comfort food yes

faramirlover  asked:

Cherik and no. 12?

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

Charles was a wreck. Buried under blankets and fast asleep, his bed was covered in used up tissues. The top of his forehead peeked out from under the covers and his nose looked red. He was wearing that ratty old Oxford t shirt of his and sprawled on his chest was a copy of Utopia. Charles’ abysmal taste in literature shouldn’t have been so endearing. It absolutely was.

Erik sat down in the chair next to Charles’ bed and reached for his hand. It felt warm and feverish. His pulse was unsteady, worryingly so. Erik traced the lines of his hand and reassured himself that nothing was going to take Charles away from him. Not after everything. He held his hand and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm.

“I won’t lose you, not like this. Get up, you stubborn old fool.”

Some one knocked hesitantly and Erik turned around. Beast was standing in the doorway and he looked very uncomfortable. His eyes shifted to their hands. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever this is is.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all and Erik didn’t give a damn. He glared at him.

“You should have called me sooner.”

“I wouldn’t have called you at all if it were up to me. Charles asked for you.”

Erik smirked.

“That’s because I’m wanted here. Unlike you.”

Beast scowled.

“He’s been like this for a week, if you’re not going to help then get out.”

Erik laid one last kiss on Charles’ hand knowing full well how uncomfortable it made Beast. Good.

“I’ll be back in a moment, dear. Don’t get into any more trouble while I’m gone.”


When Charles woke up his room was filled with daisies. Metal daisies. The ones to his left looked suspiciously like his staircase bannisters. They were beautiful and delicate. They seemed to burst with life and joy. Hope.

Charles smiled. After all these years, Erik never ceased to surprise him.  

The door to his room opened and Erik entered carrying a metal tray filled with food. He froze when he realized that Charles was awake. He had been caught doing something thoughtful and now he’d never live it down.

As if to undermine the sweetness of the gesture, he closed the door behind him forcefully to shut out any impertinent people disturbing Charles’ rest. The fact that he was disturbing Charles’ rest didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Here. Eat.” he placed the metal tray down on the bed and upon closer observation it was a bit of everything. Pumpernickel bread and warm butter. Apple slices. Earl grey tea. Best of all, was the soup. Good lord, it was heavenly. Hearty, warmth and soothing. It seeped into all the crevices of his soul. Charles was going to marry Erik and then divorce him for the soup.

His throat was swollen and he could barely speak but luckily he had other ways of communicating.

where did you get this?

Erik looked anywhere but at Charles.

“It’s my mother’s recipe actually. Rosoe. She used to make it for me.”

Just when he thought he couldn’t adore him any more he’d go and do something like this.

Charles sent him a wave of gratitude and understanding mixed with the ever present fondness that belonged solely to Erik.  

Erik smiled in that uncertain way of his. He still didn’t trust happiness, not even after all this time.

Well that just wouldn’t do at all.  

come here

He put on his best come hither face. It may have been more effective if he hadn’t sneezed.

Erik laughed, which is all he really wanted in the first place. The man had such a dear laugh.

“Insatiable as ever.” 

sit with me


Erik eventually gave in. Charles looked unbearably smug about it. It was a good look on him. No one had the right to look that good when they were ill, it was unbelievable. Unbearable and unbelievable. Just like everything else about him. He couldn’t wait to kiss the smugness off him. A hundred times. A thousand.

Erik cleared a path for himself amidst the pile of tissues, cough drops and scattered books. Took his rightful place on the left side of the bed. He belonged here.

The irritating smile had turned into something gentle and content. Charles knew it too.

If Erik held onto his hand more tightly than usual neither of them mentioned it.

The thing is he could really lay claim to anything. Not to Charles or his bed. Not to any part of him. Not so long as he was Magneto. Charles welcomed him into his home but he could never stay. Never tell him the words that had been burning up in his chest since 1964. 

So they lived like this. No man’s land.

“We can’t keep doing this you know. Sneaking around.”

Charles hummed thoughtfully and sipped his tea.

“I can’t climb up your balcony anymore, I have arthritis. Someone is bound to notice one of these days.”

darling, you have many fine qualities but subtlety is not among them.

Erik sat up abruptly.

“They kn-”

yes

“All of them?”

every last one. especially after this morning.  

Erik glared in a valiant attempt to conceal his anxiety.

“You were supposed to be asleep.”

taking advantage of me in my weakened state? how thrilling

“You are hardly an invalid and it was merely a kiss. On your hand, need I remind you.”

yes, very gallant and very chaste. very disappointing. next time you should kiss me on my-

“CHARLES!”

Charles smiled at him and it was the sun coming up in the morning. It was beautiful. It was the most obnoxious thing he had ever seen in his life. Erik kissed him.

you’ll get sick 

“Kiss me back this instant or I swear to god I’ll steal all your cough syrup.”

Charles obliged. Quickly and with enthusiasm.

For the sake of the cough syrup.


Having thoroughly conquered that smug smile, Erik pulled back with a smug smile of his own. Charles looked dazed and delighted. His best look yet. There was another look Erik was partial to but he’d wait until the fever had passed.

He held Charles tightly against his chest. In sickness and in health and all that. Erik really wouldn’t know he had never bothered with that sort of thing. Perhaps he should.

“I think I like you like this.” 

don’t be disgusting, i’m a mess

“You.” He punctuated the word with a kiss.“are the most beautiful goddamn person I have ever seen. You are the best person I have ever met. I don’t give a damn about your cold, you absolute idiot.”

Oh.

“Yes, oh.”

that was -

Erik shifted uncomfortably. There was a reason he prefered not to express himself. Ever.

“That was something.”

Charles beamed.

Yes. Yes, you certainly are something.

The intimacy of the moment was almost intolerable. He had to act quickly before he did something foolish. Run. Move to Barcelona. Propose.

“Right well. Is there anything else you need?”

Charles held onto him tighter as if he knew what he was thinking. 

He probably did.

Stay.

Like he could do anything else.

anonymous asked:

Hi! My little brother has autism and we're trying to find things for him to eat, is it an autistic thing to be very particular about things he eats or they way he eats? I'm worried about him getting the right nutrients, but I want him to eat in a way that he feels comfortable and safe

Yes, food is something we are often very sensitive to, whether it is taste, smell, the look of it, or even the feel of it in our mouth. And of course whether or not it upsets our tummies.

This is probably one of the most common sensory sensitivities among autistics, and it just gets complicated because of our tendency to samefood.

My advice would be to search my blog for the tags #SameFood and #SameFooding, and read the stuff on eating preferences, then check out the tags for the rest of Tumblr. If you have questions after that, please feel free to send another ask!

The Sherlockian Hiatus Survival Guide

Click here and play the soundtrack on another tab as you scroll down Hiatus Survival Lane.

1. You always need food when you’re on the Sherlock tag. Comfort food at it’s best! Yes, I know. The walk to the kitchen is so FAR! Ugh!

But do it for the food. *Whispers*

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2. Now that you’ve got your comfort food, TUMBLR!!! 

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3. Get your body ready… The waves of feels are crashing in…

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4. Number 3 is worthless. You’re going to drown in the depths of fangirl feels.

You’re probably like: 

My reply is: 

BUT! We shall drown in feels together.

Us: 

BBC: 

Us: 

5. Accept the fact that other fandoms don’t understand us.

But feel free to bring them into our fandom… Although we are the most mental one… MAKE SURE TO WARN THEM!

I mean seriously… Warn them…

6. To prove we are the most mental fandom…

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My dear Sherlockians,

Because 

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7. Let’s take a short break from your fangirl feelings right now. 

Here’s a gift from me to you, just to calm your nerves. :) 

You right now: 

Me:

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8. Connect with the other Sherlockians.

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9. BUT THE HIATUS WON’T TAKE BLOODY 2 YEARS! SHERLOCK RETURNS THIS CHRISTMAS! WOOO! AND MORIARTY RETURNS! ;)

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10. Your fandom needs you. 

riddleblack246  asked:

41 sounds cute. :)

41. Comfort Food

“Fish and chips.”

“Yes Eggsy, I would have thought you’d have encountered this dish before.”

Eggsy poked at his basket of fried fish and potatoes and blinked up at Harry, eyes clouded in confusion. He’d been told by Harry that they’d be having the best food in his life. He’s been expecting a fancy, expensive restaurant. At least a sit down restaurant, but here they were, leaning again a railing next to a shack, greasy baskets in their hands.

“I just…expected something different, I guess,” Eggsy admits. Harry smiles, as if he knew exactly Eggsy had been thinking.

“This particular establishment has been around since I first came to London,” Harry reports, taking a bite out of a chip as Eggsy pushed his own food around. “It had, perhaps, the greatest fish and chips I’d had in my life. It’s been thirty years, and I have yet to eat anything better. It’s my comfort food.”

“You’ve been in Kingsman since you were twenty?” Eggsy asks, latching on to that part of the story before biting into the fish.

Dear god that was an explosion of flavour.

“Holy fuck,” Eggsy says, chewing happily as he takes in the hints of lime and sugar that barely coat the fluffy batter around the fish. He tries the chips and is pleased that they’re just as good as Harry claims. 

Speaking of Harry, Eggsy peaks up as he stuffs his mouth, blushing as Harry’s eyes crinkle with joy.

“You like it then?” Harry laughs, a soft smile almost permanent on his face. Eggsy nods enthusiastically, taking the napkin that had come with the meal and wiping his mouth. 

“This is great!” 

“I come here after stressful missions or on first dates,” Harry whispers, as if this is a secret, and Eggsy nods, acknowledging the words but distracted by the just barely vinegary chips.

What.

Wait.

“A date?” Eggsy squeaks, basket almost slipping from his hands. He entertained the idea that perhaps Harry had thought his last diplomatic trip to Tokyo stressful, but Harry had been visiting friends, and the day was. The day was-

“It’s Valentines’ Day,” Harry says, smile still on his face, but faltering with uncertainty based on Eggsy’s reaction. The younger man notices and waves his free hands to reassure Harry.

“I totally didn’t know but I don’t mind? I’m honored? Flattered? Um, in disbelief?”

“Disbelief?” Harry asks, leading them to a bench, not wanting to have this conversation standing with other people watching. There’s a bench hidden behind a tree and Harry sits down, taking Eggsy’s food and putting it to the side.

“Harry, yer kinda fit. And older. And my boss,” Eggsy explains, wriggling in his seat. “Also pretty out of my league.”

“My dear boy,” Harry murmurs, “it is you who is out of my league. You’re still so young, you have a long life ahead of you. You’re beautiful and talented. I’m so selfish to want you.”

“Well that’s bullshite,” Eggsy mutters back, pressing his forehead against Harry’s, “you’re amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“And anyone you.”

They remain still, foreheads together while they breath softly in each other’s space, enjoying this peace.

“So you wanna date me?” Eggsy asks after a few moments have passed.

“If you’d allow me the honor.”

Eggsy nods, holding Harry’s hands with his own. “Of course.”

The atmosphere seems to become calmer, the breeze cooler, the animals quiet.

But then a bloody squirrel pops up and grabs a handful of chips in the middle of their moment, almost mocking them before scurrying away with his hoard.

“Did that just happen?”

Harry stands up, still holding Eggsy’s hand and takes the baskets to toss in the trash. “We can get more,” Harry says, “let the squirrel have its fill.”

Eggsy shrugs, following Harry back to the shack. He honestly didn’t care too much about the food, sure it was comfort, but Harry’s hand in his was better than any food could be.