#pack up the moon

[lix1nyu]

something i was thinking about.

i started a new book last week and it touched my heart in the first twenty pages, left me crying.

pack up the moon by kristan higgins is about a couple josh and lauren. lauren has idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, and she knows she's dying. to help him with the grieving process, she writes 12 letters to josh to give to him after she dies.

my physics teacher passed away on april 3rd, 24. i've known her since i was a kid, and she really watched me grow, learn, and mature.

when she knew she had ovarian cancer, she put herself on planes, cruises, she breathed the air by the cliffs and touched the sky. an ocean could not put out her fire.

the day she'd told her classes she'd be retiring from teaching, i just remember walking in the hall, and not a single eye was dry. i was practicing violin and i didn't even notice i was crying.

that's how i felt reading about lauren and josh. lauren's worry, not for herself but for her husband, is so raw but it's so real. the fact that mrs reina probably felt the same way, yet somehow kept the biggest smile on her face is why she is such a role model.

josh's grief is gut wrenching. he is empty and he is hollow because ipf tore his heart out as well as his wife's lungs.

thank you, kristan higgins, for the one of the most beautiful books i've ever read. heartbreak with some humor to break the fall.

to those who have lost a loved one, you can do it. it's normal to feel everything you are feeling, but one day it'll feel okay again.

rest in peace, mrs reina 🩵🕊️ i hope the great beyond is all the great things you've ever imagined.

[loucaporplots]

RESENHA | Parem os relógios

Autor(a): Kristan Higgins Gênero: Drama | Romance Avaliação: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Joshua e Lauren são um casal recém casados e loucamente apaixonados. Mas Lauren é diagnosticada com fibrose pulmonar idiopática, uma doença terminal. Joshua possui autismo nível 1 de suporte, isso o faz ser mais retraído, com ansiedade social, poucos amigos e obcecado pelo trabalho e não tem ideia de como continuar sem a presença de Lauren do seu lado. Lauren, contudo, bola um plano para ajuda-lo a passar pelo primeiro ano de luto.

📚 REVIEW COM SPOILERS

Que livro precioso! Confesso que eu parei de ler por algumas semanas pra digerir, é um assunto muito sensível, onde a gente se coloca no lugar dos protagonistas toda hora. Eu não tenho costume de ler romances ou dramas, eu sou mais do suspense psicológico ou thriller, então quando leio romances, eu acho fraco ou meio brega. Mas esse... eu realmente derramei algumas lágrimas lendo. Joshua é um personagem muito real. Eu consegui me conectar totalmente com ele. O fato de toda hora o livro voltar no tempo pra contar da história da Lauren me entediava um pouco porque eram coisas que eu não queria saber. Mas achei que valeu a pena por conta da cena em que mostra como eles conversaram pela segunda vez e finalmente começaram o relacionamento. Assim como gostei de terem deixado pra mostrar a morte dela de fato apenas no final. Isso fez eu sentir mais. O final pra mim foi perfeito, eu amei que ele conseguiu seguir em frente com uma outra pessoa. Mas na real, eu realmente estava torcendo pra que ele desse certo com a Sarah. Quando ela começou a ser uma babaca no restaurante do nada, eu fiquei sem entender porque ela foi legal durante o livro todo. Achei um pouquinho forçado o lance dele com a Rose faltando poucas paginas pro final, mas como eu disse, ele merecia isso. Ele merecia ser feliz novamente. Ele continua amando Lauren, isso nunca vai mudar, mas agora vai sentir outros tipos de amores também. No final, minha nota não poderia ser menos que 5 estrelas. Esse livro é o que vai me fazer procurar outros do mesmo gênero. Minhas favs: A cena dele com o pai biológico | Lauren chamando ele pra sair | Josh se consultando com a cartomante | Lauren partindo ☹ | Todos reunidos no final para plantar a árvore da Lauren, inclusive Rose.

[skepticalcartographer]

When you're living with a ticking clock, you can't be a loser. You can't think about what you won't get to see, what'll never have. Ain't no one got time for that.

~Kristin Higgins

(Pack Up The Moon 🌙)

[kkayslibrary]

5 book for June. This was such a cute story. Breaks your heart and puts you back together.

[eloscore]

impossible minecraft more like. um. uuummmm........ uhhhhhh

[hauntingyourself]

Got that dreadful feeling of hurtling towards a terrible and inescapable doom. the usual

[shewolfofficial]

Just had a thought- Did Steven ever wonder how he would be lean/muscular before he found out about Marc? I mean assuming he isn't a regular gym go-er (which i dont think he is). Like he has these muscles of someone who clearly works out or is fairly fit but didn't do anything to get them

Or was it a case that he just settled for the fact that his 'sleeping disorder' just made him magically fit, like he was just running with it at that point

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

CONGRADULATIONS ON THE 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Can I request Idia with the stargazing prompt? Can it please be romantic and fluffy? This event is so fun! I hope you have a wonderful day!!☆彡♡ :)

Stargazing; Idia Shroud

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 700+

AN; Thank you, Sofia! I hope you enjoy the fluffy Idia! He deserves to not always be a wet cat (affectionate) As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The heat of the day was finally gone. Dew covered the grass. Crickets chirped in the undergrowth. And above you were millions of stars, and visible galaxies and nebulas, not obstructed by decades of light pollution. It was beautiful. 

Sitting beside you on the blanket that was spread out to provide a somewhat comfy barrier between you and the ground, was Idia. He had the hood of his sweater tied on tight, as so to hide the fact that his hair was nearly neon pink, and a dead giveaway of how he was feeling. And even though he was out of his comfort zone, he wanted to join you. And he was happy that he did. Yes, he felt nervous, but it wasn’t just because he was out in public — it was because this was a date, an official date. And while the two of you sitting in his room and playing games or watching shows were technically dates, this was the first public one.

“Hey, Idia,” you tugged at his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Do you have a favourite constellation? A planet?”

He cleared his throat and hesitantly held your hand in his. His hand shaking the slightest bit. “Not really,” he said quietly looking up to the sky. Well, his head was pointed up, but he wasn’t looking at the countless stars. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye. “And you?”

You hummed, looking up at the unfamiliar sky. “Pluto. It’s a planet from… from back home.”

Idia gently slipped his hand into yours and squeezed it. “I-if you want, you can talk about it,” he internally cringed. He hadn’t stuttered like that since he had truly started feeling comfortable around you.

You squeezed his hand back and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Well, it used to be a planet but then got demoted to a dwarf planet. Which is kind of ironic, seeing that it’s named after the Roman god of the underworld.” You sigh and turn to Idia, whose hood had slipped down, revealing his hair. It was a lovely shade of pastel pink, and it was the entirety of his hair, not just the tips. It cast the both of you in a soft rose light. “... a person people tend to underestimate and judge.”

Idia clamoured to get the hood over his head, but he was stopped by your hand, which gently placed the hood down. Why are they looking at me like I’m the milk bread protag in some cheesy shounen?! He was in his own head, but all of that went away when he felt your hand cup his face.

Idia was similar to Pluto, and not just in the themes of relating to the god of the underworld. For so long, people only saw them as unassuming. But when you get closer, then you can appreciate the beauty and tiny details. Someone that you would stand next to and defend at all costs, even when the rest of the world may say that you shouldn’t, that you should just let it be as is.

“I love you,” you whisper, looking into his gold eyes.

That was the first time you had said that, well, said it out loud. Maybe it was the fact that Idia did something out of his comfort zone for you, maybe it was the setting, or maybe it was something else entirely.

You place your forehead against his. “I love you, Idia Shroud,” you say again, still looking into his eyes.

If Idia’s hair were not already as bright and pink as it could go, it would have gotten brighter, but it was as bright as the sun. But his face was now warm, and he was holding eye contact; even though he wanted to hide. “I-I,” he shut his mouth, took in a deep breath and centred himself. He didn’t want his first time saying the phrase to be stuttered. He wanted it to be perfect. I can do this. “I love you too.”

Shyly, he placed a kiss on your cheek and held eye contact for a few moments before hiding back in his hood. He swore that you were more stunning than all the stars that glittered above.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

canon moon with fanon traits !!

[livinglycan]

My pup btw. My daughter

But actually I love this plush so much. She helps with my anxiety and she's so soft and I carry her around like a baby and I rock her and nuzzle her and I would die for this plush actually

[advluv4life]

I need to know where to find the instrumental music that plays whenever Min Ho & Kitty have a moment. It is such a pretty piece & I need it in my life. I need to cry to it a little bit without disrupting the show lol

[penncilkid]

Finally. At long fucking last. I've drawn my 2nd top pick in the Redactedverse. He's technically the first person I ever tried to draw, but now I have a sketch I actually love.

I'm asking y'all to show some love to: Mr. Milo Greer

LIIIIIIIIKE only like 3 people have seen the first/earlier iterations of my Milo design, but this— this feels like him. And I'm so fucking happy with it now. /pos

Anyways I need him carnally, biblically, and in ways damaging to feminism

[Quick Stats (for my headcanon)]

-5'5" (Shortest of the pack minus Angel)

-Afro-Latino (Specifically Dominican)

-Always has some sort of chain, not negotiable. In his base canon design, it's this name chain. In other iterations, the chain takes different forms. (And yes. It stays on. You know what I mean.)

-As per my headcanon that all the pack has at least one scar on their face, his is across his left eyebrow.

-The body hair and the freckles were a must-have, they just make sense to give him in my mind /pos

-Despite "canon", I think his design meshes amazing with Maia's (aka my "Darlin" / Part of Moonlit Chains, my default ship if Milo or Darlin is involved)

[stupidvillainousposts]

Good Call; Close One, Even!

Ford refused to hold back upon realizing that Fidds was actually fighting to win and not just bluffing. They were both in their animal forms throughout the fight, and dealt plenty of damage to each other.

Fidds landed false bites on Ford's neck and along his back, along with some claws marks on Ford's stomach. Fidds also- somehow -managed to dislocate Ford's left hip, rendering him practically lame and unable to fight in his wolf form.

Ford, meanwhile, was only able to break Fidds' left arm and twist Fidds' right ankle. I like to think that Fidds- being a former hog farmer -is used to broken bones and twisted ankles, so it doesn't bother him during battle the way it would Ford, not to mention their differences in body structure; Fidds wouldn't be putting any excessive pressure on either injury for too long.

Afterwards, the two stood a good distance from each other and waited for Kaylee to arrive. Tate and Soos weren't far behind, and I think we can all guess who they ran to first.

[starry1avender]

When I pull up to the most deadly and destructive TSAMS villain competition and my opponent is Ruin Eclipse

[yersina]

concept: buddie supernatural au (the mythos. not the show.)

buck is like the werewolf coded character ever, so ofc that's what he is. he's a werewolf who grew up in a family of werewolves who never made him feel like part of a pack, so he’s trying so desperately to seek connection wherever he can get it. (no, that’s not right—maddie was always pack to him, but then she left with that vampire doug. she always smells a bit like blood now in a way that rubs him wrong, but she’s still staunchly, if tiredly, loyal whenever he nudges her about it, and it hurts to have the reminder that at the end of the day, he’s not her first choice. she’s still pack, she’ll always be pack, but there’s something broken and frayed there now that buck can’t poke at without wanting to break down, so he doesn’t.)

“you go, i go,” connor says, and buck hears pack, so he tags along.

“no man left behind,” the recruiter tells him, and buck hears pack, so he signs himself up for training.

“welcome to the 118,” bobby tells him, and buck still hears pack, but he’s long past trusting his ears.

but things get better. they get worse, first—he’s reminded that humans always find it easier to break bonds than werewolves—but then he’s hired again and saving lives and part of the team. and he has abby, who smells a bit like sickness and a lot like worry the first time he actually meets her, but she has a smile like the moon and always, always picks up the phone when he calls her.

(and then abby goes to europe, and she stops picking up the phone as often. buck doesn’t think of it as leaving him. he doesn’t. he doesn’t.)

the day that eddie shows up and buck catches a whiff of his scent, he’s... confused. the guy absolutely reeks of the sea, in a way that makes no sense if he's telling the truth about being in the army for several years before this. he should smell like sand and gunpowder, but instead buck is reminded of walks along the beach, and with a faint hint of fur and fish, too.

and then he sees the leather jacket that eddie hangs up in his locker.

“damn, this looks like high quality if i’ve ever seen it,” hen says, eyebrows raised, and they practically leap off her face when she catches both of them stiffening when she reaches for it. “oookay. i’ll just. go over there?”

“you brought it with you?” buck hisses at eddie when she’s out of earshot.

“you know what it is?” eddie narrows his eyes. “werewolf? vampire? fairy?” he sniffs the air and then snorts. “werewolf. got it.”

“don’t you have like a—like a box or something to keep it in for safekeeping? a safe?” literally anywhere other than the fire house.

“why don’t you leave my personal belongings to me?” eddie slams his locker door shut. “and the lockbox thing is a stereotype.”

great.

but then they pull a grenade from a man’s leg and they work in a kind of harmony that buck’s never felt before with anyone else on the team, the kind that makes his blood sing and howl in his veins, and eddie says “you can have my back any day” and buck, despite everything, still hears pack.

-

eddie keeps his seal skin with him because he’s had it stolen once. or—stolen is a strong word, it would never hold up in any human court, but instinct doesn't care about semantics, and he’d ended up married anyway. so he always keeps it with him, he always knows where it is, and if he can’t fit it on under or over whatever uniform he's wearing at the time, it’s going in his locker and right back on his person at the end of his shift.

buck still gives him weird looks for it from time to time, like he can’t quite believe that eddie’s willing to take his coat with him outside of his house at all, but he quickly accepts it as the status quo and at least stops questioning him about it. besides, it’s not as if buck’s completely innocent on the supernatural front either. eddie’s never seen any other werewolf take a work shift on a full moon, and even though buck practically vibrates through his shift, he makes it through the night without so much as a five o’clock shadow.

“skipped your pack run?” he asks when they’re all changing back into their civvies. he instantly regrets the question when buck’s shoulders hitch up around his ears in the very picture of uncomfortable.

“i, uh. i have you guys,” buck says with a painful looking smile. shit. “i’ll see you on wednesday, man.”

“buck—” and he’s gone.

he doesn’t even get the chance to work up the courage to ask what that was all about because shannon. shannon.

there’s a lot of anger and betrayal and misunderstanding tangled up in their relationship, but there’s love there still, too. and christopher. always christopher. but then he lets it slip that she’s back in his life now, and buck—

“you're fucking with me, right?” buck’s voice is so flat that it doesn’t even sound like a question.

eddie sighs. “buck—”

“she’s the one who took your coat, right? that’s why you married her? why you had to marry her?”

“buck, it’s not that simple—”

“and now you let her back in, easy as that? you're not even a little bit mad?”

“of course i’m mad!” eddie yells. buck flinches. “but i left her too. it’s complicated, buck.”

despite all the jokes that the rest of the 118 make about buck and his golden retriever, frat boy energy, he’s always been good at thinking on his feet and memorizing facts and putting the pieces of a mystery together. “she gave you back your coat,” he says slowly, like he’s turning the idea over in his mind while he says it. “that’s why you enlisted. you were running. you were free.” eddie doesn’t deny it fast enough. “eddie.”

“like i said. it’s complicated.”

buck shakes his head slowly, eyes wide and wary like eddie’s a stranger that he’s never seen before. “doesn't sound complicated to me.”

the bell rings. eddie’s never been so grateful for a three-alarm fire in his life.

see, the thing is, everything buck is saying is true. shannon is the one who ended up with his coat. eddie did enlist after she gave his coat back. but that ignores everything before and after and in-between. shannon didn’t purposefully take his coat or hide it from him either, and she’d given it back when eddie had been forced to explain when chris would be born with his own coat. and despite everything, despite the fact that he knew he loved her, knew he loved chris—he still chose to leave. he thought he’d been sending a message when he’d chosen something with a built-in return date, a quiet ‘i’ll be back eventually, i promise’ but apparently not.

like he said—it’s complicated.

the universe decides to take that as a challenge, as it always does. shannon, the tsunami, the lawsuit—it’s all so much, all the time, and eddie doesn’t really tune back in to the world until he’s trapped forty feet below the ground, surrounded by water and missing his goddamn coat.

“really?” he asks the muddy tomb around him. “now?”

but the water is an old friend, as always, and he’s much less likely to die of hypothermia or shock from the cold than the average human, so he grits his teeth and dives below the surface. when he crawls his way back to his team, it’s buck that greets him first, pulling him into a hug that’d be painfully tight to a human and smelling of wet fur and tears. “i wasn’t sure you—i knew you’d survive the water, but all the mud on top of you—”

“i’m here,” eddie says, because what else can he say? “i made it.”

he gets bundled up in a blanket and carted off to a paramedic to get checked out, but he doesn’t forget the way buck’s shoulders shook against his own.

-

eddie gets shot and buck falls to fucking pieces because that’s his p—that’s his fucking best friend and now buck knows what his blood feels like on his hands and in his mouth. and he follows eddie all the way to the hospital, all the way to the double doors that he’s never been allowed past, before he remembers—

christopher.

so he stays with eddie’s kid, takes care of him like he’s his own—like eddie would take care of him—and tries not to break down with every lungful of eddieandchris scented air that he takes in their house.

when buck gets that call from ana, he throws himself into action, tugging on a jacket with one hand and juggling his phone with the other so he can make sure that christopher will be safe at home with carla while he rushes to the hospital. to eddie.

ana’s presence hardly registers when he bursts into that hospital room and sees eddie on the bed. his scent is weak and laced with the smell of disinfectant and chemicals but his smile is still warm and alive and oh, buck missed him.

“h-hey,” buck stammers, pulling up short next to the bed. he’s not sure if he should or even can pick up eddie’s hand. can he touch? will eddie break? “i—i made sure that no one touched your stuff at the firehouse, your coat’s still safe, i promise, and—and chris is at home, i’ve been staying with him, making sure that he’s okay—did you know he’s been doing a good job in science class?—and i told carla to wait for a video call maybe, if you’re up to it, so—”

“buck.” and then all of the words spilling from his mouth come to a trembling halt when eddie puts a hand on his arm. “hey. breathe.” buck sucks in a reedy breath. “everything you did was perfect. thank you.”

buck’s exhale shakes. “yeah?”

the smile that eddie gives him could rival the sun in its warmth. “yeah.”

and then later, after eddie’s been discharged—

“you’re not expendable,” eddie says. “if i die, i want you to take care of christopher,” eddie says. buck’s blood is roaring in his ears.

oh.

oh.

OH.

all he hears is he’s yours too.

“eddie,” he chokes out. he dives for eddie, burrowing into his surprised embrace and wishing he could wrap his furry body around eddie and smother him with licks and kisses because human comfort just doesn’t compare sometimes. instead, he settles for tucking eddie’s face into the curve of his neck, right where buck’s the most vulnerable.

it’s not the same, he chants to himself, it doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to you, but that doesn’t matter over the triumphant roar of PACK in his veins. packs share pups. that’s the whole point of packs—so the children can grow up safely, surrounded by family. and eddie just gave him his.

he would’ve taken care of chris without the confirmation—already has been, really—but it feels entirely different to have the words out in the open, to know that eddie feels the same way. mine, he thinks with vicious satisfaction and something that feels a little too similar to relief, twisting his fingers tighter into eddie’s shirt. mine mine mine mine mine.

“thank you,” he whispers into eddie’s collarbone. “this means. uh. a lot. thank you.”

“hey.” buck can feel eddie’s confusion in the way his body doesn’t quite know whether to lean in or not, but it doesn’t make his voice any less warm. “i’m just making it official, yknow? i want someone who’d fight for him as hard as i would. and i know that’s you. it’s been you.”

“mhm.” buck’s hardly listening anymore. he just curls up and lets himself breathe out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. i’ve found them, he thinks. the missing pieces to my puzzle.

[mumblelard]

thank you for your service, fiskars eight inch non-stick titanium softgrip scissors

you lived, ready-to-hand, in the hone slot of my knife block and together, for the last six years and seventy five days, we have opened bags and boxes, snipped ties and tape, shaped paper and cloth. sometimes though, i asked more of you, we trimmed the woody stems of herbs, we pruned the branches of plants, and as your final task, we cut through the rib cage of a spatchcocking spring chicken. i tried to repair your broken handle, but it was not to be. for now your slot sits empty. you will be missed