we can sell that as sexy

The theme list is out for the Summer of Buddie Fic Rec Extravaganza! The full list of themes and links to submission forms are listed below the cut.

Tagged by @mihidecet @sunflowerbuckleys @soupfic and @eddiesstabwound sorry guys I've been busy and didn't really have anything new to post anyway, but I got a bit down today before I lock in on my plant families report this evening, so here's. Something! From my I Know The End sequel. Eddie's in El Paso and he's not having a good time.

"Can I ask something?” Hen adds eventually.

“Shoot,” Eddie says.

“Why didn't you call Buck?” she asks, and Eddie's heart starts racing again. “I mean, I'm happy to help you out any time, but usually… he's your guy, you know?”

“Um, yeah, he– he is. But you're a parent, so–”

“Eddie,” she says again. “We’re done lying, right?”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “We… we're not really talking right now.”

“I figured. He's been all mopey since he got back. More so even than during the whole beagle incident. You wanna tell me why?”

“Has he… said anything about it?”

“Nothing. Didn't even tell us why he came back early.”

Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. Because it would be revealing that Eddie is… he still hasn't put the word to it. Hasn't felt like he had time to focus on all that.  Regardless, Buck wouldn't do that to him. Which means he's sitting there in LA, in Eddie's house, dealing with it all completely alone. The thought makes him sick. Sick enough to–

“We slept together.” He blurts it out before he has time to second guess himself. “Uh, my first night here. We– he kissed me and– and I kissed him back and then we… and I don't know, I think I'm… well, but then when I woke up, he was gone and now he won't talk to me, so… I don't know.”

“Oh,” Hen says. “That's big. Have you… have you told anyone else?”

“No.”

“Well, thank you,” Hen says. “For trusting me enough to tell me.”

“I don't even… like I don't have a word yet.”

“That's okay. You'll find one eventually,” she assures him. “Or you won't. And that's okay too.”

“Thanks,” he breathes. Swallows hard. He doesn't feel better, really. But different maybe. Lighter. Just a bit. “Can you check on him for me?” He asks thinly. “Let him know I told you, so he… he doesn't have to protect me anymore. He should have someone to lean on.”

“Of course,” she says, warm and gentle. “And you can call me any time, okay? You need someone to lean on too.”

“Thanks, Hen.”

“It's gonna be okay,” she says again. “It is. Just keep letting people in, alright? Keep just… letting yourself be a person.”

I'm not. Ugh, I'm struggling with this one, so I don't love any of this, but I'm tryingggg.

i think the 118 & their families all have different group chats. not in a catty way, but bc they'll try to plan some get together or something and just forget they already have an ongoing chat.

for example: maddie organizing circle baby's birthday? she starts a new thread but leaves buck and ravi off by mistake. eddie and may are included and maddie figures eh, they'll pass the info along.

or like, karen starts a new thread with maddie, may, and athena when planning a girls night for them all (plus mara & jee of course), but eddie also gets included. so guess who is NOT invited to girls night but is graciously allowed to stay tuned in to the gossip thread? eddie diaz.

even something like buck sending a recipe along to athena, who then adds harry to the convo to ask if he'd be interested in trying it, who then adds may so they can figure out a day in their schedules so that they can all try it out together.

and so on! i just think with such a big group of loving people, they're bound to have a million different text chains going at any given time, and they trust whatever plans or info or details need to reach the right people, will reach them by the grace of their big loving family. 🩷🩷🩷

And we're so alone most of the time Most of the time, we don't have anyone Where do we go when we die? I wouldn't mind right here, no, I wouldn't mind at all

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.