the luster of your bones

Uh.

Texas/Chuck

Rule Number 8 (PG-13) - In which Texas, in pure altruism and benevolence, single-handedly fixes all of Chuck's problems.

Or at least, he tries to.

One-sided Chuck/Mike, eventual Chuck/Texas

RN8 aftermath (PG) - Reactions from different characters.

Stella Maris (PG-13) - Texas might not get constellations, but he does get Chuck. [WIP]

Badly Broke (PG) - Texas runs out of Muscle Mulch. Waxes political philosophy he found in a comic book.

Chuck/Mike

excuse Me - (R) Warnings: Noncon, asphyxiation, violence.

Under the influence of the technology, Chuck gets the courage to kiss Mike. On the mouth. And eventually other places too.

Duke/Rayon

Champagne & Cocaine (PG-13) - Sometimes, he wonders if it's even worth it.

YOU LOVELY YOU (PG-13) - Spoilers for Julie and the Amazons; Rayon is pretty mad at the Duke.

Gen

I am Mike Chilton (R) - Warnings: PTSD, Character Death, mentions of Cannibalism. Includes: Burners, Kane.

Prison AU. "Chuck, or D711F4, screams himself to sleep nowadays. The sound travels all the way from gen pop to down here in max, and it starts and stops like clockwork. In a way, it’s comforting—at least he’s not dead."

Chilton Rages for Awhile (PG-13) - Bastion-style narration of the Burners by Rayon. Written at 4 am, for some reason. Includes: Burners, Rayon, Kane.

The Choke (PG-13) - Warnings: Character Death

He takes five seconds to compose himself. Includes: Mike, Texas, Dutch.

Be easy (PG-13) - Warnings: Alcoholism

Rayon really didn't have to be there. Includes: Rayon, Duke, No. 2.

Once (PG-13) - Red watches. Learns. And hates. Includes: Red

Lighter (PG) - Mike can't stop thinking, and Texas has to drag him in. Includes: Mike, Texas, Terras.

Breaking Bad fusion (PG-13) - Jake's running out of time and Texas is running his mouth. Includes: Jake, Texas, Rayon, Hudson, Mike.

Misc

Flirty Burners Mix

Trojans and Romans: Mike and Texas FST

If you're going to write a supposedly 'crack' pairing, do it with CONVICTION, dammit. Because if you don't have any support for a pair, how is anyone else supposed to? Don't pussyfoot around all, "yeah, this will never happen." Thanks for the scintillating update! Make us believe, you unimaginative buffoon, worry about it post facto AND FOLLOW YOUR HEART.

xox

Joakim is what I like to think The Duke's real name is, after hearing Mirre list out her suggestions.

Happy Birthday, dear! :)

All the best, Teii.

--

( c&c )

haven't the faintest clue why, but the more i update the archive, the more confused i am about tags.

is that tag right? i think? i don't. know?????? @___@

The wind is strong, blustery and fierce on an early June morning, as Chuck climbs out of Stronghorn, clamping down hard on his baseball cap lest it flies away, SPF 75 sunscreen rubbed down his forearms and feet, though the sky was overcast in a mild grey gloom. His feet prickle from sitting for so long in the car, and he shakes them one by one, wiggling his toes in his sandals.

(i left them alone; i left the world i was running; to be by your side)

It was a dare. A stupid one at that. He said that it wasn't feasible or worth it to head down, into South America to see the sun and the beach.

But there they were, after 12 straight hours of driving and many, many, many electo-sparkades: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

In the middle of their winter.

(i came alone, i came a long way to get you)

The wind whips them to the shore's edge, and luckily, Chuck had the foresight to bring a parka, though Texas was kicking up sprays of salty seawater, knee-deep in the frigid morning water. He lunges for Chuck, who manages to jump out of reach at the last moment, but one, two, three steps back and he slips, into the water, and Texas can't stop laughing, taking hold of Chuck's thin forearms to pull him upright.

There was no one else on the beach to watch them, after all.

(the leaves are falling at my feet ; they mean nothing to me)

Eventually, they made way back to the car as the sun poked through the clouds, both of them digging their feet into the sand every now and again.

In a form of petty vengence, Chuck slows down and kicks up a huge spray of sand onto Texas' back before darting off, his run unsightly and uneven, the sand giving way to his steps.

(i didn't want to tell them how i lost my mind)

He knows that it's love. It's love because even though Texas painstakingly brushed off all the sand off his feet before climbing into Stronghorn, Chuck with his calves and feet caked with dried sand and spilling it all over the car floor doesn't get a single word.

He sips slowly at the lemon soda he brought along, the bubbles prickling the back of his throat as he swallows, feeling the patches of sun warming his skin.

It's hard, to think of Motorcity, that even without the sun, it's sweltering. Chuck breathes in the wind, the smell of salt tickling his nose.

How is. Breaking bad. So good.

This is art, Mr. Gillian. You're a gaddamn artist.

( spoilers )

Most of the times, I'd like to be very productive! Do a bit of good in the world, or at least finish what I started.

All of the time, though, I just google questions like "which fruit skins are suitable for consumption (kiwi skin is edible, and apparently is the texture of a peach)" or "how many people did Hemingway fight (all of them)" or "can poisonous frogs hurt themselves (yes!!!!!!!! damn, that would be a terrible way to go.)" and listen to professional angry people aka comedians.

Conflict breeds humor, apparently.

Zooly - be easy

Wrote a thing. Again. For this.

( blink )