theletteraesc:

fourteenacross:

lyndraws:

dads snuggling with chubby freckled babbs (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)

David won’t sleep when the rest of them are awake.
That’s not entirely true. He tires himself out of course. At three months old, he can’t keep going as long as he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He’s incredibly social for a baby, his wide blue eyes always following them around the room, tracking conversations, trying to be a part of things. It’s sweet, Erik thinks—he even babbles at them while they’re talking, like he’s trying to join in, though he’s reacting to the sound of their voices more than anything, and shrieks with delight when something pleases him. That makes Charles happiest of all. He’d been worried since the start, trying to walk the line between embracing David’s telepathy while nurturing his language skills as well, and Charles doesn’t have to do more than smile for Erik to know what a relief he finds it that David vocalizes with them, even if he’s too little to have any comprehension of what they’re saying or for his baby talk to have any real meaning.
Still, as endearing as it is to watch him watch them, it very quickly leads to a cranky baby or a cranky three year old or cranky parents or, more than likely, all three. They’ve gotten used to stealing naps where they can get them, trading off herding the kids and five minutes of sleep on the couch.
Today, though, Charles has announced that they’re all going to sit together. Quiet time, Charles calls it, and Erik is skeptical, but once Charles moves from the wheelchair to the couch and wedges himself into the corner, Lorna doesn’t hesitate to abandon her toys to join him, scampering up into his lap.
"Are you going to read a story, Dada?" she asks, which is a fair question. This does tend to be where Charles sits when he reads her stories.
"We’re going to listen to someone else read all of us a story," Charles says.
"Daddy and Davey too?" she asks.
"Daddy and Davey too," Charles confirms, and gives Erik a Look. Erik shrugs and does one more circuit around the room with David, who’s struggling to keep his eyes open but refuses to give into his nap, and then sits down on the other side of the couch. Charles reaches across and hooks two fingers into his belt to pull him closer. Erik takes the hint and slides closer until he’s pressed up against Charles’ side. David is still curled up against his chest, blinking sleepily at Lorna and Charles, and Lorna strokes his hair with almost comical gentleness.
"He has so much hair," Charles murmurs.
"Did I have that much hair when I was a baby?" Lorna asks, peering up at Charles.
"You didn’t," Charles says. "You had very, very pale blonde hair. It was almost white and just peachfuzz on your head." He strokes her hair for emphasis, long and green and curling at the ends, an indicator that she carries the x-gene sequences, even if she has yet to manifest any specific abilities or physical alterations. "And then when you started to get older, it started coming in thicker and green."
Lorna yawns loudly, and instead of covering her mouth, presses her whole face into Charles’ shoulder.
"Green is best," she says. "You said there was a story."
Read More

*melts*

theletteraesc:

fourteenacross:

lyndraws:

dads snuggling with chubby freckled babbs (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)

David won’t sleep when the rest of them are awake.

That’s not entirely true. He tires himself out of course. At three months old, he can’t keep going as long as he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He’s incredibly social for a baby, his wide blue eyes always following them around the room, tracking conversations, trying to be a part of things. It’s sweet, Erik thinks—he even babbles at them while they’re talking, like he’s trying to join in, though he’s reacting to the sound of their voices more than anything, and shrieks with delight when something pleases him. That makes Charles happiest of all. He’d been worried since the start, trying to walk the line between embracing David’s telepathy while nurturing his language skills as well, and Charles doesn’t have to do more than smile for Erik to know what a relief he finds it that David vocalizes with them, even if he’s too little to have any comprehension of what they’re saying or for his baby talk to have any real meaning.

Still, as endearing as it is to watch him watch them, it very quickly leads to a cranky baby or a cranky three year old or cranky parents or, more than likely, all three. They’ve gotten used to stealing naps where they can get them, trading off herding the kids and five minutes of sleep on the couch.

Today, though, Charles has announced that they’re all going to sit together. Quiet time, Charles calls it, and Erik is skeptical, but once Charles moves from the wheelchair to the couch and wedges himself into the corner, Lorna doesn’t hesitate to abandon her toys to join him, scampering up into his lap.

"Are you going to read a story, Dada?" she asks, which is a fair question. This does tend to be where Charles sits when he reads her stories.

"We’re going to listen to someone else read all of us a story," Charles says.

"Daddy and Davey too?" she asks.

"Daddy and Davey too," Charles confirms, and gives Erik a Look. Erik shrugs and does one more circuit around the room with David, who’s struggling to keep his eyes open but refuses to give into his nap, and then sits down on the other side of the couch. Charles reaches across and hooks two fingers into his belt to pull him closer. Erik takes the hint and slides closer until he’s pressed up against Charles’ side. David is still curled up against his chest, blinking sleepily at Lorna and Charles, and Lorna strokes his hair with almost comical gentleness.

"He has so much hair," Charles murmurs.

"Did I have that much hair when I was a baby?" Lorna asks, peering up at Charles.

"You didn’t," Charles says. "You had very, very pale blonde hair. It was almost white and just peachfuzz on your head." He strokes her hair for emphasis, long and green and curling at the ends, an indicator that she carries the x-gene sequences, even if she has yet to manifest any specific abilities or physical alterations. "And then when you started to get older, it started coming in thicker and green."

Lorna yawns loudly, and instead of covering her mouth, presses her whole face into Charles’ shoulder.

"Green is best," she says. "You said there was a story."

Read More

*melts*

(via pangeasplits)

spicedpiano:

arisupaints:


Look at the beautiful thing that surprised me in my askbox today! ♥
spicedpiano (;_;) ♥♥
I tried to draw the scene — but my picture turned out a little too sappy, ahaha. It must be because I was so touched you sent me Charles & Erik kisses in my askbox ;;; ♥

such a gorgeous painting, omg. <3 so perfect too! i’m glad you liked the fic. i saw how charles/erik kisses made you happy, so hopefully this brought a smile to your day!

spicedpiano:

arisupaints:

Look at the beautiful thing that surprised me in my askbox today!

spicedpiano (;_;)

I tried to draw the scene — but my picture turned out a little too sappy, ahaha. It must be because I was so touched you sent me Charles & Erik kisses in my askbox ;;;

such a gorgeous painting, omg. <3 so perfect too! i’m glad you liked the fic. i saw how charles/erik kisses made you happy, so hopefully this brought a smile to your day!

(via jabletown)

ikeracity:

based on this

——————————————————————————-

Having worked in an office for the better part of the last four years, Erik knows very well the weight and feel of most, if not all, office appliances. He knows the fine lines of staple stacks, the scratching nibs of pens, the often-frustrating hum of the printer. If he focuses hard enough, he can pinpoint every speck of metal throughout the entire floor, down to the smallest thumbtack embedded in the bulletin board down the hall. He knows when things are in place and when they’re not.

It’s not the presence of the paperclip that snags at his attention. There’s nothing unusual about one paperclip in a floor full of cubicles, and Erik would have paid it absolutely no attention, if not for the fact that the paperclip was rotating, not once, not twice, but endlessly, over and over and over again, mindless in its movement. Someone’s being restless in the last cubicle down the hall, the one that’s been empty for the last couple of weeks ever since Erik fired the last intern. After Erik had seen about fifty applicants and rejected every one of them, Emma had taken it into her hands to hire someone new, who, as Erik recalls, is supposed to start today and whom Erik has yet to meet.

The paperclip keeps turning slowly, methodically. If Erik closes his eyes and concentrates very hard, he can almost feel the warmth of fingers brushing along the thin metal’s edge, gentle as a caress. He lets himself dwell idly on the motion for a few minutes before flipping open the file on his desk and resuming his work.

Read More

Tags: Fic cherik

kageillusionz asked: The forbidden love between pen and paper.

velvetcadence:

( :| Kage, I swear to God.)

The bell above the door rings, but Charles pays it little mind. He’s been in this cozy little bookshop for years, sold from the original retailer at half-price, more of a donation than anything. The fellow notebooks beside him perk up, sitting a little straighter and smoothing out their edges. The new customer looks like they write, they whisper. Maybe they’ll pick one of us.

Silly things always get like this, Charles thinks, with not a little disdain. He can’t fault them, however. It’s every notebook’s dream to be tattooed with beautiful, beautiful ink. Fortunately, Charles has long relieved himself of that impossible dream. He’s a realist. What on earth would anyone want with a notebook with black pages? He’s practically useless to anybody as is.

Read More

/tries really hard not to cry because you said there will be more

/cries anyway

Tags: Fic

velvetcadence:

image turtletotem replied to your post “-WIPES AWAY TEAR AT THE PHONE AND CHARGER FIC-”

ALL HAIL IKE because the sadness was destroying me and then the ending gave me actual tears.

omfg Turtle. I feel bad for making you (and other people) cry. Have a cutesy little moment:

Erik is being strangely quiet today, Charles notices. Then he remembers—oh, he’s on silent mode. They’re in class. Charles desperately wants to touch Erik, to slot themselves together so that they’ll never be apart, but Erik is holding himself apart despite the tiny space they’ve been placed in.

He doesn’t know what to do with this sudden shyness. Or is it animosity? Charles dreads to think that he’d done something to warrant Erik’s ill-temper. He’s high-strung, his Erik, and though he doesn’t resent the trait, he has to sometimes remind himself it’s simply because Erik is a smartphone; accelerometers add quirks not found in other phones.

"Erik," Charles ventures. "Are you alright?"

It takes the phone a while to respond, and when he does, the glow of his screen is so bright against the inside of the bag. “…Yes. Why do you ask?”

"You’re not sick?"

"Of course not. My antivirus program is up to date."

"So why are you avoiding me?"

Try as Erik might, Charles still manages to catch the sudden pink glow of his screen. How interesting. “I…”

"Yes?" When Erik refuses to answer for the longest time, Charles wraps his cord around Erik comfortingly. "I can wait all day if I have to. I regularly manage to wait five."

"Stop it, Charles. You’re making me nervous."

"Am I?"

"You are. You excite my electrons, and you make my circuit board freeze up. Sometimes you’re all that occupies my memory chip. I’ve been trying not to say anything in case it ruins everything, but I…I won’t function the same if you don’t feel the way I feel."

For a minute, Charles was completely stunned, which for a charger was a feat in itself. Chargers were meant to be conduits after all, not the recipients of energy, but at that moment Charles felt like lightbulbs must feel—bright with happiness and heat. “You know, for a smartphone, you’re rather thick. Don’t you know how much I adore you?”

"Did you just call me fat—oh. Me t-too." Erik stuttered as Charles finally, finally joined them together, beeping loudly in surprise when Charles pushed enough energy at him to make his battery ping in delight.

ELECTRONICS IN LOVE. WHAT IS MY LIFE. /continues squeeing

Tags: cherik Fic

kageillusionz asked: The forbidden love between phone and phone charger. :')

palalife:

jabletown:

ikeracity:

velvetcadence:

(:F This appeals to the tech geek in me, oh my god.)

Erik was long ago the latest cellphone model of his generation. He was beautiful and he knew it, his corners were curved just so, painted a fusion of sleek magenta and black, the 540 x 960 resolution impressive on a phone so thin and weighing exactly 145 grams. He came in the box with a phone charger named Charles, who was friendly as friendly could be. Erik couldn’t deny that there was a spark between them, but he had his pride, and it wouldn’t be seemly for a phone of his caliber to cling to his charger so.

Charles thought differently. Charles loved the moments he and Erik joined together as one, brief as the affair lasted. Charles often waxed poetic about Erik’s lithium-ion battery (“It’s the best kind of battery there is, Erik. You’ve got the grooviest energy-to-mass ratio.”) and his 1.2 GHz Dual-core processor when they were joined. He liked making Erik’s LCD light up with his compliments.

In the beginning, Charles only ever saw Erik every five days. Their owner seldom texted or called, and Erik’s ability to attain a slow loss of charge when not in use made him convenient. Erik didn’t want to admit that he missed Charles during those five days. Proper cell phones tried to stay away from their chargers. It would be a weakness to admit that he needed Charles.

Charles was vocal enough for the both of them. When his owner began calling and texting a special number frequently, Erik’s capacity to store energy dwindled, but he found that he didn’t mind being plugged by Charles as much as he did before.

As a matter of fact, he looked forward to the days when Charles filled the empty space of his charger slot like a missing puzzle piece. He always emerged frightened from a cellphone death. It wasn’t painful; it was like being inactive and going to sleep, but the difference between death and sleep was that Erik could wake up from a sleep anytime he wanted, and a death was the slow, helpless state of trying to keep ions active within his circuitry and failing. Charles comforted him best after the electric surge of being plugged in. And Erik knew every time he revived that if he didn’t have Charles, he’d cease to exist.

They were both getting old now. Erik had excellent memory, 16GB in fact, and today would mark the six years to the day he and Charles were paired together in the box. Today would also mark Erik’s retirement from human use, and he and Charles were to be returned to their original home, to be stored in a corner of their owner’s room. A new iPhone would be replacing Erik’s Motorola Razr Maxx model. He’d be indignant if he were younger, but in this day and age, he was old and practically obsolete.

It was almost ceremonial, the way their owner fit Erik back in the styrofoam mold and neatly tied Charles’ cord together. The two of them lay together in the darkness for an interminable amount of time before Charles reached over and fit himself in Erik’s charging slot, as Erik’s battery slowly slipped into another death. Only this time, they knew Erik probably wouldn’t be able to emerge from that for a long, long time.

"Sleep well, my dear," Charles said.

"Goodnight, Charles," Erik whispered, even as his screen dimmed.

They needn’t have worried. A week and 250 miles later, Erik woke up in a new owner’s house, with Charles still lovingly connected to him. “Hello, Erik. Welcome back,” he beamed.

perfection

holy crap

OMG

WHY AM I CRYING OVER CELLPHONE CRACKFIC

pangeasplits:


LITTLE BLUE RIDING HOOD

for cattycas, who requested a cracky retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, cherik-style, for suggesting the best name for my fish. hope you enjoy!
with thanks to garnetquyen for brainstorming with me and keeping me company, and also providing the awesome cover art! :D
no harm came to the color blue during the writing of this fic.
—————
ONCE UPON A TIME, not to be confused with yesterday, last week, or even that one time at your cousin’s wedding, there lived a strapping young lad with the bluest eyes in all the realm who resided in a large house at the edge of the quaint little village tucked up against the side of a mountain.

Read More

WHAT EVEN ARE YOU PAN
NEVER STOP BEING THAT

pangeasplits:

LITTLE BLUE RIDING HOOD

for cattycas, who requested a cracky retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, cherik-style, for suggesting the best name for my fish. hope you enjoy!

with thanks to garnetquyen for brainstorming with me and keeping me company, and also providing the awesome cover art! :D

no harm came to the color blue during the writing of this fic.

—————

ONCE UPON A TIME, not to be confused with yesterday, last week, or even that one time at your cousin’s wedding, there lived a strapping young lad with the bluest eyes in all the realm who resided in a large house at the edge of the quaint little village tucked up against the side of a mountain.

Read More

WHAT EVEN ARE YOU PAN

NEVER STOP BEING THAT

velvetcadence:

sobermotherfuckinggamzee:

"I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill the human."
"BILLY NO"

#cherik it (via turtletotem)
Ah yes, the magic words.
"How dare they," Erik sneered. He and Charles had been enjoying a nice day out when the humans had begun hurling edible projectiles at them. 
"It’s not that bad." Charles pecked at one of the larger bready bits. "Tastes like pie."
"What’s pie?" Erik asked, squawking when he saw Charles eating. "That might be poisonous!" 
The other bird would have said more, except that the food went down the wrong pipe and he ended up choking on it. Erik panicked and slapped his back with a wing, and the result was a mass of regurgitated pie crust.
"Oops. Thank you, my friend."
"So that was their plan all along," he seethed. "That’s it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill the human." Erik picked up the knife they had been inspecting before the humans came along, multiple plans of revenge already forming in his superior brain.
"Erik, no! Killing will not bring you peace!"
"Peace was never an option!"

I refuse to take responsibility for this glorious mess XD

velvetcadence:

sobermotherfuckinggamzee:

"I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill the human."

"BILLY NO"

 (via turtletotem)

Ah yes, the magic words.

"How dare they," Erik sneered. He and Charles had been enjoying a nice day out when the humans had begun hurling edible projectiles at them. 

"It’s not that bad." Charles pecked at one of the larger bready bits. "Tastes like pie."

"What’s pie?" Erik asked, squawking when he saw Charles eating. "That might be poisonous!" 

The other bird would have said more, except that the food went down the wrong pipe and he ended up choking on it. Erik panicked and slapped his back with a wing, and the result was a mass of regurgitated pie crust.

"Oops. Thank you, my friend."

"So that was their plan all along," he seethed. "That’s it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill the human." Erik picked up the knife they had been inspecting before the humans came along, multiple plans of revenge already forming in his superior brain.

"Erik, no! Killing will not bring you peace!"

"Peace was never an option!"

I refuse to take responsibility for this glorious mess XD

(Source: markheffronnude)

Tags: cherik Fic

three-red-paragraphs:

"Haunted?" Erik asks dryly.

Emma smiles over her shoulder, sharp and dangerous, throwing open a pair of large double doors in a dramatic fashion.

"Only rumours, you know how people talk," Emma replies, ushering him into what was once, presumably, a sunroom; although it could hardly be called that in it’s current state.

Read More

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS EXCELLENT

gerec:

Parts 1.1 and 1.2

Parts 2.1 and 2.2

Note: The O.C.C.B. is short for Organized Crime Control Bureau. Oh and apparently Erik is Bruce Wayne.

—-

He can only describe the feeling as surreal, listening to Charles recount the story of their lives these past four years with Erik as the troubled…

Tags: Fic sobbing

gerec:

Cherik Amnesia Fic as promised! Based on this plot bunny here.

There’s the soothing sound of his mother’s voice cutting through the haze, singing a familiar lullaby from his childhood.

And the feel of his hand cradled in her much smaller one, soft and calloused fingers stroking in…

IT’S ACTUALLY HAPPENING AHHHHH

(via moncube)

Tags: Fic cherik eeeee

PERSUASION AU: PART THREE

black—betty:

In which Charles finds himself with a case of emotional whiplash.

(Part One, Part Two)

Read More

Okay so that flashback to the thrush was gorgeous and I felt like I could see it and feel it and wow my feels okay?

Tags: Fic cherik

PERSUASION AU: PART TWO

pangeasplits:

black—betty:

In which they go for the aforementioned walk, and Charles’ day gets worse and worse…

(sorry if this is rough—I’m very sleepy! Here is part one)

Read More

*sniffling forever*

Tags: fic

All of the Regency AUs

black—betty:

So I’ve been toying with the idea of a Persuasion AU for a while now…this is just a little piece I had to write to get it off my chest. There’s a beautiful line from the book that goes, 

"Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement."

and it really stuck with me. So this is me taking that scene and running with it, and taking some liberties with Austen’s narrative/X-Men canon along the way…

Charles sat down for breakfast in the morning and listened with half an ear and a cautious heart to Marie’s recounting of the previous night. He had been unable to attend, tending to the baby and sending Raven and Azazel on their way after convincing them he could handle one small colicky child. They had been glad for the respite and he had been weak with relief, was now more grateful than ever to have been excused from the dinner. Just listening to his cousin’s effusive praise of the apparent charms and numerous qualities of Captain Lehnsherr was painful enough.

Read More

I almost Actually Screamed when I saw this and OH it hurts in all the ways it should. /makes every effort to refrain from making grabby-hand Moar gestures

dracoangelica:

catchingspace:

grimpossum:

tactical-facepalm:

This Is How A Teacher Grades Your Exams

fucking Andy

Cherik it!

Charles glanced up again as he heard Erik mutter, “Not even close,” under his breath. He rolled his eyes and turned the television up a notch louder.
The papers next to him crinkled and Erik chuffed out a, “A red pen? Did your mother drop you on your head?”
"Sweetie," he tried as his show went to commercial. "Downton’s on."
Erik waved a hand, as if to say, ‘Sure thing.’ but moments later, just as Lady Mary’s eyes were filling with tears, Charles was jarred out of his connection.
"Perfect! Finally!"
Charles muted the television, and glared at Erik, who was, engrossed. A stack of papers sat on one side, a dark red marker circling a 100.
"Erik. Really, they can’t be that bad."
Erik’s sharp gaze pinned his own and Charles had to hide a smile at the indignation. With a florish he pulled a discarded and practically bleeding sheet of paper from his finished stack. Clearing his throat, he read,
"Ancient Egypt was ruled by mummies and they wrote in hydraulics." 
Charles coughed and a gleam of something predatory caught in Erik’s eyes. He shook the paper. “In what world does that possibly work?”
Charles covered his mouth to hide the grin but Erik dove for another one. “This one, says that Socrates died from an overdose of wedlock.”
"Well…in the kid’s defense, marriage is a killer to the sex life."
Erik slowly laid the paper down, his predatory gaze growing heated. “Hmm. Is that what you think?”
"I’m just saying that it’s easy to confuse the two…Erik, what are you doing?"
With a growl, the papers were slid to the side and Erik climbed up on the couch, settling between Charles’s legs, his mouth roaming down until it found Charles’s.
After several breathless moments, Charles whispered, “I thought you had grading to do.”
The lamp behind them was turned off with a click.

# OK TURTLE I TOTES OWE YOU A DOWNTON FIC
# AND I KNOW THIS ISN&#8217;T AT ALL THE SAME THING
# BUT I FELT LIKE THIS COULD BE A COOKIE WHILE WAITING FOR THE FEAST.
I SCARED THE CAT WITH MY FLAILING WHEN I SAW THIS
YES GOOD A VERY TASTY COOKIE
IT MIGHT KEEP ME FROM STARVING OF LACK OF DOWNTON AU FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER

dracoangelica:

catchingspace:

grimpossum:

tactical-facepalm:

This Is How A Teacher Grades Your Exams

fucking Andy

Cherik it!

Charles glanced up again as he heard Erik mutter, “Not even close,” under his breath. He rolled his eyes and turned the television up a notch louder.

The papers next to him crinkled and Erik chuffed out a, “A red pen? Did your mother drop you on your head?”

"Sweetie," he tried as his show went to commercial. "Downton’s on."

Erik waved a hand, as if to say, ‘Sure thing.’ but moments later, just as Lady Mary’s eyes were filling with tears, Charles was jarred out of his connection.

"Perfect! Finally!"

Charles muted the television, and glared at Erik, who was, engrossed. A stack of papers sat on one side, a dark red marker circling a 100.

"Erik. Really, they can’t be that bad."

Erik’s sharp gaze pinned his own and Charles had to hide a smile at the indignation. With a florish he pulled a discarded and practically bleeding sheet of paper from his finished stack. Clearing his throat, he read,

"Ancient Egypt was ruled by mummies and they wrote in hydraulics." 

Charles coughed and a gleam of something predatory caught in Erik’s eyes. He shook the paper. “In what world does that possibly work?”

Charles covered his mouth to hide the grin but Erik dove for another one. “This one, says that Socrates died from an overdose of wedlock.”

"Well…in the kid’s defense, marriage is a killer to the sex life."

Erik slowly laid the paper down, his predatory gaze growing heated. “Hmm. Is that what you think?”

"I’m just saying that it’s easy to confuse the two…Erik, what are you doing?"

With a growl, the papers were slid to the side and Erik climbed up on the couch, settling between Charles’s legs, his mouth roaming down until it found Charles’s.

After several breathless moments, Charles whispered, “I thought you had grading to do.”

The lamp behind them was turned off with a click.

I SCARED THE CAT WITH MY FLAILING WHEN I SAW THIS

YES GOOD A VERY TASTY COOKIE

IT MIGHT KEEP ME FROM STARVING OF LACK OF DOWNTON AU FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER