He wants the comfort of being able to say that he knew this story. He knew how it ends and how it began and the precise moment of its midpoint. He yearns for this knowledge so that he might be able to wrap around him like a safety blanket. But he doesn't know this story, not at all.

"Never be afraid to play the long game, boys" she warns. [Soulmate AU] Companion piece to Orange-Violet Blooms

Hermione goes back in time and then returns. Nothing changes.

It is slower in coming, certainly. But then all the best things are. [Soulmates AU]

When Charles is young he is completely taken with the idea of fairy tales and happy endings. He spends a lot of his life searching for his own happily ever after. No one told him that you don't find your own happy ending. It finds you. (Or, the four times Charles fell in love with the wrong person and the one time he fell in love with Erik)

The memories make you nostalgic; thinking of those days before this war started in earnest, when you were all just playing at being mutant the way young children play at being adults.

He wanted to be there when everything fell to pieces. Even though he wouldn't be able to pick them up and glue them back together, he was resolute that he would sweep them into a neat pile. And relinquish the adhesive to someone who could use it. Now available in German: fanfiktion (dot) de /s/5365644a00010d9e2c80ce8a/1/Salt

"I lied John, I lied an awful lot, and I'm a coward too. I couldn't tell you I lied to your face. I never fabricated any facts or figures. But some things: mostly small but sometimes large, often you saw right through my empty words."

"I'm scared John. It doesn't make sense, nothing adds up anymore. Suddenly two plus two equals twelve and I don't know who changed the meaning behind the numbers, or when it happened, all I know is that it makes sense to everyone in the world but me."

Sherlock Holmes had always been so pedantic about everything in his life, John Watson honestly hadn't any idea how far that actually stretched. Until now.

"When he hit the ground this time, he picked himself up and was about to begin climbing again, only to have Mycroft drag him away. Mycroft was not impressed; Sherlock's excessive bleeding had ruined his new shoes." Mycroft reflects on his little brother.

John showed him that life goes beyond the 1256 shades of grey that Sherlock has catalogued; now Sherlock has the whole world of colour to organise. And Sherlock wouldn't want it any other way.