#i watched 911 three times last year

[thosetwofirefighters]

was tagged by @mooshkat (thank you friend!!) to list 8 tv shows for my followers to get to know me better!

for someone who repeatedly watches the same shows over and over and hyperfixates on certain fandoms, you’d think this would be easy for me but …. it’s not 😂

1. 9-1-1 2. 9-1-1: Lone Star 3. Young Royals 4. The Mentalist (Patrick Jane my beloved...) 5. Broad City 6. The Good Place 7. Black Mirror 8. Disjointed

I will always be re-watching at least one of these, if not multiple (right now, it's Broad City and 9-1-1 hehe)

anyway, since I just watch the same shows over and over again, I'm excited to see what everyone else watches! @wheelsupin-five (I tried tagging two-cut-lines at first lmao) @paqerings @lilbuddie @the-likesofus @shortsighted-owl @poughkeepsies @alyxmastershipper @leslieknopeinthepit

[pathologicalreid]

wavelength | s.r.

in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: child in hospital with unnamed illness, seizures, pregnant!reader, boy dad!spencer, MRIs, head injury word count: 1.96k a/n: this is my little reid family from three's a family, but as usual, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. (it's one of the cryptic pregnancy ones so maybe keep that in mind lmao) - welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda, i missed it

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thumbs enough to press the call button, tapping the green icon, you press your phone to your ear, listening to the rings as you keep your other hand on the bed in front of you.

Sniffling, Leo holds your hand in his much smaller one, “Mama?” His voice is little more than a whine, and you find yourself wishing he’d fall asleep while you wait for his turn in radiology.

“Yeah, lovey?” You whisper, squeezing his fingers gently as he looks at you with sad eyes.

His eyes were sad in a way that only a three-year-old’s could be, not quite understanding why he had to stay in the hospital, and continuously asking for his parents. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his voice soft as he shifts on his side in the hospital bed.

Your shoulders slouch ever so slightly, trying not to show him how much of his displeasure you shared, “I know. I’m so sorry.” They were holding off on giving him more medication, but it just made him miserable.

Starting to wonder if they could just give him something to help him rest, you distantly hear your name being called, taking a moment to be confused before you remember that you called Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet a little breathlessly, “Are you working?” You move your hand, smoothing back Leo’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

You hear a shuffling of papers on the other end of the call, answering your question well enough before he responds verbally, “We’re just trying to finish a few things up before calling it a night.”

Bowing your head, you sigh, “Right, you have that senate review next week.”

Spencer groans at the reminder of the meeting, “And finding some of these files is proving to be difficult. I think Garcia’s just about had it, but we’re all starting to get to that point. Why the call? Not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice,” he clarifies. “Did Leo get to sleep alright?”

You falter slightly knowing that Spencer is already stressing about work, “Honey,” you start softly, “Leo’s alright, but I had to call an ambulance for him about an hour ago.”

“What happened? You said he’s alright?” He asks, fear changing the pitch of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, you watch Leo continue to fight sleep, his brown eyes watching you while you’re on the phone. “They think he had a seizure,” you whisper, keeping your voice down so that your son doesn’t catch onto your anxiety.

There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, “Is he sick? Was it a febrile seizure?”

“Uh, no, hold on,” you flip through the pamphlet, “They called it a drop seizure when we were in the emergency room, and they did an EEG.” You explain, reading over the papers in front of you for the nth time.

Spencer talks to someone else in the room, hopefully letting them know that he has to leave, “What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, and you look up into the fluorescent light to will them away, “I was just getting him ready for bed, and he went to go potty, and he just fell. He hit his head on the tub and I just… I panicked,” you admit the last part. “I was not very collected, and the 911 operator knew that,” you tell him, watching Leo’s eyes finally fall shut.

“I wouldn’t have been either,” Spencer assures you, “What hospital did they bring you to?”

Rattling off the name of the hospital, you risk assuming that Leo’s asleep enough for you to step back, enabling you to speak at a higher volume, “Can you leave work?” You weren’t even thinking about how busy the BAU was when you called, you were just thinking about getting Leo his dad. “They want to do an MRI, and he’s allowed to have someone in there with him, so he doesn’t get scared,” you explain.

“But you can’t,” Spencer needlessly reminds you.

A huff of frustration escapes your lips as you look down, eyes focusing on where your shirt catches on the soft swell of your lower belly. “No, I can’t,” you say miserably.

A nurse walks through the door, sparing a pitying glance at you, the pregnant mom whose toddler was in the PICU, before checking on Leo’s vitals. Spencer clears his throat, “I’m already on my way.”

You lose track of time, sitting in the reclining chair that lives in the corner of the PICU room, and memories of Leo’s first month of life start to flash in front of your eyes. He was a thirty-two-weeker, and he spent twenty-nine days in the NICU before coming home for the first time.

You felt like a failure then, and you feel like a failure now.

Tapping your fingers on your belly, you watch Leo sleep, his body curled up on the hospital bed and collodion stuck to his forehead. You remember finding out you were pregnant again, the overwhelming joy that mixed with the stunned fear like oil and water—Spencer had to remind you to breathe.

Something caught your attention, a small, high-pitched beep from one of Leo’s monitors sent a group of people flying into the room, standing around your son and listing off things that your fear-addled brain couldn’t comprehend.

He’s there when you stand up, Spencer stays at your side for all twenty-one seconds of Leo’s second seizure, watching as strength returns to his tiny body and his eyes open, “Mama?” His small voice calls out for you, afraid of being surrounded by doctors and nurses that he doesn’t know.

Slipping away from Spencer, you make your way back to the hospital bed, hovering over your son as you cup his cheeks affectionately, “I’m here, baby.” Hiding your face to wipe tears away, your fear that he still feels ill is only exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t insist that he’s not a baby—he’ll always be yours, though.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let him see past you, the way his eyes light up at the sight of his father, “Daddy!” He chirps, trying to reach out for Spencer.

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer says, his voice tight while he crouches in front of Leo, “Mama says you don’t feel good.”

Leo shakes his head, “I hit my head,” he recounts mournfully, “then we had to go in the loud car.”

Your husband frowns for a moment before he realizes Leo’s talking about the ambulance, “Did they tell you I get to go with you to get your tests done?” He warps the narrative to make the MRI seem like a fun activity—something they get to do.

“Can mama go?” Leo asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning into you as he does so.

Gently, you wrap an arm around him, dressed in a pediatric hospital gown with all kinds of wires and electrodes attached to him. “Mama has to stay up here,” Spencer breaks the news to him, sparing you a sympathetic glance, “but she’ll be here when we get back. Then, we can tell her and the baby all about it.”

The baby won’t be able to hear outside voices until you’re much further along, but when Spencer tried to explain that to your toddler, the only response he’d gotten was Why?

As it turns out, even Spencer Reid has a limit to the number of questions he can answer, so you let Leo talk to the baby. “I’ll be right here when you get back,” you reassure Leo, taking a shaky breath when he wraps his arms around you.

He’s in tears by the time they come to get him, only willing to go to radiology if they let his daddy carry him there.

You’ve let go of the hope that this was all just a freak incident, but the looks that the nurses have started exchanging squashed that optimism immediately. Taking the opportunity to lie on the hospital bed, you try to reassure yourself—if Spencer didn’t seem worried, you shouldn’t be worried.

Though Spencer wouldn’t show his concern to you, he certainly wouldn’t do it with Leo in the room.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by something being set on your side, your eyes cracking open just enough to watch Spencer lay Leo down on the bed next to you. “Hey,” Spencer whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Cringing at the brightness of the room, you watch Leo as he curls into your side, “How did he do?”

“He was great,” Spencer says, gently ruffling the sleeping boy’s hair. “He fell asleep about halfway through,” he informs you, carefully pulling a chair up to the bedside.

You hum, making sure Leo is snug in his blanket before turning back to Spencer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Spencer shakes his head dismissively, “It’s okay,” he whispers, mindful of the hour—it’s nearing midnight now.

Reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, you hiccup a sob, “I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not a bad mom,” Spencer responds quickly, peeling your hand from your mouth and taking it in his hand.

Your lower lip quivers, “This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been born so early.”

Spencer’s face softens, squeezing your hand comfortingly, “That wasn’t your fault. That was a situation that you didn’t have any control over.”

Deep down, you know he’s right, but your mom guilt that was on the surface level made the truth hard to see. “I couldn’t even hold his hand while he got an MRI,” you cry, small tears falling from your eyes.

“Honey,” Spencer murmurs, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, “You’re pregnant. Even more, you’re high risk,” Spencer reminds you as if it’s something you’re soon to forget. “There’s no way I would’ve let you in that room. You can blame that on me if you’d like.”

Leo shifts next to you, garnering your attention for just a moment before you turn back to Spencer, “I thought an MRI was better for pregnant women.”

Sighing, Spencer looks at you fondly, “Compared to a CT, an MRI is the better option if it’s medically necessary. Logically, I’m well aware of this, but I do find myself more protective over you these days,” he admits, eyes flickering down to your bump.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I should’ve been watching him before he hit his head.”

Your husband dismisses your concern immediately, “We’ve been teaching him privacy, he’s proud that he gets to go potty on his own.”

“Why won’t you let me feel guilty?” You ask, frowning at him.

He hums in response, “Because you aren’t guilty. Your baby is in the hospital, and you might have some unresolved issues from when he was in the NICU.” He takes a deep breath, “and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re tired, and you have a lot of conflicting emotions and hormones that you’re struggling with.”

Leaning your head back on the pillow, you sigh loudly, “You know me too well.”

“I also know that our son loves you, and what happened tonight was not your fault,” he reiterates. “Whatever is going on with him, we’ll figure it out, okay? The four of us are going to be just fine.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod in understanding and listen to the soft whistle of Leo’s nose as he exhales. “We’ll be just fine,” you echo, intertwining your fingers with Spencer’s and preparing yourself for what’s bound to be a long night.

[chronicowboy]

Buck may not be a paramedic like Chim or a qualified doctor like Hen or a field medic like Eddie. He may not have Bobby's impressive decades of experience or Ravi's desire to take every single LAFD training course there is in his spare time. But he's picked up a lot from his six years with the fire department, so he feels pretty confident in diagnosing Verne with a serious amount of internal bleeding.

But the ambulance has been and gone, back-up hasn't arrived, and everyone else is busy with patients in more critical condition, so Buck crouches down next to Verne and gets to work on starting a line.

"How are you doing, Verne?" Buck asks with a smile. "Any major discomfort or pain I should know about?"

"My back, and my hip," Verne sighs, "but they've been uncomfortable for over a decade now, kid."

"Well, the fact that you can still feel that discomfort is very promising, at least."

"Promising," Verne hums. "Sure, let's go with that." His eyes turn a little glassy, drift, unfocused, somewhere over his shoulder.

"Hey, Verne, stay with me, yeah?" Buck smiles when their eyes meet again. "That's it. You're gonna be okay."

"This isn't the first time I've died, firefighter Buckley." Verne shakes his head with a grimace. "I know how this goes."

"Then, you know you go to the hospital and come back to life," Buck says, a little desperation creeping into his words. He keeps seeing flashes of a pale blue shirt and hearing snatches of a realisation about happiness.

"Maybe when I was your age." Verne smiles weakly. "Got into an accident after picking my best friend up from a bad date. They said I died for two minutes in the ambulance."

"Two minutes, huh?" Buck palpates his ribs to distract Verne as he checks on the rapidly growing bruise on his abdomen.

"You ever died, kid?"

"For three minutes, actually." Buck grins up at him. "Not to brag." Verne huffs a laugh. "I was that firefighter that got hit by lightning."

"No kidding," Verne chuckles. "Pretty cool way to go."

"Oh, very cool, yeah." Buck nods, biting down on his lip as he checks to see if the others are free yet. They aren't. "The trippy dream I had during my coma was pretty cool too."

"Yeah?"

"Well, unsettling more than anything, but, uh, I made it back, so that's what counts." Buck wraps a bandage around the sluggishly bleeding cut on Verne's arm. He winces, groaning, and Buck panics. "You said you were driving your best friend home from a bad date?" Verne nods. "That's exactly what I was doing last night," he snorts. "See that firefighter behind me?" Buck jerks his head at Eddie over his shoulder.

"Diaz?" Verne coughs.

"Yeah." Buck smiles. "His aunt keeps setting him up on terrible dates, I've become his get out of jail free card."

"And what does that entail?" Verne asks, curiosity piqued, more alert than he had been a moment ago.

"I pick him up when there are no Ubers nearby, I call him with an emergency when he texts me 911, I answer the phone when one of the women calls him to schedule a second date and pretend to be his husband." Buck shrugs. "Its a lot of fun."

"Is it?" Verne coughs again, a wet noise that makes Buck's stomach drop. "Is it fun when he goes on the dates?"

"I mean, not really." Buck wrinkles his nose, thinks of that swoop of nausea in his stomach every time Eddie walks out of the door. "But I get to hang out with Christopher, Eddie's son, which is much more fun than a crappy date, you know?"

"Did your best friend watch you die?" Verne asks suddenly.

"I-" Buck blinks. "Yeah, he, um..." He clears his throat. "He was actually the one to get me down from the ladder, the one that got my heart beating again." Verne laughs heartily despite the fact that Buck can see the amount of pain it causes him.

"Oh, kid," he sighs, more of a wheeze. "The best friend I picked up from her date? I felt sick every time she told me about a new man."

Well, at least that's normal then. Buck had kind of been worrying he was going insane.

"Then, I died, and I married her a year later."

Buck remembers watching himself take his first breath without the ventilator from behind a window, remembers the way time had warped and stretched on forever and frozen all at once, remembers how his whole life had narrowed down to that one moment.

This feels a lot like that.

Suddenly, five years of friendship flash through his mind. Eddie's gloved hand in his, the only anchoring sensation in a sea of agony. Eddie's thumb on his neck, warm brown eyes a life raft when Buck had been drowning. Building a skateboard and pushing a kid made of sunshine around the park. The zing of happiness an elf had brought him after the sour curdle of disappointment that had hit him on a fountain. Eddie's hands big and warm on his waist. Eddie's smiles, wide and private alike. Eddie's eyes, always so fond and intent. Quiet discussions in the Diaz kitchen, and teasing banter in the loft. Nights with Chris squished between them on the couch, and the bright lights of a video game illuminating the living room. A legal document and a first name said so carefully. A broken door and a broken man alike. Couch metaphors and lasagnes and steaks and cookies.

Oh.

"I look forward to seeing her again," Verne murmurs quietly.

"Hey, no," Buck croaks. "Its not time yet, it isn't time for that yet."

"I think its been a long time coming, kid."

Verne's eyes flutter shut, his chest spasms with a final bloodied breath, and Buck's world shatters around him.

[lum13]

Not so secret

You didn’t mean it for your relationship to be a secret— people just couldn’t put the two and two together.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

“Oh my god, Yoko, you missed out on so much stuff today in first period.” Enid squeaked, stepping into the vampire’s full view. “I literally couldn’t believe my own eyes. Or- ears, both. My followers will freak out when they hear about this.”

“Enid, your heart is going to burst if you don’t calm down— I can literally feel your heart beating unbelievably fast. What happened?” Yoko stopped in her tracks, looking into the blond’s eyes expectantly. The girl took a second to compose herself from the overwhelming excitement, breathing in, and out, before spilling her words.

“Okay, you know how nevermore don’t usually accept new students mid-term, right? But this new girl barges into the classroom ten minutes late into the class.”

Yoko raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Okay? A new girl mid-term. It’s not the first time it happened.” 

Enid grinned, practically vibrating with excitement as she bounced on her foot.

“But that’s not all— the new girl sat next to Wednesday— the Wednesday Addams..” Yoko nodded, “And during the whole class, the new girl kept calling Wednesday names like love and darling—“ the vampire winced, letting out a worrisome groan.

“So when are we having the funeral?” 

“Oh no— the best part is, Wednesday freaking Addams flirted back!”

“—and I hope we can get along!” Enid watched as you finished your small speech, excitement seeping through her features. She always liked meeting new people— it has always been a part of her personality.

“Thank you, you may take a seat wherever you like.” The teacher smiled at you, before leading you to the seats with a gentle nudge on your back. You quickly scanned the room— before your eyes fixated on a certain raven haired girl. 

You beamed at her, dropping your bag on the desk beside her seat— drawing everyone’s attention.

Uh oh.

Enid gulped, eyeing every movement you made. Watching the two felt like watching a ticking bomb— ready to explode any second. She just hoped she didn’t have to call 911 like last time. 

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” You asked— sending the dark haired girl a playful smile. Panic ran through the class like wildfire as they watched her glaring death at you— Enid whimpered, bringing her hand over her eyes, bracing herself for the chaos that was about to happen. 

A beat of silence continued, before the blond heard her sigh, 

“Wednesday.” The girl responded, rolling her eyes as she did so. Enid gasped audibly— slapping her hand onto her gaping mouth, unable to hide her shock.

“I love your name.” You giggled, “Wednesday is my favorite day of the week, actually. You might just become my favorite person.” 

Enid felt the whole class holding their breath at the pair’s interaction, the tension soaring through the roof. 

Wednesday seemed unfazed, though. Flipping through her textbook, she kept her calm demeanor. 

“Your name is— tolerable, too.” She mumbled under her breath, alarming everyone in the room. 

Only three words struck the classes’ mind: 

What the fuck.

Enid knew Wednesday. Even though she was a bit unpredictable sometimes— she knew well enough to know that Wednesday was not a person to give out compliments to a stranger. Not in a million years did she think it was possible.

That’s why she was in front of your dorm, knocking on the door as she waited patiently for you to answer. 

She heard some muffled shuffles before the door was opened, revealing you— Enid blinked in confusion— with your shirt slightly pulled to your shoulders, cheeks flushing as you leaned onto the wall beside you. You were also panting, she noted.

“Um— how can I help you?” You laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Enid, however, decided to brush it off. You were probably sleeping, she reasoned.

“Sorry to barge in, but I just had to talk to you after what happened today.” Enid grinned, “You should totally confess to Wednesday.”

A pause. You burst out laughing.

“Oh my, but we just met today, didn’t we?” You chuckled, tucking a strand of your hair back. “Very straightforward, I see.”

“No, no— I’m serious. Wednesday that I know doesn’t let anyone compliment her. They usually end up in a hospital most of the time— only the nurse’s office when lucky. And did we forget about her compliment?? She’s totally in love with you, now kiss.”

You giggled at the seriousness in her voice, clutching your stomach as you did so. 

“I must confess to this Wednesday girl then, hm?” You said between your laughter, making the blond nod her head eagerly.

“Totally, one hundred percent. It’s about time she gets a lover, plus, we can finally go on a double date!” She gushed, pulling her phone out from her pocket, before tapping on the calendar app. “Okay, confess to her, and I’ll make the schedule. Just make sure you do it before Sunday.” 

You hummed, amused by the whole situation. You watched as the blond scrolled through the lists of schedules, probably looking for some empty times.

“Well, um, Ajax is probably waiting for me, so I’m gonna go now. Good luck!” Enid chirped, before dashing off. For a moment you stood there, watching her disappear into the dark void of the hallways.

“You can come out now.” You said, turning around to see your lover sliding out of your bed, brushing the dust off of her clothes.

“I am not going on a double date with Enid.” Wednesday growled, her eyes following you as you approached her now standing figure with a huge grin on your face.

“Wasn’t even planning on it.” You smiled, “I still can't believe you said that you liked my name in class, though. Who knew you were such a softie?”

“I am not, a softie.” She gritted out, sending you into a fit of laughter. “I just found it rather amusing to see how my words affected them.”

“Yeah yeah, sure. Not like you love me or anything, c’mere.” You opened your arms for a soft embrace. Your lover rolled her eyes before stepping in.

“Totally not like you love me.” You repeated, “yup— totally.”

You were gifted a punch in your stomach for that.

-extra scrapped scenes

“Love, that’s not how you treat a nosebleed.” Enid’s mouth fell agape as she watched you pinch the tip of the raven haired girl’s nose, bringing your other hand behind her head— tilting her forward as you smiled softly at her. In fact, the whole class stared at the pair’s interaction with fear.

“..thanks.” Wednesday replied, wiping her bloody nose when the crimson liquid had stopped. Your hand let go of her head, humming in reply as you turned your attention back to your textbook.

-

Sorry this was so rushed— it’s 3:30 right now and I can’t think straight.

This was not what I wanted it to turn out. Kinda disappointed in myself for this </3

[chiefdirector]

Breaking and Entering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven

Tim blinked himself awake. Heavy with sleep he looked over to his alarm clock, mentally swearing at himself for waking up at 3:37 in the morning. He knew why though, the knowledge that they could die at any moment had been plaguing his thoughts, and now his dreams.

He knew that sleep would not come naturally for him for at least another hour. I had always been a bad habit of his. It started when he was still in the military and the constant noise and activity in the base camp kept waking him; usually he would go for a run or do some housework to burn some energy but as he shifted back onto his side, he couldn't find it in himself to leave the bed.

Soft moonlight shone through the crack between the curtains and gently illuminated the (Y/N). She had changed so much in the years they spent apart, it was as if she had lost a part of her soul. When she smiled, her smile didn’t fully reach her eyes, her laugh seemed somewhat hollow, and her demeanour was very guarded. She had begun to pull herself away from Tim’s touches as if she was guarding herself from being hurt. That had briefly disappeared though.

Sleep had restored the peacefulness that Tim had fallen in love with and for a moment, he could pretend that nothing bad had happened.

Slowly, Tim reached across to run his fingers down her cheek and for the first time since he had found her again, (Y/N) didn’t flinch at his touch.

----------

Around 6:30, Tim woke for the second time. This time he was greeted by an empty bed. For a moment, he had thought he dreamed the last days and that he was alone again. His fears faded as he heard (Y/N)’s panicked calls for him echoing throughout the house. Quickly, he grabbed his gun from his bedside drawer and made his way throughout their home.

As he made his way through the house, he looked around for any signs of what could be wrong. He didn’t look long before he saw (Y/N) looking at their backdoor. “Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?”

“The lock,” (Y/N) stood back from the door, allowing Tim to get closer. She watched as he placed his firearm down as he moved to inspect the lock. “It’s been broken. I found the door open. Someone was here last night.”

Tim reached for his gun again. “Crap. Did you check the rest of the house or did you come straight here?”

“I came straight down here, I thought you may want a coffee.”

“Right okay, I'll call 911, and you call Grey. We need to stay here until this thing is reported and added to the caseload. I highly doubt this was a coincidence.”

-----

It didn’t take long for their home to be flooded with cops. Grey had turned up first, he was still in his jogging bottoms and shirt he had been sleeping in. He had rushed out of bed to get to their house, barely taking the time to grab his gun and badge.

It had taken all the reservation he had to not burst through the front door to go find Tim and (Y/N). Instead he tried the spare key (Y/N) had given him when they had moved in and tried it in the lock. He found (Y/N) sat on the sofa, her leg shaking up and down in anxiety with Tim beside her trying to ground her.

“Thank God you guys are okay’” he said, walking into the room, “What happened? I didn’t get a lot of details over the phone.”

“(Y/N) found the lock on the back door broken. Someone had broken in. Nothing valuable has been taken, not that we could think of anyway. However our cabinets have been gone through. I think they were looking for something. And if they didn’t get it, they’ll be back.” Tim said, moving away from his wife and towards Grey. As he got closer, he lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. “She’s been like this since she called you. I think she blames herself.”

Grey hummed in agreement. There had been many times where he had talked (Y/N) out of a spiral of self-loathing and distress. He also knew from these times that it was sometimes better to let herself start to calm down alone. “I saw you had a camera doorbell. Did it happen to catch anything?”

“No,” Tim sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “I checked. It was disconnected. I don’t think it’s unrelated.”

“You’re right to not write it off. I’ll mention it to the detectives.” As of one cue, the sound of car doors slamming echoed from the street and into the house. “Both of you, take the day off today. You’ve got a lot to deal-“

“No.” (Y/N)’s head snapped up. “I need to go in. This is my mess. I’m the reason this happened. I need to be there to stop it.”

Grey sighed, “You know we have a whole team working on this. You need to take care of yourself. We’ll have a unit placed outside so you needn’t worry. You’ve had an eventful start to the day, take the time you need to rest.”

(Y/N)’s eyes hardened in a way neither man had seen before. She almost looked like she had been possessed by the personification of rage and determination. “I’ll rest when we catch this sorry son of a bitch.”

——-

“I’m worried about her,” Tim said to Grey after the detectives had taken his statement of events. “She’s changed.”

“It’s been a long time since she’s been home, Tim. Of course change will have happened.”

“You saw what she was like earlier. It was like a switch flipped in her mind. Who knows what she went through all that time, what she did to survive. She doesn’t talk about it; I asked once, I got no response. It was as if she left reality.”

Grey looked over to (Y/N) and then back to Tim. “Do you not think that she should be working this case.”

“No, it’s giving her something to focus on… and the closure may help her.”

“And what if it doesn’t.”

“Well that’s what I’m here for. I’ll always make sure she finds her way home.”

Part Eleven | Part Thirteen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

[supercalime]

A goodbye post I guess?

Hey yall, i wanted to write something about all of this as this may be the last time I talk about this show. Apologies in advance, this will be long and all over the place cause im using this little essay to get it off my chest and help me calm down my anxiety. Strap in, this will be a doozy.

First off, no matter how sad and disappointed we are, let’s please not stoop down to the level of those fans when it comes to voicing our issues with this situation. Please, let’s not harass, call people names, send them threats, etc. we can voice our opinions in an adult way, and although it fucking hurts and it makes us want to shout from the rooftops and call Murphy, Minear and Stark every name in the sun, we need to be grown ups and come out on top of it.

That being said, I want to first acknowledge how fun and cool yall are. We endured A LOT of shit since april and all that bullshit didn’t stop you from keeping the positivity going. I applaud you all for that. It has been hard. I came in contact and became friends with some really nice people here and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I loved being a part of this fandom and it physically hurts me that this feels like it was all for nothing.

Even though I feel like a fool as well, I hate to see how you are all so sad with this. This wasn’t our fault. We were not naive for believing that this storyline could’ve been great. Don’t blame yourself for being taken advantage of. Because that’s what they did. They saw the opportunity to profit from a community and took it. They are the ones in the wrong. They used us for brownie points and then tossed us away like trash the second they got what they wanted. It’s on them.

What I’m about to say now will sound hypocritical as I’m writing this at 2am while trying to cope with an anxiety attack caused by this very show, but what we can take away from this is that unfortunately, we can’t rely on tv shows for happiness. Yes, that’s a bitter pill to swallow, specially in this political climate as we were hoping for some sort of escape from the horrors of the elections. What i took away from this is that I need to (for lack of a better word) touch grass. I need hobbies, I need friends. All things that I’ve been lacking because fandom stuff is easier. I need to find stuff that makes me happy that doesn’t depend on outside factors. But also I want to make sure that if a show is all you have, that’s okay and is even more okay to feel betrayed. I was an absolute mess a few years ago when a show I adored stabbed their fans in the back, but it gets better. You still get angry remembering you were done dirty but I promise that the memories that stick are the positive ones.

I don’t wanna go on a deleting spree but I also don’t want to be reminded of this hurtful moment as the wound is still fresh, so I’m deciding to reevaluate some things offline, like I did with previous fandoms, and come back when I’m ready. I don’t think I’ll leave tumblr or never watch/talk about 911 again but I need some time and space from it so I can feel better. I don’t want to doom scroll through the tags like I did tonight. What Ryan Murphy, Tim Minear and Oliver Stark did to us was awful, but the best thing I can do is not let these three men influence my mental health. I won’t let a tv show ruin me because it’s not my fault. It’s not our fault to believe that there were half decent people in the entertainment industry that cares about the portrayal of queer individuals. They will have to sleep at night with that knowledge and deal with the consequences from the BoBs. And if these guys decide to humor the BoBs that’s their funeral. It would further show they never cared about representation and just wanted to save face after making so many people miserable for simply enjoying a canon ship. I hope they can see the consequences because I’m not even the target here. I’m hurt for all the queer men that saw themselves in buck and tommy, that even messaged the actors thanking them for their honest portrayal.

In conclusion, here’s my goodbye (for now).

Thank you so much bucktommy nation!

Yall are the best,

Love, Lety 🖤

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Fifty-Three

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: I know I left you on a cliffhanger... this was supposed to go up last night but I literally had no wifi... I am so sorrry! HERE YOU GO!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

If you would like to be added to this tag list please see THIS FORM

tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @miamore0570 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

Chris was a mess, and it didn’t help matters that the only person that was allowed to even know any information about what was happening to Talia medically right now, was Ricky, as he was her soulmate. Legally he was classed as her next of kin, and Chris was just her boyfriend, that was it, that was all he was ever going to be to her. He wasn’t even sure if they got married that the system was going to change matters any when it registers that she had a soulmate listed ahead of a husband, Ricky would always come first. Ricky had already apologised multiple times since they’d arrived at the hospital, but Chris didn’t care, all he was worried about was Talia. The moment they’d arrived, the Nurse had asked who her soulmate was, with the medical forms in hand, and because Chris had been in a state, Ricky had grabbed them, signing away. It was right, he was her original soulmate, his tattoo matched hers, right down to the placement, it made sense. Of course, now, Chris would never be able to ask for information from the hospital in the case of an emergency, never be able to see her as immediate family… Never…

Fuck, fuck, what was he going to do if something happened to her… If… No, not if, something had happened to her, today!

What had happened to her!?

Ricky couldn’t stand watching Chris lose his mind over the possibility of losing Talia. Yes, losingTalia. He could see the wheels turning in his mind because it was as if it was happening all over again. Last time he hadn’t known, one moment he had had a soulmate he might meet one day, and then the next… The next moment, he didn’t. They were just gone. Dead. Right now, Ricky was seeing him go out of his mind, watching him freak out waiting for information about how intensely Talia was injured. Not that he felt any better, but he was trying to focus on looking after Chris, it was all he could do, otherwise he was certain he would lose it himself. 

They’d called emergency to try to report that something had happened to Talia, right after trying to call Talia herself and the call not even connecting. Unfortunately, when he called 911, attempting to explain he knew something had happened to her was impossible. Rick had tried, he really had, to explain to them that they, he, could feel through the soulmate tattoo bond when she got hurt. Considering what he had felt, that it had to have been bad, that he thought she might have been in a car accident, she’d been driving after all. Basically, he’d been treated like they thought he was a lunatic over the phone, and he’d been royally irate at the dismissal, they wouldn’t even listen to him. 

With Chris beside himself that they didn’t listen, Ricky wasn’t about to give up, so he’d called Jordan and Kyle at the hotel next. They at least, gotten there safely, and she’d already left to get home, the moment they heard something might have happened to Talia were also worried too. Kyle had taken the phone from Jordan then, and insisted they go to the hospital, that if she was in an accident, emergency would use her soulmate as best next of kin without any other contacts. Ricky had swallowed, glancing at Chris knowing that was going to be a kick in the teeth, but hadn’t argued, they got to the hospital, and sure enough… she was there.

Talia had been brought in moments before they arrived, the accident had been bad, the nurse having him signing release forms for life-saving emergency surgery and filling out medical forms. He didn’t know any of her medical details, and had to get Ava on the phone to ask her if she knew anything about if she had any medical allergies, literally while he was filling in the forms. Glancing at Chris from the corner of his eye, pacing back and forth in the waiting room… only to have the other woman and their drummer barrel into the emergency waiting room moments later. Ava rushed over to him, helping him finish the last of the forms, Ricky was glad for the help, not wanting to admit he was half on the verge of breaking himself. He barely knew her food allergies, let alone whether she was allergic to penicillin or latex! Shouldn’t that be in her file? Why couldn’t they have that digital and all hospitals linked up to that, oh wait, of course, that would too much sense, and help too many people. The health care system could never work so smoothly. 

By the time he’d finished with the forms, Vinny had managed to convince Chris somehow to sit down, rather than pace around the room, how, Ricky would never know. AJ had turned up after Ava and Vinny, along with Jordan and Kyle, to keep them company while they waited for news to how Talia was in surgery. Kyle had seen them and just shaken his head a little with a tiny smile, and Ricky had taken one look at the other man and known. As a nurse, they were just a crowd of people sitting in the waiting room taking up space getting in the way, but to Ricky, to Chris, especially to Chris, they were the greatest lifeline in the world right now. 

Ricky had never lost anyone even close to the magnitude that Chris had, and, he didn’t know how he felt about it, even more, the thought of watching someone he loved deal with that loss again. Yea, love… Ricky wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t love Chris, he had for a long time. Maybe it was only recently he’d come to terms of just how much this feeling meant to him. Always just assuming he loved him as a friend, and now, now it was so much more. Then there was Talia, that woman had been pulling at his heart strings in so many different ways since he’d met her, it had been so painful, and traumatising after everything that had happened. He knew she didn’t mean what had happened, but it had, and they had both been trying to deal with the fall-out ever since. 

As he sat in the waiting room with Chris, reaching for his hand, that was when two suited people walked in through the entrance doors towards the emergency nurse's station.  Ricky’s focus was on Chris, enough that he didn’t see when the nurse behind the desk was addressing the well-dressed man and woman towards their group, and mainly, him. Sitting beside Chris, didn’t pay attention to their approach until Vinny across from him called his name, instead looking towards his boyfriend concerned, his head tilted back, fingers laced with Chris’. That was until he was forced to acknowledge Vinny calling his name. Then as he lifted his head, and noticing him nod towards them just as one of the approaching suits took out a flip wallet, and his focus zeroed in on what he saw inside of it as they started talking.

“Mr Olson? I am detective-”

Most of the introductions that followed was a blur in his mind, Rick would admit to that, he was so focused on the police badge in the flip wallet the man was holding… Shit… they were detectives, they weren’t even beat cops. They had detectives here investigating the crash, which meant whatever had happened at the accident had ended in quite the disaster. Had there been some sort of intervention… had someone died on the scene? Had Talia… surely the doctors would have told them first… Ricky swallowed… “Vin, AJ, could one of you sit with-” Standing up with his chair and feeling Chris’ hand tightened as he did.

“It’s okay, I’ll just be over here, I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

Kissing Chris quickly to calm him, not caring for one iota what anyone else thought about him being Talia’s soulmate and kissing Chris at the same time. The only people he was worried about right now, were Chris and Talia, literally no one else mattered, everyone else could think what they wanted.

Walking over with the detectives, he sighed softly as they led him to the far side of the waiting room, where the least of the amount of people were. Ricky glanced back to Chris, Chris who was watching him carefully, well no, like a hawk actually, almost as if he thought he was just going to disappear on him too. Shit.

“Mr Olson, it’s our understanding you are the soulmate of Talia Landon?”

“I am, what happened exactly?”

Why were detectives here to investigating the crash, and not beat cops to talk to him, and waiting to see about whether Talia was out of surgery to ask her questions. Wasn’t that how things went. What could he possibly know about the situation? What would talking to him solve?

“We’re still working that out, you also were in a relationship with one, Grace Adams?”

Hearing that name, and just like that, Ricky’s blood ran cold. He knew exactly why they thought talking to him here could help. Grace, if Grace had anything to do with this then… then… Ricky took in a deep breath to stop panic from gripping him.

“I, ah, yes. We haven’t been in a relationship for some time now. What has she got to do with any of this?”

More than anything, he wished he could have taken out that restraining order out on her, but unless he could prove that she had threatened him, and he feared for his life, he had nothing. He had proof of nothing but a crazed fan and then Grace just disappeared, until now. The male detective continued to speak, answering the question.

“She was the other driver involved in the incident, could you tell us if Talia has had any recent interactions with Grace that might have-”

Ricky cut him off quickly,

“Grace was previously stalking me after faking being my soulmate, and it was only revealed that she wasn’t after I discovered Talia was my real soulmate. Grace blames Talia for ruining our entire relationship, despite the fact I discovered our entire meeting, and her claim as my soulmate, was fake. She led me to believe we were soulmates for some five years, it was nothing but lies and manipulation that she never intended to stop. If she’s accusing Talia of causing this accident, she's lying.” Practically ranting at this point, he didn’t even realise that he was getting so worked up when he felt Chris behind him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders, his cheek on the top of his head. A soft, shhhhh, coming from the taller man in the effort to calm him down. Seemed that Rick wasn’t the only one that could see the other needed the comfort right now. He’d been so worried about Chris, he hadn’t, he just hadn’t… This was all his fault, wasn’t it? He’d gotten complacent. Grace had disappeared and he’d just… No, no he hadn’t forgotten about her, but with her gone there hadn’t been anything he could do until he heard about her, and he hadn’t… not until now. He hadn’t gotten any alerts on her accounts, if she’d activated any of them again, or… any of the friends he knew of… Now Talia was paying the price. 

“Mr Olson, we’re still just asking questions and reviewing all the avenues, evidence along with seeking out any potential footage of the scene of the accident.”

Rick didn’t want to think about the fact that they might be going to this kind of extremes because of how badly Talia had been injured. Why would detectives be working a simple accident sight if they didn’t think there was potential for it to turn into a homicide, wasn’t that how it worked? Or was there something he didn’t know here? What had happened that they weren’t saying?

Taking in a deep breath and reached up, his hand over one of Chris’ in front of him.

“Look, is there anything at all you can tell us, anything at all?”

Because they’d just triggered his worst nightmare, he didn’t even need to wonder if it was Chris, if he’d heard or if he’d just come over because he’d saw Ricky was getting upset. Just thinking about what Chris stalker had put him through, and Grace going after Talia, no, not on.

“At this time, we’re just asking questions if we have anymore, we’ll let you know. Please, you are best, just waiting for Ms Landon and see she how she recovers.”

Ricky swallowed… the fact they were here, and she wasn’t even out of surgery yet, actually pissed him off, and made him wonder how badly Grace was injured… had she been hurt? Or had they talked to her already. Watching them walk away, he found himself walking back to the others and sitting back down with Chris. 

Sitting there with him, it all came down to the last thing in the world he could ever want, would be to lose Talia from their lives. Because he loved her, just as much as he loved Chris, did he? Only, unlike Chris, whom he’d told many times, at least as a friend over the years, he’d never told her. He was going to never forgive himself if he’d lost that chance.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[thewolvesof1998]

Last Line/Tibet Tuesday

Thanks for all the tags! I'm pretty sure I've been tagged by everyone at this point 😂

I do have something to share, this is from a new WIP (I know, I know, I don't need another WIP but I just couldn't help myself and @eddiediaztho is a bad influence) I'm affectionately calling it The Heatwave Fic and it was inspired by me being stuck in the heatwave in London and being delusional from the heat...

Eddie has many regrets in his life, lying on the floor of the cabin in the middle of a heat wave with his six foot two best friend pressing into his side while they were both trying to stay cool under the pitiful breeze of the ancient ceiling fan had the possibility to be high on that list. He turns his head to be confronted with a tattooed and freckle-covered shoulder, he can’t remember when they decided to strip down to their boxers but at the time it had seemed like a good idea, he wasn’t sure about that now considering this was the third time he’d found himself turning to stare at the miles of bare skin.  “Eddie?”  “Hmm?” He drags his eyes up over collarbones, an Adams apple, a chin that had more stubble than usual, lips that Buck had been nervously chewing on and off for the past three days and up until he finally meets eyes as bright as they are blue. So blue in fact that they somehow made his throat even more parched than it already was, he was truly getting delusional from the heat. “Eddie.” “Buck.” “I’m lying in a pool of my own sweat.” He grimaces, “Gross.”  “Eddddiiiieeee” Buck drags his name out in a whine that sounds an awful lot like Chris or maybe Chris sounds an awful lot like Buck, either way, Eddie finds it endearing as much as it is childish. He’s truly lost his mind.  “We have to save water.” He knows what Buck wants, another shower, but they’ve got a limited supply of water and they don’t know how long this heatwave will last.  Buck rolls over to face him, “But I’m so hot.”  Eddie snorts but his reply dies in his throat as his eyes flicker down to Buck’s chest and the way his pecks are squished together in his new position. He wants to bite them, see if they are just as soft as they look. The inappropriate thought causes his cheeks to warm and he can only hope that it blends in with the heat-induced flush that has been present on both of their faces the past few days.  “Just,” He waves his hand in the air, “think about something else,” he mumbles as he trains his eyes up to the ceiling as if the wooden rafters are the most interesting thing he’s seen in years and swears he’s not going to look at Buck until he’s sure he can control himself.  “Like what?” “I don’t know,” He says as he manages a half-decent shrug while lying flat on his back, finding what looks like faces in the wooden beams.  “What are you thinking about?” Buck asks, his voice is low and a little throaty and Eddie blames the lack of sleep for the goosebumps that rise on his arms. Because Buck’s probably just got a dry throat from the heat and here Eddie is lying sexualising his best friend, like a fucking creep. 

And the last line which is a continuation of the above tibet:

Eddie clears his throat, “Uh, that looks like a dog,” He points up to one of the particular doggish faces in the grain of the wooden beams like they’re cloud-watching because he is sure as hell not going to say ‘Oh I was wondering if you would sound like that after I fucked your brains out’. 

Tagging everyone because I honestly don't have the energy to figure out who's already tagged me and who hasn't sooo....

@wikiangela​​ @wildlife4life​ ​ @alyxmastershipper​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @sammy-souffle @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherluciferr @cowboy-buddie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg

[notgonnaedit]

Given to Fly

Darkness Rising–Part 2

Summary: Martha "Marty" Thorne was a basic teenager, a little antisocial maybe. But her life changed the day she met the Autobots and joined them in their fight.

Pairing: Optimius x Teen!OFC (Platonic)

Chapter summary: After meeting the Autobots, Marty gets a guardian

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Ratchet being grumpy, mentions of Cliffjumper RIP, (If I miss a tag LMK)

Updates are sporadic. If you want to be tagged LMK

Master list

Marty craned her neck as she looked up at Optimus. He was telling them of how their war came to Earth, and how they had been here for three years.

"And since you know of our existence," he said. "I fear that as of last night the Decepticons know of yours."

"Got it," said Jack. "we spot any strange vehicles, call 911." He pointed towards the drive out. "Can we go now?"

"Are you insane?" Miko snapped. "I'm living the dream here in Bots-wana and I will not allow you or anyone else to shatter it!"

"So, what do we do then?" Marty asked.

Optimius regarded her. "It is best that you four remain under our watch. At least until we can determine our enemies' intentions."

"Optimius," Ratchet's voice seemed to be a whisper, but it was still loud enough to hear clearly. "With all due respect, the human children are in as much danger here as anywhere!"

"Children?" Jack muttered.

"They have no protective shell!" Ratchet said. "If they get underfoot they will go squish!"

"Then, for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step," Optimius said.

Suddenly, an alarm with flashing lights went off.

"What's that?" Jack asked, worry filling his tone. Marty had never noticed how worrisome he was before.

Bumblebee buzzed in response.

"Proximity sensor," Raf translated. "Someone's up top."

Ratchet had turned to the computer screens. "It's Agent Fowler."

"I thought we were the only humans who knew about you guys," Marty asked. She wasn't jealous or worried. She simply wanted more information than she had.

Optimius turned to her. "Special Agent Fowler is our designated liason to the outside world, as he tends to visit only when there are issues. It may be best if you do not meet him at this time."

A four of the humans nodded and ran under the stairs, hiding against the wall. Marty could only see Bulkhead and Ratchet, the rest of the Autobots had disappeared out of her line of sight.

"Seven wrecks," said a man's voice above them. "thirty-four fender benders, a three hour traffic jam, and –on a particular note– numerous reports of a speeding motorcycle of unknown make and a black and yellow custom muscle car!"

Marty cringed, knowing Fowler was talking about Arcee and Bumblebee.

"So," Fowler continued. "anything you care to get off your tin chest, Prime?"

"We have the situation under control, Agent Fowler," Optimius said.

There was a pause before Fowler spoke again. "They're back, aren't they?"

"If you are referring to the Decepticons, I have doubts that they ever left," said the Autobot leader. "Your planet is much too valuable."

"Then it's time to wake up the Pentagon," Fowler decided.

Marty peeked out from behind Jack to see Optimus stare down Fowler. His glare was enough to make a grown man shrink, but not Fowler.

"Hear me, Agent Fowler. We are your best, possibly your only defense against the Deception threat."

"Says you," snapped back the Agent.

"Hey, fleshy!" Bulkhead said. Marty watched as he grabbed what looked like a tool. "Did anyone get splattered on that freeway? Team Prime knows when to use force, and how much to use," he crushed the tool in his hand with raw power.

"Bulkhead! I needed that!" Ratchet scolded.

"Enough!" Optimius ordered, ending the spat immediately. "Military involvement will only result in catastrophe," he must have turned back to Fowler. "Perhaps you can condone widespread human casualties, Agent Fowler. I, however, cannot."

Marty found herself surprised. Optimius cared more about human lives than most of Earth's leaders.

"Then do us both a favor and handle this, Prime," Fowler said. "Or I will."

As he left, Bulkhead walked over to Optimus. "Pretty big bearings for a human."

"Agent Fowler is concerned for his world, Bulkhead," Optimus said. "as he should be."

Marty looked up at him curiously. He was defending, or at least reasoning, Fowler's frustration. Maybe the Autobots weren't too different from them after all.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The four humans stood on one of the raised platforms, bringing them closer to the Autobots' level. A soft ping sounded from the computer, earning a grunt of frustration from Ratchet.

"Blasted Earth tech!" He said. "Cliffjumper's signal popped back online."

"Who's Cliffjumper?" Asked Miko.

"How is that possible?" Optimius asked.

"It isn't," Ratchet said. "Another bug. The system is chock full of them."

Arcee's pink rimmed eyes lit up. "If there's any chance Cliff's alive–"

"Ratchet," Optimus said, his voice commanding. "prepare sickbay. We may need it."

Ratchet nodded before pulling a lever, activating a portal-like swirl of green by the wall. Just as the Autobots were about to leave, Miko spoke up.

"Hey!" She said. "What can we do?"

For a single second, Optimus looked surprised, even with his battle mask on. But as soon as he blinked it was gone. "Remain with Ratchet."

"Aww," the pink haired girl moaned.

"Aww," Ratchet groaned softly.

They moved towards the portal. "Autobots, roll out!" Optimius ordered. All of them transformed into their vehicle modes before driving into the swirling green and disappearing.

Marty raised her brows in surprise when the portal disappeared. 

"What just happened?" Jack asked, clearly confused.

"I transported them to the designated coordinates via the ground bridge," Ratchet said.

"What's a 'ground bridge'?" Asked Raf.

Ratchet shook his head. "Ugh. A scaled down version of Space Bridge technology. Since we don't currently possess the means or the energon required for intergalactic travel..."

"You're stuck here," Marty finished. "On Earth."

"With the likes of you, yes," Ratchet said as he turned back to his screens. "But I constructed the Ground Bridge."

"Wow!" Raf breathed. "Does it work for humans?"

"Naturally."

"You mean I could just shoot on over and visit my parents in Tokyo?" Miko asked.

"Within moments," Ratchet confirmed. "In fact, allow me to send you there immediately, all four of you," he leaned down, glaring at Miko.

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger. "Watch it, Ratchet."

"Miko, let's not forget that he can, how did you put it?" Marty asked with a fake interested tone. "Squish us?" 

Ratchet rolled his cybernetic eyes, muttering something that sounded like "fleshlings".

The humans wandered around the base, Marty staying near Miko. She felt she needed to keep a close eye on her friend since she had a tendency to find trouble. Currently, the pink-haired girl was examining a type of machine. It's purpose was something Marty yet had to figure out.

"What is this anyway?" Miko asked.

"Broken, don't touch," Ratchet said without looking at her. She moved to touch another thing. "Don't touch that either."

"So, is there anything we can touch?" Jack asked.

Instead of answering, Ratchet just looked at one of the screens, which had a classic error message.

"How come you guys are using human computers?" Raf asked.

"It certainly isn't by choice," Ratchet said. "It was handed down from the previous tenants when we inherited this former missile silo. I make modifications as I see fit," Several more error pop ups littered the screen, earning a noise of frustration from Ratchet.

"I think I can fix that," Raf said, plugging his laptop into the monitors."

"Reeally?" Ratchet asked sarcastically. "You know this is complex technology, don't you? I mean, it isn't a child's toy."

Suddenly, the error messages disappeared. "Now try," Raf said with a small smile.

Ratchet looked between him and the screens in shock. Marty smirked. He shouldn't have underestimated Raf.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

After about an hour, the humans were all on the platform when a comm from Optimus came in.

"Ratchet! Bridge us back! Use the arrival coordinates. Now!"

Ratchet did as he said, and the Autobots came rolling in with blue flames behind them. Ratchet closed the Ground Bridge before the explosion could reach the base. "Cutting it a bit close," he said as they transformed. "How about Cliffjumper?"

Miko leaned against the railing, her eyes wide. "What was that explosion? Was there a fight? Can we come with next time?"

Arcee narrowed her eyes. "Look–"

Jack grabbed Miko by the shoulders. "He-hey, Miko, let's go see what the bots hide in their sock drawers."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

Marty turned her attention to Arcee. She was obviously troubled, holding herself tightly and staring at the floor.

"Arcee," Optimus said. "what did you see?"

"Not Cliff," her voice was shakey. Whoever Cliffjumper was, he was obviously a close friend of hers. "At least, not any more. He was mutated. Butchered. Like something from those 'Con experiments during the war," she walked away and collapsed onto a crate.

Bumblebee buzzed worriedly and moved to help her, but she waved him off.

"No, I'm fine," she said as she picked herself up. "Just...dizzy."

"Robots you get dizzy?" Said Miko.

"Robots with emotions," Raf added.

"Robots who can die?" Asked Jack.

"Robots who grieve," Marty added solemnly.

Arcee sat on a crate as Ratchet came over with a scanner. "What is this?" He asked, pointing to a purple goo on her hand. It was smoking like acid.

"Don't know," Arcee said. "Cliff was covered in it. Leaking it."

Ratchet took a metal swab and swiped it off her hand. "Go take a decontamination bath. Now."

Arcee stood with Bumblebee's help and walked over to a cylindrical area where she stepped inside.

Jack glanced at his phone. "O-Optimus," he stuttered. "I-I hate to bug, but no bars." He held up his phone as an example.

"A security precaution," Optimius explained. "The silo walls isolate all radiowaves."

Jack put his phone back in his pocket. "Well, if I don't call my mom, like now, I'm pretty sure the cops will be out looking for me."

Optimius leaned down. "Have you broken a law?" He seemed to genuinely want to know.

"Yeah, curfew," Jack told him. "It's after 10 pm."

Raf winced and pulled out his phone. "I better get home too, or I'll be grounded for a year."

Optimius hummed in thought. "Earth customs. I hadn't considered. But the issue of your safety remains," he furrowed his metallic brow in thought. "Bulkhead, accompany Miko home."

"Awesome!" The pink-haired girl cheered. "My host parents will freak!"

"And maintain covert surveillance in vehicle form," the leader added.

Bulkhead nodded. "Curbside duty, got it."

Miko seemed to deflate upon learning she couldn't show a giant robot from space to her host parents. "Aww..."

"Bumblebee, you will watch over Raf." Optimius ordered. "Ratchet,"

"Busy!" He called from his science equipment.

Arcee was just coming out of the decontamination bath when Optimus turned to her. "Arcee. You'll accompany Jack."

The blue Autobot put a hand to her head. "Ooh, still dizzy."

"You're fine," Ratchet said without even looking at her. "Says your physician."

Arcee let out a sigh.

Optimius turned to Marty. "I will accompany Martha."

The brunette nodded, keeping a calm appearance despite the nervousness rising in her stomach. 

The Autobots transformed and the humans climbed inside. Marty became painfully aware of each breath she took as she realized she was inside a living thing.

Darkness painted the Nevada sky with specks of stars here and there. Marty stayed silent, staring out the window. She noticed that Optimus didn't try and start a conversation, which normally she would be content with. But too much had happened in a single day for Marty to stay quiet. She was about to do something rare for her; initiate an interaction.

"Hey, Optimus?" She said, a bit softly.

"Yes?" His deep voice resonated all around her. It was almost as if she could feel it.

"Can I ask you something?"

There was a short pause. "You may."

Marty looked out the window at the passing desert. "Earlier, when you said you wouldn't risk human lives, why?"

Another pause, and Marty was afraid she had said something wrong.

"I am afraid I do not understand your question," Optimius said after a minute.

Marty let out a soft huff. "It's just... Most humans, at least the ones who run things, don't care about innocent people dying. But you're not even from here and you care."

There was another pause, and Marty started to catch on that Optimus liked to think before he responded.

"It is a difficult concept to grasp," he said. "I do not take pleasure in any death, human or Cybertronian. Perhaps it is because we Autobots have a longer life cycle than humans, and we know the value of life."

Marty furrowed her brow. "That doesn't make any sense. Decepticons live just as long as Autobots, right?"

"Yes."

"And humans have shorter lives. So shouldn't humans appreciate life more because we don't have as long. Shouldn't we be trying to save lives?" 

"Your point is valid," Optimius said. "You have a wisdom beyond your years, young Martha."

Marty found herself smiling. She felt good inside, something she hadn't felt in a long time. "Thanks."

By now they were in the city limits. Marty watched the roads until she found hers. "I live right up here."

Optimius turned onto her street, parking near her house.

Marty unbuckled and grabbed her backpack. "Thanks for the ride," she said. She stopped as she was about to open the door. "Are you really gonna stay here all night?" 

"Those were my intentions," Optimius said. "With the Deception threat, it is a possibility that you are vulnerable to their attacks, should they target you."

Marty hummed in thought. "Well, in that case you might wanna park further away from my house. There's a clear view a few blocks down, so you can keep an eye out without being right in front of my house. My aunt can get paranoid."

Optimius hummed. "Thank you for your insight."

Marty found herself smiling again. "No problem," she opened the door and hopped out. 

Optimius rolled down the street as Marty walked up her driveway. She felt better than ever. Maybe it was because she actually talked to someone, even if it was the leader of a group of aliens.​​​​​​​

Previous

Next

[lamardeuse]

We'll find our promised land

by lamardeuse

911 || Buck/Tommy, Buck/Eddie || Rated M || c. 2700 words

Written for @911actions thanks to the kind donation of captnvalkyrie. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt 576: Fanfiction about Buck and Eddie at their first Pride as a couple with the rest of the 118.

2006

The first time Buck goes to a Pride parade, it's a mistake.

His parents are taking him to the Whitaker Center in Harrisburg to enrol him in summer science camp because he nearly flunked science last year. It's not that he doesn't like science – he loves it, actually – but he's been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, and even though he tried to keep on top of his assignments a few slipped through. His mom read his final report card with her face all pinched and he braced himself for the inevitable lecture.

I swear I was trying my best, but I – I kept forgetting.

Well, your best simply isn't good enough, Evan. Now that Maddie is gone, you can't rely on her to be your memory any more. You have to buckle down and smarten up.

He can't remember a time when he didn't feel like he was stupid every now and then, but lately it's been a near-constant thought, mainly because there's no one around to counteract the voice in his head, a voice that sounds more and more like his mother.

He's been to this place before and liked it well enough, even picked up the brochure for their summer camps and had a look at it the last time he was here. Now, though, it feels like a punishment.

Before they reach Market Street, his father slows to a stop and mutters under his breath.

“Why is the road blocked?” his mother asks.

“No idea,” Dad says. “There shouldn't be any construction, I was just here three days ago.”

“Well, a lot can change in three days,” Mom says primly.

His father grunts unhappily, then turns down another street where he finds a parking garage that's nearly full. By the time they trudge down the stairs to the bottom – because of course the elevator's broken – the mood is tense. Well, the mood's always tense, but – tenser. Whatever.

Evan hears the thumpa thumpa of a disco beat long before they reach Market Street. There are random cheers from what sounds like a huge crowd, which is confirmed when they round the corner and come up against a sea of people.

“Oh, for Heaven's sake,” his mother says.

“What's the parade for?” Evan asks. The Fourth of July is another week away, and he doesn't see an American flag waving anywhere. No one answers him.

And then a float goes by with about a dozen guys wearing really tiny shorts and body glitter and not much else, and Evan thinks, oh.

“We can sign him up tomorrow,” his mother says. “We can come back tomorrow.”

His father's jaw twitches. “We came all this way. I just walked down six flights of stairs and I'm going to have to climb up six flights to get the car. Let's just –”

“Do you really think this is a place for children?” his mother says, a little too loudly if the glares of a couple of people around him is any indication.

“I'm not a child,” Evan protests. “I'm gonna be fourteen in –”

“Evan, be quiet,” his mother hisses.

“And lots of gay and lesbian people have kids,” he blurts out.

“Don't remind me,” his mother mutters.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Evan demands.

“Don't take that tone with your mother,” his father snaps.

“How are we going to get through this crowd?” his mother says. “The museum is across the street.”

“I don't even want to go to this camp!” Evan yells. “I'm not stupid,” he adds, more weakly because he doesn't sound convincing even to himself.

“Then don't act like it,” his father says. They stand there for a minute in silence, watching the parade. There's a car going by now, one of those huge old convertibles. There's a really tall lady in a hot pink satin evening gown and matching gloves up to her elbows sitting in the back seat and waving at the crowd. She looks right at Evan and smiles. Evan can't help but smile back. She looks so happy.

“Six flights it is,” his father mutters, turning on his heel and heading back the way they came.

read the rest at the AO3

[deluweil]

I know it's been a while, but with the new 911 season coming up ( I will not be watching,probably check in every now and again) I wanted to share my own self check of how I view relationships on tv.

After S6 finale, I was like lost and furious, I mean, I wanted and still do want the last 6 years of my life back from 911. (Well three because they didn't always suck).

But I went back to watching normal TV, you know, the kind that portray relationships and are being clear of the direction.

I watched Good Omens, so rooting for that pair, they are the best! And with that cast of unbelievably talented actors, I enjoyed every minute of it. Point is I didn't allow myself to see that friendship as a ship because of how damaged my perception of on screen relationships became after 911 displaying all the right signals, then taking a hard left into a tree at the end of the seasons.

I am not even going to to touch the First Prince of RW&RB, which is essentially a buddie storyline that was followed through to its logical conclusion.

I also thought, maybe I just can't enjoy straight on screen relationships anymore and I'm looking for more.

My sister sat me to watch Bridgerton for the very first time (just S1 for now) I can say with absolute certainty that it dis-abused me of that theory as well, because I rooted and got excited for Daphne and Simon at first sight.

Such a wonderful love story told right!

These are the two prominent tv shows that cemented my belief that it is in fact not on me.

Going back in my head I remember rooting for Catherine and Steve, and almost every one of Danny's gfs (except Rachel, it was clear she'd break his heart again.) In H50.

I wanted Gibson to end up with Andy in Station 19. Never wanted her to end up with Maya or him with Miller.

And even though it didn't need to be said, but was said in a humorous fashion, the writers also made clear that Gibson prefer women.

So it is in fact the flawed 911 writing that got me to give up on all forms of logic of reading tv relationships right.

That I gave up on tv for a while.

But, that being said, I can say I was always attracted to Ryan, but Eddie always got my gaydar to go off. And Oliver is not my type, but Buck is a hot bi firefighter - and that is a thing I already thought in S1, way before Eddie arrived.

So either the writers has no clue what they're doing, or they did and chickened out last minute.

And I finally reached the point where, I throw in the towel, wish you all well and move on.

It is not just about buddie, it is just a buddie post.

If anyone is interested, I can make a whole post involving the "development" of the rest of the og characters, where I say enough is enough.

Either make them interesting again, or bring in new blood that hasn't been first a piece of ass to further Buck's questionable development.

Let me know if you are interested.

The blinders are off and I am not keeping quiet for the sake of followers anymore.

9-1-1 was a great show, 3 seasons ago. They had sparks every now and again in between, but those were few and always demolished in some way by horrible writing choices.

Thank you for a great time, this fandom has been a place to come to whenever I needed to escape reality, I love you all. ❤️

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Fifty-three

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Sophie had her arm hooked through Keefe's as they walked into the movie theater. They went up to one of the lines to purchase their tickets.

"Want some popcorn?" Keefe asked.

"I would," she told him.

He turned to the cashier and ordered popcorn and some drinks. When they had their goodies, they headed into the theater.

Sophie leaned her head onto Keefe's shoulder. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. She reached over for some popcorn once the trailers had begun.

Part way through the movie, Keefe started shifting uncomfortably. She lifted her head and whispered to him.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

He shook his head. "No. My arm feels tingly again. It's getting on my nerves."

Sophie was about to apologize for cutting off his circulation, but she realized she was leaning on his right arm. He was moving around the left one, trying to get normal feeling back in it.

It had been a little over a week since the last time it happened. It couldn't be connected... right? She put it out of her mind. He had probably just pulled a muscle while they were all playing lazer tag, and it was taking a bit longer to heal. She leaned against him to continue watching the movie.

Coming out of the dark room once the film was over had Sophie squinting in the light off the room.

Although it was bright inside, she noticed, outside, it was already dark. She threw the trash in the garbage can as she went to walk outside, hand in hand, with Keefe.

She was stopped, however, when he stopped in his tracks. His hand reached up, and his nails dug into her forearm.

Caught off guard, she whipped her head around to see his brows pressed together in pain. His eyes were screwed shut, and his other hand had his nails digging into his palm.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She tried her best to sound calm, but internally, she was freaking out.

He managed to pry his eyes open and grit out, "It hurts."

Sophie felt her breath quicken. She held him by his shoulders to try and stabilize him. "What hurts?"

He couldn't speak his awnser. His only response was to reach up and rub his sternum. That only fueled her anxiety.

Reaching up and brushing hair out of his face, she asked, "What do you need?"

"Bench." The one word caused him to gasp for his breath back.

Sophie scanned the area. She turned him around and guided him to a seat. Once sitting down, she held him close to her.

She wasn't positive about what else she could do for him. Did he need 911?

Before she could spiral any further, his breathing shifted. He sat up from his position, leaning against her, and took in several deep breaths. They sounded shaky but sufficient. He leaned back against back rest.

Sophie tried to disguise how terrified she was, but some horror still leaked out into her voice when she asked, "What just happened? Are you ok?"

He covered his eyes with his hands with a grumble. "I'm not sure what that was. But I'm fine. My head just hurts now."

"I don't know what that was either," she told him. "But you are NOT ok. You need a hospital."

He placed a hand on her arm. "I'm fine now. See?"

He pointed to his face, which didn't seem very fine in Sophie's opinion. His hands were still trembling, and his skin had a sheen of sweat on it. His eyes looked like they had watered up during the fit.

She shook her head. "You should probably go to the ER. There's no way that's good!"

Keefe stood up on shaky legs. "Seriously, I'm good."

She got up and let him lean on her. She pursed her lips. Eventually, she let out a sigh.

"Finee." She held out her hand. "But I'm driving." He gladly handed over the keys.

Climbing into the truck, she started the ignition. Keefe slipped his arm through hers. She could still feel him trembling but decided not to mention it. It was probably because he was coming down from an adrenaline high.

Sophie realized the small issue with her driving home once she got into her driveway.

She was driving his truck. And he still needed to get home.

Reluctantly, she stepped out of the truck. Before Keefe could get in, Sophie stopped him.

"Swear to me you can get home safe on your own."

He took her by the shoulders. His hands were still this time. "I promise to you, Sophie. I can get home, alright by myself."

She nodded. "Text me once you get home ok, alright?"

He nodded. "I will."

He kissed her goodnight. Sophie quickly showered and dressed into her pajamas. When she crawled into bed, she was happily met with a text message from Keefe.

'Hey, I made it home alright. Now you can sleep tonight. ;)'

[f1-disaster-bi]

Continuation of the earlier 911 inspired fic:

There was still blood on his neck when he got home.

His mother was watching him with sad eyes. It had been clear that she had been crying and normally Pierre would be the one comforting her, or he'd be warmed by the fact that his mother loved his boyfriend just as much as he did but not today.

Today he had Lando’s blood on his neck, and he felt numb as his mother approached him gently as if she was afraid one wrong step and he'd break.

"Oh mon caneton", Pascale whispered softly, cupping Pierre’s face gently for a moment, "I am so sorry, but it'll be okay. He's a fighter. Little but mighty"

Pierre just nodded because he didn't have any words left. He had screamed them all out while pressed to the gravel. He had whispered them while he clutched at Lando's cold hands. Used all his words begging him to stay.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Before Felix sees his Papa like this", Pascale kissed his forehead before guiding him to the kitchen as if he were a child again.

"Does he know?", Pierre managed to whisper as his mother grabbed a cloth and wet it before she started to rub the last of Lando’s blood off his skin.

He couldn't look at his hands. He knew there was blood probably caked under his nails that he hadn't been able to get out in the hospital bathroom so he gazed at the ceiling.

"No, I...I didn't know if you wanted him to know", Pascale admitted softly and Pierre closed his eyes.

How did you tell your five year old son that the man he looked at as a second father was possibly going to die?

Pierre knew Felix knew their job was dangerous. He knew they got hurt. He probably understood that more than any five year old should after Pierre had almost died himself over a year ago, but Lando had been there. They might have only had started dating, but Lando had been in Felix's life since he was three. He was the one that stayed, trading shifts with Charles and Pierre’s mother to look after Felix.

Felix loved Lando more than anything, more than Pierre sometimes. How could he rip that away from him?

Pierre almost didn't want to tell him as he walked to his sons bedroom. The blood gone from his skin even if it felt like it was still there. Felix was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the lego set he had been building with Lando just yesterday, and it made Pierre’s eyes tear up.

"Papa!", Felix grinned up at him when he noticed Pierre and he patted the ground beside him, "Lanno here too?"

"No, um, Lando’s not here, mon ours", Pierre cleared his throat, "I...uh, I need to talk to you about that"

"Is he late? He's gonna make 'pagetti for dinner with the cheese bread. He promised", Felix pouted a little, blinking up at him as he wrapped an arm around his on, "Papa? You look sad"

"Cause I am, mon ours", Pierre tried to reassure him but he could feel his tears started to build, "Lando isn't coming home. He....he got hurt at work. A bad man hurt him, and we...we might not be able to see him for a while"

He watched as Felix paused and frowned. Confusion filled his little face, and a little sadness before he was looking at Pierre again.

"But...he'll get better right? He's at the hospital?", Felix asked, turning a piece of lego over in his hand as Pierre nodded, "They fixed you, Papa, they'll fix Lanno"

Pierre just hugged his son close for a moment and kissed his head because if he tried to speak, he was going to break down in tears, and Felix didn't need to see that. He shouldn't be worrying about his Papa crying. He shouldn't be worrying about Lando coming home. He should be like this, innocent and playing with lego so Pierre just nodded.

He didn't tell Felix that Lando might not be coming home this time.

[adawasneverhere]

Reparations pt.1

(@) means the characters inner dialogue that other characters aren't capable of hearing.

July 23 2024 It was Carmen's fifth-teen birthday...It was also the day that her father Kenneth overdosed, she slept until 2:00 pm in the afternoon because Kenneth was being noisy like he usually was at that time and that's what scared her the most anytime it got this quiet he was usually away from the house, and was probably going to leave her with no explanation for three months or so, but this was worse, when she finally opened the door she found him on his back foaming at the mouth lying completely still, from the way it looked he was probably like that for hours while Carmen was asleep, the foam near his mouth was a little dried up. She felt so out of control, all she could really do was stand at the creek of her door and silently watch taking in the last moments of her dad.

Operator: "911 what's your emergency?"

Carmen: "Um.....my...."

She went silent for a moment holding the phone to her ear

Operator: "Hello?"

Operator: "Sweetie how old are you?"

Carmen: "I- I'm fifteen years old."

Carmen was stuttering over the phone

Operator: "Where do you live baby?"

Carmen: "I live at 1589 35 ave North Florida city, our-...my house was just recently painted white."

Carmen had a pace to her voice making it difficult to understand what she was saying

Operator: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, can you tell me what happened?"

Carmen: "My dad isn't moving, he's laying on the floor with dried up foam near his mouth."

She felt a knot in her throat, she felt like she was going to cry

Operator: "We're going to send officers to your location."

Operator: "Are you okay?"

Carmen: "I guess so...nothing happened to me."

Operator: "How long has he been like that?"

Carmen: "I don't know ma'am."

Operator: "Where is your mother?"

Carmen: "I'm not sure, I've never met her."

Operator: "That's okay, what's your name?"

Carmen: "Carmen Avery Maliiese."

She stopped talking because she didn't know what to say, all she could do was silently stare at her fathers cold dead body

The police sirens were getting louder

Carmen: "I think they're here now."

Operator: "If you don't mind I'd like to have a conversation with you when you get to the station, okay?"

Carmen: "Yes ma'am."

She heard a knock on the door and hung up, then she went over and opened the door

There were three officers and a paramedic standing over her all of them had a good height

Carmen: "Hi."

Paramedic: Where is he, and what is his name?

Carmen: "His name is Kenneth Maliiese, I meant was."

Carmen opened the door all the way and pointed at the figure lying flat on the floor.

Officer: "How about you have a chat with me on the curb?"

Carmen: "Alright."

She walked over and sat on the curb.

Officer: "This must be very traumatizing for you."

@ Carmen: "Well no shit."

Carmen: "Yeah."

Officer: "You seem to be very calm about this whole thing."

Carmen: "Yeah sorry, I'm just a little tired."

Officer: "How old are you?"

Carmen: "I turned fifth-teen today."

@ Carmen: Where am I going live now? Where will I sleep tonight? I swear if they put me in foster care I'm done for.

Officer: "Oh...happy birthday!"

It was very obvious that the officer was trying to hide the disappointment in their voice but Carmen didn't find it necessary to mention it.

Carmen: "Thank you."

This whole situation made her uncomfortable so she was thinking of leaving and trying her best to avoid eye contact.

Officer: "Um...how old did you turn today?"

Her mind was so scattered she forgot that they even asked her a question.

Carmen: "Oh, I'm fifth-teen now."

@ Carmen: "Right now I just need a hot shower and a nap."

Officer: "That's cool, you're going to have a sweet six-teen next year."

Carmen: "Yeah-"

She stopped talking as soon as she saw them stringing out her dad in a body bag, the officer quickly stood up and held her hand leading her to the police car.

She could hear someone talking on their walkie talkie.

Unknown: "We checked his pulse, Mr. Maliiese is dead but we still have to-"

They quick turned the volume on the walkie talkie down and started the car.

Officer: "Sorry about that."

@Carmen: "I have ballet practice tomorrow and they didn't even let me pack my bag before we left."

The car was driving as she heard the sound of sirens ringing in her ear enforcing her headache to hurt more than ever, she could see the officer nervously glancing at her through the mirror as if they where trying to figure out what was on her mind

@Carmen: "Maybe I was a bad person in my past life, today has to be the worst day to have a deadbeat mom, I should just play subway surfers so I can get my mind off of this."

She pulled out her phone and played subway surfers to get her mind off of things but her thoughts just kept getting louder and louder

After several minutes the car finally stopped at the police station and all she could hear was this reoccurring buzzing of a fly in her ear, there were no flies to be seen though, she began to thing that it was all in her head

She sat in the empty room they left her in a vacant room, she gazed around the room it had no decor only a loud inaccurate clock on the wall

All of a sudden the door barged open, Carmen saw a woman in her thirties that looked well put together in a work wear outfit with straight tied up hair, it perplexed her but she didn't let it show on her face

Operator: Hi Carmen, I was the person talking to you over the phone. My name is Quinn, do you have anyone to stay with while we rearrange you living situations?

@Operator: I just wanted to see her face at least once, why did I even make the suggestion to interview her when she came to the station? Of course this is my baby, She looks exactly like Kenny.

Carmen: Hi.

*Quinn just took a moment to stare at her in silence, all she could think about was Kenny, Carmen looked exactly like him except as a girl, she had his face, his long legs, his awkward mannerisms, the only feature she had that didn't line up with Kenny was her eyes. Carmen had her mothers dark brown almond shaped eyes, they were so dark that they nearly looked black. Quinn just could't help but stare until she finally came back to reality, Carmen tilted her head a little to meet her eyes*

Carmen: Are you okay ma'am?

*Quinn felt like her mind was going to explode*

Quinn: Yep.

*she was nodding frantically like a crazy person*

Carmen: Oh okay...

*Carmen started avoiding eye contact again*

Operator/Quinn: Can you think of anyone you could stay with tonight?

*Carmen thought about one of the girls she was friends with in her ballet class but disregarded that idea right away because she didn't want to be a pain in the ass*

Carmen: Nope,not really.

Operator/Quinn: You don't have at least one friend?

*There was no response Carmen just stared at her blankly*

@Carmen: Did I not just give her an answer?

Operator/Quinn: Okay, well there's someone your dad listed as your godfather named August Jones, should I call him to pick you up?

@Carmen: I mean that's the only option...

Carmen: Sure, I guess...

Operator/Quinn: Okay, do me a favor and go wait down the hall for me while I call him.

*Quinn gave her a half smile but she could see that she didn't really want to smile at her, she just left in silence walking down the hall and taking one of the empty seats, there was an elderly woman over the counter who took a peak at her.*

*after 30 minutes or so Quinn came over saying that she called her godfather*

Like him- By Tyler the creator featuring Lola Young

[outrunningthedark]

I’m not new to the 911 fandom, this is my third, if we don’t count 2020 winter hiatus, and it was never so calm, just think about last year the billions ff, and fan videos about eddie leaving, or the multitude of buddie Christmas ff, now everything is almost silent. We can say 911 it’s not the buddie show, and it’s true, but buddie was a very strong driving force to watch it, with the almost 0 scenes of 6a, a lot of people re just leaving

Yep. It's not the Buddie show (but Tim wants to make LS the T-rlos show, LOL), but there's no denying that the Buddie fandom is what keeps the conversation going on social media - and Tim knows that, because after s4 he admitted he wanted the shooting scene to be something fans couldn't stop talking about. There's only so much speculation that can be done when we're given so little to work with, and personally, I think it's gotten to a point where people (even the ones who tried to stay optimistic) are tired of reading/hearing about how a story line *could* play out when we've seen time and again that the show very rarely devotes the kind of attention to Buddie we expect in the aftermath of something important for those two as friends and potential romantic partners. Idk what the show is doing with Buddie right now, but it's still not a slow burn. Two characters not speaking to each other unless it's necessary and not about anything personal is not the recipe for romance in the fifth season. Had those guys spoken to others/been called out by others for obvious "issues" with their dynamic, there would be cause to celebrate because at least we're in the know on why they're acting different, but opting not to do even that tells me the plan (if there is one) isn't up to the level of fandom's expectations. The way this show operates...we're more likely to get two or three episodes "hinting at" something more and then, oh, hey, look who's dating now.

[pantsaretherealheroes]

sorry i'm sick and didn't add the first bit! I was tagged in this "get to know you" meme by @village-skeptic thank you!!

last song: someTIMES i feel i've got to BOM BOM RUN AWAY this came on my shower playlist before. also before that i listened to sophie ellis-bextor's murder on the dancefloor which I have personally never forgotten but has gotten a boost from it being in a certain popular film recently

currently reading: A Good Girl's Guide To Murder by Holly Jackson, which i know has a terrible focus group-y title, but is actually very interesting and involves a teenage girl solving a mystery in her town (which is very much my thing) and has been nice for me easing back into properly reading again

last film: Anyone But You i think? it's silly but i had a great time, altho very weird to see a very american romcom take place in australia. and also why the fuck did they not advertise this as an adaptation of much ado about nothing, my favourite shakespeare??

currently watching: Nancy Drew which is fun although not really a Nancy Drew kind of thing it's more like teen supernatural investigations in a small town. not that i'm not into that! And also Percy Jackson and the Olympians, in which I have adopted three children and am about to wage war on two of their godly parents

three ships: well. if you've followed me from anywhere from the last 5 seconds to that last two and bit years, i'm sorry, and it's definitely buck/eddie from 911. also i am similarly insane about syd/carmy from the bear (the 'person you work with who you have an intense and close dynamic with and trust them with the most important thing in your life after not really knowing them all that long' ship dynamic is strong with me) and also lets say percy/annabeth from pjo because it is only the beginning but i know they're gonna fall in love so much!!

favorite color: turquoise or teal blue? or plum.

currently consuming: not much i have covid and also not many groceries until later today

first ship: hmmmmmmm probably something harry potter honestly i do not remember

currently working on: getting better from the ol covid. and writing a little bit :)

tagging if you want @cal-daisies-and-briars @jellicle-ball @rabbimilligan and @manycoloureddays :)