#this was supposed to be done two weeks ago

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓢𝐈𝐗: 𝓒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝓞𝐧 𝓨𝐨𝐮

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc 2.1k

summary -> getting an urgent call from the orphanage frightens you, until you realize the true reason why you were needed. warnings -> none. :)

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

9:20PM

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 help but silently thank whatever higher power above that gave you a valid excuse of getting out of the house without David breathing down your neck and accusing you of something degenerate.

Rolling your neck around, you gathered the energy to muster up a smile before entering the coffee shop. Gia had once again called you into work, no urgent tasks to handle, no deadlines looming, no sudden customer rush, it was just another case of her being desperate for some company. Spending time with her was easy, comforting even, so gaining the chance to escape the suffocating tension of your apartment, and him, felt like a gift. It was as if you could breathe properly again, even if only for a little while.

You rested your head against the car seat, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief second, savoring the fragile peace. But the sharp, sudden rapid knocking on your passenger window startling you out of your reverie. You jolted upright, clutching your chest as your eyes flew open in alarm, only to find Gia grinning like a mischievous child, her palms flattened against the glass.

“Come onnn! What are you waiting for?” she called out, her voice muffled but her playful pout unmistakable. She tapped her nails against the window with exaggerated urgency, her uniform slightly askew, and stray hairs falling loosely from her ponytail due to the wind.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes at her antics and grabbed your bag from the passenger seat. “Is anyone working with you today?” you asked as you got out of the car, brushing off the remnants of your nerves.

“Nope,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug, looping her arm through yours as the two of you made your way toward the shop. “Sohee was supposed to, but she called in sick.”

You stopped short, narrowing your eyes at her. “Wait, did you leave the shop completely unattended just to come shout at me?”

Gia grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Well, yeah. You were sitting out there for ages. I had to make sure you weren’t, you know, dead or something.” She leaped over the counter with the grace of someone who’d done it a hundred times before, plopping down on the other side like a cat claiming its territory.

“I pulled into the parking lot 5 minutes ago,” you deadpanned, setting your bag down at a nearby table and unpacking your laptop.

“Sure, sure,” she murmured, waving you off with exaggerated indifference before letting out a dramatic sigh and slumping forward on the counter. You couldn’t help but shake your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you powered on your computer.

You had planned to spend this quiet moment tackling the mountain of overdue schoolwork weighing on your conscience, but as you stared at the blank screen, your thoughts drifted elsewhere—back to your mother. They always did. Her absence hung over you like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. It wasn’t just the ache of loss that clung to you, but the unanswered questions, the way her death didn’t make any sense.

After 17 years of complete silence, you had finally been met with the opportunity to contact her. After so much wondering, so much yearning, you were finally going to meet her—your biological mother. The plan had been set, a meeting arranged for your 18th birthday. It would be in her hometown, she’d show you around and introduce you to all of your extended family, it would've been perfect. But a week before the long-awaited reunion, your adoptive mother had shattered your fragile hope with a single sentence: she was gone. Dead. Just like that, the one blood relative you knew of now a distant memory, a farce and a fantasy to something you foolishly desired.

Even now, months later, you couldn’t make sense of it. The documents they’d given you after her passing felt incomplete, fragments of a story left half-told. You’d read over them again and again, desperate to fill in the blanks, but each revelation only led to more confusion, more doubt. Nothing about her death fit together the way it should have. And that gnawing uncertainty, that lingering sense of something left undone, followed you everywhere—no matter how far you tried to run.

Just as the weight of exhaustion began to press heavily against your temples, your eyes glazing over the same set of documents you’d read a hundred times before, your phone suddenly buzzed against the table. The vibrations were rapid, insistent, breaking through the fog of weariness and pulling you back to the present. The screen lit up with a number you knew well—the orphanage’s main line.

You snatched up the phone, heart already picking up its pace and before you could even say hello, your mother’s voice poured through the speaker, sharp and hurried.

“Cheol’s asking for you,” she said, her tone tight and edged with frustration.

“Wh—me? Why? Is everything okay?” you stammered, already feeling your hands move on their own, quickly packing up your belongings.

“I—I don’t know! He won’t tell me anything—please, just come now,” she said, her voice cracking under the strain of stress.

You didn’t waste time replying. The call ended before you could form a coherent response, and you shoved the phone into your pocket, throwing your things into your bag with frantic hands. Next to you, Gia, who had dozed off with her head resting on your shoulder, jolted upright at the sudden burst of motion.

“Wait, are you leaving already?” she asked, blinking in confusion as she tried to process what was happening.

“Yeah, I—uh, something came up. I’m needed at the orphanage,” you said quickly, your words tumbling out as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Gia hesitated, her worry evident in the way her brows knitted together, but she swallowed any protests, simply nodding instead. “Okay. Be safe,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of the door swinging shut behind you as you hurried out to your car.

The drive to the orphanage stretched endlessly, the familiar streets melting into an indistinct haze as your mind churned with countless possibilities. Each turn of the wheel felt slower than the last, the hour-and-a-half journey dragging on like an eternity. Your fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel, an outlet for the growing anticipation.

When you finally pulled into the gravel driveway, the crunch of stones under your tires barely registered as you started unbuckling your seatbelt, leaving your belongings behind as you hurried toward the entrance with a brisk jog.

Inside, the familiar hum of the orphanage greeted you, a mix of children’s chatter and the occasional laugh echoing through the halls. Around this time, the kids were enjoying their downtime after torturous hours of studying. Navigating the hallways, you made a beeline for the Boys’ Quarters, your eyes sweeping over the room as you entered. Some boys were sprawled out on their beds, a few immersed in comic books, and others dozing peacefully. It didn’t take long to spot Cheol, sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling off to the side and swinging lazily.

Hearing your voice call his name, his head shot up, and his small face broke into a grin—a mixture of relief and playful mischief lighting up his features. His smile widening as you approach, kneeling down to meet him at eye level.

“Cheol,” you breathed, your voice gentle but edged with concern. “Is everything okay?” your eyes scanning him quickly.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression calm, though his eyes sparkled with something unreadable. “I’m okay,” he said with a small nod. “I was just wondering why you weren’t here yesterday or today.”

The tension in your shoulders melted, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. The weight you’d carried on the drive over lifted as a faint smile touched your lips. “Cheol,” you said softly, “I don’t work on weekends, remember? I’m only here on weekdays.”

He nodded again, his gaze dropping to his lap, where his small hands fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. “Noona was looking for you,” he murmured quietly.

You blinked, confusion evident on your face as you leaned in slightly. “Your sister, Sae-byeok?” you asked, the words coming out unsteady and slow.

Another nod, his fingers curling into the soft fabric beneath him. “Mhm,” he affirmed. “She said she wanted to thank you for helping me at movie night.”

From under his blanket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, its edges worn and torn with a mysterious orange stain. Written across the shredded piece of paper in neon green crayon was a phone number, accompanied by smaller, tidier writing, obviously written in a haste: ‘ Kang Sae-byeok. For emergencies only. I respond faster to texts. ‘

You took the note delicately, treating it as though it were fine china. Your thumb slowly brushes over the creased surface, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Cheol,” you whispered, a genuine smile spreading across your face. Raising a hand, you ruffled his hair affectionately.

He giggled, catching your wrist in his smaller hand and pressing it to his cheek. “Are you staying for dinner?” he asked suddenly, his wide, hopeful eyes locking onto yours.

Your heart tugged at the question. As much as you wanted to stay, you couldn't. Still having other responsibilities to tend to. A small frown crept onto your face as you shook your head. “Not tonight, Cheol,” you said gently. “But tomorrow, I’ll eat dinner with you. Pinkie promise.” You held out your pinkie, waiting.

Without hesitation, he hooked his pinkie around yours, his face lighting up once more. “And Noona will be there too,” he added with a cheeky grin.

You laughed softly, ignoring the uncomfortable knot that formed in your chest at the thought of actually sitting down to have a conversation with her. “I can’t wait,” you replied, your voice warm but quiet. With a playful pinch of his cheek, you added, “But listen, Cheol, I have to go now. Don’t give my mom any more trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

Though you tried to sound stern, there was no real authority behind your voice, and Cheol could tell. He gave you a mischievous smile, his eyes glinting as he replied, “Can’t make any promises.”

You shook your head, an amused chuckle escaping as you stood up. He flopped back onto his bed, opening a comic book and hiding his quiet laughter behind its colorful cover. You watched him for a moment, that mischievous grin still playing on his lips, before turning toward the door. Even as you left, the sound of his soft giggles followed you, lingering in the air like a reassuring reminder of why you always came back.

As you made your way back to your car, the gentle breeze brushing against your face did little to distract you from the crumpled note in your hand. Its weight felt far heavier than the paper itself, your thoughts spiraling with every step toward the vehicle.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you shut the door behind you, cutting off the outside world. The momentary quiet inside the car gave you a fleeting sense of peace, but it was quickly replaced by a nervous energy thrumming beneath your skin. The note rested in your lap, its edges curling slightly, as if urging you to act. With trembling hands, you picked up your phone, the screen glowing softly.

Your fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. The words felt trapped, refusing to come out the way you wanted. ' Yo, it’s Kim Y/N from the orphanage.' Delete. 'Heyyy, it’s–' No, no that's way too deserpate. again. Each failed attempt only heightened the tension coiling in your chest.

Finally, after cycling through countless drafts and second-guessing yourself more times than you could count, you settled on something simple and straight-forward.

' Hi Sae-byeok, it’s Kim Y/N from the orphanage. :) '

You reread the message twice, your thumb hesitating over the send button. Then, with a deep breath, you pressed it. The message disappeared, and the phone screen dimmed as you locked it, placing the device on the center console as though distancing yourself from it might make the moment feel less significant.

Leaning back against the headrest, you closed your eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply. Your hand instinctively found the pendant hanging from your necklace, fingers curling around it as if seeking comfort. When your eyes opened again, they caught the faintest hint of a smile on your face reflected in the rearview mirror—a smile that surprised even you.

What are you doing to me, Kang Sae-byeok?

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day Two - Chorb/Comfort

After over three decades as ghosts, you would think that Charles and Edwin would have a good grasp on what ghosts can and can’t do, or even what ghosts could or couldn’t feel, so, etc. Like, ghosts can eat, but it tastes awful. Ghosts can’t sleep at all. That sort of thing. Edwin called them “ghost rules”. Charles also called them ghost rules, but he did his best not to talk about them at all unless directly asked. He’d opened up about missing being alive and all that baggage, yeah, but no need to poke at it, alright?

But lately they’d discovered a new ghost “rule” (ability? Function? Who knows) completely on accident. You see, after the entire fiasco with Esther (and the following quest to get Niko back) the boys had been, frankly, exhausted. They’d done a lot in their thirty years but never so much in so little time. It was weird, to say the least.

“Are you guys sure you’re okay? We can stick around—“ Crystal had tried as they all but herded the girls out of the office. It was past midnight and they should’ve left hours ago, but the boys must look especially bad if their looks were anything to go by.

However, this exhaustion was wearing on the boy’s patience (well, Edwin’s, but Charles had to mediate so it was getting to him too) and frankly, they needed a break. Charles was happy to say as much.

“Nope, all good here! In fact, I think we’ve all earned some time off, so maybe take the next few days to rest, yeah? You sure you don’t want us to walk with you to the tube?” Even his face hurt from smiling, which hasn’t happened since long before he died. There was an alarm bell in the back of his head, but he felt too exhausted to have a proper look at it. He just needed a break is all.

The girls shared a look again. Is this how people felt when he and Edwin did that? Charles didn’t realise it was so annoying.

“We’ll be fine. You have my number right? If anything happens?” Crystal pulled on her coat and helped Niko with her accidentally inside-out sleeve, “And you’re sure that ancient landline even works?”

“As I’ve said, the phone was enchanted to work even without electricity. Barring extremely dire circumstances, it works.” Edwin snapped, lighter than his proper angry tone but still on the edge.

“Do you want us to call you before coming back?” Niko asked towards Edwin, but with a significant, pointed glance at Charles. Charles knew there was something in that look, too, but thinking felt a little difficult at the minute. His head kinda felt like the jar of bees. Maybe he should fish it out of the backpack to compare.

Edwin replied to Niko kinder than he’d been with Crystal but not by much. Crystal snapped at him, probably about his tone with Niko, and then those two were arguing again. Charles really should break it up so the girls could get back to their flat.

God, was this a migraine? Could ghosts get migraines? It’d be just his luck, too. Was there ghost paracetamol he could take? He’d have to dry swallow it since the drink would taste like sand—

There was a hand waving in front of his face. Someone grabbed his arm and shook him. Suddenly Edwin grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him down intently. He was saying something, too. Charles moved to smile and nod, even as he had no idea what was going on, but that seemed to make the pain spike again. He flinched against it. He crossed his arms across himself, though he couldn’t say why. Comfort? Warmth? Guess it didn’t matter much, really.

Several sets of hands were pushing him somewhere—oh, the sofa, right. That seemed like a good idea. Weren’t the girls going somewhere? Or supposed to be, at least. He assumed they were some of the other hands pushing and pulling him along.

He landed on the sofa with little grace, the bouncing making something pulse in his brain is a not nice way. Edwin was there again, hands on Charles’s cheeks and forehead as if checking for fever. It was silly—surely ghosts couldn’t get fevers, if they didn’t have bodies. Edwin knows that.

They were talking to him again. It sounded like he was underwater, sound carrying but only barely. Oh, right. Ghosts weren’t supposed to have whatever was happening now, either. That would explain Edwin’s furious note taking and fussing. Niko was up and about helping him, which meant Crystal had to be the one next to him. Turning his head felt like a bad idea, so he was glad they only had so many people in the vicinity. Process of elimination and all that.

Pain struck at his abdomen next, dull ache turning stabbing in the matter of minutes. He curled in on himself, bringing his feet up onto the sofa and his knees to his face. Clutching at his stomach, Charles squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into his knees. Maybe if he just curled up tight enough—

It was like his ears popped and every joint cracked at the same time. Charles was pretty sure it was an audible pop! too. But suddenly everything was peaceful, like he was stretched out and condensed into the best full-body hug at the same time. The world was a warm yellow, bright but comfortable. Sure he couldn’t see his friends anymore, but it was blessed relief from whatever the bloody hell that pain was and Charles was absolutely going to bask in it.

After a minute or two of adjusting, Charles realised he could almost hear what was happening in the office. Crystal and Edwin were fighting again, though now Niko seemed to be— cooing over something? Muttering reassurances? He couldn’t catch all the words, but he was pretty sure that was her “finding a literal creature and/or inanimate object adorable” voice. Who/what was she talking to? Shouldn’t she be splitting up the other two? Actually, weren’t the girls supposed to be heading home?

He wanted to ask all of that, but this blissful state didn’t grant him the power of speech, apparently. Charles’s questions came out as a humming noise instead. Surely this should be worrying him—no sight, no speech, hell he’s pretty sure no body—but it was hard to feel worried, or frustrated, or sad here. He felt so good, why would he ruin it with all that? Besides, taking a step back and being relieved of his headache gave him the chance to carefully consider what had just happened.

And he would do that. Definitely. At some point. Look, this was probably the closest he’d gotten to sleep in over thirty years, you can’t blame him for wanting to bask in it for a while, alright? Just a little bit, so Edwin doesn’t kill Crystal (or Crystal somehow double kills Edwin). A bit of rest then he’d figure out how to go back.

~

When Charles “popped” again, returning to the mortal plane or whatever, it was to a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the office, wood burning stove lit and his three best friends circled around him. Thankfully they left him enough room to not pop on top of someone.

The girls were asleep, but Edwin was instantly focused on Charles. He went so far as to scurry forward, kneeling between Charles’s flailed legs to, again nonsensically, press at his face for a fever that wasn’t there.

“Charles, you’re back! Are you alright? Do you know what happened? Lord, I— we were worried.” Edwin admitted, dropping his hands and rocking back on his heals to create a smidge more distance.

Charles, genuinely smiling this time, decided he wasn’t a fan of this embarrassment or shame or whatever it was Edwin was dealing with. So, naturally, he leaned forward and threw his arms around his best mate.

“Oh, mate, it was brills…”

—

Day two of @charles-rowland-week !! I am vvvvv sleepy rn so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t 😌 hope y’all enjoyed!

[azuralnguyendd]

Emotionally (Un)available

A fanfiction based on Tumblr roleplay blog interaction: @magneto-king-of-genosha and @not-a-professor

(Dialogues are from the original post and so are some paragraphs describing action and thoughts. Some are altered, but nevertheless the same as ever)

A/N: Thank you in advance for reading, and I hope you'll excuse me for my typos that I've missed during my time editing it!

✷ — ✷ — ✷ — ✷

The X-Mansion used to look so lively, one might say after seeing the state it is in now. In the past, the hallways and stairs would be filled students going to and fro, talking about nothing in particular, and the occasional playful banter would be thrown back and forth.

Laughter would fill dormitories and hallways, classrooms used to be filled with students eager for education and perhaps only there for the pranks they were about to pull or the friends they were going to meet. The students would be playing basketball in court outside; some would be doing it for keeping fit sake, others to improve their powers.

Now, it was just... sad. Everyone had already left, no one felt safe staying when a war was happening, and no one was willing either. If anyone were to still be there, it would be agony; living alone in the only place that has once comforted the discriminated, the odd, the freaks. However, it was no longer a place of comfort, just somewhere for memories to fade away.

The Mansion was dark and a bit damped, vines started from the ceiling, climbing their way down the deserted wall and laid on the floor, spreading their arms. All the paintings had fallen from the wall, their frames cracked and pictures faded, no longer can anyone recognize the people in the photograph.

The sunlight was but dim when it shined into the Mansion. Dusk covered furnitures were askewed; some were broken, some were intact, others had fallen over like somebody had a bad tantrum and had to take their anger out on objects. The place looked far from how it used to look like, and maybe it wasn't even the same place.

Sat on a chair in the center of the room, dejected and half drunk, is Charles Xavier, a mutant with a brilliant mindset. However, he wasn't the same anymore. What was left of the will to inspire mutants to be themselves is but just a small amber, barely holding onto its last flicker of flame.

He has resorted to alcoholism to deal with his severe depression, and with everyone gone from his side but one person, he is no longer the Charles Xavier who inspired and helped mutants to have pride in their abilities. He's just some hobo who lived in an abandoned mansion far away from human society.

It's been years, and years he had endured thanks to the serum that his dear friend Hank has made for him. It gave him the ability to walk, one of the many things he'd lost long ago thanks to friendly fire, but it came with a cost: his telepathic abilities. He couldn't read people's thoughts, couldn't predict their next move, and amongst other useful things, couldn't recognize if someone was lying. But, Charles has become so used to an empty and quiet mind that if he goes a minute without it, he might turn insane.

For the past couple weeks, Charles has been doing nothing but drink whiskey from the multiple bottles he found lying around. He didn't exactly know where they come from, but he supposed that he bought it long ago. They weren't opened, and still tasted good; who knows how long they've been sitting in that cabinet though.

Apart from drinking and injecting the serum, Charles also discovered that Magneto - a mutant named Erik Lensherr with the power to manipulate metal- was not in prison. Turned out the Magneto he's been talking to didn't belong to this universe, and the two had realized the concept of multiverse exist. Without further information, they rolled with it. Charles was still bitter about the incident, and despite trying to bring himself to forgive this Erik even though he hasn't done nothing to him, he couldn't. They looked too similar, almost identical.

Charles leaned back, sighing as his hair falls behind the backrest of the chair, thinking and racking his brain for something to do. Nothing, he couldn't do nothing.

The doors of the X-Mansion creaked softly open, and lo and behold, Erik stepped into the Mansion. The doors closed behind him as he approached Charles; his face was concealed by the shadow that the pillars surrounding them casted. Something in his strides told Charles he was frustrated.

Erik did a subtle groan, like he was beyond mad, and sat down next to Charles. He could see his face now that he's closer, and his brows were furrowed in anger. "The anonymous requests are very insistent that I come, so like it or not, I am here." Erik stated like it was the most obvious thing in the whole wide world.

Charles glanced at him, then looked away, and grumbled, but he wasn't upset that this Erik was here, he just wasn't expecting company. Erik, realizing this matter, sighed and picked up a booze bottle lying around on the table. It still has liquor it in, so he opened the bottle and took a sip of the bitter liquor.

Charles, despite himself, was still holding the helmet Erik has given him against his chest; the metal was cold, and he was careful not to cut himself on its sharp  edges. He didn't know why he was still holding onto it, or why he hasn't knocked it against the wall for reminding him of his former best friend. He just... Felt comfort of some sort from it.

Charles's eyes flutter as he stifled a yawn from falling from his lips. He didn't need pity and concern at this moment, not from Erik. Beside him, he heard the man chuckle. With a bit of annoyance, he turned to look at Erik. His head was tilted to the side a bit, and was clearly already looking at him.

"What?" Charles asked, his annoyance slightly tangling in the words he spoke.

Erik shook his head; there wasn't a hint of a smile yet he sounded thoroughly entertained. "Oh, it's nothing." He said, as if Charles would just drop it.

Charles, for some reason, smiled as very bit of annoyance left his being. It was a small one, not completely evident, but it was there. It was genuine, as genuine as it could get after all these miserable years. "No no come on- what?" He said, turning fully to look at him.

Erik sighed again, but clearly there was a hint of another amused chuckle. Oh, this man was insufferable. "It really is nothing. Though from the right angle, you look like a Komondor." There it was, another insufferably familiar, friendly, comforting chuckle.

It took Charles a couple of seconds to register what Erik said, to realize that a Komondor was a breed of dog. It dawned on him at that moment, and he stayed silent before, with mock offense, feigning his hand against his chest.

"Woww! I'm so hurt!" Charles said sarcastically, his brows furrowed but he was unable to contain the smile that broke through his facade. It was bright, perhaps the brightest he's smiled in years.

Erik exhaled from his nose - probably another sigh - and turned to counter his friend's statement. "If you're so hurt, why are you smiling then?" He didn't realize it, but he himself was smiling as well; Charles didn't seem to have noticed.

Charles chuckled - although it could be described as a giggle - as Erik retorted with that question. "Smiling through the pain, I suppose!" This was sort of a banter, but it has been true for a while before. He has smiled through the pain of knowing he'll never be able to walk again, the pain of knowing Raven and almost everyone left him behind. He was still glad Hank was there to support him through the hard times, but the comfort wasn't enough.

"Oh really?" Said Erik. He still holding the booze in his hand and took a couple gulps of it. The bitter tanginess of the liquid burned down his throat, but they were both used to it by now.

Charles was still smiling, huffing a chuckle. Erik was still drinking the booze; it's been a while since they shared a drink with each other, not after what happened a few years prior. "I hope you enjoy that. That's very expensive," Charles remarked on the bottle, taking another sip of his own bottle.

In all honesty, it wasn't that expensive, it didn't taste expensive. But, there were lots of it when he found it hiding in the cabinets, so it was expensive to buy all of those bottles; they themselves weren't.

"Really? I thought the rule of thumb for getting drunk was to always buy the cheap stuff?" Erik said with a tone of amusement, inspecting the bottle in the dim sunlight, trying to see if he could find the price tag of the thing. There wasn't any.

"Well.. When you're a billionaire and can buy whatever you want, you can splurge." Charles said with a sense of pride he lacked since ever. It was kind of nice to be able to boast his wealth, even if the person hearing this was Erik from another universe, and it made it a little difficult because he hasn't fully forgiven his own Erik.

"Then how do you still have that much money? Is the government in your pocket?" Erik asked, his interest piqued by the word "billionaire".

Charles smiled again, and there was a familiar yet distant warmth in his heart, like someone he once knew returned from a war he was never fully aware of. Perhaps hanging out with this Erik wasn't so bad after all, he has redeeming qualities Charles believed his Erik didn't have; he also smiled more often, and tried his best to make things casual and interesting. He smiled wider, not only because of the sense of pride, but also of comfort.

"It's generational wealth.. And smart investments." With pride, he answered with a pause, just to make it intriguing. Erik raised his eyebrows a little and nodded. He seemed relax, and though he didn't like to admit it, he rather prefer this version of Erik over his own original one. It'd be a fine world if Erik was always like this; always so comforting, humouring and providing good company.

"Oh yes, like booze is a smart investment." Erik said, his smile dropping as he looks down at the bottle in his hand.

It was dry of the content it once held; the sunlight bounced off the glass and reflected itself on the opposite wall. He didn't like Charles like this: all depressed and burnt out, no inspiration or motivation for doing anything. It hurts him knowing why Charles chose this life, why he wanted to be alone all the time; this was not his Charles, yet he felt like he should be there if he ever needed anything.

"Alcohol is not going to bankrupt me," said Charles as he nudged Erik by the arm. It was a joke, though clearly alcohol is not enough to put him into bankruptcy.

Erik chuckled, low and relaxed, as he put the empty bottle down on the table with a quiet *clink*; the sound echoed through the entire Mansion, awakening any bugs or critters from their slumber. Luckily, they did not disturb the two men. "It would be absolutely be if you keep at it like you do."

Well, it would make sense - buying a lot of the same thing with the same price might empty your wallet in no time at all. "So what you're saying is, if I switch to the cheap stuff, I could buy more of it for the same price?" He asked, though of course he knew this, but he never considered doing so.

"More or less," Erik said, shrugging a bit.

This Erik was much more entertaining than his own, Charles decided - he talked more, is more amusing and made him feel better about himself. Huh... This was another new discovery about himself.

Charles smiled and chuckled, his smile genuine and bright. "Duly noted. Next time I'll buy 3x the cheaper stuff." He leaned his head on Erik's shoulder, still holding the helmet close to himself.

Erik smiled softly, and looking down at Charles, he wrapped his arm around him, settling his hand on Charles's forearm. The contact was welcomed and Erik enjoyed it. How long has it been since the last time each of them hell another person close? They wouldn't know, and they wouldn't care - they have each other.

Charles's eyes drifted shut, though not asleep but simply out of contentment, as Erik settled his head on top, his hair ruffled under the other man's head, making it messy. But who cared? Definitely not Charles, couldn't even remember the last time he made his hair look presentable.

The room was quiet, and for a moment, it was only the two of them in the whole wide world. Their surroundings revolved around them, and soon they seemingly disappeared, leaving a comforting, empty, vast void for them to settle in. Oh how the world could just be like this forever...

"Never knew you could be so gentle Erik.." Charles murmured absentmindedly, further relaxing his muscles. He felt safe.

"Hm? What was that?" Erik said at Charles's sudden remark. His Charles hasn't said anything so flattering in so long, and after hearing it from another version of the same man, he couldn't help but feel a fluttering in his stomach.

Charles looked up at Erik and made eye contact that held for a solid minute. He wasn't focusing on Erik's sentence, too immersed in the silent comfort he was receiving and letting himself receive it.

"Hm..?"

"You said something. What was it?" Erik asked, his voice sounding a bit interrogative, but was still soft as not to cause any sudden surge of negative feelings.

"I don't remember.." That was kind of strange. Charles didn't remember saying anything, but it seemed he did. However, there was no memory of it in his mind.

Erik nodded, muttering a loud enough "I see" for Charles to catch it. That was a terrible turn, Charles thought. If his memory hadn't shorted out on him, Erik wouldn't be so concerned. He shouldn't have to worry for Charles, he shouldn't even be helping Charles carry his own burdens.

"Apologies.. that doesn't happen to me often." Charles said with a sad, apologetic tone. Erik could be upset at him at this moment, but he didn't feel any signs of the man moving away from the contact.

"It's quite alright. It happens to everyone." Erik said it so casually Charles might fall out of his chair if he wasn't so afraid of splitting his skull in half.

Charles wasn't focusing, too absorbed in his own self-loathing that he didn't realize the gentle kiss places on his forehead by the soft lips of Erik. Erik, on the other hand, was mildly embarrassed, so he raised his head and straightened himself to avoid making eye contact with Charles.

In the corner of his eye, the former telepathic's pale features began to turn red. Charles tried to hide this obvious display by lowering his head and massaging his palms. Despite his efforts, he couldn't hide the fact that his ears were glowing a brilliant dark red; it certainly complimented his pale skin.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, and although he was looking at Charles directly, he was glancing down at his flustered host.

Charles nodded feverishly, determined to hide his emotions. This was the first time in over two years Charles had actually wished for his telepathy abilities back. To know what Erik was thinking, to pulse comforting waves over to his mind. Charles wanted to spoil Erik rotten with all the dopamine and serotonin he could handle.

Instead, returning to the terrible reality, Charles gave up his mutation and that was the correct decision for everyone involved, Charles had convinced himself that it was for the longest time possible.

Charles was able to snap out of his thoughts when he heard Erik blurting out the words "I see" once more. He hadn't realized that Erik had picked up another booze bottle, but he was now gently placing it back down. Calming his racing mind, Charles retorted: "See what?" He kept his voice calm and and leveled as he recuperated from his sudden pang of memory.

"That you were alright when I asked." Erik replied, and Charles noticed his voice has become softer, more gentle and surprisingly attra- wait no.

"I bet that's not all you see.. You are a very observant man, Erik." Charles smiled as his giggle intertwined with his words, making them feel light-hearted and playful.

"You're not wrong," Erik said as if he took what Charles said as a compliment - it really was sort of something like that - but then he smiled, and there was an edge of mischievousness in it. "I also observed the fact that you look like a strawberry." The man spoke with a low chuckle.

Charles perked up at the statement and buried his head into his hands, silently hoping that Erik didn't notice two of his fingers coming up to massage his temples before sliding forward to focus on his eyes. Charles was pretty sure Erik couldn't see all of that in the dark, not to mention his hair covering his face as he leaned down. "Ya don't say.." Charles said with embarrassment. Gosh, how much more humiliation was he going to deal with today?

Erik mumbled a amused "Yeah" as he brought his hand to ruffle Charles's hair, then moving it around Charles and onto his lap, resting on it. Erik leaned in a bit, a genuine smile making its way to his lips as he observed Charles's reaction.

Charles looked up at Erik and settled comfortably into his lap with a quiet and content sigh. Erik let out a breath like he has been holding it in, hoping that Charles wouldn't refuse his affection. Charles leaned his head against Erik's chest, eyes fluttering with tiredness.

"You're tall..." He muttered. Yes, Erik was and is still taller than him; Charles has never very insecure about his height or appearance, until now, he realized.

"Really? I suppose you aren't wrong." Erik replied softly, staying almost perfectly still as he soakee in the comfort and contact both of them was sharing.

Charles ran his hand over the smooth top of the helmet, letting another yawn fall from his lips. Erik's smile has never really dropped the entire time. It was certain that both of them has forgotten how this feeling felt like, and they seemed to share a mutual longing for it.

At first, Charles didn't notice Erik's thoughts weaving themselves into his mind. Everything felt so familiar, and oh so comfortable. That was until other minds start swarming in, disrupting what little peace this cruel world had allowed him. Panicking as adrenaline surged through him, Charles began to realize the situation he's caught himself in. He pat his robe's pockets hoping to find an extra dose of serum; he wasn't going to let this peace escape when he had a good grasp on it. He wasn't going to let it go just because the world was such a bitch about it. He longed for this, he wanted this, he needed this, goddamn it!

Erik, seeing the sudden harsh movements beside him, he suddenly realized the situation Charles was in. And as if he could read his mind, he took the helmet resting idly on Charles's lap and gently placed it over his head to silence the voices so Charles could properly focus on what he wanted to find.

This gave Charles a pause in his search for the serum; all the voices and racing thoughts just suddenly... Stopped, altogether. Charles was so accustomed to being quickly reduced to a incoherent mess as every voice in New York made themselves known to him, it made this feeling strange, and so, so unnatural. To still have everything so quiet and almost clear as the serum burned out of his system, it felt serene.

"Are you alright?" Erik said leaning down to observe his friend's reaction. His voice had a hint of concern, his brows furrowed and expression softened. Charles seemed to still be processing all of this; as he moved his hand to the helmet, his eyes became glossy as his mind cleared itself for the first time in years. For years, the serum made everything blurry and murky, rendering him unable to think properly. But, it helped stop the thousands of minds from cramming their way into his skull and cracking it in half.

However, the serum wasn't in affect anymore, and his mind wasn't foggy or was it about to explode. He could think, and think clearly. "I can think.." Charles murmured; it was unbelievable that he had been living year after year in murky waters without finding a way to free himself of his misery, of his self-loathing, of his mind.

Beside him, Erik cracked a gentle smile as the concern left his expression. "Yes, I suppose you can. It's alright now Charles, just think for a minute." Erik's voice was low and soothing, and a lot softer than usual. It brought comfort and peace to Charles knowing that this version of Erik was the man he had always thought he was: Kind, gentle, understanding and forgiving.

As Charles spaced out and did what Erik requested, his mind started to catch up on all the thought he could've had the lady few years. His mind whirled with spontaneous new genetic theories, context of the books he read nearly four years ago, mutant genealogy and myriad of other thoughts. Charles was almost, but certainly, enjoying the sudden burst of radiant brilliance. Although enjoying himself, it was like his body has a mind of its own as his hand found the cold metal of the serum in his pocket.

Erik's smile dropped as his eyes caught sight of his companion's hand, sadness washing over his expression. What coming next was quite obvious, and though Erik had the power to stop it from happening, it was best if Charles stop it himself. Erik didn't want to force his concern into Charles - his friend, his host, his partner - all because Charles didn't have the power and right mind help himself.

Just as clear as the thought had been on genetic mutation, the berating may seemed even clearer as Charles realized what he was holding, clutching in his pocket. The thoughts of famous authors and poets faded out as the self hatred and loathing filtered into his clear mind.

Charles's hands grew shaky, his breathing became uneven and ragged as he prepared his arm, rolling up the cotton sleeve of his robe. Charles couldn't even blame it on anyone else, not even the man beside him. He was the only mind, the only thoughts running inside his head. The only mind that abused him for disregarding his mutant gift and his natural brilliance. The mind that made him feel miserable, helpless and worthless.

Charles didn't notice the tears that started streaming down his red cheeks, or how badly shaken his body was as he held up the syringe to his arm. Yes, it was true that Charles took the serum to keep everyone out of his mind, but it was also to keep himself out; it was to keep himself dissociated from his internal critic that was harsher than anyone else's, the worst insults that no one could ever think of, the worst hatred and loathing no one could ever develope.

Charles hadn't noticed that he has already injected the serum, his mind going numb and murky once more. The tears still streamed down his face, droplets coming down to rest on his lap. Erik sighed and tossed the empty syringe away once the business was done. At once, Erik pulled Charles into a gentle embrace, keeping his hand on Charles's head and soothing him by rubbing small circles on his back.

It was all too much at that moment, there was no escape, so as the only reasonable option left on the table for him, Charles cried into Erik's shoulder. The serum slowed everything in his mind, his own thoughts were garbled, barely legible as the side effects kicked in. Charles didn't stop, he couldn't stop; broken sobs and hiccups broke from his throat, allowing him to let out the anger, sadness, hatred he'd kept to himself out

"It's alright, Charles, you're alright." Erik's tone was soft and almost quiet, as if to soothe a child.

As the worst of it kicked it, Charles laid on Erik's shoulder, his tears soaked the fabric of the other man's shirt. He would be fine soon enough, but the first part of the serum always gave him such minimal brain activity, silencing and numbing it. Not that Charles ever gave mind to it, it was something normal by now.

Erik still tried his best to calm his friend, still speaking with that calm and smooth voice, low enough to be a whisper, but loud enough for Charles to hear. "I am mad, but I'm not going to yell at you this time. Yet, you can't keep silencing the negative as if they shouldn't exist. They do exist, and you have to face them, but you shouldn't be alone when you do it."

Erik's eyes were closed, he wouldn't know exactly what kind of hurtful expression was going through Charles's face, but that was quite alright. Erik buried half of his face into that messy hair of his as he continued to attempt to calm Charles.

Charles made a small noise in the back of his throat, though it seemed like it echoed throughout the ever enveloping silence around them. "'S'not-" Charles voice was hoarse and broken as he sniffed up the snot threatening to stain Erik's attire. "Bad," Charles managed to mutter the last word of his sentence. His grip tightened on the fabric of Erik's clothes though his body continued to try and relax itself.

Erik hummed in question as he pulled away from the embrace. Doing so, he reached his hands up to cup Charles's tear stained face, wiping away the new flood as it poured from his soul. "Charles?" Erik asked again. Charles was not entirely mentally in the moment, spacing out a bit as he grew accustomed to the surge of the serum through his veins.

"Sorry.." Charles muttered, "serum.. side effect.. give it a couple minutes." Charles didn't have to attempt to wipe the tears away as Erik was already at it, so Charles leaned into the touch, closing his swollen eyes as he let out a quiet and uneven sigh.

Erik sighed in a tone that spoke lengths of disappointment and anger, yet when he chose to speak, his voice was low and calm, just like before. "Why do you still do it? Why don't you seek help?" Erik's voice had a hint of desperation, not an angry one, but a sad and upsetting one. "Why do you choose to temporarily numb it? At the end of it all, it will eat you until you let it go. So why not let it go with me? Let all the negative out so the comfort can rest.

"Scream and shout it out if you truly need to, and I will sit and listen if you need it. You can only temporarily numb something for so long."

Charles rubbed at his eyes; it felt dry from the previous tears, his vision blurry and his breath shallow. "What would I even say?" Charles smiled, but a sad one, one that spoke of being so used to years of self-torment that at this moment, insulting himself would just be fine. "Besides.. the negative feels good.. comfortable.. safe, almost." Charles chuckled low, but his throat was dry like a desert land, and the tears were threatening to stream once more.

"Anything at all." Erik said helpfully, keeping his hands cupped around Charles's face as he relaxed into the touch. "Also, saying the negative is nice is a lie they use, so it's never handled." Erik stated, brows furrowing and tone hurt.

"It isn't really safe to begin with, to keep collecting and holding. Everything will break, and that is not safe for anyone, not you, not people who get close. So say anything and everything, just so it's out, so it stops building."

They stopped talking after that short moment of comfort. Charles was bone tired, so instead of retorting with some half-assed excuse for the lies he made himself believe, he settled against Erik's chest, holding him close as he soaked in the warmth of a companion's comfort.

[edaworks]

For my lovely wife @twosides--samecoin, who has been preternaturally patient with my VERY delayed production of this parody of the album cover art for Tyler, the Creator’s Flower Boy (alt., Scum Fuck Flower Boy).

All she has heard this week is me apologizing for spending 2847383 hours on this after starting late and saying “just a bit longer” while alternately cursing Todd Howard for the 230-year old highway lines on Mass Pike and repeating “I hope you like kudzu”

Original album art below the cut.

Cover Artist: Eric White

[norigohan]

knight portraits

[soupbtch]

ummm. my fic is done.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THAT WOUND. THAT VILE WOUND. it throbs in time with your speeding heart, and the ache it carries through your veins is oppressive, its hot, it tangles around your jaw and through your spine and behind your eyes. there are needles, sprouting from the lacerations like the most heinous ivy, and it strangles your lungs, rips tears from your eyes, lures bile to your throat. it hurts. oh god it hurts. you cant think, you cant breathe, you cant swallow, you cant see. you cant see. you cant see. you cannot see but you know when your eyes are closed, because there are colors stained upon the backs of your eyelids. they form images of loved ones, of viscera, of bile and blood and blackened mud. its jarring, they make anxiety spike outwards, frantic ferro fluid, frightened from faces too scared, too pained, too dead, too piercing with eyes staring straight at you, straight at you. actually, you cant tell when your eyes are open.

SAUCE FREE VERSION UNDER THE CUT.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bbeeohazardd]

Flames shootin' up to the sky like some vision of hell Satan send me a signal, there's Blood in the sink There's blood on the windows I need a drink I need to, I need to, I need to know

[meownotgood]

50,000 words. 50k words of aki sex. five zero zero zero zero. aki sex.

[tytolito]

🐉 woman 🐉 woman

twitter instagram inprnt

[umemiyan]

my abdomen is sore today and i just know it's gotta be from me moving around trying to decorate and shit but 'TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY BITCH like ain't nobody else here to put this damn christmas tree up

[kindaorangey]

real nice that my dissertation supervisor aired me for 3 weeks just to tell me in our meeting today that she showed my plan to my other supervisor and neither of them understood it

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Head in my hands wondering if I'll have to cut the entire Chume Labs section out because it's more suited to being a different chapter, but also knowing the next chapter can't have it either so I might have to cut it from this fic entirely aaaAAAAAAAAAA

[horsemage]

I fucked up and now I have to write like. three weeks worth of coding homework in 24 hours

[scarletwitch1918]

Today was the second birthday this year of a friend that I thought I was really close with that i didn’t get invited to