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lunaraen · 4 years

Note

“Hearts are fickle things. They seem to break at the slightest shove. I’d much rather give mine away.” “Well, I wouldn’t mind having yours...” Magnus/Ellegaard? Am I doing this correctly? 😓 I’m so sorry if I’m not-

It feels like it's just the two of them on the roof, only the occasional noise coming from the new settlement below- little more than a camp but growing by the day with more and more followers eager to greet and behold their heroes- and the much closer trees as their branches sway in the wind. The moon hangs high in a clear sky colored by swirls of stars and brighter spots, ones that Ellegaard can name as specific planets.

(Nerd.)

It's wrong.

It's a storybook night meant for storybook heroes. The Order of the Stone.

(Who came up with that dumb name? Soren? Ellegaard?

Was it is his own drunken suggestion?)

It's a beautiful night in all the ways it shouldn't be, in all the ways it has no right to be, and Magnus internally curses the nice night as he passes Ellie the cigarette they've been sharing.

And if Ivor were still here, he'd make a stink about the cig, the way Ellegaard normally does. But Ivor isn't here, is he? That's the whole reason things are fucked up like they are, why they're hurting in all the wrong ways inside. Instead, Magnus is here, and he figures it's better the devil he knows, the sick taste of cigarettes and the lung damage that inevitably comes with it in place of the burn of whiskey and the spiral into one drunken blackout after another.

Besides, he and Ellie have a whole thing, banter wise, going on about cigarettes and smoking. She's less likely to slip into it as a habit and deal with actual damage than she is if he'd helped her drown her sorrows or whatever. They've done enough drinking, lately.

Never mind that getting drunk on a roof's a pretty good way to die stupidly.

(He's not helping her with that, either.)

So, here they are, hurting and smoking and staring up at the sky like it can keep whatever answers it has and shove the ones it doesn't.

It's the first time in weeks that Magnus has managed to really hang out with her again.

He's not great at comfort, but he can do shared bitterness. And if Ellegaard wants to get poetic, he'll listen, though even grief won't keep him from giving less poetic responses.

"Hearts are fickle things. They seem to break at the slightest shove. I’d much rather give mine away."

It's a whole lot of anguish, jaded and weary, that he's never heard in her voice before, despite all the other messes they've gotten into before, the less than stellar backgrounds they crawled out of.

(Not that he can’t relate to what she’s saying, because the desire to crawl off to some remote, desolate tower and stay there is strong.)

So Magnus does what he does best, blowing a smoke ring that wobbles and dissolves into the darker splotches of night when she hands him the cigarette and shrugging as he gives an offhand comment that's surprisingly hard not to mumble.

"Well, I wouldn’t mind having yours..."

There's a dumb thought that goes with that, something right out of Gabriel's latest speech to their adoring 'fans', embodying stupid chivalry and valor like it means something when it comes from people like them.

The dumb thought is that, if Magnus had her heart, he could at least try to keep it safe. He wants to keep all their hearts safe, like that's possible. Like they'd ever let him. He's a griefer who breaks things, time after time, but deep down he just wants to take the shards of their strained and broken friendships and fix them back up.

That's Ellie's job, though, fixing things up or making them useful.

Magnus wants chaos, because it's his nature, but the pain of the last few weeks has been nothing short of awful. It's change, sure, at what cost? This isn't fun change or his brand of hectic shenanigans, the kind Gabriel used to help him with while Ellegaard shrieked at their heels.

He wants to fix what they broke, but he's never been able to undo a TNT blast before. Now doesn't seem any different.

"Seriously?" She's looking at him, really looking at him in a way she hasn't since he got her up here. The raised eyebrow and disbelieving tone would make him more defensive if he hadn't been desperate for a response that wasn't entirely negative.

He offers her the smoke again, crushing the lit end against one of the roof's many carved stone edges when she shakes her head.

"I mean, yeah. You've already got mine."

And it's the truth, the exhausted truth at the heart of their years of bonding and bickering and living. Ivor leaving, Soren lying, (almost) all of them selling their souls for fame and glory- it's stripped back each and every layer of Magnus and his usual defenses. What's the point in denying it, when they're this close to losing whatever it is they've got?

"...you're sappy, tonight."

"'m tired." Tired of what? Winning nothing, losing everything? Because that's what's happened. Sure, technically they've got far more now than they ever could've had before, at the price of them getting all the credit for something they never did. It's an empty, shallow victory that burns in his throat and his chest. It came at the price of losing Ivor. Losing their snarky healer, their friend who was perhaps the most excited for their adventure and the most carefully prepared, hurts them as a team and cuts to the heart of who they are as friends.

Who they were as friends might be a better way to put it.

(It came at the price of all their friendships, really, who they are- who they used to be.

Gabe's been in a daze- who isn’t?- but he's stiffer too, formal in a way Magnus's fellow trouble maker never is. This new Gabriel’s somewhere between a warrior and a knight. The crowd loves him. Magnus just feels sicker listening to him, his speeches and his new habit of saying no to everything fun. Gabriel's chivalrous, sure, but he's also Magnus's friend, not this stressed out hollow shell with an empty smile and dramatic speeches for crowds spun from nothing but despair and grief.

It turns out that is who he is, now.

And if Gabe's in a daze, there's no real way to describe what's going on with Soren. Soren had his head in the clouds to start with. He’s gotten, forced, everything he’s ever wanted, except Ivor isn’t here to drag him from his room into the open. Everything they dreamed of is at their feet, minus the integrity. Soren, already running on no sleep and manic energy during that uneasy time after the Dragon was 'defeated' but before Ivor left, has shut himself away almost entirely.

Can't disappoint or lie to people you don't see or talk to.

Ellie too, because of course she squirreled herself away, because she and Soren are two sides of the same coin the way she and Ivor are- were. It’s worked just as well for her as it does for him. Even without Magnus's interference, she's been doing little more than slipping up and burning her own fingers on her machines. She stares out windows and mumbles nothing to an empty room. She'd still be in that room if Magnus hadn't managed to coax her onto the roof like this, the promise of familiar company better than hanging out with those in the camp under them.

There are other engineers here to talk to, now, but what's the point?

Magnus himself, well... he's partied, he's feasted, and he's hated himself all the more for it. He chose this over defending Ivor, he was the first to follow Soren’s lead and pick their pretty lie over the rusted truth. Magnus is the one who couldn’t even look Ivor in the eye. He'd like to think he's at least trying to have fun, being truer to himself that Gabriel is, but that doesn't mean he isn't sickened by every fake grin and overblown guffaw, every bit of fun at the unsuspecting crowd’s expense. It’s his worst prank yet.

They're coping, maybe, but it ain't healthy. None of this is.)

Ellegaard sighs, a curled lock of hair brushing against her cheek as the wind toys with it, the rest held back only by her goggles, and she’s so strikingly beautiful it hurts.

It just ain’t fair.

Still, she also sounds achingly drained, circles under her eyes as bold as he’s ever seen them.

"...so am I."

Nowhere to take the conversation from that, is there? That's what it all comes down to.

They’re washed up before they could ever really begin.

And if the conversation can't continue, then it's time to move things along before they do end up breaking out the alcohol. Magnus pushes himself to his feet with energy he doesn't have, stretching his arms above his head before cracking his neck the way Ellie usually hates.

The breeze picked up at some point, though hell if he knows when, and the stone roof's cold enough to have leeched all the warmth from his hands and his ass.

"Great. We might as well crash- I'm sick of staring at the big ol' empty."

This is, of course, Ellegaard's cue to lecture him on how beautifully vast and amazingly full space is, how it's hardly empty and that the hollowest space to crack jokes about is in his head.

She doesn't, but she does smile.

It's weak, but it's the first smile in at least a week that hasn't looked totally plastic.

On top of that, she hands him the mask he'd almost left on the roof, an easy victim for the breeze, and he's hardly thinking when he takes it in a balled up fist as they both slip back through the window they came onto the roof from.

(Not that he hasn’t been thinking about replacing this mask.

It’s almost half stitches now, the victim of all the repairs it’s needed since he first made it, back when they started out their training and the world looked so beautifully big and unknown.

...his later stitches are much better than the first few repairs, on account of Ivor showing him neater stitches and making Magnus practice them.

They work for skin and cloth, as it turns out.

That might be a little more important now, since they’re down a healer and Ivor was the one who kept inventory of the healing potions.)

The walk through the halls is almost peaceful, on account of it being short and the others hiding in their own rooms or making speeches outside or chasing after Endermen in an empty End or whatever they’re each doing (because whatever Soren and Gabriel are doing, they’re doing it alone and Magnus knows it), and Ellegaard’s shoulders are relaxed like they haven’t been in over a month.

So far, so decent.

He's no Ivor, but Magnus is still doing his best to fill in as the glue.

It's working better than he figured it would; griefers aren't meant to be the glue of anything, never mind horribly fractured friend groups.

And, hell, while he's patting his back for a job well done, Magnus'll take an extra second to preen about how surprisingly easy it was to get Ellie to crash in his room instead of hers, and, heck, he's even proud (and sad and confused and exhausted) about how his room is actually the healthier choice.

Going from the window to his room means they don’t pass Ivor’s door.

(The long shadows cast by the torches can’t be helped, gnarled into shapes that are almost human and hauntingly familiar against the stone bricks, fire and shadows alike wavering as the two of them walk by.)

In Magnus’s room, there aren't any machines for her to tinker with, none out in the open, anyway, to be obsessed over like there are in hers.

She can’t keep herself up all night doing nothing.

There aren't any pipes or wires to fuss over like her next invention will prove Ivor wrong or bring him back.

He's not even dead -probably- and it feels like they've lowered the casket already.

(Ivor's resourceful, practical, skilled, and alone. He can take care of himself just fine, fend for himself as he does who knows what with the treasures he bargained for, but he shouldn't have to.

None of them should.

Magnus thinks of an exhausted Ivor, holed up in a dirt hut somewhere or already dead in a ditch, and he shifts the arm around Ellie’s shoulders so it’s closer to a squeeze.

If he's got any say in this, cowardly as he is and weak-willed as he's been shown to be, it won't happen to the rest of them, drift apart as they may. He wants to be there for them, in this twisted lie they’ve trapped themselves in, be available even when he's busy with whatever chaos he and his followers cobble together.

Gods, he has followers now, fans who think the world of him.

He's gonna be sick.)

Magnus's armor is already kicked into a forgotten corner, left alone unless he's making an appearance for 'the public' that seemed to spring up overnight.

It’s his clumsiest way at trying to fix what he helped shatter. It hasn’t helped much; the others wear their armor more than ever and always around him, Ellegaard only taking hers off now to chuck it on top of his.

Falling into bed is easy, something from Before that isn't instantly painful or miserable, and so's peppering each other with kisses as they settle under the covers. It's easy to slip into the familiar position, her arms wrapped around him and her chin on his shoulder.

(Hey, it's not just because he's short.

Magnus is the damned best little spoon there's ever been.)

Ellie goes a step further than just silently settling into what's familiar, though, whispering in a voice that isn't pained as he cranes his neck to kiss her cheek.

"Thanks for holding onto my heart."

Fat lot of good it's doing either of them, with how much hers still hurts and how much it can still be hurt, but the thought has to count for something. She's kind enough to do the same for him.

"Yeah, well, don't go throwing mine around."

It means a lot, given how easy it ultimately was for them to chuck Ivor's away and turn their backs on him. Magnus still can't really believe that happened, or that anybody else in their group would be willing to do that to him, never mind brilliant Ellie- but here they are, short a healer, short a friend, and short on all the trust they'd had in spades before they entered the End, and Magnus would be a fool to not take the blame for being one of the first to toss all that. Why wouldn’t they turn on him after how quickly he turned on Ivor?

There's a spiky, prickly paranoia nestled in the back of his mind that wasn't there before, but he still trusts Ellegaard, and he means it when he silently promises himself he won't throw away whatever trust she's got left in him.

And for a minute, as they sink into sleep, it almost feels alright.

They're both stubborn people, and they've never been the types to give up on a challenge, even one that aches.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #Ellagnus #Anonymous

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satuponurn · 7 years

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Magnugaard headcanon

They get along surprisingly well when both drunk. Magnus, while louder and brasher is also a little bit of a sentimental, cuddly drunk. Hence, he wants to be around Ellegaard more and therefore - even though he's more apt to recklessness - still spends less of his energy on the things she finds infuriating. Ellegaard is a bit of a happy, carefree drunk. She's a lot more comfortable than usual with letting the annoying things slide. Plus, she's a little more apt to recklessness too, and Magnus is always happy to see her loosen up a bit. They still disagree on nearly everything, but after they've been drinking is that rare moment in which they can actually agree to disagree.

#magnugaard #mcsm magnus #mcsm ellegaard #mcsm headcanon #mcsm #ellagnus #mcsmheadcanon

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tivix · 2 months

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валентин стрыкало - бесполезно

#mcsm #mcsm fanart #minecraft story mode #mcsm ellegaard #mcsm magnus #mcsm magnugaard #magnugaard #mcsm ellagnus #ellagnus #my art #my sketchy art

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continentalblue · 6 months

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i miss magnugaard their dynamic literally had it all

#im like one of the 3 ppl that ships it #mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm ellegaard #mcsm magnus #magnugaard #ellagnus

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continentalblue · 2 years

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magnus and ellegaard's dynamic is so *chef's kiss.* Like they're rivals and they bicker yet Magnus calls her "Ellie" and they're the only ones to bring up positive memories of each other

like just kiss already dang

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #minecraft #magnugaard #ellagnus #mcsm ellegaard #ellegaard the redstone engineer #ellegaard mcsm #ellegaard #magnus #magnus mcsm #mcsm magnus #magnus the rogue #magnus/ellegaard #ellegaard/magnus #ellegaard x magnus #magnus x ellegaard

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lunaraen · 5 years

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“What does that say?” “It says you really need glasses.” Magnus/Ellagaard. I really love your work and would like to see more!

There’s a spring in Magnus’sstep, barely half a pause in his stride at the workshop door before he letshimself in, whistling. Ellegaard gave up trying to change the code a while ago.Traps are more of a griefer thing, and while it would spice things up, his feetdon’t snag on any trapwires, finding none.

The only gears he can hearturning, the only pipes groaning, are far from the door, making it unlikely forany pistons to try and crush him at the entrance.

Typically, Ellie likes it whenher friends visit her lab. Magnus just happens to be a special exception,though he figures she’ll at least be glad to know he doesn’t have any extragunpowder on him. A little, maybe, but not enough to mess up anything big.

Not that he would mind gettingcreative.

It feels like a good day to messwith Ellegaard and whatever ridiculously genius invention she’s tinkering with.

(He’s wrong.

Today’s going to suck, but hedoesn’t know that yet. He’s as oblivious as ever, and frankly wouldn’t know abad omen if it were staring him in the face.

In hindsight, the way Ellegaard’sready for him should be the biggest red flag.)

“Oh, Magnus, there youare.” And in fairness, it does put him on edge, nonchalant as she sounds.It’s almost as if she was planning to hunt him down instead.

“Hey Ellie, what’s up?”

“Just a little test of mine.What does this say?” In a few swift motions too many, she’s guided him toa simple chair, all but pushed him down into it, put some kind of metal sign inhis lap, and already has a hand on his shoulder to stop him when he begins tolift the sign. “Ah-ah, no cheating. Don’t hold it up– or look anycloser.”

“Seriously? It’s a cruddyexperiment if all I have to do to wreck it is move my head.” Admittedly, there’s still something tantalizingabout that, about potentially dipping his head just enough to mess withwhatever enchantment she’s working with, because it might not be explosive butit would make her so mad and man does it sound fun. He’s well within brawlingdistance, however, and Ellie might not be Gabe but she still packs a mean punchthat he’s not up to feeling right now. Magnus squints down at the sign, tiltingit just a little from side to side, but the symbols she insists are letters stayblurry and non-distinct. It’s not surprising. He hopes she’ll figure herexperiment’s the broken part. “Alright, alright, what’s it say?”

“It says you really needglasses.”

Dammit.

The words could be teasing, butthey don’t sound that way, sharp and steady, and hearing it feels like a slapto the face. That’s not how this works. That’s not how their banter’s supposedto go, or how they usually talk to each other.

She’s being serious about this,and it can’t mean anything good.

Especially when things don’t addup.

The letters are too big for that,would need to be smaller to take up the same amount of space on the sign for amessage like that, and he feels as indignant as he does relieved. It’s a joke?

“What– hey, no it doesn’t.It’s not long enough for that.”

That… is probably not the rightthing to say, joke or not. Never mind that Ellie’s got a brain faster thananyone he knows, moving a million meters a minute, and that she already has himfigured out; people don’t read based on length and context and half-hopes.

They just read.

“It might as well saythat.” Her voice stays serious and his stomach begins tying itself inknots. “Magnus, you’re supposed to be able to read this from meters away. It says something to me, atleast, that you can’t even read it when it’s in your lap.”

“Real funny, Ellie.” Everythingsays something to her. She looks into too much, overthinks everything he neverwould. Magnus is still probably the more curious of the two of them, or atleast the more impulsive one, and even when he feels sick the curiosity’s justa bit too much to ignore. “…so what’s it supposed to say?”

“‘Shock hazard’.” Hisstomach starts feeling like lit dynamite, and his heart seizes like it too. “That’swhat it really says, Magnus, not what it’s ‘meant’ to be.”

“You didn’t include thesymbol. Is that even the right color? That’s cheating.”

(It’s green. It absolutely isn’tthe right color for an electric warning sign and this isn’t one of herexperiments, it’s just another way for her to humiliate him and make him feelsmall and Magnus hates it.)

“You shouldn’t have to tryand understand signs through squinting at symbols and hoping you’re rightbecause of context. Ivor and I are worried about you.”

Oh, and Ivor’s in on this becauseof course he is.

Magnus thinks of the itchingpowder tucked away in his room and of the easily-accessible drawer of robes inIvor’s.

Good to know.

“I got this far withouthaving to worry about it, didn’t I?” It would be easy to get up and justslip out the doors, Magnus faster than Ellegaard and better at getting out ofsight, but he’s never been one to back down from an argument. Especially not withher. The last thing he needs now is her having even more than his eyesight tolord over him. “Didn’t you say I was no good at reading? Lost cause andall? I don’t need to read to set off explosives or dodge stuff.”

Magnus waits for Ivor to chime infrom somewhere, step out from behind one of the larger inventions or just waltzright through the entrance and start lecturing him too, but it doesn’t happen.

There aren’t any footsteps tohear, the doors don’t slide open, and there’s no argument about what he can orcan’t read.

Ivor, patient as he is admirablysneaky, wouldn’t let that lie. He’s not here.

Ellegaard doesn’t have the sameabsence stopping her, and the way her voice softens feels more weaponized thanit should.

“You can read, Magnus. You’re admittedly a slow reader, but you’re notilliterate, and I imagine hardly being able to see the words is the biggerproblem. You were the one whomentioned letters getting jumbled.”

She 'imagines’. Like she hasn’tthought about this way more than even he has, doesn’t have him outsmarted atevery turn and twist. He bets she’s planned the whole thing out, and bets evenmore that he’s been going right along with the script whether he likes it ornot.

And fair enough, admitting hislittle letter problem was his fault, a little quirk that even most people whoneeded glasses didn’t seem to have.

It doesn’t keep him fromscoffing, shrugging as he hands her back her sign before picking at one of hisgloves, picking at a tear that had started as just a worn spot.

He really ought to start sewingthat up before it becomes a problem. Maybe’s it’s just time for new gloves.

“Believe it or not, if Iwanted to be diagnosed with 'stupid’, I’d go to Ivor.”

Ellegaard nudges his shoulderwith her elbow.

(Ivor would maybe think it, wouldgrumble it with other snarky comments, but he’d never say as much seriously, tohim or the rest of them. Ellegaard’s better at insults, at saying what shemeans.)

“You’re not stupid. Dyslexiamakes it harder to read even when your vision’s technically perfect.”

He’s heard the term before,though not often.

There’s a name, which meansthere’s information, which means she’s absolutely got him cornered on two conditions he knows little tonothing about.

“Ah, great, I’mdouble-fucked then.” She flinches, whole body jerking while her fingersdig into the wooden back of the chair and make it creak, and he knows he’sright. “Most people would take that as a sign that I’m not meant forreading.”

“We can help.”

“This is help?” Maybeshe just doesn’t see it the way he does. She’s never been great with people,but she’s too brilliant to not read him like a book, to know he hates everylittle part of this. He doesn’t like feeling small, feeling cornered, and he’sso ready to get out of this chair. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need youbroadcasting my weak-spots to everybody like that. I don’t need you to teach meto read, or whatever scheme you have for unjumbling words.”

“Magnus.”

He pauses as he stands up,knowing he probably shouldn’t wait before she can convince him with somebrilliant bullshit, but he pauses all the same. He makes a show of it, hummingto himself before yawning, stretching his back while it’s still to her.

“Look, Ellie–”

And he freezes.

And the whine about how hedoesn’t need glasses dies on his lips, but his head’s already turned to her andwow.

There’s some sort of bias, he’ssure, about how she’s the first person he sees clearly, the first person in waytoo long and maybe ever because everything’s not blurry for once, but damn.

He’s seen her before, plenty, andfor all her teasing and concern, he’s not blind.

But he can count the scratches on her goggles, worn as the pair is getting,and the threads fraying from the more burned part of her right glove, by thewrist.

And Magnus wants to. He wants tofigure out and spot all the little things he’s never been able to see wellenough and just count them because he can, but that would require keeping theglasses on and proving Ellie right.

She’s smiling like he’s making her happy, smiling like there’s pure redstone running in her veins and like he put it there, rather than it just being because she’s right again, and he wants to do whatever he can to keep that smile as bright and warm as it is. She cares so much, about him, and there’s a sappy thought lingering in his mind about her getting him to fall in love with her all over again.

Part of whatever would involve keeping the glasses, though, and he has way too many internal problems to even try untangling them here and now.

Still, that’s a level of detailhe never imagined having.

(Maybe he doesn’t need glasses,but he can definitely see the use to them. He never realized he was missingthis much. (The vainer side of him wants a mirror, because what does he looklike with all the sharp edges and vivid details?))

He’s not keeping them, of course.He’s probably spent too much time as it is looking like he’s had his mindblown, and Magnus just hopes he can play it off as being dazed. It shouldn’t betoo hard; he’s already starting to get a splitting headache as clear as hisvision.

Ellegaard’s mouth hangs open whenhe pulls the glasses off and hands them back to her.

(He wants to snatch the glassesback just so he can better appreciate and laugh at that look, but he’s got his own image to defend.)

“Welp, that was interesting.Was it supposed to do something?”

“But Magnus-”

“But nothing. There ain’tany point in keeping crap like that on my face when it doesn’t do me a bitgood.”

Ellegaard doesn’t chase after himwhen he leaves, and with any luck she’s not totally onto him.

It’s hard to say, for obviousreasons, but as he leaves, the glance he sneaks pretty heavily suggests shethinks the glasses might just be broken, twisting them in her hands and mutteringto herself.

Maybe she just wishes she waswringing his neck instead.

(She’ll find out eventually, heknows, and she’ll be livid when she does, maybe even enough to skin him alive,but he’d like to try and keep it between him and Ivor for now. Glasses are toobig a weakness, too easy to spot and exploit and too much of a liability for agriefer, but contacts?

Contacts sound doable.

And with Ivor pretty much theteam healer, being open about it with him’s probably the most painless courseof action.

It’ll also annoy Ellie beyond allbelief eventually, so there are a couple of good reasons.)

Contacts work great.

For the first few years, beforeand then right after the Dragon.

After that, though, after thefanfare dies down and Soren makes it clear there aren’t going to be any moreadventures, Magnus takes the fighting up a notch.

By hiding.

In his tower, watching over hiscity of chaos like a mastermind.

Or a prisoner.

Really, he’s a coward, toostubborn to give up his title and too tired to step back into the public eye.They’re all desperate for a piece of him, his title and what it means, andevery single one of those hungry eyes has an advantage over either of his.

It’s not exactly like he can goshopping for contacts in a city of griefers.

(He’s not dumb enough to re-usethe ones he had, and even in his more desperate moments it’s too late, eachpair having long since been tossed into the lava.)

Damn him.

He should’ve taken the glasseswhen he had the chance, or when the group started drifting apart. Should’vetaken them from where he knew Ivor left them, one of the few things abandonedon Ivor’s desk when he cleared out and left (got kicked out), or gone and gottenhimself a brand new pair. Outdated by now or not, they’d be better thannothing.

Lava’s bright enough, standingout sharply in contrast to the inky obsidian, that he hardly has to worry aboutjust accidentally stepping into it. The rest of the traps are better hidden,but they’re all his and he knows them by heart.

He’s had enough time holed up inhis tower to make sure of that.

As it turns out, it’s not enoughtime to fully make Magnus rusty at fighting, and when he finally does get togive everyone a show? Well, he kills it until he almost gets himself killed,too slow and too cocky and too perfectly set up for Jesse to take down.

That would smart more if his citywasn’t in shredded, bedrock pocked pieces.

But he fights against mobs fine,and that’s enough. He doesn’t find Soren on his own, spends too much timestumbling through Soren’s fortress and squinting at stupidly small scrawls onsigns, and that’s enough too.

When he chickens out fromdropping the F-Bomb, something the (ex)king of the griefers should jump at,it’s more than enough. He’s a coward, and he’ll own it if he has to.

And then Ellegaard sweet-talksJesse better with fancy words and intentions, gets Jesse to take Ellegaard’sarmor instead of his, and then Ellie gets herself killed.

Typical, stupidly heroicEllegaard.

Stupidly brilliant, dying, coughing, wheezing Ellie.

In that moment, Magnus hates. Hates recklessly, hates withoutlimits, hates without good reason and with especially excellent reason.

He hates Ivor for this.

He hates them for what they madeIvor do, for pushing him away in the first place.

He hates Soren for not having thebomb ready in time, for not figuring out some way to craft it and keep it fromdetonating before they wanted it too.

He hates not just shoving hisarmor onto Jesse like he wanted to.

He hates that he never tried hardenough to get new contacts, or had just given in and take the glasses when she put them on his head. He hates he nevergot new ones. (Since when has he cared about what other people think so badly?What they would do to him? It was hiscity. If anybody could sneak out, or waltz right through it, it should’vebeen him. When did he ever let it get that bad? He could take on anyone who hada problem or thought it made him weaker.)

He hates that Ellie’s dying andhe can’t even see what she really looks like.

Besides the way he feels– small.

(Magnus hasn’t seen any of hisfriends in so long, and he can’t really say how any of them look, how the little details have changed.

He knows they have.

Their voices have changed, moreweary and beaten than they ever were, and the way they move even with him’s tooguarded. Ellie, above all else, has been the most bitter, and that’s sayingsomething.

For all Magnus knows, Ellie’sstill been wearing the same old gloves, ones she should’ve thrown out years ago(ones Jesse’s wearing now), or Soren’s actually been getting himself some sleepin the End, done something to take care of the circles under his eyes he’dstarted getting even before they all split up.

Maybe Gabe’s not as awful lookingas he sounds, as weak and strained as his movements make him out to be.)

It’s a selfish desire, but hey,it’s what he’s good at.

Part of this fic is inspired by this post by warning-heckmouth.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #Ellagnus #hagia0pan

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lunaraen · 7 years

Note

“I don’t want to romantically cuddle with you, this is a necessary evil, there is no romance involved.” Ellegaard and Magnus?

A cave isn’t usually a goodplace, or really any place at all, to try and warm up.

Caves aren’t known for beingwarm.

(Or safe. Or anything other than densfor lurking monsters and being stripped of their ores and anything worthentering in the first place. No one wants to use a cave for shelter when evendigging and hiding in a hole seems safer.)

A cave, cool, dark, and oftendamp, tends to be a good place to be to be colder, really. Unless, of course,it’s so wet and cold everywhere else, the wind strong enough to make treesconstantly sway and bend, said wind howling past and through everything it canas the rain continues to pound in thick and unrelenting sheets.

When the ground becomes mush, asloppy, muddy mix of grasses and thick blankets of leaves, too runny to standon and too thick to really run through, when it gets dark and rains hard enoughto make a sea of monsters and a flash flood itself seem not only possible, butinevitable, when a rain forest lives up to its name and becomes more bitinglycold water than actual forest…

Well, then a cave becomes a muchbetter place to warm up.

Especially because, while it maynot be the coldest weather, it’s not particularly warm and Magnus is soakingwet.

Ellegaard had seen it comingfirst, a rush of water down the center of the winding valley they’d beentrekking through, and while she knows her warning was as loud as it could be,that didn’t keep it from narrowly missing her at the same time it hit Magnus.Of their packs, Ellegaard had only been holding onto one when she’d all butlunged out of the way, and the other two had quickly been swept away.

Which means they lost most oftheir rations, building materials, and pretty much all of their basic tools.Their spare clothes had luckily been in the pack she held onto, along with ahandful of torches and a flint and steel.

All of which they’d used upalmost immediately. Warming up, and drying off their drenched clothes, meantmaking a fire, and not letting monsters spawn in their shelter is a good idea.

Said fire is a roaring blaze, amess of orange and golden flames dancing around each other and fighting to eatup the limited fuel as fast as they can while they struggle to stretch towardsthe ceiling. It’s bright but weak, and a perfect opposite for the weatherraging outside.

With the firewood, keptmiraculously dry by the thick leather pack, they have left, Ellegaard knows theywon’t be able to keep the fire going past dawn.

With any luck, they won’tneed to, but she curses herself for not thinking to pack heavier backup clothes.

Their current outfits aren’t muchmore than a simple shirt and pair of pants each, and neither are anywhere nearas useful as a jacket or even a blanket would be. The socks she packed arereplacing the ones he forgot to, but she knows it’s not enough to keep Magnusas warm as he should be.

In her defense, they had preparedfor a small exploration, meant to take a few hours at most, not for anovernight exercise in survival.

The sun was hidden behind cloudshours ago, harmless looking clouds that weren’t supposed to turn into aterrifying behemoth of a storm, and it’s far too late now for it to have anychance of coming out and warming things up now, when they need it.

She supposes they could’ve builttheir own shelter, but the shift in weather didn’t give them much time andshe’s not going to pretend either of them are more than decent builders ontheir best days.

And today has not been one oftheir best days. Calling it a good day is a stretch.

They had almost nothing to workwith when the weather started to take a turn for the worst, sky churning as theclouds went from a light grey to an almost inky black in a matter of minutes.

When they’d found this cave, theydidn’t even have enough supplies to fully block the entrance. On the brighterside of things, they’d barely been able to make it in themselves as it was,having to crawl through the low but wide gap in the stone.

At the time, she’d expected it tobe some sort of den, and as much as she didn’t want a fight, they weren’t goingto have many options if somebody was taking up their temporary shelter.

It was a relief to find it cold butempty.

Looking at it now, Ellegaard getsmore of the impression that it could, one day, become a den for some kind ofcreature. Right now, however, it looks more like an underground pool of waterthat dried up, the floor almost entirely flat and most of the cave’s edges rounded.There’s a steep dip from the opening, which means that, while the roof isn’tmuch higher than the one they had to deal with while crawling, there’s enoughspace between it and the floor that Ellegaard has no trouble comfortablystanding, and at eye level with the entrance.

The ceiling is like the rest ofthe cave, made of what has to be thick stone, meaning that water would have amuch harder time draining in than it would if it were made of mud and clay,something Ellegaard especially appreciates with the storm they’re currentlydealing with.

The roof collapsing on them wouldbe another unneeded, unnecessary, and unwanted nail in the coffin.

What keeps them from beingflooded now or affected by the flash flood and raging storm that chased themhere in the first place is the same thing that seems to have kept it fromfilling back up over time: the odd angle of the entrance.

While the floor of the cave itself is almostentirely flat, like it was carved out of the inside of the hill, the opening istilted in a way that made them climb up to get in instead of down, and islocated on the side of said hill, with a bit of dirt and moss covered stonereaching past the actual entrance and making it almost impossible for any ofthe water to flow back in.

It keeps them dry, or as dry as they can hope to be, and lets Ellegaard safely watch the water drain down the hill.

Roots, muddied and drenched, hangover the edge of the top, dripping ever so slowly onto the slanted ground, thetrickle of dirtied water mixing in with the mulch and the muck as it steadilydrains downhill and disappears into the constant tiny splashes made by the rainand much faster water still tearing its way through the dip between the hills.

Ellegaard’s fingers absentlytrace the edge of the stone, still wet from all the water Ellegaard and Magnushad managed to drag in.

Thunder rumbles in thebackground, shifting but never stopping, at its quietest a steady grumbleunderlying the storm and at its loudest a series of sharp booms that takescenter stage.

The torches they have set uparound the cave are immensely comforting, flames smaller and far less intensethan the roaring fire but just as appreciated as their light stretches fromsmoothed corners to jagged grooves in the wall, even if having them lit meanseven more light tries its hardest to pour through the cave opening and out intothe monster filled night.

She’s heard the occasional, faroff clicking of a skeleton and the groans of zombies she can’t see and may ormay not be imagining. The shrieks,croaks, and chirps of frogs that seem to be utterly delighted by the weathermake it hard to tell what she’s hearing, as does the pounding of the rain.

The good news is that both monstersare far too uncoordinated and, frankly, stupid to be able to crawl uphillthrough the partly blocked off entrance with the weather like it is now, andeven if any of them tries, the telltale scratching would be impossible to miss.A spider would be too big to do more than awkwardly scuttle up the low entrance before getting stuck, and cave spiders don’t go anywherenear the surface when the weather’s like this.

If anything, they go deeper, andshe and Magnus are lucky enough that their shelter isn’t connected to otherunderground pockets or winding tunnels.

From what little she can see inthe blurry and rain streaked dark, the water rushes strong and hard, but evenat its highest it only went halfway up to the start of their shelter, and nowit seems to have dipped again, the rain still harsh and fierce but not asbrutal or fierce as it was.

That being said, it’s late enoughthat leaving now is suicide, even if the weather does eventually settle down.At this rate, it won’t really calm down for several more hours, maybe even notuntil the sun’s come back up and the next day’s begun.

At least it looks nothing from theoutside will get them, not without giving them enough warning and getting aproper fight, if they stay here.

But it’s not what’s on the outsidethe worries her.

Not anymore than it usually does,anyways.

Ellegaard turns from the opening,tearing her gaze from the soaked world outside to the body lying beside thefire.

Out of all of them, Magnus has alwayshad the most trouble staying warm. Ellegaard might have been caught in therain, which can be unforgiving as it is, but at least she hadn’t been knockedoff her feet by a wall of rushing water. She doesn’t even want to think abouthow lucky they are that he didn’t hit his head, and even luckier still that he was able to all but claw his way back onto higher and, comparatively, drier ground.

Having no hair means there’s no drenched or dripping hair to keep his head damp and cold, but it also means there’s nothing to keepit warm.

Ellegaard would gladly give him her helmet if it wasn’t drying out beside the rest of their clothes and armor, warmer and better than it had been but still damp and cold.

That being said, she can do better to keep him warm, and fully intends to as she walks away from the opening, sitting down beside him as soon as she reaches his side. A warm body is a better way to warm him up than a helmet, dry or not, would ever be.

“Move over.” Shedoesn’t wait for him to shift before wrapping her arms around him, wincing andpausing for only a moment as her fingers curl around his arms, stopping rightbelow where the sleeves begin.

Notch, he’s freezing.

He’s dry, but that doesn’t meanshe doesn’t need to warm him up, and quickly.

“Ellie?” The cracklingfire manages to be louder than his voice, little more than a slurred mumble,but she hears him all the same. His eyes are closed, neither bothering to openas he frowns, arms wrapping around her anyway.

“I don’t want to romanticallycuddle with you, this is a necessary evil; there is no romance involved.”

She likes nothing about how coldhe is, how sleepy, how tired and worn out both of them are and should be, butshe tries to give the words some sort of warmth to match her smile.

That seems to get his attention.

“Nobody said anythin aboutit being romantic.” He looks up at her now, squinting in the firelight ashis frown twists into a smirk. “Good to know I’m freezing to death andyou’re more worried about smooching, though.”

“Like I said, it’snecessary. I know you.” Ellegaard gives a softer smile before pressing alight kiss to his forehead. “Shut up and start cuddling.”

“Being awful pushy ‘bout itfor somebody who doesn’t want to touch me.” Her shoulders shouldn’t relaxthe way they do, but she can hear the grin in his voice and it’s more relievingthan it has any right to be.

She huffs, an empty sound that theyboth know means nothing, as she rolls her eyes.

“Do you want to be warm ornot?”

She doesn’t get a word out of himafter that, but Magnus’s much tighter grip as his chin digs into the back ofher shoulder is as good an answer as any.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #ellagnus #anon

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satuponurn · 7 years

Text

Magnus often calls Ellegaard "Ellie." It's not a nickname she dislikes entirely, although there's something obnoxious about how he still uses it in the middle of arguments. Not that she doesn't do the same thing. If he's really getting on her nerves, she calls him "Maggie." It's almost comical how he gets so worked up over it being a "girl name" that he forgets whatever point he's trying to make.

#mcsm headcanon #magnugaard #ellagnus #i'm doing that thing where i make too many posts again aren't i?#sorry for the spam my fellow mcsmers #i just get a lot of ideas at night when you're all asleep and then i've posted five headcanons in a row without anyone else's posts to brea #mcsmheadcanon

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lunaraen · 7 years

Note

"Get out, get out, get out, get out!", Maybe Ellegaard and Magnus?

Magnus was used to rudeawakenings. It was part of being a griefer, along with paranoia, scars, andburns. Lots and lots of burns. He wasn’t stupid enough to let his guard downaround other griefers, but even behind a wall of obsidian, exploding TNT had away of making for a good alarm clock. It worked, even if the time was neverreliable. The occasional nightmares were about as welcome and less useful, but he acceptedthere was nothing he could do about them other than get moving or try to fallback to sleep.

It made him a light sleeper,something that came in handy more often than not, but waking somebody up byjabbing them with inhumanly icy fingers was perhaps the rudest of awakeningsand hardly appreciated.

(He would know. He’d done itplenty of times in the past, usually getting scowls made by faces far too tiredto respond properly and glares from eyes narrowed enough that they may as wellhave been, and often were, shut, in return.)

He’d already opened his eyes whenEllegaard started to poke and shove at him, soon hissing something or other asshe did, the words hard to hear over what he was coming to realize was thesimilar creaking and hissing of whatever redstone contraptions she’d shovedinto the corner of the room. He didn’t have to worry about not understandingher the first few times, the words not changing as she continued to try toshove him, the jabs getting rougher as he screwed his eyes shut and held ontight to the pillow his head was on, out of the bed.

Her bed.

His had springs that tended tosqueak at every little thing, while hers seemed to be doing its best to stayquiet while its owner did the opposite.

“Get out, get out, get out,get out!”

Looking at her, it occurred tohim that she was as naked as he was,though she probably could use a shower as much as it felt like he could too.It was a sight he had a feeling he’d appreciatemore if she stopped pushing him. But how had he gotten into her bed? The last thing he remembered was—

Oh, right.

They’d been celebrating someadventure or other, the details fuzzier and coming back to Magnus slower thanthe memories of the actual party. Soren really knew how to party, for a shut-inwith no idea what personal boundaries were.

Ellegaard was fun when she was drunk.He guessed he was too, but hey, he was always fun.

(She used to be fun, able tocrack a smile while sober and relax every now and then, before either of themhad ever met Gabriel or thought about joining the order. But she’d startedgetting stuffier, started focusing more and more on her inventions and ignoringhim, and Magnus wasn’t the type of guy who liked to be outdone. Giving each otherthe cold shoulder got pretty boring pretty quickly, and at least just up andditching each other wasn’t as awkward.

Magnus wasn’t very good atletting sleeping dogs lie, and rekindling what they had sounded about as easyand appealing as setting off a stack of TNT, not that he was complaining. She’dseemed to be loosening up again slowly after joining the order, though sheeither hadn’t known it or hadn’t expected to get back to the point they were atlast night, the latter more likely. There wasn’t much she didn’t know,insufferable as she could be about it.)

“Good morning to youtoo.”

He got an extra hard jab in theside for that, nails digging into his skin. He had a feeling the bruises therehad less to do with yesterday’s adventure and more with what left her neckbright red and his mouth awfully sore.

Ellegaard didn’t seem toappreciate the somewhat lazy and short kick made in the general area of whereher head had been, and Magnus found himself falling off of the edge, pillow intow, and onto the discarded clothes that were spread around on the carpet. Shedidn’t miss a beat, following him off the bed, staying on her feet as shegathered the clothes he wasn’t already laying before shoving them into his armswith a hand as she used the other to grab his arm and yank him up.

“Get out!”

He hardly had time to get hisboxers on before she snatched the pillow back and shut the door, the click the quietest thing he’d heardsince waking up.

That left him almost entirelynaked in the empty hall, light trickling in past the red curtains that coveredthe large window in the middle. The carpet wasn’t exactly warm underneath hisbare feet, but it was better than tile, even if there was an inexplicable draftthat had timing almost as bad as his own. It felt and looked like it was waytoo early to be up, so after that shower, burying himself in his own bed didn’tsound half bad.

Ellegaard spent too much timerunning circles around everybody in her head. He was getting mixed signals, butthat just meant that, since she’d decided to kick him out, they were open forinterpretation.

(Not a good thing to let agriefer have control over, but, again, it was early, and by the time Ellegaardrealized her mistake, she’d have finished stripping the bed and scrubbing thesheets clean. She’d probably have sorted out the mental breakdown too, butthose could take a while.)

He shrugged to himself as he duginto his pants pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, thefirst with a sizable dent that hadn’t been there before yesterday and thesecond crumpled and the muted colors worn around the many creases. He glanced at the door as he pulled out a cigarette and held it with two fingers.

Magnus grinned as he lit thecigarette, tucking the clothes under his arm. He gave a short, low whistle thatdidn’t bother to find a tune as he began to walk back to his room, stuffing thelighter and the cigarette pack back in the pile of clothes.

He decided to take it as aninvitation to try for a repeat later.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #ellagnus #anon

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lunaraen · 7 years

Note

"You're my best friend's girlfriend--I can't do this to him." (Your choice characters) please

Gabriel liked to think of himselfas alert even at his most tired, but he wasn’t expecting company, not likethis. He hadn’t known he was going to be ambushed, at the top of one set ofstairs but at the bottom of another, his sword and armor cushioned somewhat bythe cloth bag but still making a considerable amount of noise as they hit thefloor. The only thing keeping him from making any noise of his own was the handpressed against his mouth, which happened to send up a number of red flags.

Ellegaard shifting to hold ontothe collar of his shirt, two bare fingers hooking it from underneath as herother hand fell from his mouth, managed to set off just as many.

“Gabriel… you’re myfriend, aren’t you?” Her voice, nearly sing-song, was accompanied by asmile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her clothes and hair seemed devoid ofredstone, nothing glinting in the torchlight, a considerable feat given herfrequent and quite vocal frustrations involving getting the dust out of either,and her goggles and usual clothes had been discarded in favor of a morequestionable outfit. She licked her lips as she leaned into him, Gabrielcatching another whiff of a perfume that lingered as she did. “Can you dome a favor?”

“Ellegaard.” Gabriel’sback met with the wall as he attempted to take a step back, the bag on thefloor clinking again as his heel hit it. “Wh-why are you doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Is theresomething I’m not supposed to like?” The smile became a grin, all teethand still no warmth as she glanced down at the rest of him. Somehow, Gabrieldidn’t think the chill he got was due to his thin underclothes.

“I’m serious.” Gabrielfrowned, stiffening slightly but not looking away from Ellegaard as somethingnear the top of the stairs creaked. The halls were well-lit enough thatmonsters weren’t a concern, especially seeing as how a certain laboratory hadbeen vacated. If Ellegaard heard the sound, the only sign was her tighteninggrip.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybeit’s because Magnus doesn’t take any of this seriously. Maybe it’s because hedrools over every busty airhead in a too short dress that passes by. Maybe I’mjust a little bit sick of being treated like he treats every other one-nightstand, except he knows I’ll still be here in the morning.” Ellegaardtilted her head, lips brushing against his. “Take a guess.”

“Ellegaard.” It was with a huff that she pulled back justenough to look him in the eyes, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong now?”

“You can’t tell me you don’tsee the problem here.” Her eyebrow only rose higher, Gabriel sighing as hepushed her away, hand on her shoulder and his grip firm but gentle.“You’re my best friend’s girlfriend— I can’t do this to him. This isn’tlike you.”

“Oh, for— don’t take it sopersonally. Notch knows Magnus doesn’t.” Her voice lowered to a mutter asshe looked away from him, letting go of his shirt, her upper lip curling backfor a moment. “It’s not like he’d care. Just— just let me feel like I’mnot another in a long list of names for once, alright?”

It seemed odd to him that theywere whispering if Magnus wouldn’t care, and Ellegaard was smart enough to knowthe chances of being found here were high.

“That sounds like somethingyou should take up with him.” He lowered his hand, but she didn’t make anymovements to come closer, rolling her eyes.

“Right. Come on, Gabriel,snap out of it. Since The Dragon—” And it was indeed The Dragon, the twowords conveying severity in both how one incident had made them renowned heroesas well as how the same incident proved how easy it was to fool the world,“it’s all gone to hell. Ivor’s gone, Soren can barely be bothered to stopcooing over the command block long enough to feed himself, you keep acting likethings’ll be fine if we pretend nothing’s changed, and Magnus is treatingeverything like a giant joke.”

“…yes, well, everyone hastheir own ways of dealing with things.” Since Ivor’s ‘disappearance’, andSoren’s subsequent tweaking of the story to never mention him at all, theyseemed to have fallen into a rut of sorts. Soren only insisted that the otherscontinue to attend the many festivals and celebrations being held in theirhonor, and any questions regarding what they would do next were quickly deflectedwith similar insistence and comments about experimentation on the inexplicableblock responsible for their newfound glory.

They had continued to train asthey used to, at first, but it quickly became clear that there was no point,and the continuing stagnation led to other activities and plans as constantparties began to lose their luster. Despite living in the same building, entiredays could go by before he saw one of the others. As far as Gabriel knew, hewas the only one who bothered to train anymore, and even then training occurredfar less often than it used to.

Slaying the dragon was supposedto be their beginning, a way to establish themselves as heroes and signify thestart of a long line of quests and adventures, but it was shaping up to betheir premature end.

“You try loving him and then listen to all the other names hemutters in his sleep. Then you can tell me how easy it is.” Ellegaard didn’t wait for a response before sheturned, hand on the rail and scowl on her face. She didn’t look back as shemade her way up the stairs.

“I never said it waseasy.” Losing one of their best friends had been hard enough, but what remained between the friends left behind was breaking apart on the inside. Gabriel hoped, desperately hoped, he waswrong, but it felt like it was only a matter of time.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #ellagnus #anon

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