#i just think eddie looks like a grumpy little cat when he's grumpy

[shares-a-vest]

Steve huffs a laugh as he walks into the living area fresh from a shower. He can't help it, Eddie is too cute when he's all irrationally grumpy, stooped over in an inhumane posture as he mutters away to himself and scribbles furiously on a notepad.

"Nope!" he exclaims, chopping a hand through the air before promptly returning to his musings.

"What's up?" Steve asks, a little cautious but smiling nonetheless because Eddie is now shaking his head, sending his curls bouncing about and tapping his rings on the coffee table.

He looks up, still huddled over his work, his eyes barely visible through his hair.

"This isn't working!" he snaps and yeah, that looks like a glare.

"Sorry," Steve says, mimicking zipping his lips shut as he steps closer.

Eddie continues scratching away, tapping his foot under the coffee table enough to make the floor vibrate as Steve lowers to sit next to him.

"Nope! Nope... Not... right... Watch-a, gah! Fuh-!"

Eddie cuts himself off, garbling a bunch of... noises? words? before clenching his teeth and growling. He palms at the notepad, rips off more than one sheet of paper and crumples it in his fist.

He looks at Steve, scrunching up his nose and frowns.

"How about we have a break?" Steve suggests, delicately plucking the (now) tight ball of paper from Eddie's grip.

He hovers his hand between them just enough for Eddie to drop his pout for a split second. Steve watches as he rakes greedy eyes over him, walking his fingers up his arm.

"Make me feel better?" Eddie lazily teases, still sounding grumpy as he bumps their shoulders. He leans in to sniff Steve (god his boyfriend is weird) adding, "You smell nice, sugarplum."

Steve chuckles and in one swift move, tosses the paper and slides onto Eddie's lap, bracketing him against the couch. He brushes at his tousled fringe.

"You look like a grumpy little kitten when you're cwanky."

Eddie folds his arms and huffs, again scrunching up his nose.

"Am not!"

Steve can't help it. He boops Eddie's nose, earning a not-at-all serious hiss.

[becausebuckley]

please write 26 for buddie!

thanks so much anon!! i hope you like how it turned out <3

26. "I just can't believe that you really chose me, that's all." from this list of prompts - i'm still taking prompts!

It’s kind of new, this thing with Eddie.

Well, kind of new, but at the same time, not new at all. If he’s honest with himself – which he tries to be, these days – Buck knows they’ve been heading here for years. He can trace their relationship through shared beers and deep conversations, through sweaters in each other’s closets and quick little looks before rescues. Buck thinks that maybe they’ve been building this since that very first shift, the grenade falling in the box and something in Buck’s heart slotting into place at the same time. 

It’s been a long time coming, and yet, it happened so suddenly Buck never saw it coming at all.

Now, a few weeks into the relationship Buck knows is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, they’re settling in. The honeymoon period isn’t over, not by a long shot – Buck kind of doubts it’ll ever be, that anything will ever feel normal and not sugar coated, rose-coloured lenses, now that he’s with Eddie – but it’s turning into something more steady, less new. Something solid. A foundation for the rest of their lives. This might not be the first time he’s spent the night in Eddie’s bed, but it’s the first time that makes Buck feel like this is it, now. This is their new normal. Their forever.

He’s lying on his back, wearing nothing but his boxers and an old shirt of Eddie’s that stretches over his broad shoulders. Eddie’s arm is slung over his waist, head pillowed on Buck’s chest, and their legs are tangled in the bedsheets. It’s late, or maybe early, Buck doesn’t know, and he suddenly feels so happy he kind of stops breathing a little bit.

Eddie makes a grumpy noise and burrows his head further into Buck. Something Buck has delighted in over these past few weeks is discovering all of Eddie’s cat-like tendencies. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if his boyfriend – and oh, the thrill that word brings him – turned out to purr.

“Why aren’t you asleep,” Eddie mumbles into the fabric of Buck’s shirt. 

Buck’s arm tightens around him, thumb rubbing up and down Eddie’s side. His lungs fill with air once more. 

“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?” He counters, though he probably sounds entirely too awake to sell it. 

Eddie lifts his head at that. His hair is mussed and floppy, his eyes are half-closed, and he still pulls off an incredibly unimpressed eyebrow raise. Buck has never been more in love with him.

“Fair enough,” Buck says. “It’s nothing, really. I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous.” Eddie drops his chin back on Buck’s chest. 

Buck huffs out a half-offended laugh in reply.

“About what, though?” Eddie asks. The skin between his eyebrows creases up, like he’s preparing himself for something serious. Buck can’t blame him, really. These first few weeks, golden as they may have been, have also revealed some insecurities they’d both had hidden away over the years. They’re not without their jagged edges, but as they’ve learned, they’re pretty good at navigating the rough parts together, at knowing when to smooth them over and when to let them be.

This isn’t that, though, and Buck barely resists the urge to take his thumb to Eddie’s brow and rub out the crease. And really, the only reason he resists that urge is that he only has one free hand, and he’s a little busy using it to reach for Eddie’s hand and lace their fingers together.

“Nothing much,” Buck says. He frowns. “No, that’s not true, actually. It’s kind of everything. I just- I just can’t believe you really chose me, that’s all.”

The crease on Eddie’s forehead smoothes out as he tightens his arm on Buck’s waist. 

“Of course I chose you,” he says easily. “Who else would it be?”

And Buck could make a joke there, could point out what a catch Eddie is, how lucky others would be to date him, but he knows that that would be besides the point, so he doesn’t. He just tightens his arm around Eddie, pulls him in even closer. Lifts their intertwined fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to one of Eddie’s knuckles.

It couldn’t be anybody else. It’s them.

It’s always been them.

[steddiebang]

The Pizza Box Pact

Author: @pizzaqueen l Artist: @Goingsteddi3 l Artist: @cousin-itt Posting on Sunday, November 5

Eddie and Steve have been living together, working together, and raising their cat together for a few years, now, but they’re not together together. They’re friends—the best of—nothing more, and they’re happy. At least, Eddie is, and he thought Steve was too. But then he finds a pact they made, one drunken night ten years ago, where they pledged to ‘marry’ each other if they were still single by the time they’re thirty, and everything changes. Steve isn’t amused by the reappearance of the pact, seems almost upset by it, and Eddie figures it’s because he’s going to be thirty soon and doesn’t have a girlfriend. So, he does what any best friend would do: pledges to find Steve the perfect woman, setting him up on a series of unsuccessful blind dates. Somewhere along the way, Eddie rediscovers feelings that he thought he’d put aside years ago. He just hopes he hasn’t found them again too late.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey, Steve”—Eddie tumbles into the kitchen, waving the piece of cardboard—“check this out!” He thrusts the pact under Steve’s nose, glee bubbling in his veins as he waits for Steve’s reaction.

“Dude.” Steve leans back, setting down his mug of coffee and swiping the cardboard from Eddie. There’s this look of fond annoyance on his face, one that Eddie is more than familiar with, but it slowly fades as he reads the words written in Eddie’s janky hand. He gives the cardboard back to Eddie. “Why do you still have that?”

Eddie folds himself onto the chair across from Steve at the kitchen table. It’s this old chrome-edged formica thing—a little too kitsch for Eddie’s taste, and definitely too kitsch for Steve’s—that was left by the former residents, along with four mismatched chairs and a mug that says ‘stay cool’ with a picture of a big, yellow cat lying on a melting block of ice.

“You don’t get rid of a pact.” Sure, Eddie forgot about it in the ensuing years, but a pact is a pact. And, well, he likes yanking Steve’s chain.

“We were just dumb kids.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re pushing thirty and you’re still single.” Eddie waves the cardboard. “Time’s running out, man, you’re going to be stuck with me soon.”

“I’m already stuck with you.”

“True.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s coffee mug, but Steve bats his hand out of the way before he can grab it. “We’re practically married already, right? Live together, work together, raising our child together…”

As if on cue, Mercury pads into the room, stopping pointedly by her bowl and meowing. Loudly. Eddie pushes himself to his feet, dragging himself over to the cupboard.

“So everyone keeps saying,” Steve murmurs.

“Who says that?” Eddie gets out the cat food, stooping down to scratch his fingers under Mercury’s chin. “Did Daddy forget to feed you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve says, “and stop calling me that. She’s a cat, not our kid.” He crosses his arms over his stomach.

Eddie makes a show of gasping and covering Mercury’s ears. “She’s right here.” When Steve only grunts, hiding his face behind his mug, Eddie says, “So, who says we’re practically married?”

“No one.”

“Well, someone’s grumpy this morning.”

“Well, someone came in here while I was in the middle of my morning coffee, waving some stupid old piece of paper at me.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. He was expecting Steve to at least laugh about this, but he’s being weird. “I’m not actually going to hold you to the pact.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Right. Time for a different tack. “Is this about you still being single?” Eddie pushes himself to his feet, ignoring Mercury’s indignant mew at leaving her unfed. “Because you’ll find someone. Maybe not by the time you’re thirty, but there’s plenty of time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” The scent of cat food hits Eddie’s nose as he opens the tin; he makes a face and bends down to empty it into Mercury’s bowl. She’s already engrossed in eating when scratches her head again, and he huffs softly before he throws the empty tin out. “Well, being footloose and fancy-free isn’t so bad, is it?”

Eddie likes his life—their life—even if it’s not what he thought it would be. He’s swapped the dream of Madison Square Garden for a music store in Chicago, tour buses and a mansion for an old van and an apartment above the store, and he hasn’t gone on a date in months. Or longer. But he’s still bringing music to people via Corroded Vinyl, he still plays occasionally, and he has Mercury and Steve and their friends. It’s good.

“Dude,” Steve says, stomping over and pulling the empty cat food tin out of the trash, “I’ve told you a million times to wash these first.”

“Sorry. Haven’t had my coffee, yet.” Eddie grabs his favorite mug and pours some coffee into it, along with a healthy serving of cream and sugar. He waits for one of Steve’s usual remarks—about rotting his teeth, or clogging his arteries—but he doesn’t say anything. It sits uneasily. He blows on his coffee and adds, “Anyway, when was the last time I forgot? At least I, unlike a certain roommate who I won’t name, have learned to pick up my wet towels.”

Water drums against the sink, splashing up the sides as Steve runs the tin under the spray. “Whatever.”

“Do you know how gross it is to step on a cold, wet towel when you’re not expecting it?”

“You’ve survived so far,” Steve says, the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips and, for a moment, Eddie thinks this can all be forgotten, but the smile fades, and Steve adds, “I just… I’m getting kinda old for footloose and fancy-free.”

Eddie leans back against the counter near the sink; as Steve moves, his elbow brushes Eddie’s arm, and their hips bump once or twice. “I’m older than you.”

“I’m not you.”

“Okay, who pissed in your Wheaties?”

“No one.” Steve empties the sink, shakes the tin out, and dumps it back in the trash. “I’m going to open the store,” he says, stopping by the table to gulp the rest of his coffee before he heads out.

Eddie blinks at the space where Steve was a moment ago. “Well, that was weird.” He looks at Mercury. “You know what’s got into your second favorite dad?”

Mercury looks up at Eddie, then trots away.

“Very helpful, thanks.” Eddie shrugs and pours himself a bowl of Count Chocula; he spoons some cereal into his mouth and throws the pact in the trash, then takes it back out and sticks it on the fridge with a Snoopy magnet. He’s not throwing it away because Steve’s in a shitty mood.

Maybe Steve will find it funny when he’s woken up properly.

Read more on November 5!

[sweetcreaturetm]

Maybe it’s another nursing student Steve ficlet. SO WHAT?

Eddie is a transporter at a local hospital it’s a pretty chill job he gets to put his AirPods in and listen to all the metal he wants as long as he keeps up small talk with the patients as he wheels them to and from their rooms.

He gets called to take an older patient to a cat scan in the ED. He swings his wheelchair into the pod of rooms where the patient is and looks over to see who can only be described as a literal god. With golden brown hair almost to his shoulders half tied back and round gold frame glasses. He’s got on the tightest scrub pants Eddie has ever seen he can’t believe they fit over this guys ass. He can’t help but stare. Unfortunately he forgets to look where he’s going and almost runs into a grumpy old man who does not hold back from yelling at Eddie. He feels his face heat up. People are starting to look at the cause of the noise. Certain people. Certain godlike people. He turns and makes eye contact. The guys got a concerned face vaguely apologetic. Eddie tries to apologize and manages to get away from the old man and into his patients room. He gathers himself and turns the charm on. Gathering the patient and disconnecting them from any cords and they’ll be on their way. But as he goes to leave the room he’s greeted by the smiling face of the god. He gets a chance to read his temporary badge. Steve. Hmm it fits him Eddie thinks. But Eddie doesn’t make a habit of calling people their actual names.

“Hey Mrs. Jones do you know this man?” Steve questions his patient jokingly. They seem to have a rapport going.

“Remember what we rehearsed” Eddie fake whispers. That cracks both Steve and Mrs. Jones. Just when Eddie didn’t think Steve could get more beautiful he laughed and lit the room with his smile.

Steve looks back to Eddie and tells him he was just going to get some supplies ready while she’s down in CT. He smiles brightly and lets Eddie pass.

Mrs. Jones as it turns out is a hoot and a half they joke while he takes her down the long hallway and all the way back. And as much as he likes her he kind of can’t wait to get back to her room to see if Steve is still there. Tragically for Eddie he is not. And he can’t seem to see him anywhere. He maybe drags his feet through the emergency department to catch Steve again before making his way to where the transporters wait for calls. But unfortunately that’s all he sees of Steve for now.

Every time he gets a call for transport he jumps at it so maybe it’ll take him to see Steve before his shift is over. It takes about an hour before he gets another call in the ED he’s practically running the wheelchair down there. This patient is in a different pod so he gets that one done quick so he can lollygag around where he thinks Steve will be. He walks around the rooms and through the nurses station and when he’s about to give up hope he runs into the man himself.

“Are you sure you’re fully trained you seem to have a penchant for running people over” Steve teases him.

Eddie can feel himself blush “maybe I’m a little distracted tonight” he tries for a flirting tone.

Steve seems interested “oh and what is so distracting that you can’t steer that wheelchair straight.”

Eddie chooses to ignore the irony that he can’t even make himself run straight. He motions for Steve to lean in so he can tell him a secret “it’s actually a person” he waggles his eyebrows.

Steve seems to deflate “oh one of the nurses?”

“I don’t think they’re technically a nurse yet” Eddie winks and Steve gapes.

He can see the wheels turning in Steve’s head “Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Eddie gets a little nervous.

“Yes!” Steve almost yells but tries to save it “I mean yeah of course.”

“Well in that case I think we should maybe get each others numbers cause my boss is gonna kill me if I spend anymore time down here.” Eddie gives Steve a hopeful smile.

“Right.” Steve nods “Probably same I shouldn’t just be standing around flirting”

Eddie chuckles “is that what we were doing? You didn’t even ask my name yet.”

Steve blushes red. He gives his phone to Eddie and takes Eddie’s into his own hands. Eddie saves his name as ‘Eddie 🦽’ and Steve saves his as ‘Steve 🩺’.

“Okay Eddie” Steve confirms “maybe we can-“ but he gets cut off when his charge nurse yells for him.

Later when Steve gets off he sees a text from Eddie “Hey Stevie, let me know when you’re free and I’ll take you for a ride.😉” and maybe a stronger man would wait more than 5 seconds to respond but he is not that man. Especially not when it involves Eddie apparently.

[rebelrobin86]

9. Free Day

(Nancy)

Nancy stood impatiently waiting for her younger brother Mike to be ready, so they could leave.

"Mike, you have 30 seconds, or I'm leaving without you."

Mike quickly hurried tying his shoes, while Nancy waited by the door.

"Come on, let's go!"

"I'm going!"

Nancy ran outside excitedly with Mike. Steve pulled up outside their house in the RV, Nancy and Mike got in.

All their friends were there. Mike chose to sit at the back with Eleven, Will and the party. Eddie sat up front with Steve.

"Hey guys."

Robin was sat crossed legged, as she curiously looked Nancy up and down, seeing her hold a large handbag.

"Hey Nance, what's with the bag?"

"Since we're going to the beach, I've packed towels, swim suits, sunscreen, sunglasses, books..."

Eddie interrupted.

"Woah, wanna dial it back a bit Mary Poppins?"

Eddie laughed. Robin rolled her eyes giving Eddie an unamused look.

"Ignore him."

Robin would have found it funny if she had made the comment, like she can tease Nancy a little, but instantly feels defensive if anyone else does.

"So what actually is Free Day?"

Nancy lit up as she sat next to Robin, happy to share her idea. Realising she hadn't actually explained to them why she's called it Free Day, or that she had been planning this for weeks with Steve.

"It's a Saturday, no school and you and Steve have the day off work, so we're free to all hang out."

Mike instantly recognised where Nancy got the inspiration for Free Day from.

"Free Day! Like when Mom and Dad would take us and Holly out somewhere fun?"

Nancy nodded.

"Yeah Mike, it's like our family's Free Day."

Steve smiled softly, he feels distant from his family, so he's touched that his friends see him as family.

"So this is a family day out or something?"

"Yeah, Steve, we're sort of like a family."

Nancy got a pack of UNO cards out of her bag, she shuffled the cards.

"I also brought UNO with us."

Eddie played metal music from his tapes, Steve couldn't stand it, so he banished him to the back of the RV. Eddie joined Nancy, Robin and the kids playing UNO.

Eddie didn't mind, he knew Steve could just be a grumpy driver.

Steve moaned at the traffic. It was busy, parking was impossible, especially with those idiot drivers that he groaned at.

Steve finally managed to park and got out the RV with everyone, leaving Nancy and Robin alone to tidy UNO away.

Robin looked at Nancy thoughtfully.

"Did you ever want kids?"

"I don't know, as a kid I assumed I'd grow up to marry a guy and have kids, it felt like that's what I should do. You know? I think that's what Steve wanted, for our future."

"But?"

"Well I don't know if want, is the right word."

"I know what you mean, we already have kids in our little family. I think Steve's happy with these little nuggets that leave UNO cards all over the floor, for us to tidy as they run off to the beach."

Nancy laughed, discussing their chosen family. She didn't dread the idea completely, when it's Robin by her side.

"Steve's the dad, you're like the mom of the group, Eddie's like their fun uncle. That makes me their fun, gay aunt? I would obviously be like Steve's sister, which could make you the gay mom?"

Nancy then drops the cards she was holding, shocked Robin said that, but still happy with that idealistic family idea.

"Did you ever want kids, Robin?"

Nancy quickly picked the cards back up, hoping Robin didn't notice. Robin noticed but didn't mention it, just helped her pick up the cards.

Nancy saw the sunlight made Robin's hair glow golden like the sun, looking in her breathtaking ocean blue eyes.

"I thought about it. I think this it for me, for now, but if I ever found the right girl. I'd consider having kids with her, if we both wanted them. Right now, I can't even keep a plant alive. So I would have to get a plant first, then if it survives a fish, then a hamster. After that a cat or a dog, finally then maybe a small human or two."

Nancy giggled, she really loved Robin, but relieved neither of them felt ready for kids. They could both be could be content in a future without them, however are open to the possibility they might some day.

In contrast to Steve, who has only ever imagined his future with little Harringtons. Nancy really hoped Steve could be happy, settle down with the right person and start a family with them.

Nancy just knew she wasn't the right person for Steve or even Jonathan, she's never felt as happy, as she does with Robin.

"You might be overthinking this, but I'll get you a plant, we'll raise it together. Give it enough water and sunlight."

"Yeah, I'd love that. We'll be plant moms."

Nancy finally packs away all the UNO cards, then puts them in her bag. She threw her bag on her arm and held both hands out to help Robin stand up.

Nancy and Robin left the RV to catch up with their family on the beach.

[saturatedsinset]

Please tell me as much as you can about beautiful posh catgirl Page and also, completely unrelatedly, grumpy Mr. "I Don't Like Cats" Eddie. 😇😇😇

oh i see you i see how these two things have nothing to do with each other. i'm narrowing my eyes at you. have a cut this got long

catgirl adam page my beloved my angel... i'm thinking of her always. she is a calico, of course, and she is Perfectly groomed at all times. she's a little squirrely about where she comes from but who needs to know that when what matters is that she has a catpeople sized CAT TOWER ROOM in her house! she paints her claws and she sharpens them lest anyone think she is not a threat. nick takes her to one of mox's [redacted] once and she falls in love with the [redacted] at first sight. here is a small excerpt of matt describing her to moxeddie:

"Yeah," Eddie says slowly. Matt risks a glance at him, but he's just propped his chin on his hand, looks thoughtful. "Yeah, she's real pretty. She's got a vibe like she's royalty, kinda."

“Yes!” Matt exclaims, his anxieties lost in the face of a potential ally. “She’s so pretty, and the way she talks to you, it’s like you’re beneath her but not in a bad way? Like she’s too good for you but not like she thinks so, which is the part I always have trouble with.”

mr i don't like cats eddie kingston! what can i say about him! he doesn't like cats, not one bit, despite having [redacted] and [redacted] and no neither of these redacteds are matt. lucy wrote the bit about his shows which is a fucking godsend because now i never stop thinking about eddie kingston and his silly little cat gossip shows............ he's on the forums............. he hates matt jackson trust him on this he haaates him. loves adam page though. everyone does

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing. 

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna. 

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day. 

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest. 

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse. 

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need. 

And that shout is heard. 

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties. 

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.” 

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound. 

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone. 

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night. 

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different. 

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak. 

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing. 

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest. 

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad. 

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair. 

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow.  A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay. 

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep. 

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him. 

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall. 

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again. 

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.” 

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car. 

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.  

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck. 

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes. 

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to. 

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs. 

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him. 

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape. 

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live. 

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground. 

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.” 

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen. 

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks. 

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost. 

“No,” he answers. 

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs. 

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom. 

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open. 

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight. 

It’s Eddie. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.” 

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck. 

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time. 

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.” 

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone. 

And then Buck wakes up.

[mistflyer1102]

lesson

Summary: While waiting for Q, Bond teaches the techs a thing or two about improvisation.

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

“You ask him.”

“No, you ask him! You’ve been here longer!”

“Which is why I’m smart enough not to take that bet.”

Bond tilted his head as he calmly walked up to one group of huddled techs smack dab in the middle of Technical Services in Q-Branch. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet -- Marcela even looked up and waved when she saw him -- but none of the other techs seemed to notice, intently focused on something in the middle of the table. He slowed down though, when Marcela detached herself from the group and walked over, smiling cheerfully. Not an emergency then, given that it’s actually quiet and calm for once, he mused to himself as he stopped in front of Marcela. “Good morning, am I interrupting something? Q left something at home, thought I would drop it off for him,” he said gesturing to the knot of techs that were now all standing stiff.

“Nope, they’re just figuring out whether to make bets on one of the double-ohs,” she said, smiling as she shrugged her shoulders. As third-in-command of the branch, Bond knew she had seen and heard all in Q-Branch. Betting on Double-Os did not faze her very much anymore. “Anyway, Q is in a meeting right now with the R&D guys, do you want me to take whatever it is he forgot and hold onto it?” she offered, extending a hand.

Bond shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m not in a rush. And I’m intrigued by this bet. Which agent are they betting on and about what?” he asked, glancing over at the knot of techs. He could see that one or two were already trying to discreetly, casually, shuffle away from the group.

Marcela arched a brow at him.

Oh.

Bond inclined his head at her before moving towards the group. Some of them had to be new, the veterans knew he wouldn’t actually do anything to them. Well, nothing to warrant a stern reprimand from Q, which was just about anything and everything. Only Q could get away with giving Bond shit, which he did more often than his techs actually knew. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” Bond said, leaning in between the techs closet to him. There were numerous squeaks of surprise and murmured hellos as they shifted slightly in place to give him room. “So, enlighten me. What are we talking about? Something that the benevolent overlord shall not hear about?” he asked, grinning when a few techs blinked at him in surprise. They had to be new, all of Q’s staff knew that Bond knew the in-house nickname for Q.

For a moment, no one spoke. Bond could almost see them silently debating who was going to deal with the Double-O at their table. “Um, no, I guess not? It’s, uh, really not that important, or work-related, anyway,” one of the techs -- definitely a newcomer, Bond didn’t recognize him -- said finally, gesturing to the tabletop. Bond looked down to see a few innocuous items, including a pencil, a sheet of paper, a ceramic saucer, a rubber band, and a set of car keys. The tech shifted uncomfortably when Bond looked back up at him. “Well, Max and I are new to the Technical Services Station, we just started last week, and a bunch of the others are saying that double-ohs can weaponize anything you give them. I, er, we don’t quite know what to think, or believe,” the tech admitted, scratching the back of his neck as Bond hummed thoughtfully.

“And you’re betting that I can or can’t weaponize everything on this table?” Bond asked, picking up the keys to study them. He was mildly annoyed to find that the car manufacturer was not emblazoned on the main key as it usually was.

Another tech said, “Well, we can kind of guess on the pencil, I’m Max by the way, that’s Eddie. Anyway, we can guess that the pencil, you can just throw it like a dart at someone,” Max said, gesturing to the first tech before leaning on the table. “But...yeah, the Quartermaster complains every now and then that he can’t give you guys anything because it ends up wrecked somehow, and I didn’t think that it was possible to do that with every little thing in existence. So we pooled these items as examples.”

Bond nodded. “Well, you can also stick the pencil into a space where it doesn’t belong, mechanical gears are the usual place since it jams everything up. Did that to an alarm clock once, that was also the one and only time Q ever overslept to date as an MI6 employee,” he said, setting the pencil down. “But imagine doing that to a car, or some overly large weapon.”

The techs nodded, one of them grimacing.

“Keys...keys are useful as weapons on their own, and for the cars they usually work for,” he said, turning to Marcela, who was tapping something out on her tablet. “Where did you get these? Is Q hiding a new prototype from me?”

“No, they are replacement keys for my car, and I was the only one in the group who had their keys with them. Please don’t wreck my car, I really like it,” Marcela said, not looking up from her work.

Bond set the keys back down on the table next to the pencil. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to touch your car. Promise,” he said, crossing his heart with a finger as Marcela glanced up at him. “Employee cars are off-limits.”

She blinked.”Really? I actually didn’t know that.”

Bond nodded. “The only employee car I’m allowed to drive is Q’s, and that’s in emergencies only,” he said, picking up the saucer. He held it up for the techs to see. “Useful for either causing distractions, or for buttering Q up if you want something from him. He normally drinks his tea in that Scrabble mug of his, but if you really want to up the ante a bit, bring it to him in a teacup and saucer when he’s sitting down for a meeting with the other department heads. Almost works every time.”

Eddie frowned. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘almost’?” he asked, resting his hands on the table.

Bond said, “Q got even more irritated with me once when I did that because it was more of an apology than a bribe.” He set the saucer down, and then reached for the rubber band. “I don’t think I need to go into the applications of all this, but it’s good for keeping doors closed enough that no one can immediately crash in when you’re working, but should only be used as a last resort. It’s also good for securing the plastic wrap around the laundry detergent to lessen the mess when one of the cats knocks the container down off the machine,” he said, turning the rubber band over in his hands.

“Don’t you have a cap to the container, sir?”

Bond said, “We had a cap, it disappeared one day. When small items disappear in our flat with two cats around, you have to accept the fact that you’re never going to see it again.” He set the rubber band back down, and he didn’t miss the sense of anticipation suddenly heightening as he picked up the sheet of paper. “This… this you can just straight up set on fire and go from there,” he said, grinning as the techs blinked, and began to mutter amongst themselves. Bond glanced over his shoulder, and then grinned when he saw who was approaching them.

Eddie raised his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I should have thought of that,” he admitted, taking a step back as Bond handed him the piece of paper. “Okay, Max, you win, you win,” he said, grinning as he handed a few quid over to Max, who cackled as he pocketed the money.

“What is going on over here?”

Abrupt silence fell over the group as Q appeared, still looking a little grumpy from the meeting. Only Bond and Marcela didn't react, Bond grinning at Q as Marcela continued tapping away at her tablet. Q stared at the items on the table, and then turned to Bond. “Please...I do not know what you are doing here, but I want this branch to be standing by the end of the day.”

“And it will, we were just settling a bet,” Bond replied. “Nothing is getting destroyed today, promise. I just came by to drop off your tea tin, the one you brought home last night to refill,” he said, offering the tin to Q. “Nothing is broken, and the cats are fine.”

Q studied him suspiciously, and then glanced at his techs, who discreetly dispersed back to their work stations. Then he nodded. “Thank you, James, for bringing me this. I need it, especially since I’m about to go into a budget meeting with M and the Treasury. If you decide to stay here, please stay out of the techs’ way, let them do their job, and do not make a nuisance of yourself,” he said, smiling at Bond before his attention strayed back to his phone.

Bond swept a mock bow as Q turned to leave. “Of course, my Quartermaster.”

He laughed when Q flipped him off over his shoulder.

[shares-a-vest]

I just think Eddie would add the nickname 'Slugger' to his roster of pet names for Steve when he finds out about the nail bat...

Eddie awakens to a scratching sound at Steve's bedroom window.

He thinks it must be the trees. God knows the isolated Loch Nora has enough of them to make a consistent amount of noise 24/7. But his heart skips a beat when he comes to enough to remember that there is in fact, no tree directly outside Steve's bedroom window.

He flips over to face his boyfriend, sending their blankets flying and starling with enough movement he rattles the set of framed baseball cards Steve has on the shelving of his headboard. But the fanatic himself doesn't move, still fast asleep. Looking all angelic and cute as he steadily breathes in and out with only the faintest hint of a snore.

"Steeeeve," he panics, slapping his shoulder, "Steve, there's something at the window!"

Again, nothing.

He groans and leans forward, pressing his weight on him as he speaks directly in his ear, "Steve, wake up and put your goddamn ears in, I'm scared."

He doesn't care that it all sounds a little dramatic. Steve knows he's a total scaredy cat.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, sounding very grumpy, "What is it?"

"There's something outside."

Steve pushes him off, snapping to and hopping straight out of bed in one swift move. Eddie scrambles, spluttering as he struggles against the, now tangled, bed sheets. He looks up just in time to see Steve duck down and retrieve something from underneath his side of the bed…

It's a baseball bat.

A baseball bat covered in large nails. Nails that have been haphazardly hammered in, sticking out every which way and making it quite the deadly weapon.

He watches as Steve spins it around in his hands before gripping it tight and standing at the ready. Oh.

Steve cocks his head and quirks a brow in the direction of the frightening window in question.

The noise is still there, tap, tap a-tapping on the window.

But Eddie really couldn't give a shit anymore because now he is solely focused on his boyfriend creeping towards the window, waving his bat like he geeing himself up to hit a homer. His hands clench with every step, exposing all the veins on his hands and spider up his forearms. All the while the guy is sporting his impossibly voluminous bed hair and skulking along in his loose and tantalisingly-thin sleep shorts that leave nothing to Eddie's filthy imagination.

Well, maybe he can think of a few things…

"Step back against the wall," Steve commands, not tearing his eyes away from the window.

Eddie nods, backing back and clutching at the wall for support as his heart beats faster as Steve whirls the bat around again. He palms along the wall, feeling around until his shaking hand hits the bed and he stumbles onto it.

But Steve isn't paying attention to his immediate disobedience. He is too busy looking out the window.

"Oh, fuck," he curses before groaning with abject annoyance, "Eds!"

"Huh?" Eddie mumbles, watching Steve's bare shoulders flex and then drop as he allows the nail bat to fall by his side.

"It's a raccoon!" Steve whines, stumping the bat into the carpet with a solid thump to punctuate his frustration.

He whips around and starts off for the bed again, dragging his weapon along behind him. As if in a reverse move, Steve rolls the bat back to its hiding spot and flops onto the bed.

"Eds, I was dead asleep!" he complains, dry-sobbing. He helicopter-kicks his feet in order to propel his legs back onto the bed properly, "Why couldn't you have checked it out first?"

"Excuse me," he protests, raising a hand to his chest in offence, "I was terrified."

"You woke me up!" Steve retorts, pulling the covers about without a great deal of finesse - if anything, his technique makes their bedding situation worse.

"Could'a used that weapon up against a colony of flesh-eating bats, my dear," Eddie grins as he attempts to smooth out the crumpled covers before quickly abandoning the futile task.

"Yeah, no shit," Steve snaps. He really is a bitch when he's sleep-deprived a grouchy, "But I didn't exactly have time to come here and get it. You being a wanted fugitive and all."

"I apologise for the inconvenience," he teases, holding out grabby hands, "Come here, Slugger, and I'll make it up to you."

Steve smirks, thoroughly perking up at the new pet name. And before Eddie knows it, his baseball bat-wielding boyfriend is lunging straight over their mountain of twisted blankets for him.

[jay4firefic]

How Buck accidentally adopted a cat... (featuring Christopher Diaz)

“What’s with the sour face?” Buck asks, dropping into a chair at the kids’ table beside Christopher. The kid in question is still picking at his half eaten barbecue long after the other firehouse children have run off to play in the big backyard.

“Harry’s dad might let him get a pet.” Christopher stabs viciously at his pasta salad with his adaptive fork, only succeeding at scattering pieces in every direction. “My dad says we can’t have a pet and I’ve been asking for ages.”

“I’m sure your dad has a really good reason for saying you can’t get a pet.” Which for the life of him Buck can’t remember at the moment, despite the fact that he knows Eddie told him about Christopher’s crusade to get a dog just last week. He catches Eddie’s eye over the top of Christopher’s head and jerks his head in a silent come here.

“He says we don’t have time for a pet but that’s stupid.” Christopher’s fork clatters and scrapes across the plate again. “I have lots of time.”

“Well, buddy, taking care of a pet is a lot of work,” Buck says, slinging his arm around Christopher’s narrow shoulders. 

“How would you know, you don’t even have a pet.”

“Actually,” Buck pulls Christopher in a little closer and ruffles his hair, “I’ve got a cat. And she’s pretty high maintenance.”

For the first time since Buck sat down Christopher looks up at him. His furrowed brow is so clearly a scaled down version of what Buck thinks of as Eddie’s ‘what are you talking about, dumbass?’ expression that Buck nearly melts. “You don’t have a cat, Bucky. I’ve been to your house.”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Chimney sits down across from them in tandem with Eddie and steals a carrot stick off of Christopher’s plate. Eddie just watches Buck with a confused frown. “You don’t have a cat, unless something happened in the last 24 hours that you miraculously haven’t told us all about.”

“I’ve never told you about my cat?” Buck looks between three baffled expressions. He doesn’t talk about Chicago much for a variety of reasons, but he really never told them about the cat? “Huh. Well, I totally have a cat. When I moved to Los Angeles I left her in Chicago with my old roommate because,” he turns back to Christopher with a serious expression - or his best attempt at one, at least, “pets need stability and a lot of attention, and when I first moved here I wasn’t living somewhere I could give her that.”

Christopher scrunches up his nose in an adorable frown. “If she doesn’t live with you how is she still your pet?”

“I’m with the kid on this one. You’ve been in LA like three years, that’s not your cat anymore man.”

Buck steals another carrot from Christopher and throws it at Chimney, who catches it right before it can hit him between the eyes and pops it in his mouth instead. “Rude. She’s totally still my cat. I rescued her!”

“You rescued her?” Christopher’s eyes widen and yeah, Buck is starting to win him over.

“I did! I rescued her from a warehouse fire in Chicago. Here, let me…” Buck digs out his phone and starts scrolling through old Instagram posts until he gets back to 2016. When he finds the right picture he makes a triumphant noise and turns the phone toward Christopher, then Chim and Eddie. The screen is taken up by a photo of Buck, a half a decade younger and a little leaner, decked out in CFD gear, covered in soot and ash, and holding something that looks like a dirty rag. He scrolls to the next picture - a close up of the pitiful gray bundle peeking out the collar of his turnout coat that resolves into a singed and filthy cat. “See? I rescued her, she’s my cat.”

“That’s a pretty sad looking cat,” Eddie observes, and it’s truthful but Buck still squawks in protest.

“She was having a bad day, alright? She’s a beautiful lady.” He closes instagram, opens his messages and finds the most recent one from Casey. Stupid Cat still misses you, and a picture of Kelly asleep on the couch in a pool of sunlight with a black and white cat curled up on his bare chest. Buck used to spend lazy mornings in the exact same position. “See?”

He startles and nearly drops the phone when Athena lets out a low whistle and leans in over his shoulder. “Are we supposed to be looking at the cat or that man, Buckaroo?”

Both, Buck thinks, even as he scoffs at her. Christopher provides a convenient distraction by tugging on his arm and demanding to know the cat’s name, his frown replaced by a grin that could light up a Christmas tree. Crisis averted. “Uh, her name is...Cat, actually,” he laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Now it’s Athena’s turn to scoff. “You named your cat Cat?”

“Well, uhm…” Buck briefly has a whole different crisis on his hands trying to figure out how to tell that story without giving too much away. “My roommate said if we named her we’d get attached and have to keep her, so he insisted on just calling her Cat until we found her a new home. And then we...never found her a new home. Kinda hard to rehome something with three and a half legs and one eye, y’know? By the time he gave up and admitted she was ours it was too late to change it.”

He had tried for weeks, surfing baby name websites on his phone over breakfast or while lounging around the house and calling her by anything that caught his interest. At the end of the day he was always still calling for Cat, though, and Kelly had never stopped adding Stupid as a prefix. 

“Looks like your roommate ended up getting pretty attached himself,” Chim observes as Buck flips to a different picture - a selfie of a grumpy-looking Kelly with bedhead, holding a mug to his lips while Cat balances precariously on his bare shoulders.

“Does that man own any shirts?” Athena asks. 

Buck elects to ignore her and answer Chimney. “Severide will never admit it, but he loves the Stupid Cat. I was gonna go back for her once I got settled, but…” He shrugs. He wasn’t ready to face Kelly without the distance provided by a phone line at first, and then it had just seemed cruel to separate them. He had always meant to return to Chicago, to 51 and home, someday anyway. That someday had just started getting further and further away once he got attached to everyone at the 118. “She’s got a pretty cushy life in Chicago, and lots of people to take care of her. Here it would just be me, and like I said,” he looks down at Christopher again, “pets are a lot of work. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“Can I meet her someday?” Chris asks, because he always knows just how to pull on Buck’s heartstrings. 

“I don’t know, buddy. Maybe someday. For now I’ll see if K-” he catches himself, smooths it into, “Casey and Severide can send me some videos to show you. How does that sound?”

“Okayyyyy,” Christopher agrees with a put upon sigh. 

A few minutes later he finally gets up and joins the rest of the kids at play, and Buck has to uncurl himself from the uncomfortably small chair. Eddie bumps their shoulders together while Buck is still trying to shake feeling back into his feet. “Good distraction, but you realize he’s gonna be asking you for pictures all the time now, right?”

Buck shrugs and jostles Eddie in return. “That’s fine, I’ve got plenty.”

[babybatscreationsv2]

A King on a Leash ch13

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn’t keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter’s life is  in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the  only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that  to happen.

Sequel to A Doll on a String

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

warnings: violence, blood

Happy pulled the car up to the curb. Peter could see Harry through the window, waiting inside the cafe. There was a camera on the table beside him and across from him were MJ and Amy. He checked his coat to make sure his gun was hidden. He ran his fingers over the engraving and his heart gave a little flutter. How could he still be so damn in love?

"Thanks, Hap." Peter smiled at the man, his fingers curling around the door handle.

"No problem, kid. I'll be out here if you have a problem."

"I'm sure you will." He rolled his eyes. "I'm to assume there's someone already inside scouting the place."

"Oh yeah. Those two clowns aren't exactly on a date as much as they're trying to look it."

Peter looked again through the window and shorted. Sitting at a table by the window was a couple in their early thirties sharing a coffee cake. Only, they were dressed in black from head to toe and their coats were long enough to conceal a weapon in every flavor. They were so obviously mafia soldiers that the table across from them had shifted as far to the opposite sides of their chairs as they could and kept looking at them sideways. They were probably waiting for a shoot out. Peter hoped Chili wasn't feeling brave today. There was no way every crime lord in New York didn't know where Peter Parker was at exactly this moment.

"You sure I should go in?"

Happy turned around to look at him. "Now, you're being cautious?"

Peter chewed his lip. "I worry about Tony."

"How about you worry about having the correct number of holes in your head," he huffed, then he took a breath. "Sorry, I just wish you didn't insist on going out right now. It'll never be safe for you. Not with things how they are."

"I can't take being cooped up. Besides, I'm doing good work with Harry. We can't talk business with MJ here, but I need him to trust me."

"Try to not think of your friends like that, Pete. Harry is good to you. You be good to him to and not just for Tony's sake."

"What would you do for Pepper?"

Happy snorted. "If she told me to shoot a friend I'd shoot a friend, but do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because Pepper wouldn't say a thing like that for fun. She would have a real reason."

"You're sounding pretty judgmental for a glorified babysitter," Peter snapped. He ripped open the door and climbed out. It slammed shut behind him and a few passersby looked up before walking a bit quicker. He crossed the sidewalk but he didn't make it to the door before an unfriendly sneer caught his eye.

Adrian Toomes stood puffing a cigarette, leaning against the brick of the cafe. Peter rolled his eyes. Great, another old man waiting to tell him why he's an idiot.

"You know it's rude to smoke in a doorway like that. Some people have asthma."

Toomes laughed. "Some people have no respect for family."

"Really? You wanna do this now?"

He shrugged. "I'm not here to do anything, Parker-"

"It's Parker-Stark now."

"Of course I know that you little harlot. How many powerful beds did you try out before you found one that would keep you?"

Peter's fists clenched. "You better watch your mouth-"

"Or what? Your daddy gonna gut me? I'm sure Fisk would like that." Peter heard a car door behind him. Toomes's eyes flicked up, probably looking at Happy, but Peter didn't turn his head.

"There's no Boss of Bosses anymore. Fisk doesn't get to tell anyone what to do."

Toomes smirked. "I bet you think he likes you because you remind him of Vanessa, but here's the thing, kid. Fisk woulda put her down like a dog if she ever did what you did. And you're just another bitch." He flicked his cigarette to the ground.

"If it's your goal to annoy me to death it's not working. You're just another ant on the sidewalk."

"Cute." He glanced into the cafe. "I see what you're up to with little Osborn."

"And what exactly is that?"

"You're playing him. Setting him up to owe your man, but it's not gonna work."

Peter smirked. "How much of Octavius's old territory did Harry take back from you? You must be really feeling the hurt if you came all this way to chat me up."

Toomes narrowed his eyes. He stepped into Peter's face. Happy was at his back in a flash.

"I think you'd better take a step back, Mr. Toomes," he warned.

Toomes's eyes flicked between their faces. "Couple of dogs aren't you? The guard dog and the house bitch."

"Sticks and stones, Toomes, but words are all you have because we both know you don't have the balls to lay a hand on me."

He stepped forward and Happy got between them, looking down his nose at the man like he was a rat. Peter laughed. "See you around, Mr. Toomes. I have a lunch date." He gave a little wave and stepped inside the building. He walked to the table where the obvious non-couple sat.

"Back Happy up and find somewhere else to stake out."

They both nodded. "Yes, sir," they mumbled. Peter watched them go, making sure Toomes backed off of Happy and no one came to his aid. The fact that he didn't have anyone else with him seemed odd. Tony and Wilson always had men with them. Did Toomes not have anyone he trusted to watch his back? Peter wished he could exploit that enough to stick a knife in it.

He caught his friends all stared at him from across the cafe. Peter plastered a pleasant smile on his face and strode over to them like nothing was wrong. He sat down next to Harry.

"Who was that?" Amy asked. Her hair was dyed pastel pink now and it brought out the permanent blotchy red of her cheeks. It was cute, though, like she was always blushing.

Peter waved his hand like it was nothing. "I've seen them around the city before and I thought I saw their car being towed."

"Really?" She turned and looked out the window. MJ put a hand on her shoulder and Amy shot her a questioning look as she turned back to the table.

"We've got big news!" MJ said, tactfully changing the subject.

Amy smiled practically bouncing in her seat. "Okay, it's not really news and it's not exactly big, but it is super cute!"

Peter laughed. "What is it?"

"Amy's cat has found the perfect sun spot in the new apartment," MJ said. Peter knew the look of 'I'm pretending to be excited for her sake'.

Amy giggled. "He's so cute! Every morning he lays down on the rug and stretches his little legs and curls up in the sun spot and he's so cute!" she babbled. MJ smiled at her, totally smitten.

"That sounds so cute," Peter agreed.

"When is Muffin getting a brother?" Harry said.

"We did talk about visiting the shelter some time this week." MJ shrugged. "Our apartment said we could have two so we thought why not?"

"We're getting a kitten!" Amy squealed.

"How about a grumpy old street cat who has seen some things," MJ suggested.

"Either way sounds nice," Peter said. He looked past them out the window. Happy caught his eye and gave him an OK with his hand before getting back into the car. He saw the man from before leaning against a mailbox, pretending to check his phone. He didn't know where the woman went. Probably across the street. He wondered what it was Toomes had wanted. Had he planned to scare him away from Harry? A couple of threats that he might tattle to Fisk were hardly concerning, but it wasn't like Toomes had a lot of cards to play. If he hurt Peter it would kind of make him a hypocrite and Peter wasn't technically breaking any rules by forming an alliance with Harry. The Bosses were supposed to be brothers so convincing Tony and Harry to help each other should be encouraged. Toomes was just pissed that he couldn't take advantage of Harry's lack of experience so long as he had Tony to call.

The girls left early to get back to couple stuff. Peter hugged them both goodbye and shook his head as they hurried off. MJ had her arm around Amy's shoulders while the pink-haired girl babbled excitedly. Then they were gone and it was just him and Harry.

"I gotta thank you for hooking me up with Brock," he said.

Peter shrugged. "That was all Tony. He always knows what to do."

"Yeah well, he's pretty solid. Who was he?"

"He was one of Tony's own soldiers. Don't know what gig he was running, but Tony was confident he would be able to help you out. He says the best Consigliere is an experienced enforcer with a little bit of morality. Like Happy."

Harry cringed. "Enforcer?"

"You'll get there." Peter patted his shoulder. "The first time someone points a gun at you, you'll be glad your men are experienced. I would strongly recommend you get your first kill under your belt sooner rather than later."

"You sound like Tony."

"He is a wise boss."

"You really admire him. It's sweet."

Peter shrugged. "For a couple of bloodthirsty killers, I guess."

"Does there have to be so much killing?"

"Eddie will help you out. Help you see the good in the ugly."

"You mean the money."

"That money is gonna change hands one way or another. Might as well put it in your own hands." Peter phone buzzed against the table top. He glanced down to see Tony's face along with "Daddy" on the screen.

"Sorry, Har." He picked up the phone.

"No problem."

He answered the call and put the phone to his ear. Tony spoke before he could say anything. He was breathing heavy.

"It's time, angel. I sent Happy the location."

"Nat found him?"

"Don't be late, angel, or I'll start without you," he purred. Peter felt that down in his groin. Time to do what they did best.

"I'll talk to you later, Harry," he told his friend. He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket.

"Business?" he asked. "You need some help?"

"Yes and no," Peter smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but you're not ready for this one."

"Some other time, then."

"Call me." Peter slapped his shoulder as he passed, then he was out the door. Happy climbed into the driver's seat as he came outside. Peter got into the back. The man and woman joined them in the car with the man up front.

"You ready for this, kid?" Happy asked, cruising at ten over the speed limit.

"More than ready." He pulled his gun from his coat and held it in his lap.

"Put one in him for me. I haven't gotten any sleep in weeks," Happy grumbled. It hadn't occurred to him how much this had affected the rest of the family and he felt a little guilty.

"Sorry to put you through this."

"Not your fault, kid. Well, no it is, but Tony should do a better job of intimidating people if he's going to let you loose like that."

"I'm not a wild animal."

"You act like one. I heard about the other night, you know. You get off on this shit, the both of you. But I don't. I'm just doing what I'm good at, making a living. I'm not judging. I'm just asking you to think of the family before you go dancing on graves that didn't need to be there."

"Ya know, if I had just stolen the diamonds, they would have come after me anyway."

Happy shrugged. "Maybe the whole gig was doomed from the start. Or maybe nobody would have put as much work into finding you if it were just some stones they were mad about."

"Nah. They would have come after me."

Happy didn't say anything to that. Peter knew that he didn't approve. He never did. As much as Happy tried to be the voice of reason, he was in just as deep as they were. He didn't have to like killing, but he did have to jump when Tony told him to. Daddy says 'shoot', everyone fires. No questions asked.

They pulled into the back of a store boasting 'rare oriental rugs'. There were way too many cars in the rear parking lot for it to not be a front. Either cops in this neighborhood were dirty or they were blind. The man and woman went in first. Then Happy got out and scouted the lot. Peter sighed to himself while he waited. Then Happy finally came to open to his door.

They walked up to the building. Happy opened the door. The smell of fresh death wafted out. Peter went inside and nearly ran back out. There were bodies everywhere, blood on every surface, and through a door on the other side of the room Peter could hear more screaming. There had been a massacre.

[octoberobserver]

I saw where someone else had made a post about that vine video where the one guys wakes the other up but then a 2nd guy was in the bed as well and no one knew. yea that for adult reddie

Hi nonnie, so sorry for the late reply on this! Thanks for this fun prompt, I had a blast. It ended up being 60% Hanbrough tbh, but I had fun with it ^_^

Read on ao3 Wake Up Call for Mr Tozier

Richie and Eddie weren’t subtle.

They were handsy.

And flirty.

And drunk.

But for someone able to concoct such elaborate stories (albeit with horrible endings) and create beautiful sentences (albeit among gore and horror), Bill Denbrough wasn’t always what the Losers would call…intuitive. At least not when it came to badly-kept secrets.

Common sense isn’t all that common, Eddie would shrug.

Dumb as a sack of hammers, Bev would reply.

King of the Himbos, Richie would conclude.

Which was how, on the eve of their second annual reunion, when all the Losers, (plus Patty, Don and Adrian - all officially new members) eventually retired to bed, where they were staying with Bill and Mike in his giant, seven-bedroom L.A. home, he failed to notice Richie and Eddie’s sleeping arrangements.

He watched, bleary-eyed, as the two ‘helped’ each other up the stairs, each as drunk as the other, doing more stumbling than anything, like two hammered Bambis. Suppressing his chuckle, Bill wound an arm around Mike’s waist as leaned in close, following his eye line.

“Did we put enough pillows in the guest room for Eddie?”

A slow smile spread across Mike’s face as he watched dumb and dumber stumble on the stairs, giggling like the two perpetual middle-schoolers they were.

“Something tells me he won’t need ‘em, Bill,” he murmured before planting a kiss to the side of his boyfriend’s head.

Bill frowned, turning to Mike, opening his mouth to ask why not.

“Come to bed.”

Bill’s mouth snapped shut, transforming into a grin.

~*~

Like with endings, (at least the literary kind), mornings were not Bill’s forte. But it had to be said, waking up next to Mike Hanlon, definitely helped.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” a deep, low voice mumbled into his ear, a huff of breath causing him to shiver.

With a groan, he turned over and snuggled into the furnace-like warmth of the man beside him, burying his face in his shoulder, a pleased hum escaping his lips as he felt a strong arm wind around him.

“Do we have to make breakfast for everyone?”

His question was muffled and more than a little sulky, but Mike laughed all the same.“

We wanna be good hosts, don’t we?”

Bill groaned again, his head making its feelings known on that last shot of tequila he downed because Richie had dared him. (Maybe he was still a bit of a middle-schooler too.)

“I guess so.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Mike’s tone was warm, teasing, and alluring enough that Bill just had to look up and kiss him, right on the lips, morning breath be damned.

“Don’t talk about spirits,” he mumbled against his mouth, “my head hasn’t forgiven me for last night.”

Mike raked his palms up Bill’s sides, squeezing his hips. “No sympathy,” he grinned, eyes twinkling, “all self-inflicted.”

With that he gave a hearty smack to his ass, beginning to push him out of the bed. “Go on, you go wake up the kids. I’ll get breakfast started.”

Bill moaned, and not for good reasons.

“I hate having to wake Richie. He’s like a bear in the morning.”

Mike swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching, his sleep-shirt riding up and revealing a sliver of the very tantalising skin above his belly button, making Bill freeze mid-step.

“I feel like it’s my duty to remind you on Richie’s behalf that he is not a bear, he’s a...sea lion?” Mike paused, scratching his stomach, “No, that’s not right. An otter? Beaver? I don’t know man, something that swims, I think. Adrian was trying to teach me all the different kinds of gay—mmph!”

Bill cut him off with a kiss, leaning up and dragging him down into it.

“I love you, you giant, sexy nerd,” he grinned as the kiss broke, running his thumb under the hem of Mike’s sleep-shirt.

“I love you too,” Mike winked, smacking Bill’s ass again, “but don’t think it gets you out of waking the Losers. Start with someone easy, like Eddie.”

There was something in Mike’s voice, in his smirk, that had Bill’s suspicions flaring, but he sighed, pecking his jaw before resigning himself to his fate. Out of all of them, Eddie was one of the earliest risers, usually. It was a tie between him, Ben and Stan, most of the time. Ben, a frequent morning jogger, and Stan, an avid bird-watcher. So really, Bill knew Mike was right, starting with him.

Shrugging nto his slippers and robe, he dragged a hand through his bed-head and shuffled down the corridor, making a bee-line for Eddie’s room.

“Eds?” he called out quietly as he knocked. “Mike and I are making breakfast if you’re interested?”

Silence rang out. With a frown, he turned the handle and gave a quick glance around the door, eyes falling on the empty bed, so neatly made up, it looked like it hadn’t been slept in. Huh. Eddie must already be up. With a shrug, Bill closed the door with a snap and decided that it was best to just rip the bandaid off. Richie was going to be the one that gave the most pushback, so he may as well start with him. If he was his usual grumpy self, Bill could always move onto everyone else then loop back around.

With Richie though, he’d have to try a different approach than with Eddie. Something loud and annoying to get back at him for his part in Bill’s hangover. Quickly, he got fished out his phone from his robe pocket, turning to the guest room where Richie was staying, directly opposite Eddie’s. 

Counting down from three in his head, he hit record and flung the door wide open, spotting Richie asleep in one of the twin beds. Stifling his laugh, Bill switched on the light and yelled, “Wake up, Sleepyhead!”

He watched gleefully as Richie, with a serious case of bed-head, jumped, grumbling something like, “Whoa, what’s goin—”

“The fuck, man?”

Bill blinked as Eddie suddenly popped up from behind Richie, his arm very noticeably thrown over his hip, both men very, very shirtless. The three friends stared at each other. A beat of silence passed.

Two.

Three.

Shock shot through Bill, his brain scrambling to make sense of this picture, a borderline hysterical laugh escaping his throat. He found his brain vividly flashing back to various moments, touches, shared smiles between Richie and Eddie and…oh. Then, with exactly zero input from his brain, his feet turned him around and led him right back out the bedroom door, a louder laugh bursting from him and carrying down the corridor, no doubt enough to wake the rest of the Losers.

Good. That gave him time to spill the beans to Mike.

Richie and Eddie blinked at the closed door that their friend had just bolted through.

“Well, that’s one way to tell him,” Eddie sighed, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, his arm tightening around Richie’s waist.

“Yeah, you popping up all Whack-A-Mole-style and scaring the crap outta him was one way to go, Eds,” Richie chuckled, turning around to face him and kissing him on the forehead.

“The man fought a murderous space clown. Twice,” Eddie grumbled into his neck, “I think he can survive seeing us in bed together.”

Richie snorted, settling a hand on his lower back, pulling their bodies closer together, he already in danger of falling out of the far too small bed.

“You know there’s a double in your room, right?” he murmured into Eddie’s hair. “Remind me again why we ended up squeezed into this tiny twin bed?”

Eddie poked him in the chest, prompting him to lean back to look him in the eye.

“Rich, we were so drunk, we’re lucky we didn’t end up trying to make these into bunk beds and sleeping in them, or something worse.”

Richie smirked. “That tub was looking appealing last night, not gonna lie.”

“And besides,” Eddie poked his chest again, softer this time, “I wanted to push the beds together to make a double. Like we did in middle school. But, you know, the tequila—”

“Ahh, the tequila,” Richie sighed wistfully, before leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.“Guess the cat’s outta the bag now, huh?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes before letting them close.

“All the others already know. Bill was just being slow on the uptake as usual.”

Richie bumped their noses.

“Told you, Eds. He’s a himbo.”

“King Himbo, I think you said.”

They shared a laugh before closing the short distance, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Richie hummed into it happily, (still tickled that Eddie apparently wasn’t as opposed to morning breath as he thought), brushing his tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip, the kiss deepening. Just as things were getting good, far too good for two people who were just called for breakfast, Eddie stilled, pulling away, his cheeks flushed, lips plump, and his eyes wide.

“Wait, was he recording us?”

[moviemunchies]

I’m sort of doing this thing where I’m reading books and keeping a log of it, and if there’s a movie adaptation I try to watch it before moving on to the next book in the series. So I’ve been meaning to get to Prince Caspian for a while now after reading the book.

This one’s weird because a large chunk of the Chronicles of Narnia fandom doesn’t like this movie very much. And I pretty much loved it since I saw it in theaters? It’s not as faithful to the book as the previous film, but that doesn’t make it bad. I’m still struck by the design of the film, which stands out from most fantasy films of the time (and many today), and it’s got a lot of action! That’s enough to make me dig a fantasy movie.

_Prince Caspian_ is the second installment of Walden Media’s Chronicles of Narnia film series and the sequel to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It’s also the last film in the series that was made by Disney, as they quit because they were disappointed by this one’s reception. Walden Media managed to get another studio to fund and distribute the third movie.

After a year in England, the Pevensies come back to Narnia to find that over a thousand years have passed. The country’s been conquered by the Telmarines who have driven the Narnia creatures into hiding, thinking they’d been wiped out. The Telmarine prince, Caspian X, is sympathetic to Narnians but didn’t know they still existed--that is, until he has to run from the palace and lead them in rebellion against his uncle who wants him dead to take the throne. The Pevensies are there to help of course, but Peter butts heads with Caspian (and his siblings) on how to best fight this war. And Aslan’s nowhere to be seen, except by Lucy, who can’t convince the others to follow that lead.

This movie does actually have a lot of content from the book, just rearranged or recontextualized. The Plot is completely reworked and I don’t mind that because a huge chunk of Caspian’s story in the book is being told to the Pevensies by Trumpkin--that would be a very frustrating way to tell his story in the movie. Some things, like the animals holding faith for Aslan when others don’t, is implied by the way scenes are done rather than outright told to the audience.

There are some things that are in both the book and movie, but the movie doesn’t quite explain what that’s about. The sparring match between Edmund and Trumpkin doesn’t really make much sense in the movie.

There’s also the attack on the castle. This sequence is invented entirely for the movie, and while it’s frustrating in a similar way that Finn and Rose’s subplot in The Last Jedi is, the book does mention the Narnians losing some battles and so actually showing that to the audience is fine. Also I like seeing the way they apply griffins and mice in the raid. That’s cool thinking and I wish to see more fantasy films think about how fantasy creatures might be used on military operations.

Also I really like the design of this movie? The Narnian side mostly keeps the same designs for their weapons and armor, but it’s a lot more worn down, and that makes sense because they’ve been hiding in the woods for a few hundred years. They don’t have new weapons. The Telmarines, on the other hand, look fantastic. For their culture, WETA Workshop was inspired by Spanish and Italian culture, so instead of longswords they use side swords and falchions, and their armor brings to mind a combination of Spanish conquistadors, Italian condottieri, and Japanese samurai. They look more Renaissance than medieval and I love it.

The cast is also matched up to that, with Spanish and Italian actors playing the roles of Telmarines. Ben Barnes is an exception, as he’s English, but he’s putting on his best Inigo Montoya impression as Caspian.

You know what? Let’s talk about this cast. Ben Barnes, back when he wasn’t just playing villains. I remember classmates in high school saying that he’s too old, but if he is that’s because the actor playing Peter is also too old. Caspian is supposed to be the same age as Peter, so I didn’t mind it here. I think he overdoes the whole “YOU KILLED MY FATHER” thing but I don’t think that’s Ben Barnes’s fault as much as he’s working with the Plot point that’s been sandwiched into the story.

William Moseley does very well in playing Peter as he’s written for this movie, the problem is that Peter in this movie is written to be an absolute prat. His whole arc in this movie is about learning that he doesn’t have to be in charge and to let Aslan take the wheel. This would make sense if his life experience was only what we saw in the last movie’s adventure, but we know that he apparently grew up in Narnia and became a successful and wise warrior king. So him being so full of himself here doesn’t make sense. I got over it, as I see what they were going for, deconstructing how a kid might feel after his time in Narnia, but it is very annoying and it makes Peter very unlikable.

Unlike Edmund, played by Skandar Keyes, who is absolutely THE SHIZ in this movie. Having learned his lesson from the last movie, Edmund is a cheeky wonder child who takes no crap from anyone. He doesn’t have that much of an arc in this movie, but he is great to watch, so I forgive it. He’s the guy who keeps his head screwed on straight when Peter and Caspian need someone to keep them grounded.

Anna Popplewell’s Susan is good? They still go with her being the “reasonable” one, albeit a little less uptight than in the first movie. They have this thing in the movie in which she and Caspian are definitely into each other and I don’t think that’s too out there--in the books Susan had at least half a dozen suitors when she was queen--it does mean that a lot of her character arc is dedicated to that, and we know that it goes nowhere. This one clearly implies that she’s having trouble holding faith in things she doesn’t see in front of her, and that’s a fascinating direction that doesn’t go quite as far in this movie as it could.

And Lucy. Georgie Henley as Lucy is still delightful. They removed and rearranged a lot of the material from the book in her character arc which is a shame, because I really like a lot of that stuff. As the one who still has the faith and wants to see the magic in Narnia when even the Narnians are giving up hope, she has to come across as sympathetic and believable. That doesn’t always work, especially when she does things like walk up to a bear that’s about to attack her, not realizing that it’s not talking (there ARE non-talking animals in Narnia, dear!). But for the most part she works in this movie.

You know Peter Dinklage is in this movie as Trumpkin? I find it odd that he made it big on a fantasy show that was billed as deconstructing usual fantasy tropes while heavily featuring sex and violence when he also starred in the film adaptation of a famously Christian book series and one of the giants of the fantasy genre. He does okay. I mean I like that Trumpkin is this grumpy guy who is cynical and tired of everyone and just wants to go home, but I don’t know if Peter Dinklage is acting or just… cynical and tired of everyone and wants to go home. It’s entertaining sometimes, but not brilliant.

And Warwick Davis is in this movie? He was in the BBC series as well, but instead of as Reepicheep this time he’s playing Nikabrik, the dwarf that is even more cynical than Trumpkin and hates all humans. It feels weird for me seeing him as a villain, though I know he’s done it before. I always had trouble with Nikabrik as a character because I always felt like him going full-on evil was… well, everyone seemed strangely unperturbed by that in the book, even if we had an idea of how we got there. In the movie I felt as if Warwick Davis does well in that you get him, and you get where he’s coming from, but not enough to agree. And other characters react to his turn in a way that’s appropriate.

Ken Stott voices Trufflehunter and he does not have enough to do in this movie. Trufflehunter is not that Plot-relevant in the book, but I always had the impression that he was an important character and one of the most prominent Narnians in the story. He’s okay here, but I really thought that he should be doing more in the story. Maybe the filmmakers didn’t think it would fit the darker tone they were going for, if there was a badger running around in many of the scenes? I don’t know, I wanted more.

We do, however, get quite a bit of Eddie Izzard as Reepicheep, which is fantastic because Reepicheep is fantastic. This mouse is amazing. There were some people very surprised that a mouse is going around killing people, but it’s a fantasy film, he’s a knight, and also it wasn’t as if the first movie didn’t have violence? I’m frustrated that the movies don’t go with the “talking animals are bigger than normal animals” EXCEPT with Reepicheep, because it’s pretty darn weird that all the other animals are ordinary-sized and the talking mice are the size of cats. But Reepicheep is very entertaining, very cool, and he’s great.

Sergio Castellitto plays a surprisingly sharp Miraz? Yeah, Plot-wise he’s generically evil, but I think that Castellitto makes him A) entertaining to watch, and B) convey that he knows that he’s the least popular guy in the room with the other Telmarine lords. The book version of Miraz has no idea that they’re plotting against him. Miraz in this movie does, and although he’s definitely not bright enough to realize exactly what they’re doing, by the end of the movie he knows that they’re happy to watch him die.

Pierfrancesco Pavino’s Glozelle, for instance, is barely a person in the book? He shows up to stab Miraz in the back. Here, not only is he not the person who does that, but the movie makes him very uncomfortable with the direction Miraz’s path to power is taking, despite remaining loyal until almost the very end. He’s a complex, conflicted character and I like him. 

And also noticeable is Damian Alcazar as Sopespian, a guy who doesn’t like Miraz, but is no more likable because of it. Because he’s obviously not doing it for any sense of the greater good, he’s doing it because he wants that power for himself. I don’t think anyone mistakes his motives or thinks of him as a secret good guy at any point in the movie, which I think speaks to the actor’s performance.

Liam Neeson is Aslan. He does great, though he really doesn’t have that many lines. Which is part of the point, that he’s not there for most of the movie, so it works, I think.

Also Tilda Swinton’s in this movie. There is some justification for it, but I think it was because she loved being in the first movie, and they loved having her in it, so they just brought her back.

I like fantasy movies with lots of action and sword fights and cool design choices. So no, Prince Caspian isn’t that faithful of an adaptation of the source material (though it’s more faithful than people give it credit for), and I do get frustrated with character arcs--mostly Peter’s. But I still really love this movie, and I have tons of fun every time I watch it.

[indecentpause]

Let’s see if my taglist works yet!

Taglist: @klywrites @reeseweston @abalonetea @roselinbooks @harehearts   @lynnafred @riftversus @ramblingrubyred @rosella1356 @shmoo92 @reininginthefirewriting @kdaziz @theforgottencoolkid @ohlooksheswriting @musicismymoirail @pen-for-sword @esbarrison-author @thewordsinthesky-andstars

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!! This is probably what I’ll be posting most of right now. :)

---

The apartment is… not exactly a mess, but it’s definitely at least chaotic neutral. The three cats from the picture wind around Josselin’s feet and he crouches down to pet and hug them.

“Feel free to look around,” Josselin says.

By the TV are two taxidermied cats, one fluffy and gray and one short haired and white, one on each side. Above the TV is a shelf with a huge, ridiculously tacky, noticeably empty vase with sunflowers on it, and a small, sharp-toothed skull on either side. Did… he keep the cats’ skulls, too?

Your stomach turns a little, unsettled, but it fades when you hear Josselin, near the door, baby-talking one of the cats. He’s nice. You can tell he’s nice. He’s just eccentric, and hey, when you end up headfirst in a hyperfixation, you can be pretty eccentric, too. You’re no one to judge.

As he settles the cats down, you look at one of the bookshelves that take up most of the wall. A couple of tchotchkes here and there, but the books are what really catch your attention. Eddie Izzard’s autobiography. A number of books on anatomy and physiology. Some very advanced science textbooks. A James Harriot book. At least a dozen books about the Zelda games, from game guides to histories to biographies of the creators to art books. Something called ‘The Cinderella Complex’. Books of sheet music for the violin. Tons of things that could be fiction or nonfiction, you don’t know, because you’ve never even heard of most of these before.

“Would you like to meet the cats?”

You turn and smile at the flat-faced white and gray cat in his arms.

“This is Old Man,” he says, “because even as a young cat, he had an old grumpy face. Always let him sniff you before you touch him, even if he knows you, or he will swipe at you.” Josselin opens his arms and Old Man jumps to the floor. He picks up another cat, black with a little bit of white on her chest.

“This is Familiar. She’s gross because she loves the trash for some reason. I don’t know why. Even when there’s no food scraps she still wants to get in there. I got a lid and put it in a cabinet and got a baby lock but she still figures it out. I love her but she’s stinky and too clever for her own good. She needs a lot of baths, but don’t worry, I won’t bother you with it.”

Familiar paws at Josselin’s face and his nose wrinkles. He lets her tumble to the ground, then crouches by the gray tabby by his feet.

“This is Crackerjack,” he says, gently stroking her ears. “She’s an ex feral cat, so she’s very loud, but also a little skittish, so if you do move in, just give her space and she’ll come to you when she’s ready. Never try to pick her up unless it’s an emergency. She hates it. I learned that the hard way.” He tugs the collar of his shirt to the side to show a few old claw marks that settled into scars.

You wince. “Oof.”

Josselin smiles and pulls his shirt back into place. “She’s actually really sweet. She just didn’t know me yet.”

For a few awkward moments, the two of you just stand there, looking at each other. Finally, you point at one of the skulls and ask, “So… who’s that?”

Josselin lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s Mom!”

You blanch. “The skull is… your mom?”

Josselin’s eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs. “Oh, of course, I thought you meant the urn! Sorry. The skulls belong to the two kitties by the TV. The urn in the middle has my mom’s ashes.”

It’s an urn, and now you feel terrible for thinking it’s tacky, even though you didn’t say it aloud.

Josselin stands and gestures you forward. “Here, I’ll show you the kitchen.”

It’s completely different from the living room. It’s spotless. Nothing is out of place, no dishes in the sink.

“I never cook,” Josselin says. “I always order delivery. You’re welcome to anything in here, as long as you wash it when you’re done. The last thing we need is Familiar getting into the dishes, too.”

“That’s fair,” you say. You can’t expect someone else to clean up after you. You’re an adult, after all.

He leads you back into the living room and points up at one of the ceiling corners. Your gaze follows his finger to a little black box.

“I do have two cameras in here,” he says. “Not in the second bedroom, not in the bathroom. But in here and in my bedroom, because I’ve had roommates steal from me before. It’s nothing against you, or anyone new who comes to visit, it’s just.”

He trails off and you finish. “You want to be safe.”

Josselin nods, a little too hard, a little too long. A stim, maybe? After a few seconds he pauses and shakes his head, as if coming back into himself.

He shows you the second bedroom, reassures you there’s a lock on the door and no cameras. It’s not a huge room, but it’s definitely big enough for one, and there’s even a mattress in the corner already. You point over at it, about to ask, but Josselin says,

“You can move it out if you need to. I have a storage unit. Right now I just use it for guests so they can be more comfortable.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth. Curl your fingers in and flick them out, rub your thumb against the spinner ring. Josselin hasn’t hidden anything from you. Maybe you’re not friends yet, but you can trust him, at least with vague facts of your life.

“I was actually going to ask if I could use it until I can get one of my own,” you say. “I’ve been living out of a motel for the past two weeks, and it’s getting kind of desperate.” You swallow and he turns to you, eyebrows hiked high. “You don’t have to,” you stumble to add. “I understand if you don’t want me to. I just thought I’d ask, if you’re not using it anyway--”

“Of course.” Josselin smiles warmly. He’s bouncing his leg on the ball of his foot again. “Say no more. Do you need help moving your stuff?”

A wry smile. “I haven’t said I’m taking it yet.”

“But you are,” he says, simple, straightforward, matter of fact. “You said yourself. You’re desperate and I have a bed, and you don’t seem to hate me.”

A laugh bursts from your chest, happy and bright. He frowns tilts his head.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you grin. “I think you’re pretty okay.”

Josselin nods again, still too adamantly. “Well, I think you’re great.”

[florenceandthemachine]

soft eddie prompt? you got it! sleepy eddie???? just sleepy eddie, i don’t care what u do but i just want sleepy tactile eddie and i want him to get all the love and appreciation he deserves

Anonymous said:

How about soft sleepy Eddie, early in a morning with Buddie and Christopher either still asleep or at a sleepover???

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE YALL

please enjoy 1.5k of soft, sleepy, touch starved Eddie. 

some things never sleep on AO3

Tuesdays, by far, were Buck’s favorite days.

Tuesdays were the magical days where Buck and Eddie were both off shift.

Tuesdays were the wonderful days where Chris had a late start at school.

Which meant, best of all, the best thing in the world—

Tuesdays were days that Buck and Eddie got to sleep in.

Buck had learned, very early in their relationship—before they had said the L word, before they had moved in together, and before Buck had the familiar weight of an engagement ring on his finger—that there were very few things that Eddie valued more than he and Christopher. And that made him all warm and fuzzy inside, sure.

But sleep… well, Buck was well aware that for Eddie, sleep was a close second.

Buck honestly had never had a relationship before where “sleeping together” actually meant falling asleep in a bed together and waking up together before it meant fucking, but that definitely wasn’t the only way that Eddie was a first for him. Honestly, though, Buck wouldn’t change it for the world.

He got to wake up every morning with Eddie, secure in his arms (and god, that had blown his mind, when Eddie had mentioned in a way that very much was not as subtle as Eddie had hoped, that if Buck ever wanted to be the big spoon, well, he would be okay with that).

Eddie liked being the little spoon. Who would have fucking thought it?

Buck knew himself pretty well—he knew that while he was a very, very physically affectionate person, it was unlikely that he was going to get that same amount of affection back in a relationship, especially in any of his relationships with men. And don’t get him wrong, he loved any skin on skin contact with Eddie, but not enough to risk jeopardizing their tentative friendship, or beginning of a relationship, with the amount of hugs and affection he preferred.

He should have known he didn’t have to worry about that—as soon as Eddie had deemed him a safe source of tired cuddling, he became the first person that Buck sought out when he was feeling even moderately tired, resting his head against the space in between Buck’s shoulder blades, using any part of him as a pillow, regardless of where they were or which teammates were watching.

(“Buck, no one's concerned about the cuddling.” Hen had told him one night, while Eddie was batting away at something in the gym with Chim, and he and Hen were tossing cards around on one of the collapsable tables. “Honestly, the only issue comes when you're both on different shifts. He turns into grumpy cat. It’s annoying.”

“You know who grumpy cat is?”

“That is not the point, Buck.”)

As much as Eddie loved sleep, Buck loved waking up even more. Waking up meant he got to press kisses against Eddie’s neck, got to tighten his arms around Eddie’s waist, got to witness first hand the half hour between sleep and full alertness where Eddie was… well, where he was adorable. Not that Buck would ever admit that.

No, he would take that secret to his grave.

When they had first gotten together, Buck had actually assumed that Eddie was a morning person. He was up with the sun, almost every morning. He could go from asleep to awake in a frighteningly short amount of time. He didn’t even need coffee to get his day going—he could literally just open his eyes and roll out of bed.

Buck thought, more or less, that Eddie was at least part android.

The first time things had changed was also the first time that Eddie had a nightmare while Buck was over, weirdly enough. One moment, Buck had been on his back, with Eddie curled up against his side, using his chest as a pillow while Buck flipped through the last few pages of his book, the next, Eddie was ramrod straight, his breathing tight and labored, body a weird combination of stiff and shivering.

Worse than the nightmare, though, was how Eddie acted when it was over. The flailing, okay, the initial shout, that was fine, but having Eddie crying? Telling Buck that it was okay for him to go, that he deserved someone less broken? Well, that was un fucking acceptable, and he made that point more than clear when he wrapped Eddie in his arms and dove back into bed.

(“You make me feel safe.” Eddie had confessed after his tear tracks had dried, lying on Buck’s chest, barely audible over the steady sound of the Santa Ana winds against the window. “I just… I feel safe when you hold me like this, when I’m in your arms.” Buck hadn’t responded—hadn’t needed to—he just tightened his hold on the other male, face buried in Eddie’s shorter hair.)

The next morning was the first time that Buck had ever woken up before Eddie, and he took extreme advantage of it—he kissed every inch of Eddie’s head and neck he could get to, he tightened his arms around Eddie’s middle, he made all sorts of adorable noises against Eddie’s mop of hair while sun spilled in through the window.

If Buck had known what he would be encouraging—nay, unleashing—he would have done this all so much sooner.

-

Buck was still, regularly, the first to wake up. And Eddie’s hair may have been shorter now, but that didn’t mean Buck couldn’t nuzzle into it whenever he woke up.

All of the other physical affection, though… that came from Eddie, even in sleep.

Eddie was a fucking koala.

It didn’t matter how they fell asleep—side by side, chest to chest, curled in with one another, hell, even when they were in separate bunks in the station—Buck almost always woke up with Eddie completely tangled up with him, wether it was just holding Buck’s arms with his own and looping their legs together, or finding himself completely wrapped up in Eddie’s limbs, nose buried in the hollow of Buck’s neck or the dip right in Buck’s collarbone.

The nights where they fell asleep chest to chest were the absolute worst, though; not because Buck didn’t like waking up with Eddie’s lips in kissing distance, because Eddie madE the saddest, sleepiest, little pouts when Buck tried to wake him up. It was nearly impossible to actually get to work on time when he had an Eddie in his arms that looked like he was about to cry if Buck actually wanted them to both join the land of the living.

Because worse than Eddie’s clingy fucking octopus tendencies—

(as if any of that was actually a bad thing)

—was that when it came to getting up, Eddie was a fucking child.

Like, a bigger child than Chris.

“Come on, Eds, we gotta get up.” Buck murmured, lips pressing along Eddie’s temple, settling right at the center of his forehead as Eddie let out a whine.

“I know, you big baby.” Buck tried again, with no heat in his voice, as Eddie let out a string of unintelligible curses and buried his face in Buck’s throat.

He tossed the blankets off of them, feeling Eddie grip around his waist even tighter, feeling oddly pleased with himself as Eddie groaned into his skin, finally working on real words. “Buck, noooo. It’s Tuesday. We sleep on Tuesdays.”

“I know we do, Eddie,” Buck started, finally working himself into a sitting position, Eddie melting down the front of his body until Buck’s lap became a pillow, Eddie’s arms easily wrapping around his middle.

Buck sighed as he rubbed along Eddie’s back, kissing his head as he leaned over and playfully swatted his flank, grinning at the surprised groan he got in response. “You gotta let me go so I can make breakfast. I’ll make your favorite waffles, but I gotta get started on them now.”

“You can’t leave, Buck, I’m your fiancé. That’s not fair. Fuck the waffles.”

Oh, it was a ‘fuck breakfast’ kind of morning.

“Eds—”

“I don’t want waffles, I just want you.”

Damn it, Buck knew he was going to regret it, but he had to look at Eddie’s face, the sad sounds only amplified by the image of Eddie rubbing his eyes, looking legitimately like he was about to cry.

Buck had fallen for that many, many times before. And he probably would fall for it many, many times in the future.

Finally cracking under pressure, Buck resorted to the big guns, his voice low and slow as he laced his arms beneath Eddie’s. He alternated between speaking and kissing where he could, pulling the other male into a sitting position, more or less in Buck’s lap. “Cmon, Eds. I’ll tell you what. Let’s get up, get Chris some breakfast, go for a nice walk along the greenbelt he loves, drop him off at school, and then we can spend the entire afternoon wrapped up with one another on the couch. You can take a nap, I’ll let you pass out on me, and I’ll order out for dinner so I don’t have to get up before Chris comes home with Carla.”

Buck really hated using Chris against Eddie like that, but it was the easiest way to get Eddie to pretend to be a functioning adult in the moments between sleep and a fully-oxygenated brain. He almost thought that he won their regular battle when Eddie finally leaned back against his chest with a happy sigh, tilting Buck’s head down for an easy, good morning kiss, eyes heavy and half lidded. And fuck, Eddie was always beautiful, but there was something about him in the early morning, soft and pliable and so loving that made Buck’s heart fucking ache, especially in the —where Eddie opened hs mouth and really just put the final nail in the coffin.

“I love you, Evan soon-to-be-Diaz.”

(It was another twenty minutes before they left the bed.

Buck had absolutely no regrets.)

[creamykaspbrak]

Your hippie au is: ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ can we get some hc’s

you absolutely can !! tho this is also @himbotozier au so i cannot take all the credit (:

- richie has long curly hair that comes down to his shoulders. sometimes he’ll tie it up in a little bun that’s more messy than it actually is practical but mostly he just leaves it down and eddie loves pushing it back off his face when theyre kissing or just kinda gazing at each other lovingly 

- richie has a cat called hash brown!!! its a little ginger munchkin cat that looks permanently grumpy, even when its purring or sleeping curled up on eddie’s lap having its ears scratched. but richie rescued it from a shelter and its been hanging out with him ever since.

- you’ll have to thank @sweetheartkaspbrak for this one, but richie drinks so much kombucha. he believes that it cures nearly all illnesses and refuses to take any medicine bc if he has his ‘booch (yes, he calls it ‘booch and it makes eddie want to die every. single. time he says it) he will be cured of all ailments.

- richie is the hugest conspiracy theorist ever. he refuses to drive through big cities in case the government hacks his radio and can tell where he’s driving and when eddie asks him whats he’s done thats so bad he’s worried the government is tracking him he just frowns deeply. again, he refuses to own a smart phone for that exact same reason. the only means of contact people have with him is through a hotmail email that he only uses at public libraries. 

- richie’s style is ,,, something else. he owns 8 pair of harem pants and they are the only trousers he’ll wear. he also owns a bunch of bandanas that he uses to keep his hair off of his face. and, of course, birkenstocks. his very own pair of jesus sandles. when he grows his facial hair out for a little too long, stan calls him weed’s answer to christianity. yes he does wear socks with sandles.

- but also !! bare foot richie rights. generally he only wears his sandles if he has to and instead insists on walking barefoot everywhere. he even drives barefoot. eddie’s worried he’s going to hurt his feet or smtn but richie brushes it off bc he literally has feet like a hobbit. eventually, eddie makes him clean them off every night before he goes to bed bc it starts to be just a little fucking gross.

- ofc richie is a big druggie in this au. lsd, shrooms, weed, the whole shibang. but i think he’s probably pretty chill about it and doesn’t pressure eddie to do it with him until he’s one hundred percent ready. he’s usually just happy to have someone looking out for him while he trips.