You are the hidden beauty
Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
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Hidden reeeeeeally deeply, heh.
You are Trinity, from "The Matrix."
Strong, beautiful- you epitomize the ultimate
What Matrix Persona Are You?
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Aaaw, I wanted to be Agent Smith [snicker]
HE IS MINE!!!! [clutches Raziel action figure, unhealthy gleam lighting her eye]
And the one non-TPB X-Men Evolution comic I was able to find was one with an incredibly crappy guest artist O_O. What the fook?! Grrrrr...At least the TPB allowed me to draw again, aaaaaaaaaah....feels so good...
THE PANTIES ARE DONE!!!! Some of the most horrible work I've ever had the torment to do, painting happy crappy SHIT on panties for spoiled brats, the end of a long line of horrible painting things for the evil troll woman I used to work for, and I have FINISHED. The LAST time I ever do anything for her, I swear. Next time she calls Blockbusters I'm gonna hang up on her ass.
Gaaaarg. This is crap. Guess I wasn't in the Zone tonight O_o. Oh well.... Written for this week's CLM challenge, no dialogue. More Kurt/Logan, very badly done I'm afraid. They ain't mine, dun sue.
The jump from unconscious to conscious, from sleep to waking, is inhumanly quick for him. Life has taught him those precious seconds can make all the difference in survival, instinct has taught his body. He's out of bed within the beating of a heart, at the door in two. Claws unsheathed, he stares down the hall, sniffs, catches a great rolling whiff of fear and sweat. His ears ring with the sound that roused him, drawing him past the many doors; some of the doors are cracked open, with startled, frightened eyes peering from behind them.
The noise grows louder as he reaches the end of the hall, wordless cries that fill this wing of the mansion. Several students stand outside the door, glancing nervously at each other and shuffling their feet. Pryde and Rogue are halfway inside the room, with the Drake kid pulling on Rogue's gloved hand.
An irritated grunt announces his approach, elicits lots of guilty looks. One of his patented stares is all it takes to send every kid running, except Rogue, who turns back for an instant at a painful shout from the darkness behind the door. She looks at him pleadingly, worry in her gently furrowed brow, then follows the others.
The room is chill, dark, filled with the musky scent of fear. He makes his way to the bed, not worrying about bumping into anything; the room's occupant hasn't had time to fill it with furniture or objects, a dresser and the small dorm bed are the only things in it. He pauses when soft linen rubs against his bare foot, a sheet, and he follows it to the frail form it's wrapped around.
The German is spread across the bed, arms stretched and legs tangled in the bedding. His breath comes harsh and shallow, his limbs twitching occasionally in some mimickry of activity. Moonlight barely serves to highlight his twisted features, his tightly shut eyes and bared fangs.
Logan doesn't know why he sits down next to him. He doesn't understand when he finds himself suddenly attacked, engulfed in shivering arms, with a delicate tail wrapping itself around his waist. When instinct doesn't drive out his claws, he's surprised. Muffled panting and the wetness pressing his shirt against his too-hot skin tells him the man's awake. He surprises himself by not pushing away.
The gut-wrenching sobs slowly fade, leaving him with an armful of sleeping mutant and more than his fair share of confusion.