we were running out through the storm (through the night)
Or the one where Buck almost kissed Eddie at Chimney's bachelor party and Tommy was there to witness it.
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„You almost kissed Eddie last night.”
There is no trace of accusation in Tommy’s voice and somehow the words still hit Buck like a slap to the face.
The hospital staircase is empty and quiet now in the middle of the night, the bright artificial light giving the moment a surreal quality, and somehow, with everything that happened after, Buck did not see this conversation coming.
(The fear and worry of the last 15 or so hours made it so easy to push the memory down and away, something for future Buck to deal with.
Something for future Buck to figure out how to fix, maybe.)
It’s only been maybe an hour since Buck watched Maddie fall asleep curled into Chimney’s side on his hospital bed, her and Chimney’s hands with their matching gold bands interlocked right over Chimney’s heart and with Chimney looking down at her like he was unable to look away. Clearly feeling like the luckiest man in the world, no matter all the horrors he had to walk through to get here to this moment.
(Only maybe an hour since Buck caught himself thinking this is love, this is what love is supposed to be.
Only maybe an hour since Buck caught himself glancing over at Eddie – curled up in one of the horrible hospital chairs and looking smaller than he should, deeply asleep and with an equally conked out Chris leaning into his shoulder – first, instead of searching out his boyfriend’s eyes and the guilt flooded back into him.)
Looking back he knows there was something in Tommy's eyes when he helped Chimney out of the helicopter and found Buck’s eyes over Maddie’s head as she rushed towards them. A slight hesitation when Buck kissed him in front of everyone that Buck thought was just surprise at the public display in front of Buck’s parents. A flicker of sadness on his face when they swayed to the soft sounds of Islands In the Stream from Hen's phone loudspeaker in Chim's hospital room, before Tommy pulled him close enough to hide his face against the side of Buck's.
But Tommy wasn’t supposed to know, not yet, not until Buck figure out how to tell him.
Because that had never been in question, only the when and how.
Only apparently Tommy already knows.
And Buck feels like there suddenly isn’t enough air in the room to form words.
“I—I didn’t—I didn’t though, Tommy, you have to know I—”
“I know, hey, Evan, I know,” Tommy reassures and his voice is so gentle it makes something ache deep inside Buck’s chest. Maybe this would be easier if Tommy was angry. “I saw your face right after, I know you wouldn’t have done it knowingly, but for a moment there I don’t think you remembered.”
everything else, is—has been—stuck in that space between one breath and the next, flipping through every single visceral snapshot memory impression.
How he had felt terrifyingly sober for just that one moment, before letting himself fall even harder into drunkenness to forget.
That lightning strike realization when he caught on to what he was about to do, when he realized that for a second he had completely forgotten where he was and that he had a boyfriend.
(It had been so different from when he kissed Lucy, because then he had remembered Taylor for every single second of it and kissed Lucy anyways and he’s not sure if that was worse or this is.)
The fact that apparently Tommy was right there and saw that moment play out over Buck’s face? Yeah, that is definitely worse, even if Buck was immediately disgusted at himself.
Because he still almost did it and Tommy saw that too.
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sighs...every day i wake up mad at song qiutong and then i remind myself she is just doing what she can to survive as a victim of a prolonged genocide, that her ability to adapt and switch sides is a byproduct of her self-preservation, that she didn't totally have much of a choice in marrying taxian-jun...because, like, imagine having the protection of a literal emperor. you'd never be eaten or beaten or enslaved again. but taxian-jun is irrational and mercurial and, even though it is the product of the flower, abusive. he seems to hate his old shizun, so wouldn't it make sense to curry his favor by also inflicting pain on the same man? but taxian-jun changes faces as quickly as the minutes tick by every day, so song qiutong is left trying to find the fragile balance between upsetting and pleasing the most powerful man in the cultivation world. in the end...even in 2.0...she is a tragedy. the very survival instincts that kept her alive for so long are the reason she is ultimately executed.
yes she is two-faced and conniving and she can and will frame, torture, manipulate anyone and anything as long as it means saving her own hide, and i hate her.
but that's also all she's ever known, in a world that wants to consume her, systematically - mind, flesh, and all - and so, in the end, i just. i just feel bad for her.
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Ok stupid question but I had to ask BC I love the way you answer things haha 💓💓 (Sorry if that was worded weirdly)
So Jonesy (I think that's the dog's name in House of Wax) from all the Sinclair brothers who do you Jonesy likes the most and who do you think likes Jonesy the best?
it's not weird at all!! now that my HOW brainworms are back, any excuse to ramble incoherently about this dumbass movie and the characters is like. PURE gold. lmao 💀
okay, so imo, vinny is definitely the favorite. the first place where we see jonesy in the movie is in the wax museum and that is def not a coincidence!! they were hanging out!! jonesy just got bored of watching her dad labor over the fine details of the wax titty & wandered upstairs.
they're best friends!! I just know it!! that shot where vincent's turning wade to wax? and jonesy jumps up on the bed? the CUTEST. rip wade 🙏 but?? I adore that sm.
and he takes the puppy w/him when he goes to murder blake & paige. unhinged dog dad behavior if I've ever seen it. I can 100% see them both quietly coexisting in the same space together for hours on end—vincent sculpting and sketching, jonesy napping next to him. padding upstairs in the middle of the night to have a midnight snack. UGH
I v much also subscribe to the line of thinking that lester doesn't live in corpsetown & has a lil shack of his own in the woods. but he absolutely hustles up to the house routinely to bring jonesy weird roadkill snacks and play w/her in the backyard. if anyone in the family is committed to getting her energy out, it's v much him. they're just outside for hours n hours tossing a mangled deer leg around and kicking up dirt. I feel.
as for bo. well. he v much strikes me as the kind of guy who pretends to be fairly ambivalent about the fact they have a dog running around. if jonesy ever stirs up trouble or chews thru smthn, he's the first one to be like, "UH??? it's your fuckin' dog?? I ain't never ask for this??"
v much onery dad energy. he catches vincent giving jonesy some food off his plate and immediately starts talking about how he's spoiling the damn dog and THIS is why she knocked over the garbage can & got coffee grounds and eggshells all over the kitchen floor.
never mind that he's always giving her scraps of whatever random concoction he's eating. she's chowing down on eggo waffles and beef jerky and hostess snacks whenever he's around. but no, it's vincent who spoils her. sure, jan.
he wants a huntin and fishin dog, but he's not much of a hunter or a fisher. so he gets a couch potato that sits next to him while he drinks beer and rewatches old spaghetti westerns. and he totally doesn't care about it or like her. totally.
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ASK MEME HUH? 😏 prepare yourself here :^)
okay okay so. (for the kid fic ask) 2 or 8 (toddler) or 3 (teenager)? with any parent child combination you feel like
I know this is a prime chance to write some angst but I have entered silly mode at some point lately so you get AU silliness only SLIGHTLY tinged with angst, I hope that's alright ssadkajshdnkbfk
(It also got longer than I'd anticipated, F in the chat for us all)
Kid/Parent Fic Prompts
3. "Everyone makes mistakes, it's okay."
"Hey, August, your dad said I'd find you..." Emma trails off, stopping halfway through the door as she takes in the scene before her. "...here. What are you guys doing?"
To Marco's credit, his son is, in fact, sitting in the shed just like the man had said. The only issue is that he's not alone - in fact, a swooping three of the kids in his care are crowded around him, typewriter pushed to the side as they peer at something taking center place on the table.
August looks up from it momentarily to shoot her a slight grin, which does nothing to soothe her confusion. "Scientific research."
"On a lamp? Thought that had been patented a while ago."
"Yes, but this is a monad lamp. We're trying to figure out if there's actually a cricket in here."
Emma's gaze moves to the object in question, eyebrows raised. "And that other guy's letting you? Isn't this literally attached to his hip most of the time?"
"We traded for the day!" The smallest of the puppets chirps excitedly, all but bouncing on August's knee. "Gina's showing him around, and we get to hang out with Gemini!"
"I see."
The problem with these kids, in Emma's mind, is that while they might have fairly contrasting personalities, there's something in them that betrays their connection even at first glance. Cedar's a sweet girl and the strange one with the metal arm is prone to brooding, and the two younger boys (she needs to find better nicknames to differentiate them than Big One and Little One, honestly - they bring to mind Tweedledee and Tweedledum, sometimes, but they'd probably take offense to that) are just unruly children like any other, and still they all share faint traces of past events that make her understand August a little bit more.
Right now, for example, the man has got a boy perched on his lap and Cedar leaning onto his shoulder, the other boy sitting on the tabletop with his ruined legs dangling over the edge, and yet they're all looking at her like they're about to tell her to take a leap of faith...or blow something up and ask her for help, at least, given Big Pinocchio's tendencies and those of the guy they call P. Emma should be backing away before it's too late, honestly.
"Doesn't that thing talk, anyway?" She hears herself asking instead, as if that were the most pressing matter. "Can't you just ask?"
"He's recharging," Cedar replies, ever the most helpful of them all. "That's why P left him at home. Grandfather said Gemini's not allowed to be around us unsupervised anymore, since the last time he tried to teach some nasty words to-"
"Hey!" The Pinocchio sitting on the table glares at her, a thunderous look on his face. "That's none of your business! Don't be a snitch!"
"It's not snitching if it's true! You only want to know because you've got a point to prove, anyway."
The boy sniffs haughtily, turning away. "I don't need to prove anything. I'm right. We've all got a cricket, so P should have one too."
"You're wrong. I never got a cricket, and Dad doesn't have one either-"
Emma can clearly see August barely stifling a laugh, the bastard. "Don't let Jiminy hear you say that, Cedar- I can assure you, he helped me quite a lot before he got a degree."
"I don't have a cricket," the little one says, beaming, seemingly unbothered by the squabble. "I just have Gina."
"Gina counts."
"Gina does not count, she's a duck." Cedar sighs, shaking her head of dark curls. "Why are you so worried about this, anyway? Your cricket isn't here, either."
One would expect Big Pinocchio to have a snappish retort for that, as well, and yet, none comes. Instead he seems to curl even further into himself, his glower even deeper, like a turtle tucking head and tail into its shell. "Yeah, but he was there," he mutters, much lower than before. "No one else could see him, so they thought I was making him up, but I wasn't. He was real, and I wasn't crazy."
The two adults exchange a look, the mood grown a tad more somber all of a sudden. This, perhaps, is the other thing these children have in common, and it's much less amusing than the first one - they have had some awful experiences already, for being so young, and sometimes they mention it in such an offhanded way, it sounds like everyday stuff, like making the bed or running errands.
Maybe it was everyday stuff for them, before. That doesn't make it more reassuring, either.
"That's okay." August sounds softer, too, as he leans closer to the boy and tries to meet his eyes. "We know you're not crazy. Those boys in your old school- they didn't have the full picture. Everyone makes mistakes, when they don't have the full picture."
And that, a smidge more teasing, once he has finally gotten Pinocchio to look up: "And I mean everyone. You know, Emma here, she didn't believe I was made of wood, in the beginning. Guess who proved her wrong later."
"Seriously?" Emma exhales heavily, relieved that her friend has been able to handle the situation so well and yet resigned to the fact that August continues to be, well, himself. "You only butt into this argument to throw me to the wolves?"
"You wouldn't want me to get in the way of a scientific debate, do you?"
If this were a normal conversation between the two of them, she would tell him to stop being so cheeky; but as it is, there are three more people in the room with them right now, people who have barely stopped looking wary and guarded before returning to their analysis of an otherworldly piece of machinery. There is little Emma can do beside playing along, distracting them from whatever effects the past still has on them all. She owes them that, at least.
"Alright," she says, dragging a spare stool closer and finding a spot near the table, mindless to how Cedar moves to lean on her instead, as is the nature of things.
"Let's crack this, then. I came over to ask something else, but you guys got to me. Show me what you've got, Gemini."
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