#it is absolutely a landmine

[perseusthetwinkie]

Yes!! Scott Summers is the leader of the X-Men. His code name is Cyclops. His mutant ability is to blast concussive beams from his eyes, but he can’t control it, so he wears the sunglasses. The sunglasses are made out of ruby quartz(?) which supposedly blocks the force from his eyes.

A big key part of who Scott is comes from this disability. He can’t take off his rose tinted glasses, which means he loses a lot of color, shape, and value when he’s able to see. A lot of what makes Scott himself is the way he responds to anti-mutant rhetoric. While that’s a main theme of the X-Men anyways, Scott can’t hide his abilities like, say, Jean Grey or Charles Xavier. Scott has to wear his glasses at all times, and this makes it incredibly easy to single him out as a mutant.

He’s from Alaska originally, but he ended up orphaned after the private warplane he and his family were flying on was attacked by aliens called the Shi’Ar. His mother and father were abducted, and he was left with his younger brother to find help.

Eventually, they were taken in by this orphanage that was a cover for one of the most bastard of bastards. His name is Dr. Nathan “Sinister” Essex, and he experiments on mutants in attempt to create the “perfect species”. He’s basically a eugenicist. (There’s a lot of that in the classic X-Men— it’s a struggle.)

Sinister isolates Scott from his little brother Alex once his mutation begins to arise. Now the interesting thing about Scott is that, had he not suffered head trauma from falling out of a plane with a faulty parachute, he would be able to control his optic blasts. Scott canonically has brain trauma that directly affects his optic nerves and likely other areas of his development. Thusly, if Sinister is able to find a mix of Scott’s DNA and another powerful mutant, his belief is that he can create the ultimate mutant.

Scott is Sinister’s guinea pig for a long time. There are several versions of how he escapes, but I believe the most modern iteration is that the telepathic Charles Xavier reached out to him and offered to bring him to safety where he could learn to hone his abilities.

This is the true beginning of the X-Men and where most people tend to focus on.

Now it’s hard to be a Scott fan in the year of our lord 2024— everyone hates him for various reasons. Most of it is poor characterization and framing of certain activism tactics as “uncouth”, “unacceptable”, or “terroristic”. I’m not here to say that everything Scott has ever done is right, but I’m also here to say that there is so much more to Scott than being Professor Xavier’s lapdog.

Scott has always been described as the perfect balance between Charles Xavier and Magneto, the main mutant opponent of the X-Men. Both men are mutant supremacists, but their beliefs and ideas on how a perfect mutant-led world should look are very different. Magneto differs to dangerous and genuinely terroristic alternatives, whereas Charles tends to work with the government in an attempt to reach legal mutant equality (and let many a mutant die in the crossfire.) both men are idealists with very unrealistic expectations of what the world should look like.

(My good friend percyandseven has a rant on this in the works, so I’m not going to delve too deeply into Charles and Magneto here, but know that if this interests you, you’ll find more there.)

Scott, however, is a realist. He works as both a teacher and trainer at the Xavier School for Gifted Children and as the field leader of the X-Men. He is a very thorough and realistic war leader, and he has seen some of the worst happen to some of the best people. There’s a lot to delve into and a lot I don’t know— most of my knowledge comes from modern comics and the Claremont run, so I lost a bit of context later on— but it gets to a point where he sees that what he’s been taught is an ineffective way to protest and protect his people, who are under constant threat of extinction.

A lot of how Scott handles things is blown out of proportion by the X-Men in modern issues of the comics. He works in the middle of the more pacifistic and defensive X-Men and the more aggressive and offensive Brotherhood in order to reach a more cohesive and safe future.

In modern years, his character has been split in two— a ruthless, emotionless suck up to Charles, and the Spawn Of Satan Who Is Irredeemable And Unequivocally Merciless. Never mind that part of what makes Scott a great leader is his ability to empathetically connect with his team to the point of his teammates trusting him to have their best interest in mind. Never mind that Scott has been in the same situation as many disowned or orphaned mutants and would never want to endanger or leave a mutant child behind.

There’s so much more I’m missing because I haven’t even touched Corsair, Cable, Krakoa, Fall of the House of X, or ANY of the Jean Grey stuff, but I have so many thoughts about Scott as a minority member and the vilification of him. He isn’t perfect and he is totally fallible. In fact, he should be scrutinized and his actions shouldn’t be brushed over. But he also isn’t mutant Hitler, as many people seem to believe. He isn’t a suck up to the man who raised him, and he isn’t a pretentious asshole… on purpose.

I have so much to say about him and this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg, but it’s all I can think of to talk about right now. I love him so much

I don’t know how to use tumblr but I have ocs, Robins, and Scott Summers to talk about and I’ll be damned if the Big Tumble silences me

[bladeechan]

ugh..

[dandp]

The way Dan can literally say anything and Phil will just say yeah without having processed a single syllable of it

[darling-heart105]

Went on Jirai TikTok…never again

[mysleeangel]

My thighs are getting fat but I wanted to show off my socks ^^

[queerian]

watching @drdemonprince's conversation with Fern Brady and god this is why it's important to hear people like us talk about our experiences. i learn so much from other autistic people.

while talking about alexithymia fern described having ongoing and mysterious pain during a really stressful period of time that never went away no matter what she tried, and as soon as she received resolution on the thing she was stressed about, the pain also resolved. ive this exact experience a number of times and i have slowly been building a very contextually-specific hypothesis about it (my body builds up pain like a pressure valve and as long as i deny it it gets worse, and as soon as i give myself permission to take the rest i need - and take that rest - it tends to resolve. at least the acute moments. for the longest time, i would not let myself call in sick from work unless i was "sick enough", because i was terrified of being seen as unreliable, and because i was worried about losing the income for any missed days of work. i've always used up my PTO on sick days and doctor days because i needed so many of those.

ever since ive been working from home, and then promoted to a a role where i have a lot more ability to work around things like this without losing pay, i've suffered a lot fewer of those maxed out pressure valve moments.

my ibs in general and flareups have all also gotten a lot less acute.

fern's story just gave me a lightning bolt of realization, and put into perspective all this mysterious sporadic and chronic pain i experience that doctors can never really explain or understand no matter how much i describe it or how many tests i undergo. i just saw my doctor yesterday about it and she shrugged and suggested we continue to monitor it and as usual we ruled out all the things it probably isnt.

even ibs is one of those diagnoses of excluding what it isnt.

anyway. it's fucking incredible to hear someone talk about experiencing something and for the first time in three decades being able to point at that and go "yes!! me too!! that's the thing i experience too!!!"

[macaron-vents]

“This user can’t receive messages” ISTG THIS USER COULD A SECOMD AGO

Is saying ‘goodbye please stop bothering me’ really that hard broski

CANT YOU SEE IM DOING A GREAT JOB PREPARING TO MOVE ON

In reality I’m just that is expecting too much, the poor guy

He is possibly already dead I’m jus I’m just disgusting

[autistic-evil-xisuma]

OK playlist is finished

Send me a number 1-50 and a character to draw with that song off my playlist!

[zazter-den]

discord friend: when I find you, I'm kicking your ass from here to [next county].

me: finally read the 'iris' Suguru fic huh? discord friend: from here to [next county], Zazzi.

[kiisaes]

I so desperately wish to be excited about the new spiderverse movie but I'll be honest, jds working on it automatically strikes fear in my trembling heart

[therantingsage]

Since there's not a lot of named characters to work with, I'm forced to make a few OC side characters for Finders Keepers. All Death Bird OCs will be based on the limited list of potential previous solver hosts that we see in Episode 7. So I'm not making up any names, though I may take creative liberties when needed, cuz some of the names in that list are clearly shortened versions of something longer.

Soooo here's the only two I've made so far, based on the two names at the very bottom of that list. Luna and Ezra! Figured I should experiment with non-corvids. Luna I already have some ideas for, plot-wise, but I'm not sure what I'm doing with Ezra yet.

[sacaeblade]

@lycianlynx continued from here:

"...Oh."

Without realizing it, she may have just as well walked right onto a mine. The poor kid retreats, shrinking into themself, and it's clear why. He must be an orphan.

"Hmmm...if no one recognized you, you might be from one of the smaller tribes. We were pretty small, too."

Were. The past tense still stings, no matter how long it had been.

Lyn picks up a glass of water from the table to rinse the sickly sweet taste out of her mouth and the dryness that threatens to set in. She knows all too well what it that loneliness feels like; grasping at whatever you can get your hands on for a sense of connection. Something to say, "I'm not alone in this world".

She swirls the water in the glass before speaking again, voice soft."...You know, I say I'm from the Lorca Tribe, but I'm actually the only one left. And I didn't even know until after she was gone, but my mother was a Lycian noble who had eloped to be with my father. I carry both the blood of my mother and my father proudly; that way it feels like they're both always watching me."

Lyn offers a smile to the boy.

"You're pretty quiet, aren't you? You definitely must be Sacaen, then. Most of the Sacaen guys I know don't talk very much." A certain fellow named Guy excluded. "My father was the same way."

[i-eat-apple-people]

@jacq121 @instantfartbeard

an Iraqi gamer's beautiful review of Disco Elysium

[autisticrosewilson]

De-aging fic where Jason and Dick are both suddenly 18 again. In the height of their angry angst eras, at the same time. And Jason is like "yeah, more or less what I remember" but Dick is like "What the FUCK happened to you I will kill Bruce with my bare hands. I've planted landmines around every inch of amusement mile. Put Talia on the phone immediately"

Bruce is genuinely fighting off assassination attempts left and right from his son's and honestly the only reason he hasn't succumbed is because of Cass and Alfred.

Tim knew of Dick's dirtbag era but he didn't REALLY know the version of Dick that the rest of the kids got was so much tamer they're all perpetually in shock.

Obviously they're all curious about what happened to Jason in the years before he came back but they absolutely are NOT ready for him to actually tell them.

"Yeah, so I planned on killing him but Talia said that I have to have better training first and I think she only said that to distract me but I've stopped trying to argue with her about it. What the fuck are you talking about the Lazarus pit didn't bring shit back I crawled out MYSELF thank you. It did get rid of the catanoia though. Yeah for like three years I was just walking around, literal zombie with less cannibalism. Don't worry the whole thing passed by in like a week for me. Was really weird being 18 suddenly though, y'know one second I'm choking on smoke under the debris 'nd the next I'm clawing out of the ground, I blink and suddenly I'm being dragged out of a Lazarus pit."

[starlightbelle]

When the post is good but it’s tagged as your notp…

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you’re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?”

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.