#rotnight

     life moved on. that was the one thing that was certain; no matter what happened to you, life moved on. and when tim learned that, the realization that the world did not revolve around him was quite a simple conclusion to come to. laid up in a hospital bed, half of his skull missing and fragments of his brain blown out, it finally set in that tim was lucky to be alive, that everything in his life he was forced to overcome were merely speedbumps on the path to his true calling, a calling that he’d pursued before he’d gotten shot in the head.      honorably discharged, as soon as tim as back home in the states, he quested after an emergency medical technician certification and earned it in the blink of an eye; his experience in the military, the rangers, got him bonus points with his instructor. not only did tim finally feel as though he was doing what he was destined to do, he was happy, finding the challenge and the care to be great exercises.       tim had been on plenty of marshals crime scenes before, in fact, he was their go to medic in the area, so the call to this one had been no surprise. a pleasure. there was always a sort of intoxicating, infectious adrenaline around these types of scenes. bag slung over his shoulder, tim barreled through the law enforcement officers surrounding the victim, dropping to his knees beside them. “hey there. my name’s tim, ‘nd ‘m here ta help ya. this is a pretty well placed gsw. you’ll certainly survive. what’s your name?” as tim rambled on, he lifted his gaze from the wound on the man’s thigh to his face. a familiar face, far too familiar. “raylan?” 

    this was bullshit. absolute, complete and utter bullshit. grant knew just as well as everyone else that tommy bucks had been pulling on him, but, of course, as always with bureaucracy, the agents assigned to investigate his case determined that the shooting was quite possibly unjustified, so grant decided to transfer him to fucking lexington, kentucky of all places. it was too close to lyons for tim’s liking, too close to the past that lurked over his shoulder like a sinister voyeur.       lexington’s marshal branch made tim’s skin itch, a feverish dislike prickling beneath the surface, posture screaming of this distemperment. tim’s hope was that soon he would be allowed to transfer out of here, and then he’d go as far as they’d let him, hopefully california, or washington state. anywhere the people didn’t remind him of his daddy. speaking of a walking metaphor for his daddy issues. who the fuck thought that cowboy hats were still in fashion?      what pissed tim off more was that this dude, whoever he was, was pulling it off. stiff and sullen as a stone, tim plopped between his desk mates, a woman who seemed just as ill-tempered as himself, and the cowboy, heaving a weighted sigh of discontent as he settled back into this chair. fuck. he probably had to introduce himself to these people, right? the cowboy seemed more interested in conversation at the moment. “tim gutterson. you are?” 

@rotnight​  liked for a starter.   //   WHITNEY & VICTOR.

LET ME THROW MUSES AT YOU

— Bastian: Violet, Xavier, Madeline

— Carlisle: Monica

— Crash: Angelo

— Erik: The Amicis, Eliana, Xavier

Elias did not know what he had expected. A part of him knew that he would not be able to simply go back to the life that he had after leaving the CCPD. Despite that, he did not expect to be recognized as one of the people who helped with the whole ‘stopping the apocalypse.’ (Not that he wanted to be, anyway. He did not like the spotlight nearly as much as he did when he was younger). The idea of a party, one that was celebrating something that he helped do, was strange at that point. In a similar way that worrying over his appearance was strange to him at that point. 

“I know how to do it.” The words were grumbled out as he raised his chin. The words sounded like he was protesting and yet he allowed Yancy to continue what he was doing. 

He welcomed the distraction that the other provided. Something to focus on that was not the fact that the war was over. While they had suffered immense losses, they had won. Things would hopefully be able to go back to something akin to normal or, rather, as normal as they could be. There was no going back to the normal that Elias had known as a kid — After all, people living in fear of aliens destroying their cities for over ten years was not something you ‘got over.’