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|| I plan to return here around Mid-May. I deeply miss writing, especially as the Huntsman & Graham, and miss all of you here as well. As many of you know, I’ve been immensely busy with school and cosplay, and haven’t really had the chance (and/or motivation) to sit down and write. See ya Mid-May. ||

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|| Indefinite hiatus until my motivation to write returns. ||

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*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe! (づ◕‿◕)づ

|| Vielen Dank, Casey! <3 || 

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THE MEME FOR PEOPLE WHO HATE HAPPINESS.

ofhotheads:

Who doesn’t love soul-crushing angst? Send me a 💔 and I’ll generate a number, 1-75, and post a starter based on what scenario I get. 

Please note that some of these scenarios may be triggering.

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ccntkill:

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          He’d gotten too ｃｏｃｋｙ. Upturned lips instantly faltering as his teacher closed in, puffs of air from the syllables she spoke brushing against his skin. Graham swallowed hard, only to squirm into her touch. This was going to be ｄｉｆｆｉｃｕｌｔ.

          The teen had never played the dominant role; never had he the chance. With a past like his, being forced into submission, it was the easier route to follow. And how he just slipped into Mrs Feinberg’s arms, leaned into her each and every touch. He grew harder at just the thought.

          Graham gave her a look, a mixture of ｐｌｅａｄｉｎｇ and one in search of some sort of reassurance. “Y’couldn’t’ve thought up and easier assignment? ——— Why’ve you gotta make this so hard?”

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wrathsuggestion:

I’m not yours to control. I never will be.

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|| I’ve got finals in the upcoming weeks. After that, I should definitely be here and active. ||

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ccntkill:

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          Oh, the pain of being denied. A gasp slipped past quivering, parting lips as Mrs Feinberg pulled back. Graham’s expression almost looked hurt — so saddened to be denied the pleasure of her lips pressing against his. But every little move she made, set more flame through the teen’s body, pressing him more against her — eyes pleading for release.

          Next time? He silently questioned in his mind, but was far too distracted by other sensations. Sapphire hues trailed down the teacher’s form, trying to get more sneak peeks as his tongue ran over his lips. “What if—” he paused to clear his throat, then spoke with a dash of new-found confidence, “What if I don’t want to behave?”

Detention || Cru && Graham

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ccntkill:

Cruella does not like to be told no, especially by this man. With heart still in hand, she walks over to him, her squeeze around his heart more prominent than the first. Free hand grips his jaw, forcing his gaze to lock upon hers.

“After all I have done for you, this is how you attempt to repay me? I took you out of Regina’s grasp. I let you do as you please around here, so long as you do as I say when I desire your company.” Bringing his heart close to her lips, she whispers. “You will do as I say.”

          Pain. Searing pain flushed through the Huntsman’s body, pin-pointing at his chest. He nearly toppled over, nearly fell to his knees, were it not for those slender digits reaching out and clasping firm around his jaw, where nails dug into flesh. The man let out a pained groan, a muffled snarl. Teeth clenched whether he wanted them to be or not. Sapphire hues forced to focus on those of ice, gazing past the glowing red of his heart.

          Breath wavered, laboured through the pulses of pain. Yet still, the Huntsman did not speak, did not answer. All he did was keep his lingering gaze, like a staring-match, that he had been destined to lose from the start. Then after a few beats, he stare faltered, lids falling temporarily over eyes. He subtly bowed his head (as much as he could with fingers clasped around his jaw), lids opening as he brought his head back up.

          “Y-Yes, Cruella,” words nearly hissed past his lips.

|| The Safest Place ||

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arrogancekiing:

         it was to be safe. normally, peter did not give a single damn about how safe something was — he was a teen boy living on the streets of a major city, after all, doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons: staying alive. he hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to help his one friend out on one of his cases, even if had meant playing bait for a bit. it sounded exciting, dangerous, fun. he’d been eager, and hadn’t hesitated. and the first few days of the case had been uneventful, the man they were hunting for hadn’t even shown up, peter had thought nothing of it.

         but then a place that was his, a place he’d deemed his own little sanctuary tucked behind the city library, shrouded in shrubs, where he usually sought shelter, had been invaded. he’d been followed, the youth hadn’t noticed. dragged and forced into the van, taunted; sheer luck got him out of there, and somehow, sheer luck had sent him graham to deal with the aftermath.

         he didn’t want to move. he was in one of his less-preferred but more obscured hide-outs, near the dump, and he didn’t want to leave. “do we have to?”

          The silence was ｓｕｆｆｏｃａｔｉｎｇ. Air thick, as the assumed scenes continuously played out in Graham’s mind. He could only hope things hadn’t gone as wrong as his worried mind kept leading him to believe. The Cop swallowed hard to the boy’s words, offering a sympathetic smile, one of which he knew would render useless. Sighing, he gave a slow blink. “Eventually . . .” he began, “You know that—”

          Graham brought his words to a halt, lower lip curling in nervously as he took a moment to look around. “—You know that the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial,” his voice dulled as he spoke. After a sharp intake of breath, the man casted his glance up to the sky — the glows of stars so faint, blocked by thick puffs of clouds and ｓｍｏｇ.

          “Better the lab than hospital — which is where I’m supposed to take you . . .” ‘after something like this . . .’ his words trailed off. He didn’t want to think about it either. Even still, collecting evidence held a higher importance, and Graham knew Peter was at least slightly more fond of the lab than hospital.

          “We can sit here . . . just a little bit longer . . . but then we really should get out of here.”

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How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?

Richard Siken, from ‘Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light’ (via sempiternele)

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arrogancekiing:

         “its not my fault that they fail,” peter grumbled flippantly, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling lazily for several moments, trying to stave off the boredom thrumming through his head and merely snorting at the man’s last inquiry. “i dunno,” he replied lamely. “i’m bored.” and tired.

          “I never sai—” Graham cut himself off with a long sigh. It wasn’t worth arguing with the boy. If this was even considered arguing. With the sway of the head, the off-duty cop managed to obscure the rolling of his eyes. Folding his arms, he gave Peter a stern look, brows raising as he spoke, “There’s plenty of things you can do around here, you know.”

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imnotthesavior:

                                         Emma swallowed hard, looking up at the forest passing by them. They were running out of time. Damn it, they were always running out of time. “Are we almost there?” she asked, voice strained, sighing at the dwarves nod. Her hand once again carted through the Huntsman’s hair, waiting for him to reorient himself. “Mhmm. Just rest. We’ll be there soon.”

                                         She looked to his hand and took it without hesitation, giving a sure squeeze. Her heartbeat picked up as the blood erupted from his mouth as he coughed. This wasn’t good. No, this was bad. She swallowed down the urge to shout at Sneezy to make the carriage go faster, because she knew that would do no good. Instead she focused on the Huntsman, on giving him all of the comfort she could.

                                          A tear slid down her face as he persisted with his question, mouth opening but no words coming out. He would hate her. Magic had a bad name in the forest these days, with people like Regina and Rumplestiltskin using it to rip out hearts and control them for their own selfish intent.

                                         “I, um…” She closed her eyes, not even daring to meet his during her confession. “My parents are— were…true love. And I’m the product of true love. So I…I have magic.”

          Was that a tear caressing down Emma’s cheek? So badly did the Huntsman wish he were able to reach up and brush it away. But he couldn’t, for it would render too much pain. And that pain had been the cause of her tears. Lids fell over regret-filled orbs, opening just in time to see Emma’s glance become avoidant.

          A breathless gasp, accompanied by a wince, for even the false action of breathing elicited pain, escaped from the Huntsman’s chest. Magic. Were he not in this position, the wounded man may have reacted differently — but instead, he just offered a silent, frowning smile. Lids falling over his sapphire hues in a slow blink, the same blink he’d given to the animals of the forest, the same blink to silently say that it would be alright.

          He wanted to question more, but words couldn’t be formed. Besides, it was more important for him to focus on his breathing, with what little breath he could intake. Crimson lingering in the back of his throat, just pooling there. Cough or swallow? The Huntsman swallowed, grunting as the action was accompanied by searing pain. However, coughing would have been worse — disrupting his position, bringing more pain to whatever ailments.

          Saddened eyes looked up to Emma’s, lips parting to mouth silent words. ‘Good magic,’ he would have added, had the pain not taken over. Had the darkness of unconsciousness not been pulling him back under.

|| Red ||

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savior-of-the-day:

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          He pushed himself into her,   fingertips tracing the curves of Emma’s figure.  Graham wanted to mark her more,    mark her as his own  —  but her quivering against his touch was enough to tell him ｗｈａｔ she was really wanting.      He continued thrusting into her, all the while lips finding their way to ｌｏｃｋ with the blonde’s;   moans arising from his chest,   eliciting the parting  of  their  lips.

Dirty Whispers

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arrogancekiing:

         peter wasn’t expecting the voice. it came out of nowhere and it caused the boy to immediately yank back from the wall, staring at it with narrowed eye  before he slowly leaned back towards it. unable to see through it but he could certainly hear the voice, and the gentle whisper of breathing from the other side.

         so their rooms were adjoined. after listening and being met with silence, peter let himself lie back in the relaxed position and pressing himself against the wall. “are you a guard?” he asked slowly, pausing before adding on, “i’m peter.”

         a pause, as the youth considered yet another possibility. “or are you a ghost?”

          The silence was concerning, to say the least. Until the little thump was heard against the wall — something that lead Graham to assume that the someone was still there. A breathless sigh of relief left his chest, and he slunk down his wall to reposition himself.

          A dissonant scoff left the teen, lips upturning into an unseen smirk. “A ghost? Really? — And do I really sound like those bastard guards to you?” ‘I should be offended,’ he added in a silent whisper.

          “Peter.” Repeated the teen, nodding and purposely bumping his head against the wall, as if the action was a confirmation. “Whatever you do, Peter, do not forget who you are. ————— Have they numbered you yet?”

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HunterFire AU: Neal is Henry’s [not-so]-single father. Henry believes there’s a curse on their town, keeping everyone from their happy endings. Sheriff Graham is the only one who believes him.