#but at least it was in the context of buck being her brother and their parents

[daemonsrhaenyra]

Imagine getting a live with JLH and you can ask her about her favourite dramatic scenes, what she wishes for madney in the future, what she thought of the wedding episode, which natural disaster she would like to see on the show etc.... and instead you ask her about a non-canon ship that she's not a part of.

#911 abc #the comments were so weird on this live #the tattoo bit was so cute. #also good reminder before either sides of the fandom try to twist things around. JLH definitely got bucktommy/buddie confused #probably since she is also confused why people were asking her about it #getting mad because she said it wouldn't happen - babes please #get some perspective #i hope you enjoy the episode tonight. #text post #she said some cute things about #bucktommy #so there's that. not that i think people should've asked #but at least it was in the context of buck being her brother and their parents #how maddie and JLH saw it all

[kissmethroughthebone]

Topic of the day: when to leave a man.

You ever see something a man in your life does and go "WOW, you're disrespectful to that woman?"

Like for example, there's this older man I'm friends with. Lawyer turned comedian. Great fella otherwise, dirty jokes galore, the works. He tries to keep a good balance of offensive humor yet still being respectful and not demeaning to women, doesn't always hit the mark.

Recently he told me that he and his girlfriend are "basically winding down", a.k.a. slowly separating and weaning off of each other... Why, you ask?

Because her mom died (iirc) and he decided that he didn't need to be emotionally involved in all that, at least from the way he described that.

"Too serious and gloomy." He couldn't emotionally be damned to care. She begged and said no no no they should still be a thing, but he's sold on not doing it.

Played with her feelings, they were "friends" for 10 years and dated for another 5.

He bragged that while she said she loved him, he never said it back, since he "has loved so many people already and that never worked out, so I'm not interested in that again".

And she was alright with him, over the years, going out to other countries to fuck women all over the world (he's 70, for context).

And that......... was a lot to learn at a random Korean spot on a Thursday evening, but, okay. I am someone who doesn't find much taboo, but holy fucking shit.

And paired with how maybe last week, he told me that two years ago, he dated a 20-something (why am I adding the "something? She was most likely 20,) in Thailand who he was planning to marry......

The timelines clicked for me this weekend, when I connected those dots.

That was already bad enough, but the context of "I had an open-ish (or she-tolerated-me-cheating) relationship with a woman and was fully gonna marry someone else and leave her in the dark" is.......... gross.

Reminds me of another woman my mother was friends with; chasing after the same guy for 30 years.

Like he's not a catch sweetie, you're finally being used for sex and money after several decades and still mistreated by a man who has happily done the worst to you.

It's so disheartening.

But here's some stories, as palate cleansers:

Over the pandemic, I went on a date with some guy when I was 19. 300 bucks (platonic) for a steak dinner topped with crab meat and some other nice decadent treats, a nice time was had.

The guy, in his 30s/40s, went on a tangent about how his last ex was a woman he dated for 10 years or so, iirc.

She was getting older in the years, wanted a ring. He said he wasn't sure....

That was all she needed to hear.

They broke up, and in less than a year, she had a husband and a baby. The man was devastated, and all the begging he did was for nothing, just like hers was. And clearly not doing well, since his mid life crisis of "I need to take out a 19 year old on a date and pay her 300 bucks to tolerate my company". And we didn't work out. He resorted to posting pictures of himself almost fully naked in gym locker rooms, with old men with their ass out in the back of the photo, hoping it might inspire women to talk to him.

What a catch, hmm? Ew.

At least I got that laptop money I needed.

Another one:

My last serious ex's brother was a pathetic loser in many ways, but ontop of the addictions, mommy issues, and lack of a job, he did once vent to me about how his last girlfriend, he dated for maybe 7 or 10 years, just about?

She was like "We've been together awhile, since we were teens, and I want marriage. Are you down?" He said no, since he wanted to be sure and wait another 3 years to be sure, since that was a huge commitment and he had no way of knowing they would work out....

Ah, so.... you aren't sure you and the girl you've been with for almost a decade, as a romantic couple, would.... work as a committed romantic couple, so you.... want to exist as a romantic couple even longer.... with a fake commitment, but no security? Almost reaching her 30s with no ring or any chance of actual growth?

Same story, she was heartbroken, but left. (She needed to raise her standards anyway, he was a joke.) Guess what? A year or so later, new man, and to this day has TWO babies. And he, meanwhile, is still 31 and JUST now finally got a job, almost two years after having this conversation with me, and is being made by his mother to do chores. Haaaa.

I remember specifically going "Do you think you ever want therapy for what happened, since your mom's divorces traumatized you so much?", and he just outright refused, saying he doesn't need it, and that love is just doomed and not something realistic, and marriage isn't necessary.

....and yet, these women and the men they left for are happy as can be, poster families for the white picket fence American Dream of love, adoration, and success. Hmm.

Seems like only the losers are the ones who have self-fulfilling prophecies, with both genders...

"All men cheat", "There aren't men that do nice things for you like that any more", and on and on and on. It's tiresome!

"Women hate me and I am never gonna find love", says the sex addicted man who refuses to develop social skills or ever risk rejection. And specifically goes for women he considers "low quality" or "tolerable", instead of having enough self respect or self esteem to grow as a person. Ew.

"All men are sleazeballs" says the girl who keeps fucking the men with sticky fingers and patchy scalps that loiter at gas stations, who I would pepper spray for approaching me, rain or shine.

Like, maybe you're not having luck with women since you have no personality or hobbies and see them as sex objects while fearing love, accountability, conversations, AND your mother (or lack thereof!).

Maybe men are good, but you keep screwing the dudes who will pick up the phone in the middle of sex with you to tell the girl they actually want that they aren't up to much.

Have some accountability, jesus. Even I am aware of my own mistakes made, present and past. At least I try.

Anyway leave a nigga in the dust.

They will brag about stringing you along and mock you if you do, and only miss you when you're gone, because they have weird mental issues that prevent them from learning empathy and common sense like we all learned at age ten.

And leave a dude in the dust. What one won't, another will. And ask yourself, "Would my future husband act like this?" I've checked myself multiple times on this, when I've made mistakes.

"Would a future husband be spending all his money on Patreons for Marvel vs Zombies board games and not actually putting in the required effort to keep me interested in him? A future husband would not touch or treat me like this."

Don't have a sealed image in your mind as that one person being a potential husband for you.

They are an avenue you can take, yes, but not your sole path.

(That's a bar, ooooh, yeah.... I hope yall quote me if yall say that anywhere else! Haha!)

Plus, sometimes doors close for a reason. If these women stayed with these pathetic men, then they would've had their patheticness manifest in different ways.

Like you ever leave an ex and see them get ridiculously down bad after losing you?

And think "Ew, what a mistake it was to date that person?", and feel better about leaving them?

Exactly. Better to have a "fuck, why did I date them?", and not a "Fuck, why can't I leave them?" Since there's a rich nigga on Bumble right now waiting for you to text them, ready to take you out in your best beautiful "saving for a nice night out" garments and high end special occasion jewelry to a steak and prix fixe dinner that NIGHT.

Stop waiting for a text back at your apartment with the lights off, scrolling Instagram and refreshing their story endlessly, there's self care to do and people to see! Can be covering up those tear stained eyes with aloe gel and getting dolled up for Fine Rich Nigga Number #3 on your roster!

Think big! Love you, be safe, take care.

#sugar heaux #hypergamous black women #black women in luxury #spoiled black women #black women in leisure #level up #luxury #lovely #goals #black sugar baby #hypergamous women #hyper feminine #misandry #hypergamous black woman

[wolf-tail]

Songs I Hear At Work Ranked From Most To Least Tolerable

For context, I work at a trampoline park and they mostly play the typical Top Billboard 100 songs, but they tend to repeat constantly

Any Taylor Swift Song

It is almost disturbing how ungodly famous this woman is. Almost every other song we play is hers. But, she is on the tolerable, often enjoyable side of generic, lowest-common-denominator pop music. I may be biased having grown up listening to her, the "1989" album came out when i was in elementary school, nonetheless pretty good.

2. I Just Wanna Rock-Lil Uzi Vert

Very stimmy. I hear the intro ("Daaaaaamnnnnnn") and my pupils widen like a cat when you wiggle a string at them.

3. Say My Name-Destiny's Child

A classic, but I wished it wouldn't get played so often, I'm getting fatigued.

4. Crank That(Soulja Boy)-Soulja Boy

Soulja Boy does indeed crank that. No further comment.

5. In My Feelings-Drake

Stop playing this dude, deadass. It'd be an enjoyable song if it wasn't by him😒

6. Sucker-The Jonas Brothers

It was barely tolerable when it was first released, now it's overplayed and extra annoying.

7. Juju on That Beat-Zay Hilifigerr & Zayion McCall

I hear the sample and briefly entertain the hilarious idea that my boss is about to play "Knuck If You Buck" in front of white mormon children and their parents, but alas

8. Ninja Kidz Theme Song

As if it wasn't bad enough that the videos of a family of white martial arts kids who's names all end in "ton" are constantly being played on a bigass screen on the wall bc they bought us out, we have to hear their god awful "rap" song like 5 times a day

9. Walk It Talk It-Migos ft. Drake

A repetitive ear-bleeder, featuring him.

Ew.

10. Young, Dumb & Broke-Khalid

This monotone crime against music twists my eardrums into knots

11. What Lovers Do-Maroon 5 feat. SZA

Listen.

LISTEN.

I like Maroon 5. SZA is genuinely talented.

But it's like two good artists got together and all of their musical skill cancelled each other out and their unholy union produced this utter abomination masquerading as music.

This "song" is a crime against humanity.

It's pure evil.

I hear Adam Levine croak out "say say say, hey hey now baby" and want to tear my hair out and throw myself off of the slide tower.

#music #work #employment #capitalism #taylor swift #lil uzi vert #destiny's child #soulja boy #rap music #the jonas brothers #maroon 5 #adam levine #sza

[matan4il]

Not to add to the debate, but well sorry I kind of am. But on your points about the donor storyline, my thing is yes, like they are unsympathetic as people asking for this. Not because they are straight, but because their logic is weird. They obviously have the money, and they don't really know Buck, (the whole nature vs. nurture thing). Would Buck be this Buck if there was no Daniel? He was the chosen one and raised as such without Maddie falling into her role? Plus, they act like vultures about the whole thing. The whole aspect of it is wrong. I would have preferred if it was even an old girl, Buck dated, who now has a wife. At least we could get bi hints.

But also it sort of runs against future storyline I would love for Buddie when they go Canon. I mean we all realize it is harder and will be more expensive when it is 2 gay men, that is just a fact. Of course I love the idea of them adopting but also I would kill for any scenario that involves, Maddies egg/Eddie's sperm, Bucks sperm/Eddie's sisters egg and someone carrying it. There are just all sorts of amazing possibilities we could get that tell the real story of gay men who want to be fathers and the financial cost but also the insecurities about being chosen if you try adopting.

Sorry for the ramble but I guess I was just stating for myself it is a watered down generic story that one day I pictured for real for Buddie.

Also, weirdly though, fun fact. I grew up in San Diego. Like 8 years ago, my best friend found out her dad fathered a kid no one knew about. But the weird thing was that when we were in high school, he worked at the stables we used to ride at. Like, we actually met him as just a guy!! I'm like, dude, you could have dated your brother lol!!! That's all I keep seeing is Bucks' future child meeting his bio child and kissing🤣😂🤣

Hi Nonnie, thank you for this ask!

Oh, you know what? Whether in the context of the sperm donor storyline or otherwise, I would actually REALLY love for an ex gf of Buck's to return and turn out to be married to a woman. It could be one of those potential storylines for Buck listening to her and maybe realizing a few things about himself and Eddie. ;)

I hear everything you say! I honestly don't mind which way Buddie would go about it, I just want the story shown of how a same sex gay couple goes about deciding on and fighting for their right to be parents. It's STILL not a given right in way too many places, and where it is, it requires SO MUCH, it's a story deserving of being told. And considering how much drama is involved in it, how many emotions, how much it can test a couple, but also bring them together and showing them fighting as one for a common goal, it actually does NOT makes sense to me that it's so underrepresented in media. Which makes me suspect that's due to a great degree to ignorance. And shouldn't we strive for queer rep to tear it down?

I think your penultimate paragraph summarizes perfectly a big part of how I feel about this storyline. Thank you for that!

(also, yikes about your friend's dad! That could not have been easy in any way whatsoever...)

Have a great day, lovely! As always, here's my ask tag! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #911 #connor #connor is basically my tag for the sperm donation storyline #gay representation #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

I’m sorry that you had to deal with that person. To watch those white guys attack two younger black kids with the intent of killing them (especially explicitly in Lucas’ case) and write it off as a scorned lover’s rage is privilege these people can’t even recognize. The scenes horrified me, and the fact that Erica and Lucas didn’t even get a scene at the end to hug or acknowledge their suffering while all these other white characters got to reunite and come full circle is obscene. Violence committed by white people against non white people (and especially Black people in an American story) will always have a racialized edge to them, intentional or not. Media doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The Duffer Brothers deciding to write such a scene still says a lot about how they view violence against Black people, regardless of their intent. Ignorance and denial still speak words.

(Sorry for going on so long. I didn’t expect to write more than two sentences maybe. Please don’t feel obligated to post this / respond. I just wanted to show agreement with you and that your frustrations are shared, especially as a nonwhite person.)

No I want to answer because this is super nice and the only support I've gotten besides my literal fiance and the one white mutual I talk to the most. I point out her race because you don't have to be the most woke, you don't have to know a lot, but you know some stuff. You do. And if you're not, you're fucking delusional and racist. I fucking said what I said. Aw... do words hurt? Bitch so did being a motherfucking slave ho!

Literally saying "The violence against Black people doesn't mean he had to die in the way he did." Bitch... what is wrong with you? What am I missing? Like this is direct ignorance, racism and just stupidity.

In this climate, writing these things without discussing them or giving any context is unacceptable. Bitch, at least put a warning at the beginning for racial violence the way y'all do for swearing.

At this point will white people ever understand? Honestly probably not. And truly, they bold as fuck over the internet cause truly knuck or buck bitch, I fight. That's why they bold online, cause they scared in person. These the people that cross the street.

Bringing someone's literal race into an argument to defend a fictional character... yes I said it... fictional... is the most heinous thing I can really think of? Like we don't have anything else to prove our point? We just gotta be out here saying the colored is crying? No, you knew you were in the wrong, and perhaps after the fucking 10 posts of you going back and forth with people, saying you didn't say shit, the post you made directly before- YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID SORRY I'LL TAKE THE L ON THAT and kept pushing. Cause now I got all white people liking my post cause of your addition. Bitch I'm silenced in real life... get the FUCK off my blog bitch.

Sorry this was so long lol, but I guess I wasn't ready for a repeat of 2018 but here we go. Y'all forgot I'm a Cunt with a capital C hunni.

Thank you for the support and truly, anytime you need someone to stand up for you, a prompt, a pep talk, a rant- I'm here, cause there's not many of us in this fandom and it's hard as fuck. xxxxxx

#thanks for this lovey #sorry this is long as fuck and strong as fuck but I needed someone else to talk to cause y'all need to know #liking a poc post aint doing shit #spread that shit around #send messages like this #support other poc #support poc in general #yall get your lil white lesbian now help us #this nigga a whole ass main character and yall still don't care.. pathetic #racist ass #asks #anon #shut up t

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

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[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

#911fic #buddie fics #buddie #my fics #okay this is fic 2 of 2 for pov outsider for me! #completely opposite tone of the last one this is just fun and dumb :P #hope y'all like it! #my posts

[ultranos]

I'm pretty sure she wasn't as clearly the favoured kid as Zuko thinks she was, either. A man like Ozai is both not really the sort to buck tradition in a progressive way, and very likely to highlight the shortcomings of BOTH his children to "help" them. For Zuko, that shortcoming was his perceived lack of talent (and he really is very talented! just made to think he's shit); for Azula, her birth and sex.

That’s the maddening thing, actually. Zuko is actually a really good firebender. He learns astoundingly quickly once he finds a style that suits him, he’s incredibly adaptable, and he trained the Avatar.

(Really, saying “Zuko is bad at firebending” might just be the same as saying a kid is bad at history, if the kid was only ever taught history of the US in WWII: extremely limited in scope and lacking a ton of context.)

There is also a...much less kind to Zuko’s perceptions interpretation. Bluntly put, Zuko is a boy. Girls often have to work much harder to be seen as even close to “good enough as” a mediocre boy. And the problem here is that Azula not only works damn hard, but she picks things up faster than he does and is also talented. So when Azula, who is younger and female and thus “weaker”, wins against her brother, that upsets the “natural order”. That’s not how this is “supposed to” work.

Ozai pays actual attention to Azula then. Instead of Zuko. Zuko would not like this and takes it badly. Azula realizes that she has to keep being “better than” Zuko to keep Ozai, who is the only adult in her life actually in the vicinity of giving a whit (positive or negative), paying attention to her. She wins against Zuko in bending, schoolwork, politics, trash-talk, whatever. Rinse and repeat.

God, it’s an ouroboros of suck that Ozai just has to sit back and observe. His kids will either “become strong” or tear each other to pieces. Of course he just goads them on. This is the most return on investment for him with the least amount of actual work on his part.

#atla #fire nation royally screwed-up family #in addition to the rest of his sins #ozai is also that lazy #Anonymous #nos answers things

[captain-hen]

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

title: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Summary: “In that warehouse,” Buck says. “I almost gave up.”

Eddie doesn’t bat an eyelash at his words. “I know,” He says, simply.

Buck isn’t sure why he’s saying this. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to confess this to Eddie, why this is something he needs for him to know. He also doesn’t know why Eddie is being so calm about it.

“I almost stopped fighting,” Buck continues, his voice breaking a little. 

“I know.” Eddie says, again. | Post 4x05: Buck Begins.

ao3 link

a/n: i wrote this when i should have been sleeping so it’s probably incoherent...pls excuse me..

tagging some people who may be interested: @malikjavaddzayn @evaneddie @matan4il @prettyboydiaz @firefighter-diaz  please let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

Seconds after Buck knocks, the door opens and Eddie is looking at him with an arched eyebrow. "Since when do you knock?" He asks teasingly.

 Buck shrugs wordlessly. The weight of the past couple of days he's had—his parents arriving in town, finding out about Daniel, god, the fire—all had been momentarily forgotten in the time he spent with Maddie after his shift, the relief that came with forgiving her making something that had been unbalanced shift back into place in his heart. However, after leaving her apartment, it had all come crushing down on him again, leaving him shaking and breathless in the aftermath. Before knowing he was doing it, he was taking the turn to Eddie's house instead of his own apartment and now here he was.

 "You're just in time," Eddie gestures for Buck to come in. "Dinner's almost ready."

 "I—I didn't tell you I was coming, though," Buck says, confused. Eddie grins at him.

 "I had a feeling you would." Not waiting for a reply, he turns to go into the living room. "Christopher! Look who's here!"

 Buck is greeted with an armful of Chris when he enters the room and he can't help but laugh, hoisting him into his arms. Pressing his face into Chris' hair and hearing his bright laughter, Buck feels some of the tension drain from his body.

 "Hey, buddy! Hope you don't mind me coming over so unexpectedly."

 Chris giggles as Buck puts him down, as if he's said the funniest thing ever. "Don't be silly, Buck! We always want you around."

 Buck feels his eyes burn with tears inexplicably and he's relieved that Chris chooses that moment to turn around to search for a drawing he wants to show him. Eddie says nothing, instead moving past Buck to leave the room, pressing a warm hand to his shoulder as he passes him.

 Chris takes Buck's hand and tugs on it, leading him to the kitchen. Buck's eyebrows raise at the sight of Eddie pulling a pan out the oven

 "Dad cooked," Chris informs him. Buck chuckles.

 "Maybe I shouldn't have come over," He jokes. Eddie throws a dish towel at him, scowling.

 "It's just mac and cheese," He retorts. "And I'll have you know I've gotten better at cooking over the pandemic. Make yourself useful and set the table."

 Shifting into the usual routine of dinner time at the Diaz household has a comforting familiarity to it, Buck thinks, as he moves around the kitchen, grabbing plates and glasses, knowing where everything is supposed to be without even thinking about it. They sit down at the table to eat, Chris chattering away about his day as Buck listens on, barely suppressing an eye roll when Eddie not-so-subtly heaps two servings onto his plate. God, his best friend can be such a dad sometimes.

 As dinnertime comes to an end, though, Buck can feel the lightness begin to slip away, tension gathering in his shoulders once more and his smiles come less easily, not even Christopher’s cheer being able to bring them out easily. Eddie seems to notice (of course he does) and quickly stands to gather their plates.

 “Chris, I think it’s time you start getting ready for bedtime,” he says and Chris groans dramatically.

 “Dad, can’t I stay up? It’s not even a school night!”

 “Nope,” Eddie hums. “Rules are rules, Chris, you know how it is.”

 Chris groans again but doesn’t argue his point and gets up. “Goodnight, Buck,” he murmurs, and Buck bends down to receive his hug almost automatically, barely registering it. Thankfully, Chris doesn’t seem to notice that anything is amiss and pulling back, grins at him before leaving.

 “Hey,” Buck startles as Eddie taps him on the shoulder and looks up at the barely concealed worry in his friend’s face. “Why don’t you go wait in the living room? I’m gonna go tuck Chris into bed.”

 “It’s late,” Buck mutters. “Maybe I should leave.” He doesn’t want to. It’s almost more than he can stand, right now, the thought of leaving the warmth of Eddie’s house, of Eddie, to go back to his apartment, that has never felt like home the way Eddie and Christopher have. But he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d once told Maddie that he’s not really a guest in Eddie’s house, but now, with his entire world, with everything he’d ever known about himself turned upside down, he can’t be sure of anything.

 Eddie shakes his head and repeats, a little more firmly. “Wait for me in the living room.”

 Buck goes, helpless but to do as he asks. He looks around at the room as he sits down on the couch, Chris’ homework on the side tables, the video game consoles scattered around it, Eddie’s jacket tossed over a chair—just a few weeks ago, he had been on this couch with Eddie and Christopher, playing video games and teasing Eddie about his newfound fear of technology. Just a few weeks ago, he had been in this same spot, happy and lighthearted with two of his favorite people in the world.

 Just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t felt this overwhelming sense of wrongness and uncertainty, like everything was collapsing around him and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

 Eddie returns shortly, sinking down into the couch beside him, his shoulders pressing into Buck’s; solid and grounding. Buck lets out a shaky exhale, ducking his head as he feels his eyes burn with tears again. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him like this, cracked in a hundred places and this close to falling apart. Which doesn’t make sense, he knows, Eddie has been there during some of the worst moments of his life; he was there holding his hand while his leg was being crushed under a firetruck, he had seen him choke on his own blood during that welcome-back party; there was no end to it. But this—this was just too much. Too vulnerable. Too raw, and open and exposed.

 Eddie says nothing, just sitting there, a line of warmth and stability against Buck, waiting for him to open up. And Buck does, inevitably.

 “I forgave my parents,” He doesn’t look at Eddie while he says it, but can feel him stiffen momentarily before he relaxes again.

 “That must have been hard,” Eddie says, his words so similar to Maddie’s just a few hours ago. Buck shrugs in response, talking about it with his sister had been hard enough, he doesn’t really want to get into the why’s of it again.

 “I just feel like---” Buck stops himself and sighs in frustration. “I feel like this should have brought me some sort of relief, right? Taken some of the weight off my shoulders? Now that I actually have some context to what they did, and why-“

 “Hey,” Eddie interrupts, almost sharply. “Your parents lost a child, and that’s terrible. But them ignoring the two living children they had, not being there for their kids who actually needed them? That is on them and nothing can excuse that. You are well within your rights to feel angry, Buck.”

 Buck shakes his head. “I am so tired of being angry,” He says. “But---I still am. I thought forgiving them would make me feel less angry, but it didn’t. I am so angry that they kept my brother a secret from me, all this time. I am so angry that they forced Maddie to keep that secret, when she was just a child. I am so angry that I was finally, finally, doing better, feeling more secure and good about myself and my life and it took just one visit from them to turn it all upside down!”

 He sucks in a deep breath and buries his head in his hands, shaking slightly. He did not mean to explode like that. Hell, he doesn’t even know where it all came from. He had no idea he was even feeling like that before it all burst out.

 I sometimes hide my true feelings, Buck remembers telling his therapist that one time, and he chuckles hollowly at the memory.

 Eddie lays a hand on his shoulder, the pad of his thumb drawing soothing circles over his sleeve and remains quiet until Buck raises his head again, eyes wet.

 “It’s clear to me, now,” Buck says. “Everything I ever did to try and win their affection, to win their love—none of it mattered. I was set up to fail since the very beginning. The entire time, whenever they looked at me, all they could see was Daniel and I would never measure up in their eyes. How could I compete with that? God,” He scrubs a hand across his face roughly and lets out a bitter laugh. “I’m jealous of a dead person. How fucked up is that?”

Something shutters in Eddie’s expression and he ducks his head for a moment, swallowing. “I understand completely,” He murmurs. Before Buck can really think about it, Eddie is talking again.

 “It was never on you to win your parents’ love, Buck,” He says. “It’s not something that needs to be won, it’s something that has to be freely given. And your parents—they—no matter the loss they were mourning, the way they made you feel like every scrap of their attention needed to be earned was unacceptable. You have to know that. I mean—” He sighs and pauses for a moment. “I have made a lot of mistakes with Christopher, but I can never imagine doing to him what your parents did to you and your sister. It’s unthinkable.”

 Buck manages to smile at that and says, his voice breaking a little, “You’re a really great dad.”

 Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “I hope so,” He murmurs. “At least, I try to be. And sometimes, trying is the best you can do. It’s what every parent should do.”

 Trying, huh? Philip and Margaret Buckley certainly hadn’t. They had given up on Buck the moment he’d failed to save his brother, Buck is certain of this no matter how they might say otherwise. They had given up on Maddie when she married Doug. They were never willing to try when things got hard, instead that burden had been placed on their children and Maddie and Buck had carried it even into their adulthood, without even noticing.

 He had never felt that burden so acutely as he did in the fire, as he relived his entire life, seeing his past through new eyes as he fought desperately to save Saleh from the flames and himself, from giving into all that despair and guilt and hopelessness. And in the end, he hadn’t had to carry it alone, because the 118, his family, stepped in to carry it with him.

 “In that warehouse,” Buck says. “I almost gave up.”

 Eddie doesn’t bat an eyelash at his words. “I know,” He says, simply.

 Buck isn’t sure why he’s saying this. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to confess this to Eddie, why this is something he needs for him to know. He also doesn’t know why Eddie is being so calm about it.

 “I almost stopped fighting,” Buck continues, his voice breaking a little.

 “I know.” Eddie says, again.

 “You’re not—” Buck clears his throat and says, hoarsely, “You’re not…I don’t know—” He can’t finish.

 Upset? Angry? Disappointed?

 Eddie, evidently, doesn’t need him to say it. “No,” He says, his voice impossibly soft. “I know what it’s like. I’ve been there.”

 Oh. Of course, that’s—Buck doesn’t know whether he is referring to Afghanistan or the well, when he was buried under thirty feet of mud. Or both.

 Buck doesn’t ask, and Eddie doesn’t elaborate.

 “It feels easy, to just stop resisting,” Eddie continues. “But then, you remember that you have something to live for. A family that loves you.”

 Buck shakes his head, almost automatically. “My parents—”

 “I’m not talking about your parents,” Eddie says, firmly. “I am talking about your sister, Bobby, Athena, the 118—”

 “—you?” Buck finishes, something in his heart lifting at the soft smile Eddie gives him in return.

 “Yeah, me,” Eddie says. “And Christopher,” He pauses, suddenly looking almost uncertain. “That is, if you’ll have us.”

 If he’ll have them? Buck almost laughs hysterically—what sort of question is that? Surely, Eddie has to know—to have him and Christopher as his family would be everything and more. He wants it, all of it, so badly that it’s almost terrifying. He wants Eddie, in any and every single way possible, no matter how selfish it is.

 “Eddie, you don’t know what that means to me,” Buck says, instead.

 Eddie smiles. “I think I have some idea,” He says, and reaches out, slipping his hand into Buck’s. Buck can feel his breath catch, his heart leaping at the gentle touch, at the way Eddie’s fingers slot so perfectly between his. It is at times like these, that he thinks that Eddie might return the feelings he has for him, the feelings that are definitely not those of friendship. But he can never bring himself to cross that line, too afraid of being wrong, of ruining one of the best things he has in his life.

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. After a while, Buck glances at the clock.

 “It’s getting late,” He says reluctantly. “I should go.”

 “Stay.” Eddie says. Buck’s pulse quickens, he knows that Eddie doesn’t mean it that way, yet—

 “I think—”

 Eddie shakes his head. “Stay. Please.”

 And how can Buck say no to that?

 He nods wordlessly and allows himself to lean into Eddie, his eyes drifting shut. This is slowly exceeding the realm of best friend behavior, but Buck can’t find it in himself to care at the moment, especially when Eddie turns into him, resting his head on his shoulder.

 For now, he can have this.

 For once, he can be enough.

#911 fox #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #neethu writes #otp: you two have an adorable son #canon divergence #dailybuddie #buck x eddie #still have no idea how to tag fics

[inawickedlittletown]

Buck and Maddie in 4x03 - meta

Notes: the first of my meta for this episode...obviously there be spoilers here.  

-

There are all these secrets surrounding Buck. First we have the whole thing with the “covid crush” and the reveal that it’s actually a therapist. And I really really love that for Buck. I love the perspective that this is given in normalizing therapy and in Buck having realized that not only is it healthy and normal, but that it would help him. And we can see that in how despite hiding it for a while, Buck does come clean about it to Maddie and Chimney. We’ve seen that this is something he wants to keep close to the vest, that he isn’t fully comfortable talking about and I like to think that he gets to the point of wanting to come clean about it due to the therapy. 

The response he gets is interesting. 

Chimney’s makes sense, he points out that all of them have been to therapy due to their jobs and it isn’t something to be ashamed of. We know that Maddie has and Chimney implies he too has had his time in therapy. But also, we know Buck has as well. Back in S1 where he was sexually assaulted and in S3, he heavily implies that he had gone to see Frank at some point or at least knew him.  

Maddie, however, immediately grows concerned. It’s understandable because for someone to need therapy there must be something wrong and Buck was hiding it. But Maddie immediately asks “why did you lie” instead of “why didn’t you tell us” which makes it seem like Buck was the one to tell them he was dating someone whereas the past couple of episodes have clearly shown us that it is Chimney and Maddie that keep pressing Buck about his “covid crush” without him confirming it and outrightly denying it. He never lied. He just didn’t tell them what he was doing. He’s an adult and he has a right to his privacy especially with something this personal. So right off the back, Maddie’s response isn’t the best. 

“It’s not about the job. It’s about me...everyone has issues,” Buck says and Chimney makes light of it by pointing out that maybe parents should have a fund for therapy instead of school for their kids. 

I really love what Chim says here because he is trying to lighten the moment, but he also brings up the idea that parents screw up their kids and that they’re the ones likely at blame for those kids growing up to need therapy. Chimney at this point doesn’t really know anything about the Buckley parents and yet he is insightful. He’s right on the nose on all of it. 

The moment is tinged with awkwardness that mostly seems to come from Maddie. Chimney is acting normal and Buck is acting as normal as someone that shared something major and personal should be. Maddie, though, is bothered. And for someone like Maddie who was a nurse and who personally knows how therapy can help and who has gone through multiple different therapies, she is very put off by Buck speaking to a therapist. It’s very unlike Maddie. 

And then Maddie goes to see Buck at his place. She shows up unexpectedly, seems to have some idea that Buck wasn’t comfortable talking about the therapy thing with Chimney even though it was Buck that brought up the therapy thing in the first place and the whole scene just seems like Maddie is waiting for Buck to come out and tell her that there is some real traumatic reason for it. Even when Buck tells her there is nothing to tell she expects something and then Buck says “It’s all your fault” and Maddie’s face gives away some surprise. Her “what” is full of shock and she’s expecting something other than Buck saying that she called him “sad and lonely”, but she relaxes then. 

Buck explains himself. He talks about Abby and about how he didn’t stop being sad or lonely after talking to her and about how he does know he has people but that it doesn’t stop him from wondering if he won’t have them at some point. He can’t trust that he’ll keep his family which says more about the people that have been in Buck’s life that have left him than about Buck even if Buck might see it differently. 

Then Buck says: “The world is an uncertain place. You have to protect yourself. Thanks, mom and dad.” And all of that is connected, right? So is this something that their parents taught them? Not by trying to protect their kids from the world but by they themselves being the thing they needed to be protected from? 

I have never subscribed to the idea that the Buckley parents were abusive and in this episode we are told they were not. But we know from Buck later on that they weren’t good with kids, that they were more interested in each other, and so it seems obvious that what Buck feels is abandonment from the two people that should never have made him feel that way. Buck has expressed feelings of being left behind before when saying to Maddie that he’s the one left behind in S3. So, he’s learned to not hold onto people or trust that they will remain because he’s used to being left. All of this is very consistent with his character. He’s been left by his parents, by Maddie, by Abby, by Ally...and who knows who else during the time before the 118. 

Maddie seems insistent on wanting to help Buck which is great except that it’s also strange that she almost doesn’t seem to believe that therapy is the right answer. It makes me wonder about what Maddie thinks Buck will find by talking to a therapist. She asks him if he’s told their parents about the therapy which implies that both Buck and Maddie are at least communicating with their parents regularly enough. It also gives us this idea that Maddie expects a certain type of reaction from their parents about Buck seeing a therapist. Which leads to the question of what type of thing — perhaps some sort of buried memory — Maddie expects to come out. 

Buck says, “You know how they are” to explain why he hasn’t said anything and the parents and goes on to explain that he’s fine and wants to be “finer”. Maddie isn’t reassured and Buck tells her that she can’t fix this for him and goes on to tell her that they are the same and that he always thought she was sad too. This implies that whatever this big secret is, it has a big impact on Maddie too except that she actually knows what it is. 

This scene is a little strange. It’s very clear that Maddie has info that she isn’t sharing and very concerned with and also that Buck doesn’t suspect a thing and that he just wants to be a better person and find himself. To be honest, Maddie’s concern is very strange to me. I don’t know what to expect in terms of what kind of thing Buck could uncover by going to therapy? There can’t be much that fits the bill. 

“What everything you do to protect someone, ends up hurting them?” Maddie asks Chimney later on and this is very clearly about Buck even if she frames it to be about fear in what she will be like as a mother and a fear of not doing right by her kids. Obviously that fear is real, but it’s all connected to Buck. The Buckley parents do get mentioned and we get a repeat of what Maddie said in S3,  “They’re not bad people, just bad parents” which sounds like a rehearsed line that Maddie has been using her entire life. Chim is quick to reassure her and the moment is lovely in terms of their relationship and yet it leaves Chim wondering what he can do for Maddie to really reassure her so much so that he goes to Buck to ask him about his and Maddie’s parents. 

Chimney’s approach by letting know Buck that he doesn’t have to answer speaks to how much Chim cares about Buck and respects him despite all the teasing he imparts on Buck. Buck says that his sex life is more interesting than his parents. It’s news to Buck that Maddie fears being like their parents with her baby. Buck explains that it felt like their parents were miles away, absent, not great with kids, and that they were an average dysfunctional family. In many ways very normal and yet it is so clear that Maddie knows more about this. And we get Buck telling Chim they weren’t abusive, we’re back to the “good people but bad parents” thing. 

Maddie calls her mom. It’s a bit awkward and Maddie immediately gives us the information that they usually text or e-mail, so clearly Maddie felt this was important enough to warrant a phone call. Maddie is very defensive the entire phone call and clearly uncomfortable. What irks me is that Maddie expects her mom to either be in better communication with Buck and already know about the therapy and that when worried about her brother she talks to her mom who has been established as distant and not a part of her or Buck’s life. And then, Maddie tells her mom about Buck being in therapy and I wish we knew what the mom is saying, but Maddie is clearly unhappy about it and yet just like Maddie, the mom expects therapy to bring out new information for Buck in some way unrelated to him being told directly. 

I do wonder at Maddie deciding to tell her mom about the therapy when she was aware that Buck was only just recently comfortable with her knowing what he was doing. It’s such a breach of privacy for Maddie to share that information. And while there is context for why she is doing so, I just don’t find that necessary. Not when Buck clearly doesn’t know what the secret is and when Buck in that earlier scene told her he hadn’t spoken to their parents because of how they are? So how does any of that tell Maddie that it’s okay for her to share that information?

I wonder about Maddie needing her mom to approve Buck finding out the secret or feeling like she needs permission to tell him about the secret. All of it is fishy. All we know is that Buck has been lied to his entire life because that is what Maddie says to her mom over the phone. 

There are a lot of theories as to the secret. So far all we know is that Oliver Stark debunked the idea that Maddie was actually Buck’s mom. There are theories about Buck maybe being adopted, about Buck repressing something traumatic that happened when he was young, and there really are a lot of possibilities but the main thing I wonder about is what kind of thing would be unearthed in therapy. 

After all, Maddie’s reaction is more about her fear that Buck already knew and that was his reason for therapy, but the fear goes deep enough that she actually believes him in therapy will bring this up and I don’t know if this is just Maddie’s guilt for keeping something from Buck or the pregnancy hormones, but it really feels unnecessary. If she really wanted to keep protecting Buck and keeping him in the dark, she shouldn’t have been talking to her mom about Buck or letting the whole thing get to her in a way that makes Chim want to ask questions. 

Maddie does, by the end of the episode, decide to fill Chimney in on what she’s hiding by immediately saying that she’s trying to protect someone. Buck. Maddie tells Chim because they’re going to be a family and so she shouldn’t hide things from him and depending on what it turns out to be I hope that it isn’t something that Buck should have had the privilege of hearing first before Maddie went and told anyone else. Also interesting is that Maddie says family shouldn’t hide things from each other when there’s been a giant secret hanging over the Buckley family with everyone but Buck being aware of it. 

Ultimately, I am very very curious and I love this focus that Buck’s gotten especially when it concerns his past since this is everything that the fans have wanted. We’re getting this build up towards Buck Begins and I am so here for it.

#911 fox #911 meta #evan buckley #maddie buckley #911 on fox #meta #spoilers #911 spoilers

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Boys are raised to be men. Part 2 - Facts of life

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Things are different outside the city. When Bucky moves out of the city to live closer to his father’s best friend, Steve, he meets a peculiar girl from a strange family. She’s loved by everyone in the village and like him, she’s missing a limb. And, to Bucky’s surprise, she’s determined to make him part of her life.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3368

Author’s note: I am not disabled and I couldn’t ever imagine what it’s like. If you have anything to not about that aspect of the story, please send me a message so I can fix possible mistakes or misunderstandings in upcoming chapters. Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates.

The street the Parker/Stark family lives on is a lively one. Most people have known each other since birth with a few odd ones out. When Peter first came to their street at four years old he adored the small village. He liked the way the end of the street leads to a meadow, he liked the playground across the street, and he liked that his sister was there to show him everything. Though most get rebellious around their teen years, you liked showing your little brother around. You were always a peaceful girl and you enjoyed having someone to take care of. That’s also how your spring Saturday group came to be. When Peter started making friends, you took it upon yourself to supervise them at least once a week so they could play in the meadow. And when Tony came into the picture, you would drag him along. Your mother adored seeing the three of you together in the meadow as it seemed to put all of you at ease. You never stopped doing your spring Saturday group. Not even when you lost your mother. You found comfort in seeing the children play. You dragged Peter along in hopes it would cheer him up as well but it never did. He found other ways to mourn. The one thing that you did do together every single year, without fail, is watching the cow dance. Watching the cows come outside for the first time after winter and seeing them buck and gallop in joy is the most wonderful thing to see. It gives a hopeful feeling. After every winter comes spring.

‘Y/n! Two men are waiting outside! Hurry up,‘ Tony yells up the stairs. ‘Don’t yell! I’m almost done,‘ you yell back as you check yourself in the mirror. Your red lipstick looks decent enough, you have done it better but you have done it worse as well. Hair, well, it’s still a bird’s nest but at least it looks nicer than it normally does when you throw it up in a bun to keep it out of your face. Leg? Feels good, seems to be on right, and on full display under your navy wrap dress. You wanted to put on a pair of pants but opted for a dress to make sure Bucky wouldn’t feel like the odd one out. The door to your room flies open and Peter rushes in, jumping straight onto your bed. ‘So you’ve got two toy boys now?‘ ‘Bugger off Peter, I don’t have toy boys,‘ you snap back, hopping on your good leg as you try to put a sock on your metal leg. Not that you need it. It’s just the normality in it. ���So whatcha think about James?‘ You roll your eyes and sit down on the bed with him to put a sock on your good leg. Hopping on your metal leg isn’t exactly the most comfortable. You ruffle a hand through his hair as you get back up. ‘Why are you interested? From what dad told me, you almost ran when you saw him.‘ Peter pushes your hand away and huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest like a little child. ‘Don’t blame me. The man looks like a damn gangster with his missing arm and all that.‘ You laugh. ‘I’ve got a missing leg. Am I a gangster now?‘ ‘He rides a motorcycle.‘ ‘First of all, I doubt that. Secondly, so do Thor and Natasha.‘ ‘They’re intimidating too,‘ he yelps, slightly offended at the notion that his own sister is not taking him seriously. ‘Thor couldn’t even hurt a fly if he tried. Okay, I’m off,‘ you chuckle, ‘don’t miss me too much.‘ You walk out of your room with Peter running after you. You close the door behind him while he stomps his way down the stairs. ‘Pick up your feet Peter!‘ ‘Yes miss Potts!‘ You come downstairs after him and do a little twirl for your dad and Pepper who are seated in the living room. ‘What do you think?‘ ‘Oh, you look stunning dear,‘ Pepper awes at you. Tony seems a little less satisfied. He’s used to your normal jeans and shirt combo that you had started to wear more and more in the past few years. Somewhere in his mind, he knows it’s to hide the leg but when you suddenly show this much skin he can’t help but be worried. Though, getting with someone was never a problem for you. Not even in your old jeans and worn-out t-shirts. ‘Yeah, I don’t like it. I don’t want another man sneaking out of my house in the morning, go change,‘ he tells you, gesturing you to go back upstairs. Pepper hits him in the chest with a surprised look on her face. ‘Tony, how dare you? She looks beautiful and I think she’s old enough to decide those things for herself,‘ Pepper defends her. ‘Thank you, Pepper,‘ you smile. ‘No problem dear.‘ ‘Fine,‘ Tony sighs, ‘but just go with the guy instead of bringing him here.‘ You laugh and wave them goodbye. You put on your tennis shoes in the hallway and your winter jacket as the nights can still get quite chilly. ‘You got your phone and keys,‘ Tony yells after you. You do a quick pat-down of your jacket. ‘I do!‘ ‘Have fun!‘ ‘Thanks, dad!‘ You open the door and skip over to the two men waiting for you. They don’t notice you being too deep in their conversation until you step between them and hook your arms around each of theirs. ‘Gents, ready to go?‘ ‘Always,‘ Sam grins at you. ‘Whatever you say doll,‘ Bucky smiles. He looks a lot more at ease in your opinion. You knew he would like Sam.

Crocker’s Folly is an old bar. The kind of bar that you go to, to drown your sorrows in a glass of whiskey while the barmaid shoots you knowing glances. It had been a while since Bucky went to a bar like that. Mostly because the people are friendly and tend to ask too many questions. When he lost his arm he didn’t want to be asked questions, so he’d rather drown his sorrows at home than at a bar. Though this is a nice change of pace. With the nicer spring weather, it seems the bar has opened its outside seating again and a group of people has already pulled some tables together to sit close to a fireplace that would surely be turned on when the night gets colder. You let go of the men by your sides and runs over to the group, throwing yourself around the necks of the two redheads sitting side by side. They cheer as they see the three arrive. Bucky feels a bit out of place. Sam notices and puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Everyone, this is James Barnes, he goes by Bucky. Don’t ask me why because I do not know,‘ Sam tells the group, ‘Bucky, that’s Wanda, Natasha, Vision, don’t ask, Thor, Pietro, and Loki.‘ ‘You’re seriously going to introduce me with that embarrassing nickname but not the others,‘ Vision asks Sam. ‘Victor isn’t any better.‘ Vision sighs and leans back in his chair. Bucky can’t help but be a little confused at the display. Yet, he doesn’t ask any questions as he is bracing for questions about this arm but they never come. Instead, Thor and Pietro go to work on putting another table with the two they already have to widen the circle while Loki grabs the new arrivals some chairs. ‘Is everyone ready for another round? On me,‘ you announce as you make her way to the door. The group cheers in agreement. You slip inside, leaving Sam and Bucky with the group. Bucky decides to take the middle chair, leaving the chair next to the girls empty as Sam takes a seat next to Loki. ‘When’d you move here,‘ Pietro asks the guy in a thick, Russian accent. ‘A few days ago,‘ Bucky answers, ‘had to get out of the city.‘ Pietro lifts his, almost empty, glass at Bucky as if to accept his answer. He throws the last sip back and puts his glass back on the table. ‘You live next to old man Steve, right,‘ Natasha asks him, leaning forward a little to get a good look at him. Bucky nods. She nods at his nodding and leans back again. “What a strange woman,“ Bucky thinks. But before he can much more of an opinion, you come back outside with a man behind you who’s holding a tray of beer. You help him pass the beer around before you take a seat next to Bucky. ‘To our growing group of degenerates,‘ Sam jokes. The group calls cheers and brings their glasses to their lips, all taking a big sip. After that, it takes the group less than a few seconds to start chatting around. You happily explain everything that needs context to Bucky as the night progresses. ‘Are ya’ll going to the cow dance Saturday,‘ Thor asks the group, ‘not you Y/n, I know you’re taking the kids to see it.‘ ‘The kids,‘ Bucky asks. “Does Y/n have kids?” ‘I take the children in the village out to play every Saturday afternoon,‘ you quickly explain to him. ‘And the cow dance?‘ ‘When the cows come into the fields for the first time after winter,‘ you smile, ‘it’s fun. You should come.‘ ‘There’s a party at the pub after,‘ Sam whispers to him, ‘that’s the only reason all of us go.‘ ‘That’s no true,‘ you yelp in a laugh, ‘you’re all just “too masculine“ to admit you enjoy watching cows frolic.‘ ‘Okay, fair point,‘ Sam admits, ‘but the drinking is fun too.‘ You sigh. ‘Fine, yes, the drinking is fun too.‘

The later the night gets, the more the group divides into smaller groups. Thor, Loki, and Pietro have gone to sit with a group of girls in a darker corner. Wanda, Vision, Natasha, and the bartender, aka Bruce, are sitting on a few couches together and being all cute and couple-y. Sam got lost somewhere. And Bucky and you are still seated next to the heather. Bucky notices how you shoot glances at Pietro who is very obviously flirting with another girl. ‘Are you two a thing?‘ ‘No, it’s just sex,‘ you tell him straight up, ‘but there’s a rumor that that girl has an STD. I don’t like to believe rumors but I am wary when it comes to my sex life.‘ Bucky almost spits out the sip he just took because of the blunt words leaving your mouth. You laugh. ‘Oh come on, you didn’t think I was that innocent.‘ ‘Honestly, I did think that,‘ Bucky tells you between coughs. You smile and take a big swig from your beer, finishing it. ‘You’d be surprised how many people aren’t who they seem,‘ you tell him and get up, ‘you want another one?‘ He nods and watches you go inside. Wow. Little miss “I take the children in the village out to play in the field every Saturday“ isn’t innocent at all. Who would’ve thought? While you’re gone, he takes a second to scan the area. Wanda and Vision are obviously a couple and so are Natasha and Bruce. Then there’s Loki who, according to Y/n, wouldn’t be able to keep a stable relationship if his life depended on it. Thor, who is in love with a farmer’s daughter who doesn’t want him at all. From what Y/n just said, Bucky thinks Pietro is just trying to fuck the whole town. And then there’s Sam. It’s obvious to Bucky that Sam sees Y/n as a sister but he doesn’t seem to have any interest in other women. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in anyone. Maybe he’s got a girl at home, maybe he’s interested in Y/n, maybe he’s just not interested. Sam raises his hand to greet Bucky and walks over, leaving the conversation he was having with another group of people to come sit with him. ‘Did the little lady leave you,‘ he teases, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table. ‘Nah, she just went to get drinks.‘ Sam takes a peek through the glass doors to see the girl standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender that’s still on shift. ‘You know, I see the way you look at her,‘ Sam tells him, ‘and I get it.‘ ‘I’m sorry?‘ ‘You like her, right?‘ ‘Well, yeah, but not like that,‘ Bucky tells him, ‘I just feel a bit closer to her because of the-‘ ‘The arm, leg thing. I get it,‘ Sam nods, ‘just know that she won’t want to talk about it, but I don’t think you want to talk about it either.‘ The look in Sam’s eyes is brotherly and protective like he’d do anything to keep Y/n happy. Bucky nods, shrinking in his jacket again. ‘Sam, don’t bully him,‘ you call over as you see the two, ‘and you took my chair.‘ The seriousness disappears from Sam’s face as he looks at you. ‘Don’t worry princess, I’ll get you another one,‘ Sam says and clumsily reaches over to an empty chair that is juuuuuust in reach if he leans over far enough. You roll your eyes and put the beers on the table, walk around Sam to grab the chair yourself. ‘Oh, beer,‘ Sam grins and takes one of them. ‘Don’t you dare birdbrain,‘ you snap at him in a joking way as you sit down on your chair. He slowly lifts the glass to his lips. ‘I swear to God, I’m going to castrate you.‘ Bucky laughs quietly. ‘Steve’s going to keep you to that,‘ he tells you. ‘As he should,‘ you reply and manage to snatch your beer from Sam’s hand before he can take a sip, ‘get your own beer you leech.‘ Sam pretends to have been hurt, putting his hand to his heart and crying in pain. ‘On princess, such cruel words from such an innocent mouth,‘ he whines out. ‘Oh shut up, you know my mouth isn’t innocent,‘ you jab back, making Bucky choke on his beer once again. ‘Dammit,‘ he coughs, ‘why do you have to be like this?‘ ‘You haven’t even heard half of it,‘ Sam laughs, ‘you’ll be dead before she’s done if you’re going to react like that every time she says something raunchy.‘ ‘Shut up,‘ you laugh, knowing what’s coming. ‘Am I lying though? Am I?‘ You playfully hit his shoulder. ‘Bucky, ask her how she got Pietro in her bed.‘ ‘Wha- I don’t want to.‘ ‘I don’t want him to either,‘ you chime in, starting to lose control over your laughter as you think back to that night. Jeez, you weren’t okay. Sam turns to Bucky, holding up his hands to be ready to tell this story as big as he can. ‘She grabbed a bottle opener from the bar, put it on his table, and she-‘ ‘No, don’t,‘ you beg, starting to laugh loudly. Your stomach already hurts. ‘She asked him what that was,‘ Sam says and gestures over to Bucky to tell him to answer the question. ‘A bottle opener.‘ ‘Exactly,‘ Sam says, a chuckle through his words, ‘and then she asked him what he was.‘ He takes a second to calm himself down. ‘Don’t say it,‘ you beg him, ‘I was so, so drunk.‘ ‘You weren’t, you had one beer,‘ Sam argues and turns back to Bucky, ‘she told him he was a leg opener.‘ Bucky bursts out in laughter louder than he imagined he would while you pull your legs up to your chest, hiding your face behind your knees as you wrap your arms around them. But you’re not ashamed, you’re just wheezing. ‘Please say it’s a joke,‘ Bucky begs you through laughter-induced tears. ‘It isn’t,‘ you manage to tell him. ‘Oh please tell me this happened when you two were alone.‘ ‘Nope, she did it right when we all sat down,‘ Sam tells him, ‘the man barely had a drink.‘ ‘I was horny okay,‘ you yelp in defense, setting your feet back on the ground. ‘You’re always horny,‘ Pietro yells from his seat. ‘Shut up, this ain’t about you,‘ you yell back. He laughs. ‘Tell them how you made me climb down the drainpipe to get out before your dad woke up,‘ he yells back. Bucky can’t help but be surprised at how open people are with sexuality in a village this small. You don’t seem to care that he just screamed that for everyone to hear and, from the looks you two get, everyone already seems to know.

Around one in the morning, everyone says their goodbyes. Though you told him it wasn’t necessary, Bucky insisted on walking you home and so you’re walking down the street together. At first, it was the whole group but as you got further down the street, more and more people dropped off. Now it’s just Bucky and you. ‘Say, I’ve been meaning to ask,‘ Bucky suddenly says. Your heartbeat rises. What is he going to ask? About your leg? About your family? ‘Why is everyone so okay with being sexual here?‘ You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He gives her a confused look but you don’t address it. ‘Well, we don’t have many choices in partners,‘ you explain, ‘and since we are all friends, no one really cares who does who. Of course, people who are together are off-limits, but like with me and Pietro we do have casual sex but I’m not his only partner and he’s not my only partner.‘ ‘You have multiple partners?‘ ‘Not at the moment,‘ you tell him, ‘I was kind of starting to look for someone to settle down with but I was kind of coming to the conclusion that the one for me isn’t here. This is me.‘ They stop in front of your house. ‘So what’s next for you?‘ You shrug. ‘I don’t know. I might go work in the city for a while, see what’s there for me,‘ you smile slightly but your smile tells a million words. You don’t want to leave but you also don’t want to be on your own her whole life. You’re nearing the second half of your twenties and you’re still living at home because you hate to be alone. ‘How about you? Are you single?‘ ‘I am,‘ Bucky tries to suppress a smile, ‘never quite been in a relationship either.‘ Either the alcohol or this man’s presence pushes you straight into a flirty mood. He is quite handsome. You grin at him, pushing his chest playfully. ‘I’m sure you’re quite the ladies’ man. You’ve got the looks for it.‘ ‘Well, I used to be,‘ he smiles nostalgically, absentmindedly trying to cross his arms while having just one arm. He seems to catch himself in the act and tries to make it look like he was going to scratch his shoulder but you already noticed. ‘I get what you mean,‘ you say with a smile that’s just as pained as his, ‘took me a while to act like me again as well, but at least I win every game of hopscotch. Got enough practice when I didn’t have my prosthetic.‘ ‘And what would I excel at?‘ You stare at him for a second, biting your lip as you think. ‘Do you want me to be PG?‘ ‘Just go for it.‘ ‘Well, you do everything with one hand, so I’d say you’d be pretty great at pleasuring a woman.‘ ‘Okay, never mind, that’s it, that’s my limit,‘ he laughs, starting to move to walk away. You just give him this devious smile, this smile that could mean nothing good. ‘Sure, I’ll be here when you want to test my theory,‘ you wink at him. ‘Let me take you for dinner first doll,‘ he teases back. ‘Now you’ve gone too far,‘ you chuckle, ‘I take free food very seriously.‘ He laughs at your response, finally starting to walk away. ‘Good night Y/n.‘ ‘Night!‘

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Taglist:  @nickkie1129

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #winter soldier fic #winter solider x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x fem!reader #winter soldier x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst

[reachgirl]

Thoughts on 911 3x15 “Eddie Begins”

- Ok Bobby is in charge and making plans and it’s sexy AF? Like, good for Athena

- “Where’s mom?” - “She left” ............. actual audio recording of Tim breaking my heart and stomping on it

- I loved seeing the 118 at the station house just goofing around a bit in the beginning. We don’t get enough of that 💚And I can just repeat myself, I need them to go rent a cabin and all be a family together for real for a weekend where no one is dying or in danger of dying. 

- Wow wow Ana’s freaking beautiful. If Eddie and Ana do end up dating, that’s honestly not the end of the world. We’ve already seen Buck being jealous over Shannon and Eddie, so if we get Eddie starting to date at the exact time Buck figures out he’s interested in more? DRAMA THAT I AM HERE FOR.

- Wow Shannon and Eddie’s marriage.. by his own admission he ‘wasn’t ready to get married’ and I’m convinced now that they only got married because she got pregnant. That was NOT a healthy relationship for Shannon to be in and Eddie was too immature at that point to understand her side of things, like he was still trying to come to terms with the fact he was a father now and it happens this way all the time unfortunately, couples get married young, the guy starts resenting his wife for relying on him but at the same time using that as an excuse to not be around, breaking the relationship even further. She needed out of that, but she didn’t need to leave my poor baby Chris. They’re both flawed obviously but I love that this episode gave us more context to why she did what she did. 

- Eddie’s parents... wow. I love how he’s so stubborn, and I completely understood his desperation, but they really do love Christopher, and I felt so bad for both parties in that fight.

- Eddie not being sure if Christopher missed him when he was gone? Also being the moment I started to cry? More likely than you think.

- THE BUDDIE OF IT ALL - Eddie’s perspective So in 3b we got both Eddie AND Buck making a big deal out of how the 118 (and their little unit) is “home” - Eddie’s “the family we choose” while the actual song “home” is playing and Buck’s “not really a guest” AND THEN THIS EPISODE keeps talking about “bringing people home” and “coming back home” and we learn how important that concept is to Eddie. Chris, Buck, the 118, in that order, are now the home he is fighting to get back to. And it was beautiful. I completely lost it when Eddie remembers “You have a kid?” and then there’s a montage of his “home”, which of course is mainly Buck. 

- THE BUDDIE OF IT ALL - Buck’s perspective. Ohhhh boy. Buck is so far gone. First of all, we saw you just call them “brothers” and nothing more, Ryan, and then we get the parallel of Buck, her actual brother, being pretty calm and level-headed (OOC some might say?) about Maddie being in danger, but now completely broken and worried out of his mind over Eddie? Wow there was a lot to unpack in this episode. First, Buck highkey being turned on by Eddie’s silver star, but trying to protect him at the same time from having to talk about it and looking out for the kids once again (’Is that a story for fourth grade kids to hear?’), Buck wanting to go down after Eddie, and then that scene. THAT scene y’all. The combination of anger and fear and worry and love and the realization sinking in of what just happened and that it’s Eddie down there, and the need to at least DO SOMETHING, with his bare hands, because not doing anything would mean acknowledging that Eddie is most likely dead? That is how you write lovers in this situation. I don’t know what they are doing and I don’t know how they’re still going to tell us that they’re just friends and there is nothing there, but I will take this moment and never forget it because it was beautiful.

- The 118 knows. Hen: “So we’ll have two cut lines?” and all of them reassuring Buck that they are trying to do all they can? Chim’s eyes when Buck actually asks if they all think Eddie is dead. Bobby... Man, Bobby being so worried over his adopted son (who literally just saved him from danger seconds ago also) and you can just see his heart breaking for him in that scene where he’s holding him.

- I really, really hope that we get some moments for all of them to deal with the trauma of the past few weeks, like they thought Eddie had died. Buck thought Eddie was gone. Maddie was a hostage. Eddie having to go back and think about his past. Chim and Maddie. Poor baby Josh!!! I need all of them to go to therapy and on vacation together and just drink beers and flirt and be okay and talk. 

- With Abby coming back and Buck, the hopeless romantic of the 118, once again being connected to a storyline that talks about reuniting an old fire captain with his long lost love? Oliver being excited for us to see that episode? After what we got in this episode? I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what to expect, but it’s going to talk about Buck’s sense of self worth and his relationships and if we get no Buddie or at least clearing the slate for Buck to realize his feelings, or Bi!Buck confirmation out of it, I will riot.

- I missed Josh

#Buddie #Eddie Begins #911 Spoilers #911 3x15 #9-1-1 #911 on fox #911 fox #Eddie Diaz #Shannon Diaz #Christopher Diaz #Evan Buckley #Bobby Nash #Abby Clark #Josh Russo

[matan4il]

Hi!!! How are you? I keep sending you all my positive energy!! Congratulations on your meta, I love it!!! I would like to know your opinion, do you think the rest of the team imagines or believes that there is something between them, or that there are feelings? I mean, they have a very, very close relationship. You may have already answered it, if so, excuse me!!! Thank you very much and happy week!! I send you kisses and hugs!!

Hi lovely, how are YOU? *hugs* Thank you so much for the positive energy and lovely words! I'm so happy you liked the 508 meta and thankful that you always grace me with your kindness!

Oh wow, that's such a big question. I believe I did answer it, but def not since the start of s5, which means there's new data to add in. I think it's hard to imagine that someone as observant as Hen who figured Bathena out immediately in 201 would be in the dark about Buddie, or that Maddie who knows her brother so well and commented on his crush on Eddie right away in ep 204 wouldn't at least suspect something, but this season, I have to throw in that specific way that Bobby told Buck about their new partnerships, which I addressed in my 505 meta and in this ask + gifset. I know that we had a lot of gifsets showing Bobby closely watching Buddie, but I always figured that as much as that could be a hint that Bobby knows, it could also be just Peter Krause being a very attentive scene partner, and Buddie fans with our specific sensitivity to all things Buddie, we notice it in the context we're most tuned into. But the way he told Buck about their pairing off was NOT how a captain would normally announce it, so I think he might know.

Or even if he and the rest of them don't know explicitly, I'm sure they're all very well aware that the friendship between Buck and Eddie is way deeper than the other ones people on this team have, which are all very deep and meaningful friendships as is! So some might know and some might feel it without actually having put words to it. And I don't think any of them will be really surprised if and when Buddie get together...

Thank you for this ask and I hope you're having an amazing day, hon! Sending lots of hugs and kisses right back! xoxox

To anyone else who sent me an ask, I am going through all of them, thank you so much for your patience! If you wanna check whether I've replied to yours yet, you can have a look at my ask tag. xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #ask #anghy11850 #fandom love #kindness #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[briinstardust]

1/2 Maddie keeping the secret from buck wont have been easy at all for maddie to do, she in an impossible position, probably worrying whether it was the right thing, if its crueler tell him and or to keep it. But she wouldnt keep buck from knowing/meeting the person the secret involve so ie if adopted they're died when he was a baby, she wouldn't keep a living person from him) Only wanting to protect buck but as bucks sister she shouldnt have been put in that position, telling or

2/2 keeping that secret should only be the responsibility of their parents. It does sound seem like maddie tells chimn with the line "Its not you I'm trying to protect" and chimn struggling to keep all the secrets when they arrive. But I dont think maddie even if she tells chimn she will have told him lightly or even on purpose, she probably needed a new perspective from someone who knows buck but isnt involved.

You have made several points and let’s talk about them!

So yes, Maddie is in an impossible situation, but I would also like to make it a point that whatever the secret is has to do with their childhood. soooo Maddie was a child too whenever this was going on. Whatever she knows she’s held onto for this long, don’t care if you wanna argue she was a teenager, she was older, whatever. she was a minor, whatever happened to them, they were both children and Maddie should not be responsible for handling whatever this is we’re talking about.

Now I will say that I’ve been on the fence about the whole adoption thing, I don’t think that’s it anymore... I mean it could be I suppose. I suppose we could still be dealing with a situation where maybe something happened to “real” parents, and they’ve been adopted, one or both of them. and maybe that is what we’re looking at. I’ve personally been leaning more towards maybe another sibling. I’m not completely sure, to be honest, there is plenty of merit with both of these theories.  but like these are all just theories at the end of it you know. we still gotta wait 2 more weeks to find out for sure and it’s killing me!!!!!

Maddie is seen saying she’s trying to protect someone. we don’t know for a fact it’s Buck, but I think most of us have made an inference that it’s Buck. But I’d like to just make it clear that Maddie doesn’t say it’s Buck she’s trying to protect.

But We know that Maddie has done nothing but protect and care for her brother since we’ve been introduced to her character, and we know that even before when they were younger, we’re given plenty of context clues to make, at least me, feel comfortable saying that Maddie’s always put her brother’s care and well being above any trivial thing and that she would do anything within her power to protect him.

now. Maddie should have never been put in a situation where she was meant to be telling or keeping secrets. you said it Nonnie and you are correct! whatever the secret is, is not Maddie’s responsibility. It is the responsibility of their parents. We need to be looking at and asking why the fuck their parents aren’t telling Buck whatever it is, and asking ourselves what could be so serious that Maddie feels like she needs to take it upon herself right now, to tell Buck whatever it is, when she should not be having to deal with whatever this, but bc their parents are choosing not to, so Maddie is taking responsibility and taking it upon herself when it really should not be something she has to do.

so like idk what to think about the Chim stuff. part of me thinks okay she could have told him. part of me thinks that maybe the secret isn’t even about Buck and that we’re maybe taking the Chim part of it out of context. like the “protecting” thing might not have anything to do with Buck. we have not enough context, or any context really for these lines. so I can’t even really speculate on this part of it if we’re gonna try to apply it to the childhood secret bc we don’t have the context to do so properly. and yeah it’s all speculation at the end of the day but like this is getting sticky.

#Bri screams #911 spoilers #9-1-1 speculations #anon #The Evan Buckley Saga continues #The Buckley Siblings Saga continues #some of y'all really out here acting like Maddie is a bad person/sister for keeping a secret from Buck #she was a child herself so stfu #this is not her responsibility she's doing the right thing #we accept no Maddie Buckley slander here

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #4: Radio

Based on the prompt originally from @writing-prompt-s, “You’re taking a road trip in a 5 seater car. Each seat is filled with you, but at various points in your life. One of you strikes up a conversation.”

***

I’m in the driver’s seat, with myself at forty on the passenger side, window down of course, just like I’d do if I wasn’t driving. My selves at ten and twenty are sitting in the bucket seats in the middle row of the minivan, with Ten behind Forty and Twenty behind me, and Thirty is in the back, lying sprawled across the entire seat. My Pandora feed is playing through the radio, and right now, it’s Area 27’s “Driving With The Future Self”, which is apropos, though technically, I am the only one who’s not.

“I hate vans,” Twenty complains. “I can’t put down the window. Why do you even have one?”

“Four kids,” Forty says, and Twenty is taken aback. Ten, however, seems impressed.

“Do you have a lot of cats?” she asks.

“Too many,” Thirty complains from the back seat, so apparently she hasn’t fallen asleep.

“I’ve got small windows open in the back, or I could open my window all the way, and the air would get back to you,” I tell Twenty.

“Roll down your window, it’s better than nothing. Ugh. Why are you driving a car that has windows you can’t open?”

“I’m pretty sure Forty answered that,” I said.

“What, don’t they make vans where the side windows open?”

“Pretty much no. I could maybe have gotten an SUV—”

“AKA, a death trap on wheels—” Thirty calls from the back.

“But as you can see, I don’t want to.”

“What’s an SUV?” Ten asks, young enough that it doesn’t bother her to demonstrate ignorance. I happen to know Twenty doesn’t know what they are either.

“Sports Utility Vehicle. They range from ‘pickup truck, except with a roof and back seats’ to ‘I took this regular car and pasted it onto the wheels of this ice cream truck,’” I say, rolling down my window. “Is that any better?”

“Yeah, but now it’s hard to hear.”

“You and Ten have the best hearing, so you’re just gonna have to tough it out,” I say. “Better miss some words than feel nauseous, right?”

“This is great,” Ten says. “I finally found an adult who will take my issues seriously. Too bad it’s my own older self.”

“It could be worse,” Twenty says. “You could find out that your older self doesn’t care about your issues, which I am not sure is not going on.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake, Twenty, I have a minivan because it moves large families and drywall for construction projects and a million boxes of books when I am moving, or storing extra books, and unfortunately they don’t have them where the gas mileage is pretty good, the reliability record is excellent, and the windows go down. Cheap, fast, good, pick two. I picked gas and reliability.”

“I’m glad you picked gas,” Ten says. “And that you have the windows down instead of the air conditioning. We have to save energy.”

“Does anyone even care about that anymore?” Thirty complains.

“I thought I’d ride a bicycle,” Twenty says. “Not contribute to pollution and wasting gas.”

“I want you to think back to the time we rode a bicycle three miles to our friend’s horse barn, and then maybe you will have the answer for why no bicycles,” Thirty says.

“Actually, it’s because I broke my tailbone having kids, and I can’t sit on the damn things,” Forty says.

“Actually, it’s because of all those things, plus cities aren’t great places for bikes, plus hard to tow young children, plus now I’m old and my knees are shot,” I say. “I could probably come up with half a dozen other reasons.”

“Do you at least have a short commute? Please tell me you have a short commute,” Thirty, who suffered a severe depressive episode that was at least in part caused by a 5 hour daily commute, says.

“I work from home.”

Thirty is now sitting up. She cheers. “Yes!”

“How does that work?” Twenty asks, puzzled. “Wouldn’t you have to go into the lab?”

Oh, wow. I’d forgotten. Twenty still thinks she’s going to graduate college and go to grad school and become a scientist. Forty says, delicately, “We do IT now, actually.”

“What’s IT?” Ten asks. “Aside from the villain in A Wrinkle In Time.”

“Information Technology. We work with computers.”

“We’re programmers?” Twenty asks, dismayed.

This is why I never made the big bucks in IT. “No. More like… oh, hell, it won’t make any sense to you. You don’t even have the Internet yet.”

“The College of Engineering has it,” Twenty says, “but I don’t think the College of Arts and Sciences can get it. Why is it useful and what do we do with it?”

I’m taking this – even Forty’s not quite far enough along to fully understand. Things change fast. “You remember Phenoma Jones’ Phenomenally Weird Phenomenon?”

“I just made that up,” Ten says. “Just, like, a month ago or something.”

“Yeah, of course I remember it if you do,” Twenty says.

This is not entirely accurate. Thirty doesn’t remember the shelf of dolls we had in our bedroom as a child, or more accurately, Thirty doesn’t think about it. Forty just found a picture of it and it reminded her so hard and made her so nostalgic she paid a lot of money to get hold of “new” used versions of all our old dolls, plus a lot of random extras. She still thinks she’s gonna make money selling the random extras. I’d forgotten the Silver Kitten until my brother brought it up a year ago – a story I told about a silver statue that was a stylized number 8 with cat ears and a simple cat face on top, which was somehow alive and powerful. I don’t remember the details. Ten probably does, but I don’t want to derail the conversation by asking her, because she will tell me, at great length, and I can’t bear to hurt myself by interrupting her and making her stop infodumping the way I remember everyone else doing. At my age I know why they did it, but the memory still hurts. So Forty doesn’t remember it and probably not Thirty either.

“Okay, so you know how in those playings, in the future, there’ll be a network connecting all the computers and there’s shows on it and you pay a little bit of money for each show?”

“Yeah,” Ten says.

“That’s real. That’s happening.”

Her eyes go wide. “I predicted the future?”

“You’re not psychic, you just read the right science fiction. And you didn’t get it perfect. Instead of microtransactions to buy a show, we usually subscribe to a service that gives us shows we want.”

“Like cable,” Twenty says.

“Yes, but it doesn’t suck. Instead of thirty million channels and half of them are sports, it’s like a library of videotapes on your computer and you can watch any of them anytime you want.”

“Can you make your own?” Ten, who is very interested in making videotapes, says, and tears prick my eyes. Because yes, Ten, yes, people all over the world make their own and they put them on Youtube, but it’ll come too late for you. You’ll be thirty-five with a tiny baby and a lot of insecurity about your looks and no time to record yourself, and by the time you have the time you’re even older and there’s so many other things you need to do with your time, because it’s running out.

“I think so,” Forty says. “Right, Fifty?”

“Yeah. Our kids have done some of them. We really don’t, though.”

“Oh,” Ten says, disappointed. “Why not?”

I’m not going to tell her because of insecurity about how we look. She’ll understand that well enough but think we just need to push past it, like she does. But Twenty finally likes her appearance, and Thirty doesn’t think she’s too bad looking, and I don’t want to tell them that someday they’re going to see themselves in the mirror and think they look like a short, squat troll or something. And Ten won’t understand what it does to you to finally think you’re beautiful, after suffering with thinking you’re ugly your entire childhood, and then losing it.

“We have other stuff we do,” I say vaguely. “Like learning German.”

“That’s great, but it doesn’t answer my question about what we do for a job. Do we do something with these shows?”

“No. Not the shows. But people put their files up on the Internet as well, and they send emails – messages through the computer—”

“I am smart enough to figure that out from context,” Twenty says disapprovingly. I’ve forgotten what an arrogant twit she could be sometimes. Well, to be honest, I didn’t forget because I never knew. When I was her age, I thought my behavior was fine.

“Right. Subscription services exist for that too. We help people get onto those services, move over any emails or files they had on a different service, and fix their problems.”

Forty is dismayed. “Really? That sounds horrible. Is that tech support? Don’t we get to do anything with data?”

“Sometimes,” I shrug, lying.

If I thought telling them all about everything would change anything for me, I would. But I don’t know how we all get out of this car without me being the only one who remembers any of it, because I don’t remember ever being in a car with my future selves. Either they’re from alternate universes or nothing I say can change their fates, because they won’t remember.

“Are we at least published?” Ten asks. “Tell me we’re published.”

“We have a few short stories published in some anthologies and magazines.”

Twenty is horrified. “Only that? After I’ve written all these stories?”

“The problem is that you suck and nothing you wrote is publishable as-is,” Forty says.

“What do you mean, I suck?”

“Twenty,” I say, because I’ve learned some diplomacy in the past ten years, “everything you’re writing goes into making us the writer we become. Thirty’s pretty damn good. And regardless of whether you ‘suck’ or not, I have a project going on where I’m publishing your stuff online. But it’s for free, on my—” I stop. She won’t know the word “blog”, or even “web page.” “—online journal. I’m editing things to bring them up to my current standard, but if you weren’t writing so much right now, I wouldn’t have anything to draw from.”

“Why aren’t we making money publishing books?” Ten demands.

Forty says, “Because fanfic. When you’re sixteen you’ll start writing stories about Battle of the Planets, and you’ll know you can’t publish them, but you’ll do it anyway. Then you’ll discover a place where there are other fans of the show and its original Japanese version.”

“Writing stories about shows where you can’t publish it in a magazine or a book and you can’t make money is called fan fiction,” Thirty says. “Or fanfic for short.”

“Fanfic’s great, but I’m still writing original stuff,” Twenty says.

“You’ll stop,” Thirty says. “You get instant feedback from writing fanfic – we can put it on the internet, we don’t need to worry about xeroxing two dozen copies anymore and waiting six months to hear anything from anyone. And the instant feedback’s addictive. I thought I’d be able to overcome it and write some books, but apparently, according to these guys, no.”

“I’m doing the 52 Project now,” I tell Forty, since she’s the only one who knows what I’m talking about.

“Now? Like… not eight years ago?”

“Now,” I say. “We needed a fire to light under our asses and we finally got one.” I won’t tell her what it was.

“What’s the 52 Project?” Ten asks.

“52 stories, one a week, every week, for a whole year. That’s where your stories are going, Twenty. And some of your ideas, Ten. I’ve lost everything you ever actually wrote, but it’s ok – you’re going to find a style that doesn’t sound like Mom next year, and a little while after that, I have everything you’ll write. Also, I wrote a kids’ book based on Superkitty.”

“Wow!” Ten says. “But how can you have Underdog in it? Wouldn’t that be fanfic?”

“I changed a lot of things,” I admit. “In my story, Superkitty’s ten. She doesn’t have a hundred family members, just Lara Kitty and a little brother. She’s not working as a slave of the dogs, she lives in Kookalariland, but her family are refugees because the dogs really did take over her home country. And the Underdog character is named Arthur Boy.”

Underdog’s secret identity was Shoeshine Boy. “I see what you did there,” Forty says, grinning. “I assume this isn’t published yet.”

“No. I finished it this year but it’s the first children’s book we’ve ever done – young adult novels, sure, but this is a chapter book for second graders, so I need someone who’s willing to look it over and tell me if it’s good before I send it to an agent.”

“So why are you doing everything now?” Thirty asks. “Did fanfic stop being fun, or did we manage to wean ourselves off it, and if so, how?”

“That rhymed,” Ten tells us all. No one tells Ten that that was not important information because all of us remember being what it was like to be Ten.

“Stuff has happened,” I say. “You know, no one lives forever, and I’m fifty. I need to think about the fact that there’s more time behind me than ahead of me, and I don’t want to disappoint all of you. Maybe if it was just me, I could just go writing fanfic until the end of time, but I know what you all wanted and I don’t want to let you down.”

Thirty says, slowly, “Fifty? Why isn’t there a Sixty in the car with us?”

I almost think I can see a Sixty. She fades in and out in the back seat. Might be my imagination, all the rest of them are as real as anything. “I can guess why, but for obvious reasons, I don’t actually know.”

“Is it diabetes.” Forty says that like it’s not a question.

“Yeah, but also other stuff.” I make a decision. Forty is past the point where any of our children were born; nothing she does can change my timeline enough to make my kids disappear. Either she won’t remember, or nothing will change for me but she can change her own timeline… or maybe she can fix things. The last decade was when everything went to hell. “High blood pressure. Took us a while to get the right medication for that. Then diabetes. Then breast cancer.”

No one in the car says anything until Forty bursts out, “That’s not fair! We don’t even have a family history of cancer—”

“Mom’s going to die of it,” I tell Forty.

“Mom dies?” Ten is appalled. She knew, of course, that people die, but hearing it as a thing that actually happened to Mom is freaking her out. I guess she thought Mom would live a ridiculously long time.

“Lung or breast?” Forty asks me in the harsh monotone I use when all of my effort is going into not showing my emotions. She really doesn’t have to; we all know the trick – maybe Ten’s not self-aware enough to know, but the rest of us do – and we know we have emotions. But I also know I’d do the same thing.

“Brain, in the end. It started in the lung.”

“That doesn’t mean we have a family history of cancer, then. She smoked.”

“Then what’s the point?” Ten screams, tears welling up in her eyes. “I tried and tried and tried to get her to quit! She didn’t quit? After all the times I told her about how bad it was for her?”

“That’s not how addiction works,” I say. “Addicts know what’s bad for them but they can’t stop craving it, and that overrides your willpower. Besides, she did quit. Thirty, has she quit yet?”

“Just did, but… I agree with Ten. What’s the point if she’s gonna die of cancer anyway?” I can’t see her, all the way in the back, but I hear it in her voice. Her eyes are going to be wet and she’s struggling as hard as she can not to cry.

“We don’t know. Maybe that gave her more time. Maybe it wasn’t the smoking at all – she was taking medications for issues with diabetes that they say could cause cancer.”

“When?” Forty asks.

“2015. In 2013 around December they’re going to see something on the X-ray of her lung, but they’ll think it’s scar tissue from smoking. In 2014 they’ll find out it’s cancer, but it’ll be too late by then. She’ll die a year later.”

“No, she won’t,” Forty says. “I’m going to stop it. I’m going to tell her – I dunno. Tell her I dreamed about Grandma telling me I have to warn her about that scar and she needs to get more tests.”

“Yeah, she’ll buy that,” Thirty agrees.

“I hope you can,” I say, “but… I don’t remember ever having ridden in a car with the rest of you, so I don’t know if you can.”

“Maybe this is the start of the paradox cycle,” Thirty says. “Then on the next iteration everything will be different.”

“How did we even get in this car, anyway?” Twenty asks. “And where are we going?”

“More important,” Forty says. “When did you get cancer and how serious is it? Is it related to diabetes? When did you get that?”

“2017 for the diabetes but honestly, probably right after Mom died, because we were too fucked up to go to a doctor and we pretended nothing was happening. And then we did the same goddamn thing about a lump in our breast in 2016 because they said they couldn’t see anything but we should go for more tests, but we lost the paperwork so we didn’t. In 2017 the lump started hurting, so we did go for the tests, and it was cancer. I lost the breast. This is a fake.” I thump my chest. “They say they think they got it all, but there isn’t any test you can undergo yet to find out if the damn thing has popped up somewhere else. The other breast’s clean. They’re giving me drugs that kill my sex drive and are going to ruin my marriage eventually, most likely, because the cancer responds to female hormones.”

I think Ten might be grossed out or upset by talking about sex drive, but I’ve forgotten. Ten can treat the subject of sex as if it’s a clinical matter of interest. She’s the one who tried to explain the birds and the bees to my uncle when she was five. Well, I guess all of us are.

Thirty mutters, “I might get more done that way…”

“You won’t,” I say.

“You’re actually publishing stuff that isn’t fanfic now, are you sure?”

“I’m going to change it,” Forty says. “I’m going to change all of it. I’ll warn Mom. I’ll fix our eating habits now so we don’t get diabetes until later. I won’t let the breast thing go. I’ll change everything. None of the rest of you change anything; if you try to alter the timeline you might erase our kids. But I can do it. I can start the writing earlier, too.”

There’s so much she could theoretically change that she really can’t. I can’t warn her about Donald Trump; she won’t have any power to do anything about it, any more than she did in 2015 and 2016. Same with COVID – she has no power to change that. I could tell her about the issues with the marriage but if I did, I risk Thirty deciding to break up with her boyfriend, who is my future husband and the father of my children. There’s one thing I can say, though. “If you can actually change anything… you’re gonna get the other house. Make sure Dad puts it in your name. Mom and Dad will have issues with some of our pets and it’ll be really upsetting when the house is a mess and they come to visit and complain about the house all day because it’s their house.”

“…How does Dad end up getting involved with the house?” Forty asks.

“Too complicated to explain,” I say, “and not an issue you need to force to exist.” Forty just attempted to get that house – the other half of our duplex – and failed because the underwriters for FHA loans refused to believe she was buying it to live in it rather than rent it out, and she didn’t have enough money to buy it the other way. It’ll work out better the way it actually happened, because Dad got it for a lot less money than Forty would have been able to buy it for, but she needs to not have the specter of how we are treating “their” house hanging over every interaction with Mom and Dad until Mom is dead. Especially if she can do something about Mom dying.

“Is there anything I need to watch out for?” Thirty asks Forty, or maybe me, or both of us.

“Nothing we can tell you. You’re going to have kids. Anything, however small, that you change could affect the timing of that and make you end up with completely different kids.”

Thirty considers that, and then nods. “Okay, good point.”

“Is everything really going to be terrible?” Ten asks. “It sounds like all the awful stuff happens between Forty and Fifty, and then we don’t even know, but… isn’t there anything good?”

“We’re not going to be what we thought we would be,” I say. “We’re not going to change the world. We’re not going to be the Uber-Feminist and whip our man into doing everything we say.” Ten is the only person here who even thought there was a chance of that one, really. “We’re not going to be published novel writers by this time. But we’ll have written four million words, most of it fanfic, most of it good, and we’ll actually enjoy reading it over, and it will always be a huge thrill to hear from someone who liked it. We’ll make many friends, over time, and there will be times when there aren’t any, but there will be times when there are a lot. We’ll make a huge difference in the lives of at least three children who aren’t biologically ours. We’ll learn a lot about ourselves and why we are the way we are and we’ll finally feel like we belong to the human race and there are others like us out there. And we’re also going to publish fifty-two stories in fifty-two weeks.”

“Well, I mean, we don’t know that,” Thirty says. “Unless you’re done.”

“Nope. Halfway through, though. And we’ll learn a lot about how to write short stories that way, and I’m sure that next year we can use that to write new ones that we can publish. It’s not over yet, girls.”

“But maybe you don’t have very much time,” Thirty says. “Because Sixty’s not here.”

“That’s why we’re in this car,” I say. I didn’t know what I was going to say until I said it, but now that I’m saying it, I feel with all my heart that it’s true. “We’re going to look for her. And if we find her, we’ll look for Seventy. Eighty I’m pretty sure is not happening, but what the hell, we’ll look for her too.”

Jig of Life by Kate Bush is playing on the radio. “This moment in time, she said, it doesn’t belong to you, she said. It belongs to me, and to your little boy and to your little girl and the one hand clapping, where on your palm is my little line, when you’re written in mine as an old memory…”

All of us stop to listen to the song. Ten doesn’t know it, but she likes it. She hasn’t seriously discovered her own tastes in music yet, and that song hasn’t yet been written. Twenty and the rest of them all know it, but only I know what it means.

The four of us who know the song sing along with it, and I start crying, but I keep singing anyway.

#inktober 2020 #roman a clef #alara's october 2020 prompt fics #writing-prompt-s

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, March 22

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson -- his journey from thief to superstar

Page 2: These stars wheely like to bike -- Hugh Jackman, Eva Longoria, Matthew McConaughey, Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn, Russell Crowe, Arnold Schwarzenegger

Page 3: Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez, Al Roker, Pierce Brosnan and Keely Shaye Smith, Matt Damon, Justin Theroux, Ethan Hawke

Page 4: Jennifer Aniston's roles and costumes

Page 6: Susan Sarandon is 74 and single now and she admits she likes to date younger men because they have more inquisitive minds than older guys

Page 7: Golden Age of Glamour -- the shocking beauty tips, tricks and secrets of Hollywood's most stunning stars -- Mae West, Marilyn Monroe, Rita Hayworth, Sophia Loren, Elizabeth Taylor, Joan Crawford

Page 8: Listen to Granny -- older media influencers are getting into the act on social media, with women in their 80s and 90s earning huge followings and lots of money on Instagram -- while some are all about their head-turning styles, others go with decorating or fitness to create their granfulencer brands

Page 9: Go ahead and binge that new TV show because it's good for your mental health -- new research shows the lack of social connection we're all feeling now because of COVID-19 restrictions can be filled, at least to some degree, by watching TV, reading books and listening to music

Page 10: Lucia DeClerck has some advice for living a long life, and she knows what she's talking about because she's 105 years old -- not only did Lucia live through the 1918 Spanish Flu, she's the oldest person in her nursing home and she just beat COVID-19 -- how does she do it? Gin-soaked golden raisins

Page 11: 8 ways to prevent back pain

Page 12: Stars Still Strong and Sexy As They Hit Milestone Notorious 90 -- Marla Gibbs, Gavin MacLeod, Angie Dickinson, Barbara Eden

Page 13: William Shatner, Olympia Dukakis, Dan Rather, Rita Moreno, Willie Mays, James Earl Jones

Page 14: Dear Tony, America's Top Psychic Healer -- all marriages need care and attention to flourish

Page 15: There are nicer, more medically accurate ways to describe it, but "dead butt syndrome" says it all, that feeling of numbness or achiness from sitting too long -- it is no joke to the many people who experience the discomfort of DBS, otherwise known as lower cross syndrome, gluteal amnesia, or gluteus medius tendinosis -- people who sit at their desk all day for work are particularly prone to this syndrome, where muscle tightness in the hip flexors and weakness in the gluteus medius muscles in the buttock combine to create hip and lower-back pain, leading to numbness -- luckily there are simple remedies you can try to alleviate symptoms and even reverse the syndrome

Page 16: Princess Diana: little girl lost -- Diana's brother Charles Spencer reveals truth about heartbreaking childhood

Page 18: There are about 100 prepaid food receipts fluttering on the wall of Ruma's Deli in Missouri and if you're hungry and your pockets are empty, you can grab one, bring it to the counter and get a free meal, no strings attached

Page 19: Pixel the cat is so creepy-looking even a professional exorcist crossed himself and ran -- Alyson Kalhagen's cat has giant googly eyes, a Halloween pumpkin smile and oversized bat ears and he's also fond of making funny faces but the two-year-old has racked up a fan base online, where more than 12,000 followers find Pixel's peculiarities precious

Page 20: Cover Story -- Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is huge in every way -- the muscle-bound ex-wrestler has starred in dozens of blockbuster films, has tons of projects in the works, millions of bucks and a brand new show about his childhood but he hasn't always been on top of the game -- the dynamo has gone through so many tough times and bad decisions they would sink a lesser man but he's an open book about all of them and how he fought to get to the top every step of the way

Page 22: After a long break to raise her children, Michelle Pfeiffer is on the silver screen again and looking better than ever -- the 62-year-old is in a new film called French Exit, in which she plays a tragic widow who packs up and moves to Paris with her son -- the actress says to return and thrive in an industry formerly known as being obsessed with youth is a gift -- although her husband David E. Kelley has been behind dozens of hits like The Undoing and Big Little Lies, Michelle doesn't want to work with him because she's seen a lot of couples where they seem to have a great marriage, and then they work together and next year they're filing for divorce -- next up, Michelle will play Betty Ford in the upcoming series The First Lady

Page 24: A Texas grocery delivery driver got more than just shelter from the storm when her car became stuck in a customer's driveway -- the people who lived there took her in for five days and made her feel like part of the family

Page 26: Deep Focus -- stunning underwater pix from an unseen world

Page 32: Pet Projects -- family portraits get everyone into the picture -- photographer Tasha Hall creates "farmaly" photos, which include each and every one of the household where they've got two feet, four feet, paws, claws, hooves or wings

Page 34: While everyone loves a comfortable, cozy mattress, having a really good becomes more important with age because a bad one may leave you with aches, pains and posture imbalances but the problem is that these specialty mattresses are very expensive -- fortunately, Medicare may cover up to 80 percent of the cost if you go about this purchase the right way and you'll then be responsible for the remaining 20 percent, as well as any deductible

Page 40: Psychic Self-Defense -- many people are born with a psyche that is naturally sensitive -- there has been a modern-day rise in occultism and practicing psychics and the way of the world at this time had made many more people seek help -- this has produced a far greater awareness of the need to protect and defend ourselves when working in a magical or psychic context -- we are all constantly being bombarded with psychic vibrations, not all of them good

Page 42: 20 Things You Never Knew About Tiger Woods

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Jenny McCarthy is in high spirits as she preps to tape a new episode of The Masked Singer in L.A. (picture), Goldie Hawn works out in L.A. (picture), Jane Fonda has given up on getting hitched -- she has three failed marriages and being single means she can watch whatever she wants on TV, Kelly Clarkson admits that since her marriage soured she no longer considers marriage a fairy-tale thing and she can't imagine being married again, Charlize Theron admits she hasn't made the grade when it comes to homeschooling her kids Jackson and August, Patrick Schwarzenegger is looking to follow in the footsteps of his dad Arnold Schwarzenegger but says his dad hasn't offered any pointers when it comes to a career in showbiz, Bindi Irwin is close to welcoming her little wildlife warrior with husband Chandler Powell and her 17-year-old brother Robert Irwin has some opinions about his sister's ever-expanding figure saying she's massive

Page 45: Duchess Kate and Prince William hold video calls with folks shielding at home during the pandemic to discuss the positive impact of the COVID-19 vaccine (picture), Chrissy Teigen goes shopping with daughter Luna (picture), Mary-Kate Olsen finalized her divorce from French banker Olivier Sarkozy and she was spotted in NYC having dinner with businessman John Cooper, Gordon Ramsay is steamed after being diagnosed with arthritis, Jessie J has a new boyfriend with dancer and choreographer Max Pham Nguyen, Alec and Hilaria Baldwin dropped a bombshell -- they've welcomed their sixth child via surrogate

Page 46: We all get a bit snippy at times, but if you tend to fly into a rage, it's not good for your health or friendships -- here are some simple anger-management techniques you can do any time

Page 47: Curious Earthlings have always been hungry for movies about the moon and its mysteries -- Cat-Women of the Moon, A Trip to the Moon, The Right Stuff, First Man, Gravity, Apollo 13, Hidden Figures

#the rock #tabloid #tabloid toc #tabloidtoc #dwayne johnson #dwayne johnson #dwaynetherockjohnson #jennifer aniston #susan sarandon #dead butt syndrome #princess diana #charles spencer #michelle pfeiffer #tiger woods #jenny mccarthy #goldie hawn #duchess kate #prince william #chrissy teigen #jane fonda #kelly clarkson #charlize theron #patrick schwarzenegger #arnold schwarzenegger #bindi irwin #robert irwin #mary kate olsen #mary-kate olsen #gordon ramsay