F**k the patriarchy!! Bright Summer Night presents The Mechanicals

Petra Quince, musician extraordinaire and activist almighty, gives us the rundown of her house, which is currently under siege by a party.

just as a heads up my lads ive had a very very busy week and this is p much the only free time ive had to write but. im quite drunk right now hahahahaha so if the next chapter of illaks is a mess that’s probably why im Sorry im trying my best i swear x x x


After speaking with Milena, Akemi realizes that she would rather have something a little stronger than tea. Luckily, there is plenty of vodka in their bar.

Akemi: Who the hell does she think she is? 

She takes a large sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the spirit calm her down. She was thinking of asking Talia for a day off tomorrow, however, with such a snake in the house, the restaurant would be preferable.

Akemi: Poor Marwick. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up with her for a mother. Actually, scratch that, I can. It must’ve sucked. No wonder he has so many antisocial tendencies. It must be some sort of a defensive technique for him…

She takes another drink, becoming more relaxed now. It won’t be long now until the others are home. She could give Faye a hug.

Akemi: I’m so glad my mother is the way she is…

Sickdays - Day 4 - Illness or discomfort not related to bacteria/virus

Will unknowingly drinks Hannibal under the table, and Hannibal tries to keep up with him but fails miserably.

@little-known-secret here again with my second one for sick days :))

A Taste For It


“Your taste in whiskey leaves much to be desired.” Hannibal slurred the words, drawn out lazy syllables, his accent noticeably thick.

“That hasn’t stopped you from drinking it, has it?”

Will grinned and then finished his own glass, barely pausing before refilling both.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be rude,” Hannibal spoke with drunken emphasis. He looked perplexed for a moment, staring into his newly filled glass.

“Of course you wouldn’t.“ Will eyed Hannibal across the table. The other was beginning to look a bit rough around the edges. Will found it amusing if not the slightest bit endearing. “I hope you know that I wouldnever serve you anything less then only the finestAmerican bourbon–”

“With a turkey on the label.”

“A majestic bird,” Will mumbled his voice disappearing into his own glass as he took a long sip. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a taste for it yet I think.”

Hannibal hummed his disapproval but still tipped his glass back. The whiskey warmed its way down his chest and into his stomach. He felt its entire journey.

“Besides,” Will said as he refilled Hannibal’s glass again and topped off his own, “The more you drink the better it tastes. It’s true. It’s a true proven fact.”

The two made eye contact, Will staring over the rim of his glasses. Hannibal had taken to leaning his chin against the heel of his hand, elbow propped up on the table, unsteady and barely keeping him from swaying. His face was rosy warm from the whiskey, a few strands of hair fallen across glassy eyes. Somehow the right side of his collar had flipped up.

Will took it all in and snorted a laugh.

“What?” An offended eyebrow was raised in Will’s direction.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” Will reached out and turned down Hannibal’s collar, smoothing it with a pat. “There. It was bothering me. Now you look much more distinguished.” One last drunken giggle had Hannibal narrowing his eyes.

“You find the idea of me inebriated, funny?” Hannibal asked, running all the words together. Will nodded yes. “Well, I can assure you, I am not in the least bit–”

“Oh no, Doctor Lecter. You are drunk,” Will said, about to refill his own glass but then thinking better of it and taking a sip from the bottle instead. “You’re shitfaced. Fucked up. A sloppy mess–”

“I am most certainly not ‘sloppy’,” Hannibal growled. In one swift motion he downed his drink. Just to make a point.

Will took another swig of burning liquor. He let out a pleasured sigh as heat radiated into his chest. Slowly he leaned in towards Hannibal, the bite of whiskey strong on his breath.

“If it’s any consolation, I find you unnaturally attractive when you’re‘inebriated’.”

Hannibal was about to say something but soon thought better of it. His vision began to blur, the room swaying around him as if the floor had become liquid, Will splitting into two Wills and then drifting back together again across the table from him. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, hoping that when he opened them again the room would be still and the laws of physics would right themselves.  

They didn’t.

Will tipped the bottle back and finished the last few dregs of its amber contents. Eyes shut again, Hannibal could hear the  liquid sloshing around in the bottle as Will finished it off. The sound made his stomach roll. He swallowed audibly and then forced a thin breath through his nose. It was taking all his effort and concentration not to lose everything right there.

An unexpected burp brought bile mingled with harsh alcohol up his throat. He swallowed hard against it and it made him shudder, his stomach groaning beneath his hand.

The room still insisted on moving in the most dizzying way possible. Hannibal closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool edge of the table. He let out a long moan.

“Hey…” Will said, his voice low, a hand reached out to the other across the table, fingertips grazing his arm. “You feeling alright?”

“Just a bit dizzy…” Hannibal cringed as the words left him. “I think…I need to lie down…”

“Ok, maybe we should call it a night,” Will said gently, coming around to Hannibal’s side of the table. His own vision swam for a moment when he rose to his feet. “Common, let’s go sleep it off.”

Will coaxed Hannibal to get up. He braced himself against the table and then froze, fingers gripping Wills arm deadly tight.

“On second thought…Will…maybe I should stay right he–”

Hannibal’s back stiffened, shoulders scrunched together. He lurched forward and gagged abruptly, a fountain of cloudy liquid spilling from him. It refilled his empty glass and then overflowed onto the table.

Will froze. It took his numbed senses a moment to register what was happening. He stole a quick glance at the empty bottle and then at Hannibal, gasping and panting for air, saliva and vomit dangling from his open mouth. It had admittedly been his plan to get Hannibal good and drunk but this was definitely not what he had in mind. Will’s heart dropped into his stomach.


Hannibal lurched forward, this time with so much force his chair groaned against the wooden floor. He pulled Will along with him, throwing him off balance, nails still digging crescent shaped marks into his arm. Another gush of vomit splattered onto the table.

“Alright,” Will said, attempting to soothe, a bit of guilt welling up in his throat. “This is my fault. I just wanted to get out of my head for a night. And I…”

“Will…I know…my own limits…”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Will said the sarcasm in his voice heavy as the alcohol on his breath, “and you let me push you past it. Why?”

The sour taste of whiskey and bile choked him. He gagged hard. The sound made Will cringe. Burning hot liquid surged up his throat, pooling onto the table top and beginning to flow off its edge and into his lap.  

“I could have cut you off but I pushed,” Will mumbled, side stepping the sick that threatened to soak into his shoes, “I pushed because I was curious. I wanted to see what would happen,” and then, under his breath, “but I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Hannibal’s shoulders rolled forward and his back arched up as he heaved. He swayed forward, and Will had to struggle to detach himself from Hannibal’s grip, just in time to catch him by the shoulders.

“Easy,” Will was holding him up now, standing in a puddle of warm vomit, some of it soaking into his shirt where Hannibal leaned against him. Whiskey warmed fingertips met cool clammy skin as Will touched his face. Still gasping for air, Hannibal turned his eyes up to Will, a look of complete helplessness shinning in them.

“Don’t fault yourself, Will,” Hannibal choked out, in between short gasps of air, “for being curious.”

Will grit his teeth. “What about alcohol poisoning? Can I fault myself for that?”

A vocalized gag and Hannibal was dry heaving against Will’s chest. Will just held him, letting Hannibal gag against his shirt, feeling every helpless movement as he struggled.

Softly, Will pushed the hair from his eyes, smoothing it behind his ear. Perhaps he had known what he was getting himself into, perhaps he knew his limits and pushed himself past them to satisfy Will’s own curiosity, but looking at him now, face beet red, a look of complete embarrassment set in his eyes, Will knew neither of them had really thought this night through.

“It’s ok, love,” Will whispered, “You’re ok. Don’t worry about the mess right now.”

Hannibal choked and sputtered. He pushed away from Will to spit out a mouthful of saliva. This triggered another deep retch, a thin searing trickle of vomit forced up his throat. Will had a protective arm at Hannibal’s back. He could feel his muscles tense and writhe underneath his palm.

“I think the worst is over,” Will soothed, feeling undeniably guilty at the night’s sudden turn of events. “Let’s get you away from this. Can you stand?”

Hannibal dry heaved into his hand, the bitter scent of alcohol and vomit overpowering his senses. He was vaguely aware that Will was holding him up. His head hung limp, the effects of the alcohol and the exhaustion that comes from being so violently sick making him weak. He gagged again and it sounded raw. The last remnants of whiskey soaked bile dribbled down his chin and coated his neck.

Will had wedged himself underneath Hannibal’s arm and was hoisting him to his feet. Getting there was a bit of a haze, but somehow Hannibal ended up on Will’s couch, a large plastic bin placed next to him. Finally aware enough to notice Will’s absence Hannibal began to panic.

“…Will?”  His voiced was shredded.

“Hey it’s ok. I’m right here.”

A heavy hand was at his back. Will sat next to him, pressed a cool glass of water to his lips. Gingerly, he took a sip. The water felt icy cold all the way down until it hit his stomach and settled there like a stone. He pushed the glass away and curled onto his side, finding his way into Will’s lap.

“You should try to sip some more water,” Will urged, “Otherwise you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Hmm…I’m afraid…I already feel like shit.”

“I know you do. I’m sorry Hannibal. I’m just trying to help.” Will reached for the blanket thrown over the back of his couch. “I couldn’t get us as far as the bedroom, but maybe it’s better that you sleep here–“  

Without warning Hannibal leaned over the side of the couch to vomit into the bin. Will held onto him by the back of his shirt. He was too weak to pull himself back up when he had finished, head hung loosely over the plastic bin, hair falling into his eyes.

“It’s ok,” Will said, hauling him back up into his lap. “Close your eyes. I’ll be right here if you need to get sick again. Try to rest.”

Hannibal obeyed, letting his eyes slip shut, a small respite from the room that insisted on spinning around him. He let out a muffled sigh as Will started smoothing his hair back from his face, carding fingers through. Will adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and dragged the bin a little closer with his foot.

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice sounded far away as if sleep was pulling him under as he spoke. “I think…I will have to dispose of this shirt…”

Will snorted. “I think I might have to dispose of my kitchen table.”

Hannibal cringed and let out a groan as vivid images of the aftermath flashed in his head. He nestled closer to Will, one arm still wrapped around his stomach.


Will stretched and yawned, the effects of his own overindulgence catching up with him. “Mm hmm?”

“I still think…you have horrible taste in whiskey.”


Él olía a alcohol y cigarrillos mientras que yo olía a menta y mentiras, las peleas terminaban en lágrimas y estas a su vez finalizaban en rupturas. Las rupturas en reconciliaciones y las reconciliaciones en sexo hasta que un día fue demasiado para mí y decidí que esa sería nuestra última noche juntos. Intentamos hacer el amor como locos pero terminamos teniendo sexo. Irónico.