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#leave me alone
nymika-arts · 12 minutes ago
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hands stained red
4x13 speculation, 1.2k
ao3 link
He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head. The gunshot that split the air. The hands on him, shoving him to the ground. The sickening sound that Eddie made as he dropped, bullet in his chest. The way that time slowed down as Buck dragged himself over to his bleeding friend, limbs heavy, feeling as if he was moving through molasses. Ignoring all the shouts telling him to stop, stay behind the truck, stay out of the line of fire. It was too slow. 
And then it was too fast. Blood running freely from the wound, Buck’s hands stained red, not enough to dam the flow. Eddie staring up at him, eyes unfocused, until he blinked them closed. Buck begging him to stay awake, to stay with him please, for just a moment longer. The paramedics finally rushing in, pulling him away, loading Eddie onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. And then he was gone. 
All Buck could do was stare after it. He hardly noticed the paramedic steering him towards the curb, patching up the cut on his head, the scrapes on his arms. 
All he could do was stare at his hands. He hardly noticed the towel that was passed to him to wipe off the blood. Eddie’s blood.
All he could do was sit there, uselessly.
Someone took the towel from him after a few moments. Or maybe it was longer. He wasn’t sure if he’d even used it, but it was covered in red, so he must have. It had taken away the worst of it, but there was blood still caked under his nails, still trapped in the lines on his palms, still burned into his memory. His hands still felt heavy with it. 
Buck drew in a shaky breath and turned his attention to the street. Everything around him seemed muffled, like he was trapped underwater. He couldn't get his head on straight.
He wished none of this had happened. He wished he could go back in time, turn the clocks back to that morning when everything was okay, when Eddie was sitting next to him, sipping on coffee and talking about… god, what had they been talking about? Everything. Nothing. The tv show they were watching, the school project Chris was working on, the last few calls they’d been on. The fact that Eddie had ended things with his girlfriend.
That one stuck out. Eddie had broken up with Ana, and that was something big. Buck couldn't pinpoint why exactly, but he felt like it meant something. It felt like something was about to change. Until– 
The crack of a gunshot. Eddie hitting the ground. The blood pooling beneath him. Buck’s hands stained red.
He couldn’t escape it. He needed to talk to someone, he needed to find out what was happening, find out if there was some way he could help. He needed to move, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. He needed…
He needed Eddie. 
He needed to see him, to touch him, to know without a doubt that he was still alive. Buck wanted to hear his laugh, to see that fond smile that was somehow reserved only for him. What he wouldn’t give to be sitting on the couch in the Diaz house, eating terrible pizza and watching tv with his favourite people, far away from this mess.
Buck didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Eddie in his life, but he’d grown used to that warmth and he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t know what he would do without it.
The thought occurred to him that he’d never told Eddie any of this. Maybe he’d shown it, through all of those grand gestures, and all of those little moments. Through the comfortable smiles and lingering touches, and the way he’d made himself a home inside theirs. But he’d never said any of it out loud.
Buck had never told him what he really meant to him. How incredibly irreplaceable he was. 
And the thought that came louder than the rest: maybe he would never get the chance.
It was stupid, he knew that Eddie was going to pull through, the paramedics had told him as much before they’d taken him away. It didn’t stop that one thought from curling itself around his windpipe and tightening until he couldn’t breathe. Eddie would be okay, but he almost wasn’t. 
A gunshot. Blood seeping through his fingers. Buck’s hands stained red. 
Buck shoved a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe. But that was somehow worse. Without the distraction of the outside world all he could see was Eddie bleeding on the ground, too far away. All he could see was his hands stained red with his blood. So he looked up again, into the chaos that had unfolded since that first shot, and tried not to throw up.
“Buck!” His head shot up at the sound of his captain’s voice, and suddenly everything started again. The noise, the lights, the movement; it all came rushing in again. It was almost overwhelming. 
He hadn’t realized that his team had been called in, though it wasn’t surprising. Buck didn’t say anything as he watched Bobby approach and stop short in front of him. He looked worried. Or angry. Or tired. Or maybe he looked scared. Maybe he was all of those things at once.
“Buck, are you…” Bobby trailed off, his eyes bouncing from the blood on Buck’s face, to the blood on his shirt, to the blood left on his hands.
“I’m okay,” Buck said, and he wondered if it sounded as hollow as he felt.
“You could have been killed,” Bobby said. There was a hard edge to his tone that made Buck look away. “Look at me.”
“Bobby let’s not do this–”
“No, Buck what the hell were you thinking? Putting yourself right in harm’s way like that when there’s a shooter–” 
“I was thinking,” Buck snapped, “That my best friend was bleeding out in the street and I wasn’t just gonna leave him here to die! That’s what I was thinking!” He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and the image of Eddie hitting the ground played over and over and over again in his mind. 
“The paramedics–” 
“They wouldn’t have gotten there in time. They weren’t allowed, not with a gunman targeting them. You know that.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked down at his hands again. 
Buck knew that he was just as much a target as the rest of them, but he didn’t say that. He knew the risks and he made his choice. He wanted Bobby to understand. If he’d waited it would have been too late. And he was about to let Eddie lie there, alone, and hurt; not when he was barely ten feet away. 
“Buck, hey, I’m sorry,” Bobby said, his tone immediately softer. “He’s gonna be okay.” 
Buck just nodded. Gunshot. Eddie falls. Buck’s hands stained red. 
“He’s gonna be okay,” Bobby said more forcefully, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. 
“I know, I–” Buck pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, fighting against the tears burning under his eyelids, begging for everything to just stop for a moment so he could breathe. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped him. 
Bobby sat down next to him and pulled Buck into his arms as another clawed its way out of his throat, and the tears finally fell.
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maybeitdontmakesense · 52 minutes ago
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i hate seeing all the tiktoks of ‘things you need from amazon’ i will not fall for it!!!
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visfar-the-101 · 54 minutes ago
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I always get people in my dms on Instagram like "hello handsome" and "hi" so I look at their followers and it's all old dudes n shit like ma'am does it hurt to read my bio?
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starlatte27 · an hour ago
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So let me get this straight...
You support a blog who publicly got personal information off of a trans man and tried to harass them off the website. And when you saw this... did NOTHING about it and rushed to go after me instead just because I reblogged the post that called them out for thier blatant harassment.
(And though I dont feel as if 6c6 is fully innocent either.... did they deserve what happened to them with PetitPrincess1? HELL NO! Just because someone does some semi-questionable things on thier nsfw account doesnt mean that they somehow deserve thier family photos being yanked online. That’s fucked!)
You went after ALL of my friends, slanderizing them and spamming thier asks for trying to tell you to leave people alone.
And then yall are seriously trying to essentially FORCE pride-all-day to be involved, a innocent bystander who wants nothing to do with this shit just for interacting with me once?
Has this fandom seriously gone mad???????????
Pride just wanted to enjoy thier favorite show. Why are yall attacking them for interacting with someone you know absolutely NOTHING about besides some callout posts with little to no actual evidence besides spite and slander. Pride wants nothing to do with either of us! Why the hell are you going after them? How the fuck do you think that stalking anyone who interacts with me is going to solve anything? Even if the accusations somehow were true, thats not how you get people to "change" that's how you scare people into not wanting to interact with you since you're a goddamn stalker.
PetitPrincess1 literally guilt trips a man into sending personal information INCLUDING his personal family photos and the fandom thinks that it's ok.... but somehow it's "disgusting" of me to block someone because they made me uncomfortable and were praising a literal anti blog thats outright supported the fandom being attacked for liking Angel Dust? As if feeling uncomfortable with someone because they broke your trust is SOMEHOW the same is doing shit that literally borders on illegal?
For fucks sake!
THE DRAMA IS OVER.
And if even the rumors were somehow true, how does that excuse you outright going after ANYONE who interacts with me just because you want to get them to hate a stranger they've never met? And then spam thier asks just because they questioned you for your behavior after you stalked both blogs for WEEKS on end. Do yall even hear how fucking creepy you sound right now?????
You would have to actually DIG to see that I interacted with Pride. Through MANY of thier posts so you would have had to stalk them for hours in order to do this. You are now literally STALKING people at this point. And then you outright go after thier asks the same way you did Lemon to try to get everyone against me, even after PetitPrincess1 was clearly lying out of her ass about innocent people for the sixith time in a row. So much, that she even went out of her way to get personal information off of a trans man, a trans man, who though has some questionable things himself... does NOT deserve any of this treatment whatsoever. No one did!
Pride clearly wants no part in this, so leave them be!
IM SICK OF IT. Im sick of innocent people being shit on by this community. Yall have gone WAY off the deep end this time and it needs to stop! Im not a monster. 6c6 is not a monster. LemonCritiques is not a monster. Helluva Critical is not a monster.
These are all human beings that you went after who's lives were almost destroyed due to your own actions.
LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE!!!!!
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sunbentsky · an hour ago
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The relationship between Jolly and Angela wasn’t a daughter-mother one, not exactly. Jolly was a closed-off child, traumatized by severe poverty, witnessing and enduring great acts of violence, and having absolutely no support and guidence from an adult whatsoever. She didn’t know (doesn’t know, still) what having and being close to a parent should’ve been like. Angela, on the other hand, had no experience with children outside of her role as teacher and instructor. So all of this combined means that they weren’t affectionate or warm with each other. There was respect, care, and trust, but no motherly love.
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hazanyan · 2 hours ago
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aht aht aht dni if you simp for me i swear to god i hate blazblue fans "hazama my beloved" YOU my beloathed
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l1v1ngd3adb0y · 2 hours ago
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I hate the tik tok algorithm,,,,,stop putting anti neopronoun vids and pronoun discourse on my for you!! I don't wanna see people making fun of me!!! And I can't even avoid it because of how the app works >:(
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elonngrimes · 2 hours ago
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whewwwww mental illness is doing a number on me today lmfao
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dierosenrot · 3 hours ago
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I took part in three seconds of conversations about N and now all I can think about is Nathaniel, goddamnit.
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inavagrant · 3 hours ago
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@childeofwar​ said: ❛ stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long, too cynical  ❜ Yes, he's talking about Scaramouche.
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As much as his preference rests on working and doing things on his own it can’t be denied that when more than one harbinger are located in the same place the job gets done faster. Scaramouche sits on the back of a treasure hoarder who’s road to death is only one electroshock away, unconscious for now and out of commission until further notice. Such a bore to be assigned to these things, debt collecting? Him? That’s Tartaglia’s chore, Scaramouche’s got bigger fish to catch. However he’s not one to defy orders at least in the meantime especially not when the aftershock that would accompany his defiance will affect him negatively. He says debt collecting, but he does have a functioning brain for a reason. It’s more like he’s babysitting the other, especially after the events that took place in Liyue that now has that nation up in arms towards the Fatui. He need no details because he doesn’t care for them, what he does know is that it was quite the spectacle. It must have been so much fun... much more fun than these treasure hoarders that didn’t even last them a hour before one of them began to spill the beans and let them know where their target of interest was located. “Satisfied? We don’t have all day.” He questions, knowing all too well just how Tartaglia could be when it comes to violence. Sure he has some details as to why and the whens, but those are details that come and go for Scaramouche, they do nothing for him. No benefit, no con, no need for him to consider them further than what they really are to him—mere details.
Scaramouche feels the treasure hoarder below him start to come to, but before he allows for such a thing to take place the skirmisher slams his elbow down on the back of their neck like it was some form of guillotine’s blade descending down upon a head to disconnect it from the body. “I never gave you permission to try to get up.” Whether dead or claimed yet again by unconsciousness is neither here or there for the balladeer. Dusting himself off from such an unnecessary occurrence he catches wind to Tartaglia’s words, who seems to have witnessed the ordeal. “I do hope you’re talking about yourself.” There’s a warning in his tone, even if he’s as calm and composed as he is.
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“My patience, Tartaglia.” He smiles. Dwindling by the second.
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prompt.
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gooseinhell · 3 hours ago
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cat filler art i wanted to share pls dont yell at me ik i just wanted to post SOMETHING atleast
as u can see i like this ship lots
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briviting · 3 hours ago
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i’m predictable
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letmesleep8 · 3 hours ago
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bro i am tired of having to act mature 24/7 i'm a teen i have to be dramatic i'm full of teenage angsty to let out pls normalize
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somethin-weird-i-guess · 4 hours ago
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when taylor swift said “you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars, and why i’ve spent my whole life tryna put it into words,” and when hozier said “we’ll lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand, so still and discreet,” and when marilyn monroe said “the real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space...”
lemme just say
i get it now
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itsrubberbisquit · 4 hours ago
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Hey bbs! So I never commented when Henry went public with his girlfriend because that is super duper none of my business. LIKE seriously none of my business. He’s a whole grown ass adult that can do what he likes. I seriously just want him to be happy because he brings me happiness. It’s cyclical, y’all.
I don’t personally see a lot of hate about his relationship because I specifically don’t go looking for it. However. The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence as Henry’s IG post today indicates. While fandom has always had its batshit sects, forcing an actor to make a post asking the crazies to leave him and his alone is pretty unheard of. And super gross too. So, great job trolls. You are why we can’t have nice things. It feels transgressive to keep actively posting RPF right at this moment for me. With that being said, I’m putting Fae Touched on a hiatus. This may or may not be permenant.
Walter and Anna and every other little story I’ve got in my head for Henry’s characters will continue however.
As in tomorrow, hopefully, for Trust.
This has been a PSA. Don’t be a creepy asshole because you’re a jealous twat. It’s incomprehensible that ‘fans’ could attack a woman’s memorial post about her mother. Fuckers.
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