#anyways this is a step in the right direction for me :)

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 5 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

A/N: Me? Desperate for validation? It's more likely than you think Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: none

You make your way through more of the rubble, taking frequent breaks in an attempt to conserve your energy. It’s probably been less than an hour, but it feels like you’ve been trapped for days. You used most of your effort to free Russ, which proved futile, so now you’re simply exhausted.

At some point, you see a glimpse of light between two pieces of crumbled concrete. Using the blunt side of your axe, you begin chipping away at the space. More light begins to break through. The sight causes you to catch your second wind, and you begin swinging harder. Eventually, you make a hole big enough for you to crawl through.

You climb over some of the bigger pieces of the fallen structure and slip between others. You sneak between a few vehicles. You keep walking, though you aren’t sure what you’re looking for. Something in you gut is pulling you in this direction, and you have nothing else to go off of, so you’re going with it.

You hear a cough.

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. You start moving so quickly that you stumble a little and have to slow yourself down so you don’t break an ankle. You shine your flashlight to the side. It lands on a little girl. She squints her eyes and lifts a hand to block out the brightness.

“Kat?” You ask.

She nods.

You laugh. You laugh with joy. You laugh with relief. You laugh until a few tears spring into your eyes. You cut yourself off—no way are you breaking down in front her. You’ve both come this far, and you’re going to see each other to the end. If you’re saving anyone today, it’s her.

You reach into the inner pocket of your jacket, eternally grateful that you took on the added weight. “You looking for this?”

It’s her shoe.

Kat smiles and nods again.

Kat’s tired, and so are you, but you carry her on your back anyway. You swear that, in the distance, you hear a car alarm, so that’s the direction you head in.

“What if we can’t get out?” Kat asks quietly.

“What? Hey, come on, don’t start talking like that now,” you gently scold. “We’ve already made it through the hard part!”

“I guess…” She says, unsure.

You hear the shifting of rubble, but only a little. You think you might hear voices, too. You take off in that direction.

Concrete shifts, and you see more light—a lot of light. Like, your headlamp times ten. You scramble towards it, ducking a little so as to not hurt Kat.

As the dust settles, you can make out at least ten firefighters standing around the scene. You can’t help but smile.

“Hello fellas,” You say, taking a few more steps forward.

A firefighter from a different crew helps Kat off of you. Your attention immediately focuses on two particular firefighters in front of you, both of which have ‘118’ on their caps.

“Welcome back,” Buck greets with a grin.

You laugh and stumble forward right into his arms. Once again, you find yourself holding back tears. You feel someone pat your back and leave his hand there, and you don’t have to look to know it’s Eddie.

You make it back to the triage area, Kat walking in front of you. The moment she sees her parents, she takes off running. On instinct, you jog behind her, but when you see her collapse into her parents’ arms, you stop and simply watch.

They look over at you and nod. You smile and nod back.

Hen insists on looking you over, testing everything from your range of motion to your vision. Even you surprise yourself a little when you pass with flying colors. Hen steals a quick hug before she gets back to work. You just sit there, dumbfounded. You’re exhausted, but you’re okay. You’re alive.

“Hey you,” Buck says, taking a seat next to you.

Somehow, that’s all it takes for the floodgates to break open.

“Woah, hey, come here,” Buck wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You wrap an arm around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. You breathe out a few sobs but slowly quiet yourself. You can feel Buck’s lips pressed to the top of your head. You sit up straight, wiping your eyes. Buck keeps his arm around you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, shaking your head a little. “Just… rough day.”

“Russ?” Buck asks quietly.

You smile sadly and nod, a few more tears escaping in the process. “You know he wasn’t even scheduled to work? He just heard about everything and wanted to help. And now he’s dead. Because I couldn’t save him.”

“But you were there for him,” Buck points out, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “Even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him. He didn’t die alone. You did that.”

“Yeah, I guess. It just doesn’t feel like enough, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

You clear your throat a little. “When I was alone and thought you guys might not find me, I made recordings. I wanted the people I love to hear from me one last time. Can you guess how many I made?”

Buck just watches you. His expression is a mix of intrigue and sympathy.

“Five,” you answer, even though he doesn’t ask. “I made five recordings, one for each of you. That’s it.”

“What about your parents? Siblings?”

“My mom died when she gave birth to me,” you answer. “My dad fell into a bottle. I haven’t spoken to him since I moved away from home seven years ago. People tell me he changed after she died, but… that’s the only way I know him. It makes me feel like I got cheated out of both my parents instead of just one.”

The two of you sit in silence. It’s broken when you laugh.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you all of this,” you chuckle as more tears form. “I guess I just need someone to know that… this job is quite literally my entire life. It’s my passion, my work, my home, and my family. Most of the time, I feel lucky. On days like today, though, it just… scares the hell out of me. Because I’m either gonna die doing what I love, or doing what I love will kill me. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck agrees softly. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do it with, either.”

Once you all returned to the station, you hopped in the shower. When you got out, Buck was waiting for you in the locker room. He insisted on driving you home, making sure you were okay. When he told you, you rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled. The last thing you want to do is navigate LA traffic, so you accept his offer.

When you both started to leave, you noticed Eddie was making phone calls and texts. You learned that he was trying to find a ride to Christopher’s school; he hasn’t had the chance to buy a vehicle yet.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asks again as you all get to the parking lot.

“Just get in the damn car, Eddie,” you say.

The ride is a little tense. Eddie touched base with some of the school staff, so he knows Christopher is okay, but it isn’t the same as seeing it for himself. He taps his phone against the car windowsill. You insisted on sitting in the back, and for good reason: you can already feel yourself dozing off.

Buck pulls over, and you look up to see you’ve arrived at the school. Almost before the car is in ‘park’, Eddie flings open the door and runs up the stairs. Christopher is standing in the front hall, a staff member off to the side. Eddie picks him up in a hug, spinning him around.

“They’re really cute,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Buck is too busy watching them to even register what you said.

Eddie thanks the staff member before opening the door for Chris. The two make their way back to the car, Christopher a little bit in front of Eddie. For a kid with crutches, he moves quickly; the poor kid is probably ready to go home.

Eddie opens the side door for his son, setting the crutches on the floor. With his father’s help, Christopher joins you in the backseat.

��Chris, these are my friends,” Eddie says, pointing at you and Buck as he introduces you both.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile.

“My dad talks about you. A lot,” Christopher says.

You giggle in surprise. “Does he, now?”

Even in the dark, you can see Eddie’s face get red. “‘You’ as in the 118,” he clarifies.

Buck shakes his head and laughs softly as he pulls away from the curb.

This might be the dumbest call you’ve ever been to, and that’s saying something.

A bunch of women decided to get drunk at 11:30 in the morning, and as a fun drunk activity, one of them stuck her head in a tailpipe. The only problem is she couldn’t get it out, so now it’s the LAFD’s problem. Medically, she’s clear, so you and Hen stand back and let the boys do their thing. Unfortunately, the drunk girl has drunk friends and said drunk friends are relentlessly hitting on Eddie and Buck.

“What are you so tense for?” Hen asks.

“I’m not.”

You both know it’s a lie. Until she said it, though, you didn’t realize that your jaw was clenched and your brow furrowed. You roll your shoulders and turn your neck a few times, hoping it relaxes your muscles.

The women are bothering you. And it’s really stupid and childish, especially considering that neither Buck nor Eddie is your boyfriend. They’re just your coworkers, so you have literally no right to get upset that women besides yourself find them attractive.

“I uh, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” Eddie politely rejects one of them. “I have a son.”

“I’m gonna puke!” The woman says from inside the tailpipe.

“You better not!” One of her friends shouts. “These fire guys are totally hot.”

You can feel your jaw start to tense again.

After getting the woman free from the tailpipe, you all begin to make your way back to the engine. Buck and Eddie are a few steps in front of you. They’re trying to be discrete, but you make out every word.

“Hey, so is your son really the reason you don’t date?” Buck asks.

“That, and.. They weren’t my type,” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m talking in general,” Buck continues.

“It’s complicated when you have a kid.”

“Come on, that’s a weak excuse.”

The conversation is cut short when Eddie gets a phone call. He takes a few steps away while you and Buck linger behind. You don’t have to hear anything to see Eddie’s body language change. Buck sends you a knowing glance.

It’s about Christopher.

It’s always weird going past the ER of a hospital. It feels like you’re in forbidden territory, like you’ve stepped outside your bounds. The nice thing about having few family members is you barely have to cross the picket line.

You, Buck, and Eddie get off the elevator. Eddie is a few steps ahead and quickly sees his aunt in a nearby waiting area. They chat a little, and you can see that Christopher is standing near a few nurses, completely eating up the attention. It makes you smile.

Eddie’s aunt explains that it’s his grandmother who’s in the hospital—broken hip. When she was watching Christopher and called him inside, she slipped on a porch step. Christopher had to call 911.

“Who’s this with you?” His aunt asks, turning her attention to you and Buck.

“We work together,” Eddie explains after saying your names.

“Mmm, I thought you just dressed alike.”

“This is my Aunt Josefina—Pepa,” Eddie introduces.

“Hi,” you both say politely.

Pepa begins to lecture Eddie about leaving Christopher with his grandmother. You can tell Eddie feels bad, but you can also tell he has no other options. He dismisses himself from the conversation by meeting up with Christopher.

“Must be rough,” Buck remarks.

“Raising any child alone is rough,” Pepa agrees.

“Eddie’s a saint,” You praise.

Pepa smiles. It’s bittersweet. “I pray for him anyway.”

Christopher ends up spending some time at the station, and it’s one of the best shifts you’ve had in a long time. Eddie’s aunt was busy working when his shift started, and with his grandmother still in the hospital, he truly had nowhere else to take him. It was either bringing his son to work or calling in from work to watch his son. Eddie chose the former.

You’re able to take him on a simple MVC call with no suspected injuries. As you all work to free the drivers and passengers, Bobby explains everything to Christopher. He’s standing on the ground while Christopher stands on part of the firetruck, holding one of the rails for stability. Bobby has an arm around him for the same reason.

When you get back to the station, you make him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. He approves. Then, Chim swoops in and teaches him how to play pinball. At some point, all of you are standing around the firepole, helping Christopher slide down it.

Pepa shows up, and the fun is over. Before Eddie walks them out, he pulls Cap into a hug. You and Buck look at each other and smile.

“This was a really nice idea, Buck.”

“Eh, I figured we could all use a little stress relief,” Buck shrugs.

“Well, clearly Eddie appreciates it. I guess it really does take a village.”

Buck nods in response and begins to walk away.

“I’m thinking of going to nursing school,” you blurt out.

He turns back to face you. “What?”

You clear your throat. This wasn’t how you planned on telling him, just springing it on him in a random conversation. You knew that if you didn’t say something soon, he would hear it from someone else first. You definitely didn’t want that.

“You remember that conversation we had at breakfast a few weeks ago? You know, the one about what we’d be doing if we didn’t work at the 118?”

“You wanna be a nurse?” Buck frowns. “I mean, nurses are great; Maddie’s a nurse. Or, well, she was. You just… don’t seem the type.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve kind of always been interested in flight nursing. You know, like, going up in a helicopter, responding to scene calls, that sort of thing,” you explain as you wring your hands.

“So that means you wouldn’t work here anymore.”

“That’s… a long ways down the line. Like, at least 18 months, probably closer to 2 years. Bobby said I could always stay on casually, pick up shifts whenever I want.”

“You already talked to Bobby,” Buck rubs his neck. “You must be pretty serious about this, then.”

“I guess,” you shrug. You’re trying to sound casual, but the thumping of your heart in your chest doesn’t cease.

Buck smiles. The expression doesn’t meet his eyes. “I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”

This time, he walks away for good, leaving you with a bitter taste on your tongue.

The 118 is called to a helicopter crash site. The pilot tried to make an emergency landing in a park football field but landed in the bleachers instead. After Buck pulls one of the victims from the scene, you do an assessment and quickly realize that, by some miracle, she’s completely fine.

Buck makes his way over to the two of you. “Hey, do me a favor and say ‘And on the 405, speeds are under five miles an hour, making your morning commute a rough one.’"

You look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I-I know that voice. It's, uh, it's Taylor Kelly reporting, right? Skywitness News Eight,” Buck says, pointing back to the helicopter.

“That’s me,” Taylor says with a soft chuckle.

“Wow. Um, it's weird to hear that voice come out of a face.”

Taylor laughs again. “Thank you?”

They’re flirting. You clench your teeth together so hard you think your jaw might pop. You start randomly tossing supplies back into your bag, zip it up, and hop back into the rig before you can hear the end of the conversation.

The next time you see Taylor, she’s at the station. She doesn’t come alone, either—a man holding a television camera is a few steps behind her.

The first one to approach her is Buck, of course. Then Eddie, Chim, Hen, and finally, Bobby. You watch everything happen from the loft; there’s no way you’ll willingly engage in whatever conversation they’re having.

Bobby makes his way up the stairs.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as he walks by.

“Ms. Kelly wants to do a story on the 118,” Bobby says.

You frown. “Is she even allowed to film in here?”

“The chief’s office is on hold. Something tells me that we’ll be seeing quite a bit of her and her cameraman the next few days.”

Bobby’s already gone, but you still roll your eyes.

Taylor manages to track down everyone and get an interview: everyone except you and Captain Nash. She follows along on a few calls, on which you can mostly ignore her. It's much harder to ignore her when she corners you in the loft.

You’re eating breakfast alone at the kitchen island when Taylor bombards you, her cameraman beside her like always. She gives you a massive grin, and something about how it looks makes you nauseous.

“Can we have a few minutes with you?” She asks, still smiling.

“No,” you respond simply.

“...No?”

“No,” you repeat, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s cold.

“Look, I know this is probably a little awkward and uncomfortable-”

“It’s not,” you interrupt as you stand. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

You head towards the coffee pot to warm your cup. You refill it and take a sip as you lean against the counter. Taylor just stares at you.

“I want you to know I only have one goal here: to tell a story. Your story,” Taylor says, forcing the smile back on her face.

“Oh, really?” You ask, setting your coffee on the counter behind you. You push off of the counter so you can approach Taylor. “And uh, how much money do you think you can make telling my story?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what this about, right?” you challenge. “You have a chance to change the trajectory of your career. You can go from the girl who talks about traffic to the woman who sheds a light on the unsung heroes. You’d be stupid not to jump on that opportunity.”

Taylor looks at you. “I suppose.”

“And I would be stupid if I actually believed you have good intentions,” you continue, “because you don’t give a damn about us. You don’t care about the 118 or what we do everyday—you care about yourself. So no, I don’t have a minute and I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You missed the show.”

You open your locker with a huff. You shrug as you pick up your shoes. “Bummer.”

“You were barely in it,” Buck continues. “Something tells me that wasn’t exactly an accident.”

You take a seat on the bench so you can change your shoes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound in the room is you kicking off your boots and slipping into your converse. You begin tying the laces, then pause.

You look over your shoulder at Buck. “You talked to her, didn’t you?”

Buck looks everywhere but your face.

“You know what I said to her,” you say. It isn’t even a question: you can tell by how he’s acting.

“I just don’t understand why you were so rude to her.”

“Oh my god, seriously, Buck?!” you say, standing up to face him. “Her?!”

He crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

You scoff and shake your head. “It means you haven’t changed at all.”

“What?”

You pick up your boots and toss them in your locker, which you slam shut. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair,” he argues, moving his hands to his pockets.

“It’s not?” You ask, cocking your head. “I’m pretty sure a few months ago, you were sleeping with whatever woman fell for the whole ‘hero’ act. So how exactly have you changed?”

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Buck asks defensively. “I mean, it’s not like you care enough to stick around.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you confirm, stepping towards him. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I haven’t even applied to anything.”

“If it’s not my business, then why’d you make it my business?” Buck provokes. “Why’d you even tell me?”

“Because I thought you were my friend!” you shout. “I thought you would be happy for me!”

“Be happy that you want to leave?”

“Be happy that I want more for myself!”

“Well, I’m not happy,” Buck says, crossing his arms again. “You say that we’re your family, and then a few weeks later, you’re talking about other jobs. I mean, was that just a bunch of bullshit?”

You scoff again, and this time, angry tears fill your eyes. “Fuck you, Evan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, turning to the door.

There are a million things you want to say. But then, you remember: you’ve already said them.

You reach into your pocket and come back with your phone. As Buck walks away, you hit the ‘play’ button on a recording you never wanted to listen to.

'Pretty Boy,' your voice in the recording crackles.

Buck stops and turns around.

'Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?'

You hit the ‘pause’ button and stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but don’t you ever say that I don’t care about this job,” you whisper as you walk towards him. You poke a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever say that I don’t care about you.”

“I-”

Your shoulder slams into his as you walk out.

[eddiestightywhities]

SNIPPET SUNDAY

so there i was minding my own business working away on my s08e08 coda when BAM! charlie @playinginthunderstorms goes and drops THIS SHOW-STOPPING FIC and completely derails my efforts by inspiring me to write a completely different fic that is also a coda for s08e08 lmao. having writer friends is never, ever boring, amirite?!

anyways here's an excerpt seeing as i thought i'd get it finished tonight but didn't and need the motivation to keep going with it asfhjhsk

ps pls be kind as it's completely unedited xp

.

“Take it off.”

Buck looks up to where Eddie is standing in the door jam, big hands on slim hips and pink lips pinched.

“Huh?” he replies.

Because huh?

Eddie gives him The Look; his patented Buck look.

“Buck,” he says in the exact same way Buck just heard it in his head.

Then Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in the way Buck knows to mean you know what I mean, and although most of the time Buck knows precisely what Eddie means with just one pointed eyebrow-raise, right now he has zero clue of whatever it is Eddie is trying to tell him.

“What?” he says, his own brows asking half the question for him.

Eddie sighs, and it's kind of pained and long-suffering, which—fair.

“The hoodie, lover-boy. Take it off.”

The penny-drop is immediate.

For some reason, Buck blushes a little under Eddie's gaze—and maybe a little at his use of the weirdly alluring moniker.

Buck is wearing one of Tommy's hoodies.

He doesn't pout, but it's a close thing.

“But it's—Eds, it's the only thing I have left of him,” he protests, voice pathetically brittle and small.

Eddie's eyes go so soft you could top hot chocolate with them and cover them in squirty cream.

“Look, Buck, keeping it is bad enough. But wearing it? That's some pretty solid self-sabotaging behaviour, man. Trust me; I should know.” His words are cleanly direct, as they always are, only his mouth treats them with such gentleness, and such care, that Buck kind of wants to cry.

Eddie always looks after him. Always works hard to keep Buck's heart safe from harm.

Buck pictures it now, his heart laying uselessly in his friend's cupped hands as it continues to pump Buck's blood out of its floppy ventricles, even though there's nowhere left for it to go.

Tommy left him.

They all leave, eventually. Because everybody leaves Buck, he should know that by now.

Everyone except Eddie.

Adversely, though, it was only yesterday that Eddie had told Buck about his absolutely batshit crazy idea of moving back to El Paso, after which Buck's brain had consequently stopped sending messages to his body to tell it how to breathe.

He remembers picturing Yesterday Eddie crushing Buck's heart in a tight fist, blood and viscera oozing out from between his fingers and dripping down over his knuckles, right onto the sparkling white kitchen tiles. Then, rounding the table and chairs to step on the pedal bin pedal, he'd proceeded to throw Buck's heart away into the trash bag along with the rest of the trash.

Somehow though, in the space between the last of Buck's now-crushed heartbeats and him blinking back to reality, Buck had managed to snap out of the fucked-up vision to remind his body to keep working in the way that it's supposed to.

He'd then forced a plastic smile onto his face and painted it with as much selfless understanding as he could muster, before coming out with, “Well, we should move this party to the couch,” and offering himself up as a Realtor Virtual Meeting Wingman like a certified insane person.

Buck loved Eddie—he was his best friend in all the world—so what the fuck was he doing helping the guy turn his life into a living hell?

But helping being his first instinct was what made him realise he loved Eddie and Christopher enough to give them up, if that's what it was going to take to facilitate them getting their happiness back.

…Or so he thought.

As much as he had tried—and by god, he had really, really tried—Buck just couldn't keep up the Supportive Best Friend charade for very long.

That's when all hell had broken loose.

.

tags are under the cut, play or nay:

@inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @kitteneddiediaz @buddiebeginz @watchyourbuck @treasurehuntbuck @daffi-990 @colonoscopys @shitouttabuck @lamardeuse @idealuk @veronae-buddie @isaacthedruid @team-118 @wildehacked @playinginthunderstorms @kyoteugly @hotshotsxyz

[splickedylit]

@ USAmericans that are following me, if you (like me) get anxious you'll somehow have issues with a mail-in or drop-off ballot: I forgot that in a lot of places (here's a site to check!) early in-person voting is an option, so I figured maybe you did too!

Lines are MUCH shorter than election day,

which means it's quick and you have more time to look things up at the voting booth if necessary,

and you have a LOT more ability to find a time that works for you than if you just vote on Nov. 5th (which I would be have been almost completely unable to go out and vote on).

Early voting y'all it kicks ass. A quick google of "early voting (my city/county" immediately brought up the exact address, days and hours of where it was available. Will definitely patronize the fine folks at my local polling center again in four years assuming that. Things go well. And we still have a democracy in four years. OTL

[horreurscopes]

my guy pretty like a girl & he got fight stories to tell; i see both sides like chanel

[tj-crochets]

I am having a rough afternoon and could use some joy, so if you have any favorite songs to dance around the kitchen to I'd love to hear them! It does not matter what language they are in, any language is fine

[murphbloom]

"Me?" Murph scoffed, waving a hand in Toni's direction. "Says the rockstar who just walks around looking like that." And he meant it, too. Toni had aged, sure, but he could see the young man he'd once known. It was such a slap of nostalgia that it almost made him take a step back by the sheer weight of it. The memories were suddenly so visceral that he felt like, if he tried hard enough, he could step right back into them.

What an attractive thought that was. How many things might he have done differently if given the chance?

Not enough, probably.

Perhaps it was his own pessimistic view of the world, but at the second insistent of good, Murph had to wonder if Toni wasn't currently battling his own demons. It was also entirely possible that Murph was projecting, so he took him at his word. They were basically strangers now, anyway. The polite thing to do in these situations was lie. "Good! You look good. I actually just moved here a few weeks back. Needed a change, you know? But apparently everyone feels that way since you're not the first person I've run into, believe it or not."

If Murph is an alcohol-induced hallucination, he’s a pretty sophisticated one. Antonio thinks he can put that theory to bed, though — he’s never been so drunk he’s hallucinated, and though there’s always a first time for everything, Murph’s reaction to his presence leaves little doubt in his mind that it’s actually him. Pocketing his hands in his coat, he returns the smile, easy as anything. Conversations, he can get through. Happy to do it, even, if it keeps his mind off the bullshit.

At the mention of fifteen years, Antonio can’t help the wrinkle of his nose. Jesus Christ, it has been that long, hasn’t it? He’s surprised his back doesn’t give out right at this moment, at the mere insinuation of his age. Murph is certainly a reminder of happier, brighter times — mostly ones that didn’t involve his fucking knees bothering him so much. “Fifteen years. And you aged like fine wine,” he offers a truth, first and foremost, because there aren’t enough people who age so gracefully. 

Then—“I’ve been good,” he says, and it’s half-true. He has been good, for the most part. Roman’s made things good. Roman makes anything good. The drinking issue, well — that’s neither here nor there. Certainly not a topic of conversation to bring up now, anyway. “I am good, yeah. You! How are you? Last I heard you were still in California, right?” He gestures around them for a second, as if taking note of how much this isn’t California. “How’d you wind up here?”

[mc-critical]

1.01 / 2.17 (41)

[strangebrew]

happy birthday crosby

[smilesrobotlover]

Well, I didn’t fail my psychology test, but I didn’t do good either

[rotisseries]

HELLO?

[psqqa]

i'm having a lot of fun with duolingo italian because it's like word that is basically latin but italianly, french but to the left, oh hey greek! you love to see it, absolute bottom of the false friend option list but sure i guess, WILDEST LEFT FIELD SHIT YOU'VE EVER SEEN, back to latin,

[princessconsuelapark]

as much as i appreciate the sentiment behind posts talking about people's childhoods and growing up with them and big part of formative years etc, that concept feels so alien to me.

him and his band are a big part of my life still.

they are on my blog, in my bio, my url, on my twitter header, in my spotify wrapped, I wear their merch to the gym, I sleep in it, (god help me but) i have notifs on for @ onedirection on ig, I buy tickets to their concerts, and I use my mug with their faces on it every single day for my morning coffee.

that is all in the present. and I understand that people mourn for a sense of nostalgic past and that is so valid. I just can't quite see myself within any of those remembrances.

so here's a post for us, for the fans who are still here, for the people who mourn not just for their past, but for their present, and now future. ❤️ love you all lots.

[riftdancing]

haunt·ed (adjective) 1. inhabited or frequented by ghosts. a haunted castle. 2. preoccupied, as with emotion, memory, or idea; obsessed: His haunted imagination gave him no peace.

Unfortunately for me, it's both. It's been over two decades since you passed, but I still see you in the mirror every morning. Your judgement echoes in my ears and your haunting white eye continues to scrutinize my every move. My technique. Never quick enough. Foot work is always sloppy. Missed a spot cleaning that revolver barrel…

Was it love or obsession? Did you really love me, or were you chasing the remaining desire for my late Mother? I see her when I look in the mirror too. In my own reflection. In my features. I was not woman enough to be the daughter she wanted. I was not loyal enough for my Father's pride. I was not obedient enough for my Brother's care.

They all share your grave now.

Sometimes I feel ill when I miss you.

I remember when Father gave me to you. Like an object or a toy he'd discarded, something he'd grown bored of after I didn't fulfill his expectations. After I filled him with disappointment. I don't blame him entirely. After all I betrayed all of them. Not just the family… but the entire crew too. Even when he gave me to you, you didn't want me and I wanted nothing to do with you. I was a burden, but you made me useful. While Father ensured I'd never see the inside of another cockpit you honed me into a fine weapon. At first I hated you for it, but you taught me discipline and over time I learned how to be a ghost, just like you. Your very own protégé...

...But you are gone, and I still feel your gaze from behind. I still feel you watching when I look over my shoulder. When I am with someone new. Heckling me about having a particular type. That I am still soft. Vulnerable. Weak. Womanly. A hound ready to obey. Maybe I am.

He says it too and in many ways, he reminds me of you. He is one of the few people on this star who has proven to be worthy of my subordinance. But unlike our troubled past, he doesn't force me to be something or someone I don't want to be.

He is the catalyst to my healing.

He has taught me my choices are my own.

From now on I will no longer be a slave to my past.

((There's a bit of context in bullet points under the cut for this if it interests you but it's really raw because she's got a very long and complicated story as I've been writing her since 2011.))

Some bullet points on Blink's early history:

Blink was born into a life of Sky Piracy.

Her Father was the Sky Pirate Captain of the Harbingers.

His First Mate was a man named Judas, who was known in more public circles as a ghost-like assassin.

Blink fell in love with a pirate in a rival crew and tried to secretly elope with them. Her Father found out, he saw it as a huge betrayal, and sent Judas to hunt her and the lad down.

Judas killed the guy in front of her, brought her back to her Father.

Her Father disowned her after arranging her marriage to Judas (something neither of them wanted)

Judas viewed her as a burden, and basically decided when life gives you lemons, you turn them into your protégé and train them like a soldier.

This brought the pair of them closer over time… and as they'd both been screwed by the Crew's bullshit hierarchy and politics they decided to do something about it together.

Judas wound up fighting Blink's Father for Captaincy, and won. While it was supposed to be a fight to the death, he let the man still walk away with his life.

He was a good Captain for a while, with Blink as his First Mate and under the two the Crew had a prosperous window.

But, unfortunately her brother thought he was entitled to inheriting the title of Captain and was furious about Judas killing his Father. So eventually he wound up fighting Judas and killed him-- in front of Blink, taking up the role as Captain (and he was terrible at it.)

Blink wound up going into hiding for six years after this. There was some more trauma laced in this I won't get into. But when she surfaced again she had enlisted with Garlemald to become one of their soldiers. Which is a whole other arc I won't get into tonight. But… that's some context to this story/post.

Fast forwarding past the Garlemald years... I will at least say that Blink eventually wound up fighting to get the Harbingers back and served as their Captain for a good while (The crew's choice). It was basically the crew's golden years with her in the lead. However, eventually she decided it wasn't the life for her, so she wound up retiring to do piloting work and that's how she fell in with Firelight Trading Co. To this day, the Harbingers still revere her as their Captain even though she's passed that title on to someone she trusted.

But yeah, ask me about those Garlean years sometime... those are a doozy. Like an Event Horizon inspired arc through Void Ark... :|

[yourmoonmomma]

Jayson & I watched Barbie last night. I thought it was a silly lil movie, one of the ones where you can laugh and cringe about the over the top relatable experiences.

But Jayson CRIED at the end?!?! And then I go online and a LOT OF PEOPLE ARE CRYING?!? And talking about how it hit em in the mommy issues department, or reminded them of the mother-daughter connection?!?!

All this movie taught me is that my job should also be Beach. I think my mother fucked me up in a way different way than some of these Barbie girlies moms did.

[silent-partner-412]

persona 3 to me is a game that is special because of its story and it’s (main) characters. i thought the content of this game, once it got going, was extremely special when i played it as a senior in high school. however, getting to that point was a war of attrition.

reload is getting a lot of flack for modernizing itself, or molding it to the persona 5 skin. i understand why it is being criticized, but not only do the changes they’re making (outside the exclusion of the answer and femc) make complete sense to me in terms of broadening the appeal of the game, i also think they will increase my enjoyment of it tenfold. most of the unique aspects of persona 3’s gameplay were things i could not stand, even knowing why they were implemented that way and what their purpose is. they are still a massive roadblock to this game that had certain parts i absolutely loved. i think reload is going to remove at least some of these roadblocks, and it makes me a little sad to see all the negative reactions to some of this information.

[cemeterym]

today's lesson is teach your kids to use public transport so they do not end up like me bc holy shit