ikeracity said: prompt: charles and erik in an established relationship cleaning out their cluttered garage/closets and finding old college things, baby photos, love letters, etc. :3

madneto:

[thanks, dude! i hope you like!] 

Erik had really been putting this off for far too long. He’d officially moved out of his mother’s house his junior year of college, which was just shy of six years ago, and he and Charles had been living in their apartment in the city for almost a year already. There was no reason for him to still have boxes of old junk sitting around in her house. Recently, his mother had started dropping hints about turning his old room into a guest room and Erik had gracefully taken the hint.

Read More

IT’S SO CUTE I’M GONNA DIE

Anonymous said: I'm not sure you're taking any prompts recently but I have some idea to burst out. Erik and Charles have lived through many lifetimes, falling in love, being heart broken, being forgotten, taking a revenge on each other and growing old together etc. and one of them still remembers his past lives in every detail.

traumschwinge:

((Hi Nonny. I’m always taking prompts unless stated otherwise and I’m really glad for this prompt actually. If you have any ideas that might end in tears, just tell me :D 

Anyway, your idea sounded a bit familiar. gerec had been talking about this szenario a while ago and you might want to check out her posts on that topic as well. They can be found here and here.))

Charles sat in a small cafe he at some point over the past ten years had come to frequent on a daily basis. This time around, he hadn’t led a very adventurous life. He had gone to school and to university after that, something he hadn’t done very often. He had traveled his fair share. Wherever he went, he would look out if he found Erik, or what ever he would be called this time.

But a countless lifetimes in which he had searched in vain, and even more in which they had just found each other by coincidence had taught him not to force it. It would happen if he was lucky, but if he didn’t meet Erik in this life, he would have the next. And the ones after that.

Looking back, this lifetime had been happy and fulfilling even without meeting his soul mate. Although Charles never managed to build a romantic relationship that wasn’t in some form with Erik, he had a family in this life, thanks to a wonderful sister and her husband and son who even now when Charles was old came by every other week for lunch. He was content with the career he had and the retirement he was now having.

And still, as much as he was telling himself that this life was just as good as any other, the ache in his chest whenever he thought about Erik told him otherwise.

Read More

WIBBLES LOUDLY

Tags: Fic cherik

PERSUASION AU: PART SEVEN

black—betty:

In which Charles attends a concert.

(I’m soooooo so sorry this was so delayed!! For whatever reason I really struggled with this chapter?? It’s still a bit of a mess, but it’s DONE! And here it is :D)

Previous Parts: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE AND SIX

Erik seemed to haunt the streets of Bath from that moment onwards. Charles wondered where he was staying and whether he would welcome a visit. Saw him on every street corner, in every crowd of people, flashes of auburn hair or a wry smile that made his heart stutter and skip a beat.

When Charles went to a concert hosted by the Baroness a week after their meeting at the assembly rooms, he thought he saw Erik again. There was a man standing by the wall on the opposite side of the large parlor where the guests milled about waiting for the music to begin. He was just the right height and stood in just the same manner as Erik had, even as a boy, subtly regal in a way that could not be ignored once it was noticed. It was not until the man turned and caught his eye, and smiled, that Charles realized it really was Erik after all, recognized him with a solidity that hit him with a great shuddering intake of air.

Read More

DARN IT, ERIK.

Tags: fic

theletteraesc:

image

Okay this is not quite being despoiled but I kind of need to get Erik to the place where he, y’know, wants the despoiling. ERIK YOU WANT THE DESPOILING, ADMIT IT.

The morning after the conversation with his mother, Erik woke up early. This itself was not strange,…

ALL THE EXCITED NOISES. BREATHLESSLY ANTICIPATING MORE.

For real, though, this is SERIOUSLY WELL-WRITTEN, I love everything about it!!!

Tags: fic cherik

i have 500 followers. please accept this gift of abandoned throwaway fic.

jabletown:

Yay! 500 people wow!

I was going to write a whole new ficlet or something, because the only thing I can give you guys is fic. But I’m really busy writing Ten Years Gone, so I dug up a moderately understandable piece of abandoned fic for you to enjoy/tolerate/loathe, depending on why you followed me.

This was intended as a sort of reverse to Barbaric Erik, wherein Charles is the figure out of time, as a man from sometime in the middle of the 1300s, but I never finished. What I do have is kind of a laugh so here’s my pathetic attempt at some Middle English!


~*~

Mystique vibrated with excitement next to me.

“Stop it,” I said.

It was embarrassing

When I first met Mystique, she was punching a shit-kicking drunk redneck who had shown up with his buddies to a mutant friendly bar, shoving around some kids from the NYU H-M Alliance, after a Mutants’ Rights parade. We’d both had a few drinks us, helping us meet fire with fire a little more readily than we might have normally. In the ensuing bust, I pulled her down the alleyway with me, having admired her right cross. I’d been volunteering at the 126th Street Hostel and we headed there to hide out and drink a few beers. Six years later we were running the One-Two-Six, not to mention the New York chapter of M-Now, the third largest Mutants’ Rights organization in the country.

Mystique grew up unprotected like many of our mutant Sisters, particularly those with visible mutations. Her parents were abusive bigots and she was taken into state care at the age of seven, moved around from foster home to shelter until she was sixteen. Before I met her she’d traveled the country on her own, lived rough, and lived in a mutant collective. She was strong and beautiful and a testament to rising above the conditions of discrimination and hatred.

And she was jumping up and down like a child high on Kool-Aid and cotton candy.

“He’s a TARDIS,” she said, almost screaming it, oblivious to my discomfort.

Read More

SCREAMING BECAUSE FUN WITH LINGUISTICS AND HOW FREAKING AWESOME IS THIS

Tags: fic

Anonymous said: [Finish the sentence] Charles Xavier's telepathic abilities are...

keire-ke:

[[this is the Anne of Green Gables AU in which Raven is Anne, Irene Adler is Diana and picking up a fresh orphan is as easy as buying a twenty-pound bag of brown sugar. SRSLY, WTF, nineteenth century Canadians]]

Charles Xavier’s telepathic abilities are not creepy and weird. Erik stood back from the blackboard mostly so he could glare at the offending sentence and pout.

"Miss Darkholme," he started saying, but the teacher looked up from her book.

"I said one hundred times, Erik. You’re only up to forty."

Read More

CUTEST AND BEST AAHHHH

(Mean Pastor Trask is a very perfect thingggg)

Tags: Fic

kageillusionz:

allhailfribrocloud:

pangeasplits:


» [36/100] photos of James McAvoy

someone cherik this and explain to me what’s going on

I’ll give it a go!
“Excuse me,” Erik called down rather awkwardly to the unfairly gorgeous man lying before him. “You’re in my grave.”
Read More

AMAZING. MORE PLEASE! :D

This is seriously cool!!!

kageillusionz:

allhailfribrocloud:

pangeasplits:

» [36/100] photos of James McAvoy

someone cherik this and explain to me what’s going on

I’ll give it a go!

“Excuse me,” Erik called down rather awkwardly to the unfairly gorgeous man lying before him. “You’re in my grave.”

Read More

AMAZING. MORE PLEASE! :D

This is seriously cool!!!

Tags: Fic

the-assbender-whisperer said: ✫ Cherik~

homesweethomicide13:

11 - Barista!AU 

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot."

Erik didn’t have to turn around to know who stood at the counter - the four words spoken in that smooth, charming voice were enough to paint a picture in his mind of the man who came in every morning, always with a new pick-up line ready for him. He reached for the bag of Earl Grey he’d taken to setting out ready, and finally turned, trying not to roll his eyes at the stupidly charming grin on Charles’ face.

"Alright, let’s hear it." Charles slipped a hand into a pocket, and drew out his wallet - from which he pulled out what looked to be a library card.

"It’s a good thing I’ve got my library card," he began, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, "because I am totally checking you out." He followed it up with a wink that had Erik groaning.

"I think that was worse than yesterday’s." He told him as he set the Styrofoam cup down in front of him. Charles laughed as he handed over the money for it.

"I’ll hook you one day, Erik." He grinned, taking back his change and picking up his tea. "Just you wait. I’ll come in here and floor you with my charm and wit, and you’ll wonder why you put it off for so long." 

"Keep telling yourself that, Charles." Erik smiled to himself as he watched Charles go, wondering when he should tell the other man that he’d been hooked from the very first day.

SCREAMS AT THE CUTE

Tags: Fic

velvetcadence:

clarasteam:

trobador:

ikeracity:

PERFECTION

CHARLES YOU ARE SETTING MR LEHNSHERR ON FIRE. IS THIS A WEIRD ASSASINATION ATTEMPT, CHARLES. ARE YOU AIMING FOR AN ACCIDENT.

*cackles*

"I should go," Charles whispers, and if it is said with not a hint of restraint upon his ardour, only the shadows are witnesses to his audacity. 
"Yes," Erik replies, his head already tilting down to feel the air of Charles’ words with his lips. "Yes, goodnight."
"Goodnight, my friend." Charles’ eyes slip close and Erik presses their mouths together in the softest of kisses, chaste and full of gentle breath. It is a touch that warms Erik from his chest outward to his fingers and toes, a touch that inflames and awakens every secret desire.
Literally.
"Oh good god!" Charles yelps as he pats frantically at the burning cloth of Erik’s dinner jacket. His movements snuff out all but one of the candles on his candlestick, and by the end of it, the empty hall smells strongly of burnt cloth.
Erik can’t help it: he laughs, loud and slightly manic, for while Charles had put of the flames, Erik had only stood there, too stunned to even move. He cups Charles’ face in his hands, blows out the remaining candle in Charles’ trembling grip and kisses him goodnight, deep, hungry and wholeheartedly, as he would for the rest of his God-given life.

velvetcadence:

clarasteam:

trobador:

ikeracity:

PERFECTION

CHARLES YOU ARE SETTING MR LEHNSHERR ON FIRE. IS THIS A WEIRD ASSASINATION ATTEMPT, CHARLES. ARE YOU AIMING FOR AN ACCIDENT.

*cackles*

"I should go," Charles whispers, and if it is said with not a hint of restraint upon his ardour, only the shadows are witnesses to his audacity. 

"Yes," Erik replies, his head already tilting down to feel the air of Charles’ words with his lips. "Yes, goodnight."

"Goodnight, my friend." Charles’ eyes slip close and Erik presses their mouths together in the softest of kisses, chaste and full of gentle breath. It is a touch that warms Erik from his chest outward to his fingers and toes, a touch that inflames and awakens every secret desire.

Literally.

"Oh good god!" Charles yelps as he pats frantically at the burning cloth of Erik’s dinner jacket. His movements snuff out all but one of the candles on his candlestick, and by the end of it, the empty hall smells strongly of burnt cloth.

Erik can’t help it: he laughs, loud and slightly manic, for while Charles had put of the flames, Erik had only stood there, too stunned to even move. He cups Charles’ face in his hands, blows out the remaining candle in Charles’ trembling grip and kisses him goodnight, deep, hungry and wholeheartedly, as he would for the rest of his God-given life.

(Source: cherish-cherik)

kageillusionz:

gerec:

turtletotem:

ikeracity:

black—betty:

Jedi AU? Boxing AU? SOME KIND OF AU?

pan was yelling to me about a jedi/sith lord AU yesterday

that is good yelling that ought to continue

Did somebody say something about a Star Wars AU???

(Warning for some gore and body horror)

The end for Erik Lehnsherr comes, unbidden and unexpected, on the ruined and desolate planet of Mustafar in the Outer Rim. On the edge of a river of lava he lays, both legs and an arm missing, cut down by the man he once called ‘Master’.

The pain is excruciating; every cell in his body screaming in agony, blotting out the sounds of all but the blood rushing to his ears.

That and the anguished voice screaming his name.

“You were the chosen one!” Logan yells, as though it were his limbs torn from his body. As if he and not Erik, had been the one betrayed. “It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! You were to bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness!”

All their years together, fighting the Separatists side by side and Logan still doesn’t understand. Has no idea what motivates Erik to walk the path he has chosen. Does not love anyone the way Erik loved his mother, who died, bruised and broken in his arms. The way he loves Charles, their relationship forbidden by the Jedi Council and the Senate, forever destined for the shadows and slave to the greater good. With his last, dying breath he shouts, “I hate you!”

There’s more – more lies that fall from Logan’s lips, about lost love and brotherhood between two who were once so much more than friends and comrades. Lies that Erik ignores, fueled by the hatred that swells through every inch of what’s left of him.

He screams when his body burns, the searing pain so great as to be matched only by the bitterness of his regret. That he’ll die here in the wind and the fire, far from the gentle arms of his lover.

 —-

He dreams of a beloved voice, calling his name, “Erik. You’ll be alright, Erik. I’ll take care of you.”

—-

They piece him back together with wire and steel, a monster reshaped from the remains of the Jedi he used to be. Every breath he takes is torture; every move of his metal body a reminder of a life – of a man – that’s gone forever.

“Lord Magnus,” says the man in front of him, features cloaked under a hood of midnight black. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Master,” he answers, a sense of calm returning when he hears the familiar voice.

“You were gravely injured, my friend,” the other man says, the soft voice threaded with a quiet, seething rage. “I rescued you and made you stronger.”

He nods, his strength slowly returning as he feeds off his Master’s anger and thirst for revenge, brewing like a lightning storm over the vast oceans of Kamino. A hand reaches to cup the mask where his cheek used to be, his lover’s voice filling his mind, flooded with images of the death and destruction they will deal. Together.

I want you by my side, old friend, the voice says, the love for Erik as encompassing as the hatred for their shared enemies.  We want the same thing.

Yes, Charles, Erik answered. We do.

SCREEEEEECH. LOGAN!OBI-WAN. DAMMIT ERIK. YOU HAD ONE JOB.

helenish:

saucefactory:

#ACTUAL BESEECHING EYES FROM AN ACTUAL MEDIEVAL COURTSHIP

AND WHEN THEY GET MARRIED THERE WILL BE A CROWN OF FLOWERS AND THEY WILL PLEDGE THEIR TROTH TO ONE ANOTHER UNDER A WILLOW TREE

THEY CALLED HIM ‘THE WOLF’ ON THE BATTLEFIELD; Stiles had never seen him bend knee, even in the training ring, but he was surprisingly slight out of his armor, bending to press his lips to the heavy signet ring on Stiles’ hand.

"It is a long ride you have had," Stiles heard himself say, distantly.

"Yes, my lord," Derek said, still holding Stiles’ hand in his palm, thumb closed softly over Stiles’ knuckles, his breath warm on Stiles’ fingers. There was a hot flush starting up the back of Stiles’ neck, courtiers watching them, amused, waiting for the King’s son to refuse another marriage offer.

The Hale fiefdom was strategically useful, but small, little more than a vast forest of scrub pines crawling up a rocky mountainside, the land too steep and rocky to farm. Argent had been quietly suggesting for years that it was time to fold the Hale land into his fiefdom, a strong border for the long, rolling green pastureland, especially now that the Hale family found themselves without—well, he’d said, smiling, at the last council meeting, if Kate’s betrothal to Derek hadn’t been broken, they wouldn’t be having this discussion, he said. Derek’s face, in the gallery, had been expressionless; he had no speaking rights in the council. 

There was a low snicker rolling along the edge of the room, Derek had been kneeling on the cold stone of the throne room for over long. Stiles had refused princes in their own right, turned down the queen of the neighboring kingdom who could have extended their land rights to the western ocean. Derek had little; one horse, one battered, well-kept set of armor. He slept in the barracks, only had a squire because he was the only one who’d agreed to take on the Lahey whelp when his father died. 

Derek’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t move, waiting.

"You—" Stiles swallowed. "You have a token for me?" 

Derek’s head jerked up, shocked pale eyes in a shadowed face. “I—what?” he said.

"I’ll compete in the tourney this afternoon," Stiles said. "It’s traditional to offer a token—"

Derek dropped his hand. “I had not believed you to be cruel,” he muttered, so quietly that no one else might hear. “If my offer so offends you then—”

"No matter," Stiles said. He was wearing a red undertunic, thin and old, and the hem gave easily under his fingers. He tied it around Derek’s arm, high up, a bright slash of color against black, Derek still under his hands. "There," he said. "For luck."

"I’ll, um, win," Derek said. The snickers had turned into a roaring mumbling chatter, but Derek was staring up at Stiles’ face as though he couldn’t look away.

"You always win," Stiles reminded him, and Derek’s tired face cracked into a ghost of a grin.

"For you," he said. "My victory today will belong to you."

(Source: mademoisellelaure, via vixen-lestrange)

thehoppingfish said: Lizzie Bennet ! (Love your work by the way. ^^)

ikeracity:

(one of the pairing is a YouTube star)

slight variation: both of them are YouTube stars

————————————————-

The Daily Injustice: When Your New Neighbor is Hot and You Make a Fool of Yourself in Front of Him

Published on Jun 15, 2012 by Magneto

“So about a week ago, I heard the apartment across from mine had been rented out to some new guy. This obviously meant one of two things: one, Stryker finally found someone who didn’t care about living near a mutant; or two, being the asshole landlord that he is, Stryker didn’t actually tell the new guy he was going to be living across the hall from a metallokinetic. I’m going with the latter because everything can always be chalked up to the fact that Stryker’s an asshole. Always. Case in point: that time he almost evicted me because of some bullshit about baselines being uncomfortable with having a mutant on the hall. Seriously? We live in a world with mutant senators and mutant TV hosts and you can’t deal with one living in your apartment building? Grow the fuck up.  

“Anyway, that’s not today’s daily injustice, even though I could go on and on about discriminatory housing policies because seriously, everyone knows the revised Fair Housing Act does shit. You can check out the vlog from sometime last month if you want more info on that. I’ll toss the link below.

Read More

Tags: Fic

dofp missing scene

pearlo:

This has been stuck in my head for the last week. Time to get it out, I think.

watch, act (~1000 words, spoilers, pg-ish, hank pov, erik/charles)

Read More

Anonymous said: imagine erik in prison and charles bringing him rugelach he paid someone to make from scratch.

experimentalmadness:

"Really, Charles, we must stop meeting like this."

Erik didn’t even look up from the corner of his cell as he heard the tell-tale cut of the plastic polymer doors slide open behind him.

"You’ve hardly given me much choice, have you?"

Erik often wondered how Charles was constantly able to gain access to his cell. He had settled on the idea that he was tampering with the security, although the very notion sounded distinctly unlike his moral friend, even Erik had to admit that from time to time and wherever he himself was concerned, Charles could possess quite a flare for the dramatic.

Erik turned to face his friend who was wheeling himself into his cell. There was a white box settled on his lap that Erik could not help but stare curiously at. “Gifts is it? Honestly, Charles, you hardly need to bribe me for my help. Whatever do you need?”

Charles had a wry smile on his haggard features. He was becoming so gaunt. And all this time Erik thought he was the one who was supposed to be the prisoner. “This gift comes without a price, my friend,” Charles held the present out, “A belated Hanukkah gift.”

Finally deigning to stand, Erik strode over to Charles and took the box from his hands. “I may be incarcerated, but I am hardly ignorant. It’s January the 27th by my count.”

Charles shrugged, “A very belated Hanukkah gift then. Do open it Erik.”

Raising an eyebrow at Charles’ impatience Erik flipped over the lid, a quizzical expression crossing over his features. “Rugelach?”

"There should be a note as well—ah, you have it."

Erik set the box down by his feet as he pulled at a cream colored envelope.  As he plucked at the opening to get at the contents within he could smell the delicate scent of powdered sugar and cinnamon along the envelope’s edge.

"Read it aloud, if you would," Charles asked, his voice calm, almost melancholic.

Erik obliged, a knot growing in the pit of his stomach as he began the letter.

"Herr Lehnsherr,

You do not know me, nor are we likely to ever cross paths, but you knew my mother, Ruchel Strausberg. She told me stories about the little boy in the camps at Auschwitz who managed to sneak extra rations for so many and found a gap between the wire fences to escape….”

Erik found himself sitting down on the floor of his cell once again, letter clutched tight in his hand. His knuckles turning white.

"My mother is still in good health, and between us and my two brothers we run a bakery in the lower east side. My mother still speaks of you, she pulls the newspaper clippings of you and keeps them on the wall of the shop. Many of our customers do not approve, but we do not believe you are guilty.

Mother says you are Ubermensch. Your friend saw the pictures and came in to talk to us. My mother made the rugelach herself. She hopes it reminds you of home.

Thank you, herr Lehnsherr, our family would not be here today without you.

…it is signed Tzietal Strausberg.”

There was total silence as Erik sat against the wall, his head hanging down. “Wait,” he croaked. “there is more,” he noticed on the back of the letter.

"P.S: I write where my mother cannot see, but I know now how the fence in the camp managed to break enough to allow so many to flee. You made the gap in the wires. You saved my family and hundreds more. My family believed in you then as we believe in you now. Do not lose hope. So many of us still stand with you."

Charles nodded at the postscript a thin smile playing about his features. “Remarkable,” he said. “Do you recall the young lady’s mother?”

"I remember all their names. And faces. All of them. Everything that I have ever done was to ensure there would not be more names to remember still."

"Do you say this to convince me or yourself, my friend?" Charles wheeled over to Erik and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Thank you for the gift, Charles. You may go now." Erik flinched out of his friend’s grasp.

Charles sighed and Erik felt is breath at the side of his neck. The space between them filled a chasm. The envelope was still in his hands keeping him grounded on one side of the divide.

"As you wish," Charles said at last. Erik could feel him at the edge of his mind wanting to enter and say the things that could not be spoken. He could feel the words creeping into his skull, wounding with every silent emphasis.

"Goodbye, Erik."

"Charles."

That stopped him.

Erik caught him with an iron stare. “I was not strong enough to save my people. I will not fail our own.”

There was that sad smile again.

"Nor will I, my friend. Nor will I.

Tags: fic oh erik

elbatross:

There are aches instead of numbness. Charles isn’t sure if the likes it any better than before, but at least it isn’t the constant thrum of pain, pain, pain he’d been dealing with.

He shakes out the tingles in his legs and walks. Every so often, he needs to stretch, pop his back, and even pester Hank to help find him some weights to lift. He goes on, shoots up when he needs to so he can finish the day. The voices won’t catch up to him as long as he’s active.

But when they do, it’s under the cover of darkness after he’s bathed and relaxed. As soon as he’s huddled under his sheets, Hank starts up with his work.

Then the neighbor and his damn mutt miles away.

Then a patrolling officer trying to check if his 'poor pathetic manor' is still occupied.

Some nights he even feels the fleeting thoughts of a young woman loping about the property, his name only coming up once in a visit and feeling like fire in his mind when it passed through.

He aches. It’s worse when Hank replays the tapes from the president’s assassination and dwells of the fate of his old friend, on the shape of what was Erik that now is Magneto that draws Charles back to himself as the whispers just grow louder. He aches, he’s tired, and his body betrays him by allowing the outside to bring what hurt him back in.

(He never regretted the way Erik made him ache before.

"Just sleep it off and you won’t even feel it when you get up," he would whisper fondly into his ear each night. "Then we’ll start over tomorrow.")

Erik keeps him up at night. Erik who has left him, Erik who has stolen all the good in the world from him. It’s the same Erik who suffered so much pain and then turned around to leave Charles to suffer the slings and aches on his own, not curled with him.

He doesn’t like to ache. He doesn’t like to be alone with the world and feel it ache along with him. All Charles wants is for it to stop, to go away and leave him with his mind. It hurts him so to even think about Erik, because when he thinks about him he remembers Cuba and the beach, the accident that left his legs as they are right in this moment, paralyzed and-

Charles begins to laugh, wetly, eyes red rimmed as they have been for the last few years. He reaches into his bedside table drawer for his kit containing the serum.

He will be alone with his mind soon. He will not ache, and he can be sure that Erik will not sneak in on whispers in the darkness.