#oh and stitch markers

[no-tengo-ojos]

I lose hair pins like Arthur Lester loses loved ones (frequently and tragically)

[anadorablekiwi]

I have been crocheting a lot lately

And I have a purple stitch marker I use to save my spot so it doesn't unravel when I'm not working on it

But while I am working on it if I set it down I will lose it. So I hook it on my rock necklace (a soft rope chain with a net I can put a rock or gemstone in, and a bead on top to keep it in place)

And I proceed to forget about it when I actually set the crochet project down.

So I decided that Eli (my oc) wears one as well and does the same thing. And I drew the necklace :3

[alienducky]

I can only fit three teef on the lower jaw, but damn if they aren't cute teef!

I'll try to fit another in on the top jaw, but I don't think I'll be able to. He really is baby!

[tereghan]

The Setup: Somewhere in this pile of laundry there is a pair of pants that have stitch markers in the pocket, because I stashed them in there sometime this week.

[iwishtoreportaburglary]

artistic hubris is absolutely biting my ass right now

[ratbugs]

it only gets infiniter

The infinite knit

Should be a long skirt, if I ever finish it. there is a 35% chance, which is pretty good I think.

[poge-life]

𝕍𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝔽𝕒𝕚𝕣 ~ 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕪

“ I’m (y/n) (l/n) and we’re the cast of Outer Banks and today, we’re going to test how well we know each other.” You smiled looking between the camera and the group to your left. Carlacia raised her hand as she motioned between you and Drew, “Drew shouldn’t be allowed to answer any of these because none of us will even have a chance.”

Everyone let out sounds of agreement as you shook your head, reading the first question, “I don’t know. These are questions that made me think about my answer.”

“Okay, oo. This is a good one. What movie animal is my dog named after?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this.” Drew told you but you shook your head in disagreement, “I’ve mentioned it before but I think it was when you guys first met him.”

“The adventures of Milo and Otis?” Chase asked and Madison agreed but you shook your head. Both Austin and Drew leaned forward to try and read the car but you quickly pulled away, tucking the card against your chest, “Cheaters!”

“What movie has a dog named Milo in it?”

“Oh! The mask! His dogs name is Milo!” Rudy answered and you flipped your card, showing ‘The Mask’, “I’m a huge Jim Carrey fan and since Milo is also a jack russell, it was fate.”

“Oo, you guys are never going to get this one,” you laughed, reading the card, “it literally took me so long to even think about this one. When I was 5, I jumped off the banister and had to get stitches. Where were the stitches?”

Everyone looked over at Drew, who would be the only one to remotely know the answer but he just tilted his head at you in thought.

“Your head?” Madelyn asked but you shook your head, “Nope. My sister did though. Cracked her head open.”

“How are you and your sister still alive?” Austin asked, looking at you in surprise as you shrugged before writing your answer on the card.

“Your legs?” JD asked, snapping his fingers at you

“Nope. Not even close.”

Drew clapped his hands once as he looked over at you, “Your tongue. You bit through your tongue and had to get 6 stitches.”

“Your tongue?!?” Madison asked, looking over at you in shock as you flipped your card, showing the answer, “Yes. I smacked my chin on the arm of the couch and bit right through my tongue. My tongue was stuck and I had to get stitches.”

“You just need to live in a bubble at this point, girl.” Carlacia laughed as everyone agreed with her.

“What do I think is the grossest thing a person can do?”

“THROWING UP!” Drew and JD shouted at the same time as they high fived. You cringed as you showed your card that read ‘throwing up’ as the answer.

“I hate throwing up. I hate the way I feel before, during, and after. It’s just so gross and gives me the ick.” You shuddered as Austin patted your leg, “The first time she threw up in front of us, she cried because of how grossed out she was.”

“That was traumatizing for all of us,” Rudy explained, “we were out on a boat and she just went very pale and threw up. Everywhere. We had no idea what had happened and then she just started bawling her eyes out. We all started panicking, thinking something was wrong but then she said how she hated throwing up and it just…it killed the whole vibe.”

You chucked the marker cap at Rudy, who ducked but went to retrieve it, “Sorry that being seasick killed the vibe, dillhole.”

Letting out a laugh at the nest question, you looked over at Drew and shook your head, “you’re not allowed to answer this one. You’ll get the answer right away.”

“I’ve known all of these, baby,” he winked and your face went red as you hid it behind the card, “just trying to give them a chance.”

“You guys gross me out.” Madelyn teased, looking between you two

“What is my favorite show to binge?” You asked, but you wrote down two possible answers.

“That 70s show is one.” Chase answered, “I always hear the theme song in your trailer and you quote it constantly.”

“You also watch the walking dead a lot too.” JD added, pointing to Chase, “you yell at your laptop a lot.”

“Dude, you have no idea how long it took me to get used to her yelling at the tv.” Drew told him, “the first time she did it, I thought she was pissed at me for no reason but she was just watching the walking dead.”

Everyone started talking about how into your shows you get, causing you to hold up your hands in protest, “Okay, okay! There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about movie and tv shows. But yes, that 70s show and the walking dead are my go to.”

“Two complete opposite shows, by the way.” Madison pointed out

“Oo, how many tattoos do I have?”

Everyone went quiet as they stared at you, no doubt picturing the tattoos that laid under your clothes. You had been purposely asked to wear a long sleeve top and pants to not let them get the answer so easily.

“I wanna say…12?” Carlacia asked, tilting her head at you, “Most of them are on your right arm but I know you have a few on your left. You have the fairy wings on your back…”

“I know you have a dinosaur on your leg because I drew a hat on it last week.” Austin answered, causing you to look up from writing your answer, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “you drew a hat on Terrance?”

“You named the dinosaur Terrance?” JD laughed as you nodded, “Terrance the triceratops.”

“Terry, for short.” Drew added, pointing at you as you nodded

“I wanna say 10 or 15.” Madison said, leaning forward, “I know you got P4L after season 2 came out.”

“You only had like 2 when the show started.”

“There’s a few you guys don’t know about cause they’re always covered.” You told them, going over your answer. Drew didn’t even miss a beat with his response, “Well, they don’t. But I do.”

“Okay! Who’s next?!”

[lavenderchqn]

"CAT-LIKE CUDDLES"

synopsis — after the longest day, you finally get to retire home. said situation allows your partner to discover a new side of you. pairing — wanderer x gn! reader (established romantic relationship) warnings — no warnings! just fluff! requested? — requested by anon! notes — scara being able to crochet just clicks in my brain beautifully.

By the time you get home, it’s completely dark outside. Today has been ridiculed with far too much overtime for a singular person. 

The first thing you do is head straight to the bathroom and take a well-deserved shower. At the very least you’ll feel less guilty tomorrow, having taken care of yourself the day prior. Who cares about being productive after that mess of a day. 

As you slowly open the door to your bedroom you’re greeted with your partner already lying in bed, crocheting yet another cat plushie. 

“Holy shit, you look dead.” He says, taking one of the earbuds out. You can only nod in agreement, faceplanting into the mattress.

“How’s the cat coming along?” You poke its crocheted ear, looking at Wanderer with tired eyes.

“Fine. I’m liking this yarn.” He puts a stitch marker in before leaving his creation to be completed for the next day. “I’m going to wash up, go sleep if you’re that tired.”

You only respond by flipping yourself under the blanket, becoming a human version of a burrito. 

By the time Wanderer gets back, you’re out like a light. Your side table lamp is still on, and your phone is not charging. At the very least your blanket still lays on top of your body. 

“Might as well charge it…” He knows you’ll appreciate it. You always do. No matter how much he tries to be sly with his actions, it seems as if you have a sixth sense just for finding stuff he did for you and being thankful for it. 

With this little act of kindness, he’s ready to retire for the night. The lights are now off, allowing him to peacefully fall asleep. 

And yet soon after he’s awake. It’s not noisy outside, he didn’t forget to do anything today… It’s just that… 

He has no sense in his right arm, not to mention he can’t move it for some reason. 

Trying to assess the situation, he lights up the lamp finally getting a good look at the culprit of the current situation. You’re the one who has claimed ownership of his arm — cuddled into it as if your life depended on how close you can be to him.

“Come on, give it up.” Wanderer tries his best to wiggle his arm out, to no avail. By the second it’s free, you gain ownership of it again… akin to that of a tiny kitten. “What the hell is up with you, you’re never clingy.” 

Now that he thinks about it, you’ve never been the one to cuddle him while asleep. Your affection would typically show itself in kind words or time spent together – never in physical touch. 

It seems as if your energy battery has run so dry, that you reset to factory settings or something.

All Wanderer can do is sigh, as he allows you to snuggle into his forearm. Turning around to turn the lamp off, his eyes land on the sleeping cat he’s been crocheting recently. 

Oh, he’s going to tease you to hell and back tomorrow. Might as well start calling you a snuggly kitten, if you keep this display of affection up. 

date of posting — july 3rd 2024 wave divider by @saradika-graphics

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 29

Chapter 29 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, the 118 is forced to deal with Interim Captain Han, as well as a domestic terrorist. Eddie specifically has to deal with both, on top of his worried mother. Then his world is rocked as an explosion pins Buck down, his life hanging in the balance.

On AO3.

Ship: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: emotionally abusive parents, injury, minor character death mention, near death experience

~~~

Chapter 29: A Hit Close to Home

After the upheaval of Doug, everything has slowly been going back to normal. Maddie is living in her apartment by herself and going into work while having a normal social life. Chimney is back to work with all his stitches out and his normal jokes.

The one big thing, both Eddie and Buck missed. Everyone had been taken into custody over a bank robbery that occurred on the night both of them had taken off to go to parent-teacher night. If Buck was honest, he was kind of sad he missed it, because a bank robbery is kind of cool, but Eddie rightfully pointed out that having police invade their home and question them about their private life would have been bad, so he considers himself lucky.

And he considers himself doubly lucky when the whole thing causes Bobby to be suspended for what they found. He and Eddie wouldn’t have fared better under the magnifying glass and the fact that they barely managed to get off scot free feels like a reminder from the universe that it can explode in their face at any moment.

On top of that, Chimney is the most horrible Interim Captain. After that first shift, he and Eddie get in the car and sit there silently for a second, just staring out the front window. When a few seconds of silence have passed, Buck tentatively says: “Was it just me or was that…”

“…Excessively horrible?” Eddie finishes when he trails off.

“Uh, yeah,” Buck snorts.

“It totally was. Bobby needs to come back, right now. I think I will have to accidentally break a leg or something to get away from him if this last any longer,” Eddie says, sounding almost panicked.

Buck completely agrees, but he can’t help, but laugh at how horrified Eddie sounds at the idea of having Chim as their Captain for longer. He snorts: “Please don’t get injured, I’ll have to listen to you being grumpy about it, but I get the sentiment.”

“Hey, I’m not grumpy,” Eddie squawks.

Buck can only raise a brow at him in reply.

“Oh shut up,” Eddie pouts, before prodding him. “And start driving, otherwise Chim might spot us and make us do gear inspections.”

“We’re off the clock,” Buck points out, even when he does as told.

“I don’t think he cares.”

The next shift isn’t much better and when they’re home for their day off, feeling beat from the work day with Chimney and frustrated with their lack of Captain, Buck suddenly gets up and says: “I’m going to talk to Bobby, see if there is anything we can do. This can’t go on.”

“Smart plan,” Eddie says immediately getting up. “I’ll come too.”

“No, no, we need to play it smart,” Buck says, looking around before grabbing a blank piece of paper, which is part of Chris’s drawing stack, and one of his colorful markers. He writes as he talks: “I don’t know if there is anything we can do, but Bobby is probably doing nothing. Now, I think that if we all show up independently and complain – I mean, we can definitely get Hen in on this, maybe some of the others – then Bobby will feel an urgency and…”

Buck continues to plan the demise of Captain Han as Eddie watches fondly. He’s pretty sure planner Evan is what Hen and Chimney refer to as Clipboard Buck. He hasn’t met that version of him at work yet, but he doesn’t get what the others complain about. Planner Evan is helpful and it’s dorky in a fun way. Very Buck. Eddie doesn’t mind him, he quite likes his company in fact.

So, he just listens along as Buck lays out a plan to get Bobby to push to be reinstated so that Captain Han can become their Chimney again.

Indeed over the following days, Eddie also makes his way over to Bobby’s house, even when he told Buck they couldn’t do anything, and he knows Buck talked Johnson and Kelly into it as well. Plus, Hen went on her own too.

It hasn’t worked yet, but they hold out hope and bitch about Chimney together in the meantime.

They answer to a call from a chocolate factory, which is an interesting call and Eddie can’t believe Chim called Bobby for that; a bombed porch, which is wild, they haven’t responded to anything that might need a bomb squad since Eddie’s first day; and a car crash where a woman dies, which Chimney seems to take harder than usual now that he’s responsible for it as Captain.

Despite how much they hate Captain Han, all of them are a little more subdued and obedient for the rest of the shift, feeling how Chimney sags under the weight.

Chimney is quieter all day too and he doesn’t speak to anyone when he leaves at the end. All of them automatically look at Hen after Chimney’s dejected back has disappeared into the parking lot. Hen gives them all a comforting look and says: “I’ll talk to him.”

None of them know what Hen said to him, but the next shift he’s more bearable and they all let out a sigh of relief.

However, with a tentative new balance in the workplace, there is still a threat outside of it. The porch bomb they answered isn’t the only one and it seems the whole of LA is in the grip of this terrorist. No one expects to be hit and LA is a big city, but him and Buck are both a little nervous regardless, a feeling that is seemingly shared by most people they run into, which is quite high given the nature of their job. They answer to a lot of false alarms.

The people in LA aren’t the only ones, who are worried. It’s a day or so after that second bomb went off, that his mom calls.

“Thank God you are alive,” she greets him.

“Mom, I texted you yesterday,” Eddie replies, a little confused. Sending Buck a look, who just frowns back. They’d been doing their taxes, a chore they had been putting off, when the phone went, so he’s across from Eddie, piles of paper still between them.

“And anything could have happened in that time,” Helena tells him. “I want to speak to Chris, know that he’s okay.”

“Chris is at school. It’s Wednesday.”

“You let him go to school! With a maniac planting bombs on the lose?”

“All the attacks have been residential buildings so far. Homes. He’s safer at school than here when you think about it,” Eddie says, trying to be patient.

“He’s not safe anywhere in that city. You never should have moved there,” Helena berates him.

Eddie knows Buck can hear her just fine with the volume she’s speaking at, even when she isn’t on speaker. So, he makes eye contact and makes a frustrated expression as makes a choking something gesture with his free hand. Being so far from them for so long, makes it easier to be upset.

Buck snorts softly, before holding out his hand with a cocked head, asking if Eddie needs him to take over.

He shakes his head no, before he answers: “Mom, you know you’re overreacting. You’re not calling tía Pepa to tell her to uproot her life and move back, are you?”

“She’s not my child. And she’s an adult.”

“I’m an adult,” Eddie reminds her.

Helena makes a bristling sound, as if she finds that notion ridiculous. “You’re barely twenty-seven, you’re still practically a baby.”

“No, I’m already twenty-seven, I’ve been an adult for nearly a decade. Just because you don’t treat me like one, doesn’t mean you’re right. I can make decisions for myself just fine.”

“And what about Christopher, huh?” his mom switches gears when her first plan of attack doesn’t work. “If you want to be a man so bad, then what about your son? Is it the responsible thing to do to stay in a city where there is a terrorist running around?”

Eddie blood boils and he walks out of the room to take the arguing away from Buck, sending him a short look to communicate he shouldn’t follow as he retreats to his room. Already on the walk there, he’s snapping: “It’s nothing to move over. Everywhere dangerous things can happen. Didn’t you have a tornado warning there just last week?”

“That’s just the weather, not someone with bombs! And it turned out to be nothing.”

“This might also turn out to be nothing.”

“It’s a bomb, not a cloud, Edmundo. You’re not stupid, you know it’s not the same. Move back, El Paso has fires too.”

“I can’t just move back, mom,” Eddie says hotly. “It’s not that simple, I’m still a probationary firefighter. I’m so close to earning my shield. You want me to just throw away the last year of my life?”

His mom is silent and that is almost more telling than her words. Eddie lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping from a defensive stance to a defeated sag. “Right, of course. That’s exactly what you want me to do.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. We just want to be in Chris’s life, see him grow up. Safe. You’re paying for help we could provide for free, allow you to save up, give Chris a better life.”

“I won’t uproot him again.”

He hates how his mom can always make him feel like a kid again, like she’s talking down on him, because she knows better and he’s just too young to understand that yet. “Christopher hasn’t been there long enough to put down roots. He spend the first six years of his life in El Paso, with us for a large part.” She says it gently, as if she is explaining something he doesn’t want to hear, but should comprehend.

Angrily, Eddie says: “He spend most of his time when he wasn’t with me with Buck and his mother, actually. And he’s still here with his parents. Where he should be. It’s what’s best for Christopher and he has plenty of roots here. He loves his school, loves this house and loves Carla. I’m not taking that from him, because you’re irrationally scared.”

“It’s not irrational to be scared of a bomber,” she retorts, equally hot headed. All the gentle condescending from early gone in the face of anger.

“It is and you know it. Now, I’m going to hang up and you can call when you actually want to talk instead of fight.” With that he does hang up as fast as he can, before she can reply. He doesn’t pick up when she immediately calls back and ignores the messages that start to come in as he returns to the kitchen, falling into the chair across from Buck with a sigh.

“Rough call?” he grimaces sympathetically.

“You know how she can get. Wants us to move back,” Eddie rolls his eyes, then amends: “Well, she wants Chris to move back, pretty sure the two of us can sink into the shit for all she cares. I mean, don’t you know how irresponsible we are for letting Chris live in the same city as a bomber?”

“Jikes,” Buck hisses at his impression of his mom.

“I know right,” Eddie sighs, sinking over their taxes. He sulks for a second, before taking a breath as he sits back up. “Let’s just do our taxes. Captain Han can still restart his reign of terror and I’d like to get this over with before he sucks out all my energy.”

Buck gets the memo to move on, because Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it, grinning: “Once Bobby is back, we’ll joke about the terrible regime of dictator Han.”

“Bobby isn’t back yet,” Eddie says mock-pointedly, tone showing that he won’t be joking about it until their actual Captain is safely reinstalled.

The dramatics of it all make Buck laugh as he turns back to the paperwork, the rest of the day passing in peace.

That night Eddie does call his mom back so they can talk to Chris. He is still incredibly frustrated with her, but he doesn’t want his mom to actually worry and he will always still love her, even when they make him want to punch something. Though, he only hands over the phone when she promises she won’t talk about the bombings or moving back to El Paso, hovering visibly in the background to ensure she keeps it, since she video calls when it’s Chris.

Luckily for them, she keeps it civil and Chimney doesn’t restart terrorizing them. So, the following days, their shifts and life continue as normal.

The normal they’ve been enjoying gets ruined when dispatch crackles over the radio: “118, 118, this is dispatch. Got Bobby Nash on the line, he says it’s important.”

All of them frown in confusion, sharing looks. It’s not normal for a suspended Captain to suddenly appear on official channels that are reserved for first responders. Whatever must have happened, must certainly be something, but none of them have any idea what it might be.

“Wait, what?” Chimney says confused, picking up the radio to confirm: “Dispatch? Dispatch, please repeat.”

Before dispatch can ever repeat, there is a loud boom and fire flashes behind them. All of them instinctively duck down in their seats, before realizing it’s not them, quickly looking back.

The other engine is upturned. Burning.

Firefighters are lying everywhere, having been tossed around by the explosion.

Fuck, there was an explosion.

Buck.

Buck was in the other engine.

Eddie’s ears are still ringing and his hands suddenly feel numb as he watches firefighter figures move around without being able to identify any of them. He doesn’t panic, but he imagines if he did, it would feel something like this. It’s worse than that day in the restaurant when his papi told him to divorce Buck. Way worse. He could be dead.

He gasps, stumbling over himself as he clambers out of the rig. His shaking hands are something he’ll get under control when he gets to Buck. He just has to get to Buck first and then he can help. Do something. Anything.

A hand gripping the neck of his uniform stops him in his tracks and he whips his head around to glare at Hen. “What the fuck are you doing? Buck was on that engine. He could be hurt.”

“Look,” Hen says, her voice filled with indignant anger and frustration.

Eddie looks again. He’d been so focused on the figures on the floor, trying to read their turnouts to look for the name Buckley, that he hadn’t seen the figure that had appeared between them. The figure wearing a bomb jacket. Suddenly calling his mom irrational feels really ironic.

If Hen hadn’t stopped him, he would have stepped right into his line of sight. For now the rest of them are still hidden behind the other engine, ready to make a move. Eddie wants to make a move now, but he recognizes that whoever the kid with the bomb is, he’ll detonate it before he can get close. And that will definitely hurt Buck, if he isn’t hurt already.

It rubs him wrong to stand there idly as a parameter is set up by police and journalist flood the scene. However, he isn’t paying much attention to it, too focused on scanning the firefighters that are down so he can find Buck.

He can’t see clearly, because they’re all keeping their heads down, since they’re hostages, making them harder to identify. Not to mention the smoke clouding the view.

When he finally does, his breath catches. Buck is under the engine, his leg pinned and heavily injured. Probably a crush injury, those can be tricky, he thinks, hypovolemic shock or hyperkalemia. Fuck, he’s all alone there, with no one to help. Eddie is right there, but he’s fucking stuck, hiding behind the other engine. This is worse than being pinned next to a crashed helicopter, at least then he could act. At least then it wasn’t family.

They all hate it, he can tell Hen and Chim are getting frustrated too, but it’s as if his brain has shut off. All he can do is just stand there and look at Buck and try not to break down.

It’s unfair. It’s so fucking unfair. Buck has always been there, ready to jump in when Eddie needed help and now he needs help and Eddie can only stand there. Again. He hates it. He hates it so much.

“Dispatch, this is Captain 118. What is the play? I’ve got people dying in the street,” Chimney radios when nothing continues to happen.

Eddie flinches slightly at his words, unable to imagine a world where Buck doesn’t live. He already experienced how much it sucks when Buck couldn’t be there every hour, how bad would it be if Buck can’t be there for any hour?

“Hold your position, 118,” comes the reply and Eddie wants to go punch whoever is on the other side making that call.

Before Eddie can do something stupid – like rip the radio out of Chimney’s hand so he can curse out whoever is on their frequency – the bomber starts calling out: “Get me the Captain. Where is the Captain?” One of the firefighters starts to get away and the bomber threatens: “Hey, I told you not to move.”

Chimney is already walking before they can stop him. A part of Eddie is cheering inside, because finally something is happening, but he doesn’t want to see Chimney hurt either. He’s been hurt too often already. Still, if it’ll save Buck, he’ll support it.

“I’m the Captain,” he says, hands in the air to show surrender. “I’m the Captain, so please just let me help them, okay? Please.”

“No. No, I don’t want you. I want Captain Nash.”

Eddie finds himself closing his eyes and turning his face to the heavens. He can’t deal with this right now. He can’t deal with this not being good enough. Buck is whimpering in pain and he’s standing there, frozen, trying to stuff all the feelings back into the box, so they don’t overwhelm him, but every new development is testing him.

Then, as if summoned by his desperation, Bobby’s voice can be heard as he appears from between the fire. “Freddie.” Oh, so that’s the bomber’s name, how does Bobby know that?

“Thought you’d be on the truck,” Freddie, apparently, replies, angry at the news that he wasn’t.

It hits Eddie that Buck was in Bobby’s chair today, because of the suspension. Had that truck not broken, the heist wouldn’t have happened, Bobby wouldn’t have been suspended, and it would have been him, not Buck under that engine.

He thought they’d been lucky, to not have been there that day, but he would have taken being fired and unemployed at home, his parents proven right, over this.

“I’m here now. So, what’s next?” Bobby asks, coming closer, even with his hands raised. “It’s what you wanted.”

“Wanted you dead,” Freddie says and Eddie vindictively thinks, I want you dead.

“I get that, but what about them?” Bobby counters, keeping his cool and gesturing the other injured firefighters. Then he points at Buck and asks: “What about him?”

Eddie wants to scream ‘what are you doing? don’t bring attention to them, to Buck,’ but he stands there frozen as Freddie looks at Buck again.

Bobby continues: “He’s got parents, a sister, friends, people that rely on him. And he never did anything to you. He wasn’t even a firefighter when your father burned down that restaurant.”

It’s such a gross under-representation of who Buck is, of all the people that care about him. Of all the people he cares about. Sure, he has parents, but they suck, but he also is a parent. He’s one of the best goddamn parents Eddie knows. He’s a parent with Eddie. He’s his partner. His co-parent. His husband.

And yes, he knows it isn’t like that, but he longs to yell out that Buck is his fucking husband and this shithead needs to let him go right now, because he can’t do it without him. However, the words get stuck in his throat, the honesty of it too much for Eddie, though he isn’t able to pinpoint why through the despair.

“Collateral damage,” Freddie says, his cold tone cutting through Eddie’s disjointed, desperate thoughts. He knows that tone. That’s the tone of someone, who doesn’t care. Of someone, who has nothing left to lose. Of someone, who will let Buck die.

Without thought, he starts moving forward, ready to fight this Freddie character. He’s had enough, he can’t stand there anymore. He can’t. He needs to act, he needs to help Buck, he needs to punch something.

Hen’s arms appear around him, along with Kelly’s arms, the two of them working to keep him behind the engine as Bobby tries to talk more with Freddie. Eddie isn’t really paying attention to what is being said and he doesn’t know who the lady is. All he knows that at some point, Bobby manages to wrestle the bomber into submission until he can be taken into custody, and that they let him go the second he is.

Eddie is sprinting across the street immediately, sliding down next to Buck without a care for his scraped knees. He should be checking him over, but he can’t focus on anything, hands uselessly trying to push the engine off him.

He only realizes that is not going to help, when Hen drops down next to him, pushing medical equipment in his hands. Mechanically he starts to do what needs to be done, as Hen asks: “Buck, how’re we doing?”

“Kind of numb,” Buck says with a shaky, small voice. Eddie hates that voice.

“Just hang in there,” Eddie manages to push out of his throat. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but it is something. He needs to do something. He can’t just sit there uselessly. He needs to help. He turns the nob he used to turn when he was in the army, forcing himself to become a good little soldier, so he can make it through this.

As they’re working, he tries to distract Buck from what must be a great amount of pain. “You know when I said I would break a leg to get away from Captain Han’s reign of terror, I was joking, you know that right?”

“Fuck off.” It’s weak, but it’s there.

“You actually said that?” Hen asks, sounding amused.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Chimney interjects, before going back to yelling into the radio for backup.

He definitely was, but Eddie doesn’t find it that funny anymore right now. However, it keeps them all distracted as their meager back up files in to come help lift the engine of Buck’s foot.

Everyone seems to realize that Eddie isn’t moving away from Buck’s side. He has gripped his hand tight, even before everyone gets in position, ready to drag him out. Buck grips back equally tight and Eddie hopes that it’s a comfort, because it’s all he can give right now. All he can do to help, until this engine is off him.

But it’s not enough. Not enough people, not enough manpower. Eddie knows he will never forget the way Buck screams as he helplessly tugs at him, praying it will be enough. It has to be enough, but it isn’t

Desperate, he looks up at Bobby, probably looking a mess, eyes red with unshed tears. “Is there anything on the truck we can use for leverage?”

Bobby crushes any hope he has of getting Buck out sooner. “No, we need more people.”

Eddie wants to scream, bite into something and tear it out with his teeth or punch the ground until his knuckles bleed. But Buck is holding his hand. Buck needs him right now. So he stays right there and keeps holding his hand.

He doesn’t have it in himself to be touched by the bystanders, who come in to help. He is grateful to them for helping them get Buck out, but he can’t even think of them. Too focused on Buck, on his screams, on his tight grip on his hand.

Once he’s finally freed, Eddie is only in the way and they all know it, but Buck is still clinging to him and Eddie doesn’t really feel like letting go either. So, he stays attached by his side, sardonically thinking, in sickness and in health, right, as the others get Buck onto a backboard and lifted.

Without any discussion, Eddie goes into the ambulance. Hen and Chimney get in too, everyone knows that Eddie isn’t there as a paramedic right now. He’s the family of the victim. And he’s useless now that Buck is free. The box of stuffed away feelings is about to burst and it takes all his energy to keep it in.

Right now he really misses the normal they’d just returned back to.

~~

A/N:

Eddie liking Clipboard Buck is my Roman Empire, I think it is so iconic of them that they indulge each other and love all the little things. Like, they’ll be a lover for the other, despite the haters <3

(also love that this is my endnote on the Buck explodes chapter lmao)

Also it’s not Shannon in my head, who died at the car crash, but wouldn’t it be fucked if she was and neither Buck nor Eddie saw her, so they just never know?

[obiscribbles]

Week 51 - March 17th, 2024 'Tequila' - The Champs Spotify / YouTube

“Well, our mothers tried to put us in public soccer, but apparently that was too much of a contact sport-“ “That- Anakin, he elbowed you hard enough to make your nose bleed-“ “And you gave him a concussion and sprained wrist, Obi-Wan. So am I wrong?” “Well I- y-you-.” “So, my point made, we were just better for baseball. Obi-Wan even made himself a jersey, wrote a number and his name with marker on the back-“ “Anakin-“ “Hand stitched a dojo patch Sensei Qui-Gon gave him on the side and everything like they sponsored him-“ “Anakin!” “But we couldn’t really afford to be on the baseball teams, so those ratty fields were where we played.” “Hm, we always came home a mess.” “No, you came home a mess, and I came home grinning behind you. Do you still have that shirt?” “Oh, I… wouldn’t know where to even start looking for it.”

Short pieces from the Light Through Liquor AU, which I have spent a lot more time thinking about after watching the Sandlot recently hehe.

Enjoy!

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

One day I'll draw this, but I need to see how you handle this idea too.

So... Yang dressing Ruby up and all for her date with Penny(who is waiting for Ruby with big ass bouquet of roses)

*gasp* Is this a collab?! Haha! I'm kidding. How's it going, Sevi? Always good to hear from you. Yang being Big Daddy sister and getting Ruby ready for a date? Yes, please! You'll have to tag me when you draw your version. I want to see it!

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Ruby: Yaaaaaang... I'm ready. I've been ready for the past ten minutes. Can I please go downstairs now? Penny is waiting.

Yang: (wearing a shirt that says "Best Big Sister" with "> Daddy" written in with permanent marker as she makes a few minor adjustments to Ruby's outfit) And there is absolutely nothing wrong with waiting on a woman, especially when she's trying to look her damn best. Now, (holds up bottle of cologne) hold up your wrists.

Ruby: Yaaaaaang!

Yang: (gives half a spritz on Ruby's wrist before grabbing her wrists, rubbing them together, and pulling them up to wipe the residual cologne on Ruby's neck) There! Perfect! Not too overbearing, fun, but also an aura of maturity, or at least some punk aspect.

Ruby: (looks in the mirror and her jaw drops: a pair of black slacks cover her legs, but shape her calves nicely while somehow accentuating a nonexistent curve of her hip, fancy black leather boots with red stitching adorn her feet, a white dress shirt sits slightly loose on her arms while a deep crimson vest with black thorn vine accents and black lapels covers her torso. A silver chain is slung from the vest pocket to her lapel where her insignia pins the collar. Her hair is properly washed, brushed, and gelled to look suave but tousled enough to be fun. Her usual cloak has been washed and folded just right to wrap around her shoulders and the excess billows slightly off to the side)

Ruby: I take it back. This is amazing! I look like a cooler Uncle Qrow!

Yang: I'm sure Penny will appreciate it. Now, don't keep her waiting any longer! (ushers Ruby out the door)

Ruby: I thought you said waiting on a woman is worth it!

Yang: The lady is waiting on the man in this scenario. Now, move it! (hip checks Ruby out into the hall)

Ruby: (slams face first into the wall) Gah!

Penny: (waiting in the living room with Blake when she sees Ruby) Oh, Ruby, you look amazing!

Ruby: (quickly readjusts herself to try to look cool, but looks like a fumbling idiot) Thanks! You look- uh.....

Penny: (completely hidden behind an enormous bouquet of flowers. The only thing showing is the bottom of her green and white sundress that reaches her knees at the bottom of the bouquet)

Ruby: Uh.... good?

Penny: (face pops through the bouquet of roses with a few scrapes from the thorns) Thank you! Are you ready to go on our date?

Ruby: Uh, yeah! (puts the roses somewhere in the living room and escorts Penny out the door and down the driveway) Don't wait up!

Yang: (leaning smugly against the doorframe) Penny, have my sister back by 9:30, and stay away from Lover's Lane! I don't need to be an aunty yet.

Ruby: Gack!

Penny: I will have Ruby back at 2130 sharp, Ms. Xiao-Long! (turns to Ruby) Ruby, what is Lover's Lane?

Ruby: (mortified) Nothing! Nothing! Let's just go!

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

Flufftober Day 28. Lucky Charm

"Oh, you little fucker."

"You called?" Gerry replied, sticking his head around the corner to peer into the living room, finding Michael on his knees peering under the couch. "What're you looking for?"

"My stitch marker," Michael called to him, slightly muffled by the furniture in the way. "I swear, the second I took my eyes off it, it bailed on me."

"Need a new one?" Gerry offered, ducking to unhook a safety pin from his trousers. "You usually just use one of these, right?" Michael raised his head to give him a look over the cushion. 

"It's not just a safety pin, Gerry," he said mournfully. "It's the safety pin." Gerry raised an eyebrow, and Michael quickly elaborated. "It's the one you gave me on our first date. I've been using it as my stitch marker ever since, and I haven't had any major slipups since." He sighed unhappily, slumping down on the floor. "That was my good luck charm, and your first present to me, and now I've lost it."

"Oh, Michael." It was such a little thing, but Gerry's heart twinged in affection. He'd had no idea that Michael had kept the pin that he'd gifted him in a nervously playful moment, much less that he considered it such a crucial part of his craft. Gerry quickly rehooked his trouser pin and hurried to Michael's side, grabbing the arm of the sofa and shifting it aside. "Does that help?"

Michael immediately squealed and dove forward, snatching up the safety pin so fast that Gerry nearly didn't see it. "Thank you!" he cheered, springing to his feet and kissing him on the cheek. "You're a lifesaver, my love, thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," Gerry laughed, catching Michael's hand and bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed his fingers and then kissed the pin sticking from between them. "Now you can have your luck back." 

[gradientdescent-does-it-all]

Sewing Journal: In Which My Embroidery Projects Become Increasingly Unhinged In Scope, Scale, and Content

Oh boy oh boy, I’m really excited about this one, y’all. After that series of smaller-scale experiments, I’ve finally pulled it all together to set up this fabulously visceral, gory panel by @barbatusart into the embroidery project that I’ll be doing off-camera for the next 2 months of Zoom calls.

In case it’s not clear from the picture, this thing is BIG. Like, 2 feet tall “big”. And although I can generally fit the embroidery frame onto my desk just off-camera, my coworkers have gotten used to knowing I’m always sewing just-offscreen and are in the habit of asking me to show what I’m doing. So I, uh, may need to keep a decoy project on hand to show them. Showing this one to my colleagues may qualify as ‘oversharing’.

If you wanna watch the daily progress pics of this one, I’ll have ‘em up over on the side blog @gradientdescentthreads . And if anyone’s interested in the combination of quilting and applique that went into setting this up, check it out below the cut!

Ok so this project started by slightly editing the original comic panel to pull out just the black and white line art into one layer, and the geometric color blocks into another. The original image used color sparingly so this wasn’t a very difficult task. I then printed both out to the exact same scale; these form the basis for the 2 layers of patterning that went into the overall composition.

Cutting up the print-out of the background was an easy route to a quilting pattern.

…And then, heart-breakingly, I cut up that nice quilt panel, using the paper print-out of the foreground as a template. Taking the lessons I learned from my smaller test projects, I used double-sided iron-on interfacing both to reinforce the fabric as well as attach it to the white underlayer cleanly. Then I got busy with a washable marker and a light box to trace the design. Finally, since the colored fabric was too dark for me to see through the light box, I printed out one final version of the design onto Stick-n-Stitch and overlaid it onto the red and black areas.

Why not save the time and just use Stick-n-Stitch for the entire design, you ask? Well, purely personal preference, but I feel like hand-tracing a complicated design helps me understand it better, kind of a dry run for rendering it in thread next. And also drawing those big gnarly teeth is just FUN.

[ltsmoving]

uuuhhhh medical malpractice below the cut btw wabughhhh and gore and surgeryyy

I got CARRIED AWAYYYY BYEEEE

hi I would LOVE to be someone's (many peoples actually) little fucked up doctor By The Way. playing the part of a sweet medical professional only interested in the betterment of your health, but of course that's not really the case.

You've been having pains in your hand and wrist? Oh dear, it's good you came to the clinic so soon! I'll patch you up, good as new, poor thing.

Having you take a seat in a chair for surgery and taking a seat opposite you while you're upright. Feeling along your wrists, palms, fingers, working gently and applying pressure- checking for where it hurts and making sure to press the hardest in the places you tell me it hurts most just to hear you whine.

I lean your chair back slightly and ready you for a deeper examination, I'll spare you the anthroplasty job as much as the thought excites me. No, these pains are simply sore muscles that will fade with time and a few hand exercises, but you knew what to expect when you came here with an ailment.

I'm ever so curious about your hands, I can't stop watching how they twitch and writhe, your visible heartbeat at multiple points where your veins are so delightfully close to the surface. I only want a closer look today, nothing fancy. Hell, you were so good during the first half, I'll let you have some anaesthesia. I find my patients are happiest after getting a treat, after all.

Once your hand is thoroughly numbed, I press and prod with first my fingers, then my fingernails around your wrist, before I start my incisions with my scalpel, completely free-hand. I know I don't have long before the anaesthetic will lose its potency, so I work somewhat faster than I usually would without numbing.

First, I look at your radial artery in your wrist, watching how it throbs and twitches. I run my free hand down its length and smile at you. It would mean so much to me to sever that artery, but why would I punish such a sweet thing who's been so co-operative?

I spend the next few minutes opening and sewing shut little holes in the thin flesh of you hands, with my last stop being at your knuckles.

I can see by the way you're starting to squirm a lot more in your seat that the pain is slowly coming back to you, that or you're loving the sight as much as I am. They're such cute little bones, I'm sure the joints between the medial and distal phalanges are much cuter, but the largest ones I can only think would make such an adorable pendant.

I'm shaken from my thoughts as you tap my shoulder lightly. Our time has run out, it seems. I sew you up and offer you some pain killers to take while your new stitches heal up. I'm about to dismiss you before I stop, thinking about how I had gone over the promised time and put you through some unnecessary pain. so, I let you pick a second treat- a piece of candy of your choice.

Before you leave, I take your stitch-spangled palm into my hand and etch a small mark above your index knuckle with a marker pen. That one's mine.

So you leave my clinic, new sutures, and a piece of candy richer. I await your next visit with the patience of a saint. my favourite little patient never fails to disappoint.

[goingknowherewastaken]

Stitch markers are wonderful oh my god

[splendidlyinlove]

O’Knutzy Week Day 1!!!!!

I’m not late because I said so also time is a concept. A huge thank you to @oknutzyweek2023 for organizing this fest and to the lovely @lumosinlove for the creation of these characters!!! 

Day 1 Prompt: Smile 

CW for mentions of food/drink and depictions of internalized homophobia/negative self talk

When Logan was four years old smiles were as simple as breathing. He was all scraped knees and grubby fingers, trailing behind his three (which comes after two and before five…he thinks) older sisters. All he knew was dress up and pirates and that was enough for him.  

He had lost his first tooth last Tuesday, La Petite Souris had reimbursed him kindly with several shiny new coins. He had run down the stairs with them clasped in his hand and shouted “Look!” at his maman. His cheeks were round and rosy, indents from the pillowcase still stretching across them, and smiling so hard it almost hurt. There was still blue on his lips from where he had accidentally drawn on his mouth with a marker while rubbing his eye and his mouth made a faint whistling sound when he exhaled through his teeth. His maman smiled back. And that was how life worked at four. 

Smiling was a language like French or English. On humid summer days in France, he and his sisters would sit on sticky hardwood floors and sound out vowels through box fans. The giggles and smiles were I love yous, just with fewer syllables. His sisters forced him into dresses and called him gross, but it was okay. They smiled at him like he was theirs forever and he trusted them enough to know it was true. 

Smiles were opening presents on Christmas and jumping through the sprinkler outside. They were storytime and birthday cakes and good night kisses. They were stitched onto his favorite stuffed animals and frozen in time in pictures covering the wall on their stairway. 

One time he snuck out of bed to sit on the stairs and watch TV through the railing over the backs of his parents’ heads. The man on the TV looked sad and said a lot of big words. He didn’t smile much, he said something about life not making sense. Logan didn’t understand that. Living was about love and love was where home was and home was where he smiled most. 

There was a creak from behind him and when he turned around he saw Noelle smiling while holding her finger up to her mouth with a silent shh. Logan smiled back when she sat down next to him. Yeah, it all seemed pretty simple to him. 

___

At thirteen years old the world was not simple. It was messy and confusing, it was like someone had paint splattered across walls and asked him what the shapes spelled out. Logan didn't know, and they would smile. But not the smiles that he was used to, no, smiles were different now. 

Smiles could be sharp, pointed weapons. Looks shared between boys with letterman jackets across the halls, the ringing laughter after a slam against lockers. Dirty jokes, ego, us vs. them politics, mental gymnastics, I know you are but what am I?, thinly veiled insults, banter, and “locker room talk.” 

There was a sense of panic building up inside Logan that he couldn’t pinpoint. He smiled along, though he could feel it not reaching his eyes. Did they see it not reaching his eyes? Is his hair weird? His shirt feels too small, why’d he wear this today? Purple is a stupid color. Stupid. This is stupid. He’s stupid. 

He walked into his algebra class and sat down next to some boy he didn't recognize with a huff. 

“Bad day?” 

Logan’s head snapped to look at him. “Huh?” 

“I was just wondering if you were okay. You seem…grumpy.” 

And then the boy smiled at him. He smiled. 

His eyes crinkled up at the corners and the freckles on his cheeks stretched out. There was a light that seemed to shine outwards from his irises, his hair looked soft and his jaw was somewhere between round and angular. Logan wanted to reach out and touch, and why did his stomach feel like-? 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Smiles always had teeth, but they had never bitten until then. Logan didn't smile back, he clenched the feeling between his fists and made it as small as it could be. 

___

Finn was something impossible. He was a broken clock right three times a day, a city with no people, lightning in a bottle, a tsunami with no casualties, dressed in socks with Adidas slides and brown eyes that felt like a sacrament.  

He gave smiles away like old furniture. Here, you’ll get more use out of this than I will. He was unguarded and open and free and if Logan was honest Finn terrified him. Finn was the sun. Logan could already feel his eyes burning, he really should look away, but oh, didn’t it feel so good to be warm?  

Logan was cool green stares with walls miles high surrounding them. But, Finn was well equipped with inside jokes, memorized coffee orders, delirious late nights, no-look passes, adrenaline highs, and shared greasy breakfasts. Finn poked and prodded at the hard shell Logan had so carefully put together over four years. Slowly, piece by piece it wore down, floating like wilted flower petals to the floor. Logan could feel himself loosen, feel the tense muscles relax, his fists unclench. 

At seventeen, inside a rundown frat house, in their messy, poorly decorated room, Logan couldn't help himself. He smiled, but he swore it didn't mean I love you. It didn’t.  

___

Leo was simple. He was like thunder after lightning and the rainbow after a storm. He made sense, slotted into place like he always belonged. He was loud sort of quiet, he had a presence about him that you didn't realize how much room it encompassed until it wasn’t there. 

Leo let Logan talk. Just talk. And the best part is he would listen. Logan felt heard when Leo was around, Finn listened too but sometimes he didn’t understand. Maybe it was because, for Logan, English never seemed to be a good medium for explanation, it always seemed one size too small. Leo understood, though, both in English and French. Leo could read between the lines, sometimes Logan didn't have to say anything at all. And that, that was ecstasy in itself. Logan could get so tired of explaining, sometimes he just wanted to be. 

If Finn was the sun and Logan was the moon, then Leo was the night sky. Vast and all-consuming in a quiet sort of way, comforting like a blanket, pretty to look at. God, was he pretty to look at. 

In a hotel room in a city that Logan had visited several times but never got to know, Leo answered a knock on the door and brought in a tray. He picked a mug up off of it and handed it to Logan. 

“Here, I got you some mint tea.” 

Logan smiled. He couldn’t lie to himself this time, he knew it meant I love you. And didn’t that just make it all the more tragic? 

___

Smiles weren’t as simple as breathing, they were as simple as atoms. They made up everything around Logan and were everywhere. Logan would wake up and smile, eat breakfast and smile, pay taxes and smile. He would stay up late in the night with Leo, fighting with insomnia together and he would wake up sleep deprived and the happiest he's ever been.  Finn would come home from a run sweaty and hug him and it would be gross, and disgusting, and really, Logan should be screaming in terror but, against all odds there he was smiling. 

It was convoluted, but then again, it was the most understandable thing to ever happen. He was right when he was four, smiles meant I love you and there was so much love to give. In the dead of night, in the blazing afternoon, love was exchanged like playground, pinky-swear promises. Logan would keep every one. 

He had been planning it for months, he nearly wore a hole in the rug from the pacing back and forth. He sat in front of them on a blanket in the middle of a field and pushed two small velvet boxes toward each of them, along with letters that bared his soul. He had opted for letters instead of some big speech, he was terrified of not getting the words out right and of switching to French halfway through. Words had always been Finn’s department anyway. 

They both looked back up at him with tears in their eyes.

Logan smiled and said, “I love you.” 

They knew, of course they knew. Logan said it out loud anyway. 

___

The wedding was a summer affair, chairs were set outside by a big tree. Finn had put on sunscreen in preparation. 

“This is a setup” he had said. Logan and Leo had laughed so hard that they almost fell off the bed. 

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it.” It would have sounded serious if Finn wasn’t smiling, and he was smiling. 

After a coughing fit Leo gathered himself enough to say, “You don’t want to marry us outside, Finn?” 

Finn paused at that. He was still smiling but it changed into something soft yet sure, like faith. 

“I’d marry you anywhere and nowhere at all.” 

So it was settled. The wedding would be outside, and if Finn had more freckles on his nose during their honeymoon, it would be a burden Logan and Leo would gladly carry. However, the sunscreen turned out to be unnecessary. Dark clouds had rolled in and rain trickled down around them. 

It was perfect, unexpected, but perfect. Like a child, they loved the moment anyway. There was no world where it could be bad, because it was theirs, and it was them, and they were together, and wouldn’t that always be beautiful? 

They got married in the rain with wet hair in front of all of their friends and family. Their smiles said I do well before their mouths did, and though Leo and Logan would miss Finn’s extra freckles, it was a small sacrifice. 

___

The hospital room was white and smelled sterile. It was much different from the shade of pink that the guest bedroom in their house had been painted. 

Daughter. 

You’re having a daughter. 

Logan had been drowning in shades of pink for four months and he never wanted it to stop. He wanted tea parties, and race cars, and doll houses, and dress up, and pirates, and math homework, and sleepless nights, and play pretend. He wanted it all. He put all of his excited energy into planning the nursery and buying toys. Now, sitting between Finn and Leo in hospital room chairs, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He bounced his leg up and down and tapped his fingers on the armrest, Finn and Leo had grabbed his hands several times to get him to stop. 

Time seemed to stop when the door opened. A nurse walked in holding a bundle of blankets. 

“You ready to hold your baby girl?” 

Before Logan could process, the baby was placed into his arms. She was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen, with a button nose and round cheeks. She fussed a bit, her arms wiggling and feet kicking, and for a moment her eyes opened the smallest amount. 

Two pairs of green eyes met.

And Logan cried.

But mostly he just smiled.