[ooc: Set Thursday late afternoon/evening.]

Doug should be making milkshakes.

It's what's expected of him in a crisis these days. Caught between John and Jean-Paul's highly passionate personalities, he's so often called upon to be the peacemaker, the joker, the one member of their makeshift little family who never takes anything to heart.

Sitting in Jean-Paul's hospital room, watching his lover sleep, his fingernails are about to draw blood from his palm.

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Usually only as far as the nearest computer. If I'm right, there's always evidence I can use to back up my argument, and flooding someone else's inbox tends to win an argument anyway (although they might never speak to me again).

In class, though, I need to be able to explain things in more basic terms, to ensure that everyone grasps key concepts so they can apply them to actual problems. This can involve drawing on the board, acting things out, or even... Well. You'll have to come audit my class to find out.

These are just intellectual points, though. When it comes to arguments that have - or could have - a truly practical effect on my life, such as anti-gay-rights bills, the Sentinel program, or something as heinous as Proposition X, then I'll go as far as I have to. Sending polite letters to your congressman only goes so far when you have giant robots shooting at you, or the government is trying to chemically castrate you.

The UK government recently apologized to Alan Turing and other gay men of his era for how they were treated by the legal system. There is no way on earth we should be back-sliding, and going even further than they used to.

Yes, I'll round up support on the web. I'll hand out flyers. I'll wear a pro-mutant wristband. But, when push comes to shove - and it will - I'll do whatever it takes. Not because I'm a mutant. Not because I was an X-Man. But because it's the only right thing to do.

ooc: Set in the future!verse where everyone and their dogs have kids. Not binding. Not to be taken seriously.

This is 14-year-old Dylan Kelly's first evening babysitting the three RAB kids, and he's very much looking forward to it. Ever since his older sister Beth went off to art school, he's been the babysitter of choice for the children of superpowered types - less because of his maturity (which is probably still a little lacking) or responsibility (ditto), but because he can transform into absolutely anything. Having a (mostly) indestructible babysitter can definitely be an asset.

"Here's the keys," Mr. Ramsey is telling him, as 2-year-old Jackie tugs on the leg of his jeans. "And all of our numbers in case you need to call us. And Sally, in case you can't get us, and..."

"Don't let any of them play with matches. Or lighters," Mr. Allerdyce says. "And don't let Zach drink too much juice before bed or he'll be up all night..."

"It'll be fiiiiiiiine," Mr. Beaubier grins, and pats Dylan on the back, before frowning. "Chrisse, you're tall. I knew you when you were a sea monkey. I'm getting old! Johhhhhn, tell me, be honest, am I getting wrinkles?"

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How this works: Pick a band/musician and answer the questions with song titles by the band/musician you chose.

Band/Musician: Pet Shop Boys

Who are you?
Boy Strange

How do you live your life?
Se A Vida É (That's the Way Life Is)

How do you see yourself?
The Samurai in Autumn

How do others see you?
The Boy Who Couldn't Keep His Clothes On

How are you feeling?
I Get Along

How do you love?
Always On My Mind

What is your greatest weakness?
Two Divided By Zero

What is your greatest strength?
Love, Etc.

What is your greatest fear?
A Man Could Get Arrested

What is your greatest wish?
Liberation

What are you looking for?
Heart

What have you found?
Beautiful People

The ones with the monkeys on them.

I know most people (not that most people ever see them) probably just think – "Oooh, monkeys! Cute!". But for me they're about far more than that: a reminder of our close links to our primate cousins, the complete rejection of creationism in favor of evolution, the probability of enough monkeys combined with enough typewriters producing Hamlet one day, and how cool it really would be to have a tail.

I'm pretty sure that people with tails just don't appreciate them. I asked Kurt about his once. I mean, it has endless possibilities –it's a fifth limb. He can hang from trees with it, write with it… it provides him with added balance. But he just said – in German – that people kept stepping on it, and it made finding a good pair of jeans murder.

When Mystique turns good again, or when Dylan learns to talk, I'm going to have to ask them about the benefits of having tails versus not. But until then, I'll just have to stare ponderingly at my boxer shorts and imagine it for myself.

A cheerful song, because it's called for today, I think:

The UK government has apologized for being assholes to Alan Turing, who pretty much saved the whole damn world and was then chemically castrated for the crime of being gay.

Yeah, it's just them being PC, and doesn't help Turing or any of the other gay people who also suffered, but, well, hmph, it still made me happy.

:D

ooc: JP used with permission!

It takes a moment for Doug to realize, given the situation at hand, that a head is now poking around the bathroom door. A head with a mop of dark hair, two pointy ears, and a rather confused expression.

"What's that smell?" Jean-Paul asks around his unlit cigarette. There are kids in the apartment, after all.

Doug chucks a wad of wet wipes into the trash and sighs. "Dylan went sploosh."

Dylan, who seems extraordinarily reluctant to just hold still while Doug changes his diaper, giggles and kicks. "Sploosh!" he repeats, in Doug's voice. For a child whose actual communication skills are still pretty much limited to crying, he certainly has a diverse vocabulary.

JP is about to disappear again, maybe to retreat to the relative safety of the couch where Beth and Duncan are playing Mortal Kombat, when Doug tosses him the bottle of baby powder. He sniffs that, too, as if it might just be cocaine. Or rat poison.

Doug grabs Dylan by the ankles, stopping him from transforming into a giant pink teddy bear. "Here," he says to JP.

"Here what?"

"Just... you know..."

Super-speed or not, it doesn't seem to make the experience any more pleasant. "Can't we toilet-train him?" he asks, liberally dumping talc all over the kid.

"We can probably train him to turn into a toilet," Doug suggests.

"Chrisse!" JP sneezes.

Dylan beams. "Chrisse!"

"Tabernac!"

"Tabernac!"

Doug and JP look at each other.

"Oh, fu-"

Doug's hand clamps over JP's mouth. "Maybe we should let Jeanne-Marie do this from now on."

One boyfriend is nowhere to be found, and the other one is in a Huff and drinking Dr. Pepper like it's going out of style.

I'd knock their heads together if they were in the same room.

...I'll be on the couch playing Mario Kart if either of you two want to talk. Or snuggle. Or play Mortal Kombat. Really, all of our differences should be sorted out via Mortal Kombat. FINISH HIM!

*ahem*

ooc: all other characters used with love, not binding to any other pups.

Friday afternoons mean candy runs into Salem Center - packing into Mr. Summers' car with pennies and shopping lists from the younger kids, and merrily ignoring all of the Professor's warnings to keep a low profile. Apart from Mr. Summers' red glasses, they're the very definition of a low profile - Doug and Bobby and Kitty and John and Jubilee. Peter would normally have come too, but he'd chivalrously given up his seat so two smaller students could go in his stead.

American and well-groomed and with a complete lack of blue fur or claws, no one really looks at them twice, even if John glares at everyone on sheer principle. Mutants? You couldn't find anyone more normal. Give John a haircut and persuade Kitty to wear some makeup, and they could model for the Gap.

"Look," says Kitty when they're gathered around the checkout aisle, arms filled with gumballs and cookies and root beer and sour strings.

They all look at The National Inquirer, on the cover right alongside Elvis sightings and Batboy. "The mutant menace," Doug says, slowly.

Bobby leans in. "Is that...?"

"Dr. McCoy," Kitty says, hushed. "Some of him, anyway. It's just security cam footage."

Jubilee wrinkles her nose. "That sucks. Always thought I'd be the first mutant cover girl."

John clicks his lighter open. Closed. Open again.

So Doug goes to speak to the sales clerk in Hungarian. And Swahili. And Navajo.

The fire alarms go off, but the sprinkler system seems oddly to have frozen up.

And some of the clerks could have sworn they saw fireworks just before one girl, rolling her eyes, had pulled another right through a wall.

They don't quite get the candy back to the school, and the Professor has another stern chat with all of them, Mr. Summers nodding all the way through his speech.

But Doug could swear that, at the end of all of it, when Mr. Summers was checking his watch, there was a tiny smile on the Professor's lips.

And that was better than candy, any day of the week.

Comment here with your character's name for a big block of text about how mine feels regarding yours.

A hot boyband member is bi. Quelle shock.

And: unintentionally hilarious "urban" boyband dancing.

JP... Did you know you can get gay teddy bears?

I mean OMG cute! But I don't know how they know the army bear and the t-shirt bear are gay. Seems a bit random, doesn't it? o_O

Also, I want one :D

Walk on by-y-y...

Well, let's be honest about this. Probably nothing. I'm usually going somewhere - to class, or home for dinner - or I'm talking on my cell, and it's tough to just take time out of my day to help someone.

And, being honest again, there's the fear. I'm a mutant, I used to be an X-kid. I can take care of myself in a fight. But I still don't really want to get involved with someone who has mental problems, or wants to mug me, or anything like that. And although most people are probably cool, you just don't know.

On the other hand...

I think I would stop if it was someone like me. I know this is just biased and not fair at all, but if the person crying had on a Mutant Rights t-shirt, or a Star Trek badge, then yeah, I'd probably stop. Because I can see myself in their place, and I can imagine being the lonely kid I might've ended up being if I hadn't wound up with John and JP and all my wonderful friends and my great job.

Hmmm. I don't know. But thoughts, they are being provoked.

Doug's gift to John and Jean-Paul on their first anniversary together is, fittingly enough, paper. He'd thought about writing something himself, had thought about getting Beth Kelly or Isaac Mendez or another professional artist to illustrate it, had thought about finding some really cool kind of paper... maybe making the whole thing into a wall hanging.

But he hadn't wanted to give them art. He'd wanted to give them just a tiny reflection of his love for them, and that's something that somehow seems best given in the form of a completely normal sheet of paper, printed with a fragment of a poem, stuck to their bedroom door with a pin.

( The Unspoken )

And, after they read it, after he's sure, he kisses them both without saying a word.

Written with the wonderful and supremely awesome john_movinon and tm_northstar, and set yesterday...

It's July 1st.

There's been a lot of moping going on in the Ramsey-Allerdyce-Beaubier household recently. There's been so much moping to be done that the three main residents of the large apartment have had to bring in some guest mopers to take up the slack.

JP mopes by smoking on the roof, or fiddling with cigarettes and just thinking about smoking while ostensibly watching TV with Doug. John, as if he's part of a match set, fiddles with his lighter and takes off to pummel a punchbag. Duncan plays video games and glares at the screen with such intensity Doug worries that he might spontaneously develop heat vision. Beth Kelly doodles unhappy faces. And Dylan... Well, Doug isn't sure that a one-year-old can mope, but he's certainly doing his best.

Eventually, Doug just grabs the cigarettes and the lighter, switches off the TV, takes Beth's pencil, and gives Dylan his pacifier.

At one switch of a button, the room is suddenly filled with the cheesiest Euro dancepop imaginable, and every person in the room is staring at him in complete confusion.

"Um, Doug?" John has his fingers in his ears.

"Tiger?"

"Mr. Doug..."

Doug raises a finger, silencing them. "I am making everyone milkshakes. JP, find a child-appropriate movie. We are going to have fun!"

Duncan looks doubtful. "You know when someone says that it means we're totally not going to have fun, right?"

"Ooooh." JP has unearthed a DVD. "The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys."

John crosses his arms. "That is definitely not child-appropriate."

"It so is!"

"It is, actually," Doug says. "It's about comic book artists."

Beth is suddenly paying attention. "Oh, cool."

Half an hour later, they're all bunched up on the couch, slurping milkshakes, watching the exploits of Kieran Culkin and friends. Perhaps it won't dispel the moping entirely... but everyone deserves a break.

Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone?
No... JP was in Metropolis.

When you're walking, do you stop to drink?
Sometimes. I have a bigger problem walking and reading at the same time.

Kill or Be killed?
Kill.

Do you know anyone who has gotten an abortion?
No one I can think of.

Do you like to spend time with people?
Sure!

Are you hungry?
I'm eating an apple right now.

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