#st. angelo

[mr-foods]

x-men drawings

[antpop]

Decided to finish old fan art of Generation X. Wish they continued the Emma and Sean friendship.

[wwprice1]

Loving these 90’s X-Men pieces by Thomas Pitilli!

[neapoliting]

i can't even explain why i liked reading this book so much but i did. it's not a swerve favorite unless nobody has heard of 70% of the characters

[yonemurishiroku]

Thinking about how Nico loves Percy and Percy loves Nico too, just not in the way that Nico loves him, like that.

[vintageeurope]

Birgu, Malta 1865

[mrheymister]

Another long winded rambling rant I played the mayor's party mission last night and

Dutch is a goddamm egotistical fool hypocrite. Like he HAD to be a good guy at some point, that's the only way I can see the likes of Arthur and Hosea continuing to follow this blatant narcissist down his dark descent.

For all his talk about the evils of civilization, he certainly seems enamored with Bronte and his lifestyle. You can see it in his eyes how he hangs on to the man's every word. He's not disgusted at all, he's envious. As much as he likes to present himself as the man with the plan who's always in control, I think he understands that he's a little out of his depth at this high society shindig and he is humiliated, though he refuses to show it. Instead he listens as Bronte points out all the city's influential figures, trying to figure out how to play him. Meanwhile Bronte has already see right thru him and is pointing these people banking on Dutch fucking them around, which convienently helps him out. Bronte is the one doing the playing, not Dutch.

In the middle of this is Arthur, who doesn't even pretend to care. He is not enamored, he is not in awe, he doesn't bother trying to fit in because, unlike Dutch, he's under no such illusion that he fits in there. He's not enjoying himself at all, he's just enduring it because he has a job to do. And yet that quality is probably the best one for the situation. He's not blinded by the bullshit high society refusal to speak directly. He notices things precisely because he's not hanging on to Brontes every word.

Anyways this has been a post

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Angelo Rizzuto took this photo from a bus as it passed along 42nd Street in September 1953.

Photo: Angelo Rizzuto via LoC

[starrrsmore]

[rosesradio]

You said tumblr incest girlie's and my first thought was Leo and Nico meeting in a foster home and having this low boil hate/love relationship that wasn't a relationship but they kissed once after a fist fight. Leo would argue that it was a heat of the moment type thing and just flirt with girls harder to prove to himself that is was nothing. Messy situationship that only explodes when they come across each other on the Argo II

i’ve been…circling this around in my brain for a while…and now i’m ready to go into the writing incest direction 🙏

also gonna take this in a smutty direction if you don’t mind (because, like, have you met me lol). picturing like an 18-19 y/o nico & leo, living in the same foster home since they were like 16 give or take. and they fuckin haaaate each other, going at it (and not in the fun way 👀) at all hours—the only reason their foster parents haven’t kicked them out yet is because they love both of them in spite of their fighting (& perhaps they help with bills and chores, etc).

so it all culminates one day in a fist fight when their foster parents aren’t home. it's not something either of them would do, though words were shouted back and forth and they just brought it out of each other in a way no one else could. leo was the one who threw the first punch, though nico was the one who pinned leo down to the ground in his bedroom. he straddles leo’s hips firmly, pinning his shoulders with firm hands. there’s not a moment of hesitation—hesitation would break everything—before nico moves swift as a python to capture leo’s lips.

nico’s lips taste like coke—leo’s coke, that he spent his own money on and wrote his name on. it somehow infuriates him and turns him on at the same time, urging to taste more as if he’d never had it before. leo lets out the faintest, most embarrassing moan against nico’s lips, and—

fuck, there was no talking his way out of this. leo was half-hard, straining against his jeans, and he was sure nico could feel it.

“oh my god,” nico murmurs against leo’s lips, rolling his hips against leo’s curiously. “you’re a fuckin’ pervert. i’m your brother.”

a wave of nausea sweeps over leo, though it’s swiftly followed by a wave of arousal. a whine is born, cries out, and dies, all within the confines of his throat. it was his own damn fault—all that dirty talk porn he watched, jacking off in his room on his own, must have rewired his brain.

“foster brother,” leo clarifies, the defense weak and worsening his case. “don’t even…see you as a brother…”

it was a lie. leo did see him as a brother, in a way—though he also saw him in…other lights. was it his fault that he didn’t see people so one dimensionally? 🥺

“sure,” nico mutters, low against leo’s neck before rolling his hips down harder, evoking another soft moan from leo’s lips. “fucking freak…”

“you…kissed me first,” leo says, his brain fogging over with arousal, telling himself to shut up and do whatever it took to keep nico moving against him like that. just like that…

”shut up, shut the fuck up,” nico growls, continuing a faster pace of grinding against leo. it wasn’t a question anymore, it was something they were doing—the only thing out of the question was talking more. if they didn’t talk, they didn’t have to acknowledge what was happening. if they didn’t talk, leo could…

leo pulls nico down by his shirt to kiss him more, positive that he was probably using too much tongue, though he couldn’t help himself. he wasn’t going to get to fuck him (to see him take his cock so well, so deep, moaning and writhing and making the prettiest faces), though he could fuck his mouth. he could have him like this, letting nico use him and grind him into the ground.

“n-nico i’m—i’m—ngh,” leo falters, attempting to stave off his high for a little while longer. he knew that was what they were trying to push towards, though he didn’t want it to be over too soon.

nico doesn’t help his case, because in that moment, he leans down, lips brushing against the shell of leo’s ear. his voice is a low, warm, tempting rumble that permeates his mind: “you’re such a good brother, aren’t you?”

“o-oh, holy shit,” leo whispers, tangling his fingers into nico’s hair. he comes hard in his pants, his eyes squeezing shut and wet lips parted. nico follows shortly after, letting out a surprisingly soft and high whimper that leo wants to bottle and keep forever.

after they both come down from their highs, they’re trembling and ominously silent. it’s unspoken, their obvious agreement to never speak on this again.

they’re not nicer to each other afterwards, though they’re not as directly mean, too afraid to rock the boat. leo lingers perhaps a bit too long before finally, reluctantly…running away. like he always does. the tension becomes too much, as does the desire for his own independence again.

that’s when a monster attacks, and that’s when leo finds himself whisked away to camp half-blood.

in this AU i think it’d be interesting for nico to have already been to camp and just left at 16 to try to get away and ended up in the foster care system. nico would wait for leo to come back home only to realize he wouldn’t be, and he runs away too (perhaps bringing hazel back to life in the process, finding camp Jupiter, and things align closer to canon after that).

on the argo, leo feels nothing but dread when they rescue nico from the jar. he can’t believe that even in this entirely different life, this is his luck.

things return to that similar tense, bickering dynamic—only this time, nico visits leo’s room late at night. he pins leo to the door and locks it, demanding that they work out the tension…one way or another.

leo’s unsure of what to do. now that he’s face to face with him—allowing himself to meet his eyes instead of forcing himself to look away—leo realizes that nico looks more like a memory than a person. he really missed his foster brother-slash-whatever they were. he was really worried about him in that jar.

he captures nico’s lips as easily as nico did to him the first time. nico lets out a soft, satisfied noise against leo’s lips. this probably wasn’t the healthy way to work things out, but—fuck, nico’s hand wanders down to leo’s thin pajama pants, palming him through the material.

“you were really looking forward to a little family reunion, weren’t you, leo?” nico muses against leo’s lips, and it’s all leo can do to muffle his whimper as he nods.

it’s not the healthiest way to deal with their tension, though it is the most fun.

[mr-foods]

generation x

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

A first look at Blink's powers... as she almost kills Harvest until Gregor stops her... but it also reveals to Angelo that this means their powers are not dampened in here... so they have a chance at fighting back.

[caramel-lita]

Nothing like sitting in a Catholic chapel and going through the Angelo Colasanto/Jack Harkness tag on ao3 while waiting for Mass to start.

[katatonicimpression]

Monet mentioned!! Still in touch with angelo!! Friends! Yay!!

(You: Paige is drowning in loneliness - me: this ain't about her)

-----------------------------

Astonishing X-Men Infinity Comic (2024) #15

[2nd2ndalto]

here is a smol ides of march au

Leo taps Nico’s leg with the flat of his gladius. “Look sharp, di Angelo, the big boss is coming through,” he mutters. 

Nico shifts from where he’d been slumped against the wall of the Forum, pulling himself to his full (yes, really) height and tipping up his chin. It’s his least favorite time of day to be on guard; the midday sun is beating down on the stone walls and the gravel at his feet, and the damn helmet isn’t helping matters. He couldn’t find his own this morning, so he’s wearing Reyna’s, and it keeps sliding down his sweaty forehead.

Nico half-listens to the conversation as Caesar and his companions draw nearer.

“Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, to touch Calpurnia; for our elders say the barren, touched in this holy chase, shake off this sterile curse,” Caesar says, characteristically self-important. 

Leo quirks an eyebrow at Nico, and Nico tries not to laugh. 

Then, “Caesar!” someone calls. The voice is creaky, ethereal. Nico shivers. 

The general stops short, his entire entourage grinding to a halt around him. One of them knocks into Leo, then grabs Nico’s shoulder to steady himself. Nico grits his teeth. 

“Who is it in the press that calls on me?” Caesar asks, imperious. “I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music cry, ‘Caesar!’ Speak; Caesar is turned to hear.”

Nico lets out a long breath. Why use two words when two dozen will suffice? The longer this exchange takes, the longer he has to stand here, pin-straight in this stupid fucking sweaty tunic. 

“Beware the Ides of March,” croons that same spooky-sounding voice, and a tall figure draws forward. It must be a man, Nico supposes, if only from the height. The figure is robed in sky blue, head covered, his back to Leo and Nico. 

Nico’s mind wanders to the gnawing hunger in his stomach, the blisters on his sandaled feet. The heat on his armor is starting to make him feel as if he’s being slowly baked. A Nico panini, perhaps. 

“He is a dreamer!” Caesar announces suddenly, jolting Nico from his discomfort. “Let us leave him.”

Nico lets out a breath as the group in front of him begins to move once more. 

The man in blue - the soothsayer, Nico supposes, lingers. Once Caesar and the others are out of sight, he turns with a shrug. 

“They never listen.”

And his voice isn’t spooky, or ethereal. It’s light, easy. Nico blinks, surprised, taking in sparkling blue eyes, crinkled at the corners, a rueful half-smile. A spill of freckles, several blond curls peeking out around the edges of his hood. The young man appears to be right around Nico’s age. 

And he’s hot.   

Next to Nico, Leo seems to be undergoing a similar journey of revelation. He steps forward, holding out a hand and offering a toothy grin. 

“Leo Valdez. It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Soothsayer, sir.” 

Nico rolls his eyes. 

The man in blue quirks a smile and takes the proffered hand. “Will Solace.” He steps back. 

“Fucking hot out here, isn’t it?” Will Solace says. He shoves down his hood, revealing a head of tousled blond curls, shining like gold in the sunlight, the blue in his robes reflected in his eyes. Nico feels a bit like he’s been punched in the face. In a really good way. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Will says, fixing his grin on Nico. 

“Nico. di Angelo,” Nico manages, extending a sweaty hand. Blue eyes catch on his and linger, curious.

“You sounded… different. Before,” Nico says.

Will’s grin goes wider, a bit sly. “I’ve been trying something new.”

“So it’s all an act, then?” Nico asks, curious, because… 

“Oh no,” Will shrugs. “He really does need to beware the Ides of March. I just find folks are more receptive to prophecy if I get a bit spooky with it. You know. Really lean into the drama of it all.” Will wiggles his fingers. 

Nico nods. “Caesar does have an… aura of death. A thick possibility of it.”

“Nico,” Leo complains. But Will quirks an eyebrow, regarding Nico with more interest, a quick once-over and a half-step closer. 

“You know, I might have a prophecy for you,” he tells Nico. 

“Yeah?”

Will touches two fingers to his temple, closes his eyes, a flutter of dark blond eyelashes against freckled cheeks. “Yes. I see you, having dinner with me. Tonight.” Will’s voice has gone spooky again, but it’s edged with something warmer now.  

“Good grief,” Leo mutters. 

Nico nods. “Interesting. Do you see yourself picking me up at eight, maybe?”

“You know, I do,” Will grins “You’re good at this.”

“Maybe after dinner I can show you what else I’m good at,” Nico counters. 

Will waggles his eyebrows. “I foresee that I would enjoy that.”

They exchange details, and Will replaces his hood as he leaves, winking at Nico before turning to stroll away. 

“That was disgusting,” Leo says flatly.  

“Hey,” Nico shrugs, grinning, wondering if he can convince Jason to take his shift tomorrow morning. “There's no use fighting the power of prophecy.”

~~~~

Many thanks to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the quick beta & for enabling this ridiculousness