#geddyqueer

[trek-tracks]

please stand by and allow the Doctor McCoy Distribution System to work its magic

[setmeatopthepyre]

fish

fish! oops 600 words of what can ail thee, knight-at-arms? set some time after this.

[read on Ao3] or below

-

At mid-morning Tommy leads them into town. Buck is keeping an eye out for a bathhouse when something far more enticing catches his eye - the market. He had not realized it was market day, but the prospect of shopping for more than the most basic of wares fills him with delight.

“See if they have honey,” he instructs Tommy as they hitch their horses to a post. “I have a promise of cryspels to fulfill.”

Tommy’s smile is a bemused one. “There is no need, Evan. Save your coin.”

“A promise is a promise,” Buck says, as sternly as he can when he feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards whenever Tommy so much as deems to glance at him. He cranes his neck, attempts to get his bearings amongst the market-going crowd, a few of which glance their way with curiosity. “Where do you think the fishmonger is? There is a recipe I have been meaning to try.”

“You will find no fishmonger here,” Tommy says. His mouth has lost its delightful curve and has straightened into a thin line. He sets off towards the nearest stalls.

Buck frowns and follows him into the throng. “How come? Did you not say this is where two rivers meet?”

“The lord of these lands forbids it,” Tommy says plainly in that way he has that Buck is beginning to suspect is supposed to bely the fact that he has many thoughts on the matter.

“Forbids what? Fish?”

“Fishing. The rivers are his. If commoners want fish, they will have it from the sea.”

Buck glances around, immediately feels foolish, as if waves of briny tide would suddenly burst forth from the market square. “But- the sea is nowhere near here.”

The other knight’s voice is flat. “I believe that may be the point.”

It is past noon when Tommy finds him again. Buck is bartering over use of the piemaker’s oven, the woman’s price a ridiculous one when he asks no labor nor ingredients from her. He is beginning to suspect she may take offense to his insisting on making his own and is about to explain when Tommy beckons him over and both fight and apology are drained from him in an instant. He concedes to the piemaker’s price and then begs her pardon to meet Tommy, his feet carrying him the paces without a conscious thought.

“Hey,” he says, boyishly breathless.

“Hey,” Tommy says, blue eyes sparkling like the azure sea so far from here. “I got you something.” He gestures for Buck to come closer and Buck can not help the way his heart beats faster at the simple proximity as he steps in, their backs an effective wall to any on-lookers.

“For- for me?”

“No, for the other handsome knight I have been spending my days with.”

“Where is he? I’ll fight the bastard,” Buck quips, earning him a brilliant grin. Any other jokes die in his throat when he sees what it is Tommy has been carrying, bundled up in cloth. It is a trout, big enough to feed them both with plenty to spare and fresher than any he has ever seen at markets before.

“How-?” he starts, opens his mouth again, closes it. “Tommy, what-“

The other knight’s eyes sparkle with amusement at his obvious floundering for words.

“I-I thought you said there was no fishmonger,” Buck finally manages.

“I spoke the truth.”

“And you said the lord had forbidden fishing.”

“This is also true.”

“But how-- Tommy, did you steal this?”

“Surely you do not think so lowly of me.”

“We-- you-- Surely a knight must follow the rule of law.”

Tommy gives him an easy smile, wraps up the trout again, and Buck is momentarily caught by the breadth of his hands as he does so.

“I told you, Evan,” Tommy says, nudging him playfully. “I am no knight.”

-

-> send me a prompt and make me write <-

[ambernotember]

coffee chop au plssssss word is “hi”

for you, of course!!!

“Uh, thanks,” Buck stammered, taking the glass and mug from Tommy and turning back towards his setup at the front of the coffee shop. His mind was whirling. Tommy had always called him Evan. Why the sudden switch to Buck?

“What was that?” Ravi asked.

“Could you make one noise?” Tommy asked peevishly.

Ravi ignored him. He knew Tommy was used to his silent appearances. “Since when do you call him Buck?”

“Why wouldn’t I call him that? It's how he introduces himself.”

“Yeah, but,” Ravi’s brow wrinkled, “he always blushes when you call him Evan.”

“He’s probably been trying to figure out how to correct me,” Tommy deflected.

“He doesn’t seem that happy about the change,” Ravi observed, watching Buck move some things around at his setup before he took his seat.

“Mountains and molehills Ravi.”

“Mmm.”

“Hi, uh, hey everyone,” Buck said from the front of the room. “I’m Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck. Are you ready to hear some music tonight?”

“See?” Tommy said quietly.

Ravi couldn’t help but notice that Buck’s smile seemed a little strained.

[apollabarnes]

🚒🚒🚒

make me write

*coughmoretransfersaren'tforkidscough*

"You say that, but. That was definitely Sal's I'm going to start an incident face," Ferb said, sticking his thumb over his shoulder. "Five bucks says he comes back with the new guy before lunch."

"We aren't supposed to bet on Cap," Jonesy said dryly, looking up from the newspaper.

Ferb threw a crumpled piece of paper at him. "You're getting old and boring, Number Two."

"It's the Second," Jonesy said primly, rolling the paper into a smaller ball and flicking it off the table, smirking when it nailed Ferb in the ear. "Number Two is Meg, since she's next in line."

"We are not relitigating the nicknames," Meg interjected.

"We can't bet on Cap and we can't relitigate the nicknames?" Bloom asked, throwing herself onto the couch on Ferb's other side. "What are we supposed to do, then? Those are the only fun things to do between calls."

"Mario Kart?" Meg suggested.

[toburnup]

🤯 and the brain for steve!

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

fast action. i remember writing a horror story in uni and it was all fine and good until it came to a chase scene. just brutal. i didn't like it, my writing group didn't like it, it was just bad.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

steve <33 my love. so many HCs.

steve is more emotionally vulnerable than he realizes/gives himself credit for. he gets the impulse and speaks it out into the world, which sometimes has its drawbacks. he's a little rough with processing hurt or anger in the moment.

steve is a bitch. he trash talks people behind their back. doesn't know when to stop talking at times, sometimes needs to learn how to shut the fuck up. and i mean this in the best way possible. oh, he's also a slut

[setmeatopthepyre]

here are 3 i want 3 i am greedy and rotten :)

🐧

⚔️

❓️

hi greedy and rotten I am skog

love that your emoji sequence looks like a penguin facing an unknown challenger

-

🐧 - antarct-fic

They've got some time between flights, and with the helo refueled and ready and all the checklists that need doing all checked off, there's really not much more to do than shoot the shit. Turns out, when you put three helicopter pilots in a hangar together and have them find a common topic of interest, they'll talk shop.

Hisham wiggles his fingers between the two of them. "Weirdest rescue. Go."

-

⚔️ - sweetmeats aka what can ail thee, knight-at-arms?

(continued from this)

"No further," Tommy says, voice low and hoarse in a way Buck has not heard it before, a way that would bring pleasure to hear if it were not for the terror that seems to have taken root in the other knight's very being.

Buck is helpless but to let his gaze slide along the strong line of Tommy's nose into the distance. It is there, on the house across the dented path, that a streak of white catches his notice. It is a cross, painted haphazardly across the door.

-

❓️- ❓️❓️❓️❓️❓️

It takes some getting used to, being able to recognize someone by the sound of their running alone. Not just the specific way their footsteps sound hitting the ground, or the exact pace they keep, but also by the sound of their breath — in in, out out, neatly timed with their footfalls, falling out of sync just a little as they continue to run — all underscored by the steady beat-beat of a heart kicked into gear.

It’s even weirder to be able to do all of that from a mile away, but here Buck is, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he hears a familiar presence make its way up the trail.

-

make me write

[setmeatopthepyre]

🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧🐧

this took a little while, but I knew I wanted to write this scene especially for you and needed a little time to think about how to approach it. so here's a whole bunch of antarct-fic, just for you! this uh. got a little long.

-

It takes some time for Buck to get settled in, find his way around, discover the Skype stations, figure out the difference in timezones between Los Angeles and New Zealand-slash-McMurdo, and find a moment when the Skype stations aren't all occupied that also works for Maddie and Chim – but he gets there.

“-And so Brooke's walking in ahead of me, right? And she freezes -- No, Chim, not literally, haha, very funny – and she marches right up to Bucky, and keep in mind, Brooke is like, 5 foot, max, and Bucky is at least a foot taller – and she demands to know where Larry went. And that's when the rest of us realize, holy shit, Larry is gone. Just. Gone. Not a trace.”

Maddie and Chim are on screen, staring at him like they're expecting a punchline, and Buck realizes he may have skipped over a little bit of necessary context.

“Right, so, Bucky was the only one in the kitchen, because he was just there to get some of the baking prepared and to jump in if any of the people coming off night shift needed anything--”

“Wait, so this kitchen has a Bucky and a Buck?” Chimney asks, balancing a squirmy Jee on his knee. Maddie raises her eyebrows at him, like she had other questions, but--

“Oh! Yeah. Right, so. I'm Evan.”

Maddie squints at him. “We know you are.”

“At the station. Uh. This station. At McMurdo – or Mactown, as Katie calls it, but really, there's so many nicknames –uh. I'm Evan. Here. Because there were already a few Bucks, and, well, a Bucky. One of the Bucks also works in the galley, which is already confusing enough with a Bucky right there, you know? So I'm just. Just Evan, here.” He frowns a little, wondering if any of that made any sense. Or maybe the connection just froze up again?

“Wow,” Maddie says slowly, carefully. “How do you... feel about that?”

He takes a second to think about it. “It's... a little weird. But not in a bad way? It's kind of... nice. Like-- like I'm a new person? I know that's probably dumb--”

“No, Buck, that's not dumb,” Maddie says quickly, and she's smiling, and Chim's expression has softened as well, matching Maddie's. It makes warmth spread in Buck's chest, though it's followed closely by something achy settling in his stomach.

“I miss you,” he confesses.

Maddie's eyes are a little wet. “We miss you too. And Jee misses her uncle Buck. Or- should we say uncle Evan?”

Buck huffs a laugh, and that heaviness dissipates, at least a little bit. “No, no, uncle Buck is-- that's good. I'm still getting used to people I don't know calling me Evan. So.”

“Buck it is,” Maddie smiles, and he can feel her warm affection even across the continents between them.

“Well this is a beautiful little moment,” Chimney says, aiming for teasing but failing miserably due to how his whole face is crinkled into a smile. “But back to the story, uncle Buck," and Jee-yun echoes Uncle Buck!, slightly muffled, from somewhere just out of frame. Her pink-legginged legs kick into view a second later, just barely missing Maddie's face.

Buck takes a minute to enjoy the happy little family wrestling on his screen. That ache is back. He's fairly sure it's homesickness, and isn't it weird that he isn't sure he's ever really felt that before? He's missed the vague concept of home before – usually in the form of Maddie, when she was back in Boston – but never really in this way, where he can point to a place on a map where his people, his family are, and miss them.

Well, most of his people.

One of them is right here where Buck is. If he still wants to be. His people, that is. His person.

He clears his throat. “Right. So. Uh. Where was I?”

“You were talking about someone who went missing?” Maddie prompts.

“Uh. Right! Yes. Larry. So Brooke, obviously, immediately assumed Bucky had something to do with it--”

“Wait, I'm confused,” Maddie interjects straight away. “If Bucky was the only one who was supposed to be in the kitchen, how did Brooke know Larry was missing?”

“Oh, good point, detective,” Chimney says, then winces when Jee lets out a loud squeal right next to his ear. Maddie grimaces in sympathy at the same time Buck does.

“Oh, because Larry is always in the kitchen,” Buck explains.

“Always? How?” Chim asks, looking seriously at the screen while Jee giggles and squirms in his lap, one of Chim's hands clasped over her mouth. He raises his hands in dramatic mock surrender when she starts snapping her teeth at him.

“Didn't I say?” Buck frowns. “Larry's our mascot.”

Maddie sputters. “Larry's not a person?”

“No? One of the overwinters a couple of years ago made him out of the cutlery that got chewed up in the dishwasher, and the galley crew just... keeps adding to him.”

“You're telling me you have some sort of... cutlery homunculus named Larry watching over your kitchen?”

“Well, not anymore," Buck points out. "That's the problem. He's gone.”

There's a silence in which both Maddie and Chimney take a second to process this new information, and then Chim's getting up to fix Jee a snack and get her set up with some coloring sheets, and Maddie tells him about her latest check-up and how everything is still looking good with the pregnancy, and that they're debating if they want to know the gender ahead of time or not. It isn't until a little later, when Chimney comes back into view and Buck is fairly sure he's maxing out his time at the Skype station, that Maddie broaches the subject he'd kind of been hoping he'd gotten away with avoiding.

“So, while learning about your-- uh, Larry? – is fun, what we really want to know is... how did things go with Tommy?” She's smiling kindly, being gentle about it, so very Maddie, but Buck's leg is shaking enough to make the screen move a little and he needs to consciously force his jitters to a halt.

“Uh. It hasn't. Yet?”

“What do you mean?” Chimney asks, offering Maddie a slice of apple with peanut butter. Apparently Jee isn't the only one who got snacks.

“We haven't really talked yet,” Buck admits.

“Okay, so you haven't talked-talked yet. But how did he react?”

Buck shifts in his seat. “React when?”

“How did he react when he saw--” Chimney stops mid-word and mid-chew. “Now wait a second, Buckley. Tommy hasn't seen you yet, has he?”

And fine, maybe Buck bristles a bit. “Well, it's not like--”

Maddie interrupts him, momentarily saving him from having to think up some flimsy defense on the spot. “Hold on, you've been there a week, and... Buck, does Tommy even know you're there?”

Buck dips his head, wonders if he can fake connection issues, but he knows the guilt of cutting their call short would probably eat him alive. “Maybe,” he mumbles instead. “I don't know. Probably not?”

Honestly, Buck thinks, the news that Larry got kidnapped – cutlerynapped? homunculusnapped? – should be way more shocking than the fact that, okay, maybe he has been avoiding Tommy just a little bit. Just until he, you know, figures out what to do, what to say. But Maddie and Chim are gaping at him as if he's just admitted he's decided to move in with the nearest penguin colony and leave his human life behind.

It's almost a relief, then, when a woman taps him on the shoulder and asks him if he's okay to wrap up soon so she can talk to her husband before he has to leave for his night shift. Buck wraps up their call, promising pictures of penguins for Jee as soon as possible, no time to explain that he needs to follow some sort of training before he's allowed off-base, but he can tell them about that next time. Whenever that next time is.

That achy feeling lingers, even after he hangs up.

-

[make me write]

[setmeatopthepyre]

🐧 Will you write some post-rough landing?

absolutely! combining this with a 118 drabble prompt

🐧 - antarct-fic

Desperate

[@118dailydrabble day 68] [part of antarct-fic | bucktommy | 118 words] [follows this]

“Tommy, hey, Tommy, look at me. Open your eyes for me, OK? Open your eyes. You’re OK. We’re OK.”

Evan’s voice is clear and reassuring and there and barely tinged with desperation and Tommy knows that if he ever gets into an accident, that’s the voice he’d want to hear.

His next breath wheezes pathetically in his throat and maybe he can try, maybe he can try for Evan. Blinks once, twice, his eyes opening just a fraction, but a fraction is enough to see those bright bright eyes fixed on his. They’re the wrong color through his glasses, not blue but still devastating, and there’s no looking away from them now.

“Hey,” Evan smiles. “There you are.”

-

[make me write]