Prompt

Agent Pertwee and the first moments he realized that his job sucked for reasons he didn’t expect.

[AN: Once again, it’s Jane Pertwee :) ]

The FBI had been covertly watching this school for some time. Now, with the Mutant Registration Act, it was watching more overtly. As in, agents in the field, tailing their respective suspects, and making sure that a bunch of teenagers with superpowers….

Well…

Didn’t wind up acting like a bunch of teenagers with superpowers.

Agent Jane Pertwee checked her dossier against the milling brownian crowd of kids. There he was. Red specks. By daylight, known as Scott Summers. His costumed code-name was Cyclops. The pictures explained why.

Apparently, this terrorist was packing a bazooka behind each eyeball.

The shorter, hunched one beside him pointed her out with two fingers before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Pertwee spared a brief, cynical grin for the fate of Agent Manning, whose job it was to keep track of a teleporter.

Summers strolled over. “Hey. I’m guessing you’re tailing me, today?”

“Yeah, Troughton quit.”

“I know this is against procedure, but can I bum a lift? My car’s in the shop again. Brotherhood.”

Ah yes. The other factor in this amusing little powderkeg. Not only were there teenagers with superpowers, but there were teenagers with superpowers in gangs. Fun.

Pertwee sighed. “I suppose it beats tailing you while you walk to -uh- where are you going?”

“Do you know Bargain Basement Bernie’s?”

O God… “Unfortunately…” Her last partner, Baker, had insisted on stopping there for cheap knitting supplies.

“Great. My order’s come in.” And, like a good little supplicant, he piled into the back. “Are you allergic to Alpaca?”

What? “Al-what-a?”

“Alpaca. Like a Llama, but cuter. I’m trying different textures of felt to get the right kind of moss look… aaaannnd you’ve already glazed over. Nevermind. It’s a hobby thing.”

This, Agent Jane Pertwee mused, was looking to be a long day full of suck in a long line of days full of suck. Now she knew why Troughton wanted to quit…

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Catbug.

Mythos Entertainment Inc. was working on all manner of new things. Their bio-labs were cooking up foetuses at the rate of knots.

Graham Ptolowitz stared at the thing in the pen. This was the angel/fairy production team, and the abomination before him had originally been a cat.

“We were working on a hexapodal mammalian life-form,” said Dewitt. “So splicing and activating the hexapodal gene was primary priority.”

“We did attempt bat wings, since they are

Magnificently mundane…and yet still formidable.

It is said that women are like tea leaves. You don’t know how strong they can be until you put them in hot water. Mavis had always laughed at that. She was as mild as milk! Meek as mud.

Until the invaders came.

She’d just turned her back for a second. Let go of the pram for just long enough to grab a can of beans. And when she turned back,

Ordinary excellence.

“If you want it to last long, hire an expert. If you want it to last for long enough, hire a JOAT.” – Galactic saying.

Rael got most of his income from people who wanted their patches to last long enough. As in, long enough to make a profit out of this trip. Or, long enough to get me back home. And, in some cases, long enough so I can trade this heap in for maximum due.

He

Professor Xavier on why he abandoned the idea of a institute theme song.

“Professor? Why isn’t there a school song?”

“To be very brief, I couldn’t come up with anything good,” he confessed. “Begin with the fact that the Institute doesn’t have a catchy name, and add to that the fact that I have all the musical talents of a diseased whelk…” he shrugged. “If you can come

Scott, the new floral and somewhat emotionally expressive studmuffin, wows the blue hairs at the convention. His ego does a world of good for it.

“I do a lot of beach-combing for interesting pieces,” said Scott. “And I get bucket-loads of shells from that, I never knew why I picked them up in the first place, but I had bucket-loads of shells and I had to do something with them…” Click. The next slide showed an orchid

I’m in an oooey gooey mood so please give me a sweet romantic sappy drippy waff-fest about a couple who meet long after they knew each other in high school. Extra points for any amusement park item.

In order to reduce the severity of Silly Season, Amalgam Station held a station-wide fair once every five months. Every human got some time to play, even folks like Lyr, who worked security.

Even other species got into it. Chitanians were busy hanging

Coffee jello. Inspired because of this video.

Sara fumed. This was the fifth time someone had stolen her obsessively-labled lunch. It was almost enough to make her insectivorous again. And providing a lunchbox troll hadn’t discouraged the fiend, either.

The inconsiderate soul behind this was obviously trolling for some passive-aggressive antagonizing, but he (it was almost always a ‘he’) had yet to match wits with Sara.

She had Methods.

The “moldy” sandwich wrapper hadn’t

The black fellow and Scott’s riveting discussion about felt.

“I knew you were lying about something,” the fellow in tweed grinned from ear to ear. “You said you only work in artificial plants and things that aren’t alive.”

“Yeah, I did. So?”

“That’s clearly moss on Echoes of Summertime.”

“No, that’s felt.”

“Seriously? Felt?”

“Yeah. I wanted a moss look and