ou charles

Não tinha nada, e descobriu que não ter nada também era difícil. Era um outro tipo de fardo. Se ao menos existisse algum caminho mais suave entre esses dois. Parecia que um homem tinha apenas duas escolhas: acotovelar-se no jogo da ambição ou ser um mendigo.
—  Charles Bukowski.
Não tinha nada, e descobriu que não ter nada também era difícil. Era um outro tipo de fardo. Se ao menos existisse algum caminho mais suave entre esses dois. Parecia que um homem tinha apenas duas escolhas: acotovelar-se no jogo da ambição ou ser um mendigo.
—  Charles Bukowski.
Seuls les fous et les solitaires peuvent se permettre d'être eux-mêmes.
Les solitaires n'ont personne à qui plaire et les fous s'en foutent complétement de plaire ou pas.
—  Charles Bukowski
Fique sabendo, ele diz, que vai ter horas, dias, e meses em que vai se sentir absolutamente terrível e que nada vai poder mudar isso, nem novas namoradas, profissionais de saúde, mudanças de dietas, drogas, humildade ou Deus.
—  Charles Bukowski.

anonymous asked:

okkk so do u take requests bc i got a charles xavier x reader 1 where they have a small fight over smth and since y/n didnt come from a great home(at all.)she gets geared up and ready for like 3+ hours of (unfair) arguing but when charles gives in almost right away and smiles @ them after(isnt passive aggressive or anything)shes like hold on.You're gonna use this against me later right and hes like no??and they eventually talk abt how bad her family was and stuff??if you write this ill marry you

I expect the ring delivered in the mail in two weeks

Warnings: mentions of abuse, self depreciation

“Charles look ou-!”

The brunette just barely managed to dodge out of the way as a chair smashed into the wall just in front of him, shards breaking off and impaling themselves into the plaster, a bright blue aura sparking and bubbling with energy around it. The vibrations caused the bookshelf close-by to waver, and you were left watching in horror as it came tumbling down.

No no! You flung out your hands out but only managed to stop the bookshelf from moving - the various pieces of fine china and glass statues were already pouring out.


You stared at the cracked and shattered remains of the precious figurines on the floor, slowly putting the bookshelf back down, your aura dissipating from around it.


“Oops?” Charles rose an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

Oh jeez.

“Yeah, oops,” You swallowed, laughing nervously. 

“May I know what in the world you were doing?”

You sighed, already feeling yourself become small. Charles was the nicest man you had ever met, but sometimes he had quite the strict side.

You mumbled something underneath your breath.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.”

“I was just messing around with my power,” You repeated, louder, looking to the side defiantly. “Its not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, you barely have a grasp on your powers, you can’t just expect to-”

“It was working-”

“-what if you had-”

“-listen to me-”

“-you need to understand-”

“I know!” You said, trying to make him understand. Your heart rate was already quickening, and you could see the tell tale signs of an argument picking up, triggering a fear deeply and subconsciously placed in your stomach. You had only met the man a couple of months before hand, and it just came to you that you had never really had an argument before. Sure, a couple of light disagreements, but never a full blown squabble. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to surprise you-”

“You have to be more careful next time,” He made his voice firmer so that the point would come across. Unbeknownst to him, his tone only made it worse, bringing up memories you thought you had locked away long ago.

“Charles, I-”

His mouth turned downwards. “You’re strong, but you can’t be reckless. You could hurt someone if you’re not cautious! Hurt someone seriously. We’ve talked about this.”

I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You felt your throat tighten, your hands shaking. Suddenly you weren’t yourself but a child again, and Charles was a hulking shadowy figure, shouting at you. You felt yourself cower, black creeping in on the edges of your vision. You readied yourself for the long, harsh talking to come, the argument that would last for another couple hours. I won’t do it again. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m sorry. Please don’t - just please don’t hurt me. I promise I’ll be perfect-

In the midst of your fear you heard it, a sigh.

“Anyway, come on, lets clean up,” He rolled his sleeves up, shaking his head out of it with a small huff. “It’ll take a while to get the small shards. Wouldn’t want to step on one.”

You could only blink at him.

He noticed your stare and blinked himself. “Y/N? Are you alright?” Rich, sky blue eyes roamed your figure as he narrowed them. “You’re not hurt are you? That burst of power might have drained you out.”

You didn’t understand.

“I’m fine. I just don’t…” You blinked again, hard, trying to regain your bearings. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” A confused wave passed over his handsome features, and he smiled softly to combat it. “Are you sure you’re doing well?”

He stepped closer and you instinctively took one back. Charles stopped, wary, the smile disappearing.

“Sorry,” you choked out, and it was all you could say. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Hey, hold on,” He lifted his hands, taking another step towards you, this time hesitantly. You didn’t move, but perhaps it was because your legs had suddenly turned to jelly. “Its okay. It’s really not that serious, Y/N. I’m not mad.”

“You’re not…mad?” You let out a wavering breath. “That’s right, yeah. It was just an accident…normal people wouldn’t…”

Gentle yet calloused hands took hold of your arms, supporting you. (When had he gotten so close?) It was a good thing he had, because your legs almost immediately collapsed. His chest was the only thing stopping you from hitting the ground.

Pine, you thought. He smelled like pine. Pine and his cologne, and old library pages and a whiff of toothpaste, plus that odd yet pleasing aroma that was just him. 

“I think we need to talk,” His voice rumbled through you. You flushed, still trembling.

“I just,” You inhaled deeply to steady yourself, staring at his shirt in order to pretend that you didn’t feel those enigmatic eyes boring into you. “I didn’t have the best…past.” You struggled for words. “My parents were abusive I suppose, though of course I didn’t realize that when I was younger. And this was without them even knowing I was a mutant. I-It made me suppress my powers that much more because I was s-so scared, and I’m terrified I’ll never be able to use them properly now. That argument just brought back- I-”

You choked up again, embarrassed at your proximity to him, frustrated at your inability to communicate yourself, just angry at everything.

“Shh,” He brought you from out of his chest but you still looked every place but him. His fingers placed themselves so lightly underneath your chin you would have thought them not to be there until he slightly tilted your head up. 

You expected to see pity in his eyes but was surprised to see the overwhelming understanding, joined with sympathy and another emotion you couldn’t quite place. 

“If you can’t speak, then…” He visibly bit his lip in nervous thought, and you watched his teeth drag the flesh into his mouth with a fascination that burned your cheeks and flushed you to the tips of your fingers. “Can I…?”

You realized what he was asking when he shifted his hand from your chin. 

You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to tell him that you were too scarred, that you didn’t want him prying into your personal business, your memories, your entire past.

But just the fact that he had asked, and so respectfully at that, had your heart melting.

“Yeah,” You breathed.

He appeared surprised but smiled again, hand shifting upwards further. It paused to cup your cheek before his fingers were sliding along your temple. You watched his eyes flutter close and couldn’t help it when you felt your own do the same.

Relax, Y/N. His voice, unmistakable, spoke quietly in your mind. Just let yourself go back.

And so you did.

You went back through the screaming, the tension, the times you hid in your bedroom just to escape the nasty shouting. You went back through the derogatory comments, the instances when your own mother claimed you were a mistake, the days you went without dinner when you forgot to do a simple chore, the cold atmosphere forever in the house. The verbal abuse - never physical because otherwise people would notice the bruises - and the constant guard you had up. The nights you cried yourself to sleep, the nights you stared at your hands, wishing you were different, knowing that you actually were different as your fingers glowed blue at your will, but that that would just make things worse.

“Ugly.” “Spiteful.” “Lazy.”

You went back to the point where after everything, you had begun to believe all the things that were said to you.

You were brought back to your senses when you felt something wet slide down your cheek. Charles’ presence left your mind, and it was like the feeling of stripping dried glue from your palms as a kid - not unpleasant but odd and weirdly soothing. 

You were shaking but then you realized you weren’t, but Charles was. He was hugging you now, so tight you couldn’t move, and then you realized that the wetness you had felt on your cheek also wasn’t yours.

“Hey, don’t cry,” You said, voice just as rocky as you nudged his head that was pressed to yours. “I’m good now. I’m past it.”

“You are beautiful,” He said, and it was so sudden and out of context you didn’t understand.


“You are beautiful,” Charles repeated, inside your head then on his lips so that it was three times. Ugly

You tried to look away and brush it off, despite the warmth making your head spin. “Hah, you don’t have to-”

He cupped your cheeks. “You are so beautiful sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Your heart stuttered.


He continued, unperturbed. “You are also kind, and it is shown in your soul every time you speak.”


“You are the most hardworking person I have ever met. After suppressing your abilities for so long, you work day and night to improve yourself. It is amazing to watch.”

“You’re going to make me cry now,” You laughed, but it was a wet sound as you were already crying. 

“I’m just telling the truth,” He smiled softly, eyes twinkling, and you were drowning in them, drowning in blue.

You only let your head drop back onto his chest.

Thank you, you thought.

You weren’t sure whether he heard you or not, but his arms tightened around you and a thumb brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear with a feather’s touch. Ever so softly.

Originally posted by spacesong


Let’s talk about Odette’s name.

So we all know it as the famous princess-turned-swan from Swan Lake. Besides Giselle I’d argue it’s one of the most ballerina names you could get. It’s a major hint for the audience of who she is/was, it’s evocative. (and a white swan is a beautiful connection to a certain white butterfly, but that’s later).

All in all, good.

So I looked into how viable that name would have been. Turns out Swan Lake premiered in Moscow in 1877, only a few years before the movie so there’s no way Odette was named after that character. Besides, the original ballet was poorly received (most modern performances are based on the 1895 revival) so just all around not looking good. 

So- no, she wasn’t canonically named after the tragic princess in Swan Lake. That’s all right, still good even if it doesn’t quite fit. It’d still be a common name and a great reference for the audience.


So get this, because it’s either a crazy coincidence or someone did their research, I kept digging around and stumbled on something interesting…

In 1847 a ballet premiered in Milan called Odette ou la Démence de Charles VI choreographed by Jules Perrot (another famous name out of the Paris Opera). So the ballet’s about this girl named Odette. Huh. That’s interesting.

I did a little more research and holy hell- turns out that that ballet was a derivative work of a French grand opera- Charles VI. That opera features a primary character Odette, a fictional predecessor to Jeanne d'Arc.

And wait- there’s more!

Would you know it, that opera premiered in March 1843 by the Paris Opera at the Salle Le Peletier and continued to be popular in Paris for decades.

It means that Odette’s parents could have easily named her after this heroine from an opera that debuted in their city, and in the opera house that Odette would later work at, while still a great name for modern audiences that just works.

Bam. Full circle.


Did someone else research this and go, yeah, fuck yeah, that’s brilliant?

I honestly can’t tell. There’s so many blatant inaccuracies in the movie it may have been just dumb luck.

In any case, whoever chose her name- well done.

balancem comigo, todas as coisas tristes -
loucos em casa de pedra
sem portas,
leprosos vertendo amor e canção
sapos tentando vislumbrar
o céu;
balancem comigo, coisas tristes -
dedos decepados numa forja
a velhice como ovos cozidos de café da manhã
livros usados, pessoas usadas
eu preciso de vocês
eu preciso de vocês
eu preciso de vocês:
esta coisa fugiu
como um cavalo ou um cão,
morto ou perdido
ou implacável.
—  Charles Bukowski, balancem comigo.