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Thirteen; OPEN!
Topic Started: Sep 9 2010, 10:44 PM (255 Views)
tearsandroses
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The Sweet Transvestiiiite
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So yeah I've been watching clips from the broadway musical 'Thirteen' and was inspired to do this xD.

Basically take any of your characters, whether their age ATM is 15 or 45. Go ahead and put them in as their 13 year old selves and have everyone interact with each other when they just stepped out of pre-teenhood xD

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Fall 12th<br>
Around 12:00pm<br>

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OH how she hated puberty.....<br><Br>

And it seemed puberty hated Madison too. she thought that when she was 13, she'd be 5'5 and as strong as any dumb boy. <br><Br>

Boy did that plan backfire.<br><br>

For one, she hadn't grown an inch over the summer. Still 4'10. And while most of her body stopped growing for the moment, her chest did not. She figured she probably just got them early. But they grew fast and it took her awhile to be able to keep a bra. At least she wasn't one of those skinny mini girls asking for a wonder bra. <br><br>

The only GOOD thing that came out of this summer was that she got her braces off. And damn did it ever pay off. Her smile looked awesome. Too bad she didn't like to show it much unless she had to act polite or whatever. It'd certainly come in handy for when she did interviews for high school or whatever. <br><br>

She adjusted the trucker's cap she fished out of her new foster dad's drawers and looked around the schoolyard. Nothing much to do. She saw a few boys playing soccer though. She figured she'd try and teach them a thing or two. She walked over to the two boys who were picking teams. <br><Br>

"Which team am I on?" she asked, crossing her arms. One of them just scoffed. "Aren't you a bit too....female for this game?" he asked lifting a brow. Madison looked to see pretty much everyone who was playing was a boy. A few girls but they were rather tall for girls. But as if that'd stop her from wanting to play. <br><br>

"You're just pissed because i'm more masculine than you." she said smirking. A few of the kids just watched as it seemed a fight was about to go down for little miss tough girl. "Listen princess, why don't you go trade bracelets or whatever. Soccer's a man's game." the boy said patting her on the head. That just crossed the line for her. <br><Br>

Angrily taking off her cap, she hummed it at Lisa who was just an innocent bystander to hold it. She simply glared at him. "What're you looking at?" he asked. "Still trying to figure that out." she said sarcastically before finding herself slammed into the fence, not showing any signs of pain though her back would certainly hurt later on. <Br><Br>

"Figure it out yet?" "I'm still trying to process the smell." Madison said before letting out a fake cough. "That's pretty hard to do with a broken nose." the boy said, as he went to punch her but she managed to grab his fist before he could. "What were you thinking when you got that haircut? Seriously was there a remake of Planet of the Apes that I haven't heard about?" she asked wittily before having the front of her shirt grabbed. <br><Br>

"Guys, teacher." someone whispered, causing the boy to let go of Madison and walking away, glaring daggers at her the whole time. Sighing, Lisa walked over and handed Madison her hat. "You can't just go around picking fights. you're gonna end up in a heapload of trouble." Lisa said frowning. "Oh please. Like I care." Madison said rolling her eyes and leaning against the fence, dropping her hat on the ground, looking around for someone to talk to as Lisa walked away.

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thursday, fall 12??<br>
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tag;; OPEN<br>
note(s);; I apologise for emo!thirteen!Chris. Will edit as I write more. n__n;<br>
outfit;; click
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<br><br>
She wasn’t even sure why she was here anymore. Her father didn’t make her come, her mother wasn’t even around to make her. Who was to stop her from just walking off and never coming back? No one, that’s who! So why didn’t she? Now wasn’t that the question. Christmas let out a long, melodramatic sigh, slumping against a tree near where some wannabe tough girl was trying to play soccer. You have other girls on the team, dummies. One more won’t hurt, she thought bitterly, legs folding beneath her. God, boys. They were always the same, everywhere you go. Always pushy, always mean, never let you have your way. Her dad had been that way with her mother, never let her follow her dreams, and now she was...<br><br>

Christmas frowned, rubbing her eye. No. She had to stop dwelling like this, otherwise she would start crying and look stupid in front of the other kids. Still swiping at her eyes, she took a look around at the other kids—no, teens—that was what she was now. Twelve-year-olds were kids, at thirteen you were practically an adult. Everybody looked okay, no one had made fun of her for her hair or her name or her shirt. There weren’t many people around, really, just that chesty girl fighting for women’s rights or whatever, and being quickly put down. It’s not that big a deal, she thought, hugging her legs close to her.<br><br>

She wondered if she should help them, maybe. Reach out and try and meet someone new. Christmas shook her head, burying her face in her knees. No. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t. It was better this way, her sitting alone here. No one could hurt her if she sat by the tree, bothering no one. Part of her hoped that maybe someone would come over and talk to her. Maybe a cute boy, that would be even better. She flushed, trying her best to forget that she had thought that, even if it just made her think about it more.<br><br>

Who would like her, anyway? She was awkward and a little under-developed as a female, even if height wise she was already over five foot, five inches. Her whole body was bony, supported by a pair of chicken legs. Then there was her hair, as much as she loved the colour, most guys found it weird. Alien, even. Her glasses perched on her nose, awkward and huge on her face. She probably looked like freaking Velma Dinkley, only with hair the colour of the typical Barbie outfit. Yeah, like any guy would like her.<br><br>

It was probably better this way. Being alone. Every time someone talked to her something bad happened, anyway.<br><br>

Christmas gripped the hem of her jeans, face still buried between her knees. “Kak uzor na okne...” she sang quietly, voice muffled by her jeans. She couldn’t hit the high notes like her mother had once been able to, but that was why she practised. Chris sighed, and lifted her head to stare at the upper tree branches. “... Snova proshloe rjadom.



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thursday, fall 14th??<br>
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relaxed, wearing voila~<br><br>[/align]<br>
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Was there really anything better than reading? Rhiannon strolled along the outside area of the school, steps slow and focused in order to make up for the way that she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going. She furrowed her eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, devouring the words of the text as rapidly as she could. Her teacher had been impressed with her quickly developing reading ability over the years. Perhaps it was that reason why not, just a season shy of turning thirteen, she was reading Catcher in the Rye like the book would vanish from her fingertips if she didn't. The language and storyline might have been offensive and perhaps even confusing to someone else of her age, but everything in it made such flawlessly perfect sense to her that she could not put it down.<bR>
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"Poor Holden," she whispered, eyebrows furrowing mournfully as she read the way that Phoebe reacted so sadly when she found that he would not allow her to go out west, wherever that was. She'd never understand what it was like to have that sort of bond with a sibling, but that was okay. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she knew that she didn't want to wish her life on any other child that she'd ever meet, not even the mean ones like that Hitler guy must've been.<br>
<br>
Rhiannon sighed and shook her head, tugging her unicorn bookmark from where it sat tucked away behind the very back page and sliding it into the pages where she decided she'd be stopping for the day. She could read this all the livelong day in lunch, but...she knew that Momma wanted her to go and meet other kids her age. It'd give her another haven to go to in the afternoons, so Momma wouldn't have to keep her all locked up in her room. Rhi sure wasn't gonna complain if she could find a girl or two to hang out with. She glanced toward the boys running around playing soccer and unwittingly flinched almost violently when one of them looked at her with a grin and a flirty wink. She knew that boy. More importantly, she knew his father.<br>
<br>
She shivered and quickened her pace, nearly running into two girls leaning back against the nearby fence. "Sorry," she stammered out, dodging around them and heading further past them, cheeks aflame. For God sakes, she knew what she looked like. She didn't look like a woman, by any means of the word, but she knew that she was coming out of puberty smelling like a rose. She had relatively small curves, but at the moment she was still of relatively petite height, and thus it gave her a rather attractive, slender frame for her age. Her hair was generally bewitching, as always, with the African color and a touch of the Asian texture to make it incredibly manageable. She'd dodged that acne scare without a problem. What remained was a lovely young girl who'd had to grow up way too fast.<br>
<br>
She spotted a magenta-haired girl sitting under a tree and smiled faintly. Chris. She hadn't really talked to the girl much, but she knew her name and her rather quiet tendencies. Maybe her. Rhi bit her bottom lip as she slowed her speed a little, trying not to seem too eager and having nothing to run from now that the boys were far behind her. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe she could talk about books with her and hang out in the library and chill out in her bedroom while listening to the Uproad Men and reading magazines. Before she knew it, she stood right in front of the girl, a wide smile on her lips. "Hey," Rhi said softly, tilting her head a little to the side. "Mind if I sit witchoo?"

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tearsandroses
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The Sweet Transvestiiiite
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[align=center]"Well I don't give a damn about my reputation"<br>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br>
Fall 12th<br>
Around 12:00pm<br>

Wearing<br>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br><br>[/align]
Madison rolled her eyes as Lisa began flirting with some of the guys. That was one of the things that bugged her about Lisa. That skinny little thing knew her way with guys. Madison had mostly guy friends sure, especially Eli. That boy was just the coolest person in the world to her. But...guys just didn't seem to take much of a romantic interest in her. Was it because she was practically a boy? <br><Br>

Whatever. she took out an english paper she had Eli proofread. She was proud of her work Then someone bumped into her. she looked up to see a skinny girl about her age. But she scurried away before she could say anything. Then she found herself being nudged towards the girl, along with another girl by Lisa. "What?" she asked glaring. "You need a gal pal. I can't be here all the time I have a life too you know." she said smiling. <br><Br>

Madison rolled her eyes but nonetheless walked over to the girls. "Hey, do you guys mind if I sit here?" she asked removing her trucker's cap to show she was a girl and not some guy with oranges stuffed in his shirt or something.

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❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁<br>
tag;; OPEN<br>
outfit;; click
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<br><br>
Christmas let the words to her old mother’s lullaby fade to a quiet hum, and with her hand reached out and played with the blades of grass that grew between her legs. She thought about apologising to her father when she returned home, for what she said. He was just as sad as she was, at least she thought he was. For all the love Christmas had for her mother, she always saw more of herself in her father. Quiet, reserved, proud. Which is exactly why I won’t be apologising... she thought bitterly, throwing the grass at her feet. Her evening would go the same as they always did. Christmas would come home to the smell of burnt beef stroganoff (mother’s specialty) and the sound of muttered curses from beneath her father’s thick moustache. He would hear her come in, and quieten immediately so she wouldn’t pick up on his language, pretending that she hadn’t heard it almost every day since she had turned twelve. “алло,” he would say. “алло,” she would say.<br><br>

An awkward pause as she dumped her school things on the couch. Then, in a thick Finnish accent, he would ask, “How vas your day?” And she would answer ‘okay’ or ‘fine’ always in that same bored monotone. Dinner would be eaten in silence, and Christmas hated every second of it, run up to her room as soon as she could to listen to the radio. That was probably why she didn’t quit school, because then those few hours would be her whole day. Unless maybe she could get her big break in theatre. The past few weekends Chris had been hopping from theatre to theatre in hopes of catching her big break. Didn’t matter what or where, just something.<br><br>

So far her attempts bore no fruit, but her mother had never given up, so why should she?<br><br>

A loud thonk! and consequent sound of a soccer ball bouncing in the grass drew Christmas from her thoughts. She jumped, hugging her legs as close to her as possible. With wide blue eyes, she witnessed in mild horror as one of the soccer players came her way. Look cool, look cool, she thought when she saw it was one of the cute ones. Figuring curled up in foetus position wasn’t too attractive, she stretched herself out a little. Her pubescent body wasn’t much to be proud of, gangly and awkward thanks to a recent growth spurt, with almost no womanly curves to speak of. The boy approached, not really paying much attention to the pink-haired young girl curled up by the trunk. “H-hi!” she managed, gulping down some gum she had forgotten she had been chewing.<br><br>

The boy looked at her, and smiled briefly, flashing nice shiny braces. Chris swooned, glad for the tree at her back to support her. “Hey,” he said, and with that ran off to join his compadres, leaving her in the dust. She let out a shaky sigh, drawing her legs back up and tucking her chin over her knees. At times like this there was only one thing she could wonder: WWUD? What would Uhura do? Not what Christmas had just done, that was for damn sure. "Hey," this time it was another, feminine voice. "Mind if I sit witchoo?"<br><br>

Chris looked up to see, um... Rhiannon? It was something like that, a name just as silly as hers, only without the festive connotations. “Uh, s-sure!” said the girl, trying not to sound too excited about the prospect. “I mean—no, I don’t... mind.” She added, flushing lightly at her mistake. A thought occurred that this girl might just want to make fun of her or something, but she repressed it. If it turned out to be true she could mope about it later. Before Rhiannon had the chance to settle down, that busty chick came from nowhere and asked the exact same question. “What, ‘dis some sort of party or something?” Christmas asked, snorting, before realising what she had just uttered wasn’t the slightest bit funny and falling silent. “... But yeah, I guess you can sit with us.”<br><br>

One day she would learn to keep her mouth shut.




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<br>Austin Moore
<br>Fall 12, 08
<br>12:14

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<br><br>Austin sat on the playground under a tree on his face was a look of concentration. In his lap was his trusty sketch book and he worked busily drawing what to him was primitive comic strip. It was nothing special. It probably wasn’t even that funny but it was to him and that was all he really cared about. Around him the other kids ran and played but Austin wasn’t interested in all the games or the other kids for that matter. He was happy to be sitting here, alone with nothing but a pencil and his sketchbook.
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He did wonder sometimes what it would be like to have friends and be popular like some of the other kids but those periods would quickly pass. If he spent all of his time with friends when would he have time to draw? No, popularity was overrated. Besides he didn’t have the slightest clue how he could go about making friends. Talk to people? Sure he could do that if he could ever figure out what to say without sounding like a scratchy CD.
<br><br>
Then there was puberty which didn’t help any. He was already hitting growth spurts which made him taller and lankier than just about all of the boys his age. This made him clumsy and awkward at anything other than sitting. He wasn’t good at sports so he didn’t fit in with the boys, girls scarred him to death, and even if he did manage to say something intelligent there was no telling what kind of squeaks or squawks would come out. Of course all this was overshadowed by the fact that if he even tried to become friends with someone his mom would decide to move them to a new town and he would be right back where he started. By keeping to himself he saved everyone a lot of trouble. He could just sit here and not embarrass himself and stick to what he knew was safe. His drawing was safe and that was probably why he liked it so much.
<br><br>
The boy smiled as he finished his comic. This was something he could do, it was something he was good at and most importantly it was something that was always there for him. He decided what to draw and once it was drawn it was finished. If he came back a week later his pictures would be the same, if he moved to a different town, a different state, no matter what his pictures were the same. It was his world and he could create and destroy as he wished. He didn’t have to worry about girls, or friends, or moving he could create everything the way he wanted and it would stay that way.
<br><br>
Austin knew this anti social behavior probably made him seem weird to the other kids which did cause some trouble sometimes. He got picked on quite a bit which was why he had become pretty good at going unnoticed. He wasn’t always successful at this though and it became immediately apparent that today was just going to be one of those days when water suddenly splashed across his picture.
<br><br>
Austin sighed. He already knew what was going on before he even looked up. Tommy Peterson, the bully who had made it his personal mission to try and get under Austin’s skin, and his gang. The artist looked up to find himself flanked on all sides by three older boys. Directly in front of him stood a well built red haired boy with tiny squinted eyes and a face that looked like a minefield of freckles, Tommy himself. He was holding an empty water bottle which Austin could only assume was where the picture ruining flood had come from. “Opps I’m sorry Austin I must have tripped and spilt my water.” Tommy said in a mocking voice as his two friends snickered. ’Here we go again…’ Austin thought to himself.

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» bye-bye lover
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As he walked out onto the school grounds, the voice of his father echoed in his head. "Try not to get in trouble today, Quinton," his dad had told him, a half-joking chuckle trailing after his words.
<br><Br>
Tch, yeah, okay. Telling him not to get in trouble was just about as good as telling a bird not to fly. The thriteen-year-old boy laughed to himself, sadly shaking his head as his dad's mini-lecture crawled to the front of his mind. For such a hugely nerdy guy, his dad could really be pretty damn stupid sometimes! Since transferring into this school just about a month ago, he had managed to wrack up a fairly sizable record already. Ten trips to the principal's office, fifteen talks with the teacher, twenty-two phone calls home, seventeen groundings, who-knows-how-many bruises... Damn, Quinton thought, lifting his head from his counting fingers, a proud smile stuck to his face. I kick ass.
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The boy, still grinning trumphantly, casually shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He strolled a bit more along the wall of the school, looking around the busy schoolyard. There were a number of kids running around... roaming, playing. Frowning a bit, he scratched the side of his cheek, then turned towards the building. A lot of them were nice, but... well... this whole 'clicking' thing wasn't going over quite so well. Quinton sighed quietly, stopping for a moment next to a window. He turned to it, his eyes narrowing at his reflection in the glass. "Why don't I fit?" he grumbled, his glare intensifying.
<br><Br>
He looked normal enough, didn't he? Quinton placed a hand on the top of his head, lightly tousilng his dark hair. It was a bit short, the hair naturally curling upwards in messy spikes. As far as hairstyles went it was reasonably normal - more or less what everyone his age had, though maybe a bit messier. Was it his face, maybe? Frowning, he touched a hand to his cheek, rubbing the soft smoothness of his skin. He was just barely creeping into puberty, and it showed. His face was still free of the red blemishes that were beginning to plague those around him. The features of his face were still quite boyish, especially as he lacked even the slightest semblance of facial hair, or any other such manly things. Even the rest of his body was relatively hairless still, much to his dismay. But at the very least, it was beginning to change. His shoulders and chest were getting a bit broader, and his gangly, boyish frame was becoming a bit more solid, more athletic. Though just a bit.
<br><br>
But then, what about him didn't fit? Quinton, slightly frustrated, pressed his forehead against the window, staring right up at his reflection. And it was then, once the details were brought a bit closer to his attention, that he noticed.
<br><br>
Oh, right, he thought dumbly, reaching up to trace the ghost of the black eye around him. People and hitting don't mix. Quinton, suddenly quite miserable and angry at both this realization and his stupidity, grudgingly lifted himself off the window. Stuffing his hands into his pockets again, the young teenager trudged along, quite unhappy. He just... couldn't help it. Sometimes... sometimes, he got this feeling. This powerful, hot, uncontrollable feeling that took over him. This feeling that made him feel like he just had to make a fist and hit something. Or... someone. Lately, he found that this feeling surfaced most around people. And lately, he found that this feeling was relieved best when he hit those people, too. Which... really explained a lot of things.
<br><br>
But, whatever. More importantly, he had that feeling now. Quinton glared at the ground in front of him, his throat tight. These emotions were pressing up against his insides, like the pressure building up in a shaken-up soda. In his pockets, his hands balled up in to fists. Simultaneously, his eyes scanned the schoolyard, looking for anything - or even better, anyone - he could find an excuse to just wail on. And then, nearby, he saw it. Or rather, him: Tommy freaking Peterson, the known bully around their grade.
<br><br>
Quinton stopped near the playground, taking just a brief moment to see what the local bully was up to. He and his cronies were currently going up to that one weird drawing kid - Aaron? - proooobably with some plan to bug him. The boy nodded a bit to himself and began striding over, having made his decision even before the water hit Drawing Kid's page. By the time Quinton had come up to his target, his balled fists now exposed and ready, Tommy had just finished making his little quip.
<br><br>
Just as he finished, Quinton - who was just a bit shorter, but a lot less built - tapped Tommy on the shoulder, his eyes fearless and intense, narrowed into a glare. "Hey, jackass," he barked, "Ya got somethin' on yer face, there."

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tearsandroses
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The Sweet Transvestiiiite
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[align=center]"Well I don't give a damn about my reputation"<br>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br>
Fall 12th<br>
Around 12:00pm<br>

Wearing<br>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br><br><br>[/align]
Madison was about to sit down when she noticed a group of boys gathering around that kid who drew alot in class. She frowned, slightly aggravated by how older and bigger kids always piced on boys like him. She couldn't help it. Her rebelling instinct took over and she stormed over stepping in front of a kid. "Hey! Bullying a kid because of his size? That sure pisses me off!" she said angrily. <br><br>

"Why don't you get out of here you assholes." she snapped angrily. But before she could say anything else a dark haired boy came out of nowhere and she eyed him suspiciously. He was that kid who got into more trouble than she did. She blinked and stared at him for a moment. <br><br>

She actually kind of admired him. He kind of had that devil-may-care nature about him and she liked that about him. It made her...respect him. Showed he wasn't such a big pansy.

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Alison Summers ♪
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All Hail the Crimson King
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<br>Austin Moore
<br>Fall 12, 08
<br>12:14

<br>
<br><br>Austin hated bullies and he hated being the target of bullies even more. They thought that they were the top of the pack, the cream of the crop and that nothing could touch them and in a way they were usually right. Their tendency to be larger and stronger than most kids their age enabled them to rule through fear and it was very rare to find someone who would stand up against that kind of fear. Austin had tried a few times but not exactly being a paragon of physical strength he had received more than his fair share of bruises and embarrassment in return.
<br><br>
It wasn’t a big deal though. The pain didn’t bother him much and the humiliation only lasted a little while. What bothered him was the fact that he couldn’t do anything to stop them. Standing up to a bully was one thing but when you didn’t have much to work with except your courage you didn’t get very far. Still the fact was that somebody had to stand up to them even if that somebody ended up with a black eye more often than not.
<br><br>
The three boys in front of him were of the usual sort. Tommy, the leader, was the ugliest of the three but of course he was the strongest as well. The other two were lackeys, cronies, they followed Tommy because they needed someone to give them orders and tell them what to do. Without Tommy they were nothing more than mean spirited kids who were too stupid to organize anything like this by themselves.
<br><br>
Austin said nothing in response to the bully’s taunts. There was no reason to make this any worse than it already was. One of the lackeys grabbed Austin’s sketchbook and held it up for each of them to see the blurred image. “Hey Tom it looks like water colors.” Tommy and the friends laughed and had this been a normal day Tommy would have probably added some comment about water colors being for babies or something like that but just as Tommy was about to speak Austin heard a voice coming from outside the semi circle that surrounded him.
<br><br>
"Hey, jackass, Ya got somethin' on yer face, there."
<br><br>
There was something else, a girl’s voice but it seemed like that was distant and far away. As Austin watched as Tommy began to turn around obviously upset that someone had dared interrupt him while harassing his current favorite target. “The Hell? Can’t you see me and Austin here are having a little talk?”

<br><br><br>

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Indigo
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» bye-bye lover
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<br><Br>
It was only after he shot his mouth off that Quinton realized there was someone else already there - some girl with big boobs who had been too short to see until now. It kind of annoyed him, really, that she was around here, getting in his business. However he simply decided to ignore it - he couldn't get distracted by some girl, not when he had a fight to pick.
<br><br>
Glancing into the semicircle of torment, he was able to see Drawing Kid's sketchbook, which was being held up in the air like some kind of twisted trophy. Narrowing his eyes, he observed the blurred, barely recognizable image that laid on the page. Clenching his fists tighter, he inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of anger and the eagerness to fight surge through his body. Conveniently, just as these things intensified within him, the ugly mug of Tommy Peterson turned towards him. While he also received a better view of his rather intimidating hulk, Quinton felt excitement rather than fear. What kind of damage could he do to this guy? Oh, how he wondered. There was only one way to find out, wasn't there?
<br><br>
It seemed they'd have to get into some verbal foreplay, though, as Tommy growled, "The Hell? Can't you see me and Austin here are having a little talk?"
<br><Br>
"Hm? Reeeeally now?" Quinton smirked, cockily raising an eyebrow. "'Cause I didn't hear Drawing Kid over there say anythin'. You should really let other people have a chance t'have their say, y'know? S'just bad manners if ya don't." The dark-haired teenager narrowed his eyes, studying Tommy's carefully as he spoke. He paused for a moment, taking a second to think of something cool to say. Words could make a fight oh-so-sweeter - he'd come to learn this quickly.
<br><br>
After a short time, he came up with something. "And y'know why else? 'Cause if ya don't let other people talk, sometimes they're just gonna have their say the hard way. Here, lemme show ya!" With his brow furrowed and his smirk even wider, Quinton wound his arm back and shot it upwards. Tommy's chin was the target of his tightly clenched fist, which he was quite positive he could reach, even with their slight height difference.
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