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Training the Untrainable?

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Character Quote: Kiss My Coding
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Age: 24
Player: Ace
Joined: 13-January 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Feb 10 2018, 02:25 AM
Local Time: Feb 23 2018, 06:10 PM
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Jan 17 2018, 05:10 PM
It was a t-shirt.

Elliot didn’t do t-shirts.

But the second she saw it she had to have it and when it had been delivered to her shop in Queens, the artist hadn’t wasted any time in pulling it on over her head and tying the side in a cute little knot. It was a simple navy blue, the front of the shirt left entirely blank, but the back of the shirt had large white block letters that proudly stated, ‘I ROCK THE X-GENE’. She’d gotten one for each member of the Brotherhood, including Erik, and had distributed them with absolute glee that was unsurprising. Elliot had always had a thing about declaring her mutant status.

The sign on her shop window for example.

And this was one she could wear.

Elliot didn’t have any physical indicators like Mort or Victor or Anna. Even when she used her powers there was no outward indication. No one could tell that Elliot was the one thing that she was most proud of and she wore that ratty cheap t-shirt with alarming regularity and with obvious pride... But unfortunately it was way too cold out to leave her jacket at home. The good part of the shirt was regretfully covered up in favor of staying warm, and Elliot went about her business that morning without announcing her genetics to the world.

Truth be told, Elle had forgotten what she was wearing by lunch and when she swung by the one-fourteen well after dark, it was just to pester some of her friends in the detective’s bullpen. She hadn’t planned on staying but the second Elliot had appeared one of the captains had jumped on her to sit with someone and take a sketch. Elle wasn’t by any means the only sketch artist working in that precinct but she was exceptional and flattery got you everywhere.

So she’d taken her jacket off and gotten to work.

And when she was finished she walked through the bullpen and gathered her stuff and walked out, missing all of the smirks and raised eyebrows. They’d known Elliot was mutant, because she was the type of girl to not let them forget it and she’d been bitching about those Mutants Not Welcome signs for weeks. This was clearly her answer, splayed across her back in big block letters. In fact, with her hands full of paperwork, and a stack of pencils from her desk, Elle couldn’t immediately get her jacket back on as she walked toward home.


Alone at night.

Through Astoria.

With a mutant pride billboard on her back.

“Mutie freak.” Someone shouted and Elliot responded the way she always did when someone had something to say on that particular topic. Her middle finger went up and she directed a smile in the direction of their voice. She didn’t even bother looking through any surrounding cameras. Elliot knew where she was going and she simply didn’t have the sense to be afraid only a few blocks from home.

Of course Elliot never saw the brick that knocked her to the sidewalk. Papers went everywhere, art supply shrapnel exploding from her arms as she fell, her glasses flying off. It was followed by a boot and another brick and another boot. The low dull sound of bones snapping went unnoticed over the yelling from the crowd of people doing their best to stomp Elliot into the sidewalk, the bottoms of their boots smeared with that X-gene she’d been so proud of that morning.
Dec 8 2017, 03:29 PM
Elliot had been on a mission lately. The plague of Mutants Not Welcome signs had spread across the city with alarming speed and stopping them had proven difficult. There was no one website selling them. No one manufacturer. They were coming from everywhere, popping up like ugly little zits in storefronts, restaurants, living room windows... Prejudice was alive and well in New York which was hilarious considering the melting pot the city was supposed to be. The Statue of Liberty guarding the bay was supposed to be some sort of beacon to those who were different.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...

A stack of the foul metal signs was under her arm as Elliot stormed down the sidewalk, her face twisted in thunderous rage. Every time she saw the sign she added the name and address to her ever growing list, blasting it across the internet. Shops with that sign suddenly found their funds going in a million different directions. When she could take the sign, she did. Otherwise she left it sitting where she found it, a glaring, neon sign of hate. As an Irish immigrant, Elliot was particularly offended. These were no different from the No Irish need apply signs that had blighted the same city in the 1860s.

She needed coffee.

And a sledgehammer.

Elliot needed a break. Social activism was all well and good but sometimes one needed a break from all the gaiety. She was getting wound up and worn down and the tension in her shoulders as she headed toward Mutant Town was visible. Off Key was one of the nicer places to grab an Irish coffee and Elle strode in, smirking at one of the security staff as she glided past. “Nae worry, dear. I’ll behave meself,” she burred at him. Her long legs carried Elle to the bar, where she slid up onto a stool and let the glasses sitting on top of her head fall to her nose so she could actually see.

“Oi, love. Irish coffee please.” Elliot let her stack of signs fall onto the bar and the pile tipped over, falling along the polished surface with a small clatter. “Light on teh coffee.”

Scarlet Witch
Dec 1 2017, 11:51 PM
The Sprinkles Cupcake ATM near Bloomingdale’s was Elliot’s favorite. Emptying regular ATMs was all well and good but when it came to Sprinkles, Elliot was something of an addict. It was why she’d brought her big purse. Lots of room for cupcakes. Sprinkles was one of the few places Elliot’s actually paid for her purchases instead of simply asking the machine to feed them out for her. There were few things Elliot actively supported but by god cupcakes were one of them.

Elliot was moving down the sidewalk at a good clip, her bag full of cash and baked goods. Mortimer had updated her glasses with better cameras and she was enjoying taking in all of the Valentine’s day displays in the storefronts. It was entirely possible there was an idiotic grin on her face as she sauntered down the sidewalk. This was the first time in a very long time that she had someone to spend the holiday with. Hell, it was the first time in her life it was someone who really meant anything to her.

The cool metal band around her left ring finger was a constant reminder that she was basically set for date nights from here on out. Elliot lightly fingered the antique ring, unable to shake her good mood. After their drunken nuptuals, Elliot and Mortimer had decided to actually do the damn thing. Properly. And for real. A judge and two strangers to witness, Elle in her slinky wedding gown, right out in front of the Bellagio fountains. It was simple and it was perfect. She’d left Nevada with a husband and that stupid, goony smile.

“Oooooo cute.” Something had caught her attention and Elliot veered toward a display window. It was just a pair of red boots but they were possibly the perfect foundation for a truly fantastic Valentine’s Day outfit. She did look excellent in red...

Elliot’s lovely smile drooped as she absently scanned the window. If the store had an online shop, she could just order them off the site and avoid carrying shopping bags around with her. Instead her attention was fully diverted by a sign hung in the corner of the window, right next to the front door. Dark, dead eyes narrowed in sudden, and compete rage, her complexion reddening. Elliot rarely gave in to temper but the small, metal sign -something that was clearly manufactured and mass produced- had her full attention and her full ire. There it was in big blue and white letters.


Her grip on her cane tightened as she whipped the front door to the shop open and stormed inside, ripping the sign out of the window. “Oi! Who’s in charge here? I have a question or two fer yeh.”

Already Elliot was sending out information. It was the usual suspects from the Brotherhood. Toad, Exodus, Notion, and Pyro. The ones who could handle the information and not act like toddlers about it.... But Elliot also sent images of the sign and the shop to the X-Men. EVERYTHING IS AWFUL went to Shortpack, Shadowcat, Marvel Girl, and Forge. It was possible in her range she forgot that some of the X-Men had been turned into babies.

“Ma’am, is there something I can help you w-” The owner had of course come out to see what the fuss was, his eyes already fallen to the sign in Elliot’s hand. “Oh.” His face had gone cold and stoney. “They said to expect this sort of reaction from you people. I have a right to refuse service. This establishment is mutant free and it’s going to stay that way now return my property and see yourself out before I call the authorities.”

Elliot felt her blood chill as her anger froze it in her veins. She strode forward until she was practically nose to nose with a suddenly uncertain shop owner. “Oh, I’ll leave. But t’his... establishment won’t be here in teh mornin’.” The urge to knock the smug look off his face was very nearly overwhelming but Elliot backed away. “I’m takin’ t’his.” She held up the sign and opened the door to let herself out. There were a number of people who would want to have a look at it.

“Yeh’ll be hearin’ from me soon.”

Turning on her toes, Elliot swept out of the shop seething and clutching the sign to her chest, hiding the ugly words from the world. MUTANTS NOT WELCOME

Oct 11 2017, 01:40 PM
“Arm, please.”

Elliot was exhausted. It wasn’t that she’d been running wild or training like her teammates. Elle had been at the shop all night working on a geometric tat for a man with an incredibly low threshold of pain. Lots of whimpering, lots of flinching. It took her twice as long as it should have and by the time she was finished and had the shop cleaned to her satisfaction it was already incredibly late. She had planned to just stay on the couch in the gallery upstairs but... She couldn’t sleep.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elliot was aware it was because she was curled up on the couch alone. It used to not bother her. Hell, Elle had slept outdoors for a huge part of her life, she’d crashed on the couch in her loft for years. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to drift off.

Yet she still dragged her sorry butt out of the shop at three in the morning and caught a cab to Yonkers. She wanted her own bed, and she wanted... Well, “Arm, please.” Elliot pulled herself closer to Toad, nestling her head on his shoulder. “Sorry, I know it’s late. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Her eyes were already drifting shut as Mort’s mossy scent soothed her into a half-conscious state. A small kiss pressed softly to his cheek as Elliot mumbled a quiet goodnight. “Love yeh, Mort.”
Sep 9 2017, 01:16 AM
Elliot had been painting which meant by midnight Elliot had gotten into the wine and by two in the morning was so painfully shitfaced that her artwork had devolved into abstract and there was more paint on the floor and her work table than there was on the canvas. Blame her genetics or the fact that Cupcake moscato was delicious, but the young Irish woman was having a blast with her paint brush and was making far too much noise in a room she shared with another person.

“Shhhhhh,” Elliot told herself as Mortimer rolled over in his sleep. Elliot held her hands over her mouth as she giggled. Her heart got all warm when she considered the man who was kind enough to share her bed. She rarely wished she could see, but being able to see his face whenever she wanted, effortlessly and naturally - instead of through a camera - was one of those things at the top of her wish list. Funny how drinking made her all sentimental.

But it wasn’t fair to wake him up with her giggles and flailing paint brush so Elliot grabbed her palette and her brush and stumbled out into the hall. She could have her fun while the others slept, or were out, or were standing right in front of her, she didn’t much care. Her first stop was Savage’s room. Elliot painted a childish cat-face on the door in bright red. Alexei liked red, she was sure of it.

“Welcooooooome,” she sang out as she added the whiskers and spun away to find something else to paint that really didn’t need painting unless you used drunk logic. Exodus and Brother Bear both had dozens of little pink hearts painted on the walls outside their doors, although as the contents of Elliot’s bottle of wine grew less and less, the hearts started to look more like rosey pink butts.

Hopefully Ash wouldn’t mind.

When Elliot reached Victor’s door, she paused. And then painted a dick on it. She made sure it was small and misshapen and covered in what looked like oatmeal but Elliot claimed was herpes. Stepping back to look at her handywork and take another drink from the wine bottle, Elliot considered her trail of destruction and where it had led her. To herpes. She could do better. A dick on the door was child’s play.

She was going to paint a dick on his face.

Testing the knob, Elliot discovered that Victor didn’t lock his door at night. Why would he? He was a scary motherfucker with no conscience to speak of with a long, long history of blood shed and cruelty. Had she been sober, the last place Elliot would have gone was the actual lair of the monster but she was sporting some booze-enhanced courage and lack of shits to give. She was on a mission. Dick on Vic’s face. Onward!

Elliot didn’t even have the sense to be quiet.

Her glasses gave her some sort of grainy night vision that wasn’t worth a damn but Elliot stalked forward, determined, focused... Ooooo shiny. Sabretooth’s claws had caught the scant light coming in from outside and glistened enough for Elliot to completely forget why she was in there in the first place. The leggy artist took another long swallow of her moscato as she raised her paintbrush.

Victor needed a manicure.
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