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.
kageillusionz asked: The forbidden love between pen and paper.
( :| 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.
/tries really hard not to cry because you said there will be more
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."
"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
kageillusionz asked: The forbidden love between phone and phone charger. :')
(: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.
WHY AM I CRYING OVER CELLPHONE CRACKFIC
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.
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