hecckyeah - Tumblr blog

[hecckyeah]

@3friesshortofahappymeal

paws. touching paws. reaching out. booping me. booping you

[hecckyeah]

pros of having a brother in the trades: will literally offer to build you a house because it's "fun" and will teach you every single step so you can make repairs and do it yourself in the future

cons: 47 minute monologue on pocket doors and wood paneling and types of insulation

[hecckyeah]

I've been waiting to share this fic for way too long and I am SO EXCITED. Introducing, for @chenford-prompts 2 Days of Chenford: my fic for today's prompt: Time! As is pretty typical of me, I did not take this in a normal direction. Enjoy the angst, and the first lines under the cut!

Also please enjoy this playlist, you guys helped me make it and it is a MASTERPIECE!!

“7-Adam-100, an alarm has been tripped in a residential neighborhood near your location. 447 Oakhurst Avenue.”

As Tim started to reach for the radio, Lucy said, “You know, that’s almost definitely a false alarm. We could just leave it for someone else.”

“We’re closest,” Tim pointed out. “And it’s not always a false alarm.”

“Oh, come on, Tim. More than half the time, the homeowner just accidentally tripped the alarm on their way out.”

Tim frowned at her. “Since when are you trying to get out of doing your job?”

“I’m not, I just—” she faltered, and glanced down. “I just think it’s a waste of time. Especially for a sergeant.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your call.” Grabbing the radio, Tim clicked it on. “Show us responding.”

Replacing it, he glanced at Lucy as they took another corner, heading towards the address. She was quiet, staring out the window, but Tim could see her reflection in the glass. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her expression was tight with frustration.

This wasn’t normal Lucy behavior. She was empathetic and kind, and she took her job seriously. Some cops would try to blow off something like this, but not her. So what was it about? Was she still upset about their argument yesterday? He’d apologized that morning, but it had to be something.

Speculating wasn’t going to do him any good. “You okay?” he asked, bringing the shop to a halt at a stop sign. 

She didn’t respond right away, not until they were moving again. “Yeah— fine.”

“Listen, if this is about what I said about Sanford—”

“It’s not. You— you weren’t wrong,” she said, glancing at him. “Going out with him was probably a one time thing. He’s not… it wouldn’t work out.”

They turned onto Oakhurst. “Okay,” Tim said. “Then what’s wrong?”

She didn’t respond. When Tim looked at her again, she was staring at the house they’d pulled up in front of, her gaze heavy with something like dread. Then she unbuckled. “I can handle this— why don’t you stay here?”

Before Tim could even formulate an answer to that absolutely ridiculous question— he was a sergeant and her superior officer and definitely not the type to be sitting around in his shop while his gofer took care of calls for him— she’d opened the door and was heading for the house. 

“Wha— Chen!” Scrambling to unbuckle his seat belt, Tim slammed the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just stay in the shop, I got this!”

“Lucy, what’s going—”

The shatter of glass, and Tim instinctively turned towards it.

A gunshot.

And then something slammed into his upper chest, sending him toppling backwards.

[hecckyeah]

And every time she came home after an extended assignment, they’d spent hours just simply laying in bed or on the couch together, doing nothing but relishing each other’s presence and talking through their time apart. She shared as much as she could, and Tim – having learned from his past mistakes – never failed to tell her how much he’d missed her or how every time she left he felt like his heart had gone with her . . . or how proud he was of her, and yet how glad he was that she came home whole and safe. The memory of their talks and the thought of his unwavering support was what got her through each assignment – They were what comforted her in days or weeks alone in various hotels and uncertain living conditions, because at the end of the day he was her anchor. Her safe place. Her constant. 

-So This Crazy Thing Happened at the Terra Bella Mountain Lodge by @hecckyeah (submitted by @kanerallels)

[hecckyeah]

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford challenge day 4 - april 19th

prompt: open door

type: ficlet

important side note: I have plans for this to expand it, but I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing the next part which is why it's a day late, but since this was cute enough on its own I thought I would post it for y'all anyway, to have something for yesterday's challenge :) HOWEVER. stay tuned for the finished product soon!!

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In Which Lucy's Apartment Desperately Needs Proximity Sensors . . .

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As Tamara pushes the door open, all that’s on her mind is a hot bowl of noodles and a couple episodes of Stranger Things waiting for her after that day she just had at school. Gen ed has its perks, but logic class is not one of them. She’d been thoroughly humbled by the midterm exam, walked through a bowl of yogurt some idiot had spilled in the cafeteria, and fell asleep in anthropology – the one class with that sort of professor that has an eagle eye and a tendency to dock any student whose behavior he finds “unbecoming of a university student.”

But as her key clicks in the lock and she shoves open the heavy apartment door, only to see her roommate and said roommate’s boss with their respective faces at a physical proximity that is definitely not LAPD standard regulation, her brain takes a moment to catch up with her eyes.

It’s almost comical how fast and how far the two immediately fly apart, practically shoving each other away, putting as much distance between them as physically possible in such a small space. They look absolutely stunned, guilty, and just a little bit dazed.

She has no idea how to respond, except to flee.

“Oh, I . . .” Tamara drags out the word and points behind herself out the hallway. “I should probably go.”

“No!” Lucy exclaims, almost a little too quickly. “This is work.” Her hands are hidden under her sweater sleeves as she gestures broadly at Tim, who looks about ready to jump out the window. “This is . . . work.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “We’re – We’re going undercover, and–”

“Hey, hey,” Tamara interjects. The why doesn’t matter, just that she clearly overstepped her roommate boundaries and they obviously need their space at the moment. No big deal. “It’s cool, I mean you don’t have to explain yourself.” She would just crash at Drake’s place. His sister probably has a set of pajamas she could borrow. “I should probably go.”

But again, Lucy is adamant that she stay, and as Tim rattles off some half-formed, awkward excuse and practically sprints out the door, barely sparing Tamara a sideways glance and a rushed, “Bye,” she has to wonder what the hell just happened.

She can tell Lucy isn’t ready to explain herself yet. She holds back the gut reaction she has to laugh and spares her roommate’s feelings by simply tilting her head and waiting for her to say anything. But Lucy only stares back, clearly too caught up in the whatever just happened to form any sort of coherent thoughts or sentences, so Tamara makes the executive decision and relieves them both of the pressure to communicate.

“. . . I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Yeah,” Lucy immediately agrees. “Me too. Good.”

And just like that, both the bedroom doors click closed, and Tamara throws herself onto her bed, feeling a laugh bubbling up in her chest as she stares at the ceiling in stunned silence. If that wasn’t the most awkward interaction she’s ever seen or experienced, she doesn’t know what was. 

One thing’s for sure, though: This is a story she cannot wait to hear.

.

.

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford 2024 day 5 - april 20th

prompt: silence

type: drabble (exactly 100 words)

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Oh, the familiarity of silence.

Breathless moments simply drinking in the burning closeness, listening to nothing but the other’s heartbeat. 

Comfortable slices of time between their words.

Panicked seconds, waiting for the click of a radio and confirmation that the other is alive. 

Unbearable nights alone, tossing and turning in the dead of night on a tearstained pillow, wondering if anything will ever be the same as it was.

They both know that deafening quiet which threatens to send them spiraling into nothing, as well as stillness they wish would never end.

But at least silence is a constant. 

. . . Comfortable.

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(find it on ao3)

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford challenge day 4 - april 19th

prompt: open door

type: ficlet

important side note: I have plans for this to expand it, but I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing the next part which is why it's a day late, but since this was cute enough on its own I thought I would post it for y'all anyway, to have something for yesterday's challenge :) HOWEVER. stay tuned for the finished product soon!!

.

.

In Which Lucy's Apartment Desperately Needs Proximity Sensors . . .

.

As Tamara pushes the door open, all that’s on her mind is a hot bowl of noodles and a couple episodes of Stranger Things waiting for her after that day she just had at school. Gen ed has its perks, but logic class is not one of them. She’d been thoroughly humbled by the midterm exam, walked through a bowl of yogurt some idiot had spilled in the cafeteria, and fell asleep in anthropology – the one class with that sort of professor that has an eagle eye and a tendency to dock any student whose behavior he finds “unbecoming of a university student.”

But as her key clicks in the lock and she shoves open the heavy apartment door, only to see her roommate and said roommate’s boss with their respective faces at a physical proximity that is definitely not LAPD standard regulation, her brain takes a moment to catch up with her eyes.

It’s almost comical how fast and how far the two immediately fly apart, practically shoving each other away, putting as much distance between them as physically possible in such a small space. They look absolutely stunned, guilty, and just a little bit dazed.

She has no idea how to respond, except to flee.

“Oh, I . . .” Tamara drags out the word and points behind herself out the hallway. “I should probably go.”

“No!” Lucy exclaims, almost a little too quickly. “This is work.” Her hands are hidden under her sweater sleeves as she gestures broadly at Tim, who looks about ready to jump out the window. “This is . . . work.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “We’re – We’re going undercover, and–”

“Hey, hey,” Tamara interjects. The why doesn’t matter, just that she clearly overstepped her roommate boundaries and they obviously need their space at the moment. No big deal. “It’s cool, I mean you don’t have to explain yourself.” She would just crash at Drake’s place. His sister probably has a set of pajamas she could borrow. “I should probably go.”

But again, Lucy is adamant that she stay, and as Tim rattles off some half-formed, awkward excuse and practically sprints out the door, barely sparing Tamara a sideways glance and a rushed, “Bye,” she has to wonder what the hell just happened.

She can tell Lucy isn’t ready to explain herself yet. She holds back the gut reaction she has to laugh and spares her roommate’s feelings by simply tilting her head and waiting for her to say anything. But Lucy only stares back, clearly too caught up in the whatever just happened to form any sort of coherent thoughts or sentences, so Tamara makes the executive decision and relieves them both of the pressure to communicate.

“. . . I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Yeah,” Lucy immediately agrees. “Me too. Good.”

And just like that, both the bedroom doors click closed, and Tamara throws herself onto her bed, feeling a laugh bubbling up in her chest as she stares at the ceiling in stunned silence. If that wasn’t the most awkward interaction she’s ever seen or experienced, she doesn’t know what was. 

One thing’s for sure, though: This is a story she cannot wait to hear.

.

.

[hecckyeah]

you know that moment when you're talking with customer service about something on the phone and they ask if you have something to write on, and the next few seconds are you going crash-bang-oof and "uhhhhh just a second" as you scramble for a pen and paper, knocking down chairs and tripping over your cat on the way? I hope in the horrible monotony of customer service calls, that comedic moment brings at least a little speck of joy to their day :)

[hecckyeah]

I got halfway through yesterday's two weeks of chenford prompt and accidentally fell asleep, so.... I might be posting two today 😅😅

[hecckyeah]

[hecckyeah]

So I just saw a post by a random personal blog that said “don’t follow me if we never even had a conversation before” and?????? Not to be rude but literally what the fuck??????????

I’ve had people (non-pornbots) try to strike conversation out of nowhere in my DMs recently, and now I’m wondering if they were doing that because they wanted to follow me and thought they needed to interact first. I feel compelled to say, just in case, that it’s totally okay to follow this blog (or my side blog, for that matter) even if we’ve never talked before.

Also, I’m legit confused. Is this how follow culture works right now? It was worded like it’s common sense but is that really a thing?

[hecckyeah]

LET'S FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOO

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford challenge day 3 - april 18th

prompt: photograph

type: one-shot ficlet

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On That Old Park Bench

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There’s a framed photo in Lucy’s kitchen.

It’s nothing objectively special. Never attracted attention from guests, and the twins really only ever asked about it a handful of times. It’s faded by now, after years and years of sunlight on cheap photo paper. The frame is cracked on the lower left side from when the moving truck had a nasty near-miss with a motorcycle. The glass has been replaced at least twice. And the corners of the paper are yellowing just slightly.

But Lucy can’t imagine her home without it.

She pauses her stirring to take in the all-too-familiar sight, having already memorized every detail a hundred times over. Each streak of light, every leaf on the trees, every smile line on their faces, she knows it. 

It’s a scene of two people on a park bench. Leaning toward each other like magnets drawn together, hands reaching out for the other and anchoring to each other with a sense of urgency that’s palpable through the glass. Their faces gleam with smiles, the light filtering softly through the trees to illuminate them perfectly. But there’s a side to the photo that no one knows except the two of them.

(read the rest on ao3)

[hecckyeah]

I know this is far fetched and kind of mean, but the thought just came to me and I had to type it out. Ready for a Rookie hot take?

I think Celina has to wash out of the program.

Truthfully, it's the only way to save both her and Nolan's stories. I think Nolan has to fail at something. His character has become too bland. Too predictable. At first he was a fantastic character because he made mistakes and grew because of them, but now he's becoming a male Mary Sue who can do anything and never feels the consequences for his actions. And Celina is making the same mistakes that would have at least suspended the 3 OG rookies, if not totally removed them from the program.

I think Celina hasn't changed since her first appearance. The writers don't seem to know what to do with her, and by extension, her TO either. Nolan needs to fail at this. He needs to question himself and grow as a TO and sharpen his skills, and truly I don't think immediate success is the way to do that. Celina has been underused and overdone and she's not friends with anyone except Bailey, which creates this bubble of the three of them, and being that the three of them are the most boring characters on the show, it's just a recipe for disaster.

Maybe I'll have a more complete analysis later for this, but for now. I just think Celina needs to go. And seeing that she's been in long sleeves for two entire seasons already, I think it's not unfair to say it's been a long time coming.

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford challenge day 3 - april 18th

prompt: photograph

type: one-shot ficlet

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.

On That Old Park Bench

.

.

There’s a framed photo in Lucy’s kitchen.

It’s nothing objectively special. Never attracted attention from guests, and the twins really only ever asked about it a handful of times. It’s faded by now, after years and years of sunlight on cheap photo paper. The frame is cracked on the lower left side from when the moving truck had a nasty near-miss with a motorcycle. The glass has been replaced at least twice. And the corners of the paper are yellowing just slightly.

But Lucy can’t imagine her home without it.

She pauses her stirring to take in the all-too-familiar sight, having already memorized every detail a hundred times over. Each streak of light, every leaf on the trees, every smile line on their faces, she knows it. 

It’s a scene of two people on a park bench. Leaning toward each other like magnets drawn together, hands reaching out for the other and anchoring to each other with a sense of urgency that’s palpable through the glass. Their faces gleam with smiles, the light filtering softly through the trees to illuminate them perfectly. But there’s a side to the photo that no one knows except the two of them.

(read the rest on ao3)

[hecckyeah]

two weeks of chenford challenge day 3 - april 18th

prompt: photograph

type: one-shot ficlet

.

.

On That Old Park Bench

.

.

There’s a framed photo in Lucy’s kitchen.

It’s nothing objectively special. Never attracted attention from guests, and the twins really only ever asked about it a handful of times. It’s faded by now, after years and years of sunlight on cheap photo paper. The frame is cracked on the lower left side from when the moving truck had a nasty near-miss with a motorcycle. The glass has been replaced at least twice. And the corners of the paper are yellowing just slightly.

But Lucy can’t imagine her home without it.

She pauses her stirring to take in the all-too-familiar sight, having already memorized every detail a hundred times over. Each streak of light, every leaf on the trees, every smile line on their faces, she knows it. 

It’s a scene of two people on a park bench. Leaning toward each other like magnets drawn together, hands reaching out for the other and anchoring to each other with a sense of urgency that’s palpable through the glass. Their faces gleam with smiles, the light filtering softly through the trees to illuminate them perfectly. But there’s a side to the photo that no one knows except the two of them.

(read the rest on ao3)