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jackyjango · 4 years

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The Sea Prince And The Shark Knight

Aka: The cherik kid!fic I had always wanted to write!

My contribution to the @cherikzine .

For a healthy dose of the physician prescribed cherik-y goodness, please order your copy of the zine here!

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Erik scowls as a gang of his classmates breeze past him. He skirts around the group and stands a little off to one side. Unfortunately, Erik cannot avoid them in the narrow tunnel of the aquarium like he avoids them in class-- where he sits alone on the last bench and glares at everybody with his height advantage.

He'd suspected that coming on this field trip would be a bad idea, but now, he’s completely sure of it. It doesn’t matter what he feels, anyway, because Mama wouldn’t have heard any of his pleas. She had been adamant on Erik being on the trip. “It's the perfect opportunity to make new friends,'' she had said.

The venue of the picnic isn’t so much of an issue as the company is. Really, Erik has absolutely no reason to like his third grade classmates. There’s that stupid Scott with his stupid face and stupid plasma glasses. Kitty would have been nice if she didn't tattle everything he did or said in class back to his Mama. Then there’s Sean, who treats Erik like he’s some villain. He might have pushed Sean off the basketball court once. Once! Accidents happen. Angel would have made a good friend if she would stop smirking every time she passed him-- like she knew the ending of Jurassic Park, and he didn't. Hank is scared of him; though, Erik doesn't know what for.

Then there’s Charles. Mr. Janos says that Charles was supposed to be in the second grade, but because he's so smart, he's in the third grade instead. Considering how Charles is smaller than everyone else in the class-- the top of his head only reaches Erik’s shoulder-- and extremely intelligent, it might be true.

Charles is… nice. He’s never been unkind to Erik, he always smiles at Erik whenever he looks his way, he doesn't mock Erik's accent like everyone else does (Charles, too, has an accent, but nobody seems to be mocking him for it. Not that Erik wishes for it. He doesn't like the idea of Charles being mocked-- for his accent or anything else. Then again, Erik likes Charles' accent, so he can't complain, he supposes). Charles even shared his spare pencil once when Erik’s had been broken. Erik can easily imagine Charles as his friend- eating lunch during recess and solving division problems together in class. Erik could show Charles his Hot Wheels collection and build tracks around his room. Or he could ask his father to build them a tree-house and go diving in the lake.

Yes, Erik decides he would like that very much.

Erik wants to walk over to Charles and talk to him, but Charles is surrounded by their classmates, where he's explaining something with his hands. Erik wants to listen, too. He wants to know what Charles is saying; but that would mean mingling with the rest of his classmates, and that simply cannot happen. So Erik sticks to the glass he’s leaning against and pokes at it to distract himself. A grey shark glides in front of him in the water; like a sentinel in grey armour, like it guards the waters of the entire aquarium. Maybe it does.

Erik raptly watches it move for a few more minutes before Miss Moira calls for their attention.

‘Alright, class, please follow me,’ she says, gesturing them to follow her a few feet along the railing from where they’re currently standing. Erik follows at the tail end of the crowd reluctantly, and sticks to the edge of it when they all stop in front of Miss Moira.

After taking a quick headcount, Miss Moira points to a fish beyond the glass. It’s a small, yellowish fish-- nowhere big or as beautiful as a shark-- but passable.

‘This is the Callipterus Cichlid fish, which is found mostly in Lake Tanganyika.’

‘Isn’t Lake Tanganyika in Africa, Miss Moira?’ Charles asks, standing beside her and smiling brightly. His eyes are bluer than the water beyond the glass and his cheeks and lips are the same shade of pink. He's very cute, Erik decides quickly.

‘Yes, Charles, it is.’ Miss Moira agrees, mirroring his smile.

‘These fishes are known for their skill of…’ Miss Moira stops. She frowns at the fish for a moment and then adds: ‘making new friends.’

Erik’s classmates murmur and whisper amongst themselves before Miss Moira bids them to maintain silence.

‘These fish have developed a unique way to find… friends. When a Cichlid fish wishes company, he collects shells form the lake floor and piles it up fashionably.’

As she speaks, the fish that had earlier wandered behind a rock, now returns with a conical shell in its mouth and drops it on the small bed of shells beside a rock.

‘And if another Cichlid fish likes the collection of shells made by this guy, he gets a new friend. Genius, isn’t it?’ Miss Moira completes with a big smile.

It’s stupid, really. Why would you need shells to make a new friend?

But everyone else seems to like it a lot, clapping and cheering as they follow Miss Moira along the railing. Even Charles seems very happy. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Erik hears Charles say to Scott as the group moves past him.

Erik stays back after everyone moves to the next spot trailing behind Miss Moira, because he wants to see if it’s really such a ‘brilliant’ plan.

As Erik observes, the yellow fish wanders for a few more minutes, adding more shells to the shell bed. Ten minutes pass before another, smaller fish comes wandering and hovers above the edge of the bed of shells. The smaller fish inspects the shells for a moment before swimming over to the shell-collector fish.

Mein Gott, it really works!

An idea forms quickly in Erik’s mind.

Miss Moira had reprimanded them from venturing on the beach behind the compound of the aquarium during the briefing earlier. But if he could sneak out now, he’d be able to return by the time they're scheduled to leave. Miss Moira wouldn’t suspect a thing.

It’s really difficult to get nice shells-- one’s which are not caked with mud or moss-- but Erik is determined. After scouring the beach for nearly an hour, he collects enough shells to fit in both his pockets. Mama will probably scold him for the dirt on his pants, though.

Despite what the fish did, he can’t just present Charles with a bunch of shells, it feels stupid to Erik. That evening, after returning from the aquarium, Erik holes up in his room. He places all the shells he'd collected on his desk and rattles his brain for ideas.

He could paste all the shells on a paper or cardboard. No, that's a stupid idea.

He could make a necklace… or a crown. Yes, a crown would be ideal. Charles does look like a Sea Prince with his blue eyes and all.

Erik quickly gets to work, selecting a thin metal wire to hold all the shells and then discards it after further thought. No. Metal would be uncomfortable to wear. Too cold.

‘What are you still doing up, liebling? You should be in bed. You have school tomorrow.’ His Mama enters his room when he’s rummaging through his toys-- surely, he should find something there to hold the shells.

'I'm making a shell crown, Mama,' he says, holding up a reel of aluminum string that's just as useless.

'A crown?'

Erik sighs and turns towards her. 'I want to make a new friend,' he says, and then dives in to explaining the remarkable method the Cichlid fish use to make new friends and how he's planning to be Charles' friend by gifting him shells. His Mama listens to it all with a smile. She's pleased that he's trying to mingle, Erik knows.

'He looks like a Sea Prince, you say?' she asks, and Erik nods vigorously.

Mama hums. 'A crown will slip away from the head if it's too large or small.'

Oh. Erik has not thought about that. Charles does have a small head, and his hair is silky-- Erik hasn't touched it, but he just knows-- so it may slip away either way.

'Why don't you just set the shells on a string and give it to him. He can decide whether he wants to wear it as a necklace, bracelet or a crown.'

Yes. That's the best idea. His Mama is a genius!

'I'll be right back.' His Mama leaves and returns a few minutes later with a brown string. It's thicker than the metal wire. 'Try this,' she says, 'It'll hold the shells together and not irritate the skin.'

Erik doesn't question her further. If his Mama says it'll work, then it'll work, because his Mama knows everything.

Kissing his cheek and telling him not to stay up too late, she leaves Erik to get back to the shells.

With the super glue that he had taken from the tools kit earlier, Erik begins to paste the shells on the string. One by one. Carefully.

Erik spends the next day eyeing Charles from his last bench seat. Charles is sitting in the first bench and laughing at something Scott is saying.

Erik scowls. Stupid Scott.

He feels for the shell crown in the right pocket of his trousers just to make sure it's all in one piece. It's safe, none of the shells have come out of their alignment. Satisfied, Erik goes back to drawing a shark for his essay on the Aquarium trip.

The day slogs on after that. Erik’s time is spent eyeing Charles, checking on the shell crown and waiting for the clock to strike four.

The class starts to thin as the school-day ends. Erik stays behind waiting for Charles to finish a math problem with Hank.

'Charles,' Erik calls out hesitantly when it's just Charles and him in the class.

'Erik!' Charles says with a wide smile turning towards him. 'I didn't realise you were still in class.'

'Yes, well…' Erik walks up to Charles and pulls out the shell crown gently from his pocket and cups it in his palms.

What is he going to say though? Erik had planned what he'd do- wait till school gets over, walk up to Charles and give the shell crown. But he hadn't planned what he'd say.

Hi Charles, I wanted to make a friend because I have no one to talk to or eat lunch with or play after class or swim in the lake, and I thought that you'd be a nice friend because you're always so nice. And then in the aquarium yesterday the fish made new friends by collecting shells, and so I thought that I'll do the same with you because you thought it was a brilliant idea.

No! That sounds stupid even in his head; like something Scott would say.

'What is this?' Charles asks eyeing the shell crown in his hands.

'Um…' Instead of answering, Erik holds out the two ends of the string between his thumb and forefinger and holds out the shells in front of Charles. 'For you,' he says nervously, because if Charles doesn't like it, then he may not want to be Erik's friend.

Charles looks at the loop of shells for a moment and breaks into a wide smile. 'For me?'

'Yes. I collected the shells myself from the beach behind the aquarium.' It's a very important for Charles to know that he collected the shells because the Cichlids collect the shells themselves, too.

'Ah, that's why you were missing when Ms. Moira took us on a tour of the shark tank. I was looking for you everywhere!'

'You were looking for me?' Erik asks, surprised, because he didn't think Charles would be.

'Yes, I know how much you like sharks.'

Charles knows he likes sharks?

Before Erik can respond, Charles comes forward and stretches his hands out, and Erik places the shells carefully into the cup of the smaller boy's palms.

'What is it anyway. Can I wear this?' Charles asks enthusiastically, like when he talks about how banana trees are related to humans.

It's a shell crown, Erik wants to say, but then he remembers his Mama's suggestion. Best leave it to Charles to decide what to do with it. 'It's up you. You can wear it as a crown, or a necklace, or a bracelet, or an armband.'

Charles concentrates on the shells in his hands like he concentrates at the math problems on the board, then holds up the string to his neck and ties it's ends clumsily. 'I think I'll wear it as a necklace,' he says with a bright smile. 'Thank you, my friend!'

Charles called him his friend. It worked!

Erik grins. Cichlids are amazing fish. Probably his favourite fish after sharks.

'- Raven was crying for ice cream for two days, so Mr. Andrews has made Earl Grey ice cream today. Do you want to come over?' Charles is asking as he's packing his books and pencils.

His Mama gets either chocolate or vanilla ice cream, so he doesn't know about this new ice cream Charles is talking about, but Erik nods vigorously, because he's Charles' friend now, and they can eat ice cream together.

'Come on, let's get going then-'

'Charles, wait!' Erik says, hesitant to move. The method works only if the intended friend likes the shells, so his friendship with Charles depends on Charles' approval of them. 'Do you like it?'

'Of course,' Charles grins easily, like it were obvious. 'Does it not look nice? I think it's groovy!'

Erik grins smugly. He's thrilled- the shells look brilliant on Charles, he has made a new friend, and best of all, his new friend is Charles! Mama is going to be so happy.

'Perfection,' he says.

'A Shark Knight!' Raven blurts before bursting into boisterous laughter.

'Did he say that?' Eddie asks, amusement crinkling the skin further around her grey eyes.

Still consumed by her laughter, Raven nods mutely.

'Well, my Erik was thoroughly convinced that Charles was a Sea Prince till he was in sixth grade,' Eddie provides smugly before biting down on her chicken.

'I'm sitting right here, you know,' Erik interjects. Maybe it was a mistake inviting Raven and his mother for lunch together.

Charles, the bonafide traitor that he is, is chuckling beside Erik, enjoying the conversation immensely.

The two women expertly ignore Erik's protests and get back to pulling his leg.

Oh, it's all in good fun, Erik, Charles soothes when Erik begins to protest again. More shyly, he adds: You didn't tell me that you thought I was a Sea Prince.

You didn't tell me that you thought that I was a Shark Knight either.

'Erik made a Shell Crown as well.' His Mama adds to the background banter.

'Which Charles has been safekeeping for over two decades now,' Raven chimes in all too gleefully.

Charles chuckles into Erik's mind again. You know that the Cichlid fish use that method to attract mates, not to make friends, don't you? Poor Ms. Moira just didn't know how to convey it to her third grade class.

Well, I can't say I fault their system. I got a friend and a mate out of it. Just to prove his point, Erik winds his hand below the table and squeezes Charles' fingers, heating the gold band with his powers.

Charles hums happily. The tale of the Sea Prince and his Shark Knight. We should write a book about it.

I wouldn't be opposed to enacting it out in the bedroom tonight, Erik all but purrs the thought into Charles mind, complete with illustrations.

He smiles smugly when Charles chokes on his wine. And if love comes in the form of primitive marine creatures, who's Erik to complain.

On A03 here!

#cherik #cherik fic #kid!cherik #kid fic #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #:D #I had loads of fun writing this one #so I hope you guys like it!!#jjcherik

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awackyphdinadorkable · 5 years

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Cherik Moodboard: Enchanted AU

Note: This is supposed to be a little more detailed exploration of the plot bunnies I have in mind for this (though I am really happy to read that I am not the only one feeling a mighty need for such an AU). I hope to put that into fanfic one of these days, but until I find the time and muses needed… I guess this can be taken as a small preview. :)

In a magical kingdom far, far away lives a young man in a cottage in the woods. Charles is a man heading towards his personal happy ending, as does anyone. With his sister Raven, he has any intention to not only find his personal luck but also for other people. Raven and he are special – they possess a kind of magic. Charles can read people’s minds whereas his sister can change her outer appearance at will.

Charles since harbored the wish to become a teacher and wants to build a school for people like them, those with magical gifts. Westchester Castle would be perfect. And at last, the owner of the property is willing to negotiate a treaty with Charles so that he can build his school there.

However, his supposed benefactor strikes Charles as rather strange. Now meeting him for the first time in person – they conversed by letter before – he can’t read his mind. Charles believes it is due to the strange helmet Sebastian Shaw is wearing, but before he has any chance to investigate, Charles finds himself pushed into a well in Westchester’s garden, and just like that, he is gone…

Erik Lehnsherr is going about his life as a lawyer while keeping a low profile, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself or his teenage son who is busy giving him trouble instead of listening to his father. Until just recently, Erik didn’t even know Peter was his son because his mother and he fell out of touch when he moved to Poland.

Trying to make ends meet as a normal person is hard enough, but doing so as a mutant who has to keep his faster-than-lightning son from exposing them at a time when mutants are more and more under scrutiny is an entirely separate nightmare.

When Erik and Peter pass by Time Square after dinner, both are in for a surprise: A man in a medieval-looking costume runs around in the middle of the busy street, shouting at people to stop thinking. It takes Erik a moment, but then it dawns on him: that man is likely one of them, a mutant. Thus, he instructs Peter to use his lightning speed to get them out of the situation, whiplash notwithstanding.

Peter takes them back to Erik’s loft, where a still very clearly disoriented man with dark hair and beautiful blue eyes struggles with “so many voices.” Any effort of Erik’s to get the man’s personal details fail – knowing very well that the new identification laws for mutants he is desperate to dodge in court won’t do that man any favors if he just hands him over to authorities. But it’s no use.

“I like him,” Peter declares.

“Why?”

“He’s weird.”

“Ah.”

In an effort to help the young man struggling with his mutation, Erik tries to calm him by instructing the, for what it seems, telepath to only focus on his thoughts. Luckily, that solves some of the problems, though sadly, it also creates more since that telepath is strong enough to dig into the darkest corners of Erik’s mind, recovering all those painful memories he put away for good.

“I am so sorry, Erik.”

“It doesn’t matter. I want to know who you are, now that you took a look around my head. So?”

“I am Charles. And I believe something is very much at disarray.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean to say that… I seemingly ended up in the wrong world.”

As it turns out, Charles was sucked into another dimension. Erik nearly chokes on the name of the man Charles was busy making deals with. Sebastian Shaw. The man who made him into a monster. The man who killed his mother. The man he is still desperate to find and bring to justice.

However, as much as he wants revenge, Erik knows that figuring out the situation with Charles currently takes precedence.

“So we get to keep him?” Peter asks.

“You make it sound like he is a stray cat?”

“Well, he’s a stray guy, then. Though he definitely dresses fancier than the homeless guys down Time Square.”

“I would very much appreciate it if you granted me lodgings until I… well, acquainted,” Charles offers shyly. “It appears my home is in another dimension at this moment.”

Erik agrees to have Charles in his loft until they have this sorted out, though the thought of having a telepath in his home does nothing to calm his mind. After all, Charles accidentally dug in very deep already, and Erik has no intention of revisiting the memories he buried inside him.

The following days are filled with confusion foremost. Charles has some issue adjusting since cars, showers, or toasters are, to his mind, witchcraft. Though Charles seems curiously drawn to that which he doesn’t know, which only ever seems to fuel Peter to show Charles the “ways to modernity” by declaring himself Charles’s personal “reality tour guide.”

While Charles can be convinced to wear something more up-to-date to blend in better in public, his way of expression and lack of knowledge continue to get Erik into one awkward situation after the other.

When Charles starts an impromptu musical number in the park, Erik is just about to lose it, though.

Things hit another level of oddity when Peter’s mother checks in on them without letting Erik know of her surprise visit in advance, only to start making comments about how he seemingly "switched teams" after she runs into a half-naked Charles emerging from the bathroom after yet another hot shower, which he finds an “absolutely fantastic invention” they should have long since adopted in his world.

“It is so convenient!”

Despite their continuing clashes, especially once both discuss the methods of their taking on Shaw, the two have a vested interest in finding the man. After all, Charles himself has any intention to get back home to his sister, for whose safety he fears.

Unknown to them, Raven has since taken it upon herself to search for her brother after he didn’t return from his business dealings with Sebastian Shaw as he promised. And Charles always keeps his promises.

She travels to Westchester. While looking for her brother, she nearly walks in on Shaw talking to some of his minions. Raven can gather that Shaw needed to get rid of Charles because of his powerful mind that may have the power to destroy his plans of world dominion – and used Westchester as a way of luring him into a trap. Though, to Shaw’s dismay, something went wrong and Charles was not killed – as it was planned – but sent to another dimension.

“That’s the trouble with the fairytale world. Here, we can’t win – because the bad never wins here, but that doesn’t mean we can’t gather our weapons and then head back to our terrain where we most certainly can.”

One of his fellows, a blonde woman going by the name Emma Frost, is tasked to travel to that dimension and “take care of business” and ensure that Charles doesn’t get into their way a second time once they launch their plan in the other dimension.

Shaw releases a blast of energy through which Emma can travel to that dimension. Raven takes a chance and sneaks in after the blonde woman without anyone’s realization, only to find herself in the middle of Central Park, naked, blue, in her natural shape – and thus in the eye of everyone.

Unable to control her abilities, Raven has no other choice but to seek cover until she gets a hold of her magic. After all, she has to find Charles before this Emma Frost can.

Though help may soon be on the way when she runs into Hank, a young man who loves video games and tells her that she looks exactly like one of the characters of his club’s most beloved game. The group hails her like some kind of blue goddess, which Raven finds flattering, surely, but she really needs to find her brother first.

Hank volunteers to help her, arguing that she won’t have to hide at the convention he intends to visit, because everyone walks around in costumes there. He reveals to her that this is the one occasion where he also travels around in his natural shape – which is, like hers, blue. Just with a lot more fur. Raven agrees, hoping that going from there, she may have it easier to find Charles. And the prospect of being able to be herself in public, she will have to admit, is all the more intriguing.

In some other part of the city around the same time, Erik has his dear trouble taking care of a kleptomaniac teenage mutant who won’t listen to a word he says and an adult mutant who walks the earth with the curiosity of a child, leaving Erik wondering whether he truly is the only adult in the room.

But then again, Charles is from fairytale land where everyone is happy and where no bad can come to you. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that Charles won’t see the bad in the world when Erik witnessed it firsthand, more than once.

Yet, there is a part of Erik that is completely enchanted by that man’s perception of the world, the happiness and hope he radiates and inspires.

Charles, for his part, finds himself both irritated and fascinated not just by this strange world but the man so kind to take him in. There is a great deal of darkness in Erik that Charles never witnessed back in his world – because it doesn’t exist where he comes from. And more than anything, he wants Erik to see the part Charles saw for himself when he accidentally looked into Erik’s mind, but Erik keeps ignoring this light – all the good in him, his love and his compassion, among many other things. Yet, Charles remains determined to show him just that magic.

In an effort to help mend the fractured relationship between Peter and Erik, Charles tries to communicate their feelings to one another, as this father-son pair fails to express what they truly think and feel. While Erik feels offended at first, he realizes that Charles is doing so with best intentions in mind – and actually succeeds to build a bridge between the two after Erik already thought he’d lose yet another child, like back in Poland.

Things take a sudden turn when Peter takes Charles to a convention in the city, so that Charles can “let the weird run wild and free” – only to run into none other than Hank and Raven.

While everyone is happily reunited, Erik is only left wondering just how many more “stray people” according to Peter he’ll have to take in. Though thankfully, Hank proves to be of help, having developed a device that would increase a telepath’s abilities so drastically that he or she could locate other mutants. Charles is thrilled by the idea, hoping that this will finally give him a chance to track down Shaw, not only for Erik’s sake but now also to make sure that Raven makes her way back home safely.

Erik, while driven to finally find Shaw after all those years, finds his mind constantly overwritten by his growing worry and care for Charles, who, to his mind, puts himself in far too much danger in an effort to find Shaw.

While Charles can’t locate Shaw thanks to the helmet, they end up with a lead on the woman Raven followed, Emma Frost. Conveniently, she hosts a ball that is supposed to be a great finale for the convention – though really just for high society – which may prove like a good opportunity to get some answers.

Thanks to Charles’s convincing, the group has no trouble getting in.

And yet, trouble lurks just behind the next corner, since they are not the only ones with special abilities – and the will to see their goals achieved.

Erik fears that he will remain right in the end – that in his world, there are no happy ending stories…

#cherik #cherik au #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men au #enchanted au #i have a lot of cherik feels mkay #and I am a thirsty hoe for disney adaptations #I can't help it #I mean #I could #but I don't want to

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crystallized-iron · 4 years

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Fic Recs

I really don’t read as much as I should, but there have been some really great ones. MCU and X-Men recs under the read more.

I think... if I counted right, this is 25 recs here. I may have gotten carried away a little bit. Enjoy.

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Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Kellyscams Rating: Explicit

Steve's just moved back to Brooklyn after spending ten years in California trying to make a life for himself as an artist right after high school. Having escaped to the other side of the country following the sudden death of his mother, Steve feels guilty about abruptly leaving all his friends for so long, unfulfilled, scared and nervous about started college at his age, and unbelievably lonely. So when he meets Bucky Barnes, a young sex-worker, at a bar the night before his first day of classes, temptations might be too high to resist.

One night paying for sex with the most sinfully gorgeous guy is nothing to brag to the papers about, huh?

S'not like he'll ever see him again anyway...

...Right?

And we pulled each other like gravity by hllfire Rating: Explicit

Erik accompanies Charles, Crown Prince of the Xavier Empire, to his first diplomatic meeting on the planet Themis, where he finds out something about the Prince and they end up talking about the past and how their paths had crossed before.

Fill for the Day 1 of Cherik Week: Space AU.

Bitter Sweet by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Bucky comes home from the war, finds out he has a daughter he never knew existed and now he must cope with life after the war while taking care of her.

Alternate timeline where Bucky's rescued after falling from the train, but Steve was never told and goes into the ice anyway.

Broken by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

It took months of therapy for Bucky to break his Winter Soldier conditioning, and Steve was there for him, encouraging him to talk about his past, his fears, his time as the Soldier. And Bucky talked about everything-- except why the barest mention of an Alpha makes him panic. When Steve brings Bucky home, Alpha!Tony is ready to welcome Bucky with open arms and wings, but Bucky can't look at him, can't be in the same room without his wings flaring out to keep the Alpha away, a broken Omega panicking in the presence of a strong Alpha. But Tony is a good Alpha, and the team pulls together to help Bucky, showing him what it means to be loved, to be healthy and whole, and one day when Tony holds his hand out, Bucky trusts him enough to take it. And Bucky realizes that with a family behind him, with the safety hes found in the Omegas, the companionship from the Betas, and the unconditional love from the Alpha--HIS alpha, he isn’t broken at all. But with a team like the Avengers, tragedy is never far off, and this one rocks the family to their core. How can they fix the broken pieces of their lives when their Alpha is gone?

Close to you, I’m home by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

As Erik is searching the manor, he finds something strange in the attic. He knows that he needs to go to Charles, if he wants some answers. After all, why would there be a nest in a small dusty attic room, when there were countless rooms with ridiculously soft beds all around the manor?

Goodbye Brothers by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

A look at Dum-e during the events of Iron Man 3 and beyond.

It’s Not What You Think... by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Bucky walks in on Tony dirty talking in the lab but it's not what he thinks.

Letters to Bucky by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

Stuck in rehab after a near-fatal accident, Tony reaches out via letters to a soldier overseas, and Bucky is more than happy to write back, drawn to Tony for a reason he can't quite name. One or two letters turn into a years worth, then come the phone calls, with Tony quickly realizing that Bucky's voice, with that rolling Brooklyn accent might be his new favorite sound. When Bucky shows up unannounced at Tony's door, one thing leads to another and maybe a confession or two is made. But Bucky's tour overseas isn't over yet, not even close, and they have months more of distance between them. Then Bucky disappears, missing in action, and Tony doesn't know if he will ever get his soldier back. And if Bucky DOES make it home, will he be the same boy from Brooklyn who sent Tony love poems, or has his time away and his injuries changed him for good?

BONUS CHRISTMAS CHAPTER ADDED 12/10/18

Let your light shine by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Inspired by Moomin TV series from 1990 and the episodes “The invisible friend” and “The invisible Child”. It’s the start of the summer break and Erik, a 13 year old boy living in a small house with his mother in the outskirts a small(ish) English town, is stuck in home because of the rain. The evening seems to get interesting though, when a strange man arrives with an invisible telepath boy and asks them to help him become visible again.

Loving a Vampire by Feelingsinwinter Rating: Mature

In the 19th century, Tony is a greatly appreciated and skilled inspector. His dire need to find the murderers and killers to every case he is given is well known among the people and while it doesn’t always help him to get the answers he needs, at least it makes it easier to convince people to talk to him. When Mary Ann Nichols is found dead, Tony Stark doesn’t know the investigation will put his life in harm’s way, put his marriage with one James Buchanan Barnes on shaky ground and shove him in a situation he wasn’t ready to face.

When a murderer does their best to earn the name of a monster, Tony is ready to do anything to stop them.

My beacon in a storm that is the world by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Erik hated this planet. And he had seen a few along the years as a pilot of the most troublesome research team that had ever existed.

Or, they find a new alien species and Erik catches a bad case of feelings ragarding his relationship with Charles.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts by Kellyscams Rating: Explicit

When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

Pirates Heart by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

The 1700s, the Golden Age of Piracy, and Captain Steve Rogers has all he wants: a ship, a loyal crew, Bucky at his side, and the horizon offering a new adventure everyday. But an impulsive kiss gone wrong leads to a marriage between Steve and Tony Stark, and now Steve doesn't know what to do about ANYTHING. Steve loves Bucky, but something about Tony draws him in. Tony is too innocent for this life, but he picks up a sword anyway. Bucky is Steve's, but when he offers his hand to Tony and now the three of them are something new. When the truth about Steve's mission to ruin the Stark name comes out, Tony runs away, leaving Steve and Bucky behind in search of answers to the secrets hidden from him his whole life-- about his company, about Uncle Obie, about his parents death.

Steve and Bucky cant abandon their mission against Stane and Tony cant deal with the answers he finds in New York. Is this the end? Is Tony gone forever? Or will he leave his old life and return to the sea and the Pirates that hold his heart?

**BONUS CHAPTER ADDED 2/4/19!!** **BONUS CHAPTER ADDED 5/15/20!!**

Random Encounter by g33kyclassic Rating: Explicit

Charles is just a typical London commuter...until he sees the most gorgeous man on earth standing a few feet away from him.

Regret is in the past by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Six years after first class, the cold war escalates and the missiles are fired, destroying the world as it was known. Those who managed to live, fight for survival against each other and against the living dead. One would think that the mutants have advantage, but Shaw was wrong in his assumption that the radiation would make them stronger. On the contrary, it made them weaker, their powers only half of what they used to be. In this world of waste land, Erik and what’s left of the brotherhood are trying to survive. It’s five years later, they are cornered by the zombies while they were trying to gather supplies in abandoned town. The situation seems hopeless, until a silver haired boy appears out of nowhere and tells them to be ready to run.

Small Indiscretions (Can Save the World) by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Captain Steve Rogers has defeated the Red Skull but lost his own life in the process, leaving behind a grieving Peggy and guilt-ridden Howard Stark. After looking to Howard for comfort following her great loss, Peggy finds herself facing the scariest mission she’s ever encountered: motherhood.

While this news is devastatingly unwanted for Peggy, Howard sees this as a golden opportunity to give his bride Maria the child she never thought she could have. With a little convincing and promises that she won’t have to be involved with the child’s life if she doesn’t want to be, Peggy agrees to keep and have the baby for the Starks, own personal comfort be damned. She wasn't planning on it being so hard, or finding someone she didn't want to lie to along the way. AKA what if Peggy Carter was more than just Tony Stark’s badass aunt?

The Consequence of Hiding by g33kyclassic Rating: Explicit

Charles is completing his PhD at Oxford when he finds himself in dire need of a new job to support himself and Raven. Erik is a grumpy Mutant Student Counsellor who has yet to fill his student assistant position. Enter Prof. MacTaggert and her matchmaking ways to bring her student and her friend together (in platonic, professional compatibility, of course). Will things stay platonic for Charles and Erik? Only time will tell.

The Funeral by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Tony attends the viewing and funeral of his parents. The other members of the company's board are not amused by his actions there.

The Risks by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Inspired by post on Tumblr It takes Erik by surprise how Mystique doesn't seem to remember just how much Charles has done and risked for them, for their kind. But it seems that Erik wasn't quite aware of the risks either.

The Robot Who Could Feel Pain by slightly_salty_ace Rating: Teen

In which Tony leaves Afghanistan more machine than human. Or rather, Iron Man leaves Afghanistan. To the world, Tony Stark is dead.

Or...

Steve is convinced that Iron Man is just a robot with sass because the future is a strange place and he's stopped questioning things.

But when someone from Tony Stark's past returns, putting Iron Man in danger, Steve is forced to start asking questions. Specifically questions about his feelings towards a certain red and gold robot.

The Shared Dream by TurtleTotem Rating: Teen

Charles's cryo-pod malfunctions and wakes him up a century before everyone else. Will he spend the rest of his life alone on a ship full of sleepers? (A Passengers AU.)

The Soldier by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Explicit - Read Warning and Tags!

There's something wrong with Bucky. Something very wrong and it may have dire consequences for his friends and loved ones.

Time Falls Away by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Mature

The Battle of New York: Tony flies himself and the nuke through the wormhole and when his suit shuts down and he starts to fall, he knows he's going to die. But then he wakes up in an alley in Brooklyn, two strangers staring down at him in confusion and Tony is sure he is dreaming when he shakes hands first with pre-serum Steve Rogers, and then Bucky Barnes. Trapped in 1942, Tony befriends Steve, and falls in love with Bucky but America is at war, and Bucky and Steve ship out to join the cause. Tony knows all the stories about the Howling Commandos and knows what’s coming for the soldiers, and has to live through history as first Bucky falls, and then Steve disappears. Tony is left alone in the 40's, crying himself to sleep in the house he had shared with his best friend and his lover. But then he wakes up on the pavement in New York, the Hulk roaring in his face, Steve staring down at him, and he has to wonder if it was all a hallucination. When Tony fell through the sky, did he fall through time as well? Why does Steve act so cold towards him? Were he and Bucky really that happy together?

Did it all really happen, or is Tony in love with a life he can only have in his dreams?

We want the same thing by hllfire Rating: Mature

Charles is locked up underground, where his telepathy won't be a problem, deemed too dangerous now to be kept free. Erik pays a visit.

Fill for the Day 2 of Cherik Week: Dark!Charles.

Your Love Alone Is Not Enough by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Explicit - Read Warning and Tags!

In an alternative post Civil War, Clint and Bucky fell in love and tried to make a life together. But then Thanos happened and Clint embraced the darkness within himself trying to cope with all his loss.

This is how after Bucky returned, Clint still can't cope with what happened and who he's become. How even though he seems to have it all, his own mind is his now his greatest enemy. Bucky tries to help but how do you help someone that doesn't believe he should be saved?

#fic recs #too many different ships #mcu recs #xmen recs #enjoy

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confessionsofanoperaghost · 5 years

Note

🎭 for the PotO meme

1. Does the name “Erik” get your attention, no matter where or in what context you hear it? ,,,,,,,,,,actually yes.

2. Would you travel or have you traveled to certain places only because they were PotO-related? Which ones? I certainly would! And I have a long long list of places that are from my headcanon as well! But sadly they are in Europe, Asia and the Middle East. Cost is a factor.

3. Would you see the musical by yourself because your friends or family weren’t in the mood to go with you? Have you done so already? I haven’t and I might. It really depends on how my relationship to the musical changes over the next 20-60 years. I’m not keen on most of ALW’s recent touch on the franchise and I’m worried about more and more or Maria Bjornson’s work getting dropped from the tour (and rumors say maybe from the Broadway and WE productions as well in time??). So, we’ll see. I will be happy to outlive ALW and bear witness to the various ways the The Really Useful Group shoots itself in the foot. But its so expensive to watch something that’s only going to break your heart--and not in the ways you want it to. So it REALLY depends.

4. How often have you seen the musical? I have seen it exactly once. It came to my hometown in 1999 (I was 15) and I spent every penny I could scrape together to get an orchestra-level ticket. And frankly I was unimpressed. I never went back. I feel bad for saying it. It might have been better for me if I had grown up with bootlegs, but I had only read the book and listened to the OLC. I literally didn’t know what to expect from the tour. I’m not sure.

5. How much PotO stuff do you own? I should just say “a lot of stuff I dunno, lol” but I suddenly want to think about this.

My original deMattos paperback

A David Coward paperback

A Wolfe paperback (its at a friend’s house at the moment)

The “milestone collection” two DVD disc set with all the extras of the 1925 Poto with Lon Chaney Sr (my babe!!!)

The Cherik miniseries (as a bootleg copy on DVD...i paid good money for it tho, lol)

the 2004 movie cuz it was cheap as hell

Original London Cast recording of the ALW musical on CD

This BRILLIANT book about the making of the 1925 silent film

An actual first run copy of The Phantom of Manhattan by Fredrick Forsythe (purchased for me on clearance as a joke.)

A cheap copy of Susan Kay’s book that a friend picked up for me. I’ve been asked to do a seething read-along. I figured I should probably own the book before I literally rip it a brand new shiny asshole on YouTube...

a weird, like, 14 pages long, full color, SUPER condensed version of the book with Greg Hildebrant’s drawings. This was the present our teacher purchased for the acting class that produced a weird 1970′s straight-play version of the story that no one seems to remember now (its not particularly good so don’t worry)

the “Barnes and Noble” deMattos hardcover edition that --because it started to fall apart right away--I have been using for art projects and pop-culture-based spells

A large locket with Lon Chaney’s Erik (and his Quasimodo)

one of Muirin007′s gorgeous prints

An adorable necklace made by MegLouiseGiry that’s got a slice from the book in it and a heart-shaped crystal (Poto Secret Santa 2017)

A Lon Chaney 1925 POTO T Shirt. And it glows in the dark! (I got his Quasi on a shirt too but sadly it does not glow in the dark)

a 17,000+ word Google document: a sticky rough draft of my Erik-life-story Phic that I may or may not have been working on for 2 decades.

similarly, a red and gold notebook stuffed with tangled notes and headcanons and bad phan poetry from the 1990s

A bunch of other books that look unrelated to the untrained eye (for research)

a 6 inch figure of Lon Chaney’s POTO dangling from a plastic chandelier that happens to be about to scale

a thousand other items that may not look like references to Poto to the untrained eye... like: a red scarf and round-framed spectacles and an antique violin case and a choking kink and a skull mask and a dramatic red and gold cape and daddy issues and a balcony overlooking the sea and a black mask that covers the whole face and an attraction to the most beautiful hands........

6. Have you had dreams about the Phantom or other characters? Do you remember any in particular? I’ve only had dreams about Erik. Usually I am myself or Christine or some slurry of the two. Here’s the best one:

Saturday, November 19, 2016. True Beauty.

There was the theatre. The wings and the lifts. Backstage lights. Curtains.

Joseph Bouquet spots the fiend in the catwalks and is--fast as lightning--slaughtered by the quickest of lassos. Other stagehands and security ascend to the tops, chasing a shadow they can barely see. Someone thinks they’ve captured his cloak only to find their fists full of nothing.They chase this shadow to the roof and find nothing but stars as the phantom killer slips away...down into the dark.

Carved structure. The dark is black and warm. He feels near. Yes, Erik has come for you. A lucid dream, I am both player and played.

I am playing you.

You feel a dance. You cannot find your way out of all that warm darkness. Though she cannot see, she feels her maestro all around. Unable to retreat, unable to find light; she turns but I am already there... darkness and a warm, red, deep glow. She twists in anxiety and frustration--away! away! away!-- breathing as though she is counting her final breaths. Twisting and trying to find some cool air or a bit of sunlight.

Erik shows her that there is no escape from Erik. He is is every corner of her.

She succumbs.

7. How many times have you read the book? Literally more than I can count. At 15 I had MOST of Chapter 13, Apollo’s Lyre, memorized (deMattos translation). Iv’e only read it in English and I have yet to read some of the less-recommended translations.

8. How many songs from the musical could you recite from memory? (Or just sing along to?) So I have almost the whole thing more-or-less memorized EXCEPT that its ONLY the version as sung in the Original London Cast recording. So every single line that has been changed since then (or god forbid an unedited soundtrack where all the choruses of Hannibal are included, lol) I get wrong. But yeah i listened to that nightly for like 2 years of my adolescence and I can hardly listen to any of it now. I burned places in my synapses.

9. Do you randomly quote lines from the book or musical in real life? Don’t you? Honestly, the most fun I have is calling up fun lines and needle them into my vocabulary throughout a regular day. Unless you do an obvious one your average person isn’t going to know.

10. Have you ever met up with another phan? Yes but by the time I’ve me up with them its definitely about something more relevant than the Phandom that brought us together.

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awackyphdinadorkable · 5 years

Text

Snippety snip for that Pearl Harbor AU I keep obsessing about... for reasons.

As mentioned in this post, I can’t stop thinking about an AU based on the Pearl Harbor movie… to the point that I started writing something even though I really shouldn’t, but I can’t stop thinking about it (obsessing about it…) because it gives me massive Cherik feels, what can I say?

And all those wonderful gifs people keep creating for the Paris Proposal scene in Dark Phoenix (thank you all so very much for this!!!) only ever sent me more into dem feelz mode. So yeah, I’ll make y’all suffer with me with (VERY drafty) cheesy kiddy Cherik stuff for now since we’d definitely explore those boys throughout the years in that Pearl Harbor AU for ALL of the pining.

*salutes*

——————————

There once was a young man whose father made him wings so he could fly. Feathers and wax and wood brought together to bring into the sky what otherwise was bound to the earth. A man grew wings. Like a bird, Icarus soared up into the sky.

Yet, the higher he flew, the warmer the sun, the softer the wax became.

He flew higher than any man had ever done.

And perhaps even higher than some birds dared to reach, even though they are the princes of the sky, the kings in small whose only limit is the sky itself.

He did the impossible, made it possible, bound it down, made it smaller, brought it down to the earth by bringing himself so much up higher.

He made man fly.

He conquered the air where so many generations before him had conquered the same grounds below over and over, drawing invisible boundaries in the sand, which was a cheap magic trick at best, nothing compared to what he achieved with wood, wax, and feathers.

He discovered a land no man knew, no man could divide or claim, because the sky belonged to no one, won’t ever belong to anyone, as fleeting as it is, as fast as it drifts away, as vast and unending it shall forever remain.

He tasted the freedom of a man who left everything behind except for himself, except for the sky and the sun shining within it, breaking through the clouds, sending a golden glow across the wings a father gave to his son to conquer, to discover, to see.

And as high as he flew, so deep he fell, leaving no more than a father weeping at his tomb, and a name to pass into legend, a myth to last for many generations yet to come, inspiration for a great many tales and stories meant to warn us, caution us, towards the height of hubris.

And yet, against all warnings, people decided to climb into the sky again… and again… and again. Wax and feathers became canvas and wooden machinery. Wood and canvas became metal. And metal, despite its weight, against all odds, learned to climb higher than any solid element should ever reach.

Or so one would think.

And yet, people kept falling from the sky, knowing what had happened to this young man, having learned his story, his tale, his name, knowing how deep he had fallen, knowing the warnings – and ignoring them.

They kept falling from the sky and rising again… and again… and again.

Which begs all but one question: Why does man want to fly?

The answer? Over that the philosophers will likely continue to agree to disagree.

But if there is one thing people seem to agree upon regarding the matter, it’s this:

Flying means freedom.

Up in the sky, there are no laws, no rules, nothing to hold you down, nothing to hold you back. There is just the air and the clouds and the birds and the sun – and you, brave yet foolish man, trying to climb higher than all those before you tried to reach before.

And only if you fly too high, only if you let pride and hubris gain victory over the sweet taste of freedom, does wax turn fluid, does canvas tear, and metal shriek, to teach you the limits of your own nature once more, down on the ground below, leaving nothing but unmarked tombs, only few of which will pass into legend.

But if you allow the winds to carry you, if you give yourself to the sky, to its vastness, its limitlessness, there is nothing to hold you back.

And yet, us humans? We are no birds. We are no creatures of the sky.

We are no princes or kings of this most curious space without a place.

We are always bound to return to the ground below eventually.

In the end, we trade freedom for a landing place.

For a home.

That is where we began.

That is where we return.

That is where we end.

Each and every time, even when hubris claims us viciously, it is to this earth that we return.

So why does man land and not keep flying, if given the chance?

And there seems to be just one answer:

Because the price for freedom is responsibility, is trust, is family.

The price for freedom is having something to return to.

The price for freedom is being bound to something, someone, a thread attached to your ankle, never pulling you down but always connecting you to the dust from which you rose and to which you will return.

You may no longer be as free as you were, as free as the princes of the sky, forever up in vastness, without limits, but at the very least, you will know that, on the ground below, this one yet powerful truth that the sky cannot give you:

You are not alone.

——————————

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t even be here.”

“And you should know that I don’t care.”

“If someone catches us…”

“We run. Now c’mon, Charles! Don’t be a chicken!”

“I am no chicken, Erik!”

“Then come and prove it!”

Charles wrinkles his nose, his lips curling into a petulant frown. No, Charles Francis Xavier is most certainly no chicken, and he would rather die than leave his best friend under the belief that it is so. Yet, they shouldn’t be out, not at that hour, not outside, and certainly, nowhere near the hangar.

The young boy doesn’t get to ponder that for much longer, however, as Erik takes a hold of his wrist and pulls him along, the way Erik always does. And if Charles were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he likes to be pulled along by Erik, away from the mansion, away from a house with too many rooms and too much space. He particularly likes it when Erik pulls him over to the house at the far end of the property where he and his mother live. It’s always warm there. There is not too much space for someone to fill who walks inside. And the moment either Erik, his mother, or the two of them are there, Charles finds that the house is just about perfect because there is someone in every room. There is light and the smell of burned candles and sourdough bread.

Oftentimes, Charles wished he lived there instead of the sometimes, very often, far too large estate with too many rooms and too few people to take up the space within. While he never knew another house to live in, Charles still finds himself scared of shadows behind vases that look like people he can only faintly hear whisper somewhere, distantly, and make him want to run away and never look back. He never has the urge to run from Erik’s house, though. He always feels welcome there, and he knows every small object, every shadow, in the flickering light of a dozen candles.

Erik’s mother is kind and has a soft voice that puts Charles mind to rest whenever he comes through the door, giving Charles the most curious feeling of coming home when he knows his home is the large building at the other end of the property. And she always smiles so brightly when Charles comes to their small house with some flowers he plucked in the gardens for her in hand, which makes it all the better. There is warmth in that small house where there is cold in the residence his family lives in. So yes, he’d wished that one of these days, he could allow Erik to pull him all the way to the house, one last time, and then never go back to the mansion.

Not that this is ever going to happen, of course. Charles knows that.

However, more than anything, he’d want to have Erik around him all the time. As many hours as they spend together, just as many more Charles would want to have Erik around him.

Because Erik means adventure.

Erik means excitement.

Actually, the name Erik means “eternal ruler” in Old Norse, alternatively from the Germanic word “Ehre” for honor and the Proto-Germanic word for “king.” Thus, Erik means “the honorable king.” At least that is what Charles read in one of the many, many books at his disposal, back when Erik and his mother first came to Westchester. He was very interested in this small family the moment he got to know Erik’s mother through her work in the house, so much more than Charles was with his studies – for the first time in his life. Because they had such a lovely accent and their presence on the estate held the promise of a companionship Charles didn’t know until he found it in Erik.

So yes, Erik actually means something along the lines of an honorable, eternal king, which Charles finds fitting enough, but that is not what Erik means to him.

Erik, to Charles, means getting out of his study, away from his home tutors, away from his books, even though Charles loves those dearly.

Erik means being outside.

Erik means sunlight and rolling on the grass and dozing off until his mother calls him away for dinner.

Erik means sneaking into each other’s rooms late at night, and listening to songs.

And above all, Erik means flying.

“I still can’t believe your father had that plane and no one ever told me!” Erik roars as they steal inside the hangar. Charles tags along, only looking back over his shoulder once. It can’t be helped anyway, he knows that much, too.

Once Erik made up his mind, his resolution is absolute.

Once inside, both let go and roam around, though the two boys soon gravitate towards the same object. Erik’s smile broadens as he approaches, stroking the smooth steel with his fingers.

Erik also means steel, means metal, tin, gold, silver, copper, all of the elements that can be drawn with the power of a magnet.

His friend often says he can hear metal, and Charles has no doubt in his mind that Erik can. After all, Erik never lies to him. And the way he touches metal, Charles knows for certain that he can hear a song no one else can hear. There are those times when Charles wished he could hear it, too, but then again, Erik also told him how hard it is at times, to keep himself together, not to lose composure, not to let the song ebb into this world and move metal objects by accident and get someone hurt.

Charles knows that song too well himself, albeit a different stanza and melody. While he cannot hear the song of metal, Charles hears other things, voices, and sadly, they are not nearly as often soft singing voices that come from the stroke of metal or Erik’s mother humming German nursery songs while she is cooking dinner. In fact, the song he hears often scares Charles, because there are too many voices, singing at once, never creating harmony but discord, growing louder and louder and louder until he can’t even hear his own voice inside his head anymore.

However, Erik means reassurance and calm, and that helps a lot.

Because they are together. And so long they are together, Charles knows he has someone who knows this song and who understands how tired one can grow of having to listen to it, having to ignore it.

They are together.

And together, they are never alone.

Sometimes, life can be that simple.

“Well, my stepfather does not appreciate me going here,” Charles says, standing one step behind Erik, not yet daring to reach out to the plane shining far brighter in the light than it should have any right to do. Because it’s far too tempting to ignore.

Erik turns around to Charles with a huff. “Does he appreciate anything other than you studying?”

“… Money?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then no.”

“See, and that’s why that guy is a lost cause,” Erik huffs, waving his left wrist in the air, before clapping it against the side of the airplane. “Look at this beauty. If you can ignore that for money’s sake, you really don’t deserve having it.”

“My grandfather actually used to fly one in war, I think. My father not, at least that is what Mother said,” Charles recounts. His father was a scientist, though he died shortly after Charles was born, leaving only ever so vague memories and washed photographs from his mother on his mind.

“Your people are odd.”

“I know.”

“You are odd, too.”

Charles nudges him in the side with a pout. “Hey!”

“I like that about you, not about them, but your oddness… it’s alright,” Erik sniggers.

“Why, thank you, Erik. I like your oddness, too.”

“Much appreciated.”

And while it’s said in sport just now, it holds more truth than most would ever come to comprehend. Because they are not like everyone else, but between them, that never was a problem. If at all, it only ever brought them closer together.

“So now. We gotta get in!”

“I still don’t find this a good idea,” Charles argues.

“Which is why I am leading this operation,” Erik says, pointing at himself with his thumb. “Do you see a ladder somewhere?”

Charles snorts at that. “Don’t you know as the head of the operation?”

Erik rolls his eyes at him before going around looking for one. Charles spots it with ease and puts up the ladder with a thud to announce his little victory. “There you go.”

“One can always count on you, Charles,” Erik laughs, clapping the slightly shorter boy on the shoulder, before grabbing the ladder with the other hand. “I get to sit in the front!”

“Why?”

“Because I am older.”

“Just by two years.”

“Still older by two years.”

“But I am smarter.”

“I am taller.”

“Which means you’d better be in the back so I can see,” Charles points out. Erik looks at him for a long moment, curling his lips in a pensive frown before answering, “… I can make myself smaller.”

Charles leans his head back with a grunt. “Just get in.”

Erik smirks before climbing the ladder, quick to hold out his hand to help Charles get into the back of the biplane’s passenger seat. Charles accepts reluctantly, but then again, Erik always pulls him along, so why would that be any different.

Once both are seated, it feels like a whole new world opens before their eyes. As many hours as they pretended to be pilots flying over the green grass of the Westchester Mansion, it should be little surprising to anyone that this is what the two want to do for the rest of their lives.

“That’s the best thing ever! And one of these days, Charles, we’re going to fly it,” Erik croons, moving his hands over the controls excitedly.

“Well, not if you asked my stepfather.”

“Who says I’m asking him?”

Charles shrugs. “True again.”

Erik also means simplicity. Charles tends to overthink things at times, because there is just so much on it, not just his own melodies but so many others, that he finds it all the more calming to have someone around him with a mind as clear as Erik’s.

Erik wrinkles his nose as he pats the steering arm. “You know, as great as it is, we are lacking scenery. Do you think you can help with that?”

“You want me to?” Charles blinks at him.

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, genius.”

Charles smiles before pressing his fingers to his temple, concentrating hard on the images of a blue sky with brightly white clouds. He calls to mind the flight show Erik and he went to last year, which firmly cemented their opinion that there was no other place but the sky for them. And it is this image he manifests not just in his mind but also in Erik’s.

With Erik, Charles doesn’t have to hide his abilities. He even lets him try some things, lets him train by touching his friend’s mind to learn how to do it right. Charles does the same when it comes to Erik learning to move metal – Erik can move whatever objects he wants to see fly in the air so long they are alone, and Charles sees to it that whatever he may end up breaking is replaced before anyone can notice.

Between them, they can be who they are.

And in that way, they are as free as the birds in the sky.

And so, Erik means freedom.

“That’s it! Just like at the show!” Erik shouts, clapping his hands on his thighs as he watches the scenery Charles creates, now with airplanes soaring through the sky. “You’re getting so much better at this, Charles! Amazing!”

“Attack from the left!” Charles yells, allowing for a red biplane similar in design to the one they sit in to cut through the clouds and opening fire on them. Erik roars as he throws his body to the left, moving the plane away from the bullets inside both their minds.

“Oh, that was close! We gotta make a loop next!” Erik croons.

“Here it comes!” Charles warns him. Inside their heads, the plane goes higher and higher, perpendicular to the ground, all the way until blue fades into white and even that powerful red plane can’t reach them.

Erik throws his hands up in excitement. “This feels even more real than last time! I feel like we are moving, Charles!”

What both boys missed in their little flight show is that Erik’s movements and lack of attention to his own powers led to the metal blocks to stop the plane from moving having been swept out of the way and setting the plane not just into motion but also into action as the rotors start to turn and the engine begins to roar.

Charles looks down, noticing that he did not create that inside their minds by any means. “Because we are!”

“As I said, your act’s gotten really good, Charles!”

“Erik, I mean it, we are moving!”

Erik looks down, snapping out of the illusion back into the reality of them rolling through the hangar. “Oh oh.”

“Push the brakes!”

“I am trying, it’s not working!”

“What?!”

“I can’t push them down!”

“Not tall enough after all?”

“Charles!”

“Then use your powers! Make it stop!”

“It’s too big!” Erik insists.

Charles looks around frantically as he sees them approaching the doors at a growing speed.

“The doors!” the younger boy screams. “Open those!”

“That should work!” Erik yells back before focusing all of his attention on the already ajar doors, which need just one shove in the right direction. However, after the first attempts of waving his arms, nothing much happens except for the doors rattling loudly.

“Erik! You have to open them!”

“I am trying!”

“You can do it!”

Erik screws his eyes shut and tries another time, waving his arms left and right, and at last, the doors move away so that the plane can pass through.

“Well done!”

“We’re still not out of trouble yet.”

“What do we do?”

“You hold on tight, Charles!”

They roll out onto the grass. Erik takes a hold of the lever and pulls it up as they reach the edge of the mound.

“We’re so dead!” Charles screams, screwing his eyes shut.

And yet, he feels so much alive right at this moment. Because when he opens his eyes again, he no longer sees the ground, he sees the treetops and the sky beyond it, climbing higher and higher and higher.

“We are flying!”

“But how do we land that thing?”

“I don’t know! You tell me, you are the smart one!”

“I didn’t read a book about that!”

“Oh oh!”

“Try to turn it so that we land on the grass, Erik!”

“Right!”

Erik manages to turn the machine, though the flight down is not just bumpy but nearly shakes both boys out of their seats.

“Hold on, Charles!”

“Have no intention of letting go!”

They scream at the top of their lungs as the plane plunges down, keeps hopping over the grass, whirls and turns. Metal shrieks, the boys scream louder, but at last, the plane comes to a halt, smoke flying up into the sky to which they now also belonged, however short.

“We are not dead, are we?”

“Not yet,” Charles gasps, but then turns his head. “Though we might be in a minute from now.”

Erik frowns. “What?”

“CHARLES FRANCIS XAVIER!”

Charles lets his head hang low as his stepfather rushes up the hill to where they are, well aware that there is no way of escaping him now.

“Maybe we should have landed in the trees after all,” Erik comments with a tight grimace.

“Maybe we should have just stayed up in the air,” Charles mutters as both climb out of the biplane. Kurt Marko is there long before they touch the ground again, his face furious and dark, almost as dark as Charles knows his thoughts to be. Charles tries his best to stay away from his stepfather, but there seems to be no way of helping it just now.

“What on earth were you thinking?!?” his stepfather curses, glowering at Erik, then at Charles. The younger of the two steps forward fast, well aware of what is at stake right now.

“I wanted to see grandpa’s plane and took Erik along. I convinced him to climb in, but somehow, the brake blocks moved aside and we just… started to fly.”

“Started to fly? Started to fly! The thing doesn’t switch itself on at will.”

If only you knew, Charles thinks to himself. There is a great many things his stepfather doesn’t know and wouldn’t understand even if he knew, which is all the more reason for Charles to share his gifts and Erik’s gifts with no one other than Erik.

He ignores his best friend staring at him, well aware that Erik does not appreciate it when Charles gets himself into trouble on his behalf. After all, it had been Erik’s idea, but Charles knows his father to be more cautious around him, because Charles is his father’s son, and that may have been the only man Kurt Marko ever admired in his entire life, hoping to find in Charles what he once saw in Brian Xavier.

“It was an accident, Sir,” Charles tells him as mildly as he can, not wishing to aggravate his stepfather any further. Because that man is like a bomb, always short before detonating.

Kurt narrows his eyes at Erik, then at Charles. “You will never do that again, young man, you hear me?”

He seizes Charles by the elbow and pulls him closer to himself, away from the airplane and from Erik. And it feels so different from how Erik pulls him away, because he actually pulls him along.

“Let go!” Charles shouts, struggling against the tall man’s grip, but his stepfather only ever tightens his grip and makes Charles looks up at him. “Did you hear me? I want an answer, young man!”

Charles bows his head, his dark curls falling into his eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“Now! You will come back with me – and you will go back to your studies. I shall be damned if you throw your father’s gifts away by flying a metal can!”

“Yes, Sir.” Charles bites on his bottom lip. He loves studying, he loves reading, but he hates to be forced to stay inside because his stepfather believes he has to become a certain kind of person, based on the heritage of a man Charles only knows from his mother’s blurry recollections. Charles is quite sure that the man Kurt Marko wants him to be is nowhere close to the man Charles himself wants to become.

Because the man Charles Francis Xavier aspires to be has a best friend and spends time inside and outside. It is a man who studies hard but runs even harder. And it is certainly a man who will fly a plane one day, and hopefully, for the rest of his days alongside his best friend.

“Your father would be very disappointed in you right now!”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And now to you!” Kurt seethes. “If I catch you doing such a thing like that ever again, be sure I will have you and your mother removed from the house!”

“Leave Erik out of this! It was my idea!”

“You are quiet now!” Kurt snaps, turning back to Erik. “This will have consequences, but I am willing to overlook it this one time.”

Erik only ever glowers at him, which Charles may appreciate but would rather have him not to do, well aware of what is going through his stepfather’s mind as he catches sight of the way Erik keeps looking at him.

“I will talk to your mother at once to see about it that she punishes you for this duly. Now get out of my sight before I forget myself.” Finally, Kurt Marko shakes his head, looking back at his stepson. “Now move.”

“Ow!” Charles can’t help but cry when he twists his arm in just the wrong direction. He can hear Erik’s shout inside his head before it leaves his best friend’s lips, cursing himself for having let him notice.

This is always such a trouble.

Because Erik means protectiveness to the point that it hurts – Erik mostly.

“You are hurting him!”

“You are supposed to shut your mouth!”

“You are hurting him!” Erik repeats, balling his fists. “Let go of him!”

“You don’t get to threaten me or lecture me on how I raise my stepson. Now out of my sight!”

“Erik,” Charles tries, but he already knows it to be a lost cause.

“Leave him alone, I said!”

Kurt Marko is momentarily frozen when Erik just lunges himself at him, holding on to the man’s leg and punching against it in the vain hope to protect his friend from harm.

Charles knows he has to act now or never, thus sending the loudest shout he can into his friend’s mind.

Erik, stop!

Erik looks at Charles in shock.

Erik, now!

Reluctantly, he lets go of Kurt’s legs, unfolding himself slowly, very slowly. His eyes remain on the man towering above him at all times, ready to lunge again if Kurt so much as moves. Charles loves his friend for it, he truly does, but he really wished he didn’t in those situations, because Charles knows what his stepfather is capable of, and there is no way in this world or any other where Charles would let Erik suffer the whims of this man.

Charles can feel Erik mentally protesting when he lifts the fingers of his free hand to his temple and concentrates as best as he can, not liking to either go to that dark place he knows he is headed to or doing what he is about to do.

But for Erik, Charles would do anything, always.

Charles’s hand is slightly shaking as he concentrates, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Erik, but the younger boy ignores it, only ever looks his stepfather right in the eye, leaving the man unable to look anywhere but him, to see anything but him, whereas Charles just sees an abyss behind the man’s eyes.

“I am going with you right now. Nothing happened,” Charles says slowly.

“Nothing happened indeed,” Kurt agrees, his lips moving slowly as he straightens back up, having forgotten those last few seconds, leaving only the dull anger behind for a flight gone wrong.

Charles allows his stepfather to pull him not along but away.

“Bye, Erik,” he calls over his shoulder, offering the most sympathetic grin he can muster.

“I will see you later, Charles.”

Erik never means goodbye. For some reason, Erik never says it to him, instead only ever letting Charles know that they will see each other again.

And in that way, Erik means hello again instead of goodbye for Charles.

——————————

Charles sighs as he sits up in bed, trying to concentrate on the notes he is supposed to have memorized by tomorrow but failing quite miserably. Because when he looks at the page, he sees white clouds and a blue sky, and him and Erik soaring through it.

However, those images don’t last long as the abyss appears again, the one Charles barely moved Erik away from before he could fall into it. And just as fast, the young boy hears voices he doesn’t want to hear, his mind far too open after he had to spread it over him and Erik when they took their first flight. Charles pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to sort through the baritone building up in his ears, wanting to ignore it but finding it incredibly hard tonight.

There is no way he will memorize any of this by morning, that much is for sure.

When his window opens on its own accord, Charles whips his head around. “Erik! You are not supposed to be here! Aren’t you grounded?”

Erik climbs in, the way he does almost daily, perfectly ignoring the protests, which he does nearly just as often.

“Technically, I am still on the ground of the property,” he points out with a smirk.

Charles rolls his eyes as Erik hops into his room and shuts the window again. Erik’s abilities make sure that he can just climb up the rain gutter without any such effort, and of that one thing Charles is fairly sure: One of these days, Erik will know how to fly even without an airplane.

The smile fades from Erik’s lips the moment he looks back at Charles sitting on the bed with the notes in his lap. “Did he do anything to you?”

“He wouldn’t go much further than that,” Charles assures him, adding with a huff, “I am his precious boy, after all.”

Things look differently for his mother, and looked very differently for his stepbrother. Charles can still recall those dark times, sitting propped against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, listening, feeling everything, as though it was his own skin bruising, tearing at a blow, a kick. It was only ever Erik who saw the marks that weren’t there and rubbed them and stroked them to make Charles feel better again, never telling him that it was just inside his head and that it wasn’t real, understanding that it was real for Charles.

If not for Erik, Charles wouldn’t have found the strength to convince his stepfather to send Cain off to a boarding school instead of continuing the older boy’s torment. And for what it seems, Cain since turned his back on the family, never wishing to return again. Not for holidays, not even for a generic birthday card.

Charles can’t say he terribly misses him, since Cain took the violence his father brought upon him out on Charles, leaving bruises and cuts that anyone could see and that made Erik so furious that he became perfectly quiet. And Charles knows that Erik’s anger is the most dangerous when it is quiet.

Because Erik means calm before the storm.

“I’m sorry for… you know.” Erik taps his index finger against his temple. “I know you don’t like doing it.”

“Because it’s dangerous. I can’t handle it quite well just yet… I just knew he’d hit you next thing. Couldn’t let that happen,” Charles sighs, sitting back down on the bed.

“I’m not that fragile, Charles.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you hurt,” the younger boy argues.

In fact, Charles realized that Erik being hurt feels much worse than him being hurt, because when Erik is suffering, Charles doesn’t just feel Erik’s pain but also the pain he feels for him.

“I don’t want you hurting either,” Erik replies faintly.

“I know. It’s alright. And anyway… today was definitely worth it.” Charles smiles at him, and Erik can’t help but mimic the curve of the lip because yes, this was one of the best days of their lives just yet, no matter how it ended.

Because they flew, they flew for real, and not just inside their heads.

Charles sighs as he draws his knees up to his chest.

“How many?” Erik asks quietly, to which Charles only ever shrugs.

Erik means knowing, too, because he knows Charles in ways no one does, sometimes even better than Charles seems to know himself, and that despite the fact that Erik doesn’t have the ability to look into other people’s heads.

“You’re not mad, Charles. That’s everyone else’s thoughts inside your head, always remember that.”

Erik also means reassurance.

There was a time when Charles thought he was going insane, and he wouldn’t tell anyone, not his mother, not his stepfather, not even Erik. And that even though he normally tells Erik everything.

Erik found out, though, noticed when Charles acted differently during their games and didn’t want to come outside as much as he used to. Charles tried to hide it, but he never did well hiding from Erik. And once Erik knew, he demanded of Charles just this one thing: not to hide that gift and what it came with from him. Charles stuck to that. And when Erik started to hear the song of metal, he didn’t hide it from Charles either. It was an agreement, a promise, which brought them even closer together than they were anyway.

Erik also means that he is going to be alright. Erik always makes sure of it. He assures Charles that the voices are real, yes, but that they aren’t his but those of everyone else. Erik let him hear his own thoughts so Charles would know that yes, this wasn’t just him, and no, Erik wouldn’t abandon him because of it, not ever.

And neither did Charles when Erik started moving metal objects with his mind for the first time.

They promised after all, and you have to keep promises, right?

“They won’t stop shouting, though, the voices, I mean,” Charles moans, leaning his forehead on his knees. “They are very loud tonight.”

“That bad, huh?”

Charles shrugs.

Erik also means worry. He worries about Charles a lot. More often than he’d like to at times. Because Charles can very well handle himself, thank you very much. While he is glad for the support Erik provides, for the kind words, the reassurances, there are those moments that leave him wondering how two years of age apart can make that much of a difference in Erik’s mind.

Because he knows for a fact that, to Erik, those two years make a huge difference.

“Well, I bet it’s been acting up a bit because of earlier,” Erik ponders, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Charles looks up at him, resting his chin on his knees, offering a small smile. “It’ll pass, I’m sure. It always does. So you needn’t worry.”

“I still do.”

“I know,” Charles exhales. “Nonetheless, I believe you should go back home, Erik. Your mother certainly doesn’t like that.”

“She won’t come into my room before she fixed up breakfast in the morning. She doesn’t know I am here,” the older boy argues.

Charles snorts at that. “Erik, she always knows you are.”

“Oh?”

“You are not that well covering your traces, you’re really not,” Charles informs him.

Erik frowns at that. “Hm. And still she lets me go?”

“For what it seems.”

“See, then there is nothing to worry about with me staying here,” the older boy concludes.

“Unless my stepfather comes in here.”

“I’ll just lock the door and make for the window,” Erik argues. “Like last year, when we had the first snow.”

Erik also means stubbornness, for better or worse. He is particularly stubborn when it comes to protecting Charles and wanting to be right. And since Charles believes himself to be right at least just as often, if not more, they often end up fighting over who is right and who is wrong.

“Fine, then,” Charles sighs, tired of fighting for today, because the voices are growing louder and he would actually much rather sleep than listen to the lady in the neighboring house yelling at her cat because her husband is out drinking with “that bunch of floozies” from the bar in town, seemingly expecting an answer the feline Charles is sure won’t provide it.

“What’s the radio saying?”

“People talk too much to their pets.”

“I suppose they just want someone who doesn’t talk back.” Erik shrugs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Charles wonders, because the best thing about talking is having someone to talk to and argue with, at least to his mind. He loves talking to Erik most certainly, and even when he gets annoyed at Erik wanting to be right, he would always rather have an argument with him than go on with his studies in silence, only ever hearing ladies shouting at their cats alone.

“I wouldn’t know,” Erik answers. He picks up Charles’s notes and puts them on the bedside table as he kicks off his boots. Then he climbs into bed and pulls Charles along with him so that Charles’s back rests against his chest and the back of his head comfortably sits close to where Erik’s heart is beating at a steady rhythm. The movements are familiar to them both, having grown into a routine over the past years of their friendship. Almost automatically, or at the very least without a conscious thought Charles could pick up, he starts to run his fingers through Charles’s soft curls.

“If he comes in, you will be forever grounded, I hope you know that,” Charles warns him with a smirk, already easing into the comfort only Erik knows how to provide.

“Well, so long I am grounded here, I don’t see any trouble. I have no intention of leaving Westchester in a lifetime,” Erik announces.

“I think you and him have very different definitions of the term ‘being grounded’.”

“And evidently, he is wrong.”

“You just want to be right.”

“I am definitely right when it comes to him.”

“True again,” Charles sighs, wrinkling his nose.

“Forget that all for now, Charles,” Erik then murmurs softly. “Just focus on me.”

Charles smiles as he closes his eyes, sinking into the clear and organized mind of his best friend. Erik always knows how to shut out the voices in his head, leaving only his own soft humming behind. Sometimes Erik sings it but mostly just hums it oh so softly, though he never tells Charles what the words mean. And Charles stopped asking long time because it’s all too soothing, thus reckoning that something so good can be left as it is without trying to take it apart by his thirst for knowledge.

Sometimes, the world is so much clearer when he lets himself be led into a comfortable dark where there is just a soft hum, assuring him that someone is there with him every step of the way. It is the one darkness Charles feels comfortable letting himself be pulled into, because it always leads into Erik’s arms.

And Erik means serenity.

And in his dreams, they always fly together.

And so, simply put, Erik means everything to Charles.

#cherik #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik au #pearl harbor au #because I have feels #and I don't know what to do with them #mkay?#also #I am messing with all of the timelines #because yeah #they would chagne each other's history GREATLY #do I know anything about flying?#nope #do I know shit about military?#nope again #do I still obsess about it?#you bet I do

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