#its Mikhail

[raddestrose]

That little Gojo Deku hybrid is a conniving one isn’t he

[byler-is-endgame7]

omg guys it’s wills love interest!!!

that’s derek next to erica, right? who do we think derek is? like is he related to somebody or is he just a random kid in town who made it into the teaser for some reason

[soracities]

Dunya Mikhail, Diary of a wave outside the sea (trans. Elizabeth Winslow & Dunya Mikhail) [ID'd]

[deadpoetyogurt]

They’re married, your honor. Medic’s hands have LITERALLY been inside of Heavy before. ;-;

[drkcatt]

MY WIFE SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

[galakteon]

some wonderful fellow asked me to draw miloradovich awhile ago, but the ask dissapeared in my inbox ahh😭☹️ either way! he’s one of my favorite generals and i’ve drawn him multiple times,,,, just haven’t shared them around online💕

rough sketchy drawing w/ hat and without)

[petorahs]

furina being sunday and robins cousin is so true to my dream that when she meets everyone else they think shes adopted

on god also it fits into my hc where Misha's visual design seems like he could be from Fontaine (Lushaka is water planet so not that far fetched tbh).. and he looks an awful lot like Sunday & Robin too. so in my head they have a family tree that looks like this

[ruvviks]

The Dobrynin family is a corpo family through and through, rooted in Arasaka and Orbital Air going back by several generations; though their powerful position within the corporate world ends with the children of Nadya and Matvey Dobrynin. With Vitali and Daniil fired from Arasaka and Kang Tao respectively— the former indirectly getting his parents fired, too— and Roksana having refused to set foot within a megacorporation from the start, the family begins crumbling apart at the very seams when clashing interests lead to grudges, betrayal, and pointless acts of revenge. ↳ read the unrevised fic here if you're interested!

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[luciddaydreamingworlds]

More sketches of Q! Now with scars!! I sure do love drawing him, I really should make a proper reference sheet for him one of these days lol

Ft. Mikhail, Chloe, Maloof, and Truman Zanotto!

The bit with Truman is a bit of backstory. An explanation for why Q doesn't show up in the second game (not that I needed one, but I like to fit my OCs into existing stories when I can).

The reason why Q wasn't at the Motherlobe is because he had left with his old mentor for a chance at furthering his career as a Psychonaut. However, his mentor had "accidentally" let slip his identity as a trans man in the wrong company, which put him at high risk. Truman wanted to recover him sooner, but the whole deal with being kidnapped and his brain being swapped out for Gristol's put it off a bit longer than he intended, but never fear! Q was recovered shortly after all that was settled (along with his old mentor and a couple of other Psychonauts being fired for discrimination and unjust treatment). Unfortunately, it does mean he's still technically an intern, and he's in need of a new mentor.

Anyways, enough of that, meet Q's parents, Albert and Kristall! Both of them work for the Psychonauts.

Albert is one of Compton Boole's kids. Not only is he gifted with Zoolinguism, like his father, but he had spontaneously developed enhanced strength (hence why he's fkkn T H I C C). He's got a boisterous way of speaking, which is actually quite entertaining to listen to. Great at story-telling, and will often use Projection to aid in the stories. He loves his family (although some, he's not too happy with), and he especially loves his wife and his son. Albert wears gloves because of sensory issues.

Kristall is a Grulovian woman with no relation to Raz's family. When she was a young girl, she suffered a mysterious accident that replaced her eyes with pure crystal and left her blind. She's only ever told Albert what exactly had happened to her, but she says she'll tell Q when he's older (although he's insisted many times that he's quite old enough, thank you very much). Kristall is gifted with Geokinesis and Clairvoyance, although the latter was more out of necessity since she needed to see. Quite a bit unhinged, but very loving and endearing. She likes to crochet, and she was the one that made Q his sweater.

Both were a little thrown off when Q started identifying as a boy (mainly because he was so young when he did), but they're very supportive of him and try to help him as much as they can. Unfortunately, being Psychonauts with specialized powers (especially Kristall), they're sent out on missions quite often and are unable to give Q the attention that he needs. They always try to spend what little free time they have with him, call as often as they can, and make sure to send plenty of packages and letters to him.

They are. So close to retiring early just so they can spend what remains of Q's teenage years with him.

That's enough rambling for now. Hope yall enjoy!

[rainandsugarcane2000]

i love my mutuals so much <3

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Do you have any poetry recommendations? The poem poll made me realize that I like. ONLY know Iraqi poets. Like the only non-Iraqi poet I can name off the top of my head is Robert Frost

i'm literally hooked on poetry. even on days where i can't sit down to read a book, i try to consume at least one poem a day bc it keeps me sane. it actually does. i recommend signing up to one poem a day newsletters--those have been a game changer for me. as for recommendations, my favorite poems change every week, but current faves (whose authors i regularly go back to/are a good starting point) would be:

elegy for my sadness - chen chen (Who invented the word / “ennui”? A sad Frenchman? / A centipede? They should’ve never / been born. They should’ve seen me / in Paris, a sad teenage / exchange student. I was so sad / & so teenaged, one day my host sister / gripped my hand hard & even harder / said, SOIS HEUREUX. / BE HAPPY. & miraculously, / I wasn’t sad anymore. / All I felt was the desire to slap my host sister. / See, I was angry in Paris, which is clearly / not allowed. One can be sad in Paris (I was) / & one can be in love in Paris (I was not), / but angry? Angry in Paris?")

a pity, we were such a good invention - yehuda amichal ( "A pity / We were such a good / And loving invention / An aeroplane made from a man and wife / Wings and everything / We hovered a little above the earth")

like a small cafe, that's love - mahmoud darwish ("I say to myself at last / Perhaps she who I was waiting for / was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other man / or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.")

bible study - tony hoagland ("Who knows, this might be the last good night of summer / My broken nose is forming an idea of what’s for supper / Hard to believe that death is just around the corner / What kind of idiot would think he even had a destiny?")

mother and child - louise gluck ("Why do I suffer? Why am I ignorant? / Cells in a great darkness. Some machine made us; / it is your turn to address it, to go back asking / what am I for? What am I for?")

america, america - saadi youssef ("We are not hostages, America, / and your soldiers are not God's soldiers... / We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods, / the gods of bulls, / the gods of fires, / the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song... / We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor, / who emerges out of farmers' ribs, / hungry / and bright, / and raises heads up high...")

the duino elegies (seventh elegy respectively) - rainer maria rilke ("Not only the devotion of these unfolded forces, / not only the paths, not only the evening fields, / not only, after a late storm, the breathing freshness, / not only approaching sleep and a premonition, evenings... / also the nights! Also the high summer nights / also the stars, the stars of this Earth! / O to be dead at last and know them eternally, / all the stars: for how, how, how to forget them!")

the endlessness - ada limon ("How was i supposed to feel then? About moving in the world? How could I touch anything or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting through us?")

psalm - adonis ("Open my memory and study my face beneath its words, learn my alphabet. When you see foam weaving my flesh and stone flowing in my blood, you will see me. I am closed like a tree trunk, present and ungraspable like air. Thus I cannot surrender to you.")

the war works hard - dunya mikhail ("The war continues working, / day and night. / It inspires tyrants / to deliver long speeches / awards medals to generals / and themes to poets / it contributes/ to the industry / of artificial limbs / provides food for flies / adds pages to the history books / achieves equality / between killer and killed / teaches lovers to write letters / accustoms young women to waiting / fills the newspapers / with articles and pictures / builds new houses / for the orphans / invigorates the coffin makers / gives grave diggers / a pat on the back / and paints a smile on the leader's face.")

[nucleiaster]

So ive been playing a lot of elden ring, and i had no inspiration for what my tarnished should look like, so i just made raki. And now i have 3 rakis.

some lore about each raki under the cut

from left to right :

Tarahn, aka the cockroach, aka raki #3, i play her as a faith/dex build and until very recently she had like. 20 vitality so every ennemy would two shot me (but for some reason i always end up with 1hp left and surviving against all odds. hence the cockroach)

i picked the confessor class because the outfit looked cool, but now part of her lore is unlearning the rigid rules of the golden order with the help of miriel, so thats nice. i'll end my current playthrough with the frenzied flame i think and try to get a good (better ?) ending in ng+

she's a very curious person, eager go learn and discover new things, but this side of her has been very repressed, and she comes across as cold and aloof. She's very stubborn and ruthless (as all rakis are)

Raki, aka the original, one of the main characters of my comic project. They're a cyborg bounty hunter, who doesn't really like being around people. His body language is very stiff but his face really expressive. he can move surprisingly silently, and has made an habit of scaring people who are unaware of his presence. She's also very tired. Please get this cyborg a bed.

She doesnt appear in part one of the story so most info about her is a spoiler. Just know that they want something and will stop at nothing to get it.

Mikhail, aka le ouicheur, aka stupid bear cub, my witcher oc. He's from the school of the bear, and uses more brawn than brain. He really really hate being around people, and thus make a very bad witcher as he will not dare go into villages to claim money for his kills. He tends to use more his fists than his swords, and has fully mastered the sign Aard, with his signature move being an aard powered jump that will send him flying over his ennemies (he doesn't remember how to use the other signs). He cheats at cards, loves coin tricks and sleight of hand, and got adopted by Ezé, a wolf school witcher (and my partner's oc). The most chill of all rakis, but still a raki at heart, dont be fooled by his silly smile, he is still a ruthless and cold warrior.

[bl00dyghoul2]

they need to make a russian film (preferably show) of master and margarita just like it is on the book: creepy, dark, supernatural, philosophical, soviet and especially not modern like they did on the 2023 film

[evepolastrisgf]

KOROVIEV EDIT!! I REPEAT KOROVIEV EDIT 🗣️🗣️

the man of my dreams 🗣️💕🫶🏼 ( might i say the best koroviev adaptation but i might be biased)

[elegyofthemoon]

ok i dont think this is anything related to the watchmaker and all that stuff, but i think its insane that the Family turns traitors into memory zone memes because the concept of the memory zone memes is just that they were created by the true Dreamscape and from the emotions of those within the Dreamscape

this was from the emoscape with Mr McCoy in Dewlight Pavilion, where he was ordered by the Dreammaster to turn his siblings, who were apparently selling information to the IPC about the Family, into memory zone memes, but now i'm wondering just how many people got turned into memory zone memes for being a traitor

I would have said too that maybe the Family - trying to seek out the traitor and the killer of the first Oak Family Head - framed the Watchmaker and possibly turned him into a memory zone meme as well, but the Family is trying to search for the Watchmaker so that's less likely the case. But I just love seeing how fucked up actually the Family can be AND getting more information about the Dreammaster since there really isn't much of anything

[bow-of-aros]

Finish What He Started

Owen's been undercover for WEEKS, but of course Curt has to show up and spoil everything. He really needs to start learning his lesson.

Hi folks!! I'm actually really happy with this one events-wise (Owen deserves to be a little evil) and I hope that you all enjoy it! Of course, it ended up being longer than originally anticipated but that's never a bad thing in my book, especially for my absolutely not tragic gay spies :)) I promise I'll get to the Owen chapter eventually but for now just enjoy him torturing and then being soft with his boyfriend <33

Look, it’s been a long day. Owen’s been on this job for weeks, working his way into the confidence of some very powerful people with a careful finesse. This was a delicate situation, one wrong move, and his cover was exposed which meant the world could say goodbye to Owen Carvour.

It’s honestly pretty impressive how Curt managed to fuck it up so completely in under an hour.

To be fair, Owen hadn’t even heard that Curt had breached the facility until he’d been captured, which was certainly a point in his favour. Logically he knew that Curt was rivalled only by him in terms of skill, it’s been proved countless times over and Owen would be long dead by now if it wasn’t for his partner’s quick thinking.

But it was moments like this that really made him question whether it was skill, or some truly impressive luck.

Either way, it meant that Owen was currently standing outside of the interrogation room, going over his options.

On one hand, he could maintain his cover and the integrity of his mission by leaving Curt to fend for himself. He doesn’t doubt his partner’s capability to worm his way out of this predicament, he simply fears the damage that may be done. Both to Curt’s person and to the outcome of his assignment.

On the other hand, Owen could throw caution to the wind and put himself in the direct line of fire of his superiors just to bust Curt out himself. It would spoil weeks of work, ruin any chance the MI-6 has of getting their hands on this information, and likely earn him a lifetime of desk duty.

“Mikhailov!” Owen’s head snapped up at the sound of his current name, catching the eye of a soldier passing him by, “Are you ready to prove yourself? Dispatching this American should be simple enough, no?”

In the end, Owen had always known what he was going to do.

The door slams behind him, he’s learned that leaning into the dramatics tends to work in his favour, and he’s never been one to pass up the opportunity. Curt stands in front of him, shackled to a wall instead of tied to a chair, and hey, apparently trying different things is good in a relationship.

Curt projects an air of boredom, but Owen can feel the keen eye scanning him, cataloguing his posture, how he walks, and any hidden weapons on his person.

It’s a good thing that Owen’s an excellent actor.

“Ah, Agent Curt Mega. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” Owen spoke with a thick Russian drawl. “The world’s most famous spy, right here on my doorstep, just for me.”

Curt scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I’m flattered, really, but—”

“You know, there’s something ironic about a famous spy.” Owen wasn’t really in the mood to listen to Curt blather on, so he raised his voice as he continued speaking. “I feel as though the more anonymous a spy is, the less you know about him, the better he is, yes? I mean, Curt Mega, how good can a spy truly be if everyone knows his name?”

God it felt good to get some of this shit off of his chest.

His partner looked like he was gearing up to say something stupid, so Owen kept going, “We have another man here, you know. Took a week just to get his name. It is difficult not to be impressed, but everyone breaks eventually. Even him, Owen Carvour.”

Owen let the name roll off his tongue, smug and taking immense pleasure in the reaction it elicited.

Finally, Curt’s bored mask cracked. His eyes widened in panic, breath hitching just the slightest bit as Curt’s full, undivided attention seared into him. A satisfying clang echoed through the room as Curt pulled on his chains, only getting a few inches before running out of slack.

Good, Owen thought, this is what you deserve for ruining my mission. Asshole.

“What the fuck do you want with him?! I swear to God the second I get out of here I’m going to make you wish you’d never been fucking born.” Curt spits at him. Quite literally, Owen can see the spittle flying from his lips with the force of his words.

He supposes that he should be flattered, and he probably is, but he’s too preoccupied with still being pissed to notice it quite yet.

A step forward brings Owen as close as he dares to go with Curt in this state. A sharp grin curls over his lips as he revels in Curt’s fury, fury over Owen being hurt. Ironically, a sort of fury only Owen himself knows how to draw out, if only Curt could realize it.

Owen is not unaware of, and certainly not unaffected by, the power he wields over this man.

But, it’s about time that they make their escape, so it seems as though a grand finale is in order.

“Now now, Curt Mega, if I didn’t know better I would say that you know this man. Care for him, perhaps?” Owen draws back, closer to the door, “It truly is a shame that America’s greatest spy could not keep his emotions under wraps, we could’ve had so much fun.”

He finally turns his back, reaching out for the door handle, “Unfortunately, I am on a bit of a time crunch, and I pride myself on being efficient. I have a feeling that simply seeing his head may be enough to break you, so I will try to make it quick.” Owen turns back, one last time in the face of Curt’s creative threats and tosses a “Do not go anywhere,” over his shoulder.

And he lets the door close behind him.

It doesn’t take long to shed his disguise, a few prosthetics and some fake facial hair did the trick well enough. The vacant eyes of the men he’d been tasked to get information out of stared up at him accusingly.

“Oh sod off,” He muttered under his breath, fixing his hair and straightening out his clothes to the symphony of Curt’s bellowing through the wall, “I’ll figure out another way to get those contacts, and you certainly weren’t important enough for me to leave alive.”

Once he deems himself suitably presentable, he swings the door open once more and steps through.

Curt sags in relief, “Oh thank God. Owen, you’re alive! I hope you killed that asshole when he came to get you.”

“Of course, love. Or, should I say,” Owen deepens his voice, finding the inflection he’s been using for the past few weeks, “Agent Curt Mega.”

He switches back to his natural voice as Curt wastes time gaping, which is honestly a relief since his throat really doesn’t appreciate everything Owen was putting it through. “Honestly though, how on Earth are you considered one of the world’s greatest spies when everyone knows your name? It’s always baffled me.”

In response, a disbelieving laugh punched out of Curt, “Oh—You bastard! You sneaky, conniving, evil bastard! Why in the everloving fuck would you do that to me?!” He tried to drag a hand across his face, and was abruptly reminded of the chains binding him.

“Yes. That.” Owen ignored Curt’s imploring look, deciding to leave him hanging for a little longer, “Well, you somehow managed to ruin a mission that I have been working on for weeks, completely undercover. And you weren’t even assigned to it!”

“Yes, I—”

“No, you weren’t. I know you weren’t because I would have been alerted to the arrival of another agent during my report last night. From my actual superior, mind you, and not some Russian brute telling me they’d caught themselves a stupid American spy to torture after he’d carelessly broken into an armed facility!”

Owen forced himself to pause and take in a deep breath, regaining his composure during the steady exhale. He might have been concerned about Curt’s well-being, sue him. Owen doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if anything ever happened to him.

“Awwwww, you do care!” Curt cooed at him with a dumbass grin on his face.

Actually, Owen does know what he’d do with himself. He’d probably get his missions done a lot faster, for one. And he’d worry a lot less.

That grin softened as he said, “Look, Owe, I didn’t know about the mission. I think some information got turned around and I heard that you’d vanished. This was your last known location and I couldn’t wait for my inquiry into your mission status to come back so I decided to see for myself. I needed to know that you were alright.”

Well, maybe it’s worth it so long as he has someone to worry about.

“Alright, I suppose I can let you off the hook this time. But,” Owen raised his voice over Curt’s cheering, “You have to explain to the MI-6 why I didn’t get that list of contacts. You know, the thing I spent weeks trying to get, through my position here which came at the expense of several favours and a not insignificant amount of funds.”

The cheering swiftly died down and was replaced with a whine. “What?! C’mon Owe, your bosses are terrifying! And then they’ll tell Cynthia who is even more terrifying! Are you sure that you don’t want to take the fall for this one? For me?”

Owen’s expression very clearly conveyed that no, he did not want to take the fall for this one.

Not even for Curt.

And especially not even when Curt jutted out his bottom lip in a misguided attempt to garner some sympathy. Owen was not one who could be easily swayed, and certainly not in his position.

Curt however…

Trying not to give the game away, Owen sauntered forward and placed his hands on Curt’s waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to his partner’s lips, chuckling when Curt tried to chase him as he pulled away.

“Is that a yes?” Curt tried hopefully.

Owen didn’t need to give a verbal response, as his firm squeeze to the space below Curt’s ribs, and the resulting yelp, should be enough of an answer.

“Not exactly. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

But sometimes he just couldn’t resist.

Looking up, Owen had the pleasure of watching Curt’s face brighten with the realization of what he was about to endure, the nervousness tinged with a giddy excitement that Owen ached to make him admit out loud.

Another time.

“Haven’t you done enough?” It was a plea, a search for mercy that wasn’t there and Owen had to resist the urge to draw him into another kiss. To destroy him.

“Hm, no. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson quite yet. And, to make it up to me, I won’t stop until you agree to own up to your own mistakes. Sound fair?” Oh well, Owen can certainly destroy him in other ways.

Owen took a step back, surveying the man in front of him and formulating a plan of attack, pointedly ignoring Curt’s protests.

He placed his hands back on Curt’s waist, lightly trailing up his sides, taking careful note of the way his body instinctively flinched away or the slight cracks in his voice. “Now, we both know that your neck, and ears I suppose, is a very dangerous spot,” Owen punctuated his statement with a quick flutter of his fingers under Curt’s chin, earning a choked-off squeal, “And I imagine that I’d be hard-pressed to find somewhere worse.”

Curt was giggling now, eyes locked onto Owen’s hands which had barely touched him. Seeing him in this state, it was very easy to see how enamoured he was with this man, but he didn’t let that affect the show he was trying to put on.

“But, it would be a lot of fun to give it my best go, wouldn’t you say?” Curt squeezed his eyes shut as he frantically shook his head and, bloody hell it has to be illegal for a grown man to be this adorable.

“Well, fun for me, of course. Now, where should I start?”

Owen waited, contemplating, taunting, waiting for Curt to catch on until he cracked one eye open in disbelief.

“What? You want me to pick?!” The panic in his voice was palpable and only served to stoke the mischievous fire burning within Owen.

Blood rushed to his face when Owen shrugged casually, as though they were discussing what to eat for dinner instead of forcing Curt to take the first step in his own demise.

When the silence stretched on for too long, Owen said, “Well, I suppose that I don’t have to try something new. I mean,” He began to reach out to Curt’s neck, “If it isn’t broken—”

“NO! No—God Owen you monster, just not there!” Owen paused, a few scant inches away from making contact, waiting, “Fucking fine! Ribs! I choose rIBS—Shihihihit!”

Owen didn’t bother letting Curt finish his sentence before latching on to his new target. Nothing he could say would sound sweeter than the frantic laughter that bubbled up as Owen clawed down the bones. He dug his fingers in between the grooves, mindful to put just enough pressure to draw out those wonderful hysterics, but not enough to harm.

The most important skill a spy can have is precision, after all.

“Ahahhasshole! I’m gonna fuhuhucking—hehehehey!” Curt’s voice cracked as his laughter pitched up into more of a giggle.

The old tactic had gotten boring so Owen had switched to crawling his fingers delicately up his partner’s torso. He started at Curt’s sides, slowly working his way across the bumpy terrain of his ribs before poking under his arms and making his way back down.

It was endlessly amusing as Curt would start out snickering, shifting into higher-pitched giggling the further up Owen went, and it was punctuated by a shriek and the clang of Curt pulling on his arms each and every time he reached the top. Honestly, Owen could’ve stayed here forever, learning the various techniques that could draw such interesting noises out of Curt.

“Sorry, you’re going to what? I’m afraid that I can’t hear you over all that childish giggling,” Owen couldn’t help but tease. “You know, you could end this. All you need to do is agree to take accountability for your actions.”

He could see Curt attempting to form his lips around a response and deigned to lessen his touch, if only to allow the poor man a chance to breathe.

When Curt got himself mostly under control, he looked at Owen who immediately knew what his answer would be before he said it.

“Kiss my ass, Carvour.”

Owen clucked his tongue in disappointment, “Perhaps later, dear. Now, would you mind telling me which is worse?”

With only that as his warning, Owen attacked. Kneading at Curt’s side before rubbing his knuckles into his ribs with one hand, and ghosting along his torso with the other. Light, fleeting touches that spark across his nerves, keeping Curt in a constant state of anticipation.

Curt, for his part, was handling it quite well, “OWEHEHEN YOU BASTARD! I’M GOHOHOHOING TO KIHIHILL YOU!”

You see?

“Oh, don’t be so crass, Curt. It’s a simple question! Left,” Owen dug firmly into the muscle, “Or right?” He traced the grooves of Curt’s ribs, following an imaginary path to a very real prize.

“LEFT! Leheheheft you asshole!” How odd, Curt was telling the truth.

Owen would have to tuck away that little trick for later.

For now, Owen decided to forgo the light touch in favour of taking Curt apart piece by piece, content to watch him strain against his bonds desperately until he broke.

It took longer than Owen expected, and he had to give credit where credit was due as he imagined it would be difficult to be resilient against this sort of thing even if the so-called victim enjoyed it.

But, as he said before, everyone breaks eventually. So when Curt finally spat out “OKAY! Okahahay I’ll fucking do it! It’s my fahahault just—plehehease!” Owen promptly backed off and retrieved a spare piece of metal to pick the locks of his chains.

He unlocked one arm first, taking care to massage the arm and wrist to help stimulate blood flow before moving on to the next. Passing by Curt’s face, Owen couldn’t help but cup his cheek with his palm, using his thumb to wipe away residual tears. The warmth radiated against Owen’s hand, spreading to the rest of him when he felt a soft puff of air against his wrist and the extra weight of Curt leaning into the hold.

The trust nearly overwhelmed him. The vulnerability of Curt’s position was apparent, had just been exploited, and yet. And yet. There he was, eyes fluttering shut as he trusted Owen to support him, to not take advantage of him after their little game was done.

Owen allowed himself a brief moment of pressing their foreheads together, of simply breathing the same air before he withdrew, continuing with the routine of unlock, massage, move on.

Eventually, Curt was freed. Owen stood near enough to catch him should his legs fail to properly support him but, aside from a small stumble, Curt managed to keep himself upright.

“So,” Owen said as he and Curt stepped over the dead bodies and began making their way out, “Did you survive?”

Curt paused, checking around a corner before responding, “What, that? That was nothing!” He shot Owen a cheeky smile, eyes lit up in a way they always seemed to be when they reunited.

“That’s because I didn’t get your neck. You really should be thanking me, you know.” Owen gave the aforementioned spot a pointed look, but refrained from doing anything. It’s best to keep him on his toes, and it was a success if the nervous glance Curt gave him was anything to go by.

Then, faster than Owen could track, he was pressed against a wall with Curt staring up at him. The moment he opened his mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing, Curt was kissing him.

Under absolutely no circumstances would Owen admit that he’d gone a bit weak in the knees at the action, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. The only evidence that it had even happened was the hitch in Owen’s breath and the lingering sting from where Curt had bit his lip.

Curt stayed close for long enough to whisper, “Thank you, angel,” into his ear before swaggering off, leaving Owen to shove himself back together as fast as humanly possible and follow behind him.

Alright, maybe Owen had deserved that.

But Curt better be prepared to finish what he started the second they were behind closed doors or so help him, not even God Himself would be able to put Curt Mega back together after Owen was finished with him.