#or a coda

[tennessoui]

big bang fic posted: don't let me lose you to the rising tide 🌊

✨kit's big bang fic: don't let me lose you to the rising tide ✨

and i will not shut up about it, i'm so excited to share this fic with y'all!!! it has been a labor of so much love that has resulted in 62k of a fic where no one talks about anything unless they're actively lying to each other <3

i got to experiment with so many fun styles of writing and ways to communicate information in 'rising tide' - it has been a really long time since i just wrote something with no holds barred, getting to play around with what i was writing and how i was doing it, and that's this fic for me. it's gone through like a dozen iterations in my head (and in messages to friends) but i'm so happy with the way it turned out!!

and i cannot stop thinking about the art bree (@human-rocket) drew to go along with 'rising tide' - everything from the color scheme to the expressions on their faces is exactly perfect for the feelings and mood the words are trying to convey

i really hope y'all enjoy reading and also forgive me for not shutting up about it for the next few weeks - it's like so so hard for me to keep things close to chest lmao (demonstrated by how this fic is supposed to be a bit more on the secret side but it does already have a tag on my blog) so half my emotions right now is just absolute relief that i can talk about it and these two!!! they're going through it 🙏 there is so much suffering 🙏 but hope, too 🙏

[janezebu]

Some extra miserable Arthurs

[dictatorshipper]

Protecting his little world

[punkitt-is-here]

several members of the main cast of Astral Guard are disabled, so i wanted to do a piece for July, disability pride month!

[blazingjackdaw]

I finally got this line and the screenshots I've seen simply do not do justice to Arthur's deadpan delivery xd

[usercowboy]

Eddie’s parking in Pepa’s driveway after dinner— Buck and Chris are playing video games back, well, not home because it’s not allowed to be, because this isn’t his, not anymore — when he gathers the courage to speak. The drive was quiet, comfortably so, but something was…not off, but off-center. Eddie wondered if Pepa noticed it, too, or if he was the only one in that car with one hand on the wheel and the other trying to hold it all together. 

He doesn’t look at her. 

“Tía, um. Can I ask you something?” He fidgets with his hands, tries tying his fingers into knots the way his stomach’s done. 

Pepa turns to him, releasing the door handle. She pauses, watches him. Eddie sees it all in his periphery. 

“Of course, Eddie. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, it’s just.” He inhales. Tries to keep his exhale steady. Doesn’t think he succeeds all that well. He finally turns to face her. “You called Buck Evancito.” 

“Eddie, I’ve called him that for years. Is there a problem now? Did he say something?” 

Eddie swallows. It seems to echo in the silence of the car. Maybe it just echoes in his chest, right beneath his breastbone where Buck seems to have made a home for himself over the past seven years. Eddie’s not sure how he missed it. 

Well, that’s not quite true. He knows how he missed it, knows why. Knows he wasn’t ready, knows he didn’t want to risk the best relationship he’s got. Buck is…Buck is a big thing. Whatever’s been slowly eating him alive is terrifying and bigger than him yet it fits in the low heat of his belly anyway, somehow. 

He knows. Knows he can't ignore it anymore.

“You didn’t have a nickname for Shannon,” he blurts out after the silence has dragged a little too long. “I know you didn’t hate her the way my parents did. Do. But still, you never had a nickname for her.” 

Pepa considers this, a small, fond, knowing smile forming. 

“Shannon was never that good for you. You two weren’t partners the way you and Buck are.” 

She puts weight behind partners. He can tell she doesn’t mean at work. 

“Buck and I aren’t anything.” 

“But you put him in the same category as Shannon?” she asks, in the same tone she once said I thought you just dressed alike, like this is something obvious. Something quiet, something calm. Easy. 

Eddie doesn’t feel like any of this is easy. 

He doesn’t say this. 

“Buck isn’t—I didn’t—tía.” 

Pepa takes pity on him, laughing gently. She pats his cheek. “It’s okay. You can feel whatever you feel for him. I can’t speak for everyone in our family, but it won’t make me love you any less.”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything then, doesn’t think he’d be able to even if he tried. So he nods instead and hopes Pepa understands.

“Okay,” he manages to squeeze out after a beat. 

She smiles at him, and opens the car door. 

Eddie doesn’t pull out of the driveway for a while. 

[mountaindewlodge]

So, there's a set of hacked emails on a PC behind Aoi explaining the Technocyte Coda's backstory. And it's hilarious.

It turns out, no, the Tech rot did not brilliantly realise a concert would make a fantastic super spreader event. Instead, a music CEO looked at the murderous computers and decided to AI generate music using Onlyne's DNA so he wouldn't have to pay them anymore.

And Onlyne is still alive and trying to get out of their contract concurrent with the Technocyte Coda running around using their voices and names. Fucking A+ writing from DE, no notes.

[apollabarnes]

transfers are(n't) for kids

it was hard to stop a train once it got started. buck still wasn't sure he wanted to. 8x18 coda. canon compliant? pardon the terrible trix joke, it amused me.

"Han!" The bellow shook the station. "Get your scrawny ass down here right now."

Chimney put his coffee cup down slowly, dusting off his pants. "'Scuse me, everybody," he said calmly. "I heard my name."

Hen snorted into her drink. "Bakersfield heard your name," she said, abandoning the table and heading for the railing. "This should be good."

Buck hesitated for a beat longer than everyone else, only moving when Ravi knocked his hand against Buck's shoulder. He hovered a step behind Ravi, worried that if he got too close to the front the two of them would notice him and the argument would escalate.

"So," the enormous man on the apparatus floor said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to explain why, on the day my new transfer's supposed to be starting, I get a call from the Chief saying whoopsie?"

"I was short a guy, turns out. Buck agreed to cancel the transfer," Chim said easily, tipping his chin up and meeting the other man's stare.

Ravi turned to Buck, his eyebrows jumping up. "That's you," he mouthed, pointing at the showdown. Buck elbowed Ravi cautiously, grinning when he shoved back at him.

"Bullshit, Howie. We both know you're not good at keeping yourself on the sidelines. And I'm down two guys — or gals, Wilson — so you can get yourself to the back of the line."

"Today was supposed to be your last day?" Ravi whispered, not looking away from the floor.

Buck shrugged. When Chim had asked for, and gotten, the captaincy it just seemed easier to give him time to grow into the role without having to train someone new at the same time. Besides, if the station was just a number now, it wasn't like going somewhere else was going to mean he'd be somewhere more like Bobby's station. At least here he had Ravi to partner up with.

"Who's that?" Buck asked Ravi, leaning in close. He hadn't paid much attention, or asked too many questions, when he'd handed in his transfer paperwork. The Chief had told him he'd send the assignment along when it was figured out, but then Buck had pulled his name from consideration and… well, it hadn't mattered then.

"Deluca, 122. You really don't do the whole firehouse gossip thing, do you?" Ravi asked him, amused.

"I mean the fun stuff, sure. Rodriguez over at the 126 ended up going to a furry convention by 'accident'," Buck told Ravi, waggling his eyebrows.

"He used to work with Chimney and Hen back in the day," Ravi continued, making a face at him.

"Huh." Buck inched closer to the railing, peering over it. Deluca wasn't menacing Chim, exactly, but he did have enough height on him that there was some looming going on. He might even have a little height on Buck. "He looks… tall."

"Chim's compact," Hen said easily, knocking her arm against Buck's gently. "But he's scrappy. He's got this."

Deluca lowered his voice and kept going, gesticulating wildly at Chim's equally quiet response. Buck found himself wishing they were still bellowing. He couldn't help but feel a little invested in what appeared to be a fight over himself. He wasn't sure who he wanted to win.

"Do not make me arm wrestle—" Deluca's voice rose, amused, before dipping low again.

"Don't do it, Chim!" Hen hollered.

Sal and Chimney both glanced up at that, seemingly realizing that everyone on shift was paying rapt attention to what was going on. Buck was pretty sure the only thing that would break their concentration was the bell or a knock down drag out argument in the loft. He found himself glancing over at Eddie, sighing when he kept his eyes focused forwards.

"That doesn't seem very ride or die," Ravi said smugly, shuffling closer to Buck. He knocked their shoulders together and Buck grinned tiredly at him.

"Sal held the station record for almost a decade," Hen shot back. "It's very ride or die to make sure Chim doesn't embarrass himself."

Chimney stepped towards Sal, making him take a step back. Buck held his breath, looking between them as they kept talking, volleying back and forth. "Does this feel like a tennis game to anyone else?" Buck wondered quietly.

"Fine," Chim snapped his gum, irritated. "But only until your chicken pox epidemic clears up."

"Pleasure doing business," Sal drawled, draping an arm over Howie's shoulders. "Buckley, grab your gear. We're headed out." He looked up to the loft, finding Buck immediately. Buck blinked, taking half a step back before he stopped. Obviously he would have gotten Buck's file from the chief, it wasn't weird that he could pick Buck out of a crowd.

Hen squeezed Buck's hand, her mouth pursed in a frown. "Hang in there, Buck. He's not as cranky as he sounds. Promise."

"The rest of you, what are you, new? No one taught you how to eavesdrop stealthily? Come on, that's embarrassing."

The bell went off.

Sal gestured to Buck, loping up the loft stairs after everyone had cleared out. The silence hung between them, muffling the sound of the disappearing sirens. Sal caved first, taking a deep breath. Buck smirked, just a little.

"Who really cancelled the transfer?" Sal asked, eyeing him up and down.

Buck shrugged. It wasn't as if it mattered. He was here at the 118 with everyone else.

"Your brother-in-law got captain and asked you to stay, so you did. Noble, but," Sal headed into the kitchen, picking through one of the boxes of doughnuts that Ravi had brought in, grabbing one for himself. "Howie can handle himself. I, however, need someone to hold my hand," Sal continued, taking an enormous bite out of it. Buck stared at the smear of powdered sugar on his cheek.

"Uh, you have a little something just… yeah." Buck nodded, watching Sal grab a napkin. "This the kind of hand holding you're looking for?"

"Okay, not into metaphors. I didn't mean literally, but I had a guy leave and then three of my squad go down with the pox in rapid succession. So. Arm Wrestle Mania 25 commenced."

"You didn't arm wrestle Chim," Buck said, feeling off-kilter. He wasn't sure what Captain Sal Deluca, 122, wanted from him, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to make it happen.

"Hell no, I'd probably break his wrist and he's got a baby to hold. Nah, Wrestle Mania was with the other stations that needed staffing."

"Multiple stations arm wrestled. Over avoiding having to take me," Buck said flatly. "I'm honoured."

"Oh, you misunderstand. Everyone wanted you." Sal finished off his doughnut, looking back in the box. "What the hell." He took another. "You got a car here?"

Buck shook his head. "Yearly service. I got a ride."

"Perfect. Grab your shit, let's blow this pop stand."

Buck trailed him back down the stairs, emptying his locker out on autopilot. "Wait — multiple stations wanted me?"

"Yeah, but I'm bigger and scarier so I won." Sal looked over his shoulder, frowning at the expression on Buck's face. "You're surprised."

"The, uh, the lawsuit, I thought…" Buck shrugged. "Kind of a liability."

"Once in nine years? Hell, Buckley, if you were gonna be a pest about it, there'd be more than one. Personally, I would have sued a few times — the hell was that heist accusation about? Or the lightning? Or hey, leaving your captain to rot at the bottom of the ocean because there wasn't enough proof they were out there." That last one came with air quotes and startled a laugh out of Buck.

"It wasn't a nuisance lawsuit, and honestly, a bunch of us tore a strip off the union for not taking care of it before it got that far," Sal continued, opening the trunk of the captain's truck. "In here. You've got one of the best records from both trips through the academy, you've pulled off some crazy ass rescues, and you're basically fearless. Seeing your name on the transfer list had me racing Mehta to the Chief's office."

"Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess?" Buck said, trailing behind him. He dumped his bags, sliding into the passenger seat when Sal went for the driver's.

"Yeah, no problem. Like I said, not a hardship." Sal waited until Buck was settled before flipping his phone into Buck's lap. "Can you type a reply to that? We public servants should be safe drivers, and all," he added, winking at Buck.

"Sure, uh — the contact name is a donkey emoji?" Buck squinted at the phone. "Are you sure you want to give me your lock code five minutes after we met?"

"There isn't one; I do this a lot. Just open and start typing what I say. The donkey is because he's being a jackass. He can get his contact information back when he gets his head screwed on straight — I do want you typing that, Buckley."

"Oh, right, got it." Buck quirked an eyebrow, typing quickly.

"Had to steal my new transfer back, on the road, Gina says you need to come for dinner soon, uh," Sal tapped his fingers against the wheel, coming to a stop at the red light. "What was his question, again?"

"If you wanted to go to the game tomorrow? What game?"

Sal looked sideways at him. "Angels. Jackass and I split a couple seats with a group, but since we organized it we get to dibs the good games. Not that there are many, because they're the fucking Angels. But it's that or the National League and fuck that," He paused. "What do you prefer, by the way? Buckley? Buck? It's Evan, yeah?"

Buck shrugged. Maybe it was time to try out a new one. New house, new name, new… attitude? Maybe. Bobby had thought his attitude was good, it was just everyone else that seemed to have a problem with it these days. "Really not picky. I'll answer to anything."

"Okay, we'll let Ferb at ya when we get there. Not his actual name, he just likes the cartoon. —Can't make the game, covering for B shift, fucking pox, Stella is in her sports phase again — that's my kid, jackass is her godfather, or would be if either of us were into that kind of crap — if he wants to take her for some quality bonding time."

"He's asking who the transfer is."

Sal snorted. "You can probably answer that one without my help."

Buck cracked a grin at that, typing out his name and station. The response came back immediately and Buck frowned down at the phone. "He says sure and he's gotta go."

"Yeah, he hates when I dictate to someone else." Sal shrugged. "Dickhead. It's not like I'm sharing private information out loud."

"Well, so far I know that he's a jackass and he's your daughter's uncle, so. How private does he think that information is?"

"Sometimes I think he hates it when folks know his last name," Sal cackled. He pulled into the station parking lit, popping the trunk. "We can get you set up at Jonesy's locker for now — he's the one that left." He paused. "They're gonna be loud."

Sal hopped out of the truck and hoisted both of Buck's bags over his shoulder before Buck could get out of his seat. He waved Buck off when he tried to take one. "I got this, relax kid. Buckle up."

They walked into whoops and cheers from the loft, the entire shift hanging over the railing. One of the younger firefighters climbed onto the bottom rung of the railing and leaned forward, warbling "All hail the conquering hero!" as they passed the back of the engine. He got yanked back before he could fall by a guy Buck's age, laughing.

"All right, all right, shut up," Sal called, pointing up at the loft. "This is Buckley, nickname to be determined. I had to arm wrestle my way to the front of the line for him, unlike you jokers, so if anyone scares him off…" Sal trailed off threateningly.

"You like hash brown casserole?"

"I've got a fifty-point nickname survey!"

"Ferb, Sal just said don't scare him away!"

"Nerds," Sal said to Buck, his voice fond. "Give him a minute to get settled! Then you can all start asking him about himself. We've got a month, so pace yourselves."

[alchemistc]

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

Tommy blinks awake and immediately wishes he hadn't. This is his third time waking up, and apparently they listened to him when he asked them to slow down his morphine drip because everything hurts.

The busted leg he remembers - they'd kept him awake long enough to explain that they'd do everything they could to keep it but... Well. No buts, in the end, just titanium and enough pins to make sure he'll never get through TSA quickly ever again. Thank fuck most of his flying he does on his own.

Christ, if he has to get recertified...

Fractured ribs, a punctured lung, three broken fingers but thank god his arms had survived relatively intact.

The bruising on his face screams before the rest of it does, which is just - it's silly, actually, that somewhere in his head he's thinking about how awful he must look. Of course he looks fucking awful, he survived a helicopter crash. Why would he look great? He should look as bad as he feels.

On a scale from 1 to Fuck Off he's very firmly toeing the line into Go Screw Yourself.

The knock startles him.

The startle wrenches something in his neck area, and Tommy groans through the pain. Shit. Screw his dad just that little bit more for providing the perfect genetics for a proclivity for addiction.

Evan.

He's standing at the door, looking apologetic, head ducked a little like he does when he either wants something, or thinks he's done something wrong. Puppy eyes, he'd heard Hen call it once, while she mimed barfing, because Tommy thought it was adorable.

He still thinks it's adorable.

Fuck.

"Hey," he says, in his Hospital Voice. (Tommy is new to this voice, but he's growing more used to it, now: third time awake and it's the third time Evan's been there. In a chair at his side, flirting with a nurse while he wrote on Tommy's chart, now perched in the doorframe looking... a bit grungy if Tommy's being honest. Like he hasn't slept in days. Like those are the same clothes Tommy first saw him in.

Evan dances in the door and it's the first time he's noticed that one of his arms is tucked behind his back. "If that's a bouquet you should know I'm allergic," Tommy says, and doesn't hate the way his voice sounds quite as much as he has in recent memory. He's almost managed to get back the ironic lilt.

Evan's smile widens. "You're lying, and besides, you can't be allergic to every flower. Are you allergic to the corpse flower?" He pauses. Narrows his eyes like he's heading Tommy off at the pass. "You can't say the smell is as bad as the allergies would be."

"I feel like a corpse flower," Tommy intones, and he wonders - is that - is this what - they're just not gonna talk about it? What he'd said, in the air, with half the public servants of the city listening in? Or the fact that Evan hasn't left this hospital in two days? Or whatever he's still hiding behind his back?

Evan steps into the room. Rolls his shoulders with a shit-eating grin. Brandishes the item he's been hiding - a stuffed chicken. There's something sticking to the end of one leg, and Tommy squints to try to make it out. Looks like -

"Bobby got it for you! He said you'd know what the knife was for."

Tommy groans, tips his chin against his pillow, groans again because the pain is radiating throughout his body. Evan steps closer.

"I really wish you'd at least let them give you the muscle relaxants," Evan murmurs, closer, so much closer. Hand on the bed, fingers lifted like he's thinking about squeezing Tommy's thigh, and god - god, he wants that. But they can't just - they're in this whole mess because they talk around shit instead of about it.

Evan sets the chicken on the table next to the bed. His smile is loose and light, but his eyes are worried.

"I'm still pissed they put me on a morphine drip that first day, Evan, it's in my chart not to -." Evan bridges the gap, distracting Tommy thoroughly - fingers soft and light, careful, sliding across his thigh and dangerously close to the crease of his groin. Even if he weren't in a hospital bed he's in way too much pain to even think of getting it up but it's compelling. It's distracting. Tommy never wants him to move his hand.

"Hey," he says, and Tommy blinks. Frowns. Drinks in the sight of Evan's plaintive head tilt and tries to breathe. He hasn't really been this lucid, before. "I have one more thing for you."

Tommy raises a brow. Clenches his jaw. Tries not to freak the fuck out when Evan reaches for the pocket of his likely rank flannel and pulls out a suspiciously small box. No. No, absolutely not, has he learned nothing from Tommy's multiple attempts to get him to slow down.

Evan pops the lid.

Tommy feels the hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest and tries to push it down because laughing right now would jostle so many fucking things and he can't -

"So. Um. I know we - I know we still need to - to sit down and, like. Talk. About things," Evan says, while Tommy stares at the metal-on-velvet. "A-and this isn't me asking for anything. I'm just..." He presses a fist to his eyes, rubs, fingers opening to rub at the scruff on his jaw. "So. I have a spare room. And you won't be able to manage stairs for a minute, and - and I have, like, so much PTO, Tommy, an insane amount of it, and I just thought. While you get your bearings..." Tommy watches him, still quiet. "It really sucked being on my own dealing with a bum leg. And - maybe - maybe we take some time to talk. Crack open that champagne once your doctor clears it."

Tommy stares. Tommy contemplates. Tommy sucks in a deep breath and swallows hard.

"You want me to sleep in the spare room?"

One of Evan's hands is still on his thigh. The other is still palming a house key. His grin is wry. "I would like nothing less, but I thought I'd offer."

Tommy's hand has been creeping steadily towards the one on his leg for a minute now. He makes the final effort, curls fingers around Evans wrist. "Please tell me your mattress is off the floor."

"There's even a top sheet."

Tommy feels his lip quirking. It had been an almost-argument, a generational gap they couldn't bridge, something so small and silly it hadn't seemed worth the time to fight about it when there were better things they could be doing with the bed. He wishes they'd fought about it. He hopes they have a thousand fights ahead of them.

Tommy releases the hand circling Evans wrist, palms the key. Evan beams.

"It's not exactly traditional, but, uh - you have the one watch you refuse to take off for anything, and I wasn't gonna make you like, a paper crane, so..."

"Traditi - Evan, what?"

His smile goes a little coy. "I know there's like, a break in there, or whatever, but - uh - happy anniversary."

Tommy wants to cry. He wants to grin until his lips hurt as much as the rest of him. He wants -

"Come down here and kiss me, you lunatic," Tommy says, and Evan grins as he obliges.

[mousebis]

[cecilyv]

@liminalmemories21 and I wrote a little 8.15 - Lab Rats coda, buck/tommy.

Tommy hears Evan say, "Dad?" and just for a second he thinks that somehow, against all odds, it's Bobby standing there. He stands up so fast the chair tips over as he goes for the door. 

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says.

And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well. 

He rights the chair, squeezing the top slat, letting the wood bite into his hands. Evan was barely holding it together as it was, only really doing so by the skin of his teeth, by being the force of nature that he can be – focusing on his team, his family -- not on himself, or on. Or on Bobby. He asked me to, Evan told him through a sob, after, even as Tommy could see him try to push down the loss, to keep it off his face. Bobby did know his boy – worked best when given a direct plan of action. 

Tommy scrunches his nose against the tears that threaten to fall again, to clog his throat. Wipes away the one that escapes and squares his shoulders to face whatever the fuck is happening in the doorway. 

Wonders what on god's green earth Maddie had been thinking. Although, to be fair, he's going to go out on a limb and assume she didn't think their parents would get on a plane and fly to California to land just in time for the funeral. 

Texts Chim / 🚨Phillip and Margaret are here🚨/

Gets a string of texts in response judging by the way his phone is buzzing in his back pocket, and he can't look at any of them because Evan and his parents have come around the corner and Even is saying awkwardly, "Mom, Dad, you remember Tommy." And then when neither one of them says anything, even more awkwardly, "You met him at Maddie's wedding."

Philip shakes his hand reluctantly, good WASP manners too ingrained to be actively rude enough not to.

Margaret looks at Evan. "I didn't realize you had company. Your sister didn't say."

Evan shrugs, doesn't answer. Doesn't explain.

Which, actually, Tommy wouldn't have minded a little bit of explanation, just so that he knows where he stands. Because he'd taken Evan home after the lab, after Bobby died. Nobody had questioned it. He hasn't left since. Evan hasn't asked him to, and he hasn't offered. Eddie's flight is due to land in an hour. He's not sure what happens after that. Although if Phillip and Margaret are here – for what? – having Eddie as back up might be for the best. That’s a devil he knows. 

Tommy blinks and Evan is making coffee, and handing his mother a slice of coffee cake on a plate with a napkin - because given an awkward social situation, Evan, he learned the last time they tried this, will default to the polite rules of society to get through it. He doesn’t wonder where the coffee cake came from, because he'd discovered when he snooped around for breakfast ingredients that ill-fated morning that the only thing in Evan’s freezer is baked goods. 

He takes the moment to check his texts, discovers that if Maddie had known their parents might show up that she hadn't told Chim. His / 😱 ‼️ / makes Tommy snort.

He checks to see if anyone needs him for anything, and then texts Eddie. As far as he knows Eddie's still pissed at him for breaking up with Evan, doesn't know if Evan told him about the hook up the other week, or the way that he'd said he was jealous of Eddie, can't imagine that's improved Eddie's opinion of him if he did. But – man deserves to be warned about the clusterfuck he's about to walk into.

/ Phillip and Margaret are here /

gets / 👀/ from Eddie, and then / why? / and then / like this day could get any fucking worse / 

He’d only met them the once, in passing, nearly a year ago now, but he’s heard about them plenty - from Chim, from Eddie, and haltingly from Evan.  He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the full story of whatever it is, but he knows enough to know that adding them to the mix is not going to help Evan get through this day.  He’d never really worried about it before, because he’d met Athena, Bobby – the important people.

He comes back into the kitchen to hear Evan saying, “You should go to Maddie’s, I’m sure she needs the help.”

And Evan’s mother waves a hand, saying, “We talked to her yesterday, she’s fine.” And then leaning in to put a hand on Evan’s arm, and he can see from across the room how surprised Evan is by that, and how much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Adds another mental note to the list of things he knows about the Buckley parents.

Thinks Margaret kind of missed Evan’s point.  Maddie may be fine, but Chim’s not.  Might be nice if her mother volunteered to give Maddie some extra space to support her husband, since she flew all the way here.  He’s still not sure why the Buckley parents are here.

They don’t really have time to dig into it; they have a funeral to get to. 

****************  

The funeral is awful.  Everyone in their dress uniforms. The pomp. The circumstance. The weight of the loss literally on their shoulders. Staring at the back of Chim’s head, having to put one foot in front of the other, maintaining composure when all he wants is to hold Evan and shield him from everyone and everything. Instead, on a city street -- a funeral march. Step. Step. Step. 

The only time he and Evan have been in sync since they split six months ago and it’s to bear the burden of the first man to ever really give them a shot. To believe in them.  

The brass gives a speech. Athena had asked Evan if he wanted to speak, and he’d shaken his head. “I can’t.”

He agrees.  Has a fierce need to let Evan keep his grief private, not for public consumption.

After the funeral he hears Evan say, "We're going to Bobby and Athena's," and his heart fucking breaks at the way Evan's voice cracks halfway through Bobby's name. But then he's continuing, "for the wake." He hesitates. "Do you want me to call you an uber, or something?"

"Oh," Margaret says, and she sounds clearly surprised. "We thought we'd go with you."

It startles Evan into honesty. "Why?"

"To pay our respects. He was your captain. I know he meant a lot to you." Which is nice, until she adds, "That's what people do, Evan."

The way she says his name grates on Tommy's last nerve. He wants to say, 'no, people don't fly across the country to crash a funeral.  People write a nice card.  People know when to stay in their lane'.  Almost says it, when Evan looks at him.  But, whatever is going on between them, shutting Evan’s parents down probably isn’t his place. Is tempted to look around for Eddie, who might be able to get away with it.

Margaret looks torn, and Maddie – bless her – says, "I'm sure Jee’d like a last bit of one-on-one time with her grandma before the new baby comes."

"I thought Mrs. Lee was watching Jee this afternoon," Margaret says, proving that she is in fact totally incapable of reading a room. Even Phillip looks a little abashed.

He loses track of Philip and Margaret for a while at the wake.  More people than he expected come up to offer him their condolences, like he has a right to grieve Bobby as much as Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, and Evan.

Finds them again when he hears Margaret asking Evan if he’s ready to leave.  Like she expects her claim on his time to supercede anything else.  LIke Bobby’s fucking funeral.

Turns in time to catch Evan’s absolutely blank look.  “I’m staying.”

Margaret looks taken aback.  “Oh, well, should we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

Evan shakes his head, looks impatient for the first time.  “No.”  For a second Tommy thinks he’s going to leave it at that, and wants to applaud, but Evan seems to realize how blunt that is, or maybe the look of disapproval on Philip’s face clues him in.  Either way he says, “I’m going to stay, help clean up after everyone leaves.”

Margaret’s face tightens, and he wants to shake her, ask what she thought was going to happen here.  They’d flown out for the funeral, so on some level they understand how important Bobby had been to Evan.  Just not apparently on any kind of level that lets them empathize with his grief.  

He doesn’t know where they go, but he does see Margaret and Phillip leave, stopping to talk to Athena before they do.  Has no idea what they say to her, but she looks faintly surprised by it.

Margaret and Phillip are at Evan’s new house, Eddie’s old house, when they finally all get home.  They’ve made dinner.  Like any of them have an appetite, like they hadn’t just put away a semi-truck load of leftovers from the wake -- everyone tries to feed grief, like if you fill up on food, the sadness won’t have anywhere to go. 

Reins it in.  They made dinner.  That was kind of them.  One less thing for Evan and Eddie to have to think about.  He eyes the casserole that Margeret puts on the table.  It’s bland, but inoffensive.  Suspects that Evan could make it better.  Catches Eddie’s eye and has to stifle a snort when it is very clear that Eddie is thinking the same thing.  Whatever grievances Eddie has with him – and Tommy’s prepared to admit they’re mostly merited – they’re on hold for however long Evan’s parents are here.

Dinner conversation starts with polite anodyne conversation about the funeral, how big the turnout was, how nice everyone was at the wake.

It moves on to Phillip saying, “The house is – different.  We didn’t know you’d moved.”

Evan picks at his food and just says, “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Eddie takes the fall.  “I moved back to Texas.  Evan took over my lease.”

Philip nods.  “Maddie hadn’t mentioned that.”  

That brings Evan’s head up a little, “Oh, um, yeah.”  Then he frowns a little.  “Why would she?”

Margaret gives a brittle laugh.  “Well, it’s not as if you tell us anything.  If we didn’t talk to Maddie we wouldn’t know anything at all about your life.”

Tommy bites back the urge to suggest that maybe there’s something they could infer from that.

Margaret looks at where Evan’s plate is still more than half full.  “You’re not eating.” Evan looks at his plate.  “Sorry.  I’m not very hungry.”

Margaret’s lips purse, and he silently dares her to say something.  She doesn’t.  Looks around the living room instead.  “I like this.  It’s much more grown up than your old apartment.”

Tommy winces and concentrates on his food.

Evan’s eyes flick around.  “Yeah.  I guess.”

Her lips purse again.  “Evan, we’re trying.”

Evan looks blank.  Eddie sends Tommy an alarmed look and mouths ‘oh shit’ at him.

Philip clears his throat.  “We came all this way. Your mother made you dinner.  I know you don’t call.  But, is it too much to ask that you talk to us when we’re here?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Evan mutters.  And Tommy would bet a lot that he doesn’t realize he’d said that out loud, knows from experience that when you back Evan into a corner he lashes out. Wonders how on earth Evan’s parents don’t seem to know this.

Margaret’s face is a perfect picture of frozen devastation, and he’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t making Evan’s loss all about her.  Wasn’t making a bad day exponentially worse.

There’s a knock on the door, and they all look around — doesn’t know who it could be, they’re all here. 

Evan gets up to answer it, Tommy sips his wine to have something to do with his hands. Eddie twirls his fork mindlessly in the mess of noodles on this plate. 

“May?” He hears and then, “are you okay? Is Athena— I can grab my coat—“ 

“No, no, we’re—“ something garbled, and then “not fine but –” A pause and then “I talked to Mom and we wanted you to have this.”  There’s the sound of Evan taking a stumbling step back into the wall.

“I can’t, May, that’s for family, that’s for Athena — for you, for—“ and Tommy can’t bear to hear his voice breaking, cracking, gets up and leans into the hallway to see Evan clutching a flag. 

Bobby’s flag. 

“It is for family,” May’s voice is steady, despite the tears running down her face. “Mom said she had their house. His medals. She had what she needed and she wanted you—“ May gulps. “He would have wanted his son to have this.” 

Behind him, Tommy hears two chairs being pushed back and whips around.  

“You need to go,” he hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s going to. He hadn’t said anything earlier, wasn’t sure if it was his place, but he wants to try and preempt whatever they’re going to say now.  

“Evan,” Margaret says, warning and entreaty, looking over Tommy’s shoulder. He feels Evan behind him, turns slightly and can see May standing awkwardly, shifting her feet like she’s not sure she should be seeing this. He understands; isn’t sure he wants to witness this either.

Evan just shakes his head. “Tommy’s right.”

Phillip stands up, arm around his wife’s waist, staring at Tommy.  “He’s here.  He’s not family.  Maddie said you broke up.”  Pauses and then digs the knife in. “She said he broke up with you. That you were devastated.”

And Evan looks at him like it's the first time he's really registered that Tommy's still there, that he hasn't left. And Tommy holds his breath, waiting to see what Evan will say, if he'll finally ask him to leave. 

Instead he says, "He's here because he always shows up when I need him, and because he's willing to keep trying even when we both fuck it up." 

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid. But, Tommy's pretty sure people from three counties over heard it loud and clear.

Evan’s on a roll now, all the things he’s been holding back all day coming out now that the dam’s been broken.  “He tried to save Bobby twice, risked his life for Bobby.  Risked jail for him.  And you?  You didn’t even — “ he chokes up.

“Funerals are for everyone else. Wakes are for family,” May says unexpectedly.  “Evan was Bobby’s son.  He gets to decide whoever else he wants to have here.”   She holds Evan’s gaze when he looks at her, and after a moment he nods.  Reaches out for Tommy’s hand, holding it hard.

“I buried my-, my father today. I’d like you to leave.”  Margaret and Phillip are frozen by the dining room table.  Evan unbends enough to say. “I’ll call you before you fly home.”

May looks cooly at Margaret and Phillip, every inch Athena’s daughter. “I have an uber outside, we can drop you wherever.” 

Later, in bed, he’s curled around Evan. “He was supposed to be here,” barely aloud, just a whisper of a breath. “He was going to stand up for me, tie my tie and—“ Evan’s voice breaks and he lets out a single, wracking sob, his back shaking.

“He taught you,” he says to Evan, to himself. “He taught you what you need to know. To do. To be who you are.”

“I never told him,” Evan chokes out, “that I loved him, that he was my—“

“He knew,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder blades. “He knew.”

“He told me he didn’t have to worry.” Evan rolls over and pins him with a stare, the light of the moon just reflecting off the white of his eyes. “That you were good people.  Don’t make him a liar.” Tommy swallows hard, holds his gaze as much as he wants to look down, away, anywhere but at Evan, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the blue light. “He was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“I won’t.” It breaks out of him, cracks open his chest and crawls out, like the baby in Alien, leaves him bleeding and open - would give everything to make the lie true.

“You did,” and there it is, Tommy wishes he could take it back, could live up to Bobby’s estimation of him.  He wants to be that man.  For Bobby.  For Evan.

He can’t lie again, “I did.” Looks between them.  “I won’t again.”  Evan’s lashes shadow his cheeks, like he doesn’t want to look to see if Tommy is lying.  He brushes tear off of Evan’s cheek, admits, “I’m really bad at it. Leaving you. I can’t — I can’t stay away. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Evan says finally.  “I never did.”

“Okay.  Then I won’t.”  It’s a promise to Evan.  To Bobby.  To himself.  

[fir-fireweed]

Ask, and ye shall receive…

Tellus (aka Coda) (he/him)

Tellus is your childhood friend, but he is no longer that sweet boy who once gazed at you so adoringly. He is bitter and angry, closed off from his fellow Resistenza members. Tellus is air-attuned, and his superior eyesight makes him an excellent marksman—the best sniper in the Resistenza.

He is 2 years older than you and quite tall, with medium-length, wavy brown hair and stormy grey eyes. The dusting of freckles are all that remain of his youthful face, now marred by a long scar he received in The Proelium. But that wound is minor compared to the loss of his song. Can you find healing together? Rekindle your friendship? Or perhaps, fan that flame into something more?

[punkitt-is-here]

THESE CITY STREETS

[extra-vertebrae]

These goobers are a delight. All of my preconceived headcanons of John Carpenter-level horror have been completely obliterated, but the sheer goofy absurdity has more than made up for it. It's a real shame the Coda can be farmed so quickly - but in the end that's okay because I need more cosmetics for my Backroom.

I did initially give this the same gradient pink background as the original band render to complete the parody, but the result was, unfortunately, vomit-inducing. I fought with it for an hour or two before landing on these alternates instead. As stated before, I'm extremely partial to the concept art "version" of these five, and based this on those pieces shared by DE in Devstream 182.

[stomachofyourdeadsoulmate]