yes, and for the most part they share the same friend group
yes, and they mostly have separated friends
yes, but it's mostly my friends' parents
My mother does, my father doesn't
My father does, my mother doesn't
neither of them do
nuance/other/it's complicated
results
Voting ended onAug 16, 2023
I've been thinking about the nuclear family structure so tag this with your ethnicity/nationality, because I think it could interesting to bring into the conversation <3
Imagine Ketterdam centuries in the future, where all six crows have become saints, and their shenanigans have too many references sin history books to be written off as fairytales.
Kaz Brekker, the Saint of thieves who takes pity on the lost souls and evokes power into the hearts of crooks.
Inej Ghafa the Saint of the abused, holding a protective hand over those who share her story and causing slavers great misfortune.
Jesper Fahey, the Saint of treasure whose name those whisper at gambling tables for good luck and is said to guard all zowa.
Wylan Hendriks, a Saint of runaways who watches over the shaken souls and bruised children who slip out of their bedroom windows to start new lives.
Nina Zenik, the Saint of lovers who couples leave offerings to in hopes that their love will be eternal, no matter what.
Matthias Helvar, the Saint of soldiers who younglings going to war pray to for mercy, and known to protect Grisha when called upon.
Reblog if you're comfortable receiving crabs on Crab Day (July 29th) so all your beloved followers know who they can comfortably crab on crab day (July 29th) without feeling nervous about crabbing someone 9n Crab Day (July 29th).
honestly I wasn't planning to post this because I thought it was too silly but @nymika-arts said I should so. if you like it you can thank her <3
[Read on AO3]
Buck’s feet are up on the coffee table, his head tipped back against the couch, eyes closed but not sleeping when Eddie sits beside him, mentally apologising to Hen and Bobby as he puts his own feet up on the coffee table and makes himself comfortable. The cushions bounce a little, tipping them towards each other, and Buck grunts at being displaced, then tips himself fully against Eddie’s side. It’s late. They should both be in the bunks trying to get some sleep like everyone else, but Eddie came upstairs for a glass of water and found the glow of the TV and his best friend on the couch instead, a lure impossible to resist.
“What are you watching?” he asks. The scene that is playing out is vaguely familiar but not enough that he can recall the name of the movie or even the actors starring in it.
Buck opens his eyes, head lifting just slightly to squint at the TV. “Um, something about wedding dresses? I don’t know, it was already on when I got here.”
They watch in silence for a few minutes, TV light playing across their faces, but soon Buck’s eyes are closed again, his head back on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie tips his own head back against the couch, too tired to figure out the movie’s plot when it’s already halfway through. Girl meets guy, falls in love with guy, denies that she’s in love with guy, guy wins her over in the end. Something like that, probably. Everyone lives happily ever after.
The background noise of the movie and the warm weight of his best friend against his side is lulling Eddie towards a nap when Buck breaks the silence.
“Do you want to get married?”
“Sure,” Eddie answers sleepily. “Fall wedding?”
“What?” Buck frowns, and Eddie realises: oh, he meant do I want to get married generally not to him specifically. Then Buck is asking, “Why fall?”
Eddie waves a hand: why not? “The leaves are pretty.”
“The leaves—” Buck stops, shaking his head. “We live in LA, Eddie, we’re not exactly swimming in fall vibes.”
Vibes, Eddie mouthes at the ceiling. He blames Ravi and whatever influence he’s had on Buck’s vocabulary. Then he stops, thinks about it some more, and mentally apologises to Ravi for blaming him. He’s pretty sure Bobby is the one who brought vibes into the firehouse.
“Fall has good weather too,” he says. It was summer when he married Shannon and a low pressure system brought down biting, heavy rain that soaked them through as soon as they stepped outside the church. “Not too hot, not too cold, less chance of rain…”
“Doesn’t that happen in a movie?”
Eddie’s turn to frown. “What?”
“There’s a movie where it rains during the wedding,” Buck says. “I can’t remember if it’s supposed to be a good sign or bad sign, though.”
“I think it’s just a sign that it’s raining.”
Buck rolls his eyes. “In the movie, Eds. Like a sign that she’s marrying the right guy or the wrong guy, you know?”
Eddie thinks about fat drops of rain smacking him in the face, his hair sticking limply to his forehead, Shannon shivering against his side, not noticing or not caring as the hem of her wedding dress turns black from the mud.
He thinks about Shannon, pregnant, and the way it felt like a sign. The way it felt like a sign the second time too, but was just the universe mocking him for believing in something like signs.
“I think Hollywood makes rain seem a lot more romantic than it actually is,” he says, shrugging the melancholy away.
“Yeah,” Buck agrees, something distant in his eyes like he’s remembering some awkward relationship moment of his own in the rain. “And snow. It’s like they forget how cold and unpleasant it gets.”
He shivers as he says it, some phantom memory attached to that too. Eddie thinks about asking, but Buck’s past is a patchwork of old bruises and anything he doesn’t willingly share is usually one he doesn’t want poked at. If they were at home, on the couch or in the kitchen, nursing a six pack between them—maybe then Eddie would poke anyway, ready to soothe any hurt it uncovered. Now he just nudges Buck with his elbow and says, “So, fall wedding. No rain, no snow, we won’t sweat through our tuxes before we get to the end of the aisle.”
He catches it a beat too late—we—and braces himself for rejection, for laughing it off, for fumbling through an explanation. His heart is torn, hoping Buck will think he just meant they’d both be in tuxes and walking down the aisle because he’d be Eddie’s best man, and half dreading that that’s all Buck will think when he pictures them at the altar together.
Except—
“We could have a destination wedding,” Buck suggests, his fingers idly pulling a loose thread on one of Eddie’s buttons. Eddie swats his hand away before he can unravel it completely.
“Destination weddings are expensive,” he counters. “We should just get married at the courthouse and save all our money for the honeymoon.”
Buck snorts. “You want to pull a Bobby?”
“I didn’t say we wouldn’t invite anyone.”
He wants to say all I need is you, me and Chris but everything this conversation has become already feels too dangerous. Too close to serious. They’ve always been good at blurring the line between friends and whatever else they could be, but this feels too blurry even for them. Eddie wonders if he should pinch himself, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming.
“And we’ll have a party too,” Buck adds. “Do you think Hen’s cake guy could do a wedding cake?”
“I think Hen’s cake guy can do anything,” Eddie replies, his mouth somehow still working while his brain is spinning, spinning, spinning. He doesn’t remember a lot of the time he spent under the influence of the LSD brownies, but he’s pretty sure it would have felt like this: everything heightened, one step to the side of reality, this unrelenting gravitational pull towards Buck even back then.
“I don’t know what everyone complains about,” Buck says, head tipped back to smile at him. “Wedding planning isn’t so hard.”
Eddie smiles back, like it’s just another inside joke between them. Like this conversation isn’t happening in the middle of a bubble, thin and wobbly and liable to pop at any moment. He wants to say you make everything easy but the edges of the words are too sharp, too real, and he’s not ready for the bubble to pop just yet. He wants to enjoy it, even though he knows it can’t last.
The music in the movie swells as the girl finally gets her Big Damn Kiss and the start of her happily ever after. Buck smiles twists into something wistful as he turns back to the screen and Eddie wants to hold him tighter, but he’s not even holding Buck so it doesn’t make sense.
“I miss kissing,” Buck tells him, quiet enough that it feels like a confession. “Not—I mean, I like sex too, obviously, but kissing just for the sake of kissing, you know?”
It’s late. Everyone else is asleep downstairs. The glow of the TV and the dim yellow light left on above the stove make the shadows feel deeper around them, the night fuzzy around the edges. The movie’s final scene is rolling into the credits, another love song playing quietly through the loft. Their bubble hasn’t popped yet.
Maybe it’s all of those things, or none of those things, that makes Eddie say, “I could kiss you.”
Buck goes still.
Eddie wonders if he could bite clean through his tongue so he can never speak again. Human teeth are crazy strong so it’s definitely possible, right?
Buck would know if it’s possible, he thinks, and then he really does have to bite his tongue so he doesn’t laugh hysterically. God, why did he say that? Just because he was thinking about kissing Buck—has been thinking about it for months going on years—doesn’t mean he should have said it. He’s halfway to an apology—an excuse, maybe, some way to laugh it off as practice for their hypothetical trip down the aisle—when Buck sits up, pulling Eddie upright with him.
“Okay,” he says. “Show me what you’ve got, Diaz.”
His grin is all bravado, but Eddie knows him well enough to see the nervousness at the edges. It soothes him, somehow, knowing Buck is nervous too. Not that this isn’t still a completely stupid idea, the kind of idea that they can never come back from and will probably regret in about two minutes, but—
He cradles the back of Buck’s head, holding him steady while Eddie tilts his own head to fit their lips together. Gentle at first, growing bolder when Buck’s hands curl in the front of his shirt to pull him closer, tongue running along the seam of his lips until they open to welcome Eddie inside. Buck tastes like coffee, a little bit sweet like the vanilla syrup he keeps hidden away at the back of the cupboard in the kitchen. His breath is warm against Eddie’s chin when they break apart just long enough to breathe, lips lingering together, noses bumping, one kiss made up of a dozen smaller kisses.
Eddie pulls away first, forehead resting against Buck’s just for a moment before he drops his hand from the back of Buck’s neck and makes himself sit back. His hands are shaking, he thinks, and he doesn’t know if it’s fear or desire.
“Oh,” Buck murmurs, reaching up to touch his lips, an absent kind of movement like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
Eddie swallows, the taste of Buck still on his tongue. He should—say something, do something, probably not lean in and kiss his best friend again (and again and again).
They both jump when the bell rings.
“Eddie—” Buck starts, but there’s no time. Eddie’s fingers are tingling, his heart stuttering in his chest, but his feet are already moving, muscle memory carrying him while his brain buffers trying to catch up.
“We have to go,” he says, and he’s as grateful as he is irritated by the interruption of the alarm.
“Eddie,” Buck says again, catching his hand to halt him before he can climb into the engine. They’ve got seconds before Bobby sticks his head out the window to ask them what the hold up is, but it only takes a handful of seconds to say, “October.”
“What?”
Buck smiles, “Let’s get married in October.”
He ducks in close enough to kiss Eddie on the corner of the mouth, quick and lop-sided, and then he’s climbing into the engine with a bounce in his step, and—
Oh, Eddie realises, he did mean he wants to marry me specifically.
(“Soo.” Chimney draws the word out awkwardly, looking around at everyone crammed into the engine together. “We all saw that, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Hen answers, her eyebrows raised above her glasses. “We definitely all saw that.”
Eddie just shrugs, his knee pressing against Buck’s thigh, their eyes catching and holding, unable to help smiling at each other while everyone else looks on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
There’s a round of “uh huh”s and “sure you don’t”s and a half-muttered “at least I’m not finding out about this one four months later” from Bobby.
“By the way,” Buck adds when it’s quiet again, “you’re all invited the wedding.”
They’re still smiling at each other like lovesick fools when the engine explodes into a cacophony of exclamations around them.)
Every time i tell people i buy groceries every 14 days they seem shocked by this and tell me they buy groceries every day or several times a week.
That in turn blows my mind, as someone who couldn’t possibly hate buying groceries more than i do, i can’t imagine doing it that often.
Bonus if you tell me in the tags how you feel about shopping for groceries. Do you hate it with a passion like me? Feel indifferent to it, just another chore? Or do you somehow love it?
This is such a cute and helpful idea, especially since some people either didn’t grow up with someone who could teach them this stuff or they grew up with parents who did everything for them. I knew a lot of guys in college who didn’t know how to do laundry or cook!
I love your meta posts on 9-1-1 and since you’re into names and their meanings, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the name Marie (of the victim from the „funeral“ in 615), because I know someone with that name.
Thanks and thank you for your meta posts, too
Hi lovely! :D Awwwww, thank you SO MUCH for the kind words about my meta posts! I hope you enjoyed the 615 meta as well. And also, thank you for enabling my inner name geek, I'm so happy whenever I can share these bits with people! *hugs*
Alright, so here we go. Marie (like Mari, Mary and Maria) comes from the Hebrew name Miryam (מרים). There are different theories on what the name means, the two most widely accepted ones are that it means bitter (מר - mar) sea (ים - yam) or that it comes from the Hebrew word for rebellion (מרי - meri). Both interpretations would seem to fit the wretched state of the enslaved Israelites in Egypt which is where and when we encounter the first Miryam in the Bible. There is a theory that the name is actually of Egyptian origin, since the Hebrews were in Egypt during that time, but I personally doubt it. If Miryam's name would have been Egyptian, then it stands to reason that the names of her family members would have been as well. But her mother and brothers all have names that are Hebrew.
I think the 'bitter sea' interpretation is especially fitting for the lady we met in this ep. I hope this helped! Thank you and have a lovely day! As always, my ask tag. xoxox
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