Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids
“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”
Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”
“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.
Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”
Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”
Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”
Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”
“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.
Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”
“Maybe he should stay away from those.”
“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.
Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”
“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.
“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”
“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”
Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”
Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”
“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.
“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”
They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”
Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”
Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”
Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”
“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”
Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”
“Yes. I would.”
Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”
“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”
“Uh huh.”
He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.
“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.
Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.
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a selection of The Library's customers
--
One day Hob will get used to The Library's many strange happenings. Maybe. Or probably not.
Today, it's the fact that there's a customer.
Sort of.
The small child who's essentially appeared in Dream's study frowns up at him, hands on her hips. She looks to be about nine. She's wearing a school uniform. Where are her parents?
"This," she says to Dream, horribly affronted, "is not the school library."
"I imagine it did not have what you needed," Dream says. Utterly unbothered by a random child wandering into his shop, seemingly out of nowhere. Hob watches with astonishment from where he's sitting at Dream's desk with a cup of coffee, evidently not needed for this interaction. "What were you looking for?"
"Unicorns," she declares.
It seems odd to Hob that a primary school library wouldn't have any fantasy books with unicorns in them, but what does he know. Dream nods with utter seriousness. "Please wait a moment," he says, and disappears into the bowels of the shop.
"How'd you get in here?" Hob asks as the girl sits down primly in a chair.
"I used the door, silly," she says. Not the front door, surely. Hob definitely hadn't seen her come up the stairs into the study.
Then her eyes light up. "Can I have a scone?"
Hob had brought over a container of them from the cafe, and Dream's been picking at them all morning. Hob passes the kid the container. What the hell else is he supposed to do?
Fortunately, Dream returns before Hob has to figure out what his adult responsibility is as regards an unaccompanied child that probably should be in school right now. Dream hands the girl a stack of at least ten books of varying sizes, presumably about unicorns. The girl looks through them, scrunches her nose up, and asks, "D'you have anything more scientific?"
Dream considers. Then hands her a large, flat book that he definitely hadn't been carrying a moment ago. The girl sets it on the ground, kneeling before it, flipping through the pages. It seems to be made up of scientific diagrams and large, full-color images. Hob sees viscera, organs, bones-- then the girl closes the book again. The cover says, Unicorn Anatomy: Piece by Piece.
The little girl smiles up at him, sharp and pixie-like. "Thank you, Mister Dream," she says, incredibly polite for a child currently grinning madly over unicorn dissections.
Dream nods solemnly. "I hope it will serve you well in your endeavors."
She trots off back into the stacks, to whatever door (?) she came from, and Hob turns to Dream. "Do you often get random children here?"
"The Library finds its customers," Dream says placidly. "She will find her way back to her classroom, worry not."
"Figured that, somehow."
Dream sets the other unicorn books aside and takes up a scone in their place, nibbling on it as he perches on the edge of his desk, looking down at Hob. He seems amused by Hob's confusion. "Why do you have a front door if people don't use it?" Hob asks.
"You use it," Dream points out. Which... is unexpectedly touching. Unexpectedly special.
"Fair enough," he agrees, voice tight.
--
Dream's next customer comes bursting in through a side door as Hob is helping Dream stack some new books. He runs in so fast he has to catch himself against the desk, his business suit tattered and smoking, his hair... literally on fire. He rapidly pats it out.
"Please," he begs, as Dream just observes him calmly from where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I need--"
"1983 Alternate History," Dream fills in. "Yes, I'm sure you do. One moment, please."
As he disappears into the stacks, the customer leans against the desk, panting for breath. Hob doesn't think offering a scone is going to help in this case. He's not sure what else would help, either.
Fortunately, Dream returns quickly, handing the shaking man an equally tattered grey book that is indeed titled, in a concerning handwritten scrawl, User's Guide to 1983 - Alternate Version. And, subtitled: FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY.
"Thanks," breathes the man, clutching the book to him. And with no more explanation than that, he runs back through the door he came from. Hob thinks he catches a glimpse of something very large and very on fire through the doorway, but the door swings closed too fast to tell for sure.
"They would do well to pass that around rather than returning it," Dream says, before sitting back down and returning to his book sorting.
Hob is naturally curious, but he thinks about all the fire and this time decides he doesn't want to know.
--
"...Hi?"
For once, Hob has successfully convinced Dream to stop working for a moment. Dream is, in fact, currently sitting on his lap, resting his head on Hob's shoulder in a half-doze as Hob regales him with a university story that's certainly crazy enough to fit in with any of the books in The Library. But Library customers don't follow a nine - to - five schedule, Hob's learned this well enough by now.
Dream does not seem embarrassed to have been caught in this position. He just stands fluidly, stretching his arms over his head. "Yes?"
The young person standing hesitantly in the middle of the room -- might be eighteen? twenty? once he crossed thirty Hob lost the ability to tell young adults' ages with any accuracy, they all seem like kids -- twists their hands together and says, "Could you help me find a book?"
Dream nods and waits for them to tell him which one.
The kid glances back and forth between the two of them nervously, like they think one or both of them might judge their selection. Hob tries to look non-threatening, even though it's hard to look more non-threatening when he's already half-sunk into the couch, wearing sweatpants, and was just caught cuddling his boyfriend in a semi-public space. He's also certain that whatever book this kid might be after, The Library definitely has something more concerning and more questionable.
Like Alternate 1983 History, for example.
Dream probably already knows what they're looking for, too, he always does.
Dream just tilts his head in beckoning and walks off into the stacks, his customer following behind, still wringing their hands.
Hob's fully expecting only Dream to come back, for his customer to disappear through another exit -- none of which Hob can ever find later. But they both come back through around ten minutes later, Dream carrying a book with a yellow cover. The study is close and cozy enough that Hob can make out the title -- Gender Queer -- as Dream passes it over, and oh, yeah, he gets it now. Granted, Hob himself has always been more of the type to punch people out whenever they give him any shit, but he understands the impulse, the need, sometimes, to hide.
The teen clutches yellow-covered book close to their chest. "You can take it home," Dream says when they make no move to leave.
They look down at the cover and then back up at Dream. "...I'm not sure I can," they say at length. "It's too, um. Obvious."
Dream just raises an eyebrow. "Is it?"
Hob swears he didn't look away, but as he follows the teen customer's gaze back down, the book has definitely changed. The cover is blue now, and it seems to be about maths, though it's hard to make out from far away. The kid flips through the pages, and they must be different from before for they look up at Dream in disbelief.
Dream, the fucker, just winks. Presses the book closed again, upon which the cover returns to yellow.
"Algebra is scintillating," he drawls, turning away and snatching up the container of scones from a side table -- a not-insignificant part of Hob's job, at this point, is just keeping Dream in scones -- "and suitable for any young person. Take a scone with you, too." He holds out the container. "Hob's are the best."
And with a tiny smile, the kid takes one.
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You know I was wondering if Crocodile ever did have any kind of involvement with the Revolutionary Army in secret (lest the Government finds out and revokes his Shichibukai status), what kind of involvement would that even have been
And now, with both the Vegapunk/Ohara flashback and Kuma's flashback, it's being made very clear to us that the Revolutionary Army was broke as hell 22 years ago. Like the fact that this has been brought up twice now in a relatively short span of time is interesting to me, that's usually a sign it's not an unimportant plotpoint
But you know who would have had money to help fund the Army
A funny little warlord who would eventually go and build a fucking casino to run for funsies. A warlord who had to give the Government some of his Pirating Income to keep his warlord-status
Like Crocodile hated the Government anyways so why not help fund the Revolutionary Army in secret, out of spite if for no other reason
Vaguely related, but I keep on remembering this scene (post-Enies Lobby), which at first glance just seems like a basic Lore Dump
But then there's the
"Yet..."
(Or "however", she says "no ni" in Japanese and you could translate that in many ways, I would probably have gone with "however" but that wouldn't have fit into the speechbubble)
Mind you, the conversation just kind of ends there, next we see Garp realize he probably shouldn't have mentioned Dragon infront of such a massive audience, so wherever that "yet" was going to lead to we will never find out, because Oda conveniently changed the subject before we got to it
And you know. Like yes, Robin could be just expressing her shock over finding out that the leader of the Revolutionary Army had a child with someone
But also, Robin was a part of an organization that was trying to overthrow one of the founding countries of the World Government in an explicit attempt to go against said Government (compared to like, Blackbeard, who currently wants to make Fullalead into a "pirate country" that's a part OF the World Government)
Like you don't have to be a genius to look at Crocodile's ultimate goals and compare that to what Dragon is doing and find a few similarities here and there maybe
(Also like, Crocodile's equivalent in Romancing SaGa 2 is meant to be Wagnas, the queer-coded leader of the Seven Heroes (whom the OG Shichibukai are based on) who "hoped to help the world". You know, an interesting detail and all.)
Not to mention, during the time Robin spent with Baroque Works, if Crocodile was ever in contact with the Revolutionary Army at all, considdering she has the ability to easily spy on people and that she didn't trust Crocodile one bit, it wouldn't be unsurprising if she ever spied on Crocodile and/or just overheard a phone call or knew about Crocodile having secret spending habits or something
(Mind you, I'm not saying "she knew" Crocodile was involved with the Revolutionaries, more that she might've been Suspecting Things, that "yet" being about her connecting the dots while unsure if her conclusion was right or not)
Of course Crocodile's plans can't have been Dragon Approved by any means, especially considdering the Army had been looking for Robin for over 10 years (pre-timeskip)
Four years of which were with Crocodile. Like if he was FULLY allied with the Army and KNEW they were looking for Robin, surely he would've called Dragon and been like "hey I found the kid from Ohara, wanna come hang out" or something. But no, he had bigger plans and kept Robin a secret from the Revolutionaries and the Government alike
Also like, I have seen people question why the Revolutionaries weren't involved with Alabasta's rebellion at all, and "Oda hadn't come up with the Revolutionaries yet at the time of writing" (/"OP was meant to end at Alabasta at one point so there would've been no reason to introduce the subplot at that point") aside
Between Baroque Works being a secret organization working undercover (thus the Army might not have been aware of the civil war being manufactured), the framing of the King making him look bad and very much the type of monarch that deserved to be overthrown in the Army's eyes, and Crocodile maybe lying through his teeth about what was happening in the country... Yeah, the Army's lack of involvement with Alabasta suddenly makes sense
EDIT Minor addition: Just realized that because Crocodile was technically working for the Government, if the Revs ever did send forces to participate in Alabasta's civil army and taking down the throne, the Government could've easily ordered Crocodile to step in to stop the rebellion and take down the Revolutionaries, right? Because he was supposed to be on the Government's side, right? And surely the Army wouldn't have wanted to fight against Crocodile if they were secretly allied (Croc's secret betrayal aside), and if Crocodile refused to fight the Revs the Government could've seen that as a reason to revoke his Shichibukai rights (which wouldn't be great if they wanted to keep Crocodile in a position where he could fund the Army?). So it could've also been a case of it being for the best for everyone's sake to let this one play out "naturally"
But my point is
I'm just deeply intriqued by these little details and wonder if I'm Actually Masterfully Connecting The Dots Like a True Genius or just seeing a pattern where there's none.
Like this is far from confirming the theory, I'm just saying, the pieces do kinda fit together do they not
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