#Hen POV
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sonofatoasterwaffle · 9 months ago
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Port in a Storm
“Hey, Buck, could you-“ Hen's hitting the top step when he hisses back “Shh!” 
She glances at Chimney for a sanity check, considering cuffing the back of Buck’s head for that, but he’s sitting on the couch, stock still, Eddie snoring gently against Buck’s shoulder. “Can’t move.” He explains.
Hen has to chuckle. “He’s not a cat, buck” 
She drops into the armchair closest to him, and he stops scrolling his phone with his free hand to look at her. “If I’m a golden retriever, Eddie is most definitely a cat.”
Chim nods like he can’t argue as he takes the seat across from them. “Hates attention except when he doesn’t, very protective over his young, great hair.” He counts off each thing as he says it. 
Hen supposes she doesn’t disagree. “He’s not sleeping at home right now, is he?” 
Buck sighs. “Based on the twitter links he’s been sending in the middle of the night, it seems like no.” 
Eddie, for his part, seems well and truly out. He’s sprawled low on the couch, boots bumping up against the coffee table, head lolled to the right against Buck and his arm slung over Buck’s leg, fingers curled under Buck’s knee like he’s afraid his human pillow might abandon him. “Has he been like this since I went to run flashcards?” 
“I literally can’t feel my arm.” Buck admits, but it doesn’t sound like he has any intention of moving. 
“You gotta feel for the guy.” Chim says, biting into a muffin from a batch someone left earlier this week. “Kid at home, dealing with grief, dealing with us.” 
Hen hums. At least he’s not alone, she thinks, catching the soft look in Buck’s eyes as he glances down at Eddie. She’s not sure if those two will ever realize what they have, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter as long as they don’t give it up. “So, you can’t help me move the medical supplies shipment.” 
“Performing a public service, here, Hen.” 
Chim snickers something about exactly what kind of servicing Buck would like to do for Eddie, but he’s resolutely ignored. Hen supposes Buck’s right. High-strung Eddie is annoying and sleep-deprived Eddie is pathetic and both at once makes her parenting instincts flare up like crazy, so it’s better for all of them if he gets a little rest. Even at the expense of Buck’s circulation. 
Eddie murmurs something in Spanish, nuzzles his nose into Buck’s neck and breathes deep. Buck’s as red as the ladder truck but he still doesn’t move, except to flip Chim off. “Leave him alone.” 
Chim throws up his hands, still grinning. “Easy, loverboy, I’m not coming for your man.” 
And Buck looks absolutely murderous but he’s powerless to stop Chimney from snapping a picture. He does leave the finger up for it. “I could easily throw you.” He threatens when his phone chimes with the inevitable group chat notification. 
“But Maddie would be so sad if you murdered me.” 
“Yeah, maybe you should think about that before doing murder-worthy shit.” 
Eddie stirs a little, and Buck relaxes back into the couch, free hand reaching over to thumb over Eddie's arm, and he immediately settles. “You guys are so gross I love it.” Chim crows, snapping another photo. 
“At some point, he’s gonna wake up, and then you’re gonna have to start running.” 
Hen goes back to her flashcards. Chim’s on his own with that one, she’s not taking the bullet for teasing she didn’t get to do. She gives Buck a sympathetic smile when he grouses “I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” 
“Price you pay for being such a good best friend.” 
Buck rolls his eyes at her intoned best friend. “You’re on my list, too.” 
“Finally.” Bobby says in relief when he sweeps into the kitchen to start prep. "I was about to cut him loose if he didn't chill out." He points at Buck. “Don’t move.” 
“That’s what I said!” 
Also on ao3
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bucksboobs · 8 months ago
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On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”
Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.
Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.
“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.
“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.
“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.
“How do you know that?” She asks.
“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”
“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?
“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.
“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.
“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.
“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.
“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.
“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.
“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.
“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.
“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”
“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”
A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.
“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”
“I didn’t know he got nervous.”
Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.
“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”
“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”
“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”
“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”
“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.
“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.
The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”
“Do him or do not, there is no try.”
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hisbucky · 11 months ago
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Buck: We need a diversion. Chimney: Any ideas? Buck: I could get naked. Hen: No! Not on my watch. As much as we love you, Buckaroo, we do not need to see that! Eddie, muttering: Speak for yourself.
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beanarie · 2 months ago
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21 hours
i just kept rolling around the moment from my last fic when tommy said "i turn into the unabomber when i get scared, just ask hen and howie" and i wondered, what could possibly be scarier than thinking he might lose buck right after getting him back. (tw: panic attacks)
~
Hen's feelings on Tommy Kinard are... malleable. He was trash when they met, and for a solid few months after that. They remained on the same crew, struggling and bleeding and getting each other out of scrapes. That built a measure of trust. After Gerrard and the worst of his minions vanished, he changed. Became almost sweet. He and Chimney, who had always been okay, hit it off like a house on, you know. Hen liked this new version of her teammate, who seemed to be finding his feet after losing some seriously bad influences. She enjoyed their group hangouts. Maybe a year after his transfer to Air Ops, her friend Casey shared that Tommy was gay and out to his new unit, which, good for him.
She never forgot the asshole who helped make her feel like she would never belong, but he got smaller over time, easily overtaken by whoever Tommy felt like showing her.
The call today was going fine until it all went to hell, another unwelcome similarity to the night Buck got struck by lightning. The victims were alert and on their feet, ambulating on their own power right ahead of him, when he saw the heavy mahogany shelving unit lose its moorings and shoved the family out of the way just in time. That of course put him right in its path.
For a long, terrible minute while he was pinned she and Chim thought they didn't have a pulse. But it was there. They found it eventually. And he made it to the hospital without crashing.
Having heard a little about Buck's efforts to rekindle their relationship (along with his feeble arguments that they were strictly platonic), Hen isn't shocked when Tommy shows up at the waiting room. But she wasn't expecting the asshole.
Chimney eyes her, asking if she's seeing what he is. They recognize this man. The linebacker set of the shoulders, the distancing lift to his chin. Bobby asks him if he wants coffee, and he simply wrinkles his nose.
He's pissed. Maybe he blames them for letting Buck get hurt.
"Enough," Eddie says, flinging himself out of the chair. "We're taking a walk."
"Don't speak for me," Tommy spits out.
"Now," he growls.
Surprisingly, Tommy goes, but Hen isn't sure that's a good thing. Eddie has a history of making problems worse with his fists. Chim is on the phone with Maddie, figuring out the logistics of two scared parents who can't be in two places at the same time. He's no help. Hen considers asking Bobby if they're gonna let Buck's sort of ex and his best friend lay each other out while he's in emergency surgery. But he's never really up for mediating nonsense when one of them is badly hurt, especially not when it's Buck.
The surgeon comes out and speaks for a moment. Hen now has a compelling reason to intervene. She turns a corner and soon finds them. Eddie leaning in, glaring, while Tommy cuts him off and stalks away a few paces.
"You're not even trying," Eddie says tightly.
"Shut up." Tommy whirls back the way he came, breathing hard.
"Three things. Chim's baby could do it and he can't even sit up by himself."
"One day, Eddie. One. Are you fucking kidding me?"
Hen blinks. Tommy sounds like he's holding back tears.
"Tommy, man, come on. If you pass out and end up in the bed right next to Buck, he'll 100 percent blame me. Get it together."
The dots connect themselves. The pacing. The irregular breathing. Eddie prompting him to list three things. Tommy is having a panic attack.
"Guys?" Hen says. Tommy's head snaps up. Their eyes meet and if she wasn't already sure, this would do it. That isn't anger. That's pure terror. "Surgery went well. They're wheeling Buck into recovery. They said someone can go be with him when they bring him around."
"Tommy's going," Eddie announces. "If he can remember how to breathe."
Tommy has a hand on his own chest. "Dickhead."
"Hen, can you walk him over?" Eddie raises one shaking hand. "I need to sit for a minute."
Tommy's eyes widen. "Shit, Eddie, I didn't even ask." Tommy comes close to invading Eddie's space, stopping only when Eddie holds him off.
Eddie gives him a half-smile. "I'm fine, Tom. The rest of us are all fine. It's just an adrenaline dump. I'm gonna call my kid and let him bitch about organic chemistry and the school musical until my heart stops pounding." He squeezes Tommy's shoulder and gives him a shove. "Go on."
All the way down the hall, Tommy mutters to himself, trying to do what Eddie asked and regulate his breathing, but it doesn't seem to be working.
"What happened yesterday?" Hen asks curiously, stuck on his earlier comment.
He's so surprised his lungs stutter to a complete stop. He looks down at her, blinking hard, and he shakes himself. "We agreed to try again," he says.
"Damn," she blurts out, and almost apologizes before he lets out a humorless little laugh.
"I know!"
She doesn't tell him how it felt to watch her son coding not two weeks after they got her daughter back. She's not sure how to say this is just their lives, that the only reason they get through it is because they have each other. He's spent enough time observing them.
They've reached the recovery room. Tommy cracks his neck and straightens his spine. "Hen?" he asks, tentatively, pausing with one hand on the double doors. "Do you need to go home? Karen-"
"Isn't expecting anything but updates from me until morning," Hen says. This isn't a regular day.
He nods. "Can you stick around? Some of these doctors suck at communicating and- and I want to make sure I'm ready for whatever he's gonna need."
So maybe he has figured it out. "No problem, Tommy. I'll be right here."
"Thank you." He takes a deep breath and pushes the doors open. Through the split second sliver before they swing shut again, she catches a glimpse of Buck on the gurney, his face mottled with purple from the books that flew off the top shelf (an encyclopedia, like they used to keep in the '90s). He looks terrible. When he wakes up for real, he's gonna feel even worse. But she's pretty sure he'll be just fine.
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nubuckleather · 6 months ago
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S1 AU where instead of Abby, Buck catches “first love and it’s with somebody older” feelings for Bobby … and very Catholic, very guilty over his past sins, very ‘I’m not gay but there’s something about this kid’ Bobby wants him right back
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ofthedirewolves · 7 months ago
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I got a wonderful prompt for mydiazboys over on twitter for @911actionforgaza. This was a very fun prompt! Thank you for donating.
Everyone knows Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley have a reputation for being oblivious about their feelings.... but this time they're not the ones who missed it. aka 5 Times the 118 missed the obvious signs that Buck and Eddie were dating and the one time they didn't.
AO3 Link
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wanderingxrivers · 18 hours ago
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Snipped from the Hen Finds out about the Will fic in progress __________________________________________
Hen’s fingers tighten around her phone, willing her own concern and worry down into a box that can be unpacked later when she has the space to do, choosing to put push every ounce of calm and comfort she can into her voice. “Buck, talk to me. “  
His voice catches. “H-h-he—Oh God, it was just like Shannon.” There’s a half strangled sob that comes through the line.  
“Buck, this is not like Shannon. You have to believe that. He made it to the hospital.” Hen pauses here, wary of making promises that she cant keep because she knows she can’t do that. “They got in touch with you, you’ve given them consent to treat. You and I both know they’ll do their best.” Their best what is left unsaid. She may not have the same faith in God Bobby has but she does believe in the universe much like Buck himself does and she refuses to put any of that into the universe.  
Soft hitching breaths come over the line, the only sign of Buck’s tears. “I...I don’t know what to tell Chris. He knows something wrong and he knows there’s something I’m not telling him.”  
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buddiefanficlibrary · 1 month ago
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Got Your Measure
Hen is relatively certain she has their new probie, Buck, figured out. Him saying he has a husband throws her for a loop, but who hasn't lied to a naked man in handcuffs flirting with them before? But Buck only gets more confusing from there.
LINK
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ummrys · 6 months ago
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across the stars
complete | 75.9k | 21 chapters | teen
• nasa astronaut evan buckley is presumed dead and stranded on mars
• despite everything, he lives to tell the tale
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einsatzzz · 4 days ago
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DUST OFF YOUR HQ OC FOR ME! Also, create a Digimon Adventure one and play with me...👀✨️
NIMOOOO!!! Just for you, queen ✨ Here's a ShioRin + Amburo sketch 🫶 Not sure about the height difference between them and Amburo sdhvfhsvfd but we ball for now!!!
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I also posted a small compilation of some of their info and art here too, if you wanna know a bit more about them!
Shiori and Rin are the twin OCs that @amiahoshi and I were obsessed with before Kana and Kurumi. Also, just like Amburo, Rin also goes to Karasuno High and is a member of volleyball club there too! But considering S1 timeline, she'd be a 3rd year, since she's in the same class as Suga (omg! Rin-senpai!). On the other hand, Shiori is a 3rd year in Aoba Johsai High and is part of the...uhhh...going home club sjdvjhsdfhjsdf For the height! Shiori is 171cm and then Rin is 170cm.
For the Digimon Adventure OC, I'm still thinking about how I can create them 🤔🤔🤔 because ngl, I'm more of a Digimon Tamer girlie and more than even that, I'm Rika Nonaka girlie (<-love her so much, I turned her into an OC in my brain). I'm so ill for her, my first thought was, maybe I should just isekai Rika to Digimon Adventure 🤣😭🤣😭 We'll see how this develops, because I think it would be nice to make a new OC! Perhaps I should start rewatching Digimon Adventure while working on my webcomic too so I can get a refresher.
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fourteenfifteen · 1 year ago
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helloooo fic in a box author reveals just went live!! i wrote a handful of things including two more short fatt fics:
another cori pre-canon fic about her sprouting wings…
…and a post-canon c/w fic about jace, addax, and jamil trying to help mako out
i think they’re both good. so you should check them out!
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moonzie-writes-stuff · 1 year ago
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(Idea by @thesmileystudio but with the singular change of nOBODY ON THE SHIP KNOWING ABOUT IT)
So there I was, being rudely interrupted from my first dreamless sleep since the Highbrary by a frantic Bastille.
One thing we need to clarify. Don’t wake people up to help them after getting sick. I mean really, that’s extremely counterproductive to everything that any foster parents (or other Smedrys) have ever told me. (Surely there’s no oddly backwards Free Kingdomer logic about THAT, right?)
Of course, this situation might have possibly been different, since usually sickness isn’t caused by proximity to an acclaimed Hushlands landmark.
(No, I’m not kidding. In hindsight, why else would anyone build a giant metal arch in the middle of nowhere? For the “aesthetic?” Yeah, right.)
I’m going to assume you guys need context. I’m also going to assume I’m going to have to be the one to give it.
Fine. Here we go again.
“Why are we flying this way to Nalhalla? Isn’t it the other way?” I asked.
Kaz nodded. “We’re picking up Aydee on the way. I’m sorry, kid, but we’ve got to tell her the news about Attica.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence filled the aircraft after that.
For those of you reading this WITHOUT having read the last five books of my autobiography and Bastille’s sixth installment first of all, why? Why are you here? You don’t even know my name, do you? Those of you in the Hushlands are probably questioning why a prison in France is shaking me awake, aren’t you? Read the other books first, you sicko. Secondly, since of course you’re probably still here despite my admonishing, accept this recap.
My name is Alcatraz Smedry. My family is known for having Talents for stuff like breaking things (me), getting lost (Kaz), and being bad at math (Aydee). Or at least that’s how things used to go, until I accidentally released the Dark Talent upon the world and broke the talents. (You know, as one does under pressure.)
The Librarians control the Hushlands. (lands such as the United States or China) and hide that fact from everyone who’s not in their cult while simultaneously trying to take over the free kingdoms (lands such as Nalhalla, Mokia, etc.) and incorporate them into their ever-growing empire.
The last volume I wrote detailed our infiltration into the Highbrary (Or as Hushlanders might know it, the U.S. Library of Congress) and introduced “Cousin Dif,” aka Biblioden, aka the Scrivener, aka the original head of the Librarians who was supposed to be dead years ago.
He betrayed us all when we least expected it, then sacrificed my father on an altar and shot my grandfather, leaving me the last surviving member of the true Smedry line of Oculators, who can use special glasses to do cool stuff.
So, basically, we failed completely.
Or so I thought.
Bastille’s recently released installment covered a LOT of happenings, including but not limited to Grandpa Smedry somehow managing to get his talent back in time to save his life, (He’s still arriving late to his bullet wound to this day.) gravity breaking across the entire world, (I plead the fifth on that one.) a diplomatic discussion with the Dark Talent itself that ended in the other talents coming back, and me having no choice but to give a little bit of Smedry Talent to everyone in the world.
So if you ever find yourself waking up looking uglier than usual, or tripping over nothing, or putting something in one place and coming back to find it gone, that was probably my fault.
Sorry about that.
“Hey, Kaz? Can we stop for food somewhere?”
“Sure, kid. We’re coming up on St. Louis, so we can find a place there if anyone has any Hushlander currency.”
I had, in fact, procured some from the Highbrary, and I told Kaz so.
“Alright! Lemme just set the detour real quick,” Australia said.
“Nice, I’ve always wanted to see the Gateway Arch,” I said, sitting in the nearest empty chair.
Bastille scoffed. “I don’t understand Hushlanders. Lots of gates have arches. Why is this one so special?”
I shrugged. “Mostly because it’s big and metal, and I think you can go inside it, but that might be a different landmark. I guess we don’t have to see it.”
“Well, if we’re gonna be there anyway, I suppose we can stop by it for a few minutes,” Bastille said, rolling her eyes.
“Actually, if you’re in full armor and the rest of us minus Kaz are in formalwear… if we go somewhere that public, we’re definitely going to attract unwanted attention. We probably shouldn’t stop in a city that big at all,” I rationalized.
Bastille rolled her eyes. “There are extra clothes on this thing for a reason, Smedry. We can make something work.”
“Alright, then. Australia, I’m afraid you’re going to have to hover and let whoever’s coming with me down on the ladder. A giant penguin landing in the middle of the city would be way too noticeable. Speaking of which, who’s coming with me?”
Bastille, Sing, and Kaz volunteered.
“Alrighty, then. I’m going to need some way to keep contact with you guys. Australia, how do you feel about Courier’s Lenses?”
“Um… better than the first time the two of us used them?”
“That’ll work. Australia, you’re gonna have to take everyone’s orders and pass them onto me through the lenses. Can you do that?”
“Um… maybe? Do we have a backup plan?”
I shrugged. “Only if Kaz still has his cell phone.”
Kaz gave me a thumbs up. “Yup! Sure do!”
“Leave it with Australia and there’s our backup plan. Now, I’m still going to be at least acting like I’m using the phone. Hushlanders aren’t exactly… used to lenses, so don’t freak out when you see me on the phone. It’s purely for aesthetic purposes.”
“Okay.”
“Bastille, Sing, and Kaz, you go change into T-shirts and shorts. I’ll be doing the same. I’ll tell you if they’re on wrong when you’re done.”
And so began a somewhat infiltration into St. Louis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we came back together, we found out that Sing had no taste in clothes. At all.
At least Bastille had chosen a fairly normal-looking black tee-shirt with some sarcastic comment on it and a pair of bermuda shorts.
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And it turns out Kaz looks pretty good in a sweater vest. (Who knew?)
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Sing, however… Well, some things are better illustrated in pictures.
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I looked at Sing. “Okay, you know what? Sing, can you just find a plain, white shirt?”
Sing nodded. “Alright!” he said, already running (tripping once) to the room he’d claimed on Penguinator.
“Bastille, that’s perfect. Great job.”
Bastille smirked. “Thanks, Smedry. You don’t look to bad yourself.”
(A/N: If you’re wondering what he’s wearing)
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I blushed, quickly changing the subject when Sing came back, wearing, as I’d asked, a white t-shirt.
“Alright, Australia, drop us down there. We can walk from here.”
It was true. There was a Steak ’n’ Shake not too far from the edge of town we were approaching, so I told everyone ahead of time what their options were.
Australia dropped us off, and I put on my Courier’s Lenses as we walked to the Steak ’n’ Shake.
“Alrighty, guys. Check out the menu while I call Australia.” I said, pulling out the cell phone and acting like I was putting in a phone number.
“Hi!” Australia gasped. “OH MY GOSH ITS WORKING SO WELL??? WOW!”
I winced at her volume. “Okay, Australia. Ask everyone whether they want chicken tenders or a burger, and write it down so you can tell me.”
“You got it!” the Courier’s Lenses blinked out as Australia took them off.
Kaz grinned. “The cheeseburger looks pretty good. Also, what are milkshakes?”
I gasped, faux offendedly. “Okay yeah we have to introduce everyone to milkshakes. Wait, Kaz, do you know if anyone with us is lactose intolerant?”
Kaz shook his head. “Nope, nobody on Penguinator is lactose intolerant.”
“Great! Now I just have to-” at that precise moment, Australia’s Couriers Lenses were turned back on. “Nice! Australia, ask around for milkshake orders. They’ve got Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry, Banana, Oreo Cookies 'n Cream, Mint Oreo, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Birthday Cake, Cotton Candy, M&M's, Reese's peanut butter cup, Reese's peanut butter, Reese’s chocolate peanut butter, Nutella, Butterfinger, Kit-Kat, and Snickers.”
(A/N: yes I did have to copy and paste the shake menu and delete the calories and ingredient information this hurt me)
Australia dutifully wrote down each flavor and made a saluting motion before turning off her lenses again.
“Alright, guys! Any minute now and we’ll be able to order.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About half an hour later, the four of us returned to Penguinator with plenty of fast food for the others before immediately going back down to see the Gateway Arch.
A few minutes in, Sing tripped.
Of course, we made nothing of it.
A few minutes later, the milkshake started to disagree with me.
“Oof. I should NOT have gotten a large.”
Bastille scoffed. “Obviously.”
We came within sight of the arch, and my head began to pound.
Well, that’s not the milkshake, is it, I thought.
My stomach turned as we walked closer, and I found myself suddenly drained of all energy. Where before I’d had the quickest strides out of the team, now I was lagging about two feet behind Kaz, very much in last place.
Needless to say, Bastille noticed. Also needless to say, she decided to make fun of me for it. “You’d better not be falling asleep back there, Smedry,”
“No, m’fine,” I said, although I definitely was feeling a little sleepy.
We were so close; I couldn’t give up now. Bastille was gonna lose her mind when she found out we could, in fact, go inside the thing, up all the way to the top. There were windows up there, I was pretty sure.
She wanted to make fun of me for lagging behind? Well, we’d see how she felt about going ahead of everyone else when we were up six hundred thirty feet in the air.
The world seemed to spin all of a sudden, but on the bright side, we were almost to the ticket center.
“Hey guys! We can go inside it! Let’s go!” Sing exclaimed, pointing at a sign.
Kaz hung back. “I don’t know, guys. Are you sure you wanna go in? I mean, think about Bastille, that’s pretty high up…”
Bastille shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
I gave a small smile that probably looked like a grimace.* “That’s the idea. It’s time I get some teasing ammunition for once.”
Kaz looked at me. “Al, you’re not lookin’ to good. I don’t know if you’d survive up there without passing out.”
“M’fine, Kaz. C’mon, let’s get our tickets.”
We waited in line at the ticket center for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. My legs felt like gelatin, but Sing looked so excited, and I sure as heck wasn’t gonna be the one to rob him of this experience.
I inhaled sharply. White-hot pain stabbed through my head, uncannily reminiscent of the headaches I’d get as a child. (I now knew they were a result of Oculatory power building up in me at unhealthy levels.)
“You alright, Smedry? We can’t have you fainting away on us.” Bastille snarked.
“Fine, fine. Just a headache.”
“Drama queen.”
“Okay, Bastille.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Guys! The line’s moved!” Sing said, effectively finishing the argument for us.
I hobbled forward, swaying like one of those inflatable tube men you see in the Hushlands sometimes. (For you Free Kingdomers reading this, think holding a singular cooked noodle vertically and moving your hand back and forth slightly, but upside down and with two smaller noodles attached to the first one.)
Bastille steadied me. “Whoa, there. Don’t go fainting away on me, Smedry.”
I tried to think of a good comeback, but my mind wasn’t working and my vision was fuzzy and when I looked back at Bastille all that came out was, “S’rry.” (Brain-clouding radiation. Obviously.)
I don’t really remember what happened after that, but I woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, perfectly fine, with Bastille shaking me like a child rolling out play-doh.
“Bastille, stop, I’m awake!” I got up and looked around, taking in my surroundings, which seemed to be some sort of makeshift infirmary. “How and when did we get back here?”
“I carried you, idiot.”
“Oh.” I could feel my cheeks reddening at the implication that Bastille had been lugging me around like a sack of potatoes back to Penguinator.
I looked back up at Bastille, and immediately received a smack to the face as a reward for my eye contact.
“Ow… what the heck?”
Bastille then proceeded to tackle-hug me back onto the bed. I stiffened.
This is once again a time to tell the women reading this to please give us men a warning before you hug us. We need warning. (You know what, just everyone give people warning in general it doesn’t matter the gender.)
“Alcatraz, please NEVER do that again; Sing said he could feel your pulse slowing down. You could’ve died, Smedry. I…” Bastille got up and paced around the room, stopping at a window. “I can’t lose you.”
I blinked stupidly. “You can’t lose me?” What on earth was that supposed to mean?
Bastille looked down, and I wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or if her cheeks were genuinely as red as mine. “For one, your entire family would kill me, and for two, the knights would kill me again.”
“So, purely diplomatic, then,” I said, not sure why I was feeling strangely disappointed.
“That, yeah.”
I looked down at the ground, trying to hide the fact that my face was probably tomato red. We were flying closer to St. Louis, and as we approached, I could feel a headache flaring up again. I wobbled back to my bed as spots swam in my vision, and the last thing I remember before passing out was seeing the top of the Gateway Arch through the floor.
I woke up with Australia on the bed next to me, trying to calm down a panicked Sing.
“It’s fine, Sing. It was just a little headache.”
Sing raised an eyebrow. “You said you were really dizzy.”
Australia looked at me and slowly shook her head. “You should be worried about Alcatraz; he passed out again, but he’s awake now. Go interrogate him.”
With my luck, that did the trick, and Sing immediately ran over to (for some bizarre reason) check my vitals.
“Sing, I’m fine now. I don’t know what came over me.”
Sing looked about to cry. “You said you were fine last time and look what happened!”
“Yeah, why are we suddenly fine now?” Australia wondered. “Like, I was REALLY dizzy. Sing, you saw it. I almost fell over.”
“I don’t know, but I think I passed out again when we were over the arch.”
Australia nodded. “Yeah, the thing was, like, wiggling and stretching through my lenses. I got a headache just looking at it through them, but when I took ‘em off, it just went away.”
“Huh.”
“I might be crazy, but I think it’s the arch.”
“But if it’s the arch, why were only the two of us affected?”
“Good question.”
We sat there in silence, thinking about why the arch would give an adverse reaction to the two of us specifically.
“Oh,” Australia said, tapping her head like she’d just found out that the most obvious answer was, in fact, the right one.
“What?”
“I think it’s an Oculator thing.”
“Then why would I have passed out while you didn’t?”
“By the first sands, Smedry, isn’t it obvious?” Bastille’s voice came from behind me and I started. I’d forgotten she was there.
“Bastille, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are three different Smedrys in the room right now, so you’re gonna have to learn everyone’s first names at some point.”
“Shut up.”
“No.”
“Alcatraz…”
“What?”
Bastille then made a noise that sounded uncannily like a horse muffled into a pillow.
“Okay, what’s so obvious, then?”
“It’s because you’re so shattering powerful. I mean, have you ever seen Australia use Courier’s lenses from halfway across the country? On instinct?”
“Uh… no.”
Australia nodded. “Yeah, I can confirm I could NEVER.”
“Oh.”
*I know EXACTLY what a good number of the Hushlanders are probably thinking, and you’re thinking of the wrong fast food chain. Go smell some grass, or whatever it is the Hushlands kids say nowadays.
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teanster123 · 9 months ago
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POV: You are a newborn who has just hatched from an egg, and Alastor (from “Hazbin Hotel”) is your extremely loving and doting mother hen.
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*Buck, buck, bugawk!* Oh my goodness, there you are! My precious little darling! Shhh, shhh, don't you worry a thing. Mama's got you! *Cluck, cluck, cluck.*
There there, my sweet little chickadee! *Cluck cluck.* Did you have a rough time hatching? All that effort! You're such a brave little one. Mama's so proud of you.
Yes, yes, I know! *Bugawk, buck-buck.* The world's a scary place, but don't you fret. I'll keep you safe and warm, no matter what. *Bugawk!*
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zackmartin · 1 year ago
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Trick or treat!
thank you, bestie!! happy halloween!! 🎃😈👻
ask box trick-or-treating: fic writer edition!
it's probably a little unfair of me to post a snippet from a fic that will never be completed, but it was for Halloween, so I'm sticking with the theme 😅 (also, forgive me, everything I have is still in very first draft mode)
Before Henry could process what was happening, Zack’s fingers were lacing through his own as he dragged him down the street. He stumbled across the pavement as Zack expertly snaked them through the hoards of trick-or-treaters-turned-monsters, Jasper and Charlotte trailing hot on their heels. Henry stared at their intertwined hands, almost forgetting for a moment that they were collecting supplies to fight against real live monsters while they scrambled to figure out how to stop an evil curse before sunrise. He knows this isn't exactly the most ideal time for him to be practically swooning over the fact that he's holding Zack's hand.
(also, as a side note, swooning is probably not the word I would've used in the final draft, but it's the only one I could think of at the time of writing lmao so I just kept it with the plan of editing it out later)
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alchemistc · 1 day ago
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Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.
Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.
Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.
(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)
It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.
She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.
But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.
She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.
"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.
---
She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.
Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.
Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.
He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.
"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.
Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.
"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."
Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -
He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."
She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.
"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"
Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."
"And if I hadn't asked?"
She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.
Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.
He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.
The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.
"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.
"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"
"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."
That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.
"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."
His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."
Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"
Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.
"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.
___
She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.
Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.
"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."
Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.
"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")
Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -
Love is love, and all that.
"We, uh. We've been talking about it."
Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.
"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."
It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...
It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.
Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.
Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.
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buddiefanficlibrary · 2 months ago
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Blindspot
Hen was starting to accept that Buck's life would always be a mystery to her and the others. Then the 136 gets a new probie, Eddie Diaz, and Buck doesn't appear to be the guy's biggest fan.
But there's something, some secret, Hen isn't privy to and she was going to get to the bottom of whatever was happening between Buck and Eddie.
LINK
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