can us, your fans, receive more dincobb art? as a treat? please? ;___;
I have to admit, I was planning on taking a break from drawing humans (because it's always a struggle), but there's 2 things that made me do this anyways:
1. You're my first ask (woohoo). Seriously people, feel free to ask things, I am, just like all of you, a bored person on the internet.
(I'm not saying I'll draw everything that gets asked though °v°)
2. Dincobb. Currently one of my fav pairings.
So yeah, here's Din talking about a purple space potato, with Cobb.
A spacestation design I did for my the new comic of my friend https://www.furaffinity.net/user/owinnik/ called "Space Insects"
First version of the design for the "Boring Rock" space station. I called this design "the space potato".
Because adjusting to life back on solid ground is more than just accepting gravity.
When his eyes readjust, the first thing Phil Coulson notices is how normal everything is. He’s in the middle of the hangar, in his own clothes, as if the last six months had never happened.
The second thing he notices is the man in front of him, looking confident that he had just seen a ghost.
“How-how did you get in here?” Fitz breathes. His eyes dart from Coulson to the door and back. He picks up a wrench from the toolbox next to him and wraps his hands around it.
He doesn’t have an answer to that question. He remembers being in the workroom when two suits approached him—they told him his time was up, and then there was nothing but darkness. “I don’t know. But I promise you I’m real, Fitz.”
The younger man tightens his grip. “How can I be sure?”
Coulson slowly raises his hands and takes a step back. “It’s me. I need you to trust me. We were all in a diner—there was some amazing looking pie. Then the room went black and everything froze. And I’ll admit I don’t have an explanation for that part but-“
“Jemma!” Fitz cuts him off with a yell. “I need help down here!”
He knows he needs a solution—and fast. “Hey. I need you to look at me. I’m going to do something, and if it doesn’t change your mind, you can go to town on me. Have a blast.”
When they make eye contact, he deploys his shield.
Fitz’s demeanor changes through the hazy blue glow—his shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches, and the wrench falls to the ground harmlessly.
He exhales and deactivates.
Running his hand through his hair, Fitz mumbles an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. I can’t say I blame you.”
Footsteps and voices echo off the walls and they both turn. It’s Daisy that reaches him first, arms thrown around his waist, head buried into his shoulder.
“Oh my god,” she mumbles into his shirt. “I thought you were gone this time. I really thought you were gone.”
He doesn’t realize how hard she’s holding onto him until he feels her let out a shaky breath.
“I’m okay.” He runs a hand over her hair and rocks ever so slightly. “I’m okay.”
She nods and rubs at her eyes, stepping back.
Simmons is at his side in an instant. “Are you alright, sir?”
“Gravity isn’t great. But sure.”
“Gravity,” she repeats. “As in outer space?”
Before he can answer, Fitz slams his hand excitedly against the wall. “I knew it! The residue left at the diner and the satellite blackouts in that time range—I mean it took a bit of calculating but atmospheric escape was a possibility from the start.” He glares at the two women. “And no one believed me!”
“It just didn’t seem like a plausible explanation,” Simmons counters.
“Plausible explanation?! We spent months in a bloody alternate reality! You can’t tell me-“
Phil does his best to tune them out. Exhaustion is setting in, and he’s painfully aware of who’s not in the room.
A lull in the bickering allows him to voice his query. “Where’s May? Is she okay?”
Daisy is quick to respond. “She’s on her way back. I just alerted her.”
“She hasn’t stopped looking for you,” Simmons says quietly. “Not one day.”
Fitz chimes in. “Yeah. We had to remind her that as recently pardoned criminals it wasn’t in our best interest to break into the Jet Propulsion Lab.”
“So you two better get your shit together,” Daisy says. She gives him a pointed look and he feigns ignorance. She lightly shoves at him in response. “She feels the same way about you. I promise.”
All this time later and he’s still unsure if that is true. He’s about to ask how she can be so confident about that when an agent interrupts from above.
“Director Johnson. I’m sorry, but the White House is calling. They say it can’t wait.”
Phil’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead as Daisy affirms that she’ll be there momentarily.
When she catches his expression she turns her gaze downward, cheeks reddening.
“It’s not a big deal. Mostly paperwork and meetings. You never told me being responsible was so boring.” She motions behind her. “Anyways, you should go with Simmons. She’s probably having an aneurysm that you’re not in MedBay right now.”
He’s left slightly gaping in wonder as she sprints up the stairs. Halfway up, she stops and leans over the railing.
Because readjusting to life back on solid ground is more than just accepting gravity.
part one
Heart pounding, Melinda comes to a stop in front of his bunk. She counts to ten, forcing the adrenaline out of her system.
He is home. He is safe.
She centers herself and pushes open the door.
It takes him a moment to register her presence- he's deep in emails, swiping through his tablet in utmost concentration. "Hi," he finally says, sliding his reading glasses off. Like it's just a normal afternoon.
Her body locks up. She has played this moment over and over in her mind for months. Sometimes it is angry- screaming at him for leaving her until voices are raw. Sometimes it is desperate- no words at all, just clutching at him until she believes he's real. Most times it is just pure relief.
Now though, her nerves betray her. She wills herself to move towards him, to no avail. She finally forces words out.
"When you said we should take a few steps back, I didn't expect it to mean a whole galaxy."
The weak attempt at a joke gifts her a thin smile.
"I can't recommend it. The jet lag is killer."
He looks exhausted, and she tries not to think about what he's been subjected to. "You should have told me."
He slides down to the end of the bed. "It wouldn't have helped."
Her eyes slip closed as frantic memories wash over her. The confusion as they all came to. The panic as she realized he was the only one not there. The sickening despair as she ran outside, gun at the ready, only to find an empty parking lot. "I could have stopped it," she counters.
"I needed to keep the team safe- to keep you safe."
"So you sacrificed yourself," she says. The bite is evident in her voice.
"I'm pretty good at it," he whispers, turning away from her.
It's the resigned tone of his voice that finally spurs her body into action. Quickly crossing the room, she stops in front of him. "Did they hurt you?"
He shakes his head.
Unsatisfied with his answer, she begins to run her hands over him- through his hair, over his chest, down his arms. While she is checking for injuries and unfamiliar scars, she also allows herself to process that he is alive. He sighs slightly at her touch, and the warmth washes over her.
When she is convinced he is still whole, she moves back ever so slightly. It's enough to give him space, but still close enough to feel his body heat.
"Do you think this is our punishment?" His voice is barely a whisper.
At her uncertain look he continues. "For the choices we've made-all the crimes we've committed. Do you think we have to spend the rest of our lives continually losing each other?"
She feels herself breaking and her only response is to drop to his level and gather him close. His nose buries into her neck and she winds a hand across his back.
"I missed you so much," he mumbles.
"I know."
She doesn't know how much time passes as she stays there, ignoring the ache in her knees and in her chest.
