3, 20, 34, or 50 for torsewell? your pick obvs those just excite me
3. hiding face in neck
With all of Maxwell's bravado, his daring and boldness, there's something disconcerting about seeing him off-balance. And he is off-balance in the most literal sense; Torse has to keep one hand wrapped around his waist to stop him from pitching forward.
"I'm okay," Max says for the dozenth time in half a dozen minutes. He punctuates this by tipping to one side, nearly banging his head against Torse's shoulder. "I could've taken them."
Torse, frankly, has bigger concerns than arguing that statement. Max is a deeply capable fighter who happened to be losing a fight badly against a couple of Tabiran troublemakers. Torse had arrived just in time to watch Max take a punch across the head, hard enough that the crack was audible from dozens of yards away. Max had hit the woman back, naturally, and by then Torse was there, by his side, finishing the fight.
And now: "Torse," Max says insistently. "You can let go of me."
"No," Torse says, as that's the fastest way to ending the conversation. "And you can't walk."
Maxwell pouts at him. A real pout. "I thought you wouldn't notice."
Torse pays a disproportionate level of attention to Maxwell. Instead of saying as much, he herds Max over to the closest bench and leads him to sit. "Rest. The crew will find us."
"I know," Max says, and tugs at Torse's arm. It's a childlike tug, a symbol of a request more than an effort to make it so; even so, Max is strong and sure, and Torse follows the movement easily. "Do you think less of me?"
"For losing a fight?" The thought is ridiculous. Torse would laugh, if he weren't so worried about Maxwell. "No. Stop worrying."
Maxwell mumbles something that Torse doesn't catch and then, carefully, begins climbing into Torse's lap. Torse keeps one hand hovering nearby, ready to steady him and stop him from falling into a spike or a sharp edge of metal. But Max moves with such certainty, such determination, that there's nothing to do but watch as he firmly nestles his face into the side of Torse's chest, where his neck would be were he a human.
Torse looks straight ahead, not quite willing to look down, not willing to feel the strength of what he knows he will feel upon seeing Maxwell pressed against him. He lowers his hand to rest on Max's back, and Max relaxes against him. Torse already feels warmer with his body heat.
"As long as you don't mind," Maxwell says. There's half of a question there. Torse can't be sure if he means the proximity or the fighting or something else, something bigger that they've been at the edge of.
"I could never mind," Torse answers. It's the truth for all those scenarios and more.
She asks, too, about the scar in the center of Marya's palm. The one that is not quite healed and looks a bit worse for wear, jagged and angry, but does not seem to hurt her as much as would be expected. When Marya cannot answer her, she does not push. She will learn it later, when Marya is ready — and if she is never ready, that too will be okay.
She does, however, press her lips against the back of Marya's hand, lingering just shy of the wound edge. It looks like it went clean through, at one point. When she glances up, mouth still against the skin, Marya's gaze is so, so soft.
Have I given up on either of my ongoing SVSSS fics? No.
Have I decided to let myself start other projects along the way as well? Yes.
Angsty Maxwell-centric post-canon story on AO3 (registered users only, as is usual) because apparently I cannot look at subtext about an awkward guy falling in love with a robot without thinking "huh, that probably has a sucky aging/rusting difference".
Chapter 14 (Why Oh Why Are My Gentics Such A Bitch) of Ghost of the Flesh is now up!
It continues to be mostly a mystery/adventure about the Gotch Family Curse, rather than the Torsewell tragedy I thought I was originally writing, but this chapter I got to include chapter notes about which spells were used, which was new and fun!
Also I have concluded that when Mind Sliver is successfully cast, it's basically just Power Word: Headache.
meet me where i am
rating: Teen & Up
pairing: marya/ludmila (marmila) obviously. lil bit of background ludmethra if you squint.
word count: 4.2k
mostly fluff! canon-compliant angst. also getting together fic (how'd that happen?)
Summary:
"Do you not trust your darling protégé?"
"My 'darling protégé' has a very strong bias," Marya scoffs. There it is — the undercurrent of self-doubt that follows Marya like a poltergeist, intensified by a decade of grief that Ludmila cannot even imagine.
"A correct bias, you mean." She bumps Marya's shoulder affectionately. "I was taught by the best, and so I am right. I will hear no arguments."
---
ten years is a long time to stew in self-loathing, and marya has never been great at taking compliments.
ask prompt <3 this ended up fulfilling two oops
kissing the top of their head / hiding face in neck
eta: almost forgot! if you too would like to scream with like-minded friends about marmila, join us in the doomed yuri server!
Chapter 17 (I Need A Hero) of Ghost of the Flesh is now up!
Also, I have edited the summary to better reflect that this story has decided to lean more mystery-action-adventure than tragedy like I originally intended.
New story summary:
The machine was supposed to transfer Maxwell into his new, Zernian, body, so that he and Torse could be together.
Instead, it duplicated him.
And while the other Maxwell gets to have his happily ever after with the man they love, Max is left to wander back to his mundane life; more ghost made of flesh than man.
Only with the Curse of the seventh Gotch sons rearing its ugly head, an ancient evil stirring below the Gotch Manor, and Longspot Gotch refusing to let death stop him from being a Problem, it really doesn't seem like mundane is the right word anymore.
Or: the one where the question "what the hell is wrong with your family?" is complicated enough to practically be its own short campaign.
