#augswriting

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

In which Mr. Pressius is terrible and Mr. Benedict loves Constance deeply.

I'm back on my fic writing game, but this time it's for the book universe. Behold some angst and pain!

[augmentedlavender]

5, 🖋️

Ty for submitting an ask!!

Preview: Reigen brings up his high school essay again to Serizawa. He doesn't know why.

Writing under the cut!

Reigen unlocked the door to his apartment, rather forcefully pushing it open then shutting it with his heel. He takes off his suit jacket and tosses it on his bed. The sun’s already gone down, so he has to flip on his lights, at least for now. Typically the sunbeams that come in through his window suffice for lighting (which is a blessing for his electricity bill), but after coming home late from Spirits & Such, he can’t rely on it.

He tries to ignore the buzz from his phone in his pocket– tries to ignore that it’s the third one since he was closing up. There was only one person that’d be messaging him– Katsuya.

“Y’know, I had to write this essay back in highschool. It was about our futures and all that junk. I said I wanted to be someone.”

Reigen doesn’t really know why he had brought it up. He’d forgotten about it after graduation, and he’d been rather avoidant of the whole thing since it had been brought back up. He felt hollow, almost, mentioning it. Like he was supposed to be feeling something. As if someone had been putting pressure on a wounded limb that's gone numb from blood loss– but that wouldn’t make sense, because it wasn’t a big deal. It had happened years ago. 

“I don’t think you wanted to be someone,” Katsuya had said rather simply, moving through Reigen’s kitchen as if it was his own. He stirred the sauteing vegetables as they satisfyingly sizzled. “I think you wanted someone to care.”

Reigen leaned against his desk, socked-feet threatening to slip on the non-carpeted floor. “That’s awfully cheesy, isn’t it?” he retorts, because he’s not quite sure how to reply to his statement. 

Katsuya had shrugged, turning back to face him with a smile that’s so undeniably him– soft, patient, and kind. Reigen smiles back at him, but looks away before Katsuya could’ve judged his smile the same way.

“Is everything okay?” Katsuya asked, turning back towards the vegetables only for a moment to take them off the heat, then turn off the stove. After that, all of his attention was directed on Reigen. Something about it made him squirm. He doesn’t know why. 

Reigen opened his mouth to say something, but as he adjusted his posture his feet slid out from underneath him, making him yell and fall on the ground. He narrowly missed hitting his head on his desk. 

He let out a laugh as Katusya frantically rushed over to him, and before he knew it, Katsuya was laughing too. He shakes his head and offers Reigen a hand to get up. 

“My knight in shining armor,” Reigen joked, taking his hand and letting him pull him up. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You’d be stuck on the floor forever,” Katsuya quipped back, only it had lacked the intonation of Reigen’s remark. Still, he can guess the light-hearted nature of the words based on his slight smile.

Reigen’s scrutinizing over it now. Now that he’s alone in his sad, empty apartment. 

He’d vaguely noticed that the first night he’d stayed here– that the apartment took on a whole different feeling at different times of day. Once the sun goes down, it's nothing more than a dark, cramped room with little decoration. It doesn’t matter. He works late most nights. 

He glances out his window. Damn light pollution’s making it hard to see any of the stars, but it’s still a nice thought. He sighs and closes his blinds, as he always does at this time, and turns to go change into pajamas. 

He pauses when his eyes catch on his desk, where he’d fallen over just a couple of days ago, and suddenly that feeling is back again. The same one that’d caused him to bring up his dumb essay in the first place. A stupid feeling to bring up something stupid, he supposes. 

Continuing his routine, Reigen starts unbuttoning his shirt. He’d tossed off his tie a while ago, leaving it carelessly tossed aside on the floor. A part of him wants to just leave it there, the other part of him tells him that the tie’s old enough to get trashed if he does– and he’s not ready just yet to buy a new one. 

So, Reigen picks it up. 

After rehanging up his suit, he takes out his baggy shirt and sweatpants. He slips on the shirt and then the sweatpants, then collapses onto his couch holding the TV remote. 

“I think this is something you should address, Taka.” Katsuya’s voice nags in the back of his head. Why should he, if there wasn’t anything wrong? 

If there was something wrong, he would know. I mean, geez, does Katsuya think he’s blind? It's not like he’s struggling to function. There’s nothing serious about anything he’s urged Reigen to reassess. 

Reigen comes to the conclusion that Katsuya is just a worrier. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but at the moment, it’s causing him to stress out over nothing. 

…Still, he should give him some time away. Just so he doesn’t trap him in a cycle of worrying again. Katsuya deserves a bit of a break. 

A break from what, though? From him? If that’s the case, then he doesn’t think this relationship is going to work out at any level. Afterall, the implications of him needing a break from Reigen at all implies that he’s something bad. Something that can’t be constantly taken in. 

He’s always known that he needs Serizawa more than he needs him, but… 

Reigen finally settles on a TV channel after mindlessly switching it about twenty times. He leans back into the sofa cushions, and tries to relax, even as his brain doesn’t hang on to a single word they’re saying. After all, he’s just following his routine, and this is a part of it too.

[wishingtobehere]

they’re in character, your honor

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

comedic fluff!

Milligan closed his eyes briefly as he sank into his favorite chair. The day had been long, the breaks had been short, and he probably needed a new pair of sensible work shoes. The oblivion of darkness behind his eyes suddenly dissipated as a voice began calling his name, pulling him regretfully back towards wakefulness.

"Dad! There you are! The materials for the human rocket launcher just came in, and you'll remember they were supposed to be delivered yesterday, so we're already behind schedule, and—"

"Kate?"

Nicholas's voice interrupted his daughter's excited babble.

"I'm sure Milligan would love to help with the human rocket launcher, but I also imagine he's very tired. Why don't you ask if Number Two would like to assist you, at least for this beginning stage of the operation?"

Milligan yawned. "He's right, Katie-Cat, I'm beat. I'm sure Number Two would love to— wait— rocket launcher?"

"Hmm. You're right, Mr. Benedict," said Kate. "Number Two will be a better helper. Sorry, dad, but all that "safety" mumbo-jumbo you talk about tends to slow down plans."

Milligan's eyes shot all the way open.

"That's not what Mr. Benedict meant!"

Before he could spring up from the chair, though, Kate was scampering off in search of their yellow companion, and Nicholas had places his hands on Milligan's shoulders. He rubbed his thumbs into the tight muscles which Kate's surely-very-dangerous plans had just aggravated even further.

"She'll be fine. Number Two has enough sense in her, you know."

"Does she, though?" Milligan questioned.

"She does," Nicholas assured. "She's already built some suits for the children to wear that will prevent injuries. They look rather like marshmallows. Ideally they'll land on the air mattresses, anyway, so really it shouldn't be any more dangerous than her zipline project."

"Oh, don't remind me of the zipline," Milligan groaned. He couldn't help yawning again. Perhaps he wasn't the best father, if his daughter being in imminent danger of launching herself skyward didn't make him any less sleepy.

"I'm more worried about you getting some rest than I am about Kate and her rocket launcher," said Nicholas. Milligan groaned again. Nicholas squished himself into the portion of chair not filled by Milligan and promptly curled up like a cat.

Nicholas smirked, because he knew that Milligan knew the rule. You can't get up when a cat (or a Nicholas) is curled on your lap.

Milligan's worries faded enough for him to drift off in his chair when he heard Kate laughing from outside the living room window, the soft breathing of Nicholas, and absolutely no violent crashing sounds.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

Not me reviving a fic that I hadn't updated since August 31, 2022

IT'S BACK BABEY

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

yay snippet

I know I barely write anymore it's because I'm Busy and Tired :(

anyway

Something was moving. Milligan could feel blankets shifting, hear sheets rustling, and it was with no small amount of indignation that he opened his eyes to better view the intrusion to his peaceful morning. 

Ah. It was just Nicholas.

Nicholas, who he loved dearly, but who was so, so stupid, sometimes, as demonstrated by the fact that he was currently attempting to get out of bed. It was early. They’d only gone to bed a few hours ago, tumbling into sleep together after a game night that ran into the wee hours, and now Nicholas had the gall to extract himself from their warm and comfortable blanket cocoon. Milligan didn’t think so.

“Love,” he mumbled, half-asleep himself. “Where on earth are you going?” 

Nicholas startled. Evidently he had not realized Milligan was awake.

“Oh, I’m so sorry— go back to sleep— no need to worry,” he rambled. He seemed primarily concerned with the fact that he had woken Milligan. 

“That’s not ‘n answer,” replied Milligan, sleepily. 

“I’m going to run a few tests I meant to get to last night,” Nicholas admitted. Milligan’s sleepiness did not prevent him from giving Nicholas his best glare.

“Come here,” he said. Nicholas tilted his head to the side like he did when he was confused. 

“It’s too early for that. You’ve hardly slept. Come here,” Milligan elaborated. 

Nicholas, as it were, was extremely tired, and only the prospect of falling behind in his schedule had compelled him to open his eyes and get up on his feet. Guilt ate at him, but he also longed to return to bed, to Milligan, to laying down and resting and drifting off into a long, deep sleep. It was a fierce internal battle. 

Milligan patted the mattress where Nicholas had been lying minutes earlier.

“Come cuddle,” he said again. And it was with these words that the internal battle concluded. Nicholas, exhausted as he was, needed little persuasion. If he could believe for just a few minutes that it was okay to rest— that nothing bad would happen, that it was safe, it was okay— then he could curl close to Milligan again, and it would feel like bliss. 

He plopped back down onto the mattress in a rather undignified way, his body collapsing with a soft thud. The bed was soft, the sheets cozy and worn in the best way, and Milligan immediately wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking him close to his warm core. Nicholas’s eyes closed. He was beginning to feel hazy, a bit dizzy with how tired he was. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He felt warm, though. He felt safe.

“Silly,” Milligan said, although Nicholas hardly heard him. “Would’ve passed out in the server room mid-experiment.” 

Nicholas was now thoroughly asleep. Milligan kissed the crown of his head. Then, the crisis averted, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep himself.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

Breaking News: August Writes More Sleepy Nicholas Benedict Fic

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

short and sweet angst! nicholas needs a break and a hug and love

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

back on my nicholas/milligan fluff and comfort bullshit

[augmentedlavender]

Hi there! I'm Aug :] I'm primarily an artist, but also enjoy creative writing and song writing! This will be where I post all the stuff I create. I hope you enjoy!

main account: @lavendertrash39

TAGS:

#ocs - original characters

#original works - anything not fandom based

#augsdraws - drawings

#augswrites - writing

#augssongs - original songs/lyrics

#old art - any art I'm reblogging/reposting that I didn't make too recently

ORIGINAL STORIES/CHARACTERS:

BETA - comic I'm currently writing with @candyskiez. The tag is BETA for now but that might change if we decide to change it

Character tags: Icarus Conley, Aries Conley, Rei Kubo, Aster Nadezhkin, Casey (oc), Maeve Yuyang, Westley (oc)

The Owl House - I have two main OCs for this, which will be tagged as Elliot (oc) and Atri (oc)

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

Okay consider. Nicholas & Milligan (Romance perhaps?? 👀) 95 + 50 (Barefoot/Can't Walk + Visible Injuries/Bruising/Bloodied). I'm just thinking. Milligan carrying him out of some dangerous situation or when he's messed up--maybe he's not even that hurt physically (just bruised and disheveled and dinged up) but he's emotionally speaking a Wreck and his legs are too shaky to hold him anyway. i'm literally just going for "milligan carries him tenderly like a hero on the cover of a romance novel" ok

oh ho ho did this get the inspiration juices flowing!!!

A fun party fact is that, in the old days of television, filmmakers would hit a watermelon with a baseball bat to imitate the sound of a blow being dealt to a person. A less fun party fact is that Nicholas could now say with absolute certainty that such a story is true— for the sound emanating from his midsection was thick, punchy, and firm, and it sounded exactly like the exterior of a fruit breaking into shattered, juicy pieces. 

A loud oof noise was forced from his lungs, squeezed up out of his stomach as his assailant’s impressive fist retracted and reaimed, going for a second blow. Nicholas curled instinctively in on himself, protecting his soft middle, resigning himself to his fate. A blink. A gulp. Sweat, blood, and tears that he wasn’t sure were his own. Then— a blur like the moving blades of scissors, and the man was tackled to the floor; a buzz, and he was unconscious, tranquilized and slack against gritty ground. 

Milligan wiped dirt from his pants as he stood up.

“Nicholas!” he said, breathless and serious. Nicholas moaned. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs— they’d been crushed— the air punched out of him like a child stamping down on a rocket launcher. There was a hand on his shoulder. Gentle words. 

“Slow, deep breaths,” Milligan said. The hand moved to rest on his stomach. “Nice and slow. There you go.”

Nicholas was on the ground, and he was breathing, and that was all he could do. Milligan sat with him for a minute. Keeping him steady.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we have to leave. There are more of them. Only very temporarily detained,” Millgan said. Nicholas gulped and nodded. He understood. With a surge of determination, he pushed himself up onto his hands. His arms shook as he lifted his own weight up off the ground, more sweat gathering on his forehead, and he very much doubted what only a second ago he was sure of: that he could walk.

Milligan placed a hand against his back, supporting him. Nicholas leaned into it much more than he should have. He grit his teeth and stood up— slowly, so slowly— his legs trembling and wobbling— dizzy, his vision going cloudy—

He collapsed almost the minute he’d gotten himself upright. He mumbled something about think I’m gonna before his knees gave out and his eyelids fell shut, impossibly dizzy and exhausted. The dungeon-like building they were inside of grew foggy and distant as he felt himself falling. 

———

He blinked awake with the distinct feeling that he was moving, despite being quite sure that he was not walking. He was far too tired for that. So exhausted, in fact, that he didn’t really care where he was, or where he was moving to. 

He didn’t realize he was mumbling too tired until he felt a hand (a hand!) carding through his hair, wiping away some of the grit and gunk on his forehead. It felt nice. It was big and soft and gentle, although Nicholas could feel that it was dirty, too, and no sooner had he realized this than he realized the other hand was wrapped securely around his waist. He was being held. It was Milligan’s hands, and Milligan was carrying him. 

“I know, lovey,” he soothed, holding Nicholas a little tighter. He sighed. Everything was agony, but Milligan was holding him. His weight was dead and heavy in his arms, but Nicholas felt safer than ever— for he was with Milligan. 

When they reached a door, Milligan shuffled Nicholas in his arms in order to reach the key card he had previously stolen. It was in his pocket. This maneuver required him to shift Nicholas to one shoulder, hold him with one arm, then reach for the card with the other. Nicholas grunted at the movement (he was quite sore and hurting) but soon found that in this new position his head was resting on Milligan’s shoulder, which was okay. He relaxed as he heard the affirming “beep!” of the door, the automatic whirring of its opening mechanism. 

The next door did not have a key card. Milligan kicked it open. On the other side was sunlight, blinding and bright. They had escaped.

Milligan shifted Nicholas back into a bridal carry, and in the brilliance of the sun, Nicholas opened his eyes and blinked heavily. He was positioned so that he was staring directly into Milligan’s eyes. Milligan smiled.

“Hey, cutie,” he teased. “They got you pretty good in there. I shouldn’t have lost sight of you.”

Nicholas grunted. “The ruse,” he mumbled. Nicholas had wandered away to set a ruse. It had worked. Milligan had stolen important paperwork in the minutes before scooping Nicholas up from the floor.”

“Yes, the ruse,” Milligan relented. “But you’re hurt. And it makes my heart ache.”

Seemingly without thinking, he bent over, dipping his face down towards Nicholas’s. His lips brushed against his forehead and pressed a soft, lingering kiss, making Nicholas gasp and close his eyes in pleasure. 

“You are my most important treasure,” he whispered. Nicholas blushed. Hard.

“Contraband,” he answered. “I am illegal. And you stole me. Files and tax returns…”

Milligan laughed. They had made it to the car now, and Milligan was settling Nicholas into the passenger seat, knowing that he was still shaking and trembling beyond belief. 

“I think you’re a little delirious, sweetheart,” Milligan answered. “But I do agree. I have stolen you. You are mine.”

Nicholas giggled, and that was enough to send him to sleep. He wouldn’t wake up again until they were home. 

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

another moocho fic! this time featuring Tired Blorbo

@mvshortcut oops oh no my hand slipped

Moocho sighed as he unrolled his yoga mat on the Benedict’s back deck. The sun was shining as it peeked over the eastern horizon, he’d dreamed happily of a new pie recipe he wanted to try, and he was— hopefully— going to have some company shortly. He’d invited the others to join him for morning yoga in an effort to reduce the neck-high stress that always simmered inside of them. 

It didn’t take long for him to reconsider his choice to host yoga at sunrise, though. Number Two managed alright. She reported feeling as perky as ever after a deep three-hour sleep. Milligan was quiet, but then, he was often quiet, and he cradled his mug of coffee with steady enough hands. Rhonda hadn’t appeared to have made it at all. That was alright— Moocho could understand beauty sleep. 

It was mostly Mr. Benedict he worried about. 

He was holding the yoga mat Moocho had provided, clearly attempting to project an aura of eagerness and focus. The effect was largely canceled out by his red-rimmed eyes, circles as dark as ever underneath, and the loud yawn he tried to hide. He was also still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Hmm.

“Good—” he yawned again, clearly unable to fight it. “Morning, Moocho…” 

Moocho frowned. 

“I’m here!” Nicholas continued. “At sunrise! Just like…like we planned.”

Moocho looked him over with concern. “Did you by chance, Nicholas, friend…go to sleep? At any point last night?” he asked. Milligan and Number Two, observing this, also gave Nicholas inquisitive looks. Nicholas provided the most sheepish looking shake of his head that Moocho had ever seen. 

“Nicholas Benedict!” scolded Number Two. The man in question crossed his arms stubbornly. 

“You know I have a hard time waking up early,” he defended. Number Two fumed.

“So your solution was to…eliminate the need to wake up?” Milligan said, skeptically. “Yes!”

He truly did look exhausted. Moocho chided himself privately. His entire goal with this yoga initiative was to help the others take better care of themselves, but it seemed to have backfired spectacularly. Nicholas was now zoning out a little, his eyes taking on a distant expression as he leaned against the wall of the house. Moocho loved the man, but he could be downright impossible sometimes. No matter. Moocho knew just what to do.

“Well, although I can’t say that was my intention for the meeting, we may as well begin,” he said. Number Two looked about to protest, but Moocho shot her a look that said trust me. 

“We are going to begin in corpse pose. Lie down on your mats like so.”

Moocho modled the pose, settling on his back and resting his hands atop his chest. He waited for the others to follow suit. Soon, they were all sprawled out and waiting for further instructions.

“Take some deep breaths. Focus on filling your belly, then exhaling, then repeating.”

His voice had taken on a smooth, soniferous tone, relaxing and warm as the sunbeams tickling their faces. 

“It’s alright to close your eyes,” he continued. “Just stay here for a while…breathing…clearing our minds for the day ahead.”

Moocho waited for what felt like an appropriate amount of time. Then, he opened his eyes and sat halfway up, looking at Nicholas. He was fast asleep. He’d already managed to curl around slightly, resting his head on his arm and snoring softly. 

“Alright, friends,” he whispered to Milligan and Number Two. They sat up and looked fondly at Nicholas, if also with small smirks. Moocho made to pick Nicholas up and carry him to bed. He’d rest better if he wasn’t laying on the ground, of course, and he needed a real pillow. It was no problem to scoop him gently into his arms. Nicholas didn’t stir.

Milligan, it seemed, felt a little left out, as he insisted on supporting Nicholas’s feet while they walked inside. Number Two rolled her eyes. 

“He’s going to sleep through breakfast, too,” Moocho lamented. “And I was going to make eggs benedict.”

“He’ll eat them cold. He likes them that way,” Number Two soothed. Moocho felt rather affronted at this suggestion.

“Eggs benedict are not to be served cold!” he explained. “The sauce will not retain the correct consistency—”

Number Two patted his shoulder. “Shh, shh. I’m just teasing. Although he really will eat them cold.”

Moocho’s face cemented with determination.

“Not so long as I have command of this kitchen.”

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

I feel like I never see enough about Sticky my beloved, so maybe 1, 6, 85 for Sticky? Feel free to pick one/ mix and match - whatever you want! <3

1: greatest fear/phobia/nightmare

6: guilt/blame

85: struggling/fighting back

“What do you fear the most?”

Sticky’s stomach did a somersault, and he swore he was going to throw up. All over the gleaming white floor. Dr. Curtain sure did seem to enjoy laying things bare, revealing every error, cultivating a space where nothing could hide.

It was in his mind. The Whisperer. It was tugging at his synapses, burrowing into the reaches of his consciousness, digging its fingers into vulnerable thoughts and latching, grabbing, holding. He decided to think about the least frightening thing he could. Um— puppies. No, a dog bit him when he was four. Rainbows! Flowers! Not poisonous ones, though, and while he was at it, rainbows could signal the ruins of a storm. His mom’s eggs. The way she always made them.

“Ah, dog bites. Nobody likes those. But— tell me— what do you fear the most?”

Reynie’s smile. Reynie helping him up when he fell. Ringing the bell together, the long, drawn, clang of finality. The liberty bell is a significant cultural artifact in the United States of America. It was established in 1751 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

“You haven’t been a good friend to Reynie, have you?”

He hadn’t. 

“Nobody wants to be friends with someone who betrayed them. It’s better to move on. Start fresh with people who understand you. Who want you to be a part of something.”

Guilt rose from the pit of Sticky’s belly into his ribs, his lungs, his throat. Reynie had been angry. So had Kate and Constance. They yelled at him and decided to go on without him. They said they’d forgiven him, but surely they hadn’t forgotten. 

He squeezed the arm of the Whisperer’s chair. Reynie’s face centered in his mind as he listened to the Whisperer repeat its chant. 

“Repeat after me. Pilot. Pontoon. Proliferous…”

Sticky resisted the urge to curl up in a ball. 

“Pilot. Pontoon.”

He pretended to forget.

“Perfectionism”

The Whisperer faulted, and he felt it, too, turn on him. Recognize his scent. Ring the bells of suspicion.

The liberty bell was cracked. It had never been repaired.

“I’m nervous,” Sticky explained, and steadied himself to “try” again.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

🤗 A Nicholas/Milligan hug in these trying times?

It would never, ever get old. The feeling of arms around him, the warm pressure of hands squeezing his sides like he's something worth holding onto. A hand on his hip rubbed tiny circles into his soft skin. The other arm, draped across his back, scratched gently over the bumps of his spine.

It felt so good, Nicholas could cry.

They were laying in bed— Nicholas's bed— because they'd both been tired, and they hadn't wanted to go their separate ways. Milligan leaned back against a stack of pillows as he cradled Nicholas in his lap. He was right on top of him, his face buried in Milligan's chest, their legs tangled together.

The contact, the touch— it was all he could ever want, and he'd never get used to it. Not when Milligan had begun to rock him slightly, shifting to move the hand from his hip to his hair, scritching his scalp so indescribably well. Nicholas couldn't help the soft, happy noise that escaped his lips, and he was too wrapped up in comfort to be embarrassed by it.

He was sleepy, his brain growing foggy and his limbs feeling heavy, and for once, he didn't even think about fighting it. He snuggled closer— if that were possible— and mumbled some soft and incomprehensible words. With a sigh, tired and content, Milligan felt his weight grow heavier. Nicholas was asleep.

Milligan kept up his affections, even if their object was no longer conscious. He wondered if it might encourage peaceful dreams. Even while asleep, Nicholas seemed to appreciate the touch. He hummed sleepily as Milligan rubbed circles into a tense part of his back.

It wasn't long, though, until Milligan felt sleep catching up to him, too. He leaned back, making sure Nicholas was still safe in his arms, and closed his eyes. They were warm. They were safe. They would wake up still cuddled together in some hour's time, and no— Milligan would never be used to it, either.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

23. "Did they hurt you?"

26. "You're allowed to need help."

41. "I'm sorry, that was... embarrassing."

45. "Oh, love..."

<3

Milligan's bones ached as he trudged through the front door. He felt weighed down, like he was swimming while wearing sodden clothes and heavy shoes, and the cut across his ribs stung with a mixture of blood and grit. His sigh of relief came out more like a tired groan, which, unfortunately for him, Nicholas heard.

The sweetheart in question came around the corner with that busy, frazzled look to his frame, fluttering his hands as he investigated the source of Milligan's audible distress. His face paled slightly as his took in the sight of Milligan. Face bloody and dirty, clothing torn, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, he was sure he didn't make a pretty picture.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked, anxious and still fluttering. Milligan— despite his compromised state— managed a smirk.

"The ten men?" he asked. "Not badly. Just some scratches. And a cut, and Sharpe got me in the head, the bastard—"

Milligan halted his speech as he observed Nicholas grow paler.

"But I'm fine, love. Just a little worn out. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."

Nicholas looked skeptical. He clearly wanted to continue worrying and hovering, but didn't want to irritate Milligan. He settled for standing a few feet away with his forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Well. Um. Moocho told me to ask if you're hungry."

Milligan was hungry, but at the moment, he was even more tired. He shook his head.

"Moocho also told me not to accept no for an answer. He knows you've been out for hours."

Milligan rolled his eyes fondly.

"Well, I can hardly sit down at the dinner table like this. Let me clean up. Then we'll eat."

Decided in his course of action, Milligan turned to walk towards his room, a sharp ninety-degree turn from the way he was faced to speak to Nicholas. The motion made his head (aching, stabbing, painful) throb and spin, and he felt his vision go white, his legs shaking and buckling with inundating exhaustion.

Hmm. Okay. Maybe he wasn't fine.

Nicholas's arm was around his. He was attempting to stabilize him, allowing him to lean against his chest, but Milligan was bigger, and Nicholas couldn't quite hold him up himself. Someone (Milligan couldn't be sure who) must have yelped, because, a few seconds later, Moocho was there too.

"Woah, woah, friend," Moocho said. "It's alright. Let's get you sitting down."

Milligan sighed again. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "That was...embarrassing."

Nicholas was trailing them like a worried puppy. Moocho set Milligan down on the couch, and Nicholas wasted no time sitting beside him.

"Oh, love," he mumbled, snuggling against Milligan's side.

"I don't think I smell good," Milligan said. Nicholas only continued his snuggling. He titled his head up to look at Milligan's face.

"You," he said, "are allowed to need help. You're so allowed."

Milligan smiled in spite of himself.

"No more saying you're fine when you don't feel steady on your feet. hmm? I'm here to catch you."

"To be fair, love, that didn't go very well for you."

Nicholas heaved a sigh. "Fine. Moocho will catch you."

Pleased with himself, Milligan pressed a kiss to Nicholas's curls, and let the warm love in his heart eclipse the pain in his body for just a moment.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

slice of life ft. found family and stimming ahh

There was work to be done. There always was, and yet Nicholas was antsy today, struggling to focus. His brain felt itchy, like he needed to scratch it. It was too quiet, or maybe not quiet enough. 

Nicholas fidgeted with his pen, tapping it against his desk in a soothing pattern. It made a satisfying thwack noise, and he closed his eyes appreciatively, creating a little melody and tapping his foot along with the pen. His brain buzzed. His shoulders sagged a little, relaxing under the steady sound. He almost felt like he could fall asleep. 

He was so soothed, in fact, that he didn’t notice Number Two walking into the room, loudly biting into a pickle as she did so. 

“Nicholas?” Her voice was distorted slightly by chewing. Nicholas started, thrust from his reverie. 

“Do you like double chocolate brownie ice cream more than caramel praline?” she asked. Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

“Do I…”

“Like double chocolate brownie ice cream more than caramel praline. I need to report back to Rhonda. She’s saying whichever gets more votes she’ll get at the store, and so I need you to tell her you like double chocolate brownie, because we can’t have her buying caramel praline when double chocolate brownie exists.” 

Nicholas raised his other eyebrow. He then thought about what he must look like, both his eyebrows shot up into his forehead, and giggled, head thwacking against Number Two’s prepared arm. He woke up a minute later. 

“I’m, erm— hmm. That’s a tough one. Why don’t you ask Constance?” he asked, dodging the question.

“She’s already blackmailing Rhonda into buying a separate container of strawberry.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re stalling,” Number Two observed. Nicholas sighed.

“I’m really not much of a chocolate person,” Nicholas admitted. Number Two sighed dramatically. She was just about to open her mouth again when Nicholas interrupted.

“However, I give you permission to lie.”

Number Two laughed. She rarely did, at least not this hard, and it made Nicholas laugh too, until he was collapsing into another involuntary nap. He woke up with his head in Number Two’s lap while she continued convulsing with little cackles and wheezes of delight. 

“What on earth is taking you so long?” shouted Rhonda. “I’m coming in there!”

Nicholas looked up at Rhonda from the ground and managed, between bursts of laughter, to cast his vote.

“I just looooooove double chocolate brownie,” he wheezed. 

“He thinks it’s the best. It’s his favorite flavor,” added Number Two. 

Rhonda was putting on a faux-irritated expression, but everyone knew she was just as amused. Her lips turned up into a slight smirk.

“Oh really now?” she asked.

“Really,” confirmed Nicholas, his own lips twitching against the urge to laugh. Then, he sat up, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a five dollar bill. He handed it to Rhonda.

“Buy both,” he said with a wink. After Rhonda had scurried out of the room, he turned again to Number Two.

“Where’s Milligan?” he asked, the shenanigans of moments ago apparently forgotten.

“With Kate, scaling a cliff or something like that.”

“Hmm.”

“Puzzle?” Number Two proposed.

“Puzzle!” he agreed.

And so he scurried off, the pen from earlier abandoned on the desk, and his hands now reaching for the buttons of his shirt to fiddle with. Soon he would be picking up and holding and inspecting the many puzzle pieces that Number Two had just made with her jigsaw. Rhonda would be coming back with ice cream, Milligan would have adventure tales to share over dinner, and for once, his work wasn’t front and center in his mind. The only place he wanted to be was right here.