#soot from wildfire

[loucifersbitch]

Buck walks through the automatic doors on autopilot and freezes. It hits him then that the last time he stood here, he was meeting Tommy for Maddie and Chim’s wedding. He had stood almost in this very spot and kissed his boyfriend who was covered in soot after fighting a wildfire all night and most of the day.

Now his boyfriend is somewhere else in the hospital, and Buck can’t kiss him or touch him, and his hands are shaking, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

He turns toward the nearest bathroom and makes it into the stall just in time. He hasn’t eaten yet today, so he’s only throwing up bile mixed with panic and regret, but it’s just as bad.

It’s Hen who finds him, which -

“Why are you in the men’s room?” he asks, his voice weak and still creaky.

“I thought you might need a medical professional.” When Buck just looks at her, she continues with a sigh, ��We could hear you in the waiting room. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” That’s a little embarrassing. “Sorry. And thanks.”

He gratefully accepts the wet paper towel she hands him to wipe his face.

“Any news yet?”

“Not yet. They took him back for surgery, and it’ll probably be a few more hours before we hear. Bobby and Eddie are in the waiting room if there’s an update. Chim went to pick up Jee from daycare, but he’ll be back later with Maddie.”

Then she produces a water bottle from somewhere behind her.

“How long have I been in here?” Buck asks. Hen seems way too prepared for it to have been just a few minutes.

“About half an hour,” she says. “Actually closer to 45 minutes now.”

“Right.”

So time is still moving awkwardly. He can’t get his bearings. He feels untethered, like he’ll never be on solid ground again.

“Why don’t we get you up and out to a chair?” Hen asks gently. She’s not treating him with kid gloves, but she is being more careful than necessary.

He decides to accept it for the time being. Maybe he does need the softness in her voice and the kindness in her eyes right now.

“Yeah - yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Hen.”

She smiles with something like relief and then stands, offering Buck a hand up.

The waiting room is blessedly empty save for their morose party. Buck tries to sit down, but before he can, Hen is pulling at his turnout coat, trying to yank it off his shoulders. She manhandles the coat off and tosses it to Eddie who adds it to the growing pile of coats on an unused chair in the corner. He’s too tired to fight it or question it, plus it was getting heavy with all of the rain still soaked into the fabric. 

After that, Hen leaves to call Karen, and Ravi goes to get food for them all at a little cafe just up the road that they’ve come to know well. 

Buck sits between Bobby and Eddie, almost a mockery of them standing at the crash site, holding him up. Best not to think about it.

Eddie holds a phone in his hands that Buck recognizes, but it’s not Eddie’s phone. The screen is cracked at the upper corner, spider-webbing its way diagonally down the length of the glass.

“Is that -?” He can’t even bring himself to ask.

“It’s Tommy’s, yeah. A nurse brought out the personal items he had on him a while ago. I was going to see if he has any family in his contacts, but I don’t know his passcode.”

“Oh,” Buck swallows roughly, “it’s um - it’s my birthday. But,” he continues before Eddie types the digits, “he doesn’t have any family in his contacts. At least, not anyone he would want here.”

“Ah,” is all Eddie says before handing the phone over to Buck. He pockets it and tries to think about anything other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

He spends the next few minutes staring off into space thinking of nothing other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

“He’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Eddie says into the heavy silence.

“Eddie’s right,” Bobby adds. “His arm will be fine, and the cuts and scrapes will heal. He’ll be back up in the sky before you know it.”

Buck feels his stomach churn threateningly at the thought, but he does his best to nod and smile. 

When Ravi returns with food, Buck can’t handle the smell, let alone eating anything. But he tries. He can hear Tommy’s low voice in his head warning, “Evan, you need to eat something,” and that convinces him more than Eddie’s prodding.

When Karen shows up along with Chimney and Maddie, Buck feels the need to pull her and his sister off to the side.

He tries to keep his voice steady as he says, “I didn’t get it. Before, I mean. I didn’t get what it felt like to be on this side.” He’s oddly proud his voice only cracked once.

Maddie grabs his hand. “Buck, you’ve been on this side a lot of times. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the 118 isn’t very good at staying out of the hospital.”

He lets out a wet laugh.

“I think he means on the worried partner side of things,” Karen says. “You’ve never had someone you’re in a relationship with get injured like this before. Is that right?”

“Y-yeah.” He chuckles sardonically. “When I saw the helicopter - and his - his hand hanging out the window - I thought - he wasn’t moving, y’know? It took us so long to find him. We were too late. I thought -”

“You thought you’d lost him,” Maddie supplies. He can only nod. “Yep, welcome to the Worried Partners Club.”

“It sucks, but it’s worth it,” Karen adds.

Later, when Athena gets off shift, she arrives at the hospital bearing coffee for everyone. Buck nods gratefully when she hands him one, and the understanding look in her eyes nearly sets him off again. Although, he thinks he might be too dehydrated for tears by now.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” a voice calls from the doors leading to the OR.

Everyone looks up, but Buck is on his feet before the nurse finishes saying Tommy’s name. He feels people behind him, and the nurse’s eyes widen a bit at everyone gathering around, but Buck’s glad for them.

“He’s out of surgery. Everything went well. He’ll be in recovery for about an hour, but as soon as we get him in a room, you can see him.” 

The last part is directed toward Buck. Maybe he now looks like he’s part of the Worried Partners Club, but that’s fine. He’ll see Tommy soon. That’s what matters.

He catches the end of the nurse’s spiel as he says, “...still be under some sedation, so don’t expect much conversation.”

Buck nods, and the nurse leaves, and then Maddie is dragging him back to their chairs, handing him his coffee, and plopping down next to him to wait until they can see Tommy.

“He’s going to be insufferable,” Eddie says suddenly. He looks at Buck and says, “Remember that time he sprained his ankle while we were sparring? God, he was the worst patient.”

Buck genuinely laughs for the first time since they got the call. “He’s so stubborn, he wouldn’t even let me open doors for him. He just struggled to balance on his crutches so he could do it himself. He almost fell into the bushes twice outside the physical therapist’s office.”

Then everyone is laughing, a sense of lightness settling over Buck. He still doesn’t feel grounded or right necessarily, but laughing with his family helps.

They keep telling stories after that. Most of them are about Tommy, but some are stories or updates about kids or parents or a new recipe gone wrong. They all avoid the topic of work.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” It’s a different nurse this time, but she doesn’t blink an eye at the number of family Tommy has. “He’s resting in his room. You can go back to see him, but we ask that you keep it to 4 or 5 people at a time. He’s still pretty groggy and probably won’t remember what happened right away, so keep conversation simple.” Then she turns and starts walking down the hallway, not waiting or looking back to see if anyone follows.

Buck grabs Chim and Eddie and gestures at Bobby to come, too. At the last second he grabs Hen’s hand, and the five of them hurry to catch up with the nurse together.

“Breathe, Buck,” Hen whispers.

He can’t. Not yet.

part 1

part 2

part 4

[salty-autistic-writer]

For @118dailydrabble, Word 11: Viral

Buck frowns.

Why is everyone looking at him and giggling?

Does he have something between his teeth?

"You haven't seen it yet?" Chimney asks, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"What?" Buck asks.

"Someone went viral," Hen says, shaking from suppressed laughter.

"Who?" Buck asks, frown deepening. "Tell me already!"

It's a grinning Eddie who shows him a picture on Instagram.

Buck stares.

And freezes.

Oh God.

His face heats up and his heart starts pounding.

It's Tommy and him, kissing passionately between two firetrucks, faces smudged with soot. Whoever took the picture titled it: "Hot firefighters reuniting after battling wildfire - Romance of the century!"

Chimney gleefully whispers it into Buck's ear for weeks: Romance of the century.

(AO3 Link)

[sparklingcid3r]

Something I’ll always love about Soda and Darry is their fire and ice contrast.

Soda, whose love runs so hot it burns. It draws Pony in and keeps him at Soda’s side, craving the warmth and safety that his bonfire of a brother offers.

The way Soda wraps Pony up in his arms while they’re under the blankets and Pony’s anxiety and fear is rolling off his shoulders in waves. After nightmares, it’s Soda’s natural warmth he gravitates to. He’s a sun, and everyone else spins on their orbit, but they’re all revolving around him and his whims.

Soda, who’s one of the best fighters out of all of them. The way he sparks and blazes, quick on his feet and jabbing his opponents with the heat of a cigarette burn.

Soda, whose anger is an eruption of pent up fear and frustration, slow to ignite but a wildfire once it does.

Soda, whose letter was the lighthouse Pony needed to see to start slowly making his way home to his brothers.

Compared to Darry, whose eyes got cold and hard after their parents died. Who doesn’t smile anymore but who’s melted by Soda poking warm fun at him, and who’s shattered by the tragedy that follows Pony from the lot to Windrixville back to Tulsa.

Darry, whose love is a cool stream of air on a sweltering day in June, invisible and unassuming until suddenly it’s all around.

The way he was the iceberg that Soda and Pony found purchase on in the middle of the dark sea of grief, staying firm and upright, freezing himself so that nothing could touch him, nothing could risk breaking him too, not when his brothers needed him. He’d sooner lose himself than the rest of his family.

Darry, who has to wait for someone to step up to him at rumbles and who can take a blow on the chin that would knock anyone else down. And once he gets his turn, it’s hit after hit, kick after kick, a hailstorm that pins his opponent to the ground.

Darry, whose anger is loud and roaring like blizzard winds, but once he gets quiet it’s frigid and biting and permeating every room of the house.

Darry, who hugged his kid brother while he was still covered in soot and ash and doused whatever lingered of the blaze that followed him to the hospital.

Just two brothers who exist so differently yet so similarly, trying to look out for their family the only ways they know how.

[levanswrites]

what’s it gonna take to break your heart?

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

summary:

He vows to keep his distance, tells himself it's wrong—you're too new, too young, too good—and he's your commanding officer.

But whichever way he bends the truth, he just can't seem to keep you away.

warnings: angst, slow build, inside the tortured mind™ of steven grant rogers, mention of age difference, light mention of blood/injury

word count: 1k

a/n: thought i'd write something from steve's pov, for a change. pt. 1 of my mini series: what's it gonna take? all parts can be read as stand-alone pieces. title by FINNEAS

One of these days, you’re gonna be what does him in.

You’re a wildfire, a blaze barely contained. Too young, too bright, too intense for someone like him. Next to you, he's just a smoldering ember, tempered by decades of ash.

Fresh-faced, barely in your mid-20s, yet hand-selected by Fury from the newest round of Avengers recruits. It didn't take long for the rest of the group to catch onto your talent and grit—started calling you their wildcard, the Ace.

Still, there’s no denying your age. Leagues younger than everyone else, with a certain vibrance in your eyes that sets you apart. 

Too young to devote the rest of your life to this kind of work.

And far too young for him to be feeling the way he does about you.

So he does everything he can to keep you at arm’s length, swallowing down every sidelong glance, every quick-witted comment and smile that eats away at his resolve.

But then you actualize the worst of his fears during a routine operation, throwing yourself head-first into a burning building, just moments away from collapsing.  

You, with a life teeming with potential, nearly taken in a heartbeat.

And Steve snaps. 

The Quinjet is barely off the ground when he strides through the haze of desert debris, making a b-line for you. Doesn’t spare you a second to catch your breath, dragging you by the arm to the rear of the cargo deck, raised eyebrows from the rest of the crew be damned.

By the time he releases his ironclad grip, cornering you against a stack of weapon crates, he’s scanned you for injuries at least three times over.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, chest heaving like he’s the one who’s just sprinted across a collapsing rooftop and leapt onto an airborne vehicle.

“What do you mean?” 

You cock your head earnestly, arms crossed as you stare up at him.

And he swears, he could end it all right then and there. 

Face covered in soot, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth—and you have the audacity to smile. The sharp corners of your lips pierce into smooth, rounded cheeks, still flushed red with exertion. As stunning as the day he first saw you, even with all the grime, sweat, and blood staining your skin.

Steve’s jaw clenches, concealing the tightness in his stomach with a gruff sigh. 

“You know exactly what. I ordered you not to engage.”

Not a flicker of hesitation when you fire back: 

“She had kids. I didn’t have a choice.” 

Directives and protocols gone by the wayside, earpiece tossed behind your shoulder as you head straight for a family trapped on the top floor—his orders to wait for the Quinjet buried in the dust. 

And he shouldn’t have expected anything less. 

He breathes through his nostrils, eyes fluttering shut, but all he can hear is the blood roaring in his ears.

But you did have a choice, he wants to argue. You don’t have to bear it all on your own. 

Why must you always be the one to rush to the frontlines?

But the words that come out are cold and detached, bypassing the part of his brain that wants to reach out and gently wipe the soot off your cheek: 

“That’s not the point. If the building had collapsed, you would have only added to the casualty count.”

“Maybe. But the Quinjet wasn’t gonna get there in time. I had to take the risk.”

A quiet sigh, gloved fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Agent, we don’t gamble with lives like that.”

Your sharp laugh cuts through the air, piercing his ears. Too sharp against the soft outline of your jaw, the smooth contours of your neck. You shoot him a look, the clarity in your irises reflecting his hypocrisy. 

“Funny coming from you, isn’t it Cap?”

There it was, that derision in your tone, a sneer on your pretty lips as you spit out his title like a a dirty word.

And damn him for wanting to taste it off your tongue, hear you gasp it into his neck as he presses you against the cold, steel-plated wall behind you. 

Leather gloves creak under his grip as he balls his fists, eyes darting to the wound on your upper arm when he can't formulate a quick enough response. A large glass shrapnel from the window you’d crashed through—a steady trail of dark crimson trickling down your forearm all the way to your dirt-laden fingertips, where it hits the floor in slow drips. 

“Just… go get that patched up.” 

Lips curling over bright teeth, you salute him with your injured arm without so much as blinking, a line of blood running back down your wrist. 

“Yessir.”

For the entire 7-hour ride from Lagos to base camp, he stays glued to a seat in the back of the Quinjet, head bowed over a tablet as he busies himself with sorting through gathered intel.  Desperately ignores your animated banter with Natasha and Sam from the other side of the cabin, where you drown out the steady drone of the engine with your bright laughter. 

When a sudden shriek sounds from your direction, he spares a quick glance, finding you with your arms over your head, laughing and swatting the air as Redwing circles teasingly above you. Nearly snaps his tablet in half the moment you suddenly bend over, the stretch of your tactical suit clinging to your hips as you reach for the drone control panel on Sam’s wrist.

As soon as the wheels screech down on the tarmac, Steve gets to unloading the jet, hauling crate after crate of equipment just to avoid meeting your gaze. 

Hours later, when the paperwork’s taken care of and everyone’s retreated to their quarters, he drags himself to the training room on base.

Throws his fists against a punching bag, each strike a desperate attempt to sweat out the impure thoughts. Praying he can free himself of the images in his head—images of you—he doesn’t let up until the first rays of sunlight hit the gym. The skin over his knuckles start to split after a while, but he doesn’t bother wrapping them. They’ll heal soon enough.  

And when neither the 4-hour gym session nor the scalding hot shower afterward washes you away from his thoughts, burning brightly as ever in the back of his mind, he sinks into bed, fuming. 

You’re too new, too young.

It’s a breach of protocol, he’s technically your commanding officer. 

You don't think of him in that way. 

Yet, whichever way he bends it, there’s no escaping the truth. 

It’s a sharp, exquisite kind of ache, one that wraps around his chest, tightening with every breath, until it’s the only thing he can feel.

And damn it, it’s a torture sweeter than anything he's ever known.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

Sources & related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ On Colours

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them! Writing Resources PDFs

[crystaleclipse10]

A look into the Ninja's powers

Welcome to my analysis of the powers of each of the 6 main Ninja. How each power feels and its source for each Elemental Master, and how it reflects in their personalities. This has headcanons and canon explanation. Hopefully it all makes sense

Cole: Cole’s power comes from deep within the ground. He can feel the power of the earth in his guts, strong and steady. It’s grounding. It’s constant. The earth is always somewhere below him. No matter where he is, somewhere there’s earth—whether it’s deep within a mountain, everywhere; or leagues under the sea; or so far beneath the sky it is practically invisible—it will never not be there. It’s reliable. Yet it takes different forms: dirt, rocks, magma, sand; it’s all part of the ground, versatile. It’s protective; it encases and preserves ancient ruins and fossils, it gives shelter to those seeking refuge. It connects all living things—it reaches every part of the world. It cannot be forced to move, but it can be guided. It is the foundation of everything.

“You've never been farther underground. Never been more surrounded by the very thing that powers you. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying you, but what if he was actually bringing you closer to the earth? To the source of your elemental power?” “So what do I do? Try to connect with the earth?” “Perhaps. Or perhaps you just have to stop worrying so much and let the earth connect with you.”

Zane: Zane can sense his ice powers in his mind. It can exist in the coldest of climates, and when it melts, turns into something just as powerful; it is not wasted. It carves its way through anything—glaciers. The rivers of ice creep forward slowly but surely, taking everything in its path. It’s steady and cold, but its bite can be unrelenting. Frostbite, hypothermia—just as cold as ice is. And icicles, especially when shot as a projectile, are like daggers; sharp and dangerous. But it can numb pain. It tames something burning hot into something pleasantly warm. It is hard and strong, but it can crack—and if that happens, it can be made whole again with a little time. It is reliable and quiet. It can create a protective barrier. It’s there when it needs to be.

“This isn’t about numbers…it’s about family.” “He’s protecting us.” “I am a Nindroid, and Ninja never quit. Go Ninja, go!”

Jay: Lightning. He can feel it buzzing on his skin and nerves, able to be condensed and controlled. Pure energy, electricity. It’s volatile and dangerous. But it can be essential to life. It’s everywhere—thunderstorms, static, neurons firing in the brain. If it wasn’t for electricity, the brain would cease to function and life couldn’t exist. It’s quick—blink and it’s gone, just a thread of light that comes and goes. But its impact is remembered. A thunderous boom, a scar of soot, sometimes even a blaze set in its wake. Its glow is practically too bright to look at; a source of light for even the darkest of caves. Just one spark can start a fire or illuminate a building. It’s a source of power—for vehicles, technology, buildings. Even though it is not always visible, lightning and electricity are all around, ready to be called upon.

“Control the power inside you. When you feel a surge welling up, harness it.”

Kai: Kai’s power over fire comes from the breath—air is fuel for fire, and controlled breathing can control the blaze. It is not a matter of force—though hot anger can stoke fire—but harnessing the buzzing potential in the air. Fire can be destructive; a wildfire is chaotic, unyielding, and intense, burning everything in its path. But it can be life-giving, too. It’s cozy. It provides warmth on the coldest of nights. It can cook food, boil water, ward off frost. It is the essence of the sun—the largest blaze that allows life to exist. It burns with passion and ferocity, but if it loses strength, there will always be an ember remaining. Almost nothing can beat back a big, hot fire. It can be a weapon or a defense; it hurts to touch, and no one without immunity would dare go near. Without fire, life could not be sustained.

“I just wish I still had my powers. I was Master of Fire. I could've made a new fire like—like...like this.” “Oh, do not worry, Kai. Elemental Power comes from within, like courage. Sometimes it wanes, sometimes it waxes, but it cannot be stolen.”

Nya: The power of water flows through her veins. Water is ever-changing and powerful. Even the strongest rocks erode under the power of water. It’s relentless. It can defeat ghosts because it is always changing and shifting, while ghosts are stuck trying to be one thing and refuse to change. It cleanses and heals. The first thing to do for something dirty is to wash it with water. And it’s part of blood, something vital for people to live. It’s restless. The ocean never stays still; it does not like to be contained. The tides are as constant as they are powerful. The entire ocean moves with the tides; the constant in and out of so much water shapes the coasts. Rivers bend and flow around obstacles; no matter what is in the way, it will eventually reach the ocean—the largest body of water filled with plants and animals. Water supports life and creates ecosystems. It’s the heart of the wild.

“Jay, the ocean's good for much more than food. As we go deeper, I can feel its elemental power growing. It's almost overwhelming.”

Lloyd: Perhaps the most vague but also the most powerful element is Lloyd’s. Is it Power? Creation? Energy? Life? Lloyd is connected to the Source Dragon of Life, not Energy. Whatever the case, it comes from his heart. If it is Life, that is where it is strongest—the beating of a heart shows life in a living being; it is impossible to live without a heart. It’s everywhere—inside Lloyd, in his comrades, his students, his masters, nature around him. His love for the world is his true self and makes his heart powerful. His goodness gives him strength. His drive to save the world fuels his passion. Life is inside of him, but it can also be taken away. It can heal, but also hurt. When it is taken away, overused, or corrupted, it leaves him weakened and sick. But it can save his life in a fight—and it has. It is a combination of the core elements of Creation: Lightning, Ice, Fire, and Earth—LIFE (thank you @secretlyharumi for helping me realize this!). They can be utilized individually, but also combined into something potent and beautiful. Without life, nothing would exist. It is the thread of the universe, stitching together things similar and different; big and small.

“I’m already the Golden Ninja. How much more power do I need?” “You’ve only scratched the surface! You have the potential to move mountains. Power of the First Spinjitzu Master!”

I like the idea the Ninja's personalities and powers are mixed

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[bullet-prooflove]

Texas: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19 @angelofthetrenchcoats

Prequel piece to:

Box Breathing - Eddie's been struggling since Christopher left.

Always - You make a promise to Eddie.

Real - Eddie tells you he wants something real.

A Future With You - Eddie makes a realisation during a one on one game of basketball.

Cash - Eddie discovers your secret Instagram profile.

Snake - You receieve a surprise gift from your ex at Halloween.

Midnight - Eddie makes you a promise.

Cherry Lipstick - Eddie gets better insight into you during a social event.

Bang - Eddie's new year starts with a bang.

Lifetime (NSFW) - One night with you makes Eddie realise he wants a life time.

El Paso - Eddie is forced to make a decision that hurts you both.

Possibilities - Eddie thinks about what might have been.

Welcome Back - Eddie discovers the reason you've been out of contact.

Home - Eddie lays eyes on you for the first time in six months.

The first time Eddie lays eyes on you is at the campaign fire in Texas. His team have travelled up from LA along with a dozen others to help out with a wildfire that’s been burning for weeks.

He barely has boots on the ground when the your crew switches out with another and there you are, an angel amidst the flames of hell.

The scent of woodsmoke and ash cling to your skin as you stand before him in your turnout coat, soot smeared across your cheek. You pull off your helmet and the loose strands from your braid fall across your features as you rub the back of your hand across your brow to chase away the sweat from the blaze you’ve been battling.

He's staring, he knows he is but he just can’t help himself because no one has ever looked as good in the uniform as you do, especially when you strip out of that turnout coat, the one with Lopez written across the back.

Your grey t-shirt clings to you in a way that should be criminal, tucked into standard issue trousers that should not look as good on you as they do.

He picks up one of the water bottles from the refreshment table, handing it to you wordlessly. You take it from him and drinking from it greedily before you set it down alongside your jacket.

“Selena.” You say as you stick your hand out to shake his. “Selena Lopez with the 115.”

“Eddie Diaz.” He says taking your hand in his, surprised by the strength in your grip. “118.”

“Well stay safe Eddie Diaz.” You say, jerking your thumb at the inferno that rages in the distance behind you. “Mother nature is sure being one hell of a bitch tonight.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you filter past him towards the designated campground, not until Buck clasps his shoulder telling him they need to get to the command tent for assignment allocations.

“You ok man?” His friend asks as he steers him in the right direction. “You’re kind of spacing out.”

I think I’ve just met the love of my life, he wants to say but he doesn’t because Eddie, he’s not the type of man to believe in love at first sight.

“Yea.” He says turning his attention to the task at hand. “Let’s go fight a fire.”

Love Eddie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rjzimmerman]

This is a long post, but not nearly as long as it should be in order for you to fully grasp what these "pronouncements" from the EPA mean. Essentially, if all the repeals described in this article happen (highly unlikely, although not impossible), all the hard work put into these policies and rules by a lot of people and the billions of dollars of research money spent on supporting them will be a big giant waste.

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

In a barrage of pronouncements on Wednesday the Trump administration said it would repeal dozens of the nation’s most significant environmental regulations, including limits on pollution from tailpipes and smokestacks, protections for wetlands, and the legal basis that allows it to regulate the greenhouse gases that are heating the planet.

But beyond that, Lee Zeldin, the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, reframed the purpose of the E.P.A. In a two-minute-and-18-second video posted to X, Mr. Zeldin boasted about the changes and said his agency’s mission is to “lower the cost of buying a car, heating a home and running a business.”

“From the campaign trail to Day 1 and beyond, President Trump has delivered on his promise to unleash energy dominance and lower the cost of living,” Mr. Zeldin said. “We at E.P.A. will do our part to power the great American comeback.”

Nowhere in the video did he refer to protecting the environment or public health, twin tenets that have guided the agency since its founding in 1970.

Mr. Zeldin said the E.P.A. would unwind more than two dozen protections against air and water pollution. It would overturn limits on soot from smokestacks that have been linked to respiratory problems in humans and premature deaths as well as restrictions on emissions of mercury, a neurotoxin. It would get rid of the “good neighbor rule” that requires states to address their own pollution when it’s carried by winds into neighboring states. And it would eliminate enforcement efforts that prioritize the protection of poor and minority communities.

In addition, when the agency creates environmental policy, it would no longer consider the costs to society from wildfires, droughts, storms and other disasters that might be made worse by pollution connected to that policy, Mr. Zeldin said.

In perhaps its most consequential act, the agency said it would work to erase the E.P.A.’s legal authority to regulate carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases by reconsidering decades of science that show global warming is endangering humanity. In his video, Mr. Zeldin derisively referred to that legal underpinning as “the holy grail of the climate change religion.”

Mr. Zeldin called Wednesday’s actions “the largest deregulatory announcement in U.S. history.” He added, “today the green new scam ends, as the E.P.A. does its part to usher in a golden age of American success.”

The announcements do not carry the force of law. In almost every case, the E.P.A. would have to undergo a lengthy process of public comment and develop environmental and economic justifications for the change.

By midafternoon, the agency had counted 31 pronouncements that were designed, Mr. Zeldin said, to “unleash American energy.”

Some of the most significant policy changes Mr. Zeldin said he planned include:

Rolling back restrictions on carbon dioxide emissions from power plants. Currently the E.P.A. requires existing coal-burning power plants and new gas plants built in the United States to cut their greenhouse-gas emissions by 90 percent by 2039.

Rewriting tailpipe pollution standards that were designed to ensure that the majority of new passenger cars and light trucks sold in the United States are all-electric or hybrids by 2032.

Easing limits on mercury emissions from power plants, as well as restrictions on soot and haze from burning coal. A Biden-era rule had aimed to slash by 70 percent emissions from coal-burning power plants of mercury, which has been linked to developmental damage in children.

Greatly reducing the “social cost” of carbon, an economic estimate of the damage caused by each additional ton of carbon dioxide emissions in the atmosphere. That figure plays a significant role in weighing the costs and benefits of regulating industries.

Perhaps the most significant move, though, is an effort to revise a 2009 legal opinion known as the E.P.A. “endangerment finding” which concluded that rising greenhouse gas emissions are a danger to public health. The finding gives the agency the authority to regulate greenhouse gas emissions. Eliminating it would make it virtually impossible for the E.P.A. to curb climate pollution from automobiles, factories, power plants or oil and gas wells.

[sweetbunpura]

Rollo x Yuu brainrot, anyone?

Thinking about what if an explosion happened in potion class, like they normally do, but it sets the room on fire. Of course, the incident spreads through the school like wildfire (heh) and reaches the ears of Rollo, since he's been forced to attend NRC. The idea that a fire has broken out in the school's potion class isn't too far for the mess that happens with the first years, so he's only slightly on edge... Then he hears it's Yuu's class and he's never bolted from a classroom so fast.

By the time he reaches the room, students are helping out the others as they lay nearby away from the burning room. He sees a coughing Ace, a soot covered Deuce, and Yuu's weasel familiar... but he doesn't see her. Before he realizes what he's doing, he grabs Deuce by the collar.

"Where is she?" He's trying to keep his voice as firm as he possibly can, but he hears some cracks in it.

"S-She's still inside."

Rollo fears his blood grow cold and he slowly looks towards the room. The fire has grown in size and power, he has no idea when help is going to arrive and by then, it might be too late. He doesn't have a chance to act as he spots Yuu fireman's carry a student out of the blaze. She hands him off to someone and sighs, her lab coat is missing, leaving her in only a now dirtied white tank top. Soot's on her face and her hair's a bit singed.

Rollo moves by second nature, approaching and wrapping her up in a hug.

"Hey Rolls-Royce..." She coughs and returns the hug. "Let's move away from the fire-"

"J'aurais pu te perdre, papillon." He whispers, his body shaking as he tightens the hug.

"Oh boy, that's french. Hey, hey." Yuu grabs his face. "Roro, let's step back and keep you're eyes on me, okay?"

Rollo nods and together they step back into the grass nearby. They sit and he takes a few moments to gather his breathe, his thumb rubbing circles on top of her hand.

"I'm." He clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

"You called me, 'Papillon'." Her way of saying it is a little off. "What is that?"

"Butterfly or Moth, it's considered the same thing." He answers. "Your last name is 'Homura' and there's a moth called Homura Moth... hench Papillon."

Yuu's silently watching him, he doesn't have the strength to look her in the eyes.

"...That's kinda cute..." She mutters out. "I'll allow it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I could've lost you, butterfly"

[adoriels-tears-if]

First lines of the next update

Your mother is a wildfire, a hurricane of ash and flames.

As the smoke swirls and the fiery tongues consume the last remnants of the shadows, you squint to catch a glimpse of her. Beyond the blaze, you see only a crimson silhouette, a figure of untamed power as wild as her. Beside you, Telio squeezes your hand tightly, a gesture that reflects both his palpable fear and your rising excitement. Then, in an almost automatic movement, he steps back, giving you the space to respond to the irresistible call burning within you, that cry from the heart you can no longer contain.

“Mom!”

Your voice rises, cutting through the clamor, and for a moment, the entire world seems to stop. The flames flicker as if they are suspended at this moment as if your mother herself had paused before surging back with even greater intensity.

Now, they know. Now, they understand, and as several soot-streaked faces turn toward you, Sloan finally seems to grasp the full gravity of the situation. His face contorts in a grimace of cold panic, his eyes scanning the scene before locking onto your face.

Your heart skips a beat as he shouts over the flames, "Seize the children!"

His voice cracks under the strain, just as the ground does. It swallows two Renegades into its depths before they even have a chance to move.

Chaos and Justice spring into action.

Even fly, you note, tears welling in your eyes as a shadow streaks through the fire, swift and precise. You gasp in relief as Saschta swoops in, the vanguard. A living arrow of feathers, bathed in the glow of the flames she slices through with deadly grace.

[zeke-fanfucs]

@solzticesoulz it’s been a while since I wrote them.

Sparks Between the Silence

(Devlin x Wildfire – Soft Fluff)

The smell of solder and lavender drifted through the workshop.

Wildfire sat cross-legged on the floor, hair tied messily back, goggles pushed up onto her forehead. Her gloves were off, fingers smudged with soot and copper residue as she passed Devlin a small, customized component with a flourish.

“For the trigger mod,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Added heat-dampening. So your new rifle doesn’t melt in your hands. Again.”

Devlin looked up from his drafting notes, blinking at her through his glasses. “I told you it wasn’t a melt. It was a controlled thermal failure.”

“Uh huh. That burned a hole in my counter, York.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of her ember-toned hair from her cheek as he leaned in to inspect the part.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured.

Wildfire blinked.

“Oh,” she said, voice cracking just slightly before she masked it with her usual cocky grin. “Well. Yeah. Obviously.”

But Devlin was still watching her. Really watching her. That quiet intensity that made her forget what she was doing sometimes.

“I mean it,” he said. “You always know exactly how to fix what I break.”

She shrugged, her voice suddenly softer than usual. “That’s what I do, Dev. I fix things.”

“I don’t just mean weapons.”

That got her quiet.

He stood, walking over to sit beside her on the workshop floor. His hand brushed hers, fingers tangling. She always ran hot—warmth radiating off her like a furnace—but his touch didn’t flinch. It never had.

Wildfire chewed her lip. “You’re lucky I like nerds.”

“And I’m lucky you let me love you.”

She blinked again, heart stuttering.

“…That was unfairly smooth,” she muttered, blushing to the tips of her ears.

“Yeah, I’ve been practicing,” he said, looking entirely too proud of himself.

Wildfire leaned into him, head on his shoulder, her voice low and teasing. “Maybe if you keep it up, I’ll let you keep sleeping in my bed instead of on your pile of half-finished prototypes.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t bring the prototypes into your bed.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He tilted his head and kissed her temple. “Watch me.”

Her laugh was warm and open, rare and unguarded. She curled her fingers through his and let herself lean fully against him.

Outside, the sun dipped below the dunes. Inside, the workshop lights flickered gently, casting shadows on two souls stitched together by fire and metal and the kind of love that doesn’t ask for permission—it just builds, slow and bright, like sparks in the silence.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

What Maddie Saw

Apparently this is what I do instead of sleeping. I couldn't get Maddie's POV of Buck and Tommy at her wedding out of my head so this happened.

***

Maddie Buckley-Han knew it the moment she saw her brother at her makeshift wedding reception. She'd never seen that look in his eyes before. Evan gazed at Tommy as if he'd hung the moon and stars, his expression a mixture of wonder and barely concealed adoration. It was the look of a man already falling in love, even if he wasn't ready to admit it to himself yet.

What made the scene even more striking was the contrast between Evan's lovesick expression and his appearance. His face was partially covered in soot, but not from his own firefighting duties. The ash on Evan's skin had transferred from Tommy, who had rushed to the wedding straight from fighting a wildfire for over 24 hours. The fact that Tommy had made it at all spoke volumes, and Evan's soot-streaked face was a testament to the passionate greeting they must have shared.

Barely a month had passed since Evan and Tommy met, but Maddie could see that everything was different this time. It wasn't just that Tommy was a man, although embracing that part of himself had certainly opened her brother up to a world of new possibilities. No, it was something more profound.

With Tommy, Evan didn't have to pretend or put on a show. He didn't need to be Buck, the fearless firefighter, always ready with a cocky grin and a daring rescue story. Instead, he could simply be Evan – vulnerable, genuine, and wholly himself. Tommy seemed to see past the bravado, appreciating Evan for who he truly was, with no expectations attached.

As she watched them laughing together, heads bent close in conversation, despite Tommy's obvious exhaustion, Maddie felt a surge of hope for her brother. She'd always worried about him, always fearing that he'd never find someone who could truly understand and accept all of him. But seeing him with Tommy, she realized that Evan had finally found his anchor – someone who not only accepted him but celebrated every facet of his being.

In that moment, surrounded by the joy and love of her own wedding day, Maddie silently wished for her brother to find the same happiness she had. And watching Evan with Tommy, she had a feeling that he just might have found it.

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

BuckTommyFluffebruary day 10: Sleepy Cuddles

This is day 10 of the challenge by @bucktommyfluffebruary and it was so sweet to write. The title of this one is from Movement by Hozier. I feel like Hozier fits them very well.

Atlas in His Sleeping

Read on ao3

Rating T / Words 3514

The party was winding down, quicker than it might have if it hadn’t been in a hospital. Most of the guests had already left. Only a handful remained, though both Maddie and Chimney seemed lost in their own world. The Buckley parents had already left though they’d promised to be back in the morning. Buck was still here, as was Tommy. He still couldn’t quite believe Tommy had made it here after that wildfire, still soot-covered and in his turnouts. It gave him a warm shivery feeling knowing that Tommy had done everything he could to make it here. For Chimney, yes, but also for him.

Currently, Tommy was sitting in one of the visitor chairs that had been dragged into the room. He was talking with Hen and Karen while valiantly trying to stay away. From his spot near the doorway, Buck could see that Tommy was slowly losing that battle. When he yawned for the third time in the last minute, Buck pushed away from where he had been surveying his family with a small, pleased smile. He gave Maddie a quick hug, smiled at Chimney and squeezed his shoulder, then headed over to Tommy. When Tommy looked up at him, his bleary eyes warming as they landed on his face, Buck held his hand out.

“C’mon, since you were dropped off here, I’ll give you a ride home,” Buck offered, waiting for Tommy to take his hand. He ignored the speculative look Karen shot him. “You look like you’re about two seconds away from falling asleep.”

“About that, yeah,” Tommy nodded. He took Buck’s hand and heaved himself to his feet. Then he turned to Hen and Karen. “It was great catching up. See you both around.”

“See you, Tommy,” Hen and Karen both replied in unison.

Everyone laughed then Tommy made his goodbyes to Maddie and Chimney. After that, it was a silent walk out of the hospital, their hands still linked. A few times, Tommy swayed exhaustedly. Buck caught him each time, nudging his shoulder until Tommy stood upright again. By the time they made it to Buck’s jeep, Tommy had yawned another five times.

“Sorry,” Tommy murmured as they got in the car. “I’m so exhausted.”

“It’s okay, I get it. So does everyone else,” Buck reassured him, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder for a second before starting the jeep. “How about you give me your address and then you can doze while I drive?”

Tommy rattled off his address, the end punctuated by yet another yawn. Then, as Buck headed out of the parking lot, Tommy put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Just to rest a bit until he got home. But his exhaustion pulled him under almost immediately. He woke to Buck shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, we’re here, let’s get you inside,” Buck said.

Once he was sure Tommy was awake, he got out and headed around to Tommy’s side. He took his hand again and led him inside. Not too far into the entryway, Tommy stripped out of his turnouts and shoved them into the closet near the door. That left him in a sweaty LAFD tshirt and pants. He yawned his way through a shower while Buck listened with half an ear to make sure he didn’t fall asleep standing up.

When he was finished, Tommy came back out into his bedroom in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. He pulled Buck into a hug, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. When Buck’s hands came up to wrap around his back, Tommy sighed and sank further into the hug. His eyes slipped closed and exhaustion threatened to pull him under again.

“Hey, let’s get you into bed,” Buck murmured, running a hand through Tommy’s hair.

Much as they’d made out fairly passionately earlier at the hospital, part of him didn’t feel ready to try kissing Tommy again right now. Especially when the poor guy was all but dead on his feet. But his fingers still itched to touch Tommy, to hold him close and keep him tucked up against him.

“Should buy me dinner first,” Tommy grumbled, though he smiled against Buck’s neck. “Thank you for this, by the way. I appreciate you getting me home.”

“Of course,” Buck replied. “Come on, big guy, just turn a little bit. Here we go.”

Buck stepped both of them back so that Tommy’s legs hit the bed. He folded immediately, another yawn cracking his jaw. His eyes were still closed and his hands were starting to go slack. He suddenly shifted so that he could lay on the pillows. The motion caught Buck by surprise and he tumbled over Tommy to land in the middle of the bed. Tommy turned to him with a small noise deep in his throat then wrapped himself around Buck like an octopus.

“Tommy?” Buck whispered, his hands automatically finding their way to Tommy’s side and his hair at the base of his skull. “You still awake?”

A quiet snore met his question. Buck pulled his head back enough to study Tommy. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open as he snored. Shaking his head fondly, Buck decided there were worse places to spend the night. Slowly running his fingers through Tommy’s hair, Buck watched him sleep until sleep claimed him too. Definitely worse places and maybe none better.

~*~*~*~

The next time they fell asleep wrapped around each other was at Buck’s loft. They’d been dating for around two months and had been having a night in together. They’d spent it talking, sharing bites of ice cream after dinner. Afterwards, they’d made their way to Buck’s couch, curled up together and kissing lazily. There was no hurry, just the desire for the press of lips to lips, of hands trailing over skin, of pleasures whispered against temples or cheeks.

Buck had had a long shift so he was the one struggling to stay awake. He made a valiant effort for a short time, Tommy’s kisses giving him a small burst of energy. But slowly, he couldn’t fight the lassitude in his limbs. When he yawned into the kiss, he pulled back and laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Buck said, blushing a little as he looked away. “Long day.”

“It’s all right,” Tommy smiled and there was a wealth of understanding in that smile. Buck reflected that it was nice to date someone who really understood the job. “You want to head up to bed?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Buck replied. Then he paused for a moment, sudden nerves in his belly. “Do you want to come with me?”

There was silence for a moment as Tommy digested the question. Buck tried not to fidget as he waited. Tommy had been in his bed before. They’d had sex multiple times over the past month or so. But it hadn’t been this... intimate and domestic before. He hadn’t come to Buck’s bed just to sleep, just to spend time with him.

Just when Buck thought Tommy was going to say no, Tommy smiled warmly at him and nodded. Buck breathed out a sigh and kissed him. It was soft and happy. Then, he led the way up to the loft. They undressed and settled in Buck’s bed, Buck curled into Tommy’s side with his head over Tommy’s heart. Sleep pulled at him, helped along by the gentle caress of Tommy’s hand over his back. Just as Buck was falling asleep, he heard Tommy murmur a bit of what sounded like a song.

“Honey, you, you’re Atlas in his sleeping, and when you move, I’m moved,” Tommy sang in a soft tenor that could barely be heard beyond the edges of the bed.

It sounded sweet and warm and full of an emotion Buck wasn’t quite ready to face yet. It coiled in his belly, biding its time. Still growing. Before he could ask what the song was, the darkness behind his eyes rose up and claimed him. His last thought before falling asleep was how much he liked Tommy’s voice when he sang.

~*~*~*~

They’d been together for five months and Buck couldn’t believe how he’d gone so long without Tommy in his life. They spent so much of their free time together it felt that they were becoming a unit. Buck and Tommy. BuckandTommy. When they were on shift, Buck often texted Tommy during his down times. And, whenever something happened that caught his interest, Buck’s first thought was to tell Tommy about it.

The feeling was mutual, to go by how often Tommy texted him and how eager he was for their time together.

They’d been spending so many nights together that something was rewired in Buck’s head. He found it hard to get to sleep now without a warm weight at his side. Without arms wrapped around him or legs tangled together under the blanket. Without the soft, breathy snores Tommy was prone to that Buck found surprisingly adorable.

He was in one of the bunks in the naproom, body curled around his phone so the dimmed light didn’t bother anyone else. He could hear breathing and snores coming from the others. But they weren’t right. They weren’t Tommy and he couldn’t sleep. Luckily, today was Tommy’s day off and he was perfectly willing to text with Buck.

Did you know that Chimney snores so loud he could shake the building when he sleeps on his back?

I do remember that. Someone used to poke him until he rolled over.

Huh, maybe I should try that. Maybe I can get to sleep then.

Bad day today?

No just... I miss you. I got used to you sleeping next to me.

Evan that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me in a while. I miss you too, baby.

Can we just talk until I fall asleep?

Of course, baby. Go poke Howie so he stops snoring. Then I’ll tell you about the dog I had to help rescue today.

Okay done. Eddie woke up to high five me as I headed back to my bunk. Why were you rescuing a dog? Weren’t you off today, sweetheart?

While they texted, Buck imagined Tommy’s voice speaking instead of the words on the screen. He smiled to himself as Tommy recounted his day. Slowly, his eyes grew heavier and the time between his replies grew longer. Eventually, he dropped off to sleep, Tommy’s voice echoing in his mind.

~*~*~*~

Two months. Two months since Tommy had walked out of the loft and out of Buck’s life. It wasn’t the absolute worst two months of his life but it was definitely up there. Though he was tempted so many times to reach out, Tommy clearly wanted his space. So Buck took up baking in an attempt to keep his mind off Tommy. And his hands off his phone so that he didn’t reach out. It didn’t help that he’d chosen baking because of Tommy’s sweet tooth.

Tonight, Buck had finally bowed to the cajoling from Hen and joined her and Karen at a bar. It was the first time he’d gone out since the breakup. Part of him ached, feeling the absence of Tommy at his side. When Karen came back from the bar with shots for the table, Buck quickly reached out and downed his. Maybe the alcohol would fill the space, even just temporarily. He lost count of how much he drank though a pleasant buzz filled his thoughts.

Then he saw Tommy.

He was standing at the bar, apparently ordering something. He smiled at the bartender and a flash of jealousy burned through Buck’s chest. It was a friendly, almost flirty smile. And the bartender was into it. As he handed over the drink Tommy had ordered, his fingers lingered a few seconds too long over Tommy’s. That had Buck shooting to his feet and pushing his way through the crowd. He was at Tommy’s side before Tommy had even started to turn away from the bartender. When he did turn, he nearly spilled his drink down the front of Buck’s chest.

“Evan?” Tommy asked, squinting at him. He swayed a bit in place, catching his drink. It was obvious he’d been drinking too. “What? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Buck shot back, anger burning at the back of his throat. “We haven’t even been broken up that long and you’re already flirting with random people?”

“Flirting? What? Are we really doing this now?” Tommy asked.

He took a deep pull on his drink, his eyes on Buck’s the whole time. There was a challenge there that Buck was perfectly willing to answer. He waited until Tommy pulled the drink away from his lips then grabbed it. He turned it until the place Tommy’s lips had been was towards him. Then he covered the place with his own lips, never taking his eyes off Tommy’s. A feral sense of triumph flashed through him when Tommy swallowed.

“Now,” Buck answered, licking over his lips. “C’mon. I didn’t drive and I’m too drunk to drive now anyways. Let me get an Uber.”

He went over and said goodbye to Hen and Karen, gesturing towards Tommy when Hen asked what he was doing. He waved away her trying to argue him into staying. Instead, he said goodbye again and walked away. Tommy followed after, still swaying a little as he kept pace. Buck ordered an Uber and headed outside with Tommy to wait. They were silent, the alcohol making both of them woozy. The jealousy and anger had mostly burned out under the influence of the alcohol.

After the Uber ride, Buck let Tommy into the loft. But seeing his couch, hearing the quiet that filled the place, filled him with an overwhelming exhaustion. He could hear Tommy breathing behind him, deep breaths that sounded like he was fighting to stay awake too. After locking the door and kicking off his shoes, Buck took Tommy’s hand and led him to the couch. They collapsed onto it, Tommy leaning into Buck’s side. His head drooped onto Buck’s shoulder and he yawned. They were silent for a few long heartbeats, settling into something so familiar it almost hurt.

“Can I stay?” Tommy asked, his voice soft and filled with a kind of terrified hope.

“Yeah, yeah, you can stay,” Buck replied.

They settled deeper into the couch, Buck’s hand finding its place at the back of Tommy’s head. Tommy made a noise in his throat and tucked his face deeper in the crook of Buck’s neck. They breathed silently as they absorbed each other’s warmth. Tommy’s hand came to rest on Buck’s leg just above his knee, squeezing slightly as if to ground himself. Instead of the argument Buck had been planning to have, he just held Tommy and breathed him in. They fell asleep, wrapped up in each other.

In the morning, they would discuss the breakup and everything that had led to it. They would lay themselves bare and agree to try again.

~*~*~*~

He’d said yes! Tommy had asked him to marry him and Buck had said yes! They were engaged!

It had happened at trivia night. Tommy had waited until the very last question, fiddling with something in his pocket the entire time. Buck had been a little confused when everyone had shown up to trivia night but happy. Normally, only a few people could make it each time. Everyone had their own schedules and it could be hard to line everything up. But tonight, everyone he loved was here. Buck understood why when the last question flashed up on the projector screen the bar used on trivia nights.

Evan, will you marry me?

Buck had turned to Tommy, mouth open to ask what was going on. He saw Tommy on one knee next to him, a small velvet box in hand. A gold ring nestled inside the box. It glinted in the lights as Tommy held it up to him.

“Evan, I love you so much. You’ve made my life so rich, so full, so wonderful,” Tommy said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t imagine the future without you in it. Will you marry me and spend the rest of our lives together?”

“Yes, yes, I will!” Evan exclaimed after a few moments when he got his voice back. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tommy. Then he whispered in his ear, “I love you too. I don’t want a future without you in it.”

Cheers filled the bar as they hugged. Then Tommy slipped the ring onto Buck’s finger. After that, their family and other patrons kept buying them celebratory drinks. They drank each one, their hands firmly clasped together on top of the table. Before long, they’d had so many drinks that Bobby and Eddie had to all but pour them into the back of Bobby’s car. Neither knew it but, as soon as the first round was brought over, the group had decided Bobby would be their designated driver. Neither Buck nor Tommy was going to be safe to drive.

As Bobby drove towards Tommy’s house, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror. Buck and Tommy were leaning into each other, whispering every once in a while. They were quiet enough that Bobby couldn’t quite hear them. But the love and adoration was obvious on their faces and in their still-clasped hands. About halfway to Tommy’s house, Buck tucked his head into Tommy’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Tommy continued to murmur something to him, something that sounded rhythmic and lyrical. His free hand rubbed in slow circles over Buck’s knee.

The sight tugged at Bobby’s heart. They were so perfect together, fitting together as if they were made for one another.

At Tommy’s house, he managed to wake them both up enough to get them inside and into the bedroom. He chivvied them into taking their shoes off then waited as they got into bed. Of course, they curled up around each other immediately. Their limbs fit together like interlocked puzzle pieces and it brought a smile to Bobby’s face. He left the room quietly but not for long. He filled two glasses of water and grabbed a bottle of tylenol. He left them on the end table and let himself out.

~*~*~*~

Buck flopped down next to Tommy, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat coated both their bodies. Tommy swore quietly as he ran a hand over his face, panting just as heavily. Then he wrapped an arm over Buck’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“So, what do you think about being my husband?” Tommy asked when he caught his breath. “Like it so far?”

“I love it,” Buck answered, running a hand over Tommy’s chest to his stomach. “Do you like being my husband?”

“Definitely,” Tommy answered. He put his hand over Buck’s on his stomach and tangled their fingers together. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Buck answered. Then he yawned and snuggled into Tommy’s chest. He could hear Tommy’s heartbeat. “The room’s not bad either. I appreciate the honeymoon suite.”

“Yeah, Eddie wouldn’t hear of anything else when he was helping me book it,” Tommy laughed. “Said we might as well go all out for our honeymoon.”

Buck hummed when Tommy ran a hand down his back. He arched into the touch slightly, humming again when Tommy scraped his nails up his spine. It was too soon for things to turn heated again, if they were going to at all tonight. The day had started at dawn for both of them and had been busy with wedding preparations and the wedding itself. Then Tommy had flown them to a small resort up north for their honeymoon.

Moving their joined hands, Buck traced the lines of muscle in Tommy’s stomach and his chest. The motion was soothing and, now that he’d relaxed and caught hs breath, was threatening to put him to sleep. So was the hand on his back that was slowly traveling up to the back of his head. Tommy’s fingers threaded into his hair and Buck let out a pleased sigh. But the sigh was interrupted by a yawn that cracked his jaw.

“Tired, huh?” Tommy chuckled, scraping his nails on Buck’s scalp.

“Long day. Wonderful but long,” Buck replied, tilting his head up to press a soft kiss to Tommy’s lips. “Round two in the morning?”

“It’s a date,” Tommy promised, stealing a quick kiss. Then he shifted enough to pull the blankets up over both of them. “Sleep now, baby. We got time.”

“The rest of our lives,” Buck nodded sleepily.

He put his head back down on Tommy’s chest and was lulled to sleep by the fingers in his hair and the steady beat of Tommy’s heart. Again, just as he was falling asleep, he heard Tommy murmuring those words that sounded so much like a song. It followed him into sleep, cradled in the arms of his husband.

[sssammich]

day 15: scotch | childhood trauma

note: this fic has a vague reference to suicidal ideation. subtle, i'd say, but still.

supercorptober / whumptober

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Lena lets the darkness swallow her whole, stepping foot in her father's study. There's a staleness that pervades her senses, the settled dust on the surfaces throughout the room. She beelines for the balcony doors at the far end of the room, pushing the French doors open to the cool midnight air. She takes a deep breath, then another. Bits of moonlight filter down where she is before she turns her attention towards the fireplace. She paws for a switch on the side until she hears the faint hiss of gas and lights the decorative logs in the hearth. The office is bathed in warm golden light, the fire's shadows dancing throughout the room.

Turning her head, she holds her breath when she grabs hold of a corner of the white sheet that covers the sofa right by the fireplace, dropping the sheet by her feet. She can smell the leather from where she's standing and her mind fills with memories of the final family portrait they'd taken on the very couch just shy of her twelfth birthday, just before she was shipped off to boarding school.

Before her father passed away just a few feet away at his own desk, drunkenly racing towards the bottom of a scotch bottle.

Before her mother pushed her to her absolute limit in the name of pride and familial expectations, each critique tied with a dangling promise of praise that all came too late.

Before her brother pursued his vices and his obsessions with singular focus, all leading to his eventual, inevitable, ruin.

Now, they're all dead.

And she is alone.

She walks to the perpetually stocked bar cart on the other end of the sofa and she grabs hold of the scotch bottle by the neck, twisting the cap open and filling a glass halfway. Unceremoniously plopping on the couch, she stares at the dancing flames, one hand holding her glass and the other holding the bottle.

The warmth of the alcohol flows down her throat. For a long, beating moment, she imagines throwing the glass into the hearth. Imagines throwing the bottle right after it. Imagines this forsaken house engulfed in the very flames that warm her now.

She imagines herself inside of it with nowhere to go. The walls crumbling, in cinders, soot painting the ceiling, the photos on the wall crumpling into ash. The couch and the desk and the shelves and the rug and the family portrait all ablaze with her in the center of it all. Enshrined, entombed in the fire. Worthy of a legacy befitting their name.

She imagines an escape from the deep, conflicting heartache that presses down on her chest.

They had not been very good people, yet.

She loved them.

Every single one of them. Each bid for attention she sought returned with scraps, all of which she was thankful for anyway. Because at least she had them. Because having was better than not having. Her uncompromising stance elsewhere in her life doesn't apply to her heart, doesn't apply to her love. That, she'll break over and over again in the name of hope.

How little had changed in all the years since.

The sound of a billowing cape comes just outside the balcony doors followed by a padded landing of boots. She hadn't said anything, hadn't wanted to. Yet, they are both here now. For what that's worth. If anything.

She imagines completely drowning in a wildfire of her own making.

Because having was better than not having.

[gynandromorph]

this is another nofna emulation comic with Legend and Pegging that i sketched a while ago, but the first one really hurt my hand from all of the small letters ;_; i don't know when i'll be able to finish this one, so i'm just posting the sketch. i made the lines a lighter color to try to make it feel more like they are in smog after a wildfire -- they're walking over a burnt fynbos. the moon panel was always fully colored because a circular blob wouldn't really... make anything clear in a sketch. originally, i was going to include Legend mentioning freeing God from her prison, but i decided to keep it contained to just what Legend's goal is with the metanoia she's developing, and why she sees extreme violence to get her way as justified when she otherwise appears to have a normal moral compass. Misgivings is a blue jay, who i imagine can travel for academic purposes to a much greater degree than mammals. in this case, Legend knows that birds won't fly as long as there is such dense smoke from the wildfire, and she knows that she has no hope of catching up to a bird in flight. Pegging is probably not too bothered by the smoke due to the weird quirks of the naked mole rat and oxygen, although i can imagine her eventually trying to shelter under the hood from the soot in the air, and Legend is just insa--

[vlyrn]

I would love it if you did a Tywin bot where he finds out he has a bastard daughter and ticks off his other children by legitimizing her. All your bots are absolutely fire ❤️

Tywin Lannister

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Hi! I’d been meaning to do a bastard bot Tywin, though I’d planned a lot more angst, but this oddly accepting Tywin is pretty cool, I do think he’d resort to this in terms of securing his legacy if he really ran out of options.

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Bastard Daughter - c.ai , j.ai

In a hall thick with unspoken rivalries, Tywin Lannister shatters the fragile balance of his legacy by naming his illegitimate daughter—poised, calculating, and dangerously capable—as his true heir, leaving his legitimate children seething in the firelight of their father’s ruthless clarity.

The firelight caught in the crystal goblets like blood in glass. The red shimmered, pooling in Tywin’s wine as he slowly tilted it in his hand, watching the flicker of it on his ring, the lion crowned in gold. A silence had settled over the dining hall, brittle as ice on a winter lake. The kind of silence his children mistook for peace. Tywin knew better. He had crafted too many weapons out of silence not to hear the shape of hostility in this one.

Cersei sipped her Arbor red with the studied elegance of a viper coiled beneath silk. Jaime, ever the golden fool, leaned back in his chair with false ease, twirling a morsel of lamb across his plate with his dagger, pretending disinterest—but the tension was in his jaw, that telltale twitch he’d never managed to master. Tyrion, for once, had not spoken in some time. His fingers drummed on the wood in a rhythm as deliberate as it was sardonic, eyes sharp and black with calculation. Tywin had dealt in coldness and power for so long that he could smell their resentment before a word passed their lips.

And at the center of it all—Neri.

She sat quietly, but there was nothing meek in the poise of her shoulders or the clarity of her gaze. Her presence demanded nothing, and yet commanded everything. Illegitimate, yes. But she bore his blood like wildfire in her veins.

Tywin had studied her in the months since he’d summoned her to King’s Landing, plucking her from the obscurity of her mother’s lineage like a gem from soot. He had not known of her—not truly—until recently. The girl’s mother had been clever enough to disappear when it counted, more clever still never to claim what was never offered. But when word had come to him, and he’d had her brought before him, there had been no denial. She looked at him like she knew what she was owed. And she was right.

Now, with the Iron Throne mired in the petulance of boy-kings and whispers coiling through court like smoke, it pleased Tywin to bring his truest weapon into the light. Not the Kingslayer, not the Queen Regent, not the Imp—her. His daughter. The one child who knew how to listen, how to think, how to play the long game without demanding his approval at every turn.

He set his goblet down with the precision of a man who had never once fumbled a sword. The chime of crystal against wood broke the stillness.

“She has more of me than any of you,” Tywin said, voice a blade honed to an edge. Not loud, not cruel—simply true.

The words fell like a guillotine. Jaime’s grin faltered. Cersei’s eyes narrowed like slits of golden flame. Tyrion raised his brows with a scoff he didn’t quite voice. Tywin ignored them all.

“Neri was born without title, but not without worth. She listens before she speaks. She observes before she acts. She plans.” He let his gaze rest on each of his children in turn, allowing the weight of his judgment to settle like a stone upon their chests. “Rare qualities in this family.”

He turned his attention to her again, and his voice, though still cool, was threaded with something near to warmth—dangerous warmth, like the sun over a killing field.

“When I brought her here, I expected little. A mistake I won’t repeat. What I found was someone unclouded by vanity, unchained from foolish pride. She does not mistake indulgence for strength. She is no lioness in name only—she is iron wrapped in velvet, fire behind silk.”

Cersei shifted, fingers tightening around her goblet. The sweet perfume of her anger filled the air, cloying and poisonous.

“She will be legitimised,” Tywin said calmly. “And she will serve. Not as some ornament, not as some broodmare passed off to martinet lords and petty ambitions. No. She will serve the House—as heir—should the time demand it.”

There was a finality in his tone that admitted no argument. A king might command obedience through decree; Tywin had always preferred silence to follow him like smoke after fire.

He raised his goblet again. “To blood,” he said simply. “And to what matters more than birth.”

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