#move texas

[hymnsofheresy]

everytime i tell europeans my favorite cuisine is texmex & sonoran they are like “American bastardized Mexican food?” and i feel like im going insane. its not bastardized. its their fucking cuisine.

[buddienetwork]

you are jeff by richard siken, stanza 24

[hyuckonia]

very first 10 seconds of the tsum event and Kalim getting beaned by his tsum and lilia was like "oh guess i wasnt fast enough to stop it myb bro" SHUT UPPPDNAHAAJHA KALIMS SCREAM HAD ME LAUGHING SO HARD I WAS GUNNA CRY whatever i love them so badLMAOOOOO

[eddiesgmcsierra1500denali]

the thing frequently cited as eddie’s Mistake in s5 is “quitting his job without talking to chris” which i really struggle to understand because on one level i don’t think a parent is obligated to talk to their 10 year old child about a career decision and i also don’t think a 10 year old child can be expected to provide reasonable insight on the best approach to their own trauma. and on another level i think this implies that if eddie had talked to chris then he would have Known he didn’t Have to quit his job and could have never been miserable at dispatch … but like. eddie was not fit for active duty. he was right to quit his job! there was a reason bobby didn’t let him come back. his Mistake was using christopher’s supposed needs as his motivation and as an easy excuse to continue repressing his trauma and burgeoning anxieties and to continue marching forward without closely examining what he was trying to get away from. there is a world in which eddie quitting firefighting and being miserable at dispatch for the rest of his days COULD have been the answer and a genuine sacrifice he chose to make as a parent, but that’s not what he was doing—he was convincing himself he was making a genuine sacrifice when what he was actually doing was trying to keep a lid on all the boxes holding his issues.

i also struggle with the idea that the mistake eddie is making Now is “moving to el paso without talking to chris” for similar reasons. like, i don’t think a 14 year old is equipped to make decisions like that, even if they’re for his own sake, or for dealing with his own trauma. there is a world in which eddie packs up and moves to el paso because genuinely, it is better for chris, it’s where chris is thriving, and he’d be well within his right to do so even if it theoretically blocks chris from returning to life in LA—it’s not a mistake for eddie to make the unequivocal decision about where they live lol. the actual problem is that he’s once again using chris thriving in a different environment as an excuse to repress the fact that the reason he’s taking this drastic decision he doesn’t want to take is because he doesn’t trust himself. probably chris IS having a good time in texas. but eddie doesn’t want to think about the wounds that lead him to believe he can’t give chris what he needs, or that lead him to actually hurt chris, so instead he is making another ingenuine sacrifice to avoid feeling things he thinks he doesn’t deserve to feel, or shouldn’t be feeling. of course we know that LA is his home and staying in el paso isn’t going to end up being the right decision, but it’s not the wrong decision because they shouldn’t move away ever or should never be sad ever and eddie should know that, it’s the wrong decision because he’s not being honest with himself about why he’s making it… which was also the case in s5.

[thisshitisridiculous]

eddie bought that truck as something nice for himself at such a low point with his illegal fight club money and now he's back in his hometown and broke and gonna sell it for 1/3 of the return and it's not even gonna work, it's not gonna make chris forgive him, he's gonna sell this piece of himself and buy a shit car he hates to replace it and not gonna fix anything, it's water instead of juice

[eerie-candid]

Little Big Brother Drayton

Can be carried because he weighs like 100 pounds

[hannigramislife]

The realest thing Buck did last ep was talk Ravi's ear off about missing his best friend until a man he wanted to fuck entered the screen. Then he's like "Eddie who?" Buck couldn't even mention the place he moved into was Eddie's house. He said that Eddie left and gained some 🥺 sad baby points from Tommy, and then the man did not cross his mind again for the next 12 hours.

[weewoo911]

Idk if this is an old ad that I just got shown on Facebook but uhhhhh season 8 hiatus was NOT the time for this hahah

My face the whole time: 😬

ALSO WHERE THE FUCK IS CHIMNEY

[knifetomeatu]

still devastated abt chop top but i LOVE bones so at least things worked out😭❤

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Ballroom dancing isn’t actually particularly queer coded in fact it plays more into tradition and has very clearly defined gendered roles associated with it - male leader - female - follower.

And that’s what’s interesting about it being the activity Eddie was signed up for by Helena, especially in relation to Eddie’s incoming queer arc. Eddie was forced to grow up too fast and to step into the role of ‘man of the house’ by Helena because Ramon was by all accounts an absent father - hero complex provides us with plenty of canon information about Eddie being pushed into a husband/father role at a very young age and being told to man up and not to cry etc - machismo in action.

Helena sending him to ballroom dancing classes is likely because it was a way of reinforcing those traditional gendered stereotypes held by wider society and particularly in Latinx culture that the Diaz’s are entrenched in.

It becomes an especially interesting choice if it’s something Helena did because as well as it reinforcing gender stereotypes, she could see that her son was queer and wanted a way of trying to push him towards girls/women - encouraging him into straightness by surrounding him with girls as generally classes are female dominated and away from activities that would have him surrounded by boys/men.

It’s not about ballroom dancing being queer it’s about trying to prevent him from being queer through the structure of ballroom dancing.

[lilithdemonwife]

Eddie diaz in the next episode

[babyboywilson]

might have a multi-chapter fic idea for my first hilson fic. friends with benefits hilson with them hooking up in wilson’s office or sneaky places in the hospital or at house’s apartment. and both of them is pining for more, falling for each other hard and fast, but neither thinks the other wants more than just a quick fuck. and there’s blatant flirting and fluff and kisses and touches mixed into the smut with both house and wilson trying to get the other to fall in love with him without them realizing they’re both already in love with each other and want more than just sex

[ironworked]

911 8a

The good part is that the door remains wide open, with a second episode making clear how unfinished this situation is; the bad part is that the building is on fire, so by the time they think to use said door it might not matter.

Because 8a didn't wrap storylines started in s7, it just trashed them in favor of... what, Brad? It's not that Brad had more (time, story) than Tommy, it's that it could be said he had more than Bobby! Remember Bobby, whom we saw in the tail end of s7 being rather depressed (possibly suicidal), resign, rescue his wife from a fire, and die for a few minutes? we started s8 with an implication that the 118 hadn't talked to him (in months?), and I guess that was a sign of how the next episodes would go.

Now there's Buck spiraling again (making his best impression of a Hallmark movie heroine for some reason), Eddie leaves the 118 because of Chris again, Hen and Karen pretty much disappear until their kids are threatened once more I guess, Maddie will get kidnapped again, and who knows if they'll remember Chim exists.

I think we all expected some repetition from the weewoo show by now, suspension of disbelief too. Some rushing through storylines for sure. But I certainly didn't expect it to be so joyless.

[eddiesgmcsierra1500denali]

im gonna be honest like why is it that 75% of the time it seems like nobody wants drama or conflict or characters acting like interesting humans. on the tv show they’re watching.

[why-bless-your-heart]

I love animation so much but I have little time and negative energy so this is all you get.

[mauswyx]

old ties, new beginnings [ch.2]

Thomas Hewitt x f!reader: ch1 // ch3

TLDR: By chance, Thomas encounters someone from his past and gets to be treated like a normal guy for an afternoon–except he doesn't want the treatment to stop. [pt.2]

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

CW: mention of past trauma/abuse, slight nudity

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I’m really glad you remember me...”

She was sitting with her legs sprawled out in front of her while she leaned back onto her hands, staring out over the lake-top as the warm breeze gently weaved through her hair. The lake was practically still, save for a few ducks that had flown down; she watched as they preened their feathers and dove for fish.

Thomas gave a low hum to let her know he had heard her; he was sitting cross-legged a meter or so behind her, pulling at the grass around him. The ever looming thought of what he’d have to do made him nervous. A part of him hoped you’d excuse yourself right now and leave; Hoyt would find you—take you back to the house and you’d just be cattle again. It would be easier that way. He could put on his face and you’d never know it was him…your dying thoughts wouldn’t be hate for him. The image of you dying caused a pain in his chest; the pain only worsened when the thought of you calling out for him, begging him to save you flooded his mind. Would your final words be his name on your tongue? To his horror, the idea excited him. You had been nothing but compassionate towards him–a beacon of warmth when all anyone else had done was treat him like an animal, a beast. And here he was, daydreaming about slaughtering you.

With a slight groan you pulled your stiff legs to your chest, snuggly wrapping your arms around them with a satisfied purr. His shirt rode up your thighs and rested around your hips, slightly exposing your bottom; with a grunt he darted his eyes away from your flesh. He didn’t deserve to look at you in such a way–not when he was going to be the one to wipe you from this earth. His fists clenched at the dead grass as the situation weighed on him; he didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t. He wanted to stay in this moment forever–wanted to live in a time where you wanted his company, content to sit in his presence without fear or judgment. In this moment you were alive. Alive with him. 

He looked to the sky, to whatever god Mama had long since given up on getting him to pray to, for an answer. No one else had ever done the things you had done and it had to mean something. It had to.

It had been him to stumble upon you, no one else, like you were a gift left by the heavens waiting just for him. His. Straightening his back and releasing his grip on the grass, the thought dawned on him. You could be his. Everyone else seemed to have their own company–be it sisters, pets, or working girls–so why couldn’t he? He could be good to you: he would treat you much better than a pet and substantially better than the way Hoyt treated his guests. 

He’d take care of all your needs–you’d be his responsibility, he was the one inaugurating you after all. You’d be well fed, he wouldn’t rest until you had a full stomach every night; you’d never get bored, sitting in with Mama and his aunt on their lunchins or more realistically tending to your own chores around the homestead; and though he, himself, didn’t really care for bathing, he figured a respectable woman such as yourself would, so he’d make sure you had every opportunity to stay clean; the house had many rooms but most of them were filled with clutter so you’d have to wait a bit before getting your own room. He pondered for a moment, thinking about what room would suit you best; he liked the idea of you having one of the rooms with the fancy windows that Mama once cherished. In the meantime, you’d have to stay in his room…have to share a bed with him too. His fingers twitched at the thought of sleeping next to you. He had to physically shake his head, when the thought of you waiting-up for him at night after a hard day's work–unable to sleep without him crept into his head; he couldn’t get distracted by such thoughts, there was still so much left to work-out.

You had sealed your fate upon entering the town’s border; in his heart-of-hearts, Thomas knew this was the only way to keep you alive and that’s all he wanted; that’s all that mattered. You’d definitely need some adjusting to their way of life–you were a saint but he knew not even you could understand right away why they needed to do the things they did, but you could learn. He’d keep you alive–even if it killed you.

The sound of a sniffle pulled him from his plotting.

You had hidden your face in the crook of your arms that now rested atop your knees, while he had thought out his plan. Oh no. What had he done? Did you finally realize how disgusting he was and were mortified to be with him? Had you said something personal and he had ignored you–too caught up in his own world? How could he be so selfish! He let out a whine as his thoughts ran wild with possibilities of what he could’ve done to upset you. It felt as though his very world was crumbling around him–keeping you needed the foundation of you not despising him.

“I’m sorry…” you huffed out, raising your head to wipe at your eyes, “I’m just…I’m sorry!” The tears began flowing freely despite your efforts to contain them. You felt pathetic for crying, you had nothing to cry about when it was Thomas who had been the victim.

“They were so c-cruel to you-ou,” you hiccuped through sobs, “and I did noth-hing!”

For years you had watched as they had treated him less-than the dirt beneath their feet and you had been too much of a coward to even defend him. To even console him. Having only been a child did little to console you: even at such a young age, you knew what they were doing was wrong and you still chose to turn a blind eye. You were no better than any of the other children who had run away from him or the townspeople who had mistreated him; you knew you deserved whatever punishment they had coming. Had he not only been just a child, as well? How was it fair for him to be treated like a walking-disease, merely for being different, while other children got to live normal lives at no cost at all. It was maddening and the guilt for not having done anything to prevent his abuse or ease it was tearing you apart. 

“Oh Thomas, I’m so sorry! You didn’t deserve-”

The words died in your throat as the sound of settling grass alerted you of his presence. He was kneeling next to you now, holding out an uncertain hand mere centimeters away from your face. His hand was formed as though he was intending to cup your face but wanted permission. His stormy eyes couldn’t keep yours as he shifted his gaze around nervously. How could he be so considerate towards you? He should hate your very being. You wanted to turn your head away from him, you didn't deserve his comfort. He should just leave you to rot! But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away; choking back a sob, you leaned into his touch–allowing him to bring you solace. He wasted no time in sweeping your guilty tears away with the pad of his thumb and gently massaging at your temple. His tender care only made you want to cry more.

Thomas couldn’t help but admire how bewitching you looked while you cried softly against his hand: wet eyelashes pressed against puffy-flushed cheeks and cherry-red lips turned into a soft pout. And when your eyes opened, to peer into his own–he hated to think it but you truly did look pitiful. Looking up at him like he was the only thing that could soothe your pain. The tight feeling in his chest returned. He didn’t care about the past, or rather he didn’t care about what you didn’t do in the past. He knew what you did do and that was enough for him. Everyone else’s actions had nothing to do with you so how could he fault you, the only person to ever treat him like he was worthy of some human decency? He had grown accustomed to the insults and the physical tormenting stopped when he hit his growth spurt; those that continued to pester him after which were no more significant than gnats buzzing in his ear. Even now when unruly cattle would hurl insults at him, he knew it was all meaningless. At the end of the day they were still just that–cattle. To Thomas, you had done nothing wrong and there was no need for you to apologize–it only crushed him to see you so distraught over something you had no control over.

Overcome with emotion, he leaned closer to you and let out a whine into your hair. 

The unexpected proximity was startling, Thomas had all but engulfed you into himself. Though you didn’t mind. He was warm and smelled of musk and something else you couldn’t quite place–it was almost metallic. The smell was comforting nonetheless. You leaned into him–absent mindlessly closing the small gap in between you–grazing your nose just under where his mask met his skin, trying to figure out what that smell was. The sudden contact must have startled Thomas as you felt him tense around you, but he made no move to remove himself from you.

“Is this ok?” you breathed out, not wanting to take advantage of his goodwill. You could feel the rumble in his throat and his hair tickle your face as he gave a singular-short nod.

With your new allowance, you leaned fully into him: tucking your arms in between you as you grasped at his stained-shirt, burrowing your face against his neck to ride out the remainder of your tears.

“I really am sorry…” you muttered against his skin, you could feel him shiver but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away. He was warm and the skin-contact was soothing. His breathing was heavy and you could feel another rumble pass through his throat as he just barely grazed against the now-dry shirt on your back–giving you time to push him away–before settling against you. You could feel as he moved to lean his own head against yours, his warm breath showered against your ear. You stifled another sob against him with a whine, this awkward side hug was far more than you deserved.

A fire burned in Thomas’s chest as he clutched you closer to himself. In this moment, with this small act, you had proven to him that he was correct: you were different and there was no doubt about it–you being brought back to him was so that he could make you his. And he would be damned if anyone tried to take you away from him. 

The sun felt warm against your skin and the heat that Thomas expelled only heightened it, your earlier swimming and recent crying fit had finally worn you out. Your eyes fought against the pull of sleep, but ultimately the rise and fall of Thomas's chest against you lulled you into the unconscious abyss.