#anyhow i hope you like this expansion anon

[writerofshit]

I see your Jeremy giving Gavin piggy back rides and raise you drunk/exhausted Michael just collapsing onto Jeremy and when Jeremy tries to make him move all Michael can mumble out, because of course he's about to pass out, is "You're strong, you carry me". Cue Jeremy carrying a sleeping Michael through the base to his bed every god damn time.

This is too cute!!!

Jeremy's just in the living room, replaying Spyro for the ???th time and minding his own business, when Michael comes stumbling up the stairs. Being gone for some job he got sent out on that took too much brain power, plus the long ass drive back, makes for him faceplanting onto Jeremy's chest the moment he sees him.

"Michael, man, I was-" but Michael is literally already asleep. It's a miracle he made it home at all. Jeremy still has some use of his controller, and he's content to let Michael nap on him until he's finished.

That, as it turns out, takes about 20 minutes, and then hes gently shaking Michael awake. Michael, who is perfectly happy where he is, thank you very much.

"Michael, hey, come on. You gotta get to bed."

"Mm. I am." He mumbles.

"No, you're laying on me. I'm not bed." It's hard to be mad when half-asleep Michael is so goddamn adorable.

"Ugh. Fine." But he doesn't move away, just clings a little tighter to Jeremy. "You're strong. Carry me."

"You're strong too, dude. You can carry yourself. I believe in you."

"Mhm." He swipes half heartedly at Jeremy's arm. "You're stronger. Please."

And fuck him if it's not the quiet little please that absolutely melts him. "Alright, sure, I'll carry you. But you gotta let me get up first."

Michael pulls back just enough to allow Jeremy to move, before collapsing right back down on the couch with a mumbled "I'll fuckin...get...get you up."

"Whatever you say, man." Jeremy cant help the smile. Even half asleep Michael's got shit to say. He picks him up as carefully as he can, one arm under his legs and the other wrapped around his back. Michael's head immediately falls to his shoulder, and he makes a contented noise.

It's a short distance to Michael's room, and the door is already open, thank christ. He deposits Michael into the bed as softly as he can. Before he can leave, Michael grabs his wrist. Not hard, nowhere near tight enough to keep him there, but just enough to make it clear what he wants.

"Stay?"

And now Michael is looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, and dammit Jeremy is only so strong. "Uh. Sure." He slips into the bed, wrangling the blankets enough to actually cover them. Michael rolls into him, firmly faceplanted onto his chest again.

He mumbles a final quiet "thank you." And then he's asleep.

It seems they always do this, find gentle, quiet comfort in each other. Don't take it any farther. Just grateful to have someone to sleep beside, to hold on nights like these. Who knows, maybe one day they'll really explore the feelings that sit just on the edges of these moments. Maybe they'll figure it out, do it right. Stop making excuses and just allow themselves to want one another.

For now, though, they have this. And Jeremy's gotta admit, it's a pretty damn good thing to have.

#this uh... this became a whole ass mini fic didnt it #this idea was too cute and my brain said 'what if little back and forth about whos stronger' #solely bc of the line 'youre strong. you carry me' #and then this happened #went with sleepy michael bc i write drunk michael all the time #also i am v sleepy right now and i too would like to cuddle #anyhow i hope you like this expansion anon #it was very warm and soft to write #also autocorrect changed spyro to fuckin... sotto or some shit? idk it wont do it again bc i made a point of fixing it #and i dont remember what it was #it was something like that #anyway im gonna shut up now #bc i WILL make a typo in these tags and i WONT see it and i will be SAD #so lets do actual tags now shall we #jeremichael #ragehappy #mini fic #ks writes #ks talks #anon

[sugako]

guiding hands

oikawa x f!reader

anon req:  hey! i love your work and i think your requests are open right now so i was wondering if you could write something with preferably oikawa (but honestly any character is fine) teaching (fem) reader how to masturbate because she’s tried before but can’t make herself cum? with a bit of praise too maybe?

cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, light teasing, female masturbation, guided motions/telling you how, fingering, praise definitely included

a/n: thank you so much for this request anon!! i really enjoyed writing this so i hope this was good and really what you wanted 💖

“Hmm and I bet you touch yourself when you think about me like this,” Oikawa whispered against the base of your neck, “Scream my name when you cum.” 

“N-no, I don’t.” You shifted a little awkwardly in his lap, hoping if he noticed your discomfort you could blame it on the sweltering heat.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, princess.” He sighed, pressing long kisses along your jaw. That much was true, technically. You didn’t have to be embarrassed with him, you told him everything so why would this be any different? 

“Tōru,” you say, grabbing his cheeks in your palms to pull him off you, “I’m being serious.”

“Oh, oh well if you don’t like doing that, that’s completely-” 

“It’s not that, I just...” You find yourself letting your eyes drift away, wary of continuing, but pushing through anyhow. “I just can’t make myself cum. I’ve tried. Lots of times. I want to, I just can’t...I can’t get it, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” The last few words come tumbling out a little too fast with a small quiver in your voice, but he holds your face in his rough hands, steadying you. 

“Slow down, it’s okay. That’s okay, well it’s not...I mean,” he takes a short inhale and exhale to slow himself down, “do you want me to help you?” 

“Right now?” You ask, excitement swelling up slowly. 

A smile breaks out on his face and he leans his forehead against yours. “Hmm, I have plans to tease you all night, but this sounds much better so right now is definitely.” 

Craning into you him, you sighed against his soft lips while his arms slipped under your thighs. The way you were straddling him made it more than easy for him to hoist you up. Clambering to stay up, your arms hooked around the back of his shoulders, firmly holding your place. 

“Tōru! What are you doing?” 

“We have to set the mood,” he explained, pushing open the bedroom door with his hip, “shouldn’t touch yourself on the living room couch. Well, not tonight anyway.” 

He tossed you onto the plush bed, white sheets and comforter enveloping in their softness, not waiting a moment before he clambered on with you. Not giving you a moment to get situated, he worked his lips against yours not allowing any room for air between you. Leaving burning trails in their wake, his hands moved up and down the expanse of your body, grazing over any exposed flesh he could. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he settled in, letting his body weight crush into you between your thighs, the friction between his boxers and your thin, fabric shorts making you buckle under him. It seemed he might be content to make out and barely touch you all night, if you didn’t give him a light push, panting with parted, bruised lips. His fingers, brushing down your sides now, came to a slow stop and he cocked his head. 

“I think I’m ready to start.” You sighed, letting your legs unwrap from his waist. His lips curled into a pleased grin as he sat back and reached under the waistband of your shorts. Fingers barely grazed your aching slit before he abruptly pulled away. 

“You’re certainly wet enough. Here,” he sat and moved you to sit between his spread legs, “let’s do this.” With a gentle touch, his hands ghosted down your thighs and, quickly getting the hint, you shimmied your shorts off. 

“Should I take my shirt off?” You ask, cozying back up against his chest. 

“Would you feel more comfortable that way?” His fingertips rubbed at the hem of the loose shirt and you wished the distance to be closed at once. Because of the heat, he was already shirtless, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against yours right now. 

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, leaning forward just enough so he can pull it off of you. At once, his hands went to your exposed chest, rolling the hard buds of your nipples between his fingers. You arch back into him, mewling and clutching his knees that have you caged in just to feel like you’re grounded. 

“C’mere.” He says lowly, pulling his hands away just to hold each of yours, palm down. With careful motions, he guides your hands over your own body, resting in the places he knows are the most sensitive until you’re moving on your own. “That’s a good girl. Touch yourself all over until you can’t stand it.”

Voice stuck in your throat, you nod, following his instructions. It really doesn’t take long for the languid touches to become too much to bare. The way his half-hard cock is pressing against your back, his hands that are kneading into your waist and keeping you steady, and his hot breath on the back of your neck is enough to make you swoon without all the intimate touches. 

“You’re so good,” he watches as one of your hands dips between your legs, “now take deep breaths and relax. Use your fingers to make sure you’re wet all over and-” he leans over to the low nightstand to grab something you can’t quite see, “-let’s use this to make sure there’s nothing to worry about, huh?” 

He holds the small, sleek brown bottle with a pump - lube, albeit in a fancy, inconspicuous bottle - in front of you while he pumps a bit into your outstretched hand. A little too quickly, you draw it between your already drooling cunt, shifting at the coolness of it against your skin. 

“Good, feels good?” Oikawa asks, placing it back on the stand and rubbing your shoulders while you finally spread your legs.

“Yeah, feels really good.” You sigh, fingers tracing through your folds.

“That’s good, you’re doing great. Now I want you to find your clit, and touch it in different ways until it feels good. You can press harder or lighter, trace patterns, tap, do anything you want until you feel the best.” 

“What should I...I mean, I just don’t know what to even...” 

“Shh, it’s okay, take a deep breath, relax everything,” he soothes, feeling your nerves catching up to you, “and there’s no pressure, okay? We have to practice to become good at things. And I’m certainly not opposed to practicing something like this every night.” His cool tone makes you bristle, fingertips nestled against your clit. 

After a long moment of silence, you relax back against him, taking another full breath and begin. He let’s you be while you start up, adjusting your body just so, and shifting your hips every now and then as you experimented. 

“You like that?” The gentle hum of his voice shaking you from your personal thoughts. He watches how your hips raised and twitched the last way you touched yourself. “Keep doing it.” 

While he wants you to get this all on your own, he can’t help but dig his fingers into your supple skin, keeping his eyes on you.

“Imagine it’s my fingers or tongue on you. Think about how that feels.” His hands come up to cup your chest, just barely pinching your sensitive skin. With your eyes squeezed shut, you feel everything, entire body tensing, hips raising to meet your fingers. 

“You look so cute when you’re close.” His gentle rasp sent you just to the brink of the edge, making you reach back with the hand that wasn’t busy and grab his arm. The pressure was all too much now, it felt as though you might burst, and for a moment you got a little nervous, but Oikawa’s gentle grasp and quiet puffs of air carried you forward. 

A strangled, broken moan shattered from your chest as the dam finally broke and you bucked around, secured by his legs still on either side of you. 

“Well done,” he murmured, “you’ve had your practice for the night.” He huffed, flipping you over so he could kneel between your thighs. “So it’s only right I practice making you cum too.”

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa smut #toru oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa smut #toru oikawa smut #hq smut #hq imagine #anon.req

[cheesyficwriter]

can we see you write a romione one shot like what you think happened when ron told hermione what the locket said to him🥺 [I love your writing]

I understand if you can’t if you’re busy with your other writings. Thanks anyhow!

Hi there, anon! Happy Motivational Monday! Thank you so much for the ask. An emotional prompt for sure, but I hope you enjoy this take. Ron gives quite the emotional speech and I hope it provides all the feels 💜

Help Me Understand

The waves crashed against the shore, rippling and dissolving into the depths of the sand. The slight breeze in the cool night blew small wisps of sand up and into Ron’s long, auburn locks that had yet to be trimmed after months.

He came out to the beach at Shell Cottage on a nightly basis, to bask in the reflection pool that provided the only sense of calming energy in his life at the moment. He was tense, more on edge than ever, since escaping Malfoy Manor. His thoughts drifted to Hermione, as they often did, and the evidence of her torture, her pain, her suffering that he had witnessed every day since their escape. It took everything in him not to punch at the ground, hard, out of anger. But, he held it together. He held it together for her and would continue to inhale and exhale slowly and deeply, until he was even-tempered enough to go back inside.

Tonight, his quiet moment was interrupted by a familiar, small figure, who wore only a long nightgown and a thin jumper covering her upper body. Her feet were bare as she traveled through the sand and over to sit down on the rock beside Ron.  

“Hermione. Bloody hell, it’s freezing out here, what are you doing?” He pulled the one blanket he had brought outside with him off of his lap and wrapped it entirely around her shoulders, snuggling her body closer to his.

She was already shivering, he noticed grimly, but her eyes displayed only determination. “I want you to tell me about destroying the locket.”

A sharp jolt of pain seared through his chest as he thought of the locket and everything it encompassed. “Let me at least get you inside…”

“Not until you tell me.” Her fierce gaze and set jaw was very Hermione-like and he would have laughed if the situation they were currently in weren’t so dire.

Instead, he shook his head, staring down at the sand. “You won’t understand…”

“Then help me. Help me understand.” Her teeth were chattering now, despite being wrapped in a wool blanket and the comfort of Ron’s arms.

Ron faced an internal battle. So much of him wanted to just let it all out, to release all of his demons and throw them into the ocean. The other, much smaller part, still had the urge to keep those demons close. To hide them away for fear of retribution. But, time seemed to be dwindling. He couldn’t hide anymore, and with the uncertainty that loomed ahead, he needed to let go of all of the negativity so he could focus more fully on the mission. He needed to be ready to protect those he held most dear.

So that is why he took a deep breath and began spilling the truth. “Growing up, I always felt like I lived in the shadow of everyone. My older brothers, and even my little sister.”

Hermione gently squeezed his hand to encourage him to continue once he paused, an effort that relaxed him enough to take the time to find the words he wanted to say.

“Even coming to Hogwarts, I instantly befriended one of the most popular wizards of our time. And then...there’s you…” Ron’s deep blue ceruleans met Hermione’s chocolate brown orbs, desperately hoping his words were coming out the way he intended. “The smartest, cleverest witch of our age. I often thought, well, why do they need me?”

Hermione’s head straightened instantly, “Ron-”

“No, please.” He lifted a hand to interrupt what he knew was likely to be a lengthy diatribe that he didn’t have the patience for, “I need to get this out so we never have to talk about it again.” Hermione must have recognized the seriousness in his voice, because she only nodded in response.

“I got into my head…” He let out a low growl of frustration as he kicked up chunks of sand with the toe of his shoe, “I dwelled on my own insecurities and lacked confidence so many times. With school, with my family, with Quidditch…” A final pause had him meeting Hermione’s gaze once more, his fingers subtly tracing the lines on the palm of her hand, “...with you.”

The tingling sensation of their joined hands sparked the energy, the courage he needed to continue on. “Being on the run...it took a toll on me. I know the locket said things to you also...and to Harry. Mine...fuck. It was like every negative thought I’ve had about myself poured into that locket and that’s all that I could hear. It consumed me, Hermione.”

Hermione’s lips parted, her eyes watering. She spoke in a breathy whisper, “Tell me what it said.”

Ron swallowed hard. His body was trembling, although he wasn’t quite sure if it was due to the cold or if it was because of Hermione’s hands now trailing up and down his arm soothingly. His voice cracked as he confessed, “That I was least loved by my mother, who wished for a daughter. That she would have even preferred to have had Harry as a son instead of me. And that you…” He bowed his head, afraid to meet her gaze, “...you thought I was nothing compared to Harry.”

There was no mistaking the sharp gasp that left her lips and the soft whimpers that followed. He knew she had to be crying, but he couldn’t bear to look at her.

“When I left, Hermione, I truly thought that you both were better off without me. That I was only holding you back. The instant I disapparated, and the locket no longer had control over me, I realized what a mistake I had made.” He needed to see her now, he needed her to see him. All of him. He lifted his head and tucked a hand underneath her chin to lock eyes with hers, “I’ll tell you Hermione, that feeling, that feeling of having left like that and having no way of knowing if I’d ever be able to find you, to see you again...it ripped me to shreds. It was worse than any bad thought I’ve ever had about myself. It was the darkest place I’d ever been.”

Hermione drew her bottom lip between her teeth, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Ron reached out to brush them away with the pads of his thumb. He smiled then, as he took in her beautiful complexion that glowed from the moonlight behind her.

“And then it was you. Your voice, Hermione. You are the best part of me. That little ball of light appeared out of the deluminator and guided me home. To you.”

She choked out a sob as she placed her cold, bony fingers on top of his hands that still rested on her cheeks. He gave her one last encouraging smile before lowering his hands to wrap his entire arm around her shoulders and pull her close to his body again.

“So, I found Harry and the sword. When the locket opened, everything I just admitted to you came pouring out. All of my insecurities, all of my flaws. I saw you...kissing Harry.” He spat out the words, like he was tasting salt in his mouth. He could feel a bit of the anger bubbling back inside of him, “It took everything I had to push through and destroy that bloody thing. It was, single handedly, the most rewarding moment of my life, an instant weight that had been lifted off of my shoulders. Like I could finally breathe again after months of feeling suffocated.”

When Hermione finally lifted her head from his chest, she looked him directly in the eye and placed a hand over his heart. “Some of the hardest battles we ever have to face are with ourselves. I couldn’t be more proud of the man you have become, Ronald Weasley. Please know that. Let go of this locket, please. Let it all go.” She waved her free hand out towards the ocean.

Fuck, he loved her. He tucked a curl behind her ear, watching her pleasantly as she leaned into his hand, closed her eyes, and let out a peaceful sigh. “I was determined that if I were to make it back to you, that locket would never hold any more power over me. Never again.”

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder as they both returned their gazes out to the expansive sea. Ron turned his nose slightly into her curls, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo, his voice muffled into her hair, “Friendship. Love. That’s what I’ll keep fighting for.”

Hermione pivoted her head, their noses almost brushing together from how intimately they were sitting. She smiled brightly, looking more refreshed than she had in weeks, “All is fair in love and war, right?”

#romione #romione fanfic #writing #shell cottage #fanfiction #ron x hermione #weasley is our king #cheesyficwriter

[bustedbernie]

I don't think it's fair to attribute statements from his voters/supporters directly to Mélenchon. And using France's place in the EU to renegotiate the treaties and reform the EU to a more social institution was actually his plan if he was elected. I personally doubt it would have succeeded since many countries have no interest in that and I doubt his negotiation skills. Regarding patriotism I was specifically refering to the concept of "xenocentrism" mentioned by another anon. I would be very 1

Distrustful of such concept which looks very close to an argument to dismiss local leftists as under the influence of foreign ideologies and reminds me of McCarthy. That's why I brought up patriotism as used to dismiss ideas as foreign anf by attacking the speaker's relation to the us. I would still argue that US patriotism is particularly loud and expansive (to absurdity imo). The US not alone in that phenomenon and I actually think what made me jumped at this concept of xenocentrism is that 2

We're seeing something to the same effect in France with many newcomers in research, especially in political science and sociology, being accused of parroting anglo-saxon doctrine to destroy the local ethos. Their work are dismissed as incomplete, unscientific, subjective and biased because they don't refer on locally approved concepts and I feel like the same mechanism is at play with this notion of xenocentrism tied to left leaning ideas and people. I hope I was clearer :)

Well I’d disagree to an extent with the first bit. I think a politician is at least partly responsible for their followers statements and behaviors. That’s been a big part of this blog, but also I think on the right-wing we saw how violent things can become when leaders don’t shut up their vocal supporters (McCain vs Trump might be a good example, or Obama vs Bernie in the left). And yeah, on the EU, I don’t know that he was really willing to negotiate things in a fair way. His statements were very aggressive. 

On your other points, yes it is much more clear. I do think the context of that anon as in how leftists in the USA use a mythological Europe as an ideal being for Americans to obtain. Much of the critique to this isn’t that there aren’t good ideas from European nations - there are - but that it is divorced from the history of Europe as a constituent whole as well as a continent of many nations. More importantly, it is used to attack the Democratic Party in the USA as “right-wing” based on an imaginary political spectrum which isn’t useful or cogent. I think this is the crux of the anon, because the Democratic Party IS quite left-wing, even in comparison to its European analogs (yes, even economically hah) and this meme also separates the Democrats from their context (American politics, two-party system, federalism, republicanism, etc). 

I do think on the broad-left there is a large thirst for foreign ideas and policies, so there are limits to a lot of this. In urban planning, American planners are finally starting to get research that backs up data about bike lanes and infra, housing policy, road design and transport. The USA has a gigantic blindspot toward essentially anything outside its borders and I think that is starting to change for the better. 

A lot of my academic background studies some of the issues you highlight. There are lots of friction points in what you speak of between the Anglo-American viewpoint and the francophone, one. I do think many in France are right to worry, though I also think some of it is a bit much. On the other hand, I do think there are lots of holes in the way that thought and research is done in Anglo nations that ought to be considered as well. The antagonistic form of writing and research in America is not something I am happy to see creeping into Canada and France, and writing my own research in the USA I still hate the ways in which a problematique is handled in the American format. But I think there is a virtue to both systems and perhaps the solution is in allowing some fluidity between them. But I think in France this is felt so strongly because the theoretical frameworks of some political and social thought is a bit shifted from the Anglo-American perspective. To generalize, I think the Anglo-American fascination with the individual is part of the reason why there is such friction on topics such as laïcité, feminisme and gender studies. I was recently reading an article that posited that the French philosophy on these matters was an adaptive marxist formulation that simply tends to view collectivities as more legitimate than in the Anglo-American formulation which often separates individuals from collectives. Although a lot of this is really just relevant to academia.

I think I agree that there is a danger though as you underline and there is always the need to outline exceptions, generalities, etc. 

On the point toward patriotism, yes I think most American nations have a much more forceful patriotism than (west) European nations. Canada, USA, Mexico, Brazil... It’s very different. But I still find Europeans, or at least French, Spanish and British folks, to simply express patriotism differently. But I do remember the collective eye-roll in France when Macron stated he wanted schools to start the day with La Marseillaise hah. He does get called an American a lot, anyhow haha.

#Anonymous

[gerec]

Do you have fic recs for cherik detective aus???? :D hope youre safe and healthy!!!

Oh boy this fandom has SUCH amazing detective aus Anon! I don’t know how many of these you might have read already but these are definitely my favorites :D Happy reading (and thank you - stay safe out there)!

Playing With Fire by professor

Charles is a detective determined to catch a serial killer.

If the serial killer doesn’t catch him first.

Deep Cover by Subtilior

Omegas in heat? The perfect whores. Sebastian Shaw? The bastard who kidnaps them for his Hellfire Club. Erik Lehnsherr? A hard-boiled detective who’s been on the Hellfire case for months. The catastrophe that unfolds when he goes in on retrieval and finds Charles Xavier still writhing in a Hellfire bed? …. Deep Cover.

Rampage by wallhaditcoming (uvcatastrophe)

When police uncover evidence that notorious serial killer Magneto is obsessed with Professor Charles Xavier, they immediately move to put him into Witness Security. Only Xavier refuses. The police come up with trumped up charges to arrest him and thus keep him safe until they can apprehend the killer. Erik is not happy that the police have chosen to drag Charles into this and are now trying to keep him from him, and shows his displeasure the best way he knows how – an increased body count.

Note: This one is more serial killer au than detective but OH BOY it’s good you gotta read it :D

Spy Games by manic_intent

Written for Marourin as part of the Secret Mutant exchange, in a pinch hit. Prompt: Burn Notice AU, with Erik Lehnsherr as the spy and Charles as the trigger-happy ex boyfriend. Erik is burned for unknown reasons in Mexico and wakes up in New York City. Somehow, he needs to raise $500,000, in order to find out -why-.

Paralyzer by Yahtzee

In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes – but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that’s not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It’s because the mysterious killer they’re both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they’re looking for looks back …

Guilty by Association by Regann

While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might’ve been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there’s just one thing that Charles neglects to mention – that he’s really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they’re dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

Charles’ Killer by luchia

When detective Charles Xavier finds himself hunting down a vendetta-driven serial killer, it doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s in over his head. It only takes a little longer for him to realize his killer is, too.

Incy Wincy Spider by Tawabids

Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don’t yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik’s past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

The Long Bright Dark by lachatblanche

Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.

A True Detective AU.

Patterns of Light by fengirl88 (series)

Xavier’s still asleep, sprawled face down on the pillow, his dark hair tousled and sticking up all anyhow. He must have been thrashing around while Erik dozed in the chair; the sheet’s slipped half-way down his back, revealing a distracting expanse of bare skin.

Homo Sacer by unveiled

In a not too distant future, Detective Erik Lehnsherr meets Charles Xavier: street magician, former academician, and telepath.

#Anonymous #gerec's fic rec #gerec rambles #Cherik #detective au #oh man i think i need to re-read these lol #love them all #fic rec

[panharmonium]

For Want of a Woodwright (Part 4)

aaaand we’re back with another slice of AU nonsense! 

(parts 1-3 can be found here; original idea is courtesy of this awesome anon ask)

today’s installment is gift-fic for @ragtag-band-of-murderers, whose generous reading and commenting last week brought me such joy and truly helped me in the midst of a tough moment.  here’s a little ficlet for you, my friend - featuring a bird’s-eye view of the city, more of our fave dudes just being themselves, and a minor reference to something you already read <3

THANK YOU, as always, to everyone who’s having fun playing in this sandbox with me - i hope you enjoy some more of the boys being alive and well in the Good Timeline :D

as before, the same disclaimer applies: this is VERY rough, not meticulously edited, and not even remotely close to a final draft.  it is hardly even a first draft, in fact.  the snippets in this series are not necessarily connected to each other, or in order, or part of any actual coherent plot, and they do not directly adhere to the plan laid out in lovely anon’s original post, either; they are just snapshots of images that refused to remain unillustrated once they’d occurred to me :)

with that said, if you’re looking for more AU fun (thank you again, anon, for this ‘verse!), hit the jump!

4. solid ground

Merlin drummed his boots against the wall beneath him, the stone battlements on either side of him providing some stability for his precarious perch atop the parapet.

From his seated position inside one of the inner curtain wall’s crenels, Merlin could see the entirety of the lower town, and the outer curtain encircling the urban crush, and the Sprawl beyond, a haphazard collection of settlements outside the reach of the city walls, the Crown’s cultivated fields and pastures transforming finally into wilderness, where the land was swallowed by forest.  Directly below, the King’s Works were in full swing, the framing yard at the base of the inner curtain a picture of hustle and bustle, numerous craftsmen unloading heavy timber from a caravan of carts lined up just beside the gate to the upper ward.  A number of other beams were laid out upon the cleared earth in a predetermined pattern, and something vaguely recognizable as a pair of roof supports appeared to have already been joined together at the other end of the yard.  

Merlin had been in the city long enough to know that once the beams for this mystery structure had been measured, cut, and framed, they would be disassembled and carted off to wherever the desired building was to be erected, but he could not have explained in any detail the specific tasks taking place down below.  One worker was marking some of the timbers with chalk symbols just as indecipherable to Merlin as the runes Gaius had recently set him to studying.  Another fellow was chipping away at a beam using something that wasn’t quite pointy enough on either end to be a pickaxe.  Two others appeared to be having some kind of animated argument over a set of timbers that looked all right to Merlin, but mustn’t have been, judging by the amount of arm-waving and indecipherable shouting taking place below.

Will probably could have told Merlin more about it, but Will had not climbed into the crenel.  He stood at Merlin’s back instead, staring determinedly ahead at the distant horizon, as opposed to peering down at the framing yard’s frantic scurry of activity.  

“High up, this,” Will said.

“Saddlegap’s higher.”

“Saddlegap’s up the side of a mountain, though,” Will muttered, his eyes firmly fixed on absolutely nothing.  “Not straight up, like.”  He drummed his fingers nervously on the sharp cut of the raised battlement.  “Never been up anywhere like this.”

Merlin looked at Will, fighting a sudden, surprised urge to laugh.  “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No!” Will retorted, instantly grouchy.  He redirected his gaze - with discernible difficulty, Merlin couldn’t help but note - down to the framing yard, where a pair of tiny figures in brown and white were rolling a log over to a deep depression in the earth.  Once suspended over the hole, the log could be sliced down the middle using a lengthy pit saw.  

Merlin hid a smile.  “Come and sit with me, then.”

Will looked nauseated, though he wiped his face clean of any such expression quickly.  “I’m not sitting in there.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no room.”

Merlin scooted as far over as he could, leaving a space between himself and the merlon to his right.  “There’s plenty.  Come in.”

“I’m not coming in there.”

“Just admit you’re afeared of the drop - ”

“I am not,” Will declared, and to prove it, he climbed into the crenel alongside Merlin, wedging himself into the space between Merlin’s side and the raised masonry of the merlon to their right, sitting there with his feet dangling in the air, upper body squashed between Merlin on one side and solid stone on the other.

Will’s frame was as stiff and unyielding as the log being hewn down below.  Merlin nudged him with an elbow.  “You see?  It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Will echoed through gritted teeth.  “Right.  You’re cracked, Merlin.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Merlin decided not to pursue the potential truth behind that statement, for all that it made him itch.  

Later.  

They could talk about it later.

Instead, he changed the subject, and pointed at a section of the lower town, where there was a dark gap in the layered patchwork of thatched roofs.  “We had a fire over there, the other week.”

Will was not really looking.  He appeared intently focused on a cloud floating at exactly the level of his eyes.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Little one.  Not so bad.  But now I can’t get pies from that fellow’s shop anymore, and that’s rotten luck, because they’re really tasty.”

“What sort?” Will asked, resolutely inspecting his cloud.  “Meat or fruit?”

“All sorts.  You’ve never seen so many pies in your life.  I’d have got you one if I could.”

Will shrugged in his best ‘life is like that’ way.  “Gods rest the pie man.”

“He’s not dead!” 

“Oh.”  

“Gods forbid, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes.  “Sorry, Merlin.  Didn’t realize you were so attached to the man who made your breakfast - ”

“He’s just closed down for a bit.  We’ll have him up and running again soon enough.”

“‘We’ who?”  

“Everybody loves the pie man, Will.  It’s a neighborhood effort, rebuilding him.”

Will tried valiantly to inspect the spot Merlin had pointed at, though his cheeks paled the moment he registered just how far down the pie man’s plot was situated relative to their own spot on top of the wall.  “Bad timing for it,” he said, averting his eyes after only a brief glance.  “For you.”

“Is it?”

Will pointed at the countryside beyond the Sprawl.  “Apples coming in and all.”

“Oof,” Merlin said, never having considered this fact.  “You’re right.”

Will smiled faintly.  “Apple season and no pie man to make Merlin’s favorites.  What’s a poor sorcerer to do?”

Merlin shrugged, affecting an abjectly mournful weariness.  “Die.”

Will snorted.

“Apple pie is serious business, Will.”

“Deadly serious.”

“Obviously.”  Merlin sighed and stretched out his legs over the drop, letting them fall back against the wall with a thunk.  “I’ll nick a few apples for myself, I suppose.  The Crown’s got orchards aplenty.  I’m no hand in the bakehouse - ”

“Too right - ”

“ - but I’ll trade a favor with Gwen, maybe; I reckon she knows what she’s about.”

“Who?”

“Gwen.  You met Gwen.”

“Which one was she?”

“The one in servant’s garb.  She’s got brown skin, curly hair to about here?” 

Will nodded.  Merlin searched the mottled sea of rooftops for Gwen’s house.  Just down the lane from her cottage, smoke rose over the forge, a cloud of fumes that never truly dissipated, even after nightfall.  The smell hung in the air day in and day out, clinging to the straw in the street and the wooden struts of the surrounding structures.  Even the building itself continued to radiate vestiges of heat long after Tom and his crew had gone home for the evening.  

“I think you’d get on with her,” Merlin ventured.  “Gwen’s lovely.  She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?”  Will’s reply was some mix of absent and unconvinced.

“Yeah.  I mean, she’s nicer than you, anyhow.”

“Mm.”

“Not that that’s a particularly high bar to step over.”

“Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitated.  “Maybe I could introduce you to each other.”

“We’ve already met.”

“No, you haven’t, not properly.  You didn’t even remember who she was.”

“I remembered her.  I just didn’t know her name, is all.”

“Well, you didn’t talk to her or anything.”

“Why would I talk to her?  I don’t know her.”

Merlin squirmed in his seat, self-conscious.  “I don’t know.  I just think you’d like her.  She’s not...”  He gestured vaguely behind them, past the slope of the wealthier upper wards and back to the citadel proper.  “You know, she’s not silly like that sort.  She’s plain folk, like us.”

Will was staring straight ahead, past the crowded mess of the lower town and out to the country, beyond the Sprawl’s creeping expanse of civilization.  It was a clear enough day that one could see the hazy jut of the mountains looming in the distance, and - in Merlin’s imagination, at least - the border was there, too, and their home just beyond that, hidden in the foothills, nestled in a little valley behind the White Mountains’ far-reaching roots.

“Gwen helped me a lot when I first came here,” Merlin said.  “Taught me loads.”

“I’m sure she’s brilliant, Merlin,” murmured Will, his eyes locked on the horizon.

“I just thought since you’re here - ”  Merlin stopped himself, sitting up a bit straighter.  “I mean, not that you’re here-here, obviously; but - just staying, you know, not that you’re staying-staying, or anything, just - ”  Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale, unlocking his fingers from where they’d wound themselves into a knot.  “Since you’re here just now, I mean.  I just.  Thought maybe it would be good, you know.  For you to know some people.”

“I don’t think your friend there wants to know me, Merlin.”

“Why not?”

Will raised his eyebrows.  “She thinks I have magic, doesn’t she?”

“That’s - ”  Merlin faltered momentarily.  “It’s just Gwen, I mean, she’s - you’re my friend.  It wouldn’t matter.”

Will gave Merlin a skeptical look.  “Why haven’t you told her your secret, then?”

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again.  The breeze curling through the gap of the crenel was chilly, raising goosebumps on his arms.  

Will shook his head and returned his gaze to the mountains.  “Look, Merlin...if it really didn’t matter, she’d already know.  Let’s not court trouble, all right?  We’re in enough of that as it is.”

“You don’t have to be,” Merlin said, after a brief pause.  “You could go.”

Will did not reply, staring at the White Mountain like he was trying to climb it with his eyes.  Merlin wondered what he was thinking, Will with his closed mouth and his set jaw and his inscrutable frowns.  Did he wish he were back there?  Did he wish he hadn’t left in the first place?

Merlin shifted on the cramped crenel, but there was nowhere for him to go.  “I just thought...it might be good, you know.  For you.  To make friends.

“I’ve got enough friends, Merlin.”

“You’ve only got me.”

“That’s what I said.”

The line of Merlin’s body where it pressed against Will was very warm.  

So was Merlin’s face.  

Merlin was glad suddenly that there was no space on either side of them for either of them to scoot away.  He relaxed where he sat, solid stone on one side and solid Will on the other, the two of them squished and snug against each other in their shared seat.

Will’s frame was hard as a rock, though.  Merlin looked down at Will’s hands, one of which was fisted on his knees and the other of which was wrapped, white-knuckled, around the corner of the battlement.  

“You really don’t like it up here, do you?” Merlin asked, a surprised smile spreading over his face. 

“Hate it,” Will burst out immediately, with a vehement gust of relief.  “It’s wretched.  I can’t believe you’ve got me sitting up here, Merlin; of all the daft, foolheaded places for a person to be - ”

“We can get down,” Merlin laughed, climbing back over onto the walkway.  He wrapped a hand in the fabric of Will’s mantle and jostled him lightly.  “Go on, lean forward.  You’ll get to the bottom quick as anything.”

Will gave Merlin a dirty look and scooted himself very painstakingly out of the crenel, back onto the safety of the ramparts.  

Merlin, hands on his hips, evaluated Will with newfound curiosity.  “And here I thought I knew everything there was to know about you.”

“I’m not afraid of heights, Merlin,” Will said, turning to stride along the line of the wall toward one of the towers that would take them back to the ground.  

“Don’t get tetchy,” Merlin said, following him.  “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“You’d know.”

Merlin did not argue.  Will, for all his formidable powers of perception, hardly knew how true his statement was - Merlin found something new to be afraid of every day, it seemed, now that he was in Camelot.  

“I’d never let you fall off, you know,” Merlin said, tugging open the door to the tower, the creaking hinges echoing down the darkened spiral stair within.

“Oh, aye?”

“Aye, so,” Merlin replied, ushering Will onto the staircase and nodding to a guard headed up in the opposite direction.  “And if you did fall, I’d catch you.”

“You would not,” Will scoffed.  “You’ve never caught anything so big in your life.”

“Not yet.  But I can do all sorts of new things now; I haven’t shown you hardly anything.  Gaius gave me this book - ”

Will groaned.  “Oh, Lugh, Merlin, no.  Not another book.”

“A great big one,” Merlin grinned.  

“Gods alive,” Will muttered.  “This again.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”  Merlin’s grin widened as he tripped his way down the stairs.  “Gaius has all sorts of books, dozens of them; well, you’ve been in his chambers, you already know - and he tosses them all over like it’s nothing; it’s mad; it’s like he doesn’t even care.  Most of them are physician’s texts, I mean, and that’s interesting enough, I suppose, but there’s more, Will, on the lower levels; there’s an entire library; it goes on forever, it’s got everything, it’s - what are you doing?  Where are you going?

Will had turned around and was heading back up the stairs.  He jerked his thumb upwards.  “Back.”

“What for?”

Will did not look round at Merlin, but continued to trudge determinedly up the stairs.  “I’ve decided to take the quick way down after all.”

Merlin snorted and snagged Will’s sleeve in his fingers.  Will, pulling away, put up a valiant show of resistance.  “Just let me jump, Merlin.  I can’t survive another round of this book nonsense.”

“Not on your life.  I’m not spending an evening scraping you off the paving stones.”

Will gave up and allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs, but his face wore the dark, surly look of a man marching to his own execution.  “If you try to read me anything, I’m crawling out your window.”

“Bit high up, that,” Merlin remarked mildly, “for a fellow who’s just discovered he’s afeared of heights.”

“I am not afeared of heights,” Will snapped.  Then, in his most stubborn tone, he added, “The higher the better.  I don’t want to suffer.”

Merlin laughed.  “You might’ve thought on that before you went running off to Camelot, William.”

Will’s face changed slightly.  “Aye, so,” he replied, a touch of something grim in his voice.  “So might you have done, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Merlin bit his tongue on an uncertain reply and shoved Will out the door at the base of the tower, out of the stuffy shadows of the staircase, into an overbright, sunlit afternoon.  

Later, Merlin thought, chivvying Will across what was supposed to be solid ground, though Merlin wasn’t sure, now, if they had really made it to the bottom, after all, for all that there was grass and good earth under their feet.

They could talk about it later.  

#TBC maybe! inspiration pending as always #this is a fun AU to play in #and it allows me to continue writing for my fave #so we'll see what happens! #(i clearly wasn't done writing about these kids when i was 'done' writing about them it seems) #(shocking) #XD #fic #the once and future slowburn #for want of a woodwright #no kings no masters

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

So glad your requests are back open. I panicked when I saw they were closed!! I hope everything’s ok with you? I know things like this can get pretty stressful because once people see how good you are at writing the more requests you get haha I use to do a lot of writing myself but haven’t for so long now! It can be stressful sometimes. Anyhow can I please request A22 and A23 together for Helena and mc. Hope I haven’t accidentally picked ones that have already been done. Thanks sweetness

Thank you for your concern, anon, but I’m doing fine now! I just had an allergic reaction and lost motivation for a short period of time; but I’m back in black! When you mention that this can become extremely stressful because people love my writing, I’m glad that you can understand what I experienced. Starting this up was a big step for me because I’ve never released my writing publicly like this, so it was absolutely delightful to receive wads of requests every single day. The excitement and elation of it persuaded me to pump out as much as I could in one day which wasn’t the smartest move. As time went on, I realized that I couldn’t keep up--that I had limits and that those limits had been crossed. My inbox kept growing fatter and fatter and I was getting less and less motivated to write, which resulted in me having to close down my requests for the sake of catching up and finding my own rhythm. I’m glad that I did; now I take my time and write only when it’s possible for me to. Alongside my lack of motivation, my allergies started getting in the way of writing and the medication that I took to alleviate the symptoms made me really drowsy and sleepy. I just didn’t have a good reason to write in general. Then I caught up, posted completed works, and got back on my horse. I just have to remember that I need to take it easy and not stress so much about completing requests as soon as they’re sent it. Hearing this from someone who knows the feeling and knows how it can affect you is super reassuring. You seem like a very nice person, I’d love to read what you’ve written someday 😊

ANYHOW, sorry for the long-winded vent--I just needed to spill some stuff that’s been clogging up my head. Your request hasn’t been done yet, fortunately for you, so I’d be happy to write this for you, anon! Thanks for your request and I wholeheartedly hope you enjoy, sweetness!

A22: “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Everything’s fine now.”

A23: “I can’t live without you, you have to understand how important you are to me!”

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Helena was a pale flame in the battlefield, her power evident even from miles away. She was powerful but she was using her power the wrong way--the Witch Queen way, as MC dubbed it. Any soldier bearing the Witch Queen’s icy emblem of colors was splashed with her magic and sent sprawling across the woodland floor, their faces contorted with pain as they screamed in total agony. MC watched with horror as Helena whirled around and shot magic at almost any person who dared near her. Helena’s going to kill someone if I don’t do something about this! Despite the chaos unfurling around her, MC rushes towards her sorceress, simultaneously dodging the trivializing soldiers attempting to slice her down. “Helena!” Helena turns her back to MC just as she nears her, giving MC a prime opportunity to approach her without the risk of being taken down like the soldiers scattered around them. “Helena, stop!!” MC exclaims as another burst of magic collides with a soldier, renewing the air of more agonizing screams. Helena spins around, her eyes cold and amiss as they find MC’s... Then an expression of cool recognition fades into her features, delicately softening the furrow in her brow. Is she... calming down? Helena’s pale face is blotchy with fury and her chest is jumping with heavy breaths but the reign of merciless anger in her eyes dies down--a slow demise, falling dimmer and dimmer the longer MC stares desperately into her eyes. “That’s it, Helena,” MC coos as the hand bearing the nefarious magic slowly lowers, the blue effervescence faltering into her pale skin, “calm down. You need to calm down before you hurt anyone else.” Her hands frame Helena’s taunt shoulders softly as the sorceress regains her sense of reality, her expression twisting into something saddened and extremely disappointed.

Only then does MC realize that the entire world had seemed to fall away--the cognizant war cries now silent. She glances around only to see a bubble of cerulean surrounding them, encasing them safely like a shield. Wait... it is shield! It’s Helena’s. MC turns back to Helena to see that her blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears and her lips are drawn into a scowl dripping of rancor. “I lost all control, I almost killed after I said-after I promised that I’d never again-!” Her voice quavers and MC’s heart buckles in her chest. Soothingly, MC shushes Helena and pulls her into a tight hug, cradling her as close as she can manage. Her palms skate up and down the sorceress’ back slowly. “It’s okay, Helena. You didn’t mean it--I know that wasn’t you.” MC murmurs into Helena’s ear gently, her own ashen eyes brimming up with commiserating tears. She hated seeing Helena so upset--seeing how it took a toll on her to lose herself. Helena had tried so hard to change, to alter the monstrous persona the Witch Queen had forced her into and with this... It dilated the progress Helena had worked so hard to build. That fact alone was enough to crack MC’s heart in two. “It doesn’t matter if you believe that wasn’t me,” Helena argues grimly, her eyes woven with saddened luster, “that doesn’t stand for the people who do not know me as you do. To them, it’ll seem as though I’m a bloodlusted murderer even without the Witch Queen there to beset commands to me.” Her gaze wavers to the infuriated soldiers striking the shield, trying their hardest to break through and attack them. A look of disdain and gentle fear crosses her eyes.

MC takes hold of Helena’s jaw and gingerly tilts her head towards her. “Keep you eyes on me, okay? Everything’s fine now.” She assures tenderly as her arms slides around the sorceress’ waist, pulling her in closer to her body. “You’re fine now, Helena. You regained your senses and you stopped yourself from going any further. We’re together.” She adds the final sentence to appease the apprehension curling her lips. Even if Helena can’t find comfort in the fact that she was able to stop herself from certain murder, I want her to take solace in the fact that we’re together--that I’m still with her. Helena seems to mirror MC’s train of thought and she exhales shakily, nodding. “I suppose I cannot deny the blessing I’ve been gifted over and over,” a hand approaches MC’s cheek and presses against it affectionately, “your everlasting presence.” Her plum lips brush the curve of MC’s brow and the Chicagoan sways into her further, enjoying the warmth that Helena emanated. All around them soldiers slapped the bubble in hopes of bursting through but just like the thumping of Helena’s melted heart, it remains strong and impenetrable. Just me embracing her is strengthening her shield. MC remarks, her smile becoming wry with an unseen victory. “Same thing here too. I love you... so much, Helena. I can’t live without you, you have to understand how important you are to me!” Her voice pitches higher as the sentiment of her heart bleeds up her throat, choking her slightly with emotion. All of it was settling in: the battle raging on around them, the vulnerability of Helena, the goal she had almost failed within one moment of frenzied anger... I wish I could just ward the world away from her and keep her from harm--that’s all I want.

Helena clones her look but doesn’t have a welsh of tears climb out of her eyes; instead she wraps MC up tighter in her arms. She whispers ghostly into her hair, the raven strands consuming her gentle voice. “I understand completely, my love. And I wish I hadn’t caused this grievance for you--it saddens me to see you so hurt. Especially by my own doing.” Helena rubs soothing circles into the expanse of MC’s back, cradling her close as if her mere presence was to solve the soldiers who were ordered to kill them--to leave them in tatters for the Witch Queen’s pure entertainment.

Encased in their glistering bubble of sky-blue magic, Helena and MC bathe in each other’s presence as dozens of weapons slam into the shield--earnestly trying to end their moment of bonding.

But there was nothing that could shatter the moment between them except themselves--and they weren’t going to break it anytime soon.

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Thank you for your request! And a huge thank you for expressing your concern for me, anon, it makes me feel amazing!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#helena klein #love and legends