#she cut herself out of my life and honestly it’s been 😌 and that’s that on toxic people 🥰

[prettyboybuckley]

"your smile brings me so much joy." also this from the prompt list, if it sparks joy? 🥺👉👈

hi april ❤️ @lostinabuddiehaze also requested this one, hope you and kel like it. It's not totally a confession but close enough? 😌 yes i know you basically supplied the idea for the call yourself but you didn't know it was for this prompt sooo

When Buck imagined them finally talking about this, or even starting that conversation, he didn't think it'd be at a call. Perhaps that was naive of him to think, considering they spend a lot of time at work.

Christmas is nearing, which means that they get called out to a lot of calls from people trying and failing to decorate their house, and this time is no exception.

Honestly, all Buck can think about with Christmas coming close is that a year ago he was still with Taylor and Eddie left the 118. Neither of those are things he likes to think about.

"I swear I was being careful," the young woman sniffs as Eddie and Chim help her onto the stretcher. "I just wanted to put it all up before my wife came home because I knew it'd make her smile."

Said wife, who introduced herself as Andy, is standing next to them, looking fond but exasperated, with her hands on her hips.

"You'd think you'd know by now that this is a two-person job, Kate," she retorts. "And if you waited, I could have told you that the ladder wasn't reliable."

Kate—she fell from the ladder when a step cracked, and broke her leg and probably injured her back, bless her—pulls a petulant face but doesn't argue.

"I think it's sweet that you did this because you wanted to make your wife smile," Buck defends her, because he does, and he totally gets it. He'd do anything to put a smile on the face of the love of his life.

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. "Of course you do, this is exactly the kind of stupid thing you'd do."

"Yeah, well, you know your smile brings me so much joy," Buck retorts, and it's supposed to come out as a joke, but he's pretty sure that it ends up being a little too genuine.

"You almost losing your fingers while trying to fix the garbage disposal would not make me smile."

"That was one time!"

Chim, who has been watching their interaction with what seems to be rising amusement, seems to decide to put a stop to their bickering as he says: "You can squabble about that later, boys."

Buck and Eddie both roll their eyes, but they do start moving, the wife walking with them to the ambulance.

"How long have you two been together?" Kate asks, looking up at them from her position on the stretcher.

They share a look and Buck is starting to panic a little, and Eddie seems to be at a loss for words as well.

"They aren't," Hen, who has been watching it all quietly, ends up answering, "but that's because they're stupid."

She and Chim take over the stretcher, and Andy follows them and her wife into the back of the ambulance, leaving Buck and Eddie standing outside.

"So," Eddie says, smiling a little awkwardly, and Buck rocks himself back and forth on the balls of his heels, hands in his pockets. "You like to make me smile, huh?"

"Didn't think that would be news to you."

That puts a thoughtful look on Eddie's face, as if he's trying to remember something, and Buck is holding his breath. God, he's so in love that it's pathetic, and at this point Eddie has to see it, too, right?

"No, I guess not," he answers after a moment, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed about something. "I like it when you smile, too. Because of something I did. I mean, I like to make you happy, because-"

He cuts himself off, looking frustrated. Buck can hear Bobby calling for them from the engine.

"I get it, I feel the same," Buck tells him, and he hopes Eddie means what Buck thinks he means, but maybe he's reading too much into this. If that's the case, this is probably sounding a little too much like a love confession. "We can talk about it later? This feels like a conversation we shouldn't have here."

Eddie nods, and their shoulders bump as they walk back to the engine. When Buck glances to the side, their eyes meet, and Eddie smiles, small and private but with a look in his eyes that makes the hope inside Buck's chest swell ten times in size.

from the romantic confession dialog prompts

[docmerlin]

May I ask you to go into detail about the statue smiling at you? That sounds very strange and interesting.

sure! (for context for anyone else reading, i mentioned in my tags on this post that i'd seen a statue of a saint smiling at me)

it's hard to remember what exactly it looked like/what i experienced because i was young, somewhere between like… 7-10 i'd guess? but i was in church, and i looked over at the statue of st. theresa (of lisieux if you're looking for specifics) and swore i saw the expression shift into a slight smile. i told my mom, who said she'd looked over at it herself before, and to her it looked like the statue's whole face had lit up, like it was animated. she said she hadn't spoken up about it because she figured it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, but me pointing it out solidified it for her.

(under the cut i'm gonna get into more personal ✨ religious trauma ✨ and negative type things so if you just wanted a slightly more detailed version of the story you can stop here gkfhfjd)

it's kind of weird to think about because 1. my parents' specific brand of religion has been extremely harmful to me (and still is), i don't voluntarily participate in it anymore and generally don't believe in much as far as spirituality goes. i never had any specific connection to or fondness for st. theresa, either, it just sort of Happened

and 2. i honestly don't trust my mom's judgement, so idk if she actually saw the same thing, or if me mentioning it just set her brain off to see what she wanted to see. (to be fair, i also have no idea if it was just my young well-indoctrinated self seeing things because i was looking for them, too.) my mom likes to cite it whenever i try to explain that i don't follow her ideology anymore, as if a statue smiling at me is irrefutable evidence that i should repent and stop being queer or something 💀

i do think that, with regards to spirituality, whatever ideas you give power to and put energy into will have some sort of power in your life. so when i was really into jesus and 100% believed a catholic version god was real, it makes sense to me that i'd experience something like that. i don't think i'd experience anything like it nowadays, where i just see st. theresa as a historical figure and god as a more vague concept.

either way, it's an Experience i had, and i can mostly see it separately from all my issues with the brand of catholicism i was raised on and just be like. huh that's neat 😌

[little-paperboat]

Reblogging with a little something from the first chapter of forbidden fire, coming soon* to an AO3 near you 😌

I'm a little too tired to tag right now but if you (yes, you) (yes! you!!) are reading this, consider yourself tagged if you're willing! 🩷

(*not more than a week, I promise!)

“And what are you doing?” 

The deep, velvet voice of Rolan cut through the awkward silence like a knife, his blunt question hitting one of the precise spots she was hoping to avoid tonight. He was facing her, and she found it hard to hold the intensity of his gaze. 

Tav took her glass of wine in hand, swirling the liquid deliberately slowly inside the metal cup, her tongue wetting her lips before answering. 

Composed. Stable.

“Politics, I suppose. I’ve been invited to be an advisor at the Council, in my quality of native Baldurian and, well, Hero of the Gate and all that.” She frowned. “But it’s been complicated. There’s still so much to rebuild and to sort out. Half the patriars who left before the battle still haven’t come back, and those who aren’t dead are trying to clear their name from any involvement with Gortash. There’s an open war between the Council members to find out how to punish the traitors and stuff. It’s all very tedious, honestly.” 

She was met with a murmur of approval and swallowed the anxiety that pricked her throat. 

She half-hated that they believed her so easily. 

“Sounds like an important job,” said someone - maybe Dammon? She couldn’t tell, her attention still focused on Rolan who didn’t comment on her reply, gracing her with his trademark stuck-up expression instead.

A memory stirred; of him declaring them friends, warm and grateful.

Huh. 

Then why was he acting so distant and weird? 

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta do it,” she replied finally, downing the rest of her wine, hoping to move on to the next topic. 

Of course, she was glad to do this job. She was doing exactly what she was expected to do - her entire upbringing had prepared her for this very life. To smile and mingle with other aristocrats and give her opinion on everything, no matter how out of touch she was. It didn’t even matter that she had literal field experience now, and that she was practically overqualified for the position.

It was what she wanted. It was exactly what she wanted, what she had ached for all those months ago back on the road - to be dressed in fine silks and enjoying the refinements of a noble’s life. What else would they have her do, hm? Oh, right, maybe tending to the wounded, caring for those who had lost their loved ones in the fight? How absurd! She wasn’t a healer, and she wasn’t a charity worker. She had held enough dying hands over the last months to know she was ill-suited for the job. Besides, what could she say to someone whose partner turned into an illithid? Sorry, I tried my best to prevent it? Nonsense. She came to the same conclusion when it came to rebuilding the city, or helping to find the remaining bodies of the unfortunate victims and giving them a proper burial. Having the Hero of the Gate saunter around saying flat words wasn’t the kind of publicity she wanted for herself: it was only natural to stay out of it.

— Liked it? Read the prologues on AO3 :)

(c) divider by @/saradika

WIP WHENEVER WOOOOO

thank you @lemonsrosesandlavender for the tag <3

sending tags forward to @little-paperboat @darkurgetrash @honeybee-bard if you want to 🌸

from what will probably be the first chapter of the final part of acoh, some sad wet cat hours for our least favourite man *heart eyes*

It’s fine, he tells himself as he leaves for work before Lathander’s even peeked his eyes open. He tells himself the same thing as he downs flat beer and stale bread in the evening before crashing onto the sheetless mattress crammed in the corner of the small living room. It’s not like he’s made himself worthy of anything better. 

The moth-eaten blanket only warms him enough to not shiver in the draughty flat. As many nights before, he drifts off into an uneasy sleep. He feels the crippling fear as they realise they’re outnumbered. He sees Brian’s guts spilled by dull and rusty goblin blades. He hears Liam’s screams as he finds out the others have turned around. Most of all, he feels the guilt as he wakes up, alive and fine. 

Days turn into weeks and weeks into months but to Aradin it might be minutes, it might be an eternity in the blurry routine of constantly being mere inches from the end of his rope. Except on this day, someone actually breaks the usual silence at the dinner table. 

“We’re going out tonight,” Remira says as a matter of fact. “The three of us.” 

Aradin sighs. Remi looks to Barth for support. The bastards must’ve planned this. 

“We’ve had enough of yer moping bullshite,” Barth says. “Y’need t‘ave a bit o’fun, mate.” 

And perhaps they’re right because Aradin doesn’t even have it in himself to argue with them about it. At least he’ll be able to down enough fireswill to get comfortably numb. Maybe he’ll even get drunk enough to pass out into a dreamless slumber. 

“Fine,” Aradin snarls before chewing down the rest of his dinner. 

“And get that sorry excuse for a beard off yer face,” Barth adds with a grin. 

Aradin glares, he had never planned on growing a beard. Nor does he possess the hair coverage to have one either. He’s just been neglecting it as much as, well, everything.