I have nothing to say about this one
Charles/Erik, cat ears (don’t judge me, catavoy is adorable)
I’m sorry PcP, I don’t know what this is *sob*
“Hand it over, boy.”
“I’m sorry….I was just….I just wanted to look.”
OMG MOAR PLZ!
[Little thing for you guys while I research for my feels-war retaliation ]
“What are you doing?”
Kevin jumped, fumbling with the file folder and nearly dropping it as he glanced up to see Azazeal fully dressed again.
“I. uh. I was just curious,” he mumbled, feeling exposed in nothing but his boxer shorts. Heaving an unsteady breath, Kevin sucked his lower lip between his teeth as Azazeal stepped forward with long fingers outstretched.
Kevin hesitated, wanting so badly to look through the file - just for curiosity’s sake. “I’m sorry….I was just….I just wanted to look.”
Azazeal curled his fingers up, his lips pursed into a blank-faced scowl. “Now.”
Kevin handed over the file, releasing his lower lip and sighing as Azazel took it none-too-gently. The man - demon, more like it - paused and then leaned in to capture Kevin’s lips in a quick, perfunctory kiss. Kevin leaned into it easily, head tilted up and still wanting more as Azazeal pulled away to drop the folder onto his desk.
“I’m sorry…” Kevin said quietly, watching Azazel move about the room in search of his shoes.
“Don’t touch anything. I didn’t bring you here to snoop,” Azazeal pointed out, “I brought you here for sex. Come take your money.”
Kevin approached as Azazel grabbed his wallet from the night stand, flicking it open and rifling through it. When he went to take the bills that were handed to him, but Azazeal flicked his wrist back, looking expectant.
Kevin wet his lips, pushing up on the tips of his toes and giving the man another kiss. Humming low in his chest, Azazeal grabbed Kevin by the thin dip in his back, dragging him closer to deepen the liplock. Kevin braced himself on Azazeal’s chest, breath stolen as he tried to keep up.
Just as quickly as it had begun, Azazel ended it by drawing back and running the bills over Kevin’s bottom lip. Kevin took them, looking down to count the amount as Azazeal chuckled and sat on the bed to put on his socks.
“There’s no use in counting, not only is this an illegal transaction, but you’re under eighteen. I’m sure your parents would love to find out you’ve been fucking me to pay for whatever it is you think is worth it.”
Kevin tensed, standing there with nothing on but his underwear and a handful of money. Flustered, he scowled and fisted his hands. “I’m going to enter a boxing competition.”
Azazeal’s eyes flicked up, utterly amused. “You?” He chuckled and shook his head, picking his shoes up. “Little twiggy, aren’t we?”
Kevin bit back a snarl, shoulders tense. “Fuck you,” he spat.
Azazel laughed as he finished lacing his shoes and stood up. “Already done that, sweetheart.” Leaning in, he gave Kevin a quick kiss and a pat on the bum. “Get your clothes on, will you? I’ve got an appointment to keep.”
Hannah, here is my first retaliation in our feels write-off.
Charles died at 4am on a Tuesday.
Erik’s alarm went off at eight o’clock on Tuesday morning, as it did every day of the work week, and he groggily reached out to turn it off with a tired sigh. He rolled over, groping across the bed for Charles’ body and finding nothing. It was unusual enough for Erik to open his eyes, recalling their fight from the night before that had ended with Charles slamming the front door and Erik feeling like the worst piece of shit on the planet.
Erik groaned, pushing himself up out of bed and sleepily heading for the living room, where Charles was probably sleeping his drunk off on the couch.
[ “Is everything alright, Erik?” Charles asked timidly, sitting up in the tub as Erik stormed past the bathroom and towards their bedroom. Erik threw his briefcase onto the dresser, fighting with his tie and kicking his shoes off. Charles appeared in the doorway, a towel around his hips and a concerned look on his face.
“Darling, are you okay?”
“Stop fucking asking questions!” Erik snapped, his frustrations rising and feeling so horribly crowded inside of his own skin. Charles looked taken aback, eyes going wide as if slapped. ]
The couch was empty, and Erik felt the first tendrils of horrible, suffocating panic. He instantly smothered them, knowing that Charles could have easily crashed at Moira’s or Ravens, or even at a hotel for the night.
He exhaled, cursing Charles’ name under his breath and searching for his phone in the cushions of the couch - where he’d thrown it in a fit of rage the night before.
12 unread texts messages and 4 missed calls later, Erik couldn’t breathe.
Hearing Charles’ drunken slurring, at first, had been amusing, until the next message was the hospital telling him that Charles had been hit by a drunk driver while crossing the road, and the next was Raven crying hysterically into the phone - begging Erik to pick up the phone because she just had to identify Charles’ dead body and wasn’t fit to drive.
The phone fell from Erik’s hands, and his legs gave out - knees slamming into the carpet. Erik tried to breathe, but all that came out was an inhuman groan that could have been a sob or a gasp.
[“I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me! I haven’t done anything!” Charles cried, struggling to at least pull on a pair of boxers as Erik stormed into the living room.
“You’re smothering! You can’t even let me be angry without asking me ‘Erik, what’s wrong? Erik, are you okay? Erik, let me mother you!’ Fuck’s sake, Charles, I’m not a child!” Erik snapped, flinging open the refrigerator and grabbing a beer as Charles hurried into the room in a pair of jeans and a tee.
“I’m just worried! I wasn’t trying to smother you, I don’t like when you’re upset because I don’t want you to be unhappy, is all!” Charles hovered in the kitchen entry, obviously afraid to enter and be subjected to Erik’s fury.
“I’m sorry, Charles, but nobody’s perfect like you!” ]
It took Erik an hour to stop his hands from shaking enough that he could text Raven back, and another twenty minutes for both Moira and Raven to come bursting into the apartment with Raven’s spare key.
Erik hadn’t moved from his spot at the foot of the couch, clutching his stomach and heaving empty, soundless sobs into the cushions. Raven dropped down on the ground beside him, pulling Erik into her arms and soothing him with gentle fingers carding through his hair as Erik clutched to her. Moira went into the kitchen, setting up the kettle and crying softly to herself as Raven rocked Erik back and forth, cradling him like a child.
“I didn’t mean it, Raven!” Erik cried, body trembling violently and saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth when he couldn’t muster the strength to close his lips and swallow around his grief. Raven shushed him, shaking through her own tears and running one hand down Erik’s back.
“I know you didn’t, Erik, I know.” Raven murmured, sniffling and holding Erik as he choked and coughed, struggling to remember to breathe.
“I was so mad, I was just so mad - I didn’t mean it, I didn’t!”
“Erik, you need to calm down, you have to breathe.” Moira came up behind them, a gentle palm pressing into Erik’s back as he released a pained, hitching sound and buried his face into Raven’s collarbone.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Erik moaned, allowing Raven to manipulate their bodies until he was being held in her lap and rocked gently. It was obvious that she’d gotten the worst of her grieving out in the four hours between Charles’ death and Erik finding out, and Erik didn’t know what he would have without her.
He didn’t know what he would do without Charles, either.
Moira took Erik’s phone, calling his work to let them know he wouldn’t be coming in, and then returning to sit down across from Raven and wrap her arms around the both of them.
[“I know you’re mad because of your job, but you don’t need to take it out on me!” Charles snapped, grabbing the beer from Erik’s hands and trying to dump it in the sink. Incensed, Erik snatched it back with a snarl.
“Don’t take my fucking beer! You’re the godamn alcoholic!” Erik shoved at Charles’ shoulder, knocking him back against the counter as the words that had escaped him sunk in with the shocked, hurt look on Charles’ face.
Charles snapped his mouth shut, gaze shuttering into an emotionless slate. “I suppose I am, aren’t I?” He asked cooly, stepping back when Erik tried to reach out and apologize. “Don’t touch me,” he whirled, stepping out of the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet from the coffee table. Heading for the door, Charles dodged Erik’s hand again. “Better yet, don’t talk to me until you’ve cooled off.”
The slamming of the door had never sounded so final. ]
Charles’ funeral was three days later, a small affair with only close friends in attendance. Erik couldn’t even muster up the energy to give a eulogy - which caused murmuring among their friends, because what boyfriend of eight years wouldn’t give any parting words to the love of his life?
Long after the ceremony had ended, Erik lingered. He watched the sun set, seated on the soft, freshly turned soil of Charles’ grave with his back pressed tight against the alabaster headstone boasting a name, a time frame, and a simple sentence that really said nothing at all about who Charles really was.
Erik dug his fingers into the earth, dirt sticking under his nails and wondering if he could use his bare hands to dig back through the ground and join Charles in his coffin.
Instead, he clenched his jaw and dropped his head back against the grave marker, watching the clouds listlessly.
“I was going to propose,” he croaked, swallowing heavily. “I was mad, because they cut my bonus, and I couldn’t afford the ring I wanted.”
Erik closed his eyes, tears slipping from the corners and down his cheekbones. “So stupid, right? Getting worked up over a fucking ring.”
He wouldn’t be surprised if Charles was scolding him from Heaven at this very moment, and the mere idea made Erik bark out a bitter laugh and curl his fingers into a fist, dirt squishing into his palm. “I’m so sorry, Charles…”
Erik pulled his knees up to his chest, arms curling around his shins as he struggled to keep his composure. “I love you, I never meant any of the things I said and I wish so much that I could take it back,” he sucked in a shuddering breath, swallowing and shaking his head. “I just want to go back and fix everything, I can’t do this, Charles. I can’t do this without you, I don’t know how.”
The first sob was like opening the floodgates, until Erik had cried himself into exhaustion, falling asleep curled at the head of Charles’ grave and feeling more alone than he had in his entire life.
Morning came with the obnoxious trill of birds in the air, chirping and hopping all around the trees overhead and making Erik struggle into wakefulness. His eyes felt puffy and sore, body aching everywhere and a fine layer of dew clinging to his suit. He snuffed, sitting up from where he’d curled himself around Charles’ headstone and rubbing at his eyes.
He stood, stretching and groaning before reaching down to run a hand over the dark granite marker. For a fleeting moment, he tried to recall the previous day - he could have sworn that Raven had chosen alabaster for it - and decided that the only way to take his mind off of things was to stop in to work.
He, luckily, had spare suit in the back seat that he’d picked up from the cleaner’s on Monday (all the stress had made him forget to bring it into the suddenly empty apartment) and changed into that before heading to the office.
“Erik! Here early, are you?” Shaw greeted as Erik passed him by on the way to his cubicle. Erik hovered, reluctant to receive any sympathy coming from his boss, and was relieved when Shaw did nothing but clap him on the shoulder and smile.
“Been working hard to get everything done on time, haven’t you? I think your efforts should be rewarded - coming in three hours early,” Shaw wrapped an arm around Erik’s neck, guiding him into the office and gesturing for Erik to have a seat.
Erik sat down, and Shaw perched himself on the corner of his own desk. “Why so down?” Shaw asked, and Erik had to resist the sudden desire to strangle the man for his ignorance. Instead, he shrugged halfheartedly. Shaw shrugged and smiled.
“Well, I’m sure it’ll cheer you up to know that I’ve decided not to cut your bonus. We were going to have to, you see, to save some money we lost during the slow season, but you’ve put forth a lot of effort lately and I think you’ll find that hard work doesn’t go unrewarded.”
Erik, gobsmacked, stared at his boss incredulously. He could do nothing else, not when Shaw was unaware that he was practically the catalyst in Charles’ death, and instead dumbly took the envelope that his employer handed him.
Shaw gave Erik a clap on the shoulder and a smile and Erik numbly stood up and left to return to his cubicle.
The day passed by far too quickly, as Erik buried himself into paperwork that he was rather certain were duplicates of some things he must’ve filled out earlier in the month, and it wasn’t long before he found himself driving back to the apartment with trepidation heavy in his heart.
Sliding the key into the lock, Erik opened the apartment and felt his heart stop when he heard a splash of water and an achingly familiar voice humming to itself.
Erik’s keys fell from his hand, clattering to the ground as he walked slowly through the apartment, afraid that if he made any noise - whatever it was would be startled away.
The bathroom door was open, a figure shadowed by the mirror behind him making it hard to pick out specific features as the person wiped water from his face and leaned back into the tub with a thoughtful noise.
The floorboards creaked underfoot, and the person in the tub turned to look at Erik, face lighting up with a smile.
Erik’s heart gave a sudden, painful palpitation as Charles’ smile fell and he leaned over the edge of the tub to get a better look at Erik.
“Is everything alright, Erik?” Charles asked, water dripping from his arms and hair, making small puddles on the bathroom tiles. Erik entered the bathroom, grabbing the door frame for support as Charles continued to look at him in growing confusion.
“Something wrong with work?” Charles asked, bringing a hand up to slick wet bangs from his face. “Erik, are you okay? You’re rather pale, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” This was exclaimed with teasing cheer, but Erik could do nothing but release a strangled whimper from the back of his throat and stumble towards the bathtub.
“Erik?” Charles furrowed his brows, mildly surprised when Erik reached out with trembling hands to cup his face, feeling every inch of his skin and memorizing the flesh beneath his fingers. Charles smiled, albeit looking utterly bewildered, and reached up to cup one of Erik’s hands with a dripping palm.
Erik’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees, trousers soaking up the water on the bathroom floor in an instant as he dragged Charles forward, leaning in at the same time and putting his entire being into kissing the breath right out of Charles’ lungs.
This was a second chance that Erik would never, ever take for granted.
*tosses the ball back into Hannah’s court* it has been brought.
— gif is not mine, for some reason it won’t let me reblog without making half this post a giant block of text *sob* click here for original
“Pietro, baby, don’t be like this,” Charles whispered, face haggard as he cradled the wailing infant to his chest. Pietro squirmed and kicked in his arms, hiccuping as Charles leaned down to hold his lips against the baby’s forehead. Charles closed his eyes, bouncing his arms a little and swaying his hips back and forth as he carried Pietro from the nursery and into the hall before Wanda started to cry as well.
“Hush little darling, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,” Charles breathed, half singing and half trying not to cry from sheer exhaustion. Pietro whined, curling his little fingers around Charles’ wrist as the telepath brought a pacifier to his lips once he’d grabbed it from the living room table. “And if that mocking bird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”
Pietro continued to whimper, legs kicking as Charles paced around the coffee table with his cheek resting on that small tuft of white-blond hair. “And if that diamond ring turns brass, papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass.” Charles shut his eyes, lower lip trembling as he remembered in sudden, painful detail, being so small, cradled in his own father’s arms as that very same lullaby was sung to him after a nightmare.
Strong arms slid around Charles’ torso from behind, pulling him into a solid chest as Erik hooked his chin sleepily over Charles’ shoulder. Charles sniffed, leaning into Erik’s body for support as Pietro seemed to finally begin to calm - soothed by the presence of both his fathers.
“What are you singing?” Erik murmured, pressing a kiss just behind Charles’ ear and one on his neck. Charles stroked a finger down Pietro’s cheek, the previous tension in his body draining away as he felt gentle waves of affection and curiosity coming from Erik.
“A song my father used to sing me,” Charles answered softly, turning his head to kiss Pietro’s brow and breathe in the scent of baby powder and tear-free shampoo. Erik’s hands rubbed along Charles’ torso, kissing his jaw.
“It sounds sad,” Erik buried his face into Charles’ shoulder, squeezing him tightly. Charles smiled, just the tiniest bit, and shook his head.
“It was, once…”
Charles turned and Erik glanced up in time to catch Charles’ mouth pressing crookedly into his chin and bottom lip. “Now, I have much better memories to give it,” he said, turning in Erik’s arms for a proper hug, with Pietro’s body snuggled in close between them. Erik held onto him for a long moment before he spoke.
“I love you,”
Charles smiled into Erik’s collarbone, cradling Pietro close.
Inspired by a story/rp idea Zimothy shared with me.
Hopefully this is a good start on my draw everyday goal.
eeeeee! *flails and snuggles you* I like how you’ve even got Erik’s tattoo in this!
[excerpt from an RP of it I did with EFL *D*]
“Darling, don’t fight it.” Charles coaxed, fingertips brushing along the fine trail of hair leading down from Erik’s navel. “Let me take care of you,” His grip on Erik’s throat tightened, giving him a soft, urging squeeze - just enough to cut his breath off for a second- at the same time he reached down to give Erik’s flaccid cock a precursory stroke, grinning when he felt it twitch beneath his fingers.
“Then take care of me. Don’t –“ His breath hitched as Charles squeezed his throat, reflexively bucking against his hand. When Charles let go, Erik had relaxed against the bed, eyes struggling to glare at the man on top of him. “Don’t tie me up and treat me like a goddamn slave.” As much as Erik had wanted to sound angry, his words were soft. He blamed Charles.
Charles shook his head, nipping Erik’s bottom lip in reprimand as he started to move his hand in slow jerks. He gave Erik’s throat another quick squeeze. “You are not my slave, darling. If anything, you are my pet, and my submissive, but never my slave.” His lips ghosted up to Erik’s eyes, kissing his brow and then each lid while keeping his grip firm around that thin, long neck. “You are far too beautiful to be anything so unappreciated.”
Erik’s breath hitched as Charles squeezed his throat, his chest taking in slow, calculated breaths as he attempted to calm himself. It wasn’t working. Charles was annoyingly good at getting him hard. “I’m not your pet, either.” He closed his eyes and let himself be kissed, huffing a laugh as he was called beautiful.
“mmh, you don’t believe me, do you?” Charles murmured, nuzzling the corner of Erik’s bitterly smiling mouth. His grasp on Erik’s throat bordered on painful, cutting off his air with one long, slow curl of his fingers. Erik hadn’t expected Charles’s grip to be that tight, and his back gave an immediate arch, lips parting silently as his air was cut off.
“I don’t think that’s very kind of you, to discredit me.” Charles drew Erik’s upper lip between his teeth, kneading it and letting go with a pop of flesh. Erik squirmed, legs kicking as his lip was bit but otherwise doing very little to try and stop what was happening. His tongue reached out to lick at Charles’s lip, but before he could pull him into a kiss, Charles had already pulled away, insistent on his speech.
“You’re ethereal, darling, a beauty in a crowd of dull minds, a beacon begging to be touched and loved- which I do.” Charles’ hand released Erik’s throat as he added, “Love you, that is.”
Erik didn’t believe a word, as his throat was released he relaxed back on the bed, silent and averting his eyes.
“Erik,” Charles sighed, aggravation edging his voice. He continued stroking the man gently, more teasing than anything, and resumed his punishing grip on the man’s neck. “Erik, look at me.”
For a long while, Erik continued to look away, struggling to stay still. It was only when he felt like he actually need to breath that he finally looked up at Charles, expression somewhere between a plead and a glare. He mouthed ‘what,’ unable to actually speak due to the grip the other man had on his neck.
Charles let go, instantly leaning down to kiss the gasp out of Erik’s mouth before the other man would have a chance to breathe in. Erik’s teeth met Charles’s lower lip as he was pulled into the kiss, trying his best to breathe through his nose until Charles finally pulled back and allowed him to breath, other hand lingering on the base of Erik’s cock. Erik panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.
“You’re bewitching, an exquisite representation of stunning beauty that I find myself jealous of, but so very, very pleased to look upon.” Charles mumbled, nuzzling Erik’s cheek as the other man’s lips twisted into a half-hearted smile, “There should be no shame in your eyes, and no fear when I say these things.” He resumed pumping Erik’s erection, his pace picking up gradually and ending each upwards twist with a quick squeeze to the head. Erik gasped and whined despite himself, bucking into Charles’ hand and tilting his head back into the mattress.
“What Shaw did to you was horrible beyond reason, but it was also wrong. You shouldn’t let the words and ideals of one man change you, Erik.”
“How do I know you’re not the same?” Erik gasped.
Charles cut off Erik’s air for a half second, “This? This is proof that you’re alive, that you can feel good things from pain,” he did it again, timed with a firm flick of his wrist before his thumb swiped at the pre-cum beading on the head of Erik’s cock. Erik’s breath hitched, his eyes closed as he bucked against Charles’s hand. This was cruel. Whatever Charles was trying to get at, this was cruel.
“Do you feel it? Life in every breath you take? Shaw wanted you to wish for death, but I- I want you to remember that you’re alive, Erik.” Charles breathed insistently, pressing onto Erik’s neck until he would only be able to suck in small wheezes of air. “Don’t you feel it?”
As his breath was cut again, Erik opened his mouth to gasp for breath, excited when he found that he could still barely breathe. Slowly, he nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on Charles’s hand stroking his cock. He moaned. Bad decision. Fine. “Hard not to.” He inhaled as much as he could, wheezing. “When you’re choking me like that.” A smirk accompanied by another small moan.
“True,” Charles muttered, pulling his hand away from Erik’s throat to splay his fingers against the man’s chest, “Not that you’re complaining,” With this, he moved his palm to Erik’s stomach, pushing down and forcing the air out of him again. “Its hard not to, not when you look so lovely struggling to live.”
The first time Edward Rochester finds himself questioning his sexuality is when he stumbles into an underground bareknuckle boxing ring on the upper east side of London, long after the sun has gone down. He’s not really interested in the betting, so much as a means of entertaining himself through half a bottle of Madeira that he’d imbibed not long before.
The first time Edward Rochester meets Thomas LeFroy, he’s just drunkenly hopped into a bare-knuckle fight with a raucous battle cry. The fight in itself is entertaining enough, blows and shoves exchanged until LeFroy (known to Edward, then, as ‘the one with a child’s face’) looks up to see Edward watching the fight and freezes.
He takes a punch to the jaw not long after, and ends up sprawled on the bloodied ground with a grunt and gurgle of pain. The crowd breaks up after that, people collecting their winnings and searching for new contenders, and Edward allows himself to approach with eyes open to observation.
This boy - man, is of slight stock, loose-limbed and staring up at the ceiling while his chest gasps for air, knees knocked aside and making Edward contemplate how it would feel to spread them further - to lie between them and run his hands up that heaving torso.
Edward dashes all of those thoughts from his mind, a hand in the pocket of his shirt and standing over the fighter’s body with an amused curl to the edge of his lips.
Blue - impossibly blue - eyes dart up to look at him while a pink tongue darts out to lap up blood trickling across lips that look as if they’ve been stained with the best of wines.
“Not come to collect your winnings, are you?” He asks Edward, expression blank, but light. Edward grins, head warm with the buzz of alcohol, and reaches down to help him up. He goes up easy, but Edward has to catch him when he grunts dizzily and stumbles forward. It instinctual to wrap one arm around that soft curve of a waist and use the other to hold the man’s arm over his shoulders.
“Thanks, friend.” The man slurs, head rolling until his temple is resting on Edward’s shoulder. “You can just drop me off outside, I’ll take a carriage to my hotel and you can be on your way.”
Edward intends to follow his request, he does, but he somehow ends up following along to ensure Tom’s safe travel.
It is neither here nor there if Tom had chosen to show his gratitude through a more physical means after a discussion of events the next morning.
[fff too high to write. nvm. *sob*]
Charles says this with a serene smile on his face, as if he isn’t weak from the cancer and as if he isn’t small, bald and vulnerable from the failed chemo. Erik clutches his hand, shaking harder than he has in his entire life, and bites back a sob.
“Charles,” he croaks, lifting that frail hand to his lips and pressing a kiss wet with tears caught in the corners of his mouth to Charles’ knuckles. “Charles, please,” he begs, because Charles can’t leave him, not after they’ve fought for so long to keep him alive. Charles’ smile widens, squeezing Erik’s hand as best he can - though the effort makes his entire arm shake.
When the next seizure takes him, he doesn’t wake, and Erik prays, prays to every God he’s ever loved and every God he’s never known, that this is some terrible nightmare, and he’ll wake up to that place that Charles speaks of, and this will have never happened.
His prayers go unanswered.
Charles/Erik, cat ears (don’t judge me, catavoy is adorable)
I’m sorry PcP, I don’t know what this is *sob*
Anonymous asked you:
Charles/Erik consent play. With Charles being on the ermm … giving end.
HERE BE PORN:
Title: A Taste
Summary: Apparently even Erik can’t resist the horrible flirting techniques of one Charles Xavier - billionaire extraordinaire.
This is one of the most haunting photos I have ever seen. It is hundreds of wedding rings that were removed from those in Concentration Camps.
I haven’t seen a single post on my dash about it being the remembrance day of the Holocaust today so I guess it’s up to me
This is sobering.
[In 2012 Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Yom HaShoah, is from the evening of Wednesday, April 18 until the evening of Thursday, April 19. This date corresponds to the 27th day in the month of Nisan in the Hebrew calendar. more info here]
I want a fic about like. Erik sees this picture, and he’s completely unaffected. and he knows he should be freaked out by it, upset beyond belief, but he sees it and he’s just horribly numb inside. it actually bothers him more than the picture of itself, because those are the rings of his people, thousands dead and their rings collected like free gold. but he feels absolutely nothing.
He’s scared, he thinks he’s losing his religion - his history - and he calls his mom in this panic, telling her how much he loves her, how he’s going to fly out to see her sometime soon. He goes so far as to talk about going to the synagogue to Charles, and Charles is confused but he doesn’t really question it at first, letting Erik bring it up to him when he’s ready. Of course, Erik doesn’t - not at first - but he’s not sure even going and talking to the rabbi has helped him feel any less horrible by being unaffected by that picture.
so then he talks to Charles about it, and Charles is just like ‘Erik…. they taught us all about this in school, and I know for a fact that you would cry about it all the time when we were kids. Perhaps… you’ve just blocked off something inside of you so these feelings won’t hurt you anymore? You’re not heartless, but your heart has to do something to protect itself from getting hurt.”
erikfuckinglensherr said: Erik is Jack. Bioshock. Gogogo!
[ok so. SINCE YOU SAID I COULD INSTEAD DO THE FIRST BIT OF MY BIOSHOCK FIC FOR THIS. HERE YOU GO DARLING]
Title: Welcome to Rapture
Summary: Erik didn’t expect to survive a plane crash in the Mid-Atlantic, only suddenly to find himself struggling to survive for an entirely different reason. He doesn’t understand anything his telepathic guide is talking about - other than the fact that, apparently, with one injection, Erik can suddenly control metal. (or, if he feels like it, electrocute people, set them on fire, telekinetically move things, or turn people into blocks of ice)
He could really, really, do without the mask-wearing nutjobs jumping on walls and trying to set him on fire or stab him with giant hooks.
Or, you know, the creepy little girls with syringes who seem to be best friends with giant men who reek of pus and blood and walk around in mutated scuba gear.
fuckingfangirling said: I actually want one you don’t have listed. Rofroy. Thomas Lefroy and Rochester. And what do I want? I want you to write about the two of them sharing a kiss in a carriage during travel. Let it get as heated as you want.
ficlet under readme,
This is the second flier for one of Carl’s experiments that Valentin’s answered - a different one, of course - and when he walks into the small meeting area, he’s completely taken aback to realize the stranger in the room actually is Carl, and that he’s shaved off his trademark mustache. Carl, seeing Valentin, smiles thinly (warmly) and gestures to the seat across from him that has a stack of downturned cards on it.
Valentin takes his seat easily, locking eyes with Carl and gesturing vaguely to his own mouth; Carl looks confused, and then understanding, and then glances away - which, really, is answer enough to let Valentin know that the jokes from his peers has finally, finally gotten to the one man Valentin thought would never be bothered by the thoughts of others.
Charles would feel bad for the people running the ring-toss booth when they coerce Erik into playing, but he really wanted the giant shark plush hanging from the very top (boasting: the unattainable prize!) and honestly, it has to be rigged if Erik needs to use his powers so much to get the silly ring on the neck of a soda bottle.
Charles is sure that Erik’s smug look when he hands over the giant shark is just another bonus into agreeing to this foolish family trip to Orlando, Florida to try and visit all of the theme parks before returning to Westchester.
Besides, Charles would put up with more than enough hours of Erik’s obsessively competitive streak when it means that he’ll be sitting on the beach in a few hours with his toes in the sand and Erik’s body warm next to his when they watch the sun disappear over the water.
[shh. I know you can’t watch the sunset in Orlando, but there’s no theme parks on the west coast of Florida. let me live my lie.]