ubububu
i blog about pacific rim, the hobbit, sleepy hollow stuff and a bunch of random other crap

I’ve decided not to do Shark Bite for the XMFC big bang…

Mainly because the plot doesn’t fit the characters and I feel as if the storyline is more fitting for something else. I am still really passionate about the story, but after this talk about things being ooc, I realize that Shark Bite itself would never work for Charles/Erik, not with what I had in mind for it.

So I need you guys to please vote on these possible Big Bang choices..

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

?

Posted at 7:58 pm on Monday, June 25, 2012 with 59 notes

magnetictrifles:

That one where Charles has a tumblr account - inspired by Zimothy’s wonderful fic about Erik and Charles being nerdy internet boyfriends, and also some fic I read ages ago about Erik being the grumpiest, unapproachable roommate ever. 

 ~

Scroll, scroll, scroll…”Reblog,” Charles murmured, clicking the arrows in the top corner of the post. “Tags? ask me anything, my ask box is open, TMI Tuesday…that should do it.” 

Read More

omg dlkjfhlgfkjdslkhdlfkj precious babiesssss ;~;

Posted at 10:04 pm on Sunday, June 24, 2012 with 69 notes

asdlfkadsj this fic is adorable omg.

Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted

By: groovyphilia
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Summary: Erik is a hermit crab and proud. He is also stalking a shore crab named Charles.

Excerpt:

"You need help," she said flatly.

Erik resolutely ignored her, perched on a small rock by the shoreline. His eyes were trained intently on the tiny burrows peppering the sand. The sun had just set, so any moment -

"No, really. This is stalking."

"Be quiet," he muttered. "If it troubles you this much, you’re welcome to return to the reef."

Raven huffed, but remained where she was. She meant well, as he had grown to grudgingly admit, but Erik had long decided that the advice of any crab that preferred to look like a god damn anemone was not to be trusted. No self-respecting crustacean would even dream of covering themselves with coral polyps.

Posted at 2:46 pm on Tuesday, June 19, 2012 with 64 notes

yourjoyous:

bereweillschmidt:

zimothy:

Erik was really hoping that one day, that kid was going to stop watching him from afar and actually come talk to him.

It was the fifth time this week.

Erik had come home and saw the boy behind the grate again. His azure eyes were unmistakable and those red lips as well. Erik wasn’t mad at the boy looking at him as some religious man watching God in front of his eyes, he was actually praised by it. But he was bothered by the fact the boy hadn’t tried on talking to him in any of these times.

He walked by the grate, hoping for the boy to say something. The young man ran as fast as he could just by seeing Erik coming forward him. Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. Damn him. He got back to his motorcycle and put the lock on it walking to his department.

On the next day, Erik was ready to go for it. He had prepared himself with his running shoes, he was going to catch the boy this time. Unfortunately, no one came by the grate. Erik remained pouting on his motorcycle for two hours and gave up storming back to his department. He was really tired of this non-sense.

He was already undressed, only a pair of trousers on when someone knocked on the door. Erik tilted his head back at it wondering who might be. He walked to the door and opened it. The boy was standing there. He just looked at him, astonished.

“H-hullo.” The boy was avoiding his gaze, it was obvious he was nervous but his voice sounded more mature than he seemed to be. “I just wanted to ap-apologize f-for—” The boy’s eyes finally met his and blushed quickly. Erik remained focused on what he was going to apologize for.

The boy shook his head and ran away.

“WAIT!” Erik shouted desperately and didn’t give a damn about being half naked. He ran behind the boy who happened to be slower than him. Erik tackled him but managed to land on his back so that the boy wouldn’t get hurt. The boy screamed but squirmed in his arms. “I’m sorry!” Erik panted letting him go. The young man didn’t move. He stayed on Erik, panting. Erik coughed and the boy moved immediately.

“I’m, I’m r-really s-sorry.” The boy said biting his lower lip and moving back.

“Wait, wait.” Erik sat up and held the boy’s hand. He got redder than before and Erik chuckled. “I’m not mad at you.” He said. The boy’s reaction was a confused look at him.

“You… aren’t?”

“No.” The young man smiled softly and looked away. “Would you tell me your name?” There was a long silence, the boy retrieved his hand and gave a step back from Erik.

“Charles.” The boy finally answered. Erik got on his feet and smiled at him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Charles.” He offered his hand, Charles doubted at shaking it. “I’m Erik Lehnsherr.” Charles shook his hand and blushed.

((Ok so it is like four in the morning here and I love this prompt and I ate like four chocolate bars and can’t sleep so I am just going to continue this Okay? okay.)) 

“I-I, um, know. Who you are.” Charles mumbled, tugging at his hair in a fit of awkwardness, looking like he may bolt at any second. 

“Do you?” Erik was amused to say the least, but happier that the boy was staying, not running, and talking instead of staring. Though it was Erik’s turn to stare—Charles up close was a most beautiful thing. He licked his lips distractedly. 

“Um, yeah. You. ah,” The shorter man—boy really, he looked like he could be twelve— tugged anxiously at his shirt, looking up through his lashes at his companion in the bright hall of Erik’s apartment building. It was only then did they realize how closely they were standing, considering how wide the hall actually was. 

“I what?” Erik tried to keep his smiling reassuring, pleasant, but feared he had failed horribly when he saw the look of horror was over Charles’ face. The poor boy opened and closed his mouth rapidly, his perfect blue eyes wide with panic. 

“You know what,” The taller man said quickly, trying to fix the situation, “You do look familiar. Have we met before?” 

His poor little mouse (only a week of seeing the kid out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he is over flowing with affection for him, pet names and all.) started, looking surprised. His gaze suddenly sharpened, analyzing his face with a look of determined curiosity. Erik was taken away by the sudden intensity. 

“You…you really don’t remember me?” 

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by beeping. Charles flushed darkly and produced a thin cell phone. He mumbled rapid apologies as he checked his new message. The younger’s face went blank, a thread of tension working it’s way into his shoulders. 

“I-I um, gotta go. Sorry. Family stuff.” Charles muttered, jamming his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t meet Erik’s eyes. He got the feeling what ever it was that needed Charles’ attention was far below the boy’s interest level. He smiled down at the other, a certain kind of fondness worming it’s way up from his stomach to his chest. Which was exposed. Because Erik had run out of his apartment in his boxers. 

He was never going to hear the end of this from Azreal. Damn. 

“Will I get to see you again?” He asked quickly, trying to cover his naked chest by crossing his arms nonchalantly.  

His little mouse started again, flushing a red so deep it almost matched his ruby red lips. He mumbled something incoherently while rubbing at the back of his neck roughly, his eyes darting here and there. Then he bolted down the hall, disappearing into the stairwell. 

A shout died in Erik’s throat as he watched the other male leave, surprised at the suddenness of his departure. Now alone in the hallway, he sighed. He had hoped to get some answers out of his admirer (Could Erik call him that? Was it just wishful thinking? The kid WAS cute, and had a mysterious air to him—certainly could be categorized as Erik’s ‘type’) but now he was left with even more questions. 

He trudged back to his apartment, noticing that he left his door open wide in his haste and sighed again. He knew who would be in there even before he saw them. 

“So. Who’s the kid?” 

((Oh god I can see the sun. FUUUUUCK Why don’t I sleeeep /sobs))

OH MAN. I’M SO INTRIGUED.

WHAT’S GOING ON.

AWW LITTLE MOUSE. ADSLFKAJSD *pinches Charles’ cheeks and wiggles them back and forth* how cute ;~;

you guys are awesome <3 <3

Posted at 5:16 pm on Wednesday, May 30, 2012 with 177 notes

Whoops I accidentally filled one of Zim’s prompts

madneto:

Silly me. 

This is the prompt.

Title: Somewhere Only We Know

Rating: T

Warnings: Feelings, mentions of abuse (allusions to abuse?), and kissing oh la la (is that even a warning? I guess I’m just telling you its not completely depressing) :/

Read More

LFKTGJLDFEHFKLGFDSLKJ *GURGLES INCOHERENTLY*

Maddie this is beautiful. ;n; thank you so much. this is pretty much everything I wanted, all rolled into one. aaah let me love you. <3<3<3<3

Posted at 4:15 am on Tuesday, May 29, 2012 with 26 notes
firstclasslove:

zimothy:

palalife:

David 8 and cat!Charles on a mission, but being chased by Alien, just doodling

So what if Prometheus originally wasn’t going to have any form of pet life on the ship, but then one of the scientists was talking about  how they haven’t really put David in charge of any life form before, not really. So then they decide to let him have this kitten so he can keep active in caring for something for the two years that the rest of the crew is in ‘hibernation.’
Well, David gets way attached to Charles, to a point where he’d honestly rather save the cat than all these stupid fucking humans. Charles is kind and sweet and he lets David pet him all the time, and David likes it best when Charles kneads his paws or starts purring because he knows its a sign of happiness, and that means David is the one making Charles happy. When David sits at a console, Charles likes to curl up and sleep in his lap, and David’s maybe gotten into the habit of holding a snoozing Charles curled up in one arm and using his other to hit buttons on the computers and datapads.
damn you, pala.

TAKE TWO. Even though I’m not nearly as satisfied with this as I was with what I lost. Oh well! 
———-
Two blue eyes peered out at David through the carrier grate.
“A cat?” he asked.
Doctor Shaw was smiling when he straightened and turned to her.
“Yes,” she said. “In seafaring times, it was traditional to bring a cat along so it could help control pests on the boat.”
“The Prometheus is outfitted with several state-of-the-art methods of pest control, as well as stronger measures for larger, more hostile, creatures.” David paused, momentarily confused by the doctor’s amusement until he deduced the reason behind it. “Ah. You’re not bring it along to control pests.”
“No,” she agreed. “Some would say it’s silly for me to worry about an android being lonely, but I thought it might be nice to have company while the rest of us are asleep.”
“Has the captain approved this?”
“I managed to convince him,” Doctor Shaw said, but David predicted there was more to her answer. When she didn’t elaborate, he decided it would be considered rude to question her about it. Instead, he bent over to look into the carrier on the table.
Those blue eyes were still watching him. After a moment, the cat issued a trilling chirp and rubbed against the grate, looking expectantly at David. Curious, David reached out a hand and slipped his fingers through the grate. The cat chirped again and this time when it rubbed against his fingers instead of the grate. Its fur was soft but the muscles beneath moved with easy strength. David heard a chuckle and looked up to see a pleased Doctor Shaw watching him
“His name is Charles and I think he likes you.”
~~
Charles was on the small side for a cat—at least, according to David’s data files—and had brown fur with white markings on his paws and tail, as well as around his mouth. He let David pet him frequently and often tilted up his head to allow David to scratch under his chin, his eyes closed in apparent bliss.
Charles wore an electronic collar that monitored his life signs and location within the ship, but it hardly seemed necessary when he rarely left David’s side. David had tried only once to lock Charles up so he could check the Prometheus’ systems and crew. Charles’ persistent cries, growing louder the further David walked down the hall, had been too distressing for him to ignore. In the end, he returned to his room and opened the door.
As soon as he did, Charles bolted free but he quickly came to a halt once he realized David wasn’t trying to stop him. Then he walked over to David and twined about his legs, purring the whole time. He came to a stop with his front paws on David’s foot, tail curled around one calf, and face lifted upwards. Charles seemed so genuinely grateful to be let out that David was left awestruck by the display. As he knelt to pet Charles, he decided it would be unnecessary to lock him up ever again.
~~
Occasionally Charles would wander off to investigate on his own, but only after he had determined David was staying in one place for a time. When Charles did explore, David would hear calls of “Mrow?” from wherever he had gone. Without considering whether it was unusual to do so, David responded.
“What have you found?” he asked once and heard a short meow in response. He reasoned that Charles had determined there was nothing to report yet, but would continue investigating.
Whenever Charles returned from exploring, he always trotted over with his tail held high, blue eyes trained on David. Often, he chirped to let David know he was back and then he would stand by the chair expectantly until David reached down to scratch his head. It became almost habit for David to reach out and find Charles within arm’s reach, happy to let David pet him. David enjoyed it just as much as Charles seemed to, for he found Charles’ fur fascinating. It was softer than anything David had felt before and surprisingly clean. He was intrigued by the feline bathing process and often watching the meticulous process unfold with great interest. Charles seemed unconcerned by the attention, although he did tilt his head at David the first time the android paused his work to watch.
~~
In his attempts to become the best owner Charles could have, David had read that cats often looked for places to sleep that were soft and warm. By their second day on the ship, he had devised a small bed for Charles using a blanket and square, metal container. However when he set it on the floor, Charles circled it, bent his head to sniff at the fabric, and then looked up at David. Confused by this reaction, David knelt beside the makeshift bed and patted the blanket.
“It’s for you, Charles,” he explained. Charles obligingly stepped into the container and sat down on the folded blanket, but he still looked up at David as though he had a question he couldn’t voice. David was still puzzled by his behavior but since Charles didn’t appear unhappy, he stood and left him to get comfortable on his own.
He took a seat at the ship’s console began pulling up menus on the screens before him, running through the usual diagnostics. He was surprised to feel something softly batting at his knee a moment later. When he sat back and looked down, he found Charles standing on his back feet, one of his paws on the chair as he pawed at David’s knee. As soon as there was space between David and the console, Charles leapt up into his lap.
David was momentarily at a loss for how to react but in the half-second it took him to reference his data files, Charles began kneading David’s thigh with his little white paws. Now this was something David had researched and he felt a smile stretch across his face in response.
Cats exhibited a kneading motion when feeling content or at ease. Charles looked very focused now, eyes closed as he slowly sank lower in David’s lap, purring and kneading the whole time. Eventually, he paused, turned around twice until he had found the right spot—David was intrigued by how cats determined this—and then he curled up across David’s legs. Within moments, he was seemingly sound asleep.
David knew he should return to his duties but he allowed himself a short break to watch Charles sleep. The smile on his face never wavered, nor did the warm glow of joy in his chest.
———-

ogm.
galdsfad
omg
*hyperventilates*
I need more of this
I need
more.
*grabby hands* where&#8217;s the rest. THERE MUST BE MORE.

firstclasslove:

zimothy:

palalife:

David 8 and cat!Charles on a mission, but being chased by Alien, just doodling

So what if Prometheus originally wasn’t going to have any form of pet life on the ship, but then one of the scientists was talking about  how they haven’t really put David in charge of any life form before, not really. So then they decide to let him have this kitten so he can keep active in caring for something for the two years that the rest of the crew is in ‘hibernation.’

Well, David gets way attached to Charles, to a point where he’d honestly rather save the cat than all these stupid fucking humans. Charles is kind and sweet and he lets David pet him all the time, and David likes it best when Charles kneads his paws or starts purring because he knows its a sign of happiness, and that means David is the one making Charles happy. When David sits at a console, Charles likes to curl up and sleep in his lap, and David’s maybe gotten into the habit of holding a snoozing Charles curled up in one arm and using his other to hit buttons on the computers and datapads.

damn you, pala.

TAKE TWO. Even though I’m not nearly as satisfied with this as I was with what I lost. Oh well! 

———-

Two blue eyes peered out at David through the carrier grate.

“A cat?” he asked.

Doctor Shaw was smiling when he straightened and turned to her.

“Yes,” she said. “In seafaring times, it was traditional to bring a cat along so it could help control pests on the boat.”

“The Prometheus is outfitted with several state-of-the-art methods of pest control, as well as stronger measures for larger, more hostile, creatures.” David paused, momentarily confused by the doctor’s amusement until he deduced the reason behind it. “Ah. You’re not bring it along to control pests.”

“No,” she agreed. “Some would say it’s silly for me to worry about an android being lonely, but I thought it might be nice to have company while the rest of us are asleep.”

“Has the captain approved this?”

“I managed to convince him,” Doctor Shaw said, but David predicted there was more to her answer. When she didn’t elaborate, he decided it would be considered rude to question her about it. Instead, he bent over to look into the carrier on the table.

Those blue eyes were still watching him. After a moment, the cat issued a trilling chirp and rubbed against the grate, looking expectantly at David. Curious, David reached out a hand and slipped his fingers through the grate. The cat chirped again and this time when it rubbed against his fingers instead of the grate. Its fur was soft but the muscles beneath moved with easy strength. David heard a chuckle and looked up to see a pleased Doctor Shaw watching him

“His name is Charles and I think he likes you.”

~~

Charles was on the small side for a cat—at least, according to David’s data files—and had brown fur with white markings on his paws and tail, as well as around his mouth. He let David pet him frequently and often tilted up his head to allow David to scratch under his chin, his eyes closed in apparent bliss.

Charles wore an electronic collar that monitored his life signs and location within the ship, but it hardly seemed necessary when he rarely left David’s side. David had tried only once to lock Charles up so he could check the Prometheus’ systems and crew. Charles’ persistent cries, growing louder the further David walked down the hall, had been too distressing for him to ignore. In the end, he returned to his room and opened the door.

As soon as he did, Charles bolted free but he quickly came to a halt once he realized David wasn’t trying to stop him. Then he walked over to David and twined about his legs, purring the whole time. He came to a stop with his front paws on David’s foot, tail curled around one calf, and face lifted upwards. Charles seemed so genuinely grateful to be let out that David was left awestruck by the display. As he knelt to pet Charles, he decided it would be unnecessary to lock him up ever again.

~~

Occasionally Charles would wander off to investigate on his own, but only after he had determined David was staying in one place for a time. When Charles did explore, David would hear calls of “Mrow?” from wherever he had gone. Without considering whether it was unusual to do so, David responded.

“What have you found?” he asked once and heard a short meow in response. He reasoned that Charles had determined there was nothing to report yet, but would continue investigating.

Whenever Charles returned from exploring, he always trotted over with his tail held high, blue eyes trained on David. Often, he chirped to let David know he was back and then he would stand by the chair expectantly until David reached down to scratch his head. It became almost habit for David to reach out and find Charles within arm’s reach, happy to let David pet him. David enjoyed it just as much as Charles seemed to, for he found Charles’ fur fascinating. It was softer than anything David had felt before and surprisingly clean. He was intrigued by the feline bathing process and often watching the meticulous process unfold with great interest. Charles seemed unconcerned by the attention, although he did tilt his head at David the first time the android paused his work to watch.

~~

In his attempts to become the best owner Charles could have, David had read that cats often looked for places to sleep that were soft and warm. By their second day on the ship, he had devised a small bed for Charles using a blanket and square, metal container. However when he set it on the floor, Charles circled it, bent his head to sniff at the fabric, and then looked up at David. Confused by this reaction, David knelt beside the makeshift bed and patted the blanket.

“It’s for you, Charles,” he explained. Charles obligingly stepped into the container and sat down on the folded blanket, but he still looked up at David as though he had a question he couldn’t voice. David was still puzzled by his behavior but since Charles didn’t appear unhappy, he stood and left him to get comfortable on his own.

He took a seat at the ship’s console began pulling up menus on the screens before him, running through the usual diagnostics. He was surprised to feel something softly batting at his knee a moment later. When he sat back and looked down, he found Charles standing on his back feet, one of his paws on the chair as he pawed at David’s knee. As soon as there was space between David and the console, Charles leapt up into his lap.

David was momentarily at a loss for how to react but in the half-second it took him to reference his data files, Charles began kneading David’s thigh with his little white paws. Now this was something David had researched and he felt a smile stretch across his face in response.

Cats exhibited a kneading motion when feeling content or at ease. Charles looked very focused now, eyes closed as he slowly sank lower in David’s lap, purring and kneading the whole time. Eventually, he paused, turned around twice until he had found the right spot—David was intrigued by how cats determined this—and then he curled up across David’s legs. Within moments, he was seemingly sound asleep.

David knew he should return to his duties but he allowed himself a short break to watch Charles sleep. The smile on his face never wavered, nor did the warm glow of joy in his chest.

———-

ogm.

galdsfad

omg

*hyperventilates*

I need more of this

I need

more.

*grabby hands* where’s the rest. THERE MUST BE MORE.

Posted at 1:05 am on Tuesday, May 29, 2012 with 469 notes
codenamecesare:

Hi res. Summer camp AU.
“Aren’t you a little young to be coaching the soccer team?” Erik asked.
“Maybe. But I’m old enough to be coaching the football team,” said Charles, emphasizing his English accent so much that he sounded like a parody of a BBC announcer.
So that was the first reason Erik hated him. The second came during the next time-out, after they resolved the matter of Logan fouling Ben; Charles stepped between them when things got heated and told Logan to go cool down and walk it off, with a cocked eyebrow at Erik suggesting that he say the same to Ben. “Get back in formation,” was all Erik told Ben. He turned to Charles. “So tell me. How old are you?”
“I’ve just finished my first year at university,” Charles said.
“Which doesn’t answer my actual question.”
Charles shook his head. “Fine. Seventeen next week. I had early admission.”
“I’m sure it’s a huge challenge to get into Bible college early,” said Erik. In his three summers as a camp counselor at Camp Wise, everyone he’d ever met from Camp Hope was planning to go to Bible college.
“I wouldn’t know,” said Charles, “I’m going to Harvard.”
And that was the second reason. The third and fourth reasons came one right after another at half time. Charles was stretching; fine, whatever, it wasn’t like Erik was watching, it wasn’t like Erik was interested in some snob from Camp Hope with his stupidly complete soccer uniform with knee socks and his stupid floppy hair and his stupid stumpy legs and shortness. Then Charles bent at the waist, hands curled against the ground, and he stayed like that and stayed like that, white shorts pulled obscenely tight around his ass and his solid, sturdy thighs. He held that position til Erik was pretty sure he could draw every seam and stitch and fold on those shorts from memory, not to mention the lines of Charles’s underwear, visible through the thin white fabric. He wanted to verify those lines with his tongue.
When Charles finally straightened he was flushed and gorgeous, all that fluffy hair falling all over the place. The most acrobatic member of his team, a blonde girl named Raven, hugged him and kissed his cheek. And those were the third and fourth reasons that Erik hated Charles a lot.

codenamecesare:

Hi res. Summer camp AU.

“Aren’t you a little young to be coaching the soccer team?” Erik asked.

“Maybe. But I’m old enough to be coaching the football team,” said Charles, emphasizing his English accent so much that he sounded like a parody of a BBC announcer.

So that was the first reason Erik hated him. The second came during the next time-out, after they resolved the matter of Logan fouling Ben; Charles stepped between them when things got heated and told Logan to go cool down and walk it off, with a cocked eyebrow at Erik suggesting that he say the same to Ben. “Get back in formation,” was all Erik told Ben. He turned to Charles. “So tell me. How old are you?”

“I’ve just finished my first year at university,” Charles said.

“Which doesn’t answer my actual question.”

Charles shook his head. “Fine. Seventeen next week. I had early admission.”

“I’m sure it’s a huge challenge to get into Bible college early,” said Erik. In his three summers as a camp counselor at Camp Wise, everyone he’d ever met from Camp Hope was planning to go to Bible college.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Charles, “I’m going to Harvard.”

And that was the second reason. The third and fourth reasons came one right after another at half time. Charles was stretching; fine, whatever, it wasn’t like Erik was watching, it wasn’t like Erik was interested in some snob from Camp Hope with his stupidly complete soccer uniform with knee socks and his stupid floppy hair and his stupid stumpy legs and shortness. Then Charles bent at the waist, hands curled against the ground, and he stayed like that and stayed like that, white shorts pulled obscenely tight around his ass and his solid, sturdy thighs. He held that position til Erik was pretty sure he could draw every seam and stitch and fold on those shorts from memory, not to mention the lines of Charles’s underwear, visible through the thin white fabric. He wanted to verify those lines with his tongue.

When Charles finally straightened he was flushed and gorgeous, all that fluffy hair falling all over the place. The most acrobatic member of his team, a blonde girl named Raven, hugged him and kissed his cheek. And those were the third and fourth reasons that Erik hated Charles a lot.

Posted at 12:08 pm on Monday, May 28, 2012 with 199 notes
blktauna:

“Fuuuck… ” James moaned as he undulated slowly.
Michael kept his hands over his head, as ordered, but James felt so good in him, he couldn’t stop the moans. It had been far too long since anyone had done him and he’d nearly forgot how much he loved it.
“Move, you shite… Holy Mother… move… please…” Michael begged.
James complied eagerly, his perfect, square hands kneading Michaels arse cheeks as he pushed in as deep as he could go. Michael moaned happily when he realised just how far in that was.
“Get on with you… I want to feel more…”
“Greedy pig,” James growled. “I’ll give you plenty.”
Michael chuckled. James had plenty to give and he wanted all of it. Every which way he could get it. He grunted as James began to really put his back into it. Every push sent a thrill through him, every pull a little burn. The hands on his cheeks grew hot and slick, the sweat from their combined exertions slicking their skin. He had to move, he couldn’t help himself, grabbing the edge of the bed to help shove himself back onto James’ delicious cock.
“Didn’t tell you… you could… shit…” James panted, giving him a sharp slap.
“Again… shit… again…” Michael whined grinding his hips against the sheets, the pressure of their bodies and the smooth cotton rubbing perfectly on his cock.
James laughed and gave him another sharp slap, the pleasure of it dancing up his spine.
“Christ, your arse… I’d live in it…”
“Jamesss….” Michael whined.
Michael began to tremble as the pleasure overwhelmed him. It was all perfect; the feel of James deep in his arse, the slick, possessive grip of his hands, the sounds of his swearing and panting as he continued to plough mercilessly into Michael’s arse.
“I’m… “
“Go you gorgeous bastard… Go…”
Michael took his orders and came.
———————-
Yeah I need to work on the office boys some more…

*shoves face into the freezer*
&#8230;.
*climbs into the freezer*

blktauna:

“Fuuuck… ” James moaned as he undulated slowly.

Michael kept his hands over his head, as ordered, but James felt so good in him, he couldn’t stop the moans. It had been far too long since anyone had done him and he’d nearly forgot how much he loved it.

“Move, you shite… Holy Mother… move… please…” Michael begged.

James complied eagerly, his perfect, square hands kneading Michaels arse cheeks as he pushed in as deep as he could go. Michael moaned happily when he realised just how far in that was.

“Get on with you… I want to feel more…”

“Greedy pig,” James growled. “I’ll give you plenty.”

Michael chuckled. James had plenty to give and he wanted all of it. Every which way he could get it. He grunted as James began to really put his back into it. Every push sent a thrill through him, every pull a little burn. The hands on his cheeks grew hot and slick, the sweat from their combined exertions slicking their skin. He had to move, he couldn’t help himself, grabbing the edge of the bed to help shove himself back onto James’ delicious cock.

“Didn’t tell you… you could… shit…” James panted, giving him a sharp slap.

“Again… shit… again…” Michael whined grinding his hips against the sheets, the pressure of their bodies and the smooth cotton rubbing perfectly on his cock.

James laughed and gave him another sharp slap, the pleasure of it dancing up his spine.

“Christ, your arse… I’d live in it…”

“Jamesss….” Michael whined.

Michael began to tremble as the pleasure overwhelmed him. It was all perfect; the feel of James deep in his arse, the slick, possessive grip of his hands, the sounds of his swearing and panting as he continued to plough mercilessly into Michael’s arse.

“I’m… “

“Go you gorgeous bastard… Go…”

Michael took his orders and came.

———————-

Yeah I need to work on the office boys some more…

*shoves face into the freezer*

….

*climbs into the freezer*

Posted at 12:54 pm on Saturday, May 26, 2012 with 1,663 notes
ourfuture221b:

HITMAN AU FIC (Cherik). Charles pov.
I am still waiting for him, even though I know that it is foolish. I couldn’t expose myself more than I am doing right now, and yet I can’t seem to be able to shake myself out of this state. This is dangerous. He is dangerous and even though it is my job to be ruthless as well, I am scared. Frightened for the first time since I was 11 years old and saw my father take his own life, gun pressed against his temple. Since then I suppressed fear and weakness, promising myself that I would never let it take a hold of me again. Blood is worth as much as nothing and emotions are useless, don’t let is control you. Why am I letting him do this to me?
I inhale smoke, my cigarette is almost burned out and I gaze out through the window.  The town is quiet and dark, I can only see three people who are still fighting the November cold in the streets. They will give up soon and return to their homes because the wind is merciless tonight. I pull the sheet tighter around my frame and lean my head on the cold glass. I should go, leave now and put an end to this. Maybe even take my revolver and hunt him down, pull the trigger and laugh at him for bleeding and dying with my bullet in his chest. But I know that I can’t do that, could never do that. Because he has somehow wormed his way into my mind, my very being and core. I hate him for that, hate him to the point that my body hurts and I want to shoot at the wall or maybe a breathing body. How did it come to this? At what point did he twist me? Was it the first time he smiled that wide smile and his teeth made him look like a shark, deadly and wild like a beast? Was it one of the many times he pointed his knife against my stomach and I felt my heart beat faster and almost stop? Was it perhaps the time he saved me, dragged my unconscious body to a hotel, fixed me up and when I later awoke again mocked me for being careless as he looked at me with almost tender eyes? It doesn’t really matter, I can’t stop myself anymore.
The door opens, he is back. I know it is him, I can tell by his footsteps so I don’t even bother to turn my head from the window. He pulls of his coat and takes of the hat that is hiding his face from recognition. I think that he is beautiful, but I will never tell him that. He is earlier then I had expected him to be and he doesn’t seem hurt, so the assignment must have been easy. A click tells me that he is taking off the gun holder from his shoulders. I know that he hates that gun and prefers knifes, but some jobs requires firearms to take out targets from a longer distance and he is a professional after all. He will do what is necessary. Suddenly there is a hand in my hair, tugging softly. I lift my eyes to meet his, my face emotionless and blank, I am good at pretending. He smiles and takes my cigarette from my hand to finish it himself. 
“I missed those blue eyes of yours today.” He says and his voice fills my head with mist.
I just give him a smirk in return; I never know how to respond to flatter. He looks out the window for a second, gazing into the dark with sharp eyes, before turning back to me. 
“Have you been sitting here all day?” 
“No.” An obvious lie and he knows it.
He smiles with those teeth before bending down to place a soft kiss on my lips. Strange, he is never this gentle, but then again that goes for me too. Why, why now? I don’t close my eyes, I never do. I never trust anyone to the point where I can shut out the world for even just a second. I can feel his lips turning up and he lets out a laugh. He pulls away but not too far.
“Let’s go to bed, come on.”
I listen and nod, bed sounds fine, even though I won’t sleep. He pulls me from the window, hand on wrist, and leads me to the soft madras. From here I can see his knifes on the table beside the flowers he bought for me yesterday. Silly man, you stupid ridiculous man. He turns off the light and crawl next to me, not touching but observing. I look back, laying still beside him trying to ignore the warm feeling I have in my chest. In the back of my head I tell myself that tomorrow will be the day I leave, go before he wakes up and I hope that he will cry for that. I know that he wouldn’t. 
“You are awfully quiet tonight. Is something wrong?”
“No, there is nothing wrong. Just thinking about how I should kill you. I think a gun would be the best option, I am good at shooting.”
He laughs and pulls me close, my chin near his heart and I can hear it tick. I think I am smiling too.
“Yes, I always thought that you looked the best with blood on your face, so why not.” He says and runs a hand through my hair. His hands are even bloodier than my own.
I love him, but I will never tell him that. And as I feel him breathing slower and deeper, falling into sleep, I press closer and listen to the calm heart of a killer. Maybe I can stay just one more day, after all I am in no hurry to get back and I am out of ammunition for the moment, so it is safer here with him. Safer but not safe, but I am not scared of him, not in that way. Tomorrow I will hide his knifes just to piss him off and then we will have lunch and he will mock me for my lack of cooking skills. Those are my favorite times of the day because in these moments I don’t feel so fucked up. I think he likes them too. I take a deep breath and then let myself close my eyes, just for tonight. Just for him, the beast who made me feel human again.
I love him.
The end

Yes, ladies and gents. That is what happens to me when I am up to late and have a lot of cherik feels. Plus that I love hitman AU stories! - May

ourfuture221b:

HITMAN AU FIC (Cherik). Charles pov.

I am still waiting for him, even though I know that it is foolish. I couldn’t expose myself more than I am doing right now, and yet I can’t seem to be able to shake myself out of this state. This is dangerous. He is dangerous and even though it is my job to be ruthless as well, I am scared. Frightened for the first time since I was 11 years old and saw my father take his own life, gun pressed against his temple. Since then I suppressed fear and weakness, promising myself that I would never let it take a hold of me again. Blood is worth as much as nothing and emotions are useless, don’t let is control you. Why am I letting him do this to me?

I inhale smoke, my cigarette is almost burned out and I gaze out through the window.  The town is quiet and dark, I can only see three people who are still fighting the November cold in the streets. They will give up soon and return to their homes because the wind is merciless tonight. I pull the sheet tighter around my frame and lean my head on the cold glass. I should go, leave now and put an end to this. Maybe even take my revolver and hunt him down, pull the trigger and laugh at him for bleeding and dying with my bullet in his chest. But I know that I can’t do that, could never do that. Because he has somehow wormed his way into my mind, my very being and core. I hate him for that, hate him to the point that my body hurts and I want to shoot at the wall or maybe a breathing body. How did it come to this? At what point did he twist me? Was it the first time he smiled that wide smile and his teeth made him look like a shark, deadly and wild like a beast? Was it one of the many times he pointed his knife against my stomach and I felt my heart beat faster and almost stop? Was it perhaps the time he saved me, dragged my unconscious body to a hotel, fixed me up and when I later awoke again mocked me for being careless as he looked at me with almost tender eyes? It doesn’t really matter, I can’t stop myself anymore.

The door opens, he is back. I know it is him, I can tell by his footsteps so I don’t even bother to turn my head from the window. He pulls of his coat and takes of the hat that is hiding his face from recognition. I think that he is beautiful, but I will never tell him that. He is earlier then I had expected him to be and he doesn’t seem hurt, so the assignment must have been easy. A click tells me that he is taking off the gun holder from his shoulders. I know that he hates that gun and prefers knifes, but some jobs requires firearms to take out targets from a longer distance and he is a professional after all. He will do what is necessary. Suddenly there is a hand in my hair, tugging softly. I lift my eyes to meet his, my face emotionless and blank, I am good at pretending. He smiles and takes my cigarette from my hand to finish it himself.

“I missed those blue eyes of yours today.” He says and his voice fills my head with mist.

I just give him a smirk in return; I never know how to respond to flatter. He looks out the window for a second, gazing into the dark with sharp eyes, before turning back to me.

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

“No.” An obvious lie and he knows it.

He smiles with those teeth before bending down to place a soft kiss on my lips. Strange, he is never this gentle, but then again that goes for me too. Why, why now? I don’t close my eyes, I never do. I never trust anyone to the point where I can shut out the world for even just a second. I can feel his lips turning up and he lets out a laugh. He pulls away but not too far.

“Let’s go to bed, come on.”

I listen and nod, bed sounds fine, even though I won’t sleep. He pulls me from the window, hand on wrist, and leads me to the soft madras. From here I can see his knifes on the table beside the flowers he bought for me yesterday. Silly man, you stupid ridiculous man. He turns off the light and crawl next to me, not touching but observing. I look back, laying still beside him trying to ignore the warm feeling I have in my chest. In the back of my head I tell myself that tomorrow will be the day I leave, go before he wakes up and I hope that he will cry for that. I know that he wouldn’t.

“You are awfully quiet tonight. Is something wrong?”

“No, there is nothing wrong. Just thinking about how I should kill you. I think a gun would be the best option, I am good at shooting.”

He laughs and pulls me close, my chin near his heart and I can hear it tick. I think I am smiling too.

“Yes, I always thought that you looked the best with blood on your face, so why not.” He says and runs a hand through my hair. His hands are even bloodier than my own.

I love him, but I will never tell him that. And as I feel him breathing slower and deeper, falling into sleep, I press closer and listen to the calm heart of a killer. Maybe I can stay just one more day, after all I am in no hurry to get back and I am out of ammunition for the moment, so it is safer here with him. Safer but not safe, but I am not scared of him, not in that way. Tomorrow I will hide his knifes just to piss him off and then we will have lunch and he will mock me for my lack of cooking skills. Those are my favorite times of the day because in these moments I don’t feel so fucked up. I think he likes them too. I take a deep breath and then let myself close my eyes, just for tonight. Just for him, the beast who made me feel human again.

I love him.


The end

Yes, ladies and gents. That is what happens to me when I am up to late and have a lot of cherik feels. Plus that I love hitman AU stories! - May

Posted at 10:21 pm on Monday, May 21, 2012 with 33 notes
palalife:

ninemoons42:

palalife:

Someone’s jealous! Haven’t draw them for a while XD 
cat!Charles and Erik, and dog!Erik and Charles

ninemoons42 writes: faithful companions
See, the thing is, Erik never has been much for pets of any kind. Sure, his best friend Magda had been pretty much the single biggest animal lover he’d ever met and she’d even gone and made an entire life out of it - she’s one of the best vets in the country, and people come to her from far and wide for issues with both housepets and strange exotic things - so he knows what it’s like to live in close proximity to cats and dogs and fish and turtles and the occasional hedgehog or ferret. But he’s never owned a pet and no, the lovely sweet-voiced bird he’d had to take care of for a week as a school project still doesn’t count.
So when he meets Charles and learns that with Charles comes both a lovely white-tipped cat with the same blue eyes as its owner, and a seriously overprotective guard dog, he’s thrown for a loop that lasts for an embarrassingly long time. It mystifies him that the dog does nothing but growl at him, even when Charles is petting it and holding on to its leash with surprisingly firm hands; and it shocks him that the cat is absolutely besotted with him. 
He comes in from work and the cat is chirping at him from the mat just inside the front door, as if to welcome him home; and he’ll be watching mindless reality TV in an attempt to calm his mind from the day’s headaches and the cat will suddenly be in his lap, purring like some kind of happy broken engine.
Charles takes pictures of his extraordinarily well-behaved cat and of Erik’s nonplussed expressions, and frowns incessantly as his dog seems to get more and more resentful of Erik.
Erik himself doesn’t get a chance to figure things out until he comes home early one afternoon, carrying lilies for Charles just because, and neither Charles nor the dog are nowhere in sight and the cat is perched on the windowsill, looking anxiously at the world outside, batting at the glass with agitated paws.
It makes him raise his eyebrows - but he puts the lilies down and picks the cat up and puts him on his shoulder, and he murmurs, “I think you miss them, don’t you,” and the cat eeps at him, drooping tail and all. “You like me, but you like your doggy friend more - so stop making him jealous, all right?”
Erik nearly pitches the cat in the dog’s direction when it comes home, subdued, and he hides his grin in his glass of wine as he watches white paws patting worriedly all over the tan-colored snout, and Charles kisses him and says, “You’ll tell me what happened here, won’t you?” and all Erik says is “We’ve reached an understanding, I think.” 

afjeoiaeufpoaeijfaowejf /infinite key smashing
besotted!cat!Charles aeoiuapeofijsoeifjaoei 
(Erik you shouldn’t bring lilies b/c they are often poisonous to cats!)

fgffldjlkfj KITTYCHARLES Y U SO CUTE UFUFUFUUUU ;n;

palalife:

ninemoons42:

palalife:

Someone’s jealous! Haven’t draw them for a while XD 

cat!Charles and Erik, and dog!Erik and Charles

ninemoons42 writes: faithful companions

See, the thing is, Erik never has been much for pets of any kind. Sure, his best friend Magda had been pretty much the single biggest animal lover he’d ever met and she’d even gone and made an entire life out of it - she’s one of the best vets in the country, and people come to her from far and wide for issues with both housepets and strange exotic things - so he knows what it’s like to live in close proximity to cats and dogs and fish and turtles and the occasional hedgehog or ferret. But he’s never owned a pet and no, the lovely sweet-voiced bird he’d had to take care of for a week as a school project still doesn’t count.

So when he meets Charles and learns that with Charles comes both a lovely white-tipped cat with the same blue eyes as its owner, and a seriously overprotective guard dog, he’s thrown for a loop that lasts for an embarrassingly long time. It mystifies him that the dog does nothing but growl at him, even when Charles is petting it and holding on to its leash with surprisingly firm hands; and it shocks him that the cat is absolutely besotted with him. 

He comes in from work and the cat is chirping at him from the mat just inside the front door, as if to welcome him home; and he’ll be watching mindless reality TV in an attempt to calm his mind from the day’s headaches and the cat will suddenly be in his lap, purring like some kind of happy broken engine.

Charles takes pictures of his extraordinarily well-behaved cat and of Erik’s nonplussed expressions, and frowns incessantly as his dog seems to get more and more resentful of Erik.

Erik himself doesn’t get a chance to figure things out until he comes home early one afternoon, carrying lilies for Charles just because, and neither Charles nor the dog are nowhere in sight and the cat is perched on the windowsill, looking anxiously at the world outside, batting at the glass with agitated paws.

It makes him raise his eyebrows - but he puts the lilies down and picks the cat up and puts him on his shoulder, and he murmurs, “I think you miss them, don’t you,” and the cat eeps at him, drooping tail and all. “You like me, but you like your doggy friend more - so stop making him jealous, all right?”

Erik nearly pitches the cat in the dog’s direction when it comes home, subdued, and he hides his grin in his glass of wine as he watches white paws patting worriedly all over the tan-colored snout, and Charles kisses him and says, “You’ll tell me what happened here, won’t you?” and all Erik says is “We’ve reached an understanding, I think.” 

afjeoiaeufpoaeijfaowejf /infinite key smashing

besotted!cat!Charles aeoiuapeofijsoeifjaoei 

(Erik you shouldn’t bring lilies b/c they are often poisonous to cats!)

fgffldjlkfj KITTYCHARLES Y U SO CUTE UFUFUFUUUU ;n;

Posted at 11:54 am on Friday, May 11, 2012 with 285 notes

FIC REC TIIIME

GO READ FIREFLY AND THE TINMAN.

prompt: Every mutation can be easily detected by a casual observer. For example in this world, Erik’s skin has a metallic sheen, and his hair is like particularly soft wire. Charles has glowing eyes and fingertips, and so on.

Since all mutants can be easily detected, they are rounded up by the government and put into camps when they’re young. These camps aren’t concentration camps, per se, just high security institutions where they’re studied, but not mistreated. They don’t have freedom, but other than that, they aren’t bad off.

its hella interesting. lskjlfjlfkjdsflkjds

Posted at 11:41 am on Friday, May 11, 2012 with 12 notes

DEMON/MAGICIAN FIC 5/5

pangeasplits:

This is probably the last one for awhile, guys, but you never know.  I have some things to do in RL but I’ll also be working on piecing these parts together and making it into a full fic.  :)

Also, I think I have created a monster.  Well, two of them.

One  |  Two  |  Three  |  Four 

Five:

Read More

how could you leave it like this.

you’re going to be gone and you leave it like this.

pan why.

whyyyyyy.gfrdjlkjfrdefkljlgktjswksjlk

Posted at 11:36 am on Friday, May 11, 2012 with 55 notes

starrose17:

Caz was only distracted for a second, only glanced away for a brief moment, but it was that second that said it all. Steve knew he was near tears, hell the tears were already bloody obvious, but Caz was more interested in the faint conversation of his Boss, Dave Callard, on the other side of the large room with a man even Steve knew was in debt to the Crime syndicate.

It was typical Caz, always focused on his Boss and the gang and keeping ears sharp for any new jobs. Steve knew what he was getting into when they’d met, when he’d stolen what turned out to be Callard’s car, Caz chasing him down the street and Steve genuinely fearing for his life. The crazed look in Caz’s eyes, this guy was nuts, flying after him with a maniacal grin like killing him was going to be the highlight of his day.  

He didn’t kill him though, in fact they’d ended up shagging in the back of Callard’s car.

For some reason Steve could never figure out, he loved Caz, even though the guy was crazy and spent more time dedicated to his Boss than to Steve.  But now he’d had enough. Two years was enough of being used for sex and then shoved to one side while Caz disappeared on jobs. Sure Steve was a criminal but no where near this level, he couldn’t compete with this underworld, with what Caz obviously wanted more than him.

Steve wanted more than just sex, but with the way Caz was so evidently distracted while Steve poured his heart out begging for him to just come with him, to dissappear from this life and just be the two of them, that apparently wasn’t going to happen.

Caz was dedicated to his Boss, there wasn’t room for another man in his life, and Steve was going to have to walk away.

Posted at 8:17 pm on Saturday, May 5, 2012 with 156 notes

Mob Boss Charles For Reg

pipsdaspixie:

This is like 1/???

This will probably be updated spastically. Think variable ratio schedule… just like gambling.

For Reg, who wanted Mobster Charles, but was sure she didn’t need to write another Dark!Charles so I decided I was gonna do it for her. Live vicariously through me Reg! Vicariously!

I <3 you, dear, even if you end up being the only one to read this ever.

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lfkjdlkfhfkljdlk piiiiips why is there no mooooore?

Posted at 11:45 pm on Wednesday, May 2, 2012 with 24 notes

DEMON/MAGICIAN FIC

pangeasplits:

That still has no title.  Fail.

Another part of this.

Er.  Don’t always expect these so often.  I’ve just got some time right now, ahaha.

Also, I should mention that these are heavily influenced by the Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud.  If you’ve read these before, come let me love you.

And so, Erik meets Charles:

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Pangeaaaa *claws at*

I need mooaaaarrrr ;n;

Posted at 3:08 pm on Wednesday, May 2, 2012 with 63 notes