#dontcallmeeight

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@dontcallmeeight asked:

Axel: -bursting into the askbox- I SECOND ERROL WEARING GLASSES MORE

Errol blinks in surprise at Axel's sudden outburst of enthusiasm, staring at him silently for a moment. Then, without a word, he reaches into the drawer next to him, pulls out a smooth black case, opens it, and carefully pulls his glasses out of it, placing them on his face, all while still keeping eyecontact with the other man.

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@dontcallmeeight asked:

👄 Axel for Errol

"I think he hates me," Errol pouts. "Which is very unfortunate, because I also think I may be in love with him." He drops his head into his hands and groans. "What is it about his prickly personality that draws me in? He's like a wet cat with it's claws out, hissing at me, and yet I still want to take it home and dry it off and wrap it up in blankets and give it a name and a home. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I doubt he'd ever let me hold him down to one place like that, and honestly I wouldn't want to be stuck in one place either. But we could be nomads together. I could be his home, that he could take with him, anywhere he wanted to go. But he doesn't even like me!" Errol throws his hands up in the air in despair. "Maybe he'd keep me around as a punching bag, at the very least. I'd settle for that. God, he's so cute when he wants to kill me. What am I going to doooooooo?"

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@dontcallmeeight asked:

“Doodle!” Axel please Errol!!!

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Continued with @dontcallmeeight from here.

“Meh.” Axel said at the question, raising one of his shoulders to shrug away the other’s concerns. He was ignoring them mostly by this point, only half making out what they were saying as he concentrated on counting. Since he’d never been the type to wear anything as easily broken as a watch he needed to make sure he kept his place. It wasn’t going to happen however. “Wh- oi!” He protested as his finger was pulled from his mouth, looking up from his tea with a sputter of indignation. Any thought of numbers was gone as he saw the blonde’s face had moved closer than he remembered, blue eyes carefully inspecting his tiny injury like it was actually something worth fussing over. “Don’t need yer advice, pretty boy.” He said roughly, quickly turning his face away before he could be caught staring. Still, he let his hand close around the ice, rubbing it over the slightly-too-pink spot on his finger like he’d been told. “I know ‘ow teh ‘andle a bit’a pain. Ain’t soft, yeah?”

The indignant look the other man gave him was noted and then promptly ignored. Errol continued fussing over the tiny burn. In fact, he went as far as to help hold the ice in place against his finger.

At the muttering, Errol flashed the other man a quick smirk. "You think I'm pretty?" he teased. Though, he didn't give him time to answer before moving on.

"Just because you can handle the pain, doesn't mean you should have to," Errol said just as stubbornly as the other man was acting. "There's no point in suffering needlessly. It doesn't make you tougher, it's just stupid. So, let me help ease your pain a bit. Alright, pretty boy?" He emphasized the nickname, throwing it right back at him.

"Or would you rather I call you by your name?" He'd need to know what it was first if that was the case. "I'm Errol, by the way. Though I don't mind being called pretty boy either."

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@dontcallmeeight asked:

Still in love with this Errol quote about Axel: “He's like a wet cat with it's claws out, hissing at me, and yet I still want to take it home and dry it off and wrap it up in blankets and give it a name and a home.”

Their first canon meeting was Axel coming in to the library to escape the rain so that wet cat association is forever imprinted into Errol's brain. He loves his ball of claws and fluff.