skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“That’s not quite what I meant, but okay. Okay. I’m not projecting.” Experimentally, just to see if she even /can/ at this point, really, she tries projecting calm on him. What bits of her are out of control? Is it just her shields, the ones that protect her from everyone else’s emotions? Or is she going to be lashing the people around her with her emotions, or worse, forcing them to feel random things?

She picks at the zipper on her backpack, not looking at Stiles. “It’s okay,” she says softly, listening to the rapid spin of his emotions. “You don’t have to stay here with me.” After all, she knows why he was the only one to say anything. It’s rare for an empath to be in the Hero track; most of the other students don’t know what to do with her. And what she’d done to Jackson, sophomore year, had left a lasting memory.

“Then what did you mean?” Stiles asks, looking at her in curiosity. Then he catches what she says and he finds that she’s not projecting. He would’ve felt a rushing wave of emotion of his body, unnaturally there if she was doing so. He licks his lips absently before he scratches his fingers through his hair, understanding the situation at the moment now. “Shit…you really aren’t projecting.”

He notes how her anxious matters occur, her fingers messing around with the zipper on her backpack. Honestly, Stiles does something similar, only he decides to mess with his nails instead. It’s a much better solution. “I want to stay here, I wouldn’t even be here in the first place if I didn’t want to,” Stiles admits, the compassion in his heart showing on the surface. For someone who was a Hero and not a Sidekick, that was a rather rare occurrence. Honestly, he was sure that was practically unheard of at this point in time.

Summer swallows hard when he acknowledges that she’s not projecting, even when she’s trying to. It doesn’t help; her throat tightens and her eyes burn, and the next blink sends hot drops rolling down her cheeks. She keeps her face turned away from him, so maybe he won’t see, but her voice is high when she speaks.

“Why do you want to?” At least, if she’s shielded enough to keep herself from projecting deliberately, she should be able to keep herself from projecting accidentally. Assuming she doesn’t lose them again.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“Are you feeling anything that seems out of the ordinary for you right now? Something you wouldn’t normally be feeling in this situation?” It actually does help that he’s asking sensible questions, instead of freaking out. /She’s/ freaking out. She clamps her hands over her temples, imagining the impenetrable soap bubble wall that’s always meant shielding before.

She can taste Stiles, but he’s right /there/. Everyone else becomes dimmer, softer, like the sounds from the neighbour’s yard instead of right there in her ear. Or her mind, as the case may be. She really doesn’t want to know this much about what is going on inside him.

It’s rude. She hates being that kind of rude.

He makes an odd movement with his mouth at the question, absently looking around at the other students surrounding them. It’s more or less to distract the time away from her questions, but he knows he’ll have to answer them. “I mean, no? I’m not feeling problems with my brain, no strain like before, it’s controlled like I always have it.” He blabbers these things out, just not sure how he has to say it.

There’s obvious frustration on her face, the girl obviously not understanding why she couldn’t control her gift. Stiles would be the same, not really looking forward to going back to the pain-striking headaches and the irritation of not being able to control his mind correctly. He couldn’t fully understand though, could he?

“That’s not quite what I meant, but okay. Okay. I’m not projecting.” Experimentally, just to see if she even /can/ at this point, really, she tries projecting calm on him. What bits of her are out of control? Is it just her shields, the ones that protect her from everyone else’s emotions? Or is she going to be lashing the people around her with her emotions, or worse, forcing them to feel random things?

She picks at the zipper on her backpack, not looking at Stiles. “It’s okay,” she says softly, listening to the rapid spin of his emotions. “You don’t have to stay here with me.” After all, she knows why he was the only one to say anything. It’s rare for an empath to be in the Hero track; most of the other students don’t know what to do with her. And what she’d done to Jackson, sophomore year, had left a lasting memory.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“It’s never happened to me before!” Summer can’t quite keep the snap out of her voice. “I’m seventeen, this isn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing by now, not, not — ” She flails her arms for a second before shoving the outside door open. “Not being stuck listening to everyone else’s inner feelings!” she finishes finally. 

“I’ve been able to shield /perfectly/ since I started here.” She drops her backpack on top of one of the senior lunch tables and sits with a dejected thud. “But now I can’t even tell if I’m projecting or not — am I projecting?”

There’s a snap in her tone, but Stiles isn’t phased by it. He doesn’t get phased by things like that anymore, they aren’t problems to him. He looks at her and holds his ground. “Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he says, waving his hands around. “My mind control powers are…frustrating sometimes, but I don’t know anything about shielding..” he muses, more serious than before this time.

He notices the exasperated look on her face and Stiles falls right next to her, backpack falling off his shoulder and hitting the ground. “I mean, how do you tell if you’re projecting or not? What normally happens?” Stiles asks in question, looking at her with interested eyes.

“Are you feeling anything that seems out of the ordinary for you right now? Something you wouldn’t normally be feeling in this situation?” It actually does help that he’s asking sensible questions, instead of freaking out. /She’s/ freaking out. She clamps her hands over her temples, imagining the impenetrable soap bubble wall that’s always meant shielding before.

She can taste Stiles, but he’s right /there/. Everyone else becomes dimmer, softer, like the sounds from the neighbour’s yard instead of right there in her ear. Or her mind, as the case may be. She really doesn’t want to know this much about what is going on inside him.

It’s rude. She hates being that kind of rude.

skinandfragilebones:

“Do you normally have problems controlling your powers in class like that?”

Summer dug her fingernails into her palm, hoping the physical pain would distract her from the emotions swirling around the classroom. “No,” she replied softly. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I can’t seem to keep my shields up.”