#Do you think Frank is going to take longer to come around to Eddie or the other way around?

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

"I don't know how someone who dislikes insects as much as you gets stung so often- have you seen Poppy for this?"

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 8

Hello! It does look like there is only one more chapter to write on Paper Hearts so yay!!! I'm not sure how much longer Sweet Home Indiana is but it's nearing it's end too.

Steve is never going to go to another party after this, Eddie gets book two of the Boy with a Bat, and they have a frank discussion about how Eddie gets paid for his less than legal side gig.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

trigger warning: homophobic language by an OC.

****

At least the swim team knew to how to throw a party. Lyle was hosting and even though his family wasn’t well off, not like Steve’s parents, there was still enough room for the whole team and a few of their friends to have a good time.

Granted there wasn’t any booze, not openly anyway, but there were ice chest after ice chest of canned sodas. And all kinds, too. Steve was on his third Coke and had already sussed out the dude with the beer and was working his way over.

Going right up to the guy was asking for trouble that neither of them wanted.

The music wasn’t too loud, but you could dance to it in the main part of the house. People were actually laughing and having fun.

Which really should have been Steve’s cue. The universe was out to get him and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace.

He had almost reached the guy with the beer when Ezra blocked his path.

“Hey, Steve,” he greeted syrupy sweet. “I’m so glad you made it out. I wasn’t sure if you would come without Eddie Munson.”

Steve frowned and tried to move around his co-captain. “I go lots of places without Eddie. I went to nationals without him, didn’t I?”

Ezra put his hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. “Sure you did, but we didn’t win nationals now, did we?”

Steve looked down at the hand on his chest. “We swam our hearts man, the other teams were just better. Hell, that team from Georgia was on fire.”

Ezra snorted and rolled his eyes. “They only got where they were because they were black. They didn’t have any real talent. Not like us. Not like you and me, Steve.”

“Are you saying Lyle and Nick held us back?” he asked with his brow furrowing deeper in his confusion.

“We’ve always known that Lyle is a strong swimmer and not a fast one,” Ezra moaned waving the drink in his other hand around. “But he’s all this shit town has on offer.”

Steve gently pushed Ezra off of him. “Hey, how about not talking shit about the actual host, man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he huffed. “That’s not even why I’m over here. I’m here to warn you about Munson.”

And there it was. Everyone in his life had felt the need at some point in the last six months to warn him off the super senior.

The other boy leaned in close, his lips a snarl. “He’s a queer, a little faggot boy,” he hissed, the spit landing on Steve’s face. “It’s the town’s worst kept secret.”

Ice slid down Steve’s spine. Oh shit. Of all the places he thought the other co-captain was going to go, that was not it. Drugs. DND. The ranting on table tops. All that slid away to sheer terror.

“And you better not bend over in the showers,” Ezra continued, “a pretty thing like you would just be his type.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that if you can’t pay for your weed,” Ezra sneered, “that he’s willing to take a blowjob as payment instead.” He leaned further into Steve’s space, so that they were almost touching, the stench of weed radiating off the other boy in waves. “I saw Harry Masters sucking him off for a gram of the good stuff.”

Steve stomach lurched and swooped, bile rising up in his throat. Harry Masters was on the baseball team. He was tall, good looking, with that devil may care charm of Rob Lowe. Looked like him, too.

“What he does or doesn’t do doesn’t effect me, man,” he said, trying to aim for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

Ezra laughed in his face.

“Dude,” he cackled, “if you didn’t want people to think you’re down bad for ‘the Freak’ maybe rein in the eye fucking. I’ve seen the way you look at him and it makes me sick.”

That was when Steve got it. He had been wondering what the hell this conversation was.

“Oh my god!” he laughed. “Fuck, man, you were scaring me for a second there. You’re just jealous I don’t have the hots for you.”

Ezra pushed him. “The fuck I do, Harrington!”

“No, no!” Steve crowed. “I’ve got it all figured it out. All the times I caught you staring at me, all the times I felt someone watching me, all the times you’d try to keep me late after practice. You wanted me all to yourself.”

His co-captain turned purple with rage and swung at Steve, but before he could even flinch, there was someone at his side, holding Ezra’s wrist to keep the hit from even going anywhere near Steve’s face.

“Eddie!” Steve breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him with that soft dimpled grin Steve loved. “Hey ya, Stevie. I was just plying my wares when I heard the commotion and came over to make sure you were all right.”

“So you are my good luck charm,” Steve said brightly.

Ezra wrenched his arm out of Eddie’s hand. “This doesn’t concern you, Freak!”

Eddie leaned in close and cocked his head to the side. “It does, because you were talking shit about me and Stevie, here. And as Stevie’s good friend, I’mma gonna come to his rescue. Now, you’re going to skedaddle on home and sleep all this off.”

Ezra spat in his face. “Or what?”

The older teen just smiled menacingly. “Or else that gram you smoked will be the last you ever smoke, because I’ll report to you for doping for matches.”

Ezra paled and he gulped. “You can’t do that! I’ve never done anything but weed.”

“That’s true,” Eddie admitted. “But they’d have to do this big investigation and your name would be dragged through the mud. Or you could toddle off and go to college and leave this town in your rearview mirror.”

Ezra turned on his heel and ran out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Steve shook his head. “You do know this is where all the allegations about you being a devil worshiping cult leader come from, right?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “They can think all they want.”

*

Eddie and Steve talked about what Ezra had said about how people make payments for their weed.

“I won’t deny that people have offer to blow me or even have sex with me in exchange for drugs,” Eddie said as they lay curled up on his bed. “But I’ve never taken anybody up on that.”

Steve twisted his head to look up at his boyfriend. “I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear that, but is there a reason why?”

“Several,” he admitted pulling Steve in closer. “One is that there is an actual fucking pandemic going on regarding gay men, and I wouldn’t trust those assholes even with a condoms. Another is that if I say yes to one, then I’ve got to say yes to next guy. And as my supplier wants actual cash for his product, blow jobs aren’t currency in any country I know of. And despite what Ezra said, most of the people offering aren’t men.”

Steve hummed as he snuggled under Eddie’s chin. “I can see that. Any other reasons why you won’t?”

“Does having a super hot boyfriend count?” he chuckled.

Steve kissed the underside of his jaw. “That’s a very good reason.” His hand slipped down his boyfriend’s side and to his belt. “A super hot boyfriend who is very grateful for the rescue.”

Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers ghosted over his zipper. “Yeah and how are you going to show that gratitude?”

Steve slid down Eddie body and undid his belt. “I was thinking it was such a shame you didn’t get those blow jobs when your cock is so delectable.”

Eddie gasped and threw back his head as his super hot boyfriend’s breath felt hot on the front of his boxers. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

And Steve spent their evening doing just that.

*

Steve fidgeted nervously at Eddie’s locker after school. He had finished the most recent comic with only a week of school to spare. He had made sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t staying after school for any reason so they didn’t see him make the hand off. He knew he should have just done it at the trailer, but with him cutting it so fine before the end of the year, he didn’t want to make Jeff and the others wait for it.

Eddie loped over to his boyfriend and looked around. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He thrust the comic at Eddie, his eyes downcast. “It’s the most recent comic. There’s an explanation like before. But please don’t let people see that part.”

Eddie cradled the comic to his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m guessing this means you aren’t coming over tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas wants to go see the latest Bond film, but his friends don’t want to go with him...”

“So you offered to take him,” Eddie finished. “That’s sweet of you.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “His parents think I’m taking him to ‘Meet the Littles’ or some shit like that.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that’s more like the Steve Harrington I know and love.”

“I’ll call when I get home, though...” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Eddie murmured. “Well talk then.”

*

This time Eddie went straight to the back page to read the explanation first.

“Hey, Eds,

Again there are parts in between this, parts that don’t include me, that I’ll some day tell you all about. But I’m focusing on the parts I was part of. This time it all started with what the kids thought was a new species of lizard and turned out to be the beginning stages of an Upside Down monster. One they they dubbed the demodog.

I can just picture you frowning as you try to remember where you heard that from and the answer is you heard it from me. You asked me what it was and I told you it from one of their game thingies, but that’s only part of it. These demodogs have flower faces and run on four legs. They are part of a hive mind that allows them to communicate with each other.

Dustin had taken one of these things home and it ate his cat. His cat. You can be disgusted, I know I was. He had originally gone to Nancy’s for help but she had gone off with Jonathan about something related to Barb Holland. This was right after our fight at the Halloween party.

I was on my way with roses to apologize to her, when he intercepted me. And the rest is as they say is history. I would do anything for that kid now.

The other players are Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I don’t know if you need to know that, but I feel like you have to understand that for the rest of it to make sense.

I have so many tales to tell you but I can’t because it could get you hurt and that is the last thing I want to do.

Also, (blurred words) show you all the times I was brave, that I did the (more blurred words) when it came (blurred words) because I love you so much and (blurred words again) less of me.

Love,

Your Stevie”

Eddie hated how easy Steve had pegged him for frowning at the name like he said he would or how he knew he would be disgusted at the poor cat. He stared at the blurred words for a moment before his own eyes welled up.

Steve had tried writing over the parts with what were clearly tear drops but all it had done was make it worse. Why he didn’t just write again, Eddie didn’t know.

But Eddie could now make out the words, “Also, I wanted to show you all the times I was brave, that I did the right thing when it came to it, because I love you so much and I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

He flipped back to the beginning and started reading. It was thrilling and exciting. That was if you didn’t know it really happened. And happened to the sweetest boy he had the privilege of knowing.

He wiped away his tears and made a promise to whatever it took to protect this boy with every fiber of his being. Because by god, someone had to.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

@messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

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@acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras @ravenfrog

[nameless-ken]

Masterlist

hi loves <3

PLEASE DNI WITH SMUT UNLESS 18+

* smut

^ fluff

- angst

(Please read the WARNING mark beside each work so you know what you're about to read!!)

Bucky Barnes

Series

Friday Afternoons

The reader is an elementary school teacher in Brooklyn, where they teach Steve Rogers’ young daughter, Elizabeth. Every Friday, without fail, Bucky Barnes comes to pick up his niece after school. He’s quiet, a little rough around the edges, and keeps mostly to himself, but he’s always punctual and incredibly protective of Elizabeth. This is just the beginning of the reader and Bucky's bond together.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Unexpected

Our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi I guess we’re spending the next two weeks together.

Part 1 ^

Part 2 ^

Part 3 ^,-

Part 4 ~

Part 5 */^

Part 6 */^

Part 7 ^/-

Bring Me to Life

Bucky is a struggling single father trying to take care  of his daughter when a stranger welcomes them into her home and brings a  gentle love back into their life.

playlist

Part One - The Kindness of a Stranger ^/-

Part Two - Luck or Fate? ^/-

Part Three - A Home for Three ^/-

Part Four - Happy Days are Coming ^/-

Part Five - Nothing Else Matters ^/-

Part Six - No Longer Afraid ^/-

Part Seven - Breathe Easy Now ^/-

Part Eight - This is What Home Feels Like ^/-

Part Nine - Our Future is Bright ^/*

Part Ten - Your Love is All I Need

Part Eleven - More Than Anything ^/*

Part Twelve - Patience is the Greatest Virtue ^/*

Imagines/Requests

Hold Me While You Wait

Bucky gets enlisted into the war

Part 1 ^/-

Part 2 ^/-

A Second Home

Bucky finds out that Alpine has been treating your apartment like a second home

drabble ^

Promise?

It’s the morning of a huge mission that Bucky has to go on and you worry too much.

part 1 ^/-

Let the Games Begin

One-shot ^/-

I carry your heart with me

One-shot ^/-

Frank Castle

Imagines/Requests

Before You Go *

“You need a place to stay for the night?” ^/-

Dean Winchester

Imagines/Requests

making a pie with Dean ^

Instagram Stories/pictures

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Daryl Dixon

Moodboards

the more you love, the more you suffer

take my heart, daryl dixon

a beautiful disaster

our demons

Imagines/Requests

“Spend the night with me?” ^

“Of course I came for you, it’d take more than that to stop me.” ^/-

“I’ll be here, loving you even in the silence.” ^/-

“Most of my nightmares are about losing you.” ^/-

Eddie Munson

Series

Fearless

Chapter One: What Dreams Are Made Of ^/-

Chapter Two: Where You’re Meant to Be ^/-

Chapter Three: Moving Too Fast ^/-

Chapter Four: Home Sweet Home ^/-

Unforgettable

you end up as third wheel at the fair when Eddie comes to your rescue & helps makes your summer unforgettable.

Part 1 ^/-

Part 2 ^

Part 3

Imagines/Requests

“How do I know I have a crush on someone?” “Well you can’t stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they’re around and then you want to--why are you looking at me like this?”  ^/-

“they would be so mad if they found out.” “fuck ‘em”. "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?". "When we get home I'm cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore." ^/-

Steve Harrington

Imagines/Requests

“When I’m with you, I’m not just existing, I’m living.” ^/-

Billy Hargrove

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Requests

Ribbon of Affection

Weathering The Storm

Embracing The Mirror

Roadside Assistance 

Between Us and the Dark

Part One

[homerforsure]

Can I request #21 "It's alright, I'm here." for the there was only one bed/sharing a bed prompts? ☺️❤️

Only three months late! But I was feeling inspired by @andavs stunning 6 days of Buddie art (this one in particular) and I finally made some writing happen. &lt;3

ETA: Now on AO3 because I did think of a title after all

The Second Hand Unwinds

The body holds on tight to pain. It’s a trite little phrase that Eddie’s snorted at more than once after hearing it from Frank, from well-meaning “I’ve been where you are” guys at group meetings, and from more than one physical therapist. But the fact that it makes for pretty, marketable word art, doesn’t keep it from being true. 

Eddie remembers it whenever an old memory works its way out of the darkness like shrapnel coming to the surface and every time pain flares hot and fresh through scarred-over wounds. His body marks the passing of the seasons, notches carved into his bones as the years pass, and Eddie’s muscles brace themselves hard against the most devastating anniversaries of his life. Usually well before his brain has a chance to notice the date on the calendar. 

Every time it happens–every time–he forgets what it feels like. He wakes up one morning and it takes him longer to get out of bed. He rubs his eyes and feels better after a shower and doesn’t think anything more of it. And then he wakes up tired the next day. And the next. Eddie wakes up in a gloom and he remembers tossing and turning so restlessly that he’s not actually sure he even fell asleep. 

From there it’s a quick slide into running late, losing patience, making largely inconsequential but stupid mistakes at work. He takes one night off from cooking, then two. Christopher doesn’t go without vegetables or protein or crustless sandwiches or any of the other important parts of the preteen food pyramid but he notices the change. Mentions the change to Buck because it doesn’t occur to him to keep secrets like that (not that Eddie would really want him to) and then Eddie finds himself under the compassionate scrutiny of Buck’s gaze with no idea how to explain himself.

So he attempts a simple batch of lemon chicken to prove he’s alright. Then, when Christopher and Buck crack each other up making exaggerated sour faces at each other over the mostly inedible plates that they dutifully try to eat anyway, Eddie doesn’t laugh. He does the dishes himself and he doesn’t turn around when Buck wraps his arms around his waist from behind and rests a chin on his shoulder in a lemon-scented apology.

His body aches. It aches even when work has been easy and he’s angry and he’s fine but also not and he can’t figure out what’s wrong. 

“I’m going to bed,” he says, earlier than usual. “Can you check his homework?”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck answers, getting up from the couch even though Eddie deliberately made his announcement from the far end of the living room. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just tired.” Eddie waits and accepts the hand on his forehead as Buck checks to see how warm he is, almost looking more worried when he doesn’t find any trace of fever. 

Keeping his hand on Eddie’s cheek, he asks, “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“Mmm.” 

“You’d tell me right? If there was something wrong?”

There’s nothing Eddie can do but nod. He wishes there was something, wishes he knew how to explain it to Buck–to himself for fuck’s sake. He wishes he knew why he’s pulling himself away from Buck’s touch when he wants to melt into it until his body makes sense again. 

Buck studies his face, searching for the answers that Eddie can’t give him and then he sighs, gently brushing his hair back before leaning in to kiss him just as gently. “I won’t be up late,” he says. “If you need anything…”

“I will,” Eddie promises. 

Fresh spring heat has finally started warming the city and the bedroom is stifling when Eddie closes the door behind him. He cracks both bedroom windows just wide enough to let a breeze in, almost wincing as the smell of jasmine comes in with it, strong enough to make him want to sneeze like a dog does, with his full body and a shake of his head. He leaves the windows anyway, trading one discomfort for another and slides into bed, staring at the whirring blades of the fan until they morph into the shape of their longer, sharper helicopter cousins and stop Eddie’s heart in his chest. 

He’s not even in the helicopter. He’s somewhere else. It’s dark and the wind is howling, splattering rain pinging off every surface like flying gravel. Eddie can see through it perfectly. None of the rain streaking down his face impacts his view of the scene at all. He sees Shannon, dressed in sunshine yellow, take a step toward him. Toward the flooded street that’s rushing with whitewater and debris. He screams. But all that comes out of his mouth is blood. When he tries to run, to stop her, to dive in, to rescue her, his legs give out beneath him and he collapses. 

A wave crests over the curb and washes Shannon, blood on her clothes and blood on her face, into the river. She vanishes with a choked gasp, reaching for him, and Eddie reaches back, stretching out his hand as far as it will go. There’s blood on his fingers and pooling beneath him and he reaches and reaches, trying to pull himself up, trying to save her, to save both of them, but his body flops uselessly in the rain. 

It hurts. And then it doesn’t. And Eddie knows. 

He’s going to die. 

He’s going to die and he never told Buck- He’s going to die and he hasn’t had enough time with Christopher. He won’t get to explain this to him. He won’t get to see him grow up. He won’t get to see Buck grow old. He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s-

Gasping, Eddie wakes up. It’s still dark; the fan is still spinning. As he struggles to sit up, he can’t get any breath into his lungs. The air is too thick with jasmine, that cloying scent that invades LA every spring, and he puts a hand to his throat like he can claw a fresh opening into his lungs. 

So many of Eddie’s worst memories have come in the spring. With this smell in the air. With this light shimmering through the windows. And his body remembers. 

“Eddie? Eddie, hey. Eddie, are you okay?” Buck asks, his voice cutting through the fog as one of his strong hands presses between Eddie’s shoulder blades and the other hovers over his thigh. He’s gotten to his knees somehow while Eddie’s been doing all he can just to sit upright and his body is warm and close. That scent of Buck that gets more powerful after he’s been sleeping a while pricks at Eddie’s nose and his windpipe relaxes all at once, finally letting in a mouthful of air. 

“That’s it. Just breathe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

Eddie can hear how hard Buck is working to keep the fear out of his voice for him and he falls in love just a little bit more in that moment. Turning into Buck’s chest, Eddie lets himself fall into his arms, shoving his freezing hands up the back of Buck’s t-shirt and trying to burrow his way inside. Buck only wobbles for a second as he takes Eddie’s weight and then he cradles him close, one hand sliding up into Eddie’s hair and the other wrapping tight around his body. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright; I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Christopher is right down the hall. Everybody is okay.” 

Effortlessly, Buck soothes the wounds he knows are most likely to be hurting badly enough to wake Eddie in the middle of the night and the gravel sound of his sleep-rough words almost brings tears to his eyes. 

His body remembers this too. It knows safety and comfort and strength enough for all of his heaviness. Eddie breathes in Buck–herbal body wash and the tang of sweat, the familiarity of his skin–and, gradually, the terror of his nightmare melts into exhaustion.

“What do you need?” Buck murmurs, stroking through the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Some water? Or we could watch tv for a while?”

Buck can feel Eddie shake his head against his collarbone, but the words aren’t as far away as they sometimes are on nights like this so Eddie reaches for them. “No. Just this. Just stay with me.” 

Keep holding me is what he means, but he already feels delicate enough to shred and that additional vulnerability is just a step too far. Buck understands anyway. 

“Want to lay back down?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

It takes a minute–Buck’s knees protest the change as he shifts his weight off of them and the blankets are half tangled and half on the floor from the thrashing both of them have done–but eventually they fold themselves together. On their sides, facing each other, Eddie twines his fingers together with Buck’s and gets a squeeze in return, one that promises that this is something he’ll never wake up and find gone. 

The chill eases from his bones and the screaming eases from his memories and Eddie tiptoes cautiously back to the edge of sleep. He’s wavering there, resisting the fall, and he feels the mattress shift and feels it creak as Buck shifts beside him. 

His fingers brush Eddie’s cheek again, curling around to tilt his head forward, just the smallest bit, and then Buck presses a kiss to the top of his head. He breathes in deep, like he’s reminding himself of something too, and then there’s another kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “We’re okay.”

And all of Eddie believes. 

[aerkame]

Just noticed we weren't giving enough attention to Finfolk Wally'(cause Howdy is just so fkabfoenodj) so is there any fun facts you can share about Finfolk Wally?

You are so right, I have not been giving the star of the island any attention at all! Even though I still think Howdy is a very handsome dude-

It is no secret at all the most if not ALL finfolk are vain with their looks. This is based on the lore surrounding the reason they have such an obsession with marrying humans.

Wally is especially careful with styling his hair and picking the best outfit each day to match. Sure, he might wear the same suit a lot or just the same suit in another color, but sometimes he likes to mix things up and wear his down. It's something between being wavy and curly. Usually he lets Julie style it if it's down since she's used to it from her job on the mainland. He even wears seashells and other ocean-themed accessories in it!

Being vain will of course mean he wears makeup (surprisingly). Usually it's just eyeliner and light eye shadow though to really make his eyes stand out.

However...

May whatever god you pray to save you if you so much as ruin his hair. You will NOT come out of that unscathed. Even Sally thinks Wally tends to go too far when he's angered at someone. Though she can't say much considering she's the same way if you ruin her claws nails.

Obviously he's got a giant ego to match. If you really want to hurt him, aim for his ego. But then again, that will probably land you 6 feet under.

He isn't the violent type, much. It's just finfolk nature when it comes down to it. Most finfolk are even considered evil at birth when compared to other creatures. The residents of Home might be a bit different from the rest though. They can be truly kind...only to each other or anyone else that lives on the island. Just about everyone else on the outside are given the fake smiles and double-edged kindness.

Wally of course is second to the most "kindest" of them all. Poppy being the first and genuinely kindest.

When on mainland, he'll put up a friendly and welcoming 'can-do' attitude for others when really he just wants to punt whichever puppet dares to step in front of him. Usually if he is so well disguised not even other finfolk know it's him Wally will really let his aggressive nature take over. But that's wishful thinking. He's usually stuck with being an on-off art teacher for college and elementary students (he hates rowdy teens with a burning passion). Usually seeing the adorable children in a classroom is what brings out a rare calmness in him. He took note that children have the same effect on Howdy. Perhaps he wanted to be a father too.

He hopes to be a dad one day, but for now, seeing kids be happy to go wild with paint is all he needs.

When Wally returns to Home he always spills the tea while sipping literal tea. He likes his wine, but tea is the most beloved by him. Sometimes Wally will even add in drops of a potion that he and Howdy had brewed together. It's usually stress relief or magical enhancers.

It's when he meets you on the mainland does the thought of kids come up again. He rarely ever has a tolerance to puppets outside of Home, but you? How could he ever pass up the chance to get the perfect life? No longer does he have a fake smile around others, and no longer is he as aggressive as he was before. It's like what happened to Eddie when he met Frank. He loves you so much it hurts. He has to bring you back with him no matter what.

Home thinks it's a great idea.

[dorkydegeneracy]

I have an idea that I would like to run by Tim as a potential buddie episode for season 8. . . .

So, Buck notices at work that Eddie has been getting real buff lately and building tons of muscle. At first, Buck thinks nothing of it and simply believes that Eddie has been hitting the weights big time to keep from being at home in his now empty house.

But one day after work, while both of them are changing into their civies, Buck notices a pair of gloves (or tape for his hands, whatever thing would be recognizable as fighting equipment) in Eddie's duffel and confronts him about it instantly.

Buck: Eddie, I can't let you do this to yourself again. I will not let you fall into this trap of violence. You know you can't do these illegal fights!

Eddie: That's not what this is. I'm doing fine, it's all good.

Buck: EDDIE, THIS IS NOT OKAY!!!

Eddie: Buck listen, these are here because once you let me leave I am going to a gym where I spar for an hour. Then I will go home, eat dinner, send Chris a good night message and go to bed. I talked with Frank about it and he said that it would be a healthy habit to build.

Buck: You want me to believe that Edmundo Diaz is paying for a gym membership to do Muay Tai?

Eddie: Now that I no longer live with my prepubescent teenage son, I have some extra cash floating around. And Frank convinced me that it would be a worthwhile investment. Let me prove it to you. Come with me tonight, or Tuesday after shift. I'll show you around and you'll save me from asking Jim to be my sparring partner again. You can even ask the staff and other people at the gym, I see them twice a week. They'll back me up.

So Buck takes Eddie up on the offer and goes with Eddie to the Gym, where they spar and ✨sparks fly✨. They have a good time together because it's Buck and Eddie, and Buck invites Eddie to his place for dinner after. When they open the door they find Tommy who has seemingly been waiting for Buck for a while at the kitchen island.

Tommy: Evan, I have been so worried about you! We were supposed to do dinner at Maggie's at 6:00. I called you over and over and you didn't pick up. Where have you been?

Buck: Shit Tommy, I completely forgot! (Of course he did!). I saw sparing equipment in Eddie's duffel and I thought that he was in a bad way, so I went with him to spar tonight to make sure he wasn't being stupid.

Tommy: You mean to tell me that you let him teach you Muay Tai?

Eddie: Look man, it is nothing like that. Buck was just looking out for me.

Buck: Tommy, I am so sorry that I forgot about our date. I promise I will make it up to you.

Tommy: You sparred. With him?

Buck: Yeah.

Tommy: You will never make it up to me Evan.

Which spells the end of the line for BuckxTommy. Tommy leaves. Eddie turns and gets ready to go, but Buck begs him to stay for dinner as he promised Eddie he would cook.

Eddie: I think you should be a little more concerned about promises to your boyfriend. I don't wanna be in the way.

Eddie stays, they have dinner, drink a few brewskis, and finally get to talking about Chris.

Afterwards Eddie has a convo with Hen or Maddie about what happened which puts things into perspective. He then talks to Frank about it and Frank breaks the glass on his sexual identity.

Cut to black.

Tim the story is all yours. But don't forget to send me my check in the mail when the episode airs. I'm only asking for 5%.

[hall0wedwyrm]

sorry franklydear enjoyers i didn't mean to hit you with this one so soon (i did)

based on the idea i had when i was analysing the newest WH update so obviously spoilers for that. anyway enjoy <3

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

It had been a few days since Homewarming festivities had ended. 

Eddie had left the party abruptly that day, and no one had really seen him since. It was a point of concern for everyone... but also no one really knew what to do. 

Frank had spent the past day asking and looking around, clearly reaching his peak of concern. Initially, he thought that Eddie just needed some time for himself. He looked overwhelmed when the two of them had made eyecontact, and it was best to let him take some time off. But eventually he couldn't wait any longer. He started by asking some of the neighbours, but they came up with nothing.  

“He did look awfully tired...” Sally sighed, “But I don’t think even Eddie could sleep that long...”  

“Have you seen him leave the post office since?” Frank asked, using the question that he would proceed to ask every other member of the town. 

“Hmm... now that you mention it...” She pondered, “I haven’t no... I support the sentiment of going to check on him, though.” 

“Eddie was supposed to deliver some things to my shop!” Howdy threw his hands up in despair, “I haven’t had my batch of new stock... but Eddie is more important. I just hope hes okay.” 

“Maybe... he’s doing something that's taking a long time...” Julie remained her joyful self, “What if he’s making us a surprise?!” Frank appreciated her ideas, but this wasn’t helping. He thanked her and moved on. 

“Oh dear, I do hope he’s okay...” Poppy placed down her baking tray, “I’ve been so busy baking and trying out this new cookbook that it’s completely passed my mind... Would you keep me updated?” 

Barnaby seemed to be the most passive about the situation, “Eh. Maybe he’s just holed up in there for a reason.” He shrugged, “He’ll come out of there on his own. I’m sure of it.”  

“Very nice of you, Barnaby,” Frank rolled his eyes, “I’ll keep you updated, I suppose.” 

Frank took this as the last stand. He began his march towards the post office across town. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but it felt like hours. The dread building slowly, making Frank worry about what on earth he would find in there.  

He had to tell himself that Eddie was fine, and that he would walk into the office and find him doing something incredibly mundane, like organising the mail or sweeping up bits of paper from his latest craft. 

“Where are you going, Frank?”  

A voice cut through his panicked thoughts. He jumped in surprise, immediately spinning around to be met with a familiar empty stare.  

Wally Darling... 

“O-Oh! Wally!” Frank stammered, “What a... pleasant surprise...!” He tried to pull of his shock in any way that wasn’t a weird mild fear he suddenly had, “I’m... going to visit Eddie! I haven’t seen him since Homewarming so I was worried about him.”  

“Oh...” a very blunt response, “That’s very nice of you.” Wally pulled his best smile he could, considering he had some kind of permanent grin anyway. Frank smiled back, but it was more of a strained grin.  

“Good luck, Frank.” Wally didn’t move, hinting at Frank to make his own exit from the conversation.  

“Ah... Th-Thank you.” Frank hurries off, leaving Wally to watch as he leaves. 

The door to the post office was covered by the blinds that Frank didn’t know it had. It also looked completely dark inside, adding to the dread. Frank tried his best to peek inside, but it was futile. He thought it would be best to just go inside. 

Frank took a deep breath... and opened the door slowly. 

The lights were off inside, as he has suspected, but there was no sign of life either.  

“Eddie...?” Frank could barely speak, his nerves getting the better of him.  

He looked around the empty room. It wasn’t in any sort of disarray, rather that it was organised. Like it had been untouched for a while. Not a speck of dust though, as if something had been looking after it, or it had become stuck in time without Eddie. 

“Hello...??” He calls out again, standing in the middle of the main room. He had spun around a few times, hoping maybe one turn would help him find something he hadn’t seen before. Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that, and he knew it.  

Frank went behind the counter, into the back room. On the counter in front of him was Howdy’s parcel, wrapped and assigned to him. Eddie was going to deliver it before whatever happened to him or wherever he went.  

Panicking further, Frank rushed out of the back, and then trying to find an upstairs or where Eddie would have been living. Off in the corner of the room, there was a very plain looking door, leading Frank to suspect that it was potentially what he could be looking for.  

He approached, took another much deeper breath this time, and placed his hand on the door handle. He hesitated for a few moments, the dread lingering harder than before. He had a voice in his head screaming that something very bad had happened to Eddie... or he had done something to...

Eddie would never. He’s probably just having a bad spell, and he’s be fine... 

In a swift movement, he turned the handle and flung open the door.  

Silence. 

Eddie’s room was completely untouched. It has been perfectly organised and cleaned. Not an item out of place. It was unsettling, to say the least.

A shiver went down Frank’s spine... He was completely clueless.  

...

Where is Eddie...?

[chronicowboy]

love you in my sleep | 4.2k

Eddie likes to think he's pretty good at bottling things up—he's not great at keeping them bottled up but—maybe it'd be more accurate to specify champagne bottles, specifically the type sprayed around on Formula One podiums. Or, well, soda canning things up might be the better term because, God, is he good at shaking those bad boys up until they explode. But going by the last explosion, Eddie thinks he has about two more years before his feelings for Buck come bursting out of him like champagne foam; light and fizzy and drenching.

Except he's in therapy now, and Frank had gently but stubbornly picked away at his brain until he'd unearthed two things: one that Eddie had been repressing longer than the trauma of war, and one that Eddie had been repressing like it was as apocalyptic as war.

Which is why he finds himself leaning against the corner of the hallway wall, chest still heaving with the lingering snap of a lightning bolt in his head, watching Buck sleep. It should take him back, maybe, to a week where everyone in their little family spent their time just watching Buck sleep. It might have under other circumstances—like if he'd ever managed to make himself look at Buck for more than a vanishing second of time. But now, the rise and fall of Buck's chest, the strong and harsh wheeze of his snores, the expressiveness of his face as his nose twitches—he's just asleep, he's alive, and Eddie loves him more than he can ever understand.

At least, he thinks as he takes a step toward the couch, this explosion won't be quite so catastrophic.

At most, that terrible and cruel voice that always has and probably always will sound a little like his parents says, you'll blow up this beautiful life you've built for you and your son.

It's too late for Eddie to stop it now though, body moving without his brain's input—his heart confident and in control as he kneels down at Buck's couch-side.

It's not an orbit Buck has that pulls him in, it's something more deeply unknowable to Eddie than that. It's no red string of fate reeling him in, no intervening hand from the universe pushing him forward, no fate that has them colliding like this over and over again. It's all them. It's Eddie and Buck and what Eddie hopes is their mutual desire to weave their ribs together until they're just one beating heart with room enough for Christopher. It's how itchy Eddie feels in his own skin sometimes and the way it had taken him almost five years to understand it's because he'd wanted to crawl into Buck's. It's the way Buck gets jittery and fidgety and scratches at his arms like he'd rather be in Eddie's skin too.

There's no divine intervention in what Eddie's about to do. It's all his choice—need and want and love.

Eddie reaches for Buck's face, faltering at the last moment so that his hand lands on Buck's shoulder instead. And, fuck, just the feel of him, warm like a furnace and so goddamn alive, even through a t-shirt makes Eddie want to burn up like Icarus.

"Buck," he whispers into the stillness of the night, shaking his shoulder lightly. Buck's brow furrows in his sleep, and his snores cease for an unintelligible grumbling that makes Eddie smile fondly to himself. "Buck, wake up."

Eddie remembers, a few weeks ago, Christopher laughing at a tiktok of a woman startling awake in her bed captioned why does every parent wake up like this before he'd promptly shoved it in Eddie's face and told him 'it's you!'. Now Buck's eyes snap open, already scanning the living room like he's looking for danger until they settle on Eddie—blue as a sky before a storm, and Eddie's calm in the eye of a hurricane—and he's Christopher's other dad.

(Part of him wonders if Christopher might have sent that video to Buck.)

"Eddie, hey," Buck rasps, gravelly voice panicked and rushed enough to have Eddie straining to make the words out. "What's wrong? Is Chris— Are you—"

"We're fine, Buck," Eddie soothes, squeezing his shoulder just to let Buck's warmth sink deeper into the bones of his hand. "Everything's fine, sorry."

"No, that's..." Buck sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps back against the couch with a hand over his heart. "Fuck."

"Sorry," Eddie says again, biting his lip when Buck cracks a bleary eye open to glare at him. "I just..." And Eddie has imagined this moment what has to be a billion times since a gunshot wound and Lichtenberg scars and a bloody, broken heart in a cemetery, but he's never imagined it like this. Dark, quiet, morning breath fuzzy on their tongues, Eddie on his knees, Buck yawning into his fist, Christopher asleep just down the hall. But it feels perfect, feels like them. "I love you," he breathes, and it's instant the way the weight of the world slips off his shoulders like Sisyphus had finally managed to get the boulder up and over the mountain.

@danielsousa @binickmiller @diazass @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy

[tealaoding]

SO KIND | YanderePlatonic!Old Design!Wally Darling + Home x GN!Reader

TW: kidnapping, horror body (Reader are made of rag like the neighbors)

The only thing you remembered was that you received a call from voices that seemed to come from another world, crying, begging and screaming for help.

That moment your chest felt tight and dizziness plunged into your little head.

You woke up here and you were greeted by a colorful corridor but with intense tones but a little darkness except that the windows let in light but were temporarily blocked by something.

You had no idea how you ended up in a situation like this.

Despite the darkness you managed to see.

The center of the room had a easel with a painting resting on it, you slowly approached the painting.

There were the neighbors, there was Home and ahead of them were Wally, Barnaby, Howdy, Eddie, Frank, Poppy, Julie, Sally and you, but on top there was a big red cross formed each one of them except you.

You looked at this, surprised, a little sad about why someone messed up that transcendental drawing and one more step you stepped on something rough, looked down and there was a sketch of you, but more detail.

"It's well detailed…who would have drawn it?" You thought while you left the drawing leaning on the painting, but you still did not forget that you were in a corridor that you did not know.

There were paint cans everywhere, scattered papers and a comfortable chair with a type of sewn fabric, on one side a red telephone, but the capsule was far from their telephone.

You thought too much, remembering if you were ever here once, going through the depths of your memories.

...Paintings, pictures, an armchair and the red phone that seems to be a bit wasted.

You looked at the colorful walls again and the eyes moving on their own behind of the windows.

You thought again.

.

.

.

Your eyes widened.

The chills came out of your rag skin.

Wally's house.

*CREEEK*

Somehow you felt that this house was alive.

You almost fell over with fright from the noises in the house.

"Oh…how rude of me to enter someone's house without their permission." You covered your mouth with an open palm on your lips as still looked around the house.

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

You apologized in advance that you interrupted their space either by accident and you knelt to the ground, resting a hand on the floor and rubbing it against them.

*TSSS*

You did not understand their language but you made the effort to understand them, "Uhh, Home? You whispered, "Can I ask you something, if you don't mind?"

*CREEEEK*

This has always been normal for you, no matter if it is an object, animal or person you still talk to them as if they are a real person. Your stomach turned from anxiety, you did not know if it was a yes or a no, you decided to wait a little longer.

...

...

*CREEK*

You opened your illuminated eyes, "You understand me? Can I ask you then?"

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

You crossed your arms, "if you think...I didn't end up here either by accident…" You reached up to Home's eyes, "What am I doing here in the first place-ah, besides…I feel embarrassed..of being in Wally's house without his permission..ahh, that must be wrong of me to get in and..and. What-"

You rambled, rambled and rambled.

You forced yourself to bite your tongue and pat your cheeks hard, leaving marks with your own hands. You let out a nervous laugh as you scratched your neck, "Sorry, the anxiety spoke for me."

You got up from the ground excitedly, "I'll go home for the meantime, thank you very much for taking care of me while I was unconscious, Home!" While you were going through the door that was in front of you, it must be the entrance and exit of the house.

When you took the door handle and turned it…it was locked.

You looked strangely at the shiny door.

*CRACK-CRACK*

You looked at House's moving pupils through the window of the door.

When you turned it back.

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

The sounds made you nervous.

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

*CRACK-CRACK*

.

.

.

Then, you waited until the noises stopped and the giant pupils in the window were narrowed. The light came on in the living room, illuminating a large mess of paintings, drawings and art tools.

*CREEEK*

The handle was played, it was closed and the safety was unlocked.

*KNOCK*

You swallowed your saliva while you looked at the reflection of you in the golden handle with a puzzled look, "Do you want me..to stay for wait for him?"

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

"I remember he said he was going to Barnaby's house, his best friend, from what I understand" You cocked your head over your shoulder, "hmm, so as not to give him any more trouble, I guess."

The lock is unlocked.

You sighing with relief as you let go of the handle, moving towards the chair instead of sitting on it, you sat on the floor, shaking the fabric of your [pants/skirt], resting your head against the handrest of the colorful chair.

...

...

...

...

When you lift your vision forward you can see pale bluish hairy legs, you recognized it happily letting out a gasp, "Barnaby! Y-You're here, glad see yo-" Not until his head hit the ground.

Your body froze when your friend's head collided with your knee, and you automatically fell backwards until you collided with Wally's nightstand. There was silence except for the rapid sounds of your heart pounding in your ears and the sweat dripping from your chin.

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

You looked in the windows with a shocked look, the pupils were dilated focused on you.

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

"Ah..uh, what? Home, what-..what's going on?" you mumbled.

Your gaze went to Barnaby's furry head and his eyes were blank with hardly any emotion in it. His hairy fat body of him completely standing in the room. That surprised you how he could balance his corpse stuffed.

"Hey, Barnaby? M-Mate?" You were too nervous to form words before the strange appearance of your funny big friend.

You frowned as you put your palms over your face.

"W-what should I say in these kinds of situations?"

You thought about it while you walked slowly, the look of this living house did not stop following your step even with an uncertainty that your graceful body felt at the same time the chills rhymed, you trembled.

You felt bad to neglect a friend who made jokes in the neighborhood. Remaining Barnaby's head and you crouched down to the height of him. You took his heavy head in your trembling hands, uncertainly inspecting his furry face until you looked at a hole that had been cut in his neck.

There was a big hole in it, there were eyes until they became aware of your presence, making you scream, you rested his decapitated head against your chest.

You hugged his big head for comfort, letting his floppy ear brush against your hair and cold cheeks.

His gaze was empty looking behind you.

"Barnaby…what happened to you?" You whispered as your arms trembled, "Hey..wake up, t-this isn't funny."

The big puppy's corpse began to move towards you, slow but clumsy causing you to freeze and take steps back with your friend's head still clinging to your chest. An idea came to your head when your friend were about 3 meters away and you extended the decapitated head of your furry friend into the air.

It was risky but hopefully it was worth it.

"Do you want me..give it back to you?"

And his corpse stopped-almost leaning down to your height.

When he slowly approached you to catch you as a creature on defense ready to be eaten with their eyes on the hole opened, you could in his fluffly hands were connected with strings from above the ceiling.

Not until a few seconds, seeing how those ropes broke, he fell to the ground almost making you shudder.

You put his head on the floor carefully and went to help lift his flyffly body up but he was a little heavy, "You'll be fine..just-" You forced him to push from the big chest so that he was leaning against the wall on the floor sitting, "A-and I think that…can I do this…"

His decapitated neck was right up to your head.

You took his head and tried to put it in his place.

"I-I think there you are as good as new-" It fell off.

"Argk-!" You sacrificed yourself to throw yourself on the ground to catch him even though he was a little bigger than you.

You didn't realize your ears fell deaf as you didn't hear the sound of the doorknob turning and the lights from the windows in Home's eyes closed.

You were getting up until then you fell back to the ground with your face hitting the ground after feeling something hitting your back and pair of arms with a colorful jacket of three even colors in your field to then surround your shoulders and the head of the comedian dog slipped out of your hands.

"Neighbor, there you are, I haven't seen you for a while."

You grew cold when you felt his breath against the back of your hair and turned your head towards the puppet that was curled up on your back as a pillow.

He looked different from what you were used to seeing him with his typical blue vest white shirt an open button exposing his neck with his scarf freely like wings and rainbow pants to be something formal, apart from the mentioned vest he wore the same shape but his red scarf in a bow tie, you noticed that he had crosses on his cufflinks on the sleeves of his white shirt and pants a pale brown shade and not forget to mention his white and black dress shoes.

He rested his elbow on the side of your back as he rested his face in his hand.

"What's the matter, neighbor? Didn't I fix my appearance well?"

You came out of your trance and looked at him with a lost look and zero confidence in your words, "N-no, nothing happened." You turned to look at Barnaby's head that was lying on the ground in front of you a few meters away from you, "You look…outstanding today."

Words were hard to pronounce.

"Mhmm…" You could hear him humming happily at your praise surely and a song you had never heard before and you were getting up but he wouldn't let you, you tried but the attempt was in vain. Your body trembled automatically as you swallowed and take some breathings to trying to stay calm, you felt the throbbing in your ears.

"..d-didn't we have a picnic this afternoon with our neighbors?" You changed the topic and turned to look at him, masking the uncertainty of the situation you found yourself looking at him with a small smile, but your eyes did not match the smile.

That he doesn't see his best friend dead there in his own living room?"

You thought.

Why does he look so..calm in situations like this?

He began to play with the strands of your hair that were dipping at the nape of your neck, "Well, why of course, neighbor..but, I remembered that I had something else to do, I had to politely deny" He sighed as he slowly shook his head as a no, "Same goes for you, neighbor."

Confused, you looked at him, "Why? I-I was going to go there anyway." You looked between him and the door opened, something doubtful, "if it's because I came into your house without you notified, I apologize in advance."

Wally laughed between each point of his words, "Silly, It has nothing to do with you getting into House, honestly, it's very considerate of you to come visit us."

The atmosphere was tense and you felt the grip on your shoulders and the sensation of being watched seemed to be constant, making you paralyzed.

The monotonous words of the friendly puppet gave you chills.

.

.

.

"There's just a little loose end I need to take care of."

.

.

.

"But...you're too kind to be part of home, so..."

He got off your back, sitting next to you while you stretched a little from the weight of before, still dazed, seeing Barnaby on the floor next to his corpse.

"It's better if we keep you here together, also, I made us a scrapbook! It’s mostly pictures of you, but we’ll take more, we can paint together again and again, eat apples together, tell stories together..."

The neighborhood leader kept rambling.

...Huh? Keep me?

You thought.

You blinked, checking to see if you weren't in the clouds or because the pain of your head you had before after passing out and waking up to a mysterious place from one of your neighbors.

"-and what do you think, neighbor?"

You didn't hear what he was saying the whole time.

You gulped, "But, what about our friends? Frank? Howdy? Julie? A-and-"

*CREEEK*

"...It's needless, neighbor, besides, I don’t care about anyone else. You’re all I have, so kind for your good and us, neighbor."

You stunned about his words.

There was no expression on his face but his pupils were upset, devastated, it even seemed like he was fighting, he just limited himself to lightly squeezing the fabric of your shirt.

"You...can’t do anything to have them, save them, it was our decision whether they live or die, cruel, terrible people live out there. Is it so bad to be away from them?"

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

A sharp noise fell from the floor where they were present in front, an arm of rag sticking out fluffy cotton had been torn off from below.

*CREEEK*

You were terrifying to react now.

"It’s pretty, right? I hope you think so, too. You’ll be seeing it a lot more than I will, neighbor." You didn't have the courage to fight, you had a feeling that if you fought, your life would be cut off by an entity from the living house.

Home.

You felt that the floor began to turn to mud. Wally hugged your entire being and his head rested on your chest listening to the noises in your chest as if there were a heart.

Your mind was clouded by the darkness.

A pair of eyes watched as you descended deeper into the subterranean surface.

"But don't worry, neighbor..you’ll be safe as long as you stay with me, with us."

Strings created around you as you softy landed on the ground, binding you from the underground floor to only darkness.

Wally could perfectly see the darkness just to hold you against him.

"...You’re just so kind. it makes me want to keep you all to myself forever to admire you the way you are, neighbor."

Just like a lost treasure to be cherished in his heart.

Thank you for reading!

I'm back from the dead, sorry, I had a lot of time off the platform to rest but I can't promise if I'll upload WH fanfic stuff something again.

[billdecker]

I’ve spent nine months perfecting my 40th birthday party playlist and I think I have it. It’s split up into kinda eras/musical obsessions of my life and songs that mean a lot to me/remind me of people no longer in my life, so here we are...

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

I Predict a Riot - Kaiser Chiefs

Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park

Banquet - Bloc Party

Michael - Franz Ferdinand

Mirror Kissers - The Cribs

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand

Somebody Told Me - The Killers

Fell In Love With a Girl - The White Stripes

One Step Beyond - Madness

The Sound of the Suburbs - The Members

Jilted John - Jilted John

Anarchy in the UK - Sex Pistols

Teenage Kicks - The Undertones

Ever Fallen in Love - Buzzcocks

Going Underground - The Jam

Rock the Casbah - The Clash

Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads

It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way - The Blow Monkeys

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears

The Look of Love - ABC

Wishing I Was Lucky - Wet Wet Wet

Breakout - Swing Out Sister

Yes Sir, I Can Boogie - Baccara

Dancing Queen - ABBA

Best of My Love - The Emotions

Got To Be Real - Cherly Lynn

Never Too Much - Luther Vandross

Boogie Wonderland - Earth, Wind & Fire

You To Me Are Everything - The Real Thing

The Snake - Al Wilson

Move On Up - Curtis Mayfield

Land of 1000 Dances - Wilson Pickett

Do I Love You - Frank Wilson

Get Ready - The Temptations

Reach Out, I’ll Be There - Four Tops

My Girl - The Temptations

I Can’t Help Myself - Four Tops

This Old Heart of Mine - The Isley Brothers

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough - Diana Ross

I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston

Respectable - Mel & Kim

London Nights - London Boys

When Will I Be Famous? - Bros

Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley

You’ll Never Step Me From Loving You - Sonia

Too Many Broken Hearts - Jason Donovan

Love in the First Degree - Bananarama

Venus - Bananarama

One For Sorrow - Steps

All That She Wants - Ace of Base

Love to Hate You - Erasure

Love Shack - The B-52′s

Sweat (A La La La La Song) - Inner Circle

Baby I Love Your Way - Big Mountain

Shine - Aswad

Would I Lie To You? - Charlie & Eddie

Return of the Mack - Mark Morrison

Save Our Love - Eternal

Stay - Eternal

Naked - Louise

Maybe - Emma Bunton

Mi Chico Latino - Geri Halliwell

I Turn To You - Melanie C

Out of Your Mind - True Steppers, Dane Bowers, Victoria Beckham

I Want You Back - Mel B, Missy Elliott

Re-Rewind - Artful Dodger, Craig David

Scandalous - Mis-Teeq

Flowers - Sweet Female Attitude

I Know Where It’s At - All Saints

Never Ever - All Saints

Stay - Lisa Loeb

I Quit - Hepburn

Drop Dead Gorgeous - Republica

Trouble - Shampoo

Bitch - Meredith Brooks

You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette

Celebrity Skin - Hole

Weak - Skunk Anansie

Don’t Speak - No Doubt

Torn - Natalie Imbruglia

I Want It That Way - Backstreet Boys

Crazy For You - Let Loose

Love Me For a Reason - Boyzone

Keep On Movin - Five

Be the First to Believe - A1

Love Here I Come - Bad Boys Inc

I’m a Man, Not a Boy - North & South

House of Love - East 17

Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble - PJ & Duncan

If I Give You My Number - PJ & Duncan

I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue

Never Too Late

Step Back in Time

Better the Devil You Know

Spinning Around

Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head - Kylie, New Order

Girls & Boys - Blur

Connection - Elastica

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Creep - Radiohead

Song 2 - Blur

Your Woman - White Town

Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve

Change - Lightning Seeds

Trash - Suede

A Girl Like You - Edwyn Collins

Disco 2000 - Pulp

Common People - Pulp

Country House - Blur

Mulder and Scully - Catatonia

World in Motion - New Order

Three Lions - Baddiel, Skinner & The Lightning Seeds

Wannabe - Spice Girls

Say You’ll Be There

Who Do You Think You Are?

Spice Up You Life

Stop

Old Before I Die - Robbie Williams

Rock DJ

Millennium

No Regrets

Angels

Babe - Take That

Once You’ve Tasted Love

It Only Takes a Minute

I Found Heaven

Could It Be Magic

Everything Changes

Pray

Relight My Fire

Two Can Play That Game - Bobby Brown

I Luv U Baby - The Original

Don’t Give Me Your Life - Alex Party

Never Let Her Slip Away - Undercover

When I’m Good and Ready - Sybil

Ride on Time - Black Box

The Rhythm of the Night - Corona

No Limit - 2 Unlimited

Get A Way - Maxx

The Key The Secret - Urban Cookie Collective

U Sure Do - Strike

I Breathe Again - Adam Rickitt

Spaceman - Babylon Zoo

Red Alert - Basement Jaxx

Feel It - The Tamperer, Maya

Freed From Desire - Gala

Mr Vain - Culture beat

What Is Love? - Haddaway

Gypsy Woman - Crystal Waters

Finally - CeCe Peniston

Free - Ultra Nate

Dreamer - Livin Joy

Let Me Be Your Fantasy - Baby D

I’m Alive - Stretch n Vern

Set You Free - N-Trance

disco tits - Tove Lo

Coconuts - Kim Petras

Outside - George Michael

It’s a Sin - Pet Shop Boys

Relax - Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Gimme Gimme Gimme - ABBA

Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler

Let’s Dance - David Bowie

Temptation - Heaven 17

Gold - Spandau Ballet

Karma Chameleon - Culture Club

Club Tropicana - Wham

I’m Still Standing - Elton John

Uptown Girl - Billy Joel

Young at Heart - The Bluebells

Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners

I Could Be So Good For You - Dennis Waterman

Amarillo - Tony Christie

Delilah - Tom Jones

The Best - Tina Turner

All Around the World - Lisa Stansfield

The Time of My Life - Billy Medley, Jennifer Warnes

Especially For You - Kylie, Jason

Perfect Moment - Martine McCutcheon

Chains - Tina Arena

A Design For Life - Manic Street Preachers

Yes - McAlmont & Butler

I Do This All The Time - Self Esteem

Zombie - The Cranberries

This Charming Man - The Smiths

Paranoid Android - Radiohead

The Wonder of You - Elvis Presley

Don’t Look Back in Anger - Oasis

Baby I Love You - The Ramones

[oddree13]

Restless Year - Chapter 8

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Prior Chapter) (Next Chapter)

(Read on AO3)

Chapter 8 - Dreams

December 1989

Chicago is cold. It’s not like this is a revelation to Eddie, but the difference in the way Indiana feels in December and the way the Windy City is pummeling him is stark. He reluctantly traded his combat boots for what Steve calls ‘bean boots’ and if it wasn’t for his feet being so damn warm he’d be cursing Steve for giving him prep clothes.

He’s been anticipating the shop being a bit nightmarish in the run-up to the holidays, but the stream of customers is almost never-ending and the stock is running low. It got to the point that Eddie started calling other managers in the area to see how they were faring, and whether or not they could make tentative agreements to send customers hunting for particular finds to each other. 

Walking past the counter where Ezra is explaining to a mother why getting her thirteen-year-old a Frank Zappa album is a bad idea, he’s stopped by Jamie who is holding the phone up for him. “Eddie, someone named Max is calling? I asked for a last name and she audibly rolled her eyes.”

“Right, put her on hold and I’ll take it in the back. S’one of my kids,” he explains. The amount of adopted kids Eddie has is a running joke in the shop. All the staff know Dustin, but over the months, different calls have come in from the rest of the party, some of them asking for Eddie by name while others have straight up asked for Dad. It led to the staff comparing notes and swapping names until Eddie just put a group photo on his desk. 

“Red I assume the world is burning because you’re calling me instead of Steve. What’s up?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re dramatic? Like, have a normal phone conversation. Not everything is a campaign,” she quips and Eddie knows that she’s probably about to start a conversation she’d been avoiding for a bit.

“Fine, fine. Let me start over. Smash Records, Eddie Munson, manager speaking! Hello, Maxine, to what do I owe the pleasure!”

“I hope that causes you to get a rash. That sounded so plastic, ugh.” Max’s distaste is obvious and Eddie can picture her screwed-up face perfectly. “Look I’m calling because I’m coming to stay with you and Steve the day after Christmas until school starts up again. I already bought my bus ticket.”

It’s moments like this Eddie semi-regrets Steve’s open invitation to the kids. Steve probably thought they’d ask ahead of time, whereas Eddie knew better. Eddie knows Max must be telling not asking for a reason, so he lets it go. A quick glance at his calendar shows that Wayne will be gone by then, so they’ll have space. 

“Sounds like a good time. I could use a hand at the shop. Any particular reason you’re coming to crash with us instead of staying with Lucas or El? Or do you just miss us that much?”

“I’ve never been to Chicago and I’ve got the time off, so I figured why not?”

Why Eddie expected a straight answer, he’ll never know. He assumes it has something to do with not wanting to be around her mother for longer than she needs to and escaping the looks of concern she’ll get if she lingers around Hawkins. But those are assumptions Steve will have to suss out when she arrives. 

“I’ll let Steve know tonight and one of us will get you from the station on the 26th. And if you play your cards right I’ll let you have a recommendation space on the staff shelf.”

“Your shop would be lucky to display my choices, so really I’m doing you a favor,” she counters and Eddie can’t help but chuckle in amusement.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work but can’t wait to see you Red.”

“Thanks, Eddie...and tell Steve thanks too.”

Before Eddie can say bye the line cuts and he likes to think his own children won’t be so ill-mannered. “Ugh, that sounded like Steve...”

Over dinner that night Eddie lets Steve know about Max’s plan and her delivery of it. 

“Of course, she just up and bought a ticket. Do you actually think she’d ask and chance us saying no? That’s not how Max operates.”

“I dunno, that seems more like a Mike move than a Max one, is all,” Eddie thinks, twirling his spaghetti around his fork. 

“Ah, see, there is the difference. Mike would just up and buy a ticket to come stay with us because he feels entitled to do it. He wouldn’t actually come to see both of us, just you and the city. But Max? Max bought a ticket and just told us to lessen the chance of rejection. Because for all the bravado Mayfield has, she’s still the kid who’d rather sit on your steps listening to you play guitar than go home. I’m just happy we can still be that for her.”

Eddie stopped eating midway through Steve’s analysis and just looks at his mate with fondness. For all of Steve’s complaints about how much the kids of their pack irritate him, it’s times like this that demonstrate his love. It really shows just how much effort Steve has put in over the years to make himself a safe haven for the kids. 

“You know, I really ought to make a mom out of you already with how well you do with them.” Eddie enjoys the blush that creeps up Steve’s neck at the suggestion and glances over to the bedroom. 

“I’m not stopping you Eds.”

*

There are too many yentas in this deli. Sure he got a few stares at his old place in South Bend, but these stares are making Eddie think it's time to suck it up and learn how to cook his own brisket. Steve put in the order a few weeks ago but is currently in bed wiped out from finals swallowing tums, so Eddie offered to make the trek out with Wayne.

He’s leaning against the back wall waiting for his order to come out while Wayne mutters about having braved the L. “I still don’t know why we couldn’t have just taken your car,” he grumbles, looking a little worse for wear. 

“Wayne, you served in Vietnam, but public transit is where you draw the line?” The resounding silence gives him all the answers he needs. 

“So how's married life treatin’ ya?” Wayne asks after some time, and Eddie can’t help but smile. 

“It’s good. Not a lot has changed, which I think is for the better. Had a bit of a rough patch a few months ago but turns out we just needed to get our heads out of our asses.”

Wayne nods. “It’s good that you can admit you were wrong. I remember you had trouble doing that growing up.”

“Who says I was in the wrong?” The quirked brow from Wayne makes Eddie tsk. “I really don’t appreciate that he’s become your favorite nephew you know? Stevie can do no wrong in your eyes now that you know he’s nothing like his father.”

“Oh no, I’m sure your boy can do plenty wrong. But it takes a particular kind of person to light a fire under your ass and get you moving. Now, look at you. Living on your own, running a fine store. Next thing you know you’ll be calling me to tell me you’re going to be a dad.” Wayne chuckles a bit at the last part, and Eddie scuffs the floor with his boot. 

“I mean would that be so far-fetched?”

“You got something to tell me?”

Eddie shakes his head and feels Wayne’s gaze on him. Their heart-to-hearts are infrequent. Their relationship is built between the lines of their words and usually, that’s fine with Eddie. It’s just, right now he needs  a little bit more. 

“I don’t think it’d be that far-fetched. You’re not your old man Eddie, if that’s what you need to hear. My brother only made two good decisions in his life. Marrying your mom and having you. You might have his name but you ain’t him at all.” Wayne claps his shoulder and pulls Eddie to his side for a hug.

“Harrington! Order for Harrington!” 

Eddie moves from Wayne’s embrace and goes to grab their order when he sees Wayne head towards the door. 

“Where are you going?”

“To get a cab. I’m not chancing that brisket to the train.”

*

They had one day between visits. It was the twenty-fifth and the shop was closed like most other places in Chicago, which lent itself to a lazy morning. 

A year ago getting Eddie out of bed was like pulling teeth, but now the alpha finds himself up first most mornings for work. The upside to his new sleep schedule is on days like this he can just stay in bed and admire Steve. His mate is still sleeping, hugging a pillow to his chest. The t-shirt he wore to bed is one of Eddie’s older Anthrax shirts, threadbare with a few holes, but Steve refuses to let Eddie toss it. For as much as his mate doesn’t nest, he hoards Eddie’s old band shirts like a dragon with a treasure. 

Rolling over, Eddie presses against Steve’s back, burying his nose in his hair. Ever since their bonding, Steve’s scent has morphed. It’s richer, almost spiced, and Eddie can’t get enough. He wonders if he also smells like this but he can’t tell. It’s a question for awake Steve. Right now he’s enjoying the sleepy Steve who is turning over to press into Eddie’s chest on instinct. After the night Steve flinched away from him, Eddie appreciates everytime Steve seeks him out. Today is no exception. 

Eddie plays with Steve’s hair and traces his hand down his back, just basking in the morning light until he notices flurries falling outside the window. Watching the snowflakes dance in the wind, Eddie wonders if Hawkins is getting snow. El runs around outside every time it does and he hopes that she’s waking up to that Christmas morning. ‘They deserve the chance to be kids’ he thinks and it sounds an awful lot like Steve. 

He watches the snowfall until Steve’s lips start to kiss his neck, nipping gently at Eddie’s faux-mark. The moment the tattoo finished healing, Steve found any excuse he could to touch it, be it with his fingers, lips, teeth, or what have you. The bond has brought out Steve’s possessive side and Eddie can’t help but indulge it like right now. 

“Making sure it’s still there baby?” he whispers, scratching at the nape of Steve’s neck. His question just earns him a nod as Steve’s affection trails up his jaw until they’re kissing. Eddie turns into Steve’s embrace and trades lazy kisses with him. The softness of the morning makes Eddie want to go back in time and slap his past self for thinking he would never have this. That his own self-doubt almost kept him from having Steve Harrington in his bed every morning and every night. Because waking up to this feeling beats any high Eddie has ever had. 

When the sunlight becomes too bright for them to ignore the morning, Eddie makes the first move to roll out of bed. “Breakfast? I’ll make it.”

“That means I’m getting pancakes because that is the only thing you can somehow make.” Steve’s face is fond as he looks over at Eddie, and he’ll take the teasing. 

“Yes, I am offering flour pancakes because we have enough potato ones in the freezer to last the rest of winter.”

“Will you ever let that go,” Steve groans, and Eddie dives back onto the bed to tackle Steve, pulling his reddening face away from the pillow he’s trying to bury it in.

“Absolutely not. I’ve never seen someone so determined to get latkes right. They’re potatoes, Steve. Hash browns.”

“I see how it is. You don’t appreciate my trial and error process. And to think next year I was going to start attempting to braise brisket. I should just stick to my waspy recipes.”

That threat makes Eddie start kissing Steve’s face all over as he begs for forgiveness. “I never said anything. In fact, thank you for taking this so seriously and I look forward to you perfecting your brisket recipe. Now let me cook for you. Do you want coffee?”

Steve’s face scrunches at the offer. “No, I don’t think I could stomach it this morning. Besides, I’ll -” 

Steve stops mid-sentence and Eddie follows his gaze to see Steve looking out the window. “It’s snowing.” The statement is so simple but Eddie sort of likes proof that Steve’s been so wrapped up in their world that he hadn’t noticed the one going on outside. 

“I wonder if it’s snowing in Hawkins. El would love it,” Steve voices, and Eddie can’t help but laugh in agreement. 

“She really would.”

[medicinemane]

See, thing about Amber diceless rpg is that... so much of it comes down to "what do you do when one character has a 45 in strength and the other has a 30"?

"The higher number always wins" would be boring and miserable, so you actually have to think about stuff like... does the lower number have higher strategic skills (warfare stat) or higher endurance? Maybe that means that while they're definitely losing, they can hold out for longer or they can come up with a good dirty trick to break free

What about people's plans? Is anyone wanting to do anything interesting? There's no dice here, so it's up to you think ponder how those plans would stack up against each other

Maybe they'd lose but they're good enough to avoid getting grappled as they back up towards that window to jump out of

It's honestly kinda a hard game to GM in some ways, but I really do like how much it's like "the numbers on the paper are a guideline, the skills and powers everyone have are just a part of the equation, work with the players to figure out how the story actually goes"

(Also, while it's... hmm... you know I might run a normal campaign like this just cause it's still fun)

(Anyway, the first session is the stat auction. You're allocated x number of points not just for stats but for literally everything, and you can drop down from the starting rank of Amberite which is basically zero to... I think it was get... 10 or 15 points for dropping to Chaosite and I think it was 25 for dropping to human stats but... if you're human you're trash at that, you're on par with literally you or me while you're dealing with what are practically gods comparatively)

(So the players can either have figured out what powers and stuff they want to get beforehand and know they need to reserve like... think it's like 45 for advanced shape shifting for instance, it's expensive for a reason, or they could do the action and then build their character of the flavor)

(Anyway, then you take a stat and start the bidding on it. Everyone goes around and says like... "10 in psyche", "17 in psyche" and you can totally just chime in with a "3 in psyche" if you don't want to go higher, you're literally just announcing your stat)

(You go around till everyone's happy and locks in... people could go higher, once again you could raise from that 3 to a 27 cause people are up at like 50 and you don't want to be stomped, you literally just say what number you want and it helps you avoid getting blindsided by Goliath over there that dumped half their stats in Str and half in End and nothing else)

(You just go through each of the stats one by one and... now one of the things you can do is play a one shot called a throne war where you all just try and take control of the throne of Amber, and there's a degree to which this mechanic is focused on that)

(But honestly I think it could be fun to run a normal campaign and tell everyone not to share anything about their character during the action so during the first bit of gameplay all anyone knows is Frank has a mind the size of Sweden and then you get to see what that character actually looks like)

...I don't know, I don't know how much sense this makes to anyone else, but this is how I grew up. Half the time I'd run campaigns for myself by myself... I really only have 2 characters who stuck from Amber... kinda 3 as one of them's kinda become a character in the past who figured out a lot of really advanced pattern based shadow manipulation but... he exists in that the stuff he came up with is called Edwardian shadow shifting, but honestly Eddie himself isn't much of a character

Nah, it's really just the Count and his General who ended up full fledged characters (and the the Viscount joined them from a totally different rpg... also, sorry but it's just so them to not even have me share the actual names, not even cause secrecy is important because secrecy is funny to them... making it all sound more important than it really is)

...so yeah

[hmslusitania]

It tightens its grip when things go unsaid

A soft (??) 5x14 coda built on like a dozen posts I saw on my dash this morning. It sure went. A direction.

“Oh my god, you kept this?”

Eddie freezes in place, paused with his hands and the broccolini under the frigid water of the tap.

“Kept what?” he asks, attempting for casual. It had been a lot easier to maintain a calm disinterest before Frank but as it turns out, part of getting better was giving up playing numb.

Buck pulls the drawing off the fridge, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Gives himself that much longer to deny it.

“Eddie,” Buck prompts, and there’s laughter in his voice but there’s something else too. Something softer, gentler.

“It was — Chris said I—” and he pauses again. Because yes, Chris had said he should keep Buck’s heart drawing, but that wasn’t why Eddie had done it. And he’s spent enough time filtering his feelings towards Buck through Chris. “I liked it.”

Buck snorts and pins it back under the magnets. “Makes me feel bad. I shoulda drawn you a better one.”

“I didn’t draw you one at all,” Eddie replies which is probably nonsensical.

“It’s not like I’ve got a fridge to hang it on anymore anyway,” Buck points out.

He doesn’t. Not with the way he’s been sleeping on Eddie’s couch since he ceded his apartment in the breakup. He’s been in Eddie’s house for two weeks now and Eddie can’t fathom how Buck has missed the drawing so far.

It’s later when they’re on shift, and everyone else is passed out, that Eddie gets the idea. They don’t exactly keep craft supplies around the station, but he finds some paper and a pencil and by the time Bobby wakes up to come get started on breakfast, Eddie’s gone a bit overboard. Partway into the exercise, he’d noticed one of Hen’s surgical textbooks lying in the loft and flipped it to the relevant page, and as it turns out, the art classes he’d taken in high school — the ones he’d insisted were just because he was crushing on a girl, which made them acceptable — hadn’t quite worn off.

The piece of art he’s scribbled down in graphite isn’t quite an anatomical heart and it isn’t quite a photorealistic depiction from the textbook and it isn’t quite the cartoony simplicity Buck had given him. It’s not nearly so digestible and easy to accept. He thinks the thing he’s supposed to do with something like this is being it to his therapist the way a pet cat brings a dead animal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he avoids Bobby’s questioning gaze and takes it downstairs. He tapes it to the inside door of their locker, and forgets about it seconds later because the bell goes.

He doesn’t think about it again until the second Buck opens their locker after their shift is done. He pauses, head tilting sideways, and Eddie considers ducking behind the shelves and hiding his face in the stacks of towels.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Buck says. “This is, like, cool.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“It’s cool,” Buck says. He gently unpeels the tape from the locker and just stares down at the drawing. “Would it be weird if I got this as a tattoo?”

“If you got it as—seriously?”

Buck looks guileless when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s eye. “I don’t have a fridge.”

Eddie almost points out that this is why he’d put it in the locker, but something in Buck’s face stops him. He almost points out that Buck’s skin is not interchangeable with a fridge, but he doesn’t do that either. It’s the visual representation of Eddie’s still battered but healing heart and Buck wants to ink it onto his own flesh.

“If you want,” Eddie says finally. “But I won’t be offended if you change your mind by the time you actually get in to see an artist.”

Buck grins but it’s too soft around the eyes to be a real flippant smile. “I won’t.”

[tacticalhimbo]

THIS POST IS NO LONGER RELEVANT. READ THE UPDATED POST IF YOU GIVE AN ACTUAL FUCK ABOUT OUR COMMUNITY OUTSIDE OF SANITIZED CORPO ACTIVISM (original post preserved under cut for reference; even with the ignored amendment)

Woke up today to see it was the 12th, the day of the Pulse Nightclub shooting.

As someone who lives relatively near Orlando, I remember this day so vividly and I still feel a lot of pain for the victims even five years later.

This list isn't in order with the photograph above, but please take a moment to remember their names:

Stanley Almodovar III, 23

Amanda Alvear, 25

Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26

Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21

Martin Benitez Torres, 33

Antonio D. Brown, 30

Darryl R. Burt II, 29

Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24

Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28

Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, 31

Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25

Luis D. Conde, 39

Cory J. Connell, 21

Tevin E. Crosby, 25

Franky J. Dejesus Velazquez, 50

Deonka D. Drayton, 32

Mercedez M. Flores, 26

Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22

Juan R. Guerrero, 22

Paul T. Henry, 41

Frank Hernandez, 27

Miguel A. Honorato, 30

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40

Jason B. Josaphat, 19

Eddie J. Justice, 30

Anthony L. Laureano Disla, 25

Christopher A. Leinonen, 32

Brenda L. Marquez McCool, 49

Jean C. Mendez Perez, 35

Akyra Monet Murray, 18

Kimberly Morris, 37

Jean C. Nieves Rodriguez, 27

Luis O. Ocasio-Capo, 20

Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32

Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25

Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37

Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24

Christopher J. Sanfeliz, 24

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35

Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34

Shane E. Tomlinson, 33

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25

Luis S. Vielma, 22

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37

Jerald A. Wright, 31

═══════════════

I remember biting back tears in my living room because I wasn't out of the closet, and couldn't let my family know just how much this hurt me. I remember breaking down that night while scrolling the headlines, watching as the number of fatalities kept climbing. I remember staring at the button on Facebook asking me if I was safe.

And to this day, even with those involved and responsible gone... I still do not feel safe as a queer man in this state or in this country.

Months later, the city tried to buy the property off. A mere few months after Orlando's LGBTQ+ and Latino communities suffered the largest tragedy it has known, the city and government put a price of $2.25 million on our blood. They claimed they wanted to make it a memorial site, to "honor us". In reality, they wanted profit. Quoted how “There are lots of people that are making a visit to the site part of their trip, part of their experience of Orlando, so I think 12 to 18 months of leaving it as-is would be appropriate."

Today there was a memorial held for the victims. It was live streamed on various news websites. And there is nothing but hatred in these chats, even in the face of mourning. Comments about how disgusting LGBTQ+ people were. How we were going to repent. How we were demons plaguing the nation's cities. How we deserve to be cast out or murdered for our sins. Comments about how there will be a forcible eradication of "our kind", whether we like it or not.

Today, the memorial independently, thanks to the club's owners and the onePULSE Foundation, which I encourage you donate to (if you can).

2023 EDIT: I rescind my statements about onePULSE now that new knowledge has come to light.

Local organizers and victims do not support onePULSE, as there are no survivors involved in onePULSE. Barbara Poma (a figurehead) is currently on vacation and the foundation has no plans to lead any community events. onePULSE is ultimately turning a profit on the backs of the survivors of this tragedy and the only thing they're bringing to the community is disaster tourism.

Instead, check out this group run by victims and the community impacted most by this tragedy:

═══════════════

But the fight for our rights, our recognition, and our safety still continues:

In June 2021, the Governor of Florida vetoed an "item-lined budget bill" - that legally provides mental health, counseling, and compensation directly towards victims of the June 2016 Pulse nightclub Orlando shooting.

While they cannot be enforced, sodomy laws still exist in Florida to this day. Every year, we are still criminalized by a technicality.

In many places, same-sex domestic partnerships are still not granted. It is only viable in approximately nine counties, thirty cities, and one town.

It took until 2016 for same-sex couples to be granted the same parental rights during in vitro fertilization and surrogacy as opposite-sex couples. Before then, the non-biological mother and father was not the child's legal parent nor guardian.

The state's "hate crime law" only accounts for sexual orientation, and does not protect victims who were attacked for their gender identity.

Anti-discrimination laws for sexual orientation and gender identity are not state-wide nor equally applicable within each county/town.

On June 1, 2021, Governor of Florida Ron DeSantis signed a bill to exclude transgender women from participating in sports designated for female students. This bill passed because of a last-minute legislative "procedural maneuver". The HRC is currently establishing a campaign to try and stop the law from going into effect (called "nullification") on midnight July 1.

Gay-panic and Trans-panic are still viable legal defenses, resulting in these abhorrent hate crimes to be decreased from murder to the lesser charge of manslaughter.

Conversion therapy against minors is not banned state-wide, and is still legal within many areas of the state. In fact, in some areas, a ban on the practice is deemed "unenforceable".

This is our reality.

[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

[gayhotpriests]

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

-

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.