Eric: flirts with all the girls that are deemed “out of his league” and refuses to leave the bar until he gets laid. Trips over his trenchcoat on the way out the door flat onto his face.
Dylan: feels very awkward without eric by his side to help boost his ego because everyone is making out with someone. drinks vodka by the bottle.
Jeff: gets really drunk, flirting with all the boys and is later found flirting with a plastic plant
Adam: Keeps To Himself. Orders A Drink And Gags Because He Hates The Taste Of It. Volunteers To Stay The Most Sober So He Can Drive Everyone Home.
Dylann: People are skeptical of him because he has a fanny pack strapped to his side. It isn’t holding a gun. Just his own bottle of booze he’s managed to smuggle in. He gets a little drunk but not much.
TJ: Gets the most drunk out of everyone. The alcohol is only feeding his ego and he acts like the most badass person in there even though we all know he’s a subbottom. ;)
Richard: He wasn’t there with the gang when they got there, nobody knows who this guy is but somehow at the end of the night, he’s managed to be in the van when Adam is driving everyone home.
Ted: Is stressed out about schoolwork so much that he decides to work on it at the fucking bar. He drinks to the point where his words are running together and he isn’t making sense on his essay anymore. Starts writing on the bar table without realising it.
Charles: Dances On Tabletops Drunk Out Of His Mind. Screams Lyrics at the top of his lungs even if it isn’t to the song playing. Is the reason the gang gets kicked out of the bar.
At 26-years-old, DeWitt Charles Henry found his life unraveling. He was unable to hold a steady job and had just been fired by his most recent employer from a truck hauling company for being “threatening and belligerent.” Shorty after, his wife Vicki filed for divorce, and he reacted by forcing her at gunpoint to drive to a desolate area, where he threatened to kill her then himself if she didn’t return to him. Vicki promised she would stay only if he got rid of the weapon, so he threw it out of the window and they drove home together, but she left him the morning after. These problems were exacerbated one evening when he was kicked out of Uncle Albert’s, a tavern in Klamath Falls, Oregon, for starting a fight with another customer. Henry headed to another bar and told the server he would take revenge for being thrown out before returning to the place hours later. An argument soon erupted between him and the former owner, Bill Ransom, also his past boss from when he worked there as a bouncer, about an unpaid $180 bar bill. Henry reportedly told him “he had a list of people he was going to blow away and that he was going to put me at the top,” then warned a dishwasher of his plan: “I always liked you, just get on out of here.” As bar close approached on July 23, 1977, he waited in his truck in the parking lot, then opened fire with a .223-caliber civilian version of the M16 rifle at patrons leaving the tavern around 2:10 a.m. He fled in his pickup truck as a squad car arrived, and the officer pursued him until he was cornered in a neighborhood driveway. He began firing at the policeman, who then returned fire before Henry managed to get away by backing into the police car, and he was ultimately stopped when another officer crashed into him. Six people were murdered, including a woman who was eight months pregnant and two police officers were wounded. Henry himself was injured from being hit by buckshot in the shoulder and face.
Henry pleaded not guilty by mental disease or defect to six counts of first degree murder and two counts of attempted murder for the two wounded police officers. He mostly blamed his turbulent life situation and drug/alcohol use for the rampage, and he claimed to not remember anything after the fight until he woke up in the hospital. That defense failed, and he was found guilty on all counts, earning him six consecutive life sentences plus 40 years.
Charles was in his study, grading papers when he got the call. “He’s at it again, Prof.” Charles sighed, resigning himself to the loss of his evening plans.
“I’ll be there in twenty, thank you.”
As Charles wheeled into the bar, he was greeted by raucous cheers from the regulars. Erik was standing on On the center of the bar surrounded by floating knives, forks and other assorted metal objects. He was holding a man up by his collar and yelling at him in german.
The bartender spotted Charles and smiled gratefully. He looked a little manic and desperate and Charles was hit with a vivid flashback to his younger self shortly after meeting Erik. He tended to have that effect on people. “Thank fuck you’re here, that daft bastard’s gonna kill us all.” “Good evening to you as well Stephen, I’ll take an ale.” “Too right, you’ll need it to deal with this shite. Tell em he can kill the fucker for all I care but I’m closing his tab.” “Fair enough.”
He wheeled closer to Erik, pushing drunk people out of his path with a subtle mental nudge.
Erik appeared to have acquired a rapier and was now threatening the poor man who couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Charles yelled to get his attention but couldn’t be heard over the customers.
He knew better than to try and get in Erik’s head when he was like this - alcohol made his mind a very hostile place - and settled for getting in the mind of the person closest to him. The man he was about to stab.
“Darling-” said the man now under his control. “ if you could put down the sword for a moment, I’d like to speak with you. Preferably before you kill someone.”
Erik squinted in confusion to hear his lover’s voice coming out of the man and turned around. His whole face lit up. “Schatz!!” He waved at Charles with the rapier.
Charles smiled indulgently. “Hello dear.”
No matter how many times Erik smiled at him, it never failed to fill Charles with wonder and delight. To be trusted, to be loved by such a man was truly an honor.
“EVERYBODY LOOK AT MY MAN, HE CAME HERE JUST TO SEE ME SO NONE OF YOU FUCKERS BETTER GET ANY IDEAS THAT ASS IS MINE!”
“That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.”
Imagine Charles and Erik in a crowded 60s bar and Erik has been staring at Charles intensely the entire evening, at his eyes and his lips and the two prominent freckles on his nose, and Charles has been staring back, a flustered blush on his face, smiling and biting his lips.
At one point, Erik thinks Make us invisible and Charles is confused but he trusts Erik so he averts the other patrons’ attention from them and he’s about to ask what Erik is planning when suddenly he feels Erik’s lips touching his. Charles freezes because this is dangerous and illegal but Erik reminds him that Charles is keeping them safe. And Charles relaxes and melts into Erik’s arms. He can’t help but make wondrous little noises because they’re kissing inpublic and his heart is beating a mile a minute but he never wants to stop.
Erik breaks the kiss but keeps their faces close, forehead and noses touching. Charles needs a moment to collect himself and then he starts looking around but the surrounding people are still ignoring them. Charles is awestruck, I can’t believe we just did that.
Erik takes his hand, kisses it and answers Let’s keep doing it. He drags Charles out of the bar and they hurry down the street holding hands, Erik with the broadest grin ever on his face and Charles all giddy and giggly because he’s using his powers freely and he loves Erik freely and when they reach their hotel room he literally jumps into Erik’s arms and shows him exactly how much he does.
Cover art, chibis, Season 2 Alois/Claude arc recap and more from Yana’s Special Book: The Black Bar on the Campania.
The book also included many art cutouts such as chibis and logos for the Funtom company, all of which have now been used to decorate my apartment.
It even contained an adorable mini tote bag!
Suicídio é que nem uma mulher bonita num bar. Você olha ela e algo dentro de você cresce e diz ‘eu preciso dessa mulher pra mim’. Aí você pede um whisky e começa a pensar no que falar pra ela. Eu pergunto o nome dela? Ou eu chego me apresentando? Eu pergunto o que ela gosta de fazer ou tento encantar ela com as coisas que eu gosto? Você vai ficando nervoso, pede mais uma bebida e se questiona: por que eu quero essa mulher tanto? Mas você não consegue responder. É algo maior que você. Quando você finalmente toma coragem e se levanta, o caminho entre o balcão e ela parece uma eternidade. Você chega perto dela e trava. Fica com medo. Você desiste e volta pra casa agoniado por não ter conseguido falar com aquela mulher. Chega em casa e se masturba pensando naquela mulher. Você não consegue entender o conflito entre existir algo dentro de você dizendo que você quer; e, quando você tenta fazer, outra coisa dentro de você diz que não é pra fazer. Suicídio é que nem uma mulher bonita num bar.
All you could register was fear. Utter, clawing, desperate, raw fear.
You thrashed, tears streaming down your cheeks, voice screamed hoarse. You were alone and helpless and drowning and then suddenly he was there, and you were no longer alone but you were still screaming.
“Y/N!” He gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you, attempting to wrench you from the living nightmare. You could not hear him, could not feel him, unreachable to the touch of the outside world.
Charles hissed a hot sigh through his teeth. He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut.
He promised. The memory was clear in his mind, the exact moment he’d promised you he’d never intrude your mind without your permission.
You screamed again, a heart-wrenching sound that sent his mind into haywire and his heart shriveling behind his ribcage.
He had promised but that was then and this was now, and you were starting to tear the sheets underneath your fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered into the air before he touched his forehead to yours and he was gone, only to be swept into a current.
Charles inhaled a deep breath as he stood knees deep in the ruins of your mind.
“My God,” The murmur escaped his lips. The emotions slammed into him all at once. An angry tide of rage nearly knocked him over, sweeping him into the waves. The barriers of your mind were weak, plaster, failing to keep the contents in their confines. Your reality was bitter chaos, and there was wind in his ears and insanity lurking on the edge of the horizon, terror weaving through the broken remains of whatever was holding you together. And there you were in the middle of all of it, high above the ground, suspended in the monsoon, eyes wide and mouth opened in a silent scream.
Charles watched with swirling blue eyes, impossibly calm in the midst of the hell.
He bent slowly, touching his fingers gently to the sea floor of your mind. Then his entire palm came to rest down, spreading his fingers out till he was threading roots, stabilizing.
“Y/N,” He exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting. “Come back to me.”
His voice was snatched up into the tornado but it was like it was the voice of God, and the turmoil was cut through like a knife in thick sludge. He raised another hand, mending the broken pieces, cooling the hurt, settling your thoughts. Surely you started to descend, no longer stuck in a perpetual state of horror but staring up into the white blankness as if seeing into the universe. Charles slowly rose to his feet just in time to catch you just as you fully returned to the ground.
Your eyes opened with a snap, greeted by his unnatural blue, the deep pigment of the rolling sky on a summers day, arms steadying you, anchoring you to his body and in a way to sanity.
“Y/N,” He repeated again, searching your eyes as if he could see through to your soul. There were so many questions to be asked. What were you so afraid of? Were you okay? What would you do now?
You expected all of these questions and none of them at the same time, but all he did was squeeze your shoulders.
“Hello,” It was a grounded, serene sound that filtered through you to weaken your knees.
“Hello,” You replied, softly, so soft he wouldn’t have heard you if it wasn’t for the fact that he was in your most private place, and your thoughts were literally humming in the walls. You gazed at him, perplexed, weirdly calm for the events that had just passed. Your gaze traveled his features, settling on those eyes. “You are in my mind.”
“I am,” He replied, carefully, treading lightly as if you were porcelain that would break any second lest he do the right thing, say the right words. He looked around at the surroundings and couldn’t help but smile.
He knew where you were. It was the place you’d first met Charles, a tiny bar down the road where you had worked as a waitress for nine months. The setting was spot on, right down to the counter dusted with cheap red paint. At the moment you both stood on the stage, the instruments unused and gathering dust beside you.
You furrowed your eyebrows. Why were you so okay with this? Something nagged at the forefront of your mind, but it was like it was being laid over, covered with this false sense of peace.
Then you were breaking free from his hold, and the memories were coming back.
“You…” You gasped as if you had never breathed fresh air and stepped out of his hold, shaking. “…entered my mind?” Anger quickly overcame you. “But you promised.”
Charles winced, but did not attempt to step forward, knowing it would seem like he was cornering you. Right now you were a frightened animal and he needed to keep his distance.
“I did,” He reluctantly agreed. “But-”
“But nothing!” You said, in disbelief, in betrayal, and you could feel yourself retract from the man you had learnt to trust for years. “How could you?”
The stirrings of your turmoil began to reappear, whirling at your feet, lightning striking above your heads. Charles shot forward, wrapping his arms around you before you could fully realize it. You thrashed, scratching at him. Charles grimaced but did not let go.
“I’m sorry,” He brought you closer. “But there was no other way.”
“What an excuse,” You said with malice weaved in your tone. You knew deep down you were being insensible but you didn’t care. “I hate you.”
“Then I shall be hated,” He smiled sadly. You scowled.
“No,” You said, shoving him off roughly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say that and attempt to try and distance yourself from me. I know how you are. You don’t get to do that after you save me.”
Charles smiled again at you, this time with a glimmer in his eyes and you groaned when you realized what you had done.
“I still hate you,” You said halfheartedly, irritated but no longer pissed off.
“You are aware I am in your mind, right?” Charles let a slight chuckle vibrate through his chest. “You cannot lie to me.”
You glared at his handsome face, annoyed. He could be a brat at times.
Charles’ eyebrows went up in surprise before they settled on an unreadable expression. “Did you just call my face…handsome?”
Embarrassment rolled off you in waves and you shook your head vehemently. “I did not.”
“I’m sure you-?”
“No,” You said, but your thoughts were honest, and you heard your own self think off of the walls. You are the most attractive man I have ever met.
You wanted to die.
You backed away, voice catching in your throat, choking as Charles’ mouth fell open.
“Y/N,” He took one step forward for every one you took back, following you. “Wait.”
You were forced to stop when he caught your wrist in his hand. He gingerly took his place back in front of you.
He said nothing, merely looking at you, searching every imperfection of your face, the dip of your chin, the curvature of your features. His hand came up to delicately tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering there and sending shivers through you in every place it passed. He cupped the side of your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with a reverence you didn’t deserve.
“I,” He smiled nervously. “I also…” One minute his eyes were on yours and then they were rolling along your mouth and his thumb was just barely touching your bottom lip.
The implication hit you like a boulder, sending you spiraling down into a concordance of bursting emotions, flowering everywhere your skin touched his. He leaned forward, slowly - too slowly you were boiling from the inside out - until his breath intermingled with yours and you could feel his presence on your senses. He hesitated, and you knew he was asking for your permission. His eyes showed that he would back off if this was not what you wanted, but the intensity held behind the gates let you know that he desired your connection.
You held his gaze for a second more, closing the distance so that your lips just grazed his, shakily, inexperienced, but compliant. This was all the confirmation he needed and he held you against him to finally, finally press his lips to yours.
You almost moaned at the long awaited contact, above the clouds as he grabbed at your waist with gentle but strong hands. It was there and then it was over too soon, and he was looking back at you with swollen lips, trepidation and desire sparking the air, running through your veins.
“Again,” You whispered, and he had no argue.
Your nerves ignited at every place he touched you, and you exhaled raggedly into his mouth when he cupped your face lovingly, your hands grabbing at him everywhere, unable to stay still.
“L-Let me,” He gasped, killing any space left between your bodies, tangling a hand in your hair, nose digging into your cheek. He was out of breath, licking his lips. “Let me try something, Please.”
Do it, you thought. You did not know if he heard you or if he could just read your face, but he reacted immediately, bringing you back into the embrace. Except this time it was different. Oh was it different-
His forehead pressed to yours, and suddenly you were no longer you but you were him as well. You could see from his perspective, feel the admiration that coursed through his blood whenever he saw your face, feel his pleasure when you tightened your grip in his hair. He strengthened the telepathic connection and it amplified everything else so that you were on a high.
You broke from the kiss, struggling to breathe. Your eyes flew open and you were no longer in the bar you had first met Charles but in your own bedroom, back in reality, the lamp burning in the corner and the darkness pressing onto your eyelids. But Charles was not a dream, he was still there, and you were brought back into another passionate kiss not even two seconds later, your abdomen dissolving into butter, minds delving and mixing with each others till you could feel not just his lips but Charles himself, everything that made him who he was on your tongue as he bit gently down on your lip.
You weren’t sure when it started but one moment you had been in the throes of passion and the next you were giggling, flushed, losing it. Charles was laughing too, your eyes were wet, and you realized it was complete joy you were feeling.
“I love you,” Charles said, and whatever had been going on was put to a stop as he rolled next to you to bury his face into your hair.
“I know,” You replied breathlessly. And you did know, because he had let you in on his entire being. “I love you too.”
“I know,” he responded just as sassily and you laughed some more, intertwined your legs with his, sunk into the pillows.
- Odi le persone, in generale?
- No, anzi direi il contrario. Però odio la massa. La massa è merda, e più grande è la massa, più la merda. Immagina dodici uomini in un bar che bevono scherzano. Ma prendi ciascuno di questi uomini da solo, ascolta ciò che ha da dire, capisci ciò che lo disturba… e hai un essere umano unico.
In the Moment (Portrait of Charlie Benson) || Blue Iris
The moral support and probably the one who ends up being the best friend Odile can have. Charlie is written and created by my friend Lauren. We love this character so much and I’ve had the pleasure of drawing/designing him whenever I could.
Needles and Pins (prompt) Words:1,197 Rating: T Warnings: None Ship: Charles Xavier x Female Reader Note: Sorry for the delay, I re-wrote this like twice :(
The darkened halls of the mansion felt hauntingly empty, every movement of curtains a taunting whisper at the failure of the X-men. It always had ever since they- Raven, Erik, Angel, Azazel, Darwin, Moira-
They’d all left you here. Well, not entirely alone. Hank still kept Charles some company, as did you. Alex had returned home after a few years to take care of his baby brother. And Moira was of course currently unaware of anyone’s existence.
Most times, alcohol is a means to an end- a form of social
lubricant, and a way for him to fit in and normalise when he is on a hunt. Bars
are some of the most frequently visited establishments in the world, and apparently
even Nazis like a drink or two. It’s easy for Erik to blend in when he is sat
at a table with a drink in his hand, and most times Erik’s target doesn’t even
know he’s a threat until they hit the floor.
When Erik joins up with Charles and the CIA he assumes his
drinking days are done. After all, he is only remaining with Charles for as
long as it takes to catch up with Shaw, so there is really no need to
It’s curious then that, mere days after first meeting
Charles, Erik finds himself sat across from Charles at a chess table with a
tumbler of whiskey in his hand.