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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

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:DDDD im thinking either jm or daisira "if this is my last chance to say it...."

No proof reading we publish 1000 words of train of thought writing at 1am and we take our inconsistencies like a MAN

The safehouse was cold, actually.

‘Bloody freezin,’ if you’d asked Jon’s grandmother. But no one had, because she’d been dead five years now, and if the End was dredging up spirits any time soon, Jon doubted she’d make top of the list, even for him.

To combat the frigidness of the air, he was currently wrapped under a duvet and two comforters, and additionally, Martin’s arm. It was heavy, weighing him down with a pleasant comfort, languidly thrown over him from where the man next to him lay, asleep on his front, which Jon found inconceivable for comfort reasons. Though Martin seemed to find it relaxing enough, neck turned so his face pressed gently into the pillow, tilted in Jon’s direction. He could count every freckle from this angle. He got up to five in his sleep dazed stupor before he caught himself.

It was probably after twenty minutes of lying there, eyes half-lidded in the peace of the early morning, that Jon felt the arm recede from around his middle. He caught the hand attached before it could snake away.

‘Hm? Jon?’ It was mumbled behind a curtain of haziness, eyes still blinking away bleariness to meet his own.

‘Is that okay?’ Jon asked, blunt as always.

‘Hn? What? Uh- Yeah. Yeah of course. Did I- Sorry did I grab you in the night or somethi-’

‘Yes,’ Jon cut him off, ‘But I don’t... Mind. It was- Well it was that I wanted to talk about. Kind of. Sort of.’

Martin’s hand had gone limp in his, no longer trying to pull away, but not wrapping his fingers tight around Jon’s, interlocking in that perfect way, like it had when they’d trailed out of the Lonely.

‘Oh?’ Was all Martin replied, blush beginning to settle itself behind the freckles, like the kids at hide and seek with the absolute worst spots.

‘How- How much longer? Do you think we have left here, that is.’ And the words were out of his mouth before he could process how atrociously they brought down the mood. Not the tone he was going for, but it’d do.

‘Oh- Uhm. I dunno. Couple of weeks? Two, maybe? I don’t know how long it’d take to track us down. Or if anything even cares to right now. I wasn’t exactly important to anyone but Peter, and Jonah doesn’t really seem like the ‘March into the highlands guns a blazin’ type.’

‘Yes, but.. Surely there’ll be something. This... It can’t last, can it?’ Martin had rolled over onto his side to meet Jon’s gaze, and Jon pulled up their hands so they were pressed between them. He could feel the subtle movements run through them, the vibrations of their chests, rising, falling, rising, falling, in, out, in-

‘I’m sorry,’ and Jon clutched the hand tighter because he’d be damned if he heard an echo at the trailing end of that, ‘I’m sorry that you’re stuck here. With me. In some... Shitty, damp, no-bloody-insulation single-glazing-window draught-under-every-door safehouse in the highlands. I didn’t even ask if you wanted to be here. I just followed what Basira said now we’re gona be hunted down in the middle of nowhere because I-’

Several seconds before Martin had cut himself off, Jon had began to mutter ‘No.’ He continued to rattle the word off, gradually rising in volume until Martin eventually tapered off. ‘No. Hush. Untrue, the lot of it. I’m here because I want to be. I’ve been kidnapped a lot, I know what it feels like, and this? Not one of those times.’

Martin, almost imperceptibly, mumbled ‘Don’t joke about that...’, which Jon promptly ignored.

‘I’m here because for however much time we have left- this frankly horrid old cottage is home. The doors may have bloodstains, and there’s never enough hot water, but that’s not home. Home is... We bought those god-ugly mugs down at that little handmade craft store in town. And I’ve gota say, those? Contain the best tea I’ve ever had. And home is... The stacks of books in the living room, piling up in the corner because of course Daisy never needed a bookshelf, but we do. Because we’re- We’re nerds Martin, who spent last night wine drunk and having the ‘Is Keats Really That Bad’ debate, round three. And home is that conversation. And home is waking up with Martin Blackwood’s arm around me, because he rolled over in his sleep and his instinct was to hold me.And I think... I think, if it’s my last chance to say it, before the Hunters come barging in, or Jonah, or Annabelle, or whoever decided I can’t have a bit of peace for five fucking minutes- I think you, Martin Blackwood, need to know that I wouldn’t have it any other way. That given a thousand different things to be doing, right now, the best possible option is to be lying here with you. Because, all that being said, I think I love you quite a lot.’

He ran his thumb down the side of their entwined hands, the companion of which had given up on being limp and was now carefully gripping his in return.

Quieter, he repeated it, head nodding gently as he fully parsed the words. ‘I think I love you quite a lot. Is- Is that okay?’

His chin hooked over a shoulder as a beloved surged forward, free arm coiling around his back, the other remaining tangled with his own.

He couldn’t see his face, but his voice was somewhat tearful. ‘Yeah. That’s- That’s very, very okay. I think- I think maybe... I think maybe we might both be okay.’

#My Post #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #My Writing #maebmad

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thevoidcannotbefilled · 4 years

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luna i stg if you're gonna mention a wall-e au in ur tags have the decency to flesh it out for the rest of us,, come on, lets hear it :eyes: :eyes:

Based off this post

I had no ideas or plans but let’s do this anyway! I’m not doing a direct translation from one media to the other so bare with me.

The apocalypse happened. Like the fearpocalypse. The world has gone to hell and back and no one not even the avatars could handle it. A bunch of avatars got together and created their own space ship, did the whole luxury cruise ship thing, and went off into space. The hope at least partially was that they could wait a couple hundred years, see what population’s left on Earth, and then go back eventually once the Extinction settled.

But that didn’t happen.

The EVE bit equivalents are the Archivists, and no they don’t get a fancy name, everyone knows what they are. Their jobs are to record the landscape and if they can’t find people and gain their stories on how they survived. If enough of them gain relevant information and the Earth is deemed not fear infested, then they will come back.

As the years have gone by, there have been less Archivist bots gaining good information and the Earth while not as bad as before, is still a mess of destruction and fear. There are some people alive on the planet, it’s not inhospitable, but the apocalypse has done its toll. The Earth is not getting fixed by leaving it be. It’s not as if the avatars are much interested in fixing it either. It would just be more convenient if it was.

Now, on Earth, they weren’t left entirely alone. After all, they needed something to try to fix it. And by some joke, coincidence, or maybe even a pointed jab, who’s to say, the caretaker bots, the bots designed to find humans and take care of them even at the cost of their own robotic bodies, well, the bots are named MRTN, your Medical and Recreational Trusted Negotiator.

They help. They entertain. They’re always there, and they will go through hell and back for you until they’re nothing but scrap.

A thousand years after the initial launch, there’s we follow a MRTN bot. Unlike the others, it’s learned from being alone. While you can do what you can to help others, you can’t keep going if you keep giving yourself up piece by piece. So, while MRTN continues its task to find humans to help or at this point, anything to help, it still does its best to make sure that it’s safe and put together.

From here, it’s just….robot falling in love tbh. An Archivist bot drops in MRTN’s area. The bot searches through trying to find life and gets annoyed that it only finds MRTN. As the different fear powers bring havoc, MRTN offers the Archivist a place of safety in its home. The Archivist learns, not about the life and the stories its supposed to tell, but of Earth. And of MRTN.

There is no plant. There is no easy escape back to Earth. The main conflict is the Archivist and its directive. Mainly, the reason behind it, and if it truly can follow it, especially with MRTN around. The Archivist at its heart wants to learn, and it wants to learn about MRTN the most.

But the Archivist is called back, and MRTN must go on a mission to save its new love.

(Cue robots in love against a ship full of fear avatars, high speed chases to escape said fear avatars, revelations at the extension of just how messed up the Earth is, and the final struggle to save MRTN probably from the evil ship that the avatars probably jokingly named Elias, and a sad moment where after the Archivist fixes MRTN, all hope seems loss. Until love saves the day yaaaaaay).

(I’d say the big difference in Wall-E versus this: the humans don’t come back. Most of the remaining humans are gone and the only people left are the avatars at home or in space. It’s not a world that’s fixed, it’s just… the world that they live in. It’s more about finding hope in a hopeless world and how even in the worst of circumstances goodness and love can bloom. The world may have ended and we may not be there, but something is, something good, and that can be enough sometimes).

#maebmad #the magnus archives #tma #wall-e #long post #ask the void #LOOK WHAT YOU CAUSED #vaguely #jonmartin #listen they're bots in love it counts

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statementends · 5 years

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god blue..... blue.... that post you have... with all of the 'i see you's..... jon also said it to peter this ep...... and.... god i hope im wrong,,, or that this is the exception that proves the rule but like.... you know what's consistent with all of these???? that character in these 'i see you' conversations dies soon or immediately after..

Hmm well let’s see...

Season 1: Sasha/Not!Sasha: I see youSasha: DeadSeason 2: Not!Sasha on tape: I see you/Jon: And now I see youNot!Sasha: Crushed for a bit. Leitner dies but doesn’t have to do with that conversation.

Season 3: Jon: I see you! (To Nikola) Nikola: Exploded. Tim dies too as a result of Jon ‘opening’ his eyes.

Season 4: Jon: I see you (To Peter Lukas)Peter: Very dead

Season 4: Martin: I see youMartin: PERFECTLY FINE AND GETTING OUT OF THE LONELY WITH JON AND NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN (Cries hard)

That said it’s interesting that the first time it get’s said it’s a servant of the eye “Sasha” saying it probably to feel less afraid. Like “I see you so you can’t do anything!” and then the stranger twisting it like: I see you (and now you’re a target).

Jon does the same thing to Not!Sasha, Nikola, and Peter. He SEES them now. He’s hunting them.

And then with Martin is a very different I see you. It’s an emotional personal I see you.

Also interesting that Jon sort of did the same thing to Tim as he did to Martin, using compulsion to ask what he sees. For very different reasons.

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #I love patterns #maebmad

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kalgalen · 5 years

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what, pray tell, is Kane and Feels?

Podcässt

It’s about a duo of private detectives that investigate supernatural cases only! Do you listen to the magnus archives & would you like it to be a tad creepier? you should listen to k&f (fun fact, one of the guys that makes k&f recently joined the rq team, so you know (oh yeah it’s british? i know that can take people aback sometimes))

anyway the sound design is impeccable, the acting kinda breaks my heart on some bits, it’s pretty funny, there are the occasional heartbreaking/spooky passages (or the other way around), i love it a lot and you should, imo, give it a listen

#ask #maebmad

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neutronian · 4 years

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corruption statement but its you and that gd mushroom

I WISH I could counter this. But I cannot because I am a dumbass who ate an unknown mushroom from the ground because it was larger than their forearm and weighed a ton.

#ask #maebmad #i regret none of the mushroom i maintain that it was great #the food poisoning was not

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inktaire · 4 years

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Hey so uhhhhhh imma need you to change your tags right now immediately 🗡🗡 “lowly pleb” shut UP every time I see a pic of you I’m immediately floored you’re GORGEOUS and LOVELY and I won’t STAND FOR THIS

Absolutely NOT come and MAKE me

#maebmad #bet you WONT come to DC square up binch

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saturnsfather · 4 years

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eye, lonely, and extinction for the ask thing!!!

Eye - If you were an avatar of any entity, which one would it be?

probably either buried or vast tbh!! theyre the ones ive got as roles in the server after all. im honestly not too beholding i think....? i mean im a nosy bastard but not quite to that extent, and i dont like. use the information for any Nefarious Purposesbut small spaces Comfy, dirt goodsky big, prettyand i dont mind heights, which is a plus

Lonely - Name a few of your friends and your favorite things about them.

WELL i could name literally everyone in the server but im not gonna because thats A Lot of peoplebut i cant do this without naming my gfs jaime and bert (@pitchblackkoi and @onyxior)!!!!! theyre both so wonderful and amazing and Big Dad Energy and i love them smuhhhhh anansi!!!!! @awkwardproducktions anansi is so wonderful and sweet and is always there with a kind word for someone when theyre feeling down and i just love him so much bro@thoughtsbubble and @roswyrm are my Bastard lil siblings and i love them sm bro theyre genuinely delightful to talk to and all the funky bullshit they get up to..... Love them, wish i could finish rqg and know what theyre talking about sometimesand. of course. The One And Only. you ya funky lil baby youre a delight mae

Extinction - Would you survive the apocalypse?

FJLDSKJLKJSF oh absolutely not im both an idiot and a klutz and i cant hide for shit id be killed by a monster in like. ten secondsid meet an avatar of the desolation and theyd say ‘hey wanna burn alive’ and id just be like ‘i guess this is it’

#the faceless masses #maebmad #the cowards #magarc

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shkspr · 5 years

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hey since you've been making me suffer since forever with your buffy au please also don't think about a Helpless storyline with aziraphale leaving adam powerless to protect himself and his friends just because it's what Heaven/the watchers council wants him to do, only for at the end of it asaph to finally turn his back on them bc it might be Whats Done, but its not what he's going to do, bc he cant watch adam suffer, but also its already to late bc he's betrayed the trust adam had in him

thanks! i hate it and will now die.

#maebmad

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lunagalemaster · 5 years

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maebmad replied to your post “i saw that hey maddie tag and fuck you, what gives you the...”

I hope the Me the lives in your head flips you off and says cursed things in retaliation

She does and it’s glorious

#maebmad #my posts

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darlingamidala · 5 years

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obianidala - Ozymandias

Thanks for sending this Maddie!! I had to look up what Ozymandias was but hopefully I was still able to do the title justice lol (For those who, like me, are uncultured, it is a poem by Percy Shelley!)

Summary:

“Every few years, the Skywalker-Kenobi-Amidala family makes a pilgrimage from their home on Naboo to a little farmstead on Tatooine to visit Shmi Skywalker’s grave. Anakin makes an apology to his mother for the path he almost took, and thanks her for raising him with the courage to turn away from that path.

One year, as the family looked out over the sprawling sands, the three parents agree that their children are old enough to hear about the events of the weeks leading up to their birth, about the terrible fate that their family had nearly endured, about the now all but forgotten despot who had nearly destroyed the galaxy.

Anakin had knelt in front of a tyrant, but with his mother’s memory whispering in his ear, he had allowed his partners to talk him out of the atrocities he had sworn to commit. In the end, the Galactic Empire had never come to be, for its would-be emperor had perished without a trace in the fires of Mustafar.

The galaxy will not remember Sheev Palpatine as anything but an ineffectual chancellor, but the Skywalkers will always remember that Darth Sidious’ plans were foiled by the memory of a humble slave woman with a kind and courageous heart.”

Send me a title and a ship, and I’ll write a summary for a fic I’ll probably never write!

#jeka answers #jeka writes #maebmad #obianidala

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padawanlost · 6 years

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hi! I love your little blurbs about the au where Anakin stays on tatooine :)) Question: What would Shmi's role be in this new tatooine? I imagine her fate would be different than canon, and I would love to see your thoughts on how her presence in Anakin's life affects him and the rest of this movement

Awww thankyou! I love thinking about this AU so thanks for question and keep them coming:)

Shmi is notinvolved in the movement. The first thing Anakin does when they are both free isto take her out of the planet. She only returns when Tatooine is already freeand ready to rebuild.

Once thenew government was established, as the mother of one of the leaders and a knownformer slave, she is offered some influential positions but she denies themall. Shmi never cared for politics and she knows Anakin would worry to much sheif got involved in the outreach program so devotes her free time to volunteer work.

Anakin’s salary*is more than enough for both of them and their way of life so when she’s not athome she helps the community any way she can. Her favorite activity is helpingnewcomers settle down. She know how overwhelming this newfound freedom can beso organized a group to help the transitionof the new citizens.

Every time theOutreach Program comes back with new people, they are given credits and atemporary home where they can stay until they feel safe enough to decide if they want tostay or what they want to do. the program has a Transition Team that include psychologistsavailable 24/7 but sometimes all they really need is a friend and that’s whereShmi and her group comes in. they babysit, they schedule playdates, help themfind schools (children and adults), a trade, a new home, explain the culture, politics etc.

She alsoacts as Anakin’s conscience and confidant. She’s the voice of reason when hegets frustrated and one person he always talks to before making a decision.

*How peoplemake their money in Tatooine and what they do with it is a very unique part oftheir culture. It explains why Tatooine advanced so much so fast and why theywill eventually become such a threat to the Republic. But this is about shmi so…:P

#ask #maebmad #fanfic #the fanfic i may write #mine #what if #sw meta #txt

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

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Rqg and wooden overcoats! ❤️❤️

Rusty Quill Gaming: Scripted or improv?

Scripted, usually, but I Am Not Immune to Improv (Looking at you, McElroys and Merediths. Always the damn brothers.)

Wooden Overcoats: Do you tend to prefer more high budget, or more indie podcasts?

Indie! Big budget ones like BBC and now Marvel do always feel like they have less soul to me? They’re for profit as opposed to how so much audio drama is made for the love of creating

#My Post #Asks #ILY MAE #maebmad

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thevoidcannotbefilled · 5 years

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Jm or daisira prompt: “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

(I’m doing a 100 follower special!!! Send me prompts :D)

Daisira. Scars. Wounds. Surprising softness. Let’s gooooo~

——

Daisy tries not to look at Basira’s scars.

They’re a complicated matter, as everything in their lives. Daisy herself has no shame in scars, on others or herself. In fact, if a person hasn’t racked up a good scar or two by something or another, she didn’t consider them living enough. Soft skin meant easy lives, and nothing easy ever comes for free, especially in this world of monsters.

But on Basira…well, Basira is different. Before the Buried, Daisy hunted for the rush, the fight, and the inevitable kill. However, Basira is Basira and Basira is hers, and the idea of anything damaging what’s hers makes her blood rush far louder than any monster prancing about. If Basira were to even feel a twitch of fear from someone or something, Daisy would be on them faster than a starving bear after hibernation.

Which is why Daisy hates seeing Basira’s scars. It’s not that she isn’t proud that Basira knows how to defend herself, how to survive. It’s just this logic doesn’t stop the fierce protectiveness that fills in her mind when she sees the shiny scars that mar Basira’s skin.

Because scars at that point aren’t a sign of Basira’s success; no, they’re Daisy’s mistakes, Daisy’s inability to take care of the things that threaten to hurt them. It doesn’t matter how logical it is that Basira would have scars from times she worked in other sectioned jobs. It doesn’t matter that Daisy couldn’t have possibly protected Basira from every nick she’s gained between the Unknowing and now. It just…doesn’t matter. Every scar makes her grit her teeth, and even now, when she tries not to listen, the roar of blood is oh so tempting even if it means she doesn’t have to count any more shiny marks.

But she’s made her choice. This isn’t just about Basira. Isn’t even about Daisy really. That’s the point. Even if it meant she’d fade into nothing but bone only the most desperate dogs would gnaw on, Daisy would not give into the Hunt. She would not hurt innocents for her own satisfaction. Not anymore.

Her choice is harder to understand on days she has to take care of Basira’s wounds.

They sit on the ground near the one of the more permanent beds the post-Unknowing crew set up. Antibiotics, numbing agents, and piles of bandages surround them, and their clinical smell almost drowns out the blood in the air. Basira refused to go to a hospital, and Daisy wasn’t going to make her. Hunters attack when their prey was their most vulnerable, and the smell of blood makes Basira easy to find within the medical halls. No, the Archives, for the evil it holds is their evil, and right now it at the very least offers some protection.

Basira also refused Jon’s help. This Daisy found less wise, but the stony look on Basira’s face when she outright said she hadn’t wanted him here made it difficult to argue otherwise.

(Daisy and Jon would not-talk about it later. They would share a few looks, one bloody the other knowing, and he would offer this brittle smile that let her understand how deep his wounds cut. Despite not losing the world, neither technically won, and she’d wonders how long it would take until Jon would demand to see Martin safe instead of spending his days Knowing he’s upstairs, away from them on his own terms. They would share a space in a loud silence, not uncomfortable, but distracted nonetheless, until Jon would nod to the door. “She’s waiting for you,” he would say, “Have fun on your…date night,” and the awkward little grin he’d give would twist her heart. It’d be broken, but sincere, and it’d make her want to rip it off, in hunting or protection, she wouldn’t know. But she’d clap his shoulder, and a little smile of her own would sneak through when he nearly jumps out of his seat from the sheer force of it. Another look would be shared, but it’s different this time. They smile, and it feels real).

The worst of it is over now. Basira’s stitched up and the bandages are more for pressure than anything. Bright white and practically glowing against Basira’s dark skin, they wrap around her torso in a tight but practiced pattern. It’s not professional, but Daisy does know what she’s doing. Now, she’s just looking for the less pressing wounds.

At least, she’s trying to. She keeps getting distracted by the scars on Basira’s back.

There aren’t many. Certainly not as many that Daisy has, but Basira took off her shirt to let her get the bandages right, and with only a bra in the way, there’s nothing to hide the vast expanse of little scars dancing from arm to arm, and a few down the expanse of her back. Again, mostly nicks, and most of them look natural. But there’s definitely one on her back that is definitely from a stab wound.

Who patched her up then? Was it Martin before the Lonely? Or was it Melanie, angered filled and all?

Did Basira have to do it herself? Was it always there and Basira just never told her?

“Something the matter?” Basira asks, firmly, but not harshly. Daisy blinks, and she realizes she’s been tracing the outer edges of the largest scar. Well, formly largest considering the new one.

It’s easier to dwell on old scars, Daisy thinks. She could imagine pretend scenarios where she was able to save the day with a clinical eye. Strategy without emotion. Plans without context. Scars without impressions.

As gently as she can, Daisy traces the upper part of the bandage. She’s barely touching the fabric, but Basira tenses immediately. Daisy stops.

“I’m sorry,” she says automatically. She goes back to finding cuts. It’s easier.

Basira doesn’t grant her that reprieve. She shifts, and while she doesn’t face Daisy, Basira puts less of her weight in her lap. “It’s fine. Now what’s the matter?”

Daisy pauses, considers the question, and decides no, she will not answer fully. There are too many things wrong to list when Basira’s like this. She’d be shocked that Basira is as coherent as she is, but not much can be a surprise these days.

She cant mention anything big. Not the immediate dangers, but she knows Basira won’t be satisfied with the small ones either.

Daisy doesn’t trace the bandages again, but she eyes them with a frown. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough,” she says quietly. It’s at the hint of what they should be talking about. She can still feel the rush of panic, at seeing Trevor and Julia. At seeing them, with Basira, knives and jutted teeth, ready to tear, ready to hurt-

Daisy takes a breath. Maybe if she breathes enough, her vision would stop going red.

“It’s fine,” Basira grunts our after some time, and both the silence and her tone tell her perfectly well that no this isn’t fine. Because of course it isn’t.

They haven’t been fine in awhile. Daisy doesn’t even know if she’s ever been fine.

Daisy doesn’t reply. Their conversations are left with too many words unsaid nowadays. It’s easy to stay within familiar territory. To pretend that no, they haven’t changed when they know damn well that everything is different. They pretend that they don’t talk with Jon about how exactly different they’ve become. They pretend to be Daisy And Basira because if they are just Daisy and just Basira, they would both be lost in their heads, following the call of calling blood and endless trails.

As long as both of them are alive, they’re Daisy And Basira. And so Daisy after cleaning up the last of the cuts, takes a moment to be just that. Careful not to touch her bandages, Daisy leans forward and presses against Basira’s back and wraps her arms around her neck.

Basira’s warm. So warm. Full of blood and life. Her warmth sleeps through Daisy’s chest and arms, and she can’t help but nuzzle into Basira’s neck for just a little bit. Just enough to feel her drumming pulse. It’s heavy, pumping faster than normal, and if it’s from her wounds or Daisy herself she can’t tell. She finds she doesn’t really care either, both bring a rush at the thought.

Basira on her part is tense. Her breath catches. Even if Daisy can’t see her face, she can imagine the thousands of thoughts running through her mind. But Basira was never much of a planner. She has no strategy other than to act, and as tired and hurt as she is, it doesn’t take long for her to relax against Daisy’s hold and lean back until she’s practically in her lab.

They’re quiet. Breathing. Basira takes Daisy’s hand and stares. Daisy wonders if she’s trying to count the bones that seem to jut out against her sickly skin. Basira holds it gently, and takes a considering look.

She guides Daisy’s hand to her lips, and presses gently. A kiss. It’s just as warm as the rest of her, just as soft, but so much more anyway. It’s feather-like, and faint, almost not there, but it makes Daisy catch her breath because this is hers. The kiss, the affection, all hers, all from Basira.

Even as Basira guides their hands away, Daisy doesn’t breath, too busy trying to memorize the way Basira’s lips moved against her skin and how the warmth blossomed under the single touch in a way far more fitting of her name than she’d ever be.

She only breathes when Basira intertwines their fingers. Hers look so small in Basira’s hand. Too pale. Too gone. But if Basira notices or cares, she doesn’t give an inclination. She just rests their hands against her chest, and gently dusts her thumb across the top of Daisy’s hand. It’s calloused, and there shouldn’t be an affection in them. But it’s Basira, and her palms are warm, and the callousness are not like scars. They’re not signs of a fight, but show dedication in a way that scars can’t. Years of practice can be known just from one look at her rough fingers.

Dedicated is a good word for Basira. And so callouses fit her. They make Daisy smile.

She buries her smile in Basira’s neck. She hears her huff in response. It’s a pleased huff though, and it only makes her hidden smile go wider.

They will need to move soon. Basira needs to rest, and the floor is never a good place to settle after getting stab wounds. There will be talks and discussions, and many things left unsaid in them, and the world will probably crash around them again.

For now, they hold on another, feeling each other’s warmth, their life, their forms, and just letting themselves be Basira And Daisy instead of be thousand other people they probably are at the moment. Scars are hidden from Daisy’s view and Basira can’t mistake being weak for being dead.

Here, there are no monsters. There is no apocalypse. The horrors of the world can wait another moment. For now, they are just simply them.

And it is quiet.

#the magnus archives #tma #daisira #ask the void #the amazing written word #100 follower special #the void's writing #jon and daisy friendship #though it's mostly just a mention of it #you cheated a little maddie but I'll allow it~#LOOK I DID A SOFT #maebmad

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