#now I know my ABCs

[beepbeepbeepjeep]

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[cw: brief description of accident, death, and injuries; experiences that can be likened to dissociation and hallucination]

/— 5: Erasing the Edges —/

As gruesome as it is, Savannah is pulled toward the overturned jeep. They walk to it with bated breath. A few feet away from the crash, officers attempt to get rid of the crowd. She steps right past them and ducks under the caution tape.

The back of the jeep is open, putting them all on display. She could still see hints of the mess under the shrouds.

Reality steadily begins to seep in, like blood staining pure white cloth. Metal cuts through their bodies, still shining. Still sharp. 

They shut their eyes and take the rest of it in. The clamor, the heat, the sharp scents of blood and gas. It’s all familiar, but not like the low crackle of a fireplace. It’s more like the ear-piercing booms of fireworks still ringing after they’ve long dissipated. It’s haunting, like war, like tragedy, like death.

Something unlocks in her. She slips back into a dream.

They're falling, faster and faster. There's a chorus of screams, but no faces to connect it to. It's too bright to see anything. Are they staring straight into the sun?

She can't turn to see where they're landing. No—she can't move at all. They've gone limp like a rag doll, limbs fluttering hopelessly above them.

Then it all stops. Her vision cuts to jarring darkness. She hears frantic voices bouncing around, discussing… something. They're unsure what, but they just know they're a part of it. It's as if she's sitting backstage, waiting for her cue.

They want to stay and finally figure out the meaning of all this, but they feel their grip on the vision fading. They wait and wait, and it’s almost time for their entrance, but…

She finds herself back in the jeepney—the magic one, where everyone’s in one piece. Her head hurts, and she still feels a little lost.

Cato’s the first one she notices again. “Is everything alright? You seemed dissociated. You wouldn’t leave the scene of the accident. We had to guide you back here.”

“Yes, I’m alright.” She pauses. “What about you? It must have been horrifying seeing how exactly you…”

His brows furrow. “I’m fine.”

And they fall into silence. Savannah sighs. Cato clearly isn’t alright. Who would be after seeing their own corpse pulled out of a car crash? 

Then again, she wasn’t very honest herself. Maybe she can encourage a little more communication.

“Actually, I’m quite shaken up,” they blurt. Cato only slightly turns toward them, but they take this as enough of a sign to continue.

“I’ve been seeing—hearing? No—sensing things.”

Now this has his full attention. “Things only you can sense? Like hallucinations?”

“I wouldn’t call them hallucinations.” She purses her lips. “They’re more like… flashbacks? Like I’ve felt them all before.” 

He stays quiet, so she elaborates. “I’ve been having these visions—well, they’re more than just visions, but you know what I mean—I think they’re related to the accident. I get these feelings of falling, and I hear these voices that I know I’ve heard before, but I can’t put names to them.”

Cato’s face is tight with concentration. “Do these come with any other symptoms? Anything you think is related?”

Symptoms? Strange way to put it, but sure. She gives it a good think. “I get headaches. The visions make me dizzy. And I have trouble sleeping.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“I’m not sure… I’ve had these visions for as long as I remember.”

“Have you had similar experiences in life? Traumatic events?”

“No…”

“You don’t need to get into the specifics.”

“There are no specifics.” They shrug. “I’ve never been in any accidents this severe and… Well. I guess I won’t be in any other ones now.”

He looks away, deep in thought. “Flashbacks, but not connected to any actual events…”

“Well, they feel real. Like I’m connected to them somehow.”

“Are you taking anything?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean medication. Drugs. Of any kind.”

“No?” She doesn’t like where this is going.

“I won’t judge.”

“I really don’t take any medication.”

"Well, what about—”

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Hide.” She bites on the inside of her cheek. “I came here looking for a conversation. Not a doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh.” He’s silent for a bit. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!”

Cato looks at her weirdly. “There’s something wrong with me. How is that okay?”

“Well, I think there’s something a little wrong inside all of us.” Savannah’s eyes drift around the jeep.

Cato does not stop looking at her weirdly. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“No, it isn’t, but you know what is?”

“What?”

“It means you’re not alone.” They lean over a little to bump shoulders with him. “There are people you can talk to. They’ll understand. Or listen at the very least.”

He breaks eye contact to contemplate this.

“You don’t have to share right now if that’s uncomfy. We all just saw a lot of it, anyway,” she adds. “My point is that we have all the time in the world.”

This is great. Savannah is going to get a good grade in friendship: something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. Cato will be so befriended by the end of this.

Finally, he turns back to them. “Fine.”

A smile breaks out on her face. This is going so great.

“But for the record, if you need anyone to talk to about your episodes—”

“Visions.”

He sighs. “Visions… I’m here to listen.” Savannah’s shoes happily tap away on the metal floor. “Thank you.”

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[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[hirakiyois]

you're laughing. beloved network tv show 911's resident single dad with repressed homosexuality is dating three people at once and you're laughing.

[ikpwecanfly]

Something I haven't seen discussed yet is not only did buck and Tommy kiss, but they JUST kissed. Tommy kissed him once, just communicating that "okay is this what you want us to do?" And then he set up a real romantic date where he's going to pick buck up at 8 and everything.

Buck who has a shit load of trauma from partners wanting him for nothing more than his body. From always having to be the person adding the romance into every relationship to convince people there's more to him then sex.

Baby boy just got asked on a wholesome date and got promised romantic helicopter flying lessons and he won't even have to drive and goddddvdhebusjabsjsjdnxns

[btbonescanon]

firefighter buckley & firefighter diaz, partners.

[dashing-disaster]

According to the internet LAFD pilots make between 10-13.5k a month.

I'm not saying Evan Buckley found himself a sugar daddy but Evan Buckley found himself a sugar daddy.

[satosuguhastakenovermylife]

z

a

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[buckevantommy]

i'm so glad they brought back tommy for buck. they could've brought back eli. they could've brought back the openly gay firefighter. they could've introduced someone new. but instead they brought back tommy: the guy who was stuck in the old boys' club, as well as figuring himself out around the same age as buck. the guy who wasn't warm or welcoming to chim or hen when they first arrived but who clearly struggled with doing so, and then who came to appreciate them and have their backs and enjoy their friendship. the guy who was there to see how bobby made a real difference to the 118, made it like a family before he left. the guy who was there for bobby's introduction of 'family dinners'. the guy who left the 118 so that buck could take his place there. the guy with the tk initials. the guy who shares a name with 2 other poignant tommys in the narrative for buck. the guy who chim called not once but twice for help and he answered. the guy who was saved by chimney and who will (hopefully) get to return the favour. the guy who made such pivitol personal growth in his time at the 118 thanks to chim and hen and bobby. they brought back the guy who proves that it's never too late to change, to grow, to be open and soft and caring. that it's never too late to learn about yourself, to figure out who you are as well as the person you want to be. that it's never too late to become a better version of yourself.

[beepbeepbeepjeep]

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/— 3: Cracking Composures  —/

“Wait. Okay. So, you’re saying we’re dead?” 

The mannequin nods. Or, does its best impression of a nod, at least. “Yes, that is indeed what I said.”

“You’re lying,” Cato says firmly. “You’re lying,” he repeats. Whether he’s trying to convince the mannequin or himself. . . no one is sure.

“I am physically incapable of lying, Mr. Linn,” it says with a look of sympathy. Metallic and manufactured sympathy, but sympathy nonetheless. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sure you are,” Tauny mutters bitterly. “Cut the crap, what’s actually going on here?”

“Tauny—” Liza tries to interject.

Tauny snaps. “No! No, tell me the truth.” 

He looks it in the eye, pupils bordering on bloodshot. “Who do you work for? UCNN? Channel 5? Tell me what sick elaborate game show this is. Tell them I want no fucking part in it!” His voice cracks, half in anger, half in desperation.

The doll remains silent. Emotionless. A hunk of metal pliant in his hands. 

The next thing anyone hears is metal crashing against the side of the jeep. Tauny’s hands hover over the mannequin’s neck as if that would do any damage. The noise continues as Tauny resigns to shaking the metal body, screaming, “Speak! Fucking say something!”

Everyone else starts yelling for him to stop. Savannah plugs her ears and focuses her eyes on the floor. Why does it sound so familiar?

Beau’s face pulls into a tight frown. Tauny sure is stubborn as hell. To be fair though, Beau doesn’t know anything about Tauny, just like he doesn’t know anything about Liza, or any of the other passengers. Tauny is just a stranger—one whom Beau’s only argued with until now. A stranger he just witnessed explode in anger—and who is still exploding, actually. Someone has to stop him.

. . .The yelling and crashing stop, leaving only the sounds of a struggle. “Let me go! What the fuck are you doing ??”

Surprisingly, Beau’s stik-o-thin arms can hold Tauny back.

“I’m not letting go until you calm down,” Beau says sternly, but. . . not unkindly. The voice brings him back to the ground and sets the roots back in place. It makes Tauny’s breath hitch, making him hesitate. Beau of all people?

Tauny tries to stay tough, but he feels like he’s choking. He digs his nails into his palms and grits his teeth in a feeble attempt to distract himself from another breakdown. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. 

For a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours, Tauny is left breathing heavily. After a while, his breath was slowly quieting with his heartbeat.

Until he begins to question if he ever had a heartbeat at all. Because all this time, he’s been dead, right?

It’s all too much for him. His knees give in and he falls to the floor, too washed over with apathy to care. His arms are folded, pressing into his body, and his head falls onto the seat.

This development catches Beau off-guard. He didn’t know what he expected, but he at least expected a struggle. His hand hovers over Tauny but quickly moves back. 

Liza takes a quick breath as if to collect herself after the. . . event. She starts digging through a satchel slung over her shoulder. 

“Here,” she pulls out a water bottle and hands it to Beau.

“. . .How’s water going to help?” Beau asks, not taking the bottle. “Where did you even get that?”

“Just take it. For him,” she glances at Tauny and shrugs. “I must’ve had this before I— before we. . .”

“Died?” Savannah finishes absently.

Tauny wraps his arms around himself even tighter, seeming to shrink into himself.

“Alright,” Liza looks up at everyone. “New rule: nobody says the d-word, no matter what. Nothing related to it either.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes. And not just for his sake, but for everyone’s.”

Liza gestures at the others. Ascot’s been unusually quiet. Savannah’s face is scrunched up with guilt. Cato’s somehow gotten even more unreadable.

“Listen, we’re all super on edge right now. I’m sure you are too,” she sounds the complete opposite of someone on edge. Her lips press into a small smile. “So please, just. . . try to help out?”

Beau grabs the bottle. He silently thanks whatever gods are in existence that at least there’s someone here that can handle whatever the fuck is going on. He sure couldn’t. In the back of his mind, he wonders if Liza was an older sister or a caretaker of some sort before— before the incident. It would explain the quick change in mannerisms. Hell, it would explain the bag, there was probably a whole first-aid kit in there. What regular person carries water around them wherever they go?

Now that he thinks about it, what regular person finds out they’re dead and is level-headed about it? That’s not normal, right?

He holds the bottle in front of Tauny. “You heard her. Gotta drink.”

Tauny stays silent, avoiding anyone’s gaze.

“Do I have to, like, feed you or some shit—?”

“No, what the fuck?”

He took the bottle, but that’s it. He doesn’t take one sip, not even after the half-minute Beau spends staring at him. The passivity is disconcerting; this is the first time he’s ever been quiet. Goddamn Jesus fuck Holy fucking shit.

“. . .Well, I was planning on having Mr. Hep go first but—”

“I beg your goddamn pardon?” Ascot laughs, no humor in their eyes. “I don’t know— hell, I don’t care what you’re planning, you can’t possibly—”

“Of course, Mx. Mosbirm. I understand,” the mannequin tuts. “Believe it or not, I’m far from heartless.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” they scoff as they lean back in their seat, numb resignation resettling on their face.

“I still don’t believe you,” Cato frowns. “Those things you said about death? A game? Resurrection?”

“It's telling the truth,” Savannah says, voice barely above a whisper.

“. . .what?”

“It’s the truth,” she repeats, with more conviction this time.

“How do you know?” Cato demands, eyes cold and calculating. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I— I’m not sure. I just. . . know,” they sigh, realizing how little reassurance that is. “Does that make sense?”

“No. No, it doesn’t,” Ascot responds airily, “but nothing’s made sense for the past half hour so really this is just par for the course.”

“Can you not?” 

“Can I not what, grandpa?” They challenge, raising  an eyebrow. “Make light of a bad situation?”

“Make a joke of a terrible situation.” Cato corrects.

Liza shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not terrible. . .” 

Beau agrees. “It could be worse.” 

“I’ve seen worse,” Savannah adds vaguely. 

Cato opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it again, deciding it’s not worth it to keep contesting this point when he’s already outnumbered.

“Fine. Let’s say this game you speak of is real,” Cato turns to address the mannequin. “What are the rules? How do we pick a winner? Is there a point system?”

Ascot teases, “What’re you going to do? Strategize your way through the afterlife? Start taking notes?”

“Maybe I will. Though with you as competitors I doubt I’ll have to do much.”

They let out a disbelieving laugh, not expecting another instance of thinly-veiled snark.

“To answer your questions, Mr. Linn. This is not a game you can reason your way through. In fact, the rules are quite simple. I’d hardly call them rules at all.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very good game, then.”

“. . .I suppose you do have a point,” the mannequin speaks with a mischievous lilt in its robotic voice. “Though since you’re so eager, perhaps you’d like to go first.”

The interior of the jeep is once again cast in a warm orange glow. Every surface, from the ceiling rods to the carpeted floor, seems to develop a subtle luminescence, reflecting off each other in rainbows of bouncing lights. If you were to look out the windows at this very moment, you’d see thousands of swirling celestial bodies collapsing in on themselves in a quick blink! akin to shutting off a CRT television. In its stead is a vast expanse of white, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. A blank canvas ready to be painted on.

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[meep-meep-richie]

´´ You already know that i´m interested. ´´

[tournesoleil13]

Itadori is really proud of himself

[lover-of-mine]

“Maybe I was his rainy day.”

Quote from A Hue of Blu by Marie-France Leger.

[housewifebuck]

4x05 -> 4x14

[tenebrous-academic]

Oh don’t mind me I’m just over here silently losing my mind over Buck looking at Tommy while saying “It’s our people that are what make life worth living” before grinning to himself and looking down.

They are softly smiling and exchanging glances with each other. They’re calling each other boyfriends. They’re showing up for each other when a partner is needed the most. They’re building a foundation of care, trust, and open affection.

They’re so endgame it’s not even funny.