deathcharm

Latest Posts by deathcharm

"live with love"

she's all alone...

(wiege continuation)

i’m gagged tf

wow it's almost like. i enjoy dramatic identity reveals

(bonus under the cut)

AS I WAS SAYING!!!!!

me when i get her bro

a punch to the face sounds so yummy rn

MY MAAANNN WAAAAH MY MANN…. HIM AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD :((( 💕💕

Confessions of an Insomniac

curly x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker, and he's head over heels for you

⋆ tags : slowburn, coworkers to lovers, jimmy is mentioned like 2 times but never shown

word count : 1k+ ( and proud!! ^^ ) ⋆

⋆ taglist : @likeadeadbattery

Curly never thought he'd find himself in such a compromising position. He took himself for being a professional man. Took pride in it, too.

He was the captain, after all - your captain. Worked with you long enough to know you on a first name basis. He never truly shook off the flush that appeared on his chest whenever he called you by your actual name. He preferred calling you by your title, Doctor (L/N). It was professional. It was propriety. It was what made sense to him.

In all his years of running the Tuplar, he's never felt this way about a coworker before. It made him feel sick with sweaty palms, unable to focus.

That would explain his frequent visits to your office. But you didn't need to know that.

Curly's senses were more hyper-aware than he usually was, more than he needed for his position on the ship as you check his heartbeat with your stethoscope. "Oh, change in pulse." You comment, chuckling to yourself as you scribble that information down.

You were close. So, so close.

Curly knew the procedure. Attentiveness was expected. The way your eyes softened on him wasn't. Checkups were the norm. The way your touch seemed to linger on him like static through the corridors wasn't. He fixes the neckline of his shirt after you pull away to keep himself distracted.

"Have you been working out recently?" You hold your clipboard in your hands. Curly found it hard to tell if you were asking that question casually or professionally. You were using your doctor's voice, but you were asking him something he'd hear you ask over lunch.

Curly straightens his posture at the question to appear more put together in front of you.

"Yes, I have." He replies, though the answer was obvious. His muscles almost jumped out of the fabric of his jumpsuit. He wonders if you asked that question just to hear him say it himself.

"Usually, I do warm-ups in the morning before starting my duties..." You listen to him and nod along as he rambles on about his workout routine, not minding the lax tone of his voice.

Knowing that Curly trusted you enough not to use his captain's voice on you had to be some form of an honor, right?

Both of your words held weight. Both of you had people who looked up to you. You were both similar, in a way. Curly had you and the crew. You had Anya and him.

Curly stops his little tangent when you pick up a different colored pen and scribble more doctor's jargon onto his sheet. "That's good." You respond, eyes focused on your clipboard.

"Good?" he echoes, his face, all the way up to his ears, goes red. Pink against his skin, but red nonetheless.

He was used to people praising his routine, but it felt different coming from you.

"Yes, despite our advancements in technology, we still experience muscle atrophy." You explain, using your doctor's voice. "What you're doing helps prevent the risk." You glance towards him. "You're aware of what that is, yes?”

Curly nods, silently hoping you wouldn't comment on his appearance. "Yes, I've read about it before." He says with a bit more confidence, his hands going from his knees to his thighs.

You chuckle as you speak. "Once we get back to Earth, you won't topple over like a Jenga tower.”

Still red in the face, Curly chuckles along.

"Maybe you should get Jimmy on your little workout regiment, too."

Curly knows he shouldn't laugh at the jab you just made at his second in command, but a little good-natured ribbing never hurt anybody, right? You were joking, weren't you?

“Don't tell him I said that."

You whisper, leaning in to add emphasis to your words.

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle of approval. He eases his tone, feeling less stuffy the longer you went on with your playful jabs at his best friend. "Don't worry, Doctor (L/N)." He reassures you, his hand on the table. "I promise you, I won't tell him a thing. It'll be our little secret." Curly adds an almost teasing tone in his voice.

He relishes in the reaction you gave him. The subtle flush of your cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

You didn't mind breaking the lines between camaraderie and fraternity.

Maybe you did, maybe you didn't.

Maybe Curly was just too deep in his head, too caught up in the version he had of you.

Blinded by your smile and the way you laughed at his jokes. Curly wonders if you feel the same way as him. Saw the same version of him that he had of you.

Curly watches as you work in pure concentration, your eyes glued to your clipboard, pen cap pressed to your chin. He takes in the sight, secretly glad that you were distracted. He had the chance to do nothing but stare, admire you as you worked.

You break your concentration to speak.

"You don't have to keep calling me doctor, you know. You have the bragging rights to call me, Doc."

Curly smiles ruefully at your words. He should tamp his feelings down now, shouldn't he? He had to prove that he still had control. That he was the one in charge.

Mostly for himself, not you.

"I suppose you're right." He shrugs, trying to keep his tone neutral as he gazes away to focus his eyes elsewhere. "Bragging rights, huh?" Curly says softly to himself, still smiling.

Luckily, you don't hear the way he fondly repeats your words.

"Are we still up for our little date, captain?" The way you lean in to speak makes him want to look anywhere but you. The phrasing you used made him feel all warm in the chest again.

You were going to be his downfall. All the hard work, the excruciating hours he put into getting where he was now, was just one word away from going completely down the drain.

All because of you.

"You really shouldn't call it that." Curly rubs the back of his neck like a nervous teen. Awkward and clammy. At least now he wasn't as pink as a baby mouse. "Wouldn't want the rest of the crew getting the wrong idea, would we?"

You lean back and let out a laugh, sounding as though you didn't have a care in the world.

"Yeah, you're right. Doing nails isn't much of a date anyway."

Your words sting Curly, just a bit. There was a wordless form of intimacy behind doing someone's nails of someone you loved. Carefully holding the other person's hand in yours. Trusting them enough for your hold to go limp in theirs.

You even get the right to tell others that you had the privilege of having someone else do your nails.

Bragging rights, as you playfully put it. Perhaps he was looking into it too much.

Curly mirrors your movements, his eyes temporarily flick to your hands as you speak. You had nice hands, compared to his. He'd never voice his opinions to your face, of course. Never. It'd be unprofessional of him. More than he was already. He felt guilty, thinking of you in such a way.

The thought of being alone with you strangled all competence out of him. The smell of your shampoo clouded his senses. You, you, you.

All he could think of was you.

"Trust me, Jimmy's not gonna crucify you for wearing some clear coat, Curly."

Your breath mingles with his as you do his nails, his knees were starting to hurt from sitting on the carpeted floor of the conversation pit, but he wasn't complaining at all. He appreciated the level of care you put in as you held his hand. It was endearing, almost.

Curly looks down at his hand, his head tilted at an angle.

"What is a clear coat?" he asks, genuinely wondering what exactly you were applying to his nails. He probably should've asked that before agreeing to this.

The small grin that appears on your lips when you hear his question makes him completely forget that what you were doing together wasn't a date.

With a flick of your hand, you reply. "A clear coat keeps it all shiny and neat. Feels nice, huh?" Curly nods to your question, careful not to move too much as you hold his hand in yours.

"Keeps your nails from chipping, too. Wouldn't we want that, would we, Captain?"

The way your eyes flit up to him almost makes him turn red. He could've sworn he heard a teasing tone in your voice.

"No, not at all, Doc." He replies, looking down at his nails. The changes were subtle. But you were right. It felt nice.

He pretends to admire the way his nails look in the artificial moonlight, when in reality he's looking at you.

"Better waste of time than staring at those pixels, right?"

Curly remembers your words from earlier. Your suggestion to do his nails as the rest of the crew slept. Two insomniacs against the unrelenting pull of space. Just you and him.

He wonders if your suggestion was just some flimsy excuse to get him alone with you.

"Right." He repeats, voice softening.

"Captain." You scoot closer to him, your knees touching his.

Your arm brushes against his, just like it did whenever you crossed paths in the halls.

"When this is all over... I wouldn't mind seeing you outside of work."

It takes him a moment to catch on to your words. His own words catch in his throat. The walls of the ship felt more suffocating than they usually did.

"I'd like that." He responds.

Carefully, as if you'd break in his hands, he slots his fingers in between yours. He tests your reaction by squeezing your hand. When you squeeze back, he smiles.

He leans in but doesn't kiss you.

"I'd like that a lot." He adds, his other hand going to your shoulder.

Again, Curly looks at you. Deep in thought as he takes in the way you looked at him. Lost in your eyes, he almost doesn't hear what you're saying.

You looked happy, as if a weight was finally lifted off of your chest.

His eyes widen when you lean in to kiss him.

He tenses up, not expecting you to do the first move. As quickly as you pull in, you pull away. Short and sweet. That's all he needed to know you felt the same.

You were red in the face, just like him.

His thumb brushes over your skin. Curly always tried to see the bigger picture.

He never thought you'd be a part of it, too.

Sweet Like Apples

swansea x coworker!reader ⋆ asking him to open fruit for you (read part one of the coworker!au here)

⋆ tags : coworker!au, established relationship, coworkers to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, swansea acts a little mean bc he doesn't want daisuke to think he's gone soft (you're really killing his tough guy persona)

word count : 1k+ (and proud!! >3<) ⋆

Daisuke and Swansea sit together in the Tuplar's conversation pit. Daisuke sits with one heel on the couch, balancing the book in his hands with his knee. Swansea watches quietly as he scribbles his answers onto paper, already knowing which ones he's gotten wrong without giving the sheet a second glance.

Swansea exhales calmly.

The kid was starting to grow on him. He was beginning to think he was too harsh.

He softly reprimands the intern, no actual disdain behind his words. Swansea keeps his voice steady, though. Can't let the kid think he was going soft. "Don't sit like that." The older man lightly taps his shoulder, making Daisuke's hold on his pencil slip. "You wanna end up like me?"

Daisuke fixes his posture, sitting more properly on the L-shaped couch. He gives Swansea a quick roll of his eyes and continues to concentrate on his book work. Swansea rolls his eyes in response, a small, barely noticeable wry grin on his face as he looks away.

Ever since you came into his life, acknowledged his feelings for you, the whole world seemed a whole lot better. Brighter, even. Compared to the artificial stimulation of the sunlit sky, splayed across the living room walls.

The screen was bright, but damn, you were brighter.

"Let me see that." Swansea holds out his work-worn palms, gesturing for Daisuke to give him his mechanic's handbook. He obliges, hesitantly scanning his tired face for approval. The older man points at each line of ink with the tip of lead, reading over the bubbled answers Daisuke put in.

The tension was palpable. To Daisuke, at least.

To Swansea, this was another day at work. "You got all of these wrong." He says, dragging the nub of Daisuke's pencil over each question number, voice gruff yet lenient this time around, even though by now, he would've called him out on his mistakes.

Daisuke was a good kid. He had a good head on his shoulders. Even though he acted stupid. Swansea could probably count enough times on his hands how reckless he was at his age.

Another sigh leaves his person. Swansea sets the pencil in between the pages of Daisuke's workbook and places it down on the palette-shaped coffee table.

Swansea strums his fingers against his thigh before methodically standing up, using the wooden divider that separates the conversation pit from the rest of the lobby to support his weight. "Let's take a break." he suggests, much to Daisuke's surprise.

"Wait- what? Really?" he asks, eyes widened in a mixture of shock and surprise. A part of him was relieved that he wouldn't have to stick his nose into a musty book, but another part of him was genuinely surprised that Swansea of all people was suggesting that he should take a breather.

"Fifteen minutes." He states firmly, arms crossed over his beer belly. "That's all you're gonna get outta this, kid." he tilts his head off to the side, waiting for the younger man to get up himself.

Daisuke grins at him,fifteen minutes was better than getting no minutes at all. Swansea huffs out a quiet laugh, watching as his intern makes a beeline to the kitchen, your expanse of the ship and expertise.

Just as he thought, you were there. Apron and all, cutting up fruits into little cubes.

For a guy like him, the kitchen was small. A little cramped for his size, but in a comforting sort of way. He knew you'd be here, always, waiting for him. Just like that night you shared with him weeks before.

Having three people in the kitchen definitely made it more crowded than it needed to be. Swansea's glad that you and Daisuke were chatting amongst yourselves. You, being too focused on explaining what you were making and Daisuke, too absorbed in listening along and sneakily grabbing bites of cut up fruit to slip into his hand for later. Swansea doesn't say a word.

A warm feeling in his chest as he watches the two people he cared for most on the ship talking to each other. There was a word for this feeling, wasn't there? He couldn't remember.

"Swansea, hun, can you help me with this apple?" You crane your head away from the counter top to address the man directly. Swansea almost choke. The way the nickname easily leaves your lips, like you've been married for years, even though you just recently admitted your feelings for him.

You were going to be the death of him.

Swansea smooths out the company logo on his shirt. His heart was beating wildly against his chest like a battering ram, all because you decided to call him something other than his own name. You called him hun. All you did was call him hun.

He pretends to let out an uninterested huff as he saunters over, a strong hand over the logo of his work uniform.

If Daisuke wasn't in the room with you he would've reacted much worse.

Swansea's intimidating frame looms over you. "Gimme that." He says, holding out his other hand. "The apple?" you ask, setting down your paring knife. "No sweetheart, the bowl." Swansea replies flatly, Daisuke snickers. Swansea shoots a glare at the younger man, as if to quiet him, which he instantly obliges.

With a soft chuckle, you hand him the apple. "I need this guy for the fruit salad." You explain, watching curiously as Swansea twists the stem, tossing it off into the pile of scraps you had neatly set off to the side. "You're not going to use a knife?"

"I don't need a knife." he replies, the meat of his palms digging into the apple. His calloused fingers dip into the calyx of the apple. With a twist of his wrists, Swansea cleanly splits the apple in half.

Once again, Swansea pretends that it's nothing and hands you the apple. The apple that he split in half with his bare hands.

It was his turn to make you feel all warm in the chest now. "You're welcome, by the way. Just make sure I get a bite before everyone else does, alright hun?"

Hun. Hearing Swansea call you that almost gives you a heart attack.

Swansea smiles at you like you were the only person in the kitchen with him. He walks out of the kitchen, content with your reaction. The wide-eyed look you gave him was priceless.

He sits at the kitchen table, smiling boyishly as he hears Daisuke hammering you with questions about your relationship with his superior. He'll step in eventually. But for now he'll enjoy the feeling of content in his chest.

get contained idiot

THIS?! You mean.. this..model airplane?? no.. its not mine..

came to terms with the fact that i probably wont put anymore effort than i already did into these harveys (im busy...)- but i still like them and i had a ton of motivation to draw him from the update lol.. i am at fall year 2 on a save i started the day the update came out.

Comfort character… kinda based on a moment in game but I forgot to take a screenshot 🥹 Tried giving him an alt outfit

Bro was ambushed

Happy!

they're all gonna wake up with neck pains smh 🙄

Idk what compels me to draw them in a train, but here we are

normal thoughts about Decil

Scars can be worn as a badge of honor, as a token of survival, of resilience. Scars are storytellers. It's all in the back of Cecil's mind, even if Donald is continously given a new body. And when he looks at the bare, synthetic skin on the man's body, even if he doesn't see the dozens of lifetimes behind him, Cecil remembers.

if i can't have my character A lovingly trace character B's scars then I'm gonna fucking work around it

anybody in chat fuck with donald/cecil tragic old man yaoi from invincible. season 2 specifically. anyone... no.. Okay

He protec, he attac, but most importantly he bac

istg there's donald's pic in the frame in cecil's office 😭😭

donnie once i’m done with him 🎀

AMERICAN ICECREAM

( Donald Ferguson x coworker!reader || MAJOR spoilers for Invincible s2, mentions of character death, HUGE angst but w/ a happy ending )

"I feel like we've done this before." Donald comments, adjusting his glasses as he looks down at his ice cream cone. He got vanilla, not because he liked vanilla, but because they ran out of the flavor he usually got. How could they run out of rocky road?

"You mean going on a date?" you ask with a laugh, licking the melted ice cream dripping down the back of your hand. "No, I mean..." Donald goes quiet. What was he even talking about? It all happened so fast, meeting you at the GDA, finally talking to you, all of it.

Like it's happened before.

He pauses, his lips form a faint line as he adjusts his glasses again. "Forget what I said." Donald shakes his head, his free hand going towards the collar of his shirt out of habit, adjusting a tie that wasn't even there. For a moment, the man could swear he could see the smile on your face falter.

He clears his throat, fixing his posture against the park bench. "I hope I'm not ruining the date." he says, looking away from you. "Don't worry, Donnie," you hug his shoulder, trying to make him feel better. "You're probably just stressed from all that nagging from the big man." you say, referring to Cecil, which makes him feel slightly better. He smiles slightly, leaning his head against yours.

You knew things Donald didn't. You've done this before.

Donald was your boyfriend, your soon-to-be fiance, that was until he died. Over and over again. It was hard trying to make him remember you as his fiance. Wiping his memories of the things he's seen while protecting the people also erased his memories of you. Every single time.

It was hard for you to swallow the fact that the man beside you didn't recognize you, at least in the romantic sense. You grew tired of trying to teach him about how you first met at the GDA, how he proposed to you at your favorite bakery, all of it. Donald knew who you were- he knew your name, the division you worked in, but still. Looking at him made you feel like you were looking at a ghost. You were there when he first died, and the image of him from that day was burnt into your brain. In your head, like a burning memory.

Donald feels the side of your head against him, he stiffens slightly, not used to the feeling of someone being this close beside him.

"Hey..." he looks down at you through the lenses of his glasses, peeking through the gaps as he looks at the crown of your head. "Are you okay?" He asks, nudging your shoulder. "You seem more out of it than me." He chuckles to himself nervously, smiling down at you.

"Oh I'm fine." you smile at him in reassurance, hoping your smile didn't look too forced. As of now, and ever since he 'died' you've been anything but.

Donald senses that something's off.

He's felt that way for a while. There was just...something in the way you smiled. His lips purse together as he come up with something to say, but he refrains from it. He didn't want to sour the date any further.

Quickly, he begins to eat his ice cream, almost shoving the cone into his mouth. The sudden change in pace catches you off guard, making you laugh again. "Calm down, Donnie! Jesus!" hearing you laugh did something to him.

It was only the first date of many for him, and yet he was already falling in love with you.

GOOD LUCK, BABE !

( Eve Wilkins x fem!reader || she needs all the luck she can get when you don't know the effect you have on her )

Eve stares at herself in the mirror, tilting her head in various angles as she examines her face. Nothing noticeable about it has changed, but she checks anyway. 

You were on your way to her house to get ready for another "girls" night out. By "girls" Eve meant you, her, and Rex. Her dad insisted on bringing a "man" along for both of your sakes, for your safety and hers. Rex was as capable of being a man as a child was in his father's suit. He looked the part, but didn't act like it at all. 

That was besides the point. All that mattered was that you were coming over. Not him. 

Her eyes pull away from the mirror when she hears her phone buzz. Usually, she kept it strictly on silent. But since you were coming over, time was of the essence.

She reads over your text with a smile. 

As always, you don't bother to ring the doorbell. You opted to text instead, sending her a simple standing woman emoji to notify her of your arrival at her doorstep. "Took you long enough." Eve comments, looking over your outfit, casual but cute. Perfect for a trip to the mall. All the while Eve was still in her pajamas. 

"Says the one who needs me to get ready in the morning." you say back, before pulling the other girl into a hug.

She doesn't know why, but the sudden hug catches her off guard. Luckily for her, you don't see the way her eyes widen as you wrap your arms around shoulders. The hug was brief, but Eve could swear it lasted longer than it usually did as if you were savoring her arms around your back. 

"Anyways, lead the way, pj princess," you gesture towards her room, the nickname you use for her makes her subconsciously smile to herself. "Do you really need me to lead you to my room?" Eve asks with a small laugh, making her way upstairs, already knowing you'd follow. "Not really, but yeah." your answer makes her laugh again at how absurd you sound, she rolls her eyes, even though you aren't facing her directly.

"You gotta clean around here, Eve. This is a stepping hazzard." You kneel down slightly to pick up one of her stuffed animals, tossing it onto her bed. Eve rolls her eyes. "Quit being dramatic and help me pick out an outfit." She says, rummaging through her closet for some clothes to wear out.

"Alright, whatever you say, babe." You say in reply, sitting on the edge of her bed expectantly for her to show you said outfits. Your usage of the pet name 'babe' makes her heart flutter. Thank God you didn't have super senses. The way her heart rate spiked up at the nickname made her feel embarrassed. You didn't even know the effect you had on her. 

"Okay. This one or this one?" Eve holds up two tops, one of them being a pink camisole and the other being a striped baby tee. "Hm.." You think aloud, tilting your head to the side slightly as you decide which shirt was best for your little "girl's night" out. 

"This one but in that shade." You point at the baby tee, then at the camisole. "Pink is your color, after all.”

Eve smiles to herself. "You're right." She agrees without hesitation, a familiar pink light enveloping the tee, going from the collar to the hem. You've grown used to her using your powers around you, and Eve felt the same. For once, someone else besides Rex saw her powers as a gift- not something demonizing and to be ashamed of. "There." she shows you the baby tee again, wanting your opinion on it, not because she needed it, but because she wanted to hear your approval. Eve wasn't like this usually, but you were lucky. 

"Amazing as always, babe." you praise, pretending to applaud, making her chuckle.

"Since when did you learn how to drive?" Eve asks Rex with a raised brow, lowering down slightly to look the explosion-prone superhero in the eye. 

"Not telling!" He replies, making you grin and Eve more concerned for their safety as Rex pops open the car door from the inside. He had to awkwardly sprawl himself over the center console. You could've sworn you heard a couple of joints crack as he opened the door. 

"Do you even have your license?" You ask as you hop into the back seat, Eve following suit. She buckles on your seatbelt before buckling on her own, making sure it's tightened. Just in case. Rex was behind the wheel, after all. 

"Not telling!" Rex exclaims again, drawing out the last part just to annoy the both of you.

You both collectively roll your eyes at his words. You glance over at the radio as he turns it back on, twisting the knob to turn up the volume. Fittingly, Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna plays. Eve watches as you joke around and poke at Rex from behind the driver's seat, enjoying the laughter coming from your lips. 

Rex wasn't going to shut up any time soon but it was bearable with you.

i’m a simple girl i see a man with big arms and a kind heart and i get a little stupid

Do you ever look at your friends or hear their voice and go

"wow.

Wow.

I am so blessed to have these people here with me."

You laugh at their jokes or they laugh at yours or you stay up late talking with them or you just sit in silence and hangout or send each other videos or pins and you think

"I am so lucky to have someone I love who loves me back. I am so so so lucky to have someone who understands me so well exist at the same time as me."