![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
X-Men fanfic: "Johnny Thunder lives on water, feeds on lightning"
Title: Johnny Thunder lives on water, feeds on lightning
Fandom: X-Men comics, real world figure skating
Warnings: mild swearing, Olympic spoilers
Author's notes: Title is lyrics from the song Johnny Thunder by The Kinks. This fic is dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scribblinlenore, by far the most vocal of the Johnny Weir fans on my f-list. ;3
Summary:
"Complete and utter bullshit," Bobby Drake said emphatically. Betsy Braddock, to whom this remark was addressed, eyed him with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes -- he got the impression that she found his emotional investment in the matter to be more entertaining than the performances that had spawned it. Before she could say anything, however, a voice from the entrance behind them inserted itself into the argument.
"Tsk, tsk, Robert. Such language."
Bobby and Betsy turned towards Jean-Paul Beaubier as he approached. He was shaking his head. "Now, what could inspire this unusual bout of profanity?"
"He's angry about the Olympics," Betsy said with impressive dryness for someone smirking that hard.
"Johnny Weir should have won the Gold!" The words exploded out of Bobby, fuelled by all the frustration he felt over this injustice. "His performance was artistically and athletically superiour, but they did the same bogus bullshit to him this year as they did at the last Olympics. It's Kurt Browning all over again! Stupid, conservative, dickhead judges who can't stand to reward innovation, or who see the ability to entertain as some kind of deficiency. Argh!" He gripped his hair, for lack of anything else to squeeze the life out of.
Betsy patted his shoulder with a sort of non-specific sympathy and wandered off, having heard all this before.
"We're talking about... figure skating?" Jean-Paul asked cautiously.
"Of course we're talking about figure skating!" Bobby exploded again, waving his arms in the air.
"I would never have expected an American to side with a Canadian skater," Jean-Paul explained, voice a little faint.
Bobby huffed a sigh.
"Yeah, well, it's a blight on my sport. He deserved to win."
"Your sport? I was not aware of your particular ownership." A teasing sparkle returned to the man who, Bobby belatedly recalled, had actually won Olympic Gold and had it taken away. Oops. No wonder he'd looked a little faraway for a minute there.
"I'm a participant," Bobby didn't quite snap, "so I think of it as that."
"Did you compete?"
"Yeah, in juniors," he reluctantly confessed. "I loved the ice and the ice loved me. And then, of course, came the big reveal of my powers and getting spirited away by the Prof, and that was that." Aware of Jean-Paul's speculative look, Bobby shrugged. "I wouldn't have made it to the Olympics, or the World's. I can't land a triple for shit." He added a thoughtful, "My spins are flippin' fantastic, though."
Jean-Paul snorted a laugh. "So modest, too."
Bobby leveled a challenging look at him. "Just honest."
"But this Weir, he is better?"
"Oh, yeah. He can triple. He can quad. And he's invented whole new spins! Limber little devil... Plus, he puts it all together with pop sensibility and enough artistry to make Toller Cranston weep."
Jean-Paul favoured Bobby with a wicked smile.
"Do you suppose he'd be interested in promoting a line of skating equipment?"
Bobby slapped his shoulder with a resounding 'smack'.
"Ask him, not me!"
Fandom: X-Men comics, real world figure skating
Warnings: mild swearing, Olympic spoilers
Author's notes: Title is lyrics from the song Johnny Thunder by The Kinks. This fic is dedicated to
scribblinlenore, by far the most vocal of the Johnny Weir fans on my f-list. ;3Summary:
"Complete and utter bullshit," Bobby Drake said emphatically. Betsy Braddock, to whom this remark was addressed, eyed him with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes -- he got the impression that she found his emotional investment in the matter to be more entertaining than the performances that had spawned it. Before she could say anything, however, a voice from the entrance behind them inserted itself into the argument.
"Tsk, tsk, Robert. Such language."
Bobby and Betsy turned towards Jean-Paul Beaubier as he approached. He was shaking his head. "Now, what could inspire this unusual bout of profanity?"
"He's angry about the Olympics," Betsy said with impressive dryness for someone smirking that hard.
"Johnny Weir should have won the Gold!" The words exploded out of Bobby, fuelled by all the frustration he felt over this injustice. "His performance was artistically and athletically superiour, but they did the same bogus bullshit to him this year as they did at the last Olympics. It's Kurt Browning all over again! Stupid, conservative, dickhead judges who can't stand to reward innovation, or who see the ability to entertain as some kind of deficiency. Argh!" He gripped his hair, for lack of anything else to squeeze the life out of.
Betsy patted his shoulder with a sort of non-specific sympathy and wandered off, having heard all this before.
"We're talking about... figure skating?" Jean-Paul asked cautiously.
"Of course we're talking about figure skating!" Bobby exploded again, waving his arms in the air.
"I would never have expected an American to side with a Canadian skater," Jean-Paul explained, voice a little faint.
Bobby huffed a sigh.
"Yeah, well, it's a blight on my sport. He deserved to win."
"Your sport? I was not aware of your particular ownership." A teasing sparkle returned to the man who, Bobby belatedly recalled, had actually won Olympic Gold and had it taken away. Oops. No wonder he'd looked a little faraway for a minute there.
"I'm a participant," Bobby didn't quite snap, "so I think of it as that."
"Did you compete?"
"Yeah, in juniors," he reluctantly confessed. "I loved the ice and the ice loved me. And then, of course, came the big reveal of my powers and getting spirited away by the Prof, and that was that." Aware of Jean-Paul's speculative look, Bobby shrugged. "I wouldn't have made it to the Olympics, or the World's. I can't land a triple for shit." He added a thoughtful, "My spins are flippin' fantastic, though."
Jean-Paul snorted a laugh. "So modest, too."
Bobby leveled a challenging look at him. "Just honest."
"But this Weir, he is better?"
"Oh, yeah. He can triple. He can quad. And he's invented whole new spins! Limber little devil... Plus, he puts it all together with pop sensibility and enough artistry to make Toller Cranston weep."
Jean-Paul favoured Bobby with a wicked smile.
"Do you suppose he'd be interested in promoting a line of skating equipment?"
Bobby slapped his shoulder with a resounding 'smack'.
"Ask him, not me!"
no subject
Don;t look at me like that, Winter Olympic talk totally counts as foreplay.
no subject
no subject
no subject
At least... they think she did.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
And you both, obviously.
no subject
*stealth glomps you*
I've missed you around these parts.
no subject
I've missed you too, hon - life is somewhat totally rubbish at the moment. Ugh.
no subject
And tel me about it, I hurt my back really bad recently so I'm recovering from that. On the bright side, I can actually move again and it desn't take me fourty minutes to get out of bed anymore.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
and
"I loved the ice and the ice loved me. And then, of course, came the big reveal of my powers and getting spirited away by the Prof, and that was that." Aware of Jean-Paul's speculative look, Bobby shrugged. "I wouldn't have made it to the Olympics, or the World's. I can't land a triple for shit." He added a thoughtful, "My spins are flippin' fantastic, though."
were adorable and funny and so right, I actually clapped my hands. (The sound was somewhat muffled, because I am wearing gloves atm).
I kind of want to cuddle this fic as I fall asleep tonight.
no subject
I'm glad you liked it. :3 I'm trying to get my Bobby groove back; it just figures that figure skating rage would give me a starting point. X3