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likeadiamondfrost · 8 years ago

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42.---69. Drabble thingsys :3

I think it goes without saying that this is more… in Megan’s earth than SU. Also, the ones that don’t apply are crossed out.

42. Enthusiastic

They were starting small. Best to work up to the bigger things than have her be taxed out later out. “Good. Now slowly, focus on one spot. Block the rest out.” She spoke calmly. Much like Astrid had the first-time Emma had blocked out the onslaught. “You’ll get stronger of course with age and practice, but let’s try putting up a shield.” She held the girl’s shoulders, leaning down to speak into her ear. Encouraging her. They stood in Emma’s head, she showed her what she meant. “Think of it like your sandbox. Whatever you construct. For example, the Frost manor.” Her gazed moved over it, “Is set of doors, locks and keys and paths for someone to get lost in.”

Gently Emma brought them back into reality, “Your turn.”

It was a gentle prod until they sat in the empty void of the girl’s mind. White vastness met them. “Make it however you see fit, darling” She smiled standing back. Before her, things shifted and a slight swell of pride raced through her. “Fantastic Megan,” She clapped watching the structures take form and solidify. “Keep it going. Just like—perfect.” Emma pulled the girl into a slight enthusiastic hug outwardly in the real world. “Well done, love.”

43. Exhausted [ aww baby feels]

And three. Two. One. Finally. Tiptoeing away from the crib, Emma snuck out the door before she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Oh, kids are a joy he’d said. Think of having a family, they’d said. It’ll be fine. Fun even. Fun her arse… She glared at the chair where to pile of papers sat, untouched for days. She made a motion to move from the door, before veering left toward the bed. She was far too used to little sleep before but this…this was worse. Every. Two. Hours. She was beyond the point of exhaustion now. When Megan slept. Emma attempted to sleep. Gone where her tries to remain on top of her classes. Gone were the attempts to even be remotely interested in the outside world of Xavier’s. She could hear the shouts and laughter from the window outside their room and glared into her pillow as she collapsed face down on the bed with a huff. I will turn their brains to mush if they so much as wake her up. She thought not even remotely sorry.

She could feel pulling her deep in, baby monitor clutched her in hand. Just fifteen minutes, she’d be good. She let her body relax, sleeping pulling at the edge of her mind. Glorious, glorious sleep. And then…the piercing sound of two very powerful lungs sounded over the baby monitor.

44. Fascinated

She observed the girl. Taking in her form. Her features and mannerisms as she talked. Like looking at a petri dish, the girls was clearly a spectacle Emma couldn’t look away from. The longer she look the more she found unnervingly similar. The cheekbones. The tilt of her brow. The nose—that was Scott’s for sure—the shrug of her shoulder. All very Frostian. How she spoke, how she held herself. She needed to look away.

45. Frustrated

What part of this was hard to comprehend? Emma thought for a bitter moment as she looked at the girl. “Again.” It was invaluable that the girl learned how to control herself. They had more than enough problems with others she wasn’t going to let her daughter be an addition. Perhaps she was a bit more frustrated than needed. “I said again,” she repeated stricter. Harsher words than needed. But she needed to learn. To be able to push past the exhaustion. To be better than Emma herself. As encouraging and supportive as she could be, this was not one of those times. Things were getting worse, peace a distant memory and Emma would be damned if her daughter didn’t know how to properly control her powers. Scolding words lodged themselves in her throat. She expected perfection. Why would she settle for less? But this, how she was reacting and behaving made her pale slightly “…Take a break.” She croaked out the realization hitting her hard. She was turning into her father.

46. Furious

“I’m sorry, what?” Emma repeated, steely gaze focused on her daughter and not the other in her office. “I don’t believe I told you to go ahead with that half-cocked plan, Megan. And You” Her attention sung to Oli, “I expect as much from your father but you?” It was like scolding children again. Only they weren’t children. “how could you two be so…stupid!” The words rang out in the silence of the room. A hand on her hip, Emma let out a long breath through her nostrils. “I know we taught you both better than that.” She was furious, it boiled just below the surface. “When your father finds out…” She shook her head, “Out. Get out now. No, Megan, you stay” Her hand pointed to the door. Doing the best to keep the fury below the surface. For her sake.

47. Gleeful [ the cuteness aww ]

Her lips pressed quickly into the side of the chubby cheeks of the toddler as she sat in her lap. The blonde girl bounced and squirmed as she waved to the laptop in front of her. “Alrighty Megan,” She smiled nose touching nose, “Let’s show daddy, what you showed mummy, okay?” She spared a look at the screen before reaching to place the teddy bear a few feet from where they stay on the floor. The child in her lap giggled and Emma sucked in a breath the sound never ceasing to make her smile. Unalerted joy. Emma nodded with an approving when big blues met her icy ones. Standing on shaky, unsure legs, Emma chewed her lip, half watching the child and half watching Scott’s face. One step. The another. A pause. “Go on, you can do it baby.” She cooed giving her diaper-clad bum a little pat to move forward. Another step. Then another followed by the teetering on not so sure legs. A few more steps and the girl began to topple over, catching herself with her arms. “I told you,” Emma laughed, before scooping the girl up in her arms, swinging her in a circle. “That’s my girl, Megan!” She laughed alongside the gleeful giggle before sitting back down before the camera.

48. Grateful

In one universe, she was her mother. In this one, she wasn’t sure where she stood amongst the pedestal her older, alternate self-stood upon. But here, in the dingy paint bar bathroom, Emma couldn’t help the smile. Speckles of neon paint clung to the flaxen hair of both women, swatches of it smeared on their cheeks and forearms. It was fun. Emma had almost forgotten there was life outside of mundane hell of Iowa and the busy bustle of New York. She used to do this all the time, she remembered. The galas, the nightclubs, the PR sessions parties until the wee hours of the morning, it was familiar and proper and the life she had chosen after leaving Winston. Since she’d been in Iowa, that was a different question. Perhaps her first year or so she’d continued with the actions but now?

As they emerged into the thumping scene of the loud base, laughter and the dull roar of talking, Emma snagged a few shots placed in test tubes. It was quaint and yet she loved it. “Thank you for convincing me to come with you.” She shouted dangling the neon orange liquid before the other. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winked and downed her similarly blue one.

49. Greedy

It was a valuable lesson, she was sure. ‘How not to let greed consume you.’ or rather ‘how to be greedy, and power hungry with tact�� was the best crash course a Frost could offer. As Emma stacked the play money into a pile, she smiled to the girl. “Do you see where you went wrong?” She asked, icy eyes scanning the board before her, littered with hotels and houses all own by Emma. Greed was just a word to people like her.

50. Grieving [ owie x.x sorry ]

The scream ripped past her lips and for a second Emma felt her knees begin to buckle before she locked them in place. Tears burned her eyes as she stood there, arms wrapping around her. Frist her Hellions…and then Genosha…now, this? The world had stopped spinning, as the bodies were carried out. Ollie laid there, besides the others amongst the rubble of the wing. It was as if she’d been shot, she felt it now as they laid the last body down. That utter hollowness that seemed to vacuum everything in its reach. Avoid even her diamond skin couldn’t compete with. A wound that bleeds metaphorically and couldn’t be seen. Hands wrapped around her forearms, a comfort that didn’t quite matter as she shook them off. She couldn’t look back at the source either. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling, not that it mattered, she suspected she was crying freely now. How could we let his happen? She didn’t care who saw or what they said at the scene she was making. It wasn’t her baby there. It couldn’t be her Megan lying beside the others. That was just wrong. She was still in there trapped by rubble and debris or what have you. This, this was the first stage of grief.

51. Guilty

She chewed her lip as she looked down through the window at Megan, running about the school grounds with the others. Carefree. Emma was envious as anyone who was older and wiser is of the young. She was leaving, some mission somewhere far off and exotic. That should have been enough to make it worth it but it wasn’t going to be a quick pop in save the world fly home for dinner. She’d yet to tell Scott as well. He’d understand. It was their job of course. But Megan? Megan was barely at schooling age. The precious years of youth and innocence. The guilt of one day having to shatter that illusion haunts her just like the death of her students, like Christian, or her mother. It’s all there resting on her shoulders much like informing her six-year-old that mummy has to leave for a few months does.

52. Heartbroken

She knows what today is. She can’t forget it. It was the first in many more to come over the years that Emma felt something besides guilt. She keeps things of theirs, all of them her students present and past, in a safe, not even Scott knows about. She opens it once a year. And only once.

The heavy door is open and she’s sitting on the floor below it. Trinkets and mementos scattered around her, laying in her lap, still inside. She doesn’t hear the soft knock on her door. Nor does she honestly care who sees here. The others have gone on missions or are in the classroom. She should be alone but she’s not. It’s a heartbreaking scene, she knows. Her in diamond form, cradling the things of the dead. Her gaze lifts and she sees Megan, there perplexed as ever. She’s late, she realizes for her class. Even in the deadened state, her heart bleeds, it hurts and there’s nothing she can do about it. She pats the empty space on the carpet, “We’ll go back in a few.” She’s not ready to face the world out there yet.

53. Hopeful

She smiles as the little girl presses her hand into the slight mound of her stomach. It was a weird time, she suspected. A moment when Megan was just starting to realize her role in the family. She supposed she was anxious about this part. Until now it hadn’t been a problem she knew she was going to be a big sister, but it wasn’t real. She hadn’t been showing. Now though? She expected like most children, Megan, wouldn’t want to leave the limelight of being the ‘one and only’ and would be upset. The little blonde in front of her wasn’t. She smiled and moved her tiny hand over the mound. Her mouth moved a mile a minute as she told Emma just what she was going to do with her new baby sister or brother. On and on. It was heartwarming and hopeful to see her taking it so well.

54. Horrified

Her face screwed up and she cringed visibly. “No.” It was just no. Who on earth had allowed this child to dress herself? Her crystal-like gaze landed upon the tall body in the doorway amused smirk pulling his lips up, ruby glasses hiding the eyes behind them. It was horrific. “Why do you hate me?” She moaned before scooping up the dirtied matching onesies and tossing them into the hamper. She shook her head. Megan, a bouncing ball of energy twirled in her pink tutu, long polka dotted (lime green and yellow on white) socks, rainbow striped sweater, a red towel tied around her neck like a cap and blonde hair in uneven pigtails. “We are never letting Daddy dress you, clearly he likes to see mummy work harder.” She smiled pressing her nose to the girls as she hoisted her up in her arms. She said it with laughter but she was more than serious. With a smirk and a slightly amused twinkle in her eyes, she gently elbowed the culprit in question as she passed.

56. Hostile

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to go easy on you?” Emma asked rhetorically as she fired yet another mental bolt toward the girl. “If I trained you, you should be better than this.” Again, and again, “Protect yourself, Megan. Stop me.” It was a taunt, mocking her. Perhaps it was a bit antagonistic of her to train the girl like this but she could do better. Be better. Emma was sure of it, she was her daughter after all and that was no reason to go lightly.

57. Humiliated [ ow fucking hell…my heart. NO ONE BUT MEGAN WILL EVER SEE THIS ]

Her head held high, shoulder back Emma looked across at Megan who was attempting to pick her black box. She sighed. “I’ll show you something, I’m sure your mother shared with you before.” She wasn’t sure of course, it was something Emma wasn’t going to show anyone.

Around her, the room changed, shifted had shimmering into Snow Valley Prep’s gymnastic. “It’s the first time I ever experienced humiliation but not the last. I learned a valuable lesson about what kind of person I was that night.” She narrated as the smaller brunette girl in the white dress walked into the room. From where they stood, ghosts to all around them, they were in perfect view of the event. The younger, mousier Emma stood by the punch talking to a boy—Josh? That was it. Josh, the boy of everyone’s affection—innocently enough.

“Anyone ever tell you your hair smells like Jasmine mixed with honeysuckle, Emma?” She murmured to her, hand filtering through her strands. A meek “N-No” escaped her. “Well, I just did. I like it.” That boyish charm had once made her heart flutter, “Wanna dance?” She accepted and they moved toward the dancefloor. Watching it now, Emma couldn’t help the eye roll. It was like looking at two very different people. Taking barely two steps, Emma watched as Matilda—terrible, naive, poor, bane of Emma’s existence at fourteen Matilda—latched onto her dress. The auditable rip made her wince now. She didn’t care for price tags in her youth but even she knew that Gaultier was expensive. “At last it’s not borrowed like yours.” Her mousy nature had gone—replaced with an attitude that was much more familiar to everyone around her—“Maybe You should spend a little less time worrying about me, Matilda—and a little more time figuring out what you’re going to do once your family declares bankruptcy next month.” The slur of bitch was loud as was the howl of Matilda as she prompted to pin the younger Emma to the ground. The shock of the information has shocked Emma as much as it had Matilda.

Again, the sound of fabric ripping echoed around them. The torn fabric hung in Matilda’s hand as she loomed over the other Emma’s body, bra exposed dress in shambles. The laughter echoed around her. The concerned words of Ian calling after made her stomach churn. Then snap, her heel and broken and she’d fallen. Emma looked at Megan for a second the back to her younger self. Nose bleeding, as laughter ran around her. She shuffled from the room, tears in her eyes, barely keeping the ruined dress up

“It was in that moment I realized I would never, ever, let someone make me the butt of their joke. So, I shape the way people perceive me for a reason. I am their greatest desire, their greatest confidant, and I never, for a reason let people get to me. You need to learn that what they say about me, how they say it doesn’t matter. Just as Matilda didn’t matter then and hardly matters now” They were in her office again, before the memory could finish, it disappeared like a bad roll of film. “These things are negligible to the larger picture. I appreciate the protectiveness but it’s better to put that somewhere else, alright?”

58. Hurt

Typical teenaged angst she supposed. Or so she tried to convince herself that was what it was and Megan hadn’t meant the words as she stormed off. But she did. Emma was a telepath for god sake, she knew it better than anyone. Emma spared a look to Scott before rising from the chair. “Well, now I just feel like my father.” She muttered, a hand brushing the blonde back and behind her ear. They weren’t being strict to be spiteful. Lord know neither she nor Scott had had the best parental figures but that didn’t help the hurt that swam through her. They were just trying to protect her. To spare her the agony of what both of them endured.

59. Hysterical

She glared at the four across from her. You would have thought that being–she paused mentally counting the months—six months to term Emma would have been given a bit more leeway for her emotional outburst. “I am not being hysterical,” She muttered, arms crossing over her chest, like a child, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The comment was directed to Megan who had said something or other about her being unreasonable. The collective sigh of emotions: frustration, exasperation whatever they wanted to call it was unappreciated. She remained silent as they took turns explaining that her outburst during the literature class was…much more than just passion for the spoken word, or her watery gaze as they sat down to watch some movie with a dog. She was not being hysterical, she wanted to scream but refrained.

60. Infatuated

61. Insane

“You’re not going insane,” Emma assured as the blonde rushed into her room. Away from Xavier’s, for the past however long, years but not long enough to forget. Emma had pleaded to taking a sabbatical in order to raise Megan outside of the life and death that loomed over Xavier’s. Scott taught via conference calls and still went on missions—a condition she hadn’t argued with—when he could. Ever the leader. They had always planned to return as soon as Megan’s mutation developed. She had no doubt it would. Though perhaps not this soon. Emma welcomed the girl and set a cup of tea down in front of her.

“Believe me, darling, you are from insane.” Emma squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Your telepathy is developing and I know—believe me I know it’s scary at first. It’s weird and you feel like your head might just explode.” She leaned against her desk, bending at the waist to meet the girl’s eyes, a finger wiping the tears away. Her eyes glowed faintly as she barricaded the girl’s mind. Gentle walls to muffle the onslaught until they had more time. “Would I lie to you?” She asked to the protest. A sigh left her lips as she tucked the flaxen hair of the girl behind her ear. “When you get older…I’ll tell you exactly why I’m not.”

************

“I was hoping you’d forget that.” She murmured setting her grading pen down. Outside the hall, Xavier’s bustled with the release of class for the day. Megan sat across from her and Emma smiled. “I wasn’t like you when I grew up.” She offered gently, taking a sip from her cup of coffee, “Mutants were still a foreign concept. They were known, sure, but it wasn’t until I was in college that they were a problem.” Her hand waved dismissively. “When my telepathy first developed. I didn’t quite understand what happened. Or was happening. The headache’s themselves were horrendous. I fainted once in school, my nose bleeds several times. It was a scary transition from human into a mutant.” She met her daughter’s gaze. “Your grandfather and I had a spat over something trivial I’m sure. It was right after Xavier came knocking on my door. Daddy dearest wasn’t the most supportive and I was young and scared. I didn’t want to be different. Declining the invitation to come here, he instead stuck me in ‘The Clinic’ A mental institution for the rich and famous. I thought I was crazy, straight jacket and all. The Clinic only solidified it until I broke out.” She dropped her gaze, organizing her desk as she talks. “That’s how I knew you weren’t mad as a hatter. And how I know I’m not…well, not any more than the next telepath who’s been through the things I have.”

62. Insecure

Head gently pressed against the pillow, Emma felt tears in her eyes. Her brow was sticky with sweat, hair plastered to it as a hand moved to brush it away. Not because she was sad or upset or in pain. Sure, she was sure that was about as painful as being ripped apart had been but worth it. And just as quickly the bliss had come the fear and insecurities followed. She could hear the sound of the wailing infant feet away from her. That tightness in her chest appeared. One that mimicked the panic that happened as she sat in the examination room, waiting. What if she was just like everything everyone had thought? Worse yet what if she turned into her mother or father? Twisting and warping this child’s life like they had done hers. While she loved kids, always had and enjoyed teaching them immensely, but this was different. This was a whole new ball game.

She could feel the thoughts of everyone else pounding into her head. Against her walls. Looming there like a fist waiting to barrel through the barricades. Her heart beat picked up and her breathing picked up. My god what if she dropped the baby?! What if she was a terrible mother? What is didn’t like being a mother? The built upon one another slowly. Snowballing as the wailing continued to pierce the room. Her breathing picked up rapidly and she exhaled slowly through her nose. The insecurities bounce between her and her mind. What. Was. She. Doing. Her face tilted up to Scott. Eyes scanning his face for something. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking away, toward the source of the crying. There would be no reassurance from him—his own doubts and worries loud enough she didn’t bother. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. She chewed her lip.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked gently, the wrapped little thing snug in a pink fleece blanket. She wanted to say no. She wanted to shake her head. She couldn’t taint the girl just by touching her.

“Yes.” Her mouth moved before she could stop it. Carefully placed in her arm, Emma cradled the fragile bundle in her arms. Tears trickling down from the corner of her eyes. “She’s perfect.” She smiled—while inside she felt unsure and scared. This was a lot different than facing life or death, super villains and prejudice.

63. Inspired

It was a nice reminder. One Emma needed frequently it seemed. All the things that were at risk if she slipped. If she crossed the grey line again. She watched, eyes taking in the similarities between her and Scott. Or even herself as they moved through the simulation. It was an inspiration. Maybe she wasn’t Emma’s really, but she was in the sense and that was enough to keep her from drifting.

64. Intimidated65. Jealous66. Joyful [ this list need to check itself man ]

Summer. It wasn’t too hot yet, not too unbearable but warm enough most classes were taking Emma looked over the vast grounds of Xavier’s from the patio sitting beside Ororo and Rogue. None of them speaking as they surveyed the others. Giggles and laughter pierce the silent hush the grounds had fallen into. The sound of water sprinklers went off causing a cacophony of shouts and yells of the younger children. Remy, Logan, and Scott scooped them up spinning them around chasing them here and there. Emma looked to the others who had joined them at the table.

“This makes it worth it, no?” She asked. It was these joyful moments when laughter out did the screams of terror. Moments that made them seem human if not normal.

67. Lonely

Moments like this, Emma hated the most. She watched over the sleeping girl from the threshold of her room door. Arms wrapping around herself, she stared at the blonde hair as she curled up. Well into her tween years, Megan knew how to do more than others her age. A sigh left her mouth. Times like these she almost wished they had a normal school. A life outside of the X-Men and whatever else plagued their lives. Moments when she wasn’t alone in a room because Scott was off on a mission. The looming threat that the life they’d all build so carefully would come crumbling down. She tried to push those feelings away as she gently closed the door to Megan’s room. The emptiness seemed to seep in. She didn’t mind the feeling, she’d been alone most of her life, it wasn’t anything new. But now after having found a family here, it seemed to be worse. More noticeable when half the halls were emptied out with students gone or teachers on missions.

She ran a hand through her hair, chopped to her shoulders, trying to shake the feeling that grappled at her. She knew Megan would wake up and ask and that was a conversation for years down the road.

68. Lovesick

69. Loyal

She stuck her hand out toward the girl as the simulation rained down around them. A nod was all she gave, encouraging the girl to grab it. Once their fingers were firmly locked, Emma pulled her up to her side. “You don’t ever need to worry about where our—my—loyalty lies. In this universe or the next.” She commented. Emma would do whatever she need to protect the girl even if it meant sacrificing herself. That kind of loyalty was a difficult pill for Emma to swallow but came so naturally.

#littlesummertelepath #[ brevity is the soul of wit: MEME ]#//excuse me while i fucking cry two weeks later my arse #[ please don't fight these hands that are holding you; my hands are holding you: m. summers ]

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