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miyaur · 10 months

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"little things they do that let you know they're saying ily" ♡

synopsis. scenarios or headcannons of mine about what they do to say ily, or u can see this as relationship hcs smh smh

warnings. none, other than kissing (ew)

author's note. im alive?!?! and posting?!?! woahh (send requests plss), yes i wrote everyone their own little paragraph. HELP ME THIS ALSO LOOKS LIKE THEIR LOVE LANGUAGES :( (it is basically)

pairings: most hsr characters x gn!reader (seperately:p, except bailu, hook, clara, yukong, and yanqing because i got lazy ><)

arlan acts out his love by his actions. constantly mentions and talks about that one quote that 'actions are louder than words.' and so they are! he always tries to yk, make you remember you feel loved. would like to just bring you around with him, or even vice versa, like i said before he doesn't seem too sociable, and usually just talking to people other than asta for business purposes, yet that differs when you help introduce him to other people.

tbh he'd probably like dates at home more than going out. like cuddling by the fireplace, just both of you covered in a blanket together cuddling near the warm fireplace like damn!

asta, oh this sweetheart!! she'd try to tell you with her words, all the time, that you are what she loves so much, and dearly!! the words 'i love you' are always constantly being said to you! and honestly she's just the kind of person to hold your hands, and put it on her chest, and tell you that she loves you to the moon and back. she just wants you to always know the way she loves you, is unlimited, and never ending. she wants you to always know that.

cmon, she would obviously stargaze with you for dates.. every weekend you both go out. to stargaze.

blade shows his love with his actions, i know he can't communicate that well with you, thinks its even luck finally on his side that you got with him, that you liked him back. that you loved him? just.. wow. you know? anyways, i just see him being the type to pull you in a little closer when his arm is around your waist, and you say something he agrees with! he's very touch starved, but that doesn't mean he can't be the one initiating the cuddles and shit!!!

just prefers dates at home, likes it when it's only the both of you that see each other in that moment. just likes it better yk?

bronya is the kind of woman to show it through gifts, and her words of praise? maybe an honest mix of everything? she's just really new to all of this so.. maybe just tries to give you everything she can. even if she doesn't always has time, she'll always be calling, texting, and sending gifts to you, even if you both are planets apart, she'll be constantly making sure you're okay with video calls and etc. besides, she's gonna miss you too much if she doesn't!

"hey hon.. it's like 2am.. is something up? anything bad that happened?" you asked bronya, as you look outside your window to see a dark sky, the moon covered by clouds. "i-- i'm sorry.. i just called to hear your voice. nothing bad happened.. i just really missed you." she says, while rubbing the back of her neck. "oh.. okay."

dan heng just that guy to be always giving his time to you. as much as he can, he'll bring you wherever he goes. as long as you want to too, but he always hopes that you do want too, because he isn't always gonna be on his phone to call or text you. so he thought it'd be easier to just bring you with him. and he'd put his life on the line just to protect you, so basically thinks you'll be fine travelling with him. but even if you don't wanna, he doesn't mind just waiting on the astral express with you and himeko..

similar to march 7th, he'd fill jars of little strips of paper of just compliments he's used on you before, or even square-ish paper filled with little doodles of you, or the both of you

fu xuan wants to show you she loves you with gifts, and her words. she speaks really fancy so she's gonna be using big words to describe how she loves you. or how exquisite you are. or how graceful you are when you fend off enemies. she thinks you're perfect, and deserving of the world. and she'll try her best to give 'the world' to you. honestly just seems like the type to whisper corny shit while you're sleeping. like 'i can't believe you're mine, and in my arms out of so many.'

would also stargaze, knows exactly when meteor showers will be, she's very factual when she talks about shooting stars, or meteors that pass by that look like shooting stars. she'll be busy ranting about how people think meteors that pass by are shooting stars, because no it isn't-- why does she feel soft lips on hers..? oh! you shut her up.. with a.. kiss.. now you got her cheeks red.

gepard likes to gift you little trinkets he finds around belobog or whatever planet. but he also would wanna gift his time as his best present to you. probably sets up the most romantic dates ever, with the help of serval of course! always asks big sis serval if this is good enough for you, or if you'll like this and that. seeing her little brother so in love makes her laugh a little too, but she's always more than happy to help.

tries to learn how march 7th did those little paper stars she gave to serval, has asked millions of times, so you decide to help him with the paper stars, not knowing he was learning for you..

herta.. would literally give you the world. but in all honesty she'd give words of praise, and i mean genuine words of praise. receiving real praise from THE herta?! and being her lover?! wow!! she doesn't really know what it means to love, and you probably would be her first, yet, she feels like you both have been in a relationship since forever. it kind of shocks her, sure she's seen, heck she's probably studied relationship for you to be with her! and it's nothing what she thought it'd be, never really.. prepared for the whole.. 'butterflies in your stomach' feeling..? the little warm tingly feeling, it really shocks her, but.. i guess in a good way.

would play cards against you, even thought she could very easily win against you, she doesn't, she lets you win most of the time, because she loves your expression when you win against her <3

himekooo!! oh himekoo <33 such a sweetheart!! i just know she's very good with her words! uses that to her advantage. takes every chance she can to fluster you! thinks whenever you cover your face with the palms of your hands all cuz she said a corny pickup line to you, she's in love with that!! she's all for it actually! lives for you being all flustered. she also remembers little things about you, little and big details. knows how you like your coffee, or if you like stuff like soda, etc.!!! it's just basic knowledge to her, like also what you're allergic to.

as soon as you come home, tea is ready for you, the bed is made, your favorite movie is on, fresh roses are in the pretty vase she gifted you before you both started dating. she just knows how you like everything, and is waiting for you with your favorite snack. ahh

jing yuan?? hmm.. i kind of see him as a mix of everything, like he'd give gifts very often, and his attention will be on you 24/7 too. and if you tell me and say he wouldn't be so smooth with his words.. like come on. there's so much i wanna say abt this cutie patootie. but yk.. if your gaze seems to last too long on a certain item while you both are walking around thoughh.. just know you'll be getting it that night later on, or even right now! and is another flirty sweetheart who lives for his s/o being flustered as hell!! that's srsly all i can say ykyk?!!?

"but i just need to finish this one stack of paperwork and i'll be free the rest of the week!--" you exclaim as jing yuan protests silently by carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom bridal style. "but i need you to cuddle me tonight though, besides, it is due in 2 weeks! just 1 break honey.." he says placing you down onto the bed, "fine fine.." you say as jing yuan jumps into bed onto your chest

kafka is another sweetie pie who's real flirty1!1!!!! and live laugh loves physical touch like ngl she always will be having her arm around your waist whenever she can! pickup line nerd, like i just know she knows every corny pickup line in existence. and lives for your flustered expression too! and would definitely shower you in kisses when she has the time!! 'oh honey.. you know i had such a day at workk..' she knows all the gossip, and will tell you. anyways! such a dear lover, wants to be with you 24/7, but not according to elio's script, she can't always be there with her baby..

"honey honey-- one more! one more! do you have a map?" kafka asks laughingly and she cuddles closer to you, phone in hand. "no i do not." a serious tone decorated in your voice, "because i got lost in your eyes!" your girlfriend laughs even harder, as you sigh, won't this be a long night.

luka bby<33!! such a romantic sweetheart tbh... literally would love to drown you in praise. like it's just a telepathic feeling. probably likes skin-to-skin contact, both romantically, and sexually. like it's something he's so into bro i swear, and i kind of feel like or think that he never really gets a lot of hugs cuz of his arm, and ppl think his embrace would be like cold metal or whatever, AND THE HELL NO IT IS NOT?!?!? like please please please keep giving him cuddles, hugs, anything, keep loving him, tell him his hugs are so warm n stuff!!

outdoor dates!! big yes for him!! and as long as you wanna indulge into the mountains with him, he definitely will bring you to amazing places!

oh... luocha.. hahhahaaksdskdj.. this man is soo SMOOTHHHH WITH HIS WORDSSSS!!! such a physical man too sorry not sorry, such a sweetie pie hahaha...... sorry back to srs writing, he's very much a mix of everything, he could get gifts so extraordinary, like a bouquet of flowers of a species of flower that barely grows anymore, or even not in season that month. he gives the best cuddles ever, and his kisses are just so.. enticing!?!?! like very often as soon as he comes back from them long ahh expeditions, soft makeout sessions are a need for him.

yes yes yes. museum dates. or dates where he knows where your favorite flowers grow or even planting a garden together, but even if you don't like flowers, or are allergic, don't worry! an ordinary picnic with his favorite plant surrounding the place is quite alright!

march 7th!! she definitely has a fun way with her words! in a good way of course! and absolutely loves hugs, and hugging you. definitely loves cuddles too, physical touch is definitely one of her love languages. she just wants to compliment you while she gets to have you in her arms like damn <33?!?! she's just so in love with it, everything about you. almost losing the words to describe you, whether or not

march just that kind of lover to fill 2, 3, 4, and even 10 jars filled with paper stars of your favorite color!

natasha.. she's like the mommy to mommy issues idk.. oh but very loving i swear on my life. like if you tell me she wouldn't just loves to always have her arms around you, or her hand cupping your cheek to kiss you. very poetic, and romantic babe bro i swear, she the type to make a full on candlelit dinner for you, petals surrounding the path on the way to the dinnertable, she's a good cook promise!!

likes to just put your hair behind your ear whenever there's a stray strand on your face. like you both just in silence, while you look at something else, and she's just busy admiring you

pela omg such a cutie!?!?! probably so touch-starved too.. but she gives little gifts and her time as her way to love! really wants to give you the world, forehead kisses with her are very common, she loves to kiss you tbh! but her neck is very sensitive, give it a little kiss and she'll be as red as a tomato.

would definitely ask to draw portraits of each other, like both of you drawing or painting each other's faces on canvases! whether or not you're good at drawing, she doesn't care, just wants to laugh off the terrible art you both do <3

qingque!!!! honestly is also a touch-starved honey, like she doesn't show it off a lot, but she really needs just a hug. and also! likes to give gifts! probably very good at gifts! very creative with them! like even the box she wraps it in is so silly. oh but she likes to give you little pecks on the cheek ong!!

please. please. buy face paint and paint each other's face, like i just know she would love to do that with you!!!

sampo is a flirty jerk i swear. he flirts with you for the sake of seeing your pretty face getting flustered. and lives and breathes for pickup lines, they're either real creative, or them generic, CORNY ahh ones. loves giving you gifts, but he has.. maybe.. stole some of them.. JUST SOME OKAY!! oh but he can cook, like i think he can cook pretty well for himself! and can bake exquisitely, uses this talent when he needs a get-out-of-jail card, aka when he owes someone a favor.

just go bake with him honestly, like just a date at home where you two bake silly little cupcakes for each other, and decorate it with goofy candy.

like i've said on here before, seele would always use her words to let you remember that you're worth something to her. and worth a lot. you place a high value in her life, and she'd die a million times if it meant you wouldn't get hurt by anyone, not even a scar. she's a bit touch-starved, yes sure, she'll be a bit shy at first, but at some point, she will initiate the cuddling<3

i feel like belobog would have many festivals now that the underworld and the overworld are together as one now, and seele would always know exactly when all these festivals would be, and it always means the world to her when you tell her yes to go with her as her date, whenever you say yes, it reminds her of when you first said yes to being her s/o<3

AAAA SERVAL!!! she's so sweetheart real!! i just know she has her own skincare routine and would so do it on you too. she likes spending time with you as her way of saying i love you!! 24/7 sleep back hugs when you cook or bake!! she's an avid lover of skin-to-skin contact i promise! physical touch is another way she tries to kiss your scars better for you<33

i just know she holds both your hands when you both kiss, whether it'd be on your temple, your nose, your cheeks, or your lips, she always ends up holding both your palms or her hand on your cheek <33

silver wolf loves you as much as she loves her games, so she would always spend time with you in the arcade, everywhere she can bring you with her!! likes your hugs, but not when other people hug her, cuz why would she want others' hug when she can have yours, and only yours.

lets you win on purpose when you guys 1v1 each other in games, because she loves whenever your face starts to glow with happiness for winning against her

sushang likes to spend time with you too! she drags you to every end of the xianzhou luofu just to find all the good food at the food stalls!! knows almost all the kids that roam around the plaza tho, and both of you play with them by running around playing games like hide-n-seek! she likes to think that time is precious, and if she spends it on you, that means you're precious :0

would so make you buy a face painting kit and gather all the kids at the plaza to make them animals (as in painting their faces with their fave animal)

tingyun spends time with you, and sometimes even brings you along when she has work! besides yukong doesn't mind~ and of course, this wouldn't be a tingyun post of mine without me saying she would tease, and would love when you get flustered from her silly words!!!! and would love physical touch ngl?!?! like falls in love all over again when you cuddle her, now you get to see her red!

just always gets so flushed in the face whenever you both share a bed, specially when your relationship first started, and being a few months in, you both are stuck in a clichè romantical trope of sharing a bed, yeah she was joking about it in the start but-- she never thought it'd actually.. happen!!

stelle would like to bring you out on every trailblaze mission she's on, and would tell you how beautiful, or how amazing, and genuine you are for years, on end. just if that's something you're comfortable with, i know that something mutual between the two trailblazing twins, is that they're always asking if you're okay with anything that concerns you. wishes she could keep you in her arms forever though<3

she will take pictures through march's camera, or even her own phone very often, so she would always show you old photos of you, and i think stelle is a very good photographer, no bad photo in sight, it makes everyone she takes pictures of a literal photogenic model, looking at old photos is what really comforts her when you aren't with her <3

caelus <33 quite similar to his somewhat twin, if he can, he will bring you to all the planets he's gotta trailblaze, he can go on for centuries just talking about how cute you are, literally gets so caught off-guard when you start to get flustered from his words alone, and to be fair he would lowkey use very.. big words. not like the ones fu xuan does, but only uses them when he talks about you, like he'll go 'oh.. you are such a pulchritudinous person, you know?'

unlike stelle.. when he pictures anyone, its all bad photos. like most of his photos on his phone, it's all such bad pictures help me.. shows them off to everyone with a very loud laugh too cuz why not ?!?!?!!?! looking at old photos is also what he'd do with you, making you laugh is also his objective while at it, so doesn't show the ones he has of you. actually the ones he has of you are the only good ones!!

welt yang is a man of taste, and divine bro, he is such a romantic. is a definite mix of everything. like he'd be so good with his words, while he has good hand placement and stuff, then again his gifts are so well-thought of. but what about the way he hopes you crave his touch as much as he crave yours?

i think im about to blow guys

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queenofapeacefuldawn · 3 months

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SPY × Family: Chapter 94 analysis unhinged thoughts

hello hello! i am back with my thoughts for the latest chapter! please note that there are spoilers ahead for chapter 94! (Long-ish post incoming?)

Okay, so I loved this chapter. I'm a person who loves locked room murder mystery type stories, so this definitely scratched that itch for me. Obviously, I'm biased.

Analysis (of sorts?):

Right off the bat I can say that this chapter isn't really oriented on emotions or certain character dynamics. It is pretty plot heavy (but. not to the main plot. this chapter in itself has a plot to its own, but I really really liked it).

So the chapter starts with Bondman facing off an enemy in a snowy mountain...

which, of course, inspires Anya to have an adventure of her own. She asks Loid to take her skiing, only to be flatly denied...

BUT! Agent Anya has tricks up her sleeve (threatening to cry), and that works on our dear, super-spy Agent Twilight (he's so weak and stupid y'all.)

side note:

he thinks he's soooo cool. he's not.

Anyway, we get Twilight trying to explain skiing to Yor, which... fails, kinda. we also get gymnastics from Yor, (SHE's the cool one), and a half-baked explanation from her about learning all that from a gymnastics teacher.

The Forgers are trapped in a snowy blizzard, which leads them to take refuge in a lodge. They meet a group of young college students, who regale them with a tale of a bloody snowman who kills people in the dark.

Might just be me, but this design reminds me of Type-F from the new Code White movie (note: this isn't exactly a spoiler, I haven't seen the movie, but this is what's on the wiki and in the trailers). The snowy backdrop + this Type-F-esque design might be a homage to the movie? Probably just me, though, haha.

Anyway, onto the main focus of the story (kidding, it's not):

WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL..... YOR AND LOID SLEEPING ON THE SAME BED.... WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN....

(jk, it probably wouldn't have happened, but a girl can dream)

"Eh, why not?" Certainly, these words CANNOT exist in the vocabulary of THE Agent Twilight! Perhaps.... no, it can't be... he's finally RELAXED for once? Feeling secure enough to ASSESS THE LAYOUT FOR POSSIBLE ESCAPE ROUTES WITH HIS YOUNG DAUGHTER? No... it can't be possible....

(Sorry, I know I'm unfunny. I don't think that'll change)

But, genuinely, this just shows how at ease he is with his wife and daughter. He might not know it yet, but I know it (← somebody whose opinion isn't worth shit).

Finally, onto the main crisis of the story:

the would-be murderer.

There's something to be said about how he jumped into action to save the guy's life, (as one does), BUT. BUT

OHOHOHO. The minute Yor's in danger (see: the man reached out to grab her but Loid just grabbed his hand) he decides to find the killer to prove her innocence. (You know his adage? A spy should never draw attention to themselves.) The minute his WIFE was in danger he resolves to find the killer and prove Yor's innocence their guilt. HMMMMM. Agent Twilight, you ain't slick. I think you momentarily forgot about about your #1 lesson to never draw attention to yourself just to prove Yor's innocence. OHHHHHH. The fanfiction is fanfiction-ing

(I'M SORRY I'LL TRY TO BE FUNNY FROM NOW ON)

To summarize the rest of the chapter: Anya realises with her telepathy that the killer is the lodge owner, and meddles in the investigation to nudge Loid in the right direction, and the police arrive to the lodge to find the incident resolved. Everyone's happy, right?

Not... really.

Anya's excited because, "Wow, I solved a murder! So cool, best trip ever!"

But Yor and Loid aren't that happy. Loid is worried that this kind of meddling will get Anya in danger... and he's more worried that she isn't really grasping the gravity of the situation.

Which. She kind of isn't. A man was almost killed, but she's not showing any signs of shock? Remember, he was this worried even after the hospital visit where she makes a mess of that sand-model thingie, and after the bus hijacking arc, when she's hyped about the Stella, and he tells her that the Stella was "not for the reckless way you defied those hijackers."

Which.... is a lot of character development from the man who was A-OK with leaving her alone in the apartment, to now how he constantly worries about her wellbeing. Growth.

Also, another tidbit:

I feel like this chapter showcases another facet of his personality. Not Agent Twilight's, or Loid's, but [REDACTED]'s.

[REDACTED] always wanted to help. Even in the War Arc, when, in Luwen where he was staying at his great-uncle's house, we can see that he wants to catch fish for his and his family's dinner, while, in the backdrop, children are laughing and playing. It's always been in his character to help, and, hell, it's partly the reason he is who he is today. Agent Twilight wants to think that he left [REDACTED] behind after that fateful bombing in Luwen, but [REDACTED] is hanging around him like a ghost, and some of his character bleeds through the facade that is Agent Twilight, which is masked by the facade that is Loid Forger.

Final thoughts:

Loved the chapter. It's probably just me reading into it too much, but... that scene where he grabs the guy's hand who was trying to tie up Yor. Hm.

This entire chapter might have been a locked-room murder mystery type chapter, but I genuinely think that it showcases how much of an effect this family has had on Agent Twilight. What with taking Anya on a sweep of the premises to look for escape routes, to trying to prove Yor's innocence that definitely betrayed his number 1 rule as a spy... this man is truly so oblivious, I wanna cry.

(Also: did he not stop for a moment to think that him performing first-aid on the victim, or trying to build a radio from scratch OR playing detective to prove his wife's innocence IN FRONT OF A GROUP OF OSTANIAN PEOPLE would raise suspicions? Obviously, it was all overshadowed by the discovery of the would-be killer, but... at least one person had got to have been suspicious of Loid.)

(Also also: He's so weak. One look at her crying face and he's gone.)

This was just my thoughts from a preliminary read of the chap, so if I get more thoughts, I'll probably add onto it in a reblog or a new post. Tysm for reading! Hope you liked it, and have a great day/night! Remember to stay hydrated!

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family chapter 94 #spy x family chapter 94 spoilers #agent twilight #loid forger #thorn princess #yor forger #agent twilight x yor forger #twiyor #loid forger x yor forger #loidyor #anya forger #bond forger

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konggodzuko · 1 year

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A Little Salt

Man I totally thought the "Katara only talks about her dead mom" meme/"joke"/complaint was finally withering away after it sprung back to life with ATLA being put on Netflix but holy shit I keep seeing people post it seemingly without irony.

You wanna know how many time Katara actually talks (i.e. excluding phrases like "My mother's necklace!") about Kya? Six times. Three in the first season (Once in the first episode when she mentions it to Aang. Once to Haru, Once to Jet) Twice in Book 2 (in the swamp where she SEES her mom, and once to Zuko in Crossroads) and then there's the Book 3 episode about her loss.

Damn. Six times over a 60-ish (depending on how you count the multi-parters) series. Average of ONCE every ten episodes, but really it's 3 in the first season, 2 in the second, 1 in the third. Wow yeah she really talks about her dead mom a lot. How dare this teenaged girl who saw her mom seconds before her death and then saw her mom's CORPSE bring up her mom 6 times over the course of in-universe MONTHS.

And not only that but she NEVER brings it up in a way to invalidate someone's loss. She brings it up as a commonality between her and Jet and Haru, she was forced to see the vision of her mom in the Swamp, and she says it to Zuko both times as an expression of anger she has with the Fire Nation.

Nevermind that Aang probably brings up the Monks as much or more often. But you don't see posts like

Sokka: [spits into a bush]

Aang: The Monks used to say that spitting into a bush is very spiritually harmful!

Because that's kinda stupid and frankly you know why Aang has that attachment, yeah? So why is Katara different? "Oh she was mean to Sokka that one time-" get OVER it. She's a 15 year old dealing with immense trauma who said something hurtful. Wow! Stop the presses and call the cops and send her to jail forever! Grow up.

I'm sorry, I don't like to rant like this but I am so tired of this stupid thing sticking around for so long.

#avatar #atla #Katara #zutara #because I know my ZKs got me on this

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tunastime · 9 months

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hello hello! I am insufferable :D (this is really long sorry-)

imagine jimmy and tango so exhausted from rebuilding the ranch and collecting resources for it that the only time they are really together is when they fall into bed and pass out immediately

but jimmy’s hands are still badly burnt from when he was restraining tango, and all that building has Not Helped, but he didn’t stop until tango essentially dragged him away, because of course he felt how much his soulmate was hurting

jimmy kept trying to sneak away when tango wasn’t paying attention (“we don’t have any good armour, we need at least one layer of defence!”) so tango came up with the better plan of just laying on jimmy

it started out as a last-ditch attempt to keep jimmy resting. tango fully expected jimmy to push him off, but instead jimmy just sort of froze in surprise before relaxing into it—it’s at that point where tango realises jimmy is The Most touchstarved person in the world, ever, and will do pretty much anything for cuddles

so what does one do with this information? abuse it, of course!

even after jimmy’s hands have healed (wounds like that heal fast on life games—They find it boring when one person is unable to do anything because of an injury) tango insists on cuddle sessions every afternoon, something jimmy is obviously trying to pretend he doesn’t like as much as he does

tango spends most of the time teasing jimmy about how sweet he is, what with how his will crumbles every time tango asks him for something if he’s holding jimmy’s hand at the same time. so you can imagine jimmy’s delight when he found out tango purrs

they’re especially tired after the whole warden ordeal, both half asleep in each other’s arms. tango has his nose pressed against jimmy’s neck as he rests his head on jimmy’s shoulder, jimmy with his wings around them both.

jimmy blinks sleepily and smiles at tango, who looks like he is about to pass out right there. he moves his head slowly, as to not disturb him, and presses a kiss to his hair.

he almost yelps as he hears a low rumbling, expecting it to be the warden or pearl’s dogs, but as he listens, he realises it’s much too soft to be something aggressive.

for a second, jimmy is utterly confused as to where the noise is coming from. then, he turns back to tango and notices how his throat—currently pressed against his shoulder—has begun to vibrate.

jimmy presses a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing in delight. tango, mr ‘i’m going to bring the warden from the deep dark’, resident redstone mad scientist, creator of decked out, is purring.

“tango,” jimmy whispers gently. “hey, tango.”

tango cracks an eye open, and wow he really is a large cat. “mm?”

“you didn’t tell me you purred.” jimmy grins.

“wha..?” tango does not look awake enough to understand anything.

“you’re purring.”

tango just blinks for a moment, before apparently processing what jimmy just said and going bright pink. “oh! oh, no- I wasn’t- y’see, I just-“

“I kissed your head and you started purring!” jimmy exclaims, partially to tease him and partially because it is, in all honesty, adorable.

“yeah, well,” tango mumbles, trying (and failing) to hide his face. “… shut up.”

“tango, I am never going to shut up about this.”

them <3

HI THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR MONTHS AND I JUST KEEP RE-READING IT INSTEAD OF POSTING IT.

I don't know if I've ever actually written it, but I'm in love with a tango who purrs. I've assigned this man so many silly cat traits it's starting to get ridiculous. He's got his cat-ish eyes and tail, his purring, his teeth, though there's a special place in my heart for my lovely mutual Theo's hc of something inside him literally glowing, him being toasty warm, and a collective headcanon of him needing his blaze-rod crown to stay energized during the life games. I could go on and on about blazeborn and tango, please hold me back.

And jimmy who won't admit that he enjoys the attention but won't ever say no to it, i adore him. I think about the ranch burning way more than I should for it being a year ago, there's just so much to unpack in relation to what DL was for jimmy as a character.

Also:

mr ‘i’m going to bring the warden from the deep dark’, resident redstone mad scientist, creator of decked out, is purring.

AS HE SHOULD! AS HE SHOULD!! I ADORE HIM.

anyway, I'm still crazy about them! I think about this all the time!! I'm so sorry i didn't get to this ask as soon as you sent it, it's been on my mind since then and i <333

#wren-kitchens #team rancher #text #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #asks #im always going through it about them it seems #THEY ARE SO SOSOSOSOSO #I LOVE THEM SO DEARLY #thank you so much for this!! im sorry it took so long #shout out to shep and theo my enablers for ranchers hcs by accident it seems

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samejimachich · 2 months

Text

My impression of GLAZE and Nightshade

It may be a bit long post I guess.

I tried to use GLAZE and Nightshade, so I'll show you how the images are changed.

Nightshade

Here is the latest UI.

Render Quality is all slowest, because they didn't look different from Faster to Slowest.

Intensity: Low

Intensity: Default

Intensity: High

GLAZE

Here is the latest UI.

By the way, if you want to use both GLAZE and Nightshade, you must use Nightshade first.

So at first I'll show you the images only use GLAZE.

I only show Intensity: Default ver./Intensity: High ver.

Render Quality are both Slowest.

Because the lowest intensity in Glaze is Default, and I guess Default is the recommendable setting from official.

Render Quality: Faster

Render Quality: Medium

Render Quality: Slower

Render Quality: Slowest

Next, Glazed after Nightshaded ver. Intensity: High Render Quality: Slowest

(Green texts are Nightshade settings.)

So, if you want to use both, it depends which look you like tho, but I recommend both settings are Intensity: Default/Render Quality: Slowest.

But IF you want to use both and furthermore using the effect as watermark, I recommend both sittings are Intensity: High/Render Quality: Slowest.

The following sentences are just my opinion and how I post my art from now on. so you don't have to read more if you don't care about what my art will do.

So, from today onwards, I'll post my art as Intensity: High/Render Quality: Slowest nightshaded/Glazed ver.

Because, once, my fanart ha been unauthorized reproduction on Youtube, and long ago, my arts have also listed in the "Maybe I'll review it one day on my YT channel" box on DA. Of course no contact to me. I didn't feel anger but disgusting, and the alert to the stealers was so tesious. Seriously, I think my art never be stolen from "Al artists" but I no approval that someday Al steal Mike Mignola-ish art and someone praize for them like "Wow, it's really Mike Mignola!!". I believe Al and Al artists never understand the skill of the lighting, at least in a few year. But IF someone try to, I don't know how angry I'll get.

Sorry to let me change the subject slightly, I don't think Al Tim Burton-ish arts are not even Tim Burton-"ish" arts. (It's JUST my opinion tho, I love Burton's sketch.) They just picked up the "Burton-ish features" like spiral, stripe, twig-ish neck, morbid looks, brah-brah-brah. But I was shocked many people saw them and praized.

So, this is the one of the opinion of mine.

Second, I think the artists need more protect our art from network. Once, (I only know Japanese artists tho) social medias were the gratest places for commercial of art, even for non-famous artists. We wanted to show their art high-def and we tried many times how we can post our art without dull. But we had to notice, we were too open. Our posts were like setting up the unattended store on the side of the road in a slum area. Inside the store, there was no security buzzer but just free mercandise. Finished product, not a sample. And a flyer on the side saying "If you like my art, please give me some tips or a job."

Once again, I believe my art will never be stolen at least from Al. This is my worthless action, but some artists need I think.

If you want to see my proper art works, you need to buy my book or join member ship on ko-fi. Thank you for reading this long sentences.

#experiment #glaze #nightshade #personal ramble

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consistentlyamess · 5 months

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We'll see about that - Chapter 1⎮Open with me, oh, we could be honest

[4.4K-ish]

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: You just wanted a fresh start but you might get more than you bargained for when the sleepy town of Hawkins lives up to its reputation.

warnings: takes place after season 4, 18+ , MDNI, slight age gap (reader is like 2 yrs older than Steve), canon typical violence, mentions of a lonely childhood, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, underage drinking, swearing, eventual smut, abusive relationship, brief stancy storyline, strangers to friend to lovers, pining, slowburn

A/N: I HAVE VERY LITTLE IDEA ABOUT WHAT I'M DOING AND I'M TERRIFIED. but I did get about 10 more likes than I expected, and I've been thinking about this story for so long, that so far it's kind of flowing out of me. so here's chapter 1!!! I probably won't be able to keep this pace up, just a heads up. *hides under a rock immediately after posting* just please bear with me while I figure out what I'm doing here, I guess. idk if it's a warning or not but english is not my first language and it's not beta-d. so. it is what it is . 'tough girl' is a very conscius nod to mizz @loveshotzz who had me on. the. floor. with AIRWIY

💜💜💜 TY for reading!!!! 💜💜💜

Fic Masterlist

Previous Chapter I Next Chapter Coming Soon

---

You woke up with a pounding headache. Sometimes they still came. Mostly like this, in the morning, out of nowhere and it takes about two or three aspirins for them to go away.

This is the first hiccup. The last time you had a headache like this, it was about finals time back in Bloomington. You just wanted to get out, you wanted it to be over, barely slept, barely ate, so the headaches were no surprise really. Then after graduation, when you were leaving one cursed town for another, you thought you left the headaches behind as well. Which very obviously was not the case. But they passed pretty easily compared to the previous ones.

The week passed in a blur mostly. You hung out at Family Video quite a lot and when you weren’t there it was mostly just getting used to the town. The first couple of days you find a diner where you can have coffee in the morning. The second morning you run into Steve.

‘Hey, stranger, how are you doing?’ He says with a boyish smile.

‘Just getting my morning coffee, trying to show this lovely town that I’m just like them, you know, coffee, pancakes, the works.’

‘Good thinking, you would be truly terrifying otherwise.’

‘You think?’

‘Oh, absolutely! 5”6 woman with a killer smile and - and I quote - decent cooking skills? Dangerous.’ He’s flirting with you but you pretend to be oblivious.

‘Well, wait ‘till you see my reward sticker collection. The lack of teachers shows, stacked up some pretty great stars and flowers and whatnot. Those kids won’t know what hit ‘em.’

Fine, maybe not that oblivious.

‘Wow, bringing out the big guns early, huh? How does one earn those stickers? Would some A-grade guacamole do the job at a dinner party?’

‘We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.’

‘Guess so.’ You reach the coffee shop and he’s opening the door for you with a sly smile. Oh, boy.

As you get to the counter, you see that a tiny brunette is already balancing some coffees and pastries there.

‘... and I’ll also take like four of the cheese sandwiches.’ ‘Coming right up! Hey, give those pastries back, I’ll get you a bigger bag.’

‘Thanks, Al.’

You don’t miss the way Steve stiffens a little beside you.

‘Having a party Wheeler?’ He says.

‘Oh, god, you scared me.’ The tiny woman said, clutching at her chest. Her big eyes and tiny pointy nose made her look very cute.

‘You know exactly that’s for those assholes in the office.’ She says with a frown.

‘I know, you looked very cute though.’ She smiles shyly at that, looking down at her feet. Oh, boy, indeed.

‘Hi, we haven’t met before-’ you reach out trying to cut the tension.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was so occupied with those goddamn sandwiches.’ She shakes her head and takes your hand immediately. ‘I’m Nancy, Nancy Wheeler. You must be the new girl. Robin told me all about you. Went on a tirade actually. You’re starting in Hawkins Elementary, right?’

‘News travel a little unsettlingly fast here.’ You let out a nervous laugh. ‘But yes, that would be me.’

She glances up at Steve, who suddenly finds something very interesting on the menu above the counter. He runs a hand up his neck and squints at the menu. Subtle, Steven, really. Seamless.

‘So, she told you about the dinner on Saturday as well?’

‘A little more actually, she invited me.’ She frowned again and it made you laugh again.

‘Good! That’s exactly what I was about to do.’

‘Great! She told me she was gonna bring a pie but I’m betting my left arm she’s gonna burn it, so we’ll bring a back-up.’

‘We?’

‘Jesus, what a fun bunch we are. My boyfriend, Jonathan, is coming too. But only if it’s okay with you! He's staying for a while, finally. A little socialization we’ll do good for him.’

OH. BOY. So many alarm bells go off in your brain you can’t even count them.

‘Next!’ Al shouts out.

‘Sorry, one sec.’ You excuse yourself and you count your lucky stars that it immediately snapped you out of it. You’re not sure you could’ve contained your face.

‘Hi, Al! Can I get a black coffee to go please?’

‘If you ask this nicely, you can have anything, sweetheart. Comin’ right up! Anything else for you? The muffins are fresh.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t miss that! Please, throw one in!’ You smile sweetly and he smiles back. On another day, in another café you might have suggested something very different this guy could do with his fresh muffin but you needed this town to like you. If anything happens or if you run out of gas in the middle of the road, you need to have friends. People looking out for each other. Looking out for you. That’s what these small towns are all about, right?

‘Jesus, keep it in your pants Al.’ Steve mutters to himself and both you and Nancy raise an eyebrow.

‘Okay, I totally forgot, I have an appointment with the…’ Shit. You’re blanking. ‘... the, uh, the school counselor!’ You say a little more loudly, you’re so proud of yourself. ‘So, I’m off.’ You slap a two dollar bill on the counter and start moving toward your exit.

‘Who? Miss Kelly? Isn’t she on vacation, still?’ Nancy asks. ‘I haven’t seen her in like a week.’

‘Well, I have an appointment with someone, maybe it’s not the school counselor. I didn’t, uhm, write it down. But I’ll see you guys on Saturday, right?’ You wave your goodbye and your lungs feel less tight right away as you get out of the diner, leaving a little dumbfounded Nancy and Steve behind you. Whatever you walked in the middle of, you want no part of it. No matter how boyish his smile or homely brown his eyes are.

***

Staying away proves to be way more difficult than you thought though. Robin is way too nice to say no to, and more importantly, you really like her. It also doesn't take long until you meet the other members of the party. You met Jonathan one time at the library you visited. He was with Nancy, looking for something they didn’t elaborate on. A very endearing stoner Argyle, a gloomy kid, who visited his not-a-girlfriend friend in the hospital every week, Lucas, his quippy and lovebly snappy sister Erica, a kid with the smartest mouth on him you’ve ever seen, Dustin, Will, who’s very soft spoken is really fast to become one of you favorites, not just because he’s really into art, Nancy’s broody brother Mike and of course the shy and sweet El. Or Jane. You’re not sure and nobody else seems to be either. But, hey, who were you to complain about weird nicknames? But all of that came with a lot of Steve on the side and keeping the flirting to the minimum was a real challenge. Especially ‘cause you liked it. He knew what he was doing and he was good at it. But it was impossible to miss how he softened when he saw Nancy, how something akin to hope flickered in his eyes.

It was also impossible to miss that they were hiding something. At one time Mike referred to the mall fire with air quotes and Robin immediately kicked him in the shin. Whenever Will touched his neck, everyone became tense. El kept looking around and spacing out sometimes, until Mike brought her back with a gentle tug on her hand. You’re not stupid, you pick up on these things. But you don’t ask too many questions. They’ll tell you if they want to. Or not. That’s also fine with you. Everyone has secrets and it’s not a surprise that a town like this may harbor more than one.

The second hiccup does come at the dinner though. You were nervous all day. And of course cooking and cleaning all day. You made lasagne and your favourite salad with grenadine seeds and walnuts, and some chocolate chip cookies, just to be safe. You bought wine and soda, a bunch of scented candles, you cautiously put up fairy lights, the first thing that made the place look more cozy, more yours. Your chest tightened at the thought a little. This is okay, this is your place. This is what people do when they have a place. You were just renting, of course, but the owners made it pretty clear that they’re not planning on coming back anytime soon, so they gave you the all clear on any makeover your heart desired. You didn’t know what your heart desired. Not yet anyway. You were so focused on just getting a place, any place, you would’ve taken a room in an attic without lighting. You’re a little startled by the doorbell as you get lost in your thoughts while tossing the salad.

‘Shit’ you mutter to yourself. You haven’t changed, your hair is a mess, you’re a little sweaty from all the work you’ve done and of course the table is not set yet. Great going, Peach. One hell of a first impression. Well, it wasn’t a first impression, not really, but still. The doorbell goes off again.

‘Coming!’ As you tear the door open it presents a bickering Robin and Steve.

‘... I took my eyes off of it for one second, Steve-’

‘Yeah, well the recipe clearly stated that you have to watch it very closely! Constantly!’

‘Oh, my go- Peach!’ Robin rasps as she notices you standing there. She basically throws herself in your arms. ‘I burned the pie.’ She says in a sad voice that reminds you so much of a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. ‘I failed you, I’m so sorry!’ ‘Oh, honey, it’s okay! I made some chocolate chip cookies, Nancy is bringing some pie as well, we’re all good sweets, don’t you worry!’ You tell her, hugging her tightly and laying a kiss on the top of her head for good measure. ‘And next time just call me, my pies are the talk of every Thanksgiving. I can give you some tips and tricks.’

‘You’re an angel.’ Robin sighs. Above her shoulder you lock eyes with Steve for a minute. He watches the two of you with the most doughy eyes and smile you’ve seen on him so far. He waves a little and huffs out a quiet ‘hi’. You take one of your hands from the girls back and wave back to him. He keeps watching and you can’t take it. You pull Robin away, grabbing her shoulders.

‘Alright, early birds get the worm’ you clap your hands ‘which means, you guys get to help me with the finishing touches, while I go take a shower and change, because I may smell like an onion but I have so much flour and butter on me that if you put me in the oven for 20 minutes on 350º I might come back as a pie as well.’

You make them laugh with that and the little laugh that comes out of Steve makes you want to run away into the woods and scream, it's so sweet. For the love of GOD, girl, get it the fuck together. This time Robin’s prodding finger in your ribs is what snaps you out of your state.

‘You're the boss! We’re at your service, m’lady!’ she bows theatrically. ‘Band kid?’

‘Trumpet’ Steve says with a shit eating grin. Robin seems a little uncomfortable at that.

‘Figures. Band kids are always the best.’ You wink at Robin. ‘Stamina and nimble fingers. Exactly what you need in the kitchen.’ Wow, you’re staggeringly bad at this not flirting thing.

‘Well, damn. If you were recruiting I’d never even look at a swimming pool or a basketball.’ Steve counters with the beginnings of that same shit eating grin.

‘Jock?’ You ask, turning to Robin.

‘But a reformed one at that. Did some penance for his sins.’

‘By driving 12 year olds around town?’ ‘And by bringing wine and some beer to your dinner party, smartass.’ As he says it, he starts moving around you, already having rid himself of his coat and shoes. He leans close and almost whispers the last word in your ear. It makes the muscles in your neck flex. ‘So, where do you need us?’ Robin’s eyes ping-pong between the two of you so you turn around. ‘Right. Plates are in the cabinet above the sink, cutlery in that drawer, glasses are already on the counter and you have some napkins on the table already. I’ll turn myself into a human again and be right back! Don’t break anything, please, I barely have enough stuff as it is.’

Your turn to make your way to the bathroom but you still catch the sound of Robin’s swat that probably lands on Steve’s arm. They hiss something at each other, but you try not to eavesdrop more. Not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys.

By the time you make your way back, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle are all there. The letter with suspiciously narrow eyes and mellow smile. You make a mental note to ask him about that sometime. As you make your way to the table, still drying your hair with a towel, Nancy gasps.

‘Oh, my god, I love your dress!’

‘Thank you!’ You answer as you reflexively look down at yourself, before hugging her. ‘It was my mom’s in the sixties. Real flower child shit, I love it.’ The dress is almost floor length, it has a warm, orange-ish shade thanks to the thousands of tiny flowers, but it also has a dark, almost black undertone. It hugs your hips and has small buttons running up all the way on the front, top three still hanging loose, revealing some of the lace underneath.

‘Hell yeah, brochacha, I dig your style.’ You giggle at Argyle’s antiques as you hug the two boys shortly as a greeting.

‘Hey, do you have a corkscrew somewhere in here?’ Steve calls from the kitchen without turning around. ‘Uhm, that’s a good question actually. Let me check!’ You make your way to the kitchen, and plop the towel on the counter temporarily. ‘I- oh’ Steve says the moment he turns around and sees you. You’re suddenly very aware of those top three buttons. You should’ve buttoned them. ‘Wow, you, uh, you look really nice.’ He says, running a hand up and down his neck once. So, it is a nervous tick. You hope to any higher power if they're there, that you don’t blush. ‘Thanks.’ The smile you can’t hide. You know it’s there, he knows it’s there. Well, fuck. ‘So, have you checked the bottom drawer? I think that’s usually the bastard drawer.’ ‘Bastard drawer?’ He asks with furrowed brows but still not taking his eyes off of the tiny flowers. ‘My mom used to call it that. It’s the drawer you just kind of throw shit in, shit you don’t know where else to put. It's kind of rude, now that I think about it.’ You grimace to yourself as you zero in on it.

He watches you as you move toward said drawer. He likes the way the dress sways with each step you take. It’s a slow, almost magical movement of fabric in his eyes. A mix between a witch and some sort of fairy. He likes that you’re still barefoot, you look at home, even though you’ve only been here for a little more than a week. He likes the way you tuck your wet hair behind your ear as you crouch down. He likes your wet hair too, if he’s being honest with himself.

‘Uh-huh! The bastard drawer never disappoints.’ ‘Way to go flower child!’ Argyle chimes from somewhere in the living room. Steve shakes his head at that. But you can tell, he’s hiding a smile. ‘Thanks dude!’ You shout back as Steve moves towards you. You think he’s going to help you up, but then Robin storms in. ‘Hey, Peach- oh, come on, I’ll help you up.’ Something flashes in Steve’s eyes as he leans back on the counter. ‘Do you need help with anything else?’ ‘You can help me bring in the drinks if you’re up for it. The lasagne need another 10 minutes but we can have some drinks until then.’ ‘Really? Me too?’ You snort. ‘I’m not your mom, babes, of course you can.’

The evening goes well after that. You get to chatting, you talk about uni, very briefly but you mention that you had a failed relationship as well, you gush about your favourite teacher and ask them about the children of Hawkins. They tell you about the town, about how they met, how they became closer when tragedy after tragedy struck. Robin mentions clumsily that Nancy and Steve used to be a thing, which in turn makes the whole table uncomfortable. Except for Argyle, who, god bless his heart, chimes in with a ‘This lasagne is schmashing dude’. Which eases the conversation again. ‘It is really good, Peach.’ Steve emphasizes, tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips. ‘When did you learn all of this?’

‘Well, growing up it was just my mom and me. We didn’t have a perfect relationship but she loved cooking. That was really the only thing we did together. Then she had to work more, so I had to do it on my own more and then when I was uni, it was comforting to do things we used to do together.’ You shrug a little almost as a sign that you don’t know what else to say. You do that a lot, Steve notes to himself. As well as the fact that your cheeks and chest get a little pink after two glasses of wine. Just some notes. You don’t know if it’s the wine or the fact that you haven't felt this calm, since what feels like a lifetime, but this sudden openness catches you off guard. But Robin jumps to the rescue again.

‘Oh, my god, that is so sweet!’ She squeals and she grabs your hand. ‘By the way, I never asked you about how that kind of date went?’

Now she is the one with the deer caught in the headlight eyes.

‘Duuuuude, you had a date? That’s awesome! How did it go?’ Argyle joins your inquiry. ‘Oh, it was… well, we- uhm’ she gets caught off by the ring of the phone which she seems very grateful for. You? Less so. ‘Who is- sorry, I’ll go get it.’ As you get closer to the phone, on the other side of the wall, your stomach starts to knot. No one is supposed to know this number. Maybe the school. Please, god, let it be the school. As you reach for the phone, you know it’s not the school. You’re so sure it makes you nauseous. Panic crawls up your throat, your hands are shaking but you know you can’t not answer. Normal people are not afraid to answer phone calls.

‘Hello?’ You call but nobody answers. You swallow with a big gulp. ‘Hello?’ You try again, this time squeezing your eyes shut and balling your hand into a fist. And that’s when you hear it. Breathing on the other side. You panic and slap the phone back on the wall.

‘Is everything okay?’ Steve asks and you hear the slide of a chair on the floor, and you start moving further into the kitchen. ‘I- Y-eah’ you call with a crack in your voice. You take a deep breath, trying to stady yourself. ‘Just ah, a wrong number. I’ll go heat up the pie!’ You try to think about the cold metal of the Colt on your night stand. It’s okay, you’re safe here, you can protect yourself, you made sure.

You’re already leaning against the stove when he finally catches up to you.

‘Do you need help?’ ‘No, no, I got it’ you call back over your shoulder, without turning around. You crouch down in front of the oven and open it. The heat comes rushing out but it’s still not enough to warn you. You grab onto the sheet with reckless abandon and promptly burn yourself.

‘Ouw- Fuck-’ ‘Shit, are you okay?!’ Steve comes rushing towards you as you hear the muffled sound of the others fussing in the living room. ‘Shit, come on, come here.’ Now he helps you up, one hand holding your wrist, the other settling on the small of your back as he guides you to the sink. ‘We have to put some cold water on it, so it doesn’t blister.’

You can only nod. The panic of the phone call is still at the back of your throat but now the burn of your palm feels a lot more urgent, so you will your body and your mind to work together and prioritize here. As the cold water hits the burn, you hiss and Steve apologizes.

‘No, please, it’s what you’re supposed to do.’ ‘So much for the pie tips and tricks, tough girl.’ He smiles at you a little mockingly. ‘I never said anything about kitchen accidents. You got nothing on me Mugsy.’ ‘Alright-’ Before he can really get going, Robin clears her throat loudly in the kitchen door, standing with crossed arms. ‘You guys okay in here?’ ‘Yeah!’ You say, pulling your hand away from Steve as gently as you can. ‘Yeah, just burned my hand. Nothing life threatening. But I will need someone else to put the pie in the oven for me after all.’ ‘I got-’ ‘I can do it.’ ‘Really, Robin? So, I’ll have to take care of two burns?’ Steve says, turning around with his hands on his hips. ‘Oh, calm your tits mom, I can put a pie in the oven on my own you-’ ‘Both of you can shut up, I’ll put it in.’ Nancy says as she pops in and comes directly towards you and looks at your hand with a concerned look. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Guys, it’s just a sheet that was a little too hot. I’ll live.’ Nancy nods but you know that she can see that you’re still shaking. She moves to the oven and Steve takes the opening to make his way back towards you. ‘Do you have some ice? You should put some ice on it for the night.’ ‘Hey, Steven!’ Robin calls out a little too loudly and a little too sharply. And you make a mental note to send her a gift basket because now that the panic and the pain are subsiding, you really don’t want to feel his breath on your cheeks and his fingers moving your wrist so carefully, like you’re made of glass. ‘Would you be a darling and help me open a bottle of wine.’ ‘You’re a big girl, you can open a bottle of wine on your own.’ He quips back. ‘Oh, now I can do things on my own?’ ‘It’s a bottle of wine not a piping hot oven, Buckley, there is a difference.’ They continue arguing but you can’t make it out anymore under the sound of running water and Nancy and your laughter. ‘They are literal children.’ ‘It’s cute, really. I always wanted siblings.’ You confide in her. How can you not? Her blue eyes have this shade to them. A shade that sees right through you. A shade that tells you there’s no use in lying. Or hiding for that matter. ‘Are you sure, you’re okay?’ She asks, quiet, sincere. ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. Had much worse.’ You smile at her and she doesn’t push. You’re thankful.

You almost can’t believe it but the rest of the dinner goes by without any more accidents. You guys come close when Robin wants to cut into the pie but Steve takes the knife out of her hand. Everyone wanted to help clean up but you swatted them away, insisting that you were the host and it was fine. You pack a box of leftovers for Argyle and he’s out the door. Nancy and Jonathan are the next, thanking you and even Jonathan shooting you a smile that tells you, he really did enjoy himself. By the time you close the door behind Steve and Robin, you almost forgot about the phone call. Almost. Not even a minute passes when there’s a knock at your door again. You huff out a laugh. ‘I told you, dude, that’s all the cookies I have, there’s- oh, Steve.’ You’re stopped in your tracks. ‘I- did you leave something here?’ ‘Yeah, I,uh, can you check if my wallet is on the counter, for me?’ ‘Sure, come in, I’ll be just a sec.’ You check but there’s no wallet. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t find it! Are you sure it’s not in the car, or-’ When you arrive back he’s leaning over the small dresser next to the door.

‘Oh, shoot! You know what?’ He says, feigning a realization. ‘It was in my back pocket. So forgetful sometimes. Night, tough girl!’ You’re a little confused but that doesn’t keep you from quipping back. ‘That nickname’s gonna stick, isn’t it?’ ‘Depends. Maybe I’ll think of something better.’ He says with a wink and turns on his heels.

After locking the door you glance down to the dresser. There’s a note on the block of Post-its you have there.

I’m very used to spending nights on my own in an empty house. If something spooky happens again or you need some ‘tips and tricks’ just give me a call.

There’s nobody there to see but you still feel like you have to hide your smile by trying to bite into your lower lip as you study his number.

Fucking hell. You really should’ve finished those goddamn buttons.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington slowburn #robin buckley #robin stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #nancy wheeler #nancy stranger things #jonathan byers #jonathan stranger things #argyle stranger things #we'll see about that #WSAT #WSAT fic

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ilyrafe · 11 months

Text

𝒂 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒓 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 ✧ 𝒂. 𝒘.

pairing: august walker x f!reader

warnings: angst (is this even news lol), happy-ish ending???

word count: 2,3k (oh wow)

a/n: here’s the final part! i’m sorry i took so long to post it. i truly hope it is to your liking and expectations <3 also, read part I and part II first if you haven’t already, and if you want extras from this ~universe~ read sleepy and three words :)

taglist: @summersong69 @alexlupij @identity2212 @shotgunbunny @rebelangel1102 @chrisevansismysworld @fluffonlyplease @luxebeautystyle @stuffyownswrld @warriormirkwood @shadydreamlanddetective @hazycottagedreams @daisykins

lying on the divan, the dark haired man looks up at the ceiling, trying to formulate a phrase to start yet another therapy session. his hands are on top of his torso, and he tries to relax, he tries to believe that this place is safe and that the professional at his side is not there to judge him, but to help him face personal issues that have been ignored for thirty years.

“so, august, how was your week?” doctor leslie thomas, begins, like in every session.

her tone is always warm, something that annoys him at times. she’s probably in her late forties, but she looks youthful and is very wise and open minded. her tranquility bothers him a little, though, because august has already said some pretty absurd things, and she never stops being welcoming. warm. nonjudgemental.

“busy.”

“last week, you mentioned that you were anxious about the preparations for the gallery opening. how are you dealing with that?”

“everything is under control.” he responds, verily. “sometimes i get irritated, thinking that everything is gonna go wrong and that it’s gonna be a fiasco, but i know it’s all in my head.”

“that’s good to hear. it’s important to identify when we are the ones who are creating traps for ourselves. the need for control comes from insecurity, and when we know what we are dealing with, this exacerbated need fades with time.”

he nods. “just give time to yourself” is what she has said the most.

leslie seems a little more lively today. august knows that he is not one of her easiest patients, and despite having said that he didn’t know how long he would go with the sessions, today marks six months since his first one and he has been visiting her every thursday, without fail.

“you know, i’m very pleased with your progress, august,” she says with a slightly pompous tone. “after six months, has your opinion changed about therapy? have you noticed any change in your view of self-concept?”

august sighs.

“i don’t like that i need therapy, but i know it helps. i don’t feel good all the time, but when i do, it’s really great. but i hope i don’t have to spend years coming here.” he admits.

if anything, he’s sincere.

after that day at the hotel with you, august went through some drastic changes.

almost three months after that day, he decided to retire from espionage, and was granted lifetime immunity as a reward for his work, and after much thought and consideration, he ended up doing the unthinkable: he took your suggestion and went to get help.

after a few sessions, august felt comfortable enough to go back to one of his few passions in life: painting.

it all started with boredom, but he remembered again how much he loved to paint, and after a few classes to improve his natural talent, august started to dedicate himself completely to it, which is one of the luxuries that his money could afford.

with the money he had, he decided to invest a good chunk of it on his art and it worked. now he is even opening a small gallery in new york city, where he has decided to stay, at least for now.

adapting to life away from adrenaline and without the action he dealt on a daily is tough. on most days, he gets bored and stressed out, but he’s been able to channel these emotions on his work and at the gym.

when he stops to realize that his life has completely changed in less than two years, he is truly impressed, and has even admitted that it was all because of a woman.

in that time, he never heard from you again. he tried to call you a few days after that day, but you had apparently changed your number. he couldn’t find you on social media and after googling your name, he learned that you were quite the successful architect and if he wanted to, he could have tracked you down, but he decided to let it go. to let you go.

“a few weeks ago, y/n bought a painting of mine.” he says, bluntly.

“is this what’s been causing you to feel anxious?”

august nods.

“i don’t know if she knows it’s me, i don’t use my name to sign my paintings.”

“and why does that make you so anxious?”

“i don’t know.” he admits, embarrassed. “i guess i owe all of this to her, but i couldn’t bear to hear her say she doesn’t want to see me again.”

“august, y/n has no power over you,” leslie points out. “you are an adult who made choices that you thought best suited your lifestyle. you can’t place the responsibility of your existence on someone who, according to you, rejected you.” he humphs with her response. “now, did she reject you or did she give you boundaries and you didn’t like it?”

“you’re gonna make this about my mother, aren’t you?”

she chuckles.

“you’re a smart man.”

“how can this possibly be about my mother?”

“well, you barely had a relationship with her. again, according to you, she was distant and cold, wasn’t loving or supportive. this isn’t my opinion, august, there are many studies that show that men who have a poor relationship with their mothers tend to be aggressive and controlling, especially with the women that come in their lives.”

“i was never aggressive with y/n.” he urges to say. “i know i did many things, but i would never lift a finger against a woman, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“i’m not, and i’m glad to hear this, but you were controlling. you had a contract, august. you had rules. she couldn’t ask about your personal life, she couldn’t call you on certain hours, she couldn’t talk about you to her friends and family, she couldn’t spend the night, she she had to get tested if she were to have another sexual partner-”

“yes? how is this irrational? i also followed those rules. also, let me remind you, this was a contract that she agreed to sign and she wrote her own rules as well. she added her own conditions. and yes, i might have broken a few rules, but not the important ones. she wasn’t mine, and i wasn’t hers.”

“still controlling.” she says. “the point is, you don’t give someone a contract if you want to keep having sex with them. you just... have sex with them.” leslie explains. “but here’s the thing, you always left your companionships first, and y/n stands out because she beat you to it, and she said things you didn’t want to hear. she was in charge and you didn’t like it. you hate that because you didn’t want to be the one to have to deal with the overwhelming amount of feelings you have for her, because usually, it’s them having to get over you.”

oh, damn. august’s lack of words or reaction makes leslie sigh, mildly in satisfaction.

“i touched a nerve, didn’t i?”

“i have no feelings for her.” he says, quite firmly.

“if you don’t feel anything for her, y/n buying a painting of yours shouldn’t be a problem.” she concludes. “you are an intelligent and experienced grown man, but you are still that little boy rejected by his mother who had to be tough to deal with the lack of affection. you don’t know how to identify your own affection for other people because you have lived your whole life without it. you know, you need to give people a chance, august. you have more to offer other than espionage expertise.”

every time him and his therapist have a small argument, she comes back with the point. he knows he does have feelings for you, he just doesn’t know what are they. you’ve made him experience certain emotions and feelings that he thought simply were not real.

many women have passed through his life, and some of them caught his attention more than others. he can’t deny that his ego loved to leave them crying over him when he got bored of them.

contrary to what his therapist thinks, he’s not upset that you left him first; he’s heartbroken that you didn’t want to have feelings for him. it’s like little august said to him, if our mother didn’t want us, why would anyone else?

most days he is willing to change and be a better person, less selfish and more giving, and he has been making an effort. he has even helped elderly people cross the street and carry their heavy packages. he quite likes when he’s invited over for tea and biscuits, never having experiencing this before.

he just needs to be more compassionate with himself, and it’s not easy, because he knows what he’s done, and in his opinion, people like him don’t deserve mercy.

(…)

it’s 10 p.m., and august can’t be more pleased with how everything went. the opening was a success, and he can’t wait to read the reviews in the press. many paintings sold and many compliments to soften his ego that has been ignored for some time.

after dismissing the employees, august still feels a little euphoric. maybe a trip to a bar would be good, he thinks. after collecting his things and putting on his coat, the man leaves the gallery, but freezes after taking a step outside his establishment. it’s almost as if he doesn’t believe his own eyes.

there you are, standing in front of the gallery window, looking at the few paintings on display. the lighting doesn’t help much, but it seems to be enough for you, who appear to be impressed and curious.

it’s really you.

maybe you noticed that you were being watched, and when you look at him, you don’t get scared, you just smile shyly and take two steps towards him.

“hi.”

“...hi.”

“long time, no see, huh?” you chuckle with both hands inside the front pockets of your trench coat.

“uh... why- what are you doing here?”

how is it possible for you to have this effect on him even after so long? he can hardly believe his eyes. you are there, as if it were something commonplace, as if you were always there.

“i was walking by and the gallery caught my attention.” you shrug.

due to august’s lack of response, you give him another small smile and begin to walk away, but he stops you, calling your name. you turn around and walk back to where you were.

“do you want to see the rest of them?”

you both know this isn’t just an invitation to see paintings, but regardless, you agree. he opens the door again and when you’re inside, he turns on the lights.

he watches you walking around the large space, observing his work.

few times in his life had he been so nervous and so unsure of what to do or say. the sound of your high heels hitting the wooden floor makes him even more uneasy. your visit is so awaited, but at the same time, so unexpected, august doesn’t know what to do, he feels like he’s walking on eggshells, because the last time you saw each other, you left him and you seemed very hurt with him - with reason.

despite everything and all the heartbreak between you, he can’t help but notice how beautiful you look. well, you are beautiful and always have been, but maybe time has made him forget your face a little. he always thought you were classy. your clothes are always nice and it looks like you spend hours choosing what to wear - and he knows you’re more practical than meticulous.

“i bought one of your paintings a while ago,” you casually comment as you walk up to him.

“how did you know it was me?”

“i didn't know it was you at first, but i was so interested that i wanted to know if there were others, and i heard about the opening of this gallery.”

“are you surprised or disappointed?”

“i am surprised, yes. only because you never talked about painting or art in general. so, to see you having a whole gallery is really impressive. you’re very talented.”

“thank you.”

there’s so much generosity and truth in your eyes; you seem genuinely glad that the painter is him and not someone else.

the fact that you’re there because you want to means a lot to august. your validation and approval holds the most weight, he doesn’t know why and it doesn’t really matter. you’re there.

it’s nice that you’re not acting like he’s a stranger. he knows very little about you, but he does know that you have no time for acts, and he’s grateful because so does he.

“uh… i guess i should go. thank you for letting me in. good luck with everything.”

once again, you begin to walk away, and he stops you but calling out your name. you turn around, this time you’re the nervous one.

“please, stay.” he asks, and this time it sounds like a plea.

there are so many implied, unspoken words between every sentence exchanged, mostly apologies from him. he would give anything to know what you are thinking right now, if you really want to be there, what happened to you during the time you were apart. he wants to thank you for telling him to get his life together, because yes, he is happier than he’s ever been.

there is just one thing missing.

“do you think this is a good idea?” you ask with all the frankness in the world, which you never lacked.

“i don’t know,” he confesses. “i just want you to stay.”

you know this is a lot when it comes to august. you don’t know him, but you do, and you know he’s being sincere. he’s either being sincere, or he’s about to slap you another sex contract, and as much as your heart and instinct are all over the place right now, they both point to the same conclusion: sincerity.

maybe it’s a mistake, maybe not. you staying is all he wants right now. your presence is the most important thing right now. maybe you two should never have crossed paths, but there is no point in brooding over the past, and there's always time to recalculate routes, rethink attitudes.

the feeling of bleakness and barrenness begin to go away from him when you don’t leave. he knows he has to sweat a lot to earn your trust - whether it’s again, or for the first time - but it’s a step.

“okay.”

please let me know what you think!

#my writings #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill imagine #august walker #august walker imagine #august walker oneshot #august walker x reader #august walker x you #Mission Impossible: Fallout

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galvanizedfriend · 15 days

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surprising absolutely no one, second ask of the day!!

this isn't really a question tho, I just wanted to let you know that since I've read Speed Dating, it has been stuck in my mind 24/7.

I'm not kidding when I tell you that I think about it at least once a day (I'm sorry if I sound like a fanatic but I mean it in the best way possible).

it was/is such an easygoing three-shot, but yet it really left me the feeling of having watched a five seasons show! it's like you managed to perfectly compact a long rom-com series in just three chapters and 23k words! idk maybe I'm overreacting but I really want you to know how much of a great job you did, that fic bring me so much comfort I can't even explain it 😭😭

ALSO, I have a feeling there will be a CaroMille moment, and THAT will be the final wake-up call for Caroline. Probably Camille just getting dumped from Klaus and Care runs into her, telling her that she's sorry for them, and Camille would just shrug and be like "I had zero chance against you". So Caroline would look at quizzically because she's a girl's girl and she DOES NOT go after "taken" man, so she would ask Cami what she meant and Cami would look at her with arched eyebrows and say something like "don't tell me you haven't noticed he's in love with you?" AND THEN BAM. (yes, I know, it's creepy and weird that I thought this through a lot, but in my excuse, I had to do something during math class other than sleeping)

This is just the loveliest of messages, omg 🥹🥹

I tend to get messages about The Wolf a lot, and I obviously love all of them (all of your messages about TW and your Eve hadcanons as well!), but it warms my heart so much to know people are reading and enjoying my other fics as well. 🤧

Speed Dating was such an accidental fic, it was never meant to be any longer than that first chapter, but years later I had this crazy friends to lovers phase and I knew I had to keep going with that one.🥹 I love rom coms sm! it's so, so, so nice to know you enjoyed that one so much. ❤️❤️❤️

It's also a good reminder that I need to get back to it. 🥲 I'm so close to the finish line you wouldn't believe, but I have been living in canon-ish universe between TW and NOLA that it's sometimes hard to switch back to human AU. But I gotta do it, I need to finish that.

And honestly, that's not a bad idea at all 😂 Caroline really is a girl's girl. She can call them bitches and be mean AF whilst still standing up for the collective cause. It's not what's going to happen, but I really like the idea.

I had to go back and see where I left off on chapter 3 and I just realized that I posted way less than I thought I had. 😂 Wow, you guys don't know the half of it.

Seriously, thank you v much for this message. ❤️ I've been having a bit of a rough time and this week in particular was not easy, so this has been the nicest lil thing to read. ❤️ It's very kind and very sweet of you and I appreciate you sm! muah!

Here, have a cute Klausy gif as a token of my appreciation

#yokan answers #rosedforbes #nice people being nice!#i rly need to get back to speed dating at some point #SIGH

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hibernationsuit · 1 month

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25 for the micro story :3c

THANK UUUUU and sorry for taking so long sjfknfjgjgk

senseless Do you ever get a feeling that you made a wrong choice? That's what Tobias thinks about choosing Frank to advertise their skincare start up's products. Clearly Frank's taking it as a way to advertise himself. Or was joining the whole start up a wrong choice? Nah, it's probably Frank. tws: suggestive/nsft-ish talk

"Toby, my guy, I thought your knee has healed already..."

Frank's voice half startled, half woke Tobias up. It took him a few moments to realize that 1) he was in his office, 2) he had fallen asleep at his desk at some point, when?, and 3) that Frank somehow made it in without keys, which meant that Tobias forgot to lock the door. Again.

"I- um. What?"

"Saw you walking slowly yesterday and avoiding going downstairs," Frank said quickly while sitting down into the leather chair in front of the desk, "Been in our field long enough to know what that means."

"Okay, well," Toby was still barely functioning after the unexpected nap, which made it difficult to keep up with Frank, "First off... your field, not 'our'," he paused, trying to formulate his reply, and second, no it's not the injury you're thinking off. Played basketball with Aleena two days ago."

"Wow, you must look amazing in basketball shorts."

"Law, shut the fuck up."

"Aren't you just hard to talk to today...You have a post-it note on your forehead, by the way." Frank leaned over the desk and took it off the man's face before he could even react. "It says 'Message Frank', would you look at that. Well, I'm here now, go on."

Tobias sighed and looked at the papers laying in front of him, trying to remember what he need to message Frank about.

"Take as much time as you need, Toby," Frank leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the corner of the desk, "I've got lots of time... Do you have a minibar in your office?"

"I don't drink", Tobias mumbled, "There's a bottle of champagne somewhere though, if you're interested in killing time by playing treasure hunt. Some big corporation guys brought one for both me & Aleena. You can have it."

"Maybe later."

"Whatever."

"You okay?"

"No- I mean, yeah I guess. A bit tired and all, too many meetings and tasks, too little time," Tobias said and leaned back in his chair, "I wanted to talk about these photos they took of you a week ago." He pulled three images from a brown envelope and placed them in front of Frank. "I think that you're, well... Law, how should I say this."

Frank didn't even pay attention on the images. "You really need a break. Or at least do something that will help you relax."

"...Can you please concentrate?"

"Can you?"

Tobias rolled his eyes and said calmly, "What I want to say is that clearly you read the instructions wrong or something. You were invited to advertise the products, not yourself. And what do these images have? Your overly attractive smile that only tells people to remember to cheer for you in the next season of some competition. Or even something that could be on a corporate elections, 'Vote Frank!'" he sighed and continued, "Should've went with some cartoonish drawings instead..."

"You're so cute when you try to hide you being angry and disappointed."

"What."

"Remember when you heard you got to the fourth place in short program? Should've seen your face at that moment."

"Frank, I am serious, you-"

"Are you sure your exhaustion does not affect how you look at these photos?" Frank stood up and walked to the other side of the desk, and sat on it right in front of Tobias. "Look at you. Sleeping at your desk? Do you even remember what you were doing before? You need a break."

"That's a lot coming from a guy who's only into sports."

"Am I wrong though?" Frank leaned closer, "You should take a small vacation, or at least two days off. Go do something fun. Or someone."

"What's that last one supposed to mean."

"Well," Frank placed his hand gently on Tobias's cheek and whispered, "I could...kiss you senseless just to bring that relaxation, watch you smile from all those nice brain hormones, or whatever. You're the specialist."

"I don't think a sudden spike in oxytocin will do any good in a long run."

"I'm not saying it could only happen once."

"...Tempting, do tell me more."

#asks #my writing #my ocs #oc: tobias #oc: frank #can a flu brain write this?????? (apparently yes.)#anyway. these two. associates with benefits or whatever

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sailorgundam308 · 6 months

Text

Wow. I didn’t expect my blurted out rant-ish analysis of Karlach would resonate so much. I had the feeling the fandom would just bash my head in (actually ignore me lol) but it was just an impression. Turns out a lot of people noticed the (darker) layers in Karlach too.

The day after posting that I read an interview with Karlach’s actor(tress? how gender work in nouns, help), where she mentioned this inner darkness and I felt less crazy for thinking so. I also noticed I didn’t emphasize Karlach’s manner of ptsd - because oh boy, she has some (and who fucking wouldn’t, the Blood War is no simple war, it’s fucked up and it has been going so long it changed the topography of Avernus completely - insane stuff).

It’s something I kept thinking about, how it makes so much sense she is singing, moving, dancing and vehemently (desperately?) pushing away any negative thought. Of course some of this is pure real joy to be out of the Hells, but Karlach’s insistence in not thinking about what she’s been through, pushing any and all questions or comments tav makes about the dread of her predicament, this seemingly incessant need to move, joke, talk… It can ALSO be her anxiously trying to shut up her mind so she doesn’t THINK.

Is it her right to do so after all the shit she’s been through (and especially cause she knows she’s on borrowed time in the Material Plane, and doesn’t want to waste it)? Of course. But it also seems like a method of suppressing humongous trauma - unprocessed, raw and too dark for her to face. But as anyone who has had a traumatic event or period in their lives knows, trauma tends to not stay quietly in the forgotten corners of our minds. On the contrary, it tends manifest itself, to return with a fucking vengeance the more we ignore it and often blows up right in our faces.

We see a bit of that in the massive breakdown Karlach has after killing Gortash. She vomits it all, anger, fear, sadness, jealousy, self pity. All valid emotions. But emotions she refuses to acknowledge until then. One burst would probably not be enough for her to process all of it, though. And unfortunately for Karlach (and my sorry ass who’s still sour with her questline) she doesn’t get that much time or opportunity to deepen this journey.

To sum it up: Her own personality, which is belligerent by nature, plus the shit pile of trauma atop trauma she’s been through obviously changed her, made her carry a heavy burden that shaped who she is in the aftermath. Then, on top, she grasps desperately on the “good side” of everything as a lifeline, because if she doesn’t, shit’s gonna go down pretty damn fast.

I’m not into simplistic characters, nor in those that are too obvious (yeah, like and edgy goth bitch). Maybe that’s why I keep focusing on this darker, complicated bits of the characters I like, to justify myself lol. Karlach at first seems to be extremely obvious (and in one sense she is), but sometimes I think SHE is actually the one donning the most perfect mask amongst all the companions.

There’s much talk about Astarion trying to seem worse than he really is (which I agree with to an extent), like he’s putting up an act. When I think about this, I can’t help but also think that Karlach’s one is way more deceiving (perhaps because she wholeheartedly wants to believe in it). Crazy, layered stuff.

Like a mad lasagna.

#karlach #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #spoilers #opinion #just thoughts #about a red tief girl #and how little we actually get to see of her story #unfortunately

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generic-whumperz · 7 months

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The Aid Masterlist

Cover pics sourced from Pinterest

(18+, MINORS DNI!)

Bad summary (I suck at these): Set in the near future, an ability wielding telepathic-empathic 18-year-old sells himself into high-class slavery to support his family and to escape the wrath of an impeding Regime that has overthrown the US government, as well as avoid the growing numbers of the ravenous blood-thirsty hoards of afflicted. Stripped of his name, The Aid serves under a Southern Californian socialite, Madame Eleanor, the prestigious Sullivan family matriarch, for five years before being given to her Sadistic Son, Wyatt, after her untimely death. He now must fight for survival in a war-torn world and rediscover who he is, and hopefully, he’ll make a friend or two along the way.

What you can expect: A long, slow-burn type story with undertones of family war-time drama, multiple POVs (in the works), multiple parts, and Whumping of all kinds. Too many themes and lots of insane shit. This story is the first of many in my chaotically crafted BBU-inspired original AU (although it is very different). It’s a bit of a mess rn, I’m figuring it out as I go along and it’ll all tie in and make sense eventually. And oops this may turn into a “multiple book” situation. Oh I’m sorry, you wanted a simple whump story? Too bad, take a never-ending series instead!

General vibes: post-apocalypse desert horror meets torture den meets psychedelic 60s and mid-centruy modern aesthetics (plus a lot more other shit that will come in wayyyyy down the road).

General content warnings:

This is a heavier story with little to no comfort and constant levels of hurt (physical and emotional), including NSFW themes, heed any TWs & CWs listed at the beginning of each part! This is not a happy story (at least right now and in the near future, but he will have a happy-ish ending I promise), if you want something nice n’ fluffy, this isn't it!

*Not all of these themes are explored yet, but they will be. I’m trying not to give away spoilers while also being upfront by what to expect here.

20+ year age gap between Whumpee & Whumper

Former (elderly) lady Whumper (dies at 73)

Institutionalized slavery in a post-war/ post-apocalyptic AU

Culty & conspiratorial religious extremism (not the main focus of this story, but it’s there in the background and connected to above bullet point)

Cannibalism (the “afflicted” are basically stand-ins for zombies)

Non-con & dub-con (varying degrees of each, anything explicit will be marked as such!)

Red room whumping (working up to it, this feels like a spoiler)

Addiction & substance abuse + general use & mentions (prescription & illicit drugs, alcohol, gambling, porn), + noncon drugging

Caretaker turned Whumpee (“Caretaker” as in literal caregiver)

Sadistic/creepy/intimate/verbally and mentally abusive Whumper

Death threats, attempted murder, and murder

Discussions of mental health including suicidal ideation

Multiple Whumpers (& eventually multiple Whumpees— wow this also feels like a spoiler)

Long-term captivity, and conditioning— I’m talking 5 + 4ish more years (but this does not mean the MC is completely helpless and always compliant and doesn’t snap back!)

Medical & lab whump (this is probably more medical malpractice and just bad healthcare, but there’s some experimental drugging!)

Starvation & subsequent issues with food

Manipulation/ emotional whump

Defiant & angsty Whumpee(s)

Paranormal encounters

Family trauma & drama

Idk what to call this, but MC has some special abilities but it’s not necessarily magic. I wouldn’t consider this magic or fantasy whump by any means and the story does not revolve exclusively around this, although it plays a personal part for MC.

The lists below will be continuously updated when I have new stuff to add! I know it ain't much yet, but I'm workin' on it! :)

Part 1: Out from Under

Prologue (Meet The Whumper)

Chapter 1: Pump It (Louder!)

Chapter 2: Belligerance

Chapter 3: Say My Name

Chapter 4: One Step Closer

Chapter 5: Part 1, Part 2

Chapter 6: Stranger to Myself

(NSFW)Chapter 7: Sicko Fantasies & Haunting Memories

Chapter 8: Reflections

Chapter 9: Special Sauce Part 1, Part 2

Chapter 10: Family Heirloom

Part 2: Over Yonder

Chapter 11: The Bandit

Polls:

Pick a sleep paralysis entity/being to haunt The Aid!

Art:

Bad Procreate Portrait! +Backstory

Lashings

Basement Dayz

Other:

"Life Before" Backstory ask

OC in 3 (Aid vibe pics, visual references)

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papermachedragons · 9 months

Text

The people have spoken. I have been convinced (narrator: it did not take a lot of convincing) to release the "drunk" merwaine kiss. And now you will find out why i have called it "drunk" kiss. Because it is "drunk"ish. There have been some drinking, but calling it a drunk kiss would greatly exaggerate the levels of drunkenness. And I'm sorry if this is disappointing, but I can't help if my brain has made a connection between "drunk characters in a fic kissing" and "Merlin and gwaine questionably tipsy(???) kiss". The connection has been made, okay, I had no control over it and now I am doomed to think about this fic and this kiss every time I stumble upon drunk/tipsy kissing in fics and now you will, too! Hurray!

Anyway, here it is. The "drunk-but-not-really-i-just-used-that-word-because-it-gets-my-point-across-faster-than-tipsy" merwaine kiss excerpt from a 30+k fic. Fair warning, it will be out of context and so some sentences will not make sense, but just gloss over that for now and pretend it makes perfect sense. What's that? Out of context? Never heard of her. Look at all this context. Wow. Never have I seen so much in-context as I have right here, right now. I am just blown away by all of this context.

Btw the title for my wip document is Gwaine's Soliloquy. Because I'm the kind of person who listens to musicals and i like to amuse myself with my wip titles.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 7+k excerpt.

I will not be held responsible if this excerpt ends up different in the actual fic once I finish it and post it on ao3

-----------------

The banquet hall was simple, but elegant. Rows of wide, red fabric hung from the walls with slimmer fabric of gold looped in front of them, creating graceful arches of red and gold between sections of the walls, draped from post to post. Light from nearby candles caught upon the arches making the fabric ripple softly and look more like surfaces of a body of water than fabric. Flames from torches along the walls, candles down the tables and on candelabras threw a softened, steady and warm glow all through the banquet hall. Everything was awash by golden light, even the walls might as well have been bedecked in jewellery and rhinestones, for how they glowed, as if imitating the nobles inhabiting them.

Gwaine was not entirely sure why they were having a feast, this time. It seemed they were having one every few weeks and no one ever really knew why, or maybe they did and Gwaine just decided to never listen when they mentioned the reason, simply glad he could sit down with good food, good drink and surrounded by most of his friends. It was fine, though. The reason for these things were usually a stone throw away from horse shit, so Gwaine was fine saluting his drink to the air and making up some cheer in his head, instead. It was way funnier that way and he liked to see how elaborate he could make it, before he gave himself away. A game he always introduced to Elyan and Percival once they were tipsy enough to go along with it. Leon liked to pretend he was above that kind of stuff and always shot them glares, whenever their giggles betrayed them, like he was trying to cross-bow them in the middle of Arthur's speech, but once or twice he definitely whispered his own contributions to the game into his cup, so Gwaine knew it was all a lie.

The feast itself was extravagant and delicious as usual and Gwaine enjoyed himself sampling every bit of it he could get his hands on. Including a piece or two from Elyan's plate, when he was looking the other way. That did mean he lost his newly filled drink to the other man later, though.

Across the room, out of the way and up against the wall, a table stood, presenting a smaller, less extravagant buffet of most the same foods to the servants. It was a thing Gwen had talked Arthur into doing, a way for servants to mingle and have a little taste of the festivities they worked so hard for, without having to eat it cold and congealed in the kitchens long after the feast was over and the food passed the appetising stage of their lifespan. It was not that Arthur had to be convinced by her, only that he had never thought of it before or considered feasts from a servants perspective. So now they got their own little buffet. And smaller cups for drinks on occasions such as Samhain, but only on feasts of special celebration.

Knowing there was no desserts to be found on there, no matter the occasion, Gwaine — when Merlin dropped down in the space between him and Percival to fill his drink and whisper a snarky comment in his ear — slipped him a honey cake. Delight swirled through him, as Merlin startled to a stop, looked down at his little gift, then grinned blindingly bright at him, as he stepped away and disappeared once more.

This feast there were no drinks to be had for the servants. But halfway through the feasts, Gwaine did see Gwen take a hold of her goblet, half-full with raspberry cordial, bring it down and under the table, where she slipped it backwards, hiding it in the shadow of the table and the volume of her skirt — all the while she never once looked away from the two lords she held conversation with, her gaze steady and her smile amiable. Grinning from the shadows behind the two monarchs, Merlin stepped forward, slipped it from her fingers and retreated to the shadows behind the two chairs to drink the offering. Once done, he slipped it back into Gwen's hand, unseen and unnoticed, as he filled up Arthur's goblet. By the table perpendicular to theirs, Gwaine caught Merlin eye, grinned and lifted his own drink, tipping a small salute towards him. Merlin rolled his eyes, but stepped back into the shadows with a small grin.

Later, Gwaine saw him nick a sweetmeat from Arthur's plate — despite the sweetmeats at the servants table — and a small handful of raspberries , this one from the servants table, though.

Perhaps it was a little obvious that the one thing Gwaine noticed the most at these feasts was Merlin. Unsurprising, really, but what could he do? Gwaine was but a simple man. A great knight — if he may say so himself — but a simple man, still. And with generous amounts of alcohol at his disposal, he will not be held responsible for where his eyes drifts at feasts. Not even by himself.

Time passed and eventually they drifted from their seats and spread out all across the floor. Drinks and small platters of deserts in hand. Voices filled the great hall in loud, boisterous conversation and laughter. Minstrels on a raised gallery played music and sang, their songs flitting between every conversation with the graceful sweep of birds in flight. Gwaine found himself stood off-centre, leant up against a pillar. A goblet in one hand with Elyan and Kay beside him, their voices flowing in easy conversation all around him. In the middle of one of Kay's repetitive jokes about the knight and the barmaid, Gwaine caught Elyan's gaze and had to restrain a laugh, as the two shared a look, because Kay told the very same joke every time he had more than three cups of mead in him and he was the only one who still found the joke funny.

Lifting his cup, Gwaine hid his grin in his own drink, and cast his eyes about the great hall. Well, he intended to cast his eyes about the room, but predictably, his gaze immediately caught on a figure clad in brown, red and blue at the other end of the hall, hovering against a wall, near Arthur and Gwen, cast in brilliant light from both candle light and torches and for a moment, Gwaine's throat tightened. Eyes wide on the man who seemed swathed in light, as if it might as well have come from the sun itself, embracing him in its grasp; almost caressed by it, as if, even when he was meant to seek the shadows, the light instead searched for him, eager to wash his skin in its touch, making him glow from its presence alone. Then Kay smacked a hand on his shoulder and laughed loud and boisterous, deafening any within five metres reach and Gwaine shook himself out of those thoughts, though he did keep his eyes on Merlin, even as he patted Kay on the shoulder, when he started coughing on his own laughter.

As Elyan said something to him about getting Kay some water, taking the knight by the elbow and leading him to a chair, Gwaine waved the two off distractedly, now caught on the shadows that clung to Merlin like a second skin, despite the light all around him. Tension hung by his eyes in tight lines, and his mouth had lost the smile usually curling it upwards, and instead drooped downwards. Even from a distance, his shoulders looked heavy and caved in, as if weighted down and hunched by an invisible weight, or as if the jug in his hands had gained an impossible weight in the time since the feast began.

Taking a sip of his drink, Gwaine let his gaze wander through the chamber. The Great Hall was less crowded. A few courtiers and knights who had been there earlier were no longer present, thinning out the crowd. Outside the windows the night was dark and entirely black in the glass glinting and gleaming from the candle light. Reflecting pinpricks of shifting sparks of flame back at the courtiers that danced and twirled past them in merriment or walked to and from conversations across the hall.

Decided, Gwaine pushed off his support pillar, slipped his drink onto the tray of a nearby passing servant and made his way across the room with a dopey grin on his face and a wide, sweeping, gesturing wave, as if he had spotted someone at the other end of his gaze, when in reality, his eyes were focused on the flickering flames of a torch on the wall. As he crossed the floor, he made sure to waltz with exaggerated wobbling and stumbling, as if he was a single drop away from drowning in intoxication. One truly hilariously flailing step and Gwaine accidentally fell into one of the other knights. A platter of desserts spilled between them with a loud clatter and a curse. Flailing, Gwaine tucked one foot beneath the other, stumbled and fell, crashing to the ground with a large "Oomph" and the sound of tittering annoyance and laughter breaking out throughout the hall.

Blinking stupidly, as if dazed or dizzy, Gwaine looked up at the ceiling and waited. It took no longer than a single breath.

A warm hand touched his forehead. Skin smooth against Gwaine's, but with calluses and cracked patches of skin scattered all across his palm and fingers, grazing against his skin in a mismatched pinprick that should not have felt the way it did, but it felt so perfectly aligned, Gwaine sighed, even as he laid there, uncomfortable on the floor in his armour. Finally, Gwaine's eyes followed the arm to Merlin's face.

A small frown crinkled his brows, yet laughter bubbled inside his eyes, twinkling down at him. And Gwaine nearly grinned just as dopey up at him, but he made sure to blink owlishly at the man, as he caught sight of a few faces in the empty space by Merlin's shoulders, looking towards them from half a room away, muttering into their cups and scowling with distaste.

"You okay?" Merlin asked.

"I have fallen," Gwaine said dumbly and Merlin's mouth twitched, his lips pressing together from a barely restrained laugh, while his eyes crinkled.

"You have." Deep blue eyes darted back and forth between his, searching even if his tone and expression remained light with humour. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm, remains to be seen," he said, making a thoughtful expression. "Is the chamber still spinning?"

"It never did." Merlin's mouth twitched again.

"Oh, well, in that case." Gwaine closed his eyes and let his expression turn lax, as if going to sleep right then and there.

A small laugh came from above him, but the sound was quickly stifled. "I'm afraid a banquet hall is no place to sleep, sir Gwaine."

"I believe it is. It is rather comfortable from here." He cracked a single eye open, looking up at him.

"Won't be in a few hours when servants start making a racket while cleaning up. Come on," he said, clapping his arm, "on your feet." Then he slipped his arm beneath his and pulled him to his feet. Even as he was hauled upright, Gwaine made sure to wobble precariously, practically hanging on Merlin's arm with all his weight, leaning sideways and swaying all over the place. Truly, the performance of a lifetime. Merlin laughed and tipped him back, catching him around his shoulders, arm beneath his own. Not one to miss an opportunity, Gwaine threw his arm around his shoulders and leant into his side, feeling Merlin's quiet chuckle rumble against him.

Merlin turned him around and began walking, pulling him along. Most courtiers and dinner guests resumed their own conversation and stopped watching Gwaine and the spectacle he put on at every other feast, but he caught a few eyes, glancing their way as they wobbled out of the banquet hall. Half of them amused, tittering with gossip, even as it was happening before their conversation partners' eyes; the other half derisive and sneering, as they often were, when directed at Gwaine outside the training field and tournaments.

Arm in arm, Gwaine and Merlin walked out the Great Hall and its ornately decorated doors. Though it was rather graceless, what, with Gwaine zigzagging every few steps to the door.

"So, my friend, where are we going?" Gwaine asked as they passed the doorway's threshold, perhaps a little louder than necessary, but he really wanted the point to come across tonight; he wanted the gossip mill tomorrow to be full of the knight, who should have drowned his knighthood in mead and red wine by now, and who could not attend a feast without leaving a spectacle in his wake or the smell of vagabondery and incompetence behind himself.

"I've been instructed to take you to your chambers," Merlin huffed, rolling his eyes. "Apparently you can't be trusted on your own."

"How exciting! An adventure! Fit for the greatest knight in Camelot!" Gwaine exclaimed and lifted his free arm in imitation of raising his sword up high.

"And here I thought we've been on enough adventures to last a lifetime."

Shaking his head, Gwaine clicked his tongue. "That's where you go wrong. You can never have enough adventures, my friend."

Merlin grumbled under his breath and Gwaine would swear it sounded something like, he'd like to hear him repeat that when he's got something breathing down his neck. What that something was, Gwaine did not catch, but he swears it sounded close to an overgrown lizard. Admittedly, Gwaine had had some drinks and was a little inebriated, so he was not entirely sure he heard right or if he could trust himself on this one.

They walked for a little while. Moving through corridors of the castle, passing torches burning bright and flickering on the walls, their light warm and golden, as it washed over them in flashes of heat.

When they had passed through a few quiet corridors and walked a few stairs, the noise from the feast far behind them and not a soul near them, Merlin huffed a small laugh. "That tumble was particularly convincing today, I do believe Arthur thinks you drunk enough to destroy a few tapestries and suits of armour, if left to stumble back on your own."

"I haven't the faintest of what you could be insinuating," Gwaine said, tone preposterous and full of disbelief. "I'm as drunk as a barmaid's apron, Merlin, just look at my walk." And indeed, Gwaine had been wobbling along as they walked the hallways, leaning most of his weight into Merlin and his footsteps as unsteady as a boat in a storm at sea.

"Sure you don't." Gwaine could practically hear the roll of his eyes, but he could also hear the smile in his voice so he counted it as a victory. Drawn by his voice, he looked sideways to catch a glimpse of his smile. That was the moment his foot caught on his cloak and he stumbled. Falling, his arm yanked, catching hard and heavy around Merlin. Flailing about, Gwaine hung onto Merlin as he struggled against gravity, hopping to regain his footing.

Muscles straining against him, bulging against Gwaine's flailing body, Merlin strained against his weight and grunted. As Gwaine found his footing again, still walking forward with his arm around Merlin's shoulders, hanging onto him, as if he had never stumbled, he huffed loud and long-suffering. "Gwaine, I know you're not as drunk as you're pretending to be, can you please use your own legs to walk?"

"That wasn't me," he said as a matter of fact, his own feet solidly on the ground again, "it was the damn cloak." In emphasis, he grabbed a hold of the cloak and waved it in front of him.

Tilting his head sideways, Merlin threw him a heavily disbelieving look.

"I swear." Discarding the handful of fabric, he held out his hand. "The damn thing is out to get me." He threw a disgruntled look at the red fabric flapping about his feet with his every, wobbling step. "I think it knows all about my derogatory comments towards nobles."

"I don't think it cares, Gwaine."

"I think it does. It's in league with Uther, I just know it. Made a pact with him before he snuffed it and all."

"Alright, it was the cloak, but can you please just walk."

"I am walking."

"Properly."

"Ah well, since you asked so nicely." Easing his weight off of Merlin, he gained his feet beneath himself and dropped all pretence of stumbling and wobbling along. He kept his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders, though, and could not help but smile like a fool, when Merlin's arm also did not move from around his back. "But only because I like you best," he added, throwing him a winning grin and ruffling a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have been a menace to anyone else forced to walk you to bed." Merlin rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. As he did, Gwaine hooked a finger around his, brought his hand closer and smacked a kiss right onto his knuckles, because he thought it was a great idea and why not, they were alone walking through these deserted hallways and corridors. Might as well, you know.

Merlin let him kiss his knuckles, then brought his hand back to himself, huffing quietly under his breath. Probably used to his antics.

Gwaine took no heed of it and bumped his hip into his. "Well, that's half the fun of having a reputation such as myself," he said.

"What's the other half?" He crooked an eyebrow at him. Smile quirked and humoured.

Looking sideways and catching his eyes, Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously. "Hearing everyone slip me their secrets, because they think I'm too drunk to ever understand or remember them, when I have in fact, not a single drop of alcohol in my blood."

"Not one drop," Merlin repeated mockingly. "Now I know you're telling tall tales."

"Alright, but one mug of mead is far from the ten others usually think I'm deep in."

"True." Merlin allowed with a tilt of his head. "If that's what you're doing, when you're making spectacles of yourself, you must have enough gossip and secrets in that head to compete with the maids."

"Please," Gwaine scoffed and swatted a hand through the air, "they wish they knew half the secrets I do."

"I'm sure," he said, laughter bubbling in his voice and from his shoulders. It did not last long. Merlin fell quiet. And for a while, they continued to walk in silence. The air around them heavier than before, though Gwaine had no idea from where it came.

As he walked, Merlin kept his head down. Every few steps, Gwaine cast glances towards him, and though his face was cast in shadows with the occasional torch and candle light catching upon his high cheekbones and the planes of his face, it was not the shadows that kept him locked up. No. The expression he wore was lost to Gwaine, no matter the shadows or light that fell onto his face. The walls around them seemed to stretch the echo of their tapping footsteps and shifting fabric of Gwaine's cloak occasionally grazing the floor, unrecognisable.

Eventually, Merlin's shoulders shifted underneath Gwaine's arm, rising and falling with a heavy breath. "Aren't you tired of it, Gwaine?" he sighed, his voice tinged heavy and exhausted. Glancing sideways at him, Gwaine caught the heavy and tired expression pulling at his features, almost dragging them, now that he had raised his chin up, freeing his face from most of the shadows. Merlin still did not look towards him, keeping his head faced determinedly forward and his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Tired of pretending and putting up a front?"

"Hmm, not really," Gwaine said, a light frown appearing on his brow at the weight in Merlin's voice. "I know the people who can't be bothered to look past it don't matter, and it serves me well enough to be overlooked as the drunken knight no one takes seriously."

"Why do you do it?" his tone was still far too heavy and tired. A state Gwaine was becoming more and more familiar with, the more time that passed; a state it seemed Merlin fell further and further into it the more time passed since Lancelot's death. No matter how much he tried to hide it. Chest twinging with a deep ache — like a mirror of the pit pulling at Merlin, reached for him just by hearing its presence in Merlin's voice — Gwaine tightened his arm around him, as if trying to pull him away from that heavy pit that pulled at him. And Merlin added, still with a soul-deep exhaustion beyond comprehension, "Why do you pretend that you're a scoundrel and a drunkard?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Gwaine answered, voice soft and gentle, "why do you let people think you're a fool?"

Merlin huffed, jostling him and pulling his arm further around his shoulder, as if Gwaine was still stumbling around in a drunkard's shoes. "It's better that way," he mumbled, glancing down and away.

Gwaine looked sideways, directly into the side of his head, no matter Merlin was resolutely looking the other way. "For who?" he asked.

Merlin did not reply.

They continued in silence. Occasionally, Gwaine's eyes would stray to the man beside him. The wall opposite the windows carried the occasional torch, flickering with softly crackling flames, casting a warm, yellow light upon him and the corridor they walked. Silver moonlight fell in through every window they passed and with the golden, flickering light from torches, a kaleidoscope of shifting silver and golden light fell all over Merlin's pale skin, touching him with an ever-shifting ethereal glow, casting him in fey-like quality, as if he had stepped out of the stories of fey-kind and other unearthly beings, only to walk in companionable pace with Gwaine on a moonlit night, several floors away from a revelry filled banquet hall.

What he saw, underneath the touch of flickering flame and the silver moon, Gwaine did not know how to name. It was an expression he did not often see there, as Merlin more often than not, either wore smiles (though these could be argued against, as they did not always reach his eyes, especially these days) or frantic energy throwing his features into such movement, the nature of them could not be determined in the brief glimpses that Gwaine could catch of Merlin in these instances, before he was gone again; the echo of his voice hanging like a trail left behind him, as the only evidence he had ever been there. It was like trying to catch the wind in his hands, or the reflection of stars in a lake; as soon as he cupped his hands around it and tried to hold onto it or bring it closer, it was gone, slipped from between his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to keep it there. But that was its nature. Who was he to keep it there? And really, he did not want to keep Merlin from flitting all over the place — frantic or otherwise — he simply wanted to join him in it, or to let him know that Gwaine would remain standing where he was, so he always knew he was there to return to, whenever he got a moment to breathe and needed a place to rest.

Tonight, the shadows from Merlin's heavy and tired question did not seem to want to leave him. So Gwaine did the only reasonable thing he could do. And that was act the fool, so he did not have to.

Groaning loudly and letting his own weight drag, hanging onto Merlin, he started to lean to the side, stupid and tipsy once more. "Hang on, hang on," he said, dragging his words in simple slur and stumbling over his feet, reaching for the wall, "stop here for a bit." He stumbled to the side, pulling them towards the wall.

"Gwaine, what?" Merlin huffed, not without some amusement, feet shuffling across the floor as he was pulled along by Gwaine's arm around his back.

"I like this wall," he said, turning to lean up against the cold stone and resting against it. Arm eased halfway off Merlin's shoulder.

"It's just a wall." He remained a few steps away from him, their arms still raised and held out, holding onto each other by just their shoulders and arms, the best they could with the space between them, since Merlin seemed adamant to say standing on his own two feet.

"Yeah, and I like it." Though he might not have been half as drunk as he pretended to be, he had still had enough to drink to be considered a small hazard, his veins and stomach buzzing pleasantly with alcohol. Thanks to his years of travel and gallivanting, he had far too much experience with drinking to be more than tipsy by the drinks he had had, but it was a pleasant buzz in his stomach and a lightness in the space between his ears. Also, his skin was a little too hot. Like he had been lying out in the hot summer sun for hours and the gambesome beneath his chainmaille was really starting to heat up uncomfortably against him. Not nearly enough to act the way he had in the Great Hall upon exiting or the way he was now, as if seeking shelter against unsteady legs through the wall. But if he did not like the look on Merlin's face and was rather desperate to see it vanish, then that was his business and his business alone. And the ceiling above him for which he sought aid in its cracks and shadows. But otherwise, his business alone.

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched and as Gwaine tugged on his arm in response, he allowed him to pull him the rest of the way to the wall with him, sliding his arm back around his shoulders. Pressing them up against one another. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, Merlin's arm around his shoulder and Gwaine's around his back.

For a short while, they just stood there, leant up against the wall and tipped slightly towards each other.

Then, Gwaine turned his head and looked at him. Merlin's eyes were already fixed on him. There was a quizzical pull on his brow, a quirked eyebrow that Gwaine did not understand, though a pleased upturn of his mouth told him it was not anything bad. He wondered at the question, though. Until he realised he had his hand buried in the nape of Merlin's hair, carding his fingers through the strands.

But Merlin had not moved away and he was smiling so Gwaine kept doing it.

It was nice. His hair was lovely against his fingers, a little coarse and wavy, and nicer than Gwaine had ever imagined.

Merlin's eyes flickered down to his lips. Such an action usually made Gwaine smirk, but this was Merlin and Merlin had always been different. Where other people's gaze to his lips brought a satisfied feeling, Merlin's gaze lit a warmth in his stomach and made his heart hammer against his chest.

With a sharp intake of breath, Merlin jerked his head away. Sticking it and his gaze straight forward, his jaw set and resolute.

Gwaine kept staring at him. The buzz in his stomach turned sour and wobbly. All wrong. Swallowing the sour taste, it moved quickly down his throat and joined the twisting wobble in his stomach, to stew there like one of Gaius' infamous, foul potions.

Lips pulling up, he tried for a smile. "I still owe you for making sure I had that week of light training, you know," he said lightly, banishing the feeling all together in favour of something far lighter.

"Is that so?" A smile curled lopsided from Merlin's lips. Head tipped back, leant against the wall, he let his head turn along the wall, tilting it to look at Gwaine with a quirked eyebrow and knowing eyes that gleamed with humour.

"It is so," Gwaine declared, nodding and held a hand to his chest. "And a great favour it was, I ended up missing out on several long runs in full armour and you know how I hate that."

"I do know."

"So, you can see I cannot possibly let it pass without making my gratitude known." Eyes crinkling, his smile stretched into something knowing, as it was apparently not enough for his eyes to hold it. Ignoring it, Gwaine raised his free hand and tapped a finger against his chin, acting so very oblivious to the light in Merlin's blue eyes. "Now, what did I say when you first spoke of it?" He tapped a few more times, then lifted his finger high. "Ah," he said, "I remember now. I do believe, I said I would be grateful enough to press a kiss to thine lips." Grinning, he patted himself down, clearly so very oblivious and innocent to the twist forming on Merlin's lips. "And I do reckon I no longer smell of dirt and horse."

"Are you sure about that?" Grinning lopsided, Merlin arched an eyebrow at him, pointed and so very knowing.

"A scoundrel and drunkard I may be, but I am no pigsty."

"Are you trying to come onto me, sir Gwaine?" The eyebrow rose further. It was remarkable, really. Perhaps, he had learned more than a physician's art from Gaius.

"I am trying to make a heartfelt expression of gratitude." Gwaine put his hand on his chest, expression affronted and tone even more so.

Smiling still, he rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, your intentions are completely altruistic and innocent, right?" voice dripping sardonically and sarcastically.

"Merlin, I am most wounded you would disbelieve me so." Hand on his chest, sounding as playfully hurt and good-humoured as he could, his words were met with a loud snort, Merlin's face twisting in humoured disbelief. "Unbelievable." Gwaine threw his hand into the air. "You try to be nice and make a gesture of— of grati—" as he fumbled for his words, Merlin stepped away from the wall and came to stand in front of him, clamping a hand on top of his mouth, shutting him up. Palm pressing into his lips and fingers on his cheek. The last word caught in his palm and Gwaine's still moving lips brushed against his skin. Though his mouth stilled at the loss of his words, the drag of his lips against Merlin's hand made his lips feel tingle and prickle softly. Forcefully tearing his own eyes away from Merlin's lips and wishing he could move his lips again, this time to press a proper kiss into the palm covering it and hovering so enticingly near, the warmth of it emanating from it towards his lips, Gwaine looked into blue eyes, above which eyebrows were quirked, half-pointedly, half-humorously.

"Gwaine?" Gwaine raised his eyebrows in answer. "You are not very believable."

"I believe I am," he said, voice muffled behind Merlin's hand. Every word causing his lips to catch on Merlin's palm, brushing against his skin.

"Uh huh," Merlin nodded, taking a step closer, his hand still on his mouth, body just barely up against his own, it made Gwaine's heart hiccup inside of his chest, despite the armour he wore that separated them, "a kiss just for gratitude?" his voice lowered, turning almost to a whisper in the small space between them.

"Exactly. Just gratitude..." the words blew softly from his mouth, carried on a mere whispering breath, nearly getting lost in Merlin's skin, so very faint it trailed off into nothing.

"What's a kiss between friends?" Merlin whispered, closer still, then slid his hand away from his mouth, brushing it away across his cheek and down his throat, touching it to his neck instead. Palm warm against his skin where it cupped the nape of his neck. His breath blew across his lips, a small gust of air, before his lips came upon his.

Their lips slotted together. Warm and soft and firm and everything Gwaine had ever wanted. They sealed together, the softest of breaths blowing from Merlin's lungs to his own. Gwaine swept his arm around Merlin's back, drawing him closer still and Merlin went, leaning into him, heedless of the chainmaille that met him. Body crowding against his, firm and solid and warm where his armour did not reach, his presence flooded his senses. Floating like a small aura around him and the whole world became Merlin and Merlin alone.

Grateful he was not forced to wear his gloves to feasts, Gwaine pressed his palms flat against Merlin's back. Even through the chainmaille and gambeson underneath it, Gwaine felt Merlin's body firm and solid against him, his very presence setting his nerves alight, as if he was being seared into his very flesh and bones, through his kiss alone.

With a soft sound, the kiss broke, but their bodies did not. They remained pressed up against his other, chest moving up and down as they heaved quietly for air.

Sighing softly, Merlin tipped his head forward and leaned his forehead into his, eyes never once straying from Gwaine's. There was a look in his eyes, something Gwaine could not decipher.

"What?" he asked quietly, voice rumbling.

Merlin shook his head and did not say a word. His hand lifted from his neck, only to land higher up. Fingers lifted and touched his cheek, flicking lightly over his skin. And still he just stared into his eyes. Gaze unfathomable and so very deep, Gwaine could have been drowning in the ocean for all he knew.

After a moment of just staring wordlessly at him, Merlin tipped his head and caught his lips in another kiss. This one soft and tender, leaving Gwaine no less breathless than the heated one from before.

The kiss was endless and impossibly short; the blink of an eye and the passing on an eternity.

Far away a door slammed and laughter drifted down their corridor, breaking through the air all around them, louder than it actually was.

Merlin eased his lips away from his, tipping his forehead forward and pressing it against Gwaine's, more pointed than before, like leaning all of his weight into him from that point alone. Every breath fell from his lips and fanned across Gwaine's tender mouth, gusting across his wet lips in puffs of air, shooting small tingles through them with his every exhalation.

"Has your need for gratitude been satisfied?" he asked impossibly soft.

"It has," the words were a faint whisper, rasping from his mouth.

Easing away from him, Merlin went to step away, but Gwaine caught him before he could slip too far.

"Walk me to my room still?" Gwaine was not drunk, they were both well aware of this, but Merlin still slipped his arm beneath his again, wrapping it around his back, as Gwaine in turn eased his arm around his shoulders; any chance at feeling Merlin's body against his own, he would take. And they started walking once more.

A corridor later, Gwaine asked, "Are you needed later tonight?"

"No, Gwen said they were good for the rest of the night and she would help Arthur out of his armour. She also threatened me with bodily harm, if she saw me again before tomorrow."

"That's good, then."

The rest of the walk to Gwaine's chamber was in comfortable silence. Even if Gwaine's lips never did stop tingling with intense awareness of just how close Merlin's lips had been.

As soon as they were inside Gwaine's chambers, the door closed firmly behind them, Merlin stepped away, out of his arm and went to lit a few candles.

Gwaine went to take his armour off, grumbling a small curse under his breath about having to dress up in fucking armour of all things, whenever there was a feast or banquet. Just as he grasped onto the chainmaille to pull it off, warm hands descended on him once more, falling onto his own and stopping him in his tracks.

"Merlin, you don't have to do that." He paused, turned his head and looked over his shoulder at him. "You're not my servant and gods know you do it for Arthur often enough. When you're not working, you're not working and I'm not gonna ask you to."

"And if I'm offering?"

"I'm still not asking," he said resolutely. Merlin did enough running around for them, in his opinion. He had asked him here as his friend, not as a servant.

Smiling, Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "And I'm offering as your friend." The smile turned crooked and mischievous. "Besides, I thought you were supposed to be too drunk to take care of yourself?"

"In that case, knock yourself out." Together they lifted the heavy chainmaille off him. While Gwaine untied the padded gambeson and slipped it off his shoulders, Merlin stepped off to the side and draped the chainmaille over the wooden frame it hung on, when not in use. When the gambeson was off, Merlin reached for it as well, and hung it in its place, too.

Gwaine smiled warmly at him, then sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots. Shrugged out of his breeches and his tunic, throwing them into a laundry basket by the wardrobe. He cast a glance at Merlin and found his eyes stuck to his exposed chest. He almost stayed where he was, but he remembered the way Merlin had pulled away from him, when he had treated the cut on his thigh and he did not want him to pull away again or leave. It was a miracle he had not done so after the kiss, after all, there was no reason to test the fates even further.

Boots set off to the side, Gwaine let himself fall into bed with a large sigh.

Merlin went around blowing out the few candles he had lit, and brought a second to the table by the side of his bed, placing it beside the candle already burning there.

Wiggling around, Gwaine drew the blanket around himself. As the side of the bed, Merlin looked down at him with exasperated fondness. There was a conflict in his eyes, a frown that crossed his brow, but then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gwaine's forehead. Hand sweeping up and sweeping his hair away and back over his head.

As he straightened back up, Gwaine's arm shot out and he grabbed onto his arm, halting him still bent forward. Merlin's eyes darted to his, his eyebrows lifting upwards on his brow.

"You can stay here and sleep tonight?" he offered, voice soft and warm. "I know you're dead on your feet. You've been up working since dawn and not had a break to rest since the feast began. There's a long way to that tower on tired legs."

"I think I can manage," he said with a smile and humour dancing in his eyes.

"I haven't mentioned the best part yet," Gwaine said and patted the bed. "This bed is the best quality Camelot — nay all five kingdoms — has to offer. It's all sort of soft and lovely and warm. Particularly wonderful after a hard day's work." Merlin's smile twitched into a smirk and there was that knowing look in his eyes again. "I promise I will keep my hands to myself." He held up his free hand in surrender, still afraid of letting go of Merlin's arm, in case it allowed him to slip out of his chamber before Gwaine could even blink.

"You really don't have to, Gwaine. My bed is fine. At least I have a bed and not just a wooden floor."

"That's not exactly a comforting comparison, my friend." Looking up at him, he gave him an imploring look. One he knew was far softer than he intended it to be. "Merlin, you work twice as hard and nearly twice as long as the rest of us and by the end of the day you have to return to a small, hard cot in a cold room." At that Merlin's lips twitched, but he said nothing. "I just want you to have a nice rest in a comfortable bed for once. Honest." Finally, Merlin's smile softened, as did the look in his eyes. And Gwaine could not help but smile warmly at him; the smile he knew he never gave anyone else; the smile only Merlin could pull from him. He patted the bed again. "See? Nice and soft. Here—" finally, he let go of his arm, only to turn around in bed, turning his back to him and moving more towards the other side, leaving an empty space for him, before him where he stood hunched over "—I'll even turn my back."

"You don't have to do that."

"I sleep better on my side anyway." Not true, he could sleep comfortably no matter where or when, but he also knew it would be harder to not reach for Merlin, if he could see him. And if having his back turned made Merlin comfortable enough to take him up on his offer, then Gwaine would happily lie on his side and stare at a wall all night.

There was a small pause, then the bed dipped. Fabric rustled and dropped to the floor. Boots thunked on wooden floorboards, as they were set aside. Then, the blankets were being pulled at and Merlin slipped into bed beside him.

"Oh, that's almost as nice as Arthur's."

Gwaine huffed a chuckle, turning his head more towards the ceiling and him. "And you know this how?"

"I may have taken a nap in it while he was busy elsewhere once or twice."

"Hah! I knew it! No way you wouldn't, you sneaky bastard."

"But don't tell him," there was laughter in his voice as he spoke, "it's been a while since I've seen the stocks, and I rather like keeping our relationship as acquaintances."

"My lips are sealed." There was the sound of a harsh blow and the soft, gentle glow of the candles on the small table on Merlin's side of the bed went out, putting the chamber into complete darkness and a small smell of smoke curling in the air.

Gwaine waited a little while, eyes looking out at the shadows encompassing his chambers and the space between bed and wall. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, I am," Merlin said, soft and gentle. "Thank you."

"All you have to do is ask, Merlin, you know," his own voice was low, soft in the quiet chamber.

Two fingers grazed his shoulders. But only for a moment, hardly more than a breath, then they were gone. Their touch lingered like ghosts against his skin. Tingling his skin with their ghostly presence. "Thank you," this too was a ghost, spoken so softly it almost vanished in the space between them.

"Of course," he said.

Then, "Goodnight, Gwaine."

"Night, Merlin."

Gwaine fell asleep with Merlin's shoulder pressing against him, the rounded curve of it and part of his arm along his back. Warmth from his body spreading from every point they touched.

Gwaine did not once reach for him or even turn around to look. Despite the ache in his arms and the tender throbbing of his heart to reach out and draw him near and hold him close. Even looking felt wrong. Forbidden. No matter how knowing Merlin's eyes had been, as he had asked for a kiss, this was too far. A line he would not cross.

He had been honest.

He only wanted Merlin to get some well-deserved rest. Even if that did benefit Gwaine as well, by letting him sense Merlin's body, soft and resting and warm, right beside his own. A comfort to carry him through the night. A knowledge that he was okay in this moment.

In the morning when he woke up, Merlin was gone.

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chr0macide · 2 months

Text

Orientation Day

posting two things one day wow im on fire

i kinda wanted to write a lil bit about magdalena but this fic ended up being more about purge university and shes kinda just there lol. i didn't put anything about her time in college while i was making her intro post cause i was lazy. i said she made no friends but maybe that was cap, she did meet markus there.

this shows a little bit about what i think purge university is like. it wouldn't be the same for every student but this is more or less what i think it would be like for the impoverished attendee. i write this fanfic as if break in happens in the "real(ish) world" instead of roblox so stuff has to be different. and yeah this is canon to the rest of the fic unless i start feeling like something conflicts with game canon too much.

also im seeing people with like 100 ocs when it took 100% of my power just to make this single one, lmao how are you guys doing that 😂

alright this is like 3300 words divided into 2 chapters les goooo

Chapter I – Ticket to Nowhere

“Purge University, huh? You excited?” asked the taximan.

The girl did not reply. He looked at her in the rear-view mirror and pouted when she simply lay her head against the window. Nobody waved goodbye to her.

Magdalena was the first one in her family to attend college at all—not that her relatives appreciated that—but she had thought she was finally about to leave this decaying urban hellscape. And yet, every request she’d sent to every collegiate and federal financial aid office had returned the same response to her. Denied. Denied. Denied.

It didn’t make any sense. Much to the disdain of her parents, she had studied until the dregs of coffee had long since dried into a rock-hard crust at the bottom of her cup, lest she be stuck in this slum forever, so why was she still here?

The taxi meandered through the streets and over a pothole. There were plenty of those in Magdalena’s neighborhood. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the motion briefly jerked her out of her brooding.

“Sorry. Wherever our taxes are going, it’s not towards the roads,” the driver chuckled. Magdalena rolled her vacant eyes. Everyone knew where the city’s coffers were going. Straight into the pockets of one of the local mafia dons… but maybe she ought not to complain. It was thanks to one of them that Magdalena was going to college at all, although the interest rate on her loan was horrendous and it came with the stipulation that she attended Purge University. Tuition was exorbitant there, not to mention that the place was notoriously corrupt. While Magdalena would admit it was preferable to living in a leaky trailer for the rest of her life, she would rather have gone literally anywhere else. She should have been anywhere else, the girl seethed inwardly. There was nothing she could do about the situation now, but the thoughts had kept intruding ever since she’d opened the acceptance letter.

The crumbling structures in her district became less dilapidated as the car approached the university. The college grounds rested on the boundary between the destitute and the affluent, so the buildings here looked like they actually might be livable on the inside.

The driver pulled into the parking lot outside the residence hall.

Well, some of the buildings looked like they might have been livable.

The driver ducked out of the car and removed Magdalena’s lone suitcase from the trunk. She put a few crumpled notes in his palm.

“Let me help you carry your-”

“No,” Magdelana cut him off.

The taximan looked at her for a moment longer, but she was already walking away, so he shrugged as he got back into his car and drove off.

Magdalena swiped her identification card. The scanner beeped. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, not really minding the odor of mildew. Her home didn’t smell too different.

“You don’t gotta use your card. The lock doesn’t work,” said a nearby voice with a slight accent. There was a burly student sprawled across an entire sofa in the lobby. Magdalena guessed by the color of his ID lanyard that he was a sophomore. She made a sound of acknowledgement and made her way to the front desk, but there was nobody there.

“The receptionist went on break. Beer?” offered the student.

“I’m underage.”

“Nobody in here gives a shit, believe me,” he said as he tossed her a can from the 6-pack on the end table. She caught it in her hand and stared at it for a second.

The student gave her an odd look. “What? Never drank before?”

It wasn’t that. Magdalena had booze a few times when her family’s water had been cut off. Her parents didn’t keep much else in the fridge. Magdalena popped the tab open and took a sip as another student came down the stairs.

“Where’s the RA?” the newcomer demanded.

The sophomore craned his neck to see who had just shown up. “Oh, hey, Isaiah. I think he’s out back. Why?”

“My roommate ripped the fucking sink out of the—is that my beer? I just fucking bought that!”

“Relax, man. I was gonna pay you back.”

Magdalena placed her can on the reception desk sheepishly, but Isaiah wasn’t paying attention to her.

“Like hell you were,” snapped Isaiah as he grabbed the remainder of the 6-pack off the table and stormed out of the lounge.

The lingering student took another swig. “Sheesh. I’d like to tell you he’s not always so bitchy, but… heh.”

The door behind the front desk finally swung open. “ID?” requested the receptionist. The lady didn’t glance twice at the can on the counter as Magdalena handed her card over. She didn’t know whether to be glad for that or concerned that this hall had such lax restrictions.

The receptionist passed a key to Magdalena along with her ID. “Room 217,” she told the girl.

“Hey, we’re roommates,” the sophomore piped up. He chugged the rest of his beer. “I’ll show you where our dorm is.”

Magdalena started towards the elevator as he stood up. His orange hair almost brushed one of the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.

“The elevator doesn’t work, either,” he advised her.

Magdalena sighed. “Of course it doesn’t.”

The student lifted Magdalena’s luggage with one hand and carried it up the stairs for her. “Name’s Markus, by the way.”

“Magdalena.”

“I haven’t seen you before. You a freshman?”

She nodded

Markus set her suitcase down in front of their dorm. The smell of cigarette smoke clung to the discolored runner. Their neighbor’s door was open. Magdalena could hear pressurized water spouting out from somewhere inside, but Markus didn’t seem to notice as he unlocked their own dorm. “Sorry about the mess. Old roommate left most of his stuff behind.”

Notebooks and stationery were strewn across the desk. There was a backpack and a large folder on the ground underneath it. Even a laptop was still resting on the nightstand. Magdalena’s side of the room looked as if someone else still lived here.

“Did he graduate?” the girl asked.

Markus’s expression hardened abruptly. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate, but his tone warned her not to probe any further. “But they assigned me a new roommate,” he said, gesturing at Magdalena, “so I doubt he’s coming back. I guess you can keep some of his junk if you want. I’ll throw the rest of it out tomorrow.”

If Markus was reluctant to speak of him, it wasn’t hard to deduce what might have happened to the last tenant. Perhaps Markus’s roomie pissed off one of the mob’s higher-ups. Those who talked about it out loud too often were prone to disappearing, but most people knew Purge University doubled as a front for organized crime. Too bad for him, but Magdalena wasn’t one to turn down free stuff.

She moved to the nightstand and opened the laptop. It was greasy. Magdalena wiped her fingers on her coat. There was a password, but she was sure the IT department could deal with that.

“Huh. Almost didn’t think it would turn on,” Markus remarked. Yeah, the thing was pretty ancient. The fan sounded like it was on its last legs and there was duct tape over a corner where the plastic exterior had cracked. “You actually want that old thing?”

“I don’t have my own,” Magdalena told him. Markus’s eyebrows crept up.

“You made it all the way to undergrad with no laptop?”

“Not everyone is rich.”

“No shit. That’s why we’re here,” Markus japed, but it was plain that Magdalena didn’t come from money. Her attire was somewhat ill-fitting. Her luggage didn’t weigh anything, and neither did she, by the looks of her. “For real, though, how did you get anything done?”

Magdalena didn’t answer. She shut the laptop and commenced unpacking her suitcase, but there wasn’t a lot to unpack. With nothing else to do, Markus booted up his own computer. “Quiet type, huh?”

The girl produced a annoyed huff from the back of her throat as she moved the presumably dead guy’s clothes aside and hung up her own in the closet.

“Hey, we’re gonna be stuck with each other for a while. I was just trying to get to know you better. Don’t make shit awkward,” Markus muttered.

Magdalena murmured something unintelligible under her breath—probably an insult—but she humored him. “Used the library computers. Checked out some textbooks when I had to be a home.” She practically lived at the city library, though the administrators eventually put a limit on how long unaccompanied children were allowed to be there each day. The bigwigs had decided they didn’t want street urchins ruining the scenery.

“Sounds like a lot of work for… uh… what’s your major?”

“Mechanical engineering and biotech.”

“Oh, a smart kid? I would’ve taken your lunch money back in the day,” Markus kidded. Magdalena glared at him. “Ha. Sorry. Bad joke. I’m a business major.”

The girl gave him a once-over. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Magdalena was silent again as she returned her attention to her suitcase. Markus stuck out his lower lip childishly and turned to his laptop. They both heard a pool of water making its way out of the next dorm and flowing through the corridor outside.

“Does that sort of thing happen often?” Magdalena asked.

“You get used to it.”

Chapter II – Spontaneous Expulsion

“And for those of you who have science classes this year, this is Gearwise Hall,” the campus tour guide introduced.

The freshmen looked up at the building’s hypermodern exterior. Someone had to be power washing those walls on the regular. Magdalena saw through the windows that there was even a sculpture of a DNA strand suspended from the rafters. It wasn’t hard to tell that they were in the rich kids’ part of the university. It was either that or mafia territory. She was seeing a lot of bowties and pinstriped suits.

The guide hauled one of the double doors open and ushered everyone inside. “There are a few students making up an exam, so try to be quiet,” he said in a low voice.

The interior was just as blindingly white as the façade. “Here’s the common area,” the guide told them as he led them across the rounded foyer and into an adjoining room. There were a few students sitting at the tables and poring over their books, getting a head start on studying, Magdalena supposed. The room opened into a terrace whose style was much more gothic than the building itself. It must have been there before the hall was built. It actually looked nice, Magdalena thought, but she noticed the students outside casting unpleasant glares at a student wearing a faded, wrinkled t-shirt. A few of them soon stood up and began hassling the kid until he grabbed his things and left.

Maybe Magdalena’s kind wasn’t welcome at this particular spot.

The guide led them past the many lecture halls and up the stairwell at the end of the corridor. “Freshmen usually only have classes on the first floor, and we’re running out of time, so we’re gonna skip the rest of this place. I need to take you guys to Purge Hall.”

The group mumbled various grievances, but the guide shook her his as they reached the second floor. “Bear with me, guys. Everyone has classes in Purge Hall sooner or later, and it’s really important that you don’t get lost in there and wander somewhere off-limits. Really, really important.” He opened the exit to escort the gathering across the bridge and into the adjacent building.

Magdalena didn’t know what she’d expected, but it didn’t look that different from the other buildings around this here. It was a lot emptier, though, and her footsteps echoed conspicuously. In fact, she couldn’t see anybody else except for the tour group. Magdalena peered over the edge of the entresol. The ground floor was vacant as well.

She was startled by the sound of someone’s phone alarm. It was the end of a class period, it seemed, because students began trickling out of the lecture halls.

Most of them didn’t speak to each other at all. The ones that did were murmuring almost imperceptibly.

“First of all,” the guide began, “that is the Head—I mean, President Purge’s office.” He pointed at the imposing double doors at one end of the pathway. The fancily carved redwood stuck out like a sore thumb from the more contemporary architecture. “Don’t even go near it. And don’t go to any of the basement levels, either. If you’re in the elevator and somebody hits a button for a negative floor, just get out and wait for the… next one… uh…”

The guide faltered. There was a dull metallic clank ringing out from somewhere in the distance, but the sound was getting closer. “Don’t block the walkway, guys. Move up to the wall,” the guide urged, herding the troupe aside. The freshmen were puzzled, but they fanned out and stood against the wall, and Magdalena figured out why when as ground trembled ever so slightly.

A man threw the door open on the other end of the entresol and stepped inside. Well, not a man per se. His “skin” was rough and burnished like steel. Two more followed close behind. Magdalena had never seen the bosses in person before, as prolific as they were. She’d thought Markus was a giant, but these things made him look almost shrimpy.

The one at the head of the trio—Mr. Clockturn, it was—made his way towards the Headmaster’s office without so much as a passing glance at the students, even as they stared at him with wide eyes. His crowbar clinked against the floor as he walked and Magdalena could hear the ticking of his innards when he drew near.

The second one—the only woman; it must have been Miss Gearwise—spared them a smirk. Magdalena nearly had to shield her eyes. She blinked dark spots out of her vision. The light was dazzlingly bright when it glinted on the automaton’s gleaming golden exoskeleton.

The last one flashed smiled at the tour group almost affably, to Magdalena’s surprise. He even winked at one of the ladies. That was kind of gross, actually. He’d strolled off while Magdalena was trying to remember how much older he was than the college students, but his coppery luster denoted him as Mr. Cogsworth.

The university belonged to the mob, certainly, but Magdalena hadn’t expected the Headmaster’s underbosses to show up here so brazenly. Magdalena wondered for a moment why law enforcement had quit raiding this place, but she figured the mob had paid the police department off a long time ago. What would the cops do, anyway? Shoot an ironclad robot?

A cluster of students ahead of them scattered as the three approached. One of them had his back turned to the automatons, however, and he evidently didn’t get the memo. Mr. Clockturn hefted his crowbar. Magdalena looked away.

The student was already out cold when he toppled over the railing. Magdalena heard a loud crack. The people on the first floor shrieked. He hadn’t stuck the landing, apparently. The automata tittered as they peered over the barrier and continued into the Headmaster’s dwelling. It was too dark in the chamber for Magdalena to see much when Mr. Clockturn pushed the doors open, but she glimpsed President Purge’s luminous yellow eyes, corners crinkled as if he were smiling.

The tour guide waited until the doors were closed again before he finally resumed speaking. “I apologize you all had to see that. Y-you never know when those guys are gonna show up. Listen, they take it as, um, rudeness when you don’t move for them. Just-”

“They just fucking killed somebody!” one of the freshmen exploded, motioning vehemently at the spot where the student had fallen from.

The guide shushed the dissident. “There’s no need yell!” he said whispered harshly as he glanced at the office uneasily. “Seriously. You don’t want those things to come back out here right now. As I was saying, that kind of thing won’t happen to you as long as you stay out of their way.”

The guide was clearly trying to remain collected, but to no avail. He fidgeted with the lanyard around his neck as he did a silent headcount of the tour group.

“Let’s just move on to the next building. Most of you don’t have courses here this year anyway.”

He hastily steered the tour group through the entrance where the automata had come in from, and the remainder of the outing passed by in a blur.

Markus looked up from his laptop when he heard the dorm door unlock. Magdalena walked in and dropped her backpack next to her desk. It sagged on the floor glumly.

“Fun tour?” her roommate asked. No response, but he was getting used to it quickly.

He put down the beer he’d been nursing. Drinking in the morning? Magdalena didn’t blame him. She couldn’t think of many reasons for people to stay sober around here. “Aw, I’m just messing around. Someone posted the vid already,” Markus told her, gesturing at his screen. A video of the student splattering against the vinyl tiles played on loop.

“Does that sort of thing also happen often?” Magdalena questioned.

Markus scrolled away from the post before speaking. “Guess that depends on what you mean by often.”

Magdalena stared at him.

“Come on. The Darwin Award is a thing everywhere. Don’t look at me like that,” Markus said.

“This is how I always look.”

“Oh.” He perhaps should have figured that out already. Magdalena was wearing that catatonic expression in the murder video as well. “Well. You saw those guys. The bosses, I mean. You’d have to be pretty stupid to stand where they’re walking, right? That’s, like, natural reflection, or some shit.”

“Natural selection.”

“Yeah. That. Whatever.”

Magdalena collapsed onto her bed and let out a sigh. Markus rested his face on his hand as he observed her through lidded eyes. There was a small smile of amusement on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re already tapped out. You didn’t even know the guy.”

It wasn’t just the impromptu homicide. It was everything. Magdalena watched a roach as it crept down the cracked drywall. “Maybe I should have gone for an online degree. This university is shit.”

Markus drank to that. “This entire city is shit, babe,” he laughed. “I guess that means you thought you were gonna move away for college…?”

The cockroach made it to the window and squeezed through a gap in the frame, scrambling away to freedom.

Magdalena sighed again. “Yeah.”

“No need to give up just yet. I knew a few graduates who scraped up enough cash to leave.”

“I can’t move away. I owe money to the mob.”

“Oh… yeah, nevermind. You’re fucked.”

“Thanks.”

Markus laughed again. He crushed the empty can in his hand and pitched it at the waste basket. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Maybe. You want some advice from a guy who’s had to deal with this place for a while?”

“Shoot.”

His face grew serious. “Worry about yourself. Not morons flying over guardrails and shit-talkers going missing at night,” he warned Magdalena, looking pointedly at his old cotenant’s belongings. He’d said he’d toss them, but it was starting to seem like Magdalena would have to do it. “No one’s gonna cover your ass for you. We’ve all got our own problems going on, you know? And people who stick their noses in other people’s business don’t last that long.”

What reassuring counsel. “I’ll keep it in mind,” Magdalena replied blandly.

The girl rolled over in her bed. Markus’s eyes drifted back to his laptop screen. They didn’t say another word to each other until classes began.

#roblox break in #break in roblox #roblox #break in 2 #break in oc

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