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snarling-through-our-smiles · 2 years

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It was the way you combed my hair, after, ends-up instead of yanked-down, fingers trailing soft across my nape - like they did across my face - softer than how you kissed, softer than how your scent pressed into my skin, but not softer than the way you looked at me.

Because you don’t know this but it has felt so long since my heart has known something beside the taste of concrete since I have cradled myself with something other than a boxcutter. But you looked at me like I was the last true mouthpiece, and for once I didn’t hate looking into someone’s eyes. But you smiled at me, and for once I felt like I didn’t have to earn one. So I sat there, with your comb running through my hair and your hands running down my back, exposed. And every stroke felt like a promise you didn’t mind making, like a secret I didn’t mind sharing. All this to say: It has been a long time since anyone combed my hair. ~ anne boleyn did on tower green what I did for you in your room // SL

#poetry #words #spilled ink #love #shannon writes #hello lotr boy

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shannonhutchins · 2 years

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Okay but Buck sending Eddie stuff like this especially after some rough sessions with Frank. Because he wants to remind Eddie that even if he’s too close to see it he really is getting better

#shannon writes #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #911 #911 on fox

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supershanaynay1 · 2 years

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Me: I’m going to get some writing done since the internet’s out and I can’t do homework.

Me, five sentences later: what the fuck, why am I being so mean to Cas?

#like i had to sit back in my chair #im so sorry cas #oh shit its only going to go downhill from here #shannon writes #writing #i havent written in this fic in months and the first thing i choose is violence #tbpwyad

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perfectfeelings · 2 months

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You have to let go of what could have been, how you should have acted and what you wish you would have said differently. You have to accept that you can’t change the past experiences, opinions of others at that moment in time or outcomes from their choices or yours. When you finally recognize that truth then you will understand the true meaning of forgiveness of yourself and others. From this point you will finally be free.

Shannon L. Alder

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thoughtkick · 3 months

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Never give up on someone with mental illness. When “I” is replaced by “we”, illness becomes wellness.

Shannon L. Alder

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perfectquote · 7 days

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Abusers don’t abuse every day. They have good moments. Days when they do the right things. Moments when they say the correct words. when this happens, the key is to remember that it is just an abuser having a good day, but still an abuser based on all the other days.

Shannon Thomas

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wikiangela · 12 days

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seeing any hate on bucktommy and tommy or especially on my fellow buddie shippers who enjoy and ship bucktommy too has me like:

#lol im so serious #this is how i started writing the alive shannon fic #bc with any hate on her i started loving her more and more and ill defend her forever #i already love them but im so petty im gonna just love them even more out of spite istg 🤣#this isnt about anything specific just overall about what ive seen #bucktommy

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flibbetygibbetsbro · 2 months

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None of ya'll are ready to admit the fact that 9.5 (IF DONE WELL) is the perfect way to finally put a greater focus on the problems of Elvin Government, matchmaking systems, etc. Like???? Can you imagine Keefe finding out that most juveniles cannot be tried and treated as adults in some countries and wondering how beneficial a system like that would have been for, like, YOU KNOW, Lihn?

#I get that ya'll hate Keefe but it's not like the book is going to be meaningless #now it depends on how Shannon writes it #but it has a lot of potentail #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc fandom #keefe sencen #kotlc keefe

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19burstraat · 1 month

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wanna shoutout joseph trapanese's score for s&b, bc for all that we talk abt the adaptation, the score doesn't get brought up much, and it makes me so crazyyyy it's one of the best bits about the show. shipwrecked??!? ravka??? that unreleased piece of music from season 1 where alexei recounts what he saw on the skiff? that OTHER piece of unreleased music from season 1, the organ when inej saves kaz in the chapel, that is singlehandedly responsible for the reignition of my obsession w SOC? the cheeky little flute run in wylan's theme? the fact that brother is a slightly off-kilter reprise of helpful goat? the fast as fuck electric strings in I'm here for the killers that wanders into that very menacing buildup in the final minute? the ticking pocketwatch motif???? hope is dangerous hot-wired my brain forever and was on my spotify wrapped last year. 1:30-1:44 of that goddamn track.... oughhh. same for how will you have me. makes me UNWELL. I KNOW it's just association/nostalgia, but this is what soc sounds like to me forever now. every time I hear that goddamn helpful goat motif (it starts at like 0:28 in the original and then is scattered around a lot in season 2) I want to throw up but like in a good way. I love it I love it I love it music is so important to adaptationssss

#samantha shannon mentioned being especially sad abt this when it got cancelled and she was SO RIGHT #it's actually so useful for fic writing bc it instantly punts me into the right mindset #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #my post

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virtuouslibertines69 · 6 months

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"If you're going to love someone or something then don't be a slow leaking faucet----be a hurricane.” ― Shannon L. Alder Art by Muhammed Salah

#literature #quote #reading #writing #book #novel #author #writer #books #shannon l. alder #art #artist #illustration #sketch #drawing #muhammed salah #love #passion #couple #embrace #smoke

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quotefeeling · 5 months

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I want you and I don’t want to be a luxury. I want you to need me. I want you to not be able to concentrate because you’re thinking about me. I want you to reach for your phone because you thought of something you have to share with me. I want you to not even be able to breathe at the thought of never seeing me again, because that’s how I feel about you.

Shannon Stacey, All He Ever Needed

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shannonhutchins · 2 years

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You know what I want to see--whether it be in fic or in the actual show--Eddie and Buck dealing with chronic pain. I mean Buck’s leg was crushed by a fire truck I’m sure there is residual pain and Eddie has been shot three times. So, like you know that shit hurts from time to time.

Anyways just something I was thinking about on this very random Wednesday.

#shannon writes #eddie díaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #I dunno just give me buck dealing with chronic pain coming off a hard shift #give me eddie's shoulder seizing up sometimes when he lifts something that weighs too much #give me anything #any little crumb

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lucyshypemaster · 3 months

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you will NEVER see anyone writing paragraphs after paragraphs hating on keefe like they do with sophie.

#nah im sorry but i need to get this off my chest #how is it that SOPHIE always gets more hate compared to other characters or yk the ACTUAL ANTAGONISTS of the story?#why do ppl keep bringing up the fact that “she has too many powers” or “all the boys love her” TO SHIT ON HER #is sophie's character perfect? no #should sophie's writing be criticized? honestly yes take it up with shannon #but you ask a dumb bitch why they hate sophie and they'll start giving the funniest reasons ever #and it really makes you understand that these bitches will never say any of this if she was a boy #why do y'all expect so much from sophie #she does one mistake and everyone comes for her #she tries to do something and everyone comes for her #she tries to be friendly and everyone comes for her #she gets together with fitz and keefe and everyone comes for her #she manages to use weapons and fight properly and everyone comes for her #she shows a little emotion and everyone comes for her #hell she DOESN'T DO ANYTHING and EVERYONE COMES FOR HER.#“why did you mention keefe” oh bc yk he does a million mistakes and no one bats an eye #you can just clearly see the way this fandom treats sophie and keefe #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #sophie foster

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perfectfeelings · 3 months

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You have to let go of what could have been, how you should have acted and what you wish you would have said differently. You have to accept that you can’t change the past experiences, opinions of others at that moment in time or outcomes from their choices or yours. When you finally recognize that truth then you will understand the true meaning of forgiveness of yourself and others. From this point you will finally be free.

Shannon L. Alder

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hippolotamus · 10 days

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Hiiiii Hippo 💕💕💕

Buddie fic title:

If only I knew you had electric fingerprints

-❤️🪐

Hiiii Saturn!!!! So lovely to see you here! You said Buddie. Please know you have my eternal gratitude for forgiving my slip into Diaz Family Feels. 💞🦛

After the debacle of broken salad bowls, 'I think you should go home' and 'This is your mess now', Eddie thought that he and Chris had worked through the biggest tangles of dating in the Diaz household. Introducing Marisol was almost a non-event. Eddie might even go so far as to call it a success.

He will now admit that line of thinking was more than a bit premature and naïve on his part.

Maybe it was his own growth and evolutions in the relationship department that led him to assume Christopher wouldn't face the same issues. And, well, technically he didn't. No, Eddie's son dealt him an entirely new, foreign set of tribulations. A one-eighty of Eddie's nesting instincts where Christopher is leading on five different girls. Five!

Wasn't it just last year they were discussing how much shirt sleeve was acceptable to show? What the hell happened?

And, OK, it's a new world with new methods of communication and apps and how teenagers interact with each other. Eddie likes to think he isn't completely stupid, because he tries to stay informed about current trends that he would honestly rather not know about. But no article or discussion with the school guidance counselor - or Frank - could have prepared him for tonight. No tips, tricks, signs to watch for could have fortified him for the devastating blow of 'We loved her and she left us anyway' and 'I can't remember her voice anymore'.

When Buck emerges from Chris's room, Eddie is still leaning against the wall, crushed under the weight of a thousand emotions and questions, attempting to prevent his heart from spilling past the walls of his chest. To keep it from slipping through the makeshift cage where his fingers press bruises into his skin, just below his collarbone.

Buck squeezes Eddie's shoulder before wordlessly leading them to the kitchen where he pours them both a glass of water and he waits. Waits for Eddie to speak, because it's what they do. They don't press. And maybe they should - more or earlier - but that's another thought for another day. For another version of Eddie that doesn't feel like the ground has been ripped out from underneath him.

"I don't- How am I supposed to-" Eddie blows out a harsh breath, frustrated that he can't form a complete question. That there is no entry in the non-existent Parenting Handbook for how to tackle this scenario.

"Eds," Buck says the nickname so carefully, so gently, like his tongue is shaping it from the most fragile glass. His hand tentatively slides across the tabletop until it's resting on top of Eddie's own. "You don't need to have all the answers or know exactly what to do."

"I know I don't. It's just-" He cuts himself off, huffing out an unamused chuckle. Because he doesn't know.

And, look, Eddie is fully aware that he doesn't have to be one hundred percent in control all the time, but it doesn't make him hate whatever this is any less. This combination of lost and thrown off course; of sad, bitter anger muddled together with desperation. His own eagerness to bargain for a way to make this situation more palatable. A pathetic yearning for the chance to go back. To never enlist and close himself off. To splurge on the digital camera with video recorder so he could capture a truly ludicrous amount of everyday, mundane moments.

How many hours of footage might they have collected? Of simple things like Shannon chopping vegetables or putting on makeup before a night out. Her and Eddie slow dancing in the backyard to music only they could hear. Or her laughing, bright and bold, as she smudged dirt and filth across Eddie's cheek after he showed her how to change the oil in her car. The way he pulled her in with his own grimy hands, pressing their mouths together so he could swallow the sound.

He blinks rapidly to keep tears from falling as he wonders how many instances would have featured her rolling her eyes - exactly the way Christopher does now - and shoving her palm in front of the lens.

But he'll never know because he's stuck with the choices he made. That they made. He can tell their son stories, bring him for graveside visits, and offer small souvenirs of the time Shannon had on earth, but that's all Eddie can do. He can't replicate what it was like to be in her presence. He can't convey how she was soft and gentle and all the things Eddie isn't, while also being sharp and spirited. How she smelled like peonies and summer rain.

Whatever he has to offer is two dimensional. Framed photographs, memories stored in his mind. Some of them also stored in Chris's though Eddie suspects in a completely different way. Hopefully in a way that doesn't taste as much like guilt and regret for things left unfinished and words left unsaid. Words like-

Dear Christopher.

He swallows hard around the phantom taste of sea spray from the Pacific Ocean, has the urge to claw at damp, sun-warmed sand that isn't there. And god only knows how his best friend has any idea what's scratching at Eddie's brain, but he does. And Eddie is so, so grateful when Buck rubs his thumb across Eddie's knuckles and asks if he should stay or would Eddie rather it just be him and Chris.

As much as Eddie would like Buck to be present as an extra layer of protection, he knows this is something he has to do himself. Even though, as he walks Buck to the front door, promising to call later, he gets the distinct feeling he won't actually be alone.

In the low lighting currently casting shadows around his bedroom, Eddie's fingers tremble as he reaches for the small safe in the back of his closet. A simple design meant to hold important, precious things. The metal dial is cool under his fingertips, easily manipulated as he rotates it right and left and right again until the door pulls open.

It's been years since he read the words written in Shannon's flowing script, but he knows them like he knows his own name. He traces over her loops and arches, wishing, like always, that he had more time. That he could put off performing this errand for a few more years, decades, lifetimes. Even if he knows it's only for selfish reasons. Because he owes this to Chris and to Shannon. It's on him to follow her instructions and deliver this remaining link between mother and son.

He holds the folded pieces of paper in his hands, feeling something familiar wrap around him that isn’t the usual despair. Something that's more like spun gold flowing between the note and his skin.

Eddie bites back a sob as it dives beneath the surface to wind its way around nerves and spill through blood vessels on its way to his heart. As a calm takes root, anchoring in all four chambers, unfurling and flourishing. As the room, that typically smells like lavender fabric softener and the fancy vanilla linen spray Pepa bought for him, is permeated by the overwhelming scent of Texas nights - filled with crackling humidity wrapped in silvery starlight - and velvety pink peonies.

He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing it in, inhaling deeply to his core like it might allow him to hold onto this moment forever. When at last his lungs protest, forcing him to exhale, his eyes flutter open again.

Eddie closes the door to the safe, hearing it shut with a satisfying click.

"Thank you," he whispers, letting his gaze drift to the letter once more before he walks down the hall to pass it to its rightful owner. His son. Their son. A living, breathing tether between past, present and future.

He knocks on the doorframe, briefly saddened by the sight of Shannon and Christopher’s picture turned face down on the desk. It only makes him more sure he’s doing the right thing.

“Hey, buddy…”

For additional Feels™️ may I recommend

#hippo gets mail #jfc i must go cry now #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #shannon diaz #saturn tag 🪐#7x1 coda #i guess?#hippo writes #fic title ask

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thehopefulquotes · 17 days

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Never give up on someone with mental illness. When “I” is replaced by “we”, illness becomes wellness.

Shannon L. Alder

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