#Hen POV

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

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

[bucksboobs]

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.”

[hisbucky]

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.

[ci5mates]

Hen's Dilemma

'The vision of Buck lying wantonly on top of a disheveled Eddie literally sucked the air from her lungs. Surprise mingled with pride and love for the two of them, but this was clearly a private moment, one not intend to be shared with a third party.'

Hen's Dilemma is a short buddie story I wrote a while ago which I just re read and decided that I am pretty chuffed with it. So I'm sharing the link again.

It is a buddie story through Hen's snooping eyes. It's sweet, and a bit of fun with intense buddie moments. A quick read at 2407 words and I'd just like to say, the ending is not what you'd expect. 😊👩‍🚒💘👀

[ofthedirewolves]

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

[eddiespornstache]

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

[queerdiazs]

wip wednesday 🫧

hi <3 i was tagged by @giddyupbuck, @fortheloveofbuddie, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990 mwah thank you all so much!

i've been working on the heart attack fic, so have a little something sweet before it all goes sour

Eventually, Eddie and Albert return from their search. Albert sidles up next to Buck and grabs hold of the hose, offering support, while Eddie jerks hard on Buck’s turnout to spin him around. Buck notices he’s not wearing his oxygen mask or air tank and immediately starts fussing.  Eddie accepts Buck’s fretting with a dirty, crooked smile. “Gave my tank to one of the victims,” he says. “I’m going to triage for some oxygen.”  Buck’s chest tightens and he squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asks, a half yell. Their radios aren’t needed; they’re close enough to read one another’s lips.   “Yeah,” Eddie answers, frowning. Buck can see his tight lips and pinched forehead, a crinkle in the middle of his brow, and it’s equal parts endearing and worrisome. “Just—can’t take a deep breath. Air’s hot.”  “Are you—” “Just out of air,” Eddie interrupts, smiling softly. He tugs on Buck’s turnout again, something he must’ve picked up from Chris, and Buck steps impossibly closer, knees knocking into Eddie’s. “I’m okay.”  Buck nods, as placated as he’s going to be. “Be careful.” He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once again before dropping his hand. “Follow the hose.”  “I will.” Eddie’s smile grows, crooked and bright. He fists Buck’s turnout and pulls him close, butting his forehead against the visor of Buck’s mask like an affectionate dog. “See you out there, cowboy.”  Dazed, a little mesmerized and a lot in love, Buck watches Eddie follow the hose carefully, quickly, until his figure’s concealed by smoke and he alerts over the radio he’s made it outside. He shakes his head, clears the warm fuzzy feeling Eddie always seems to cultivate when he’s sweet, and gets back to work.  Albert nudges his shoulder. “What was that about?”  Buck grins, cheeks hot. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he replies, chuckling at Albert and Hen’s twin bark of laughter.

no pressure tagging @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @callmenewbie, @wildlife4life, @watchyourbuck, @disasterbuckdiaz, @rogerzsteven, @thewolvesof1998, @folk-fae, @hippolotamus, @loserdiaz, @honestlydarkprincess, @made-ofmemories, and @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, and anybody else!!

[ummrys]

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

[fourteenfifteen]

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!

[dramaticcookie]

POV: you are being judged by a chicken.

[evan-buck]

so how is it ethical for gerrard to captain the 118 again when hen is still there? or is this something i have to suspend my disbelief on because. that's an employment tribunal or US equivalent in the waiting, at least???

[moonzie-writes-stuff]

(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.

And it turns out Kaz looks pretty good in a sweater vest. (Who knew?)

Sing, however… Well, some things are better illustrated in pictures.

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)

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.

[teanster123]

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.

*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!*

[ci5mates]

Hen's Dilemma

Hen struggles with her conscience. Buddie through Hen's eyes.

Finally the muse cooperated. A 2,400 word one shot uploaded to AO3.

read it here

[buckleyseddie]

if you could see it through my eyes

chimney’s pov | pre-season 4 | 2.5k

Once Chimney’s made sure that the coffee is brewing (thanks, Hen) he makes his way upstairs as quietly as he can. He’s still half asleep and has to muffle a few yawns against the back of his hand. He wonders if maybe he should’ve had a cup of coffee first. To fully wake up.

When he finally reaches the loft and opens his eyes, he thinks that he definitely should’ve had that cup of coffee because he’s pretty sure that he’s still dreaming.

He doesn’t pinch himself, but he does blink a few times to make sure that he’s actually seeing what he’s seeing.

Which is Buck and Eddie spooning in their sleep.

***

or during quarantine, while they're living together at Buck's loft, Chimney walks in on Eddie and Buck sharing a bed and cuddling

read on ao3

[zackmartin]

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)