#and not to the organization he actually works for

[puck777]

Working on a more “human” form for my bill… he’s still very rough I need to land on a final design for him.

I imagine him like some weird freak who stinks of damp and also is less of a human with actual human organs and more like a skin shell full of slithering snake-like small arms.. All trying to maintain this weird human suit.

I also gave him a nicotine addiction. Purely bc I just find that funny. Examples taken from a magma I did with a friend ✨

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 19 - "Best Freind"

N: U sure ur okay?

Uzi sighed as she crashed into her mattress, body feeling sore and head full of cotton balls. Tessa had just pulled out of the driveway and N was already texting her.

She wasn't sure when they'd actually become friends, maybe somewhere between ghost hunting and getting kicked in the gut she'd somehow made that connection. But she was absolutely not used to someone being this worried.

He'd incessantly asked what had happened for her to get so injured. And she'd incessantly deflected, either saying that it was nothing serious- which was bullshit, it hurt like hell. Or, at the cost of her ego- she lied and said it was an accident.

She just wasn't sure how he'd react to the truth, he'd probably be even more worried then, knowing that someone did this to her on purpose.

Or… he'd laugh at her. Because she was weak, because she'd put herself in a vulnerable position and then couldn't take a little pain an-

N: You can talk to me.

N: No pressure.

N: Just worried about you :(

The new messages stopped that train of thought. No. He wouldn't laugh. Even her chronic cynicism couldn't convince her of that.

Finally, instead of staring at his messages, she responded.

Uzi: Promise you won't say anything? Or laugh.

N: Promise

She sighed, here goes nothing…

Uzi: I got kicked in the stomach, u know how I seemed upset that I knew someone in my math class? It was them.

The reply actually took a minute to come back.

And that was because N had all of air knocked out of him at that reply. She'd been hit? Purposefully? And hard enough to give her a serious injury? Why? She was so nice! And cool!

N: Who?

Uzi: Lizzy, she's a teachers aid now, but she was in my class last year.

Uzi: It's not the first time she's thrown a punch, just caught me off gaurd this time.

Once again, N was floored, a teachers aid!?

N: I'd never laugh at you. But you should report her, she shouldn't be working with students if she thinks that's okay.

Uzi huffed through her nose, a half-laugh that was drenched in a depressing kind of acceptance.

Uzi: It's not like they'd believe me. I'm not exactly a model student.

She sat her phone down and shucked off her jacket and beanie, hissing as her side throbbed dully. This had been such a day…

Her hand instinctually reached for her stash drawer before she even realized, and in another, she was looking at it's false bottom.

As tempting as it was- and it was very tempting. Drug mixing wasn't smart even if one of them was just an over-the-counter pain reliever, and adding a bad trip on an already shitty day didn't sound fun.

So instead she wrapped herself in the biggest, comfiest shirt she could find and grabbed her laptop, maybe she could distract herself with YouTube.

N: What do you mean by that?

Oh right, she'd never mentioned the fact she'd been held back to him, whoops.

Uzi: I was held back a year. I'm 19.

N: Oh wow! You're older then me!

N: Still it can't have been that bad. Failing a class isn't a reason to not belive you.

Uzi smirked, fingers clicking on the keys of her laptop as she tried to find something to watch- settling on an analysis video of one of the shows she was watching.

Uzi: I was high in class and a teacher called the campus police.

It took nearly twenty minutes for him to respond to that.

N:Sorry, got home and had to get up to my room.

N:You were WHAT?!

N: That's a crime!

Uzi: And so is trespassing on JCJenson private property to ghost hunt.

N blushed, now laying on his bed in a grey pajama shirt and pants with dogs printed on them, he held his phone close to his face as he grumbled, she had him there, but that hadn't really felt like a crime at the time…

N: I think you're a bad influence.

N: Also you're deflecting, drugs are bad! And unhealthy!

Uzi rolled her eyes at that, he wasn't the first person to tell her that. But you know what was worse? Dealing with herself unmedicated, without her stash, her head just got fuzzier and fuzzier, and before she knew it… she'd be having a full mental meltdown at the slightest provocation. Which she hated, she never felt like herself during those…

Uzi: Probably. But you see why they won't believe me over miss perfect.

N: Yeah okay, now I'm gonna be worried tho. I don't want you being hurt.

She smiled at that, this boy was so endlessly empathetic, and thankfully, her unloading some not-so-great facts about herself didn't seem to put him off either.

Uzi: Ew, don't worry over me. That's gay.

And yet she couldn't help but make a joke over it.

N: ???

N: how?

N: how does my worry make me gay?

Uzi: It's not manly.

Uzi: Empathy is a girly emotion.

She was snickering to herself, she didn't actually believe that of course, but she could almost see his reaction to it. That stupid, confused and amused smile that he wore when she made a particularly dumb joke.

N: Guess I'm gay then.

N: Cause I'm always going to worry. You're my freind.

N:Best Freind?

Her heart fluttered full of butterflies at that. Is that what he wanted? From her? She was so convinced he'd find someone else to hang out with but here he was, asking to continue this…

Whatever this was.

Uzi: Always knew I'd end up with a gay best freind.

Uzi: u can't borrow my makeup.

N: Awww, but it would look so good on me!

Uzi thought about that for a moment, imagining N with dark eyeshadow, lipstick, and black nails, and she about choked, she wasn't sure if it was funny or weirdly attractive.

Uzi: Dude that mental image.

Uzi: It's so cursed, I about choked.

N: Blursed

N: It's Blessed and Cursed

The conversation continued, the fuzz in her head slowly dissipating even without the assistance of her stash, and it continued late into the night… up until she heard Khan pull onto the driveway at 2am.

Uzi: Oh god, it's 2am. We need to sleep.

N: I didn't realize! We're gonna be zombies…

Uzi: More of a zombie u mean?

N: Yeh. U still in pain? Are u going to sleep ohay?

N: Okay* oof, sleepy fingers.

Even while about to pass out. He was still worried…

Uzi: I'm okay, pain isn't bad. U need sleep N

N: Ok, text you tmmrow, Uzi. Goodnight.

Uzi: Night N.

[obstinaterixatrix]

this is condensed dialogue from pita's strikers fic, which I held off on reading because it took me Four Whole Years to get around to actually playing strikers. it's sooo good it's top tier gen character study and it gives ryuji the arc he deserves. ryuji bought those skewers for yusuke btw

[bloomeng]

Some quick sketches I did of Childe and his family which are basically glorified oc’s based on my fic “the space in between”

They’re loosely based on canon. In one of his character stories Childe implies in a letter home that he has a younger sister (Tonia) and two younger brothers (Anthon and Teucer, the latter ofc we get to actually see). He also states directly that he’s the third oldest son meaning he has all least two older brothers. He also mentions 'sisters' plural, which I guess could imply either a younger or older sister, but I chose to interpret as older. The names of the three elder siblings I made up, and I'm sure canon will reveal their names just to spite me. Anyway, I've come to love them all dearly. I forget they're not canon.

As of this post my fic is now completed which is very exciting!

+ some bonus (old) sketches of Childe and Zhongli

And the link to aforementioned fic:

[deancasbigbang]

Title: work song

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden

Artist: tallula03

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Length: 70000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Murder Husbands, Revenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Break Up and Make Up, Mutual Pining, Getting Back Together, Criminal!Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Two years ago, Dean Winchester's life came crashing to a halt when his boyfriend, Castiel Novak, died in a tragic accident. After painstakingly putting his life back together, Dean goes on a vacation with his best friend, where he sees a face he never thought he would see again. Now reunited, Castiel tells Dean the truth about his past and the reason for his disappearance. However, all is not well--Dean cannot move past Cas' betrayal and lies, and the ghosts from Cas' past refuse to remain there. With danger looming, Dean and Cas start on a mission of revenge and justice, but they're badly outnumbered. With the hurt of the past colliding with the fragile promise of the future, Dean and Castiel need to learn how to create a new path--or else risk being lost forever.

Excerpt: Dean settles on the edge of the couch, ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. The surrealness of the situation — him, talking to Castiel two years after he thought Cas died, furious instead of joyful, wanting nothing more than to flee from Cas as fast as he can — would flatten him if he thought about it for longer than two seconds.  So he just doesn’t think about it. He sits and he waits.  Cas takes a long time to get to the point, twisting his fingers around each other, so abruptly that Dean winces at the sharp pop of his knuckles. Cas stares at a stain on the carpet like the secrets to the universe are written in its oblong edges.  By the time Cas finally speaks, Dean is ready to jump out of his skin with anticipation. He’s ready for Cas to yell at him, to call him pathetic. He just wants Cas to say something, but he’s completely unprepared for what Cas does eventually say.  “You are…” Cas’ throat bobs as he says, with an inflection that sounds like something soft and small dying, “were… one of the most important things in my life. The most important thing in my life.”  Cas sounds so sincere. Dean could almost believe him.  “I never would have left if I had the choice. Those two years I spent with you… They were the happiest of my life.”  Cas takes a deep breath, fortifying himself. Dean does the same, rebuilding his wall that had started to crack at the first sign of Cas’ vulnerability. He’s imagining everything from Cas actually admitting that he’s just shit at breaking up with someone and couldn’t figure out a different way to end the relationship, to Cas saying that he had to flee due to problems with the IRS. “When I said you were in danger… Dean, I wasn’t lying. When I first met you, I had been on the run for over a year. I knew that staying with you was only tempting fate — bringing danger right to your doorstep — but I couldn’t help myself. You were so…” Castiel swallows. His hands are clasped so tightly together that his knuckles are bleeding white. “And for two years, I thought it might be all right. I thought… I thought maybe I was allowed to have you. But then I saw someone from my past, and I knew that if they had managed to find me, they could threaten you. They could hurt you.”  “Hurt me? Cas, I don’t—”  He doesn’t know what to expect, but he still couldn’t have prepared himself for what Cas says next.  “Dean, I was a member of the Archangel crime organization until it was taken over by Lucifer Morningstar. I was on the run because he put a bounty on my head, and I know you might not believe this, but the reason I left was to protect you.”  Fucking what?

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[creatingblackcharacters]

here's a threefer if that's okay, all from Codename: Kids Next Door (early 2000s cartoon network show about kids with wacky technology who fight against adult tyranny)—since their stories are pretty well intertwined, and i can't really talk about just one without including the others here's Numbuh 5/Abigail Lincoln, one of the 5 main characters (Sector V of the titular Kids Next Door organization). she's the voice of reason and the "cool" one of the group.

she's the one who holds the group together most of the time, and has great leadership skills—though she refused to be the official leader of Sector V due to an Incident when she was younger. at the end of the show, though, when the actual leader Numbuh 1 leaves for space, he requests that she become the leader of the sector again. she accepts, and eventually then goes on to become the Supreme Leader of the entire KND. love to see a girlboss winning!!

she also has an adventurous side—there's an arc where she goes on various treasure hunts for rare, mystical candies, and i think that's hella cool.

then there's her older sister, Cree. (yes, named after Cree Summer! she voices both her and Abigail.)

cree is a recurring villain—a teenager, one of the natural enemies of the KND. what's unique about her compared to the other villains is that she used to be a member of the KND herself, before betraying the organization on her 13th birthday and escaping "decommissioning" (the process through which all KND operatives have their memories of the organization removed when they turn 13, i.e. are no longer kids).

aside from being just as cool and skilled in combat as her sister, she and her sister have an incredibly compelling dynamic. back when she was a kid, she and numbuh 5 used to be good friends and partners in adult-tyranny-fighting. in fact, 5's signature hat used to be cree's, which she gave to her out of pride for 5 having completed her second mission. in the present, though, their relationship has done a complete 180˚. they're at each other's throats constantly, now that cree had grown into the very type of person she used to be fighting against, WITHOUT memory alteration to boot.

...or so it seemed. in the episode OPERATION: VIRUS when cree was infected with the KND's "unpoppable zit" virus on the night of her prom, 5 actually went to lengths to get the antidote for her because even she thought it was "too far". in 5's words, "you may be my archenemy, but you're still my sister."

so yeah! they actually still care about each other deep down. aughhhhhh. this is just a headcanon but i imagine that to numbuh 5, her hat is a reminder of the good days when she worked together with cree. perhaps she holds on to it as hope that they can reconcile someday? idk

and finally, here's numbuh 9/Maurice. he was also on abby and cree's team back in the days.

his episode literally made me cry, man. it's focused around his 13th birthday and his decommissioning, which everyone in the KND is tearful about since he was one of the greatest and most beloved operatives in the organization's history. seeing him going from a cool kid operative, dedicated to his organization's mission, to an average, kinda dickish teenager was a bit heartbreaking when i watched it at first

one thing i love about this show is how it's a satire of the childhood experience and the pains of growing up that imo is best understood by ppl who've actually gone through it. the trope of decommissioning, as well as the whole conflict between teens and kids, really hammers in the pain of the end of childhood and how fast things change for you as you grow up. how so many decomm'd operatives had unfinished business that they never get to finish. in real life it's like, there was a moment when you put down your favorite toys or hung out with that one childhood friend for the last time, but never knew it was the last at the time. it's so tragic and juicy aughhhh. a line numbuh 5 says to cree during this episode illustrates it best: "you're a teen...maurice's a teen...soon i'm gonna be a teen...why keep fighting it"

however, it turns out he wasn't actually decommissioned! but rather he kept all his memories and was brought on as a secret undercover teen operative, thanks to all he accomplished while he was in the KND. no one is supposed to know about this except the highest of the higher-ups in the KND, but he trusts numbuh 5 with this info thanks to the bond they had. so he continues his legacy as a heroic figure. i really, really love his character, his dynamics with both numbuh 5 and cree (the latter of whom he pretends to ally with and date), and all the show's themes he represents.

also fun fact he's voiced by Khary Payton, who also did Cyborg from Teen Titans!

Hot Chocolate loves this show, so imma pass it off to him. Though first imma say that I do remember how as a kid I was shocked that it was allowed for your character to have your real name lol, I always thought that was so groundbreaking and taboo. Like aww! Her name is Cree, and so is her character! Now to him:

Hot Chocolate: SOMEONE GETS IT. These three black kids had me ready to join KND, kick butt, and steal ice cream. Numbuh 5 was my favorite! Always cool, and a fantastic leader. I forgot about her becoming supreme leader though, so you know what that meeeeeaans- time for a rewatch. Anyway, her relationship with Cree was so interesting and sad like come on, we were homies! It doesn't have to be this way! 😭😭 Especially because even though Cree was "evil" my young self has a crush on her 🤣.

Anyway the commentary on growing up and becoming old and boring caught me for a while, so I made sure I had as much fun as I could. But then they showed Maurice's episode and I was ready to take on the world. Anything to remain a cool agent of the KND. That being said everyone should give that show a try, it's old but still funny. Think I'll start it again for the Eleventynth time

[morogwen]

What gets my goat about the whole anti trans conspiracy, that pharmaceutical companies are creating life long lab rats or life long consumers for monetary reasons, is that you have to believe that the people responsible are both infinitely intelligent to pull it off and yet infinitely stupid to do it to a marginalized group of people that has proven a very easy target to galvanize conservative politicians and voters against. If the evidence is being manufactured, why choose trans people? If the multitude of studies showed a particular form of care working for cancer patients, and every major medical organization supported it, it would be political suicide for any politician to go near it. That and you'd actually be able to reach more than the 1% of the population (people who are trans) that are living in places where gender affirming care is even legal.

But I'm sure such things are "what (((they))) want you to think", huh?

Edit: someone in reblogs really trying to blame trans people for roe v wade going down. But again, it doesn't make any sense. The overlap between people who oppose trans people and abortion is a nearly perfect circle. Why choose a very small and vulnerable group of people that it's insanely easy to galvanize support against?

Edit 2: no seriously you're telling me wpath had the foresight to know trump was coming, that Trump would be elected, that he would put 3 justices on the bench in 4 years, and that roe v wade would be struck down. It would be silly if people didn't actually believe it. But here we are, terfs arguing that the entire point of trans people is to harm "females" rights.

[ao3sbatfamily]

do you know the name of this one fic where dick and jason time travel to when bruce was a teenager and hes drunk and they talk about somethings and eat pasta (or spaghetti) together and then they confront bruce when they get back?

'Normal Things' by ManURonaldo

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I’m wondering…he was drunk, right? Like actually drunk, not fake drunk?”

“Yeah.” Jason admits, already knowing where this conversation is headed.

Dick looks physically pained. “And he…he’s young, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And Alfred is gone?”

Jason groans even louder, running a hand over his face. “Fine,” he hisses. “We can eat some food before we leave. It’s not like we’re going to fuck this up more, somehow.” They’re both curious, is the problem. And the image of Bruce, eighteen and drunk and with a gun, is too much for either of them to walk away from.

[serenelystrange]

Rated G

At AO3, or under the cut!

“Oh, I am going to murder the new guy,” Buck hisses under his breath.

Taylor looks up from the paperwork on her newest sale with an arched eyebrow and sighs.

“He’s literally just doing his job, Buckley. Like I’m trying to and like you should be.”

“He stole her right from under me!”

“You mean he smiled at her when she walked in, and she made a beeline to him?” Taylor asks, smirking.

“Oh, Eddie, what a handsome boy you are! My granddaughter would love you!” Buck mocks in an irritated whisper.

“Buck,” Taylor sighs. “I know you have an appointment in ten minutes that you haven’t printed anything for. And I also know that you’re just jealous you aren’t the only pretty boy on the block anymore.”

“I’m not a pretty boy,” Buck says, pouting prettily.

“Go away and let me finish this,” Taylor says. “You’re never going to win that contest if you spend all your time whining about how Eddie is better at his job than you.”

“Oh, I’m winning that SUV,” Buck says darkly. “It’ll be the best wedding gift for Maddie and Chim, especially with the baby coming.”

“You know,” Taylor muses dryly, “If you’d been even half this determined in our relationship, we probably would have dated more than two months.”

“Low blow, Tay,” Buck scoffs. “Low blow.”

Taylor just glares.

“Ok, ok, I’m going!”

He hurries off to the back to print the welcome packet for his next appointment, the image of Eddie’s annoyingly charming smile burned into his brain.

“What’s that for you, Diaz?” Buck asks as they’re all headed out for the night. “Two today?”

Taylor looks between them for a moment before rolling her eyes and striding for the door, leaving Buck to his weird one-sided pissing contest.

“I’ve told you to call me Eddie,” Eddie says calmly, ignoring the baiting tone. “You know that. And it was three, actually. Mrs. Allen bought that little red Nissan for her husband’s birthday.”

“I hope they get full coverage,” Buck says, frowning at the memory of Mr. Allen test-driving a few of their cars previously.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, remembering the same day. “I hope she makes him go to the optometrist.”

Buck smiles for a moment before remembering he’s annoyed at the man, and scowls again.

“I’m still going to win that contest,” he says. “You’re good, but I’m in the lead.”

Eddie just gives him an unphased look and shrugs easily.

“There’s still two weeks left, Evan,” he drawls. “I guess we’ll see who comes out on top.”

He holds the door open for Buck as they leave, biting back the amused grin that wants to spread onto his face as Buck stomps out the door like he has his own personal raincloud hovering above his head.

“Drive safe,” he calls out to Buck’s retreating form, just like he does every other night.

And just like every other night, Buck ignores him.

Buck spots them coming in a few days later, an easy sale if he’s ever seen one, and speedwalks as inconspicuously as possible to the door. An older but stunning Hispanic woman looks around as she enters, a young boy moving along with the aid of arm-crutches by her side.

“Welcome!” Buck says as he approaches, giving her his sunniest smile. He waves down at the boy. “Hey, buddy. You look a little young to be buying a car already!”

The boy giggles, looking up at Buck with bright blue eyes beneath his red plastic eyeglasses.

“I’m not buying a car,” he says, somewhat stiltedly but clear. “I’m here for my dad.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, straightening back up and looking at the woman. “Who’s dad? I can track him down for you.”

“I think we’ll be ok,” the woman says warmly, looking over Buck’s shoulder at someone. “He found us.”

Buck turns, and just barely stops himself from scoffing. Because of course it’s Eddie.

“Tia?” Eddie asks, with a concerned look. “Is everything ok?” He holds his arms out for his son and scoops the boy up, swinging him around until he shrieks before holding him against his side with one arm.

Buck narrowly dodges one of the swinging crutches, but finds he can’t be mad when the kid looks so happy.

Tia relays something to Eddie in rapid Spanish that Buck can’t really keep up with, his limited Spanish language skills stalling out after basic bar talk. But he knows the words for both hospital and grandmother, and he’s frozen in place awkwardly as Eddie’s face darkens with worry.

They seem to be arguing about something now, and Buck still doesn’t understand most of it, so he busies himself by making silly faces at the boy, who also doesn’t seem to be getting most of the conversation. The boy is too old to play peekaboo, but he still makes silly faces back, laughing as Buck pulls out his old party trick of wiggling his ears.

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck startles, looking over at him sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I was just goofing around.”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie says, looking harried. “My abuela fell off her porch, and I need to get to the hospital. Do you think you could take my last two appointments for the day?”

“Don’t you want to reschedule?” Buck asks before he can help himself. “You’ll lose the commission.”

“I don’t have time to call them right now,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I need to tell Bobby I have to leave, and might need a few days off, too.”

Buck wavers, looking at the clock on the wall, knowing he has nearly a full hour until his next appointment is even there, and knowing Taylor will be more than happy to snag any walk-ins that come their way.

“Get me the names,” Buck says, finally. “I’ll call them and reschedule for a week out if they’re up for it. You talk to Bobby and then go take care of your family, man.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks, stunned. “I’m basically handing you two sales here.”

“Are you complaining?” Buck asks, only a little testily.

Eddie shakes his head and hands his son off to his aunt before clapping Buck on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’ll grab the sheets when I’m in the back office.” “I’ll be right back,” he says to his aunt, leaving her and his son standing with Buck.

“I’m Buck,” he says, giving them a little wave.

“Pepa,” the woman introduces herself, before jiggling the little boy. “And this little man is Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Buck says. “I, uh, I didn’t know Eddie had a kid.”

“My nephew can be private,” Pepa says. “Annoyingly so, sometimes,” she adds with a resigned sigh. “But Christopher is his world.”

“I’m sure,” Buck says, smiling at the adorable boy. “I bet you’re what, twelve years old?” he asks with a completely straight face.

That sets the boy off into giggles as he shakes his head. “I’m seven!” he says.

“Well, you fooled me!” Buck says, grinning.

“Come on, Mijo,” Eddie says as he gets back to them, taking him from Pepa and giving Buck another appreciated nod along with his contact sheet as they head off.

“Thanks again, Buck,” he says, and Buck just waves them off, feeling suddenly wrong-footed and not sure why.

Buck is surprised when Eddie is back the next day, and even more surprised when he spots Christopher beside him. He watches from the break room counter as Eddie gets the kid set up at one of the tables with assorted snacks and an ipad, before speaking to him quietly and kissing him on the head as he straightens up and meets Buck’s eyes.

Buck, caught staring, manages a strained smile and takes a long and very hot sip of his coffee to avoid having to speak. Unfortunately, Eddie heads for him anyway, facing the counter as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Buck suddenly regrets standing so close to the damn thing, as he can practically touch Eddie’s arm with his own.

“Thanks again for yesterday,” Eddie says quietly. “Bobby said Chris could hang out here until I get a better babysitter situation for the rest of the summer.”

“No problem,” Buck says. “It’s good that you’re back. I’d hate to win the sales contest by default.”

“Liar,” Eddie says with an amused scoff. “You’d still love it.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck says, fighting off a grin. “It wouldn’t be as fun as winning fair and square.”

“You know,” Eddie says with a growing grin. “I bet the soccer moms would love to see how well their Chris-sized kids fit in the minivans…”

“Cheater!” Buck gasps. “You can’t use an adorable face to sell cars for you!”

“Why?’ Eddie laughs, “you do it all the time. I’ve seen those little old ladies literally pinch your cheeks.”

“Better than my ass,” Buck says, cringing as he thinks about the hassling Taylor has dealt with since she joined up. “Tay kicked a guy right in the balls once though, before you were here. It was great. He threatened to sue.”

“How’d that go?” Eddie asks, delighted.

“Bobby dragged him over by his ear to watch the security footage of him grabbing Tay, and told him if he ever stepped foot in the building again, he’d have his wife arrest him.”

“Damn,” Eddie says with appreciation. “Nice.”

One week before the contest ends, Buck checks the board in Bobby’s office, finding that Eddie is just one sale away from tying his lead. He glares at the board for a long moment, as if the smudged white plastic somehow made the numbers up instead of just recording them. Shaking his head, he decides he needs more coffee before he can deal with the day.

“Hi Buck!” Chris calls out from his usual place in the breakroom as Buck walks in, waving at him excitedly.

“Hey, buddy,” Buck says, heading over to the table and sitting down across from Chris. “What are you working on?”

“Paint-by-numbers,” Chris says, frowning down at his ipad, stylus in hand. “It’s to try and help my motors.”

Buck watches him fondly as he swipes with the stylus with determination, worrying his lip in concentration.

“You mean your fine-motor skills, maybe?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods, “that was it.”

“Your dad with a customer?” Buck asks, realizing the room is empty besides the two of them and wondering where Eddie had vanished off to.

Chris shakes his head, still looking down at his ipad.

“He’s on the phone outside,” he says, looking up briefly to give Buck a sad look. “He doesn’t want me to hear him yell at the army people again.”

“Army people?” Buck asks.

“He got hurt in a war,” Chris says. “So they made him come home, and now he’s angry at them all the time.”

“Oh,” Buck says, quietly. He doesn’t know the whole story, sure that Eddie will have given Chris only the abridged, child-friendly version, but it’s enough to make him frown in thought. “Well, I know he’s happy to be back with you, even if he’s angry at the army.”

“Maybe,” Chris says, shrugging without looking up, and Buck feels his heart breaking for the kid.

Eddie reappears in the break room before Buck can say anything else, face flushed red with irritation that he’s trying to smother as he heads towards his son.

“How’s it going, baby?” he asks Chris, a forced lightness to his voice as he peers down at the ipad painting.

“The leaves are tricky,” Chris frowns. “They’re really small.”

“Just do your best,” Eddie says, ruffling his hair. “It’s ok if you can’t do everything all at once.”

“That’s a good lesson,” Buck says, ostensibly to Chris, but starting right up into Eddie’s surprised brown eyes.

Eddie drops his gaze, avoiding Buck’s eyes, and pretends to watch Chris painting until Buck finally looks away.

“No Chris today?” Buck asks the next day when Eddie shows up alone.

“Pepa has the day off,” Eddie says. “So he’s hanging out in his pajamas on her couch instead of at one of our shitty lunch tables.”

“They are so wobbly,” Buck agrees.

Eddie hums, heading to the back room to grab the paperwork for his first appointment. Buck follows before he realizes what he’s doing, and leans against the wall by the printer as Eddie waits for his documents.

“Chris said something about the army yesterday,” Buck says, “you got hurt?”

Eddie sighs tiredly but nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fucked up my shoulder pretty bad, among other things.”

“Shit,” Buck says. “I’m sorry.”

“At least I made it home,” Eddie shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Now if only the VA would actually help me with the kid they made me leave. That would be great.”

“Is Chris ok?” Buck asks with concern. “He told me he has C.P. but he seems basically alright, all things considered.”

“He’s great,” Eddie assures him. “He just needs to find a school that will actually be able to accommodate him and still give him a decent education. And that shit is so expensive.”

“And the VA doesn’t have any resources?” Buck guesses, frowning.

“They might,” Eddie says with a sigh. “But I’m so overwhelmed with it all, between the move from Texas, and finding a place for me and Chris, and starting this job, I just now started the process.”

“You’re from Texas??” Buck asks, incredulously. “How has that never come up?”

Eddie shrugs.

“No offense,” he says, “but you’ve pretty much hated me from the day I started. I didn’t think you’d want to compare backstories.”

“Oh,” Buck says, feeling all at once like an absolute buffoon. “I don’t hate you,” he says.

“Then what was with the attitude?” Eddie laughs, as the printer finally finishes collating his papers.

“It’s dumb,” Buck says, ducking his head. “But I was just jealous you swooped in here with your stupid pretty face and stole all my customers.”

“You know,” Eddie says, “Taylor did tell me you were just jealous, but I didn’t believe her.”

“I get too caught up in competition sometimes,” Buck says, sighing.

“Little bit, maybe,” Eddie says nodding. “So, you uh, you think I’m pretty?”

“Oh, we are not having this conversation,” Buck says, pushing himself off the wall and fleeing, leaving an amused Eddie laughing after him as he goes.

“Did I ever tell you about my ex, Abby?” Buck asks the next day he finds Eddie alone at the front desk. It’s a slow day, and Chris has managed to pull Taylor and Ravi into a spirited game of Go Fish in the breakroom.

“You barely spoke to me for the first two months I worked here,” Eddie says, giving him a sassy look. “So no, you haven’t told me about your ex.”

“She was a little older than me,” Buck says. “Was taking care of her mom before she died, and it was really rough on her, you know?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie says, the question of but what does this have to do with anything clear in his tone.

“It didn’t work out,” Buck says, surprised to realize it doesn’t sting as much as it used to when he says it. “But I did meet this really great woman because of her.”

“Ok?” Eddie asks, amused but still lost.

“I think you should call her,” Buck says, handing Eddie a mint green business card.

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Buck,” Eddie says, glaring at the card with an inordinate amount of offense, in Buck’s opinion.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says earnestly, “she’s married.”

“What is happening here?” Eddie asks with exasperation.

“She was their home health aide,” Buck explains. “She calls herself ‘red tape’s worst enemy’”, “and I bet she can get you and Chris the help you need with his school before your head explodes.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck with badly disguised wonder. “You really think she can help?”

“Definitely,” Buck says, grinning. “She’s a miracle worker.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Eddie hesitates for a moment before pulling Buck into a brief one-armed hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s uh,” Buck stammers, face flushing, “it’s nothing.”

Eddie shakes his head and claps Buck on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as he looks at him for a long moment.

“For Chris?” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s shoulder, “this is everything.”

The bells on the door chime as a customer walks in, breaking the moment, and Buck takes the opportunity to escape to the bathroom.

Eddie can take the sale.

“You were right,” Eddie says, as Buck opens his apartment door and looks at him with bleary eyes. “It wasn’t nearly as fun to win that SUV by default.”

Buck groans, wondering how Eddie even found out where he lives, but moves back to let him in.

“It’s not my fault I got a stupid awful cold in the middle of August,” Buck sighs. “Corporate should take sick days into account.”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees, handing Buck a round Tupperware container that’s still warm. “Tia Pepa made it, it’s chicken soup.”

“You brought me soup?” Buck asks, feeling inexplicably like he might cry at the gesture. “You don’t even like me.”

“I never didn’t like you!” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “Your beef with me was entirely one-sided!”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Buck whines, “I’m sick.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a pro at dealing with sick babies,” Eddie teases, leading Buck towards the couch he spots. “Sit down, I’ll find you a spoon.”

Buck tries to glare at him on principle but finds he doesn’t have the strength. Instead he lets himself be guided to the couch and settles down, tucking his bare feet up under his criss-crossed legs and securing the couch blanket around his shoulders.

“Chris says thank you, by the way,” Eddie says from the kitchen where he’s opening random drawers to look for spoons. “For the new car.”

“Hmm?” Buck asks, tired brain failing to understand what Chris has to do with the contest.

“My old car is on it’s last legs,” Eddie explains, “and even with our discount, I wasn’t going to be able to get anything better or bigger anytime soon. But the SUV holds his security seat and gives him plenty of room to stretch out his legs.”

“I didn’t know that,” Buck says. “You should’ve told me before.”

“I didn’t want you to lose on purpose,” Eddie says as he walks over and hands Buck the spoon before settling down on the other end of the couch. “A pity win is even worse than a win by default.”

“I wouldn’t have lost on purpose,” Buck says, the lie obvious even to his own ears.

“Sure, bud,” Eddie says, smirking. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I hate you,” Buck groans. He takes a careful spoonful of the soup and hums happily. “But I love this soup. I guess it evens out.”

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “So, what are we watching?”

Buck shrugs and pulls the Tupperware bowl up to his mouth to sip from directly, breathing in the steamy goodness.

Eddie can figure out the rest.

“Why didn’t Taylor win, anyway?” Eddie asks when Buck is recovered and back at work. “She’s killing it out there.”

“Tay goes for the high-priced sales,” Buck says. “Luxury cars and stuff. She’s good at it, and she definitely makes more money than both of us. But the contest was for the most individual sales, not the overall sales amount.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Eddie laughs. “Chris loves the car, he wanted to camp out in it the other night.”

“Adorable,” Buck says, fondly. “But not great for anyone over five feet tall.”

“I told him I’d take him camping before school starts,” Eddie says casually. “Next weekend maybe.”

“That’s cool,” Buck says. “You’ll have to make smores! It’s tradition.”

“Is that what you did with your family?” Eddie asks, looking concerned when Buck’s expression shutters for a moment.

“My parents aren’t really the family activities type,” Buck says. “But Maddie, my older sister, she would camp out with me in the backyard, and we’d make smores and tell ghost stories.” He smiles at the memory, despite it all. “She’s really great.”

“Maybe you could come with us?” Eddie asks, almost shyly. “We can make smores and roast hot dogs. Chris is excited to build the fire.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, “I wouldn’t be in the way?”

Eddie shakes his head, giving Buck a soft smile.

“Not at all,” he says, “you should definitely come.”

Buck smiles again, feeling the blush creeping all the way up to his hairlines, but nods in agreement.

“Can’t wait.”

“I can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas,” Buck says as they’re leaving one Friday night, he and Eddie locking up as they go. “Not that it ever gets cold enough to snow here.”

“L.A. cant even handle rain,” Eddie says as they head to the employee lot, “we don’t need them trying to drive in snow.”

“Truth,” Buck agrees, shuddering at the idea.

They make it to the cars that are parked side by side, each pulling out their keys before facing each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks, knowing full well that Eddie has been planning their planetarium trip for literal weeks.

“Obviously,” Eddie says, grabbing Buck’s shirt collar and tugging him in for a sweet kiss.

“Drive safe,” he says, like he has every other night.

Buck steals one last kiss for the night, laughing against Eddie’s lips as he finally says it back.

The End

Notes:

Honestly, what am I even doing with my life? ^_^

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 50: Hope in Half Desire

“I dreamt about you while you were away.” “People dream of me all the time, darling. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. Brief allusion to history of SA, forced restraint See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings

Around nightfall, Gale and the others had returned with a handful of Noblestalk from Halaster. Shadowheart hastily brewed it into a concentrate, and Astarion carried it to Celeste’s room with a grimace. After centuries without eating, he wasn’t sure if he had a natural aversion to mushrooms, or if it truly was that awful. 

When he looks in on her, Celeste is curled atop the sheets with her father’s journal, the displacer cub sleeping in a ball at her side. He knocks softly upon the doorframe to warn her of his presence. Noticing him, she shoves the book aside and sits up.

“Hi.” She breathes. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, like she was actually…happy to see him. 

Astarion gives her a small smile as he steps inside. “How’s the reading?” he asks, sitting at the edge of the mattress. 

“Strange.” She glances at the journal, “My father wrote about abandoning the Dark Lady, the falsehoods of her teachings...” she hesitates, carefully choosing her words, “It still feels…sacrilege, but I’m trying to give it the benefit of the doubt. ”

“And what finally convinced your father to abandon Shar? Perhaps it would work on you.” 

Celeste swallows. “My mother. Their relationship began as a sinister plan, but…he grew to love her more than his goddess.”

Astarion hums to himself, pursing his lips. Uncomfortable with certain parallels and eager to change the subject, he holds up the swirling, deep indigo vial of Noblestalk.

“How about we retrieve your memories and get this over with?”

She cradles it between her palms, wrinkling her nose and abandoning it on the nightstand. 

“Gods below, it’s worse than earlier.” 

“Shadowheart’s been tinkering with the potency. I was hoping you’d take it willingly this time.” Astarion says, “But if you’d prefer to be pinned down again, that could be arranged.” A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh?” Celeste tilts her head to the side, as if calling his bluff.

His smirk fades. He’d been expecting a biting retort. Not for her to be coy and play along.

Before he can respond, she uncrosses her legs and leans forward.  

“I dreamt about you while you were away.”

“People dream of me all the time, darling. You’ll have to be more specific.” The flirtation comes to him instinctively, like a familiar knife. This was the woman he loved, the body he was comfortable with, attracted to. But something about her advances was so foreign. So…wrong. 

“I think it was a memory.” She says. “You used to feed from me when you were a vampire. On several occasions, it seems…”

“You were an enthusiastic volunteer.” The playful air is gone from his voice.

“It does seem I enjoyed it. A shame I can’t sustain you that way anymore.” As she crawls towards him, the displacer cub abruptly leaps from the bed and paws at the cracked door, letting itself out.

“But there are others ways I could… sustain you.”

Astarion stares in disbelief, searching her face for any sign that she’s manipulating him again, or perhaps joking. 

“Come now, darling, we’ve made so much progress. You’re not relapsing into Sharran pain and suffering fantasies, are you?”

“It seems I enjoyed a bit of pain all along.” She says, her hand sliding towards his thigh. 

Astarion bites back the groan building in his throat and grabs her wrists, holding them in place as he leans down over her.

“I’m not sure we should do this.” he shakes his head. “And I don’t think you want to either.”

She arches her back, pressing her body to his, as she slips a wrist out of his grasp and traces the line of his jaw. 

“I’ve never wanted to remember something so badly…” she whispers. “You could make me forget my goddess…”

Astarion closes his eyes. Despite his resistance to her advances, he can’t help from leaning into her touch, pressing his face into her hand. Desire throbs at his core. Gods, he wants her. 

“How can I trust you? That this isn’t another ruse?”

“How’s this for trust?” She murmurs, hooking her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him in. Her lips crush against his, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she deepens the kiss. Their last kiss had been a lie, but this…this was genuine. If not a little too desperate.

But it still wasn’t all of her. Just echoes. 

She tugs off her shirt, lying half-bare underneath him, and he tenses. Her eyes pour into his - she knows what she’s doing. Or this version of her does. Without her memories, Celeste is less reserved, and far more seductive than he’d expect her to be. She isn’t seeking escape or control. No, she just wants him .

But at her core, there was a reason his Celeste was hesitant about these things. 

And that was the heartbreaking part of it all. That in making her remember, she’d experience all that pain again. Perhaps they should allow her to remain oblivious. He could make love to her here and pretend everything was normal. Let her fall for him all over again, let those feelings turn her from Shar. Forge a new life, one where her past is only a shadowed memory…

“Stop.” he growls, more at himself than her, and gently pushes her off.  

As he throws his legs over the side of the bed, she hastily pulls her shirt on, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry-“ 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not- this isn’t you.” 

“You can’t tell me who I am! It isn’t fair. This is all I have. The only thing I know about myself is that I loved you. Or she did…Does. That…other version of me.”

There was a hint of jealousy in her voice. As little sense as it made, she was jealous of herself.

“Celeste, listen to me. I want this. Gods, trust me, I want this.” He takes her chin with his free hand and turns her head, looking into her eyes with desperation. “But I need all of you, darling. Not just scraps and fragments and a body acting on familiar desire.”

Astarion smiles in an attempt to placate her humiliation, resting his forehead against hers, and closing his eyes. Gods, this is painful. 

He grants her one kiss. Innocent, tender, comforting. She returns it hungrily, and he pulls away, his thumb resting on her lower lip as she blinks at him in surprise. 

“Come now,” he says, taking the Noblestalk suspension from the bedside table, “I know seducing me is an appealing path, but I’m afraid this is far more effective.” 

He takes her silence as her answer, and uncaps the bottle, raising the rim and parting her lips with it.

“Drink.”

She holds his gaze, looking at him under lowered eyelids, but allows him to tilt her head back. She stops to cough, wincing at the taste, before taking the rest from him and finishing it in one swallow. As she pushes the empty glass back into his hands, she rises to her feet, wiping her wrist across her mouth. 

“It burns…” she whimpers, running her fingers through her hair as she stares at the rafters. 

Astarion sets the vial on the nightstand as he watches her pace frantically. When she becomes more distraught, he crosses the room to stand in her path.

“Come, Sit.” he pulls lightly on her arm and she sways in place.

“No, you don’t understand, it-“ she looks at him wide eyed. “Something’s wrong.”

“Look at me.” he wraps his hand behind her neck and studies her. The flush of her skin had vanished, and her pupils were dilated.

“What...did you...?” She slurs with a look of betrayal before her head lolls back and she faints.

“Shadowheart! ” 

He calls for the cleric in a worried tone as he catches Celeste around the waist. Lowering her gently to the floor, he checks her pulse, taking a relieved breath when her heartbeat flutters beneath her skin.

The stairs creak under his companions’ footsteps as they enter the room. Shadowheart rushes to Celeste’s side, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“Did it work?”

Astarion scowls. “Did it work ? How am I supposed to know? That Noblestalk put her in a bloody coma!”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s not a coma,” she says, opening each of Celeste’s eyelids to check her pupils. 

“Did you plan this?” he asks, incredulous, “What possible reason could you have-” 

“One bad memory sent her into a fit. What do you think remembering a lifetime all at once will do?” Shadowheart snaps at him. “I mixed in a draught of angelic reprieve so they can come to her in dreams, slowly. Being conscious is the last thing she needs. If it works, she’ll wake as if nothing happened.”

“It’s rather brilliant, actually.” Gale murmurs admirably from behind her.

“And why,” Astarion asks through gritted teeth, “are you just now telling me this?”

“Your head isn’t straight when it comes to her, soldier.” Karlach says. “We had to keep you in the dark until she drank the Noblestalk.”

“We couldn’t risk you changing the plan.” Wyll adds.”which you are apt to do, when you assume you know better…” 

“Unbelievable. So because I have her best interest in mind, I suddenly can’t think clearly?” Astarion lets out a bark of laughter, scrubbing his hands over his face before he turns on the wizard. 

“I spent the last two centuries being controlled like a puppet on a string.” He seethes, “Pardon me if I don’t want Celeste to not bear the same-“

“Spare us the centuries of torture speech and be grateful they didn’t knock you unconscious as well, faerie.” Minthara growls. “That was my plan.”

He makes an irritated sound and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” 

Crouching beside Celeste’s unconscious form, he brushes hair out of her face with his fingertips. They linger at her temple, and he frowns. 

“Will it work?” he rasps, barely audible. 

“We have no reason to believe it wouldn’t.” Gale says. “But there is one more thing.”

Astarion slips a hand under Celeste’s knees and the other under her back, lifting her from the ground and carrying her to the mattress. His movements are stiff and controlled as he eases her down gently, before glancing over his shoulder at the Gale with narrowed eyes.

“What? ” He asks, a command, rather than a question. 

“Halaster had some insight into what happened. The Noblestalk will help but…the only way to truly break Shar’s hold is to destroy the connection to Nightfall. Otherwise, we risk her recasting the spell, putting us right back at the beginning.” Gale says. 

“Which means we need her to remember enough not only to turn from Shar, but to want to help us kill Keresta and Nightfall as well.” Shadowheart says.

“She’ll help.” Astarion says, staring down at her unconscious face. He sighs and leans against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“So. What’s next in this clandestine little strategy of yours?”

Shadowheart takes a seat at Astarion’s desk, crossing one leg over the other. 

“We wait.”

[akutasoda]

"it's always the wrong thing when it's me saying it"

--dan heng was one of your best friends, although maybe it should've stayed that way between the two of you. you weren't destined to be anything more than, but knowing that would drive you both further apart than ever imagined.

--warnings - gn!reader, thought to be unrequited love, fluff, angst no comfort, poor communication, maybe ooc, wc - 1.7k

--a/n: killing your wife emotionally and mentally @lowkeyren + @mitsvriii ^^ made sure he suffered plenty!

life on the express was as good as you could ask for.

traveling all across the galaxy, witnessing its beautiful sights and even helping people along the way. and all with a group of people that were the light of your life. it was truly a dream. there was never a dull day, one that you couldn't enjoy and that was really all you could ask for.

each of your companions had such a unique presence that worked so well together.

himeko was always the more mature yet so calm with whatever antic had been concocted up by namely march and the nameless. whereas welt was still just as mature yet was always too tired to deal with those same antics.

march was like a bundle of joy. her positivity was always contagious, it always got her out of the antics she engaged in. the nameless was no different, their monotone attitude still assisted march in whatever she had planned. yet they were still reasonable and even incredibly kind.

and then there was dan heng.

the silent guard of the express. when you first boarded the express, you clicked with everyone but him immediately. he was a lot more reserved and didn't immediately try to get to know you like the others.

it was really only after he noticed how much you and the other members of the express had bonded that he made an effort to try and get to know you. dan heng was wary. he wanted to see how the others perceived you before he made his own judgment.

some may say he was trying to find something to get you kicked off the express but he wasn't trying to be negative, at all. he could argue that welt was more cautious than he was but atleast welt was more present while you adjusted to life on the express. if dan heng was asked to help you with something, he would but otherwise he wouldn't go out of his way to talk to you.

eventually, however, he did come round to you. once the surface had been broken, it didn't take long at all for you to get just as close to dan heng as the rest of the express crew.

he was a rather calming presence to be around. the conversations you could have with him were endless, time spent with him was never wasted and even if he didn't mean to, he always made you smile.

---✩

it didn't take long before dan hengs “room” became your second room. from your first day on the express you were assigned a personal room like the rest of them, yours to customize how you want and spend your nights or days in.

but ever since your friendship with dan heng started to blossom, you found yourself accompanying him to the data bank - it was technically his room, the scruffy pile of blankets and pillows were really the only sign of someone actually living in there.

your evenings soon became reduced to sitting beside dan heng in the data bank, watching and listening to him as he inputted new entries or updated old ones. seeing all the the different experiences the express had was truly worth admiration.

the data bank was a permanent record. a library of all the things the express had been through and found, a permanent memory. and dan heng was in charge of keeping it organized and up to date - which he did diligently and perfectly.

some of the entries interested you greatly, in response, dan heng showed you them in full - compared to the ones that you weren't so keen on which he simply summarized for your convenience.

although more so lately, this time between the two of you had become less about looking through the databank and more into casual chatter between the two of you. more personal.

even the rest of the express where surprised with how much dan heng opened up to you - he'd known them longer and yet you seemed to know more about him. not that it was a bad thing. some of them, namely himeko, were just happy that he seemed to finally have someone he cared about that much.

somewhere along the line, march started joking about how you and dan heng were “practically attached by the hip” and she would be right. the joke eventually caught on with how if one of you were in the vicinity, the other wouldn't be too far away.

but it made you hyper aware. suddenly you started realizing just how much time you spent with the astral express’s guard. the times he made you smile, all the conversations you had with him, the warm fuzzy-

oh.

you had a crush.

a major crush. on dan heng.

the thought made you flush with embarrassment had anyone noticed? had he noticed? did he even feel a small fraction of the same thing for you? maybe you were just thinking too much into it…

but it was eating you up inside. dan heng didn't exactly seem like someone looking for a relationship and you hated thinking about it because it meant that your feelings would never be reciprocated. it hurt. hopefully you could push it all away, move on and just keep your friendship with dan heng - you didn't want to ruin anything, even at the cost of your own feelings.

however, that was easier said than done. every time you were with him, all you thought about was the possibility of him reciprocating your feelings - and it wasn't looking good for you. you needed to move on, there was no way, if dan heng was looking for a relationship, that he'd go out with you.

very quickly it became very apparent that you needed closure to move on. either your feelings would be harshly crushed or reciprocated. although the former was more likely…

but you wanted an answer, anything to help you move on.

---✩

it was late. you both knew that but you had a question plaguing your mind for far too long and you needed a good nights sleep soon. so you figured now would have to be the time to ask it.

“dan heng” you called out and he turned away from the data bank to face you fully, slightly tilting his head and letting out a short “hm?”

you took a deep breath, trying your best to fight pff the nerves, “would you… uh.. ever consider me, us, as something more than friends?”

you couldn't bear to make eye contact with him, the silence was so loud until he broke it “no.”

oh how you wished for the universe to swallow you whole right then and there. but he continued “why do you ask?”

“oh no reason” your voice tapered off toward the end before you abruptly stood up “goodnight dan heng” quickly walking away and back to your room - fighting the tears that threatened to spill at any time soon.

but what you didn't know, what you'd never know, was that he lied.

ages ago, before you even realized your crush, march kept teasing him about how close you two were. amongst her teasing came the blatant question “do you like them?”

at first, dan heng adamantly denied it. you two were just close friends, nothing more. march knew better however and she took great pride in teasing him, listing out all the instances were you two could've been mistaken as lovers - and then it hit him.

but he still refused. denied everything. there was no way he had a crush. it wasn't that he didn't want to have a crush on you, it was just the fact that he wasn't ready. dan heng couldn't bear to imagine the vulnerability that would give him. it was something he didn't want to think about.

so he pushed all his feelings to the back of his mind and tried to convince himself that it wasn't true. even if it hurt him.

a part of him hoped that he was thinking too much into it, that you wouldn't like him back, purely so he could get over it. he could move on and keep his friendship with you as is, removing the chance of that vulnerability ever getting out.

he loved you.

but he couldn't admit it. dan heng could go on and on about you, talking about you like a lovesick fool but he wouldn't. he couldn't.

he wished he could. to have that confidence to admit it to you but he hadn't.

he'd refused your advance against his better wish, and now he'd hurt you. pushing you away forever.

---✩

“are you sure you want to do this?” himeko stared at you, the sadness in her eyes evident

glancing over through the window of the express’s parlor car, you smiled and nodded. you had to do this. to let go “i'm sure”

some may say leaving the express was a dramatic reaction but you had actually found somewhere you'd like to go but didn't want to leave the express - that was until dan hengs brutal rejection. you couldn't face him anymore and it was too awkward to even be on the same train.

himeko sighed “alright, please take care-”

“and stay in contact!!” march interrupted practically barging himeko out of the way.

dan heng watched, silently, from the doorway connecting the parlor car to the personal rooms. he had so much to say, so much to get off his chest and tell you-

no. he needed to let you go. even if it hurt him because he only ever hurt you.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[inchidentally]

went truly unhinged and wrote an entire fic summary of mafia!carcar @__@ special thanks to the good ppl over at the carcar discord <3

as usual I worked google's p*ssy tired to put together the details so pls ignore/handwave anything erroneous

Okay, so for regional specifications let’s say that Carlos has worked for years to be vouched for in the mafia. He’s actually a spy and in an extremely dangerous position - he was plucked from law school in Spain to be trained up in the intelligence agency and was assigned to Sicily due to his fluency in Italian. So even though he’s only 26, he’s already highly skilled and has been living and working full-time as a secret agent and translator - as well as liaison for the mafia - in Sicily for years already.

Oscar is fresh off his A-levels and touring Italy with lofty dreams of becoming a race engineer for Ferrari but assuming he’ll end up back in the UK in some bland office where he’ll hope to make enough money to go to F1 races - and maybe one day take his rightful place on that pit wall.

Palermo is at the very end of his trip before he flies back to London and he books a tour of the Norman Palace. He’s enjoying the fusion of cultures in the art and architecture, totally unaware that his name had been noticed by one of the palace’s administration when he’d bought the ticket a week before. An untraceable number of emails and messages had brought his existence to the attention of mafiosi who had until that moment assumed that particular royal line had died out. 

They immediately scour what little exists of Oscar in the public domain and the even less available through government authorities (the boy is barely out of childhood and has done nothing of note except leaving his homeland to attend school in the UK and hasn’t even gotten so much as a speeding ticket). His social media however reveals a hunch that young Oscar is not unaffected by handsome men, possibly with a penchant for Spanish men in particular, and that he is an ardent Ferrari fanboy. A hastily put-together plot to snare the boy into the mafia by establishing him in his rightful royal position has all the promise of strengthening the mafia control of the region. 

Meanwhile, many consiglieri have long been suspicious of Carlos and see this as an opportunity for him to commit his oath for good - or to see him and the Oscar boy easily disposed of if the Spaniard was discovered to be a rat. They will install Carlos as a translator for Ferrari and he will then claim that he is also on holiday in Palermo when he “bumps into” Oscar at the palace. As they are marveling at the Palatine Chapel’s interior and Carlos is using Ferrari and himself to work every charm at his disposal, a royal scholar with ties to the mafia will approach and inform them of his suspicion that Oscar is of royal descent. He will then ask them back to the University of Palermo to confirm his suspicions (which had of course already been confirmed). By that point, Oscar will have been successfully wooed by both Carlos and the promise of taking his rightful place as a prince, so that the mafia can insinuate themselves into his life and eventually his reign.

Only Carlos’ training can prevent his dismay from being revealed to his bosses as the plan is described to him, but he’s horrified at dragging some poor, unwitting kid into all the danger and ruthlessness of organized crime. He decides to defy his bosses back at the intelligence agency and play the long game of making Oscar his husband and strategizing at every turn to keep the boy alive and hopefully at some point extricate him back to his normal life - or at least into a witness protection program. Anything else would certainly risk Oscar’s life and even if Carlos hadn’t become fond of the kid from a distance, he still wouldn’t sacrifice him for a shorter route to cutting off an entire arm of organized crime.

The plan proceeds as expected, with Oscar dazzled and blushing over Carlos’ attentions and the royal scholar having approached them. It all suddenly goes awry when an overzealous nephew of a mafiosi - fresh off a 12-hour drug bender - infiltrates operations, taking Oscar hostage in the chapel and insisting that the government immediately recognize Oscar as royalty and that the church marry them there in the chapel. He then turns the gun to dispatch an unarmed Carlos, only to be knocked unconscious by Oscar wielding an antique censer. 

The royal scholar - Andrea Stella - is a good man who now speaks urgently to Carlos in a peculiar coded language (they both have on wires) informing him that he knows of the mafia’s plans and that he too wants to see Oscar kept safe. Oscar surprises them by not only understanding the code but speaking it back - albeit brokenly - to them. The code is known only within the Ferrari elite and sounds identical to everyday Italian but with a sequenced pattern that carries a second meaning to every other word, something that amateur cryptography genius Oscar picks up on remarkably quickly.

Which is how Oscar learns that his claim to royal status is fully valid, his entanglement with the mafia is very real, but worst of all is that Carlos’ romantic interest in him was all a lie (or so he assumes).

The police and media attention that the hostage situation attracts results in the mafia’s plans proceeding as expected, except for all three men pivotal to their machinations being in cahoots to foil them. Oscar is granted status as a prince but without anointing or coronation by the church due to him taking Carlos for a husband. They are installed in a part of the palace now closed off to the public and begin their work ingratiating Oscar with said public and even winning them over to the idea of him being married to another man (Carlos not being Italian ends up being the biggest hurdle for them to get over). Oscar’s youth, beauty, shyness and sweet giggle work unexpected wonders, as does the promise of a return to all the regal romance of a pre-unified Italy while not actually returning to those times politically. 

Carlos and Oscar have a tense private relationship because Oscar is nursing a wounded heart as well as a stubborn attraction and love for Carlos - while Carlos feels ashamed of having tried to seduce Oscar for duplicitous purposes and is also struggling with an intense attraction and growing affection for him. Andrea is the architect of their whole counter-strategy and is both the heart and the brains: the brains because he has lain in wait for decades for the right opportunity to destroy the mafia’s power, but also the heart because he sees Oscar as a son and can also see the misunderstandings going on between Oscar and Carlos.

Oscar is a complete surprise package in having an iron-clad poker face and an uncanny ability to remain calm even as his life is turned upside down that rivals seasoned operatives. He even manages to dupe his own family when they visit for the wedding. When Carlos asks how he can so easily lie to them about it all, Oscar levels him with “I could do anything just to keep them safe.” To which Carlos replies that he knows what Oscar means and raises Oscar’s hand to kiss over the ring he now wears as prince. Then he kisses Oscar at one of the highest points of the palace with Mount Etna visible in the distance.

They begin an all-consuming sexual affair that they both privately claim is beneficial to confirming their relationship to the mafia while conveniently remaining in denial of their real feelings. Carlos pours all of his into kissing every inch of Oscar’s pale skin until he’s pink all over, and Oscar puts all his aching heart into taking Carlos down his throat just out of view of the public or forcing Carlos to handle meetings while Oscar is crouched between his ankles. A few lowly messengers of the mafiosi bring back stories of hearing the prince’s cries punctuated with the banging of furniture against palace walls. Carlos can’t keep his hands off his pretty husband either in public or private conclave with “officials” who are really mafiosi under different titles. 

Meanwhile, Oscar is still presumed by the mafia to be none the wiser about the criminal element of his reign and does such sleek work with his angelic face and adorably unassuming attitude that any lingering discussion of dispatching him is immediately shut down.

Which makes it all the more shocking four years later when a sudden mass assassination frames half the criminal element for the death of the other half and throws the whole of the syndicate in chaos that dissolves their control entirely. The ensuing months see Oscar, Carlos and Andrea sequestered - along with their court - inside the palace which is shut to the public amid fears of another hostage situation, while arrests and investigations take place. 

Tensions across the city are high in the wake of the ensuing widely publicized trials and Oscar insists that a public appearance from him outside the palace would reassure and distract the public - and that it would solidify his position as more than seemingly ceremonial. The palace officials agree to the plan but as they are deciding on the security detail, Carlos realizes his presence alongside Oscar has not been mentioned. 

Later that night in their bedchamber, Carlos raises his concern and states that he will be accompanying his husband during his appearance. Oscar attempts to shut him down by stating that Carlos would only represent a greater threat by seeming to taunt the mafia and encourage retribution. 

They argue until Oscar calmly pulls rank, to which Carlos responds by kissing him fiercely and forcing him onto the bed. They desperately make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

The next morning, Carlos awakens in their room alone and with the sun at a suspicious slant through the windows. He realizes Oscar has stolen Carlos’ phone from its usual place by the bed to ensure that he slept in - clearly hoping Carlos would sleep through Oscar’s public appearance entirely. He realizes the little beast had baited him into fucking him so thoroughly that Carlos was exhausted and woke late.

He pulls on clothes and tears down the stairs to the courtyard with just enough time to compose himself and stand beside one of the guards. Oscar stood out in front with the selected media in a semi-circle and an enormous crowd at barriers set further out, many of whom were calling out affection and support for their prince. He does not see that Carlos has joined them and proceeds with his speech.

Carlos spots the gun at the same time as the guard next to him, but it is aimed at Oscar and not himself. 

As Etna smokes and rumbles what will be called a mild yet deadly eruption in the distance, two shots are fired after Carlos and the guard wrap their bodies around Oscar and force him to safety. The remaining guards - and a few members of the public - detain the gunman (none too gently) and Carlos and Oscar are bundled back to their rooms and the guards take up position outside.

Inside their bedchamber, Oscar frantically paws at Carlos, wildly suspecting that he’s been shot and doesn’t realize it. He tugs Carlos’ jacket and shirt off and gives a heartbreaking cry of relief when he doesn’t see a single mark on his husband’s body.

Oscar breaks down at last, releasing four years of stress and anxiety in a gust of tears and collapsing in Carlos’ arms. He pours out how he had contrived the mass assassination plan mere months after his life was altered forever in the Palatine Chapel - how he brought Andrea into it to help him with things like the details and movements of mafia members, members who would be willing to work against the family and the risk to innocents, even down to developing a seemingly arbitrary fascination with volcanology so that he could be made aware of Etna’s activity far enough in advance to take the admittedly wild final gambit of disposing the remaining members by having them conveniently perish in Etna’s next eruption. He realized that while conspiring half the local mafia against the larger organization would result in a certain amount of mutually assured destruction, as well as concealing forever Oscar’s role in it, he would have some stragglers to deal with who could regroup in retribution. A suggestion was therefore sent down via Oscar’s court officials to the police loyal to the palace, and then to remaining criminals-at-large (also those with the bloodiest histories in the mafia) of escaping arrest by scaling the crater during a period of high activity and therefore remaining undetected by officials, guides and the public. Their treacherous expedition was promised to take them to the other side of the volcano and then to the coast where boats and new identities would take them from their troubles. 

Oscar had reasoned that if Etna hadn’t taken them then their desire for escaping arrest would scatter them and effectively extinguish their power hopefully forever. Andrea had marveled at Oscar’s command over strategizing the whole plan mostly by himself and said that Ferrari would mourn missing out on hiring him if they knew what he was capable of.

Carlos cradles Oscar on the carpet, kissing his sweat-cold brow and begging to know why Oscar didn’t include Carlos in the plan? Does he still not trust him after all this time? Because if so then he wishes the bullet had found him and put an end to playing husband to the man he loves but who will never love him in return.

Oscar looks up into his eyes with a face full of wonder and brings a hand up to lovingly stroke Carlos’ cheek. Because he kept Carlos out of it precisely so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid like sacrifice himself and ruin Oscar’s hopes that when his plan was finished, perhaps they could start over and he could make Carlos love him the way he loves Carlos.

For the first time, they kiss knowing their love is mutual. And while they realize their positions will always involve some element of danger and their lives will never be “normal”, they admit that they’d never choose any other life if it meant not being together.

ENDITO!

[indigosabyss]

another random observation rant from 1⃣ apologizer anon (it got quite long, I'm sorry 🥲)

sometimes futamata uses scientific concepts for togabito powers

most obvious example would be musashi and his battle against ikkaku when he was able to convert electrical energy from attacks into thermal energy and adsorb it without damage (which is cool af btw)

most confusing for me was (and still is) elf? what is he exactly? if I understood correctly, he doesn't have physical body yet somehow he can have presence when there ppl infected with him

so let me introduce you concept of clonally transmissible cancer! yay

a transmissible cancer is a cancer cell or cluster of cancer cells that can be transferred between individuals, these cells are basically parasites, that mutated from regular cancer cells in very specific conditions, it's super rare even in animals

most documented is CTVT founded in dogs and other canines

so imagine there was a dog a long long time ago, that dog got cancer and then that cancer cells mutated

these cells act like separate organism and can be transmitted to other dogs but still are identifiable as that poor first dog even after many many years, a parasite that technically is immortal dog

this is very similar to how i imagine elf power to work

he was an actual person before but now exist as cells with some sort of hive mind that reside in different hosts are able to replicate inside and ultimately take over their host

HELP THAT'S ACTUALLY SO COOL.

No notes. This is just genuinely very interesting. Wikipedia article on CTVT, if anyone's interested.

[nocturnalazure]

Author's note: This comes as an answer to this scene.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A procession of confessions.

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