[insert random cliché]

Lucky - 18 - they/he eternally sitting in the rain

[a-dissatisfied-guy]

Intro Post

I'm Lucky, I'm 18, and a senior in high school planning to major in sociology starting this fall!

I like to yap about my favorite shows and books and sometimes other media on here :)

Feel free to send asks about basically anything, I love yapping

I'd love to be mutuals with you!

Current favorites:

- 9-1-1

[ofchaosgoddess]

help I’m having ideas beyond my available free time

[nothereforthedrama]

help I'm having ideas beyond my available energy levels

[writing-prompt-s]

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

[inkskinned]

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years - something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves - they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

[sarahakele]

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

[whatkindofnameisella]

a day late for the 4th of july but here's "i want a president" by zoe leonard because i think it's one of the best works of art about america ever made

[unicorngunter]

I was too lazy to walk to the computa but I love rotating in my head the idea of Monty being a carbon copy of his evil mama in her youth

[moistvonlipwig]

i really do hate when people act like athena is buck's surrogate mom like that man is nottt her son he is a smelly ugly stray dog that bobby brought home one day and athena was like Bobby what did you bring into my house and Bobby said I found this guy on a call...isn't he cute? and athena was like He is not. but she let him keep the dog so long as he agreed to take care of him and not let him sit on the furniture. and athena will look at the dog sometimes as it's begging her for food and be like You are one ugly mutt you know that? and it'll wag its tail at her and she'll sigh and give its ears a little scratch. one time when bobby was in the kitchen athena fed the dog a shred of bacon from the table and may was like Mom did you just feed the dog bacon? That's not good for dogs and athena was like May don't be ridiculous i don't even like that dog. Michael did you see me feed the dog bacon? and michael was like Don't bring me into this i'm not the one who brought the dog home. and harry was like Can i feed the dog bacon and athena and may and michael and bobby all said No. now that bobby is gone athena lets the dog sit on the sofa sometimes and sometimes it'll put its doggy head in her lap and she'll say What are we gonna do with ourselves now...and the dog will drool on her and she'll say This is why i don't let you sit on the sofa. sometimes when she does something reckless and illegal she lets the dog ride along with her in the car because the dog likes to bite people so it can be helpful to have around. she never introduces it as her dog though she always say That dog in my passenger seat? I have no idea where he came from...must've left my car door open. meanwhile the dog has escaped the car and has bitten someone's leg off

[jackwhiteprophetic]

a fanfic where buddie are on a roadtrip and get lowkey hatecrimed after arguing like a married couple and then they are run off the road and crash and eddie wakes up alone in hospital and is again lowkey hatecrimed by the local sheriff who accuses him of spousal murder and then eddie proceeds to escape hospital and ride on a horse and hold someone at gunpoint screaming for buck and oh no wait it's an actual episode of 911 that they wrote and filmed and edited and released

[assiraphales]

anyways (I say this as someone who is deeply critical of the united states government, military, unchecked capitalism, police, etc) I am SICK of people treating america as if it has no cultural value or positives so….. I love u 85 million acres (bigger than italy) of national parks. I love u harlem renaissance. I love u groundhogs day. I love u sweet tea and fried chicken and jambalaya. I love u apple cider donuts and maizes on crisp autumn days. I love u 95k miles of coastlines and new england fisherman and hand knitted sweaters. I love u halloween where millions of people dress up and give candy to strangers and carve jack o’lanterns. I love u small talk and small towns and potlucks and bringing over casseroles to your struggling neighbors. I love u cowboys and ranch hands and arizonian cactus. I love u appalachian trail and dirtbikes and divebars. I love u sparklers and fireflies. I love u mark twain and toni morrison and emily dickinson and henry david thoreau. I love u rock n roll i love u bluegrass and hippies i love u jimi hendrix and nirvana and CCR and janis joplin. I love u victorian houses and jonny appleseed and john henry and mothman and bigfoot. I love u foggy days in the pacific northwest and neon signs and roadside attractions. I love u baseball and 1950s diners and soft serve. I love u native american art and pop art and poptarts. I love u blue jeans and barbecues and jazz musicians 

[hrast-ika]

having a lot of feelings about this one :') something about him sleeping with his backpack in the first one (zipped up) and in the second one leaving the backpack on the ground (unzipped)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[girlinstembuck]

love this but also it doesn’t apply to 911 characters tho. evan buckley is not a fragment of tim minear’s mind he comes from another place. where the good souls come from

[poledancingghostson]

“You know why I like sunflowers so much?” Buck asks. He's hunched over the sink, cutting through stems with his kitchen scissors. There's a satisfying little snip, as the ends form a small pile on the counter. 

Eddie reaches over and gathers them up to drop into the compost bin Buck keeps on the counter. “They're pretty?” he shrugs.

“Are any flowers not?” Buck laughs, stretching up to pull his heaviest vase from the cabinet above him. His shirt, cropped to just fall over his belt loops, rides up to bare his waist. A strip of soft skin that Eddie wants to dig his fingers into. He sets the vase in the sink with a soft thud, and his shirt falls back over his stomach.

“Why sunflowers, then?” Eddie asks. 

The thing is, Eddie knows why he always buys them for him. Why he picks up the bundles from the display at the front of his Trader Joe's every time he goes grocery shopping. Brings them over on the drive back to his house. Buck lives fifteen minutes in the other direction. It doesn't matter.

He would happily spend hours in gridlock on the 405 if it meant he could see the way Buck smiles when Eddie pushes the flowers through the front door and into his arms. Bright as the sun they're named for. 

Buck loads the flowers carefully into the vase, turns the faucet, watches the water climb the ceramic walls.

“They're not just one flower,” he says, running his thumb lightly along one of their centers. “There's hundreds in here. Hundreds of tiny little flowers working together to form this one beautiful thing.” He pulls the flower–or flowers, apparently–that he's handling up above the water line. Gestures to it vaguely before dropping it back into the vase. “It feels…”

“Familiar,” Eddie finishes for him. His eyes drift to the photos on his fridge. From birthdays and weddings and backyard barbecues. The smiling faces of everyone he loves.

Buck follows his eyes with a smile. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Familiar.” There's a crinkle of plastic as he tears open the packet of plant food and empties it into the water. “Coffee table or dining room?”

Eddie doesn't answer. Too distracted by the soft haze of morning light catching on the glint in Buck's eye. Eddie's hand lifts to run over his stubble, a couple of days unshaven, an echo of Buck's thumb over the sunflower. He moves with the same gentle reverence. The same quiet awe.

Buck smiles down at him and it makes the pad of his thumb fall against the corner of his mouth. He'll kiss him, he thinks. One of these days. 

For now, though, he's a sunflower turning to face the light. He won't close his eyes for anything.

the entire aster family (asteraceae) is like this, actually. they're called composite flowers, and they're made up of tiny disc flowers (each of which has its own petals and reproductive parts) and, often but not always, the surrounding ray flower (the showy petals, like the yellow of a sunflower). asteraceae is the largest family of flowering plants and includes daisies, dandelions, and even artichokes. but sunflowers are my favorites. 🌻💛

[weird-goodbyes]

anyhoo. I do think that they should do an opening emergency with fun duos. Like citywide shutdown because of like an ice storm or something. But like everyone should be stuck in duos. Eddie and Maddie are stuck with Theo, Jee, Chris, and Baby Robert Nash Han for some weird babysitting exchange at precisely the wrong moment and they realize they’ve never really talked. Buck and Karen stuck at a museum, both trying to remember anything paramedically related they’ve learned from Hen and Eddie to help people. Athena and Ravi trapped at May’s apartment because her shift ran late, Athena is having the time of her life drinking May’s wine, Ravi wants to eat glass. May and Chimney trapped at the hospital where Chimney was dropping off paperwork or whatever. Harry and Hen trapped at the station because they were napping.

[overwroughtafterthought]

Average 911 episode is like the team arrives on the scene for a 70 car pile up caused by a suicide bomber with amnesia or something and Athena has to commit police brutality to investigate his backstory, meanwhile Chimney is repelling down the side of a cliff to extract a woman who was cut in half or whatever, and Buck and Eddie are fighting because Eddie did something that Buck perceives as abandonment and Eddie is mad that Buck is mad, but they work together anyway to save a baby that's on fire, and then Eddie gets crushed by a motorcycle and Buck saves him and is like I'm so sorry I never meant it, it's just that, you matter, so much, to me... and Eddie is like It's okay Buck, let me put my hands on your shoulders in a very straight way. And Maddie is mogging in the background and Hen has her hands in man's entire chest cavity. And then the highway blows up

[inkursa]

hen doodle

[xompeii]

Idk why but I just had an image in my head of Buck being an AO3 writer with the wildest chapter delay updates:

“Sorry I’m a few days late with this chapter, I got swept up in a tsunami”

“late, lol, my bad my bestie got shot and I’m not okay about it (he’s fine, but I’m not gonna be able to write a lot for 6 weeks)”

“so I know someone getting buried in mud in a well is unrealistic but I did try and dig my best friend out when this happened to him, I won’t be taking comments on accuracy”

“sorry y’all I was in a coma for 3 days cause I got struck by lightning - but now I’m really good at math! Quiz me in the comments”

“might be a while before I post again y’all, I got in a car accident, then kidnapped, and then rescued by my bestie who was in the car with me when it happened. Yes guys, that bestie”

[flannelcollect]

I keep thinking about Ryan Guzman’s comment about a telenovela-esque episode where buddie gets together.

If the episode started with a call on the set of a telenovela being filmed, Eddie could be fangirling over a lead actor, reestablishing him being a fan of the genre to the GA while also hinting at his sexuality. This would parallel Maddie and Chim in the episode with the emergency at the Bachelor Mansion. The episode that coincidentally also happens to be Buck’s bi awakening.

If the episode opened with a scene out of context of the telenovela episode being filmed (before 9-1-1 inevitably needs to be called) the plot of the episode could then reflect what is happening in that scene and its characters and also borrow some stylistic choices for how the episode is shot and directed.

I actually need it so bad

[flammableheart]

I would actually love an Eddie POV telenovela style episode for Buddie canon.

Picture it - Eddie realises his feelings for Buck and spends an episode or two being weird, pulling away, avoiding Buck, leaving Buck baffled and hurt. The next episode begins and we see Eddie watching a telenovela, then we see from his POV that his yearning for Buck is so intense, he's starting to feel like he's in a telenovela of his own. Like he's staring at Buck as Buck emerges all sexy and dirty from a fire, the cinematography changes, everything is slow-mo and dramatic music and a zoom on Eddie's face, then Hen or Chim comes up to him and snaps him out of his daze and it all goes back to normal. And then obviously it all culminates in a big fight in the rain, Eddie confesses his love, they kiss and the episode ends.