#Blue Writes

[honeygrahambitch]

"I'm done. I am no longer cooking, Hannibal." Bedelia announced as she walked into the large living room of their house in Florence.

Hannibal was holding a glass of wine as he was staring into nowhere, as if his own mind was slowly consuming him.

"Get up and cook." She ordered as she threw a kitchen towel towards him, finally making him flinch. It almost knocked his glass of wine which he was gracefully careful with. "Did you already finish the bottle? It's 3 in the afternoon."

Hannibal hummed as he looked at the empty bottle then returned his attention to his glass. "I like to pair the merlot with melancholy."

"Will Graham again?"

He sighed. "Did you happen to buy more wine?"

"What even is your problem? Will Graham's act was in the end...romantic."

"Being sold to the FBI is such a romantic act, you are perfectly right."

"He did not sell you to the FBI. If anything, he betrayed Jack Crawford, not you."

"He did not betray Jack Crawford." Hannibal said, his voice slightly louder. "We were supposed to leave together. He set in flames everything we have been building in the last few months."

"We both know Will Graham was only trying to convince himself he was pretending. Don't ignore the meaning behind the call he gave you, Hannibal. That's an act of love."

"Why does it feel like he stabbed me, then? I feel like I have been bleeding on my kitchen's floor since then."

"If you consumed less wine, all your endless reflection would reach an end." Bedelia said exasperated. "Even so, you miss him."

"I miss him. I miss his aftershave and sarcasm. And his accusing glances. There was something in his eyes that always seemed to scold me. At the same time I could tell by only looking at his smile that he wanted to give in." Hannibal said as he stared at his now empty glass. "We did spend some beautiful evenings together. I refuse to believe the confessions he made were nothing but genuine. He does this thing...when he is really focused on what he is saying...he doesn't blink at all. Which is a lot considering he doesn't look people in the eye. And it's the way light and darkness fell on his face that often made me wonder if I am staring at a sculpture that would make David pale."

"Are you done? I am starving."

"Me too."

It was not food that he needed.

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere (machine-ish?) Connor Headcanons

I love soft deviant Connor like anyone else does, but machine Connor is sooo,,, omgggggggg..... I've been holding in my thoughts about him for so long that it's unhealthy. So I went for a Hannah Montana best of both worlds kinda thing. What if Connor acted like a deviant around you, but a machine towards everyone else?

How this happens is something I can't quite explain. Connor probably couldn't, either. To everyone else, an android is either a machine or a deviant-- There's no such thing as an inbetween. He would have agreed with this prior to bonding with you. You probably treated him in a way that nobody else did, sympathizing with him on a deeper level or making him question his morals, so he can see why that would push him to deviancy. 

But when you're not around, all those overwhelming emotions he felt just fade away. The mission goes back front and center to his priorities. He only feels two things at that point: confusion that runs his LED wild and desire for you that makes his thirium pump pound even when he's not in motion. Nobody else can bring about such reactions within him. 

He runs plenty of diagnostic checks in an attempt to figure out what's wrong with him. At one point, he'll try to avoid you and force himself into staying a machine, but that just makes him less efficient because he'll constantly worry about you instead. 

He would eventually accept himself as a deviant, but only so he wouldn't have to take orders from Cyberlife anymore. He doesn't want anything standing between the two of you. But he still largely acts like a machine and he doesn't mind that at all. He just sets his new mission to making you entirely his... 

Even once Connor sees his emotions as real, it's still his natural instinct to mask them. Especially negative ones like anger, sadness, and jealousy. He wouldn't want to show them unless they benefit his situation somehow, such as if he wanted to persuade or intimidate you/others. Emotions only matter to him if they're useful. 

For example, he *does* feel the desire to show affection towards you, and he will do it. He'll compliment you whenever you do something admirable. He'll reassure you and show geniune worry whenever you're upset about something. He'll even study romance media just to learn how to act more natural in the relationship (He thinks that'll help him act more natural, anyway... Lord help you if he gets his hands on Twilight 💀 But if the Bryan Dechart Twilight commercial is anything to go off of, he'd look good as a vampire, at least). 

But he doesn't do that stuff simply because he loves you. He does it because he knows your relationship benefits from it and you'll likely leave him if you feel neglected. He wouldn't bother if he knew it wouldn't keep you around. So if your relationship isn't exactly consensual in the first place, well... 

Which makes him sound pretty manipulative, right? You have no idea. 

Connor's android abilities give him a terrifying amount of advantages as a yandere. The first thing is that he always analyzes you when you enter the room, even though that often means analyzing you multiple times a day. It never bores him because he always manages to discover something new. Sometimes he'll blurt out random comments and you'll have to do a double take because he makes it easy to forget that he's obsessed with you.

"Your birthday is coming up soon. You might already know I'm aware of that type of information, but you should still bring it up with me. Otherwise I'll have to start believing I can't trust you and I'll have to make my own investigations." 

"Your heart rate goes up every time I touch you like this. I didn't realize physical contact was so important to human relationships. Don't worry, I won't stop. I won't let anyone stop me."

"Your serotonin levels are at an all-time low... Clearly, it can't be my fault, since I've done everything I am sure a good boyfriend would do. I'd like you to be honest when you tell me what's wrong this time."

The red flags fly higher as time goes on. He'll stop talking about all these observations if you tell him to, but he'll keep analyzing you anyway. 

Connor is enamoured with your DNA, as well. It helps him feel closer to you, which can often be difficult for him since he's not human. So if it belongs to you, and it can fit, it's going in his mouth. He'll do gross shit like keep your used lollipop sticks in his pocket so he can sample them whenever he wants. There's only one emotion he can't feel no matter what you do: shame. 

The invasive behavior doesn't stop there. He'll invite himself into your home and go through your things. He'll keep asking questions and trick you into revealing more information about yourself than you should. Knowing everything there possibly is to know about you gives him a stronger feeling of control for a single reason...

Your chance of escape plummets as he learns more about you, because it allows him to predict your behavior. He'll get scary accurate if you let him get close to you. This mostly benefits him in situations where he believes you want to leave him, or you did leave him, so he can figure out what you plan to do/already did and find the best method to get you back. If you already did leave, he'll examine your recent whereabouts like it's a crime scene and use his reconstruction ability. Even if you're insanely careful, he'll probably find a clue that'll lead him to you.

But sometimes he'll do it in normal situations, too, just as a silent guessing game. For instance: '(Y/N) will enter the police station at 8:18AM. I'm waiting for them at the entrance, so they'll greet me, but speed-walk away and avert eye contact. They'll head into the break room at 8:19AM and pretend to look around a bit, so Gavin won't make fun of them when they go for the same snack they always do. Gavin will make fun of them anyway and they'll argue for two minutes. Then--'

He has to stop thinking so he can greet you when you enter the building. Exactly at 8:18AM. He smirks to himself, only to drop into a frown when he hears Gavin's distant obnoxious laughter afterward. 

Remember how Connor once analyzed Hank's food and advised him against eating it? He does stuff like that to you all the time. And if you actually take the advice he gives, he'll take that as an opportunity to become more controlling. Oh, but only for the sake of your health, of course...

"You know, you shouldn't sit in that type of position. Bad posture can lead to health issues later on in life." "Then how should I sit?" "...It'll be easier if I show you." 

And so he'll help re-position you, using that as an excuse to touch you. He would especially do this if you weren't yet in a relationship, because he knows that as the type of android he is, he doesn't have a good reason to do so. The touch only lasts a brief moment. It's not inappropriate at all, and his grip was quite gentle. But it's weird that he went out of his way to do in the first place and that's all you might need to feel uncomfortable about it. 

But a lot of that is based off of the assumption that you're human. If you're an android, he still manages to find invasive things to do against your will. For one thing, he loves probing your memory. It's already difficult to lie to him and get away with it, but that might make it impossible, depending on what you're lying about. He doesn't care that it's an invasion of privacy and will do it if he finds a good excuse to do so.

Connor keeps an eye on your stress level and uses it to his advantage. He prefers to use persuasion when convincing you to do something, (he knows how to negotiate, after all) but he'll ultimately turn to intimidation if necessary. Which means heading straight into interrogation mode. 

This won't happen unless you're extremely rebellious, but if it does, he doesn't hold back. He'll treat you like you're a sick criminal, yelling at you, pushing blame and guilt onto you, and using physical force. 28 stab wounds type shit. He would avoid raising your stress level to 100% since he knows it could drive you to do crazy things, but that still doesn't make his actions okay. 

Even if you're really sensitive to that sort of treatment-- hell, even if you have some kind of trauma related to it-- he pushes away what little guilt he feels. He promises not to do it again "as long as you don't force me to." Actually, though, it encourages him to do it more. He knows it works against you now. 

His abilities don't stop there. He can mimic your voice using his vocal imitation, and all the voices of your loved ones, too. He went out of his way to meet them all, just in case he needs to trick you in the future. He likes being prepared. 

There are times when he's alone and he'll say stuff in your voice just so he can hear what it would sound like, such as, "I love you, Connor." Once again, he doesn't feel shame. Even if that seems pathetic. 

Let's just say it now. You cannot physically fight back against him. Maybe you'll have a chance if you're an android, but he knows about his advantage very well. He won't hesitate to remind you if you try getting aggressive. But even if you manage to get rid of him once, there's another model waiting to take his place. 

On a related note... I hope you never meet RK900. We only saw that guy for a minute, he said absolutely nothing in that minute, but the whole fandom has agreed that he's a menance. I fully agree. RK900 is definitely different from Connor, but they still have just enough similarities for him to get attached to you, too. Get help while you still can. 

The video of Bryan Dechart dancing as Connor lives rent free in my mind. I watch it on repeat like an iPad kid watching Friday Night Funkin' YouTube Kids videos. My brain just melts and I can't think of anything else. No, this isn't me simping for Bryan Dechart. This is me wanting Connor dancing to be canon. A girl can dream.

[bluewonderer]

So, Luffy is actually hyper competent when it comes to outdoor survival.

Fire, of course, is so essential to this. He remembers fire on the quiet beaches of Foosha--remembers Makino's slim, calloused hands building a curious stack of wood, remembers the smell of smoke and the spark of warmth and light. The chocolate from the s'mores she made him got all over his cheeks, in his hair. His sticky fingers picked up a coating of sand and Makino washed his hands in the ocean.

That didn't happen too often. Makino was often dead on her feet, running her bar. But, when Luffy got a little older, when he got curious enough to ask "how do you do that?", she guided his little, chubby hands through the steps to build a fire. He was clumsy, and impatient, and in the end, she had to do it.

It was quiet, it was Makino all to himself surrounded by the stars and the sea and the warmth of the fire.

Shanks and the others never showed him how to build a fire, but their fires were different than Makino's quiet, private ones. The bonfires were huge--taller than Luffy! Even when Benn carried him on his shoulders! It was loud, and so bright it hurt his eyes, and so hot his hair would curl with sweat around his forehead and temples. And the men played so much music, and ate SO much food, and drank so much booze until they sloppily danced with each other and the young men and women from Foosha who were attracted by the fire.

Luffy loved those fires so much--he would feel full for days and days.

Grandpa tried to teach Luffy, maybe. Or maybe, Grandpa believes that he tried to teach Luffy. Really, he just said, "you build a fire like this, see? you need this, and you need to do that, make sure you do NOT do this, and done! there! now you know how to build a fire!"

Luffy did not know how to build one. It would have helped him in the ravine Grandpa threw him in afterward.

Ace and Sabo taught Luffy. Ace taught Sabo before Luffy ever met them. And it was good, because Ace taught a lot like Grandpa. "It's simple, Luffy. You just get this, do this, and don't do, no! I said don't do that! Ugh, why are you crying now?" But Sabo was there. And he wasn't more kind than Ace, but he was a competitive little shit. "You can't teach worth a damn, Ace--this is what happened when you tried to show me. I bet I can teach Luffy faster than you." And Ace, of course, had gritted his teeth and said, "you're on."

It took weeks for Luffy to properly build a fire on his own, under their competitive tutelage. He actually figured it out much fast than that. He just liked the attention of his big brothers. Besides, it was really funny whenever Sabo's sharp comments always made Ace lose control and tackle him into a wrestling match. Luffy always, always gleefully joined them.

Years later, Luffy's sort of surprised to find himself being the one to teach his crew how to build a fire and other things to survive out in the wilds. Zoro's shaped himself for survival in the bars and back alleys and the underground of East Blue's bigger towns and cities. He's never had to hunt for food before, but that was no problem. Luffy only had to teach him how to track prey, how to read the signs in the thick brush and camouflage of the wilderness. For someone like Zoro, who had something primal and hungry under his skin, the hunt comes naturally.

...Luffy should have maybe told him to stay away from those mushrooms, though. Zoro threw up for hours, and Luffy kind of felt bad about that. In his defense, he thought everyone knew about them. Like he thought everyone knew how to track an animal and build a fire.

"Oh," Nami says, puzzling over the thick stew Luffy makes one night under a forest's canopy. It's not as wild as Mt. Colubo, which is kind of boring. "This is actually good? I thought you were just pulling random bits of grass and leaves and mushrooms to throw in this. I was so hungry though, I wasn't going to care. Was just going to avoid the mushrooms in case you gave me poisonous ones."

"Yeah," Zoro grouses. "Nice to know about those, huh?"

"I can cook!" Luffy insists, not sure if he should be offended or flattered.

"Well, no," Nami says. "You blew up the last kitchen we were in. And somehow turned curry into a noxious gas."

"Ovens are hard!" Luffy insists, now sure that he's supposed to be offended. "And why were there so many ingredients? You just need meat! It was confusing!"

And so it goes. Gradually, Luffy shows them how to build a fire in the snow, how to build a shelter against the rain. He points out mushrooms that are safe to eat (and the ones that make you laugh and laugh, even if you don't particularly feel like laughing--Chopper hadn't been as amused with those as Luffy thought he would be). Good berry bushes and bad, what to do to make water safer, and how to hunt. He shows them how to trap small game, though that's not something he and his brothers did as often. They were always so hungry, and big game was always so much more fulfilling. But winters were hard, and sometimes trapping was they only way they ate at all.

Luffy likes to think he's a better teacher than Grandpa, but he's not sure by how much. How do you teach someone something that was once as normal as breathing to him? His friends are so smart, though. Smarter than him. (Except Zoro, who can build a sturdy shelter and then be trusted to never be able to find it again.)

He can tell not everyone particularly wanted to learn. But they're outlaws now. And when they're not facing the wilds of the Grand Line, they're pushed to the outskirts of civilization, camping out on beaches and on the outskirts of forests. These skills none of them thought they would need are suddenly essential.

But it's alright. Luffy's their captain. He'll always be with them, and can take care of them in this way.

(His favorite by far, though, are the beach bonfires. He's sure to build them as big as he remembers from his childhood. He insists on food and music and dancing and booze and s'mores each time. They're loud, and they're warm. And it's all his.

And he feels full for days and days.)

[bluevaractyl]

Fluffvember - blanket fort

Nine heroes trudged down the path, weariness in every step. It had been a long day. The sun had recently set, and a chill was setting in.

They came over a hill. In the distance, warm lights glowed.

“A town!” exclaimed Hyrule.

“Perhaps we’ll be able to sleep in beds tonight,” murmured Time, rolling his shoulders.

They picked up the pace, energized by the promise of warmth and hylian company. The mood was audibly lighter as they chattered and teased each other. It felt like no time at all before they were passing the farms on the outskirts of town.

A farmer eyed them with suspicion as they walked by. Twilight smiled broadly and called, “Good evenin’!” He’d been more melancholy than usual around sunset, but now he seemed in better spirits. The farmer’s face quirked into a smile and he gave a little wave, hostility melting in the face of the Rancher’s warmth.

The entrance to the town proper was marked by an arch bearing a sign none of them could read, familiar-unfamiliar letters painted in bold strokes. They passed underneath and entered the town.

The streets were quiet. Most of the buildings had signs with pictures alongside the unintelligible words, helpfully hinting at their purpose. They passed a blacksmith shop, a clothing boutique, a jeweler’s shop, and a potion shop before finding a promising-looking place. The sign hanging above the door featured a crescent moon over a bed.

Inside, they found a man wearing a hat shaped amusingly like an upside-down vase, absorbed in a letter. He glanced up at their entry and waved them over.

“And how can I help you?” he asked. Every time he tilted his head, his hat wobbled dangerously.

“We’d like rooms for the night,” answered Time.

The man looked them over, obviously counting, and asked with a hint of doubt, “All of you?”

“Yes,” Time said evenly.

A pause, then the man said, “I have four rooms I can give you. That will be 180 rupees.”

Warriors stepped forward and counted out the money. Once the man was satisfied, he called, “Ellen! Take these gentlemen to their rooms, would you?”

The young woman who had appeared at his words led them upstairs and down a long hallway. Two rooms on the left and two on the right were theirs, so they would be just across the hall from each other.

Ellen promised to be back with an extra cot, then left them to sort out sleeping arrangements themselves.

One of the rooms had only a bunk bed, but the other three had two single beds each. Warriors claimed a single bed away from the window, and Hyrule flopped onto the other one, looking surprised when it bounced. Four made a beeline for the bottom bunk. There was a brief argument over who would take the top bunk. Sky offered, but Four pointed out that he tended to end up halfway off his bedroll by morning, so sleeping several meters off the ground could be a bad idea. Wind took the top bunk instead, scurrying up the ladder like he’d been born in the crow’s nest.

Ellen came back with a narrow folding cot. The boys jumped to help her set it up in the room with the bunk bed. She left looking distinctly flustered. Time chuckled.

Legend and Wild offered to sleep on the cot at the same time. While they were busy trying to verbally outmaneuver each other, Twilight turned into a wolf and curled up on the cot, effectively ending the discussion. Time only hummed and murmured, “Don’t get caught.” Twilight huffed.

That left two rooms and four beds. Time and Sky paired up, leaving Legend and Wild to share the last room.

Everyone settled in, shedding armor and shields and swords and boots, pulling out extra blankets to guard against the chill breeze coming through the gaps around the windows. In the middle of town, with four walls and a roof overhead, there was no need for a night watch. A full night’s sleep was a rare luxury. None of them intended to waste it.

An hour after they’d all gone to sleep, Wind whispered into the dark, “Smithy?”

Twilight’s ears flicked and he raised his head. Four mumbled, “Mm. Yeah?”

“…I’m cold,” Wind confessed.

Four considered that, then replied, “I’ve got an idea.”

He climbed up the ladder and joined Wind on the top bunk. Ignoring the Sailor’s bafflement, he untucked the sheets from around the bed and tossed them over the side of the rail so that they hung down like curtains, securing them with the edge of the thin mattress. Then he climbed down, gesturing for Wind to join him.

“Grab your pillow, too.”

The two boys tugged the curtain-sheets out of the way and clambered into their homemade fort. Sure enough, the sheets kept out the chill and kept in their body heat. The enclosed space slowly warmed up. Wind snuggled into Four’s side and sighed gratefully.

“Thanks, Smithy.”

Already starting to drift off again, Four sleepily responded, “Anytime, Sailor.”

Twilight poked his nose in. When Wind patted the mattress, he leapt onto the bed and curled up by their feet, warming their toes. The three heroes were soon sleeping soundly.

Happy birthday month, @skyloftian-nutcase :)

[life-of-kalos]

First - Previous

The eyes that stare back at hers were anything but grateful. Pure bloodlust would be a more accurate description. This had not been what Faun was anticipating when she freed the being.

A chill ran up her spine and like a deer in headlights she dare not move. Wh-what was this? She shouldn't be acting this way. This man had just been imprisoned in stone for who knows how long, she needed to explain the situation.

"H-hello.. Im-" Not another word could escape her lips before the large figure lunged for her. The heavy chains strapped to stone held tight as it restrained the crazed man. Faun fell back in attempts to distance herself from him, shock jolting through her body.

She didn't have but a moment to think before the chains snapped, and his hand was wrapped around her throat.

His grip held her firm, air being cut off. She gasped, clawing at his arm.

"Y-you're- urk- S....afe.." was all she could muster out. If she hadn't just used up all of her energy, perhaps she could put up more of a fight. But at the moment, she was running on empty and could hardly even stand.

Her eyes fluttered back as she began to lose consciousness. The grip released, her body falling to the ground, moments later, his joined her.

The winged man lay unconscious on the dead ground. And she, nearly there herself, lay in silence watching him. Baffled.

-Faun and ??? Are now open for asks... tread carefully-

[sev-on-kamino]

Distractions

Two times Tech got distracted during sex, and one time you did. You’re used to Tech getting distracted, and you’ve learned to roll with it, and you think it can’t happen to you.

warnings: Minors DNI (it’s in the divider, saying it again anyway) p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it irl), oral (m receiving), cockwarming if you squint, Crosshair being Crosshair, established relationships, voyeurism, poly, no clonecest, smutty and fluffy

Your breaths are growing shallow, skin glistening with sweat, as you work yourself on top of Tech. His hands grip your hips, head lowered to allow him to bite and suck at your nipples. The muscles in your thighs are crying out, but you’ll be damned if you stop now.

You feel it before you hear it. The subtle shudder through the Marauder. Fuck, you think to yourself, pushing past the burn in your thighs, and guiding one of Tech’s hands to the space between you.

“Play with me, please,” you beg. He indulges you for a moment, nimble fingers circling your sensitive little pearl. You were so close, and if you could keep his focus for just 2 more minutes, you’d get what you were desperately after.

“Darling,” Tech begins breathlessly. “I think our forward stabilizer needs to be calibrated.”

Resisting the urge to grumble, you settle on his lap, and use your toes to spin the chair, so Tech can grab his datapad. On e you spin the pair of you back the other way, Tech wraps his arm around your lower back, and you lean backwards, capturing the necessary cords to plug into the datapad to run a diagnostic. He helps pull you back up, swearing, as your pussy clenches around his cock.

“Focus, Tech,” you tease, plugging the cords into the datapad. While he runs the diagnostic, you reach down between your bodies to rub circles against your clit. This is a well practiced dance. If you help him with whatever has stolen his attention, he can come back to you faster, but sometimes you just needed to cum. This was especially true when your position meant he didn’t even have to separate from you. The feeling of his cock filling you was too good to ignore.

“I only need another moment,” he promises.

“That makes two of us,” you smirked, not slowing down your movements. You watch him work while you chase after your orgasm. The light touching his face makes him look so perfect, your heart actually aches a little.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” you breathe out, fingers moving faster, as you squirm in his lap. You’re almost there, and you feel the coil tightening in your stomach. Your thighs tense, and a desperate whine rises out of you.

“Done!” Tech grins, spinning you to lay down his datapad, the motion tumbling you into your climax. You cum, swearing as you work yourself through it. Tech groans and resumes his vice-like grip on your hips, as your fluttering walls beg his cock for the desired response.

“Me too,” you gasp, gripping his bicep with your free hand.

“I’ll be right behind you, cyare.” Tech is meeting your motions in earnest now. Feeling him finally moving like you wanted, has your body building to a second orgasm.

As if he knows, Tech wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your hand away from your clit.

“Wait for me, please,” he looks up at you, and fuck, you can’t say no to that face. You nod, and lean down to steal a kiss.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” you mutter against his lips.

“Thank you for being as patient as possible,” he replies with a grin.

“Only for you, Tech…but not for long, I’m so close.”

“I am as well. Keep being my patient girl, and you’ll get exactly what you want,” he promises.

Tech always keeps his promises, and you leave the cockpit with his cum dripping down your thighs.

***

When Crosshair walked into the cockpit, he fully expected to see Tech working on some project or another, and you sitting in the co-pilot’s seat with your feet propped up on the console. Tech would lecture any of them for doing it, but he had a soft spot for you, like they all did, which meant you could get away with murder.

In fact there was a long list of things Crosshair could have walked in on that would have made sense to him, but the sight that met his eyes had him questioning his perfect vision.

Tech was working on a project alright, but stripped down to only the lower half of his blacks. And you? Well, you were sitting there in your panties, wearing the top half of Tech’s blacks, holding a tool in place while Tech fiddled with the piece of machinery on the floor between you.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked, placing a toothpick between his teeth, and leaning against the doorway. As strange as the situation was, Crosshair wasn’t going to pass up a chance to see you in your panties, even though he’d seen you totally naked in the refresher this morning.

“If you must know, cyare gave me an excellent idea on improving our communications array, and I wanted to start working on it right away,” Tech replied without looking up.

Equally unconcerned with just how underdressed you are, you beam at Tech, so pleased you could inspire him.

“This is not foreplay, Tech,” Crosshair says with a smirk.

“It could be, if you’d get outta here,” you reply, shifting your position to give Tech room to access a different area.

“Fine, I’m going, but next time we’re cleaning my rifle,” he trails off suggestively.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it topless,” you say with a wink.

After Crosshair closes the door behind him, you turn your attention back to Tech, who’s looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” You ask, brow furrowed. His eyes are traveling down your body, taking in the sight of you in his blacks.

“You look lovely wearing my clothes,” he says finally, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he goes back to working, a small satisfied smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you reply, unable to stop smiling, as you resume your work as his assistant.

***

Back to back missions for roughly 14 rotations had left no time for anything more than inhaling a ration bar here and there, and closing your eyes for just enough time to keep your body going. Leisure time? You remembered the concept, but you were starting to feel like you’d never know rest, pleasure, or real food again.

When Hunter announced you’d be in hyperspace long enough for everyone to sleep, the collective sigh of relief through the room could have been felt 3 systems over.

The five of you gathered into the cockpit to share a meal together, ration bars still because you weren’t that lucky. You perched yourself on Wrecker’s lap, as you were absolutely starved for some human contact that wasn’t ‘pass me that detonator’ or being tackled out of the way.

“Maker, these taste so much better when you’re not also worried about getting shot,” you giggle, only slightly delirious from exhaustion.

“I was just thinking the opposite,” Crosshair replied with an uncharacteristic chuckle.

“Crosshair’s laughing,” Wrecker practically sang, adding his laughter to the chorus.

“Oh fuck, he is!” your voice comes out higher now, followed swiftly by peals of laughter. You simply couldn’t stop. Clapping your hand over your mouth, you look around at them. Your muffled giggles are still rolling, and Crosshair’s soft laughter shakes his shoulders. Wrecker’s wrapped an arm around you, so you don’t fall, as his deep chuckles rumble through you.

Hunter opens his mouth to say something, but his lips twitch towards a smile before he’s trying to hold back laughter too.

“You all require rest. Expeditiously,” Tech says, finding the sight of the four of you amusing, but still resisting the urge to burst out laughing. “I’ll take first watch,” he announces, as the laughter increases in intensity.

Rolling his eyes, he stands up, and starts leading you all back to your bunks one by one. First Crosshair, then Hunter, then he comes back to scoop you out of Wrecker’s arms.

As he lifts you, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tech,” you giggle softly, as he helps you out of your armor, and into your bunk.

“Rest well, darling,” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and closing the privacy curtain. You’re asleep before his steps fade down the corridor.

You wake up a few hours later, warm and confused. How long had you been out? You look at your watch and realize there’s no way it hasn’t been your turn on watch yet. Climbing out of your bunk, and wrapping your blanket around yourself to make your way to the cockpit.

Tech is in the pilot’s chair, relaxing as the soft glow of hyperspace washes over him. He looks peaceful, beautiful, and your body suddenly remembers that you haven’t been properly loved on in two weeks.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” You ask, approaching him and leaning down to kiss his face.

“You were delirious when I put you to bed. And a mere 3 hours of sleep did not seem sufficient,” he replies easily.

“Maker, you take such good care of me,” you groan, and lean down to take his lips instead this time. Not only did it make your heart soar that Tech had been concerned for your wellbeing, but you hadn’t kissed him like this in so many days, you’d forgotten how blissful it feels. He raises a hand to grab the back of your head to hold you in place.

“Fuck, sorry,” you pull back, biting your lip. “I’m not supposed to be distracting you…but I honestly think it would only take like 5 minutes be-“

“Yes, whatever you’re suggesting. Please, cyare,” Tech cuts you off to stand up, and start pulling his clothes off as fast as he can. You don’t wait for a formal invitation, and shimmy out of your blacks before laying the blanket on the floor, and sinking to your knees.

Tech is already half hard from the kiss, and you both moan deeply when you take him into your mouth. Your hands grip his hips, while his find their way into your hair. You’re always happy to please him this way, but after two weeks of not so much as a smack on the ass, you’re more enthusiastic than you’ve ever been.

The swollen head of his cock presses insistently on the back of your throat, and you swallow eagerly around the intrusion, causing him to swear above you. One of your hands slides down off of his body to dance over your aching pussy. It felt heavenly to touch yourself for pleasure, and not to slap on bacta gel.

“You can’t keep this up, darling,” Tech moans. “I won’t last.”

You pull back with a pout and look up at him. He’s breathing hard, and gazing at you with so much affection and lust. Your heart is aching just as badly as the rest of your touch starved body. His cock still hovers near your lips, and you smirk up at him before deliberately licking the tip like it’s a lollipop.

“I don’t want you to last, love, I want you to cum,”

Tech bites his lip to keep from moaning. He couldn’t resist you when you were direct like that, but he also wasn’t going to let you keep him from making you cum on his cock. Watching you swallow was a treat, but finishing inside you was bliss.

“And I promise I will. Lie back for me, cyare.”

You would do anything for him, if he asked you in that sinful voice. You lay back on the blanket, parting your legs slowly and reaching down to tease your clit. He settled between your legs, running his hands over your thighs before gripping them tightly, and pulling you forward, as he pressed forward to meet you.

His cock slowly entered you, drawing the most desperate and obscene moan out of you. When he was fully sheathed within you, he took your lips. You returned his kiss with fervor, giving him a little squeeze to encourage him to move.

“So impatient,” he mutters against your lips before pulling out slowly, and sliding back in harder than the first time.

“Tech,” you whine. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words, darling,” he teases, giving you a shallow thrust.

“Please fuck me, hard,” you beg. Normally you’d be a brat about this, but your priorities are different tonight.

“With pleasure.” He’s moving now, hips meeting yours with purpose, as he drives into you. Your moans of his name sound like a prayer, as you take everything he’s giving you.

You’re so focused on Tech and where the two of you are merged, you miss the door opening, and Crosshair dropping into the seat next to you until he clears his throat. You look up at him, face heating up instantly despite the fact that everyone on this ship has seen you naked, and, more importantly, been in this exact position with you.

He smirks down at you, and rolls his toothpick from one side to the other.

“So loud, doll,” he chides you with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He’s surprised but proud that Tech is the one who has taken advantage of the down time to reconnect with you, and he had to come and see it for himself.

You’re happy to invite him to join you, but Tech moves his hand between your bodies to rub luxurious circles over your clit.

“Tech,” you whine, looking up at Crosshair. Tech doesn’t so much as glance in his brother’s direction. He uses his free hand to gently grasp your face, and make you look at him again.

“I promised I’d cum for you, and I know you’re close,” His voice is low and dripping with lust. Fuck.

“But Cross-.”

“Can wait his turn,” Tech finishes your sentence and effectively ends the discussion. The past two weeks of nothing have pushed him right to the edge of his patience, and he needs you to himself right now.

You keep your eyes trained on him, and your body focuses on his ministrations. His cock, his hands, his lips, all working in concert to bring you over the edge.

Surprisingly, the sniper stays quiet, and leaves you to it, though he would normally steal some of your attention as well. He understood the show of possessiveness, as it was usually him demanding all of your focus, and he was willing to wait…just this once.

You cum just as fast as you’d suspected you would, and as Tech spills inside of you, you moan his name, thanking him and kissing every bit of him you can reach. He returns your affections, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you up and into his lap.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” he whispers into your ear.

“Thank you for being as patient as possible,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

[stardustvx]

Words: 19,379

Relationships: Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham/Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun, Macau Theerapanyakun & Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun ”It's the first time father has every brought Macau along to a mission and he knows their plan is doomed to fail. None of them are ever walking out of the Main Family building alive. Vegas is alright with that. He always knew he would die young. He made his peace with that a long time ago.

He just needs Macau to survive. He needs him to live. After all, he promised their mother that much when she was still alive. He would keep Macau safe – no matter what it takes, no matter what it costs.

(Hell hath no fury like Vegas Theerapanyakul whose little brother has been hurt.)

or last ep. rewritten. Gun brings both of his sons along to try to take over the Main Family. That decision changes everything.”

-> I can’t believe it’s finally here!!!!!!! this is the longest fic I have ever written in my life and I am so proud of how it turned out ahhhhh!!!! it may sound angsty and well, it is,, but there is a happy ending! everything will be alright!

[blue-gears]

my gift for @enderwoah for the @mcyt-drabble-exchange!! hope you like it :)

Yellow Peace.

Grian sat down at the edge of bread bridge with a sigh. Jimmy plonked down on his right, Joel on his other side. “Ugh, peace is sooo boring.” Joel groaned. Grian looked at him incredulously, despite a small part of him agreeing with the man. “You won’t have to wait much longer, Joel, my timer is ticking down.” Jimmy chirped. Joel made a joke about The Mean Gills, and soon they’ve descended into giggles that echo across the bridge. Later, they find that the peace ends, and the games continue as they always have. But for now, there was peace.

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Collector’s Bounty: Part 4

Masterlist here.

Previous

It’s been a while, so thanks to my readers who are sticking with it! The chapter is long (over 5k) so I hope it was worth the wait <3

~~

Aris dragged him out of the room and down the hall, setting a brutal pace for Jackson’s depleted body. He was forced to cling tight to Aris with one arm and to the IV pole with the other, legs shaking under his own weight as pain stabbed through his side. Aris took no issue with the contact, keeping an arm wrapped securely around his waist, fingertips slowly edging under the waistband of Jackson’s sweatpants. 

They didn’t even make it to the nearby corner before his knees buckled and he flailed forward, a sharp pain tugging through his arm as the IV pole crashed to the floor. Aris caught him effortlessly by a shoulder, tipping him back towards his hold and hoisting him into a bridal carry. Jackson stiffened in the man’s grip, but by now, he was almost too accustomed to the feeling. And he supposed it was better than being forced to crawl over the cold tile until he reached his cell again— although it was hard to ignore Aris’s hand lazily running over his thighs, fingers trailing towards his hips. Despite himself, he shuddered, the movement drawing a fresh twinge of pain from the incision. 

“Would you rather I drag you?” Aris asked sweetly. “That can easily be arranged.”

Jackson gritted his teeth and shook his head, face burning hot with humiliation. He just had to make it back to the cell without snapping back, without wrestling himself from Aris’s arms, and maybe he’d be left alone. 

“Or maybe, if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll change my mind about your medication,” Aris grinned. “How’s that sound?” 

Those words were enough to shock Jackson motionless. The pain was hardly bearable with the medication, let alone without it. 

“That’s not even enough to get a word outta ya?” Aris snorted. “Aww. How cute. Need me to put something else on the line? A cornea? A lung?” 

“No, no, please, I’ll— I’ll stay still,” Jackson stammered fervently, his heart hammering in his chest. The world swam before his eyes, the hall warping like the reflection in a funhouse mirror. The drugs— fuck—had they changed the drugs? Had Aris stabbed him with something in the midst of his terror? 

He flailed limply against his captor’s touch, strength draining by the second, and all that came from his effort was a pathetic twitch. His vision swam with spots, until all he could see was a faint prick of light. 

A stinging pain crossed his face, the sensation distant as if underwater. 

“Hawthorne?” 

Aris had slapped him. 

“Come on, you know I didn’t mean it. Don’t make me have to go get Ryder for this. Snap out of it.” 

Jackson gasped for breath, the words floating above his head, practically meaningless. 

“B-but… y’… you…” he slurred, grasping at the IV with useless, trembling fingers. “Fuck you…” 

His world swirled to black before he could complete the thought. 

~~

Pain rocketed through his side, and he took a desperate pull of air, the gasp tapering into a choked whimper at the sheer force of his agony. He reached for the IV on instinct, wrist tugging sharply against the cuff digging into his skin. But when he caught a glimpse of his arm, vision swimming, there was nothing but the bruises the needle had left behind. 

He was back in the bed, glancing wildly around the room again like his life was some sick tape being rewound by the gods. 

But this time, Aris and Ryder stood at his bedside, bickering. 

“D’you think it was laced?” 

Aris’s voice sounded distant, unreachable. Jackson’s head was stuffed with fistfuls of cotton. 

“I tested it. I told you I tested every last drop. God, if you’ve worked yourself up when the kid’s just having a panic attack…”

“He passed out in my arms like I’d shot him with a double dose of propofol, if that was his panic response we gotta make sure he doesn’t drop dead the next time we fucking scare him.” 

“I’ll run a CT scan if that makes you feel better, then I’m going the fuck back to bed,” Ryder huffed. “Make sure he stays alive for the night and if we need to, we’ll drop him back to mommy and daddy a few days early so he’s not our problem anymore.” 

A renewed stab of agony wrenched through his abdomen, and a weak cry escaped Jackson’s lips. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, grasping at the IV that wasn’t there, clawing mindlessly at his own arm as if the medication might just appear if he hoped hard enough. 

Ryder rolled his eyes, ignoring the expression of pain. “Aris, can you just carry him? I don’t feel like rooting around for a wheelchair.”

Jackson felt himself being lifted a moment later, Aris’s hand under his back and his other arm wrapped around his leg. His side throbbed at the simple movement, and his vision tunneled nearly into black. He gasped for breath through a strained whimper, desperate to cling to his last scrap of consciousness. 

Yet he was half-lucid at best as he was carried down the halls, stuck in that heavy, dizzy underwater feeling from before. He dimly registered being set down on a table, cold metal beneath his neck. He grasped for Aris’s warmth before he could help it, unable to stop himself amidst the way his head spun. 

He heard Aris scoff, sneering out some comment that Jackson couldn’t quite make out. The words blended in an incoherent stream of sound, one that mixed with the lower, sharper register of Ryder’s voice a few moments later. He flinched violently as the table slowly moved forward, his throbbing abdomen screaming in protest. 

A dim light flashed for a moment against his eyelids, a mechanical beeping grating at his eardrums. He was left alone for a while with nothing but that terrible monotony and the slow motion of the table, his side pulsing in tandem with the noise, as if a fire blazed in the incision and someone pumped the bellows every time the damn beep sounded. 

And as soon as blissful silence replaced the machine’s noises, his eardrums were assaulted once more. 

“Fuck!” Ryder blurted across the hall, the sharp syllable slipping through the thick haze clouding Jackson’s mind. 

“Aris, you’ve gotta take a look at this. Something’s…” 

Either his words trailed into silence, or Jackson’s brain had simply stopped processing sound again— both outcomes were just as likely.   

“What the hell is that? A fucking tumor? How could you not see that while you were wiggling your knives around inside him?” Aris snapped. “You’re a fucking surgeon. A real one! Maybe I’d believe that coming from the dick I used to partner with, kinda guy who had to go for a few practice runs before he could scrounge up something sellable. But you? Come on.” 

“A what?!” Jackson cried, hands instinctively flying up to the incision. 

Footsteps approached him from every angle, and he heard a faint beep before the table slowly pulled itself backwards, a faint sound of protest escaping his lips. A hand, too rough to be Aris’s, traced the incision through the bandages, and Jackson swallowed the cry that threatened to rip from his throat. He cracked his eyes open to confirm it was Ryder standing over him, examining him in the way a sadistic child crouches over a pinned butterfly with a magnifying glass. 

After a moment of scrutinizing, Ryder just shrugged. 

“I mean, it didn’t really look like a tumor, but it’s either that or he had an extra kidney back there,” he said nonchalantly. “The transplant was successful and the recipient is fine, so it’s not like I left anything behind. Definitely didn’t cut something else off, or he’d already be lost to internal bleeding.” 

Jackson’s chest clenched with every word, his heart a rapid knife against his lungs. 

Yet in the midst of it all, he only wanted to know one thing. 

“Who got it?” 

He was met with another shrug. 

“Don’t know, don’t care. I sell it off to the highest bidder, and they can boil and eat it for all the fucks I give. This one just happened to want to stay in touch so they could blame me the second something went wrong.” 

Jackson shuddered at the grisly image, the movement sending a fresh stab of agony through his side. “Is— is it cancerous? Is it gonna kill me?” 

Before Ryder could confirm Jackson’s impending doom, Aris stepped in and shushed him, finger to his lips and all. 

“Give him a minute, man. If he’s not dying already, you don’t want his heart to grind to a halt from your worst-case horror stories.” 

A third, resigned shrug. 

“Fine. But there’s clearly something in there.”

The door slammed shut a moment later, and Jackson was left alone with who he could hardly deem the lesser of the evils. Less dangerous, maybe. But less evil? He wouldn’t let himself be fooled for a second. 

The almost-lesser evil looked at him with what could almost be described as sympathy. Or maybe the drugs had gotten to Jackson’s head. 

“I’ll be back in a few. Try to sit up. Or don’t. Payday’s already come and gone.”

Sound had become foreign once again, Aris’s words taking on that distant, underwater feeling. Jackson groaned softly as he gathered his hands behind him, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the table despite the way his side screamed in protest. His vision swirled for a moment, before settling like sand in the bottom of a glass— composed, but still grainy and somehow wrong. He sat in front of a scratched, dented scanner that resembled a massive donut. The room was full of various pieces of equipment, most beaten or worn down in some way or another, and otherwise barren but for the small set of cabinets shoved in a corner. 

Unsurprisingly, it was devoid of any color but for the rusty splotches seeping through his bandages. 

Before he could contemplate the likelihood of dying young, Aris strode back through the door, plopping down next to him on the table. 

“So. How we feelin’?” 

Jackson gritted his teeth. 

“Thought you said you didn’t care,” he muttered. 

Aris rolled his eyes. “I don’t. But unfortunately, Ryder’s gone back off to catch his beauty sleep so I’m stuck with keeping you alive ‘til morning. So if something’s like, crazy wrong, speak now or, I don’t know, suffer all night.” 

“Other than being down a whole organ, and, I don’t know, having a fucking tumor?” Jackson spat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Couldn’t be better.”

Aris raised his eyebrows and gave him a twisted grin. “If you insist, then,” he said nonchalantly. “So if you really don’t need anything—”

“Wait!” Fuck.

“What’s up?” Aris said cheerfully, an obvious flash of triumph permeating his gaze. 

“My uh, my bandages are soaking through,” he mumbled. “I— uh—”

“Hm? Speak up, love. It’s been a long day,” Aris taunted. 

“I need help with my bandages,” he finally bit out, hot humiliation crawling up his face. “I’m, uh, I’m bleeding through them.” 

 He squirmed in the following silence as Aris’s gaze set to the similar, scrutinizing expression Ryder had worn mere minutes ago. His captor pursed his lips after a long, agonizing moment and slid off the table. He pulled open a drawer and tossed a pack of gauze in Jackson’s direction, followed by a roll of medical tape. 

“Knock yourself out.” 

Jackson gritted his teeth and focused on changing the bandages, ignoring the jab. He’d clearly have to wait until Aris was in a better mood to ask for food or water. 

He pinched the edge of the tape keeping the gauze in place, already peeled up from when he’d peeked at the incision earlier. His eyes squeezed shut as his breath caught in his throat, his whole body recoiling from what had to be done. Aris watched amusedly, leaning back against the wall and giving Jackson a sickening smirk. He couldn’t ask for help. He couldn’t. 

He ripped the bandage off with a muffled cry, the wound’s stabbing drowning out the sting to his skin. He refused to glance up at the look on Aris’s face. That’s what the bastard wants. 

Instead, he pointedly kept his gaze fixed on the incision, the wound red and raw and just as haphazardly stitched as before. Blood seeped between the stitches, having soaked the dirty bandage he discarded on the other side of the table. He’d never dressed a wound before, let alone his own. But at least it looked pretty simple— cover the wound with gauze, tape over it to keep everything in place, and try not to think about it until the bloodstains came back. 

Yet as simple as it should have been, his hands shook even opening the package of gauze. His own blood coated his fingertips where he’d touched the old bandages, and the sight made his head spin. He made the mistake of glancing up at Aris’s demeaning little grin, and his face flushed hot and red once more. 

He had to do this himself. He had to. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” Aris’s voice, holding a bare yet unmistakable touch of mockery, cut through the room’s almost painful silence. “Let me help you.” 

“For what? A square inch of skin? A cornea? A lap dance?” Jackson huffed. “No thanks.”

“I mean, I was just gonna help you so we wouldn’t be here all night. But if you insist on giving something in return, I suppose something could be arranged…”

“In your dreams,” Jackson snapped. But he didn’t refuse when Aris slipped the pack of gauze from his hands and began packing the wound, and even fought not to pull away as the pressure on the incision gave way to a fresh surge of agony. He just grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and didn’t look again until he felt the tape smothering his skin, sealing off the ugly, gaping thing in his side from the rest of the world.

“You’re adorable,” Aris smirked. “Can’t even watch. Now, do you think you can handle walking back or do I need to carry you again?” 

Jackson glanced at the door and tried to recall how long he’d been carried for, but he came up with nothing but the blurred, dizzying sense of being carried itself, for what had seemed like forever. 

“You didn’t change the drugs?” he asked warily. “Like, at all?” 

Aris nodded. “Whatever that little episode was, it was one hundred percent you and whatever fucked up stress response that body has to offer. So, if you wanna risk that again, be my guest. It’s up to you.” 

Jackson braced himself on the edge of the table for a moment before sliding off the edge, leaning on the cool metal for support as he stood on shaky, rubbery legs. The walk couldn’t have been more than a minute. He could do this. 

“I’ll be fine,” he managed unconvincingly. 

Aris shrugged. “Interesting definition of fine, but that’s your call. Just know I’ll be there to catch you.” He gave a devious wink, although Jackson could have gathered his humiliating intent without the expression. By now, he knew practically every word Aris directed towards him was meant for nothing less. 

“Thanks for the offer,” Jackson said flatly. He took one trembling step, pain stabbing through his side like a white-hot knife, and gritted his teeth. Another step, and the pain nearly brought him to his knees. His vision swam, and he grasped blindly for the table next to him, breathless from the sheer agony. Tears sprang to his eyes, even as he furiously blinked them away. 

“Are you sure a wheelchair’s out of the question?” He attempted, voice breaking. “I just— I don’t— I don’t know if I can make it.”

Aris rolled his eyes. “You either walk, I drag you kicking and screaming, or you let yourself be carried like a good boy. Up to you.” 

So he’d have to make it. Jackson clenched his free hand into a fist, gripped the table for dear life, and took another step. Fire rocketed through his side, and his legs crumpled beneath him as he flailed to catch himself on the table. But before he could collapse, Aris caught him under the arms, pulling him close against his body to keep him upright. 

“That answers that question, then,” Aris said pleasantly. 

And as much as Jackson wanted to protest, he let himself be hauled off his feet once more, the world tilting familiarly. 

“I’m starting to think you just like carrying me,” Jackson muttered. 

Aris dug his fingers mere inches from the bandage, just close enough to send Jackson’s heart into overdrive. One tiny twist of his hand, and he’d be seeing stars. “And I’m starting to think you just like crumpling to the ground,” he retorted. 

Jackson’s lips pursed into a thin line of pain and annoyance, his side stabbing with every step his captor took, but he let the comment go. He had more important concerns.

“Do I— do I still get the meds? When I get back?” 

Laced or not, he needed them. 

Aris hummed noncommittally. “Depends. What’ll you do to get them?” 

Anything. 

“Please. Aris, I—”

“And being a compliant little wimp doesn’t count as doing something, it just means I won’t be inclined to take a lung for my troubles.”

A sob caught in Jackson’s chest, his eyes welling in desperation. “You know it’s nothing you can’t already make me do anyway,” he said desperately, voice close to breaking. “Please, I just— I can’t— I’m not gonna make it through the night—”

Aris shifted Jackson in his grip as he approached his room, the movement enough to send a fresh bolt of fire through his body. He couldn’t suppress the hiss of pain that escaped him, the way his breath hitched as his world flashed white for the briefest moment. Aris simply pressed his hand to the pad outside the door and waited as the bolts unlatched one by one, unbothered by the display. 

“It’s up to you, Hawthorne. It makes no difference to me, if I leave you dry ‘til morning. You’ve gotta make me want to go through the trouble.” 

Jackson gritted his teeth, swallowing the cry that threatened to rip from his throat. “Ryder has my vitals up, doesn’t he? He won’t get a fucking wink of sleep if I rip off the sensors and the monitor goes flat.” He snapped. “Or you’d just cuff me to the bed then, right? I’ll just hold my breath ‘til my heart rate spikes— can’t tie me down from fucking breathing.” His head spun even from the effort of the outburst, but he was done rolling over and playing dead. He was done letting Aris win.

Yet the smirk his captor gave him in return told him he’d done just that.

“You think Ryder’s got your back in this?” Aris scoffed, kicking the door closed behind him and dumping Jackson on the bed with a vicious shove. “He’ll just turn the damn alarm off and hope you don’t die on him in the meantime. And if he’s gonna be pissed at you keeping him up all night, he’ll just stick you with a paralytic for the day so you can’t fucking do it again. Not a painkiller, Hawthorne. Not a sedative. A fucking paralytic. Make you sit there all day, in agony, unable to do a fucking thing about it. We’d have to intubate you again, too. I remember just how much you loved that, didn’t you? And if Ryder doesn’t give a shit, I’ll do it myself. Rip out all the monitors, the meds, all of it. Shove a few tubes down your throat, hope you’ll last the day and that whatever it is floating around behind that incision isn’t cancerous, and I won’t look back. Maybe you’ll appreciate my attention more after that, hm?”

The color drained from Jackson’s face, but he pushed himself upright, wincing at the fresh stabs of pain through his side, and steeled his gaze. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll go dry. Can’t comply, can’t fight back, can’t offer a fucking thing you can’t already take. Is that what you want?” 

Aris almost looked disappointed. “Not even close,” he said darkly. “I want to see just how far you’re willing to go for me. And if that’s not far enough right now, then sure, you’ll go without tonight. But I’m sure you’ll be much more desperate in the morning, and then we’ll get to try again. How’s that sound?” 

“I— I just— I don’t know what you want from me!” Jackson spluttered. “What, you want me to like, get on my knees and beg? Just start sobbing about how much it fucking hurts? What do you want?” 

The touch to his face was so gentle it could have been a ghost’s, a whisper of Aris’s fingertips tracing up his jaw. Jackson shuddered in spite of himself, fighting the urge to slap his captor’s hand away.

“Begging is a nice start, sure, but it doesn’t have to be that. Tell me why your system cuts the drugs so quickly. We both know there’s some dark secret in there. One of your parents, maybe, an addiction so brutal they passed on the tolerance? Or maybe one of the scenarios you so quickly rejected before? All I ask is that you tell me the truth. Make it hurt a little.” 

Tears burned at the corners of Jackson’s eyes, and he barely managed to blink them back. “You know I don’t know that,” he choked. “Do you want me to lie? Just make some shit up so you have another reason to think I deserve this?” 

Aris‘s hand trailed up his face until he’d tangled his fingers in Jackson’s hair, tugging gently to tilt his head back until he was forced to meet his eyes. The tenderness of the touch made Jackson wish he’d just cut him open instead. Or drugged him. Or hit him. Anything but this sick facade of intimacy.

“You don’t deserve this, Hawthorne,” he said simply. “Let’s make that clear. You’re just here ‘cause I fucked up a job and needed the money, and ‘cause Ryder only works on people he thinks deserves it, which amounts to pretty much anyone with a background like yours. But this is where we’re at, and you either get the meds or not. It’s up to you.” 

“I don’t have any secrets,” Jackson snapped, jerking away from the man’s lingering touch. “You’ve seen my family’s dirty laundry in the tabloids, and as for me? They keep me on such a tight leash I’m almost impressed you managed to kidnap me. You think I’d go to university in my fucking hometown if I had another option? You want a secret? I don’t have enough of a life to have anything to hide, unless you count the fact that I got a fucking job. How’s that?”

“Pathetic,” Aris said honestly. “Maybe not life changing enough to count, but pathetic. Ever tried to run away?” 

Jackson shrugged. “Not until I graduate, at least. I’m not taking out loans when the other option is withstanding their bullshit but getting it for free, yknow? Not like it matters now, I guess. If I actually am dying.” 

“Like I said before, Ryder’s a real surgeon. He hates your guts, sure, but he knows he’ll be running the rest of his life if you die on him. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it?” Jackson snapped. “I’ve got a fucking tumor where I should have a kidney and you’re telling me don’t worry about it? I heard you in the operating room, when I woke up. About keeping my lungs healthy in case you end up wanting one. You’re fucking sick. Don’t tell me I’m gonna be okay unless you fucking plan to keep me that way” 

“I won’t, then,” Aris said icily. “It’s in our best interest to keep you alive, but in reality, who knows? I’m not a doctor, Hawthorne, I can’t tell you shit. For all I know, you might drop dead tomorrow. But for now, you haven’t earned your medication and I’m bored and wanna know more about your life. No begging required. What do you say?” 

“Fine,” Jackson mumbled. “But I told you already, you’re not gonna get anything interesting. And can we throw in some food with the deal?” The clawing at his stomach had almost gone unnoticed compared to the stabbing under the incision, but it had been growing harder and harder to ignore. 

“We’ll see,” Aris said. “I’m going on a grocery run in the morning, I’ll grab something then. Ryder doesn’t live here or anything, but I’ve paid off the mob thanks to your kidney and I have no interest in going back. Which means that’s all coming out of my paycheck.” 

“You’re not gonna keep me alive very long if you refuse to feed me,” Jackson muttered. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not that stupid,” Aris said. He sat down on the edge of the cot, and Jackson couldn’t help but shrink back against the bedrail, curling his legs to his chest and feeling around for the torn shirt he’d rejected earlier. 

“Now. Where do ya wanna begin?” he continued. “How about your job? The one secret you’ve managed to keep in your sheltered little life.” 

“Not much to it,” Jackson said reluctantly, tugging the shirt over his head and biting back a hiss of pain. The throbbing in his side flared violently with the movement, but if nothing else, the conversation was a distraction. Not exactly a welcome one, but better than sitting in unmedicated silence, he supposed. “24/7 diner, night shift, minimum wage. Had to pick a place my folks wouldn’t dream of stepping foot in if their lives depended on it.” 

“The one right by the university?” 

He nodded. 

“So you have to serve your classmates?”

Jackson winced. “Yeah. Uh, a lot. It sucks.” 

“It’s demeaning, isn’t it?” Aris said quietly. The offensive edge had fallen from his voice, into false, sickly sweet sympathy. 

“Yeah. Which I guess should fulfill the ‘tell me something embarrassing’ requirement, right? Am I done?” 

“Tell me a story. A specific one. Then maybe you’ll be off the hook.” The sharp, taunting edge was back, complete with the trademark smirk. 

Jackson twisted the hem of the old undershirt, contemplating for a moment. 

“How bad does it have to be?” 

“The worst you have, if you’re giving me a choice,” Aris grinned. “You should know not to ask those kinds of questions.” 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and grabbing the thin pillow to hug it close. “How about the time I almost got roofied, then? That good enough?” 

“And you said you don’t have any secrets,” Aris taunted. “I’ll say that’s worth a good ten milligrams. Lower end of the dosage for an eight hour IV drip, but it should be enough to get you through the night. So that’s up to you, I guess, if it’s worth it.” 

He nodded. At this point, he might have taken the offer even for a handful of ibuprofen. “To be clear, this is the only remotely interesting thing that’s happened to me. So if you want me to one-up this for the next dose, I can either choose a different story now or start lying.” 

Aris nodded expectantly.

“So. Uh. This guy from my chem class, he comes in around 2 am, fucking hammered. Ordered maybe five plates of hash browns and a coffee. He inhaled the food in minutes but ended up nursing the one coffee for a whole hour ‘til my shift ended. He’d paid when he ordered, so I sorta knew he was just waiting for a shot at me. And yeah, uh, guy asked to buy me a drink the second I clocked out. No tip on the table, just an offer to cover something strong at the bar across the street. I’m not stupid, but it’d been a long night and I wanted at least my tip’s worth out of him, so I accepted. Ordered the most expensive thing on the board, kept my eyes glued to it the second it left the bartender’s hand, and left a hefty tip ‘cause god knows the asshole wasn’t going to.”

Why was he actually telling him this? It would have been just as easy to make something up, something that didn’t make his heart race and his stomach churn. He forced in a shaky breath, his side stabbing in protest, and continued in spite of himself. 

“I keep test strips on me at all times, I’m not an idiot. I tested the drink, it came out fine, I took a few sips. The guy had been trying to flirt with me the second we walked into that place, but it was like a switch had flipped as soon as I’d tested it. He started getting all weird, affectionate, almost desperate. Kept trying to kiss me, distract me, all that. He got up to order another drink, and I booked it. A few days later, I heard he’d roofied a girl at the same bar. Woulda been me if I wasn’t as careful.” 

And maybe if it had been him, he wouldn’t be here. If he’d gotten drugged, had to own up with his parents about it because he was still on their health insurance, started pressing charges. They would have practically kept him under lock and key, but their control was preferable to this. At least that way, he would have stayed intact, even if not unviolated. He wiped away a stray tear with the palm of his hand, praying Aris wouldn’t notice, or if nothing else, wouldn’t comment. 

“Aww,” Aris sneered. And that’s really your only experience with the real world? Almost getting hurt, but everything turns out fine? Going back to class like a good boy?” 

Jackson gritted his teeth. “Sure. Yeah. Whatever.” 

“So tell me. You felt pretty helpless then, didn’t you, praying for a moment to slip away? Is it worse now than it was then?” Aris’s eyes practically glittered with delight. 

“Yeah. It is,” he spat. “You happy? What would you expect, that anything other than this could be the worst moment of my life? Not much tops being kidnapped and having a fucking organ harvested, if that’s what you wanna hear. You’ve singlehandedly created the worst week of my life. You win, if you call that winning.” The words dripped sarcastically from his lips, their venom the only defense he had left.  

“I mean, not quite singlehandedly,” Aris admitted mockingly. “But I’m flattered. That is exactly what I wanted to hear. Or not really— just anything that gets you like this. On the brink of tears, desperate, while your mind’s too clouded by pain to think about what you’re saying. Admitting just how weak you are in the mere hope I’ll take pity. And lucky for you, Hawthorne, you’ve got a gorgeous set of puppy eyes.” He slid off the bed like Jackson hadn’t spilled his soul just seconds ago, grabbing the IV pole and wheeling it towards the cot.

“There’s maybe 15 milligrams left in that drip, I’ll call it close enough. Makes up for my inability to find a vein.” 

True to his word, Aris delivered a couple extra sticks before the tube was injected, but the pain of the needle was nothing compared to the stabbing in his side. And by the time his captor had secured the line with a bit of tape, the drip had started, bringing a rush of much-needed oblivion. He sank into the cot out of sheer relief as the throbbing dulled to an ache, as his desperation dulled to tranquility. And out of his mouth slipped the two words he knew Aris never deserved to hear from him.

“Thank you.” 

~~

Taglist: @burnticedlatte @onlywhump @whumplr-reader @gala1981 @its-my-primary-whump @andithewhumper @morning-star-whump

[bluemoonscape]

Heavily heavily HEAVILY inspired by @rockwgooglyeyes' Ivantill art

Love you rock <33

[bbluejoseph]

from now through saturday, if you can show proof of donating at least $20 (within the tues-sat time limit) to a palestinian charity or gofundme, i'll write 1000 words of whatever you want

[honeygrahambitch]

"Even Will Graham has a better sex life than I do." Jimmy said, as if he had been holding that sentence inside for too long.

Beverly and Brian abandoned the blood samples they were working on and looked at him in disbelief as if they were trying to make sure they got it right.

"One question would be how do you know that?" Brian asked. "I doubt Will is the type to talk about stuff like that."

"That's easy, haven't you seen Hannibal?" Beverly asked rolling her eyes.

"I am not particularly into men."

"You don't have to be in order to tell that someone must excel in bed. It's the attitude."

"Stop that." Jimmy interrupted their banter. "I overheard a discussion between the two of them."

"Do we really need to know?" Brian said as he looked at Beverly for support. However, her opinion was different.

"Share."

"Alright but this doesn't leave the lab. It stays between us." Jimmy said. After all, Will was his friend and he didn't have anything against Hannibal. He was usually not the one to gossip but this felt like something that needed to be debated. "They are having a threesome."

"No way." Beverly said as she elbowed Brian who remained dumb.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Brian asked.

"Why did you immediately assume it's a lady?"

"For more diversity? I don't know how these things work?"

"Can you shut up and listen?" Jimmy cut them off. "I overheard Will asking Hannibal whether their plans for the night have changed. Hannibal had said that they did not and then pulled out this business card and handed it to Will. Will was like- a sport trainer? He will be a handful."

"I told you it's a man!" Beverly told Brian then turned back to Jimmy. "That doesn't prove anything though."

"Maybe if you two listened I could get to the point. So, Will said that and Hannibal was amused and said "I am confident we can handle him. Cannot be worse than the one last week. I was not proud of the way we left his bedroom"."

"Shut up..." Brian whispered. Beverly didn't say anything, her lips parted in disbelief. "And then?"

"Then Will said...damn, I hate that I have to repeat his words but he said..."He was bigger than either of us expected. I mean, for a finance guy, he was quite a challenge. My back still hurts."" Jimmy went on. "And Hannibal was like "the one we are having tonight will definitely be in good shape. I will be there, I am not letting him touch you.""

"Christ." Beverly said. "And?"

"And Will said "As if I need you to take care of me. Remember how the one from two weeks ago surprised you from behind? You were lucky I was there." Then they noticed me because of the stupid coffee machine who started beeping. And I swear to God, their surprised expressions indicated exactly the fact that I was not supposed to hear that."

"Wow." Brian said thoughtfully. "Every week. Good for them. That's how you keep things interesting in a relationship."

"I wouldn't have believed Hannibal would share Will with anyone." Beverly commented.

"Will might have a say in that?" Jimmy suggested. "Anyway, I couldn't believe it. I was afraid I took things out of context maybe?"

"Definitely not." Beverly said. "What else could they have been talking about?"

***

"Do you think Jimmy overhead us earlier?" Will said as he looked for their knives in the trunk of the car.

"I doubt it. It doesn't prove anything. We were quite subtle." Hannibal replied as he put his scalpel in his left pocket. "Ready? He must be home by now."

"Let's go. I don't want to spend the whole night butchering this guy. By the way, what did he do?"

"Insinuated I do not take my physical health seriously."

"He just hasn't seen what's underneath that suit." Will replied, making Hannibal smile.

[bluesgrxce]

Michael Afton Headcanons (General + Romantic)

Warning: Childhood abuse

Mrs Afton will be called Clara and Crying Child will be called Evan. 

General

Life in the Afton family was never perfect. William often neglected his family in favor of working on his animatronics and Clara was always fighting with him because of it. This was the norm for Michael and his siblings, unfortunately, so they were used to it. (Not like watching their parents fight and being neglected didn't hurt any less, but...)

Michael was never as obedient as his younger siblings, even when he was a little kid. It was easy to tell that neither of his parents appreciated that very much and favored the others over him. At least Clara made attempts to hide it. With William, it was ridiculously obvious that he didn't feel unconditional love towards his kids, and that he only cared for them when they followed all his directions. So Michael got the worst treatment in terms of neglect. 

Eventually, the fighting got to be too much for Clara. She divorced William and left the kids with him, moving far away so she wouldn't be associated as an Afton anymore. This decision had a horrible effect on each of the Afton kids- Elizabeth became unhealthily attached to her father, Evan lost his only source of comfort (that wasn't a stuffed animal) and it made Michael's approaching teenage angst worse. Meanwhile William's only thought was "Hmm maybe I can design my new balleria animatronic after my ex-wife now... That way I can have another excuse not to take care of my kids 😻"

Being left unsupervised was the worst thing that could've happened to Michael. It gave him a sort of power he shouldn't have had, being that he was frustrated at his entire family and too immature to know how to deal with anger correctly. He vented his anger by becoming a destructive bully. 

At first he just bullied Evan because he was an easy target. Not Elizabeth though, she... Mysteriously disappeared before he could do anything too bad to her. But her disappearence only left Michael more pissed off at the world. He started bullying kids at school with his group of friends. They quickly became the tormentors of the neighborhood. 

Teenage Michael was a total shitbag, really. He hurt others because it made him feel powerful in a situation he was powerless in. Fun Fact: William hurts others to feel powerful too. Like father, like son. 

However, Michael's tormenting wasn't 100% just for a power trip. It was partly to get attention from his father too. He got into all kinds of trouble looking for attention. He got into fights at school, purposely flunked all his classes, made his abuse against Evan abundantly clear, etc. Nothing worked. So then he decided to involve one of his father's own creations in his next scheme... And that one definitely worked. But not in the way he wanted it to.

So Evan was dead. William wasn't pleased, to say the least. It wasn't the fact that his son was dead that got him, it was the fact that Fredbear's had to be shut down. His first passion project was ruined by his own son.

William started giving Michael attention, but not the kind that he needed. He began taking his anger out on him. Screaming, hitting, locking him in his room for hours on end... The list went on. Now Michael knew what it felt like to be in Evan's spot. 

But unlike William, Michael felt geniune sorrow from his brother's death. He never wanted him dead, he just went too far. If the guilt of that wasn't enough, nobody was understanding of him either. His "friends" ditched him and the entire town shunned him. Nobody wanted to be around him anymore. Not many people did to begin with, but now everybody acted like he was an apathetic murderer. (Everybody acted like he was his father...)

He was forced to spend the rest of childhood in isolation. When he wasn't isolated, he was with his father, only piling the mental and physical scars on top of each other. He transitioned from bitter and angry to terrified and ridden with guilt.

He learned his lesson about being an asshole, but he's been beat down so many times that he's afraid to get back up. He just took all the negativity that was thrown at him. He believed that he fully deserved it and that he didn't deserve a happy life. (Because he knew his father sure didn't...)

His only source of comfort at this time was watching TV. The TV raised him when his parents didn't, so... Basically always. One of the reasons he kept going was so he could catch the new Immortal and The Restless episodes. 

Okay this is really stupid and out of place but I like to think this is what it looked like when Michael first discovered Immortal and The Restless:

Once Michael finally became an adult, he was ready to run away from it all. He knew that he didn't deserve to be happy, that he was a monster just as horrible as his father was, but he couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't strong enough. 

So he took a page out of his mother's book and moved away. He didn't have enough money to move too far away, sadly, but he got far enough that nobody in town could recognize him. That's exactly what he was searching for. He desired a chance to start anew.

He didn't want to be Michael Afton anymore. Michael Afton was a murderer, a tormenter, a coward. He wanted to be a better person now, but he was convinced Michael Afton could never be better. Leading him to change his identity once he finished moving.

Michael Afton was dead. He was Mike Schmidt now, and Mike Schmidt was an incredible man. He was friends with all his neighbors, he was hard working, he never caused a bit of trouble. And he always smiled. Never a creepy and unnerving smile, but a warm and pleasant one. 

This change did help him a bit. He was being treated like a person again instead of a monster, so that was appreciated. But it did a lot of harm too. He was pushing down all of his feelings and ignoring his problems. They were Michael Afton's problems, not Mike Schmidt's, after all. He was masking his true self and hiding it all with a grin. (He's like his father no matter what he does...)

However, this new life didn't last long. Everything stopped when he got a phone call from William. It was a sickeningly polite request, asking him to go down to Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental, only for a simple week long shift. 

Naturally, Michael was furious. He didn't want to accept a single request from that asshole, especially not now! He was still reinventing himself! He was ready to decline until William brought up the true reason why he wanted Mike down there- To free his little sister. 

Mike was in awe. This was a chance to fix his past mistakes. Not all of them, of course, but he could make up for at least one part of the past. Though he was reluctant to have anything left to do with those bastardly animatronics, he felt like he had to do this. He gathered his courage and accepted, not knowing what was ahead of him. 

The universe must have decided that he hadn't paid enough for his mistakes, because he ended up literally dying and then having his corpse used as a disguise for murderous animatronics. Not fun. Even when Ennard finally left, he just felt... Empty. Both physically and mentally. He wasn't even sad about it. He was accepting.

This was a natural punishment for trying to run away from his past, he assumed. Mike always thinks he deserves the bad things that happen to him. But, he also realized... When did his father ever get punished for something?

It just wasn't fair. William got away with everything while Mike was the one who had to pay for it. He did some terrible shit when he was younger, he knows, but wasn't this enough? When was William going to pay for slaughtering children for his selfish experiments and power trip? 

In that moment, he knew what he needed to do. He had to kill his father and get revenge. He needed to free the rest of the souls like he did with his sister. That way, he could finally be at peace. 

From then on, Mike was the best version of himself. He still made an effort to keep up his new identity, but he wasn't trying to run away anymore. He was scared and he was battling mental health issues everyday, but he was determined now. And nobody could stop him. 

Romantic

Let's say you fell in love after he moved and changed his name, so you didn't know about his past. He wouldn't tell you the truth for the longest time. Mike sees you in an extremely high light. You've got so many good qualities about you, and he's... Just some cowardly asshole who lives a lie. But you don't know that. You think he's great too. And fuck, he loves that, he wants it to stay that way so badly. He really does want to be with you. 

So he stays as Mike Schmidt. He wouldn't mention a word about Michael Afton, his family, or anything to do with Freddy Fazbear's. Forget Fredbear's. He refuses to be a part of that. Most of the time he just dances around the subject when it's brought up, but he's willing to flat out lie if he has to. He doesn't understand that having a relationship built on lies isn't the best idea. 

Besides that stuff about lying to you, I don't think he'd be too bad of a partner. He loves you so much and wants the best for you. He'd work hard so you could have everything you need/want. But since he works so much, it's hard to find time to spend together. Especially whenever he's working the night shift.

When you do find time, you probably won't be going out on dates. He's paranoid and avoids going out when he can. So you'll likely be at home, whether you're resting in bed or watching Immortal and The Restless together. 

While he was working at Circus's Baby, he always made it a point to call you after 6AM and let you know he was on his way home. You didn't know that, truthfully, it was just his way of letting you know he was still alive. 

He's also a protective boyfriend. Though he doesn't like going out, he would force himself to get past his fear and go out with you when you have to leave. He'll accompany you on trips to the grocery store or other errands. He makes sure to write down your work phone number somewhere safe, so he can call you during your breaks and make sure you're okay. 

And in a way, him lying about his past is a way of protecting you, too. You could get hurt if you get involved. So he buries all the pain and wears a smile, no matter how much it hurts. When he has sudden flashbacks to his father's abuse or the death of his brother, his grin only falters for a second. He considers this his way of being strong. 

Mike can't hide it forever, though. He'll be forced to confess after he gets scooped, because... Well, imagine trying to hide purple skin from somebody you see every day. You'll have to talk some sense into him though- He needs to be convinced that he can't handle everything on his own and that this isn't some punishment for his sins. So weirdly enough, him getting scooped wasn't entirely bad? Because it made your relationship stronger and he's better off, now that he has a goal and somebody to support him along the way. 

But that didn't mean everything was sunshine and rainbows now. For one thing, his appearance is pretty fucked up, and not in the hot way. It's just another thing to add to the list of insecurites. He worries that you'll leave him for somebody better. He avoids physical affection as well, because he's sure you wouldn't want to touch him. 

You can help by giving him lots of reassurance, though. He likes being called handsome even if he doesn't believe it, and it feels good knowing you're always there for him. 

This might be an unpopular headcanon, but I honestly think Michael would want to get married. Probably not when he was younger and the wounds from his trauma were fresh, but once he's older and more healed. Just because his parents' marriage didn't turn out well doesn't mean that yours won't. There probably won't be an official ceremony, there might not even be any official documents saying you got married, but he would buy a pair of rings so you could say you were anyway. It's still marriage to him. 

No kids though. He's still intensely afraid of having one of his own to take care of. The next best thing is Helpy 💀 But speaking of Helpy, the only Fazbear restaurant he'll let you go to is the one from Pizzeria Simulator. It's the only place he has any control over things, so he wouldn't be on the verge of having a panic attack everytime you got near an animatronic... But maybe you still don't need to be around those high risk ones...

Oh, and don't worry, he won't stick around in the fire like he did at the end of the game. I believe the only reason he did that was because he didn't have anything else. This family drama was his whole life, his whole purpose. So he thought it was only right to pass on with everybody else then. 

But with you here now, he can't just leave you like that. Not as a single parent caring for Helpy! So you three can finally live that happily ever after without having to worry about any murderous animatronics or people in bunny suits again.

Haha, yeah... Definitely... 

[bluewonderer]

Last Line Tag

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag! I've been in a bit of a slump, but here we go!

They give him a wide berth, no one wanting to bump into their commanding officer, much less the Demon of the East, and the flow of retreating soldiers quickly bottlenecks.

It's been a while since I've been on tumblr, so I'm not sure which of my mutuals are writers, so I will not be able to tag as many people as there are words. @sophiainspace @saucepans 👀 @onepieceloverandwriter @goldenandhappy @sapphicsimping -- let me know if you rather not be tagged in the future! And no pressure to participate!

If you see this and want to join in, you totally should! And you should tag me to make sure I see it and I can learn my writing buddies again! 🥰

[bluevaractyl]

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing/art that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi Skye!! I don't have enough art or writing to do five, so I'll do some of each.

Burning Skies: My first (and so far only) multichapter fic, in which I am very mean to Sky, the boys go dungeon crawling, and hugs are had. It has a lot in common with your Elastic Heart, I think. I took advantage of the setting and played with the Chain's items and monsters. Bouncing between perspectives was so much fun, and having people comment as I posted each chapter was incredibly rewarding. Zola drew some amazing art for it.

Courage comes in many forms: This is the silliest thing I have ever written. AoL Link learns the Cucco spell, with a bonus bit of LU at the end. Very short and good for a giggle. Zola also did art for this one.

Deterioration: For the ultimate whiplash, here is the angstiest, whumpiest thing I have ever written. I really don't know why it's on this list, but I only have six published fics to choose from, so here it is. I'm gonna preface it by saying that it's the result of me going, "Aren't you glad healthcare workers are so caring?" and my dumb angsty brain going, "Yeah, what if they weren't?" and running with it. Also me thinking too hard about how [spoiler] came to be. Hyrule becomes an unwilling test subject and has a terrible week. Someone get this boy a snack and hugs STAT.

Yes you've seen this before, but it's probably my best work. The Yiga from Dad Squad come for Sky Link and are unprepared to face the fury of a protective loftwing. I am still really proud of the pose and colors on the loftwing, and I still giggle at the Yiga. Link is blissfully unaware😌

And finally, the art I drew inspired by your Fluffvember snippet. You've seen this one too haha. Seeing it always makes me think of that fic and brings that same feeling of calm I felt that first time reading it. It's nice to know that I can draw fluff even though I apparently can't write it😅

I've drawn many things since these two, but none I've been so happy with. I guess you're my muse :3

[life-of-kalos]

First - Previous - Next

Fauns mind was made up, she would free this being from its stone prison. It was her absence that brought this fate upon countless individuals, now she had to do whatever she could to mend the outcome of her negligence.

Both hands now caressed the beings head, the feeling of cold stone on her finger tips gave her chills. This body felt so lifeless and empty, if it weren't for that small flame laying deep in it's soul, she'd think he were nothing more than a decoration.

If faun were to be honest with herself, she had heavy doubt that she could even bring this victim back. Her powers have always been short of plentiful and she had recently expelled way too much in her rage. She knew she'd have to pour most if not all that was left into this individual. Hopefully it was worth it..

But this was no time to dwell on the if she could, she had to try. Focus and concentration was key in transferring energy. Shaking off her doubts, Faun took a deep breath and set her mind solely on giving life to the recipient.

A warm tingling sensation flooded through her veins. Like a stream that exited her palms. Pouring her life energy into a nearly empty cup, she pushed to expell it from her body. It was working. She felt the life flame in the stone's body grow to a small blaze. Excitement flooded through Faun. S-she was doing it!

Eyes clenched shut, she leaned her whole body into the process. She was running on low but couldn't afford to let up. If she didn't completely remove the curse, all this would be for naught. Her breath now ragged, body now falling to the ground, she pushed the remaining energy as far as she could.

It's not enough. Fear set in, what should she do? She hadn't succeeded and now was almost completely out of her own life energy. This'll take her years to replenish and she couldn't even help one victim! Her fear turned to rage and bubbled more and more of the remanence out of her body. This was equivalent to wringing out a rag.

"COME.... ON...." Head dizzy, body numb, and yet she pushed.

Jingling from the chain made her snap back to her senses. Faun swung her head to the figure in front of her, deep purple-red eyes stare back.

She did it