#respondsfirst

[warfires]

requested call for service  [ … ] @respondsfirst

the smell of faintly burnt coffee and folding chair sits in his senses — cheap metal and cheaper comfort — but eddie's war-wrought frame won't cease its trembling even after he's home. the trembling isn't distinguishable, not anymore, it's somewhere deeper instead, where breath catches and memories claw at ribs like they wanted out. the war had always lived in fragments behind his eyes, the bodies on his guilted heart, but now it has a name, a face, an agonizing scream he hadn’t known was his. ❝ I didn’t remember it until today, ❞ he murmurs hoarsely, hues tear-filled and transfixed on a crack in the wall of his living room like it might split open and swallow him whole. ❝ and now i can’t stop seeing it. ❞

[oncalls]

@respondsfirst presses his forehead to lucy chen's , voice breaking as he murmured , "i don't know how to fix this , but i'm not leaving ."

lucy needed at least three to five business days to process the breakup. it was so unexpected. she knew tim was in a dark place. she knew that he was withdrawing from her, hiding from her, keeping things from her. but she knew they could work through whatever bullshit life threw at them. it came so suddenly that lucy was still trying to work through their conversation in her mind when bradford showed up at her door. and if she was confused before, she was definitely confused now. "tim," she started, but she didn't know what to say. the last thing she said to him was don't do this. why are you doing this? then he kissed her forehead, apologized and walked away. like it was that easy. like his heart wasn't left broken in that parking lot next to all of the shattered pieces of hers.

she didn't have it in her to close the door or push him away or ask him to leave. even if her eyes were still rimmed in red from all the tears she'd cried when she got home. she didn't know what to say, so she just nodded, choking on the lump of feelings forming in her throat. "i know," she managed to get out. and then she was pulling him in for a hug, just like she had done a hundred times before. whenever he needed comfort, or she did, they would hug the other so tight. this was no different. they were both broken. and there was a part of lucy that was relived about that. but that only made her feel like a bad person. she never wanted anyone to feel that kind of pain, especially not tim. but there was some sense of twisted comfort in knowing that she wasn't alone in her misery. it was almost enough to give her hope that they could be okay again. almost. "i don't know how to fix this either," she admitted, hugging him even tighter than before. "but i wish i did. i'm sorry. i love you tim. i love you." still. present tense. always. if only that was enough.

[buckley-halzteadarch]

hi what’s buck making for dinner tonight

hi,  thank  you  for  asking.  he's  always  ready  to  spill  the  menu.  two  things  went  into  consideration  for  tonight's  dinner:

the  fact  that  buck  only  got  maybe  five  hours  of  sleep  last  night

his  half  day  at  work,  the  twenty-four  he's  heading  into  tomorrow  afternoon,  &  the  fact  that  he'll  be  cooking  for  the  entire  station  the  next  day.

&  even  with  all  that  taken  into  consideration  he  still  somehow  manages  to  be  extra  with  it.  tonight  the  buck-halstead  family  is  having:

two  cheese  &  apple  flatbread  w/candied  walnuts.

fried  chicken  w/cordon  bleu  sauce, mashed  potatoes,  &  garlic  broccoli.

he  also  used  the  rest  of  @halztead's  oreos  to  make  a  no  bake  oreo  dessert.

[x55055]

rage    is    red    hot    like    the    swell    of    embers  ,    defeat    is    harsh    like    collision    of    palm    to    cheek  .    you    are    a    little    girl    again    :    staring    down    the    wrath    of    kinship  .    only    this    time  ,    reflection    displays    only    you  .    palms    of    overworked    hands    settle    upon    porcelain    after    discarding    towel    in    waste    bin  .      you    were    wrong .         and    now  ,    another    person    has    died    because    of    that    mistake  .    because    of    gut    instinct    breeding    failure  .

❛  ❛          this    is    my    fault  .    if    that's    what    you    came    here    to    say    —    i    already    know  .     ❜  ❜              presence    of    fellow    detective    lingers    behind  ,    silhouette    visible    from    the    corner    of    her    eye  ,    blurry    within    mirror    opposite  .    brows    pull  ,    confusion    settling  .          ❛  ❛          then    what    are    you    doing    here  ?      ❜  ❜          gaze    elevates  ,    inspecting    brunette    in    glass  .      pity    also    unwelcome  .

"    that's    not    what    i    came    here    for .    "           @respondsfirst

[bureauveil]

you were grandfathered into this starter, @respondsfirst !

maggie barely flinched when she heard movement behind her,  the quiet creak of a floorboard betraying that she wasn’t alone.  she kept her focus on the open fridge,  one hand braced against the door,  the other swiping a cold bottle of water from the shelf.  the dim morning light caught on the bare stretch of her legs,  their shirt hanging loose off one shoulder,  an afterthought of modesty.  she cracked the bottle open with a flick of her wrist,  taking a long sip before tilting her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. 

she smirked,  slow  &  knowing.  ❝didn’t think you’d be up yet. ❞ her voice was rough from sleep — or last night.  probably both.  maggie let the fridge door swing shut,  leaning against the counter as she studied them.  their gaze roamed over her,  unreadable,  like they were trying to figure her out.  she didn’t give the chance.  ❝relax, ❞ she murmured,  pushing off the counter  &  brushing past them,  her fingers just barely grazing their arm.  ❝i was just leaving. ❞

[deptaid-arch1]

some people might see it as a step down, and career wise, it was. she had climbed to be the head of the emergency department at new amsterdam, but it was slowly killing her. her addiction, rehab, getting injured, the surgery . . . the people at new amsterdam helped her through it. lauren and max made sure she came out the other end, but that place was a reminder of everything bad aswell. so she moved. she got a job at a different hospital, in a different town. found her AA meeting spots, found an apartment, found her favorite spot to buy coffee. this was her new start. gotten her badge and access information earlier today, and she'd made sure to be a little early to her first night shift. to meet people, figure out what kind of place this was. gaze slowly shift across the ER and it's different, but there is a sense of belonging. a sense of familiarity.

@respondsfirst. ( x. )

[x59054]

   ( . . . )    @x59686 gets a silly little canon event ft. @respondsfirst

ruzek and burgess were the only two left in intelligence that morning. atwater and upton were undercover, halstead and lindsay took mouse to follow up on a lead, decotis was on breakfast duty for platt, the dawsons were . . . well, adam didn't really know what those two were doing. the urge to makeout with his fiancé was strong, but he had too much respect for the intelligence unit for that. so he placed his hand on kim's knee instead. "hey," he said, pulling her out of that pretty little head of hers with a kiss on the cheek. "as soon as al gets here, we'll head out."

[klarsynt]

@respondsfirst jo sent: “thanks — for letting me crash on your couch.” a beat of a small pause. “i didn’t take you for a cat guy,”

amusement briefly flutter across his features. emil glances up from the other side of the island bar which separates the living room from his kitchen. hazel-hued eyes turn back down to the coffee mugs in front of him—though his is filled with tea, he has ensured jo's is jam packed full of all the caffeine she might require for her day. he knows what he looks like. scarred face, intimidating stature, the air of military training and rough edges. maybe he wouldn't expect someone like himself to be 'cat guy' as she puts it either. emil curls his fingers through the handle of a mug and steps around the counter to approach her. arthur is at her feet, pawing gently in hopes of scraps he shouldn't have. he offers out the coffee as he murmurs. ❝ just what kinda guy did you take me for? ❞