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ihavethedreamies · 2 months

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Desert Storms | Woozi

Lee Jihoon (Woozi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4k

Pairing: Woozi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), 69-ing, Bondage? Tied up but not like that, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: I plan on doing a story for each member of Seventeen that is this Sci-Fi, desert world, Alternate Universe, but not according to any kind of schedule.

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Shit. Shit. Shit-" You cursed. You cursed yourself, you cursed the desert, the planet, everything. Why? Sandstorm. Your rover was having trouble keeping ahead of it and you were pushing her to her limits. One of the real issues with sandstorms on the planet of Sierra-Victor-Tango versus Earth was…acid. The giant burrowing space worms that lived under the dunes spit literal acid. Because of this, the sand at deeper levels was infused with that acid. So, you really, really didn't want to be out in that. The problem was, if enough of the acid sand hit the rover, it could damage it badly, and take out the glass. Then you would have been screwed. The storm was getting worse as it traveled and to stay on the road, you couldn't drive straight away from it. All of a sudden, a message came over the transceiver.

"Hey, uh, I can see you from my base. In like a kilometer take a right and then you'll be able to see it and then you can just drive straight in." A man's voice came in, the receiver made the audio crackly from the high wind. You knew about the base, but it was private, so you didn't really know anything about it. If the guy was offering, you would take him up on it. You hit the button on your radio and shouted over the noise, "Okay, great, thanks!" You weren't sure if he saw you on some kind of radar or what. Right where he told you, you took the turn and cringed at the rattling noise your rover let off. Unfortunately, the direction he had you turn was leading you more into the path of the storm. Luckily though, you didn't have far to go. Slowing down a bit, you saw the hatch to the base open just enough for your rover to fit through. As soon as your rover started to go down the ramp into the base, the door closed, and you could hear your own thoughts again. Slowing down, you sighed in relief and stopped the rover. There was another one parked down there that was much nicer and much bigger. You pulled up and shut it off, honestly not knowing if it would start when you went to leave. The motor rattled as it shut off and you had to kick the door open after you pulled the handle. Slamming the door shut, you coughed as a bunch of sand dust blasted back at you.

"How'd you get caught out in a sandstorm?" You recognized the voice of the guy who contacted you, actually able to hear it clearly. You stepped around the rover to look at him standing in the doorway that actually led into the base. He was…gorgeous actually. Not very tall yourself, you had no room to talk, but he was pretty short. However, he compensated for this by working out it seemed because he was thick. His black shirt was sleeveless and tight, his pants were equally as tight. He had longer wavy black hair pulled halfway back into a small ponytail. You waved to acknowledge his presence and retrieved your pack from the hatch of your vehicle and slung it onto your back. Approaching him, you got an even better look at his face. There was a small scar over his brow ridge that left a clean cut into his eyebrow, another small scar on the opposite cheek near his jaw. A set of snakebite piercings rested under his lower lip and his eyes were red. Not like bloodshot, his irises were red. You didn't know if it was natural or not. His ears had some ear piercings, a long pendant hanging down from the left ear with an upside-down triangle-like design. Each finger had an identical silver ring on them that probably served some purpose.

"Thank you for letting me shelter here." You told him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Here." He reached for it, and you hesitated for a second but handed the large pack over, keeping your satchel with you. Motioning with his head, he went deeper into the base, and you went up the short three metal stairs and inside, the door sliding closed behind you. You followed him down the short hallway, the metal was old and worn but more or less clean. There was an intersection not too far down the hall, but he kept going forward. You reached another sliding door and when he led you in, it was a stark contrast. Everything looked brand new, fancy, top of the line. It was a giant open living space with a large sectional couch and fancy holo-screen. There was a giant round table to the left and there was a decorative wall that had the kitchen on the other side. It looked like there was another big open space behind the kitchen with a bunch of consoles and other equipment set up. On the other side of the living room there was a large bedroom with the doors open and the hall went in both directions past it.

"Wow…" You gaped, looking around. The same logo that was on his earring was found in multiple places around, a big hologram floating above the center of the table, printed on the glass of the decorative wall, even scored into the glass of the coffee table.

"The storm is supposed to dissipate soon, but then another big one is coming in. You can stay here through it, no one else is here. Normally my co-commander is here too but he's not right now." The man told you and his voice brought you attention back to him. This place looked like more money was put into it than your entire hometown.

"What is this place?"

"Ever heard of the Rangers?"

"Yes?"

"This is our main base." He motioned with his head again and she followed after him and he led her down the hallway to nearly the end. The door at the end opened and he had brought her to a beautiful bedroom with a sitting area, king-sized bed, and a giant bathroom behind the bed.

"I can stay here?" You gawked and he let your bag thump on the ground as he smirked.

"Yeah, no one is using it. Woozi." He held his hand out and you nervously shook it. Even though he himself was pretty short, you were still a good three or four inches shorter than him.

"Oh, uh, (Y/N)."

"Where are you from?" Woozi moved back out of the room, and you trotted after him as he led you back toward the kitchen.

"Morgran town." You informed. He told you to take a seat at the counter and you jumped up on the stool and he opened the ice box.

"I'm not a wonderful cook so I don't have any fancy ingredients, but I can mix all this together with some rice." He had taken a bunch of small containers of leftovers and set them on the counter.

"Okay!" You were starving and hadn't had a normal meal in quite a while. He set up the rice cooker and you wondered if this was how homes on Terra looked.

"Were you born here?" Woozi asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Nah. I was born on Pledis and moved here when I was about eighteen."

"Why?"

"The co-commander, Seungcheol, convinced me to come here with him and start our own faction of Rangers. Not only are there a lot of runaway criminals here, but a lot of people who need help in the middle of the desert." He cast you a sly look as he hit the button on the rice cooker. You laughed nervously at this, and he leaned against the counter in front of you. Lord, he was hot. The way he was positioned, the muscles in his arm flexed and his shirt spread tight over his chest. He huffed when he noticed you were ogling him, and his hand came to your chin. He moved your head up, so you looked him in the eye again and your face exploded into a blush.

"U-uh, I…I'm-"

"Don't worry, doll." He tilted his head to the side, looking over your face, his thumb coming up to stroke your bottom lip. Woozi backed up with a smirk and you avoided his gaze, turning in your stool to get down and go near the couch.

"Your holo-screen is huge." You marveled and he moved out of the kitchen to join you, pointing for you to sit.

"Tap the table." He told you and you saw a little flashing light and pressed it, a holographic module popping up that worked as the remote.

"Watch whatever, I have to go finish something." He told you. You watched from the corner of your eye as he went to the room behind the kitchen, your eyes moving down to look at his ass in those tight black pants. When he got completely out of view you looked back at the module and found a listing of movies and shows that you had only ever dreamed of seeing. They even had ones that were over a hundred years old! Selecting one, a movie series based off an even older set of books about elves and wizards, you sat back to watch it. There was another button on the module that flashed, catching your attention. You tapped it, and a second smaller screen popped up in the corner showing the radar of the storms incoming.

"Shit." You groaned. Woozi had been right. The one you just escaped was still lingering over the area and there was another bigger one coming right behind it. At the bottom of the corner there might have been a third one developing as well. Oh well, it could be worse than being stuck in a fancy underground base with an extremely attractive man.

It was only about thirty minutes after you started the movie he came back out, the only reason you noticed was because the rice cooker had gone off. Pausing the movie, you got up and went to sit at the counter, watching as he mixed everything together and your mouth watered. He left it all in the same big bowl, grabbed two spoons, then nodded for you to follow him back into the living area. You hesitantly sat down, and he sat way closer to you than you even hoped for and handed you a spoon. Glancing at him, you sat back still mostly rigid, and hit play on the movie. After you got to eating it and realized how starving you were, you soon forgot that he was so close to you. He watched in amusement as you scarfed it down and you both had soon finished it off.

"Thanks for letting me stay here. I looked at the radar and it looks like the storms are just going to keep coming." You groaned, resting your head on the back of the couch. Your eyes were closed so he took the chance to look you over like you had been him. The thin fabric of your shirt had ridden up some and revealed the smooth skin on your tummy and waist, tanned with a smattering of freckles from sun exposure. Your long hair was tied back in a braid, and you wore tight leggings with mesh side panels to allow for more breathability. It wasn't too often he ran into anyone, even women, who were that much smaller than him, let alone that cute. His eyes shot back to your face, your eyes still closed and he wondered if you had fallen asleep already. Woozi wanted to just grab you and haul you onto his lap. Living out in the middle of the desert with only the rest of the guys in his Ranger group didn't give many opportunities for him to be with a woman. Now, one had just happened to show up. He didn't want to push it, but with you how you had been looking at him…

"Ugh, I think I wore myself out trying to get out of that storm. The adrenaline has finally gone away it seems." You tipped your head back and forth, your neck popping to relieve some pressure. He glanced at his watch, and it was pretty late. This time of year, the sun didn't get very low, so it was bright nearly all of the time.

"Go sleep then. If I'm not out here when you get up, you can just grab whatever from the kitchen. I'll let you know if the storm lets up sooner." He stood up with the bowl to clean it up and he watched you trudge sleepily down the hall and into the room he let you use. When you got in there, you marveled at the luxury and peeled your clothes off so you could take an actual legitimate shower. The water felt like heaven, and you were glad your spare underwear and clothes were clean. Just putting on your leggings over your panties and redoing a wrap-around breast band, you climbed in the amazing bed and immediately fell asleep.

A loud and echoing crash startled you awake, the sound of metal crunching was the opposite of reassuring. When it happened again you jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room and down the hall. You assumed the only room with the door closed was his and you got ready to knock, but the door just slid open. He was sitting up at a desk across from the bed and he glanced over at your panicked face.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"The metal crushing?"

"Yes!" You gaped and came further into the room.

"Sand worm. We're fine." He assured you, and when it happened again, you jumped so hard he got up and went to you.

"Hey, it's fine." He placed his hands on your arms, and he felt you were shaking.

"That's NOT a sand worm." You insisted, the noise happened again but louder. Even he was a little surprised by the volume of it and he walked past you and toward the equipment room. You followed close behind him and he typed on the console and a hologram of the base popped up, a bright red flashing dot appearing the top right corner.

"Oh, great." He grunted and you looked at him then back to the dot.

"What?"

"The storm must have damaged the drone silo; it seems they're all falling out of the hangar." He clicked his tongue, and you sighed in relief. Sure, that sounded expensive, but a giant monster wasn't going to break in. You were still shaking a bit; your adrenaline had spiked again but your body was so worn out that it wiped you out more.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" He stepped closer and he was dangerously close to you now.

"I won't let anything happen to you, doll." He smirked, his finger coming up and brushing a lock of hair away from your face, which turned red.

"No?" You stepped even closer, your own hand moving to trace over the rings he had on each finger. The smirk grew and the hand you were touching wrapped around yours and he pulled you to him. Chest to chest, his other arm wrapped around you, your other hand resting on his shoulder. Woozi brought your linked fingers to his lips and kissed over your knuckles, and when he reached your thumb, he sucked it into his mouth. You exhaled harshly and your free hand cupped his jaw.

"How about I help you relax?" He asked, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

"Please." You whispered; his lips so close to yours now. Letting your hand go, you dropped it to his other shoulder, and his strong arms engulfed you, pressing you into him. Woozi sealed his lips over yours and you whined, his tongue immediately swirling around yours. He tasted good, almost like some kind of soda you only had once or twice in your life. His hands on you were hot, his body pressed to yours was hard and his kiss was consuming. When he finally pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connected your lips and you nearly slumped against him. His presence was all encompassing, and your head was already swimming, he was some kind of drug.

"Can I do something?" You ask, his lips still close to yours, your breath mingling.

"Whatever you want, doll." Woozi complied, so you pulled back a bit but instead of stepping away from him, you sank to your knees. His finger came to your chin and made you look up at him.

"If you're going to do that, I want you to sit on my face while you do." He told you and your eyes widened.

"Okay." You shrugged and instead of reaching his hand to help you up, he bent and scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed. You weren't big, but he did it so easily. Letting out an 'oof' as he dropped you onto his bed, your eyes got bigger as he began to strip. The tight black shirt came off and you nearly drooled. His body looked just as good as it felt, and you couldn't wait for him to drop his pants. He undid his belt and with an aggressive snap, he pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. With a smirk, he made eye contact with you and let his pants fall. You were not expecting him to have nothing on underneath and his hard cock bounced some from being released, smacking against his stomach. Your mouth watered. Stepping out of the clothes, he stalked over to you and pushed you onto your back. It wasn't hard or aggressive, more playful, and he hooked his fingers in the waist band of both your leggings and panties, then yanked them off. Woozi deftly unsnapped your breast band and threw that off you as well. Laying on his back, he patted his shoulders and you hesitantly moved to where he wanted you.

"Come on, doll." He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your dripping cunt onto his face. You squealed, falling forward, and catching yourself on your arms. You found yourself right in front of his pretty cock and since he was already shoving his tongue into your core, you enveloped the head of his cock with your lips. Neither of you could get over how the other tasted and he grunted when you just kept swallowing his cock deeper into your mouth and throat. His arms tightened their hold around your thighs, and he sucked on your clit. You twitched at the sensation, losing your pace and you gagged on his cock. The spasming of your throat squeezed his cock deliciously and he couldn't wait to fill your cunt. When he buried his tongue inside you as deep as he could, you moaned again, the hand loosely holding his cock squeezed a bit and his hips jumped, making you swallow him more.

"Cum, doll." He ordered, nipping your clit and you did as he told. The vibrations of your moan hit his cock and you sucked hard, setting his own orgasm off. Spurts of sticky white cum painted your throat and mouth and dripped down his shaft when you couldn't contain it all. Still semi-hard, you pulled your mouth off of him with a pop, then licked him clean.

"You taste so good~" You cooed; he was about to tell you the same thing. Helping you dismount his face; you just roll over onto your back and flop to the bed. He smirked, sitting up and rolled you again so you were on your stomach. He kneeled behind you and lifted your hips up, making you rest on your knees. Your chest and face were still touching the mattress and he rubbed his thumb over you dripping folds, then the cold metal of his rings touched the flesh and you shivered.

"W-what do those do anyway?" You asked.

"Wanna find out?" When he asked you turned to look at him and nodded. Little blue sparks flew off of them, then a hologram-like gauntlet surrounded each hand. Suddenly, warmth spread over your skin, and you yelped as ribbon like tendrils shot out from his hands and wrapped around your body. It wasn't bondage, they just wrapped around like vines, over your legs and arms, your abdomen, and breasts. They were warm and tingled and when it got done, the end landed right above your clit.

"Oh, god." You gasped; the sensation dull but incredibly sensual.

"What about this?" He asked and then the ribbons tightened, and this forced a moan out of you. His hands then grabbed the flesh of your ass, the tingling hologram on his hands leaving the same sensation as the ribbons.

"Ready?" He asked and you felt the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Your body was buzzing in so many different ways and you whined positively, and he started to ease in. The burn of his girth fucking opens your walls heightened every other pleasurable sensation in your body and he groaned at how tight you were, so wet you were literally dripping.

"Ah~ (Y/N)…" He groaned finally filling you up completely. Your head was swimming and he simply grinded as deep into you as he could, his pelvis meeting your ass. When he didn’t do anything more than that you whined pitifully, needing him to move more than that.

"Woozi…" You mewled and he groaned.

"You're so tight, baby girl." His voice had rumbled through you. You yiped when the ribbons tightened then began to move again. You couldn't see behind you, but when he groaned, you felt the ribbons wrap around his cock as well and the heat intensified, and he began to move. His thrusts were shallow but hard, and he made sure to roll as deep as he could with each thrust.

"Fuck, I'm not letting you go anytime soon, doll. Even if the storm lets up." He grunted with each thrust, then stopped. You were about to complain but he leaned over you, his hands landing by your head, and you could see better the blue light around his hands.

"You want more?"

"Pl-please…" You huffed and he pumped his hips, snapping his cock into you hard after nearly pulling out all the way. Your mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out and tears pricked your eyes at the intense feeling of him rearranging your guts. He was fucking you like an animal, nearly growling above you, drool was leaving a dark spot near your mouth on the sheets.

"W-Woo-Woozi!" Feeling your orgasm coming fast, he leaned over you more, wrapping his arms around your middle to haul you up, his chest to your back. His hands cupped your breasts and the ribbons tightened even further and he grunted two more times, spilling inside of you, this sent you over the edge. One of his hands was on your throat, just lightly holding you in place as your whole body spasmed. You orgasm faded shortly after his and your body stung, the ribbons leaving you calmed the burn, and he helped you curl up in the bed. You watched the dancing patterns of the screen saver on his wall display, dazed, barely registering him moving around. When he came back into view you slightly noticed the continuing metal crunch of the drone silo, but it was the least of your concerns.

"You know, I think the storms might last a few days…" He sat on the bed next to you, wearing a pair of boxers now.

"I hope they last the whole month," You mumbled, and this made him laugh.

"Me too, doll."

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen woozi #svt woozi #x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #kpop x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi #lee jihoon

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staycalmandhugaclone · 7 months

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You'll Have to Go Through Me Pt 6

Part 6 of You'll Have to Go Through Me, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

So... just a heads up: this is actually the end of this arc. Aaaand I intend to spend the next week or so working through a couple Asks. Sorry it took so long to get out - feel like I kinda struggled a bit with it, but I do be having some interesting thoughts (courtesy of a collab braining session with my hubby) for what happens next (because I clearly don't have enough upcoming Doc stories lol)

Warnings: Mild PTSF, guilt, reference to torture/gore, profanity, heated kissing

WC: 4,340

The sound of those crashing waves again lulled me into a false sense of nearness as I followed the well-trod path toward the beach, endlessly believing I’d finally glimpse a stunning expanse of oceans upon cresting the next ridge only to find another dune stretching out before me. The Marauder was empty when Crosshair and I had reached it, but he’d urged me to continue alone as he ducked inside with a parting “Try not to start another fight until I get there.”

Alone, there was no blessed freedom from my thoughts, nothing to distract myself from the ache each step sent shooting through my hip nor the way my hand throbbed, and I quickly found my strides quickening if only to escape that haunted isolation. Acknowledging that I’d had no real choice in what I’d done offered little reprieve from the nauseating guilt brought on by the memories, and I quickly found myself so lost in those thoughts that I might have run mindlessly into Hunter before noticing him had he not reached out to grab my arms first, wide eyes studying me expectantly as I turned up to him with a quiet gasp.

“I was just coming to find you.” He said after a moment’s hesitation, words drawn out with an unspoken question. He glanced briefly past me before those worried eyes turned back to mine.

“He’s at the ship.” I answered, straining to force my breathing to slow. I knew it was pointless, that he could hear the rapid thudding of my heart and quickly tried to change the subject. “Couldn’t have landed closer to shore?” Hunter barely acknowledged the feigned annoyance in my words. “Usually, people go to the beach to relax, not for a workout.” He was still for just a moment longer before yielding beneath my silent plea with a gentle smirk.

“And here I thought you were tougher than the other nat-borns.” He teased, and relief fluttered through my chest. “Need me to carry you, princess?” I scoffed and tread purposefully around him.

“Don’t tempt me, Mr Big, Scary Clone Commando.”

“‘Scary’?” He sounded far too pleased with himself as he fell in step beside me, shoulder bumping lightly against mine. “I can think of a couple better ways to describe myself.” There was nothing forced in the chuckle that escaped me as I looked up at him.

“Yeah? What? Like cocky? Vain? Over-a-” The word cut off with a squeal of laughter as he threw me over his shoulder.

“Sorry, what was that?” He hummed fingers intentionally toying with the oversensitive skin at my sides any time I tried to speak. “Can’t quite hear you over all that giggling.”

“Hunter!” I shouted, eagerly ignoring the flash of pain as my hands latched onto the thick muscle atop his shoulder blades to steady myself. “Put me down!”

“And risk wearing out our precious med’ika? Boost would never forgive me.” My cheeks flared red.

“Hunter!” I shrieked again, but he merely shook with his own laughter as he continued along the trail a few more strides before finally setting me down, haughty grin toying with his lips as his touch lingered on my arms to steady me. I tried to glare at him but couldn’t restrain my mirth for even a fleeting moment as I tried not to think on the ease with which his powerful frame carried me.

“What’s with the… Doc!” The concern in Wrecker’s voice instantly shifted to excitement as he looked down at us from atop the dune, and I sent him a warm smile that quickly broke into laughter once more as he skidded down the hill, plowing into me with a breathtaking hug that forced out a quiet “oof” as he lifted me off my feet.

“Yuh had me so worried!” He said, and I could hear Hunter’s quiet chuckle beside us. “An’ then you were gone when I woke up, and I thought-” He suddenly stopped and carefully put me back down, blush flaring up his neck. “You, uh… sorry if I… made yuh uncomfortable…” His loud voice faded into an almost embarrassed murmur. “Didn’t really seem like yuh wanted me to let yuh go, so I just…” He lets his words fade with a shrug.

“Wrecker,” I called softly, heart jumping when he hesitantly met my gaze. “Thank you for helping me last night... I think I really needed it.” His blush deepened, but his lips pulled into a shy grin.

“Jus’ glad it helped.” He replied softly, and he paused for just a moment, watching me with that knowing softness that spoke volumes of the darkness he knew lingered just beneath my smile, but he allowed me to hide from it in the warmth of his presence. “Now, come on! If yuh thought the last fish we roasted was big, wait ‘til yuh see this one!” My brow hitched in interest as he turned and guided me over that final dune, arm draped casually around my shoulders.

I’d never seen water so clear. Even from afar, bursts of color shown through that crystalline blue from endless stretches of elaborate coral reefs through which I could just make out blurred streaks darting in and out of sight as countless fish thrived in the immaculate landscape hidden beneath the gentle waves. A comforting wind toyed with my hair, carrying the scent of sun-warmed sands garnished with a salty tang that was somehow far more subtle than I’d anticipated. The nearly white beach stretched out in a graceful curve to my right before vanishing beyond the tree line, while ivory cliffs blocked passage to my left, great boulders from which protruded elegantly from the water where the current crashed against them in great flurries of sparkling droplets.

“Worth the hike?” Hunter goaded with that haughty smirk.

“Depends. Am I going to get eaten the second I dip my toes in?” I asked, shooting a sideways glance at him.

“Probably not.” The utter ease with which his smokey voice murmured those words drew a huffed scoff from me, eyes rolling slightly.

“Nothin’ out there we can’t deal with, at least!” Wrecker chimed, pulling me forward once more.

Nestled just within the shadow of palms near the base of the cliff, they’d dug a pit into the sand from which I could just glimpse the glow of coals beneath a familiar metal grate, and I didn’t doubt Wrecker had hauled it from the Marauder the instant one of his brothers suggested they prepare a meal. He was right. Only half of the massive fish they’d somehow caught fit atop the grill, the remaining half hung from a nearby tree, flesh protected beneath a layer of broad leaves, and it was easily twice as large as the one we’d cooked on Devaron.

“No swimming… Got it…” I muttered, noting the row of sharp teeth nearly the length of my hand, and Wrecker let out a warm chuckle.

“Predators such as this tend to prefer feeding at dawn or dusk, making it highly unlikely one would attempt to target you in the next several hours.” I turned to find Tech reclined against the trunk of one of the swaying trees. A pile of tool and parts lay at his side, gaze turned toward his datapad though it didn’t appear as though he was truly looking at it so much as looking away from me, and that realization made my heart drop.

“So, you’re saying there’s only a small chance I’ll lose a limb.” I replied, gentle smile warming my voice in a silent plea, and that smile grew when his eyes flicked briefly to mine, lips just twitching in a grin of his own.

“It’s unlikely, but, yes, there’s a non-zero probability.” He yielded reluctantly.

“I’ll go with yuh!” Wrecker offered.

“Maybe after breakfast.” His eyes lit up at my response.

“A’right! I’ve been dyin’ to try this thing!” With that, he released me to trot toward the freshly cooked meal with Hunter following shortly behind.

“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly, moving to sit down a few feet away from the Tech.

“I do not believe I’ve suffered any long-term effects from the electrocution.” He answered, gaze again shifting toward me for a fleeting, almost shy glance that piqued my curiosity.

“Given that ‘short-term’ technically includes anything up to a month, would you care to elaborate?” I drawled, turning knowing eyes toward him, and I couldn’t help but warm at the way his lips bunched up.

“There’s some lingering fatigue and occasional muscle weakness, but it is minor enough that I anticipate it to resolve without the need for intervention.” His fingers tapped against the screen, but his attention remained somewhere just beyond whatever data lay within the illuminated surface.

“I’m glad.” I sighed in relief. His jaw twitched, but he seemed to think better of what he’d nearly said and quickly silenced himself. I ducked my head pointedly toward him, waiting, and I watched his fingers fidget anxiously with the seem of his gloves.

“Hunter… told me that you… well, that you carried me… again…” I almost couldn’t believe the sight of red creeping up his neck. “I apologize if it’s been burdensome.” Beneath a guilt that made my heart twist, there was a note of… something in his voice… excitement maybe? I found myself eager to lean into that underlying emotion rather than let him drown in a guilt that had no place between us.

“Stand up.” I instructed suddenly, already pushing myself to my feet as well, hands absently swiping at the sand clinging to my legs.

“Excuse me?” That confusion broke whatever aversion had kept him from meeting my eyes, and I had to bite back the relief upon finally seeing that brilliant burnt honey looking back at me.

“Stand up.” I said again, hand flaring out for emphasize. He stammered a moment longer, mind racing to understand my motivation before hesitantly moving to obey me. Without giving him time to object, I tread across the single step between us, crouching down to hoist him over my shoulder in a single, smooth motion. His datapad fell half-buried in the sand as his hands darted out to my back, a sharp gasp catching in his throat, and Wrecker’s laugh boomed across the dozen yards separating us from the grill.

“See?” I called, voice free of strain despite the way my hip balked from the effort. “This is what I do, Tech. It’s not a burden – you’re not a burden.” I bounced gently on the balls of my feet for emphasize and couldn’t help but grin at the way his breath caught in his throat.

“Y-yes; quite; you… you can put me down now.” He stammered, long legs stretching for the ground.

“Nah. I think he likes it up there.” Hunter teased as he approached us, thoughtlessly cleaning his knife of fish residue. Though I couldn’t see the expression on his face, I felt Tech turn sharply toward his brother and didn’t doubt the rage surely burning through his eyes.

“I told yuh she’s stronger than she looks!” Wrecker boasted. He was carrying a massive chunk of flaky meat atop one of the tree fronds, but his attention rested solely on us, pride shining in his eyes that drew a huff of laughter from me. I knew the pilot could have easily forced himself free, that he only refrained out of either respect or a reluctance to risk hurting me in the process. Regardless, my intent was merely to prove a point so, rather than dragging it out, I carefully lowered him back down.

Face a vibrant red, he quickly straightened his blacks indignantly. With a gentle smile, I retrieved his datapad and held it out for him. His blush only deepened in that brief moment of glancing toward me before accepting it, but he let out a short breath and nodded, jaw taut against what looked like the threat of his own smile, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Hunter was right…

Before my thoughts could wander over that possibility, the Sergeant’s expression suddenly dropped into an unimpressed stare, attention locked onto something just passed my shoulder.

“Ah.” Tech’s brief murmur held the same dismissive resignation as I followed their gazes and had to bite back the grin that tried to pull at my lips. Crosshair had finally caught up with us, armor apparently left behind on the Marauder along with his shirt. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in his eyes as he looked at each of his brothers in turn before letting his gaze rest on me, and I couldn’t begin to feign indifference.

There was something feline in the way his body moved, the tantalizing interplay of immaculately sculpted muscles emphasizing his every stride, and I couldn’t help but remember how perfect they felt beneath my hands as he towered over me in those moonlit woods, the strength of them as his weight pressed me into that scratchy blanket. He was paler than most clones, but the soft caramel of his skin held a warmth that still left me craving its touch, its scent, his taste.

Swallowing back the flare of want, I finally yielded, looking at him with the hunger he’d so effortlessly sent burning through me, and the smirk that instantly lit his face robbed me of any doubt that he’d known exactly what he was doing when he left the ship like that.

“Hope you put on some sunblock.” Hunter called, voice almost bored, but the taunt did nothing to deter the sniper’s pride. Crosshair’s lips pulled into a sneer, but before he could offer a retort, Wrecker interrupted them.

“Ah, you guys can bully each other later. Let’s eat!” I let out a quiet chuckle before pausing, glancing first toward the beach and then into the trees.

“Wait… Where’s Echo?” I asked, and the simple confusion in my voice twisted into a haunting dread at the way Hunter’s jaw tensed.

“He’s at the ship.” Crosshair answered, and I just caught the hard glare he shot his brother before schooling his face back into a nearly impassive disinterest. “Didn’t want to deal with the sand.” I could have pressed. I could have demanded they tell me the truth, admit that he was avoiding me rather than play into the lie, but I knew nothing would come of it. He didn’t want to see me. Nothing I said would change that simple hurt.

“Guess someone’ll just have to bring him some fish later.” My vain attempt at nonchalance fell painfully short, prompting a heaviness to the air around us that made my skin crawl. Drawing a quick breath, I turned my attention to the pile of meat Wrecker had carried from the fire. “Let’s not let it get cold.”

“What are you working on?” Short conversation had murmured between the brothers as we ate regarding empty speculations on where we might be sent next, if we’d be granted time to rest before the next mission, muttered complaints about how long it had been seen we’d found ourselves in an actual city, but as the meal ended, a less oppressive quiet settled between us.

Wrecker, stomach full and body warmed beneath the brilliant sun, lay dozing nearby while Hunter was busying himself with climbing the nearby cliff for a better view of the island. Crosshair had seated himself just near enough to me for his knee to occasionally brush mine, though he offered no reaction to those hidden touches as though they’d occurred by mere chance, so I pointedly turned my attention to the now nearly completed device in Tech’s hands. His eyes darted toward me for just a moment upon hearing my question before returning to his work.

“A tester scomp of sorts.” He stated absently, attention focused on piecing the remaining sheath atop the intricate series of wires. “This should grant us some warning against another malicious failsafe such as what we encountered at the outpost.” My interest instantly piqued, relief pouring through me for a worry I hadn’t realized I’d had. There was a time I would have been shocked that he’d been able to create something out of whatever lay about the Marauder, but I’d long since learned not to think such limitation to be a hindrance to the man before me.

“You think it’ll be able to trigger whatever trap that was?” I asked, voice hushed beneath a desperate hope.

“I’ll need to test it first… but, yes. While I doubt they’d attempt the same strategy twice, I believe caution is the appropriate tactic going forward.” Some of his words were drawn out, as though he’d nearly forgotten he was speaking as he finished attaching the final piece. Before I could reply, he pushed himself to his feet. “Excuse me – I’ll need to use the Marauder to verify it’s efficiency.”

With that, he quickly disappeared among the trees. With Hunter mere feet from the distant lip of shockingly pale stone and Wrecker making barely a sound as he slept, my mind revolted against the silence. It was too easy to fall back into the memory of those screams, to hear the crunch of bone in the sound of waves crashing against sand. As though I could feel him studying me, I glanced over to find Crosshair’s eyes trained on mine, and I briefly feared he could hear the way my heart raced.

Dismissing that worry, I hid my panic beneath a tiny smirk and let my gaze flick pointedly into the rich rainforests blanketing the island before looking back toward him, intent clear in my gaze. His brow twitched ever so slightly, jaw tensing beneath a want I was too eager to lose myself in. Without a word, I silently pushed myself to my feet, relieved to hear him following in my wake.

Barely a half dozen yards separated us from the tree line before his arm wrapped around my chest, and I couldn’t hold back the thrilled gasp as he pulled me flush to him, hunger instantly bursting through me at the heat of his powerful form. My hands automatically darted up to clasp his forearm, head tilting back to rest atop his shoulder as my lips readily pulled into a wide grin. I expected him to kiss me, felt myself shifting eagerly in anticipation, but he merely held me like that, watching me with a quiet that I couldn’t help but still beneath. His free hand slowly reached for me, fingers trailing lightly along my jaw.

Only after my body relaxed into him, intoxicated by the gentleness of his touch, did he kiss me, and I instantly found myself relishing in how quickly the world around us faded. It was effortless; forgetting the very existence of reality beyond that moment as I hid in the euphoria of his taste. Seeing him from afar, watching the sharpness of his glare, how readily that impatient scowl stole over his unapologetic face, assumptions of rough hands and sloppy lips were easy to imagine, but Maker, nothing was further from the truth.

Even now, despite my clear willingness for him, his every move held a reverence, as though convinced each second was its own revelation of some treasured secret revealed only through soft touches and the subtle dance of his kiss, and how could I not lose myself in him when he held me like that? The conviction of his worship forbade even a whisper of self-doubt. I felt cherished in a way I’d never before known, and it left be breathless, floating weightless in his embrace.

When he pulled back, haunted eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t begin to understand, I found myself torn, desperate for more of him while grasping for some means of ridding those amber eyes of whatever worries drew that subtle crease between his brows.

“You going to tell me what happened on the beach?” It wasn’t quite a whisper, but there was a softness to his raspy voice that would never cease to send that burst of heat through my chest. Still, I couldn’t begin to reach for an answer, mind still lost in the rush of his kiss. “You looked like you were about to start pacing.” He pressed, and I would have turned from him if I could remember how to feel shame over the want burning through me.

“It was too quiet.” I murmured, and from the way his gaze darkened, I didn’t doubt how thoroughly he understood.

“Not sure how I feel about you only coming me to when you have something you need to forget.” The regret that coiled in my stomach nearly ruined me, instantly sobering me of that thoughtless need as I withered beneath the threat of hurt in his voice.

“Cross…” His name fluttered from my lips absent any hope of finding some means of quieting his heartbreaking betrayal as I turned to face him, hands reaching up to whisper against his jaw, but I couldn’t deny what he’d said, and he knew it. I wanted to sob at the hesitation vainly hidden beneath a growing annoyance.

“Wait…” I barely breathed the hushed murmur before forcing some memory of strength back into my voice as his eyes turned pointedly away from me. “I… You’re right.” I loathed the way those words clawed up my throat. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to belittle this… us…” The fleeting urge to remind him that he’d offer me exactly that: a distraction, sat atop my tongue, rancid and bitter as I ached beneath the guilt of allowing him to feel like this when he’d so effortlessly filled me with that perfect bliss.

“I did look to you as a way to get away from…” Unwilling to force the nightmares into words, I motioned vaguely toward my head before returning my hand to his cheek. “But I swear, Cross… I don’t just want you for that… I want you.” My fingers shifted carefully against the rough stumble, subtly willing him closer to me. “I want you.” I whispered those tiny words with the full breadth of love that danced beneath my skin from his every touch, with the wonder and glee that burst through my chest at even a brief glimpse of his smile.

He didn’t fight me as I gently pulled him down to let my forehead rest against his, and I savored the intimacy of that closeness, thumbs gently sweeping across the ridge of his cheekbones. I didn’t try to claim his lips again, nor did I move to covet the tantalization display of his toned physique laid bare before me. In that moment, I needed nothing more than for him to believe me, that whatever relief his body might grant mine in a fit of passion paled beneath this; the simple act of holding him, of yielding beneath my want for his nearness and knowing he gleaned the same comfort in holding me, and when his arms slowly wrapped around my waist, I couldn’t suppress the shuddered breath that tumbled past my lips, my own arms instantly reaching out to lock around his broad shoulders.

“Do you want to go back to the beach?” I didn’t pull away as I let the words flutter through his hair after granting us a long while to merely bask in each other’s embrace. Without a word, he shook his head, and then his mouth was on mine. A tiny gasp caught in my throat as the sudden touch but found myself desperate for it, breath faltering in a whimper as his earlier tenderness quickly ceded beneath that hunger I’d so wanted to succumb to just moments prior.

He pressed harder into me, crowding me until I had to lean back, frightfully dependent on his touch to keep from falling, and I didn’t try to quiet the moan at that first caress of his tongue. His hand dropped down my waist to slide around my thigh, tugging the limb up to wrap around him, and I could feel the way he smirked at how easily he had me clinging to him.

“Say it again.” It was meant to be an order, but I could hear the need in it, and I offered no hesitation.

“I want you, Cross.” Murmuring the words against his lips, my fingers tangled into his hair, grip tightening just enough to emphasize my desire. Arm tightening around me, he stood up, hauling me effortlessly from the ground. Ignoring the ache of those barely sealed wounds, my other leg jerked up to lock around him as well, barely noticing the deceptively rough bark of a palm tree pressing against my back as my core burned from the heat radiating off him. Just as his hand began creeping beneath the hem of my shirt, a voice called out from the beach, rudely sending reality crashing back around us.

“Keep your clothes on.” Lips twisting into that familiar snarl, Crosshair let out a nearly growled breath, obstinately refusing to set me down.

“The kriff do you want, Hunter?” He shouted, refusing to so much as glance in the direction of his brother.

“We have to head out – wheels up in ten.” Disappointment replaced whatever embarrassment had begun darkening my cheeks, teeth catching about my lip as my body sank beneath a heavy sigh.

“What?! Why?!” He demanded, finally twisting his head back to stare at the foliage still protecting us from view. I tried to free my legs, but his grip only tightened, so I merely waited for his denial to cave.

“Orders came in.”

“We aren’t back from our last orders.” It was a useless objection, and he knew it, but his frustration forbid him from yielding so easily.

“Yeah… these aren’t for us.” Something about the reluctance in Hunter’s voice sent a chill down my spine, and I could feel Crosshair tense with that same apprehension. “They’re for her.” His annoyance instantly vanished, gaze darting to me with a confused dread that I couldn’t help but mirror.

Continue Reading (Extra Scene)

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beautifulmars · 6 months

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HiPOD: A Mound with a View

Gale is an impact crater with a very large mound of material in the middle known as Aeolis Mons (informally named Mount Sharp). If you were standing on Mount Sharp, you would see a diverse range of landforms on the floor and interior walls of Gale Crater such as deltas, alluvial fans, layered deposits, ridges, dunes, and smaller impact craters. Together these landforms tell an interesting geologic story that records the interaction of several processes including water and wind.

This image from the southern floor of Gale Crater shows narrow curvy ridges that connect to larger fan-shaped deposits. These narrow ridges were once the floor of a channel that are now standing in positive relief because the finer-grained material on the flanks of the channel has been blown away by the wind. These ridges, called “inverted channels,” can form by fluvial (produced by streams) or alluvial (created when water moves and deposits sediment) processes. Inverted channels are found in several places on Mars as well as Earth and scientists can study these landforms to understand the role of water.

ID: PSP_006288_1740 date: 29 November 2007 altitude: 268 km

NASA/JPL-Caltech/UArizona

#mars #nasa #science #geology #landscape #astronomy

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thorsenmark · 2 years

Video

An Official Vacation Guide to Indiana Dunes National Park! by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking along the shoreline of Lake Michigan and enjoying some of the sights in the Mount Baldy part of the national park. The view is looking to the west and using the shoreline with waves coming in as a leading line into the image. In order to create a more sweeping view across the shoreline, I angled my Nikon SLR camera slightly downward and brought the horizon a little up into the image.

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hayleythecannibal · 1 month

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Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Seventeen Takiawase

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Death, Lobotomies, BEES, Cannibalism

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

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Twisted Minds Masterlist

RIVER - DAY-

Nimble fingers tie the lines of leader and tippet, wrapping the end of one line around the other. “Wrap the leader around the tippet. Four, five, six times. Tuck the end between the lines. Tighten. Trim.” The fingers produce a small pair of scissors and trim. WILL GRAHAM wearing waders, thigh deep in water. Will finishes tying the leader and the tippet together.

“It's called a blood knot.” Will is talking to ABIGAIL HOBBS, also wearing waders, standing next to him, watching him complete the knot. ”Your father taught you how to hunt. I'm going to teach you how to fish.”

“Same thing, isn't it? One you lure, the other you stalk?”

“One you catch, the other you shoot.”

“What are you trying to catch?”

“The one who caught you... and didn't let you go.”

“The one that got away.”

“Catch a fish once and it gets away, it's a lot harder to catch again.”

“Have to be smarter than the fish.”

“You have to connect to the fish. The fish is in the current, you're connected to the river. Have to be still. Have to be close. Have to think clearly, control your emotions and act efficiently. Never let the fish know you're fishing.”

“Don't fishermen always lie about what they catch? Or don't catch. Everybody thinks you're lying about the one that got away.”

“That's why I have to catch him.”

“I hope you do.” Will gathers up his pole, ready to cast his line. “Last thing before casting a line:

name the bait on your hook after somebody you cherished.”

“So you can say good-bye?

“If the person you name it after cherished you, as the superstition goes, you'll catch the fish.” Will casts the line and watches it plunk in the distance. “What did you name it?”

“Abigail.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will stands in the middle of his cell, or figuratively in the currents of the river of his mind. The RIDGES OF HIS IRIS look like sand dunes. A KLAXON SOUNDS down the corridor and Will's PUPIL FLUCTUATES. Will Graham holds the HUMAN MURAL CRIME SCENE PHOTO on one side of the bars, while BEVERLY KATZ and DR. Y/N L/N stands on the other.

“You both were right. Killer was in the mural. Just where you said he'd be.” Bev says as she looks between us. “The lion among the lambs.” I say softly as I look into Will’s eyes.

“His name was James Gray. Found his vehicle near the farm. Enough DNA in the bed of his truck for us to be confident he's the Muralist.” Bev says as Will glances at a REPORT in the same file as the mural photo. “You found as much evidence on him as you did on me.” Says Will as He glances up from the report. “I'm glad you said it.” Beverly says with a nod.

“Who sewed him into the mural?” Will asks as he continues to gaze upon the Report.

“We don't know. But clearly, he didn't do it himself. He may have had a partner. Another killer. Maybe they had a suicide pact.” Bev says as I shake my head, “There was no partner. This Muralist acted alone right up until he was sewn into his own mural.” I say just as I had before.

“No signs of a struggle.” Beverly says as she points to the man in the mural.

“Whoever he is, this second killer understood the Muralist well enough to find his canvas. Well enough to convince him to be part of it. He's charming and he's insightful.” Will says as he looks at me with a knowing soft smile. We both know. He finally Knows that I know too.

“You have an idea who that might be?” Beverly asks and i tilt my head. “I do.” I say softly with a smile, My plan is excellent. “Please don't say, "Hannibal Lecter."” Bev says to me, and I raise my brows at her amused. “I'm saying Hannibal Lecter.” Will says as he spots my nods at him.

“Didn't you stop ringing that bell?

“Not for you. And I'd appreciate if you kept the ringing between usThree.”

“God's sake, Will. I'd say you lost your mind, but look where we are.” Beverly indicates the cell block around her. Will doesn't blink. “I'm not asking you to believe anything you can't prove. I'm just asking you to prove it.” Will says, I act surprised but he knows i'm not. She considers the request a moment, then shakes her head.

“Hannibal Lecter has no reason–”

“That's exactly right. He has no discernible reason other than his own amusement and curiosity.” Will says. “That's hard to prove.” Beverly states and i shake my head with a soft smile. “Whimsy. That's how We'll catch him. There will be a very clever detail to find on James Gray. He wouldn't be able to resist. Something that's probably been overlooked. Something hidden.” I say as I grasp her hand and Will’s.

“I'll look for clever details. But I'm not looking for Hannibal.”

“As long as you're looking. You look out there. I'll look in here. And Car-” i stop him.. “I know what i'm doing, lets just hope.” I smile sadly.

MEADOW - DAY -

Heavy SMOKE drifts through the air. A man in a BEEKEEPER SUIT steps WAFTING MORE SMOKE skyward with his portable BEE SMOKER. BRIAN ZELLER and JIMMY PRICE (also in beekeeper suits) positioned over the discolored corpse. “Hive seems well established. Basic nest architecture in place.” Jimmy says as Zeller's eyes dart over Price's shoulder to find – JACK CRAWFORD Standing at a safe distance, sans beekeeper suit. Zeller and Price immediately approach, pulling off their bee helmets.

“Local police were supposed to exterminate the bees to work the crime scene. But apparently, somebody shut that down.” Jack says as he swats away bees. “I did.” Jimmy says simply. And then Zeller repeats “He did.”

“Colony Collapse is already wiping out the bees, there's no reason to murder them too.” Jack eyes Jimmy, then indicates the body by the tree. “How long has he been out here?”

“From the decomp, I'd estimate death at two weeks.” Zeller says curtly, “Which makes sense with how much honey is being produced. I love bees. The drone is nature's most-talented suicidal swordsman. When he mates with a queen, his ejaculation is so explosive, it's audible to the human ear.” Jimmy says as the other two men look at him interestingly.

“How audible?” Zeller asks curiously, “A little "popping" sound. Kills him dead. Rips his endophallus right off.” Jimmy says until Jack clears his throat. “Do bees naturally hive in animal or human carcasses?” Jack asks Jimmy. “No. The victim was purposely repurposed as a human apiary.” Jimmy says as he gestures towards the body.

“Purposely.” Jack says softly. “Somebody removed eyes and part of the brain to make room for a hive.” Zeller says as Jack and his interest piqued --

BAU - MORGUE - DAY-

Beverly offers Hannibal and Y/N a small container of SMELL-BLOCKING

OINTMENT; he raises his hand in polite refusal. And I simply shake my head ‘No’. “Zeller's in the field, otherwise I'd ask him to help me with this.” Beverly says as she smears a dab inside each nostril, then pulls back the sheet revealing JAMES GRAY, the remains of the stitching still laced through his flesh.

“You Both were surgeons, right?” Bev asks, and I Nod. It is True before I was a psychiatrist and Criminal profiler I was a Trauma surgeon and ER Doctor. “I was a surgeon and a doctor.” Hannibal says as we look upon the body

“What's the distinction?” Beverly asks us. “A surgeon can stand to look at a mutilated body. But a doctor can't stand to see a life wasted.” I say softly as Beverly swings the MAGNIFYING LENS over James Gray's body.

“Have you found any evidence on the Muralist's friend?” Hannibal asks, “That's what I need your help with. Might not be a friend. Might not even be an acquaintance. Whoever killed him, understood him. That doesn't mean that he knew him or even met him before he killed him.” Beverly says and I sigh. She sounds like Will.

“So often you open your mouth and I hear Will Graham's words come out.” Hannibal says as Beverly stares, resists a smile, i look at her with a look that says ‘whatever you say i'm not involved’, then confesses: “Will and I have an arrangement.”

“Oh?” Hannibal asks and I tilt my head in acted confusion.

“He's agreed to consult with me on cases, if I keep investigating the murders he's accused of.” Beverly says, Oh Bev he will have his eye on you now. “I'm happy to hear that. Will needs a champion now more than ever.” Hannibal says with an amused voice.

“He has you two, doesn't he? You think there's a chance he could be innocent. I know you do.” Beverly asks us, I nod and intake a breath as Hannibal’s hand goes to my lower back. “I believe there's a possibility. How is your investigation going?” Hannibal asks as his hand drags across my lower back.

“I have nothing but Will's word. I'm just relieved he's not saying the killer is you anymore.” Beverly says as she starts to prepare for what seems to be an autopsy. “At least not to me. Who does Will believe killed the Muralist?” Beverly wheels over a tray of autopsy tools, including scalpels, scissors, rib cutters, vibrator saws and forceps. “Doesn't know. He thinks, if James Gray's killer hid him in the mural, he may have hid something else.”

“A signature? What kind of killer seeks to depict the unconscious, instinctual strivings of his victim by sewing him into his own human mural?”

“It wasn't just for appearances.”

“You have to get to the truth beneath the appearances.” I say as Beverly wryly hands him an autopsy scalpel. “Freud used psychoanalysis to delve into the subconscious mind and reveal a patient's true intentions.” Hannibal says as he accepts the scalpel

“What were James Gray's killer's true intentions, if not friendship?”

“Only by going deep beneath the skin will you understand the nature of this killer's pathology.” Beverly studying Hannibal as he places the scalpel...

BSHCI - INFIRMARY - DAY -

Will Graham sits in handcuffs and shackles, accompanied by the medical flair necessary for his session. Dr. Chilton sits opposite him, regarding him with curiosity. “Before I start asking you questions, I need some confidence you'll be telling the truth when you answer.” Chilton says as He presents Will with a CONSENT FORM on a CLIPBOARD. “What's this?”

“A consent form. You're agreeing to a narcoanalytic interview. You. Me. And our friend, sodium amytal.”

“Something to loosen my tongue.”

“Something lawfully used in the evaluation of psychotic patients.”

“What would you use to induce memory loss in a patient, psychotic or otherwise?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Of course.”

“Psychological trauma or neurological trauma? Or both.”

“What sort of neurological trauma?”

“The protein synthesis that moves memories from short-term to long-term can be interrupted, but that requires tools and skills. And a certain level of unorthodoxy.”

“Does Hannibal Lecter possess those tools and skills?” Chilton studies Will a moment, then: “Dr. Lecter has indicated to me that he is open to the unorthodox when it comes to treating patients.”

“I wonder how that subject came up. Sharing stories of the unorthodox?”

“Sign here.” THE SIGNATURE LINE Will signs his name. ON A VEIN The needle of an INTRAVENOUS DRIP pierces skin. A SYRINGE'S PLUNGER It glides down, drug solution SURGING, showing striations as it is PUSHED in a single direction. AN INTRAVENOUS DRIP The contents of the SYRINGE enter the stream, coursing toward the vein in Will Graham's arm.

He allows his head to loll back, feeling the drugs hit his system, and stares at the FLUORESCENT LIGHT above him. The rhythm of his circulatory system filling his ears. A FLUORESCENT LIGHT It flickers faster than the naked eye can see, but as the

drugs overtake Will's vision, the FLICKER SLOWS, gradually becoming a quick STROBE and then a slower STROBE. His head rolls back onto his shoulders, eyes open, lit by a STROBE LIGHT flashing in the same rhythm, fast as a rabbit’s heartbeat. SWEAT is already on his brow.

BSHCI - STAIRWEL NURSES' STATION - DAY-

Hannibal stands outside the nurses' station as Dr. Chilton descends the stairs, frustrated and apologetic. “Dr. Lecter. I am so embarrassed. Didn't get my message? I canceled your appointment with Will Graham.” Chilton says with a smirk as he Aproaches. “Is everything all right?”

“I can explain. Shall we?” Chilton leads Hannibal up the stairs of the cell block. “Will's at a delicate place in his therapy. I don't want to confuse him any more than he already is.”

“Confuse him? Isn't it your opinion he's an intelligent psychopath?”

“It was, but my opinion is evolving. After administering a narcoanalytic interview, therapeutically-vital information has come to light.”

“What sort of information?”

“What Will Graham suffers from may not be a single condition, but a continuum of illnesses, all with different neurological mechanisms. Some naturally occurring, others appear to have been induced.” Hannibal stops on the stairs. “Induced by whom?”

“Did you ever use any kind of light stimulation in your treatment?”

“Light stimulation is a standard tool for neurotherapy. It's meant to increase cerebral blood flow.”

“Evidently, it was overloading his visual cortex. Creating seizures, lost time, gaps in his memory.

Almost strategically, it seems.”

“You suggesting it was intentional?” Hannibal questions with the tilt of his head. Chilton stands on the next step, rising to Hannibal's eye level, but lowering his voice conspiratorially. “All our conversations about psychic driving. You were so curious and eager to hear what I had to say while saying very little yourself.”

“I had very little to say.”

“I've been thinking about the possibility you may've been psychic driving Will Graham all along.”

“A bold accusation, Frederick.”

“To know with any certainty if you were manipulating Will's memories, I'd need to understand how and why. Under a cone of confidentiality.” “As a professional courtesy.”

“You're not the only psychiatrist accused of making a patient kill. We have to stick together.”

BAU - MORGUE - DAY -

The "Bee Man" from the Meadow lies on the morgue slab, the honeycomb removed from his hollow head. Zeller and Price stand over the body, comparing notes with Jack. “Duncan Halloran, fifty-two, divorced and bankrupt. Reported missing six months ago.” Zeller says as he shows Jack. “A week prior to his disappearance, Mr. Halloran lost a workmen's comp claim for chronic back problems.” Jimmy says as he comes up beside Zeller. “What do we know about his death?” Jack asks the two men.

“Considering any postmortem morphological changes, it looks like his white blood cell count was through the roof when he died.” Zeller says as he shows the lab results. “Are you telling me his killer was a fever and/or a massive infection?”

“Lock them both up.” Zeller quips. Jack studies the remains of Duncan Halloran: “No money. No family. No reason to live. Alive or dead or dying, who put him under that tree?”

“It's possible we're dealing with a religiously-motivated individual here. In Hinduism, honey is one of the five elixirs of immortality. In Christianity, the bee is considered to be an emblem of Christ; his mildness and mercy on one side and his justice on the other.” Jimmy says as Zeller draws their attention back to the corpse.

“Look at the orbital bones. The sphenoid here.” Jack and Jimmy move to the slab. Zeller indicates the magnifying lens positioned above the eye sockets. THROUGH THE MAGNIFYING LENS Small holes dot the cradle of the eye. “Tiny punctures. Behind where the eyeballs would usually be. Something long and sharp was pushed into the brain. The man was lobotomized.”

BAU - EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY-

He lies on an examination table, restrained at wrists and ankles. Docile, he stares blindly at the ceiling, quietly moaning or mumbling in an unintelligible babble as Zeller and Price perform a "living autopsy" on his naked flesh. Zeller shines a small flashlight into Lloyd's eye sockets.

“Multiple holes this time. Over a dozen. Both eye sockets. The lesions severed most the nerve

tracts to the frontal lobes.” Zeller says, THROUGH THE MAGNIFYING LENS Jimmy examines Lloyd's skin, which is covered in BEE STINGS. “He's covered in bee stings. It's like he got swarmed. He must be floating in apitoxin. Probably can't feel a thing.”

“Him not feeling anything's got nothing to do with bee stings. He's been lobotomized. Welcome to the world of the living dead.” Zeller says as Jimmy points to a MONITOR displaying a MAGNIFIED area of Lloyd Roat's skin.

“There's a pattern.” Jimmy and Zeller take a closer look at the MAGNIFIED AREA as

Beverly ENTERS and approaches the living autopsy. “Hey.” Jimmy and Zeller turn to see Beverly standing in the doorway. “Look what the Katz dragged in.”

“What are you looking at?”

“A pattern.” “A pattern.” Jimmy zeros in on the area in question. Several bee stings

appear more inflamed than the others. “Some of the bee stings triggered allergic reactions, others didn't.”

“Look. The inflamed bee stings are all in line with the body's meridians. On acupuncture points.” Zeller says as he points them out. “The killer's an acupuncturist?” Jimmy asks confused, “The stings are hiding needle marks.”

“What did you say?”

“The stings are hiding needle marks.” Zeller says as Beverly as realization dawns...

BAU - MORGUE - DAY-

Body storage compartments open, the BODIES displayed. Beverly is re-examining the stitches on James Gray's body. THROUGH THE MAGNIFYING LENS - ON GRAY'S FLESH Hidden beneath the EQUINE SUTURE FILAMENT is a FINER SURGICAL SUTURE which has been used to close a SCALPEL INCISION. BEVERLY Stunned by what this could mean.

“Stitches are hiding stitches.” Grabbing SURGICAL SCISSORS, she carefully removes both sets of sutures and opens the wound. "Only by going deep beneath the skin will we understand the nature of this killer's pathology." It's empty. A bloody void.

“He took his kidneys.” As Beverly quietly considers what that could mean --

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will sleeps on his cot, drenched in sweat. The rhythm of his breath rises and falls in his ears. In the distance, he can hear an argument growing somewhere down the corridor.

“I think I'm losing my mind. Just tell me if he's real.”

“I don't see anyone.”

“No, no, he's right there.”

“There's no one there.”

“You're lying.”

“We're alone. You came here alone.”

“Please don't lie to me.” Will OPENS HIS EYES, sits upright, swinging his feet off the bed, holding his head in an attempt to silence the voices. “What's happening to me?” Will reacts to the proximity of the voice. He turns. On the other side of the bars is HANNIBAL'S DINING ROOM. MEMORY HANNIBAL stands next to MEMORY WILL, who is doused in sweat,

mid-seizure. Seated at the table is MEMORY GIDEON. Will stands and crosses to the bars, looking into...

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-

Memory Hannibal looks into Memory Will's rolling eyes and confirms to Memory Gideon: “He's had a mild seizure.” PRESENT-DAY WILL standing on the other side of the dining room table, watching himself. “That doesn't seem to bother you.”

“I said it was mild.” Hannibal sits at the head of the table, opposite Gideon. “Are you the man who claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“Why do you say "claimed"?”

“Because you're not. You know you're not and you don't know much more about who you are beyond that.” Gideon is struck silent by that assessment. Hannibal sits opposite Gideon at the dining table. “A terrible thing, to have your identity taken from you.” He is stunned at the recovered memory. He closes his eyes. As he opens his eyes, Will is lying in his bed. He stares up at the ceiling as Will is merely a man in a box.

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Will Graham, Dr. Y/N L/N and Beverly Katz. Pictures between them on the table, of the Muralist and the voids where his kidneys were. “Whoever killed James Gray, didn't just take his leg.”

“Was he missing organs?” She stares at Will, curious how he figured it out, then:

“His killer took both of his kidneys. None of the other bodies in the mural were missing organs.” Bev says confused on the matter. “They had a different killer.” I say simply. She presents a PHOTO illustrating the stitches on sutures. “Sutures hidden under the stitching that wove him into the mural. One crime made to look like another.”

“Like the Copycat.” Will says and i realize something….“And the Chesapeake Ripper.” I say softly and Bev looks at me confused. “Now you're saying Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“Also the Chesapeake Ripper. Were the kidneys surgically removed?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Lecter was a surgeon.”

“I know he was. I asked him and Y/N to consult on James Gray's autopsy.” Bev says as The pit of Will's stomach drops out. “If you invited him with an actual agenda, Hannibal would know it.” Will says.

“He said, "Only by going deep beneath the skin will we understand the nature of this killer." Thought it was a little corny, even for him.” Bev says.

“He's toying with you. He toyed with me for months.”

“He pointed me to the evidence.”

“He pointed you to an absence of evidence. He's baiting a hook. Stay away from Hannibal Lecter. Go to Jack. Tell him everything.” Will says and I can’t help but agree. “I can't bring this up until I can back it up. The Chesapeake Ripper kept surgical trophies. If Hannibal's the Ripper, what's he doing with his trophies?” Beverly says and I look at Will.

A horrible thought crosses my mind. Will closes his eyes, considering the possibility. The dinner Parties….The Sudden invitations to dinner…..Him being happy anytime someone indicates the pleasure in eating the meat he serves….The cannibal jokes….I reel from the horrifying realization, then: “He's eating them.” Beverly stares as Will suppresses a shudder, knowing that he's been eating Hannibal's trophies, too.

HOME HOMEOPATHIC SPA - KITCHEN - DAY-

Katherine Pimms surrounded by JARS OF HONEY and larger METAL HONEY EXTRACTORS. The SUNLIGHT through the JARS OF HONEY casts the room in a warm glow. DOWN THE HALL A SILHOUETTE fills the etched glass of the front door. The DOORBELL RINGS. Katherine Pimms opens the door to reveal Jack Crawford standing on her front porch with Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price. Beyond the porch, TWO POLICE OFFICER “Katherine Pimms?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Agent Crawford with the FBI. Agent Zeller and Agent Price. We'd like to ask you a few questions about former patients of yours.”

“Mr. Halloran and/or Mr. Roat?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to come in?” Crawford, Price and Zeller question Katherine Pimms. “When was the last time you saw Duncan Halloran or Lloyd Roat?” Jimmy asks seriously.

“Whenever their last appointments were. I can check my calendar, if you want. Have you found them?”

“Yes, we have. Mr. Halloran was deceased. Mr. Roat may as well be.” Zeller says with a cold stare. “Poor Mr. Halloran. If there were a single example that we're not all created equal, it would be him.” Kathrine says sadly. “What were you treating him for?” Jack asks her.

“That man trudged from one terrible disease to another. He had severe combined immunodeficiency. Life didn't seem to be going his way. I find people don't get their own way because they often don't know themselves where that way leads.”

“Where was Mr. Halloran's way leading him?” Jack asks. “He couldn't envision a dignified end of life. Much nicer for him to die in a meadow, head full of bees. Did you taste the honey? Couldn't bring myself to. It seemed morbid.” Furtive glances around the room at that admission.

“You left him in that field to die?”

“I brought him to that field to die. But I didn't kill him. Just quieted his mind so he could die in peace.” Kathrine says, admitting to the ‘Crime’ “And Mr. Roat? Quiet his mind, too?”

“Oh, yes. He suffered from crippling arthritis. After he was quieted, I saw him walk pain-free for the very first time. I watched him wander off and I knew... I knew then that this moment now, here with you, was inevitable. I was good as caught.”

“You wanted to be caught.”

“I wanted people to know I can help. I can't make the pain go away, but I can make it so it doesn't matter.”

“You can't help anyone anymore. Not like this. Not where you're going.”

“I bet I can. You think I'm wrong. You stand there and intellectualize another person's pain of being alive relative to your own. If you can imagine yourself surviving that pain, you can imagine them. But we are not created equal, are we? I've protected these people from hopelessness. And that's beautiful.”

“These people?”

GREENHOUSE - DAY -

The door OPENS and Jack ENTERS the beautiful floral environment, overgrown and borderline unkempt. Jars of honey refract the harsh sunlight into amber beams of warmth. Scattered BEES flit from flower to flower, gathering pollen. Something moves, concealed in the plant life ahead.

He trains his weapon on the movement. Then something else moves. He swings around to see a BALD MAN with his head down. Then a WOMAN, her hair matted to her face. All of a sudden, A MAN WITH a SHOCK OF HAIR is standing very near Jack, his eye sockets dripping honey.

Jack lowers his weapon. It's clear none of these lobotomized people mean anyone any harm.

Jack Crawford, horrified by what he's found, turns to Katherine Pimms standing in the doorway behind him, flanked by Zeller and Price, both dumbstruck by what they see.

“They were suffering. Is it so wrong to want to end that for them?”

BAU - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Beverly knocks on the door, looking inside. No one there. Zeller rounds a corner, carrying a GIANT HUNK of freshly-harvested honeycomb, presumably from Duncan Halloran. “Hey. Have you seen Jack?” Beverly asks the obnoxious man. “There was some emergency with his wife. Dr. Lecter called and asked him to meet him at the hospital.” Zeller says to her. “Is Mrs. Crawford all right?”

“We don't know. He wouldn't say.”

“So Hannibal's at the hospital, too?”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-

Night. through the meticulously-tidy kitchen. A SHAFT OF LIGHT cuts through the DARKNESS. Finds Beverly Katz standing in front of the OPEN REFRIGERATOR. Beverly is engulfed in its light. The shelves stacked neatly with exotic foodstuffs. Beverly lifts hands in latex gloves and pulls open clear drawers, but no cuts of meat. Not what she is looking for. Closing the refrigerator, taking us back to DARKNESS. She pulls out a PENLIGHT and switches it on. Moves to the PANTRY DOOR, which is locked. She squats and takes out a lock-picking kit, inserting two tools into the lock and working. EXTREME CLOSE ON THE LOCK BOLT

It turns and clicks.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - PANTRY - NIGHT-

Beverly opens the door. She steps inside, the room illuminated by the large glass-front freezer. Beverly moves toward it, past an AERATOR sitting on the counter, filled with red wine. She slides the door open and peers within. FROZEN FOOD --vacuum-packed and sealed. She moves things around. Her gloved hands smearing the condensation on the slick plastic.

Her face lit by the glow of the freezer's light. She reaches inside and lifts out a vacuum-sealed KIDNEY, and ANOTHER.

“Gotcha.” She leaves one and slips the other inside her coat. She CLOSES the freezer, turns and knocks the aerator of wine off the counter. It CRASHES to the floor, SHATTERING. Beverly silently curses herself out, then something catches her eye. The spilled wine seeps between the cracks in the floorboard. Beverly runs the toe of her boot along the seam in the floor.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - BASEMENT - NIGHT-

The triangle of light illuminates narrow, steep steps that spiral into the darkness below. FEET come into view as Beverly, gun drawn, slowly comes down them, flashing the penlight before her. It catches highlights, off reflective tiles, of the room around her. She finds a SWITCH and a series of overhead fluorescent lights FLICKERS ON, one by one. Beverly reacts to what she

sees.

“Omigod.” The last overhead fluorescent FLICKERS ON behind her, revealing HANNIBAL STANDING SEVERAL FEET AWAY. As she turns, he MOVES.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-

PROWLS the floor as GUNFIRE ERUPTS from below, muffled, but clear. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. Finally, BLAM, a bullet BLASTS through the floor, splintering the wood in a hole.

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #fem!reader #hannibal x reader #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds #hannibal lecter #will graham

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zeenimf · 4 months

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Where the Sea Ends | Snippet

Seo's eyes narrow, piercing the deep blue scales of the mermaid and looking within her, where the burning smell of zeide remains. She has tasted the zijde of a thousand different creatures, so placing the salty aroma of the mermaid's soul is as easy as breathing.

"You're a seanimf, not a rivernimf. How did you end up in the canals of a human city?"

"Oh my," the mermaid exclaims. She dives below the water and emerges right at the closest edge of the basin, splashing the surprisingly clear liquid on Seo's feet. The orange torches hanging on the walls of the dimly lit cistern reflect in the mermaid's red eyes, giving her the eyes of a hunter who has just found her prey.

"You are right, my dearest dune-sister. I, much like you, have travelled a long way to be here. Have you ever seen what it's like, the dark bowels of the eastern ocean? It's dreadful, really. Water and sand as far as my eyes could see. And even the humans don't dare to sail east, lest they find themselves a premature journey into world beyond.

As such I ended up swimming upriver until I reached this city. And what did I find here, you might wonder? Nothing but rubbish all across the canal's floor. I decided to be kind for a change, and carry the rubbish to the surface."

She dips below the surface once more, returning at the basin's outer edge, resting her arms on the ridge as she raises her body just high enough to show Seo everything she wants her to see, burning red eyes firmly locked on Seo's.

"But the people of the city got upset that I threw rubbish onto their empty streets. Can you imagine? Someone helps clean up your water and that's how you react?"

The mermaid sighs, shaping the motion into a grin, flashing her fangs for a moment.

"So I decided that this city needed a more ... thorough cleanup, so to say. Don't get me wrong though, darling, the fact that people have gone missing is pure coincidence, I can assure you."

#fantasy #writeblr #fiction #spilled-ink #this is the last snippet until I finish chapter 5 so savour it hihi~

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agbpaints · 4 months

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Getting back into the swing of doing paint tutorials- I pulled a Spider out of a salvage box and I figured I'd do a quick and dirty davion scheme! This is the parade paint job for the First Davion Guards, AKA quintessential battletech 'good' guy mechs.

Paints you will need:

Black primer

Dark grey (citadel mechanicus standard grey)

Light grey (citadel dawnstone)

Off white (army painter spaceship armor)

Red (citadel mephiston red)

Light blue (citadel baharroth blue)

Green (citadel warpstone glow)

Gun metal (citadel leadbelcher)

Silver (citadel rune fang steel)

Dark wash (citadel drakenhof nightshade)

Citadel akhelian green cintrast

Citadel blood angels red contrast

Things you might want

Khaki (citadel zandri dust)

Fleshy orange (citadel ratskin flesh)

White (army painter matt white)

Dark green (citadel Caribana green)

Light red (citadel evil sunz scarlet)

Yellow (citadel averland sunset)

Black (army painter matt black)

Citadel aggaros dunes contrast

I started by basing my mini with my normal desert badlands basing scheme (paint base in glue, sprinkle on basing sand and let cure. Paint on more glue and stick down some aquarium gravel) and then priming the whole thing black with brush-on primer.

Once the primer is finished drying, load some of your dark grey up on a fat drybrush, wipe off slightly less than most of the paint, and then apply the remainder to the model in long up and down strokes. All of the panels should be grey, with some black showing in crevices and hard to reach recesses of the model. Next, repeat this process with your light grey paint, but wipe off more and apply less liberally- you want the darker grey color to remain in most places with the edges and raised details highlighted in grey. Finally, drybrush the model one last time with your off-white color only in the areas that will catch the light most like the head, torso, shoulders, the vectoring fins on the mech's back, and the outstretched left knee.

Now that the mech has been presented in greyscale, we can make it blue. Akhelian green is going to be doing the majority of the heavy lifting in this paint scheme- I find it to be a pretty easy contrast paint to work with. Apply it undiluted to the model, looking to spread it in a single coat like a thick wash, and then leave it to dry for 20 minutes. Afterwards, you might want to brighten the blue up in places as I did- drybrush on some light blue in the same areas you used off-white earlier.

At this point, I got a little excited and decided to do the Davion stripes. Start with your red, pretty well thinned on your palet, and a thin detail brush. To make this easy on ourselves, we're going to look for vertical panels on the left side of the mech's torso and leg and basically connect all of those with a straight line. In the case of the Spider, the easy ones are the shoulder and that panel that runs down the upper thigh. Apply a thin edge highlight of red along those panels and then carefully continue the line down the rest of the leg, terminating at the ankle. If your hand is steady enough, run a thin line of red around the mech's ankle where the vertical line ends. Then, go back with your off-white and using the red line you made already as a guide, run a parallel stripe down the outside edge of the red (if you swap these battletech nerds will dunk on you online).

At this point, I also striped the ridge running down the Spider's helmet, but it's not super necessary.

Now that we've got our blue sorted out, we've got a bit of a 'draw the rest of the owl' step. First, you're going to want to go back over any of the parts of the model that you want to be exposed mechanical elements with your dark grey. I painted the joints in the legs, the shoulders, the lasers and the big vent on the chest, the 'chin strap' under the spider's canopy glass, and the jump jets in this color. Then, wash the grey with your favorite dark wash- I really like the deep blue of drakenhof nightshade but something like nuln oil will also work well for this. Finally, apply a light drybrush of your light grey to the shaded grey. If a part is too recessed to easily drybrush, you can leave it as is or do use a small brush to carefully highlight it. You should also add a small dot of green to the inside of each of the laser barrels at this point.

Next, paint the mech's canopy glass silver. Once that's dry, paint over the silver with blood angels red or any other colorful contrast paint for a vibrant metallic color.

If you're following along with my desert basing, paint the sand on the base khaki and the larger pebbles with your fleshy orange. Then paint over everything with agarros dunes contrast or a dark brown wash like agrax earthshade.

And with that you have a Spider that's fully ready for tabletop with 3 colors, shading, and a textured base. There's still a couple more things we can do if you have more time and patience that I'll detail below.

To apply some quick and dirty jeweling to the lasers, start by painting a half circle of light green on each barrel, focused on one of the bottom corners. Paint the recess of the barrel with a dot of dark green and put a tiny little dot of white opposite the half circle of green, which should now be more of a crescent shape with with dark spot in the center.

While the white is still in your pallet, you can also highlight the parts of the off white stripes on the mech most exposed to overhead light like the lower thigh, knee, and shoulder. Do the same thing with the red stripe using a light red as well.

At this point I also added unit numbering to the mech's shoulder. Basic numbers are a really good way to practice your fine control and I try to consistently add a couple to each of my projects. Use your off-white well thinned and a fine detail brush, lock your hand holding the model against your hand holding the brush just below the wrists, and then draw the paintbrush 'downwards' with a pulling motion. This should keep you your line relatively straight and fine.

While you can keep the jump jets on your mech dark I prefer to paint mine with some orange in them. Using the fleshy orange from earlier, paint most of the interior of each jump jet, then add a dot of yellow at the very deepest recess of each one.

Finally, let's add some hazard stripes to the mech. Pick out a few areas near joints or vents that seem like a bad place for an Astech's hand to go and paint in a thick 'edge highlight' of black. Then, going back to yellow find the center of the line and add a diagonal tickmark there. You may need to go over this more than twice to get a strong color depending on your yellow. Once your centerline is marked, work out towards the edges, painting another ticmark at regular intervals until you hit the ends of the Black.

#hobby #battletech #miniatures #mini painting #battlemech #mecha #mechwarrior #mech #light mech #spider #first davion guards #house davion #painting tutorial #tutorial #c&c pls

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rhokisb · 2 months

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After days of travel, the group reached a monument half hidden in the desert. They had not come across any well traveled routes throughout their march, and the monument fared no better. Abandoned and forgotten, its monolith a testament to no one. It looked as though the perfect cube of obsidian that glistened in the sunlight had been tilted unnaturally until it rested on one of its edges before being buried deep within the sands.

“That’s not something you see everyday.” Dank covered his eyes with one hand while peering down at the monument. Vestare grunted as she struggled through the loose sand. The weight of her axe had put her off balance as they traversed the sands and her mood had soured from the lack of alcohol over the past weeks journey.

“Let me see this.” Armand reached Dank’s side and held his warhammer out to the monument. It pulsed blue rhythmically, giving off a soothing glow, “It isn’t evil. If anything, this is a holy site.”

“Those are my favorite.” Dante pulled himself up and onto the crest with the others, “Do you see an entrance?” The duo shook their head as Vestare heaved herself a few feet closer to the group.

“Either way, we have to go in. May as well get it over with.” Orlogg said and began walking the edge of the dune, peering at the exposed rock of the monument in search of a way inside. Before he had gotten more than fifteen feet away there was a yelp as Vestare, who had hauled herself to the top of the sandy ridge the group was standing on, toppled over and started to flip down the side of the dune towards the monument below. When she reached the bottom and came to a stop, she rolled uselessly side to side before regaining her balance and struggling to her feet. From the top of the dune came shrieks of laughter from the gathered group who had watched her fall.

~Day 48 of Weyard snips~

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writebycandlelight · 1 year

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Visit Me Again (Attuma x Mex!Fem!Reader) (3/?)

Prompt: Attuma returns to the surface in hopes of finding the mysterious woman.

Word Count: 550+

Pairing: Attuma x Mex!Fem!Reader

A/N: Part ONE ; Part TWO ; im also dying because i want them to kiss already but also AHHHHHHH.

Attuma grabbed his spear and swam toward the exit of Talokan. He gave a sideways glance to Namora as he passed. The swim to the surface was short and he bobbed in the waves. He could easily see land but the woman did not seem to be on the beach. Attuma marched through the water onto the beach and headed toward the rock. He spotted the pieces of the plate still in the sand. Had she not returned at all? As if the mere thought of her beckoned, Attuma heard rustling from the brush further down the shoreline. He knew immediately from the footsteps that it was her. She stopped at the edge of the trees when she caught sight of him. "Entonces, has regresado, (so, you've returned)" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Si crees que te voy a dar ofrenda o adoracion, estás muy equivocado!" (if you think I'm going to give you an offering or worship, you're sorely mistaken) Attuma saw no softness in her face now. None of what she'd offered the very first time she'd dropped to her knees. None of the friendliness from the second time. He realized she was hiding her wrist with her crossed arms. He knew it was time to make some sort of peace. Attuma stabbed his spear into the ground and the woman flinched. He frowned and hesitantly brought his hands together. The Talokan salute. He watched the woman's eyes widen. The sparkle in them returned like the sun reflecting on the waves. Barefooted, she slid down the sandy dunes toward him. Attuma held very still as she approached. She stopped just before him and they stared quietly at one another for a moment. Her eyes wandered his face. It was mostly covered with the mask he wore and the headdress that adorned him. His armor however was very fascinating. She was intrigued by the teeth. All of the shark teeth that decorated his armor. She reached out and ran a finger along the serrated edges. Attuma was surprised by her bold action. She dared to touch him. Still, he did not move. She ran her hands along his armor, the rough ridges of his shell pauldrons, the spiny bones of his vambrace, and the rough damp straps that felt akin to leather. Attuma could smell her as close as she was. She smelled like the sea, coconuts, and soil. Her breath hitched when she realized her hands had stopped over his bare chest. She pulled her hand back quickly, embarrassed. She took a step back and glanced toward the sky. Attuma looked up and saw the moon was far lower than it had been before. He had spent far too much time here! Attuma pulled his spear from the ground and headed for the water. He paused as he heard her footsteps following. Attuma turned and pointed at her. "P'áatal! (Stay!)" he commanded. The woman froze. She didn't know what he said but she could guess. Attuma took a step into the water and waited. She did not follow. With a nod, he continued. "Adios, Tlaloc!" the woman shouted. Attuma paused. That name again. He turned to face her. She went quiet at his intense look. "Attuma!" he called back. Her brows shot up. A smile tugged at her lips. She raised a hand and waved. "Adios, Attuma!" Attuma dove. The sound of her voice still ringing in his ears.

#attuma #attuma x reader #attuma of talokan #attuma x y/n

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books · 2 years

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Writer Spotlight: Hugh Howey

Hugh Howey is the New York Times bestselling author of WOOL, SAND, BEACON 23, and over a dozen other novels. His works have been translated into more than 40 languages, with millions of copies sold worldwide. WOOL is being adapted for television by Apple, due out in 2023. And BEACON 23 is being filmed for release by Charter and AMC. When he isn’t writing, he’s usually traveling or sailing vast distances.

Can you tell us a little about your upcoming title, Across the Sand?

When I was a teenager, my dad took us to the great sand dunes on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. I was captivated by the sight of so much sand left behind by the winds traveling up and over the ridges. It made me think about a future Earth where vast regions are buried in sand. And the possibility of diving deep into that sand to retrieve artifacts from our forgotten world.

Years later, I watched the war in Syria break out, and I marveled at the people courageous enough to leave their home, the place they belonged, to walk to safety. That choice can’t be easy, and the journey must be terrifying. And then to arrive where you aren’t wanted. These thoughts haunted me.

I combined this with thoughts about my own family that I was having at the time; siblings spread wide and not in touch as much as we are meant to be, a father gone to live with another family, and a heroic mother stretched thin. All these themes and more went into the series.

What prompted you to dive back into the Sand series, and what excites you most for fans returning to the series?

Dive! I see what you did there. :)

The first book ends with an epic bang, and I’ve always wanted to pick up where it left off, but I wouldn’t have written the right sequel before now. I lost my father during the pandemic, and my relationship with him was very complex. It shows up in so many of my novels. ACROSS THE SAND was a chance to really tackle how a man can be both great and evil at the same time, and why unconditional love might be the most toxic gift we have to offer.

Family plays a big role in Across the Sand. How do you approach writing nuanced and complicated family dynamics?

The SAND series draws from my own family dynamics more than any of my other novels. What fascinates me about families is how worship and resentment can coexist, how we can love so powerfully and yet push each other away. The sinew between families that undergo stress can withstand so much, but like sinew in our bodies, the injuries to that soft tissue can take a lifetime to heal. Broken bones are easier to mend than these familial sorts of strains.

What’s the writing process like when returning to an already well-loved world? Are there elements of the world that you’re beholden to?

There are, and much of the foreshadowing and hints in the first novel are finally able to be unveiled. I wrote SAND with a trilogy in mind, and one of the most challenging things to do as an eager writer like myself is to know the big things that are coming and hold them back, to allow the world to unspool at a deliberate pace. There are massive things in this book to set up the final chapter, even as each book stands just fine on its own.

Can you talk a little bit about your approach to publishing? What does literary success look like to you?

Literary success looks like a smiling reader to me. When I wrote my first book, I quickly realized how difficult it is to ask someone to sit down and spend eight or ten hours of their lives living in your imagination. The fifteen or twenty bucks is a small ask. Ten hours is a massive one. Even if I tried to give my books away, it was a challenge to get a full read. So for me, every individual reader who picks up one of my stories and reads it to conclusion… that’s a success. The fact that I’ve had this happen millions of times by now is why I can’t wipe the smile off my face or feel anything less than absolute and full contentment as a writer.

Do you have any hopes and dreams for the future of SciFi? What would you like to see more of?

I’d love to see more hope and solutions, even as we build our stories around conflict and problems. I want to see science fiction that revolves around well-developed characters, even as we plumb big ideas and build audacious worlds. More than any other genre, science fiction requires a delicate balance between elements that are in conflict with one another. We ask that imaginations be stretched but not broken, that worlds are fresh and new but not unrecognizable. We put characters in alien situations, but we ask the reader to see themselves in them. The best science fiction, to me, is like a paradox resolved.

You’ve blogged about NaNoWriMo in the past. Are you planning on joining again this year, and do you have any tips for folks wanting to join in for the first time?

I join every year, I just don’t succeed every year! For me, the month of November is just a chance to buckle down and hammer out as many good words as possible as the end of the year looms. You might get one more novel in rough draft or finish a WIP that’s been sitting on a hard drive or in the recesses of your mind. You might get the first half of a new idea set down, which gives you momentum heading into the next year. NaNoWriMo taught me the value of never taking a day off from my writing, which is a lesson I have to relearn more and more often these days.

Did you always want to be a writer?

Since I was about twelve. That’s when I tried to write my first novel, which I came across this week while cleaning out a closet. Somehow I’ve kept up with the printout of that first attempt for three and a half decades now. And yeah, it’s as bad as you’d imagine a book by a twelve-year-old who was just aping the last book he’d read (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy). And yeah, I’ll probably finish it and publish it someday. Because why not? Twelve-year-old me would be proud.

What’s something you’ve learned about yourself in the process of creating your books?

That I can finish what I start. For twenty years, I tried to write dozens of different novels, and I abandoned them all. After a while, I formed an opinion of myself as someone who can’t complete large tasks. I really started to believe this about myself. Once I finished that first novel, a dam broke. Suddenly, I was able to write two or three books a year. The lesson was this: knowing you can do something is 90% of doing it. Now I just assume I can do anything. It gets me most of the way there.

Thank you so much to Hugh for taking the time to answer our questions! Across the Sand is available everywhere starting today! You can follow Hugh on Tumblr at @hughhowey.

Photo credit: Christopher Michel

#writer spotlight #hugh howey #across the sand #writers on tumblr #scifi #nanowrimo

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