#spec talk

[chronicowboy]

"Lot of things wrong with the world right now, but Eddie Diaz on my doorstep isn't one of them," Hen says when she opens the door.

"Hey, Hen." The last time he'd said that neither of them could manage more than a tight-lipped nod, the weight of dress uniform and black suit alike weighing them down, now however, their smiles bloom in unison—not quite easy except for the way that it always is with Hen.

As she beams up at him, Eddie's hit by just how much he's missed her. Hadn't really had the time to think about it before. Not with parents and Christopher and Uber passengers and Buck to occupy his time. On her birthday, he'd wanted so badly to hug her tight and tell her the world got a little brighter the day she was born even if he wasn't there to see it, he just knows. And then, well, Bobby had died and there hadn't been room to miss anyone but him really.

The ache of missing Henrietta Wilson is sudden and fierce in the presence of her steady warmth.

She pulls him into a hug right there on the doorstep, and Eddie wraps her in his arms without hesitation, screwing his eyes shut when she squeezes him extra tight. Eddie lets her draw back, lets her sad eyes pin him in place.

"Want some tea?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"I'd love some." And he tries not to think about it. Really he does. How tea is halfway between water and juice. Hot water infused with dried fruit. A subpar substitute. A stepping stone maybe.

Hen closes the door behind him, and he follows her into the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop to watch her careful dance with the kettle. She fetches two mugs from the cabinet and pulls out the tea caddy Buck had found in an antique store two 118 Secret Santas ago. She waves it under his nose as the kettle starts to whistle.

"Pick your poison," she tells him, drifting back towards the stovetop.

He rifles through the neatly stacked packages until his eye catches on a red-orange square. He plucks it from the tin and brings it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet citrusy scent of it. Blood orange and cranberry. Just like Buck's shower gel.

The sound of a cup hitting the table brings him out of his stupor, and Eddie flushes, offering the tin to Hen. She takes one at random, ripping it open and dropping it into her water. Eddie sits down next to her and tears his own teabag open, drowning it in boiling water.

"How are you?" he asks as their teas steep.

"I'm okay." She nods, smiling at him tight-lipped. "Lung's all healed up, and I'm cleared for full duty again."

Eddie shoots her a deadpan look.

"That's not what I was asking and you know it."

Hen rolls her eyes, but they don't come back to Eddie, they stay in some faraway corner of the room, somewhere Eddie wouldn't be able to find if he tried, somewhere Eddie knows more intimately than most.

"I'm getting through, Eddie." She sighs, shrugs. "I don't really know what else there is to do."

"Yeah." Eddie nods down at his cup. "I know what you mean."

"What about you?" she asks gently, ducking to catch his eye. "Getting through?"

"Most of the time." Eddie purses his lips, shakes his head. "I keep trying to convince myself that it's not my fault." He wraps his hands around his mug then, the burn of it grounding him in the moment.

"Eddie."

"No, I know." He huffs, rolls his eyes at himself. "Rationally, I know. But I can't shake the thought that I could have—I might have been able to change things."

"That's a little insulting, Eddie," she mumbles. Eddie's eyes jump up from the ruddy orange depths of his tea, startled into confrontation by the words.

"What?"

"You don't think we were enough?" She raises an eyebrow at him. "Don't think we could have stopped it, saved him, if we'd known?" She ploughs on, ignoring the way his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. "Or do you just think you're more observant than the rest of us?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what the hell could you have done?" There's something about the way she says it. Something about the gentle chiding, the chastising softness, the firmness of her care, that reminds him of Bobby. Of a captain. Of Henrietta Wilson. The effect of it is dizzying, sobering.

"I don't know," he admits, shoulders hunching, defeated by harsh reality and hypotheticals alike. "I just." His voice breaks, and Eddie takes a sip of tea to wash the cracks away, barely winces at the burn of it. "Ever since Buck called me, I can't stop thinking about—"

"The what ifs?" she asks quietly. Eddie nods. "Yeah, I know a little something about that."

Eddie hates himself then. Just as fiercely as he had when Buck's ragged voice had come down the line all those weeks ago. What are his what ifs compared to those of the people who were there? Who were close enough to do something about it but still so far, too far?

He takes another sip of his tea. Remembers why he's here.

"Like what if you were captain?" he chances, raising an innocent eyebrow. The look Hen turns on him then is harrowing, flat and unimpressed and just a slight bit daring.

"How did you find out?"

"Through the grapevine." He shrugs.

"And which grape told you?" she deadpans. Eddie hides his smile in his tea.

"Well, Athena told Karen and Karen told Chimney and Chimney told Maddie and Maddie told Buck and—"

"And Buck told you," Hen says, sighs maybe, doesn't ask, like it's that obvious, like it was inevitable. Eddie ducks his head, heat creeping into his cheeks, hiding from whatever emotion has stolen into Hen's expression. He shrugs again. "I should've known." She takes a sip of her tea, digs a fingernail into the grain of the table. "How is he? Buck?" And this question. This was inevitable too. Eddie exhales a pained breath.

"I wish I knew." He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, thinks about the note waiting for him on the coffee table when he'd woken up that morning—gone to help Maddie and Chim with the nursery, breakfast's in the oven :). "He won't talk about it. Not in any real way." Thinks about how Buck had locked himself in his room the night of the funeral, how he hadn't come out until the next morning, how Eddie had found him bouncing between five separate prep stations in the kitchen, how he'd been out the door before Eddie could ask how he was. "All he does is run around after everyone else." Thinks about the night Eddie had fallen apart on the couch, and Buck had held him through it like it wasn't his grief to share. "I feel like I see him less now than I did when I was in El Paso."

"Yeah." Hen's eyes fall to the table, a furrow appearing between her eyebrows. "Maddie said he's been doing his therapy, engaging with it well, but I think Buck's always been better at locking things away than most of us like to think."

"It's only the easy emotions he wears on his sleeve," Eddie mumbles absentmindedly. "I normally have to work to drag the bad ones out into the open."

Silence stretches between them, heavy and taut, long enough that Eddie's eyes pick their way back to Hen's face. He almost flinches at the expression there. Something knowing and confused at the same time, something tight in her eyes and loose around her mouth, something relieved and pained all at once.

"No luck yet?" she asks eventually. It feels like more than it is. He shakes his head slowly.

"I keep trying, but he just... Tells me that he's handling it. That I don't have to worry about him, and I should focus on myself for once." He scoffs, bites at the inside of his cheek. "That's not how we work, and he knows it." Eddie doesn't look at Hen this time, keeps his gaze trained on the teabag wilting in the bottom of his cup. "God, Hen, I can't stop hearing his voice on the phone that night." His voice comes out quiet, broken. Not what Buck's had been: loud and jagged. A great choking, hiccupping sound that Eddie wasn't even sure you could call a voice. "He could barely speak. He kept apologising over and over, and I was eight-hundred miles away and I couldn't do anything."

"Well." Hen grabs his hand, squeezes once, so he glances over at her. "You're not eight-hundred miles away now, so what are you gonna do about it?"

Eddie pauses. Stills. Thinks about how the grief had fallen on him like a tonne of bricks when Buck had broken the news. How he'd thought he'd never be able to get up off the ground. How he'd thought he'd stay buried there in the middle of his fucking living room for the rest of his life. How Buck had called him every day, digging Eddie out brick by brick. How Buck had carried them all for Eddie.

And he thinks too of how many other bricks Buck must be carrying. Wants to takes them all off his back with gentle hands. Wants to dab antiseptic into his abrasions. Wants to wrap him up in a hug. Wants to divvy the bricks up between them equally, carry them together. Together. Always together.

"I'm gonna be here," he says, resolute. Lets certainty fill him for the first time since he'd walked into his parents' house to pack Christopher's bag. "I'm gonna be here to catch him when he falls."

"Yeah, I thought so." Hen smiles at him, and it's a small thing, but the pride in it is overwhelming. "Families can only survive for so long apart."

And that's it, isn't it? Buck is family. Not the one he chose. That was Hen and Chimney and Bobby. But Buck is the family he built—they built.

"Speaking of..." Hen drawls, eyes evasive, glinting with something. "The 118 is still waiting for you to come home."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, quirking a smile.

"Yeah. They've been missing you." She nods seriously. "Got a place carved out for you and everything."

"You know, that's something only a captain could promise."

"Well, how about that." Hen grins, all mischief and mystery.

Eddie shakes his head and huffs a laugh.

"Henrietta Wilson, always three steps ahead."

[dumbass-hyperfixations]

okay but, now that we canonically have buck moving into eddie’s house while he’s away, i can indulge in my own delusions a little bit. particularly, i really want there to be a parallel to that ana “i think we need to clean that kitchen first” “maybe you should go home first first” breakup scene when eddie and chris come back.

i’m thinking, buck welcomes eddie and chris with a big elaborate lunch/dinner when they return, at the end of which he’s like “so, I’ve already packed most of my bags and i’m all set to spend some time at bobby’s until i find a new place to leave, so i’m just gonna clean the kitchen and then i’m gonna leave and let you guys settle back in”

to which eddie (who has freshly realized he’s gay and in love with buck back in el paso) responds with “or you could stay here”

[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[aroace-ed]

having a platonic crush is so awful. why am i so infatuated with you. why does this never truly fade. every single time, i will come when you call. i'd walk to the ends of the earth for you. for nearly everyone i've felt like this towards, i will do the same. i want to tell you all the little things about myself. i want to hold your hand and go on fun little "couple" dates. i want to make things for you. i want to put my art onto something for you to have, so that a piece of my soul is yours. i want to be yours in the least romantic way possible.

[ravi-is-my-beloved]

I know this probably won't ever happen on the show, but I need Bobby to make either a traditionally Mexican or a traditionally Indian dish for Eddie/Ravi because we haven't seen him do many different cultural dishes and Bobby says he made it less spicy than the recipe called for (because of course he did).

So we see everyone eating and the only ones who aren't sweating and reaching for their water are Ravi, Eddie, and Chimney because the dishes in their cultures are already spicy. They're just chilling, complimenting Bobby on how well he cooked the dish. Meanwhile, Bobby is regretting his decision to make a spicy dish as he keeps having to take sips of his water in between bites.

Also, I need to see Ravi add even more spice to his plate because "It's too bland for my tastes." Because I feel like he'd do that. (I'm projecting my Indian mother onto him, okay.)

[salt-bun]

I preordered the new bsd wan figures and tried to draw their expressions lol

[apricustar]

thinking about how the last earthquake episode wasn’t just disaster spectacle—it was the moment buck and eddie settled into each other.

the episode before is eddie’s introduction. we have buck: still raw (and in denial) about abby leaving, posturing like crazy when eddie comes in. there’s tension. not anger, exactly—more like bruised pride and a gnawing fear of being replaced. buck is all bark. eddie meets him in all this, too, as he always does.

then the grenade. and it’s here that something clicks between them, a new world blossoming—quietly, but unmistakably.

the earthquake episode that follows is where we see this partnership—that trust—in action for the first time. there’s no jockeying for position, no defensiveness. just two men moving like they’ve done this a hundred times before, like something instinctive has already settled between them.

buck isn’t trying to prove anything anymore. eddie isn’t holding back. they’re in sync, and it’s beautiful to see.

and it’s not just stuff to do with the call!! when eddie keeps checking his phone, anxious and distracted, it’s buck who notices. buck who asks—not nosy, just gentle. and eddie, who doesn’t offer personal details to anyone, tells him the truth: he has a son!!! buck doesn’t flinch. he lights up!!! and eddie—eddie who is guarded with everything, who has every reason to keep this close to the chest—shows him a photo!!! eddie is giving buck a piece of himself here, and buck takes it; this is the start of everything, really.

buck is the one reassuring eddie that chris is safest at school and not to worry. buck is the one who drives eddie to chris after the crazy day they had.

they work together seamlessly in this episode. they’re still at the beginning, but this is where the groundwork settles. this is where everything soft and unspoken between them starts to take root more firmly.

and now, we have another earthquake with next week’s episode. another rupture. bobby is gone. eddie’s back. and buck—buck’s breaking in ways we haven’t even seen the full shape of yet.

if the last quake marked the beginning, maybe this one marks the moment everything finally comes to the surface. more of a reckoning; a fault line we can no longer hide from.

[umbralstars]

Might refine this later idk (they're queerplatonic to me~)

[setmeatopthepyre]

i've just. been thinking about this scene from chimney begins a lot, especially in relation to the bucktommy break up.

in this episode, the changing relationship between chimney and the general population of the 118 is shown through his (attempts at) interaction with tommy. so this conversation he has with eli is as much about 'the other firefighters' in general as it is about how tommy has been treating chim.

and there's... something there in the 'you don't name it until you know it'll pull through' and the 806 breakup in which neither tommy nor buck say the words i love you but they do say pretty much everything else. it feels like they've both been hurt before by this thing called love that might make it feel like they're pushing their luck to name it. and there's something there in tommy ending things before buck can hurt him.

and then there's this:

and there's something there in buck looking at tommy and thinking, wow, he's so cool, he's so confident, (he has a cleft), he's so comfortable with who he is and that makes me feel comfortable.

eli tells chim: [switching to my quick attempts at gifs here bc the text is spread out over so many shots otherwise]

and what eli's saying is: feeling like a hero isn't enough. it can be your motivation to start, but it can't be the only thing that keeps you going. you can't always be a hero. no one can. everyone is flawed and everyone's gonna slip up. there's a darkness, and if you don't account for that, you're going to run into the hard things, the things you can't solve by being a hero, the things you have to struggle through, change your perspective for. if you try to ignore those things, you're going to learn some really tough lessons really fast.

and I'm thinking about tommy and buck not knowing the details of each others' pasts, being maybe a little too comfortable with how comfortable they were, enjoying that honeymoon phase rush and thrill, not really having dug into the darkness. they learn some tough lessons really fast.

tommy leaves buck. they both didn't name the puppy. (it still hurts)

chimney loses kevin. he faces the hard, dark parts of this path he's chosen and he chooses to continue anyway. because of this, he's is in the right place at the right time to save tommy's life.

[chronicowboy]

can't wait for eddie to come clean to buck about everything in the diaz kitchen in the dead of night and it's a tough conversation, a little ugly, and the lights are low and eddie can barely look at buck and buck can't look away because how did he miss this. he's always so wrapped up in a relationship when eddie needs him the most and he always ends up missing eddie's declines until he's already at rock bottom. but this isn't about him. this is about eddie. and eddie's tearing up and he's chasing his dead wife who he can't ever get back and he's drowning in guilt and he doesn't know what to do and buck doesn't know what to do either. but he remembers the knot in his stomach and the way it didn't untangle itself until eddie hugged him. so he moves round the island and wraps eddie in his arms and eddie breaks and buck holds him through it all.

[exocynraku]

passes out. shrivels up. this is a severely condensed version of the chart, if you want a super high quality version HERE is an imgur link to it

[bidisasterevankinard]

The hurdle is actually Buck scared to tell Tommy he's pregnant. And not just pregnant, but with triplets ( @mmso-notlikethat 😘)

So he goes to Maddie to talk how it's not the best timing for accidental pregnancy, but she's happy bc she knows Buck wants kids no matter if Tommy will stay or not. Josh is super happy to be funny gay uncle

Buck decides that yeah, he's gonna be a dad no matter what

Yet, Buck still needs to talk to Tommy. And even if Tommy doesn't want kids, Buck wants them. Ofc Buck still hopeful Tommy wants them too

But look. Tommy is happy and in his eyes I can see him planning the nursery and names(he already planned how they will clean the spare room and make Eddie help bc Buck is not allowed to do anything too strenuous)

And then Tommy comes closer to Buck to have a celebratory sex on kitchen counter while they still can(also kids were definitely made on that counter)

[crying-in-converse]

How can you be aro/ace and bi?

Not trying to be rude btw just curious

ohh yess good question. and there are actually multiple answers.

so the definition of aroace is little to no romantic or sexual attraction. so you can be bi with that little attraction.

there are also a label oriented aroace which is where someone doesnt experience ANY romantic or sexual attraction but experiences other attraction that is significant enough to label. so you can label yourself as bi oriented, lesbian oriented, gay oriented, pan oriented, etc.

aroace is an umbrella term for anyone under the spectrum of aroace. so demiromantic/demisexual, grayromantic/graysexual, etc. if you fall under the spectrum of aroace you can use the label aroace. (only if u are on both spectrums though!) so you can be bi and demiromantic/demisexual, etc

[bettertwin1]

Not related to anything but i feel like you guys forget queer platonic relationships exist sometimes

[aspacestorm]

the way we talk about asexuality needs to change

specifically how certain experiences are treated as exclusive to asexuals, existing completely separate from "normal" society. doing this only further isolates us and people in the gray area

we should be talking about every attraction as spectrum of experiences that include everyone. not two distinctly incomparable states of being with no overlap. there is in fact a lot of overlap.

[styllwaters]

Figured it was time to stop putting it off so here's Kota (his new design, for veterans who remember him). I don't yap about my ocs nearly enough on here so I guess its time to change that

Very basic summary: This guy is a posthuman, the only surviving remnants of humanity in Vivere 44 (I'll make a big updated post for them later). When Earth was destroyed by Genizix the surviving humans were captured and used as test subjects for a digitised consciousness project. They managed to escape in ships, though their physical bodies were no more. Eventually they came across a wormhole and emerged into the Zhagaviit galaxy, where they were given refuge on the Arrow homeplanet of Hanidias.

(Longer backstory under the cut for textwall enjoyers)

EARTH

Kota was a highly successful and well-known astronaut working for Nasa back when earth was still intact. He was driven, determined, a good speaker, and more than prepared to take on any challenge. In his younger years he was a little impulsive and reckless, he liked putting on a show. He strived for the best at all times, and was known for great feats on Earth. He had grown used to the idea of being seen as a prodigy and had high hopes for his future and the future of his daughter. 

Kota pushes himself to the brink at all times, and is not known as someone who gives up easily. During the Genizix-Earth wars, he put himself at the forefront - doing the best he could with others to figure out what to do as Earth was bombarded by the weapons corporation. Though as time went on it became increasingly obvious that Genizix was toying with them and they were doomed from the start. Genizix used the survivors as test subjects for their new project which involved putting consciousnesses into digitized forms, creating the first beta-posthumans.

CAPTURE AND ESCAPE

When Genizix finally reduced Earth to floating space debris humanity was dead meat. Kota and his daughter Elise, who was a computer engineer, sought a way to escape their captors. Together with many other great minds they studied Genizix for months and managed to find a way out of the mothership they were confined to. In the ensuing chaos they lost many, including Elise.

The posthuman survivors escaped in Genizix ships, piloting them through space and trying to get as far as possible from their captors. The loss of Elise broke Kota, who felt responsible for it. This guilt would only grow and intensify as he led the exodus, unsure of where they were even headed. As the de facto 'leader' of the posthuman rebellion he was looked up to and turned into a figurehead of sorts, who shepherded them across the vast nothingness. This responsibility weighed on him like a mountain.

EXODUS

It was a lonely and painful existence, made worse by the fact that many people’s minds couldn’t handle their new digital forms. This is when Entropy began. Biological matter cannot easily be computerised. Many individuals entered what would be termed an Entropic state and ‘malfunctioned’ - they began to mentally deteriorate until there was nothing left of their mind except for snippets; repetition of voice, automatic status notifications placed by Genizix, and ultimately all functions shutting down.

Eventually the deterioration would get to a point where there was nothing but radio silence and the spacecraft would cease to move, lights permanently flickering out. There was nothing that could be done, even as they kept sending distress signals with no response. They were lightyears away from any other civilization that could possibly help them. For a while they were free floating with no direction, dropping off one by one, in the endless vacuum of space. All they could do to keep each other sane was to keep talking to one another.

CONTACT

They traveled for years until they came across a wormhole, and under Kota’s command they entered it with the hope that on the other side there would be salvation. It was an extremely risky and desperate move, but at this point they were willing to try anything. The fleet, which by now was less than half its original population, emerged on the other side into the Zhagaviit galaxy before the wormhole collapsed, alive but with damaged machinery. The first species that made contact with them were the Arrows, and like the other Zhagaviit sophonts they were a civilization recovering from their own war with Genizix.

First Light, an Arrow who was modified by Genizix as a weapon, saved Kota in more ways than one. It took a long time for him to warm up to the Arrows, having the worst possible experience with extraterrestrial first contact. He was guarded, distrustful, and hypervigilant. It took multiple days for him to work up the courage to leave his ship and transfer his consciousness to another medium - the blue c-particles which would house human consciousness from that point on. After gentle coaxing from Light, he began to open up. They shared their experiences, and bonded over them. Seeing Light, who was just as damaged as he was despite their differences - yet still able to smile, and laugh, and hope for a better future, gave him the encouragement to keep going. Kota distracted himself with work, figuring out accommodations for humanity on Hanidias and learning about Arrows. Eventually he and First Light joined the Beacon as ambassadors and diplomats for the Zhagaviit Galactic Community.