#imagine being stuck in a cave w him lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wondersbeyondcompare · 4 years

Text

More Majid Stuff

I post once in a blue moon b/c I work in random bursts and get tired easily, but here are some rambles about Majid that I’ve saved in my Notes app and probably haven’t mentioned before!

There are some rumors circulating around Majid regarding his wealth

More specifically: how he got his wealth

All these rumors range from him being a secret son of a noble family to taking shady underground jobs that paid ridiculously well

His name had been searched up more than once, but the only thing that pops up is a bakery business w/ a small branch located in the Land of Hot Sands... not too far from where Majid grew up...

Majid’s a quick learner; he just lacks the motivation lol

Tends to overthink too often, tho, coming up with detailed plans to get out of doing the most mundane stuff

Funny to watch but a pain in the ass to comprehend 😔

Although Majid tries to get out of doing most stuff, there are some things he can’t let slide

He can get picky over how some tasks are done; honestly??? this might be a good tactic on getting him to work (“Hey, Majid. Can you help set up the decorations for tonight’s party?” “No.” “Aaaa, okay, guess we’ll just have Mark do it-“ “Mark? You want to leave decorating to him? Do you want the lounge looking like a highlighter projectile vomited over the walls and ceiling? Give me those streamers. I’ll do it myself-“)

Definitely a quality over quantity kind of person; his room may be a mess of different things, but, rest assured, it’s only the best of the best of stuff that stay for long like lava lamps

I want to say that Majid is picky about a lot of things in general, but he does have his exceptions; for example: food, napping locations, job opportunities, ummm (･_･;) That’s most of what I can think of right now, dang

This pickiness is kiiind of 👉👈 referencing a trait that the Cave of Wonders has; like the whole “only a diamond in the rough shall enter here“ business that was going on idk I’m trying my best

As you can see, I went ham when it came to the “Who disturbs my slumber” line the tiger head had lol 😅(sorry that had become your defining trait, m’boi)

And the mass of riches he’s accumulated over the years was another obvious reference to the inside of the cave as well; can also act as a loose metaphor of what’s stopping him from getting the help he needs; as the treasures in the cave were put there w/ the intent of distracting a person from the ultimate goal of the magic lamp, so does his own treasures serve as a temporary distraction from moving forward in his life

But if that’s too much of a stretch, then plz slap the inner English teacher in me and then myself

Majid’s good at looking through people’s facades and judging a person’s true character, but it’s not like he does much w/ this info

Unless they try confronting him or something, he just avoids/shuts down people he gets bad vibes from

Doesn’t make tactless comments; figured out that dealing with pissed off people was more work than it’s worth

Boi tends to ask a lot of questions when speaking to other people; partly b/c of trust issues; partly b/c he might be lowkey judging you (can’t use his unique magic all the time after all :/)

He’s the type of person who acts like he knows everything, but he really doesn’t; just hates getting looked down upon in general; will bluff his way through situations by being as vague as possible

He leans towards how his mother used to speak; that is: beating around the bush

He won’t lie to you, but it might take some time until he’ll give you the whole truth; and when I say it’ll take some time, IT REALLY WILL TAKE SOME TIME B/C THIS BOY IS UNBELIEVABLY STUBBORN

Is casual to whoever he speaks to, no matter the age; if he gets extremely annoyed with someone, especially if they’re older than him, he’ll use this over exaggerated polite tone that makes it real obvious he’s fed up with them

Gets ticked off whenever anyone advises him to do anything, but he’ll still take that advice to heart

Majid’s probably tired all the time b/c of all the jewelry he’s carrying around smh

Majid sounds/looks like he’s angry all the time, but that’s just his resting face 😔; I mean, he’s always a little irritated, but it’s mostly b/c he’s stuck in that state of being forced awake from a deep afternoon nap (b/c... that’s usually what happens to him)

Plus, have you met his upperclassmen? Have you seen what was going on in Scarabia during Chapter 4?????? Have you met the headmaster of this school???????? (; ω ; )

He doesn’t like people touching stuff that’s his; same thing goes for people touching stuff in general that aren’t theirs; doesn’t like thieves (he’s stolen stuff when he was younger, but he justifies that he only did so to survive; and he’s not entirely wrong)

Ironic b/c his mom was a thief 🤭

He’s also a pretty obedient student save for the whole “trying to sleep in class w/o getting caught” thing that he’s still trying to accomplish; doesn’t like it when the professors get strict with him but will grit his teeth and bear with it

Prefers magic carpets to magic broomsticks; there’s just a lot more surface area when it comes to carpets plus he’s more familiar with the former

Spends a lot of his time in the Scarabia storage room b/c it reminds him of his bedroom back home; probably became buddies w/ Kalim’s magic carpet while he was there too

But if we’re talking about the type of people Majid could tolerate befriending uummm... maybe those with good hearts?? Idk, like those who are genuinely trying to be a good person no matter what kind of obstacles they run into (referencing how the cave of wonders only let a diamond in the rough enter)

They don’t have to be all nice or sweet, but as long as Majid can tell they have kind intentions, he won’t immediately leave them

Has a “haaah... these guys are hopeless... might as well keep an eye on them so they don’t screw up any more than they already have” attitude towards these people

Other type of person Majid would unintentionally befriend are those who are also annoyed of being told what to do by upperclassmen/authority figures; ☺️🙏 vent out your frustrations together wooo

Has some squabbles with Leona when it comes to napping locations

It’s actually pretty funny to watch b/c they both don’t want to give up their spot but also they don’t want to bother getting up

Leona wins most of the time, tho

Majid may have had a lot of energy when he was younger but now he’s a g e d

I rarely mention Majid’s lava illusion magic thing, but yeah that’s a thing; he probably won’t be able to use it to its full extent until his last year of high school and maybe a little bit later; it takes up a ton of energy; I keep on imagining him using it and joking that “aaaa the floor is lava lol”, but then I remember the psychological effects this ability has on the victim and 😬 yikes scratch that

Majid has a loud clear voice when he speaks; often startles whoever’s walking by when he naps in the shadows

As a result of spending most of his time w/o a stable support system and no one static to guide his beliefs, Majid doesn’t follow any particular religion; he does have coworkers back at the curio/appraisal/pawn shop who do, tho, and while he doesn’t entirely understand it, he respects them as much as he can

I’ve said before that Majid selfishly keeps all his wealth to himself for fear of losing his self worth, but there are some exceptions (such as to anyone he passes who’s begging in the streets, a coworker who’s struggling to make ends meet, etc.)

He’s fine with giving away some money, but not in huge amounts

And if he’s giving money to anyone, it’s done in a round about way; usually w/ a dismissive excuse

If this boi had a route, depending on how the MC acts around him, the majority of it will be spent breaking down those walls and befriending him; generally going like this: shovel all trust issues into incinerator one by one —>Get him to tolerate you —> Get him to trust you —> Befriend (?) Him —> Deal w/ his other deep seated issues —-> Romance (if we’re going for that otome game kinda thing i guess???))

I can just imagine Majid temporarily visiting the Land of Hot Sands w/ MC after befriending him and finding out the truth about his parents through his boss at the curio shop; MC encourages him to travel north to pay a visit at some facility b/c it’s rumored that at least his father is still alive

(No idea what happened to Lara; probably suffered worse consequences due to making several prison breaks; had decently powerful magical abilities, so that would probably explain the whole forced amnesia thing that happened after their disappearance)

Majid is torn b/w wanting to go alone b/c this is a personal matter (And he wants MC to be safe) and being scared of losing MC if something horrible happens to him on his journey north; he knows what it’s like to be suddenly abandoned, and he doesn’t want that for anybody, especially for someone he cares about

He doesn’t want to repeat his father’s mistakes, regardless if it was accidental or not

Majid decides to go on his own; probably had some touching parting w/ MC; maybe we’ll go full otome and have a hugging CG where he swears that he will be back for MC

And MC is just like “Aight;;; cool;;; good luck;;”; something sentimental like that

Couple of days passed; we’re worried about him

He returns with a worried look on his face before breaking into a relieved smile when he sees MC; power walks to hug them even tighter than before

Majid thanks them for all they’ve done; he then spends the rest of the day and well into the night describing all he’s experienced and his visit with his dad

They go back to NRC and Majid is less bratty than before, much to the surprise of Jamil and to the delight of Kalim; actually starts to make an effort to not push people away at every opportunity (b/c he originally felt like they all had their own hidden agenda and were just using him for their own gain, y’know)

Boi becomes even more clingy towards MC; by that, I don’t mean he’s overly attached to them (he’s afraid of making the same mistake he did in the past), but rather he shows it through light casual touches here and there (a brush of the fingers when exchanging papers, patting MC’s head when they do something well, gently tugging at their sleeve when he needs their attention) and constantly checking up on them to see how they’re doing

Awkward levels in Majid increase as he constantly wonders if he’s crossing a line when it comes to him showing any kind of affection; he doesn’t want to come off as creepy and make MC hate him

Might also resist being given love and affection at first; but once he gets used to it, he absolutely m e l t s

Cuddles are 👌; might give teary eyes if MC tries to leave early during a cuddling session, but he won’t pressure them to stay; a touch starved boi

Doesn’t think much of PDA, giving or receiving; full on making out and anything further is kind of a no-go, tho; hugging is nice and so are short and sweet kisses; will glare at anybody who says anything about it

If his s/o was clingier than he is, he might get a little embarrassed; same thing goes if his s/o was really cute

Definitely the type of boyfriend to buy random gifts for his s/o b/c these things reminded him of them

Younger Majid was in full on puppy mode all the time, or at least when he was around people he liked; also a huge people pleaser too, since he was afraid of them leaving him

He was probably reckless too in order to entertain his friends

Was really polite, especially when it came to adults; always calling them Mister and Miss(us)

He was also just loud

Future Majid (if he came to terms with most of his problems) would be more mellow than his teenage self; still anti-social but he’s less angry at the world now; would go on to own the curio shop after the previous owner passed on; reverted it into both a jewelry/appraisal shop in order to honor his father plus respect the previous owner’s memory as well

Sells and repairs jewelry and appraises supposedly rare items that come through his store; still does odd jobs for the people in the neighborhood but his prices aren’t as outrageously high as he made them when he was younger

He names the new store after his mother, at the request of his father (plus I only recently heard the song “House of Gold” by Twenty One Pilots and hnnnmmg it fits well with this golden boy)

Majid is interested in most things related to jewelry, probably subconsciously influenced by his father; this includes repairing bits of jewelry; he moves delicately when it comes to these kinds of tasks

He’s a night owl; it’s much quieter at night

Has bad posture from sleeping in different weird places

His body is prone to heating up easily; the fact that he lives in the Land of Hot Sands and was also sorted into Scarabia is just unfortunate luck

Sneaks off to cooler areas on campus in his free time to chill; one of his favorite spots is the Octavinelle lounge since it’s air conditioned and dark, and he can get away with taking a nap before going over his time limit and getting kicked out

The library is nice too (´∀｀)

Would like to go to Ignihyde too, but he’s put off by the feeling of being underground (gotta have that bit of irony like Jamil being afraid of bugs 👌)

He tolerates Kalim better than Jamil; probably b/c the latter scolds him for slacking off

Actually went to Kalim for tutoring advice once before realizing part of the way that his senior had no idea what he was doing; Jamil has earned his respect when it comes to academics

Kinda jealous of the duo’s stamina; Majid’s usually heaving for air after long marches or if he’s ever chosen as a backup dancer for one of Scarabia’s many parties; he’s the ( ・∇・) least athletic of my OCs...

No, he can’t dance, but he can feign the movements well enough to not get caught

#twisted wonderland oc #twst ocs #twisted wonderland ocs #twst oc #twst oc art #art #twisted wonderland oc art #writing #my art #my post #Majid #mun taro speaks #everytime i post about my ocs i see that one twitter post flash inside my mind #the one that goes like #me to my followers: hey im sorry i havent been posting about my ocs that much but #followers: ??? wait??? you have ocs???#I LOVE SLEEPING TOO MUCH IM SORRY #anyway yeah heres my boy #its mostly just character stuff b/c ive gone over most of his background in his profile and his parents post #will i do the same for the other kids i have?? maybe if i get the energy to...#im just biased for majid #if you managed to get through everything on here congrats #you have my love and undying loyalty from now on #also i didnt really know where i was going with all of this #if it seems like im jumping from one idea to another its b/c i was

34 notes · View notes

hisakata-resutomoshibi · 4 years

Note

Not to bother you, but I've been wondering what would happen next in that Inner Demon! Kuro au. It randomly popped into my head and now im curious lol. I'm not asking for another chapter if you dont want to write it, I just wanna know what u think would happen next! Your ideas are amazing and I love hearing from you! 🧡

Ah, you’re so sweet! Don’t take this too seriously as I haven’t planned any of it and barely edited it LOL but here you go my dear~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, and what am I supposed to make of that?"

It was hours later, or perhaps just minutes, and Mahiru found himself staring up at the slightly damp, bug riddled ceiling of the cave. He seemed to have fallen to the ground after Kuro had released his grip; maybe he had taken too much blood? The thought froze his muscles in visceral terror and his mind in a bid to remain sane immediately rejected the idea. Either way, he did distinctly remember hearing Kuro say that he belonged to Mahiru now, or something to that effect, and really, who wanted to have a psycho like this?

"What does what means?"

Kuro's eyes popped in to view over Mahiru's face and he flinched back, bashing his head further on the cold stone. Frowning in irritation, at the pain in his skull, the situation in general, he sighed. "What do you mean you're mine?"

The bright red that had flooded through Kuro's irises hadn't faded, in fact it seemed to have almost solidified against the former blue, looking like a small pool of swirling metallic paint splashed across the sky. As he watched, entranced, Kuro grinned.

"Pretty, right?" He blinked slowly, demonstratively. "The red is a nice touch, a very easy way to identify contracts."

"Contracts?" Mahiru repeated curiously. "What- no, I mean, how did your eyes change color?"

"This is your blood, Mahiru." Kuro said matter-of-factly. "I didn't expect it to be so beautiful, to be honest. Most blood mixes in like mud. Such a disappointing shade of brown. But this!" Kuro paused, fluttering a hand in front of his face.

"This is gorgeous. We must be compatible."

"Compatible..." Mahiru echoed, laughing weakly. "Great."

"You wanted to go home. I'll take you there."

"Hold on just a second." He pushed out a hand into the scant air between them and Kuro obligingly sat back, his head cocked in innocent puzzlement. "How do you know where I live?"

"I know everything that is YOU, now."

"Again, what exactly does that mean?"

Kuro smiled wickedly, leaning forward suddenly, a blur of vitality in the dank air of the cave. "Take it literally. Anything that means something to you, makes up a part of your identity, it's mine now. And in exchange-" He gestured down at himself, "you get this, anything you could possibly want."

Startled into silence, Mahiru felt his tongue form the sardonic comment before he could think better of it. "You're quite confident." As soon as the words were out he regretted them, praying that the offense they caused wouldn't be enough to get him ripped into little pieces, but Kuro only laughed, lighter and softer than anything Mahiru had heard before.

"Of course I'm confident. Do you still not know who I am, Mahiru?" His lips curled up mischievously and he ran a graceful, delicate finger, along Mahiru's jaw. "You're a bit thick, aren't you? Ah well, no matter! You're mine as well now, no turning back." Before Mahiru had the chance to feel offended, he continued. "I knew you were special the second I saw you."

The conversation was running in circles and it was only a matter of time before Mahiru got motion sickness trying to follow it, so, trying to decide the simplest course of action, he chose, simply, to ignore it. Obviously Kuro was not who he had originally thought, the eyes, the horns, the preternatural speed, no, there was no way to fake that, he was something else entirely, but the question was, what? Mahiru glanced over to find Kuro staring at him raptly and he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped. "Where am I supposed to hide you?"

"Is this just something that people like you can do?" Mahiru asked flatly, staring down at the tiny kitten at his feet. It turned it's wide, luminescent eyes (red like his blood, he thought) up to him and blinked. "I don't know what that means."

"You really are a demanding little one." Kuro muttered as he phased back into existence, occupying the space the cat had previously. "Of course not all of us can, it is something unique to I and a few others." He paused, seeming to think carefully before speaking. "Eight total."

There are seven others that can turn into animals?"

Kuro nodded slowly, almost regretfully. "Yes. Seven. But you don't need to worry about them."

"I'm not particularly worried." Mahiru sighed. "More like amazed." He watched for a moment as Kuro crept around his room, so cat like in his movements Mahiru almost laughed, and began to poke at several of the books piled haphazardly on his desk. "I do have a question."

As though he had been in anticipation, Kuro spun on his heel, books and exploration forgotten and a lopsided smile in place. "Yes?"

"Well, er-" Mahiru hesitated, biting his lip. "Not to be offensive or anything but, you're acting very... different now."

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"How so?"

"Well." Mahiru glanced over, quickly looking away again when he met Kuro's amused gaze. "Well, to be blunt, you're not acting like a total nut job anymore."

"A nut job." Kuro paused, digesting the phrase for a moment. "I do not know that one either." Four rapid steps had him directly in front of Mahiru again and he grinned. "There's so much you must tell me! But before that, what is the question?"

"Why?" Mahiu blurted. "Why are you suddenly..." He trailed off and, at a loss for definition, gestured vaguely at Kuro. "Like this?"

Shrugging casually, Kuro raised a brow. "One would act differently after becoming someone else, no?"

Putting a finger to his brow in fatigued annoyance, Mahiru groaned. "No w I just know you're fucking with me."

"Not yet, I assure you." Kuro said brightly, his grin widening impossibly when Mahiru blanched. "What can I say to make you understand?" He crossed his arms, gaze traveling lazily around the room. When his eyes lit upon the chair near the door and he paused. "I took from you and so you must take from me." He glanced over, his eyes shining through the shifting blacks and whites of his hair. "Give and take, tit for tat, you are a part of me and so I must honor that change. Act according to the new blood."

Mahiru frowned, attempting to construct something realistic or even vaguely understandable from what Kuro had just said. "So, you're different because of me?"

"Precisely. Perhaps if you were less stubborn I would not be quite so composed?" Kuro laughed, just a shadow of the maniacal, wild abandon from previously and shrugged. "It's an interesting change." He raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though looking up into the sky. "Not unwelcome. Certainly different from what I am used to."

"What you're used to?" Mahiru prompted him after a moment.

"Things at the court can be unbalanced." Kuro said slowly. "And so for the most part we are... unpredictable."

Forgoing asking who exactly "we" was because he was fairly certain he didn't want to know anyway, Mahiru frowned darkly, remembering the shattered stalls and engulfing flames he had so barely escaped earlier."You seemed like a psycho."

Kuro laughed happily. "That sounds like a compliment!"

"It's not." Mahiru said flatly. "Psycho is bad." He too glanced around the small room quickly, taking in the limited space and lack of guest furniture. "So now what? I accept that you are some kind of- of- mythical creature. But I do not accept that I am stuck with you."

"Whether you accept or not is of no consequence." Kuro sang, reaching out and plucking a sweater from where it lay draped over the foot of the bed. "We have a contract." He began to twist it back and forth, inspecting it from every angle, eyes wide in puzzlement.

"About that. I didn't agree to any contract. So I don't really think it's legally binding." Mahiru crossed his arms, attempting his best impersonation of authority.

Kuro shrugged, pulling the sweater over his head, horns turning to a bright translucent fog for a moment to allow for the collar to pass over them, and smiled, something quick and genuine, and Mahiru felt his heart skip a beat. "Unfortunate for you then that the fae do not care for legality."

It was an hour later, Mahiru standing in front of the cupboard contemplating it's bare shelving, that he finally admitted to himself that he was not the best at entertaining visitors. Not even a spare loaf of bread. He slammed the door shut in frustration and glanced into the living room, finding Kuri still curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Mahiru had turned it on in desperation about forty minutes ago and Kuro had not moved since. It was currently airing some strange episodic gum commercial but judging by Kuro's expression you would have thought it was a documentary of the end of the world.

"How do they do this?" Kuro asked suddenly and Mahiru turned fully, watching as he pointed to the screen upon which was a helicopter view of the city.

"Do what?"

"Record this? Is that what you called it? It's so detailed!"

Mahiru wandered closer, unable to ignore the impulse and peered over Kuro's shoulder. "You said you were some magical being but you've never seen a TV? Where have you been all this time?"

"In the woods, mostly." Kuro answered casually. "It seems I should have ventured farther into town sooner!"

Briefly imagining the utter devastation Kuro would have wrought unchecked had he indeed entered the heart of the town Mahiru held back a shiver and shook his head. "No. No way. You are way too much trouble."

"It is not I that wishes for such destruction." Kuro said, flicking his sharp gaze up to Mahiru. "I only embody what you desire."

"You keep saying that." Mahiru muttered, looking away in discomfort. "Listen. Do you need food? Or..." He trailed off in embarrassment, completely gobsmacked that the next words were about to leave his mouth. "Or are you actually a vampire?"

"Vampire." Kuro rolled the word around for a moment and shrugged. "Call me what you will. You humans have always had such curious need to name everything. Regardless, it will not change that I simply am."

Mahiru sighed. He really was getting so tired of all this mystical bullshit. "So then, did you want to get dinner?"

Kuro froze, his shoulders going taut beneath the blanket he had huddled up in. "Dinner?" His eyes were darting from side to side as though in worry, though there was nothing but an innocuous soap opera preview on.

"Yeah? You know, we go somewhere and get food? I honestly hate the idea of bringing you in public, but I don't have anything here." Mahiru admitted, frowning. "You have to behave."

"Ah, I see." Kuro turned, fixing Mahiru with a strange look. "You need to eat then?"

"I take it, based on this conversation that you don't actually require food." Mahiru muttered sarcastically. "But yes, I'm hungry."

"Very well. Let's go." Kuro stood in one quick move, the blanket falling from his shoulders and to the couch and Mahiru flinched back a step, having completely forgotten just how tall Kuro really was. At his jerking retreat, Kuro raised a brow and a mocking smile flew across his face. "Do you truly find me so frightening?"

An immediate affirmation withered on Mahiru's tongue as he studied Kuro's expression. It was neutral and empty but somewhere, deep beneath the veneer of indifference, he thought he could see a wiggling of disappointment. He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did, or even why he would care to do so in the first place but he found himself snorting and reaching out to wrap his hand around Kuro's wrist, tugging him roughly around the back of the couch and towards the kitchen. "Of course not, idiot. What's scary about you?"

#servamp #asks #blackcat!Kuro #my writing #should I add the tag #fae!Kuro #?#ever since Kat said I can't get it out of my head #as evidenced here LOL #Mahiru Shirota #hmmm

23 notes · View notes

phanlight · 3 years

Text

Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him.

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat. “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense.

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.”

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel.

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk. “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

#phan #phanfic #dnp #dan and phil #phan au #illaks #i posted this to ao3 ages ago but never did here apparently

4 notes · View notes

tonystarkstan · 5 years

Note

Idk if your taking prompts so sorry BUT. imagine Tony find some footage or audio of when Peter got crushed by that building and he just crumples because it’s h i s fault because he took the suit and why did he expect Peter to not be the hero? (Sorry for bad grammar lol)

“Tony,” Pepper calls, voice sounding serious as she walks into the lab. Tony, who’s elbow-deep in a new suit, trying to fix the wiring in the knee, shakes his head irritably.

“Whatever meeting I missed, scold me about it later. I’m kind of literally in the middle of something right now,” he tells her, not even bothering to look up.

“That’s not - there’s something you need to see. It’s about the kid,” she tells him.

That gets his attention. He looks up, taking note of the shaken look on her face.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asks urgently, already extracting his arms from the suit and getting ready to call his functioning one into action. Pepper just shakes her head and thrusts the tablet in front of him.

“Is he posting videos of the Avengers on YouTube again? Because Happy and I already talked to hi -”

“Tony,” Pepper cuts him off. “Just watch it.”

Tony sighs, but he’s curious now - and a little worried, too, because not much fazes Pepper - so he quickly hits play.

The video feed is grainy and dark, except for a small lamp at the end of the room, where a lone figure is shuffling around a desk.

“Hey! Surprised?” a voice yells, and Tony squints as a smaller figure dressed in red and blue walks in. He turns to Pepper in confusion.

“Is this live?” he asks, frowning when she simply purses her lips and shakes her head. He keeps watching.

“Oh, hey, Pete,” the man greets, as if they’re old friends. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s over - I’ve got you!” Peter continues, stalking purposely towards the man.

“You know, I gotta tell you, Pete - I really, really admire your grit. I see why Liz likes you,” the man compliments, and Tony’s eyes widen.

“This is Toomes?” he asks incredulously. “Peter never told me about - about this. Just the plane.”

Pepper’s eyes look sad as she says, “Just keep watching.”

“ - could you do this to her?” Peter is asking, and Tony watches, tense.

“To her? I’m not doing anything to her, Pete. I’m doing this for her,” Toomes explains.

Peter laughs dryly at that and shoots a web at Toomes, trapping him to the desk. Tony stares at the screen, transfixed, as he listens to Toomes try to convince Peter that people like Tony don’t care about people at the bottom of the totem pole.

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s the same spiel he’s heard a billion other times from villains who like to think they’re special.

He can’t help but feel a twinge of unease, though. There’s something about the whole situation, the relaxed, casually manner with which Toomes is standing there that sets him on edge. Almost like -

“I needed a little time to get her airborne,” Toomes says, pulling out a knife and slashing through the webbing.

Tony winces as a pair of huge, metallic wings come soaring in, and he inhales sharply as Peter darts quickly out of the frame. The wings fly around erratically, crashing into the large supports.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tomes calls, not sounding sorry at all as Peter skids on the ground and straightens up again.

“What are you talking about?” Peter scoffs. “That thing hasn’t even touched me yet!”

Toomes shrugs. “True, but then again, it wasn’t really trying to,” he says, and Tony’s blood freezes in his veins.

He watches with a sort of muted horror as the last of the supports is torn down and the ceiling caves in, directly on top of the kid - he’s only a kid for Christ’s sake! - and the screen goes static. He turns a frantic look to Pepper.

“Pep, what -”

“He’s fine,” she quickly reassures, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. “This is in the past, he’s okay now.”

Tony can still hear the friction of rock on rock, and he realizes that somehow, the audio is still picking up. He waits anxiously, straining to hear any sound that indicates Peter’s okay. He knows logically that Peter’s fine - hell, he was just at the lab yesterday. But with what he just saw, Tony can’t quite convince himself of it.

Finally, a high-pitched whimper breaks through the white noise of gravel, followed by a series of strained grunts and gasps.

Tony listens, horrified, as the kid practically hyperventilates in panic before steeling himself to try to move.

“Okay, ready?” Peter gasps to himself, followed by a strained yell, eventually cut off by a choked sob that has Tony’s heart clenching painfully in his chest. It’s not a sound he ever wants to hear again.

“HELP!” Peter yells hoarsely, and a chill runs down Tony’s spine. This isn’t just a superhero in a situation gone south. This is a kid who is alone and terrified. “HELP! Please, please! Any - please, I’m down here,” Peter pleads through harsh sobs. “I’m down here and I’m stuck - I’m stuck, I can’t move, I can’t -”

Tony listens helplessly as Peter tries to breathe, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. Beside him, Pepper is looking away, eyes shining with tears as she listens to a kid cry for help where no one can hear him.

Then, it all goes silent. Peter’s breaths stop, and Tony looks at Pepper in alarm, but she shakes her head. For a startling moment, the silence continues. And then, he hears it, at first just a faint whisper. But then it gets stronger.

“Come on, Spider-Man,” Peter says shakily, but there’s something determined in his voice now. The desperation for help is gone, and Tony’s stomach sinks as he realizes why. This is the sound of a kid who’s realized that no one can save him but himself.

“Come on, Spider-Man!” Peter repeats, straining, and Tony hears the sound of rock shifting again. “COME ON, SPIDER-MAN!” Peter yells this time, and now there’s so much movement that the rest of Peter’s strained sounds are lost to the shifting cement and metal.

A loud crash sounds, and then everything stops, dust settling under the sound of tired pants.

Peter made it out.

Tony stands there, frozen, as Pepper gently stops the video and pries the tablet from his tight grip. He’s distantly surprised he didn’t drop the thing. He barely notices as Pepper carefully maneuvers him into a chair, too caught up in his thoughts.

How - how did he not know? It’s been months since Toomes was thrown in jail. And all this time - how does Peter not hate him? This is all my fault, Tony thinks, self-loathing gripping his lungs and making it impossible to breathe.

“Tony? Tony, you have to breathe!” Pepper is saying urgently, cupping his face. “Peter’s okay, I promise he’s okay now.”

Tony tries to inhale, gripping the hand on his cheek. “I - this is all my fault,” he gasps, spiraling into an abyss of self-recrimination.

“No no no,” Pepper says firmly. “This is Toomes’ fault. You did nothing wrong.”

“No, Pep,” Tony argues, trying to get himself under control again. “I took - I took his suit. I have - I have to make this right,” he says in determination, shrugging himself from her grasp.

“I have to make this right.”

“May!” Tony greets cheerfully as she opens the door with a puzzled look. “Is Peter here? I’m sorry for the late visit, but he wasn’t answering his phone and I needed to update him on some urgent internship stuff.”

Her expression clears, and she nods and steps back. “Yup, he’s working on homework. He usually turns off his phone so it doesn’t distract him,” she explains, and he can’t help but smile at that.

The kid’s a nerd through and through.

“He’s certainly dedicated,” Tony comments. “Mind if I go in? I’ll make it quick.”

She shakes her head and gestures to the hallway. “Go for it.”

Tony nods gratefully and walks quietly to the door, feeling an unfamiliar sense of nervousness. He knocks gently.

“Come in,” Peter calls, and Tony opens the door. “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise, I just have four mor - Mr. Stark?”

Tony smiles wryly, clasping his hands behind his back. “The one and only,” he confirms, and Peter shakes his head, confused.

“Is - is something wrong?” His eyes widen. “Is there a mission?” he whispers urgently, already scrambling towards his suit, but Tony holds out an arm to stop him.

“No, no - there’s no mission,” Tony says. Peter gives him a confused look.

“Then why…?” he trails off, gesturing to Tony, and Tony sighs, running an unsure hand through his hair. He has no idea how to do this. He didn’t come here with a plan. All he knew was that he needed to see the kid for himself, needed to make things right.

Tony decides to do what he’s always done: get straight to the point.

“I know about Toomes,” he says bluntly, with no preamble. “I know about the warehouse.”

Peter flinches bodily at that, face going white, and Tony curses himself for not being more tactful.

“I - w-what do you mean?” Peter stutters nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tony sighs again, looking at the barely-concealed fear behind Peter’s eyes. “Kid, I saw the footage,” he says gently.

Peter inhales sharply at that, looking away. He never wanted anyone to see him like that, reduced to a pathetic, sobbing mess. Instead, his hero - his idol - saw everything.

Tony walks closer and kneels in front of the kid, carefully turning Peter in his chair to face him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks softly.

Peter looks down at his hands, fidgeting. “You didn’t ask?” At Tony’s incredulous look, he rushes to continue. “It just - after everything, I didn’t want to give you another reason to be mad at me. It wasn’t even that important,” he shrugs helplessly, and Tony’s face hardens at that.

“‘Not important’?” he scoffs. “Peter, what you experienced was traumatic. How are you not - how are you even okay?”

Peter smiles sadly at that. “I-I mean, I wasn’t? Not for awhile, at least. But then I just - I dunno. Got over it?”

Tony shakes his head. “This isn’t the kind of thing you just ‘get over,’” Tony insists. He hesitates before, “How do you not hate me?”

Peter looks taken aback by the question. “What?! Why would I hate you?”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to look baffled. “Peter, I took away your suit. You would have been okay had it not been for that.”

Peter actually has the audacity to laugh at him softly, shaking his head a little. “No way. I deserved that.” Tony opens his mouth to protest, but Peter cuts him off. “No, really. I was being stupid, thought I could just play at being a hero without knowing what it really means to be one.” He shrugs. “It was a rude awakening but. I needed it.”

For a minute, there’s just silence as Tony processes that. Then, he lets out a big breath and shakes his head in awe. “Kid, you are something else,” he says in amazement, but Peter just dodges his gaze shyly, shrugging off the praise.

Eventually, Tony says, “And the actual traumatic event you went through - how are you dealing with that?”

Peter just shrugs again, fiddling with a pencil on his desk. “Mostly I just keep myself busy, you know? With patrol and the internship and school, I don’t really have a lot of time to think about it.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “So what I’m hearing is that you haven’t dealt with it.”

“It’s not even that bad!” Peter whines defensively.

“Oh yeah?” Tony challenges. “And the nightmares? Panic attacks? How are those?”

Peter looks away, face reddening, and Tony nods to himself. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters.

There’s another small silence as Peter continues to mess around with his pencil before Tony sighs heavily.

“Listen, kid,” he starts, waiting until he’s got Peter’s full attention before continuing. “This superhero stuff isn’t easy. I know all too well what having to deal with the repercussions of what we see everyday alone is like. It sucks. And I’m not letting you do this alone anymore,” he says fiercely.

He watches as Peter’s eyes start to well with emotion, a tired, hopeful look that wasn’t there before making itself known. Tony carefully reaches out and rests a hand on the back on the kid’s neck, pulling him close. Peter shudders under his hold, the floodgates opening to tears of hurt and relief at not having to deal with this alone anymore.

Tony rests his head on the soft curls, murmuring softly, a promise.

“I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.”

#yikes this turned out much longer than i meant for it to #but i had a lot of fun with it #and i ended up watching most of sm:h lmao #thanks for the prompt anon #i hope i delivered and im sorry if i didnt #peter parker #tony stark #avengers #marvel #iron dad #spider son #mcu #fanfic #angst #whump #my writing #irondad and spiderson #hope writes #i think im gonna post this to the archive as its own story

2K notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #274

“now i can hear the marching feet / they’re moving into the street”

What color was the last swimsuit you wore? I only have a black one. Is your dream job attainable? I mean define “dream job.” I’d ideally be a meerkat biologist if I was willing to live in Africa and could handle even mild heat, but I can’t/won’t do either of those, so it’s not obtainable to me. I’d also love to be a paleontologist if I could travel and handle heat once more, but again, I can’t. My only *attainable* dream job is being a photographer, which I am aiming for. I’d LIKE to focus on nature/wildlife photography, but that’s unlikely to be able to support me, so. Do you have to go to school or work tomorrow? N/A Have you slept for longer than usual today? Yes, but only because of my nightmares. I tend to take at least two (though sometimes one) hour-long naps during the day because if I wake up once during the night, as I usually do, I’m fucked because I’m very likely to have an intense nightmare. It seems like the medicine I’m on wears off with consciousness, I guess. I only allow myself to sleep an hour at daytime because my mother has noticed if I have a nightmare, it’s usually no earlier than one hour into sleep. Even then I still have them occasionally. Have you ever taken classes for a musical instrument? Recorder in elementary school was necessary for whatever stupid reason, and then I played the flute for years. Out of school, I took guitar lessons for a while. I got semi-decent (at best I could do the intro to “Crazy Train” at normal speed, I think), but it didn’t last because it was annoying/time-consuming to build up the calluses that make playing painless, I was really bad at overthinking where my fingers were, and I just wasn’t invested quite enough. I’ll tell you, it gave me mad respect for guitarists, that shit isn’t easy by any means. Have you ever been on vacation with someone other than your family? Yes, though it was brief. I was a kid (okay, pre-teen, w/e) still in my separation anxiety from Mom phase and it was literally because of me we had to go home. I still feel shitty about it, though no one seemed upset at me. How old do you think you’ll be when you move out on your own? Who the fuck even knows anymore. Do you have a job? If so, where do you work? If not, do you want one? No; N/A; yes ultimately but no at the current moment because I have to keep watch over Mom. If you wear make-up, which brand of foundation/powder do you use? N/A Would you call yourself a “people” person? Nope. What is one change you need to make in your life this month? Just one??? What’s been tugging on your heart lately? My PTSD plus self-image has been very, very bad. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Mom had to clean up my cat’s projectile vomit even though she’s supposed to stay away from this kinda stuff through chemo. I literally cannot fucking touch vomit, never mind what came out of him that night. I felt like absolute fucking shit and I still do because WOW I’m a great adult right!! Do you have any physical traits that are bothering you lately? Like, everything. What kind of dog is your favorite? I’m biased to beagles. What was the last thing you received in the mail? A book. What is the last thing you wrote? Like, physically? My signature at the doctor’s office. Do you still care about the person you first kissed? Way fucking more than I should. Do you require a lot of private time? Definitely more than most people. Do you have any songs currently stuck in your head? I haven’t listened to it in forever for ~reasons~, yet “The Mortician’s Daughter” is stuck in my head badly and really needs to fuck off. What was the last song you downloaded? I dunno, I went on a download binge a while back. Have you ever read a really funny book? I remember at least one. “Bite Me” by IDR-Who. Some vampire satire. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? Never reached the point of being drunk. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? fuckin YIKES I am NOT attractive rn go away Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? HAHA my mom has always had the decency to knock, not so much his mom a;lwkejrewoei but the answer’s still no. What electronics are in your room? (DVD player, CD player, etc) This laptop, my phone, a Nintendo DS, my iPod… Do you have a box anywhere with special items you'll to keep forever in it? Yes, actually. Grew up calling them “treasure boxes.” Do you have any pictures of yourself on your bedroom walls? Lol no, I’d definitely prefer to not see myself as much as I can. That sounds melodramatic, but I’m being serious. It either depresses me or makes me angry. Does your dad collect anything? The Cleveland Browns’ football team stuff, for one. Maybe Carolina Hurricane stuff, too? Idk. I don’t live with him and don’t go in his “man cave” at his house often ha ha. What's better, a desktop or laptop? Explain. A laptop. Portable; that’s all the explanation ya really need. Do your parents still hide chocolate eggs around on Easter for you? Nah. What do you typically do on Easter Day? We go to my sister’s house to watch the kids do their egg hunting and open their gifts, then we usually go to Ashley’s in-laws’ for dinner. Is there anyone you literally need to exist? Apparently not. Thought so. Never let yourself into that state of mind. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand-written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Oh, a hand-written poem would wreck me, yeesh. Or a drawing. But any would be very sweet. Do you remember why you made the last mistake you did? I don’t know the most recent mistake, but probably because I’m just in general a terrified person who second-guesses or overanalyzes everything. Did you check how many calories the last thing you ate had? Yes. I’m back on my calorie-counting obsession again. Are your nails long or short? Short, always. I can’t keep them long. What is your favorite kind of cookie? Just the ordinary chocolate chip is fine. What was the last compliment you received? I don’t know. Who will be the next person you kiss? I normally delete this question because the answer should be so obvious, but I feel like just pointing it out that no one fucking knows who they’re gonna kiss next. It’s a dangerous mindset. Don’t make assumptions about what you’ll have even tomorrow. Have you ever made your own icon? Yeah, on many sites. They’re just about always just edits, though, not truly original work. What color is your computer mouse? It’s black. Have you ever been sung to on your birthday in a restaurant? Yes. Do you like black olives? I don’t like olives period. Do you actually think there will be a zombie apocolypse? Personally, no. I do think it’s scientifically possible, we already see this in insects, but I just don’t imagine it happening to humans before we’re our own downfall. Do you like the person you’ve become over the past years? Fuck no. Have you ever gone to church just to get a significant other? … No…? Have you ever punched a wall out of complete anger? No, that shit is terrifying. Are you really ticklish? YES don’t fucking touch me. How do you decide what you're going to eat each day? I just follow what I’m craving that day. How are you similar to your siblings? Different? Compared to Ashley and Nicole at least, I can’t think of any real similarities off the top of my head. They’re intelligent, motivated, outgoing, successful, yada yada, then there’s me. What's your favorite type of non-fiction literature? Autobiographies by people I’m actually interested in. Do you believe in souls? Soulmates? Souls, absolutely. Soulmates, no. It’s fairytale ideation to think your soul has a perfect match with another, hate to break it to ya. Favorite soundtrack? BITCH don’t make me choose between Shadow of the Colossus and Silent Hill 2. Fucking masterpieces. Pianos or guitars? *shrugs* Depends on the music and my mood. Did an animal ever bite you? Never seriously. How many languages do you speak? Only English fluently. I’m poor at German by now. Wiggly worms or bumble bees? Worms gross me out, bees are Good Boys. Religion? I don’t really identify with any. I just believe there’s some form of ultimate intelligence and essences beyond just the body, and that’s all I even pretend to know. Fog, thunder, or rain? Fog gives me that Silent Hill Vibe *Italian kiss* What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? The way I treated Jason after the breakup. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? Damn pollen. Do you know anyone else with your name? Yeah. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Viruses or botflies. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? I very legitimately want to live in Canada by now, but I won’t because I’m not moving that far from family. Who seems like they have the perfect life? I try not to make that assumption of anyone. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Does taking pictures of roadkill count???? lmao probably Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? Well… I guess it depends. Like ngl, the pictures some people share of them having panic attacks to just show how fucking real they are definitely touch you, as do those depicting poverty, etc., BUT I really do think there are limits and also differences in motivations. What time zone are you in? EST. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? Wow, speaking of. No. ^Why or why not? I am an UGLY cry-er, my man. But I also just don’t want people to see that, and it’s definitely not on my mind to take a picture during a breakdown. What was the last thing you cried about? My life. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yes. Do you know anyone who has twins? Yes. Where do you buy calendars from? I don’t. Do you shop at the dollar store often? Not *often*, but we’ll stop by for a snack or something sometimes. Are you following in the career path of any family members? No. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I guess in some ways. Who was that best friend you ever had? Sara. What color is your laptop? Black. What are five careers you think you’d be good at? My work history has shown I can’t do shit right. Are you thriving in your life right now? lmao no one is in 2020. Who do you have moral support from? My family, doctor, and a few friends. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? The same as above. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Wow, I hope not. Do you have a walk-in closet? No, but my room at the new house will. :’) Not that I need one, it’s just pretty cool. How do you feel about people like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and Jeff Bezos having so much power and control in the world? Do you believe that any one person should have so much power? Let’s be real, in our current world, money is power, and no one should have that much control of the world, especially if your intentions are bad. NOW I don’t know jack shit about any of those are far as morals go, but just saying. It’s dangerous. Has your anxiety alone ever prevented you from doing something you wanted to do? This is ACTUALLY the story of my fucking life. Do you enjoy reading stories and novels that are heavily stylistic, poetic, or unconventional or do you prefer your prose to follow a familiar grammatical structure? Okay, I LOVE those, like Johnny Got His Gun and The Handmaid’s Tale that’s kinda like, run-on writing. Just letting a train of thought go. Those are two of the most powerful books I’ve ever read and they’re both written in a unique fashion. Have you ever fallen for any sort of Internet-based hoax? (e.g., fake celeb death, satire news article…) I’m sure at some point, especially as a kid. Do you tend to read reviews before you watch a movie or read a book? What do you hope to get out of doing so? NO. I don’t wanna have any precognition. When you go to a concert, how far must you travel for the most usual venues you visit? Most are on the other end of the state, and NC is long, so. We’re lucky if they come to Raleigh. Do you rent movies frequently? I never do, really. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Take pictures or swim. What’s your favorite meal to cook? I don’t cook. What movie has been taken WAY too far, as far as sequels go? Oh, I’m sure there are some, but none immediately come to mind. I’m not that into movies. Do you refuse to eat certain foods because of what they look like? Yes. I am VERY poor at getting past how a food looks. What are you listening to? NSP’s cover of “Don’t Fear The Reaper.” It’s fuckin gorgeous. How much homework do you have tonight? N/A Are you wearing any bracelets? Yes; one that Sara got me as well as an ovarian cancer awareness one. What's physically wrong with you right now? JINKIES I just feel really lethargic like always. Do you take any medications daily? Ha ha thanks for actually reminding me I need to now. When was the last time you moved to a new house? Two years ago, and now we’ll be moving to a much better place by the end of this month/early September, finally. When it comes to relationships, are you the jealous type? Nah. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? Idk actually. It’s not like I use it a lot. Can you remember the last time you felt ill? What was wrong with you? A few nights ago. I was extremely hot, dizzy, and pretty nauseated. I was fine, though. If you wear make-up, do you take it with you, to reapply throughout the day? Does your make-up stay for a long time after you first apply it, or do you find that you need to reapply often? Are you wearing any make-up atm? I pretty much never wear makeup so have never really had a reason to reapply it. I’m definitely not wearing any now. Does your kitchen have a theme? No. Do you like ice cream sandwiches? GIRL yes. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds. They’re more comfortable imo but more importantly block out exterior noise very well. Are you a fan of any independent films? ngl, I don’t know exactly what that is and I don’t feel like looking it up. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I very genuinely think some of the RP stories I’ve taken part in are novel-worthy, yes. I wanted to make them books when I was younger, but now I no longer do mainly because there are areas that are just way too fucking dark that I don’t wanna put out there but play massive parts in the stories, so like… Do you regularly watch the news? I never do. Facebook is my “news” source lmao. Who was the last person you video-chatted with? I don’t remember for sure, maybe some doctor? What do you want the theme of your wedding to be? I don’t really think about this, seeing as my mind has changed enough, and it also depends on what my partner wants, too. Have you ever been caught passing a note in class? Noooo, I absolutely hated passing notes because I was genuinely a good student. I only did so very, very rarely if another friend started it. Have you ever had dandruff? I have dandruff AND a dry scalp. It’s a wonderful mix. Have you ever gone through a phase of crushing on EVERYONE? Definitely not. Do you have any clothes with spikes/studs on them? I have a spiked choker, and I might still have gloves with studs? Can you remember what you last clapped for? My mom’s birthday! :’) Have you ever given a pet to someone else? Yes, with cats; we had to do that quite often when I was a kid because we had so many cats, none which we could afford to fix. Then we’ve done it with two dogs we just couldn’t handle. Oh yeah, I gave my iguana away too because he was too high maintenance for me, but also because he DESPERATELY needed a much bigger terrarium, which we couldn’t afford. I absolutely could not watch him in that tiny tank. I miss him a LOT, but he went to a wonderful home! The lady who adopted him sent me pictures upon pictures months after taking him in. Do you know anyone named Walter? No. What's your least favorite ice-cream flavor? Strawberry is fucking disgusting. And that’s coming from someone whose favorite fruit is strawberries. What's your least favorite song by your favorite artist? I’m not sure. There’s a handful that just don’t grab my attention that I don’t even remember them. What was the last good news you heard? I can FINALLY talk to my psychiatrist tomorrow. Who’s your favorite singer of all time? Probably Freddie Mercury. What airline do you fly most? Idk, I don’t really pay attention. I haven’t flown very often though anyway. Do you have a dog that is destructive? I don’t have a dog. What’s one TV series you’ve seen every episode of? Meerkat Manor is the most obvious, ha ha. Maaaaany times. Assuming you have Facebook, who last left you a wallpost? Probably my friend Sammi. Assuming you have hair, how are you wearing it today? It’s too short for me to “wear” it any particular way. It’s just… there lmao. Assuming you're not homeless, what kind of living arrangements do you have? I live with my mom in a house she’s renting. Have you or have you ever considered messing around with the same sex? I’m bisexual so you can guess I’m not opposed to it. Are you particular about any brands of food you will or will not eat? Are there any restaurants you refuse to go to? Brands, no. I don’t eat Chick-fil-a because they’re run by fucking homophobic bigots that monetarily support conversion therapy and other anti-LGBT projects. I’m not giving you any fucking money. What was the most current dream you can remember about? Do you generally dream every night, or hardly at all? It was actually last night, when I dreamed about accidentally running into Jason where I last knew he worked, and he was really hostile. If I don’t take my medicine, I always have nightmares when I sleep.

#survey #quiz #questions #questionnaire

1 note · View note

mecharina · 6 years

Text

A letter to Southern Grimvault

I guess this is my ‘Good-bye to WS’ post.

After the initial announcement of the game’s shut down two weeks ago, I haven’t had any idea how to properly express my feelings about Wildstar being close down. Seeing other people’s posts here and lurking on the many groups in discord of the news, I just felt a giant wave of sadness come over me and I couldn’t properly express that.

But I guess I’ve gathered my thoughts enough to where I’m writing this, so. It’s mostly for me, just to come in terms with everything. So take it as you will if you do read it.

P.S. It’s Long. P.P.S I’m not good at writing, so pardon for any odd phrasing or grammar lol

I used to farm the area for heartichoke (and later bloodbriar when it became more profitable) late at night w/ my mechari (To my best son, Romulus). It was a very routine thing I did when I didn’t (at the time) have a guild to partake in activities with.

Passing through Conqueror Square, around 10-11 pm PST, when the only physical activity you could see in Illium was at best, 2-4 people, was a normal sight for me as I headed to the transporters. (Rapid transport? I’m stingy) It was the end of a day for most, but the beginning for me as it was my goal, through this repeated and really obsolete method at the time, to gain more plat.

When loaded in, I put my mini-map on maximum size so I would be able to discern which crops to farm and others to stay away. (I didn’t use a mod to pin point which was which. I never had felt the need to.) Minimized all quests windows, locking them into place so I didn’t accidentally click on them when I was moving around. I ignored nchat for the most part, but did take the occasional peek when curious.

All the while, I would be listening to the movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel”. Why that particular movie to this map? I really have no idea, to be frank. I don’t own a physical copy of the movie. And I’m more of a fan of Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox really. But this was the movie that always played in the background as I farmed. Eventually, the movie came synonymous with this map. It was just automatic for me to put it on-- late at night, with my earphones plugged in. Any extra noise in game, except the sfx for moving around in the world, would be the only thing I would be listening to for next 2-3 hours.

As the third party host site played the movie in the background, I farmed in S. Grimvault. I definitely do not have the lines memorized by heart for this movie despite me listening to it on repeat. But I’ve connected parts in the movie as to what areas in the map I would be located at the time. The first lines, “It is an extremely common mistake: people think the writer’s imagination is always at work...” would indicate myself being near Vigilant Incursion, just before the Strain Wall event on Dommie side. I’d run up the hill and make my way around the perimeter, closes to the wall as I looked over whether or not there was something I wanted to farm there.

“Ten? Are you joking? That’s more than I’d pay an actual dealer -- and you wouldn’t know chiarascuro from chicken giblets,” line would usually be before or about around the Charlie Company Crash area, Exile side. To “Don’t flirt with her.” approximately around the entrance to Northern Grimvault between the two Exile and Dominion outposts. If the line was heard before I past the area, meant I made good time, or if a little after, meant I needed to pick up the pace. (Why it mattered whether I hurried along with farming had no real consequence, of course I didn’t want to spend the ENTIRE night there.)

The lines were sorta like markers for me, the starting point being at the Dominion drop in, all the way around through Exile side of S.Grimvault and through the perimeter of the Strain infested areas before coming back around to Vigilant Incursion. Given this was the path I always took when farming, I took to noticing and exploring things. Only natural for me. Since no one was ever really there, save the occasional leveling player or a bot attacking at monsters. (I swore the first time I saw a bot, I thought legitimately it was a real person... In the back of my mind I kinda did hope it was a real person. Goes to show how lonesome of a person I was then lol).

I know I could have just searched google and typed up things like “Locations of Elite Bosses in S.Grimvault” or “What areas do Champion Bosses spawn in S. Grimvault” but my intention was never to fulfill the achievement quota when I was there. Finding and fighting bosses was a side quest I gave myself when farming. (The extra gold never hurt.) And they became part of the farming routine as I gathered and found more of these bosses and where they were located. (I only ever tackled fighting the rock and strain champion bosses, the charging rhino creature and the Eldan bot were some I couldn’t last long enough to win against.)

The entire routine itself, this farming in Southern Grimvault, was something I did look forward to in the late evenings. I would probably be done around 2-3 am, willing if I didn’t stay longer. Eventually, all the prior set up just became a blur, like, you’ve done it plenty of times, so much so it goes by like ‘that.’ At this point, as I farmed, I thought about things, stuff pertaining to WS in-game, lore, or character development.

One thought I repeatedly went back to in terms of WS was the economy, that if more people played, and how heartichoke and bloodbriar would soar as hot ticket items on the market. I imagined myself to be one of those stuck-up vets (at farming) who knew all the good spots and places to gather said items, being a little greedy and garnering enough plat through this practice to reach the milestone of 1000 plat. ( A personal goal <o/ )

Or story ideas for my characters, coincidentally most of them concerned Rom because I always played him during these times. How he’d go to the market the next day, after rigorously spending the day/night prior harvesting these crops, how he’d haggle with merchants and make a pretty plat. How he’d send Kalua to university in Cassus, or help fund/support his brother Remus’s endeavors with the Torine. Just little plot/character ideas that came into mind at the time.

By the time I hear the credits roll in the background, I’m back near Vigilant Incursion. Upon arriving, I make a quick visit to the renown vendor, sell my extra loot and organize decor/items I’ve gotten and head back to Illium. Most times I’d head back into housing, but recent (recent as in months before when I still farm regularly) I’d just be in Illium and log off. I’d call it a night and that would be the end of it.

I suppose, why I’m writing PARTICULARLY about this personal routine rather than the times I’ve RP’d or done raiding, or gone through the story of WS, or even the drawings I’ve done for the game... is that-

That I thought I’d always be able to come back to it.

When I felt sad, or down, or wanted to relax after a long day, late nights farming in Southern Grimvault always gave me a peace of mind. The map was vast enough that I could spend 2-3 hours, while listening to a movie, to farm, explore, and goof around. I’d be able to process myself through this simple action of swinging giant claws at a plant or garnering a couple gold from a boss.

But now that this is something that won’t happen anymore, it’s a bit sad to think that I won’t be able to enjoy that routine. Of course there will be other things, but specifically this and the things I’ve experienced through Wildstar, a whole lot of it...

I am going to miss it. I knew it was going to be gone at some point, but I wasn’t afraid to hope a little. Just a bit more, another day, another month, a year, even longer, for content that may have come to bring it back to its feet. But in the end it didn’t. And come Nov. 28th, the game will shut down and WS will be gone. It’s my first mmo, and I guess I’ll never really get over the deal that it is over...

But as everyone has said at this point, the memories of the game, making friends, enjoying the content, how long you’ve been playing either at the beginning or near the end. It’s something to keep despite all the sadness about the news. All of that, I’m really happy to have been through, being able to meet new people, doing things, having fun.

So, I’ll close this off saying:

Thank you, Southern Grimvault. Thanks for being a map that let me feel like an explorer and enjoying the aesthetics you had to offer with your golden fields of towering exanite to your strain infested pulsating caves.

Thanks everyone, for all the content you create and your passion that kept the game alive through the years.

And to Wildstar for its crazy sciency magical space cow-boy world that I took great enjoyment in.

The giant 10 foot robot appreciates it.

#wildstar #wsrp #ws #carbine studios #mechari #post #well this went longer than I thought of originally #but I'm glad I finally got my thoughts down properly #the one thing i want to do is definitely finish Exile Main quest side #myart

46 notes · View notes