losing my friends, one post at a time

I hate everything. This resulted in my roommate encouraging me to badfic like crazy. THis also just kind of changed into like, drunk fic. Hiiiiiiiiiiiii. 100 Proof Espresso Vodka is some good stuff.

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Charles Xavier wasn't the tallest of men, but make no mistake, he was pretty fucking tall. This was thanks to his secondary mutation, which provided a growth spurt on his twenty-fifth/thirty-first (depending on whether or not one believed he was 12 in 1944) birthday.

Erik was mightily impressed.

"Gut Geburtstag, Geburtstagkerl*," Erik said, because, as a Holocaust survivor, he had no issues slipping casual, Google-translated, German into his everyday conversations.

AND THEN THEY BANGED.

(*I didn't actually Google translate, I just tried to make it as appallingly bad as possible, and was told I succeeded.)

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Erik was really depressed, because even though he was standing on a milk crate, he wasn't tall enough to change the curtains. FORTUNATELY, Charles found him right when Erik was about to cry a manly tear of manpain (because obviously, Erik cries over EVERYTHING), and because Charles was just so amazingly tall now, Charles took care of the curtain dilemma, no problem.

And then they banged.

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NOT A SONG FIC I PROMISE, because only my roommate is allowed to write all the songfic. Most of the words for this one belong to Pitbull. For the first four sentences anyway.

It was one a.m. and Charles just got to the club.
Two a.m. he was drinking it up.
Three a.m. he was doing the robot, or some geeky shit.
Four a.m. he was ready to fuck (Erik).

( You have very nice genes. If I buy you a drink, can I get in them? )

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( I kind of want to set myself on fire for even writing this facetiously. But roommate was like, car breaks down! Midwest! CONDOMS! )

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i went outside mutants and wrote Twitter fic for withlightning ♥♥ who is wonderful and yes. ♥

( Matt/John, Dean/Castiel, and Sam/Gabriel. )