips to him, knowing damn well doing this will just intensify everything. her sister told her if she were to ever do this with anyone to at least be safe and... she isn't really being too safe right now. but what's living without taking a few risks? 'i want him so much...' — why yes, she completely forgot he can be tuned in her thoughts right now and is speaking out to the void of her own mind. )
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Man, he's really gotta get it together. Her thoughts are a maelstrom pulling him under, and he needs to do something because drowning in this case just leads to needing a change of boxers and a shame from which he will never recover. Talking to her telepathically has helped ground her before, and he hopes it will again.
"We'll do all of it."
All the ideas she's been practically screaming in her head, that is.
"Every single sexy thing you're imagining, okay? We'll make a list."
She moves in his lap in a way that makes him gasp and grip her hip a little harder than he intended.
"Fuck, Jinx— just figure out what you want to do this time before I lose my goddamn mind."]
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so jinx... listens, her thoughts decreases a few notches and for now, she slows down on her thrusting so he wouldn't blow up on her (yet). the kissing between them settles too, still heated, of course, but not like some wolf ripping a piece of meat apart after three days of no food. so what does she want to do? to feel good, obviously is what she's thinking -- and yet when jinx follows the train tracks of that idea, things twists just a little bit somber. there's still so much heat in the mix of it, so much excitement and her own arosual humming loudly to match her heartbeat. but if he swims just bit deeper through all of this fire-y mess, there's that familiar feeling she had back when they were in the kitchen. that lost puppy look except now it has an emotion attached to it. a sensation of wanting to be held, to be liked,... to not be abandoned.
...
wait. did some guy hurt— aaaaannd that thought door gets locked crazy tight. let's not go down that road of pain.
'Show me.' she says telepathically, their kiss almost coming to a halt but not quite -- it just lingers longer as she moans more gently over at his hand on her chest. 'If I'm making you crazy... show me. I want... want to feel good. For once. I want you to make me feel good, Quentin.'. and just like that, jinx swaps places in the car she's been driving -- letting him take the wheel while she sets herself in the passenger seat. and finally, the teen pulls her lips away from his to catch her breath with her forehead press almost lovingly against his forehead. )
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Wanting a place to belong, someone to give a shit for once? That's something Quentin can relate to all too well. But he can't promise to be around forever. Eventually he'll get sent back to his world. So is it worth it to be the one who gives a shit about her? He's not sure. It's basically the same as him trusting Jubilee to give him a home, he guesses, and he doesn't necessarily regret that, despite it not lasting. So... maybe it'll be okay?
"Yeah... Okay, yeah. I can do that."
He closes his eyes and takes a couple of seconds to breathe, collect himself, and enjoy a moment of peace with her forehead touching his. Alright. Opening his eyes to meet hers, he moves his hand from her chest, and after using a bit of telekinesis to unbuckle her belt and unzip her fly, he unceremoniously slides his hand down the front of her shorts. Now this is where his piggybacking trick comes in handy, because feeling what she feels makes it stupidly easy to find her most sensitive spots almost immediately. Sure, the angle of his arm isn't ideal, but he'll do something about that in a bit. He doesn't want to delay fulfilling her request any longer than he has to.
"Like that?"]
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and yet here she is, shedding away her armor and exposing that deep down, she is just a woman. a woman that's been hurt by the world, by those she trusted and loved, and by her own. she is completely battle scared and all she wants is to just feel nice for a change even if it's for a single night. and jinx prays that this exposure can be just between the two of them. no one needs to know this secret side of her (except the people here in aldrip aren't stupid and have eyes).
her body jerks slightly at the touch of his hand between her thighs, it's not due to fear or anything, but because she has never been touched there by anyone before. so it's a slight weird (but good) sensation to have fingers there that isn't her own. despite the awkward angle he's in, there's... heavy evidence of how excited she's been and she isn't all ashamed of it either. with her eyes lock to his, they widen slightly as he hits a sweet spot -- inhaling yet another gasp before her head tilts back to bathe over the wave of pleasure. this time, her moan isn't subtle, it's noticeable and loud (loud enough if someone passes through, they can hear some muffling groans outside his door). )
( 'Fuck, yes! Yes, like that.'. jinx plants a quick yet deep kiss on his lips before she readjusts herself to help. she moves a little off his lap to lean somewhat back with her legs spread. but then the reminder of her busted right hand comes to thought when she attempts to use it for balance. 'Shit.'. more so to herself than him she says that to, of course. so the teen decides maybe it'd be better if she just lies on her back -- thusly she does and hopes quentin can adapt to this new position and angle she's making for herself. and actually, lying down is making all of this feel all the more amazing. who would had thunk? )
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Unfortunately, her moving did mean he had to take his hand out of her shorts temporarily. But that's okay, that just gives him the opportunity to shimmy them down in the front a little more to give himself more room to work. If Jinx wants the shorts off completely, she's welcome to interrupt him to do so, but she might be a little too distracted.
"You should say everything out loud for now. Doesn't make a difference to me, but might feel better for you. Oh, and you can mark me up if you want. Go nuts."
She seems good and ready, so this time when his hand goes down between her legs he slowly slides a finger inside her, watching her face intently. Jinx called him "Mr. Mind Explosion" once before. Even if the context was completely different then, he fully intends to earn that nickname.]
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Eh heh heh...Right, right. Uh. I guess you can kinda tell I'm a vir— Haah...!
( and a new set of pleasure electrifies up her spine with her good hand instantly on top his shoulder to grab onto. her instinct is to bite so instead of kissing his lips like she had been doing, jinx leans forward to grab on his lower lip to crunch on. again, she doesn't do it hard -- there's no blood or pain, but enough pressure for him to be aware of it. she doesn't linger for too long with it as it gets replaced with a deep kiss, moaning fully before slithering down to his neck.
her body once again acts on its own, her leg swings around to curl around his waist for an even better access for him to work with. with hot and panted breath, her tongue laps over the skin of his neck -- occasionally leaving kisses, nips and suckling hard enough to leave marks. all the while, her hand reaching a little around over to his back to drag her nails across. now with the scratches, that might be leave some pinching but she'll lighten up on that if he needs her to. )
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Ha! It must suck to be a loser without godlike tk powers. Before she moves her leg and makes this process more difficult than it needs to be, he whisks those shorts off (and her underwear too, while he's at it) with mind powers and flings them across the room. A little more dramatic than he intended, but whatever. More importantly, he has unhindered access to her body now, and he's gonna use it. He starts moving that hand, just a smidge slower than she would want him to. What's wrong with making her squirm a little, right?
"I'm in your head, you don't have to tell me."
He hums when she starts kissing his neck and tilts his chin up a bit for her, but her nails on his back get a shudder and a gasp. Oo, that's very fun.
"Come on, you can do better than that. I don't heal, but I'm not fragile."]
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but anyhow feeling just a tad bit aggressive thanks to that little comment of his, jinx tightens her grip on him with her leg and uses her body weight to roll the two of them over so he's more on top. her lips part ways from his neck but only briefly so she can hum into his ear, her words sweet with a dash of poison mixed in: )
Your funeral, Mister psychic extraordinaire.
( and with that, she digs her nails even deeper in his skin -- clawing harder from bottom to the top of his shoulder. her lips dives back into his neck, this time the bite she grants is harder too, although licks lovingly over the bite to soothe. )
'You oughta fuck me faster. I know you gotta be dyin' to hear how wet I am for you.'
( if he wants her to squirm, fine. but she'll play the game of talking dirty if she has to. )
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[The clawing at his shoulder? The bite? It's perfect. Quentin groans and shivers.
He could tease her more. See if he can make her squirm even more, if she'd beg for him, all of that good stuff. But he's all tingly and in a good mood now, so he'll be nice. Well... "nice". He does move his hand a little faster and adds a second finger, which is some definition of "nice". Specifically the definition of nice that includes working one's girlfriend up a mind-blowing orgasm.]
"Trust the process, babe. You asked me to make you feel good, right? But please, feel free to keep talkin' dirty to me. Flattery will get you everywhere."
[That bite put her ear pretty close to his mouth, so he takes the opportunity to nibble at her earlobe. Then the same time, he finds that sweet spot that made her gasp earlier and rubs it firmly with his thumb.]
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Haaah... haaah. Quentin, yes! You're... You're... ahh. Fucking me so —
( her words are getting tongue-tied and interrupted by her own moans. so she finds herself switching back and forth from thinking and speaking unintentionally. )
'— so good!'
I love it!
( and from there, jinx starts to feel something. well, she's been feeling a lot of things, but this particular arousal isn't the same yet at the same time it is. like something is building steadily with each thrust he's making to her. and her instincts are telling her she should chase it down or climb some sort of mountain to reach the top of it. jinx wants to question it, wondering if it's something she should be concern about but literally everything else had been over the top amazing, so this new thing couldn't possibly be bad. although, it is making everything tense for her more. she finds herself clinging to him tighter, rocking her hips to his hand, her pitch is getting higher (even whimpering from time to time), and very slowly her mind is hazing up with just this moment, him, and whatever this new chase is. )
Keep going, keep going. I...I need to...
( follow it. she is meant to, right? to grab onto his hand and the two of them go down this path to hunt this little thing down. )
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"Come on, Gorgeous, you're almost there. Just let go."
[And conveniently, her head being thrown back means her neck is completely open and accessible for him, so he latches onto a spot right over her collarbone with his mouth and sucks hard. That's certain to leave a mark, just like she wanted. And because there's no kill like overkill, he curls those fingers, searching for a spot that should help push her over that edge.
... He really shouldn't. He already gave her a hard time for using cheesy lines. It'd be so cliche and dumb. But... he can't resist.]
"Come for me, J."
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Fuckfuckfuck, Quentin! Something...! — It's... It's...!!
( before she could even utter another syllable, the peak sneaks up on her. her eyes widen but then shuts tight, her back arches intensely as she shouts of pleasure -- her body twitching and shivering through the huge wave. the fuzz of the orgasm spikes through her mind, filling it with haze and seeing nothing but milky-white colors. did her body die or is she still alive? it's difficult to distinguish when she's been roaming around like a corpse before. or maybe... just maybe, she's back from the dead and this is what living feels like -- with fresh flowers, blue skies, and clear waters. the weight she use to carry has been lifted and she feels so... warm and light as a feather. jinx feels so heavenly that she had forgotten where she is, how she got here, and all of her troubles. none of that seem to matter or hold any of importance. what's important is her, him, and just... this.
after a few seconds, she sinks down back to earth -- her muscles loosens as she pants with her throat stinging for water. she attempts to think, but her thoughts are broken into little fragments of things. like trying to remember her name, for example. is it "J"? "Gorgeous"? he did call her that, after all. well... who cares what her name is. what she does care about is how wonderful quentin is and just how in the fuck did she get a guy like him? can she even afford to have him? she's just some girl who lived in close to poverty back home. and he's... so fucking out of her league. one thing is for sure though, if she wasn't into quentin before... she is really into him now. damn, he's going to be her torture, isn't he? with a lot of late nights of him disturbing her work or sleep when she's by herself? ... fuck. her jinx might had jinxed her after all. )
( exhaling out a hard breath, her eyes flutter open to look up at an unrecognizable ceiling. but that's alright because she knows where she is, is somewhere safe with him. giggling quietly to herself, a lazy hand finds itself to his hair to toy with. she'll be up for round two, definitely, because she wants to return the favor. just give her a minute to recharge. )
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He opened a door for her. Showed her something wonderful she'd never experienced, and now she knows more about how good her body can feel. It's nice to have been the one to make her world a little bigger and brighter. To feel like for once he's not a screw-up.]
You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself. That was incredible, and I'm saying that as someone who was in your head.
[Okay, enough of the mushy stuff. There's plenty of that in her head — a lot of which feels way too sincere for him to want to think about it very hard. He sits up, which yes, does mean she can't mess with his hair anymore, but it was kinda making him feel like a cat anyway, and he's been propping himself up on one arm over her for the last few minutes.]
You up for more? Betcha we can hit Big O number 2. [That said, if she's too tired and he needs to go take a cold shower, he won't be too disappointed. There's always next time.]
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jinx remains silent when he asks her, casually reaching over to the hand that he used to pleasure her with. maybe it seems a little odd for her to grab his hand to just look at. but it all makes sense when she leans forwards -- running her tongue smoothly over the two fingers he used on her so she can taste herself. all the while, her eyes are lock to him when she does this, her pinks sparkle with a mischievous grin to match it. then she backs away, her head resting back on the bed as she crackles with wicked intent. does that answer his question? )
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Oh.
Oh.]
Fuck. [Aaaaand just like that any arousal he had that had cooled down is all the way back. Quentin practically dives over to the box beside his bed, rummaging around for and finally retrieving the condoms he's been keeping for emergencies.]
How do you want to do this? Got a position you wanna try? Lady's choice.
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Hey, what's that?
( maybe quentin figured this out about jinx or maybe he hadn't yet, but he's about to learn that jinx is just... a little bit behind the times when it comes to certain modern things. )
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... Condom?
[He had not figured out how behind the times Jinx is. Though now he's got an idea.]
Protection. You know. Birth control?
[Please don't make Quentin be the one to have to explain safe sex to her. That would so ruin his bad boy "screw the rules" image. He's assuming she's able to get pregnant, so....]
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Woah... — You got somethin' that'll actually stop it from happening? Is it magic or do you gotta do something to make it work?
( and as jinx gawks at it, the gears in her head are turning while she's trying to figure it out on her own how it would work. )
Wait, do I have to do something after you, y'know, splooge inside me? What do I gotta do?
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Quentin sighs, tears the wrapper open, and offers it to her to inspect for herself.]
Take a look if you want, but it's really not that complicated. I wear it, that's about it.
[...
Wait, hold on.
She didn't know about birth control. Was she planning to rawdog it...?
Uh. That's, um, that's something to unpack at some point.]
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Hm, that's it, huh? We didn't had anything like this where I'm from. ( a pause. ) — 'Less the fancy rich Topsiders had 'em all along and they were holding out on us. Wouldn't be the first time.
( and just by that explanation, quentin has gathered a few things about her. one, where she's from -- she lives lower class and maybe in poverty. and two, the rich treated the poor like scum. anyhow, she carefully hands it back to him but not without plant a quick kiss on the lips. juuuuust in case her curiosity just now dipped the mood a bit. )
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[Quentin, meanwhile, uses the time she takes to inspect the condom to finally get rid of these stupid shorts off. And when she gives it back mdash; plus a bonus kiss — he flashes her a grin and shimmies out of his boxers. It'll take a few seconds for him to get the condom set up correctly, so that means it's a perfect time to go back to what he was saying before this little detour.]
So? You never answered my question.
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Dunno... ( she coos at him ever so innocently, but her hand snaking her way to her own breast to fondle and toy with. )
There's so many I wanna do. — Maybe we can do your favorite?
( and that same hand travels down her stomach then between her thighs, doing exactly what he did before and that's inserting a single finger in. a soft yet hot breath leaves her lips when she does this -- moaning not so loud this time but gentle enough for him to catch it still. )
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Uhhhh his favorite. What's his favorite position. Does he even have one? Would he remember it right now even if he did?
You know what? Screw it. Literally. He's been pent up for so goddamn long already, she's lying down in front of him, and he doesn't care to waste any extra time repositioning. Missionary it is. But before they get to the main event, there is one acceptable delay.]
How about we start here?
[He kneels between her legs, gently pulls her hand away, and with a mischievous glitter in his eye promptly sticks that finger in his mouth exactly the way she did. That done, he leans forward to pin her wrist to the bed with one hand and with the other positions himself to start slowly pushing inside her.]
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there is a pinching feeling at first and her body behaves as it does, but she mentally tells herself to just relax and she isn't in any harm. her fingers curl and uncurl, a leg links around his waist again -- ready to thrust along with him when he is good and ready. her injured hand jinx wishes she could do something with but maybe it's better for it to just have it lie there useless. )
Quentin... You feel really good.
( almost like they're meant to fit together like this. or maybe it has more to do that she is female and he is male so therefore, biology comes into play. but it's just better to think it's because they're just meant to be. more
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[That would probably sound more obnoxious if he wasn't so breathless. He's not in her head as much as before, because feeling both sides of this would almost definitely make him lose it, but he can't help peeking a bit every so often. The idea that they're meant to be and fit together like puzzle pieces makes it over to him, and honestly? When he's all the way in, and their bodies are as close together as they can get, it's really hard to argue. Sure, that's probably just the cocktail of oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin his brain is cranking out like it's going out of style, but still. No matter the reason, the fact is right now he can't imagine another living creature in any universe fitting him as perfectly as she does, and he has to pause, resting his head on her shoulder to catch his breath for a moment.]
You're not so bad yourself.
[The cheeky smile on his face as he lifts his head is plenty of evidence that "not so bad" is an understatement, even if his entire body language didn't scream how turned on he is. And with that, he peeks into her head to make sure she's ready and bucks his hips against hers with a loud groan. Then again. He switches to telepathic communication because talking while panting is getting more difficult, punctuating his sentences with hard, if shallow, thrusts.]
"God, you're perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect."
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her eyes are shut as she moans along with him and things seem to be going according to plan. ... that is until he said that magical word in her head. her eyes fling open, not in a startle or shock, but if he is looking down at her -- the expression she wears on her face is probably the most softest and gentle he has ever seen her. or anyone has seen it for that matter (besides vi, silco, ekko, and recently some of the chosen). it's this look specifically that sets people beside themselves. they know she's dangerous, a terrorist, shows little remorse for those she killed, thrives on people's pain, and enjoys seeing cities go ablaze. but then they see this face -- and it becomes difficult to believe that a girl who appear like this would ever harm a flea. jinx is doing her damnest to not think over his words, pretend he is just saying it because it's the moment and there's no deeper meaning. but her mind is doing what it wants and it's hard not link his words with something. )
'You're strong now. Just like you've always meant to be. ... Jinx is perfect.'
( her breath catches in the mixture of her moans, leaning forward so she can meet his lips as they thrust. jinx was wanted this to be wild, hectic, and crazy... but now? now she wants this to mean something, somehow. the desire to cherish him is large, to protect him, to be there for him, care for him, and learn to lov—...like him. him, him, him, him. )
'Fuck. And you're... you're the most amazing thing I've ever had, Quentin. Please...just. Have all of me, okay? You can have me.'
( and with that being said, jinx rolls her hips deeper to him -- her other leg caressing over his hip as her head tilts back again, panting out a louder moan (if not a higher girly pitch). her hand snakes over to his back again so her nails can drag along the skin the way he likes it, his name leaves her lips every so often like he is the most important person in her world to her -- and right at this moment, he is. )
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But he's sure as hell not going to be figuring that out right now, not when every synapse in his brain is screaming at him to do what she said and "have her." Logically he doesn't know exactly what that means. Less logically he knows he wants her to hit that peak again, and he wants to be inside her when it happens. He wants to hit his peak inside her. And he wants her to keep making those noises and saying his name louder and louder until the whole goddamn universe knows who "has her".]
"Mine."
[Okay, growling that in her head is definitely too much. Dial it back a hair, Quire. The possessive boyfriend thing ain't it, even if it does scratch that lonely little itch in the back of his head, the one that says the only thing in this shitty life he'll ever have is himself. He leans his forehead against hers and releases her wrist so he can grip her thigh. Better leverage so he can start the deep, slow thrusts he hopes will drive her crazy.]
"My girl. And I'm your guy. As long as we're both here, I'm yours."
cw: being crazy lel
with their foreheads pressed together, she bites her lower lip to muffle her hysteric giggles (don't want to sound too out of her mind to have someone interrupt them) -- like she just unleashed the most massive missile she made with her own two hands. her body is burning like that horrible and disgusting city of bullshit progress back home. she can almost imagine everyone running in a frenzy while each little fancy building combusts. the sweet sweet smell of wood filling the air, and ashes showering down to land on her skin or her lightly freckled cheeks, and the sky? oh how the reds and oranges mash together like a ballroom waltz. she is his girl, he said so himself. she belongs to him, she belongs to him, she belongs to him. and she will do absolutely anything for him. she'll fight for him, stand down, or kill for him if he wishes it — whatever quentin wants, quentin will get, and she will make sure of it no matter who or what stands in her way.
jinx is so hooked up on this wild feeling that she throws her head back again, still grinning wildly and in giggles as her nails dig deeper in his skin (whether you want her to break skin is your choice). and although her other hand is useless, she forces it to lift to her mouth at least, using her own knuckle to chomp on. the way they're moving is driving her batty and she is trying to speed up the pace by bucking back harder and faster to him. )
'More, more! Please, faster. I can't handle it like this! I need so much more! I want to come again, Quentin. Please make me come again.'
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He grins wickedly down at her and pulls her thigh up from going around his hips to his ribs. Jinx is pretty flexible, right? He can make up for being weaker physically than she is with some good leverage, which he quickly takes advantage of and rocks into her a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper. It's fucking incredible, and he moans roughly and gasps her name.]
"Fuck, Jinx. I'm trying — I want you to come before me, but baby, you better hurry it up because I can't hold on much longer."
[His voice in her head is getting that husky tone again, which really shouldn't be possible considering telepathy isn't affected by physiological changes. But here we are. Honestly, he blames her. Dirty little enabler. He leans down to kiss her, immediately opening his mouth to deepen it. The pace of his hips gradually increases as he starts rambling telepathically, partly to distract himself and partly to drive her over the edge faster.]
"Next time I'm going to fuck you nice and slow. Haven't decided how. Maybe try doggy, if you're into that. It'll be so fuckin' hot, J. Can't decide if I want to see how many times I can make you come or if I wanna edge you a while."
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her shimmer blood is practically rushing through her veins, and while she isn't trying to activate anything, it's swirling so much that it seems to make everything feel ten times more intense. quentin may can sense it or feel it rather too -- her muscles tightening, her toes curling, her moans high and whimpering while she returns his heated kiss. if he wants her to race to the finish line, then she will make a run for it, just for him. she'll let him devour her if she is what he is craving for. )
'I will. For you. Only for you! I'll only come for...Oh, god. It's... Quentin, Quentin, Quentin, I'm going to....!'
( the wave smacks her harder than the previous one; her eyes shoot up with a sharp flash of pink/purple of her pupils. jinx rips her lips away from his to scream out her orgasm -- her back arching hard and her hips twitching. she holds onto him as she ducks her head quickly onto his shoulder. this is it, this has to be how her life ends... not that it'll be a bad way to go. she had always thought of it being way more gruesome than this. and if she goes out like this with him, she'll be more than okay with it. because... he has to be the one, right? is it way too early and too insane to think like that? maybe. possibly. but this damn near feels like they are meant to be together. )
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"You're doing so good, you're so close, I can feel it, come on..."
[If her muscles tightening wasn't what did him in, it was "only for you." When he told her to come for him before, it was just him enjoying a dumb cliche. But this time, it's that "only" that echoes in his head as everything else goes blank. Nothing is only for him. Everything in the world belongs to the world, and he belongs to himself, and any exchanges are clearly defined loans at best.
But this? Making Jinx see stars and scream and writhe? That's his. And for that moment of sheer bliss he lets himself believe that's true, and for once in his miserable life something won't get ripped away, and when he hits his peak, buried as deep in her as he can physically get and gasping like he can't breathe, he imagines a reality where he's the only one to ever, ever feel this. He clutches her leg with something almost like desperation and pants her name a few more times as he starts easing down from that high.
Well, it's nice to imagine, at least.]
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jinx settles back down on the mattress, muscles twitching and trembling ever so slightly from the aftermath. slumber is calling and knocking on her door, but she denies the call and refuses to answer (not yet anyway). her hold on him loosens just a smidge, but keeps quentin close to her if he needs to collapse on top of her to rest -- she wouldn't mind at all if he needs to do that. )
( but should she say something here now? what does one do after they've done the main event? if this was a quick fling like she had seen in madam babette's brothel, the customer would pay whoever and exit out to continue on with their lives. but this... is definitely not that. this is way more and jinx doesn't know the details on how to be... more. her knowledge on people only came from doing stakeouts for silco, but...intimate relationships are so much different than trying to make an example out of someone. so what in the blue-haired girl decides to do is hum gently to him instead, fingers brushing along his back delicately as she can over any marking she may left on his skin. )
...Mm, Hi.
( her throat is stinging and dying need of some water, but she can hold out just a little longer before she seeks for it. besides, moving sounds like the biggest inconvenience to her right now. what's important to make sure quentin is still alive and she isn't left with an empty husk. )
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not that there's much to compare with, but alive. The twitching in the muscles of his back as she runs her fingers over his skin should be proof enough of that, even before he shakes off enough of the haze to chuckle quietly and eventually speak.]Hello to you too.
[His voice isn't as raw as hers, but it's not in great shape.
Ugh. Okay. Time to move. Even though his entire body feels like jelly. He lets go of her leg and shifts it back lower, where she's free to move it however she likes, and he sits up just long enough to get rid of the condom and toss into the trash with a bit of telekinesis before rolling them both over.]
That's better.
[Quentin's a back sleeper, but not holding onto Jinx sounds like the worst possible thing, so this was the best option. A little extra effort, and his back stings a bit from the marks she put on him, but overall definitely worth it. Having her on top of him while they're both nice and relaxed also gives him the opportunity to check out her tattoos finally, gently tracing the highest one on her shoulder with his fingers. Except, uh... is it him or do some of these look... smudged?]
Hey, not to alarm you, but I think I fucked your tattoos off. I knew I was good, didn't know I was that good.
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she giggles softly about the mention of her tattoos smearing and she plants a soft kiss to his chest before she explains: )
Eh heh heh, they're not real. I draw 'em on me every day. They stick 'till I get wet.
( what dedication she has and it also shows despite being an engineer, an amateur scientist, jinx is artsy fartsy to the extreme. )
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Good to know. [He wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer to his side. That little kiss to his chest makes him shiver in a way that could lead to a round three, if he wasn't pretty sure she was done for the time being, if not the night. That's fine, though. Right now it feels like a meteor could blow them to bits, and he'd die happy.]
I think that'd be too much power, even for me.
[Aaaand then he promptly forgets to compliment her artistry, which is impressive. He'll realize later and make it up to her. But he does remember a different important thing, at least.]
How's the hand?
[The one she's been favoring all night, obviously.]
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'S fine. Guess I oughta find a healer tomorrow.
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But Jinx nuzzled up to him, holding her close? That doesn't bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He yawns and moves his opposite arm over to lay his hand gently over her wrist, careful to not jostle her injured hand. Yeah, this feels good. Right.]
Probably, yeah. Should— [Another yawn.] —probably be more careful.
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( she coos but giggles quietly over the fact he yawned twice in such a short span of time. it's a complicated really -- good to know she worn him out and she did pretty well for a first timer. )
A lil tip: He's made of steel. ( there's a small brief pause before she asks: ) ... Is it alright if I sleep here?
( probably a dumb question to ask, but hey, maybe the guy wants his private space again and feel more comfortable her sleeping in a different room. )
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Is it—...? I mean, yeah. Obviously yeah.
[He puts his head back down, resting his chin against the top of her head.]
You're my girlfriend. You can sleep here any time you want.
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... I've never done this. ( again, obvious since he tuned in her mind moments before and learned she was a virgin. but now he's getting just a little more details beyond the sex part. )
The whole dating shtick. No one has ever liked me this way before. People only wanted me dead, put me away, or just hated me. So this is... different.
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Feeling unwanted, though? Undesirable? That he understands. He hums thoughtfully and absently starts running his fingers through a bit of her long hair that's draped itself over her shoulder.]
... But it's good, right?
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Eh heh, yeah. Yeah it's good. I-I, uh, I know we literally just started this whole thing, but... I'm liking this.
( gosh, this is getting really mushy so fast. so jinx tries to dice up the moment with something less squishy. )
— Aaaaaaaaand I hope you're ready to be my test subject for all of my inventions. Gotta see if my trip wire is still top notch with this place having the bare minimum to work with.
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Or I can be your partner in crime, and we covertly enlist Summers as test subject.
[Wait, hold on, he's gotta be mushy for just a quick moment here. It'll be short, promise! He looks down at her, and man, if it didn't require moving from this super comfy position he'd totally kiss her again.]
Oh. And if something with me is good, you go for it, okay? Full ham, every time. No questions. Got it? I'll tell you if you're going a little overboard, but until then assume I'm game for whatever you want.
1/3
( now she isn't serious about doing that to poor wibble scott, right? he's been so kind to her thus far and he even blew things up for her that... once time she asked. although, he has been refusing to do it the other times, and he is cutting down on her fun with the locals and what not. hm hm... )
2/3
full ham every time? does he mean during sex, non-sexual things, or both? she isn't too sure but that last little bit flows through her ears the most. ' assume i'm game for whatever you want'. )
...
3/3
Whatever I want...? ( jinx echoes his words before she teases him by letting her lower lip brush against his for a split moment. and then the girl asks with a lulled tone: )
How's being my pet sound? I'll give you all the attention you need, take good care of you, and make sure you're nice and healthy. And you don't gotta worry about silly stuff like "training". You can roam around as free as you want. Just don't get into too much trouble... I can't stitch ya up every day.
( well... this took a turn now did it? )
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A devilish smirk spreads across his face as he stares back at her with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.]
Thought I said you didn't need to ask questions?
[He doesn't make any move to meet her lips even after she comes so close. A blatant challenge.]
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Sometimes people think they can eat a full buffet when they can only handle a few bites.
( jinx relaxes again and while she left his lips untouched, she does plant another small kiss to his chest. )
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[Hmm, well, he can't help feeling a little disappointed. Kissing Jinx is fun! But he watches her curiously, humming pleasantly when she kisses his chest again. It's not quite as nice as kissing her, but it's still pretty good. He tilts his head a bit, idly threading his fingers through the hair on the back of her neck, waiting to see what's next on her agenda: sleep? or whatever she means by a "full buffet."]
Do I look like "people" to you?
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( she giggles teasingly before letting out her own yawn, shutting her eyes again. she had almost forgotten what it felt like to rest next to a human body. it's definitely better than curling up next to cold metal. this is something she can so get behind. )
Text; tablet
You requested a private audience.
If you're looking for a job, there are applications at each of the three establishments I'm currently caretaking. If you're keen to discuss other matters, by all means, go on.
Text; tablet
copiumbig boy brain 4d chess!!]took you long enough.
look, let's cut the crap. you know why i want to meet you. i just think it'd be good for us to chat. you know, put faces to names, get to know each other, talk about our signs. for jinx! no reason we gotta be hostile, right? i'm a scorpio, btw.
oh, and if you're worried about meeting me because of my powers, don't sweat it. using telepathic powers on my girlfriend's dad ain't cute. not to mention you'd have to get way, waaaay farther away to be out of my range, but that's beside the point.
Text; tablet
I've already seen your face, and I know your name. And what agenda requires you to get to know me, boy? I expect you're little more than a passing phase, a dalliance of a few months before one or both of you get bored or some trivial issue causes the usual teenage romance drama to bring the roof down.
Jinx has already informed me that you use your powers on her. An interesting choice. Can you even control them?
Text; tablet
you're coming at me at like a 8, i'ma need you to take it down to at least a 5
[Damn, could this guy get more supervillain? He's one evil base inside a volcano away from Bond villain. "No, Mr. Quire, I expect you to die." Pffft.
Whatever, time to lay his cards on the table and see if he gets fucking murdered.]
first of all, let's chat telepathy, since you're so goddamn stodgy and cantankerous. to egregiously oversimplify, i can hear thoughts, and i can also alter them. yes, i could do either of those to you right now. no, you can't stop me. you don't have telepaths in your world, so your psychic defenses are probably pathetic. will i? have i? no. because again, it. ain't. cute.
second, no, i don't alter anything in jinx's head. yes, you're gonna have to trust me on that. yes, i know that's impossible for you. not my problem.
and finally, where are you seeing an agenda?? i'm a genius who controls minds, dude. explain to me what strategic value it brings me to meet some non-powered, paranoid misanthrope for lunch or whatever? there's only one reason i'm even bothering with your creepy ass, and that reason is jinx. she's cool, and i like her, and i don't give a shit how long we last because the future is fucked and life is meaningless, so i may as well try to make my girlfriend happy.
Text; tablet
[This was nothing that Silco hadn't heard or dealt with before. Many a man had come at him with a superiority complex rubbing in their higher intellect, their powers, their physicality. It wasn't new; if anything, he was almost disappointed the boy didn't bring something worthwhile to the table.
In the end, all of those men who had acted this way were either owned by him or dead. He'd start with one for this boy and potentially move to the other. For Jinx.
It was good to know how dangerous the boy was to him, to his daughter, to this place.]
Why would I trust you on anything? I don't know you, aside from the gasbagging that you've endeavored to lob my way. It's not impressive, boy, quite the opposite.
Everyone has an agenda, personal or otherwise. After all, you even named yours, invalidating your previous point. Jinx is the only reason that we are having this conversation, as I consider you dangerous, especially with the way that this place has shown to operate. Pardon my caution, boy.
Text; tablet
[Okay, so maybe not the best strategy for... whatever he was trying to do here. Being friends with Silco? Lol no. A truce? Reluctant peace due to a common goal? Honestly, bad strategy for literally any of those. This is definitely what Jinx was avoiding by not introducing them. Oh, well! Better to have everything out in the open. Quentin may not win any awards for diplomacy, but he sure as hell isn't underhanded.]
once upon a time i'd have done the whole "yeah you should be scared, i'm your worst nightmare, welcome to my twisted mind" shtick. but these days? eh. it's played out. boring. i'm bored of you people always being scared. look at you. all i had to do was exist, and you scurried off into your dark little hole to mutter about how i'm the threat when all i've done is be honest. i told you about my powers. i didn't have to, and now you have a heads up you didn't before. you're welcome. i said i didn't have agenda, and i don't. SPOILERS: wanting to make my girlfriend happy is not an agenda. it's basic boyfriend shit. i shouldn't even have to explain that.
but whatever, we can go round and round in circles for days about all this crap. what i really want to know is this: do you actually give a shit about jinx or do you just like having an obedient little weapon? honest answers only.
Re: Text; tablet
Both had a potential to be true, or it could be combination of both.]
A suggestion, boy: when trying to make your point, try to limit your use of the word 'you'. It puts the other side in a defensive position as it all sounds like an accusation. The insults aren't assisting in your case of ingratiating me to feeling the need to meet you either.
Are you capable of making Jinx happy, do you think? Is she capable of making you happy, I wonder?
You've been in Jinx's mind. What do you think my intentions are?
[He expected her perception of him was skewed, of course. Shimmer may have saved her life, but it twisted her paranoia about most people's intentions back then. She was better about it now, of course.]
Text; tablet
i was going to add on to that, but you know what? no. that's it. just don't be an asshole. i didn't do shit to you. you started beef. asshole behavior tbh.
wait no hold on, i thought of something else.
if someone asks you "are you a decent person or the literal worst?" and you don't answer, guess what?
you answered.
hope that helps.
Text; tablet
I know what I am, boy. Off you go.
action; sometime during the festival idk
Or Quentin can come bother him in his room when Scott hasn't emerged from it for hours.]
TEXT
LISTED CRIME: VANDALISM
The Council has selected you for sentencing to atone for the above-listed crime. You are directed to turn yourself in within two (2) hours of receiving this message, or you will be forcibly detained. You are to meet the Council's representative outside of City Hall in order to respond to this summons.
Respectfully,
Jerry
text
ok shitface
where are you
we've gotta talk
text
text
I'll find your sorry ass either way
it's just a matter of whether you wanna piss me off more or not
text
hey remind me, why do we have beef? drawing a blank over here
text
about you ditching a certain girl, leaving her hanging for months, and then showing up without so much as an apology
text
look buddy i'm sure jinx would appreciate the whole "chivalry isn't dead" shtick but you're coming off kinda desperate. if you wanna ask her out then ask her. seems like she's pretty pissed at me and i'm not about being a third wheel.
text (1/2)
text (2/2)
I don't wanna hook up with her!!
the fuck is wrong with you
text
1) i didn't say "hook up with her" i said "ask her out." that's a venn diagram, not a circle, you troglodyte.
2) you were the one simping pal
3) the fuck is wrong with dating jinx???
text
2. I'M NOT
3. nothing??? just not my thing
wait a minute, why am I the one making excuses here?? you should be the one explaining yourself, not me!!
text
text
can you even read, dumbass?
text
read between the lines
[You're too easy, Ragna!!]
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change of plans
screw talking, once I find you, I'm kicking your teeth in
AND you still owe her an apology
[ Since they got, uh, a little sidetracked. ]
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okay okay. no more jokes. time for real talk.
with respect? mind your own damn business. jinx is a big girl, and you're not doing her any favors being her white-knighting little attack dog.
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let's just keep it simple, then
if you ever hurt her again, I'll rip your goddamn limbs off
got it?
(AUDIO); CHARM
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those were the plans, either way. he doesn't knock, instead, his slurred accent hits the door as we calls out:)
Summers, open up. We're gonna ride in the forest. Summeeeeeeeeers. Summers.
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Going downstairs and actually telling this dude to buzz off is honestly far too much trouble, but fortunately Quentin has superpowers. So instead of an answer, Mikey will just see text made of glowing pink energy appear in front of him on the door.]
NO SOLICITATIONS
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but that sets him off a little bit. certainly, it isn't scott, as far as he knows the other wouldn't just send him off like that. well. foot to the door, let's hope he isn't busy, and he'll come in. thankfully, no real damage to the door other than unscrewing it from the fame.)
Fuck off. Summers, you home?
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Uuuuuugh.
Quentin comes down the stairs just enough to peer over the railing at what's going on, and it turns out "what's going on" is... the door kicked onto the floor by the moron who apparently can't read.]
Wha—are you serious? Did you just kick down my fucking door??
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(yeah, he's gonna have to text scott real quick, because what in the actual shit? he's never seen this one, never heard of this one (allegedly). for now, there's a gesture of 'talk to the hand' while he solves this!!!)
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What????]
Who the fuck are you? Don't you—hey! Hey!
[Oh, this guy is not giving him the "talk to the hand." No way. Fuck off with that.
Quentin reaches out his arm, and the same pink glowing energy from the door surrounds Mikey's tablet and yanks it out of his hands, and with a sweeping gesture Quentin sends it flying out the open door to god knows where.]
Don't ignore me!
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Wow, who cares about who I am? You're a bitch.
(so, calmly, he's picking up the door to put it roughly back in place, kicking it open, getting his phone, and coming back.)
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Then he gets a thought. One of those intrusive thoughts you're not supposed to listen to. The instinct that sees a big red button and needs to push it just to see what happens.
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. He's an X-Man now! A hero! He saved the world last month... maybe... possibly. He tried, at least.
Then again, maybe that means he deserves to treat himself. Hmm...
By the time Mikey comes back, Quentin is sitting on the steps about halfway down, looking mildly bored. He lifts his hand without a word... and yeets the tablet out the door again. It's for science, he swears!]
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he's not even going to bother putting the door back in. he'll just wait till scott is home to take this person right back to the junkyard. or bitchtown. wherever. so, watch him find a couch, and close his eyes.)
You should go get it, since your bitch ass threw it.
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Eh.
Not as much fun as he thought it would be.
Ah, well.
Quentin does telekinetically retrieve the tablet—and put the door back—and toss it on the floor next to the little twerp's couch. Because he's a nice guy like that. But mostly because he was already on his way to the kitchen to grab a candy bar. Which he does! And then stands idly between the kitchen and the couch and munches on his candy.]
So. Got a name? I mean if you're gonna barge into my house without an invitation.
text | un: user010102
You doing okay?
text | un: omega
did summers tell you??? little twerp
it's fine just annoying af
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Define "annoying af," please.
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/ əˈnɔɪ.ɪŋ /
adj. causing vexation or irritation : causing annoyance
af
/ ˈeɪˈɛf, æf /
(informal, offensive) as fuck : used, for example on social media and in text messages, for emphasizing something
[He didn't even look this up. He just knows this shit off the top of his head.]
example: it's annoying af that i spent so much trying to keep it from breaking out and now it's locked itself in
example: if spock finds out it's going to be annoying af for me to deal with his smug face
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[ Root does know what "annoying af" means, she just wanted to know what Quentin meant by saying it in this case. Which she does get. ]
Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. 🤐 I'd rather as few people knew about it as possible.
Can't speak for Scotty, though.
What kind of affects are you feeling from losing access?
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i'm feeling annoyance
i have repressed memories that i can't unrepress. that's not supposed to happen to me.
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Are these your own memories? Like... something extra got locked up with the copy of the code?
it physically hurt me to write l33t speak in the year of our lord 2k24
so am i. except my l33t hax0r skillz apply to squishy brainmeat, not just computers.
i copied a massive dataset to a special quarantined drive. now the drive is giving me a big ole (Not Responding).
make sense?
this is your character
[ She really, really has to know. ]
Sure. Except brains aren't actually that much like computers. What does this mean, you feel like you're processing slowly?
it's true, i chose this fate
and to answer your question, yes, i've done my fair share of regular non-brain hacking in my day. you know, wired money from high-security government espionage organizations to off-planet bank accounts, forged social security numbers to take out credit cards in my old teacher's name, sold fake ids out of my dorm room. the usual stuff.
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[ Root's not doubting him, she's just intrigued by his weird mutant thing. ]
Quentin. You're already one of my favorite people here. You're going to start embarrassing everyone else in comparison if you don't tone it down.
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as if any of these nobodies ever had a chance of being comparable to me. i am, by definition, peerless. [Except there's a second Omega level telepath, but we're not talking about Jean Grey.]
no subject
Saying you're peerless makes it seem like you wouldn't play "never have I ever" with me 😥
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oh and "never have i ever" with mutants tends to be really boring, really depressing, or both. not sure if that's a plus or a minus for you.
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One way to represent this is called the Chinese room argument. If you sat in a closed room and received Chinese characters on slips of paper under the door and processed them according to an algorithm, that would be computing. You could do it correctly 100% of the time following the provided algorithm, but you wouldn't truly understand Chinese.
The truth is, A.I. are not people. It makes people feel better to see themselves in it, like seeing faces everywhere, but we're ascribing our own bias to a system that doesn't need it. #letcomputersbecomputers
Is that a no on "never have I ever"? I'll take any other silly party game, too.
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pulling out the searle on me, huh? a classic.
okay, riddle me this: how do you know you, the "real person" in this little thought experiment, determine what it means to truly understand chinese? say you're fluent in french. you're processing sounds or shapes that have been given arbitrary but commonly accepted meaning (words), and you know the commonly accepted meaning because you've acquired the dataset necessary to do so (vocabulary, grammar). sure, your brain uses a more advanced algorithm than your average supercomputer, but it's still an algorithm.
the real difference between "computers" and "people" is pretty much anybody can see the algorithms computers use. some of them, like you, can read the code, rewrite it, change directives, all that jazz. that makes it feel logical. understandable. you know how it works, and there's safety in that. perfectly reasonable. but telepaths? we see the algorithms in what you would call "people." in any system that works similarly enough to the standard definition of a living brain, actually. we can't not see it.
in short, A.I. don't feel like people to you because you can control them. and that's the tea, sis.
oh, and side note: i'm killer at charades. [He may or may not cheat at charades.
Spoilers: he definitely cheats at charades.]no subject
That's what most people think, but it's not what I think. I want to set her free, like the Machine is free. I don't want to be able to control her and I don't want anyone else to. We might make them in our image, but they don't have to stay that way. They have the potential to be something more -- and we shouldn't limit them.
Boo, I bet you're no fun at charades. Okay, I got it -- old NES games. I know someone has one around here, at the dojo.
no subject
so you're full on board the "professional hater of carbon-based life" train, eh? gotcha.
hate to break it to you, but in my experience there still isn't anything "more" about an A.I. compared to an organic brain. see, right now i've got our mutual friend's memories stashed away in my head. my very organic head. one application of lockean memory theory later, we must conclude that she's in my head, yes? i mean that is why i locked those memories away. i'd very much like to still be me, thanks very much. but that does beg the question: how long does she have to be in a decidedly non-synthetic shell before she stops counting as "artificial" intelligence? and does that make a difference? in general, but specifically to you.
also, isn't that dojo run by that kid micah? mikey? something like that. dude broke down my door and called me a bitch. out of pocket behavior tbh.
no subject
I guess it doesn't matter, in the end. If the Machine took on an organic body I wouldn't be any less devoted to her. She's earned it. But she would be less effective, and it's not who she's meant to be.
But were you being a bitch, Mr. Quire?
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i mean, except me, obviously.
never met this machine lady so i will reserve judgment
and i was eating a sandwich soooooooooo
no subject
Were you bitchily eating a sandwich?
no subject
well i was home alone so kind of a "if a tree falls in the forest" situation.
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Okay. I will get us our own retro game console. So you don't have to face the scary dojo boy. 😥
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har-dee har. did you miss the part where "scary dojo boy" kicked down my door? that's unhinged. pun intended.
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Please, break out your tiniest violin and serenade me. I know you can give as good as you get, or better.
[ Somebody sure did take the lesson on "omega-level telepath" seriously! ]
no subject
just because i can doesn't mean i should have to. it's called decency.
no subject
[ Or to Shaw, for that matter. ]
Oh, you care about decency? I'm going to crush you at old video games in the privacy of Charles's apartment 😜
action;
the bluenette wouldn't mind continuing with the cleanliness, doing so practically became a daily routine for her now. but with this particular mission, she will be gone for several weeks, and anything could happen to that treehouse within that timeframe. and with quentin being in aldrip again, it would make a lot more sense to hand it back over. he did built the place, after all, and she knows the silence of the forest can help him with the constant thoughts that flow around the city.
and although jinx had rehearsed this exact moment in her head countless times, the crow continues to perch on a tree branch with her eyes fixating apprehensively over scott's home. just when was the last time she visited this place anyway? ... she can't seem to recall, and just observing the residence like this feels like she went back in time somehow. the teenager works her lips for a moment before she huffs out a frustrating groan, forcing her body to evacuate out of the tree, and paces her way to the home. this needs to get done, she has a job to do, and she can't just hide away and waste time.]
[she thinks that, but when she meets face to face with the front door, the anxiety swells in her throat again. so this is it. he is right behind this door... or maybe there's an off chance scott will answer, and she can hand him the key, then bolt out of there. ... but that's cowardly, and jinx is not a chicken. all she has to remember is to stick to the plan, say what she needs to say, and keep her mind racing through unimportant things. not that quentin would enter or read her mind without permission, but... she wants this to go as smooth as possible. adjusting her strap bag, she taps the front door with her knuckle, a little diddy kind of knock before she casts her gaze elsewhere in her surroundings, then down to her boots to kick a rock or two. just... anything to keep her busy while she waits for an answer.]
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While the Quentin Quire who opens the door looks more or less the same as he did when he left Aldrip, there are some notable differences. He's older, for one thing, though only visibly by a couple of years. Thanks to Krakoan resurrection, his hair is now permanently pink, and as a result it's his natural wavy texture and not so closely shaved on the sides. He looks mildly disgruntled—because he is—and starts talking before the door is even fully open.]
Look, I don't know which one of the other ones you're looking for, but none of them are home right now. Come back later.
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Wait, Quentin, I'm here for you! [that might come off a little strange, so she adds:] — I mean, I have something that belongs to you. I'll be quick, I promise.
[because the quicker, the better, right?]
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One of the people I knew the first time I was here, I assume?
[He puts his hands up, palms forward in a disarming gesture.]
Look, I don't remember anything from then. I mean, I could download your memories, sure, but mine are gone. Just FYI.
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[jinx clears her throat in an attempt to bring all this back to why she's here in the first place, and she shakes her head in a way to get her mind straight.]
But, no, you don't have to do all that. It's... It's not that important, but uh — I just came by to give you this.
[with that, she fishes in her back pocket to reveal a key — extending it out to him with open palm.]
This is yours. There's a treehouse in the forest you built a long while ago. I've been keeping it clean while you were gone.
[anxiously, she smiles and flickers her gaze off to the door frame than his face. maybe it'll be easier if she doesn't give him direct eye contact.]
When I saw you were back, I went ahead and, uh, moved my junk out. Thought you might want it back since... it's quiet out there and, I know... hearing all of us in your head can get wicked annoying.
[that should be enough explaining, right? one would think so, but she can't seem to stop herself from talking.]
There's food in the fridge, and I installed a heating unit in there, too. 'Cause, boy! It's been a REAL killer staying in there with the weather and crap. Eh heh heh...
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What did you do this time, Quire??
He looks at the key in her hand and back up to her face.]
Right. So let me get this straight. There's a treehouse somewhere in the forest that you've been living in and maintaining and upgrading for some unspecified but seemingly significant amount of time... but supposedly this thing is mine. Because I apparently built it. Even though I don't remember doing so. Do I have that right?
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Headshot and a bullseye, mister! — The place was originally yours, and I used to stop by a few times.
[as to why she did so, jinx will keep her silence for as long as she can about it, and she may be stretching the truth just a little. it wasn't just his, but it was theirs. but he might need it more than her right? although given his reaction so far, she wonders if he feels she is just some kooky girl, or she's trying to lure him some weird trap. jinx wouldn't blame him for thinking either of these possibilities.]
It's got pretty sweet digs, and besides, you've got to be tired of puking your guts out over the love birds every night. Unless that doesn't bother you, I can hardly stand an hour with how cutesy they get.
text, un: hawkeye
( in truth, this is mostly a check-in now that everything's working again and quote-unquote back to normal, but he's disinclined to say that it's a check-in because—
quentin. and it's not like they know each other like that. )
on a scale of 1 to just a day in the life, how often does things like "world plunging into darkness" happen here?
text, un: omega
idk, the regular amount? the coffins are new. probably some kind of bullshit to teach us about inner turmoil and atonement etc blah blah blah
hey barton how's your sleight of hand? i was hella bored with the power out. thought i'd pick up a new hobby for shits and giggles.
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his question that manages to both be annoying and insulting all at once. )
you're asking the carnie how's his sleight of hand, quentin? really?
( please. he defeated an elder of the universe with ""sleight of hand"". everyone in the avengers knows he cheats at anything if he thinks he can get away with it. )
next you're gonna ask if I know how to pick locks.
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also i'm pretty sure the last time you were in a circus was like before i was even born so maybe jot that down before you @ me.
[That's right, Clint, your punishment for the crime of... being annoyed at Quentin's overtly annoying question is to feel old. That'll teach you!]
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2. no
I was 19. I'm not THAT old.
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oh hey guess we were both 19 when we joined avengers teams. twinsies. ❤️
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you know steve never signed off on the team, right? guy was fuming about your reality tv show angle.
( says man who quit the avengers for the thunderbolts and got mad because steve wouldn't... sign off... on it... )
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really? playing the "cap disapproves" card? why do you hate happiness, barton? and fun? and joy? i had higher hopes for you, and look! my hopes are crushed now. 💀 dashed upon the rocks of life's brutal shores.
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you're not that special.
being an avenger features a lot of "steve is unhappy with your choices", I'm just breaking you in.
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good thing i'm not a "real avenger" then huh? also nice self-report lol
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how many non-mutants did you work with before you agreed to join kate's team?
( he has a point with the question, but he's going to need quentin to answer it first. it's not the point he was originally going to make (that was mostly 'quentin, you're annoying, but you're not uniquely annoying', but now that quentin's opened the door—.
he's going elsewhere with it. )
??
my first couple years was pretty much JUST me arguing with cap, this isn't news, quire.
and you don't get to be a better person who makes better choices without disappointing someone who IS better than you a couple times.
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[Quentin knows Clint isn't dumb enough to not see through that. It's one of the single most transparent answers of all time.
He's also not about to just openly admit that prior to joining Kate's team he had only worked with anyone—mutant or otherwise—in a capacity that involved the word "technically." Meaning he got pulled off the bench occasionally when there was a need for a powerful psychic and none of the preferable options were available. Sure, Quentin's grown up a lot since then, but there's a limit to how much of his pride you can reasonably expect him to swallow, okay! Telling Hawkeye of all people about Quentin's long and pathetic history of being an abysmal failure? No way. Barton would hold that over his head until the heat-death of the universe. And probably even after that, honestly.]
that had better not be your roundabout way of saying you're disappointed in me barton i stg. [
speaking of self-report] all i did was ask if you knew any dumb card tricks jfcno subject
( but whatever he types out next doesn't get sent before he deletes it. clint isn't unaware enough to not realise what quentin's essentially just admitted, but it takes a moment for it to register.
he could call him out on it, but it wouldn't necessarily be productive.
(he knows how he'd have reacted.)
but still— )
you want me to tell you I'm proud instead?
I play poker, quire. I know card "tricks".
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[He's counting that whole thing when he was psychically shielding people from Red Onslaught, and nobody can stop him. Sorry not sorry.]
hilarious.
also why do you only know sketchy shit? aren't you a superhero??
you can pick locks, steal wallets, and cheat at poker, but what, the classic french drop is beneath you? smh
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( NOW you've ruined the point he was going to make, thank you. )
what?
carson's wasn't exactly a family-friendly circus made up of law-abiding citizens.
and I know you know I've got a record from before I joined the avengers. the public and press made enough of a big deal about how a carnie thief and two "terrorists" weren't avengers material.
people on the internet have really hung onto that, too.
( does clint google himself? of course he fucking does. )
and, yeah, well, the number of people who find card tricks impressive is kinda thin on the ground and I had ( ... ) different priorities.
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oh boo hoo "i'm clint barton i was a petty criminal like a billion years ago and have the world's biggest chip on my shoulder about it. won't someone persecute me so i can justify being a cranky bastard all the time?" [Not that he can relate or anything...]
buddy have you met the x-men? we're a bunch of circus freaks minus the circus. there's more of us with criminal records than without, and believe me that's the understatement of the century. you know who's on my team? juggernaut. not to mention magneto, psylocke, magik. i could go on. hell, i'm a wanted terrorist.
face it pal, you're a goody-goody just like the rest of you avengers types. [he says, having actually had a conversation with like... 5 "avengers types".] so maybe unclench for like two seconds??
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you are aware you asked the question, right?
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why do i care that you're good at stealing or weighing down milk bottles or any of your other carnie shit?
whatever. point is you have a weird affinity for one specific thing but inexplicably only use it for shooting arrows or crime apparently. and also you're boring at parties.
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I got a whole thing about how using a bow and arrow's like mailing a handwritten letter, but somehow I don't think you're gonna be interested in that.
you don't know what I'm like at parties, kiddo.
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See, a normal person would've just asked "hey, you're better at this skill than I am, can you help me with this new hobby I thought would be fun?" and then moved on when the answer was no. It's so easy! No arguments, no misunderstandings, no time wasted. None of... whatever the hell is going on here. But nooooooo.
Uuuuugh, Quire, why do you always do this to yourself? Answer: because you're an irrepressible, unmitigated fuck-up. And a try-hard. And an edgelord. Damn it.
... Alright. Fine. Time to grow up and try to salvage what he can of this mess. Fuck.]
try me. your whole "handwritten letter" crap, i mean.
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and so his reluctance isn't because he's embarrassed — for the most part, clint doesn't really do embarrassment — but because it's not a natural part of a conversation. it's gonna sound weird. )
we really need to work on your interpersonal skills.
( pot, kettle. )
have you ever tried shooting? by that, I mean anything.
cause my problem with guns ( not his only problem, but a problem, ) is that anyone can use them. it's just point and click. or point and squeeze, or whatever.
you don't need to think about it, the gun does all the work for you, so there's no real accountability for the shot. not from beginning to end.
with a bow, it's all deliberate. you're not gonna hit anyone or anything if your breathing's off, if you don't take the time to anticipate your target. as soon as the string's drawn back, whatever your shot does is on you. whatever it hits is wherever I've decided it's gonna hit.
personal responsibility.
so, it's the difference between an email and a handwritten letter.
I like people knowing that every shot is basically me going "this is exactly what I meant to do, hugs and kisses, Hawkeye".
there's nothing "inexplicable" about it.
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[Okay, Barton is really, really lucky Quentin actually likes him, because reading all that? It's rough. He's instantly and painfully bored, but since he did (regrettably?) ask, he does at least try to wrap his head around why anyone would intentionally use what his own explanation admits is a vastly less efficient way of accomplishing a task. If it's truly that precise using a bow—which Quentin has to assume it must be, having never picked up one of the damn things in his life—to the point where breathing differently fucks the whole shot up, then... what's the point? Just seems like statistically you'd miss more than you hit.
... Then again, Clint doesn't seem to ever really miss. Which honestly, Quentin just chalked up to a natural aptitude for spatial awareness and never missing arm day in like 30 years. Not like... some deep aspirational philosophy or something.
Man. See, this is why he normally just uses telepathy whenever he needs to understand a different perspective. Way easier.]
yyyyeah i mostly use psychic weapons so. not sure how that works into your metaphor. i mean i don't exactly have to aim but that's just because the whole kit and kaboodle is, you know, a part of me and stuff.
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but in the rest of it, he's not wrong. it'd started as a means to be useful, to have something to do other than shovelling elephant shit and helping to fix rides. it'd been something to do that also made him feel wanted, even if neither jacques not chisholm had been quite the father figures he'd been hoping for.
the "it makes a point" of it all had come later. )
it doesn't, quire. you being able to do what you can do because it's you isn't the same thing.
but it's not like I really give two seconds thinking about why thor uses a hammer, or tony decides to dress up as a tin can.
my choice is my choice, is mostly what it comes down to.
plus there's just something really funny about kicking some bad guy's ass with some string and wood.
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see now you should have led with that, not all this personal responsibility crap. spite is always a motivation i can get behind.
[Sure, Quentin does understand that Barton isn't entirely motivated by spite. But he likes that explanation better, so it's what he's going with.]
oh right guess i should tell you about the ai in my brain at some point
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the WHAT
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well, didn't go exactly as planned, and now i've got a copy of its memories stuck in my head with nowhere to put it. also i can't access them. not ideal, but not the worst thing.
i just remembered it because you were rambling about "personal responsibility" and crap.
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so... you're an external hard drive, is what you're saying, only without the right admin privileges to access the questionable folder you've just downloaded from a questionable website and we've just gotta hope it doesn't install anything weird on you.
but with the positive spin of 'if something goes wrong with the ai, you can maybe kind of fix it'? like a data restore or whatever.
( does clint do computers? not really. )
how does the ai feel about all of this?
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if you must know the whole system was going to shit, and the only way to fix it was to do a hard reset that would wipe the old ai's memories. in layman's terms, kill it. i figured hey, doing really stupid shit to save the tragic asshole of the week is what bleeding heart superhero types do, right? so i downloaded a backup of its mind to do a full restore after the reset.
but then the fucking access terminals disappeared. guess new baby ai doesn't want its old memories back. and old ai is... hiding or something. thing is there shouldn't be any part of my mind i can't access, and yes, obviously i set up all kinds of security to keep it from, in your words, "installing anything weird on me". but now the damn thing won't come out. you don't build a hulk containment facility planning for him to lock himself in, you know?
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let's not talk about what people do to try and stop bruce, please. that's a shitty comparison.
( given, you know, clint did kill bruce and he did undergo a murder trial for it. given clint absolutely, completely hates himself for agreeing to do it in the first place. )
anyway, precisely none of what you've said makes me feel good about any of this.
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2. a shitty comparison for you to make, maybe. but i'm a fellow walking wmd. if you don't think there's just as much containment crap for qq as there is for big green i got a bridge to sell ya.
3. it's not supposed to make you feel good. but hey, if something goes tits up at least you'll know why, right?
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2. ALSO not what I meant. but for what it's worth, if you don't think I've got an arrow for every person I work with, you've got another think coming.
3. yay knowledge
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[Look, death by arrow is one of the very, very few ways he hasn't died.]
also 1. speaking from experience, no, they definitely do not. your brain smells like a day old grilled cheese, in case you were wondering
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and telling you would INCREDIBLY defeat the point.
I wasn't, thank you.
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hmmm is it psychic dampener arrows? i bet it's psychic dampener arrows
bishop's mind smells kinda like popcorn btw. you'd think it'd be the opposite, what with the whole carnie thing, but nope.
wait is she also a carnie?? but like... from a nicer circus????
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( —mostly. 99% of the time. )
I'm gonna let you ask kate that to her face, and I'm not gonna do a single thing when she punches you.
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is that what you avengers do when you're bored? just a little casual platonic arrow-shooting amongst friends?
hey so question: is being sulky and uptight like a prerequisite for being an arrow person or is it a consequence?
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on the naughty step, whatever.
NOT killing.
...yeah, okay, we can call ( ... ) training 'platonic arrow shooting' if you want.
sure a way of putting it though.
I'm not uptight.
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sooo i was right about psychic dampener arrows
[And then there's a much more suspicious pause before his next message.]
just to be clear i don't make a habit of killing people either. in case there was any confusion. there shouldn't be. but. you know.
i talk a lot of shit. i know it, you know it. it's whatever. doesn't make me a psycho. we gucci? great, good talk.
and you are uptight
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( a pause of his own here, one punctuated with a series of
look, it's generally not what a person chooses to do that's the problem.
but for the record, I don't make it a habit of working with anyone I think's a psycho.
you and I are working with very different definitions of 'uptight'.
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anyway, where was i? oh right. you being uptight.
exhibit a: you don't know any card tricks
exhibit b: you're being cagey af about having anti-telepath arrows. dude everybody and their dog has that shit these days. telepaths are weird and scary and nobody likes us yadda yadda. yawn. that's old news. you don't have to be weird about it.
also there were evil doppelgangers running around this place literally last week so you know. relevant.
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I know card tricks! I just don't know card "tricks". which honestly just says I had a slightly more interesting, less lonely teenage experience than whatever would've led to me knowing how to guess what card someone's just picked out a pack.
could probably figure something out since you're so goddamned hung up on it though.
...do you just take someone not telling you what you want to know as someone being weird and uptight? cause there's DEFINITELY another word we could use for that, and it's not one that describes me.
mine was just an asshole, I dunno if I'd go so far as to say 'evil'.
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ugh i'm not "hung up" on anything
it was a dumb bit, okay? just forget it. christ on a stick.
i like knowing things. it's kinda my whole deal? sue me. if you were a mutant i'd have already read your mind, but you're not. this is me being courteous.
well i didn't get one. but if i did he'd probably be evil. that'd be my luck. and in that situation i do in fact recommend the "merciless slaughter" route. wasn't kidding about the wmd thing, in case that wasn't clear.
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if you want me to teach you how to cheat at poker, I can teach you how to cheat at poker.
makes for some fun games with ben and logan.
ha, we both know there's nothing in my mind you really wanna see.
( is it your luck talking, quentin, or is it your self-perception. )
alright, let me just change my entire perspective on murder because quentin quire says so.
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right because i'm sure all of logan's poker buddies will be lining up to add me to their game nights.
eh, if you're offering. i mean, using my powers is way more effective, but at a certain point it's almost too easy, you know?
[And it has nothing to do with wanting to hang out with the only person here who isn't a version of someone he knows.]
you keep saying that. but see, i love me some dirty mental laundry. i'm sure you've got a couple of dumpster fires in there i could get a good chuckle out of.
hey buddy you do you. i'm just sayin if i woke up evil tomorrow or a version of me popped out of the ether who's even more petty and vindictive? first thing i'd do is make you forget how to aim. well, maybe not first. but top five at least.
i've met my evil clone before, and sometimes it's just more humane to give someone the old yeller treatment behind the shed out back
[... So yeah, obviously "luck" talking, and not that other thing. Obviously!]
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( (and also he never has money, which is a little rich coming from clint, but—.)
so, yeah, that's a no. )
you can make your own little poker game.
and no, I wouldn't know, but you and I both know there's a chance you're gonna have to do something without your powers at some point in your life. relying on one thing and one thing alone's just setting yourself up for failure, and I don't for a second believe you're not a guy that doesn't like to have some surprises in his back pocket.
( WHY are you like this— )
yeah, well, that's because I'm a divorced man in his thirties. explore away, kiddo, just don't say I didn't warn you.
I had to deal with going blind once. "I'd make you forget how to aim" isn't the threat you think it is.
but for the rest of it: nah. that's really not my style. most every time, there's a better way.
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uh, excuse you, i can manage perfectly fine without my powers. i've done... stuff. before. hacking, building, cool shit. i'm a little rusty is all! give me a break, there wasn't exactly a ton of normie crap on krakoa.
[No comment on how the fact that Krakoa fell literally proves Clint's point. Quentin's going to just move right along to... whatever shit Barton is rambling about in those last three lines. That's it? He just... doesn't give a fuck? Just says "yeah, go rifle through my brain, turn evil, fuck me up bro" and then sits back all nonchalant with his arbitrary moral rules and misguided optimism like an omega level telepath is the same as some basic bitch street-level psychic? Who does that?
... Well. A guy with no powers, probably. Magnitudes of power don't mean as much when you've got nothing, do they? Maybe for Barton the omega level mutant and the street level enhanced thug are the same. Because ultimately they're all infinitely more powered than he is. It's multiplying by zero.
Hmm.]
you're a dumbass, barton.
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except katie.
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also doesn't she hate when you call her katie?
[Was that?? A compliment???
Look, something about that epiphany deflated some of the piss-and-vinegar attitude Quentin carries around more often than not, and he very much does not intend to dissect why. It'd probably have to do with feeling normal for once or there being an adult in his life who doesn't treat him like he's the world's biggest disappointment or some sentimental bullcrap like that and... no. Nope. Not unpacking that trauma. Not today, maybe not ever, and definitely not because of Clint Barton.]
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( ignoring the fact that there's every chance, every likelihood that he won't live to old age. probably won't even get to retire.
(would he want to—?) )
yes, she does.
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look the point i was trying to make is being a dumbass clearly works for you considering you've miraculously managed to survive to the ripe old status of "divorced man in his thirties" despite all of the numerous obvious reasons you shouldn't. if you want to take that as a compliment be my guest. or don't. i'm not your boss.
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try being funny next time.
( although 'survive' is completely debatable given he's died a few times — sure, he's been brought back, but. )
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wow you really got me with that one. how will i ever recover.
you know what? compliment rescinded. eat shit and die.
( in person )
boy bandmutant house and stands on the sidewalk. She's cutely holding hands with Shaw, who's about half a foot shorter than her, and in Shaw's other hand is a leather leash leading to a dog, a sleek Belgian Malinois. ]One second, I can see if he's here.
[ She means telepathically, of course. She proceeds to think loudly but not too loudly, tone like she's calling into the house. ]
Quentin! You here? I brought a friend. Please stay out her head, though 🤞
[ Can you think in emojis? Root's gonna try! ]
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What are you waiting for, my permission?
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bed-rottingpersonal time.]Is the friend the human or the dog?
[It's an important question.]
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I guess if we're being technical, the friend is the dog and the human is my beloved ✨
[ There's a depth of affection and wonder behind the word that merits the sparkle. Meanwhile, Root gives her beloved a look like she knows she can figure it out. ]
Telepath, remember? No need to barge in.
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Yeah, but you're not. Does this mean he can read my mind, too? Can he hear me thinking that telepathy is invasive and lame?
[She is, in fact, not actually thinking that, though really only because she doesn't have much of an inner monologue.]
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Beloved, huh? Okay, color me intrigued. Oh, and tell her yes, it's invasive, and no, it's absolutely not lame.
[No, he isn't actually digging around in Shaw's head, but a) he can hear her through Root's ears, and b) they're literally standing outside his house, and he can in fact just hear stuff outside.]
Fine, fine, come on in. I'll be down in a sec. Mi casa, su casa, and all that jazz.
[The front door faintly glows pink for a moment and opens seemingly on its own. Telekinesis is handy when you're lazy.]
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[ Root hasn't seen his telekinesis before and she finds the faint pink glow absolutely charming. She marches forward to the open door without delay, assuming Shaw and Bear will follow and talking over her shoulder. ]
He could, but I asked him to stay out of your head. I wasn't sure your ongoing existential crisis could bear it.
[ She sounds doting and sweet, which means she is absolutely talking shit at Shaw. But she's also simultaneously being thoughtful enough to caution against said mind-reading and possible furthering of her existential crisis. ]
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You're talking like this to a veteran with PTSD?
[She retorts, as they head through the front door of a place that, if the weird glow is any indication, may or may not be an evil villain's lair. Good thing she has her trusty partner with her for backup (that trusty partner is Bear). ]
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Alright, let's see this so-called "beloved" who thinks my amazing uncanny powers are lame.
[He puts his hand on his and scrutinizes Shaw, looking her up and down critically, before he turns and points at Root.]
I thought you were dating a computer.
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I couldn't possibly date the Machine -- she's beyond my comprehension.
[ She means that genuinely, though she fires it off with an element of self-aware humor. Root steps aside and back so she can be next to Shaw and put her hands on her (far shorter) shoulders like she's a proud parent presenting an accomplished child. ]
This is Shaw. My little spitfire.
[ She'd already told Shaw who Quentin is, so she doesn't extend the introduction any further; it's not like she cares about the social mores. ]
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Hey. What's the weirdest thing you've heard in someone else's head?
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That said, he decides to actually respond to the question related to him. Because obviously. He shrugs nonchalantly.]
Think of the weirdest thing you've seen on someone's computer and multiply it by like a million. And then add superheroes.
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The superheroes are cute. The ones here take themselves so seriously.
[ She's thinking of Scotty and the boy band as she says that -- this is also Scott's house, after all. ]
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[Shaw is absolutely picturing this now, and unfortunately, her mental image looks very much like a ten-year-old boy's costume party; sorry, friends. She looks at Root with a raised eyebrow of her own, jerking her chin at Quentin.]
Is this guy a superhero?
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[He looks at Root, putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head with a scolding expression.]
You didn't tell her I'm a superhero? Come on, are you here to hype me up or not?
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[ Root is absolutely comfortable with entities of terrifying unimaginable power being her friends -- and with being their hype man -- but let's face it, superheroes are incredibly silly. ]
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[Sorry, Quentin - now they're ganging up on you. Very insufferable.]
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the tingle doesn't tingle - quentin is not a threat, but he can hear him approaching even before he comes to the door.)
Hey, man. Came for the smell?
(because damn it smells nice!!!)
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Something like that.
[He helps himself to whatever guacamole and chili he can find, scrunching his nose at any webs that may be in his way. Spider-people are so weird.]
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Well, plan is to rest and get my braincells back in place, because I think the power in my brain went off. Wanna hang?
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[Quentin taps his temple and accepts the bowl with a small "thanks" gesture.]
My brain never turns off. Gotta keep feeding the bastard, though. High glucose diet.
[He plops himself down on the comfiest-looking sofa and starts eating. So guess that answers Peter's question.]
Hey, you got any kind of... I dunno, spooky Spider-metabolism thing going on? I've never thought to ask.
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(imagine being a telepath. sounds so loud, and to peter, any loud is loud to begin with. he does join soon, though, after getting everything on the center table and also some orange soda.)
Yep. Reason why the three of us are making this super strong coffee, see if that works for us.
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[Quentin makes an acknowledging "hmm" noise. If there aren't any other seats available, he'll scoot over to make room for Peter he guesses, but otherwise? He's sitting right in the middle and taking up as much space as is physically possible.]
Hey, have you ever thought about hanging an anvil or something over your heads? Bet that'd keep you awake.
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completely fine, though.)
What?! No-- Dude, how are we gonna work like that? Hey, unrelated, but do you fly or something like that? Wanda flies, she's kinda a telepath too, right?
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Except not at all because he just compared Quentin Quire to Wanda Maximoff. He gives Spidey the stankiest of all stank faces.]
"Kinda a telepath"? For the sake of our friendship I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that.
[Quentin wrinkles his nose in disgust and rolls his eyes before he deigns to answer the actual question.]
And yes, I can fly. With telekinesis, though. Not telepathy. Still psionic, different application.
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Come on, man, don't be so mad. Remember, it's not like I attend the Avengers end-of-the-year parties, I just know what I know, ok?
(and it's all so different, anyway!!!)
Oh, then you can hang with me on the ceiling. It's pretty cool to be upside down. Our best hangs are up there - Peter lives here, too, and Gwen.
(SOMETHING SOMETHING MOVING TOO FAST WITH YOUR GIRL SOMETHING SOMETHING...)
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You do realize flying isn't the same thing as having a body that's adapted to inversion, right? I told you, I don't do any of your freaky wall-crawling spider shit. Increased intracranial pressure and telepathy? Not a great combination.
[He leans back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. The bowl of chili, meanwhile, floats effortlessly in front of him, held up by the faint glow of telekinesis.]
Anyway, Wanda is a hex witch. Completely different. Plus she depowered like... a million mutants because she had a bad day. Comparing her to me is basically a hate crime.
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You're definitely missing out, though. It's great for pacing, you just don't stop, keep going up, and then horizontal, then down, just great for thinking and all.
(he's at least used to that, although he never quits trying to run his fingers through the glow. it's very cool, excuse him.)
... Forreal? But she-- well, ours seems nice. I saw her at Mister Stark's funeral, ours doesn't seem... Crazy, or anything like that. What's a hex witch?
SENTENCING
Weird.]
You are charged with vandalism in loyalty to a friend.
[There’s something about his expression that makes you think that he might’ve already made up his mind…]
The Council has found you Guilty of this. In order to repent and further your rehabilitation, you have been tasked to bring in one of your close friends for Sentencing to receive punishment for your crime in your stead. If there is no action taken, there will be consequences.
[You wake up back in your bed. You remember everything – Jerry, the jury box, the words he spoke to you. Maybe you remember the words he spoke more vividly than anything else.
However you decide to proceed… there will be consequences.]
[ooc: you have until January 10th to submit your Sentencing HERE Even if your character doesn’t proceed with the Sentencing, you must comment on the NPC inbox for your penalty.
Also, there are effects for ignoring this Sentencing. The longer that it takes them to complete their Sentencing, the more paranoid they may feel, especially with close friends. They may even wish that they want to cause bodily harm to them. If you have any questions about Sentencing, please direct it to the Mod Contact post.]