#Lightning spec

[chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky]

Bah! I'm not even finished with the first scene and it's already almost 5K words, this may be long, apologies in advance...

Enough of this back and forth, enough of the trauma pouring into each of them until they explode. Explosions are never beautiful. They are messy and dark, sneaking into your veins until all you can feel is a pain that is screaming to burst your skin. The things they didn’t talk about built up like bricks, creating prisons with no light that they couldn’t get out of. As Eddie watches Buck carefully ascend the ladder, he is set on his decision.

He knows Buck will fight him. But he also knows Buck’s tricks. The sly grins and easy brushoffs. The deflection, the anger. He knows all pieces of him like they are himself.

Eddie can’t help but grin to himself as he steps up to the controls. Wanna go for the title? Buck’s distant words echo in his head, the cocksure smile on his face and a step a little too close to be purely platonic. He remembers at the time thinking ‘What would be the problem with taking a step closer himself,’ but as he did with so much at that time, he shoved it back down.

Now?

Now, Eddie’s ready to go for the fucking title.

[dr-shortsighted-owl]

New Fic: Electrostatic Attraction

Chapter One: Charge Seperation (8.3 k)

-

In front of him Hen shifts, her body blocking his view of the ladder rising into the dark sky. Of the rain-slick figure of his captain charging hand over fist to the top of the rungs. Three points of contact be damned.

Her eyes, Eddie notices, are too wide, too bright from where she whips her head around to the sight behind her, only to startle and look at Eddie once again.

There's too much spinning round his brain, and he’s forgetting something, he knows he is.

He’d got Buck into his harness, double- no triple checked every buckle and loop, he’d looked Buck in the eye and asked him to come home with him. To him.

Then.

Then Buck had climbed as he had manned the controls. He’d stopped, with panic in his voice and then the world had lit up.

No.

His sharp intake of breath must tip Hen off because she starts to speak, to say his name as Eddie gets a skinned-hand beneath himself and pushes upward, looking past her.

Backlit by the highrise lights, Buck’s blurred form sways from his final stop two-thirds up the extended ladder, only the single strap of fabric suspending him from plummeting to the asphalt below.

- The 6b!lightinng Strike Spec Fic or, 'The boys get struck by lightning, a hospital bed is privy to yet another life-altering conversation, and even without his memory Buck's body could never forget his Diaz boys.'

[revvethasmythh]

me playing a mage in dai: this is fine, i guess. the lightning makes a satisfying sound when it hits and that's nice, i suppose

me playing a warrior in dai: HAHAHA FUCK YOU HIT YOU WITH MY SHIELD EAT MY SWORD YOU WEEABOO SHITS

[the-darkest-0f-stars]

F-35A (Duofulmen ferox ferox) in comparison to the average human male.

Also featured is an unidentified species of Glassfish (Spectrolutrida sp.), an aerial organism that can be likened in appearance to the oarfish of Earth.

[objecthusbandry]

Can objects live in the ocean? Cuz when i took Ballet and Maggy at the beach, i saw some kind of......waterdrop in the water. I couldn't tell if it was an object or not but both of my pets gets a lil scared when seeing it too. It also looks like it can fuse with the ocean, like they're apart of it. I was very scared and confused that day and reported it. Just in case.

-🐮🩰

yes, there are semiaquatic objects! though there are none to my knowledge that live exclusively underwater.

i think what you're describing could be something like a siphonophore, perhaps? they're typically transparent and could blend in well with water.

[reachingforaspark]

Born with a weak heart

Wrote a thing, so may as well post a thing

9-1-1 not spec but also not-not spec for 6x10, it contains something maybe unexpected through the middle Title from “This must be the place” by the Talking Heads

Characters: Bobby Nash, Evan “Buck” Buckley, Brook Nash Warnings: Canon-typical injury, implied major character injury as per 6x10 promos, ambiguous ending ~2,000 words

Born with a weak heart

One moment it’s rain, only rain, beating down upon their heads as they deal with a building fire on the north end of the bridge, and in the next instant, it’s worse.

Crackling, sharp static.

A fork of lightning hits, the south end of the bridge flaring bright. The shock of it sends a wave out through the waters in the bay below. Thunder rolls through the 118, rattling the equipment hatches on the truck.

The second strike hits halfway up the bridge, flicking twice. A plume of smoke follows. A third strike and Bobby’s turning back to the scene, running before the thunder even starts.

“Get off the rig!” Bobby’s yell is lost amongst the crack of another strike, so close he feels the prickle of it across his rain soaked skin. Buck’s frozen, up on the ladder, face turned towards the bridge, towards the smoke. He’s the highest point around them by far. Sitting on a lightning rod. “Get off the rig!”

“Buck!” Eddie screams.

The fifth and sixth strikes hit the truck.

Eddie’s flung from the controls, aloft in a shower of sparks.

Buck tumbles forwards.

Not far, his safety harness catching and holding fast.

The stop is worse than the fall.

Buck jerks, limbs flinging, neck snapping back.

All around Bobby, the chaos keeps rolling. Firefighters run, shouting, past him, the lights flash and the fire keeps roaring and Bobby just— blinks. Above them, the ladder shudders, as though Buck’s small weight at the end of the line threatens to tip it. Buck doesn’t move.

Buck doesn’t move.

He lays, aloft in the air, suspended by only his line, a rag doll. Body spinning in slow circles.

Each of Bobby’s blinks is a revolution for Buck, a spin of the clock, sixty tortuous seconds and the entirety of a day.

Light catches on Buck’s visor, on the reflective bands binding his limbs, on the rain that rolls down off his uniform.

He spins, limp.

And then—

A twitch. His left foot kicks. Bobby’s sure of it.

Bobby snaps back into life too.

He takes in the scene. Martinez and Riley are still on the hoses. Marcus and Paulson are dealing with the civilians, but their attentions are clearly split, glancing between the street and Buck and Bobby. Towne has made it onto the ladder truck, crouched over the controls. Hen and Chim are beside the truck with Eddie, who’s placid under their hands, staring dazedly up.

Bobby grabs at his radio. “Firefighter Buckley, what’s your status?”

C’mon, Buck, Bobby prays silently, just a thumbs up or down will do.

No response from Buck.

Bobby abandons his radio, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Buck!”

C’mon, kiddo, Bobby urges, just give me something.

Suddenly, Towne shouts, the winch on the ladder’s safety line burring. Buck starts lowering in fits and bursts towards the ground. His head flops awfully with each uneven drop, like he has no control.

“Hen, Chim!” Bobby barks, but they’re three steps ahead of him as usual, Hen scrambling into the rear compartment of the truck for a backboard and Chimney taking off in a full run for the ambulance and the rest of their gear.

Bobby calls Eddie, Marcus and Paulson to him, moving as fast as the water slicked road will allow him. He tracks Buck’s distance to the ground as it closes, forty feet, thirty five feet. Bobby’s still running when he spots it.

Buck’s left foot kicks again, then just barely, his head lifts, and the rest of his body follows into slow, uncoordinated life.

“That’s it, kid!” Bobby yells, praising God through his outstretched hands. “Get up!”

Buck grabs at his harness, tries to lift his torso. He looks around, clearly dazed, movements sluggish. Buck’s thirty feet up when Bobby feels the air loads with static, the smell of ozone goes crisp harsh again in his nose. Buck’s still twenty five feet up,  movements sharpening with panic, like he can feel it too.

The sky growls again. Another flash. Thunder without a pause between. Close. Bobby makes the worst kind of calculation.

“Buck!” He screams up into the night. “Drop!”

Buck grabs the safety release on his harness and yanks.

He drops.

— “What kind of outfit do you call that?” Brook stops before him, hands on her hips.

Bobby looks down at his clothes. A flannel over a t-shirt, jeans. The only thing he remembers being instructed is no shoes or socks, and Bobby’s bare feet are pale white against the bright blue mats beneath them.

Brook huffs, her thin shoulders bouncing up and down under her green leotard with her exasperation. He is not looking forward to her teenage years.

“We are gymnasts today! You can’t just wear jeans.”

“Sorry, Brookie, my leotard was in my other duffle bag.”

“Dad!” She actually stomps. “You have to take this seriously.”

Bobby sighs. Marcy had been somewhat vague about what the parents were required to do at these lessons. Kids ricochet around the gymnastic hall, the thudding of running feet and tumbling bodies, instructors calling exercises, everything motion and noise. It’s hurting his head, already squeezed tight from a brutal 48 hour shift.

But that’s not Brook’s fault, and Bobby rubs his hands across his face and negotiates.

“I don’t have any other clothes,” he says, as patiently as he can manage, “But how about next time we can pick out my outfit together, and see how that goes.”

She purses her lips, thinking it over. “Okay.” She agrees. “Now we have to hurry up, because we’re late.”

She grabs his hand, yanking him along behind her, to the middle of the training mat where they meet their instructor and the other kids and their parents. They go through introductions, then a humiliating warm up where Bobby discovers he cannot touch his toes anymore, and then he learns why he’s there.

“I thought they’d have professionals for this.” Bobby crosses his arms.

The parent beside him smiles. “Not for the fees we pay. This is only a community centre. Besides, the kids are hardly doing serious moves, it doesn’t take a lot to spot them.”

Spotting, as Bobby has just learnt, is the safety net for their kids as they advance their skills. The parent’s most important job is to keep their kid’s heads and necks safe when they wobble or fall.

Next season they’ll enroll Brook in a proper gym, Bobby thinks. It’s not worth the risk, and gymnastics is a dangerous sport. He can take some extra shifts.

After the first demonstration from the instructor, they line up, kids and parents, to run through the basic falls and hand placements one-on-one. Well, the parents line up, and the kids run around, delighting in the buoyancy of the foam matting. Bobby watches the demonstrations as they repeat, each parent trying it out.

“This is just like being at work.” He mutters.

“Oh?” The mother turns, looking him up and down. “What do you do?”

Brook cartwheels in from nowhere. “Daddy’s a fireman.” She says proudly. “And Uncle John and Grandpa. And when I grow up, I’m going to be a fireman too, but a girl version.”

“We’re just called firefighters, sweetheart. It’s for everyone.” Bobby says.

“I knew that,” Brook says. “I just forgot the word. Grandpa says I can go to the academy as soon as I can carry Uncle John on my shoulders.”

Bobby smiles, but internally he wonders when his father had said that to Brook. Bobby’s not too concerned about her firefighter aspirations, she wanted to be an astronaut last month, and only at Christmas she’d sat Marcy and himself down and gravely explained she had decided to become a horse wrangler, and she would be asking Santa for one so she could practice, and could they buy some hay.

It’s not that he’s worried his father will pressure her, per se, but—

“And look—” Brook grabs Bobby’s leg and hauls, tipping him off balance. “I can almost pick you up, and you’re even taller than Uncle John.”

Bobby sucks a breath, his back yelling loudly at the awkward change of position, and tries to wrestle back his leg from his daughter, insistent on showing her strength. Her thin arms wrap around his shin, pointy chin digging into his knee, as he tries not to hurt her.

“Nash family!” The instructor calls, “Two feet on the floor.”

Brook drops his leg.

“Come on, it’s your turn.”

Bobby fights the urge to limp as he walks after her.

They’re going to start with falls, and Bobby stands gamely as the instructor shows him where he should place his hands.

It’s a rolling catch, aiming for the shoulders, to reduce forces through the neck and head, and while Bobby doesn’t need his EMT training here, he’s grateful for it anyway. It’s nothing like catching a baby in the back of an ambulance, but at least he’s secure in the knowledge he’s caught some damn slippery kids before.

“Shoulders, neck, head.”

Bobby repeats it to himself as they practice.

Maybe it’s been a while since he’s held her, but as Brook pretends to wobble dramatically, Bobby realises how big she’s gotten. Once, her whole head could be cradled in his one hand, and now, he has to cushion her with two arms. He rests a hand on the back of her neck, spine bony under his palm, the blue matting scratching the back of his hand. He wonders where the time went.

“Why do you look weird?” Brook asks, blinking up at him.

He misses her cute little button nose as her face has grown, but her bright eyes are exactly the same as when she was a baby, always looking around, showing him that there’s so much in the world to see.

“Because I’m upside down.” He tells her, and pulls a face.

She giggles, Bobby’s favourite sound in the world, and rolls back onto her feet.

“Again!” She demands, and falls into Bobby’s outstretched hands without hesitation.

The final exercise of the day is a rope climb. Bobby almost baulks, the rope extending at least twelve feet up to the gym ceiling, but the instructor promises the kids are only allowed to go up as high as three stands will take them, then come back down.

Brook hops on the spot as they wait their turn at the ropes.

“Brook, two feet on the floor please.” The instructor calls, and Brook complies, stopping her jumping and standing still. It lasts a heartbeat, then Brook wiggles her hands and then her butt, as though the movement just can’t hold inside of her.

He loves her so much.

Bobby grins, and pulls her into his side, drops a kiss into her messy ponytail.

When she gets to the rope, Brook stretches as high as she can on each stand, reaching high above her head to push at the limits, like always.

She’s the adventurous one, dragging her brother along into mischief. Robbie’s quieter, preferring his drawing and books. Bobby loves it, the way Robbie can just sit, and the pastel smudges he leaves on Bobby’s shirts from hugs after art time. They’re so different, the both of them, from each other, and from Marcy and him.

“Dad!” Brook calls, “are you watching?”

“I’m watching.” He promises, hands outstretched.

“Shoulders, neck, head.”

The next time, by mutual agreement, Bobby wears exercise shorts to the class, his bare legs goose pimpling in the cold gym, as Brook climbs higher and higher.

“Shoulders, neck, head.”

—

The fall is a blur, Buck a flash of black and yellow in the night.

His weight hits Bobby’s outstretched hands, and Bobby follows him the last few feet down. An explosion of pain and limbs. The smack of Buck’s body on the bitumen echoes.

And in the silent aftermath, when Bobby blinks down, Buck’s there, his head cradled between Bobby’s forearms, Bobby’s hands padded beneath Buck’s shoulders and neck.

Safe hands.

Buck takes a short breath. It could be the first of Buck’s life, that shaky, painful gasp. The space before it contained nothing, and the space after it contained everything.

The team is already on them, Chim’s hands on Buck’s hand, siting a line, as Eddie unzips Buck’s turnout and cuts through his shirt. Bobby’s left arm starts to throb, a loud and insistent burning he knows means it’s broken.

“Bobby,” Hen murmurs, kneeling down beside him with the C-collar, “can you hold there?”

Bobby lets out a bark of disbelief. It’s followed by the burn of tears in his eyes. Hen works around him, gentle hands removing Buck’s helmet straps. Rain drips down from Bobby’s own helmet onto Buck’s face, fat splashes of water on his cheek.

Buck grimaces, twitching, then his eyes flutter open.

He looks straight up into Bobby’s eyes.

There’s a cloudiness Bobby doesn’t like, a haze of confusion and pain.

“It’s okay, we’re here, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Bobby tries to soothe him.

The team keep working, and Buck mouths something, a soundless question.

Bobby’s name.

“Yeah,” Bobby says, “Yeah, Buck, it’s Bobby.”

Relief floods Buck’s eyes, clearing them. He holds Bobby’s gaze as he breathes out, his next words barely a whisper. “Caught me.”

“Of course.” Bobby says, and it’s a promise. 

Buck hums, face relaxing, and his eyes slide back shut.

Bobby’s still holding his head when Buck’s heart stops beating.

[chaosandwolves]

One thing I can't stop thinking about is that Hen said the lightning went through Buck's knee.

And like... Is this poor man again thrown into not being able to walk?? 😭

He'll be out of his mind with worry that he'll lose his job again but Bobby (and everyone else) will make sure to make it VERY clear this time that Buck will ALWAYS have a place at the fire house and that his fire fam is going NOWHERE.

I'm not thinking about how Eddie's house would be perfect for his recovery

I'm not thinking about how they all wouldn't want him to be on his own and that he'll be under observation 24/7

I'm not thinking about that he'll finally understand just how important he is in everyone's life

I'm not thinking about how it'll be the complete opposite to his recovery back then where he was scared and alone and desperate

[harrowharkwife]

you live your whole life, doing everything you're supposed to. marriage, kids. big house, nice cars. weekends at the shore. it's just this 40-year blur. work and family. never enough time. until one day work stops, and everything finally comes into focus. // what do you think he meant? you know, he said, "i get it now." and his eyes got all bright, and he looked up to the sky like he'd just found happiness. - 6x02 "crash and learn," written & directed by juan carlos coto

6x10 "in a flash," written by juan carlos coto - per kristen, features one of the 118 being struck by lightning.

high price to pay for living a fake life. you think her regular life was that bad? maybe she felt like she was missing out on a life she could have had, if she'd been born someone else or made different choices. don't you wonder about stuff like that? not really. well, some people... most people, other than you... worry that they're not getting the full experience. // i was afraid of being who i really am, and because of that, i hurt myself and the people that i care about. don't live your life for anyone else. live your life for you. // that was unexpectedly deep. i guess it took a near-death experience for her to appreciate her actual life. i'm wondering if i'm living my life for myself. i came to work here after my mom almost died. i was so afraid something else like that would happen again. and i felt like she needed someone to look out for her. there's nothing wrong with wanting to protect your family. but before all that, i wanted to be someone, a very specific someone and... i think i'm losing that person. trauma often causes us to turn inward. i guess therapy is rubbing off on me. look, you hid in a place you knew, where you could feel safe and keep your family safe. i understand the motivation. does that make me a coward? i don't think cowards usually ask that question. so how do i get back to that person i wanted to be? i'll let you know when i figure that out. - 5x15 "fomo"

6x11 "in another life" - per kristen, "trippy" and "experimental"

[lamardeuse]

...The Hanged Man Tarot card indicates that you are in a situation that you are not happy with. You may be feeling like you are stuck in a rut or trapped in a situation or frame of mind that is not making you happy but you have the power to release yourself. This may involve walking away from the situation or simply changing your perspective on it. The Hanged Man may also signify that you may be facing a dilemma and are unsure of what path to take. You may feel that things are not turning out the way you planned...You need to step outside yourself and look at your situation from a different angle. Give yourself time to just relax, stop trying to control things and just let them be, the correct course of action will become clear to you in time. (x)

In general, the Hanged Man is about sacrifice, new perspectives and waiting for the right time. For singles, the upright Hanged Man tarot love meaning indicates that things cannot be rushed...Instead of trying to force or pressure a relationship to come into fruition, use this time to see how your perspective changes when you’re alone. This same thing applies within relationships as well. Timing may be an issue when it comes to having important discussions, or taking your relationship to the next level. Alternatively, the concept of sacrifice may play an important role in your relationships, or potential relationships now. Help may be needed, and these can be moments in which your commitment is tested, but can also bring the two of you closer together. (x)

[chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky]

The promo made me scream (what a beautiful shot, but holy shit) and SOMEHOW I'm 10k into this beast and they haven't even gotten to the hospital yet. So, the lightning fic is going well...

Someone’s yelling at Eddie and he could not give less of a fuck.

What he’s really focused on is that a few paramedics from the 134 are fully restraining him like a feral animal, despite the fact that he informed them in no uncertain terms that if they continued to do so, he would fucking fight them. For some reason that wasn’t the calming negotiating tactic he figured it’d be.

“Calm down, Diaz! Jesus, we have to get you in an ambulance so we can take you to the hospital!”

Or something like that. His hearing is a little spotty and his attention is completely torn away by where there are people in the street placing pads on Buck’s chest. Eddie watches it jerk up with the motion that will haunt his dreams, crashing back to the ground, rainwater splashing around him, forever disturbed by the flurry of motion around him. Eddie manages to get an arm free, head swimming with the quick movement, but he tries to ignore it as much as possible. When someone tries to grip it back in their grasp, he swings because he warned them, and Eddie is nothing if not a man of his word. Eddie thinks he connects with someone because there’s a grunt and he sees stars in front of his eyes, but he’s one step closer to getting closer to Buck.

There’s a crackle of the radio and Eddie hears something that sounds like ‘requesting Capt—’ in his relative good ear – relative being the apt description – but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s only thinking of one thing, only has one goal and that’s to get to Buck.

“Diaz!” Someone shouts and it’s loud and angry enough to break through the sheen of panic he’s feeling. “Sit down!”

He turns to the voice to tell them to go straight to hell when he sees Bobby marching up to where Eddie is, eyes alight with a myriad of emotions that Eddie doesn’t have the mental fortitude to decipher as the moment. “Bobby, I gotta—”

[dr-shortsighted-owl]

I have missed the unhinged speculation and brain storming and linking to past episodes and possible foreshadowing - I’ve missed this creativity, seeing everyone chatting away in posts and tags about ideas, and being a part of it

[homerforsure]

Honesty Hour - idk if you're on the coma buck theory train, but just for fun, let's say that was going to be an upcoming story line; what would be the scene(s) you'd want played out on the show? (be them whump, h/c, emotional, relationship, angst, etc.)

Comas really stress me out and I avoid them in fic because I am a little baby and everybody being so sad makes me too sad. But! What I can absolutely get behind is Buck getting briefly struck by lightning and then dreaming about the life he could have had if his parents had loved him.

I'd love for him to reckon with the ways that totally fucked him up and to admit that what happened with Daniel doesn't justify the way he was raised and that he's still mad. He just found out (maybe by this time he's even seen a sonogram) that he's responsible for creating a baby. And he knows he has no part of it, but he would still do absolutely anything to give it what it needs and keep it safe because that's what you do when you when you bring life into the world.

And maybe this brings him around to the place that he needs to be where he can show up to Conner and Kameron and apologize for being so hovering and give them the onesie. Because he's giving another baby Buck a chance to exist in a world where he's so wanted and so loved and that's enough. To give "his kid" the childhood that Buck never got to have.

And this is... what? the second episode of 6b? So that's not the end. I think it'll have to jumpstart Buck actually confronting that pain and maybe actually for real making the right choice the FIRST time instead of after he's already made the same kind of mistake. (I have no idea what that looks like)

But ALSO.

Worried worried worried Eddie yelling Buck's name as he falls off the ladder truck, being there in the hospital when he wakes up. (Although whoever said the thing about Hen's worry about Denny linking up with this is absolutely beautiful and brilliant and correct and I'd love a loud, painful interaction in the middle of all this to be soothed with Hen in the hospital too and Buck asking if Denny's okay. Actually maybe I want Hen in the hospital and her to say that Eddie's with Christopher but he made her promise to text him as soon as Buck woke up)

[the-darkest-0f-stars]

"What Defines a True Fighter?"

The True Fighters are defined by a large ridge along the centerline of the dorsal margin of the skull known as the 'fulmen". Essentially, it runs along the length of the neurocranium.

The fulmen is *only* present in true fighters, and is absent in canard-bearers, flying wings, and flying wing-derived fighters.

The fulmen provides an anchor for the large muscles that attach to the mandible, which is detached from the rest of the skull to an absurd extent, especially when the jaw is closed.

[masoncarr2244]

[zaahvi]

also filled out this character sheet for him!!

first concept of my rook!! his name is faolan and he's a dalish crow :))

backstory and lore tidbits under the cut bc it's alot 👇

fal was part of a dalish clan roaming northeastern thedas, and had been first to the keeper since his magic manifested (around 8 yrs old). he was quite troublesome, impatient, and had a temper. one day when he was 15, he stormed off in a fit of anger mid-lesson with the keeper, disappearing into the forest on his own for several hours until he'd calmed down. when he came back, his clan were all dead, and whoever was responsible was long gone.

after pulling himself together, he packed his things and left in search of another clan. there was one nearby, he knew, but when he reached them, they refused to take him in; they already had too many mages, they said. faolan knew this wasn't true, and instead suspected that his well-known poor character was the reason he was turned away, but for once he said nothing and just turned away. it was time for a different path, it seemed.

his journey took him to the nearby city of treviso, where upon learning of the antivan crows he practically begged to be let in. after all that happened, all he wanted was to kill, and to find whoever murdered his clan, and kill them too. after some time and trials, he was accepted in, and his training began.

after officially killing his first mark at 18, he paid another visit to the nearby dalish clan, for nothing else but to ask for his vallaslin. he wasn't a first anymore, but he had become a hunter, in a way, and thought he'd earned his markings. the clan's keeper begrudgingly agreed, and faolan got his vallaslin: the twisted branches which symbolised elgar'nan, the god of vengeance, for that is the path he'd taken when they'd turned him away.

over the next few years, the antivan crows began to receive more and more contracts on members of the venatori. during this time, faolan discovered that they were behind the murder of his clan: they had been searching for information on elven lore, and had chosen the violent path with his clan. fal was lucky enough to swipe a few contracts on the specific members that were involved and kill them personally; but when it was all over, he felt nothing. it seemed that getting vengeance wasn't as gratifying as he thought it'd be. in the end, his clan were still dead, they weren't coming back, nothing was going to be like it used to be... he had a new life now, one filled with plots and murder, and he really hadn't been in the headspace to process how permanent that'd be.

so that's faolan and where he is now. he's about 25 now and he feels kinda stuck in life, his past is still weighing on him and he's constantly just trying to distract himself with work. i think the solas job & then the forming of the veilguard is the first time that things start to feel a little different for him? like he's actually doing something important for once... and he finally gets friends yay :)

some tidbits:

as a kid he got into fights all the time. ALL the time. this continued on until he got into the crows and started losing

^^ he never used magic while fighting btw. that's cheating.

personality wise nowadays he's more guarded and doesn't really like to socialise, it's not that he's "socially awkward" it's just that he'd rather keep to himself. i think the veilguard is the first time he kinda comes out of his shell so to speak

that being said he will still absolutely kick your ass if provoked.

he's the kind of guy you see at the bar sitting at a solo table in the corner staring at everybody who comes in

his eyes both used to be that goldenish colour; his left eye turned silver when his magic manifested

doesn't know any healing magic. he hasn't bothered to use it since his clan died, and has forgotten how to do it

the tips of his ears get hot when someone casts magic nearby

takes shots at veilguard team meetings

hates any and all weather, honestly how he managed to survive 15 years in a dalish clan is beyond me

can be very charming and really good at flirting when he wants to be, but is an absolute disaster when it comes to showing genuine affection

has whatever the deity equivalent of daddy issues is with elgar'nan

okay i'm all done but on a related note for that last point here's a lazy meme as a gift for scrolling this far:

[chaosandwolves]

The absolute beautiful circle of the lightning strike paralleling the well.

The well, after which Eddie made Buck Chris' legal guardian.

The moment they became family in a legal sense.

Coming full circle to Eddie being out of his mind with worry.

To Eddie losing his control just like Buck did.

To Eddie possibly being all like 'better me than him'.

Feeling like this is the reason he survived so far.

Full circle to the beginning of Buddie canon.