#I'm feeling so unwell

[gfanlocalcryptid]

IF ONLY ICARUS COULD SEE ME NOW

[ghosthunterbuck]

6x10 Coda

if that episode wrecked you as bad as it wrecked me, this won't help

Thirty seconds before Eddie got to Buck. 

Maybe another minute before they got him in the ambulance. 

Three minutes to the hospital. 

Five minutes without oxygen before the brain begins to take permanent damage. 

Eddie presses the gas pedal all the way to the floor. It’s still not fast enough. 

He can’t look at Bobby. Can’t risk taking his eyes off the road for even a split second because Buck is in the back of this ambulance and if Eddie loses his concentration for a moment it could cost him his life. 

Drive, he thinks, the only thought that’s safe. Drive. 

Eddie eases off the gas as they enter the ambulance bay, but doesn’t touch the brake until the last possible second. He jerks on the parking brake before the ambulance rolls back even an inch and throws himself outside. He sprints around to the back, and as soon as the gurney’s wheels touch the pavement, he jumps on and begins compressions. 

Eddie doesn’t think. Doesn’t allow himself to think because if he thinks it might occur to him that Buck’s odds of survival are worse than his were when he was shot. It might occur to him that this could easily be the last time he ever touches Buck’s still warm flesh. It might occur to him that Christopher is expecting them both to come home tomorrow, because Buck promised to make them Bobby’s famous chili and Buck never breaks a promise where he and Christopher are concerned. 

Eddie doesn’t think. 

Eddie can’t think. 

They burst through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, and in moments, someone is pulling him off Buck. He fights back. He keeps doing compressions. Buck needs him. 

“Eddie!” someone shouts. 

Eddie ignores them. 

“Eddie, you have to let them do their jobs!”

For the briefest of moments, Eddie falters. Hands find his shoulders and pull him back. 

“We’ll do everything we can,” a woman in scrubs says, and then he’s gone. 

Eddie heaves in a ragged breath and sags against the person behind him. Strong arms hold him up. 

“Eddie, they've got him,” Bobby says. 

I can’t do this again, Eddie thinks. 

…

The waiting room is cold and unnaturally quiet. Eddie’s uniform is soaked through. There’s a dull pain in his arm, one that’s been growing with each passing minute. 

Someone needs to call Maddie. 

Selfishly, Eddie hopes Chimney is the one to do it. He knows he’s going to have to say it out loud eventually, but he can’t. Not yet. Not until he knows exactly what he needs to prepare himself to say. 

Buck’s in the hospital. Again. You’d better bring some of that sparkling water he likes so much. 

Buck’s hurt. He’s going to be fine, but the doctors say he should rest until tomorrow. 

No, Buck’s not okay. The doctor’s don’t know when he’ll wake up. 

No, Buck’s not okay. The doctor’s don’t know if he’ll wake up. 

Buck’s dead. 

A sob jumps from the back of Eddie’s throat, and once the first one is loose, there’s nothing he can do to stop the ones that follow. Eddie hunches in on himself and squeezes his eyes shut. The room around him is closing in, and knowing he’s having another panic attack doesn’t make it any easier to handle. 

Arms encircle his shoulders and pull him tight against a chest he’s cried into before. 

“I– I can’t,” Eddie gasps. 

“I know,” Bobby whispers. 

His voice is wrecked. He sounds just as bad as Eddie, maybe worse. And Eddie– Eddie should be doing something to comfort him, too. Buck is Bobby’s just as much as he’s Eddie’s. But Eddie feels like a child, wrapped in his father’s arms, unable to do anything except cry. 

“It’s Buck,” Eddie sobs. 

“I know.”

“Bobby, I can’t lose him,” he admits. It feels like he’s saying more than that, but he can’t keep it in. “I can’t,” he repeats, over and over. 

I can’t do this again.

[lovinnelily]

We need Brazil to win for national morale, so we can reclaim our flag. We need it because it is incredibly important for our international relationships. We need it to keep sticking it to the xenophobic and the racists. Football is more important to us than any of you could imagine.

[elitehoe]

A wild Danhausen and Best Friends sighting!!!

[kaiminluu]

happy birthday to our most beloved will byers :) here're some byler grease concept sketches

[jakeperalta]

defining a "comfort album" as whatever feels right to you :)

[pearwson]

i'm still thinking about the inevitable bt demise and they throw me madney being adorable and cute and support of each other? how dare they?

[placetovent306]

I realized that the reason I can't get better is because I feel the best when I'm at my sickest

[remyfire]

The frequency with which they seek to comfort each other gives me extremely large emotions btw

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

A collection of Eliot's 'Dammit, _______'s over the years!

Honourable mention:

[allthisloveforyou]

oh me? yeah, i'm fine. just sitting here thinking about how ki-ho said that the one time he regretted changing his identity was the day he and his brother found mok-ha bc all he wanted was to greet her as her friend, as himself, and he couldn't even do that. but he still bought her a new pair of shoes – just like he'd told her that he would back when they were teenagers and they both were terrified yet tentatively hopeful that they might successfully escape their fathers and leave the island behind them. he couldn't tell her the truth then, but he could get her new shoes to replace the old ones. this small act of kindness was the one thing he could actually do without giving himself away

[uncanny-tranny]

Genuinely, doing things "half-assed" or for a short period of time is generally better than never having done it in the first place.

Writing one sentence is better than none. A minute of brushing your teeth is better than zero minutes. Answering two questions for a homework assignment is better than answering none.

The overwhelming mountain of things can be done peacemeal. You do not have to do it all at once. It is okay to take life in whatever amount you can. The point is to allow yourself the grace to be.

[spooked-bees]

this book is going to make me throw up

[princyvish]

So I read The Sun and the Sea by @stygianheart.

And hooo boy my brain chemistry has been altered

[suratan-zir]

It's Blurry Rat Wednesday!

"Wait," I hear you say, "but there is no such thing as the Blurry Rat Wednesday." Well, now there is.

[gideonisms]

I will admit I hate the trend towards measuring how Healthy fictional relationships are. they're not breakfast cereals! we don't need to measure the amount of fiber! even if it did matter how much fiber a fictional relationship has "healthy" is also a very general, vibes-based word for concepts that I think we probably should get more specific about