IntoWhiteness

palalife:

ninemoons42:

codenamecesare:

palalife:

Charles Xavier coat fashion show. Coat based on this

I saw codenamecesare mentioned about Charles wearing these, and then couldn’t resist. I need a break from freaking out fanbook deadline anyways *shot*

Charles tonight looks kind of smug/ominous…and personally I think he is a bit too short to ear the long coat lol But Erik will probably look super hot in one.

ALL THE HEARTS! ALL OF THEM! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ These are fantastic! 2, 3 and 4 are adorable and the first one is absolutely killing me. The way it drapes, his tea, his boots. Perfection.

I love these AU notions to go with each coat from Greekedtext, too.

ninemoons42 writes: coat, watch, guardians

On the morning of his fifteenth birthday, Charles Francis Xavier tried in vain to brush the remnants of ash and dust from his best collars and cuffs, and pulled on his beautiful but tattered, and oversized to boot, greatcoat. A sigh on his lips as he prepared to make the customary farewells to his mother, as he got ready to tell her that he had put in his application for a place at the Artificers’ Academy. 

On being ushered into her presence Charles instinctively drew himself up to his full height - short though it was and would probably always be - and he acted with entirely correct and faultless manners as he bid his mother good-day.

But instead of the cool reception and the distant look in her eyes that he had always received every year, the moment he stopped speaking he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sharon Xavier, dowager mother to their tiny, scattered bloodline, rose to her feet and clapped her hands imperiously for one of her servants. “Fetch me the ivory casket on my dresser, hurry!” And to Charles - on her son, she bestowed a sad and brilliant smile. “Time flies. I know of your intentions. In fact,” and she waved at another serving man, who presented her with a sheaf of papers. “These are your marks and recommendations from your tutors, are they not? Tell me, Charles. Will it help your efforts to secure a place at the Academy if I sent them a message as well?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Charles stammered, eyes wide with shock and surprise and pleasure. “Immensely.”

“Good, then consider that done,” Sharon said, nodding firmly at him, and then as the first servant returned: “That casket is for you; I have held it for you all this time, after your father’s express orders, and I now carry out his final requests for you. Take it and open it and wear what you find inside, in his memory and in mine.”

Charles opened the casket with shaking hands. Crushed black velvet, and - “Mother, is this….”

“Your father’s pocket watch, yes. He meant you to have it all along.”

Charles lifted the watch from its nest and fastened it into his waistcoat with shaking hands. Heavy silver and steel, intricately chased and inlaid with delicate threads of blue enamel; timekeeping mechanisms worked to be accurate to the thousandth-second; blue-and-gilt hands and the Xavier family monogram entwined in the outline of a crescent moon in black.

More than just a pocket watch, more than just an heirloom: the badge of the head of the family.

“I am too young to be carrying this,” Charles began.

This time his mother cut him off by coming to him, by placing her hands on his shoulders. “No, my son. This is the time and this is the place to come into your own. Wear that to the Academy, that they may know who you are. I want to hear of your name there; I know you’ll make me and - your father - proud.”

One week later, he was at the Academy; one month later, he took a prize for his research into bloodline abilities.

With his mother’s congratulations came a package of exquisitely made coats and capes - things that were far too grand and fine for the Academy corridors, even with the current mania among the students to outdo each other at dressing up.

Charles on the other hand was grateful simply to be warm - the Academy lay among snows and bitter winds, and the coats and capes might have been a little too much for him but they were extremely comfortable and they fit him so well, enough that he immediately began to be noticed by the upperclassmen - and, in particular, by one of the leaders among the mechanical engineering students. His name was Erik Lehnsherr and he was already the toast of the Academy, for all that he was still two years short of completing his course of study.

Erik seemed to watch over Charles carefully that entire first year at the Academy. Fathomless eyes, now bright with study and now dark with cares; like Charles, he seemed to invite adulation and yet run away from it, as unaccustomed to the company of others as Charles himself was because he preferred to be among his books, immersed in his work.

Time passed quickly; Charles began to cherish a kind of delicate affection towards Erik’s tentative smiles and his work-roughened hands, toward his incisive wit and his fondness for chocolate. He wanted to spend all his time with him, though they might spend that time studying in complete silence, or laughing over a game of chess. He wanted to live and work at Erik’s side, as impossible a dream as it seemed.

Or perhaps it was not so impossible because on the night of Charles’s sixteenth birthday the Academy was attacked, and the shadow-constructs systematically attacked every boy from Charles’s dorms, deliberately seeking him out for what seemed to be no reason at all.

Until he was trapped in a narrow corridor; Charles gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, wishes dying on his lips as he clutched at his pocket watch. He had wanted to make his father and mother proud; he had wanted to always be Erik’s companion and comrade, but now he was marked for death and he didn’t know why….

And then the watch glowed with a white-hot light and it was like Charles was possessed - somehow he was holding not the watch but a sword of pure light, and he was fighting through the shadow-constructs like he’d been doing it all his life, slash and parry and riposte and knowledge and power flooding through him as he danced with his opponents.

Encouraging shouts, the clash of weapons magnified in the dark corridor.

And when Charles came down from it, an unbelievable and terrifying high, he had not one but two surprises to deal with.

Erik, holding him up, a long length of steel chain trailing from one wrist, shadow-stains on his clothes and a warm smile of approval in his eyes.

And the other: a girl who could almost be Charles’s double, save for the bright golden hair in a long braid. She was carrying a two-pronged spear. “I’m Raven,” she said. “I’m your sister. And Erik and I are your protectors. I am sorry, dear brother, but you must give up on the Academy for now. Your life is in danger, there are evil things hunting you, and we intend to see you through this year.”

“It has to do with the bloodlines?” Charles asked, numbly, remembering the lives that had been taken in his place.

“Yours in particular, yes.” Erik nodded solemnly. “I will explain all, but to safety first. Follow your sister.”

Charles did, and took Erik’s hand and Raven’s, and never looked back.

Such an epic tale!!!! *o* and I start to imagine Raven waving a spear….*q*

2 months ago

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    Beautiful art AND fic in one post?!?!?!
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