#i can die a happy potato now

[wabblebees]

"men will literally [x] before they go to thera-" stop.

enbies will literally make loaded mashed potatoes at 4am instead of going to therapy

[multific]

Little You-s and I-s

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You and Tommy deal with the changes that come with your pregnancy.

Your pregnancy changed you a lot.

You became more sensitive to smell for example.

One evening, Thomas arrived home from the bar, and as soon as you caught the smell of drinks and smoke on him, you rushed to the bathroom.

Then there was the incident when you craved fish but before you could cook it, the smell of it caught your nose and again, rushing for the toilet you went.

Thomas was incredibly happy when you told him the news, having his own family with you was always a goal of his.

What he didn't like however is just how sensitive you became and one thing that set it off easily was his cigarettes.

Thomas smoked a lot, so for him to not be able to do that in his own home was a bit challenging, but he still found ways to smoke one or two in the furthest part of the garden. Even then, sometimes the wind carried the smell right back to you.

"No smoking and no drinks!" yelled Tom at John as he pulled out a cigarette.

"What? Why?"

"My wife is pregnant, she is sensitive to the smell."

"Oooh, it got that bad huh?" asked John as you entered the room with a tray, on the tray there were some cookies and tea.

"I'll appreciate if you can hold yourself from smoking just this once John, the smell of it just..."

"No problem, thank you for the tea."

"I'll leave you to it." you smiled at your husband who nodded before he turned to John, talking about business.

When lunchtime was approaching, both John and Tom found themselves in the kitchen where you were currently chopping up some carrots and crying.

"Darling, I'm sure the carrots don't mind us eating them."

"Tell that to the headless chicken in the oven, Thomas!" you quickly said back making both men take a step back, Thomas should have known not to argue with you.

Both headed into the dining room instead.

"Is pregnancy supposed to affect a woman this much?" asked John in a hushed tone.

"I think so? I'm no expert John. Arthur has children, he might know more."

"She is glowing though. She was crying but she still looked like a Goddess."

"Can't argue with that, John. But keep your wandering eyes to yourself, she is my wife."

"Does she always cry during cooking?"

"As of late, yes. Yesterday, she made salmon, cried her heart about as she was talking about the poor little fishies the one she cooked left behind. But then this morning, she cried when she made salad. Saying the potatoes didn't deserve to die this way."

"So, she is sensitive to smell, cries when the cooks, can't get worse than that, I'd say."

"She talks back like I have never heard before."

"Okay, I was wrong it can get worse. You mean to tell me, that my lovely shy sister-in-law talks back? The one who didn't dare to tell you she didn't like the ring you gave her?" Thomas made a face at John's confession.

"She didn't like the ring?"

"No, she said she wished you would have given her something more simple. But she didn't want to tell you because she would hurt your feelings."

"Well now, with my child under her heart, she is not afraid to talk from her heart. The other day she told me I should dress better, apparently my suits make me look old. Then she wanted to dance and when I said I don't have the energy she complained that I never have when it comes to her. This is true sadly, however, the latest one... oh Johnny, my boy just before you arrived, she told me to ask you not to smoke and when I told her that you will be free to do as you please, the look. That look I know well, it's the look of someone who is about to murder. She said I either tell you to not smoke or-" Thomas stopped as he felt a shiver run down his spine, both men turned towards the door only to find you with the food in your hands on a tray. 

You approached them and placed the food in front of them. The air was cold, John swore he could have cut the tension with a spoon.

"I told him he either asks you not to smoke or I will seriously question his position as the leader, as all leaders should be listened to and respected. And if he is not able to do so, then I shall take his place. So, you are not allowed to smoke John." John nodded, not even daring to look at you.

"Th-Thank you for the meal." John said.

"I know I can be a handful since I'm with child, I feel the change in myself, the doctor said it was hormones to blame, but I seriously hope you do not plan on talking our dear Johnny's ears off with my silliness, Dear Thomas. He doesn't have to know everything."

"Of course, Love. I apologize." Thomas grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it.

John left soon after lunch and you were now washing the dishes as Tom was reading in the living room.

Once all dishes were done, you headed into the living room, a soft song playing as he was reading in his favourite armchair. He put the paper down when he saw you approach and you sat on his lap, your head on his chest as he continued to read with one hand as the other was now around you, comforting you.

"Am I really that annoying that you talk to John about it?"

"You are not annoying, Love. Odd, sometimes yes, but that isn't due to pregnancy." you giggled a little.

You were fine with 'odd'.

"I try to control it, you know?"

"Oh, God, is this the controlled version? I'm scared now for the uncontrolled one."

"It will get worse, I'm warning you because the doctor said last week that this will only grow as the baby does."

"It's alright, your body will change, I can take a few harsh words, I took bullets after all." he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?" you asked with a rather quiet voice.

"I don't really care, as long as both of you are safe and healthy."

"So you want a boy, got it." Tommy laughed you looked up at him, into his blue eyes. "I just want them to have your eyes."

"What if they don't?"

"Then we try until we have a child who does." you smiled at him as he looked at you.

"Just how many children my Missus want?"

"Oh, as many as my lovely husband would give me. We have a big house, it would be nice to have some life in it. Little you-s and I-s running around."

"I would like that. Honestly, I would like that very much. But let's see how you do after this one, then we will talk."

You hummed before you placed another kiss on his lips, letting him return to his paper as comfortable silence fell.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[fresalana]

synopsis: caitlin taking you out to dinner.

warning: caitlins big wallet

type: headcanons

a/n: i'd love if caitlin took me out to dinner. now im hungry.

caitlin loves taking you out to dinner. if you can't decide where to eat, she'll recommend a restaurant she knows you will enjoy. she wants the best for her girl, so she only accepts the highest quality food and service.

pulls out your chair so you can sit at the table, rather than allowing you to do so on your own. caitlin wants you to sit in front of her so she can admire your lovely face as you eat. she's such a gentlelady.

will buy whatever you want from the menu. it kind of overwhelms you, and you don't know what to choose because there are so many options. you don't want to waste her money, but as i previously stated, spending it turns her on.

she enjoys red wine but will limit herself to half a glass because she's you both home after dinner.

caitlin always orders steak or salmon with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

you'll both eat from each other's plates and feed each another.

"that looks good, baby."

"is it good?"

"try mine, it's really good."

"can i try?"

does a little happy dance when the food is tasty.

tries to use slang, but it sounds weird so funny coming from her that you die laughing every time.

"this is fire."

"the chef ate." side eye.

loves it when you eat good. caitlin makes sure her girl is comfortable and fed.

as for dessert, i don't think she enjoys it very much unless it is off of your plate.

if you order dessert, she'll take a few small scoops from it. she says it's "so sweet," but she continues to eat it. you wonder why she didn't just order one for herself.

[roostersbby69]

0.3 | I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley tell your parents you’re expecting a baby at 18.

Warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

“So, do you want to say it or me?” You asked as Bradley parked the Bronco in the driveway of his house.

“How about we do it together, and I’ll take the hits. Literally.”

You smiled and nodded, “Okay.”

Your belly wasn’t showing yet but you just felt like everyone could tell you were pregnant, like it was obvious.

The both of you walked up to the door and went inside and you caught sight of Carol fixing dinner. Bradley had asked if it was ok for you to come over and Carol was more than happy to set out an extra plate for you.

“Hey mom!” Bradley called through the house as he came behind you and closed the door.

She peeked behind the corner and smiled at the two of you, “Hey kiddos! Come in!”

Bradley smiled and walked with you to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for you at the table.

You thanked him and sat down, nervously, and watched as she took out a pan from the oven that was filled with roasted potatoes.

The kitchen smelled delicious, Mrs. Carol was an amazing cook and baker. She made the best homemade pancakes in the morning and potato soup in the winter. And her chocolate cake was to die for.

She came to you and pulled you in for a tight hug as she kissed the top of your head, “Hi sweet girl, how are you?”

You smiled and felt all warm inside, “I’m good, how are you?” Truth was you were not good, you were sweaty with anxiety, nervous, and your stomach was aching.

“I’m well, just whipping up a simple dinner.” She turned back to Bradley and kissed his cheek before going back to cooking.

Simple dinner was not the correct term for her dinners, they were over the top. The potatoes were buttered and steaming, the roast was spiced to perfection, the washed strawberries for the chocolate cake were sparkling with water droplets, and the kitchen smelled amazing.

Your stomach growled as you were happy you weren’t sick of a meal. She called Bradley for help with bringing the plates to the table and you got up to help, but Bradley placed a hand on your shoulder, “Sit down, it’s ok, you don’t have to get up.”

You nodded and sat back down as Carol brought the plate of potatoes and roast to the table. And Bradley brought the napkins and cutlery.

He placed a water in front of you and sat down in the chair across from you. Carol sat at the end and smiled at the perfect scene in front of her.

“Let’s eat!” She grabbed a fork and knife to cut the roast as you gave Bradley worried glances, You probably should’ve talked about when you would be having the conversation.

“It’s ok.” He mouthed which made you nod and fix your plate.

-

While eating, you talked about school and what your plans were. They were fake, since finding out you were pregnant, but you tried to make it seem as true as possible.

When you were finished, you pushed the plate away from you and placed your hands in your lap.

Bradley nervously gulped his water down as he eyed Carol, trying to find out when he should speak up.

And when you gave him a look he finally did.

“Hey mom?” He gripped his jeans between his fingers and felt his throat tighten.

“Yes honey?” She looked up and smiled.

You stared between them as he swallowed and stuttered, “Can we talk for a minute?”

She scrunched her brows and nodded, “Yeah what’s going on?”

He looked at you and saw your face was red and you were nervously chewing on your lip.

“Um,” he picked at his plate and sighed, “We uh,” he had no words, no words were forming in his mouth right now, “Well I uh,” his chest tightened as he looked at her confused eyes before he finally spit it out, “Y/n’s pregnant.”

The whole room went silent, you could hear the washer washing the clothes in the other room and could hear all three of you breathing.

She looked to you with a shocked face as she gasped, “What?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, prepared for the cursing, before nodding your head slowly.

“By who?” She watched as your eyes lifted up to Bradley’s and she put two and two together.

“Bradley?” She whipped her head to him and he grimaced as she screamed three words he hadn’t heard out of her mouth since he egged his math teachers house, “What the fuck?!”

Carol had so many questions so she started off with the first one, “How did this happen?”

Bradley took a deep breath before opening his mouth and he heard your quiet voice speak before him, “It’s my fault.”

Both of them turned to you with wide eyes, “It isn’t.” Bradley immediately said while shaking his head, “We were studying and one thing lead to another and it just happened.” He tried to keep it as PG as possible for her.

“I talked to you about condoms Bradley!” She kept yelling at him. That was true, she had multiple talks about contraceptives and even one day, while brushing his teeth one morning, he found a box of condoms under the sink.

“I know, I’m sorry mom. She’s on birth control and we weren’t thinking.” He explained.

“I told you to not have sex with anyone you weren’t in a relationship with!”

That one hurt, your chest tightened as you felt tears welling up in your eyes. This was all your fault, why would this happen to you, you’ve never felt so embarrassed in all your life.

“I’ve gave you many talks before Bradley!”

“Mom, please clam down.” Bradley noticed the tears dripping down your cheeks and tried to calm her down.

“How? You got a girl pregnant! Let me rephrase that, you got Y/n pregnant!”

Bradley heard the scraping of the chair against the floor and watched as you got up and excused yourself from the room.

He turned to her and begged her to stop screaming, “Please mom, please calm down. It’s my fault not Y/n’s so don’t get upset with her.”

She sighed as she rest her head in her hands on the table, “Bradley, I have given you too many talks about safe sex by now and this is what you bring to me? I don’t mean to be rude but she’s your best friend. Not your girlfriend. I mean, did you talk about this before? Are you in a relationship?”

“No we aren’t in a relationship, it was something that just happened. We were at her house and things got carried away, things were moving really fast.”

It took a while to explain to her, but when she calmed down Bradley went to you in the bathroom.

“Y/n?” He softly knocked on the door and heard your quiet sniffles.

You unlocked the door and he slipped inside before shutting it behind him, his heart broke at your words, “She hates me.”

He pulled you into him and held you as you wiped the tears from your face, “No she doesn’t. If anything she’s mad at me.”

“I’m sorry this is happening, you don’t have to stay with me through this.” You cried into his chest.

“Stop, stop,” he grabbed your face and made you look at him, “Stop it, I’m not leaving you alone with this, I don’t care that my mom is mad at me. This is both of us.” He made you understand.

You nodded your head and sniffled as he wiped the tears away and pulled you into him for one last hug.

“It’ll be okay.”

-

Bradley had made sure you were ok and walked with you back into the living room where Carol was sitting.

You cautiously walked in and her eyes lifted up to yours, she immediately stood up and sighed.

And to your surprise, she pulled you in for a hug, “I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just this is a surprise, and you two are so young.”

You nodded in understanding, “I get it, it’s okay.”

“Have you told your dad yet? I’m sure the sooner the better.”

You shook your head and sighed, “I’ve been dreading it.”

“Don’t, he wouldn’t ever want anything to happen to you. He’ll be there when you need him.” She said.

If Carol acted this way about the situation, there was no telling how your dad would react. You’d just have to brace yourself for tomorrow.

—————————————————————

[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 5

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four.

Five. 五

Donaka's house is beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to be in, even though you’re constantly working at this or that task to keep it immaculate. You don’t mind the honest work. It’s satisfying in a way working on a computer never was, more immediately gratifying than teaching, and certainly less heartbreaking than writing ever was. 

Sometimes you take a moment to just sit and enjoy the ambiance in his rooms, but by far your favorite space in the house is the library. Built in bookshelves line the walls, an antique table sits in the center, and a circle of comfy leather chairs sit by the window. You’ve taken to spending some of your breaks in there, reading this or that for the fifteen minutes allotted. 

You are reaching for a book on a high shelf, just out of your reach, when a much longer arm seemingly appears out of nowhere over your head, plucking down the volume easily. 

You didn't even hear Mr. Mark enter the room. Usually, he’s at work at this time of day, though you’ve noticed he’s been home more lately. You gasp and turn, finding him standing close enough that you feel the warmth emanating from his body. He’s like a furnace.

He enjoys sneaking up on you. There’s nothing he wants more, than to push you back against the shelves and take you, but he is a patient predator. He settles for just handing you the book with a lifted eyebrow. You take it absently, wondering if you are in trouble. It’s impossible to tell, from his impassable expression.

"Hello, Mr. Mark," you say softly. 

He smirks at your timid greeting, delighted with this development. He’s known for days, of course, that you were coming in here. He didn’t really mind–you were always careful with the books, reverent in the way you handled them, even the newer tomes that could be easily replaced. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks sardonically, implying that you should be cleaning something, rather than looking at his books on Chinese art. 

"Yes. I'm...on my break," you are quick to explain. 

Donaka lets his gaze slowly and openly travel over you. He can’t help but find you beautiful, even in your unassuming black dress and white apron, your hair swept back neatly. 

He takes a half-step closer to you, leaning against the bookshelf, caging you in with his broad frame. “You should use this time to take refreshment. Why are you so unkind to your body?” he scolds, annoyed that you do not treat yourself as well as he thinks you should. 

You frown a little, clutching the book to your chest like a shield. He inwardly scoffs at this, finding the thought that a book between you could save you from him. 

"I...didn't want to risk getting food on your books," you admit, annoyed that he seems to think he can control what you eat and drink too. Chill out, man. Even you are smart enough to let that die unsaid on your tongue. 

“Very kind of you,” he deadpans. You do not miss the dry sarcasm in his tone, and you realize you have made a mistake, thinking you could just come in here and be alone with the smell of old paper for a little while. But now you’re stuck with this book in your hands, which you can’t put away without his help. Your quick escape is thwarted.

“How about this,” he proposes, tilting his head. “You can come in here in the evening, any time you want. But right now, you should go have a cup of tea, and a healthy snack.” No potato chips, practically rings out unsaid between you. 

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mark,” you say, not happy with this offer at all. Maybe you could do worse, than your handsome employer taking an interest in your health, and offering to share his books with you. But there’s more to it beneath the surface, something darker, controlling. You sense it more than you could prove it.

You wonder how often he would find his way in here, if you started spending your evenings in one of those oversized leather chairs, curled up with a book… You can’t help but look at the table next. That sturdy fucking table, such a debauchable surface, if he were to grab you up and pin you down there…

Stop stop stop. 

You can’t stop. Not your thoughts, at least. Your feet, however, are ready to go. 

He is searching your face with that sharp gaze that sees everything. He doesn’t look pleased, almost as though he knows you’re not going to come in here again unless you are cleaning. 

Hoping to distract him before he can concoct something else, you hand him back the book to re-shelve, since you clearly can't reach it.

He accepts it, his eyes never leaving your face, but his fingers brushing yours. It feels like an electric shock, when he touches you, and that predictable rush of heat floods your body, from the tips of your fingers to your treacherous, aching, center. 

It’s almost as though you have no sense of self-preservation at all. 

"Thank you, Mr. Mark." You sidle around him, thinking about how you’re always fleeing the rooms he's in. It's almost becoming a comedic bit between you–but you’re not laughing, as you feel his hungry eyes on your back as you go.

“Y/n?”

You were so close to escaping. 

“Sir?” you ask timidly, turning slowly in the doorway.

“Tell Mrs. Wong I’ll have my tea early today. Bring it to me on the terrace.”

There is a single beat during which you consider reminding him you’re on your break still, and that’s not usually your duty around the house. The impulse evaporates as he fixes you with that dark stare, and you dare not defy him further. 

“As you like, sir.”  

He inclines his head with a little smirk, as though to say, ‘See how it goes for you when you defy me?’ All in all…you feel like you got off pretty easily. That is, until you are bringing him the tray with his beautiful burnished earthenware yi xing teapot, and some little dishes filled with dried fruit and nuts. They do look tasty, you have to admit, but that’s neither here nor there for you now. 

The terrace is cloistered by greenery, a pool beside it filled with flowing-finned koi carp. In the distance one can see the blue glitter of the sea. It really is a view fit for a king, and even though you still don’t really know a thing about Donaka Mark other than he is wealthy and ridiculously good looking, you are happy for him. 

You set down the tray without making a sound, and he smirks at you as you bow your head, making to flee once more. “Sit down,” he orders, in the guise of a polite invitation. You recognize it immediately for what it is. 

“Sir…” 

You don’t know why the thought of staying with him twists you up in knots inside. Perhaps simply because you want to, even while knowing it is not your place to do so. 

“Sit,” he says again, and with a sigh you do as you’re told, perching on the edge of the chair. It’s incredibly peaceful, in this place. The sound of the fountain tinkling beside you, the salt-tinged breeze coming off the water beyond…for a moment, you close your eyes, perhaps because you can feel his gaze boring into you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening between the two of you, but that little instinct deep inside that is rarely wrong–and you rarely listen to…is sounding the alarm. 

“This teapot is two-hundred years old,” he tells you, pouring a cup. Your eyes go a little wide, as you think about the heritage you’d unwittingly carted across the house in your two little hands. It must be very valuable. “It makes an exceptional cup of dark oolong.” 

As he sets the cup in front of you, as well as the little dish of dried fruit and nuts, you know you resemble one of those open-mouthed carp in the pond in your surprise. “Another auction-house conquest?” you dare ask. 

“Something like that. It was not cheap.” 

Your lips twist as you attempt to keep your wry comments to yourself. As usual–you fail. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you paid for it, if I have to carry it back to the kitchen.” 

He chuckles quietly at that. “You think it was a waste of money?”

“No, there are definitely worse things to waste your money on.” 

You realize a beat later that your comment sounded far more specific than you meant it to, your personal prejudices making their way out the cracks of your armor.

Lucky you, he seems amused by this, though you can’t help but wonder if it’s a trap when he asks, “Oh? Like what?” 

“I didn’t mean you specifically…” 

The flash of his smile is like a baring of teeth; you are equally mesmerized as you are mortified. Is this what the little deer feels, a moment before it is snatched up in the jaws of the tiger?

“Yes you did. Come on, tell me.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Playing hard to get as usual. Is it my art collection?” 

“No,” you answer immediately. 

“My beautiful house?”

“No,” you reply again in earnest. 

“My clothes?” 

No, you rather like those too. You simply shake your head, wishing, as usual, that you could run away, or turn back time, and shut your fat fucking mouth. 

“Hmm. What’s left? Ah, it’s my cars.” 

You are practically writhing in your seat, as he hits this nail on the head. 

“Absolutely none of my business, sir.” 

“Of course it’s not, but where’s the fun in that?”

You sense the fun in this for him is making you sweat. 

“So go on? What’s wrong with them? Lamborghini not to your taste?” 

You take a sip of tea, closing your eyes momentarily to appreciate the flavor. It really was wonderful, bitter yet somehow silky on the back of the tongue. Enjoy it now, you think–he’s going to fire you in five seconds. 

“Well. If they make you spend that much…” you deadpan, “You’d think they’d at least have the decency not to make them so ugly.”

For a moment you think you are dead–not fired, but soon to be murdered–until a bark of laughter escapes this usually so-severe man, the flash of his white teeth startling in the sunlight. “I’ll be sure to tell them you said so,” he retorts, saluting you with his cup of tea, before taking a sip. “Though you might feel differently, if you’d let me give you a ride.” 

You freeze for a moment while reaching for a peanut. He meant in his car you deranged dumpster fire of a woman. 

“I’m sure…its performance is bar none,” you answer diplomatically. You see his smirk out the corner of your eye, and you feel your ears burning.

“So tell me, my little housekeeper with all the big opinions. If you had my money, what would you spend it on?” 

His money? As usual, you can’t tell if he is baiting you with the subtle choice of his words. You sigh, taking a piece of dried fruit. You think for a few moments, though it doesn’t take long.

“Honestly? The same thing I’m doing now.”

He chuckles at this. “You like cleaning my house that much?”

“It’s not bad.” Despite the probable ulcer developing from living in proximity to this tempting man. “But when my work visa expires in six months, I’m going to travel again.”

Donaka’s expression sharpens immediately at hearing this, his brows pulling in a frown. “You’re leaving us so soon?”

“I…told your assistant, in the interview. It wasn’t a secret.”

Donaka still glowers at you, and you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. But he wrangles his emotions, whatever they may be, into a neutral expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are obviously overqualified for this position.”

“I am educated, but I don’t really feel like that qualifies me for much of anything.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, and you sense he is still annoyed with you. “What about your writing?”

You shrug, even while it feels like a knife delivered to your chest. “It’s never come to anything.”

“How hard did you try?”

You trace the rim of your little tea cup, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. 

“Enough to break my heart one more time than I could take,” you admit, suddenly feeling raw under his piercing gaze. Rejection is wearing. So is pouring your soul into something that only amounts to very little when you were foolish enough to hope. You’ve never managed to turn anything you enjoy into a money making endeavor. It always makes you feel like you’re dying inside. 

 Donaka, however, seems less than sympathetic. “You shouldn’t give up.”

You shrug, ready to change the subject. It’s not like you’ve stopped writing. You’re just not writing anything that can ever see the light of day. “I will take that under advisement.”

He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t believe you’re taking him seriously. “You know what your problem is?”

“Would you like a list?”

“Very funny. But I think you’ve never truly been afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Exactly. I can tell. I think you’re intelligent, and maybe you’re tough, but you’ve never been to the edge of survival. There’s something about your contempt for the display of wealth that makes me think you come from it. You’re content with mediocrity because you know if you have to, you can always run home to mommy and daddy. You have a safety net that keeps you lazy.”

You blink at that. It’s maybe half true, though you would rather eat roadkill than go home to your father with your hand out.  “I’m not…lazy.”

“Of course you are. You’re certainly not realizing your fullest potential.”

This hurts way more than it should. Maybe…because he’s not wrong. This man has an edge of danger to him–it wouldn’t surprise you at all, to learn he’s a self-made millionaire. Maybe he had a rough childhood, and climbed over anyone he had to, to get where he is. Good for him. You wonder vaguely who he’s hurt along his journey to the top. Deep down, you know men don’t get where Donaka Mark is without someone paying a price. 

“Maybe not. But not everyone wins the big jackpot in life. I’m content with where I am now.”

“For now? And where will you go from here?” 

“India, I think.”

“Why?”

“There are still things I want to see.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Because I want to. Because I can. Why do anything in this pointless existence?” You are careful not to raise your voice to him, though your heart gallops in your chest like you are having an argument. The yawning void of your old friend nihilism opens up before you, a black hole you know well but haven’t had to contend with for a while.  

His lips curl for you, though it is not a nice smile. “You lack a sense of purpose.”

He’s not wrong, though you don’t think he understands you as well as he thinks. You find the endless march of humanity perpetuating itself tiresome and destructive. You find the rat race pursuit of wealth for the sake of winning a pissing contest exhausting. The hypocrisy of religion has never appealed to you. On the whole, you find homo sapiens to be a sad and ridiculous species with a few bright spots, but unfortunately you are one, you’re stuck here, and you have to find something to do with your time until you check out.

Usually you’re content in your own little world, trying not to harm anyone…but he flips this switch for you in two seconds flat, and you find yourself clenching your jaw as the weight of it crushes you down. You have to admit this was not how you expected this day to go. Silly you, for thinking you could just sit down with a book for ten minutes unbothered.

He pours himself another cup of tea, pretending that he doesn’t notice you’re stewing in an existential crisis while sitting across from him. “I could change that for you, you know.”

Confused and unsettled, which is probably exactly what he intended to do to you, you shift in your chair. Is he propositioning you? Or is he talking about something else entirely? You feel like a low-level current is running through your bone marrow, slowly cooking you from the inside. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking you to be his mistress–or to join a cult. Maybe it would be nearly one and the same.

From the flashing look in his eyes, you don’t think he expected you to laugh at him. It’s the only way you can get up the courage to say this to his face: “Respectfully…no one says that unless they’re trying to evangelize you into something, Mr. Mark.”

His lips dance as he smirks at you. “But you are above manipulation, Miss y/n?” 

“Probably not,” you admit, suddenly nervous all over again about where this is heading. Why does every conversation you have with this man have to feel like a fucking chess game? “Though I like to think…I am somewhat aware, at least.” 

“Being aware of manipulation is not the same as being immune to it, believe me.” Again he smiles wide enough to flash teeth, and you can tell he is truly enjoying himself now. “Can you really say that wealth doesn’t interest you? I don’t buy it.” 

“The ostentatious display of wealth doesn’t interest me,” you grumble, flashing back to the hellish court-ordered summers you once spent at your father’s tasteless mansion with your insufferable half-siblings always crowing about their latest couture conquests. 

“Ah. That’s why you hate the Lambo.” 

“No, I really do think it’s ugly.” It maybe feels too good to tell him so, after he was so brutally honest to you. However, you can tell immediately that you fail to hit your mark. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly amused by your agitation, his dark eyes shining. 

You look at him sitting across from you in the dappled afternoon light; why does this man have the right to look so beautiful, while he’s being so mean?

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you grouse. You really would rather be scrubbing a toilet right now. 

“I think if you had real money, you would do the exact same thing I do; use it to acquire things that please you. You’re no different from me, or anyone else.”

What is it about this man, that makes you feel like you’re being slowly electrocuted? You dare to meet his gaze, finding his dark eyes veritably dancing with enjoyment for making you squirm. You cannot help but wonder if he counts you as one of those things. 

Maybe Donaka Mark thinks you’re an underachiever, but you reckon this man might be surprised by your stubborn streak. No matter your fascination with him…you need to cut him from your heart, because you’re more certain than ever that he would be the death of you. You do not possess a thick enough skin to tangle with a man like this on a regular basis. 

“That might be true,” you answer, looking back down at your teacup. “But at least I’m not a bully.” 

“Have I hurt your feelings, y/n?”

He fucking knows he has, and you would give anything to be able to quit the table right then. You consider dropping his precious teapot on the way back to the kitchen; but think better of it, and not just because you suspect he might string you up by your thumbs. It would be a tragic loss of art.  

“May I go, Mr. Mark?” 

“Not until you answer my question.” 

“Yes, you hurt my feelings. Now may I go?” 

“No. How did I offend you? By speaking the truth?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you answer with a sigh, looking out at the glittering water beyond. 

“Well?”

You make a plaintive sound, wishing the ground would just swallow you up whole, rather than having to admit the truth out loud to this man. But he waits patiently, and you just know there will be no escape for you, until you give this man the answer he wants. 

“I thought…you liked me,” you answer quietly. “But never fear, I am disabused of that foolish notion, sir. Now may I go?” 

“I do like you. Haven’t you been listening?” He sounds genuinely puzzled. 

You laugh at that, and it sounds pathetic even to you.   

Now, at last, he seems as frustrated with you as you are with him. “Fine. Go back to work, y/n.” He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers, and you have never been so grateful to be dismissed in your life. 

You hope this little interlude will convince him to just leave you alone.

“Thank you, sir,” you say with a cloying deference, and you hear him growl behind you as you scurry away. It sends an agonizing thrill jetting down your spine, and it’s all you can do not to run. 

Little do you know, you haven’t scared him off by half. You just threw down a gauntlet.

[wordsrequired]

• when elain needed reassurance and ease into this new situation she wasn’t familiar with, azriel was there:

Elain said “It’s all very disorienting.” “I can imagine,”Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

.. and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.”

• when elain was about to be introduced to her new home as a new being, azriel was there:

Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms.

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door.

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.
Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

• when elain was lost and they were trying to find a way to make her feel better, azriel was there:

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing from his fingers as he extended a hand.

• when no one could understand her behavior and her powers, azriel was the one who did:

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

”We’re the ones who need …’ Azriel trailed off. “A seer” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

• when elain was taken, azriel was the first person who noticed her missing:

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” Something cold went through me.

• when elain needed saving, azriel was the one ready to die to save her:

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

• when elain was in chains, azriel was bleeding and really wounded but the first thing he thought was freeing her, thinking about what she needed first:

Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

• when elain needed a weapon to defend herself and azriel gave her his most prized possession, the dagger that never failed him and he never let anyone touch:

“This is Truth-Teller” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“It has never failed me once” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade. Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

• even in the smallest, irrelevant things, anytime elain needed help azriel was there:

But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

• when elain was upset cause she understood that there was no way of going back to how it was, azriel was there to lighten her up:

“I’d feel bad for the mice” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—and no shortage of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.

• when elain needed someone to talk, azriel was there even for things he may be not interested in but that make her happy:

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.

• when elain was insulted and hurt, azriel’s shadows were ready to strike in her defense:

“Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain’s eyes brightened with pain.

• even when he just hears elain laugh, azriel is there to wonder what caused it:

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

azriel has literally been with elain in every step and moment of her journey since the beginning. from the most important and key moments to the smallest details. he was the one who had every answer, he was the answer, he was the one who understood, he was the only one who saw her. *ugh*

[gerec]

any fics which charles has the same vibe as Our House, In The Middle Of Our Street or Paper Monsters, aka fics in which Charles embarrasses himself due to the big crush he has for Erik.

Guys I have one more ask to answer after this one and then I'm officially taking a short break on answering rec posts. But I plan to pin a master post on my blog of the stuff I get asked most frequently for easy reference. Stay tuned and happy reading!!!

-------

Hi Anon, I believe the hilarious/charming fics on this list mostly fit the bill :D

best-laid plans by ikeracity

Charles decides that the best way to confess his feelings to his best friend is to surprise Erik at his apartment, naked, wearing nothing but a bow. It's perhaps one of Charles's worst ideas--or his best.

Order Up by ikeracity

Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up.

Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Favorite Mistake by endingthemes

Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

erikhotfacelehnsherr by ikeracity

Charles has an embarrassing wifi password. When the subject of said embarrassing wifi password comes over, things get a little awkward.

going up? by annejumps

Charles encounters a hot man in the elevator. Charles assumes he doesn't understand English. Charles might be wrong.

Never Assume (Remix of going up?) by Fullmetalcarer

Charles fixates on a devastingly attractive lizard person who shares his turbo-lift and makes certain assumptions about their linguistic skills . . .

come as you are by scarlettblush

Hospital AU. The one where Charles unknowingly woos a coma patient with Pride and Prejudice. Years later, they meet again.

What Doesn't Kill You (Tactics and Strategy Remix) by pearl_o (don't forget to read the original!)

Charles is a graduate student with a crush on the professor he's TA-ing for and a side job at a strip club. Thankfully, his little sister is always full of helpful advice.

Smoke and Mirrors by dreamweavers

When newly paralysed Charles meets Erik in a coffee shop, a fit of nerves prompts him to project himself standing without need of his wheelchair. It all backfires when Erik asks him out on a date, forcing Charles to deepen his lies and, ultimately, face his fears.

Warning: Emergency Pull Tab by ikeracity

Knocking a guy over with an inflatable pool and nearly giving him a concussion is probably not the best flirting technique in the world, but if there's anyone who can pull it off, it's Charles.

Is it Erik with a C or a K? by ikeracity, kageillusionz

When Charles sexts his boss instead of his latest squeeze during one late night of report writing, the first thing he expects is a sexual harassment law suit and the last thing is Mr. Lehnsherr actually fucking him hard into his desk.

Infamous Ink by ConsultingWriter 

Charles has an embarrassing tattoo and a date with the no-nonsense, always professional, and terribly handsome Erik Lehnsherr.

The Wurst Case Scenario by sareyen

If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

[dappervoided]

Docs vacation to Quesadilla Island!

So I watched Docm77 last Hermitcraft season 9 episode today and RAN to make this.

More so on the topic!

He needed to take a break and get his creative juices flowing? What's a better break (nightmare) than to come enjoy the island for a short while!

I've been spinning around the idea of Qsmp and Hermitcraft crossover since the start of Qsmp. There's so many ideas in my brain about this topic even though it'll never actually happen! I'm so sorry, but some things are bound to get out of my daydreams and materialize into doodles!

I think Doc would LOVE the eggs! Not to mention all the cute creatures they'd show him! He'd get attached instantly, they're too adorable!

I could only fit 3 here without making it too busy, but I wanna expand on what I could see the interactions being. Massive ramblings, often grammatically incorrect ahead:

Sunny - now we all know she's a material princess, they'd love Docs bedtime stories about the diamond pillar wars and his incredible contraptions made of diamond in the Perimeter and all the riches he had. Now Tubbo not only has Pierre to watch out for, but Doc also, cause Sunny would beg him to make stuff out of diamonds to show off!

Empanada - she'd clock in instantly that Doc is a German and would try speaking to him in German every moment she got. Now she has both her mom Niki and Doc to talk in her language to! It's not much of an expansion, but she appreciates it a lot! They'd have many delightful conversations and Doc is always happy to have her build little things together. They learn from each other!

Ramon - besides finally having another redstone genius with an entire Hivemind on the server, Ramon would be interested in how Doc works - both in a cyborg way and in the way he creates mind-blowing, game breaking contraptions. If they're not destroying the server together for fun, they're not making the most of their time! Jk, but it do be nice when both of them get to hang out and show each other what they discovered that's scuffed on the server.

Some eggs that aren't drawn:

Chayanne - finally! Another farmer came around! Chayanne would show off his impressive potato farm and cooking skills to Doc, who will always be amazed at the kids dedication! Doc can finally have his tomato farm in a Minecraft world now, since the mods allow it! It is too free for everyone to use

Tallulah - If she would show Doc the incredible builds she made and her and her papas place, he would be moved to tears! Everything is made with such love and incredible amounts of effort and thought! From her farm of all possible plants, to her garden and to El Cielo De Las Tortugas. Such incredible places to visit and appreciate! And Tallulahs amazing way of storytelling would only serve to amplify those feelings

Dapper - now besides trying cage trap Doc 1000x times, Dapper would definitely show off everything he got once he discovers that Doc is deeply amused and surprised by all the non vanilla things! They would invite Doc to their base to show everything and I mean EVERYTHING there is for show. It's definitely too much, but Doc is very impressed by her and would praise how much work she puts in! Dapper do be the definition of GRIND!

Leo - Leo and her dads made so many incredible builds, Doc would be amazed at how much they did in such a short time! Besides that Leo herself is an incredibly, theatrically even, good at body language and expression! He'd die of cuteness and laughter like all of us already do!

Pomme - we all know that Pomme has so many talents! From being a little musician, to an incredible warrior, to a thought out builder and a spectacularly emotional writer. There's a lot Doc will have to slowly discover about Pomme! And each time the scale and depths of things will get more and more impressive, because the share amounts of time and effort she puts into her creations, passions and loved ones is massive!

Pepito - this kid! Pepito is such an incredible character to be around! Pepito is so dedicated to whatever Pepito does, especially if it's with friends! Whenever Pepito has fun, it always radiates outwards in many different ways! You can't really help yourself but get charged up with energy when you're around. And Doc does just that!

Richarlyson- Richas is a lot in the best ways possible! But we all know he's very much a jokester, he wouldn't miss a beat trying to mess with the goat! And once he finds out what kinds of retaliations Docs is capable of? OH IT'S WAR (for fun, cause that's what it's all about!)

I'm sorry if this is chaotic at some parts or lacking in others, I have to write this all in one go before my battery dies. I haven't been able to watch many streams so I'm sorry if Im not up to date with the characters, but that is what I remember them as! Any corrections or lore updates are always welcome! I want to learn more, especially now that I can't watch!

Anyhow, now that I look back on that drawing why do I feel like I've done something terrible.... I've seen those designs before......

OH NO

[blu-ish]

I want to eat your artstyle but idk how to draw the silly gay hedgehogs please i need a tutorial so i know how to draw hedgehog proportions

Welcome to the most ass sonic tutorial EVER LMAO.

I essentially just use simple shapes, rough outlines of his stance, arm/leg placement ect. This is a really simple one lmao. (IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE PERFECT AT ALL SHJSHSJ)

----

Next is everyone's LEAST fav part, his EYE, or eyes lol. My trick is to draw a placeholder like oval that symbolizes where his eyes separate and curve like so. <3

Next I create da muzzle, I usually start up where his nose is gonna be and the sides of his face-- then its all about shaping until he doesn't look like a potato. (Mephiles looking ass--)

Then you draw his cute widdle nose, give him a smile and some big ol eyes xD. DONT FORGET DA FANGGGGG.

now for my fav part, HIS 100 YARD STARE-- or his irises.💖add a lil shine to make him look alive, the size or lack of shine can express so many different emotions! :D its fun!

His eyebrows and ears are always a bit tricky, but don't forget, HE HAS EYEBROWS THAT CAN EXPRESSION EMOTION TOO SEGA--*dies* and ears as well! (Sonic prime did this so well I can die happy now.)

Now for everyone's least fav part, PART TWO. HIS QUILLS. They are one of the mystery's of life tbh. I start from where his left ear is and kinda brush my way down until I feel like they're correct. His second big quill is always under his right ear, and his last one under that. (you can shade where his back quills are too, depending on the stance is! I'll show this in a sec.)

For his gloves I kinda just draw a lil line so I know where they are. His fingers/hands are drawn in simple shapes as well, I always look at my own hand for reference lmao.

The rest is kinda self explanatory, but it just takes practice! Hell I mean my art style has already grown and changed so much already, theres just so many fun ways to draw. Don't get too stuck in it not looking right the first time. (I cringe at my art sometimes too xD)

HOPE THIS HELPS I HAVE PIZZA ROLLS IN THE OVEN *runs away*

[jame7t]

do you know what to do with all these molted cicada nymph shells

Sure, they're not dead, but they still give off the same vibe to me. You know? The empty casings of a spent thing? Dust gathering in the recesses where something used to be? Sure, they're not dead, but they still set off my Necroentomophobia. Fear of dead bugs! Did you know that? Did you know people could be scared of dead bugs? Whatever. It's not the same as being scared of a bug, sure. But I can be scared of a lot of bugs. Sure, little things, like the humble lady bug- not scary. Butterflies, scant as they are, are only off-putting to me. The beautiful moth? Well, I love it, but I don't want to hurt it. It's whimsical, fat body makes me nervous. I don't want to squish it by accident! Because then it would be a dead bug.

And that's worse. It's like, not precisely a direct fear of a dead bug. It won't leap at me in a defiant rage, or be waiting for me around the scary corner. It's more like a shortcut to existential dread. It's a combination of 'ew!' and 'I am going to die one day' and more importantly, if a bug is dead, something has killed it. And you never know if that something is still lurking around. Just kidding. Do you know what a cicada shell is made of? That's right. It's the happy chitin! I don't have an issue with chitin. We're not chitinous beasts, but we have the enzymes to break them down. Humans, that is. This isn't a science fiction piece. This is my blog. I've always thought chitin was interesting though- it's a natural armor made for little guys ostensibly. Little guys in the sense, that it is for bugs only. Well, crabs have chitin, and they can get pretty big- The spider crab can grow over 300 feet in diameter. Just kidding, it can't do that. It's pretty big though. At this point, you'd think: 'Okay- crab reference, and a direct link to the enzymes to break down chitin. Do we eat them? Should we eat the Cicada shells?' Well, I'm not going to. That sounds kind of scary to me. Would you? Would you eat the shell of a thing? I can't imagine it tastes good. I'm eating potato chips right now. They're yummy, and crunchy, and in many ways- the opposite of the humble cicada's false corpse. A lying bug. A lying, cheating, swarming thing. A bug we don't like. A bug we have to deal with. Don't we have to deal with everything? Would it be easier to show less mercy to the little things? It wouldn't, and it would be mean. And that's worse. Anyway, to answer your question, you turn them into mulch, apparently. Or bury them in a hole. Through my research, those were the only two real options we have. There's also 'add them to compost.' So that's three, you have three options. Do you want my opinion? No? Moving on then. There's also a fourth option- a telling one, at that. A sort of 'secret option' lots of people choose. 'Let them decompose on your lawn.' Right? Right, the easy one? Might as well call it 'do nothing.' Doing nothing is always a choice, sure, but when you give me the choice to 'do nothing' in a game, or choose your own adventure, it always seems like a lazy choice on the developer's part. And sure, from your real life perspective, it's probably the easiest. But from a game design perspective? You have to account for the player sitting and watching. What happens if I don't intervene? What happens if I let it continue? Well, in the case of the empty cicada, they stink apparently. I've never noticed it, and we have cicadas here- but I've been lucky enough to never be out in or see a swarm. A predecessor of mine once recalled a story in which the swarm was so bad, you couldn't walk outside without crushing them on the sidewalks "Ew," is what I thought. Maybe they only smell if there's hundreds of them. Thousands? No, probably just hundreds. Not saying they wouldn't smell more if there were lots, I'm saying they probably start being noticeable at around a hundred. Nothing wrong with that. Not sure what the smell is, though. Do you? You should put them in a hole.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hi could you do a Morpheus x reader where the reader is krypton (like supergirl) and they are husband and wife and the reader protects him but the bad guys uses him to get to the reader and they use the green kryptonite which causes the reader to pass out and he catches the reader and carries them to their shared bedroom and waits till the reader wakes up and have a happy ending

Potato Chips

Dream of the Endless x Krypotian!Reader

Summary: "Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

Word Count: >600

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mervyn 'i will die for y/n' pumpkinhead, nightmare!dream, protectiveness, fluff?, typos, etc.

A/N: hi nonnie i had a similar request to yours before so i did this alshfasfh and i hope you like it (: Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"My love," is the first thing that my senses register when I relapse into consciousness.

I rouse with a cold sweat. I feel a hot hand on my cheek. My eyes flutter open-- or at least I feel them flutter open. I rub my eyes with my palm and release a groan.

"How are you feeling?" the voice grumbles, deep and loud. It echoes through every crook and chamber; it rings in my ears, effectively waking me up.

I open my eyes, finding I was laid in darkness. I sit up from the cushions and blink rapidly, as if willing the color and light back into my eyes. It doesn't work. But then I see something glimmering in darkness; there were specks of shimmer. Instinctively, I knew it was Dream's eyes.

I reach out to his cheek, "Dream? What's going on?"

The room vibrates when he speaks, "you were hurt."

I straighten up. Yeah, that would explain why I can't see in the dark right now.

I take a moment to think back on the events that happened prior to being submerged in this darkness. Why was it so dark anyway? Am I in the Dreaming?

And then it clicks.

"Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

"I removed the shard from your side," he speaks tightly. I do my best to really focus on his face but it was just too dark for me to see.

"Dream, why is it so-"

CRACK! There is a loud creaking sound, followed by a voice that steps in with an orange light, "BOSS!"

A similarly orange pumpkin head draws near. The cigarette in his mouth is lit by the candle in his hand, "I finished the torture room."

"Torture room?" I mumble back.

Dream pulls his face away from me and looks at his scarecrow servant. Mervyn does not look at his master at all, even as he says, "very good."

"Wait- what tort-"

"I ordered every nightmare to have at it with the miscreant who was stupid enough to mess with our lady."

Our lady? So he- "Wait- hold on. Why is there a torture-"

Dream pulling away makes my words go dry, that, and finally seeing his form with the help of the one light in the room. I suddenly wish I hadn't looked. He rose up to the ceiling, body long, spindly, dark, matted in material I couldn't make out. He had feathers? Scales? Horns? Claws? Appendages? He was terrifying; a true nightmare, so much so, when my breath caught in my throat, I am stunned and forced to look away.

"Very good, Mervyn," his voice bellows, making a shiver run down my spine.

I feel him look at me. I cannot look back.

"My love," my Nightmare speaks, "I will return in a moment."

I can only squeak in response.

Slowly, the darkness in the room dissipates. When the light touches us again, I turn to Mervyn, who blows out his candle.

I release a sigh, "what was he?"

"What do you mean, milady?" Mervyn takes his cigarette between his fingers.

"I mean Dream! He was-" I place my hands on my head, "he was horned! And- and gooey and -"

"You mean you actually looked?" Mervyn chuckles in surprise, "wow. Love is wild. I've never once felt inclined to look at my lord when he was in nightmare form," he puffs some smoke, "don't worry. It's not for you. It's for the bozo that shot you."

I raise a finger at that, "so the torture room-"

"My best work to date," Mervyn says, "of course," he begins to walk off, "I had to work last minute and overtime," he grumbles on his way to the door, "but, I mean, at least, for once, it's not entirely irrational-" he slams the door on his way out.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 5

First, Previous

This is probably the segment you've all been waiting for. Hope it holds up to expectations! 1.1k words.

----------

Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

“Can I try both?”

“Alfred loves to see people enjoy his food. Eat as much as you can, then take a few more bites.” Dick handed him one platter followed by another. Robin watched on as Danny scooped some of each onto his plate.

When the ghost pointed to the potatoes and patted his stomach, Danny made sure to grab a large scoop and took a bite of that first. It was heavenly.

He raised his second spoonful up to Robin as a thank you for the recommendation.

“The potatoes are my favorite, too,” commented Jason who must’ve seen.

That caused Danny to raise and eyebrow and flick his eyes to Robin again. “I can understand why; they’re to die for.”

Jazz choked back a laugh. “Now you’re just stealing Dick’s joke from earlier,” she said.

“What can I say? It was a good one.”

Dick clucked his tongue. “Jason’s the same way. I don’t get how you can joke about almost dying.”

Danny tried the curry and shrugged. “This is so good. And I dunno, death jokes are super common in Amity. What else are you supposed to do when surrounded by ghosts?”

Dick just shook his head. “Well, if you say so. Now, here, try this, too,” he said as he scooped more food onto Danny’s plate.

Danny did so obediently and the conversation moved to lighter topics.

When he was mostly done with his plate, Robin decided it would be a great time to sit down on the table between him and Jazz. He stared at Danny and pointed to himself then raised an eyebrow. “When help me?” he mouthed.

“Jazz, I hope you’re well rested because I keep remembering more things I need to tell you about tonight after dinner.” On the last words, he made eye contact with Robin.

Who was not happy at all with his response. He stood on the table and seemed to grow in size. “Now,” he mouthed, foot stomp included. Angry-frustrated pulses filled the space.

“Danny?” asked Jazz.

Damn, he’d completely missed her reply. “Um, sorry Jazz, I got a work message earlier and I’m a bit distracted. Could you repeat that?”

Her eyes narrowed. She was totally onto him. “Something is up with you tonight.”

“Who me?” he rubbed the back of his neck and put on his innocent grin, the one that never worked on her. Flicking his eyes to Robin, he asked, “Why?” hoping that Jazz would take it as directed to her.

She stared at him a moment longer before turning back to Jason and pointedly ignoring Danny. Robin also moved until he was next to Jason, their faces side-by-side.

Then he removed his domino mask to show bright blue eyes, the exact color of Jason’s.

“Well fuck.” No way could he keep silent after that reveal.

The rest of the table fell silent and Bruce looked concerned. “Is everything all right, Danny?” he asked

Robin flew over to Bruce next and held two fingers to either side of his head and wiggled them.

“Well, double fuck.” Danny let his head bang on the table and cursed under his breath in Sumerian.

Dick touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” The concern was clear in his voice.

“Danny?” demanded Jazz.

Danny sat up and looked longingly at the remaining food on his plate before pushing away from the table and holding up his PDA and bag. “I’m sorry, I have to excuse myself for a few minutes. An important work thing.”

“Really, Danny? Can’t it wait?” asked Jazz.

“No. It really can’t.”

“Will you at least be quick?” she tried.

Danny sighed. “This’ll probably take ages to sort out in full. But the first part should only take a few minutes.” He looked over the rest of the table and bit his lip. He should tell them something, but where to even begin? And it’s not like Robin, Jason?, whatever, wouldn’t spill the beans as soon as he was able. So he just turned and let the room, Robin right on his heels.

“How far away from Jason, er, from your living self, can you get?” he asked quietly as soon as he felt like they were out of immediate earshot.

Robin flew a few feet down the hall and around corner. They were only just out of sight of the doorway and well within shouting range. In fact, he could still hear the sounds of conversation, even if exact words were difficult to make out.

Robin floated before him, no longer smiling, and held out a hand.

Danny stared at it a moment before grabbing it and pulling Robin into a hug. The ghost felt so insubstantial in his arms, like a wisp of silk or an underinflated balloon. Without thought, he transformed and surrounded Robin more securely in his aura.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t visit sooner,” whispered Danny. “I’m sorry I didn’t know about you until now.”

There was a tug on his core. Robin was trying to take some of his power. Danny pushed as well, giving it willingly. In his arms, Robin grew more solid.

With Robin’s increased corporeality, Danny became aware the boy was shaking. He chirped an I’m here, you’re safe message.

Robin trilled his thanks and nerves.

Before Danny could ask what Robin wanted to do next, they were startled apart by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass and china and a voice shouting, “What the fuck?”

In the hallway, in perfect view of Danny and Robin, stood Alfred and Duke. A dropped tray and shattered dishes decorated the floor at Alfred’s feet and Duke had barely kept hold of his own tray and was half turned away but squinting at Danny and Robin like they were painful to look at.

Shouted questions and running footsteps echoed from the dining room and then everyone else was there, too.

Danny ignored everyone, focusing on Jazz who was staring at him in pure terror. Before he could assure her it would be all right, she was moving, ducking under arms until she was in front of him.

She fell into a fighting stance and pulled out a fenton staff. With the press of a button, it powered on, glowing like a double-sided light saber in her hands. “If any of you try to turn in my brother or hurt him, I will end you.”

----------

Next

Tag list!

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm

[breezy141]

catching feelings // pedro pascal [insta + text] masterlist.

WOULD YOU LIKE A PART 2 LEMME KNOW IN COMMENTS. i’ll tag you all if you do :D

oscarisaac

liked by pascalispunk and 1,296,017 others

oscarisaac everyone wish boob a happy birthday 🤞@y/n

view all 527,018 comments

y/nstan WHAT IS THAT ROOM 🤨

| love4love i think it’s from his teens

oscarnumberone u two my favourite duo.

y/n we so cute. but tf is under ur bed oscar..

| oscarisaac I DONT KNOW

pascalispunk happy birthday y/n !!

| y/n thank you p. i miss you

| pascalispunk stop it cus i miss you too

pascalpascal HAPPY BDAY 🤍

oscar.x happy birthday y/n !

y/n

liked by pascalispunk and 3,028,693 others

y/n :D

view all 901,205 comments

pascalnews is that pedro?

oscarisaac IS THAT MY BOY?

| y/n SHHHH

x.y/n.x pedro what are you doing hereeee?

bellaramsey the snaps i’m getting rn are makin me die.

| y/n STOP IT

| bellaramsey the way you can’t even peel a potato and YOUR AN ADULT.

usery/n i wanna demolish that food.

y/n

liked by pascalispunk and 4,027,500 others

y/n glad you were born peep 🤍

view all 730,291 comments

bellaramsey HELLO? answer ur phone rn. i have questions.

pascalfanbase hes so cute ❤️

oscarisaac me and my boy so cute together. back AWAY HONEY.

marryy/n tbh idk how i feel knowing she could be dating pedro

| stanher it’s almost like you don’t rule her life. leave her be.

pascalforeva CUTIES 🩵

pascalispunk glad i met you y/n/n 🤍

a_y/n love love love.

<~><~><~>

TEXT

y/n

pedro

>>

WAKE UP WAKE UP. it’s your bday eheheh

i’m awake now.

SH what should we do todsy !!

whatever you would like to sweetheart. you can choose. surprise me :)

hm okay okay. come to mine at 1 okay?

deal. see ya later doll 🤍

bye bye handsome 🤍

<~><~><~><~>

pascalispunk

liked by y/n and 7,271,097 others

pascalispunk spoilt tonight.

view all 981,028 comments

pascalnews is this from y/n?

obsessedy/n STOP IT WHAT?? @y/n

bellaramsey suspicions..

y/nforpresident if this isn’t y/n who set this up i will cry.

y/n hope you enjoyed it :)

| pascalispunk you know i did :)

| usery/n FREAKING PUT OMG ONG OMG

| pascalpedro OMGGG

[milflewis]

22 + chalex for the prompt thing! 🫶🏻

22. hug

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 1: So. I am fucked. Surprise though! So you can stop all the tears — talking about you, Commander, the softy that you are - I am alive.]

—

Two weeks after NASA has declared Alex Albon dead and left on Mars, Charles writes to George. He sends it to Sebastian and makes him swear to get it to Lewis in the crew’s next info dump, who will give it to George.

He tells him about how Alex’s plants are doing, and about his shifts at the hospital, how he’s on night work now, with the shifts rotating over. He tells him about going to the beach and just standing there for hours, staring out at the water, until he could no longer feel his face from the cold. He tells that he’s more or less sleeping, that he’s going to work, that he’s eating. He tells him that he hopes they’re keeping safe and that he loves him.

He doesn’t talk about Alex. He doesn’t tell George he doesn’t blame him. He knows he’ll know. That he won’t need Charles to write the words.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: I think I've got this actually. Ignore yesterday. Getting stranded on Mars kinda messes with your head. I've got a plan and I'm feeling good about it! ]

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: Update. I do not got this. If I die, Charles, I demand a mourning period of at least eighty-three years. Please bury me under some nice flowers. Blue if you can.]

—

“Come back to me,” Charles says, arms tight around Alex’s neck, mouth pressed under his ear. He smells of shampoo and asphalt. His bony elbows are digging into Charles’s back.

“I’m going to make Mars my bitch,” Alex says, grinning, and Charles shoves him away with a laugh.

Alex catches his wrist with a warm hand. His palm is dry and calloused. “Charlie,” he starts, low and careful. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Charles’s voice cracks. He tries again. “Yes, I know, of course, of course. Me too.”

Alex smiles, and it’s wonderful. Charles memorises the shape of it.

Down the line, with his back to the hoard of cameras, Commander Lewis Hamilton is pressing his mouth against his husband’s knuckles. Both of their eyes are closed.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 54]: Did you know that if you grow something somewhere that you've then colonised it? So, like, now that I've got my potatoes going does that mean I now own Mars? A win for the gays and the losers, motherfuckers!]

—

Toto swivels in his chair and looks out of the window to the sky beyond. Night is slipping in.

"What is it like?" he wonders. “Stuck up there. Alone. He does not know we know. What does that do?"

He looks at Niki. "I wonder what he is thinking right now."

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 61: How come Aquaman can control whales. They're mammals! Makes no sense.]

—

Some days, when he hasn’t had much sleep and the air warps and curls over on itself with heat, he sees Charles.

He’ll only ever be far off in the distance — too far for Alex to even see the details of his face, let alone touch him. He’d know the shape of those shoulders anywhere.

Alex waves to him sometimes. This dark blur on the horizon that just stands there and watches. He never waves back. The sun on Mars is unforgiving.

Alex wonders if he’s moisturising his hands. The latex exam gloves he has to wear for work always dry out his skin.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 76: I'm going to have to science the shit out of this. George, please don't use this as porn. I know how hot and bothered you get about me being all smart and sexy.]

—

George has, like, every sitcom ever downloaded in his personal storage. Alex works his way through them all. If he never hears another laugh track in his life he’d die happy.

Lewis’s music list is jam packed full of different genres. There is a surprising amount of The Beatles in there. Alex wouldn’t have guessed he was a fan of them.

Alex decides the music Lewis had made himself, all chords and notes and little words, is some of his favourites. It can be hard hearing other people speak at you and not being able to talk back.

Every book Valtteri had downloaded is in Finnish. Alex thinks he probably should’ve guessed that would be the case.

It turns out Finnish is very hard to learn, especially when the only words you’ve picked up are swears that you’ve heard Valtteri muttering under his breath before media duties.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 206: Finally got into contact with NASA because I am that bitch and I will be damned if I die here, and that is a promise. They won’t stop telling me what to do now though, so, like, it’s a give and take, I guess.]

—

The first thing Charles notices about Alex is that he has freckles all over his face but especially across his nose and cheeks. This feels very important.

The second thing he notices is that he is tall and his wrists are bony. Charles eyes the strip of skin where his MATHS IS SEXY top rides up. There is an equally tall man sitting in the booth beside him with a shirt that reads: NO ITS NOT.

The third thing he notices is that he is extremely drunk. His cheeks are flushed and he’s half falling over the table as he tries to explain something while laughing.

Charles probably falls in love right there if he’s being honest, even if he never gets the courage to go up and talk to him. Alex is the one who says hi, weeks later, asking him if he wants to play pool.

Charles doesn’t know how to play pool. He says yes anyway because he thinks it might make Alex smile. It does.

He keeps saying yes and Alex keeps smiling. They move together after college graduation.

Charles is coming off a double shift and he can’t feel his feet when Sebastian shows up to give him a ride home. He makes him tea when they get in. It’s a blend of something herbal and sweet like honey.

Sebastian tells him Alex is still alive as Charles breathes in the steam. He tells him that they left him behind on Mars. That it was an accident. That they’re figuring out how to get him home.

Alex is alive, Charles thinks. I’ll get to see Alex smile again, Charles thinks, and promptly bursts into tears.

—

[08:47] BUTTON: Good, keep us posted on any mechanical or electrical problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending you is Iris. You know, the one who rode the waves of heaven using the wind. I think she's also the chick with the rainbows.

[08:49] ALBON: Gay probe coming to save me. Got it.

—

I’m so glad it’s not me stuck up there, the navigational assistant tells him. He was the one who discovered Alex was still alive in the first place. He tells him he noticed the MAV moving. His name is Yuki.

Alex thinks he’s going to say he’d miss people or fresh fruit or Netflix or sex or something. Alex hasn’t had a mango in so long. He hasn’t had a blowjob in even longer. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Yuki is very very funny.

Can you imagine only eating potatoes, he tells Alex. I would rather die dead and alone. And then: though I guess you would not have to imagine.

And then: the eating potatoes bit. sorry. you haven’t done the other one yet.

Alex laughs so much he rebreaks a only barely healed rib and NASA yells at them both. His calcium levels are very low.

—

[21:27] BUTTON: How are the crops affecting that number? As to your question: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to concentrate on their own mission.

[21:30] ALBON: The crops are potatoes. I got them from the ones we were supposed to eat for Christmas. They're doing great but the available farmland isn't sustainable. I'll run out of food around SOL 900. Also. Fucking tell the crew I'm alive???? What the fuck is wrong with you????

[21:31] BUTTON: SOL 900 is great news. That'll give us time to get a supply mission to you. And I’ve been told to tell you to watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcasted around the world.

[21:32] ALBON: Look! A pair of boobs - > ( . Y . )

—

Dear Alex: Apparently, NASA is letting us talk to you now. And I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you behind on Mars.

But we just don't like you. You're sort of annoying. And you shed hair everywhere.

Also, it's a lot roomier on the Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks. But, I mean, it's only botany. It's not a real science.

How's Mars?

— George.

—

Alex stares up at the plain white ceiling of the HAB. The wind roars and rages outside and the Level Threw sandstorm shakes the walls. It holds. It always holds.

When he makes the journey to find the HAB of the HERMES TWO, he’ll be technically crossing international waters without any explicit permission from a governmental body. That makes him a pirate.

I’m going home, Alex thinks. And then: I can’t wait to tell Charlie that he’s married to a bad boy.

Alex runs a hand over his face. He’s even gotten the beard to go with it.

—

Dear George: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mum.

How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the horizons. They really do go on forever.

— Alex.

—

"Thing is," Alex scrambles to say, mouth dry and sore. "I'm selfish. I want all the memorials back home to be just about me. I don't want the rest of you losers in any of them. I can't let you guys blow the VAL. Also, I'm the only one who is allowed to make Charlie cry. Them's the rules."

"Oh," Lewis says. "Well, I mean, if you won't let us — wait. Wait a minute, I think I see something on my shoulder patch here. Oh, right, yeah, it says I'm the Commander. So, you know, what I say goes. Shut the fuck up and sit tight. We're coming to get you."

Alex swallows — or tries to at least. His whole body aches. He thinks he broke a rib, or two. Or three. He wants to cry.

"Copy that, sir."

"We've got you, man." Lewis's voice is warm. Alex doesn't have to imagine his smile anymore. He's going to get to see it very soon.

—

Alex is all bone and mouth when Charles gets to see him again. He has lost so many of his freckles. He hugs him close, pressing his thumbs into the hinge of Alex's jaw. Alex bows and curls over him and Charles doesn't let either of them fall.

He tastes vaguely of salt and snot when Charles kisses him. Charles is crying.

Alex is smiling when he pulls away, arms tight around Charles' back. "Look at your face," he says softly. He's talking to himself.

"I'm here," Charles replies, louder than necessary. Alex blinks at him and his smile, impossibly, gets even bigger. Charles's stomach squirms.

"You're a mess," Alex teases him, running a hand through Charles' hair. Charles doesn't say anything about how his hands shake.

“You should stay here and take care of me then,” Charles says, and Alex closes his eyes, smushing his nose hard into the skull of Charles’s forehead. Charles digs his nails in.

Fuck you, Mars, Charles. Fuck you.

[pomefioredove]

If youre still open to them 😭😭😭-

*fails to do some tap dancing, sneakers squeaking on the floor*

What do you think Vil does in those three days? Does he distance himself? Does he try to take up all Yuu's time in the guise of "who else will take care of you like this, potato?"

Maybe depending on how he acts, Yuu... might stay? *wink* (more pain or a bit of happiness or mr. Schoenheit, it is for you to decide)

*does a perfect leap through the window*

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while, sorry anon. I don't have a fic but I DO have some thoughts

(ask referencing this fic)

I love vil to pieces, and I honestly think that out of all the nrc boys, he'd have a fairly normal and healthy relationship with yuu (as in, no stalking, no attempt to own their soul forever, no overblotting and covering the entire island in thorns etc etc)

now, that being said? I think vil can become incredibly selfish when it comes to yuu

he's so normal until the threat of losing them, then all of a sudden he's clingy. him. clingy. purposefully takes up all their time, lavishes them with praises and gifts and affection, he would become a bit of a showoff. as you said, "who else will love you as much as I do?"

is this healthy? ehhhh. not really. love is a powerful thing, and it could make even him feel a little crazy

he's aware of it, too, which is the real problem. he knows he should just accept it and be happy and move on, he's got millions of people who'd die for a chance with him, waiting for him

but they're not his yuu :(

I kinda want to believe that yuu would stay in twst. I think I would. but that's so dependent on the story etc etc