PhonePastry
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Summary
Nat Vancey wakes up one morning in the Habitat to find Flower Kid curled up in a rather dishelved room in a rather dishelved state.
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When one is described as sweet as sunshine, they get familiar with recognizing the warmth in a person.
One day, Percy catches a glimpse of a man who makes him understand why warmth is so captivating.
Recent bookmarks
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Recovery by Kinasume
Fandoms: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
29 Aug 2017
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Link gets hit with the trauma of fighting Waterblight Ganon harder than he had expected.
Bookmarked by PhonePastry
02 Sep 2020
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Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.
Bookmarked by PhonePastry
29 Jul 2020
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There’s a crackling noise, then the quiet hiss of speakers as a voice comes from— somewhere. Everywhere? He’s not entirely sure of the source, but it fills the cabin, the first sound in a long time that’s not of his own creation.
“Mr. Blackwood.” It’s low, clipped, devoid of all inflection; Martin still gets the sense that the speaker is irritated with him, somehow.
(Martin, on the Daedalus.)
Bookmarked by PhonePastry
10 Jun 2020
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Martin Blackwood loved people. He was a caretaker by nature, so it only seemed right that he would end up with a job that allowed him to bring comfort to people. He did it in one of the most tangible ways: food. Martin ran a diner on the outskirts of London. It was far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the city to be peaceful, but close enough to get a steady stream of patrons. In only a few short years of running it, he’d gathered a large amount of loyal customers who he knew by name.
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Just a wholesome AU where Martin owns a diner! It's got pining, shenanigans, and a little bit of mystery solving, and much more. This is purely self-indulgent and fluffy.Bookmarked by PhonePastry
08 Jun 2020
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Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.
In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.
(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)
Bookmarked by PhonePastry
14 May 2020