Updated: 14.05.2003
Unanon has started an X-Men 100 community at livejournal where the members write more or less 100 words in response to weekly challenges.
I. Bodies of Water by JB McDragon
I'm horribly, horribly fond of this Bodies of Water. ...As you probably know since I haven't really made much of a secret of it. Actually, I can recall gushing about it on several occations... ::grins:: What I like the most about Bodies of Water is that all the characters are behaving like ordinary, rational people. Y'all know how rare that is when it comes to comicbooks. ;) Also it's a sweet, mooky Bobby Drake and Jamie Madrox romance.
Whistling, Bobby started down the sidewalk, hands still in his pockets, blue eyes taking in all the scenery. Ahead, someone was goofing off on one of the pier supports. A small crowd had gathered, laughing, and Bobby smiled. The police would come tell the man to get off the support in a moment, but in the meantime it looked like he was doing very fake, very slow tai chi.
Bobby's smile turned into a grin, and he sauntered closer, cocking his head to watch the figure in the brown trenchcoat. In fact, he realized, stopping, that figure looked awfully familiar. It looked like . . .
"Jamie Madrox?" Bobby called, pitching his voice to hover above the crowd.
The figure jerked and twisted around, trying to see who had called his name--and then overbalanced.
Bobby made a dash for the edge, but much too late as a splash could be heard. Bobby, cringing, peered over the side of the rail. "Sorry," he called when Jamie (and another Jamie) emerged, sputtering.
The two Jamies became one, and that one swam for the shoreline nearby.
Birds cried and wheeled above, and Jamie wished fervently that he could join them. To soar, at this moment, through the deep blue of the sky, playing with the clouds. Maybe he would be able to fly to Bobby's plane, meet him in the air.
The grin spread, irrepresibly. Jamie didn't mind.
The music station cut out suddenly, interrupting with an 'important announcement.' Jamie only barely listened to it, more interested in watching birds loop through the sky above.
Then, as if the entire world had been cut down to a two by six inch shred of space consisting only of the radio, Jamie heard "plane" and "crash."
"Hi, Bobby. Welcome home," Scott said, smiling. His eyes couldn't be seen beneath the bright red glasses, but his head turned slightly toward Jamie, who hovered just to the left of Bobby's shoulder. "And you're Jamie. It's nice to meet you. I'm Scott," Scott said, holding out a hand to shake. His leather jacket stretched taut across his broad shoulders, blue shirt tucked firmly into his pale, worn jeans.
"Hi," Jamie murmured, smiling slightly as he shook Scott's hand. "It's nice to meet you. Alex spoke highly of you."
Scott's mouth twitched upward, wryly. "No he didn't. But thanks."
Jamie blushed. "Well, he spoke of you. And some of it was good."
Bobby grinned, blue eyes sparkling delightedly. "Read your poem, silly."
Jamie sighed again, looking toward the ceiling and mouthing, 'why me?' "To Bobby. You have eyes the color of non-polluted oceans--"
Bobby laid his head back against the pillows, laughing.
"And hair the color of my tan socks--" Bobby was still laughing, and Jamie was trying desperately to smother his grin. He continued valiantly. "And when you smile, you have teeth as white as a white elephant! You have muscles that would put a normal, mid-size human-looking Tyrannosaur to shame, and you're so good with ice I would almost think you're a mutant!"
"Almost, huh?" Bobby asked, grinning. He reached down and trailed the fingers of one hand along Jamie's body, and Jamie squirmed.
"Stop that!" he hissed. "This is a very very serious poem! This is Noble-winning stuff here, okay?"
I. Live-Action Porno by Tangerine
I'm not overly fond of MovieVerse stories, and particular not certain parts of it, but then there are stories I've read which I really, really like. Granted, they are few and far between, but still... This is one of those. The idea of Bobby and St. John just... I like it. :) I think it's neat. And it is. It's really neat, this story. Of course it is, it's by Tangerine and you can all probably guess how much I like Tangerine... Anyhow, two couples for the price of one in this story. And I like 'em both. Shatterstar and Rictor is the established couple, while St. John and Bobby are friends who might become something more.
"Who is he?" Bobby asked suddenly, looking up as John leaned over his shoulder, trying to find where Bobby was pointing. "Right there. The tall guy with the orange hair, the one who's looking at us right now!"
John hissed, "get down!"
"God, the Professor is going to slaughter us if he realises we've been spying on the guests. This is so your fault. I wanted to play some video games, stay out of the way like the Professor said, but you just had to be nosy."
John shoved Bobby out of the way and lifted his head again, peeking out at the crowd. "You have no idea who that guy is, do you? Fuck, Bobby, you are so out of it. Really. Have you heard about that guy in Mexico, Rictor? He's a year older than us. He's, like, the Batman of Central America, works by night, fights for justice, total hero behaviour."
"Yeah?" Bobby sat up and found himself focussing on the red-headed man again, noticing how no one was even looking at him despite the fact he stuck out like a sore thumb. "So, Mr. Know-It-All, who's the guy staring at us?"
"His boyfriend," John replied quietly. "They're gay."
"No way." Bobby shook his head. "He is so not."
"Fuck off. I know I'm right. They've been here before during Thanksgiving, when you went home; they shared a room even when they were assigned one each. They totally snuck around and stuff, and when they look at each other, Bobby, you can tell they're mad-on in love with each other," John said, looking over the crowd, trying to find his proof. "There. The dark-haired guy talking to the Professor. Rictor."
2000. Watchmen: Good Will, Blood, And Scotch by Andraste
I like the Holiday Fanfic Project. In 1999 there was a lot of stories written for comicbooks I'd never read and probably would never consider reading, but I read them, and I liked it. And I like that I read stories I never would have any other day of the year. Makes it kind of special. Anyway, I wanted to be a part of it, so I offered to host a story. :) In 2000, I got Andraste's Watchmen fic. Now, I've never read the Watchmen, but I like this fic. A bit dark, a bit amusing, a bit about friendship and a bit about Christmas.
If anyone had asked Daniel Dreiberg what he expected to find under the tree on Christmas morning, "nothing" would have been on top of the list. "My ex-partner, bleeding all over my lounge chair" wouldn't have been there at all.
This wasn't meant to happen any more. It had been nearly a year and a half since he'd quit the business after the Keene Act passed, and almost as long since he'd seen Rorschach. Two and a half years since his partner had found something in the night that turned the cracks in his mind into yawning chasms. Since his voice had flattened into an expressionless monotone. Since he'd started scaring the shit out of his only friend. But part of him had known that no-one ever quit for real. A mask was always a mask, like an alcoholic was always an alcoholic.
After spending Christmas Eve with Hollis Mason, the man formally known as Nite Owl had strolled home with a bottle of Scotch and a confidence only acquired after thirteen years of hand-to-hand combat with the low life of New York. The broken lock had set his heart racing with anticipation, not dread. Yet the familiar thrill of the chase had turned to shock when he discovered his former partner instead of the expected adversary. Rorschach, last of the masked vigilantes, covered in his own blood for a change.
And in 2002, I got Dyce's Lex fic, which has leprachauns and wishes and, obviously, St. Patrick's Day. ;)
Lex Luthor hated St Patrick's Day.
It was a silly holiday. And really not much more than an excuse to get very, very drunk and shout randomly cheerful things at people who were trying to work.
So he was avoiding it as much as he could, by taking his laptop and a cup of coffee out into the grounds, planning to get some work done in the small summer-house that someone had thought would be charming and quaint. It wasn't, but it was a nice place to sit on a nice day like this. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, spring was starting to get a good foothold in the garden ... in short, it was the sort of day that made him want to step on flowers and crush bunnies beneath his heels. He was a cynic at heart, and spring made him cranky.
When he saw a flash of movement, therefore, just as he'd gotten comfortable, he reacted by grabbing it. Be it bunny or bird or human, it was fucking TRESPASSING and he was going to ...
Going to ...
He'd grabbed a tiny little leg, and was holding onto a tiny little man. With bright red hair and beard, green eyes, and a round, weatherbeaten face. Except for the tiny hawaiian shirt, he looked a lot like ... "A leprechaun?" he asked, wondering if someone had slipped something into his coffee.
I. Human Target: Five Hours to Kill by Syl Francis Inferno! is the title of a Norwegian comicbook... Well, sort of. It's a collector's title thingy which publishes all sorts of comics, mostly Vertigo comics, and publish entire storylines at the time. It's really rather nifty. My favorite comicbook. It ranges from Preacher to Sandman to Whiteout. Five Hours to Kill is a Human Target story wherein Chris impersonates the President of the United States. Lucky him, eh?
"Just so we understand each other, Mr. Chance," the President of the United States said.
"I think we understand each other perfectly, Mr. President." I gave him my most boyish grin. Men hated it when I did that. The President gave me a fierce look.
Unperturbed, I turned to General Johnson and included him in my umbrella of sunshiny charm. Men in uniform *especially* hated it when I did that. They probably assumed that I was making a pass at them, or something. Uptight brass mentality, I suppose.
The general glowered at me. I smirked. Uptight, all right.
They both glared at me.
"So, do I have to swear allegiance to the flag or the Constitution of the United States?"
Wings. White wings and glorious. Wings that made you believe. No more than that - just a suggestion of mass and darkness behind wings that would make you weep for their beauty. Then the wings enfolded him and wrapped him tight, fell through him as the bus hit, snagged something free of the body and were gone.
Jesse Custer knew he had just seen an angel.
Jesse Custer hated angels.
I. Break Through by Kassia
In Break Through Bobby goes sneaking into Magneto's fortress. He gets captured and thrown in a cell. Then Magneto gets... uh... de-throned... and ends up in the same cell... (no, it's not slash. ::thinks for a moment. shudders::)
"Sir," the scaly man said stiffly, and withdrew. Bobby watched him go with relief, then turned to look at the room. It was sparsely decorated, the key feature being the chair on the far end, like the throne in a king's audience chamber. No, scratch that. The key feature was the man in the chair. Bobby froze, gaping. Now he really knew what people felt like when they entered the Twilight Zone. The man in the chair was Magneto.
Magneto was the first to recover, naturally. He glanced at a sheet of paper in his hand, and raised his eyebrows. "Well, Robert Drake the X-Man. I really should have given your psi profile a more thorough reading."
"Agh," said Bobby.
Magneto regarded Bobby for a moment, then turned to the man who had escorted Bobby in, a lean man with brown hair and insanely blue eyes. "Cadran, I'm afraid we can't go with our original plan to simply erase his memories like we did with the others. That would probably bring in a flood of X-Men, which I very much want to avoid." He scowled into the middle distance. Bobby gurgled.
Ami, Pas Amoureux is mostly a Jean-Paul story, but Bobby plays an important part as object of affection. *grins* Sweet and angsty, all in one.
Mon Dieu, he thought, crossing his arms, Robert Drake is a man, yet nearly everyone treats him like a boy. He was a boy when he came here, but no longer. Of course, Jean-Paul had to admit that Bobby helped the illusion by always playing the joker, the fool.
But in this moment--believing himself unobserved--Robert Drake was a man, one weighed down by cares Jean-Paul wished he could smooth away. Bobby sat on the ground, his back against the tree, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting in his palms. For a moment, he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as if he were laughing...or crying. Jean-Paul took a step forward, but stopped as Bobby leaned back and pounded his fists once against the tree trunk, staring at the pagoda in front of him.
His eyes were dry, but his face was resigned and drawn; Jean-Paul felt a pain in his heart to match Bobby's, and he found himself walking down the brick-lined pathway toward the other man.
In the Accountancy Blues the X-Men gets audited and Bobby turns into a nervous wreck, because, um, you know how the mansion tends to get destroyed? Yes, well, guess where the X-Men's records are kept?
He waved a letter at Hank. 'My worst nightmare,' he declared dramatically.
'The Spice Girls have decided to re-form?' asked Hank. 'Or Angelina Jolie has declared her intention of pursuing a life of chastity?'
'Much, much worse than that,' moaned Bobby. He waved the letter again. 'Read it,' he said, clearly unable to articulate the tragic news.
Hank snaffled the waggling letter deftly from Bobby's fingers and quickly scanned it. 'Oh,' he said. 'The IRS want to do an audit on the school's books. That will be - inconvenient.'
'Inconvenient?' Bobby said hoarsely and sank into a chair, his head in his hands. He moaned for a few moments and then pulled himself together. 'They want records, Hank. They want *records*!'
'Well, we have records.' He looked at Bobby's face. 'Don't we?' said Hank, rather timidly.
'You remember all those times the Mansion got destroyed? Like five or six times in the last few years? Where do you think the records were?' He buried his face in his hands again and started moaning again. 'I know I shouldn't have let the Professor persuade me that we could claim the cost of re-building the mansion each time. I know I should have kept the records at the bank. I couldn't sleep. Every April, I couldn't sleep. All sweaty with the fear and the terror. They're going to ruin me. They'll disbar me. Ban me. They'll take away my license. They'll take away my degree. They'll take away my *birthday*.'
For more stories featuring Magneto, go here. For more stories featuring Bobby, go here.
I. Ye May Yet Believe by Suzene Campos
Bigby takes the time to have a little chat with another who escaped the adversary.
'I know the situation now. I knew it when I first returned.'
"Aren't you special." His coat slapped against his ankles as he turned to look up at the moon. "I really didn't expect to see you again. I should have known it, of course, given the circumstances...but I didn't expect it."
'You are not accustomed to hope.' A pause, then a soft question. 'Am...am I truly the only one?'
"No fauns, beavers, or talking horses made it out, if that's what you're asking. So far as I know, you're the only one." There was silence, complete as the quiet of a dead world, painful as a grief beyond outcry. The chirping of crickets fell still and even the heavens seemed, for a moment, to dim.
I. Hanging the Drapes by Persephone
Mr. Mxyzptlk decides to destroy the earth. Kara Zor-El must stop him. I'm generally not a very big fan of the Superman side of the DC universe, but I really like this story.
"I think I'll destroy Earth today."
This statement was no less unnerving for being delivered in extremely cheerful tones by a flamboyantly dressed, extremely short pink man. It might have been, if she hadn't recognized him.
Kara Zor-El, also known as Supergirl, stared at the being who could only be Mr. Mxyzptlk. Her cousin had told her about the magical trickster, but she hadn't been quite prepared for this.
Superman had said Mxyzptlk was a prankster. Potentially destructive, but he never seemed to carry too much of a grudge -- it seemed watching the frantic efforts to dismantle his schemes was as satisfactory as seeing them fulfilled. This... was not her idea of a *joke*.
Maybe he thought she had a good enough chance of stopping him for the level of catastrophe not to matter, but if that was the case, she could do without that sort of respect.
"Oh really," she said guardedly.
I. the Blind Eye by Kassia
In the Blind Eye Scott has a bad suspicion following a horrible event, and he can't help but investigate the matter.
It had started off fairly simply, on a pleasantly warm Tuesday. While the other kids played outside, Storm and Scott had come to the Professor's office to be debriefed on the latest mutant-related atrocity.
The meeting wasn't exactly eventful, but certain odd details stayed in Scott's mind. He could remember what Storm had worn - strange, since he never paid much attention to clothing. He certainly couldn't remember was Xavier had worn. But he knew that Storm had been draped in white, and wore sandals that snapped against the floor as she walked.
"Two boys. One a mutant," the Professor said, his tone straightforward, yet somehow still... compassionate. Some corner of Scott's mind spared a moment to admire the man's ability to keep his professionalism without becoming callous.
"How did they die?" Storm asked. She had a knack for asking questions that Xavier was going to answer anyway. Of course he would get to that eventually, but Storm had to show she was paying attention - mainly because she never looked like she was. She was staring out the window the whole time, eyes fixed on that sunny, green world that lived outside that little bubble of murder and violence that was Charles Xavier's office. She would've driven a high school teacher insane. But Storm was always paying attention. Always. Assuming otherwise could be a dangerous mistake.
"They were beaten to death," said Xavier.
He demands a Full Disclosure from Charles regarding his past romances in the story by that name.
The real trouble, Charles Xavier decided, was that Scott had a point. He hadn't always been completely open and honest with his students. Perhaps he *should* tell them more about his past, if it was going to keep blowing up in his face. Quite literally, in this instance.
Of course, there was no need to admit that immediately.
"I don't see what has you so upset. We're a group of mutant superheroes. This kind of thing happens all the time. We still have a budget surplus this year so we can rebuild, and the tents were safe in the basement ..."
"Don't understand why I'm upset?" Cyclops had turned almost the colour of his visor with rage, and he slammed his palms down on the professor's desk. They'd repaired to his office in order to have the illusion of privacy. Not to mention walls that were mostly intact. "You keep hiding things from us! And the things keep trying to kill us! I mean, we've all got deadly enemies from our pasts that we just forget to mention, but this is getting ridiculous! I'm starting to think that our next arch nemesis will be the evil guy you sat next to on a bus once! That's if it doesn't turn out to be you! Again!"
And in For Want of a Purple Umbrella... "Sinister, Apocalypse and Magneto walked into a bar--" ;)
"Sometimes I hate my life," Scott Summers muttered, downing a shot of whiskey with a quick turn of his wrist.
"Woman trouble?" the bartender asked knowingly, coming over casually to refill Scott's glass. There was no one else in the bar but an old man snoring with his arm wrapped securely around a bottle.
Scott snorted. "I married a redhead." That sounded like the name of a horror movie, come to think of it...
I. the Great Marriage Boondoggle by Mara Greengrass
Scott and Jean have a brilliant idea -- In an attempt to teach their students cooperation and various other worthy things, they 'marry' their students to each other. When the resulting marriages contain Rogue and Bobby, Jubilee and Remy, Kitty and St. John, Betsy and Jono, Rahne and Kurt, Dani and Sam, Paige and Angelo, well, need I tell you it doesn't exactly go smoothly..? *sniggers*
At a hastily-organized assembly of the upperclassmen three days later, Jean and Scott presented the new project. Gathered in one of the larger classrooms, the students waited, shuffling their feet, cracking gum, tapping pens, and applying make-up. It could almost have been any American classroom, except for Kitty putting her hand through a desk to check for paper, and the way Remy kept kinetically charging up small objects to watch them pop.
But Jean and Scott were so accustomed to these little details that Jean closed Jubilee's compact with the same off-hand air that Scott had when he swept Remy's debris into a handy trash can. The students eventually settled down and Jean and Scott stood in front of them with an air of excitement.
"For one week," Scott said, "you will all pretend to be married."
Rustling and whispering, then snickering, followed this statement.
Scott ignored them and continued. "We will assign your partners," he said to the accompaniment of groans, "and in the coming week, you will have a series of assignments to complete together."
"The ground rules are," Jean said, "you must spend all waking hours that are not spent in class together. However, there will be no sleeping together." Groans mixed with nervous laughter. "You must do your daily activities together. And by together we mean the same activity, not just in the same room. If one of you wants to watch television, both of you watch television. If one of you wants to play ping-pong, both of you play."
"You're going to learn about partnership and compromise," Scott said. "Or else you're going to drive each other nuts." That got genuine laughter.
I. Ami, Pas Amoureux by Mara Greengrass I like Northstar. Just felt it was important to mention. *grins* Ami, Pas Amoureux is mostly a Jean-Paul story, but Bobby plays an important part as object of affection. Sweet and angsty, all in one.
Mon Dieu, he thought, crossing his arms, Robert Drake is a man, yet nearly everyone treats him like a boy. He was a boy when he came here, but no longer. Of course, Jean-Paul had to admit that Bobby helped the illusion by always playing the joker, the fool.
But in this moment--believing himself unobserved--Robert Drake was a man, one weighed down by cares Jean-Paul wished he could smooth away. Bobby sat on the ground, his back against the tree, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting in his palms. For a moment, he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as if he were laughing...or crying. Jean-Paul took a step forward, but stopped as Bobby leaned back and pounded his fists once against the tree trunk, staring at the pagoda in front of him.
His eyes were dry, but his face was resigned and drawn; Jean-Paul felt a pain in his heart to match Bobby's, and he found himself walking down the brick-lined pathway toward the other man.
I. Poppets by Ana Lyssie Cotton Wisdom is called upon to do a favour. He again calls upon Kitty. A Second Sight/Touching Evil/Excalibur crossover.
He fought irritation, knowing this was half his fault. "Can I borrow--"
"Why?"
"Some kids need a pick up."
"What, planning on training the next generation of Black Air?" The sarcasm dripped from her voice, tangible.
"No." Maybe he deserved it.
"Then why?"
Maybe he didn't. "Kids. Orphans. Needs doing, Pryde."
"Are they mutants?"
"Would it make a difference?" Now he was mocking, scornful. Prejudiced little Jewish girl. Just because they're not like you doesn't mean anything.
I. Toronto by Tangerine
Waren meets Jean-Paul. Set far prior to current Uncanny X-Men.
The ocean blue eyes lifted slowly and
recognition crossed his brow, and he blinked slightly as if thought I was
a delusion, a hallucination, a *very* good looking dream. Or maybe
that was just what I saw. "Northstar?"
"Jean-Paul for today," I replied.
"Do you need help?"
"I don't knew. I'm sort of enjoying
being lost," he answered with a grin, the eyes pure and light but also
so terribly sad. Puzzled by this clash of opposites, I stared and
I knew I was doing it without any sense of control. He lost the smile.
"I'm not sure why I can't find the lake."
"You are heading north. Other
direction," I said, pointing down Young Street.
"Hmm." He laughed sheepishly,
awkwardly, like he was embarrassed or like he wanted to sob instead.
"It seems I have no idea which way I'm heading anymore. Well, thanks,
I appreciate the help."
I shrugged nonchalantly, flipping my
dark hair out of my eyes as I looked past him, wondering what he was really
trying to find. "Not a problem. I'm headed in that direction
anyway. Let me guess, the Westin Harbour Castle, right?"
Warren smirked slightly. "How
did you know?"
"You look like a man with taste," I
quipped lightly yet unable to ignore how husky my voice suddenly seemed.
I coughed, hoping he didn't notice my hormones rise to my mouth and spurt
forth from my teeth. He looked away, but I wasn't sure if it was
because he saw something or because of what I said. "Do you mind
the company?"
"Not at all," he replied, taking a moment
to run his hand through his blond hair. I was staring again, but
I renounced all blame. He knew he was beautiful, he was notorious
for it, so it was really his fault. Really. "Coming?"
I. Blüdhaven's Finest by Syl Francis We follow Capt. Amy Rohrbach as she discovers who Nightwing is while officer Grayson lies wounded in the hospital.
Their guns drawn, Amy and Jennings made their way across the Devin Downs' impressive entrance foyer. Residents and employees alike were running for cover in a state of panic. Amy pointed at the doorway marked 'stairs,' and both officers took positions on either side of the doors. About to push it open, they were startled when it was suddenly opened from the other side.
Gannon appeared, half-carrying/half-assisting his partner to safety.
"Dick!" Amy cried out, hurrying to help to her ex-partner. "What happened, Gannon? Where's he hurt?" They gently helped Dick to the floor where they could better examine him. There was blood everywhere!
"He was shot in the arm, Captain," Gannon reported, gasping from the effort. "The perp--" He paused for air. "I've never seen anything like it, Captain. He was armed to the teeth--" He sat back as Amy and Jennings applied pressure to Dick's wound. "Grayson here...he saved my life." He shook his head. "You should've seen him, Captain."
"Who? The perp?" she asked distractedly.
"No...my partner!" Gannon looked on his half-unconscious partner with admiration. "I've never seen anyone move the way he did. Man...I never knew anyone could!"
ultimate...
paxnirvana has called the series Ultimate... and Angel's Way, but because I don't feel Ultimate is really the right name for the banner (it'd be like calling Cowboy Hats and Blue Tails X-Men), I came up with White Rabbits after the Janis Joplin song. But this is not the official name. Got that? Shiny. :)
"What do you want, Worthington?"
The other man reached down, hand cupping his face, hard thumb stroking across his lips. He stubbornly kept his mouth closed. Worthington smiled ruefully at his resistance and the thumb pushed between anyway, running back and forth across his clenched teeth. Posessively.
"Will you bite me, pretty boy? Will you? Are you glaring at me under that thing? Maybe I won't pay you this time - would you do it for free?"
He couldn't answer without letting that thumb into his mouth, giving in to the other man's touch. He was glaring then, though he knew the other couldn't see it. It never did him any good. To glare, to protest, to resist. The hand lifted away from his lips, moving to the fly of the pleated slacks Worthington wore. Slacks that screamed money and elegance; simple, classic, tailored to perfection. He watched silently as the zipper was opened, cloth pushed aside and a hard cock pulled free.
I. Moments Between by Cosmic
Alex is in a coma.
"I'm not leaving, Charles." He doesn't look away from the now turquoise water, and he knows it's Xavier that made this place be what it's not. It's safe again, now. "Alex." "If I ignore you, you'll go away." Everything else does, Alex adds silently, but he knows Charles heard it. So he braces himself for the sermon, the lecture, the whatever is going to come from the telepath's mouth. "You're being childish." "My head, Charlie. You can leave any time you want to. In fact, please do."
Credits: I got my pictures from the following places: Gay League, tintin.com, Asterix, Comicscontinuum, X-Women, . I'm not entirely sure where from I got Alex, Wolvie and Psychedelia. The following pictures are my own scans: Victor, the Doctor and Male Ororo. The Jamies and Bobby picture was drawn and scanned by GlockGal. 'Oreo Cookies' and 'White Rabbits' are my names on the universe/timelines/whatchamacallits, not the authors's. JB adopted 'Water Lines'. And apparently 'Cowboy Hats and Blue Tails' has been adopted as a name for Renard's series as well. :) The stories are disclaimed seperatly. If you want to contact me for some reason, my e-mail addy is: lady_sascha@hotmail.com. And remember to FEEDBACK THE AUTHORS! More to read: Allegiance, Ric and Shatty, TCP Warehouse, Peeing in the Jean Pool, Alternate Timelines, Water Lines, XXY, Otherwhere, Wolverine and Jubilee page, Nameless, X-Men: The MovieVerse, Love and Lust at Mutant High, Magneto Fanfic Index, [un]frozen
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