#enjoy this thing hehe

[spunkydash]

A young man stands in his bedroom

[keferon]

OKAY OH MY GOD THIS FIC IS GREAT I HAVE ONLY READ THREE AND A HALF CHAPTERS AND IM ALREADY IN LOVE

I originally wanted to make both of these pieces in color but I’m gonna be honest I have no fucking idea how to draw Ricochet…he is described as black and red and…mmhhmmm does he have canonical (canonical for this fic I mean) design? Do I need to design him myself? Idk I’ll figure this out later

[msmimundo]

In which Perry finds a way to slowdance (and succeeds they make out right after)

[baekslight]

the last christmas moments with baekhyun

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[teddybeartoji]

thinking about burying your face into shoko's chest when the scary movie is getting a litte too scary during the usual sashisu get-together. suguru is acting all calm, (you know his heartbeat is racing, though. he's not as cool as he thinks) surpressing a little smirk while satoru is clutching onto his sweater for his dear life.

shoko isn't focused on the boys, nor is she focused on the tv screen that's filled with blood and guts – your scrunched up face being way more intriguing. she's trying to be smooth, trying to just catch a proper glimpse of you but it's hard without making a fuss. she needs to turn her head and she knows that's gonna get your attention; she doesn't want that. she wants to look at you without you looking back. she wants to study you and your face, you and you expressions, you and your birthmarks and you and your scars. she can't do that if you're staring up at her. she can't study you like that - she'll get distracted.

but c'mon, you're right there – one hand on her stomach, holding yourself up a little while the other is lost somewhere between your bodies. she has to look at you.

and she does. from what she can see, your face is in fact all scrunched up and it is in fact as adorable as she'd thought it'd be. your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes screwed shut as the screaming and yelling continues booming from the tv. your bottom lip is a little jutted out; shoko's lips twitch. so do her fingers.

her one hand is securely holding wine glass while the other... has somehow found its way to your back. for comfort, she thinks to herself. she didn't even realize it was there. instinct, she thinks to herself.

she leans back a mere inch, eager to see more of your pained face but that's when your eyes open; staring right back at her, you feel small. you feel flustered. she has that effect on you. the fingers on your back have now found a lock of hair, twirling the ends between her fingers; surely tainting you with the faint tobacco smell. you don't care.

"scared?" she whispers. her lips move so smoothly, the dark hue of them inviting you in. maroon; the mixture of her own lipstick and the wine - you wonder how she'd taste.

"maybe..." you whisper back. she hums quietly, trying not to attract attention from the boys a few feet away.

"aw..."

it's hard not to burn at her words, her small coo.

"what about you, hm?" you hum back and she can feel it; feel it start from the back of your throat and make its way through your body and then through hers. you're so close. "your heart is beating pretty fast. you sure you're not scared?"

...

it's not often you, or anybody else for that matter, is able to catch her off-guard. this is... new.

she just blinks down at you a few times, her pretty eyelashes fluttering against her soft pale skin. her lips part, yet nothing comes out. for about twenty seconds, it's just you and her. no blood, no gore, no tv, no boys, no noise, no nothing - only her eyes and your eyes. when your own lips quirk up, ready to bark out a tease at her - satoru screams, pulling your attention from her.

while suguru is muffling trying to muffle satoru's awful noises by slapping a palm in front of his mouth and you're trying to keep your laughter from bubbling up - shoko is still staring at you.

[coffeebanana]

The way the finale went down isn’t the ending a lot of people wanted—I get that, and I sympathize. But I really do believe that’s in part because it isn’t an ending.

And, frankly, I love the way this season finale went purely for selfish reasons.

The thing is, I honestly think that from a fandom POV, that’s so much better than having everything go the way we wanted or expected. I’m already so inspired to create things—to patch holes of things I didn’t get to see or hypothesize on how things will turn out. There’s debate on what the wish really means that I KNOW is going to manifest in some creative af world building in future fics I’ll get to read.

I know some people are contemplating leaving the fandom after this, but that was going to happen regardless of how the season went down. And I hope that some of those people still find a way to enjoy what the show has given them. I hope people realize it’s never too late to play with whatever ideas they may have.

I think this “ending” is unsettling on purpose. And I think so many cool things are going to be created because of that set-up.

I’m super duper excited okay?

[iiraae]

some mini comic doodles of step1 tam and sóley ! little kid shenanigans :P

how i imagined their first meeting going LOL also roughly based off of an experience i had when i first moved to the south .... there is slang here ive never heard before LOL

aaand the origin story to the mailbox incident thats mentioned in the step2 demo :0 !! running into it fucked up her teeth that were growing in pretty bad, so sóley also has braces in step2 ! tamarack isnt alone hehe

text from the screenshots below the cut in case my handwriting is bad LMAO

comic 1 1) tamarack: i live with my omi and opa! 2) sóley: "omi and opa?" is that what you call yer parents? tamarack: hehe nope! 3) sóley: ummm... oh! is that yer mamaw and papaw? 4) tamarack (has never heard that before): ...yyyyyes?

comic 2 1) sóley: tammy!! hey! tamarack: (gasp) sóley! hiii! sóley: i have a thurprith! (surprise) 2) tamarack: oooh! what is it! i wanna know the surprise!! 3) sóley: look!! i lotht (lost) a lotta teeth! tamarack: WHAT? 4) tamarack: what happened to your face !! sóley: i wath (was) ridin' mah bike an' i wathn't (wasn't) lookin' an' i hit our mailbox yethterday (yesterday)

[ilumel]

— local mandalorian unimpressed by lightsaber duel. more at 11.

[sideblogdotjpeg]

@purplecladmerchant hi hello happy naddtreat !!!!!!! heres some uncensored zirks for you!!!!!!

for @naddpodgifting (thank u for organizing!!!)

[ryllen]

Look what came through the mail today! The letters & ( •̀ω•́ )σ 3 little gremlins from letterstoear.

Just wanna say i adore the flower stickers on the letters too much, they are that much worth mentioning.

[kuromi-hoemie]

being like 5’2” - 5’4” is so attractive to me like omg ur head fits right under my chin and right in my tits ♡⁠ let me hold you. i love being a tall girl

[quick-otp-prompts]

First and Last Sentences, Fic Prompt

"For you, I would take actions unbeknownst to me, and have realizations of which were once thought of as inconceivable."

"Your love is a key that unlocks all doors."

[waterfallofspace]

Allergic To Concepts

Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives? Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!

So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~

I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~

Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha Word Count: 2.7k

“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts. 

Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?” 

“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-” 

“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering. 

Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?” 

Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?” 

Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-

“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips. 

Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them. 

Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.” 

“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair. 

“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.” 

“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?” 

Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy. 

This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.” 

Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.” 

Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him. 

“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point. 

Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose. 

Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more. 

At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-  

And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing. 

“ihh-” 

Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely. 

Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it! 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes. 

“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s. 

“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?” 

Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-” 

Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!” 

“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go. 

“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle. 

Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?” 

The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless. 

“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either. 

An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end. 

“Bless you, boss.” 

Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.  

“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.” 

Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”  

“Bless yo-” 

“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!”  The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon. 

“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy. 

The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably. 

“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.

“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.” 

The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match. 

“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room. 

Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.” 

“I mean- If… if you’re sure…” 

Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?” 

Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon. 

There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval. 

“Well?” 

It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either. 

As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air. 

Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it? 

A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious. 

With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right? 

Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly. 

The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door. 

“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door. 

“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…” 

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue. 

“Well, I just ma-” 

“ih’tNGT–uu!” 

“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-” 

“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence. 

“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-” 

“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.” 

Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well… 

But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.

[fatedroses]

When a test of a prince's taste backfires horribly. Or, how Alisaie gave herself psychic damage for not realizing this man may not act like how she imagines and she's suddenly being thanked for giving the worst food on the star to him.

(or, even, indirectly giving Meteor and Tsukiko psychic damage as Meteor refuses to let Zenos eat that god forsaken bread and has to hold him back like a misbehaving cat away from it.)

[sainz100]

2024 Hungarian GP | x (edited)