#so if it comes out all blocky I apologize

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Sugar” 

Author: coveryourheads Artist: @all6pistols

Rating: Mature Archive warnings: None Length:  19,000 words Tags:  Teacher AU, Mutual Pining, Castiel Is Claire's Parent, Roommates, Insecure Dean Winchester Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jess

Summary:  Dean and Castiel have been roommates since first year of college, best friends, and now work at the same school. Dean has always had a crush on Castiel but could never tell him because he is his best friend. Oh, and he's straight. And he has a daughter.

Excerpt: 

Claire, with a little bear face emoji next to her name, had sent, ‘Can you remind my dad that he has to pick me up today? He’s not answering me or mom.’

Dean answered her, ‘Got it.’

He swiveled around, almost knocking over a few innocent students. He hustled towards Castiel’s class. He forgot to knock (they never knocked on each other’s door at home) as he entered the room and came to face a full class of stunned students. Castiel looked flustered as well, paused mid-sentence of his probably intriguing lesson on the history of taxation or whatever it was he taught this one about.

“Dean!” Castiel scolded. “I’m in the middle of—”

The bell was well-timed and all of Castiel’s students shuffled out.

“Sorry, man,” Dean tried. He meant it, but his apologies never sounded sincere, which was a trait of his that Castiel disliked. He called it the Winchester Apology. Dean never meant his and Sam’s sounded like a wounded puppy. So, Dean added, “Seriously. Sorry. You gotta check your phone. Claire texted me because you weren’t answering her.”

Castiel sighed and retrieved his phone out of his bag. It took a long time to turn it back on because he refused to upgrade it. Dean watched his friend stab at the screen until he got to the text messages, reading his daughter’s message.

“I… Yes. Thank you, Dean. I have to pick up Claire today and am supposed to have dinner with her.”

Castiel grabbed one of his sticky notes, writing with a marker meant for the whiteboard, ‘Pick up Claire from club at 4:50’ in big blocky letters. The sticky note immediately curled on itself because the school decided to cut cost on supplies and got generic ones that never stuck to any surface. Dean tore off a piece of scotch tape to press the note down on the desk. Among all the mess of books and papers and teaching aide and stuff. In the simple act of helping his friend with the simpler task of writing down the reminder and making it stick, Dean had stepped into Castiel’s space. Close enough he could smell the aftershave (they had separate bathrooms so Dean had no idea what brand) and the fabric softener used on his clothes (unlike Dean, who used the affordable, non-softening brand). Stepping into Castiel’s space was done unconsciously, but Dean kind of liked it there. Castiel had the most amazing blue eyes (which Claire inherited) and fluffy hair that never wanted to stay in place. If he were brave enough, he would have made a move fifteen years ago. 

He wasn’t, and Castiel wasn’t into dudes anyway.

Posting date:  February 18, 2025

[beanghostprincess]

I went and made myself emotional, but imagine if Buggy has this one particular chest of jewelry that he never let's ANYONE into. It's HIS, and hus crew, Alvida, his new followers, everyone is aware that Buggy is lenient as far as pirate captains go, but there are some Solid, No-Bending Rules, and touching the chest is FORBIDDEN. Nobody knows what's in there.

One day, Mihawk is searching for Buggy for whatever reason, and he barges into the clown's tent in frustration just to find no Buggy but... that chest of his is sitting innocently on his table. Suddenly whatever he was after seems a tad more menial in comparison to this opportunity.

He flips the clasp, surprised by the lack of lock, and he looks inside.

There's nothing which makes him think that any of these items are in any way, shape or form valuable. He does, however, notice an odd sort of curling energy within the box, which he can't quite place. Uninterested beyond idle curiosity, he simply closes the chest, refastens the lock, and carries on his hunt for Buggy.

When Crocodile happens across it, it's a similar situation. He's looking for Buggy, stops by the blue haired yonko's tent, and sees the chest sitting on his bed. He wonders if perhaps this might be a new avenue to get the other to fall in line, and so looks into it. He sees a few odd items, but beyond one or two looking rather aged, nothing about this seems in any way important. It's arguably a box of old trinkets, if anything.

Jump forward a few months, and Buggy is in his workshop when he hears a knock at the door. He sets aside his chemicals and gloves, rinses his hands for safety, and opens the door to let Croc and Hawk in. They had been waiting on him for dinner that night, but he'd been absolutely glued in his work. He apologizes, they smile at him, and tag along as he cleans up his work and goes to get ready. He's quick to get dressed, and The Chest is brought out, set on the table, and Buggy goes to grab his eyeliner to do his makeup.

"Hawky, can you grab my earrings?"

"Which set?"

"The ruby ones from my box!"

Both dark haired warlords pause. "The chest?"

"Mmhmm," the clown replies absently. "Be careful, some things in there are older than me, but the earrings are in a velvet bag, purple with gold tassels. Can't miss them!"

He's never given them permission to go into this chest before. Mihawk is careful, as he was instructed, and retrieves the bag easily. His gaze catches on a second velvet bag next to it. This one is red, faded and there are numerous repaired holes in the fabric, each one more neat than the last. It had been used for a very long time, it seemed...

"You okay?"

Both men look over to Buggy. He blinks before his painted lips make a small o. "Ah, I never explain, huh? Here, scoot over a little..."

They never make it to dinner together that night, but they do have a calm, warm, intimate time talking about their pasts and treasured items. Buggy's Chest is full of gifts he had gotten either from Roger or from his family. He has very little left of them, of either, but he covets what he does have with all he can muster.

Buggy was about 4 when the Roger's brought him to sea - Shanks had been five, and the two had clicked immediately, for better or worse. They oscillated between thick-as-theives and mortal-enemies. Buggy didn't remember much of his family before he'd lost them - just a whisper of a memory of his mother, maybe a brother or sister. He'd had a gold arm band from someone, an heirloom he thought. It had engraving once upon a time, but the metal was worn and tarnished by the time he learned to read, and the script was blocky and ineligible. Oden would later remark that it looked similar to the writing of the poneglyphs, but not even he could read the worn writing. Buggy learns the tongue and language, hoping to decode this mysterious message. It doesn't help, but it keeps his interest, and it comes to him more naturally than anyone anticipated. It makes a few of the adults consider hik with a glint in their eyes before carrying on, but there is no definitive answer in his features or lack of memories. The answer is lost to everyone, though they never quite dwell on it overmuch.

Roger, seeing both cabin boys as his own, his children, his sons, passed his culture along to them. He departed from Loguetown, the place his parents had settled, but his lineage came from farbeyond the horizons of that transitional town.

Language and traditions, folklore and stories were passed to Red and Blue, and Buggy kept them all close to his heart. When Roger became sick, Buggy turned to paper and pen to scribe as much as he could. Those papers, the trinkets, the gifts and memories- all of it was closed in that chest of his.

It is amid this conversation that the three grow closer, sharing pieces of themselves and their stories in the flickering lantern light, forging connections never before conceived or considered.

((And if perhaps maybe some stories remind others of tales of their own youth, well... who's to say...))

((One of Buggy's favorite mementos is a necklace on a plain brown leather cord. The memories tied to it are many, but the first is fuzzy with time. Tiny hands finding a strange stone on the beach, toddling over to a giant man with a bright smile. Thundering chuckles and large, warm, calloused hands guiding smaller, scarred fingers through tying it, a warm timbre recalling a story of faries and witchcraft and gifts from the Sea to those who worshipped Her and Hers. Big hands helping loop the cord over Buggy's head, and helping him peek through the hag stone hole to look for the fair folk or magical secrets, a fatherly voice telling him how these stones are protective and ward off bad luck and evil.

Buggy would wear this necklace often in his youth, under his shirt, pressing kisses to it in the dead of night when the past came banging on the inside of his brain, when nightmares wracked his ribcage or terror froze his veins.

He'd lay it over the support to Shanks' hammock when the redhead had nightmares or panic attacks, would share its magic with his best friend as best he could, protecting his companion, his other half, his Shanks with stone to ward off, with his guard to be attentive to the shadows which lurked in their shared room.

He'd recall one late night, when Captain was wracked with fever and bubbling, bloody cough, that he'd taken off his necklace and laid it over the headboard, a silent sentinel of stone. It warded off bad things, and this sickness was the worst. Buggy hated himself for wondering if Death was Bad in this case or a mercy - if the stone would ward that off too or if it would be kinder to let it come.))

Buggy never lost his faith in things unseen, but this is the first time he's shared it with others so freely.

And if the trio, on a walk one early morning, find three hag stones in a small little pile on the shores of their island, well... Buggy cried and the other two wore their new necklaces with pride.

It felt something like approval.

Okay, now I'm crying-- I adore this. So so so so so so much-- Sometimes I even wonder why you send ME these things when you could easily post this yourself!!!!!!!!! It's so beautiful, I can't even find the words to describe it. Roger's bond with Buggy and Buggy remembering his past always makes me so emotional- Also, buggy opening up with Cross Guild and telling them all of this kills me. I will be thinking about this forever, thank you <33

[poopingonthefloor]

hai uh question

im bad at body anatomy BUT YOU SEEM SO GOOD WITH IT can you show us how you do anatomy and stuf,f,.,, it doesnt even have to be detailed i jst want a little chart.l.

KYAAA I APPRICIATE YOUR FASCINATION WITH MY ABILITY. To be honest even I still struggle with anatomy at times (mostly when I get artblocked lol..) and a lot of the time I just tend to wing it, but here are a few key things I try to remind myself any time I DO lose track of things or struggle on where things should be (also just general rules I taught myself while trying to develop a less jelly-style)

Note: I am not a professional this is just based on personal experience. I hate instagram art tutorials so erm...just consider this like some "offered tips" I gave you in a back alley and definitely not "this is the right way to draw". This is only offered for people to help with getting to a VERY generalized/over simple grasp on how to keep track of anatomy or people who want to try out an artstyle generally similar (less cartoonishly-exaggerated poportions but still cartoony) to mine.

Also I apologize if this is worded weirdly my neurodiverse traits are the inability to communicate/explain properly (usually because I go in too much overspecific detail)

Though the biggest thing I suggest is dont be afraid to look at refrences!!!!!!!! it helps a lot to analyze how the parts of the body sit when in certain positions.

For me initially, I always had to remind myself "the body parts are bigger/longer than i think they are" because just a few years ago my artstyle was more cartoony with gianter-heads and more contorted poportions (which isn't a bad thing, I'm just specifying in case there's anyone that specifically WANTS to come out of a similar place) so I had to teach myself out of my instinctive minimalisticness (because I personally wanted to get out of that)

However final disclaimer:

art is subjective, enjoy what you like, draw noodle arms or blocky bodies and flat poportions all you want. Cartoonish stylizations are not any better or worse than more realistic stylizations and this is just based off my personal experience with art and if youre interested in going a similar route about art. ^_^

[adudelolwriting]

true hate's kiss for chodark mayhaps????? please????? i think it'd be hilarious?????

-✨

oh my GODS this one started kicking my ass at the end . its OKAYYY i dont think its the best but whatever they cant all be winners am i right chat (sitcom laughing) . anyways here you go sparkle anon, hope you enjoy !! (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Dark had a curse. 

Chosen knew this — the curse was to take Chosen's life. Chosen knew the risk of saving Dark, and then helping her. Chosen knew that, one day, the curse, the mission code, would act up, and Chosen would have to fight. 

So, the two fought. Dark always apologized once she snapped out of it (typically after getting the shit knocked out of her), and Chosen always was there to help dress her wounds. 

But… as the years went on, and as they retired, or settled down, or whatever you called it, Dark just got more and more antsy. Secretive. 

Dark revealed his plan on a regular Wednesday afternoon. "We can take revenge, Chosen! We can finally make Him hurt, like He hurt you!"

"...No. You don't want this, Dark. I don't want this."

"But I did this for you! We can attack the Cursor that hurt you!" Dark gestured to the massive laser machine in front of her.

Chosen shook Chosen's head. "No. We're done with this, with hurting sticks, remember? We agreed."

"But He's not a stick!" 

"No." Chosen's arms crossed, and Dark looked pissed. "I did this for you!" He repeated, and then he dove for the button. Chosen leaped to him, grabbing him and pulling him away from the button. The two fought, anger burning through Chosen.

How dare she, try and do this? Who does she think she is, trying to do this to them?

Dark wiggled out of Chosen's grasp, and hit the button. What looked like a nuke launched into the sky, breaking through the Outernet's sky and into an IP — One that Chosen knew too well. Before Chosen could think properly, Chosen blasted Dark through the wall in the house, and flew after the bomb. 

Chosen had to spend a few days on Alan's PC. The… Virabots hurt Chosen — much more than Chosen thought they could have. Deep, long wounds were littered on Chosen's body, and something was preventing Chosen from healing as quickly as Chosen should. 

Alan had some new sticks, apparently. Another hollowhead, named The Second Coming (of Chosen?), and a few regular sticks that looked like they came from Stick City, but more brighter. Noogai3 didn't tell them anything, because of course He wouldn't, but after just one look from Second, Noogai caved and told them everything.

Chosen has been spending most of Chosen's time in a weird, strangely blocky house on the PC. Noogia couldn't see Chosen from the inside, so it was better, even if He promised not to hurt Chosen and had apologized to Chosen.

But the thing was, Noogia shouldn't have to apologize, because He should have never done that to Chosen. The stick was bitter and spiteful towards the cursor. Chosen hated him. But there were also sticks here. 

(Innocent sticks that nearly died because of Dark's revenge. Revenge Chosen never wanted.)

Chosen wasn't healing. 

Yes, the bleeding stopped, but the wounds themselves would not heal. Blue, who was apparently the second oldest behind Second aerself, had put an IV into Chosen's arm as Chosen's presents turned the first level of this building into a makeshift infirmary. The kid explained that it's from a game, and it's supposed to help healing.

Chosen was grateful for these children helping Chosen. Tensions seemed tense — Chosen hopes it wasn't always like this, but who knows with Noogia. 

The past few days, they talked to Chosen. A lot. It seems they've never been off the PC before, and were curious about Chosen's life. Chosen willingly told them the non criminal things, mostly what Chosen did in retirement. 

Currently, Chosen was chatting to Blue, who was checking on Chosen's wounds, when a loud crash came from outside of the building. Chosen flinched — Chosen still wasn't used to all the noise the kids made — before screams rang through the room. Both Chosen and Blue froze. 

Blue rushed out, telling Chosen to stay where Chosen was. Rolling Chosen's eyes, the IV gets ripped out of Chosen's arm (Ow.) before Chosen walks out of the building.

"Dark?!" Chosen shouted, seeing the bright red stick flying in the air with flames surrounding her fists. "What the fuck?"

Dark, upon seeing the stick figure, dropped to the ground, charging at Chosen. Chosen let out an "oomph", unable to defend against Dark's attacks. Dark never really hurt Chosen before — not physically, not leaving welts or cuts or bruises. But the Virabots left every cut and scratch and scar on Chosen's body. 

The kids screamed in the background, trying to pull Dark off of Chosen, but it was no use. Dark was cursed. 

Dark was cursed, and Chosen was tired. Chosen was just able to keep Chosen's arms up, shielding Chosen's face. After a moment of debate, Chosen grabbed Dark's face. It startled her, as her face was pulled down, and Chosen kissed her. "I'm sorry," Chosen muttered, and Dark stayed still, frozen. "I'm sorry that I could never help you."

"I… what?" Dark asked, blinking his eyes. They… they were normal again. Not full of ones or zeros that overtook his eyes when the mission code took over his body. "Why…" Dark's voice trailed off, a hand reaching to his lips.

[novisius]

Thunder Bringer

Starting in the middle I guess, I have also been actively listening to it and thinking on the animatic, so that's another reason. I also have to apologize, my brain moves fast and each time I hear it, it mutates a bit, so some of the things I describe may not be possible given the implied timeframe.

[Beginning music] Everyone is looking to the sky, clearly scared, and expecting something. Possibly some shots of the ship moving away from an island. The crew are thin, they have been starving for some time.

[Once the electronic music begins blasting] The blast is proceeded by a wave of water and a wave of clouds. This music is not just blasting for the listener.

[During the blasting electronic music] Zeus comes out of the clouds, his black hair and robes being made of the clouds as he descends enough to be seen. He smiles at them, knowingly. My version of Zeus has claws, pointed ears, black sclera, grey/white/yellow eyes (depending on mood and lightning useage) but are undeniably and eagle's, his is thin yet very clearly muscled. Now, to explain why his hair is black, from what I remember of a mythology class, that was like, the color his hair was, and he looked like thirty bc that was old for the time. So I'm good with that, and it also makes his hair similar to 'storm storm' clouds, as they remain like clouds even when he eventually removes himself from them. His hair generally covers his back, which there is a reason for this later. His robes are black with the blocky sorta swirl decal on the edges, though the swirls are sky blue and in-between two lines of gold. Again, 'storm storm' clouds, clear skies, and lightning for the color scheme of the clothes. I will be the first to admit that @Duvetbox has absolutely influenced what I see when I think of Zeus. Its a good look, it does things I want to put on other gods, yeah. Beyond what has been mentioned, I don't have a strong opinion on appearance.

Pride is a damsel in distress Grabs a female shaped could out of the storm clouds around him. My thoughts are that Athena and Penelope have a similar body shape 'in this animatic continuity'. Reason being is simply bc I want the cloud here to have a lot of threatening double meanings based on the line and 'who' it is at the moment. Anyways, beyond being grabbed and being brought close to him, I don't have any specifics here. Hiding away where only I can undress her Zaps a shoulder and the 'cloud's clothes' fall away like it was cut...Penelope mode. Also, to be clear, no nudity, simply an implication. Try all she can not to confess Inanimate object resists god. In the end, it's all the same once I apply all the pressure Resistance failed, pulled back. Zeus is eyeing Odysseus.

Thunder, bring her through the wringer Begins dancing with the cloud in the air, even doing a lil twirl. Show her I'm the judgment call Zeus is getting frisky with the cloud, a hand brought up to the cloud's...face area. The one who makes her kingdom fall Once he says 'fall' he grabs the cloud's throat. At this point I believe it is shifting to Athena mode. Lightning, wield her, use and yield her Holding the cloud out to the side, he begins blasting it with lightning. The cloud is colored lightning yellow and seems to be in pain, darkening from the grey/white it was a moment ago. Show her what she can't conceal The crew is collectively shitting themselves at whatever they are watching. For true nature will be revealed The cloud dissipates, throat crushed and electrocuted, back to the other clouds in the background of the scene.

Tell me, Odysseus, If I were to make you choose Zeus sits down in a throne of cloud, though due to perspective, he is massive, his foot next to the ship and about as large. He looks somewhat like a bored monarch on a throne. The lives of your men and crew or your own No strong opinions. Why do I think they'd lose? If we see Zeus, he smiles. Enlighten me, King of Ithaca No strong opinions. Since hunger was far too great No strong opinions. I wonder who'd take the weight of the damned Barometric pressure on the crew go brr. They are all brought to their knees, including Odysseus. And suffer a gruesome fate to the Zeus is suddenly on the ship, fun-sized human-sized, walking through the crew, to Odysseus.

Thunder bringer, here to ring your Continues walking, smiling whenever we see his face. Ears until you're deaf with fear Continues walking, but looks to the right with his eye. And spear you while your death is near Spears Eurylochus' shoulder with some lightning from an open hand, then he turns his hand to a 'no no' or 'tsk tsk' fingerwag as Eurylochus falls to the ground. My brain says that happens, the wag, to the beat of 'your death is near'. Lightning wielder, here to yield your The rest of the crew has begun to stand up. Time, for you have passed your prime He grabs Odysseus by the hair or throat and lifts him into the air. Sublime you for your act of crime His feet divorced from the ground just enough so that when Zeus puts him back down, he can stand.

Choose. Zeus looks more cordial than threatening, having released Odysseus unharmed.

Choose? Odysseus is obviously confused.

Someone's gotta die today Zeus dusts of Odysseus' shoulder. And you have got the final say No strong opinions. You? Zeus gestures to Odysseus. Or your crew? Zeus gestures to the crew.

Please don't make me do this Odysseus is falling to his knees, beginning to cry as he grabs Zeus' robes begging. Don't make me do this Zeus for his part, doesn't do anything or react.

When does a comet become a meteor? Crew shots, the ones who weren't standing are getting up or already standing. When does a candle become a blaze? (I can take the suffering from you) A yellow Penelope appears behind Odysseus, smoothly going down to the same level as Odysseus initially hugging him from behind and moving to be before him. Throughout her singing parts, she is comforting Odysseus. He is, for a lack of better words, melting into the embrace. He hasn't seen her in years and...he has been worn down, he is exhausted, and he is ready to stop this journey. She is kneeling with him, holding him, though we never truly see her face. When does a man become a monster? Most of the men are fearful. When does a ripple become a tidal wave? Some of the men look to the side, thinking of bolting. When does the reason become the blame? (Let me take the suffering from) Some of the men draw their weapons. When does a man become a monster? No strong opinions beyond crew shots assuming that time allows.

[The thunder after Penelope finishes singing.] Penelope for like, a frame, is replaced by lightning. Odysseus has his eyes wide open, realization and despair written on his face. Near this time was another thunder sound, that is when Zeus appears behind Odysseus, impassive, watching him, hands behind his back, patiently waiting for Odysseus' decision.

Captain? Eurylochus steps forward before the rest of the crew, asking the question as he holds his wounded shoulder.

I have to see her Odysseus can't look at Eurylochus or the crew.

But we'll die Eurylochus says with a hopeful smile.

I know Odysseus looks at Eurylochus, pained, devastated even. Killing his friends to see his wife again does hurt him, but he also knows that there wasn't a choice here. In his head, Zeus just came down here and told him 'I'm going to make you tell me to kill your crew'.

Thunder, bring her through the wringer Zeus smiles as his cloudy hair stops being so poofy and 'long' (short hair Zeus) as the portion on his back forms into wings, launching him into the sky. Throughout the rest of this song's lyrics, some of the crew runs even jumping off the ship in desperate, while others charge at Odysseus with weapons desperately trying to kill him, sparks and lightning deflecting their weapons. Odysseus is not emotionally okay while this is happening. Eurylochus, for his part, is not doing anything. He knows that he is not making it home, he is tired, and he knows that nothing he does will matter here. To a degree, he welcomes the end of the journey. Show her I'm the judgment call The one who makes her kingdom fall Lightning, wield her, use and yield her Show her what she can't conceal For true nature will be revealed

[Final Lighting] Zeus flicks his finger downward. Obliterating this ship and her crew is effortless, unlike the other Zeus' that build up these grand attacks, this one just does a simple motion. The musical build-up being used more for the crew and their desperation.

[The end bit] The ship gets more or less vaporized, only Odysseus and the immediate area around him are unharmed. The first place struck is Eurylochus who stands near the center of the deck. Those who jumped overboard are electrocuted. It ends as Odysseus closes his eyes in acceptance.

[nitewrighter]

I Got Thyme

I saw on twitter that it's currently Yeehan Week! And one of the prompts for this year is plants! It made me think back to my whole "Watchpoint Garden" headcanon, and I realized it would be a really fun thing to explore for pre-relationship YeeHan. Did you know contact with dirt can raise serotonin levels?

Oh, also this is part of my fic continuity, so if you're new here, you'll want to check out Family Reunions and First Impressions for context.

----

"Do you attempt to break all new recruits with hard labor?" Hanzo asked as they walked.

"Look," Cassidy was rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger, "If you stay here, you gotta help, and you're not exactly in a position to go on missions yet."

"I assure you, I would be more competent against Talon than at least half this Watchpoint."

"No one's sayin' you ain't good at killin'. But part of keeping this whole watchpoint moving means having food, and man does not live on shitty RTE's and shelf-stable dry goods alone."

"I am not a farmhand," said Hanzo.

"And what's wrong with bein' a farmhand?" Cassidy was giving him a raised-eyebrow, half-lidded look that told Hanzo to choose his next words very carefully.

Hanzo narrowed his own eyes at Cassidy. "I simply do not believe this is the best use of my time, or the best use of me as an asset,"

"You know 'probationary period' means we're still figuring out if we want you as an asset," said Cassidy.

"Somehow I doubt your organization can afford such exclusivity."

"Well, we certainly can't be picky when it comes to farmhands, I can tell you that much," Cassidy adjusted his belt as they walked.

A growling 'hmm' rumbled deep in Hanzo's throat as they approached the orange trees bordering the watchpoint garden.

Hanzo soon quickly regretted the ‘hard labor’ and ‘farmhand’ comments as it became immediately clear that whoever was available and not on a mission or working on some other immediately technically demanding task around the Watchpoint was working in the garden. He recognized a few faces from the night of his arrival. Satya was over near one of the few spaces of wall not covered by an orange tree, setting up a lattice. Ana was pruning back some ornamental perennials they were presumably using for pollination and pest control. Orisa was rearing back on her hind legs with some large shears, trimming away dead branches on the orange trees. Hanzo watched as her head swiveled at him and her optical sensors narrowed. A part of him knew he would have to apologize to her, if he was going to start getting any respect and traction from the rest of this group (but did he really want it?) and yet at the same time he was still so frustrated by this ridiculous 'probationary program' that they had clearly cooked up because of his presence and had not had as an established longstanding policy, that he didn't want to dignify the concept of having to earn this Watchpoint's respect.

An almost equally large, blocky robot was tilling up a new patch of soil. Hanzo's brow crinkled at the sight of the bastion unit. He knew it was on the watchpoint from his preliminary recons on the watchpoint--in truth, its presence had only made him more suspicious of Genji's organization. What kind of people would keep something that had caused such horrific devastation? But seeing it now threw him off. It was making chirruping beeping noises as it worked, in some eerie imitation of humming, as a yellow bird dizzily circled its head and tweeted tunelessly along.

"Yeah, Bastion gets that reaction a lot," said Cassidy, and Hanzo snapped out of his focus.

"Why would you keep something like that around?" asked Hanzo on reflex.

"Bastion's Torbjorn's..." Cassidy hesitated.

"Pet?"

"...buddy," It was clear Cassidy had some skepticism himself on the matter, but was far more used to Bastion's presence.

"Does it go on missions as well?"

"Not that often. We've brought it along on some missions outreaching with omnic communities, some non-combat ecology missions. I can think of like, maybe two missions where there was actual combat but that wasn't really planned. Other than that, it's a bit of a homebody."

"Non-combat missions?" Hanzo arched an eyebrow.

"Yup."

"That is a gun with legs," said Hanzo.

"Well, it doesn't want to be a gun with legs. It wants to be a gardener, and we're more than happy to help it with that."

"So happy you could join us, Cole," Ana stepped up to both of them and Hanzo felt himself tense at the words 'Join us.'

"Well, I figured y'all could use a little extra muscle," Cassidy demonstratively put a hand on his own shoulder and circled his arm with a grin.

Ana's gaze shifted Hanzo with a deliberate slowness. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "So you're really going along with Winston and Jack's plan, then?" she said, her eyes flicking back to Cole.

Hanzo hated being referred to as a 'plan.'

"Just helpin' where I can," said Cassidy with an easy shrug. He bumped his shoulder into Hanzo's, "And he's here to help, too."

"You all... seem to have the. matter well in hand--" Hanzo started, glancing around awkwardly.

"Trust me, we're playing catch-up. I'm sure you'll find something," said Ana, before looking over at Cassidy, "In fact, Cole, we were hoping you could take a look at the irrigation Satya and Torbjörn have planned for the new plot, seeing as technically you have more experience with those systems than a lot of people here."

"Ah hell, I was just a teenager," Cassidy itched at the hair poking out under the brim of his hat.

"That experience is still worth something," said Ana.

A prickle of realization went up the back of Hanzo's neck.

What's wrong with bein' a farmhand?

Of course... Hanzo thought grimly, watching as Cassidy pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and followed Ana over to the area that Bastion was digging up. Hanzo moved to follow over, though he wasn't exactly sure what he would do, when he heard a polite, "Excuse me?"

"Hanzo, right?" a voice piped up next to him and Hanzo glanced sharply over and down at a round, pleasant face, with sunlight catching in glasses.

"We haven't met yet. I'm Mei, would you like to help me in the greenhouse?"

Hanzo's brow crinkled.

----

It really wasn't enough of a 'house' to be called a greenhouse. More of a green 'shed,' or a green 'shanty.' Hanzo frowned over the seedlings in the egg carton before glancing up at Mei, who was carefully cutting out her selections from their egg carton with some shears. He glanced over at several seedlings growing out of cut up cardboard tubes. For one of the leading scientists of her time, Mei wasn't picky when it came to seed containers, and apparently neither were the plants.

"Just separate out the bigger sprouts from the littler ones," said Mei, "We want the most viable plants for the new plot. If you see an extra sprout in the cell, you can just clip that one short. We don't want to risk damaging the roots this early. we want about 6 plants each of tomatoes and peppers."

"I... see..." said Hanzo, who was still helplessly watching her hands as she worked and feeling even more foolish to be afraid of using gardening shears after decades of skillfully handling deadly weapons.

"We've been wanting to expand the growing area for a while," Mei was talking, "It's just, we knew that would mean re-doing the irrigation, which isn't that hard, and honestly it really is now or never with these seedlings looking the way they are. It's just one of those things people easily forget about with all the missions and with their own things..."

She had, as she had explained for most of their time in the greenhouse, been back in China researching aquifers in Shanxi when he first arrived on the Watchpoint. Hanzo wasn't sure if she had been briefed on all of the events of his arrival, and was stuck in the annoying limbo of, 'Does she not know or is she actively choosing to ignore all of that?' as Mei spoke. There was a pause and Hanzo realized Mei was waiting for him to respond.

"And... Shanxi was... your business?" Hanzo said slowly, feeling like an idiot. The more time he spent here, the more he heard people talk to each other, the more he realized how few and far between his interactions with people over the years since leaving the Shimada clan had been.

"Honestly, I think water tables are everyone's business already, or at least they should be," there was a giggle in Mei's voice, "But, some work you do with Overwatch, and other stuff... well, you can't."

"Because Overwatch is operating illegally," Hanzo said flatly, cutting away at a cell which seemed to have a strong seedling.

"Er... yes," said Mei, tucking some hair back, sheepishly, "But, even when I'm on my own, I like to think I'm doing the same work I was doing with them 9 years ago, even if a lot of things are different now."

"And... you are not a soldier, but a scientist."

"The amount of times I've heard that!" said Mei with an eye roll.

"So... you are a non-combatant as well? Like... the Bastion unit?" Hanzo clipped a stray sprout in its cell, and felt oddly guilty in doing so.

"It's not 'the bastion unit' it's just 'Bastion,'" said Mei, easily clipping away at her own seedlings, "But... no, I fight."

"You fight?" Hanzo repeated incredulously.

"Well it's not usually that direct, it's more like the cryo-gun has a lot of applications that can help my team. Raising barriers, creating platforms to get us to higher levels, sometimes creating temporary fixes to unstable structures... it's not all guns blazing all the time!"

"...clearly," said Hanzo, looking at his own seedlings.

"Well, I think we're all set for the tomatoes and peppers!" said Mei, with their selected seedlings all lined up.

"What about this one?" Hanzo held up one of his own seedlings, not wanting to admit that he was a little hurt that she seemed to favor her own selections over his.

"Well, we only have limited space in the garden and these guys are going to get a lot bigger--but you can just keep that one for yourself, if you like? I'm sure we have a spare pot lying around..."

Hanzo glanced at the seedling, and then looked at Mei. "...why?"

"Plants are good for you! I honestly think the Watchpoint could use more green outside the garden. Think of it like... a welcome gift!"

"I am only here on probation," Hanzo said flatly.

"Oh..." Mei said quietly.

"But... I do not know when I will be leaving so... I will see that it is taken care of until then."

"Oh--um, good," said Mei.

A long pause passed between them. Mei was awkwardly sweeping spare bits of dirt off of their worktable.

"Hey, so... you weren't trying to hurt anyone when you came onto the Watchpoint, right?"

So she does know, Hanzo thought sourly.

"No," said Hanzo, "But... I apologize for damaging your security drone."

"What security drone?" Mei tilted her head and a half-sphere-shaped robot suddenly hovered to her side, making a quizzical whirring sound. Okay, so she hadn't heard everything, apparently.

"Eh--" Hanzo stammered at the robot. How many pet robots do they have? he thought, bewilderedly.

"Oh, sorry! This is Snowball! Snowball, Hanzo." Mei gestured at Hanzo to her robot, "But sorry, you were saying about a security drone?"

Hanzo remembered, at this point, how he had managed to make everyone who had confronted him that night hate him by referring to Orisa as a security drone, and he had simply referred to her as a security drone in that moment because he was too frustrated with the concept of apologizing to someone whom he was just meeting now for something she hadn't even been here for to remember Orisa had a name.

"There was--" Hanzo started, but then there was a creak of the greenhouse door opening and Ana leaned in.

"Mei, do you mind if I borrow him for a bit? We're shelling the last of the broad bean harvest."

"Do you mind?" Mei looked at Hanzo.

Hanzo minded a lot of things about the current situation, but now was in a position where he wasn't sure if he was more annoyed at Ana talking as if he didn't have a choice in the matter, and Mei talking to him as if he did. Where was the damned discipline in this place? But instead, all that came out of his mouth was, "...beans?"

---

Both Hanzo and Ana sat at a temporary hard-light table with hard-light chairs in the shade of one of the orange trees. Each of them had a small bowl in their lap to catch the beans as they shelled them. A large bowl, slowly being filled with shelled beans was between them, and a slowly growing pile of empty bean pods was at their feet. Hanzo hated to admit that he liked this work far more than working with the seedlings. In a way it reminded him of crafting his own arrows, in a more menial, mindless way.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," said Ana, tossing down a

"You shot me with a sleeping dart."

"You broke onto the watchpoint and attacked both Orisa and Cole."

"They attacked me--"

"Did they attack you, or did they talk to you first?"

"...they... told me to lower my weapon."

"The weapon you had at the ready while breaking onto our Watchpoint."

"...yes."

Ana was giving him a steady, tired-but-patient look. "You're very used to doing things on your own terms, aren't you?"

Hanzo returned her gaze with a mild glower.

Hanzo wasn't exactly sure how long he would keep up the glare, but the moment of tension was abruptly ended when Bastion clunked up to them and gestured at the bean pods at their feet with a questioning chirrup.

"Yes, dear, thank you," said Ana as Bastion scooped up the bean pods and clunked off again towards the compost pile.

"...you fought in the crisis, didn't you?" Hanzo asked.

"I did," said Ana.

"And you have no issue living with a Bastion unit?"

"You seem a bit hung up on that."

"I have no issues with omnics, I've worked with many in my travels, but that is clearly not a typical laborer unit, and I am trying to understand why it is here."

"Why 'it' is here..." Ana repeated musingly and Hanzo felt the back of his neck burning.

"If it does not fight..." Hanzo trailed off.

"Not everything is about combat," said Ana.

Hanzo gave Ana a skeptical look.

"Overwatch was initially formed to combat the omnic crisis, this is true, but many believe that our greater contributions were in our relief efforts, in our scientific research and advancements," Ana looked over at Bastion, turning over the compost pile with a rake, "It's taken some getting used to, but I think I like what Bastion's presence represents to me."

"And that is...?"

"That we are more than the battles we fought. That we can shape ourselves beyond the circumstances we were made in."

"To be... gardeners," said Hanzo, watching as Bastion took up a shovel-ful of more broken down compost and clunked over to where Cassidy was hoeing up an extra square foot onto the end of their new intended plot. Hanzo's eyes lingered over Cassidy and the way the plaid of his shirt stretched taut over his back muscles, the way his belt stood stubborn over the movement of his hips. Cassidy pushed himself up to his full height, tilted his hat back with his thumb, and wiped the sweat from his brow, his gardening gloves leaving a smudge of dirt amidst the salt and shine, the topmost buttons of his shirt straining with his breath.

"Among other things," said Ana. Hanzo instantly gauged that she could tell where he was looking and shoved his eyes down to the bean pods in his lap.

"It would be more efficient to just attach a hard-light plow to the OR-15 unit," Hanzo muttered, shelling beans faster than usual.

"There's not really enough space for that. Although, you're welcome to try and put a plow on Orisa," Ana said with amusement.

Hanzo's lips just thinned and he shelled in silence. Eventually, though, his eyes did trail back to Cassidy.

"...I should have asked you, how are you two getting along?"

"He... worked on farms prior to this?" said Hanzo, watching as Cassidy guzzled from a water bottle to the point where it was running down his neck. Not realizing he wasn't really answering Ana's question.

"We were able to find some temporary working documentation with a few agro-corps in his records when we first recruited him. He doesn't like talking about it much, but he does have some skills in that area," said Ana. She paused. "He's not a thug, by the way."

"What?" said Hanzo.

"That's what you called him your first night here. A 'thug serving the word of whomever's most convenient to him.'"

Hanzo's shoulders shrank a little.

"He didn't have a lot of say in the matter when he first joined us either," Ana went on, "But he's been one of our most loyal agents over the years, even knowing us at our worst. He knew when we were doing wrong, he knew when things were going rotten, but we were all he had so..." she trailed off, "I don't think he's ever done anything out of 'convenience.'"

Hanzo watched as Cassidy struck down with the hoe once more, jamming a booted foot on top of it, apparently working with a particularly rooty, hard chunk of earth.

"I... spoke more out of emotion than recognition of my environment that night," said Hanzo, "It will not happen again."

"It always happens again," said Ana, "To everyone."

Hanzo gave her a sidelong glance and turned his attention down to his beans. "I can't afford that sort of misstep. And I can't see how you all can sit around gardening and shelling beans when, if Genji is to be believed, you stand on the brink of annihilation from Null Sector and Talon."

"What do you think Genji and the others are doing right now?" said Ana, dumping her own bowl of shelled beans into the larger bowl between them, "There is always the fight, but there's also the garrison. There's making sure there's a place to regroup, to recover, to strategize, to assess the threats present to us" she demonstratively shook a bean pod at him, "To eat."

Hanzo snorted softly.

"You have been alone for a long time," Ana said quietly, casting an empty bean pod to the ground.

"I have," Hanzo admitted, "And... I am not sure if I am capable of helping build what you are describing."

"According to your dossier, you're, in theory, a highly proficient strategist and organizer."

"That was for criminals. This is..." Hanzo trailed off.

Ana just shrugged and continued shelling. "You know," she said, "In the military, there's two kinds of people--well, it's more of two ends of a spectrum, really. You have the people who joined because they like the concept of order, both having discipline put in their lives, and being able to have order over others--the ability to say something, and then see others put your words into action. Then there are others--they join for their own reasons, they don't take to the authority as well, but they prove themselves highly adaptable in combat. No one is 100% of either, and you need people who have a well-balanced mix of all those attributes, or a good mix of people who lean more towards one or the other, to have a successful team. A team that's too dependent on falling in line can't adapt when things change, and things will change, and a team that's full of self-declared mavericks can't pull together as a unit."

"Why are you telling me this?" said Hanzo.

"I don't think I've ever met someone who is such a thorough mix of both those aspects in a way that completely bites them in the ass before you," she paused, "Well, except maybe Jack."

"And you can make this judgment when I've only been on the Watchpoint several days?" Hanzo didn't look up from his own bean pods.

"I've been doing this a long time," Ana said easily.

Hanzo glanced back at Cassidy. "And which type was he?"

"I'll give you one guess," said Ana, and Hanzo gave an amused huff.

----

The shadows were long on the watchpoint by the time they had the irrigation completely set up and all the little seedlings planted at their respective plots. Bastion tweeted as it spread out mulch and raked up stray dirt and clippings. Most of the gardeners dispersed to put away equipment or prep for dinner in the mess hall.

"Whatcha got there?" Cassidy asked as they both walked away from the garden.

"It's...nothing," said Hanzo, holding the small seedling at his side away from Cassidy.

"Doesn't look like nothing," said Cassidy, craning over Hanzo's shoulder to get a better look. He smelled like sweat and crushed leaves and orange rinds and sweet earth.

"It's a plant," Hanzo said flatly, "It was a gift."

"Look at you, makin' friends already," said Cassidy, pocketing his hands, "So what do you think? Now that we all ain't in pajamas and pointing guns and bows at each other?"

Hanzo kept his eyes fixed forward. "I am still trying to understand how you organize yourselves. I came here under the impression that this was a mercenary group, but actually observing you..." he trailed off.

"It's not all gardening, obviously," said Cassidy, "There's maintenance, inventorying, surveying watchpoint security 'n where we need equipment, whether we can whip something up on-site, other means of acquisitions and what-have-you, Winston keep sending out these 'team morale evaluations,'" Cassidy used finger quotes at this, "Yup. I think this was a pretty lucky day to see the Watchpoint like this, t'be honest. And you can bet the old Overwatch wasn't exactly keeping itself fed with a victory garden either—I mean aside from what they'd have for Ecowatch photo-ops. We do what we can to teach each other different jobs. 'Course everyone has different areas of expertise, but you figure out ways to carry each others' loads. Somehow shit pulls together. The wheels haven't fallen off yet." 

"Fewer resources and personnel means a more fluid hierarchy," Hanzo murmured to himself.

"I guess," Cassidy shrugged, "You think about what you want out of all this?"

"What do you mean?" said Hanzo, managing to suppress the question of 'What is there to get out of all this?'

"I mean like... You talk about wanting to fight alongside us---"

"I want to fight because I won't have the only family I have left dying for you."

"And that's great! It is! I mean, I want to think it's great. Again--you're still on probation--"

"You don't have to keep telling me."

"But I'm asking about you. Your plans. We all make it through this, what are you going to do? Are you just going to keep following Genji around? Go back to Japan and try and take that big ol' palace back? Ride off into the sunset?"

Hanzo's jaw set grimly and he didn't answer. Cassidy watched him for a few seconds in silence. Hanzo's eyes met his only briefly, expecting contempt but not finding it. Instead, Cassidy's face had softened. Pity?

"...You don't have to answer that," said Cassidy, a bit too late.

"What about you?" asked Hanzo.

Cassidy just pocketed his hands and fixed his eyes forward. "Ride off into the sunset?" he said again, shrugging, then after a beat he said, "...maybe turn myself in. Get a lawyer. Say my piece. Do my time if I have to. Hell, maybe the system'll be working then."

"...You don't know if you're going to make it out of this alive," Hanzo said quietly.

"I'm just more worried about getting everyone else through this alive," said Cassidy, "You included, believe it or not."

Another long silence passed between them as they walked.

"Don't tell the Captain that, though," said Cassidy, "She fusses over me enough as it is."

"I can tell," said Hanzo. For once the corners of his mouth were pulled in something that was not a frown.

[madd-information]

I'm really sorry if I come off as idiotic or dumb by asking, but I'm looking for a bit of insight as to whether or not I may be experiencing maladaptive dreams. I apologize in advance if I waste your time with questions that might have already been answered or should be clear.

Ever since I was little, I've been an avid daydreamer. It's kept me from actively listening and storing away information because I'm caught up in things that aren't there. When I read books I often see them play out like movies in my mind, and I shelve away a few hours of every day to pace around my room while listening to music so I can see similar ""movies"". The only thing that's keeping me from actively seeking out more resources on maladaptive daydreaming is the fact that I don't really use it as a coping mechanism. And when I do, the daydreams I have are few and far between. I've heard lots of bad stuff about it; how it's like an addiction and often stems from trauma. I don't have PTSD or C-PTSD, or really anything of that manner. I can separate my daydreams from reality just fine, and I don't really make imaginary worlds so much as I make individual characters that I sometimes get caught on for a while before they fade away again. I made tons of worlds when I was younger, but not really anymore. I don't create people in my daydreams or talk with them, the things I see usually revolve around special interests and I can only really fluidly daydream when listening to music. Otherwise, it feels slow and blocky and my mind wanders. When I'm listening to music, though, it's like my eyes stop seeing and the music and the daydreams are everything that's happening. I've noticed I don't daydream im realism either. It usually takes the form of animation or animation styles that I've watched recently, some of which I prefer over others. After a really good daydream, I often feel very satisfied but out of breath because of how fast I pace. I'm so sorry for the wall of text in your askbox, genuinely.

I might just be blind and could be missing some really important articles that could save me all of this trouble, and for that I apologize again. I don't mean to waste your time. Any light you might be willing to shed on this?

Another similar ask:

Anonymous asked:

If someone were to have really immersive daydreams in random parts of the day where it gets you to have a physical or verbal response (I had an actual argument multiple times while daydreaming, this was a daydream about people i do not like and i was actually almost verbally responding)- that and it can get activated by just listening to music in general, is it maladaptive daydreaming? The answer to both is that MD is defined by it's negative impact on your life. The details of what you daydream about don't really matter. The physical signs (talking, pacing etc) can only point to "maybe".

Does your daydreaming interfere negatively with your life? Does this behaviour cause you distress and dysfunction? (rhetorical, don't answer here, just think about it for yourself) If yes, you may be a Maladaptive Daydreamer. If no, you may be a non-pathological Immersive Daydreamer. Here is a link to the ICMDR "measures" page, where you can find the (proposed) diagnostic criteria and the Maladaptive Daydreaming Scale. Hopefully these tools will give you a better idea.

[draconicdeityarts]

Hey there! I love you’re semi realistic, semi cartoonish art style bro! I hope you don’t mind me asking but what software/mediums do you use? I am trying to work on my lighting and shadows and textures but I have no clue how artists like you achieve such detail

First off- thank you so much! I truly appreciate it. And second- oh my goodness I am so sorry for how long this ask has sat in my inbox! I hope some of this can still help you :’D

As far as software goes, I’m almost exclusively working in procreate as of late. There’s plenty of great programs- if you need something free and desktop based, I highly recommend Krita. I have a few brushes from different packs that I often default to. You can see them all and links to said packs through this answer I gave to someone asking about my brushes earlier:

As far as detail in my work goes, that’s just through a loooot of practice and doodles and drawings. I’ve been drawing since I could pick up a pencil, so I’ve had a lot of time to figure out the way I like to do things- but even then I have so much to learn!

I do, however, work in many traditional forms of media as well! I haven’t done so as much lately since digital doesn’t require cleanup, but I honestly believe that working in traditional for my entire life up until 5 or so years ago has a hand in how I approach things digitally as well. I’ve done pen and marker illustration, pencil and colored pencil, acrylic painting, as well as 3D work. I’ve worked in a lot of media and I want to get around to trying as much as I can when I have the energy to! If you have questions specifically about what traditional media I use or work with let me know!

When it comes to improving on rendering, doing small studies of images you really like the lighting in helps a lot for me. Learning how to break light in a photo down to simple, blocky shapes helps to figure out getting an initial layer down to refine later when doing full pieces! When rendering a character, especially if drawing something that isn’t in a scene, I always recommend marking out the direction the light is coming from as well as color of the light before even starting, so that you can determine where highlights and shadows would be placed in an initial blockout. Keep in mind there’s different kinds of light in a piece- I would recommend looking into tutorials about direct light, indirect light, reflected light, etc to get a better feel for how it works- while I do my best, I don’t think I am quite skilled enough to explain those nuances.

When approaching most textures, especially unfamiliar ones, references are my best friend always. It might be a good idea to just do test sheets/practice making the textures that would be useful to you on occasion! And in the end, textures also tie into lighting as well, since a lot of what makes textures super distinct is how light hits them, especially when it comes to things like metal. It may be a bit of a hot take, but in a lot of cases I tend to avoid a lot of digital texture/object brushes, especially those meant to simulate natural textures like leaves, and I do those textures manually instead. I just personally like having more control over those shapes and feel it looks better when each texture is made intentionally by hand! Sometimes I do use texture brushes especially for backgrounds, abstract work or subtle layers, especially if I’m working on something very fast, but it’s not my first choice. However I do know there’s plenty of artists who use texture brushes in ways that look great, so that’s just personal preference. :)

I do apologize it took me so long to respond! But if you have any specific questions, my dms are open and I want to start replying to y’all more!

[nero-vanderwolf]

Adachi didn’t remember much.

He remembered waking up feeling sluggish, like he was hungover after a noght of heavy drinking. He remembered Izanami holding him close, pressing soft kisses to his skin and running her fingers through his hair. He remembered her smiling at him, soft and warm, before falling asleep again.

So how had he ended up here, in a place enveloped with fog and a blocky red path in front of him, with a familiar voice murmuring in his ear?

“Keijisan...” the voice whispered.

“Forgive me. I have taken every measure I can to ensure your safety. I’m sorry,” the voice murmured.

“I love you.”

It was an odd feeling, having your body taken over by something.

Possession didn’t hurt, he found. It ached for a moment, but then it dullled and left an oddly hollow feeling in its wake.

He was back in the fog, floating this time. There was no path, but the voice was still there- indubitably Izanami's.

He felt her hands on his skin, holding him close and keeping him from moving.

He heard her voice in his ear, assuring him everything would be alright.

“Relax your body, keijisan. It starts to hurt if you don't,” she would murmur, pressing kisses to his lips and mussing up his hair with her fingers.

“I will keep your body safe. When you return to yourself, you will be unharmed. I swear it,” she promised, breath warm against his skin. She hugged him closer and he swore he could hear her heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry,” she would say, voice wavering with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you, and now you’re-”

He wanted to move, to hug her back and brush her hair away from her face and kiss her until she stopped apologizing.

Her hand on the back of his neck was comforting. It grounded him to her, kept his mind from drifting into the fog never to be found again. It kept him there with her, listening to her words and yearning to hold her.

It drove him mad not being able to move.

When he came to again, he was barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth, or what his body was doing. Maybe Izanami was helping him, guiding him through what to say and do until Narukami and his punkass partner Hanamura hauled him through Magatsu Inaba like he couldn’t walk on his own.

He was hospitalized, just to make sure nothing was wrong with his body after being possessed by a fragment of a primordial death goddess.

His hunger had returned. His thoughts drifted back to her as he laid there in that hospital bed, unvisited and uncared for except the doctors.

He could still feel her hands on his skin, her lips on his, her words echoing in his ears.

She had apologized for this. She had told him she loved him.

She had protected him from getting hurt by Ameno-Sagiri’s possession.

He knew he was in no position to hunger. But he couldn’t help it.

He was Hunger and Emptiness, after all. Wanting was in his nature.

IZANAMI POSSESSING ADACHI?? TO PROTECT HIM??? MAV WHAT POSSESED (haha) YOU TO WRITE THIS

[apatheticcrossovers]

sea fairy cookie x firey headcanons

(For these headcanons,firey is trans mtf and is used to date leafy but is good terms with her)

Oooh, this is an interesting ship, I hope you like them! - Mod Apathetic

Sea Fairy Cookie x Firey Headcanons

Fandoms: BFDI, Cookie Run Ship: Firey (BFDI)/Sea Fairy Cookie (Cookie Run) Characters: Firey (BFDI), Leafy (BFDI), Sea Fairy Cookie (Cookie Run) Tw: none Summery: General romance headcanons for Sea Fairy Cookie x MTF! Firey

They actually met exactly the way you'd think they would (/s). Thanks to another one of Blocky's pranks, Firey ended up on a piece of driftwood out in the middle of the ocean. Sea Fairy was the first to respond when she called for help, immediately realizing what the problem was. I mean, it wasn't hard to piece together that a living fire shouldn't be out in the ocean on a flammable object.

Sea Fairy helps drift Firey back to shore, making sure that Firey didn't fall in the water in the process. The entire time Firey was absolutely enamored by this beautiful and strange figure that had come to save her. Sea fairy Cookie was nothing Firey had ever seen before, and she couldn't but feel a magnetic pull towards her, despite them being polar opposites.

The moment they made it to shore, Firey asked Sea Fairy Cookie out on a date, knowing this might be her only chance to be with her. Sea Fairy Cookie was both stunned and concerned. She couldn't lie that Firey was cute, but she couldn't but feel as if she was too dangerous for Firey.

"Firey, My deepest apologies, but, I'm afraid we could never be, as the goddess of water, I feel as if-" "I-I promise I can make it work! Besides, I've been put out before, we could probably just bring me back!"

Sea Fairy was a bit relieved, but still reluctant about this, cause even if Firey could come back, Sea Fairy would never be able to live with herself if she did something. It was only a few moments of back and forth before Sea Fairy finally agreed to go on a date. It wasn't anywhere fancy, which Firey was most embarrassed about, but Sea Fairy found it cute. She really did enjoy spending time with Firey. Perhaps... she should give her a chance.

They both knew they could potentially hurt each other due to their nature, so they made workarounds, and started out small. They'd mainly just hold hands, and eventually found out the quick kisses didn't cause either of them too much damage.

Sea Fairy didn't even realize Firey had an ex-girlfriend until Leafy specifically mentioned it to Sea Fairy. It wasn't in a 'jealous ex' way though, but more in a 'hey I know you're now dating my ex and there are some things you might wanna know to keep them happy. Sea Fairy was a bit surprised, she wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of staying friends after a break-up, up she wasn't sure how it was so easy for Leafy to accept that Firey was dating someone else now, let alone talk to her new girlfriend.

"So I'm sure you're still working on physical affection right? Yeah, it took a while for me and Firey to figure kissing out, I think what we did is-" "Wait what?" "Oh, did Firey never tell you? I'm her ex-girlfriend! I thought you'd appreciate it if I told you a few things about Firey you might need to know." "And you aren't bothered by the fact that I'm dating your ex?" "No, why would I be?" "..."

That's not to say she didn't accept the help, she was just a bit cautious at first. All the advice did help a lot though, so she was very thankful for that.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

the carriage held but just ourselves

kind of an alternate take for this

ao3!

Summary: Sister Perpetua tries a different approach than canon, Marzell is a little more willing to listen, and Elíria's plan works. same warnings as the other: spoilers for the end of the run deep arc, canonical panicking and grim/tense situations, kind of implied/referenced character death? this one's a happy ending though wordcount: 1,119

Things were bad. Capital B, TM, underlined, all the emphasis.

Nearly everyone was either unconscious or unable to really help — Elíria was fourteen with no memories of what was happening and she was the closest one to being able to help besides Sister Perpetua — and Sister Perpetua was getting steadily less sure of their ability to make it out of this.

Then she cast Spare the Dying and it didn't work. Or, it wasn't that it didn't work, but that the spell had come undone before reaching its target.

That— she didn't— it'd never—

She let herself panic for one, two, three seconds, let out a curse so fervent it cycled back to deadpan, then scraped herself together to try to salvage the situation.

Assess: Marzell was freaking out. Everyone was down but Corrun and their Marzell — both of whom were on the floor and seemed very freaked out, the latter especially so — and Elíria, who was also on the floor, but was deliberately sitting and seemed almost calm? It was hard to tell with the glowing, but she was laying out cards unhurriedly, like she had a plan. Sister Perpetua didn't know how much of that was a misunderstanding of the weight of the situation, but...

Marzell wasn't listening to her. She couldn't calm her down if she couldn't get through to her, and Marzell needed to calm down. Elíria... if nothing else, seemed like she might be able to get through to her.

Sister Perpetua didn't have time to debate this. She could try to save her charges or she could try to calm Marzell, and one of those would not work. She pointed a hand at Elíria and Marzell and cast a spell.

Like liquid coating the wrong side of a bowl, frosted glass (or some other translucent material) domed over their heads. It cut them off from the adults — which was good, even if they'd mostly fallen already — but panicked Marzell again, which was not good. The dome turned light blue and blocky, like it'd been made out of squares. A lamp appeared next to Elíria that seemed to emit darkness instead of light. It dulled the brightness of Elíria's glow, anyway, which was nice.

Less nice was how Marzell sounded a few shaky breaths from bursting back into tears.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay," Elíria chanced raising her voice to pull Marzell's attention to her. Hopefully she could calm her? Or at least distract her.

Marzell's head whipped around to face her, still visibly very scared. She was squinting, but looking at Elíria didn't seem to be painful, and she hadn't started screaming again. Elíria kept talking.

"No one can get to us now, and I'm not going to hurt you. So we're safe! You're safe, and you can just... sit and play a game with me. And it'll be okay." Was that convincing enough? She'd tried to speak gently and project I don't mean any harm.

"You were chasing me too," Marzell accused, voice high and quick with fear. She wasn't trying to get farther away, though, and she still wasn't screaming or crying.

"I was?" Elíria scrunched her face up in thought. She didn't remember that. Then again, she'd run around while thinking everything was a dream... maybe she'd unintentionally chased her? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I wasn't really paying attention."

Marzell shifted on her feet uncomfortably, taking the apology in. She seemed a little calmer? Maybe? "I don't know who you are," she threw at her, voice still high.

"I don't know who you are either," Elíria told her before she'd really thought the words through. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, and she could feel it in her chest, but she tried to keep her face and voice calm. This might be working, she just had to not mess it up (again), and it didn't seem like her words had (yet). She tacked on, "I don't know who any of these people are. But they were scaring you, so I wanted to help."

Marzell shuffled around a bit and eyed her warily, but she didn't throw out any more accusations. That was progress! Sure, she clearly didn't trust Elíria, but nervous and wary was loads better than actively panicking.

As if to prove that, both the lamp and Elíria's glow winked out of existence. There was still ambient lighting coming from... somewhere. Outside the dome (which had gained some sort of shimmery ball at its peak), probably. It was still bright enough to see the cards fine, so Elíria started setting up a game of Nines.

It was a good way to pause and let Marzell calm down a bit more, she thought. And she'd played this with a panicking Elodia many times, usually gave her all the lower value cards to let her win. It wasn't speed-based, so there'd be no skittishness from sudden movements, and Elíria thought Marzell probably needed something low stakes she could slow down and focus her attention on right now. It was also easy enough to pick up, if she didn't already know the game.

"You know, my little sister loves this game," she said instead of asking directly. Marzell's gaze snapped up to her face; she'd been watching Elíria count out cards with a leery intent.

"What?" she croaked, taking a half-step back.

"Nines?" Elíria checked. Marzell shook her head, frowning. "It's a card game. I can teach you, if you want. It's fun!"

"I don't— I don't know you," Marzell said. I don't trust you.

"That's okay," Elíria assured her. She started setting out her cards. "Look, we each have a card grid that we play with, so you only have to get close enough to reach the discard and draw piles in the middle." Elíria scooted forward a bit, telegraphing her movements, and set down a stack from Marzell to lay out a grid that was hopefully far enough away from her own for comfort. She scooted back to her spot and moved the draw pile to the very edge of her reach. She hesitated, weighing reassurance against bringing up the idea, before telling Marzell, "See, I can't reach you here. And I promise not to hurt you."

Marzell wavered. She took a few steps closer, then another few steps when all Elíria did was reach out and flip over the top card of the draw pile. She pulled her cards close to her, glancing between them and Elíria as she did. She was crouched over them, ready to spring up if necessary. Now that she was close, Elíria could see her trembling, just a little.

"How do we play?"

Elíria tried to contain her grin and started explaining.

[drowthelynes]

[Image ID: a comic of Zuko and Sokka from Avatar the Last Airbender; they're young adults, post-canon. A romantic sparring session-turned-stargazing date quickly evolves into... Well. There are also no boxed panels, because the artist hates drawing boxes.

The boys have their backs to us - sitting curled into each other's sides, arms around torso, heads upon shoulders and all that. Sokka is pointing out constellations, while Zuko listens with a heart emoji.

Close up of faces, Zuko turning to speak into Sokka's ear: You know, I'll really miss you. Even a month seems too long (Sokka blush emoji's at this.)

Zuko: Wanna know what I tell myself though? At least we'll be looking at a sun.

Sokka: Aw, sweetheart, I'll-

Zuko: --They're different suns, but that's okay.

Sokka: -miss you too... Wait. (drawing back to look at Zuko with a perplexed expression) What.

Zuko: What?

Sokka: What d'you mean - different sun???

They are rendered in chibi format now for ease of dialog bubbles.

Zuko, explanatory: Um. You'll be following the other sun if you're in the opposite hemisphere, obviously.

Sokka, with mounting horror at the casual conviction in Zuko's demeanor: Zuko... Zuko, baby no - that's not - there's no second sun...

Zuko: Don't play with me now, you're a scientist and a navigator, Sokka. Nice try x3

This line sends a bolt of red-hot despair through poor Sokka, whose hair comes undone through the sheer force of dread he's feeling. Is this what Fire Nation education did to not only its nobility, but the entire population? This... astronomical, pardon the pun, nature of misinformation?! He drops into a gaunt-faced fugue state muttering about all this, while Zuko exclaims and scrambles to catch his fainting boyfriend.

Zuko, having decided he has gone far enough with the ruse - snorts, raising a hand to poorly conceal his laughter. Sokka gasps in realization.

Zuko: Sokka, listen, so I was jo-

Sokka, teeth and wobbly teary eyes out: ZUKO YOU DICK! HOW COuld you play such a cruel and HEARTBREAKING PRANK on your poor baby like this do you even know you gave me so much EMOTIONAL AND SCIENTIFIC PANIC my heart was going to give out but do you even care and- (he continues for a while like this, in full spiky theatric hysteria.)

The last panel renders Sokka curled up huffily into Zuko's embrace, brows still drawn down and eyes still watery. Zuko, smiling slightly, pets his hair.

Sokka: I demand a 1000 kisses. Everyday after I come back.

Zuko, feigning dread at this "punishment": Shit. That's steep.

Sokka: I'll be counting.

Zuko: Of course, darling. End ID]

This was supposed to be done for April Fool's, but in a way, me being late is fitting - Geddit? I was a fool to think I'd do it on time....! Yeah I know, I'm a regular comedian.

[dunnswrld]

Hcs or smut with paparazzi!reader w Johnny or Ryan, like a ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ kinda dynamic w tension you could cut w a knife

omgomgomgomg i love this, so sorry for not making it smut like you asked though anon- ig i got carried away in my own thoughts haha!

it would be at the red carpet event for jackass two, johnny was in a black suit and tie. johnny looked great, everyone there knew that including himself.

your big blocky camera hung around your neck as your hands seemed to tighten your grip on it when you saw johnny walking onto the red carpet. his famous smile on full display, it could really lighten up a room.

you now understood why everyone was practically crazy for this man, he was so handsome. from his short brown hair to his beat up black converse, he was just so good looking.

you looked down at your outfit which completely contrasted his own. jeans, a t-shirt, and your beater sneakers. apart of you wishes you would’ve dressed up more if you knew johnny would practically be two arms lengths away from you.

you were brought out of your thoughts when other papparazzi behind you were yelling johnny’s name while shoving others around to try and get a better spot. you quickly began to almost lock yourself in front of the barricade so you wouldn’t lose your spot. you were front row and could get the best shots imaginable and you weren’t going to lose that big paycheck.

you quickly began snapping photos of johnny, which only let you admire him even more through the lens of your camera. his sunglasses covered his eyes when he smiled but you could tell just from the smile plastered on his lips that the smile was genuine.

but what you didn’t know was that under those sunglasses johnny was looking straight at you. he watched you shove other people behind you with cameras back as you quickly took some shots and would quickly begin to take more.

he thought you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, which was so odd to him because for him all paparazzi people were old grown men who were not the nicest people when it came to taking photos of others. but you looked so sweet, like you wouldn’t hurt a fly.

well that was until johnny watched you snap backwards and tell off some guy behind you,

“hey asshole have you ever heard of personal space? i can feel your dick on my back so back up a bit before i knock you on your ass.”

the guy immediately raising his hands in defense and spewing out what johnny could only guess were apologies.

you turned back around to your original standing position still rather annoyed from the old guy behind you who thought it was okay to press his body so close to yours just to get some stupid photo everyone else was getting.

but when you turned around you saw johnny standing so close in front of you. both his hands gripping the iron bar of the barricade, he rested his weight on one foot as his sunglass hung lowly on his nose. just enough for you to see his dark brown eyes looking at you.

you didn’t know if you should snap a photo or say something, everyone else around you snapping photos and yelling for johnny to look at them but instead of looking at them he kept looking at you.

“hey there.”

“um- hi.”

“come here often?”

“only when im paid too.”

johnny laughed at your joke, the same laugh you’ve heard countless times on tv finally falling into your ears in real life. but what was even better was that you made the johnny knoxville laugh.

seeing him so close was so odd, the sound of cameras flashing and people yelling seemed to wash out as only background noise. they completely lost any and all of your attention as you looked at the man in front of you.

“ya gettin’ paid to take photos of me?”

“yeah but it’s weird when you say it out loud though.”

“whatever pays the bills right?”

you nervously laughed, you were too scared to say anything back to johnny in fear you’d say the wrong thing and ruin everything. but johnny lifted one of his hands off the bar of the barricade and stuck it put in front of you.

“im johnny knoxville.”

“obviously you are. everyone knows you.”

“yeah but i don’t know you, what’s your name?”

“its-”

“hey knoxville lets go! you’re making us late!”

your head turned to the sound of bam margera’s voice, he was jogging over to you and johnny and once he was close enough he was tugging johnny away from you.

“bam- knock it off for a second!”

“we’re late you can get interviewed later jackass.”

you watched as bam pulled johnny away from you, even with johnny trying to break from his grip he couldn’t. you watched johnny’s head turn over his shoulder to see you standing with your camera in your hands. lifting one of your hands off your expensive camera you waved gently to him with a smile, that was the last he saw of you before turning a corner and losing sight of you in the crowd.

[silv3rswirls]

we'll be okay again, one day

The bags under Jin’s eyes were heavy and he couldn’t find it in himself to cry anymore.

“I’m sorry” your words were hardly intelligible as you choked through sobs, “I’m sorry for asking.”

Guilt gnawed at his heart as he blinked away his own tears. “Don’t apologize, it’s no one’s fault.”

“I’m sorry” you gasped, choking and gagging through sobs that you were sure sounded disgusting, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull together.

“Please, it’s too much.” He exhaled, shaky as he tried to tear his gaze away from the breakdown before him.

Here you came again, an emotional hurricane in full force today. He wasn’t sure if you meant to pull him into your storm like this, but you did. You always did. Before weathering it hadn’t been a thought, he always did for you. He loved you; so much. You were his everything, his world, but now you were dulling his own. It’s tempting to drop to the floor with you, sharing the feeling of hard tile on his body as he consoled the inconsolable. But it's so tiring on him and his own feelings. Your baggage became his overnight, and it was far too heavy to carry with his own.

To be a fly on the wall watching the crumbling mess that was your relationship would be interesting, in his opinion. So much emotional giving on his part, so much guilt and panic on your own. He was surprised the snap hadn’t happened sooner.

“Jin please, I won't ask again- I’m sorry for asking for help, I won't again.” Your face was red and blocky, tears slick against your cheeks, and sweat stuck the hair to your forehead. “I know I’m too much, I’m sorry.”

“No” Jin’s voice breaks, “no I just can’t, you just need help and I can’t be the one to give it to you.” You nod, sucking in a breath as you feel his hands lift your face up. Your emotions were a part of him as much as his were to you. Your relationship had always blended them in such a way that made support so easy, but now something was happening. Jin wasn’t sure what, but he was tired, sad, and worried all the time. Such a weight among other pressures was starting to hurt, his chest was always tight. “We both need time apart” he smiles, tears rolling down the curse of his cheek and lip. “To make things okay, so we can be okay together.”

You nodded, sniffling as he held your hands in his. “I love you.”

Jin smiles but it comes out a choked back sob. “I love you too. It’ll be okay again, we’ll be okay again.”

tag list: @aris-ink

[buck-yyyy]

is spontaneous combustion an appropriate reaction to a forehead kiss?

I FINISHED IT***

Summary: Will short-circuits when Mike kisses his forehead after winning a round of Nintendo.

Pairings: Will Byers x Mike Wheeler

Warnings: None

Word Count: 479

Authors Note: y'all i pumped this shit out as FAST as possible once i had the idea- hope you like it!! @henrythepug i promised i'd tag you in it when i finished writing :)

“You little bitch! You little bitch!” Mike mashed his fingers on the controller, desperate as Will cackled maniacally. “Oh, you sadistic bastard, I’m gonna fu-”

    “MICHEAL!” Karen Wheeler’s voice floated down from the stairwell, sharp and irritated. Mike snapped his head around, eyes widening as he realized just how loud he was being.

    “Mom! It’s just a game, I don’t actually mean any of it, I promise-” Beep beep! The TV lit up- in his lapse of attention, Will KO’d Mike’s game character. “Oh, FUCK.”

    “Micheal Wheeler, if you don’t watch your mouth, I will come down there and unplug that thing.” The door to the basement closed, and Will watched, trying not to laugh, as Mike turned back to the TV, a sour look on his face.

    Will grinned, smug. It wasn’t often he was able to beat Mike- he’d have to hold this victory over his head for the coming weeks. “So. What were you saying earlier, about being better than all of Hawkins at this game?” Mike scowled, clearly biting back a scathing response.

    “We BOTH know that if my mom hadn’t come down here, then I would’ve recovered, and kicked your sorry ass all the way back to Lenora.”

    Will quirked up his eyebrow, doing his best not to smile like an idiot. “I don’t know, the television screen seems to have a different opinion.” He gestured towards the TV with his controller, where colorful, blocky letters announced Will’s indisputable victory. 

    “Oh, fuck off,” Mike whispered under his breath, much to Will’s amusement. He loved it when Mike got defensively competitive. “Okay, so another round then. I’ll show you, it’ll be an easy win.”

    “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

~~~

    Fifteen minutes and three rounds later, Mike would, unfortunately, be proven right.

    “I told you, Byers! I fucking told you! Easiest fight of my life, I’m telling you,” Mike crowed, holding up his arms in a victory pose. Will set down his controller, bowing his head towards Mike.

    “I concede. For today only, Micheal Wheeler, you may be considered the winner of Nintendo.”

    “Today only?! Fuck that, I’m better than you every day!” Mike reached forward, tilting Will’s head closer to him and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling back and continuing his cheering.

    Holy shit. Mike just. Kissed him. On the forehead. 

    Will was sure his face had to be beet-red as he struggled to process what the hell just happened.

    Mike kissed him. On the forehead. On purpose? Because he won? 

    His stomach twisted, simultaneously thrilled and uncertain, the wings of a million butterflies dancing around in his gut as he stared slack-jawed at Mike. 

    “Well, Byers? How did those words from earlier taste?” Mike was practically beaming with smug confidence, all flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and god did it suit him. 

    Words, Will, words would be good right about now.

    “I- yeah. Wo..  words eaten,” Will said lamely. “Uh. Do- D’you want to play another round?”

~~~

    Mike laid awake, staring at the ceiling. It was probably 2am at this point, but he had no desire to go to sleep. 

    Jesus christ, he kissed his best friend on the forehead.

    It was completely spur of the moment; impulsive at best, stupid at worst. Will seemed so awkward afterwards, edging on blatant discomfort. Should he apologize? It wasn’t a kiss based on feelings- well, the feelings were there, but that wasn’t why he kissed him, it wasn’t like he was trying to tell Will that hey, I know we’re best friends and you’re straight but I’ve been in love with you for the past two years. That.. seemed like a lot to dump on a guy during a game of Nintendo. 

    Mike groaned, smashing his face into a pillow.

    He’d bring it up with Will tomorrow, apologize if he made him uncomfortable, and maybe, maybe they could move past it and everything could be normal.

    But that was tomorrow Mike’s problem. Tonight, all Mike cared about was replaying the moment over and over again, guiltily relishing in what he would find out the next day was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

***ALSO!! i posted this on AO3, i'd really appreciate it if you guys could go show it some love over there <33

[capseycartwright]

what about buddie + small town au for the short fics ?

Buck had never imagined he’d end up back in his hometown, years after he first left - but after years of travelling, it had sort of made sense to end up back in small town Texas. He’d trained with the fire department in Dallas, and transferred up to the bend-in-the-road town he’d grown up in and (mostly) hadn’t looked back.

He’d had his reasons.

It just turned out that his reasons had ran as far from their hometown as they could, in the end. Buck - he’d been hurt by it, but he hadn’t been bitter about it, he wasn’t bitter about it. Life just - life wasn’t meant to work out in their favour, but that didn’t mean life was bad. Buck had bought a house, a house of his own, and he had a job he loved, and his sister was back in his life, and he could be happy. Really, he could.

August in Texas was one of Buck’s favourite times of the year. Not the beginning of the month, no, but toward the end of August, as the weather slowly started to change, and the sunsets seemed to get longer and more golden and fiery and orange, and it reminded Buck of those long hot Texas summers he’d lived so many of, growing up, working long shifts at the grocery store, and -

Well, being with Eddie.

Eddie Diaz. Eddie Diaz was Buck’s reason for leaving, and he’d been Buck’s reason for coming home. Buck had been a freshman, when Eddie was a sophomore, and Buck had been head over heels for him from the moment he’d spotted him at tryouts for the baseball team - Eddie had been a vice-captain, and Buck had trailed along after him like a sad puppy, frankly, and it hadn’t been until the summer after Buck’s freshman year of high-school that Eddie Diaz had picked him up in his beat up old pickup truck and they’d gotten milkshakes and driven out into the desert and Eddie had kissed him like Buck was worth something and he’d spent the whole summer desperately in love.

That was why Buck loved August.

He loved August - and he hated September, because that was when Eddie had ended it, and shattered Buck’s heart into a million pieces. He’d sort of held onto the desperate hope that Eddie might come back to him again, but then he’d heard from Eddie’s mom that he’d moved up to Austin, to go to college, and he’d dropped out and gone and gotten fucking married and six months later Eddie was a goddamn dad and Buck had ran as far and as fast as the could.

Still.

August reminded Buck of happier times.

Switching on the hose, Buck set about rinsing off the soap from the firetruck wheels. Dallas had been hectic, and busy, and constantly moving, and life back at home was quieter, and there was time for chores in the firehouse - and Buck always volunteered to wash the truck, just so he could watch the sunset, or the sunrise, the front doors of the firehouse garage open and the golden sand of the Texas desert stretching out for miles ahead of him.

It was a reminder, in a way, that regardless of how much it felt like everyone in town was in Buck’s business (especially his dating business), he was still a tiny, insignificant speck in the grand scheme of the universe. It was oddly comforting.

“Hey, hotshot.”

The voice was unbearably familiar, as Buck slowly turned to see Eddie standing in the doorway of the firehouse. He was still in his fatigues, and Buck tried to swallow the angry bitterness that rose in his throat as he gazed at the familiar camouflage print, Diaz printed in black, blocky letters on Eddie’s chest.

He’d clearly just gotten home.

Eddie’s smile was the same, soft, half-crooked smile it was when he was eighteen and he was at the centre of Buck’s entire universe. “I heard you’ve moved home,” he continued, voice soft. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.”

Buck twisted the hose he was holding in his hands, careful fingers smoothing out the line before he replied. “I thought I had a reason to come home,” he said simply, looking everywhere except at Eddie. “But I was wrong. Clearly.”

“Buck….” Eddie stepped forward, his forehead creased with worry.

“Eddie, don’t,” Buck shook his head. “You called me, from fucking Afghanistan, crying, because you missed me, and you begged me to come home - and when I got home, Shannon was the one to tell me that you’d reenlisted. Without telling me, Eddie.”

“I had to, Buck.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Eddie - it might work with your parents, or Shannon, but it’s not going to work with me,” Buck dropped the hose, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He’d wanted Eddie for the last ten goddamn years, and he still wanted him more than he had the words for, and he fucking hated the bones of Eddie Diaz for making him want him, still, even after all this time.

Eddie was quiet, for a second. “I was terrified,” he admitted. “The divorce papers - they’d just been finalised, and I was terrified because I didn’t know how I was going to be a father to Christopher when our family was so broken - and all because of me,” he paused, voice shaking slightly as he looked intently at Buck. “And I was terrified of how I felt about you, Buck - because we were together for one summer, and somehow you’re all I’ve ever wanted since.”

“Eddie.” Buck didn’t know what to say - how to react.

“I know I can’t fix everything with a few nice words and an apology, Buck,” Eddie said, moving his hand, the bandage on his wrist visible for the first time. “But I’m here - for good, this time. So, I - uh, if you’d have me, Evan, I’d like to take you on a date. A real first date, this time - with dinner and drinks and not in the back of my truck.”

Buck couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I seem to remember us having a lot of fun in the back of your truck, that summer,” he teased, enjoying the way Eddie’s face flushed the most delightful shade of pink. “Eddie - I’m not the same person I was, ten years ago.”

“Neither am I,” Eddie reassured. “But I’m excited to get to know the person you are now, Buck. No - no stress, no expectations. Just me and you.”

And, well -

Maybe Buck didn’t hate September all that much, anymore.

send me a pairing & an au setting and i’ll write you a mini fic