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| I Wanna Be Sedated; 5/23 morning (Quentin/Rachel) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 16 2013, 10:19 PM (385 Views) | |
| Marvel Girl | Nov 29 2013, 12:51 PM Post #16 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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No. Definite, major no on shoving your own thoughts (or music) into other people’s heads just to try to break theirs. This world’s Ali was onto something, with her threats of retaliation by hypnosis to pop starlets, though in this, Rachel wasn’t reluctant to raise the stakes past Britney. Little Bro wanted to keep going down that road? He’d be doing it under the possibility of thinking he was Hannah Montana, and experiencing an overwhelming urge to twerk on everyone. Or maybe that was one big hollow threat, but it seemed to make her point well enough, at least by teenage boy who reminded her in a very odd way of her preteen first best friend anyway. "It worked," he pointed out a little sulkily, and wasn’t that just the most Val-like answer ever, then sighed and nodded. Catching a little thought tacked on the end of that where he seemed to be justifying capitulating as a matter of how well (or not-well) it had worked just went to reinforce the Val impression. Man, she’d totally forgotten how much she missed Scrapper’s amoral, smarter than the rest of the world put together little sister. And seeing as now she had a version of her own to be big sibling too, it was probably time for a little What Would Scrapper Do? Definitely sympathy, and that wasn’t hard, because you didn’t need to be a telepath to guess that having that set of powers dumped on you all of a sudden probably felt like the shittiest deal in the world. Though she was that too, obviously, but yeah - that was a nod from little Bro, so it was one vote for a shitty deal, and even if her own vote had never gone that way that she could remember, Rachel could understand the feeling well enough to sympathize with it. But like usual, there was a but, which the kid seemed to have anticipated, but never mind that, because it didn’t change the point. Shitty as telepathy might feel? It wasn’t anyone else’s fault that you’d struck out on it, and it definitely wasn’t their problem to deal with. Thinking that the solution to the unfun of it lay in changing them? Yeah, there was only one way that ended up going, and it was into the land of crazy cakes who figured that lobotomizing the world was the only ‘rational’ solution to buy themselves some piece and quiet. Not cool. "There was a crazy psycho who tried to lobotomize the entire world?" [her Little Bro] asked incredulously, all raised eyebrows and surprise. In answer, Rachel shrugged. “More than one, actually.” And that was just in her universe. "Did it work?" was the teenager’s question, though. Sigh. One eyebrow raised again, and meeting his gaze with a steady look that was designed to remind him that that? Clearly not the point, never mind the right sort of question, Rachel met his gaze and said nothing until he’d caught on, winced, and waved a hand to wipe the question off the blackboard of things they were going to discuss. "Nevermind," he mumbled. Right! That was more like it, and with a newly brightened expression and a flick of her own wrist, Rachel sent that part of the conversation out of her mind like it hadn’t happened, refocusing on what was important here. Like the question her new little brother had asked her, now neatly cleaned away from the problematic issues of telepathic ethics and stupid coping strategies. Mental Noise Coping Strategies 101 (focusing on the two methods that were appropriate, and - as might make more of an impression on Quentin - actually worked) could totally be open for business. Better for all involved to just go there, Rachel figured, and she’d figured right, if the semi-eager way the pink-haired teenager sat up and set his attention her way was anything to go by. That? Kind of totally awesome. Big sibling advice was already shaping up to be as awesome as she’d always assumed it would be, and all that remained to determine was whether he wanted to start by trying her way, or the way that every other successful telepath favored. "Your way," he answered without hesitation. Though she beamed immediately at that show of confidence, a second later Rachel took her expression back to something a little more balanced as she thought a bit harder. “Well, okay,” she agreed with a shrug, because it was his choice, and definitely worth a shot to see if it could work for other people. “Warning you now though, Little Bro, it’s definitely not for everyone,” she added, a semi-cautionary note in her tone, before gesturing with the back of her hand for him to stretch out on his side of the bed. *Lie back and relax, it’s easier that way,* the redhead directed telepathically, doing the same herself as she did. *Now, my way, what you do? Stop fighting it,* Rachel continued, because at the base of it, it really was as simple as that. *Drop all those spiky walls you’ve been trying to build to keep other people’s thoughts away from you, and let them come.* She’d been doing it nearly her whole life, and as long as she could remember being a telepath, which was pretty much as long as she could remember anything at all. Other people’s thoughts were company - they meant you were never alone, and these days, with the Force, when she could hear the minds of every single person on earth if she thought about it, and most of the rest of the galaxy, if not the entire universe, there was a lot of company to be had. For her, at least, that was a good thing. Reaching over mentally to her little bro, to see how he was getting on, Rachel kept her mental voice strong and clear as she kept ‘speaking’. *It all floods in, and you settle back on top of it, and let it blend.* Done right, it was a smooth comforting pool of the sense of other people, without any spiky shards of individual thoughts jumping up over the rest of everything to catch your attention. *It’s like taking a bath in warm soup. Which, by the way, is the best thing ever.* And yeah, she did come by that particular piece of knowledge honestly and for real. But that was another story entirely. |
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| Quentin Quire | Dec 3 2013, 06:15 AM Post #17 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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Okay. Asking how many people had tried to lobotomize the entire planet (Could he DO that? Could she?) obviously wasn't making points with Big Sis. Neither was asking whether or not it had worked, which - okay, that was a stupid question, considering that most of the people he knew obviously hadn't been lobotomized (he could think of a few notable exceptions). Better they just forget that altogether and move on, which it looked as if Rachel was as happy to do as he was. Moving on, then, to actual defense mechanisms that worked, and according to Rachel, he had a choice between two methods. Which, apparently, could be neatly categorized as "hers" and "everyone else's". He figured the answer was pretty much a no brainer at this point. She looked pleased at first, then more thoughtful, as if she were trying to figure out how to explain it. “Well, okay,” she agreed with a shrug. “Warning you now though, Little Bro, it’s definitely not for everyone,” That sounded ominous, and he raised his eyebrow (damn, that still kind of hurt, had to remember not to do that) as she gestured for him to lie down on the bed and switched over to talking in his head. *Lie back and relax, it’s easier that way,* she suggested, and he complied, stretching out as she did the same next to him. *Please tell me we're not going to meditate on dots on the ceiling?* he whined, only partially joking, as he stared up at it. Ali'd mentioned something about focusing, after all, but damned if he really thought counting paint splotches or something was going to accomplish much. Apparently, that wasn't what his new sister had in mind, though, and she continued her lesson. *Now, my way, what you do? Stop fighting it,* That got his attention, and he turned to look at her with an incredulous look as she continued. *Drop all those spiky walls you’ve been trying to build to keep other people’s thoughts away from you, and let them come.* "Okay..." he said aloud, a little doubtfully, and reclosed his eyes. He could visualize the shields he'd put up - he'd borrowed the image from Minecraft, tried to build a wall around his brain, though it looked even to his own mind's eye as if it were a little wobbly at best. Reluctantly, he let them go, wincing as a mass of mingled jibberish flooded in. So much so, in fact, that it was hard to pick out individuals - he tried to focus in on Rachel, being nearest, caught a trace of a thought about other people's thoughts being company before losing it again in the midst of...everything. People talking. People thinking. Tactics, concerns, sex, sadness, excitement - all there, and none of them his. Was he even there anywhere? He felt his heart speed up, heard his breathing grow shallow, and bit hard at his lip, trying to use the pain as an anchor. God, she couldn't be serious about this, could she? *Rachel?* he asked pleadingly, but she was there, a focused, definite "voice" in his head. *It all floods in, and you settle back on top of it, and let it blend.* *Got the flooding part down,* he confirmed shakily. The rest... *It’s like taking a bath in warm soup. Which, by the way, is the best thing ever.* That caught his attention, and he turned his head, eyes flicking open. *You took a bath in warm soup?* he asked incredulously, and with a snap, he felt his own consciousness rise to the surface of the rest. The others were still there, yeah - but a hum, background noise. A presence, rather than a mob, and he suddenly understood the brief reference he'd caught in her thoughts. Never alone. After more than three years in the pens, six months in the camp, and more than a decade feeling like the odd man out prior to that, there was a definite appeal to that. On the other hand, he'd been fighting "Nate" for a few days already, and could see a definite downside to it. *How do I stay on top?* he asked, grasping to Rachel's mental voice as a lifeline. The other part of the question, how did he even know for sure which part of "him" was him, he left unspoken. He had a feeling he was going to have to figure that out for himself, anyway. |
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| Marvel Girl | Dec 7 2013, 12:42 AM Post #18 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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*Please tell me we're not going to meditate on dots on the ceiling?* Little Bro whined, but with a sense of irony about the whining that made it okay. Rachel, who hadn’t even thought to notice the ceiling - though now he mentioned it, it was right there when you lay back, wasn’t it? Did it really have dots? Huh... - decided that ignoring that complaint might be the best thing, and pressed on instead with explaining the big fundamental major point that defined her way. And, actually, come to think of it, the other way too, but they’d get to that later if they needed to. The point was, he needed to stop fighting, trying to keep the head voices off by pushing the back. Her way - what you did? You let them come, pulled all the walls you might have tried to build down, and let the thoughts find their own way into your mind. Kind of obvious that wasn’t maybe what her new Little Bro had expected, or maybe even wanted to hear, but that was it. "Okay..." he said aloud, sounding maybe a little nervous, but he plunged in all the same, game as a pebble. It only took a few seconds for Rachel to maybe - just maybe - wonder if she’d really had a good idea here, getting in on the whole teaching act. Because, well, frankly, before too long, she was pretty sure that was the prelude to a panic attack she was starting to feel from the kid, as he looped and floundered amidst the mental static she’d had him invite in. *Rachel?* he pleaded, and she was already on action stations, reaching out with a steady ‘hand’, as it were, to give him something solid to cling to amidst the flow of other people’s thoughts. *I’m here. Hold on...* she sent, concentrating on solidfying her own mental presence enough to act as a lighthouse he could use for orientation. This was okay, still. First time - that had to be a shock, right? She could barely even remember hers, but she hadn’t been nearly this powerful, not when she’d first started picking up people’s thoughts. Still, it wasn’t that different from getting her powers back, at least in theory, right? She was at least mostly sure of that, and made a point of increasing that level of ‘sure’ in her mental voice, since whether or not she was maybe rethinking parts of her teaching strategy, she was definitely sure what her little brother needed to be hearing right now was confidence and conviction. Anyway, it was actually simple, really. All the thoughts flooded in, like a rushing, but fundamentally gentle tide, and you just settled on top of them. *Got the flooding part down,* her protege confirmed in a way that definitely left the question of whether part B was anything near a level of approaching ‘down’, or even something that wasn’t up or flailing. But that was okay too, because it was practically expected, and there was an easy analogy to be made to help ease the transition, because this? Nearly exactly like taking a bath in warm soup. Best thing ever. Just for future reference. Oddly enough, that seemed to work, even better than even Rachel could really have hoped for, Little Bro popping back out of his struggling, kicking brain water treading to achieve near instant telepathic-lilo action. *You took a bath in warm soup?* he asked, mental voice sounding like this was something to be doubted. *Uhuh! A few, actually,* Rachel confirmed blithely, unbothered by the note of incredulity in the mental voice. When your favourite babysitter (probably awkward to admit that was what Scrapper had been when she’d first known him, but there wasn’t much way around it either) had a pocket full of universes of his own creation, and an imagination that encompassed just about anything that might ever sound fun, it was the kind of thing you ended up doing. *How do I stay on top?* Little Bro asked next, clutching fast to the presence she’d extended into his mind, and already seeming like he was heading back for a fast route to being dunked back under the flow of thoughts. Unfortunately, with all the will in the world, Rachel wasn’t having the easiest time coming up with an answer for that. *Uhh... you just do. It’s not a fight,* she sent back, trying to puzzle out something better as she went. Not much luck there though, and she was forced to sort of mentally shrug, and admit, *I guess it’s true, boys really aren’t natural floaters.* No reason for it, or none that she could see, unless there was something amazingly unbuoyant about male bits, but empirically speaking? It did seem to be a pattern. *And the game of me never works quite so well if you’re not sure who ‘me’ is. I have been known to wake up wearing someone else’s body, back when my memory was broken,* she added, partly because more information was probably never a bad thing, and partly just to keep her voice as a point of contact to keep Little Bro above water, as it were. *Or as a dinosaur. But that was only one time.* One really pretty embarrassing time that Brian and Fuzzy were never going to let her hear the end of, but... well... yeah. There had also been a few perks to being a velocirapto-person, too. Kind of not important right now though, were they? Right. *Want to try everyone else’s way?* Rachel asked instead, because yeah - at this point? She was kind of hoping teaching could only go up from here. |
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| Quentin Quire | Dec 10 2013, 07:59 PM Post #19 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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He was definitely not panicking, Quentin told himself as he latched onto Rachel's mental presence and used it to keep his head above water, so to speak. Not panicking at all, just because he couldn't quite find him amidst all the jumble flooding into his brain. He was just..probably not all that interesting, relatively speaking, and he was sure he was there somewhere, floating around in the... Soup? That caught his attention, and he stopped floundering around as his thoughts sort of rose to the surface as Rachel'd described earlier. Okay, this didn't suck so much, he decided. Everyone else was definitely still there, but more background noise than intrusion. And them being there? Was maybe not such a bad thing... *Uhuh! A few, actually,* Rachel confirmed blithely, assuring him that yes, she actually had taken a bath in warm soup. Or more, apparently. If he hadn't been instructed to lay there, Quentin would've turned and stared at her, but as it was, he settled for sending her the mental equivalent. How would anyone even...he got a quick flash of memory from Rachel, featuring a blonde kid and something about pocket dimensions, which was enough to send him spinning again. Grabbing hold of the lifeline that was Rachel's presence in his mind, he asked the all important question. How was he supposed to stay on top of all the other thoughts? Because it wasn't just happening. *Uhh... you just do. It’s not a fight,* Rachel sent back, sounding sort of doubtful. Wonderful. Just stay there. He'd work on that. Setting his jaw, he pushed down panicky reactions from Nate and tried to tread the equivalent of mental water. *I guess it’s true, boys really aren’t natural floaters.* He sent back a mental raspberry, because there was no way that was helpful but he couldn't let it go unanswered, but his new tutor (who seemed pretty new to the whole tutoring thing) was continuing. *And the game of me never works quite so well if you’re not sure who ‘me’ is. I have been known to wake up wearing someone else’s body, back when my memory was broken,* Mmm. That he could relate to. Well no, more like waking up to find out that someone else had been wearing his body, but probably close enough. Unfortunately, the someone else hadn't just up and left, hence the whole "me" identification problem, and... *Or as a dinosaur. But that was only one time.* Right. Floating again. Apparently all it took was Rachel "saying" really crazy things that caught his attention. Unfortunately, he doubted she'd want that as a full time job. *You're just fucking with me now, right?* he asked, amused, as he picked up a few odd mental images of Rachel-as-dinosaur that he figured she'd had to have made up for the occasion. Which was pretty cool of her, really, but there was probably a limit to how often she was going to be willing to do it. He needed to figure out... *Want to try everyone else’s way?* Oh, come on...he wasn't doing that badly, was he? He was "up" and everything - well, for the moment at least. *Isn't this where you're supposed to say "Practice makes perfect" and play cheerleader?* he complained mostly good naturedly, with just a hint of hurt trickling over. He was trying, after all. A thought occurred to him, and he grinned. *Y'know, I'd do a whole lot better with the "me" part if you could just sort of stuff Nate into a box and bury him somewhere...?* It could work, right? If Mom had buried him under Nate to the point that dorkboy had never even suspected he existed, it should, theoretically, be possible to do it the other way around. He just didn't know how. |
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| Marvel Girl | Dec 23 2013, 10:50 AM Post #20 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Okay. Little bit of mental clutching, little bit of assisted telepathic flotation devices, but nothing too bad, really. Little Bro wasn’t having the easiest time with the floating - Rachel really was sure that was a guy thing, no matter how much he stuck his tongue out about the suggestion - which was turning a little more toward treading water rather than lying on it than she’d intended, but he was staying above it for the most part. No need to bust out the psychic water wings. Thing was, this kind of game? Definitely was a lot harder when finding ‘me’ wasn’t the no-brainer it was supposed to be in any regular brain state of mind. She’d been there herself, from waking up wearing Meggan’s body, to waking up as Rapto-Rachel. But that one had only been that one time. And there went little Bro, all up and bobbing like a duck on water again, at least for the moment? *You're just fucking with me now, right?* he asked, sounding like he was enjoying what he obviously saw as a joke. *Nope,* Rachel responded, unfazed by this level of doubt and sending a mental shake of her head along with it. *Actually turned myself into a genetic hybrid dino-person.* He could apply to Kitty for confirmation of that too, though a suspicious person like Little Bro, that might not be enough evidence, might it? Ah well. *Told you I was wacky-crazed,* Rachel concluded, and left it at that, moving on to a new suggestion - time to give other people’s way of dealing with mental static overload a try? Or... not? *Isn't this where you're supposed to say "Practice makes perfect" and play cheerleader?* her new little Bro asked, but the layer of easy joking he’d put over top of it didn’t really go all the way to papering over something else in his brain that was more like... hurt? Well that was just odd. It wasn’t like trying both reflected badly on him in any way. *No, this is where I say (again) that there’s two ways of doing things, and it makes sense to try both and see which one suits you better before we start making all the installment down payment thingies on either of them,* Rachel explained with enough patient cheerfulness to hopefully cover up for the fact she really had next to know idea how installments and down payments worked, and whether they were the same thing, and if they even actually really fitted the metaphor. *I can say it with pompoms though, if you want.* Did Kitty even have those around anymore? Rachel still wasn’t sure how getting separated from the rest of the team had somehow managed to lead to her best friend convincing a bunch of upper class British school girls to form a cheerleading squad, but it had definitely been way too long since she’d been sufficiently teased about that episode. Especially now there was a new boyfriend, and... oh yeah, never mind. Distracted again, and she thought she’d kept those thoughts enough to herself that they shouldn’t have been causing the grin that had appeared all over Quentin’s brain and face. *Y'know, I'd do a whole lot better with the "me" part if you could just sort of stuff Nate into a box and bury him somewhere...?* All of her own amusement fading rapidly, Rachel shook her mental projection of a head, as well as her physical one. *No,* she sent. Not actually sharply, but firmly and quickly enough to make the distinction a little fine. *And that’s a no that stands for both ‘no you wouldn’t’ and ‘no, I’m not going to do that to you. Ever.’* In case that wasn’t clear from the initial one syllable, which maybe it wasn’t, and this was something she was going to leave no misunderstanding wiggle room on right from the get go, which meant that there probably was more explanation required than just ‘no and I really really mean no’, wasn’t there? Right then. *It’s exactly how my memories got screwed up in the first place,* the red-haired telepath continued, not without a certain degree of sympathy for where the idea might have come from and sounded like a good idea to her little brother, even if it meant that her little brother was trying to get rid of the part that had made him her little brother in the first place. Things in your head you didn’t much like, and felt like you’d be better off not remembering? Yeah, it sounded good when you first thought about it. Even to Kate, who’d been so right about so many other things, something similar had sounded like a good idea. *Friends with the best intentions trying to help me out by sealing away all the worst things from my mind so they couldn’t hurt me,* Rachel sent, keeping the explanation as spare and undetailed as she could get away with. *It didn’t work. It never works.* You couldn’t be whole without all your pieces. Even the ugly ones you didn’t like much. |
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| Quentin Quire | Dec 26 2013, 11:03 PM Post #21 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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Riiiiight. A dinosaur. Did Rachel think he was seriously going to believe that? On a positive note, whenever she came out with one of those comments, he did seem to kind of pull himself out of all the "others" in his head. Maybe she planned it that way? That almost had to be it, because c'mon. There was no way she could randomly just turn herself into a dinosaur. Even their mom had stuck to turning him into someone of the same species. He thought about "Nate" for a moment, then amended that thought just a bit. Almost the same species probably fit better. *Nope,* Rachel responded, unfazed by this level of doubt and sending a mental shake of her head along with it. *Actually turned myself into a genetic hybrid dino-person.* He let out a soft mental snort of amusement at the mental image that floated to the forefront of Rachel's mind with the thought. How...? *Told you I was wacky-crazed,* she added, either in response to his unasked question (he was getting used to that, though he had to wonder if that was how everyone else felt when he did it) or just by way of explanation. He felt a brief stab of something kind of like hurt (which was ridiculous, because sister or no, why should he care?) when Rachel suggested he might not be getting the hang of the stay afloat thing. He was trying, after all. Wasn't she supposed to wave pom pons and say practice makes perfect and all that stuff teachers did with students who weren't getting it the first time? Granted, he didn't have much experience with it, but he was pretty sure that was how it worked. Unless she was already ready to write him off, too... *No, this is where I say (again) that there’s two ways of doing things, and it makes sense to try both and see which one suits you better before we start making all the installment down payment thingies on either of them,* Rachel said, sounding pretty cheerful even if he was pretty sure that didn't match with anything his business teacher had ever taught. *I can say it with pompoms though, if you want.* A mental image of Rachel in a cheerleading outfit with pom pons flashed into his head, one he quickly dismissed before he could get too into staring at it. Sister, right. Even if she was from three dimensions over and not actually related, definitely not going there. Besides, there was an easier solution to the whole "who am I?" thing, wasn't there? If Rachel could get herself untangled from a dinosaur or whatever (and he still wasn't sure how the hell that could've happened, but was kind of afraid to ask), she could put "Nate" in a box and bury him, couldn't she? After all, Mo- err, Jean had done it with him. It couldn't be that hard. That got a definite response, even if it wasn't the one he was hoping for. *No,* she sent, without any hesitation, and "sounding" a little pissed off. *And that’s a no that stands for both ‘no you wouldn’t’ and ‘no, I’m not going to do that to you. Ever.’* Quentin swallowed hard, and tried to quickly summon up some mental barriers as he tried to process that. Not "for you", but "to you". Did she think he was worried she might? He hadn't thought about it that way, but- *It’s exactly how my memories got screwed up in the first place,* she added, sounding a little calmer. *Friends with the best intentions trying to help me out by sealing away all the worst things from my mind so they couldn’t hurt me,* Rachel sent, keeping the explanation as spare and undetailed as she could get away with. *It didn’t work. It never works.* *The crap from the pens?* he guessed, focusing on that part while he mulled the rest over. *It's not that - I mean, that sucked, but...*[/i] he let his inner voice trail off. There wasn't any point trying to explain it, anyway, not when he couldn't even figure it all out himself. Which was "him", which was "Nate"? What was real, what wasn't, and how could he tell if he was really him or if he was reacting in a way he'd been programmed to? Was there any way to know, other than talking to Jean, who he didn't think anyone had seen since that last day back at the camp? It wasn't the same as what Rachel was describing. Not really. Her friends may have messed with her head, and he could understand being pissed that they'd locked up her memories. He was still pissed at Jean for doing that to him. But he just wanted to get rid of the ones that weren't really his to begin with. Or were they? *I think you're not the only one who's wacky-crazed* he muttered, then gave himself a shake and pushed all that aside. *Whatever. What's the other way?* he asked, changing the subject. Installment plans and down payments aside, she maybe had a point. It wouldn't hurt to try both. |
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| Marvel Girl | Dec 29 2013, 08:58 AM Post #22 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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That was a ‘No’. Capitalized and underlined, with the kind of emphasis that wouldn’t let in any wiggle room for argument. The kind of no, Rachel knew, that sucked down large amounts of suck when you were on the other side of it. From this side of it though, it was every bit that simple. She wasn’t going to do that to her new Little Brother. Taking out pieces of his mind, burying them deep somewhere. That didn’t work. That never worked. She was one of the all-time great examples of that, she ought to know. She did know. *The crap from the pens?* he guessed, not arguing at least, but with the mental feel like he was thinking things over. *Some of that. Some of everything else after, too,* Rachel told him briefly, not bothering with the details, because the point right now really wasn’t about her. Little Bro didn’t want to swap stories about pens and camps and the rest of it any more than she did. *It's not that - I mean, that sucked, but...* the coherent mental voice trailed off, leaving his thoughts a mess of half-formed impressions and questions, worries and confusions batting around some of the big ones. Having something that felt like a whole other person in there... yeah that was different, definitely. Except, unfortunately, for the parts where it wasn’t, so... yeah, they had a Summers Luck kind of pickle going here, didn’t they? *I think you're not the only one who's wacky-crazed* he muttered, in a mental voice that sounded kinda bitter, and a lot of ready to give up on trying to figure it all out. *Runs in the family,* Rachel offered drily, with just a hint of humor (black and inappropriate, which also most definitely did), though she wasn’t sure whether it had made much of an impression on the kid beside her, who was looking like he was doing his best to change the subject. *Whatever. What's the other way?* he asked Yeah, like that. In answer though, Rachel shook a mental projection of her head. *Not yet. Explanations first.* Letting that fester and eat at him and resent her and Mom and everyone else for not doing what he saw as helping him definitely wasn’t going to do anything good for anyone, especially him. Though... yeah, resenting Mom was kind of his by rights, if he wanted it, not ways around that one. As for the rest, though... *Here’s the thing, Little Bro,* Rachel began, trying to assemble words (tricky) and concept picture mental image things (easier, except when coming up with a name for them, because words, still tricky) to be sent along with the thoughts as she continued with the explanation. *Minds, they’re not like... patchwork quilts, or lego sets or something like that. They don’t come in pieces you can pop in and out if they don’t suit.* Patchwork lego quilty modular thing image attached in with the thought too, swapping in and out with only a little bit of work as long as the pieces were the right size, before she dissolved the image away and started again, pulling up a different image. *They’re like... sweaters. Classic horrible Christmas joke sweaters with reindeer santa faces that you’re stuck wearing all the same, yes, but sweaters. Try to take out a piece you don’t like, the whole thing starts to unravel.* Who had even made all those sweaters at the Mansion every year when she was growing up? Rachel couldn’t remember, though she did remember the Uncles and their yearly mission to trick Daddy into putting his on. But anyway, not important, back to that image. Pull at the thread at the edge of reindeer’s nose (oh she remembered this one, it had totally looked like it was trying to squint up its own nostrils!), and watch the hole get bigger and bigger and take out everything with it, because it was all attached. Okay, kind of overdramatic, and definitely a little in the abstract, but it made her point, at least. Or half her point. The rest was still coming. *What Mom did to you...* Rachel trailed off, both to allow a moment for that switch in topic to take, and because finding words for that was pushing up at her limits of word appropriateness. *Look, it was awful. It sucks. It’s one of the worst things a telepath can do to anyone, and I’m sorry she did it to you, she’s sorry she did it to you, but she did to it to you, I’m pretty sure of that.* That speech came out in a speeding rush, only slowing down at the end, and hitting a pause as Rachel considered the conclusion for a second. She hadn’t looked all the way through his mind carefully yet, so she was basing it on feel, and the little pieces Mom had let drop earlier last night/this morning (or let moan drop, maybe was more accurate), and some best-guess logic, but still, yeah. Pretty sure. Though probably something that needed a lot more explanation to back it up, huh? *I mean it wasn’t something she pulled out of somewhere else and stuck into you,* the telepath continued, sending an image of someone with reddish hair snatching something out of the air like it was a fly and stuffing it into Little Bro’s head, then dissolving that too. *She grew it out of parts of your mind, and shaped them to fit. It’s the goofy-looking cross-eyed reindeer on the sweater, yes, but it’s still part of the sweater.* Which was, in the end, why although it wasn’t at all the same as the what and the why of what Kate and the Phoenix had done, it was still, in a very major and important way, still just the same. |
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| Quentin Quire | Dec 31 2013, 06:47 PM Post #23 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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Yeah, Rachel wasn't the only one wacky-crazed, was she? Considering he was sitting her, unable to figure out even in his own head whether or not he wanted dweeb!Nate extracted from his brain, he didn't suppose he had much room to talk. But...well, some of the memories didn't totally suck. Most of them did, but not all. Even if the ones that didn't weren't real to begin with. Yeah. Definitely needed his head examined. *Runs in the family,* Rachel offered, and he snorted softly, half amused. *Maybe M-err, Jean, stuck that in, too,* he offered, stammering a little, mentally, over the name. Damn, he seriously needed to stop that. Even with Rachel, it sounded stupid. Anyway, she wouldn't lock Nate up in a box. Got it, moving on to other means of psychic defenses, considering his inability to float (and that still sucked, because he thought he wasn't doing half bad at it) was apparently linked to the Y-chromosome, and he wasn't about to have it removed. Rachel shook her head - or at least, the image of Rachel in his head did. Damn, that was weird. *Not yet. Explanations first.* He opened his mouth to protest that he didn't need any explanations, then closed it. Yeah, okay. Maybe he did, seeing as he wasn't having much luck making sense of it himself. *Here’s the thing, Little Bro,* she began, and he settled back down, hoping this wasn't going to be one of those boring, motivational lectures or something. Instead, he found an image of some kind of weird patchwork looking Legos floating around in his mind. *Minds, they’re not like... patchwork quilts, or lego sets or something like that. They don’t come in pieces you can pop in and out if they don’t suit.* Little lego pieces floated out of place, were replaced by other different colored ones. *They’re like... sweaters. Classic horrible Christmas joke sweaters with reindeer santa faces that you’re stuck wearing all the same, yes, but sweaters. Try to take out a piece you don’t like, the whole thing starts to unravel.* Quentin nearly choked at the sight of the next image, that of a dyspeptic looking reindeer that was what, trying to see up its own nose? A hand reached in and plucked at a loose thread, and he watched as everything started to come apart, the hole growing bigger and bigger. Okay, so everything was sort of sewn together in his head. He was following that so far, except... Except Rachel wasn't done. *What Mom did to you...* she began, then paused, which was just as well because he was still thinking about whether or not you could stretch the metaphor and sew things back together afterwards and it took him a couple of seconds to switch tracks, and to force himself to relax mental shields that popped up as soon as Jean was mentioned. *Look, it was awful. It sucks. It’s one of the worst things a telepath can do to anyone, and I’m sorry she did it to you, she’s sorry she did it to you, but she did to it to you, I’m pretty sure of that.* He nodded - yeah, the green woman who talked like an oracle had said that much. He thought. He hadn't really been all that into listening at the time, and it wasn't like she'd made a whole lot of sense about it, but it'd been something like that anyway. *I mean it wasn’t something she pulled out of somewhere else and stuck into you,* she continued, tossing in an image of a vague redhead stuffing things into his brain. *She grew it out of parts of your mind, and shaped them to fit. It’s the goofy-looking cross-eyed reindeer on the sweater, yes, but it’s still part of the sweater.* Quentin's eyebrows shot up, incredulous. *So, somewhere in my head, there was this moron kid who...* No. That wasn't what she was saying, was it? She was saying Nate wasn't something separate. It was just him, twisted around into something pretty unrecognizable. A new memory here, some bullshit there, but still him. Kind of. *That sucks,* he pointed out, then sent the mental equivalent of a wrinkled nose in her direction. *Couldn't she have at least flicked things around into a cool elf with a submachine gun or something? Nate was a lot like that reindeer. Total dweeb. Everyone hated his guts.* Well, not the Maker, he guessed; Forge had always been really cool. Or Yana - Yana'd been okay with him from the first. Heh, he'd have to remember to tell her she hadn't been totally off with that whole Madelyne's kid theory after all. She just hadn't been right, either. The rest, though... Yeah. Still him underneath, huh? Just his luck he got turned into someone even more socially inept than the original. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 5 2014, 10:28 PM Post #24 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Yeah, definitely a good choice there made by Little Bro, forgoing the urge to protest about explanations. He needed them, that much was obvious, and this was definitely the time for them. Or at least it wasn’t the time to put it off. Hard to get your head straight, when it wasn’t anywhere close. And he needed that, or as much of it as there was a chance of getting right now. So, Explaining Minds 101, with interactive images to help illustrate the point, because the thing about minds? They couldn’t just be taken apart and slotted in with upgraded pieces. It was all a part of the same whole, and you couldn’t take it apart without making it unravel. Not unlike that image of the sweater that had definitely done a good job at grabbing his attention there. Maybe a little too good, because it did make bringing up what Mom-Here had done to him kinda a big giant bait-and-switch, didn’t it? Shields rising fore and aft, Captain, which didn’t really do anything to prevent Rachel being able to see into her new little brother’s thoughts (kind of a Force-related cheat there, but best not to let on), but it was good to see him trying to make himself relax them away, too. He needed to hear the punchline too. Because what Mom had done? One of the worst things that a telepath could do to anyone, and there was a lot of sorry all around that it had been done to him. But it had been to him, not with him as some waiting recipient brain for an exo-personality transplant. Rachel was pretty sure of that. Mom had grown the personality of the kid she’d wanted Dad’s baby to have been, but she’d done it out of Quentin’s mind, like a bonsai. Or, putting it another way, like that reindeer on the sweater. Funky, and a little off, maybe, but definitely part of the whole. From this version of Little Bro’s mind, she was now getting an impression of raised eyebrows, and a whole lot of dubious, but that kind of went along with the course, if you chose to make points illustrated by ugly Christmas sweaters. *So, somewhere in my head, there was this moron kid who...* he began, but that big brain that was clearly in there, working away at an impressive rate of thoughts per minute, and it had already clocked on to a reinterpretation and filled the blanks in himself. *That sucks,* he pointed out, then sent the mental equivalent of a wrinkled nose in her direction. *Couldn't she have at least flicked things around into a cool elf with a submachine gun or something? Nate was a lot like that reindeer. Total dweeb. Everyone hated his guts.* Rachel held mental silence for a couple of moments, watching the thoughts go spinning through his mind a few dozen more revolutions, before breaking in with a little friendly grin. *Your memories are calling you a liar, Little Bro. I can see them,* she informed him, with some affectionate amusement. He could name a couple of people that quickly that actually liked him, she was betting on him exaggerating most of the rest a little too. *But it’s not a big mystery. I’m guessing she was trying to make you into the nearest she could to someone like Dad,* Rachel continued, offering up an obvious logical explanation with all the conviction of a devoted but still clear-eyed Summers-daughter. A moment later though, after a quick pause to review some more of what he’d actually sent her, Rachel mentally wrinkled her forehead. *Though ‘cool elf with a submachine gun’? And Nate was the dweeb?* she asked, teasingly. Man, he was starting to sound like that weird guy with the metal arm who ran X-force like a paramilitary team and creepily stared at people at their weddings. If he had downtime enough to state preferences for Christmas sweaters. Off-track. Right. *Okay, okay...* Rachel added hastily, cutting her thoughts short and getting back to the thing they’d been meaning to do, *so this time, picture your mind as a big giant room. Grandpa X always had us use the Cerebro hall,* and she sent along an image of that as it had been during her childhood, a gleaming silver sphere with a single walkway jutting out into the center for the station to accompany that, *but cathedral, auditorium, hangar, whatever takes your fancy will work as well.* Little pause there, to give him time to process that, then *Got it?* |
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| Quentin Quire | Jan 7 2014, 08:52 PM Post #25 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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Nate? Total dweeb. A lot like that reindeer picture Rachel'd shoved in his head to make her point. Everyone'd pretty much hated him, and Quentin couldn't blame them. He kinda hated the guy too, whether it was a stretched and twisted version of him or not. To be fair, though, Forge had always been cool. Annoyed, maybe, but cool. And Yana... Yeeeaaah. Not going there. But she'd been okay too. There was a couple of seconds pause, then he got the impression of Rachel grinning at him. *Your memories are calling you a liar, Little Bro. I can see them,* she "said", sounding way too amused. *But it’s not a big mystery. I’m guessing she was trying to make you into the nearest she could to someone like Dad,* Quentin shuddered a little. Yeah, okay, Rachel loved Dad. That much was pretty obvious, even to him. But Summers - he remembered stuff from Jean's memories about Summers, and no way was the guy the "martyr of the Resistance" they'd turned him into. He could, however, kind of see the resemblance between him and Nate. It could've been worse, he reminded himself. She could've tried to turn him into someone like Rankin. Not that he was sure the boyscout'd been a huge improvement, but at least he'd had a brain. Calvin ranked somewhere just above neanderthal on the evolution scale. Maybe. ...yeah. Really, Jean could have done worse. *Though ‘cool elf with a submachine gun’? And Nate was the dweeb?* She was teasing, but he picked up the image of some weird cyborg guy who looked like a playable character in some post-apocalyptic video game. Without pointy ears, so he wasn't sure where it fit in, but he wrinkled his mental nose back at her anyway. *Hey, I could make that work,* he pointed out with a grin, grabbing hold of the image and morphing it a little, so that the guy had his pink mohawk and hound tattoos instead of the glowing eye, and made him fire glowing psionic bullets at the dorky looking reindeer. *See? It would've been cool.* Especially without the elf ears. *Okay, okay...* Rachel said, changing the subject, *so this time, picture your mind as a big giant room. Grandpa X always had us use the Cerebro hall,* and he saw the image of a room he recognized from Jean's memories, a glowing silver sphere with a walkway, *but cathedral, auditorium, hangar, whatever takes your fancy will work as well.* He nodded, sticking with the hollow sphere image, which felt familiar. Which was now his mind, apparently, even though he had to wonder at all the empty space in the middle. His brain was hollow? It seemed like a pretty strange metaphor, but he'd go with it. *Got it?* *Got it,* he answered. *Do I reinforce the walls or something?* That, too, seemed familiar - had Jean explained this, sometime? Or had he maybe picked up on it? He wasn't sure, so he waited for Rachel to continue. She'd done a great job with the metaphors so far. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 9 2014, 09:29 PM Post #26 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Seriously, people who lived in brain houses where elves with submachine guns were ‘cool’ shouldn’t be making with the throwing of dweeb stones. Though come to think of it, the image Little Bro had suggested did actually put Rachel in mind of that weird overly staring Cable guy from X-force. Or something about it had, anyway, but since she couldn’t figure out what that was exactly, the red-haired telepath was just about ready to put it aside when she noticed that her shiny new tutee had grabbed hold of it. *Hey, I could make that work,* he pointed out smugly, as the mental construct passing between them morphed into an older, muscle-bound version of himself, going psi-Rambo on the poor knitted reindeer image that was still floating about. *See? It would've been cool.* Rachel sent a mental snort back his way, though she was grinning with a certain degree of amusement all the same. *There is definitely something weird that comes out of the Y-chromosome,* she pointed out in dry tones, before relenting enough to add a caveat. *Though the psi-bullets are a legitimately awesome idea. Props for that.* Seriously a good plan. Like Betsy’s psi-knives, only with added bonus of actually being functional at a distance that worked for those who happened not to be blessed with near mystical hand-to-hand ninja prowess. Definitely going with liking that. Though, okay, right. Off-tracking themselves, when she should probably be getting back to working through the other way of doing the thing they were doing. But that wasn’t too hard to start in on getting set up. First step was just to picture your own mind as a suitably large room, like the Cerebro hall, or whatever else took your fancy in the category of ‘big giant empty room’. For Little Bro, Cerebro seemed to be working, so that was easy. Just a quick check to make sure he was following on so far, and they’d be off. *Got it,* he answered. *Do I reinforce the walls or something?* Rachel paused a moment, pursing mental lips. *Or something,* she sent, *But that’s not far off. So, all the voices in your head? Imagine every panel in this room is a window, and there’s one voice in each in them. Like one giant game of celebrity squares.* Each individual panel turned transparent, revealing a slightly fuzzy monochrome person-figure behind it, all talking and thinking at once, all wrapped up in their own personal mental chatter. *Now, when you’ve got hold of that,* Rachel continued, making her voice clear and steady enough to cut over the buzz, *You don’t need to touch any of the voices at all - just drop the shutter down between you and it, and close off the windows one by one.* Flicking off one by one back behind their opaque screens, just like in that TV show that had to be way beyond old even now this far in the past. Easy as something that was much easier than pie, because she’d never really managed to get the hang of baking. Or something like that, anyhow! |
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| Quentin Quire | Jan 12 2014, 03:58 PM Post #27 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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Yeah, he could totally make that work. A little editing, a few substitutions - messing with a mental image was a whole lot easier than doing it on the computer, and the end result was cool, if he said so himself. Psi bullets should be possible, right? Betsy did the whole knife thing, and so had the bondage lady who'd taken filet knives to his brain. A mental snort was Rachel's initial response, but amusement came right along with it. *There is definitely something weird that comes out of the Y-chromosome,* she pointed out in dry tones, before relenting enough to add a caveat. *Though the psi-bullets are a legitimately awesome idea. Props for that.* He sent back a little smug satisfaction, even as she changed the topic over to Telepathic Shielding, Method 2. Which apparently involved his brain as a big empty room, one that reminded him of the Cerebro chamber he'd seen in Jean's head. Good enough, instant empty brain. A little weird, but she'd explain it. She'd been good about that so far. He offered up a guess, though - was he supposed to reinforce the walls? He'd been trying to do that, without a whole lot of success, but he'd give it another shot if that was what she had in mind. Maybe she could tell him where he was screwing it up. She paused a moment before replying, as if she were thinking it over. *Or something,* she sent, *But that’s not far off. So, all the voices in your head? Imagine every panel in this room is a window, and there’s one voice in each in them. Like one giant game of celebrity squares.* Quentin frowned a little, then caught the mental image accompanying the thought and nodded. Right, one per window. He started filling the windows with everyone's thoughts he could hear as she continued. *Now, when you’ve got hold of that,* Rachel continued, making her voice clear and steady enough to cut over the buzz, *You don’t need to touch any of the voices at all - just drop the shutter down between you and it, and close off the windows one by one.* The screens in her mental image flicked down, closing off the individuals, and he nodded, biting at his lip a little as he concentrated. One after another, the voices went silent, until ultimately, all that was left for the first time in days was his own thoughts. Which...was awesome, right? No more noise, no more listening to people arguing, or laughing, or jerking off in their rooms. Just him. And Nate, who was really part of him, according to Rach. No Jean. None of the other hounds, whose presence he could always feel even if he couldn't make out their thoughts. Just him. Just like it'd been at the camp. He flipped a few of the screens back up quickly, without even consciously realizing he'd done it. *So, the floating thing,* he sent, trying to make his mental voice sound casual. *I could learn to do that, right? I mean, they teach little kids to float in a pool, it can't be that hard.* Damn, his new big sis been right - he was a dweeb. Hopefully she had a soft spot for those, given her dad and all, and wouldn't write him off for it. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 12 2014, 09:31 PM Post #28 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Right, see - he totally caught on quick. Fill up the panels in the imaginary Cerebro room with voices, give them each their own little window, and then just close down the shutters one by one, or more than that at a time if you wanted. Rachel got her little bro started, demonstrating how to shut off a few voices, and then he seemed to have it sorted, taking over and setting the clouds of voices buzzing through his brain down behind the shades till there was one big pile of empty head silence hovering around the two of them. It would have been enough to put her on edge, if it was her brain, so maybe it wasn’t altogether surprising, Rachel decided, that almost as soon as it was done, Little Bro started to get kinda twitchy. Blink and you might have missed it, but a handful of voices crept back in, their channels flipped back to open and babbling in the background, and you had to admit - or at least you did if you were Rachel Summers, and you knew yourself pretty well - that it made the place feel a whole lot less empty. *So, the floating thing,* the kid asked after that, in mental tones that were oh-so-casual and totally normal-nothing-to-see-here, unless you weren’t emotionally tone-deaf, in which case they were kinda transparent. *I could learn to do that, right? I mean, they teach little kids to float in a pool, it can't be that hard.* *You ever try to teach little kids how to float?* Rachel had to ask, coupled to a mental lift of her eyebrow as their psionic projections hovered in the midst of the slightly less than totally empty room, but there was something awkward and hopeful and painfully worried about being judged in the sense she was getting from his brain that made her drop the gentle teasing in favor of an even more gentle warning. *And you’re pretty strong already, Little Bro. It’s going to be more like learning how to float in the middle of the Atlantic than doing it in the shallow end of the kiddie pool.* Actually, pretty strong was kind of low-balling that. Stronger than she’d ever been before the Force. Not as strong as Mom, at least the one from new Home Universe, but maybe close to Grandpa X, if he pushed himself, and that was a big sea to set yourself floating in. But she’d keep that to herself, because there was only so much freaking out of people that she should probably be doing at any one time, and if he wanted to try to learn, then she’d do her best to try to teach him. *But yeah, sure. It’s not hard, it’s just a state of mind,* Rachel told him, sending the Cerebro image out of his mind with a mental wave and replacing it with the two of them, floating on matching red and pink (and slightly bird-shaped) lilos in the middle of of a horizonless ocean. *You just have to be okay with letting other people in, and letting them be who they’re going to be, think what they’re going to think. Fight it - fight them - and that’s when you start to sink.* Hmmm. Would it help to add some ridiculous cocktails to the image? Or was that a contravention of responsible big Sisterhood? |
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| Quentin Quire | Jan 14 2014, 12:04 PM Post #29 |
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That's MR. Arrogant Shit Stirring Asshole, thank you!
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So yeah. Peace and quiet in his head. All he'd been requesting for days, right? Turned out, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and Quentin felt himself growing uncomfortable with all the silence. There was a simple solution to that, and he popped a few of his visual shades back up again so the brains they were hiding could provides the background noise, but yeah. Maybe floating wouldn't be such a bad thing. They taught little kids to float, it couldn't be that hard. He asked as much, trying to keep the hopeful note out of his mental voice, but Big Sis kicked back an observation of *You ever try to teach little kids how to float?*, and with a raised eyebrow suggesting that it was harder work than he'd ever considered. *And you’re pretty strong already, Little Bro. It’s going to be more like learning how to float in the middle of the Atlantic than doing it in the shallow end of the kiddie pool.* Right, not exactly reassuring there, but point made. Still... *Totally up to it,* he assured her, puffing up a bit with false bravado. Because yeah, he was. Maybe. At any rate, it'd beat the whole total silence thing. *But yeah, sure. It’s not hard, it’s just a state of mind,* She made some kind of wave, and the Cerebro chamber disappeared, to be replaced by an image of them floating on inflatable pink and red sort of bird-shaped rafts, presumably somewhere in the Atlantic. The mental noise had definitely increased, but somehow, it was easier to stay on top of it this time. Maybe he should've pictured the raft before. *You just have to be okay with letting other people in, and letting them be who they’re going to be, think what they’re going to think. Fight it - fight them - and that’s when you start to sink.* He wrinkled his nose a little. *Most people are idiots,* he pointed out. *But yeah, I get it, I think. Tune them out, like you do the kid who goes on and on in class with the wrong answer.* Mental static, which was pretty much all things like the inner workings of Storm's stupid car was good for. He glanced over at her (so what if it was only a projection, it felt real, and she'd said herself that what happened in your head was real enough?), grinned a little, and added one of those coconut drinks with a straw to the edge of her raft, right near her hand. Settling back with a satisfied look, he asked, *How do you know if they said something out loud or if you heard it in their heads? I keep answering people's thoughts.* Which, of course, they then figured he was doing on purpose, whether he was or not. On the other hand, she'd answered quite a few of his unasked questions, so maybe they were just going to have to deal. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 15 2014, 09:08 PM Post #30 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Alright then. Little Bro wanted to retry floating, that’s what they’d do. Though this time, there were probably a few disclaimo-warning labels Rachel realized she needed to flag up before they dove in (or on, as it were), because strong as Little Bro was already? This wasn’t going to be like learning how to float in a nice safe little pool. Not that that warning seemed to make an impression on him. Possibly because she’d forgotten to make allowances for testosterone effects making it impossible for any teenage boy to ever possibly back down from something, once he’d said he wanted to. *Totally up to it,* he assured her, all projecting of the confidence, and so, with a mental semi-shrug, Rachel agreed and got down to getting on with the lesson. So, starting off with one giant ocean of all the sets of thoughts that he could hear. Add in one each of them, floating on matching vaguely Phoenix-shaped lilos, and the over-view explanator narration intro about what you needed to do to achieve a floating state of mind. Cliff’s notes version, which basically boiled down to: let them all come in, and don’t fight them, or you’ll sink. So... maybe quicksand would have been the better image? But Lilos on quicksand would just look weird, so they’d stick with an ocean for now. It was around that point that things started to veer off from Rachel’s (admittedly not very well prepared lesson plan) - starting innocuously enough, with just a little wrinkle of a mentally-projected nose. Then, *Most people are idiots,* he pointed out. *No, they’re not,* Rachel disagreed, but he seemed to already be going on with that thought stream all the same. *But yeah, I get it, I think. Tune them out, like you do the kid who goes on and on in class with the wrong answer.* *Um-* the redhead telepath sent back, mental eyebrows and nose working together in an outward reflection of the internal processes of trying to piece together a suitable, not smacky-downy way of explaining that judging by that analogy, he hadn’t, in fact, actually got it at all. But while she was doing that, Little Bro seemed to be marching forward with a pretty good job of being something at least a little close to that kid he’d been just describing, grinning like he was enjoying himself. Next moment, a pina colada had appeared next to her hand, and in spite of the continuing thought processes, Rachel found herself grinning too. She picked it up, lifting it quickly his way in a thank you salute, then took an investigative sip. Yeah, okay, that really wasn’t bad. Mmmm. *How do you know if they said something out loud or if you heard it in their heads? I keep answering people's thoughts.* Putting the psi-drink back to rest on a little ledge she created out of thin air for the occasion, Rachel glanced back over, lifting one eyebrow in a little wry amusement for the way Little Bro was making himself comfortable on his pink lilo. *General rule of thumb that works for pretty much everybody?* she sent, grinning just a little herself, *If they’re talking out loud, their lips are moving.* Really pretty simple, in fact, except for the few awkward cases with certain mutations (or the right sort of alien) where it failed for lack of visibly discernable lip equivalents. But in general? Yeah, the lip check worked basically every time, and after that, it was just a matter of deciding whether you wanted to be the person who answered people’s thoughts and deal with the ensuing consequences of being that person or not. *But hold up a bit, because we kinda need to backtrack here, Little Bro,* Rachel added, lifting one hand to forestall any more questions that however good, were kind of secondary to the possible fundamental problem with the floating thing. *If you want this to work without the Big Sister issued water wings, that is,* she added, with a gesture to indicate the pink, bird-shaped buffer he currently had between him and the mental ocean, working a pretty good deal of serious face into the look the rest of her was giving him. *See, this isn’t about tuning people out. That’s the opposite of what you need to be doing.* Kind of like dismissing the majority of the voices in your mind as idiots (occasionally doing that to a few of them, in the midst of temper tantrum? Slightly more acceptable, at least as long as you tried not to make a habit of it), because just like in the physical world, that wasn’t a good way to get them to go along with what you wanted them doing. Hmmm... how to explain this better, and preferably without words, since those always managed to trip her up. Didn’t seem like a good idea to remove the safety net lilo thing, obviously, but... or yeah, not his. Hers, on the other hand? *Look,* Rachel started again, letting her own bright red floating plastic couch thing vanish, and falling back into mental ocean, letting her mental projection stretch out comfortably in a sort of easy limb spready star-shape, *This is floating. Voices go in, voices slosh around, voices are company. All of them.* She switched over then, focused on what was (for her) a mostly unfamiliar process of turning them to a dimmed static hum, and the water around her receded, falling away like it would have under a hovercraft’s air cushion, forming a calm pocket of empty air between her body and the ocean’s surface. *This is tuning them out. It’s just another way of pushing them away,* Rachel explained, frowning slightly as she extended the field a little more to dim the voices further, then looking over to her little brother once again. *And it works pretty well, for a while, at least if you’re strong and focused enough. But you have to stay strong, and stay focused, because this is what starts to happen if you get that even just a little bit wrong.* She pushed it again, making a larger, deeper hole in the surface of the ocean around her, and in reaction, the water around it began to spin slowly, like a full sink in the process of emptying down a drain. It grew rapidly, deepening and speeding the revolutions, then abruptly collapsed in a minor rushing water spout, swallowing Rachel in its midst. Blarrrgh. Okay, she needed to figure out better teaching safety demos. A moment or two later, Rachel let her mental projection reform above the water, once more sitting on top of a red Phoenix bubble raft thing, and shook her head to try to clear the psychic remnants of that ill-advised maneuver. *Eugh. Psychic blowback is the worst,* she informed her audience, and began absently tapping one side of her head with the heel of her palm, like you might do to try to get water out of your ears. |
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3:33 AM Jul 11