My current handle is hybeana (a portmanteau of hyena and bean). I have previously posted artwork using other handles (i.e. creepywyrm, localbeanbag). All work that has been posted by me will be properly attributed to the work's respective creator regardless of the signature.
As an artist, I work with a multitude of mediums - short stories, poetry, textile, fiber, digital, and traditional such as paint or pencil. Most of my art focuses on character creation and illustration.
Please be aware that I post 18+ content here on Tumblr as well as on Bluesky. If you'd like to look through a library of my original characters and their stories, then feel free to check out my Toyhouse! I am also participating in Art Fight this year.
All of my original works are tagged with #hybeana's work regardless of medium.
I don't like asking for help, but today I truly need to.
It's been a while since our campaign received any support, and I would be lying if I said that doesn't scare me 💔
Behind this fundraiser is a family still trying to rebuild their life, a student still trying to hold onto his education, and people who are doing their best not to lose hope.
When donations stop, our struggles don't stop with them. The worries, responsibilities, and uncertainty are still here every single day.
So if you've been following our story, if you've ever felt sympathy for what we're going through, please consider helping us today. Even a small donation can make a real difference, and even sharing our campaign could help us reach someone willing to support.
Thank you to everyone who has stood beside us so far. Your kindness means more than words can express 🤍🙏
https://gofund.me/5cdd060e
This campaign appears to have been vetted by @.bilal-sala7, so please consider donating! Much love.
While you argue online about "protecting children," actual children in Palestine struggle to live a normal life because they are not safe from war and poverty.
Amir's dialogue was inspired by a video I saw where a woman compared her body type to a corgi, and cited this as to why some people's goals shouldn't be focused on fat loss. I can't find the video but shoutout to her lovely mind
Rating: Non-Explicit, Adult Themes
Categories: M/M, Drifter x Amir, M!Drifter, FTM!Drifter, pre-established relationship, suggestive, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, disordered eating, weight gain, referenced child abuse, implied/referenced CSA, no beta we die like adis
~
It was New Year’s Eve, but it wasn’t just any New Year’s Eve – it was the New Year’s Eve. This was officially the last day of 1999. Forever. Drifter and the Hex had finally stopped the nuke from detonating, and everyone was partying like it was, well… 1999!
It hadn’t been easy. The total number of loops it took had definitely exceeded six. Drifter was the only person capable of keeping records from one loop to the next. Eleanor helped, of course, as she could pipe information from Drifter’s mind to the others as needed. That method wasn’t foolproof, though. Memories are fragile, so recorded information in the form of cassette tapes, paper and pen, photos, and videos was extremely valuable.
So, there they sat. Sitting in a circle on the floor, surrounded by balloons and confetti and alcohol, and looking through the only physical proof that those previous loops had happened at all.
“Aww,” Aoi cooed. “Quincy, you look so happy in this one!”
In her hands, she held a photo of Quincy and Amir. Their arms were locked around one another in a side-hug, and they both had rifles slung over their shoulders. With his free hand, Amir was holding up a soda can with a pronounced hole in it – all the way through. Quincy was practically grinning ear-to-ear, his eyes crinkling with joy and pride.
“Oh, I remember when that happened,” Drifter said. “Quincy was teaching Amir how to aim with a scope. That was the first time he actually hit something.”
Aoi passed the photo to Quincy, who smiled warmly. He didn’t remember taking the photo – how could he? – but he still felt just as proud.
“Holy shit, babe!” Amir suddenly exclaimed, jaw agape, holding up a different photo so that Drifter could see. “When is this one from?”
Examining the photo, the corner of Drifter’s mouth twitched upward. “That? That’s the only photo I have from the first loop.”
Immediately, everyone scooted over so that they could see, too.
The photo itself was nothing special. It appeared as though Amir had been holding the camera selfie-style, so his face wasn’t fully in-frame. His face wore an open-mouthed smile. Behind him, Lettie and Drifter were sitting at one of the tables in the food court. Their candid expressions – Lettie’s mouth was open and one of her hands were raised, as if she were in the middle of talking, and Drifter looked confused and surprised, if not a little irritated, and both with their eyes fixed on the intruding photographer – showing that Amir had caught them off-guard.
What had piqued Amir’s interest in the photo was the fact that Drifter was a completely different weight than he currently was. The Drifter in the photo had a gaunt face, and there was practically no fat stores on his stomach or thighs whatsoever. He looked like an actor in a movie that had dehydrated himself in order to show off his chiseled abs.
In contrast, the Drifter next to him had a full face, a big round belly, and ample body fat. He had a proper strongman build.
“Oh, wow! You look…”
“Different,” Drifter completed the sentence for him. “I know.”
“I-I mean- It’s not a bad different,” Amir sputtered, suddenly acutely aware of the faux pas he just committed. “You- I think you look really good!”
Drifter smiled fondly, remembering.
“I know you do.”
~
In the backroom, Drifter stood in front of the floor-length mirror examining himself.
Lettie demanded that he receive an annual check-up just like the rest of the Hex did. During said check-up, she recorded his weight for him. He was several pounds heavier than the previous year.
When he was a little girl, his father was strict about what he was and wasn’t allowed to eat. There was an expectation for Drifter to be what the Orokin desired in a yuvan – thin, beautiful, youthful. He wasn’t allowed to take up space.
Then, Duviri happened.
Nutrient cubes were designed to have the bare minimum amount of calories, vitamins, and minerals that a person needed to survive. They also tasted terrible. Wishing food into reality through conceptual embodiment provided him with flavor, yes, but it didn’t provide him with any energy – well, any non-Void energy, that is. If Drifter wanted to eat something else – something real, then he had to work for it. He taught himself how to hunt, process skin and meat from an animal, light a fire, and cook.
To make a very, very, very long story short, Drifter had a complicated relationship with food.
Now that he lived with the Hex, he had access to more food than he even knew what to do with. His new friends loved introducing him to new foods. What was mundane to them was exciting to Drifter. It was novel!
Arthur had taken to using Drifter as his willing guinea pig for testing recipes. Square spaghetti incident aside, Arthur was a pretty decent chef.
Amir showed him pizza, cupcakes, pie, chips, chocolate, hamburgers, hotdogs, beer, french fries – all of the Libertatian favorites! He also made sure to share some of the dishes that his dad used to serve at his restaurant. Amir’s dad’s recipes always reminded Drifter of his gidda’s cooking.
Eleanor shared opulent drinks like wine, while Aoi shared fun drinks like bubble tea. Sometimes Lettie made simple dishes like arroz con leche, and other times she put the whole team to work making tamales together. Quincy was the one to find out that the only way to make Techrot meat taste remotely edible is by jerking it – a style of cooking from Xaymaca.
It was refreshing to try new foods, but Drifter found himself feeling… guilty.
“Babe?” he called out. “Do you think I’m getting… fat?”
Amir quickly looked up from where he sat on the couch, doing a double-take before before returning his gaze back to his handheld game.
“I- I mean,” he stuttered. “I don’t think my opinion on your body should matter, y’know?”
Drifter frowned. “Yeah. I guess not.”
He pulled up the hem of his shirt and pinched his own stomach. He was able to hold about an inch or two of fat and skin with little resistance. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he needed to cut back. A voice that sounded like his father and said he was becoming unattractive. A voice that sounded like Dominus Thrax and said that he didn’t deserve to eat that much food.
“But if you had to pick,” Drifter persisted. “Do you prefer how I look when I’m skinnier or…?”
Amir’s eyes looked past his game as it made a losing beep, his eyes unfocused, and his leg began to bounce nervously. Without a screen focus on, his eyes cast about the room as he considered how to best answer the question. He wanted to be honest without hurting his boyfriend’s feelings or imposing himself in a controlling way. He shrugged and shook his head.
“Um… I don’t think it matters how you look,” Amir said. “How you feel matters more than that.”
Drifter frowned again. “I feel terrible.”
Then it was Amir’s turn to frown.
“Aw, baby… How come?” Amir asked. He stood up and began to make his way over, tossing his handheld game aside onto the couch. “Come on, talk to me. What’s all this about?”
Drifter almost felt as though he could cry, but it felt buried too deep inside of him to dig out. It was still early in their relationship. Opening up about his past – his father, Duviri, everything – was still hard. Amir insisted that they take it slow. They already had plenty of heated makeout sessions and even gotten a little handsy, but they hadn’t gone “all the way” yet. Part of him was worried that if he got fat, then Amir wouldn’t be attracted to him anymore and their newly budding sex life would stop.
As Amir approached, he brought his hand up to cup Drifter’s cheek and pouted. His eyes were dark, almost black, and glossy like smoky quartz. Amir’s kubby-kubrow eyes were not easy to resist.
“I think… I’m scared?” Drifter admitted, speaking slowly as he processed his emotions in real-time. It felt like purple lightning was dancing its way through his insides. “I’m scared that… you won’t want to have sex with me.”
“What?!” Amir exclaimed, half-laughing. “I- You- Okay. There is no way in hell that would happen, babe.”
“Oh, don’t laugh!” Drifter scowled and crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry for laughing. I just- You want my honest opinion? Like, my really real forreal opinion?”
“Yes!” Drifter said exasperatedly. “That’s why I asked!”
Amir cleared his throat, and then clapped his hands together before casting his eyes around again. “Okay, well… I… I honestly think you could stand to gain more weight.”
Drifter made a face. “...What?”
“What? Don't look at me like that. You asked for my honest opinion!”
“Yeah, I know I did! But… what? Why? Lettie said my BMI-”
Amir threw up his hands and shook them defensively. “N-N-N-N-N-No, look look look look look look look- Listen, okay? Number one- Don’t ever say the word BMI to me again. Number two- People- People are like dogs. Every dog is a different breed, right? Some dogs are small, like chihuahuas, and some dogs are really big, like Scooby Doo. One time my nana had this chihuahua and all she fed it was cheese puffs and table scraps, and so it got so big and fat that it could barely even move on it’s own. That’s unhealthy! I’m not denying that being fat is unhealthy for some people. But you? You’re like… You’re like a mastiff! You’re a mastiff, and you’ve been treating yourself as if you were a chihuahua. Now that’s unhealthy! I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t noticed that you put on some weight in the past few months, but… you look healthy. It looks good on you because that’s that’s the breed of dog that you are. Your body type is tall and big and wide and strong, and that’s not a bad thing! Does that make sense?”
Drifter blinked.
A multitude of questions swirled themselves around Drifter’s mind. The most important one being: What is a mastiff, and how can I acquire one? That, and also: Amir thinks I look good?
“Yeah. I guess that makes sense, but… What about you? You’re-”
“Me? Oh, easy! I’m like a border collie. Not too big, not too small, and if you don’t take me on regular walks then I’ll go crazy,” Amir said matter-of-factly, punctuating his statement with crossed arms and a sage nod.
“Right. And I understand the dog metaphor, but that doesn’t answer m-”
“Babe, baby, babycakes, my sweet precious babycakes- I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this,” Amir began, taking Drifter by the hands and looking into his eyes. “Look at me. Stop worrying about it. Please. I think you’re perfectly fine the way that you are! ...And besides! If it were my choice, you’d be as big as humanly possible, and I’d have the power to morph into a futon at will so that whenever you got tired I could adore every waking second of you using me like your personal 3-in-1 bed, chair, and footstool. I didn’t get with a 6-foot-something tall, grown ass man because I like petite, m’kay? I love you, and frankly I want you to crush me.”
Drifter’s face turned a deep crimson. “Oh.”
Amir cleared his throat once more, and as he looked away his cheeks were rosy. “Does, uh… Does that answer your question?”
Drifter smiled bashfully, and then leaned in to plant a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Amir kissed back chastely, but passionately.
Amir's dialogue was inspired by a video I saw where a woman compared her body type to a corgi, and cited this as to why some people's goals shouldn't be focused on fat loss. I can't find the video but shoutout to her lovely mind
Rating: Non-Explicit, Adult Themes
Categories: M/M, Drifter x Amir, M!Drifter, FTM!Drifter, pre-established relationship, suggestive, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, disordered eating, weight gain, referenced child abuse, implied/referenced CSA, no beta we die like adis
~
It was New Year’s Eve, but it wasn’t just any New Year’s Eve – it was the New Year’s Eve. This was officially the last day of 1999. Forever. Drifter and the Hex had finally stopped the nuke from detonating, and everyone was partying like it was, well… 1999!
It hadn’t been easy. The total number of loops it took had definitely exceeded six. Drifter was the only person capable of keeping records from one loop to the next. Eleanor helped, of course, as she could pipe information from Drifter’s mind to the others as needed. That method wasn’t foolproof, though. Memories are fragile, so recorded information in the form of cassette tapes, paper and pen, photos, and videos was extremely valuable.
So, there they sat. Sitting in a circle on the floor, surrounded by balloons and confetti and alcohol, and looking through the only physical proof that those previous loops had happened at all.
“Aww,” Aoi cooed. “Quincy, you look so happy in this one!”
In her hands, she held a photo of Quincy and Amir. Their arms were locked around one another in a side-hug, and they both had rifles slung over their shoulders. With his free hand, Amir was holding up a soda can with a pronounced hole in it – all the way through. Quincy was practically grinning ear-to-ear, his eyes crinkling with joy and pride.
“Oh, I remember when that happened,” Drifter said. “Quincy was teaching Amir how to aim with a scope. That was the first time he actually hit something.”
Aoi passed the photo to Quincy, who smiled warmly. He didn’t remember taking the photo – how could he? – but he still felt just as proud.
“Holy shit, babe!” Amir suddenly exclaimed, jaw agape, holding up a different photo so that Drifter could see. “When is this one from?”
Examining the photo, the corner of Drifter’s mouth twitched upward. “That? That’s the only photo I have from the first loop.”
Immediately, everyone scooted over so that they could see, too.
The photo itself was nothing special. It appeared as though Amir had been holding the camera selfie-style, so his face wasn’t fully in-frame. His face wore an open-mouthed smile. Behind him, Lettie and Drifter were sitting at one of the tables in the food court. Their candid expressions – Lettie’s mouth was open and one of her hands were raised, as if she were in the middle of talking, and Drifter looked confused and surprised, if not a little irritated, and both with their eyes fixed on the intruding photographer – showing that Amir had caught them off-guard.
What had piqued Amir’s interest in the photo was the fact that Drifter was a completely different weight than he currently was. The Drifter in the photo had a gaunt face, and there was practically no fat stores on his stomach or thighs whatsoever. He looked like an actor in a movie that had dehydrated himself in order to show off his chiseled abs.
In contrast, the Drifter next to him had a full face, a big round belly, and ample body fat. He had a proper strongman build.
“Oh, wow! You look…”
“Different,” Drifter completed the sentence for him. “I know.”
“I-I mean- It’s not a bad different,” Amir sputtered, suddenly acutely aware of the faux pas he just committed. “You- I think you look really good!”
Drifter smiled fondly, remembering.
“I know you do.”
~
In the backroom, Drifter stood in front of the floor-length mirror examining himself.
Lettie demanded that he receive an annual check-up just like the rest of the Hex did. During said check-up, she recorded his weight for him. He was several pounds heavier than the previous year.
When he was a little girl, his father was strict about what he was and wasn’t allowed to eat. There was an expectation for Drifter to be what the Orokin desired in a yuvan – thin, beautiful, youthful. He wasn’t allowed to take up space.
Then, Duviri happened.
Nutrient cubes were designed to have the bare minimum amount of calories, vitamins, and minerals that a person needed to survive. They also tasted terrible. Wishing food into reality through conceptual embodiment provided him with flavor, yes, but it didn’t provide him with any energy – well, any non-Void energy, that is. If Drifter wanted to eat something else – something real, then he had to work for it. He taught himself how to hunt, process skin and meat from an animal, light a fire, and cook.
To make a very, very, very long story short, Drifter had a complicated relationship with food.
Now that he lived with the Hex, he had access to more food than he even knew what to do with. His new friends loved introducing him to new foods. What was mundane to them was exciting to Drifter. It was novel!
Arthur had taken to using Drifter as his willing guinea pig for testing recipes. Square spaghetti incident aside, Arthur was a pretty decent chef.
Amir showed him pizza, cupcakes, pie, chips, chocolate, hamburgers, hotdogs, beer, french fries – all of the Libertatian favorites! He also made sure to share some of the dishes that his dad used to serve at his restaurant. Amir’s dad’s recipes always reminded Drifter of his gidda’s cooking.
Eleanor shared opulent drinks like wine, while Aoi shared fun drinks like bubble tea. Sometimes Lettie made simple dishes like arroz con leche, and other times she put the whole team to work making tamales together. Quincy was the one to find out that the only way to make Techrot meat taste remotely edible is by jerking it – a style of cooking from Xaymaca.
It was refreshing to try new foods, but Drifter found himself feeling… guilty.
“Babe?” he called out. “Do you think I’m getting… fat?”
Amir quickly looked up from where he sat on the couch, doing a double-take before before returning his gaze back to his handheld game.
“I- I mean,” he stuttered. “I don’t think my opinion on your body should matter, y’know?”
Drifter frowned. “Yeah. I guess not.”
He pulled up the hem of his shirt and pinched his own stomach. He was able to hold about an inch or two of fat and skin with little resistance. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he needed to cut back. A voice that sounded like his father and said he was becoming unattractive. A voice that sounded like Dominus Thrax and said that he didn’t deserve to eat that much food.
“But if you had to pick,” Drifter persisted. “Do you prefer how I look when I’m skinnier or…?”
Amir’s eyes looked past his game as it made a losing beep, his eyes unfocused, and his leg began to bounce nervously. Without a screen focus on, his eyes cast about the room as he considered how to best answer the question. He wanted to be honest without hurting his boyfriend’s feelings or imposing himself in a controlling way. He shrugged and shook his head.
“Um… I don’t think it matters how you look,” Amir said. “How you feel matters more than that.”
Drifter frowned again. “I feel terrible.”
Then it was Amir’s turn to frown.
“Aw, baby… How come?” Amir asked. He stood up and began to make his way over, tossing his handheld game aside onto the couch. “Come on, talk to me. What’s all this about?”
Drifter almost felt as though he could cry, but it felt buried too deep inside of him to dig out. It was still early in their relationship. Opening up about his past – his father, Duviri, everything – was still hard. Amir insisted that they take it slow. They already had plenty of heated makeout sessions and even gotten a little handsy, but they hadn’t gone “all the way” yet. Part of him was worried that if he got fat, then Amir wouldn’t be attracted to him anymore and their newly budding sex life would stop.
As Amir approached, he brought his hand up to cup Drifter’s cheek and pouted. His eyes were dark, almost black, and glossy like smoky quartz. Amir’s kubby-kubrow eyes were not easy to resist.
“I think… I’m scared?” Drifter admitted, speaking slowly as he processed his emotions in real-time. It felt like purple lightning was dancing its way through his insides. “I’m scared that… you won’t want to have sex with me.”
“What?!” Amir exclaimed, half-laughing. “I- You- Okay. There is no way in hell that would happen, babe.”
“Oh, don’t laugh!” Drifter scowled and crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry for laughing. I just- You want my honest opinion? Like, my really real forreal opinion?”
“Yes!” Drifter said exasperatedly. “That’s why I asked!”
Amir cleared his throat, and then clapped his hands together before casting his eyes around again. “Okay, well… I… I honestly think you could stand to gain more weight.”
Drifter made a face. “...What?”
“What? Don't look at me like that. You asked for my honest opinion!”
“Yeah, I know I did! But… what? Why? Lettie said my BMI-”
Amir threw up his hands and shook them defensively. “N-N-N-N-N-No, look look look look look look look- Listen, okay? Number one- Don’t ever say the word BMI to me again. Number two- People- People are like dogs. Every dog is a different breed, right? Some dogs are small, like chihuahuas, and some dogs are really big, like Scooby Doo. One time my nana had this chihuahua and all she fed it was cheese puffs and table scraps, and so it got so big and fat that it could barely even move on it’s own. That’s unhealthy! I’m not denying that being fat is unhealthy for some people. But you? You’re like… You’re like a mastiff! You’re a mastiff, and you’ve been treating yourself as if you were a chihuahua. Now that’s unhealthy! I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t noticed that you put on some weight in the past few months, but… you look healthy. It looks good on you because that’s that’s the breed of dog that you are. Your body type is tall and big and wide and strong, and that’s not a bad thing! Does that make sense?”
Drifter blinked.
A multitude of questions swirled themselves around Drifter’s mind. The most important one being: What is a mastiff, and how can I acquire one? That, and also: Amir thinks I look good?
“Yeah. I guess that makes sense, but… What about you? You’re-”
“Me? Oh, easy! I’m like a border collie. Not too big, not too small, and if you don’t take me on regular walks then I’ll go crazy,” Amir said matter-of-factly, punctuating his statement with crossed arms and a sage nod.
“Right. And I understand the dog metaphor, but that doesn’t answer m-”
“Babe, baby, babycakes, my sweet precious babycakes- I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this,” Amir began, taking Drifter by the hands and looking into his eyes. “Look at me. Stop worrying about it. Please. I think you’re perfectly fine the way that you are! ...And besides! If it were my choice, you’d be as big as humanly possible, and I’d have the power to morph into a futon at will so that whenever you got tired I could adore every waking second of you using me like your personal 3-in-1 bed, chair, and footstool. I didn’t get with a 6-foot-something tall, grown ass man because I like petite, m’kay? I love you, and frankly I want you to crush me.”
Drifter’s face turned a deep crimson. “Oh.”
Amir cleared his throat once more, and as he looked away his cheeks were rosy. “Does, uh… Does that answer your question?”
Drifter smiled bashfully, and then leaned in to plant a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Amir kissed back chastely, but passionately.
Continuing from the last post, here's my gauss protoframe idea for Timeline A2.1! He doesn't have a name yet either.
Gauss has small feet as a warframe, and building off of the precedent that Marie was disabled and that resulted in the wisp warframe having small feet, I wanted to explore the idea that he is an amputee. I have no story for it yet, but the scar on his back is possibly related. The prosthetics he's wearing are sometimes called running blades.
Gauss as a warframe also has superspeed, much like volt does. So, I imagine he takes after Amir the most after all the kids, both visually and personality-wise. He's an automechanic, and he loves cars, atomicycles, and racing. Like his dads, he has AuDHD.
I'm currently working on an AU in which Drifter, Amir, and Lyon move to Mars together and have biological children using Helminth as a surrogate - Timeline A2.1! Their second oldest child is going to be my take on a khora protoframe. She doesn't have a name yet, and this is definitely a HUGE hugehugehuge WIP... but I just thought I'd share my ideas so far.
The idea is that each of the kids have powers that relate to their dads' powers. Khora's abilities have to do with chains, which relate to Lyon and the Chains of Harrow questline. Personality-wise, though, she's most like Drifter. She is a wildlife biologist just like he is! (Since the kids are biologically related to Drifter, Amir, and Lyon at the same time, I am referencing all three of them for their appearances as well.)
A fanfiction that I wrote at 4 AM while sitting in bed next to my sleeping partner
Rating: Non-Explicit
Categories: M/M, Drifter x Amir, M!Drifter, system!Drifter, autistic!Drifter, pre-established relationship, domestic, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, no beta we die like adis
Ever since Drifter met Amir, he was in love. Well, “in love” is a strong word. Drifter at the very least adored him.
Amir couldn't understand why.
“I wasn't made to be loved,” is what he had said. Hearing his boyfriend say it with such certainty felt like there was thermal sludge around Drifter's heart. He didn't know how to put it into words at the time, so he just frowned.
~
It was 4 AM.
Drifter woke up to the smell of a food he didn't recognize. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. The Hex had often delighted in showing their futuristic, time-traveling companion the wonderful world of non-cubed foods. Drifter smiled to himself in his sleep, but frowned when he reached over and didn't feel Amir in bed next to him.
“Babe?” he called out, groggy, “You there?”
He heard the sound of Amir yelp, a clang, Amir hissing in pain, and then the familiar whirring of Amir using his speed ability.
“H-Hey, baby babe! I didn't mean to wake you up- Did- Did I wake you up? Shit-”
His boyfriend had zoomed to his side, and the sudden shift from the pitch black bedroom to the blue glow of Amir's speed made Drifter squint and blink a few times. Upon closer inspection, Amir's front was covered in a white powder, and it almost felt like the yummy smell was emanating from him. He had clearly been preparing whatever he had been cooking for a while.
“It's okay,” Drifter said, rubbing his eyes, his voice monotone as ever. “You cooking something?”
“Hmm?!” Amir questioned, his eyebrows shooting up and his lips forming an inconspicuous line, followed by nervous laughter. “Cooking? At one in the morning? Wha- Why would I be cooking at one in the morning?!”
Drifter laughed. Oh, sol, Drifter laughed so gently, and Amir could have sworn it sounded like the Void was singing.
“Babe. It's not one... It's four. Great Inaros help me, you are such a bad liar,” Drifter said. “How long have you been out of bed?”
Amir's face cringed in on itself as though he had eaten a lemon.
“You haven't slept at all, have you?” Drifter asked. His tone wasn't accusatory at all; in fact, it was softly knowing.
“In my defense, I- I did get in bed at some point. But that thing happened again where you fell asleep before I did, and everything got real quiet, so my brain got real loud, and then I couldn't sit still, and I didn't wanna wake you with my jittering, so I got out of bed and- Wait, let me remember-”
Drifter smiled, patiently waiting. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he watched the way that Amir's eyes flickered back and forth. He was mentally re-tracing his steps, piecing together the train of thought that caused him to derail to where he currently was.
“Wait! No. I lost it. What was I talking about?”
“You couldn't sleep, so you got out of bed,” Drifter said.
“Yes! That's right! I got out of bed, and I needed something quiet to do, so I got on your computer – don't worry I logged in under my name I didn't log in under your name – and I figured games might be too loud because of the keyboard sounds, so I started surfing the web, and I found this forum where a bunch of people had been talking about their favorite commercials, and somebody posted a video of this old commercial for this blue raspberry flavored candy, even though blue raspberries don't actually exist! So, then I got to thinkin' about different kinds of berries, like blueberries, which is like this little berry that isn't blue, they're actually more like purple, that’s not important- Anyways- It made me realize that I don't think you've ever had pancakes before! Which is frickin' crazy! So, I- I started makin’ pancakes, but then I accidentally woke you up, and- Aw, babe, I'm so sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to! It was supposed to be a surprise, and now the surprise is ruined, and I know how hard it is for you to fall asleep, and-”
“It's okay.” Drifter said. “What are pancakes?”
Amir's eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! So- Pancakes are kind of like cake, but you cook 'em in a pan instead of in the oven!”
Drifter blinked. “So you’re telling me that cupcakes aren’t made with cups, but pancakes are made with pans?”
Amir laughed and rubbed the back of his own neck. “Yyyeahhhhhh- I guess when you put it that way, it doesn’t make much sense, does it? I am running on like 4 hours of sleep, so I’m not good at explaining right now, but- Hey! You wan't me to show you how to make 'em? I haven't used all the batter yet. B-But, you don't have to if you don't want to! I'm totally gonna make enough for both of us to eat regardless! I just thought you might- Maybe we could- Uh-”
“I'd like that.”
Amir grinned.
“Great! Cool- Um... These don't have frosting like cupcakes, though. You eat them with maple syrup!”
“And maple syrup is...?”
“Oh! It comes from maple trees. They make it out of tree sap. I don't know exactly how it's made, but it fuckin' rocks to eat!”
As the two talked back and forth, Drifter crept out of bed and into a pair of pyjama pants. Together, they made their way down the stairs of the backroom and to the kitchen.
Drifter had the small kitchen installed for nights like these when Amir wanted to cook without waking up the entire mall by using the kitchen in the food court. It wasn't used every night. It was used sporadically, when the bees in Amir's head wouldn’t stop buzzing until he created something new. Cooking food, tinkering with little inventions, programming a game, drawing an original character – it was always someth
ing different. Something... unexpected.
Amir was rambling about pancake recipes and pouring methods, but Drifter couldn't focus on what he was saying. He felt the thermal sludge around his heart slowly begin to melt away.
~
Years.
Drifter was in that hellhole. For years.
He had honestly lost track of how many years he had spent in Duviri.
How many was it?
Hundreds?
Thousands?
Every day became the same to him.
Day in and day out, he was put through agony.
Apathy coiled itself around Drifter's heart. His voice became monotone. His face, expressionless. He forgot what it was like to communicate with other people. Real people.
He had become numb.
Nothing changed.
Then, something changed.
~
“You were made to be loved,” Drifter blurted out, blunt as ever.
“And it makes it easier if you put the ziploc bag in a cup before you- Wh- What?” Amir chuckled nervously, caught off-guard.
“The other day you told me that you weren't made to be loved,” Drifter explained, “That's not true. You were. I love you.”
Amir felt his face heat up with a mixture of anxiety and bashfulness. “I- U-Um... What's that got to do with pancakes?”
“The same thing it's got to do with blueberries.”
Amir's entire body stilled. As he put down the ziploc bag and spoon he was holding, he looked up into Drifter's eyes.
Drifter's left eye had been missing for a very, very long time. The prosthetic that he wore had been manifested by the Void – conceptual embodiment. Drifter’s indigo gaze – no, Kal’s indigo gaze – was piercing.
"Um... Babe? I know you really love me and all that, and I love you too, but... That's not exactly what I meant when I said that,” Amir began to explain, but he already felt tears pricking the corner of his own eyes. He looked away. “I know it's annoying when I wake you up in the middle of the night... and stuff like that. You don't have to lie to me.”
Drifter blinked.
“No. I know exactly what you meant, and I'm telling you that you're incorrect.”
Amir felt himself tense. He didn't want Drifter's pity. He knew who he was. He knew that he was unlikable. That he was broken. The fact that Drifter kept lying to his face was starting to piss him off.
Just as he turned to give him a piece of his mind, to snap, Drifter's hands firmly, but gently, grabbed Amir by the wrists. Although Drifter was bigger than Amir, Amir was a protoframe – ten times stronger, ten times over. He could break free of Drifter's grip within a heartbeat. Despite this reality, his anger dissolved and he crumpled in on himself.
“I know I said I don't like talking about Duviri and that we would never talk about it, but... I spent most of my life there. Do you know what that's like? Waking up every single day knowing exactly what's going to happen? Over and over and over?”
Amir's mind briefly resurfaced memories of going to college. Waking up, going to class, coming home, studying, and then going straight to bed – it was living hell. He could only imagine that Duviri was like that but ten times worse. Amir frowned and looked down.
“Every day that I wake up with you in my life is a blessing,” Drifter said, shaking Amir for emphasis. His voice was as firm as his hands, laden with conviction.
Amir's face flushed again. He squirmed. Why did Kal have to be so direct? I mean, he appreciated the clarity, but gods!
Amir didn't say anything, so Drifter kept going.
“Your mind is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever met,” Drifter said. Coming from a literal wildlife biologist, that was ludicrously high praise. His tone finally cracked, no longer monotone as he continued, growing frantic, “I lived the exact same day over and over and over and over! Even when I'm not in Duviri, everything feels like one big, long day. ‘Good morning, Drifter! Got another job for you today, Drifter! It's the same fucking job Arthur asks you to do every day, Drifter!’ It's fucking maddening. I love it when you wake me up in the middle of the night to make pancakes! I've never had a pancake in my entire life! Do you know how long my entire life has been, Amir? Hundreds! Hundreds of years! Every single day, every single loop, you've thought of something completely new and unexpected. No single year with you is the same. I've said it before, and I'll say it again- You are not annoying to me. You’re the one thing I cannot predict. Spending time with you is like drinking a cold glass of ice water after spending hundreds upon hundreds of years in a drought. The way your mind works is... incredible. You're so smart, and... creative, and... and I love your brain. I love you. And I don't mean that love you in spite of you being different! I mean that I love you because you're different. Fuck!”
Drifter did not know when he had begun yelling, only that he had stopped yelling. Amir stared up at him, wide-eyed, with an unreadable expression. Amir's bottom lip twitched.
“I- Amir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, I-”
Amir's voice was quiet. Shy, even. “Did you... Do you really mean all that?”
“Of course I do,” Drifter scoffed – indignant. “Why would I say something that I didn't actually mean?”
Amir burst into tears.
Drifter's heart sank. Why was Amir crying? All he did was tell him what he knew to be the truth. Drifter knew that Amir repeatedly – not to mention, incorrectly – called his own brain broken. Obviously, that wasn't true. Drifter thought Amir's brain was a beautiful collaboration of complex biological processes in which cacophony created music to his ears, his eyes, his touch... He understood that Amir had a disorder, but Drifter did, too. Amir was able to love Drifter so easily, but he couldn't love himself. Why? It didn't make any sense to him.
Drifter drew his boyfriend in for a hug. Amir's carapace relaxed underneath those big, warm arms. With each sob, his whole body shook. Drifter awkwardly guided their embrace so that they both sat on the ground, Amir leaning his entire body into his.
“Th- Tha's th' sweedest thing anyone's ev'r said t'me,” Amir choked out between sobs, snotting everywhere. “I- I-I-I- I didn' kno you f- f- felt thad wayyyyyyyyyuuuhhhuhuhuhuhhhh-”
“Ḥabībī...”
“I'mn such a big dingus. Y-Yh-Yhh- You're so nishe t' me, and always tellin' me how mush you love me 'n' stuff, and here I am thingin' there's no way itd could be truuouee! I jus- I jus- N-Nh- No one's ev'r really... loved me... for me, bufore-”
Amir continued to cry. Drifter held him close, rubbing circles into his back.
“You're not a dingus,” Drifter said. He pulled back an inch or so from their hug to plant a kiss to Amir's forehead. “If you don't stop insulting my boyfriend, then I'm gonna have to sic Qamari on you.”
Amir sniffled and blearily rubbed tears out of his eyes before laughing. “That's not really an effective threat. I love Qamari. She’s the only nice kitty I know.”
Drifter smiled, allowing the hand on Amir’s back to travel up his neck and into his hair. For a few moments, Drifter just focused on petting him. Amir pressed his face into Drifter’s chest, and they both ignored the fact that he was covering his t-shirt in snot. Eventually, Amir’s breathing began to steady.
“I love you, too, ya know,” Amir murmured, muffled by the fact that he was burying his face further into his boyfriend’s chest. “I wuv you sho much.”
Drifter made an affirmative, “mmn,” in response before kissing him again.
“I’m serious!” Amir cried, faux indignantly. He began to pepper kisses onto Drifter’s face, “I love you here – mwah! And here! – mwah! And don’t forget hereee! – mwah! And-”
Drifter’s stomach let out a hollow growl.
“Sounds like it’s time for breakfast!” Amir announced with a grin.
Picking themselves up off of the kitchen floor, they eagerly turned towards the stack of pancakes that had already been made. Amir immediately began to ramble.
“I made a bunch of of them in the shape of cubes – er, squares, but then I thought, maybe you don’t want to mix new foods with your same foods, so I made some that are shaped like stuff. Look! I made this one into a cryptilex. The eyes are blueberries! Isn't that neat, babe?”
Drifter couldn't help but smile.
“‘Not made to be loved’ my ass,” he thought to himself.
A fanfiction that I wrote at 4 AM while sitting in bed next to my sleeping partner
Rating: Non-Explicit
Categories: M/M, Drifter x Amir, M!Drifter, system!Drifter, autistic!Drifter, pre-established relationship, domestic, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, no beta we die like adis
Ever since Drifter met Amir, he was in love. Well, “in love” is a strong word. Drifter at the very least adored him.
Amir couldn't understand why.
“I wasn't made to be loved,” is what he had said. Hearing his boyfriend say it with such certainty felt like there was thermal sludge around Drifter's heart. He didn't know how to put it into words at the time, so he just frowned.
~
It was 4 AM.
Drifter woke up to the smell of a food he didn't recognize. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. The Hex had often delighted in showing their futuristic, time-traveling companion the wonderful world of non-cubed foods. Drifter smiled to himself in his sleep, but frowned when he reached over and didn't feel Amir in bed next to him.
“Babe?” he called out, groggy, “You there?”
He heard the sound of Amir yelp, a clang, Amir hissing in pain, and then the familiar whirring of Amir using his speed ability.
“H-Hey, baby babe! I didn't mean to wake you up- Did- Did I wake you up? Shit-”
His boyfriend had zoomed to his side, and the sudden shift from the pitch black bedroom to the blue glow of Amir's speed made Drifter squint and blink a few times. Upon closer inspection, Amir's front was covered in a white powder, and it almost felt like the yummy smell was emanating from him. He had clearly been preparing whatever he had been cooking for a while.
“It's okay,” Drifter said, rubbing his eyes, his voice monotone as ever. “You cooking something?”
“Hmm?!” Amir questioned, his eyebrows shooting up and his lips forming an inconspicuous line, followed by nervous laughter. “Cooking? At one in the morning? Wha- Why would I be cooking at one in the morning?!”
Drifter laughed. Oh, sol, Drifter laughed so gently, and Amir could have sworn it sounded like the Void was singing.
“Babe. It's not one... It's four. Great Inaros help me, you are such a bad liar,” Drifter said. “How long have you been out of bed?”
Amir's face cringed in on itself as though he had eaten a lemon.
“You haven't slept at all, have you?” Drifter asked. His tone wasn't accusatory at all; in fact, it was softly knowing.
“In my defense, I- I did get in bed at some point. But that thing happened again where you fell asleep before I did, and everything got real quiet, so my brain got real loud, and then I couldn't sit still, and I didn't wanna wake you with my jittering, so I got out of bed and- Wait, let me remember-”
Drifter smiled, patiently waiting. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he watched the way that Amir's eyes flickered back and forth. He was mentally re-tracing his steps, piecing together the train of thought that caused him to derail to where he currently was.
“Wait! No. I lost it. What was I talking about?”
“You couldn't sleep, so you got out of bed,” Drifter said.
“Yes! That's right! I got out of bed, and I needed something quiet to do, so I got on your computer – don't worry I logged in under my name I didn't log in under your name – and I figured games might be too loud because of the keyboard sounds, so I started surfing the web, and I found this forum where a bunch of people had been talking about their favorite commercials, and somebody posted a video of this old commercial for this blue raspberry flavored candy, even though blue raspberries don't actually exist! So, then I got to thinkin' about different kinds of berries, like blueberries, which is like this little berry that isn't blue, they're actually more like purple, that’s not important- Anyways- It made me realize that I don't think you've ever had pancakes before! Which is frickin' crazy! So, I- I started makin’ pancakes, but then I accidentally woke you up, and- Aw, babe, I'm so sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to! It was supposed to be a surprise, and now the surprise is ruined, and I know how hard it is for you to fall asleep, and-”
“It's okay.” Drifter said. “What are pancakes?”
Amir's eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! So- Pancakes are kind of like cake, but you cook 'em in a pan instead of in the oven!”
Drifter blinked. “So you’re telling me that cupcakes aren’t made with cups, but pancakes are made with pans?”
Amir laughed and rubbed the back of his own neck. “Yyyeahhhhhh- I guess when you put it that way, it doesn’t make much sense, does it? I am running on like 4 hours of sleep, so I’m not good at explaining right now, but- Hey! You wan't me to show you how to make 'em? I haven't used all the batter yet. B-But, you don't have to if you don't want to! I'm totally gonna make enough for both of us to eat regardless! I just thought you might- Maybe we could- Uh-”
“I'd like that.”
Amir grinned.
“Great! Cool- Um... These don't have frosting like cupcakes, though. You eat them with maple syrup!”
“And maple syrup is...?”
“Oh! It comes from maple trees. They make it out of tree sap. I don't know exactly how it's made, but it fuckin' rocks to eat!”
As the two talked back and forth, Drifter crept out of bed and into a pair of pyjama pants. Together, they made their way down the stairs of the backroom and to the kitchen.
Drifter had the small kitchen installed for nights like these when Amir wanted to cook without waking up the entire mall by using the kitchen in the food court. It wasn't used every night. It was used sporadically, when the bees in Amir's head wouldn’t stop buzzing until he created something new. Cooking food, tinkering with little inventions, programming a game, drawing an original character – it was always something different. Something... unexpected.
Amir was rambling about pancake recipes and pouring methods, but Drifter couldn't focus on what he was saying. He felt the thermal sludge around his heart slowly begin to melt away.
~
Years.
Drifter was in that hellhole. For years.
He had honestly lost track of how many years he had spent in Duviri.
How many was it?
Hundreds?
Thousands?
Every day became the same to him.
Day in and day out, he was put through agony.
Apathy coiled itself around Drifter's heart. His voice became monotone. His face, expressionless. He forgot what it was like to communicate with other people. Real people.
He had become numb.
Nothing changed.
Then, something changed.
~
“You were made to be loved,” Drifter blurted out, blunt as ever.
“And it makes it easier if you put the ziploc bag in a cup before you- Wh- What?” Amir chuckled nervously, caught off-guard.
“The other day you told me that you weren't made to be loved,” Drifter explained, “That's not true. You were. I love you.”
Amir felt his face heat up with a mixture of anxiety and bashfulness. “I- U-Um... What's that got to do with pancakes?”
“The same thing it's got to do with blueberries.”
Amir's entire body stilled. As he put down the ziploc bag and spoon he was holding, he looked up into Drifter's eyes.
Drifter's left eye had been missing for a very, very long time. The prosthetic that he wore had been manifested by the Void – conceptual embodiment. Drifter’s indigo gaze – no, Kal’s indigo gaze – was piercing.
"Um... Babe? I know you really love me and all that, and I love you too, but... That's not exactly what I meant when I said that,” Amir began to explain, but he already felt tears pricking the corner of his own eyes. He looked away. “I know it's annoying when I wake you up in the middle of the night... and stuff like that. You don't have to lie to me.”
Drifter blinked.
“No. I know exactly what you meant, and I'm telling you that you're incorrect.”
Amir felt himself tense. He didn't want Drifter's pity. He knew who he was. He knew that he was unlikable. That he was broken. The fact that Drifter kept lying to his face was starting to piss him off.
Just as he turned to give him a piece of his mind, to snap, Drifter's hands firmly, but gently, grabbed Amir by the wrists. Although Drifter was bigger than Amir, Amir was a protoframe – ten times stronger, ten times over. He could break free of Drifter's grip within a heartbeat. Despite this reality, his anger dissolved and he crumpled in on himself.
“I know I said I don't like talking about Duviri and that we would never talk about it, but... I spent most of my life there. Do you know what that's like? Waking up every single day knowing exactly what's going to happen? Over and over and over?”
Amir's mind briefly resurfaced memories of going to college. Waking up, going to class, coming home, studying, and then going straight to bed – it was living hell. He could only imagine that Duviri was like that but ten times worse. Amir frowned and looked down.
“Every day that I wake up with you in my life is a blessing,” Drifter said, shaking Amir for emphasis. His voice was as firm as his hands, laden with conviction.
Amir's face flushed again. He squirmed. Why did Kal have to be so direct? I mean, he appreciated the clarity, but gods!
Amir didn't say anything, so Drifter kept going.
“Your mind is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever met,” Drifter said. Coming from a literal wildlife biologist, that was ludicrously high praise. His tone finally cracked, no longer monotone as he continued, growing frantic, “I lived the exact same day over and over and over and over! Even when I'm not in Duviri, everything feels like one big, long day. ‘Good morning, Drifter! Got another job for you today, Drifter! It's the same fucking job Arthur asks you to do every day, Drifter!’ It's fucking maddening. I love it when you wake me up in the middle of the night to make pancakes! I've never had a pancake in my entire life! Do you know how long my entire life has been, Amir? Hundreds! Hundreds of years! Every single day, every single loop, you've thought of something completely new and unexpected. No single year with you is the same. I've said it before, and I'll say it again- You are not annoying to me. You’re the one thing I cannot predict. Spending time with you is like drinking a cold glass of ice water after spending hundreds upon hundreds of years in a drought. The way your mind works is... incredible. You're so smart, and... creative, and... and I love your brain. I love you. And I don't mean that love you in spite of you being different! I mean that I love you because you're different. Fuck!”
Drifter did not know when he had begun yelling, only that he had stopped yelling. Amir stared up at him, wide-eyed, with an unreadable expression. Amir's bottom lip twitched.
“I- Amir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, I-”
Amir's voice was quiet. Shy, even. “Did you... Do you really mean all that?”
“Of course I do,” Drifter scoffed – indignant. “Why would I say something that I didn't actually mean?”
Amir burst into tears.
Drifter's heart sank. Why was Amir crying? All he did was tell him what he knew to be the truth. Drifter knew that Amir repeatedly – not to mention, incorrectly – called his own brain broken. Obviously, that wasn't true. Drifter thought Amir's brain was a beautiful collaboration of complex biological processes in which cacophony created music to his ears, his eyes, his touch... He understood that Amir had a disorder, but Drifter did, too. Amir was able to love Drifter so easily, but he couldn't love himself. Why? It didn't make any sense to him.
Drifter drew his boyfriend in for a hug. Amir's carapace relaxed underneath those big, warm arms. With each sob, his whole body shook. Drifter awkwardly guided their embrace so that they both sat on the ground, Amir leaning his entire body into his.
“Th- Tha's th' sweedest thing anyone's ev'r said t'me,” Amir choked out between sobs, snotting everywhere. “I- I-I-I- I didn' kno you f- f- felt thad wayyyyyyyyyuuuhhhuhuhuhuhhhh-”
“Ḥabībī...”
“I'mn such a big dingus. Y-Yh-Yhh- You're so nishe t' me, and always tellin' me how mush you love me 'n' stuff, and here I am thingin' there's no way itd could be truuouee! I jus- I jus- N-Nh- No one's ev'r really... loved me... for me, bufore-”
Amir continued to cry. Drifter held him close, rubbing circles into his back.
“You're not a dingus,” Drifter said. He pulled back an inch or so from their hug to plant a kiss to Amir's forehead. “If you don't stop insulting my boyfriend, then I'm gonna have to sic Qamari on you.”
Amir sniffled and blearily rubbed tears out of his eyes before laughing. “That's not really an effective threat. I love Qamari. She’s the only nice kitty I know.”
Drifter smiled, allowing the hand on Amir’s back to travel up his neck and into his hair. For a few moments, Drifter just focused on petting him. Amir pressed his face into Drifter’s chest, and they both ignored the fact that he was covering his t-shirt in snot. Eventually, Amir’s breathing began to steady.
“I love you, too, ya know,” Amir murmured, muffled by the fact that he was burying his face further into his boyfriend’s chest. “I wuv you sho much.”
Drifter made an affirmative, “mmn,” in response before kissing him again.
“I’m serious!” Amir cried, faux indignantly. He began to pepper kisses onto Drifter’s face, “I love you here – mwah! And here! – mwah! And don’t forget hereee! – mwah! And-”
Drifter’s stomach let out a hollow growl.
“Sounds like it’s time for breakfast!” Amir announced with a grin.
Picking themselves up off of the kitchen floor, they eagerly turned towards the stack of pancakes that had already been made. Amir immediately began to ramble.
“I made a bunch of of them in the shape of cubes – er, squares, but then I thought, maybe you don’t want to mix new foods with your same foods, so I made some that are shaped like stuff. Look! I made this one into a cryptilex. The eyes are blueberries! Isn't that neat, babe?”
Drifter couldn't help but smile.
“‘Not made to be loved’ my ass,” he thought to himself.
the new overwatch hero shion's design has me so disappointed. i think it shows blizzard's continued track record of sexism and how they want to sexualize asian women in order to make money off of it. stuff like this has always inspired me to create unique characters and so i think i want to post some of my character illustrations soon
