Hmph

(no subject)

Hah!

Lance finally got to eat his meat. Joyous red meat that he could finally eat. Oh, how Lance had missed his meat. But not just any meat; steak. Pietro wouldn't eat it, Todd wouldn't eat it, but he still had Freddy. He wanted a red, raw steak. He wanted it to bleed as soon as he sliced it open, staining the inevitable side of mashed potatoes pink in the process. Hell, Lance wanted it to still be mooing on the way down.

Excitedly, Lance rubbed his hands together as he stepped out of the jeep and walked up the sidewalk to Freddy and Jeera's small apartment. It was on the first floor, which Lance counted as lucky for the landlords. Those stairs looked like farily cheaply put together black iron and cement - Freddy'd crush 'em with one foot.

Freddy had told him to go ahead and meet at their apartment - something about working late, chores, whatever. Lance had never been big on a chore schedule; he'd more or less taken care of himself, picked up after himself, things of that nature. He still wasn't entirely sure which car they were taking, though he assumed it was going to be his. After all, the truck did belong to Jeera and it wasn't like Lance hadn't driven Freddy around before.

Smiling cheerfully, Lance stopped at the number Freddy had given him, raising a fist to knock rapidly on the door. The corners of his lips quirked slightly, and he decided to have a bit of fun with the older boy. He lifted one finger and placed it over the eyehole of the door, preventing one from looking out and seeing who it was at the door. Not that Freddy really needed to worry about intruders or anything, but still.
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    excited excited

Emily Beth wants to RP... so here is an open post

Ray had had enough!! Being stuck in the mansion and only leaving to go to school was taking its toll on him. He was insanely bored and sick of doing home work and training in the Danger Room all day long. Plus Logan seemed to be watching him like a hawk and it was really getting on his nerves. If Ray didn't leave now, he was going to electrocute anything that stood in his way. So he quietly made his way out the door, down the driveway and to the road. Freedom at last!!! Feeling great, Ray turned and began to head toward town.

After about twenty minutes of walking, Ray finally reached his destination. It was a small coffee shop he had seen a few weeks back but had never gotten the chance to visit. Smiling, Ray opened the door and all but ran to the counter. He placed his order (a cup of basic black coffee), paid the cashier and made his way to the comfy looking couches by the front window. He sat down and picked up the local paper, wondering what kind of anti-mutant news would be in it today.
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    excited excited

Transcript from the Bayville Radio Station KVET on Wednesday, November 12th.

"It's time for your KVET News briefs. Our top story: At ten o'clock this morning, the President of the United States declared that Sacramento and all surrounding suburbs are under a State of Emergency. A pro-mutant protest that began at the steps of the California Capital building yesterday turned violent late last night. The National Guard has been deployed to the area and has reportedly begun making arrests of mutant instigators. Local law enforcement, not having the resources to contain individuals with these sorts of powers, had turned all policing duties over to the military. Mutants are being held in custody at military bases until their status can be determined."

"Wow, Sherry, this makes, what, two riots now?"

"Actually, three, Bob. San Francisco, Boston, and now Sacramento. Although, this one is said to be the worst so far. The White House released a statement this morning saying that this sort of rioting will not be tolerated and that they are prepared to take swift action to contain the mutant threat. The terror level has been raised and airports are being guarded for fear that these mutants may pose a threat to National Security."

"Whew. The world sure has changed, Sherry. Well, why don't we open up the phone lines and see what our listeners out there have to say about this. Hello, KVET, you're on the air."

"Hello Bob! Hello Sherry! This is Muriel. Long time listener, first time caller."

"Good Morning, Muriel. So, what do you think about this whole mutant thing?"

"Well, Bob, I think the government should have stepped in long before this. These people are dangerous. What if they're in our schools? Teaching our children? Our children have to be kept safe."

"I hear that. Hello, KVET. You're on the air."

"Hey, this is James. I don't see why we have to wait for them to start tearing a city apart before we get them locked up."

"So what do you think we should do, James?"

"Sherry, I think the whole country is under a state of emergency. I say we get the Army and the National Guard to sweep through our cities and get these mutants under control and out of the way. Lock 'em up in a desert in Nevada for all I care, just so long as they're not out and about walking the streets."

"Seems to be a common sentiment. Okay, we have time for one more caller. Hello, KVET."

"My so-called son's one of them freaks."

"... really? Well, this is interesting. What are your opinions on the matter, sir?"

"The kid's disgusting. He's a little monster. I should have drowned him at birth, saved me and mine a lot of trouble. We should wipe these freaks off the face of the earth. There ain't no sense in keepin' them around."

"I don't know if I'd go that far, but thanks for calling in. Well, we had quite a lively discussion this morning, didn't we Sherry?"

"We sure did, Bob. Now, onto other news. Rumors are flying that J-Lo and Ben may be setting a new wedding date and..."
pensive
  • toadman

Still Life

"We interrupt this station's regular programming to bring you a FOX News Update. As of one hour ago, the National Guard has been deployed to the Boston area to control a riot that began this morning at the Massachusetts Workforce Commission. Several mutants, in protest of the Mutant Screening Act, which was signed into law by the White House last week, began a demonstration against the screening which gives employers the right not to employ mutants in their workforce. The protest turned violent, when a group known as The Human Right began a counter protest and both sides clashed. Fires are burning all over the Boston Area and the violence has begun spreading throughout the city. The President has declared a State of Emergency and is due to make an announcement this evening at 6pm, Eastern Standard Time. All residents of the Boston area are encouraged to stay calm and remain in their homes and the major roadways leading into the city have been blocked to prevent further disruption. The National Guard has begun arresting all mutants suspected of... *click*"

Todd scowled at the radio, taking his fingers off the power button and walking back across the senior art room. The room was empty and he was currently organizing some of the supplies for Art I at Mrs. Littlefield's request, all too happy to help her out. His studio felt oddly small and confining today and he didn't want to spend any long amount of time in there. There had been too many small spaces in his life the past couple of days.

"Getting' closer," Todd murmured, casting a dark look over at the radio again before turning back to the new box of paint supplies. He slid the box open with a pair of scissors, taking out the fresh, clean bottles that would be splattered with paint in two days time. He dragged the box over to the supply closet and carefully began organizing the supplies neatly. They wouldn't stay that way long, but that really wasn't the point.

"Idiots." Todd put a bottle down harshly on the table. Starting trouble wasn't going to help the mutant cause at all, didn't they see that? True, it had started out as a peaceful protest, but it took at least two sides to fight. There were better ways - there had to be better ways. "We're all gonna get killed," Todd said softly under his breath.

The door to the art room flew open and Todd jumped and turned around, startled more easily than usual. He relaxed as soon as he saw who it was, standing up a little straighter. He wiped his dusty hand on his jeans.

"Hey, 'tro," Todd said, giving the older boy a warm smile. "Here for your sister?"
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    worried worried
I'm loved!
  • evo_elf

The art room

This was the day, Kurt thought excitedly. This was the day that he needed to bring the thing. The thing that he'd waited til the last day to bring, in fear that he might lose it. Todd had told him that today they were going to finish his painting, and he needed to come by during lunch with the necklace his mother had given him shortly before leaving for America.

Gingerly he removed the small, green velvet box from the stand next to his bed and opened it, inspecting the item glinting inside with a toothed grin. It was perfect, just like when his mother had given him. Not a scratch or scuff on it. Carefully he shut the box and slid it into the front pouch of his bag before heading out to catch a ride to school from Scott. Hey, showing up in a bright red car sure beat the bus. And the company wasn't too bad, either.

Shaking his head, Kurt decided it was definitely not a good idea to think until he got to school. Thinking about things like that were only likely to depress him, and Kurt hated being depressed.

His morning classes went without a hitch - turned in his homework, listened to his teachers lecture verbatim from the textbook they'd chosen to teach from that year, got his new homework assignment and headed towards his next class. The daily grind.

Finally the lunch bell rang, and Kurt smiled happily as he tossed his texts into his locker and headed down to the art wing, waving at random classmates in the hall and making vague commitments to things he probably should've been paying attention to. Reaching the correct door, he entered and smiled at the art teacher behind the desk near the right-hand corner of the room. She'd become used to seeing Kurt come in and out as Todd had needed him to come in. He'd contact Kurt and say he needed him to stand like so, hold up his tail while he inspected how the fur ran off it, get a feel for how his hips were shaped and how his arms angled naturally.

Grabbing the velvet box from his bag and opening it, Kurt checked for the millionth time that day to make sure the item wasn't in any way damaged. Kurt knew full well that the door was locked most of the time and always felt like he was walking into Todd's house when he went into that tiny room. One didn't just enter another's living space - it was rude. Satisfied that his necklace wasn't damaged, he walked to the back door and gave it a firm knock.
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    excited excited
WTF?
  • toadman

"Great, another store I can never go into again, man..."

It was finished.

Todd sat back and grinned at the painting of Wanda. It was finished at last. All that remained was leaving it alone for a day or two so it could dry completely, then wandering down to the shop classroom and begging a few people to make him a frame. He could hand it over to Pietro shortly after that.

He couldn't wait to see the other boy's face.

Todd was very pleased with the way she came out. She looked just like he was hoping she would, almost reminiscent of a female Pietro, though the angles of her face were softer and her hair was dark, almost black. She looked at peace with herself, mind absorbed in the bouquet of flowers she held in her hand, eyes almost appearing to be full of thought with a touch of wonder. Todd had never met Wanda, of course, but he hoped he'd done her justice.

Leaving the painting on the easel, Todd gathered his things together, in an odd good mood. He's seen Risty about a half an hour earlier and was sharply informed that she was once again going to hang out with Rogue. Todd knew that whenever that happened, she'd come back to the apartment in a rare good mood, usually after six, and so long as he was quiet and stayed out of her way, he could usually escape any pain she might have otherwise planned for him.

He'd had lunch with Lance, met with John, stolen his wallet, finished Pietro's painting, and now he had nearly three hours all to himself and would no doubt make it through the night totally intact.

Today had been a good day.

Shouldering his backpack over his good shoulder, Todd left his studio, locking the door behind him and giving a little wave to Mrs. Littlefield as he passed her on his way out into the hallway. Todd had a vague plan of what to do with his free time. He needed to stop by the grocery store and buy several items for the Morlocks - not so much in exchange for information about John, but more just for the sake of doing it. He knew they often ate whatever they could find, a lifestyle Todd himself had grown quite accustomed to over the years, so he knew how much just a few cans of fresh food could matter. So lost in his musings as he drew up a mental shopping list, he didn't notice Duncan Matthews standing near his locker until he'd plowed straight into him.

"Hey!" shouted the much taller, much stronger boy, spinning around. He glared down at Todd like he was worth less than the insects he'd eaten for lunch. "Trying to steal my wallet, Toad?" he sneered and his ever-present chorus of jock friends laughed.

"Nah... I was trying to steal your brain, man, but then I remembered there ain't nothin' there." Todd slapped his good hand over his mouth as soon as the insult left it, but it was too little, too late as Duncan's face twisted in fury, two big, meaty hands grabbing the front of Todd's shirt. The sound of his body hitting the metal lockers reverberated down the empty school hallway and Todd winced.

Well, so much for getting through this day pain-free.

"What did you say?" Duncan said slowly, his face dangerously close to Todd's.

"If you didn't get it the first time, I ain't gonna repeat it," Todd said, somewhat disbelieving he was saying it at all. Maybe that last concussion from Mystique had been one too many. "I mean, what's the point, yo? I don't think I could use any smaller words."

This was probably going to hurt, Todd knew, and he braced himself as Duncan's eyes went very, very dark.
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    intimidated intimidated
giddy/happy

The not-date

Pietro was not nervous.

Nor was he giddy.

Because he was not about to go on a date.

Dates did not usually consist of sneaking out of school in order to go eat lunch at... somewhere that was not school. Date consisted of flowers and awkwardness and shy kisses at the end of the night.

So it wasn't a date. Because there wasn't going to be any of the date-like things. Maybe some awkwardness, but that was to be expected, right? And maybe there would be some kissing (or a lot, if Pietro had any say in it) but it wouldn't be shy because, well, they had gotten past that part.

Though, really, Pietro wasn't sure if heated making out in an elevator counted as a 'shy first kiss.'

So. As it had been stated many times, Pietro and St. John were not dating. And they were not about to go on a date. And therefore, Pietro was not giddy and nervous. He was, however, restless.

He checked his watch. Checked the clock. Looked at the chalkboard to see if he had missed anything in the last ten seconds. Checked his watch. Tore a small scrap of paper from his notebook. Wadded it into a ball. Threw it at the back of Risty's head. Looked forward again, completely innocent when Risty turned around to glare in his general direction. Checked his watch. Pulled his wallet fromhis back pocket. Took out the money there and counted it.

He figured that $75 would be more than enough money for whatever they decided to eat. Maybe a little too much, really, but having a little cash was never a bad thing. Pietro silently thanked all of the people who had kindly 'donated' to his cause today. Of course, they had not known that they were donating when Pietro had lifted five dollars here, ten dollars there from various people... But what they didn't know wasn't going to hurt Pietro, right?

He checked his watch again. Threw another paper ball at Risty. Tossed one at Rogue just for good measure. Checked his watch again.

Ooh, look! It was time for the bell to ring!

....

....

Pietro yawned. Glared at the clock.

Briiing!

Hah! Glaring worked! No doubt the bell had been intimidated by him.

Pietro shoved his things into his backpack and stood quickly, pulling the straps over his shoulder. He twitched slightly and shifted from foot to foot a few times while he waited for St. John to finish packing his things up.

He wasn't nervous though. Because it wasn't a date.
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    giggly giggly
Plotty

Being nice, take one.

So. Seventh period, and St. John was in the art wing, wandering around aimlessly from door to door. This was ... highly annoying. Not annoying in the sense that Scott ordering him to practice was annoying, or annoying in the sense that Tabitha was annoying, but ... this was starting to come pretty close to it.

Okay, so it wasn't like he was missing anything important -- he had journalism, which was a total and complete waste of time, but still. He was in the art wing. The art wing. Among all the ... visual people and their creepy visual things.

St. John was not a visual person. St. John was most definitely a ... well, wordy person. Words were good. This place was ... not wordy.

Okay. So Tolensky had said the art wing. This was the art wing. And Tolensky had said his studio.

Where the hell was Tolensky's studio?

After much aimless walking, he finally managed to come across a door that seemed to be the right one (at least if the numerous directions from various creepy people had been correct), and paused as he scrutinized it.

So. Fine. This was easy. Just walk right in and talk to boy that would be friend of boy that he was sort of something with, even though he had no idea why first boy wanted to talk to him about second boy in the first place. Great. And be nice to boy too, as if St. John wasn't a nice person to begin with.

Of course he was. Really.

Impatiently, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, tugging firmly. He just wanted to talk to the guy and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, and back to his smoking and annoyed lurking and --

Oh. Locked. So that was a bit of a problem. He rattled the doorknob a few more times, then sighed, now knocking impatiently on the door.

"Hey -- Tolensky? Y'in there?"
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    sleepy sleepy
goin my way?
  • toadman

An apple a day keeps the doctor away, especially if you have good aim. (Monday Afternoon)

"Make sure you wash out your brushes, people! They cost money, you know!"

The bell marking the end of third period was just about to ring and the art students in the painting class were hurrying to clean up their work stations. For a change, Todd, too, was in a rush, but not to get to lunch - he had an appointment that afternoon down at the Marilynn Clinic and Lance was driving him. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave, and the sooner Lance could get back to school. Todd hated making him miss classes, especially when he knew how important it was to him. A hand came down on his good shoulder and Todd jumped a little turning around, then relaxed when he saw the smiling face of his art teacher, Mrs. Littlefield.

"So, Todd, have you thought about the City Art Contest?" she asked him, getting right to the point. "The winner goes on to a State level, you know. I think you would do really well."

"Actually, yeah," Todd said with a half-shrug, finishing up washing out his personal brushes and putting them back in their smooth, leather case. It had been a gift to him several years ago from Mrs. Littlefield. He slipped it into his backpack and smiled at her. "I figure, what the hell, right? Nothing to lose. If I win, it's a little extra money in my pocket, you know?"

"And excellent name recognition," his teacher reminded him, but Todd shrugged that part off. It wasn't like he was ever going to be famous anyway. Noticing he was actually getting ready to leave the art room, Mrs. Littlefield put a hand over her heart and glanced out the window. At Todd's confused look, she grinned. "Just checking to see if the world was ending, dear. Are you really going to lunch?"

"Nah, I gotta go off campus. I gotta doctor's appointment... for my shoulder," Todd quickly bluffed. Mrs. Littlefield seemed to buy it, for which Todd was grateful.

"Make sure you eat something, too," she called to him as he left the room and Todd just waved at her over his shoulder.

It was slow going to the parking lot. The halls were crowded and Todd had to walk carefully to make sure no one jostled him. He looked fondly up at the ceiling and wished he could just crawl across it to get out of the school, but coming out as a mutant didn't seem like a good idea right now, given everything that had been on the news lately. Not that people didn't already suspect, he guessed. He'd gotten a few very nasty letters shoved in his locker which he quickly destroyed - no way was Lance ever seeing those.

At last, Todd reached the parking lot. Lance wasn't there yet, which wasn't surprising given that his class was on the opposite side of the world, so he climbed up on top of the hood of the jeep, stretching his legs out before him and putting his good hand behind his head, just soaking up the pale sunlight just breaking through the slightly cool, cloudy afternoon.
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    artistic
Oh so pretty with my . . . croissant.

Girl's Night Out

The Bayville shopping center (whatever it may be called) is currently occupying two young girls, who, taking a day to ignore the rest of the world, have magnificent plans to deplete their funds as much as they can.

It's Friday night, what else can you except two teenage girls to do?

Kitty holds up a bright red top up to her chest, quickly taking inventory of her coloring in the mirror. Okay, so this brings out my eyes but makes my skin look kinda pale, but they'd be so awesome with those pants I bought a month ago and never did anything with, and, besides, pale skin is kinda in! Okay, if you're Rogue or something . . . She makes a face, very concerned. Because there was an enticing tank top a few racks over . . . Of course, did she really need a tank top? I mean, summer did end a few months ago.

Frustrated, she turns to Jean. "Ugh . . . Do think this would be worth it?" she says, holding out the shirt for Jean to see. "Or is it, like, really ugly and just wouldn't look good on me at all?"
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    confused confused