"Slight problem with that, bud. We're not actually dating, and that sorta feels like a pre-requisite to anything else."
Chris frowned at that, confused.
"Are you sure?" He asked. "And does Dad know that? Because he's been more smiley recently."
Buck internally debated the merits of explaining the whole complicated mess to a fourteen-year-old before deciding to just cut to the chase.
"We're not not dating," he started, before being cut off by Chris' groan.
"Are you telling me you and Dad are in a fucking situationship?"
Or, Buck and Eddie keep kissing, which would be fine if either of them would actually talk about it.
Pairing: Buck/Eddie
slipped and fell back into the 911 fandom and finally finished the kissing fic! I still want to get SOMETHING posted for heated rivalry but i aint mad that i can shove this into the 'complete' folder
probably not gonna come back to the daily writing just yet but i have been poking about at more than just this wip so we shall see
“Of course it is, Eds. It’s always on the table. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, okay? I’ve got your back, remember?”
“Okay,” Eddie answers, but Buck can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears.
“Eddie, you know I’d do… anything for you,” Buck says, heart beating so loud in his chest that he doesn’t know how his neighbors can’t hear it. But he’s going to say this, finally, he has to, because he’s sure it’s the only thing that will get through Eddie’s thick skull. “I’d bleed myself dry if you asked me to.”
Today's rec is doesn't come from the back pages of my MFL list, but instead is a recently completed fic by one of my favorite authors who has now started writing 911 Buddie - hooray for all of us!
This story, The Ebb of Your Tide, by twobirdsonesong, is simply lovely. M, 29k. The author's summary (in part): Or: Buck and Eddie attend a Firefighter Convention in Indianapolis. And wouldn't you know it, there's only one bed. You know how this goes.
I read it yesterday and was up late last night still thinking about it. I promise you'll love it too.
Last Line(s)/Fuck It Friday/Tease Tidbit Tuesday/WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @devirnis and @daffi-990 and @bigfootsmom
“That’s what it looks like but we won’t know for sure until a coroner does their report.”
LAPD were already dragging lines of yellow crime scene tape from one point of entry to another with the splashes of red and blue lights flickering on the walls.
“And you’re sure it was a wolf?” Hen asked, already stretching on a set of gloves as she carefully stepped across the room to the woman.
Normally, Eddie would’ve been touched by Hen’s feverant defensiveness when it came to wolves. They were still considered the monsters in the night to some people and it was easier to blame something other than to face the fact that sometimes humans were worse than monsters.
But Hen was human too. She couldn’t smell the sour possessive scent the way they could. She couldn’t feel the way the ground trembled with the footprints left in the carpet.
“Definitely,” Chimney answered for Athena, his fingers hovering in the air in front of him.
Tagging everyone who needs an excuse to catch up. Probably @bigfootsmom @homerforsure @mellaithwen
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Updated with Ch 4 - the beginning of Eddie’s POV Summary: In the aftermath of the sniper attack, Buck has to keep going without his partner while sorting through the layers of everything they are to each other, while Eddie fights for his life and through all his internalized trauma and regret for everything they never managed to say. aka Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart
Summary: A look at migraines and the effects they can have on a person For: Follower Voted Content #2
Sequel to: Twitch (Part One) and Speak (Part Two)
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,573
Tag List: @ofthedewthesunlight
AN: All parts can be read as individual fics and do not have to be read in order. The only connector between all three fics is details regarding BFS (Benign Fasciculation Syndrome) of which affects the motor neurons. A syndrome in which I have.
Talk. That's what people seemed to do whenever you were around, talk. You found it funny just how much people were willing to open up to a stranger, how much they were willing to reveal. Sometimes you found it sad knowing they simply needed an outlet and you were there. When all else failed at least they had someone with willing ears they could speak to. The thing was, you weren't willing, you were just quiet because it was part of your job. Doc needed people analyzed and what better way of analysis than learning about someone from themselves.
No one could really be trusted. People would talk, would open up but that didn't mean they were honest or that you received the information that you needed. They just talked because you kept quiet. And you kept quiet because you knew they would talk.
But talking could become excruciating when noise turned into pain.
You supposed it was foolish for someone with a neurological condition to think that everything about your mind was normal. Headaches, surely everyone experienced them as you did. Noise hurt, light hurt, everything hurt. It was better to go to bed than to try and fight it, most medications didn't help. Which was normal, completely and totally normal — until you were told it wasn't.
Migraines, not just bad headaches, that's what you had.
Migraines.
They were bullshit.
Talk. That's what everyone was doing as you were standing in the middle of the museum people watching. Could you call it people watching when you were simply monitoring one persons routine? Doc had needed details on a few of the bank tellers hoping to perhaps involve one in another heist, not as a hostage but as the weak target, the one that would break the easiest. What you could gleam online was good but nothing was better than the real thing.
Conversation was had and you went on your way, watching, waiting for the next location. And talk surrounded you, and noise became daggers in your head, and your arm began to twitch, and your eye began to twitch.
And then everything went to hell.
Miles was the one you always called, Miles was the one you trusted to come get you in moments like this. You wanted to call, stared at the last text he had sent you only a few hours ago wishing you could respond and ask him to come pick you up. He knew, he understood, yet you didn't call him, didn't know why. Instead there was someone else you wanted to greet you, someone else you wanted to bring a sense of peace and calm as the noise surrounded you and pulled you deeper into the pain.
Buddy.
An address was texted along with your location in the museum. There was no acknowledgments that he read the text. No acknowledgement that he understood what was going on, and why would he. He knew about the twitches, knew about you going nonverbal, yet migraines. It didn't matter who knew about the migraines except part of you was afraid of what he would think.
Weakness.
You hated feeling weak, you hated people thinking you were weak. While you couldn't help the pain that you were in you could help how people perceived you. Buddy could not perceive you as weak, that was what you kept telling yourself. He was a friend, perhaps the only true friend that you had and if you emptied your list of ailments into his lap you were worried that he would leave.
Except it didn't matter now.
Glancing at the phone in your hand you waited. There was no way of knowing where he was or if he was coming. You wondered how long you'd be willing to sit on the bench staring at paintings you had no interest in while the pain roared around your mind and while the muscles in your leg moved around furiously. It was luck that you were seemingly ignored by those around you, able to twitch without curious looks or spiteful stares.
Time ticked on, every noise growing louder, lights growing brighter, muscles moving beneath skin. Your senses were bombarded on all sides. For a moment you were certain you might pass out due to the pain.
Then there were footsteps, then there was a hand on your shoulder. Buddy was there. Buddy came to get you. Not a word was spoken as he ushered you out of the exhibit and out of the museum entirely. Leading you to his car you shook your head indicating that it wasn't the right time to speak and you stopped him from turning on the radio while driving back to Doc's where you knew you were supposed to have made an appearance after your reconnaissance mission.
Buddy worried, you'd gotten good at reading him. You wanted to tell him what was going on but the pain in your head and the twitching in your body made it difficult to focus on words. Tired, that's all that you were. In pain and tired, you wanted words to be understood without having to be spoken. As Buddy pulled into the parking garage you leaned back in your seat with your eyes closed for just a moment. Walking to the elevator was going to be strenuous with you being required to keep eyes open and walk on twitching legs.
Slipping out of the car you wandered into the briefing room, Buddy trailing behind you. He watched as you went to Baby, signing to tell him what was happening before grabbing the bag he had for you. Upon request he'd been holding your laptop. Removing headphones from the bag you slipped them over your ears and looked at Doc who nodded.
When the migraines were to unbearable you needed a way of communicating with Doc that let him know you were not to be disturbed. Any noise, any light, anything at all really — could make the migraine worse, could increase the pain tenfold. Your headphones were noise cancelling and never used for anything other than blocking out sound. When you were wearing them, you were not to be disturbed. You made your way across the room, slipping into your office ignoring Buddy who tried to engage in conversation.
You felt regret for not being able to vocalize what was going on, for not even having the energy to sign to him. Although what good was signing when your hand was twitching too much to form any movement?
Slipping into your office you made sure the door was shut tight and the lights were off. The offices were kept secret everyone who was brought in for jobs. Only Doc, Baby, and yourself knew of there location down a hallway away from the main meeting room. There were desks and tables set out in that more public area as a presentation yet they were never really used with no one around. You had created a space for yourself to be at peace within your office, something that worked with everything that you dealt with on a day to day basis.
There was nothing to help the twitches of course, there never was going to be. Nothing helped and there was no cure, no treatment. The least you could do for yourself was provide space enough that you could simply sit and allow the twitches to happen. For the migraines you wanted pure and total darkness.
It annoyed you somewhat, that this was something you had to deal with, that this was out of your control. There was medication for the migraines but when they were sudden there was nothing that any pill could do, the medication was preventative. So you sat in the darkness and in the silence and you fretted. You worried.
People were often accepting up until a point. You often wondered where that point was with Buddy.
Baby was your brother, Doc your employer, each had different reasons for tolerating any affliction.
But Buddy was neither, Buddy was just a friend and you worried. You worried if you were placing a strain on the friendship that you weren't aware. Had you been pulling and tugging at the string binding you together, was he going to cut the chord and drop you out to sea? Or perhaps if you were lucky this was just another item in the arsenal of things he'd become used to. He understood the twitches, he understood your being nonverbal, yet migraines were different.
Well, they were more common, easier for him to research if he chose.
Time ticked on, the pain and the fear twisting in the pit of your stomach. You sat, back against your desk and a hand on your leg, feeling the muscles move beneath your hand. A knock on the door forced your eyes open (not that there was much to see in the dark), you grunted as a way of admitting entry and from the shadow in the doorway you knew it was Buddy.
You knew he had questions.
You knew he deserved answers.
You wanted to provide them yet there was no way of explaining, the pain bringing exhaustion.
Without a word he sat next to you, back against the desk. Silence enveloped the both of you. In the darkness you smiled.
Through whatever pain brought with it, there was one thing it could never take away. And that was Buddy, a constant.
Hey! I was wondering if you still had any positions left? I’m a female with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and if I had to pick a character to hang out with, I’d probably pick Ahsoka, Fives, Rex, Hardcase, Echo, or Jesse (they all seem like they’d be fun to hang out with!). As far as personality goes, I can be shy around new people but outgoing and energetic once I get to know someone. I love animals (especially pets), Star Wars, and Disney. Congrats on 400 followers, and you’re AMAZING!
lol @disneyjedi19 this ended up so soft and cute i can’t with clones with animals aaahhh
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masterlist / look @ me i’m fabulous (count dooku) / in fields of white chp. 1
the clones love dogs
“Oh no, Echo!” you groan, blue eyes flying wide open in dismay. “Why didn’t you warn me before you went and invited all your 501st buddies to the adoption event?”
Echo smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “I- I’m sorry.” He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “I got… too excited, I guess.”
You release a painful moan and lean against the wall of the lobby. “Echo, you know how shy I am with new people.”
He flashes a bright grin down at you. “They’ll love you!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “And they love animals!”
You exhale a heavy sigh. “Fine.” You let a slight smile slip onto your face. “If it helps the animals…”
“Yeah!” Echo cheers. “They are so excited to help them find good homes!”
Right on cue, the doors of the animal adoption center fly open with a crash, the blast reverberating throughout the room.
“ALRIGHT.” Fives stalks inside, turning his head around, searching. “Show us the dogs!”
“We know you got ‘em.” Hardcase trails behind, grinning ear to ear.
“We volunteer our services!” Jesse beams. “To pet, walk, play, cuddle any and all dogs.”
“Eh,” Rex meanders behind, hands tucked into his pockets. “I’m more a cat person.”
You blink, stunned and overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. “Oh, um,” you flash a glance over at Echo, who shoots you an apologetic smile. “We have… plenty of dogs. Ah, and cats.”
“YEAH!”
“WOOHOO!”
“Lead the way!”
“Oh, and nice to meet you, miss.”
You can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm. Happily, you exchange greetings and wave them into the back room. “Are these enough dogs for you?”
“Oh hell.” Fives tucks a tiny floof of a puppy against his chest. “Oh hell. Rex, can we please-”
“No.”
“Heartless Captain!” Hardcase bursts into laughter as a herd of puppies clamber around him.
“Men,” you laugh openly, put at ease by the clone troopers’ disarming nature. “Please remember why we’re here.”
“To get these dogs adopted!” Jesse giggles as a dog licks his chin.
“You know, Captain,” Fives hoists the little floof of a puppy inches away from Rex’s face. “If we adopted-”
“Still no.”
“Well,” you grin, “nice try though.”
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Permanent Tag List: @sana-katarn @barrissoffee77 @royalhandmaidens
Loud. Impulsive. An idiot. Kaminari Denki knew he was no Bakugou or Midoriya. Hell, he wasn't even a Mineta. His quirk, while strong on paper, doomed him to fear its limitations. But that was okay. He knew he was right where he wanted to be- right where he was needed.
Weak. Useless. Forgotten. Dabi knew he could never compare to the prodigy that was Todoroki Shouto. His quirk was going to kill him one of these days, the echoes of his father's words all but confirmed it. But that was okay. He knew he was right where he wanted to be- right where he was needed.
In other words: Dabi tries to raise Denki and it goes about as well as you’d expect it to.
Hi guys! Now that I have a functioning laptop again I can finally get back to working on my Dabi-Denki buddy fic. Rating is Teen and Up right now, but that may change in the future. If you’re interested in future traitor shenanigans feel free to stop by!
I also made a fun little playlist if anyone wants to check it out.
