agoldenblackbird

[agoldenblackbird]

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son

But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity

Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”

And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!”

(Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)

And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.

So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!

(Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)

So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.

“So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

Keep reading

[agoldenblackbird]

In fairy tales and fantasy, two types of people go in towers:  princesses and wizards.

Princesses are placed there against their will or with the intention of ‘keeping them safe.’ This is very different from wizards, who seek out towers to hone their sorcery in solitude.

I would like a story where a princess is placed in an abandoned tower that used to belong to a wizard, and so she spends long years learning the craft of wizardry from the scraps left behind and becomes the most powerful magic wielder the world has seen in centuries, busts out of the tower and wreaks glorious, bloody vengeance on the fools that imprisoned her. 

That would be my kind of story.

[agoldenblackbird]

so idk if this oneshot will get finished because i have other ideas now, but this was loosely based around the idea of Buck being kidnapped by the serial killer and Tommy finding him. it doesn't even have a working title. I just really wanted to share this scene.

-

His eyes open slowly and his head hurts when they do. He tries not to move, far too aware of the pain radiating down the left side of his body. He tries to take inventory, but when he goes to lift his head, he’s suddenly aware of the tube in his mouth. He tries to make noise, manages a squeak, and suddenly there’s movement inside his hand, and then a fluff of hair lifting from bed. 

Tommy. 

His eyes go wide at the sight of him. There’s bruising beneath both of his eyes and around the cut on his nose. Stitches in his bottom lip. When Tommy lifts Evan’s hand to his lips, he sees the scabs on the back of Tommy’s knuckles, and the bruises on his forearms. 

“Thank fucking god,” he chokes out, tears coming down his face already. Evan looks up at him with sad eyes, scared. Tommy shakes his head, lifting his other hand to Evan’s cheek. 

“No, honey, it’s okay,” he tells him. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.” 

Evan squeezes his hand as tightly as he can manage. As he looks down, he can see the rope burns on his wrist. He turns his head—or at least tries to—and lifts his other arm, only to see it wrapped tightly. He looks back over at Tommy and pulls his hand lightly. Tommy releases it, and Evan gestures towards the vent. 

“Your lungs collapsed,” Tommy explains, his voice shaking. “We almost didn’t get you here in time.”

Evan points to the clock and then reaches for Tommy’s hand and draws a question mark. 

“It’s been about four days,” he answers. “They’re working on getting you off of it, but the knife did some extensive damage. Didn’t have the easiest time bringing you out of sedation either.” 

Evan reaches for Tommy’s hand again and squeezes it before sliding it up his forearm and holding on, searching Tommy’s eyes. Tommy strokes his cheek again and gives him a sad smile. 

“No, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He sniffles, blinks away a stray tear. “I’m not leaving you again.” 

Evan tugs on Tommy’s arm again, and Tommy moves closer to the bed, leaning closer to him. 

“What do you need, honey?” He asks.

Evan lifts his hand to Tommy’s chest and taps over his heart twice before pressing his palm flat against it. Tommy lets out a small, singular laugh, nods again. 

“Yeah,” he responds. “I said I love you.” 

Evan fists the fabric of Tommy’s shirt for a moment, still staring at him before he finds his hand again and grabs it, dragging it up to his own chest and holding it there. Tommy gulps, his expression going emotional as Evan squeezes his wrist. 

“I know,” he replies with a nod, more tears coming down his face. “You said it back.” 

He calms somewhat then, and Tommy keeps stroking his hand against Evan’s cheek, which only serves to start pulling him back under. He still holds on to Tommy’s wrist, his eyes heavy each time he blinks. 

“It's okay,” Tommy tells him softly. “Don’t fight it. I’ll still be here.” 

[agoldenblackbird]

Honestly, I have no idea what this is, but I’m putting it behind a cut because it’s not my usual PG-13 fluff. 

~

The first two times Tommy asked to be fucked, everything was too new and exciting for Buck to pay a lot of attention to the small details.

This time he’s trying to take in everything. The way Tommy looks spread out on his bed, the long lines of his body, the strong muscles of his back. Buck pulls back a little bit so he can get a good look at Tommy’s ass where his cock is pushing into him.

It still blows Buck’s mind. Not just how good it feels to be inside Tommy, but also how much Tommy is enjoying it. 

Slowly he pushes forward again, and Tommy lets out a soft noise. Buck repeats the process, slowly filling Tommy up again and again, listening to the low sounds of pleasure he’s making. 

“Good?” Buck checks, though he already knows the answer. Good, but not enough. 

Tommy lets out another soft moan and pushes back against him.

“Patience." Buck grins and digs his fingers into Tommy’s hip. “Come on, let me figure out what works for you.”

“Harder usually works pretty great,” Tommy quips, but Buck doesn’t want harder. At least not right now. Not yet.

Instead he shifts, braces himself and tries to find a good angle. Slow thrusts, back and forth, until Tommy lets out a breathy moan and pushes his ass back hard. Buck kisses the back of his neck and tries to hit the same spot again. And again. Never picking up the pace, simply enjoying the feeling of Tommy’s ass clenched hot and tight around his cock.

And the noises. 

Oh god, the noises. Tommy isn’t loud, but he’s far from quiet. Every single thrust gets a reply. Soft groans, muffled moans, a full body shiver ending in a sigh.

“Evan, I need —” 

Buck pulls back, almost all the way out, and this time Tommy lets out a sob. 

He looks at Tommy’s hole again, red and puffy, stretched around his dick. At Tommy’s hands, gripping the sheets. At the way Tommy’s back moves as he’s pushing his hips back desperately. At the little glimpse of Tommy’s flushed face that’s pressed into the pillows.

“You look amazing like this,” Buck murmurs. 

Tommy lets out a hoarse chuckle, and Buck can feel it all the way to his cock. He can’t keep this up for much longer, but he slowly moves his hips until he finds the right angle again, pushing in, in, in, listening as Tommy gets louder.

“Is this okay?” he asks. “Can you come like this?” 

Tommy just groans in response, but Buck is going to assume it’s a yes.

He braces himself, digs his fingers into the bedding and thrusts. Hard. Tommy’s moans and sobs are like music to him, and Buck moves faster, harder, trying to wring more delicious noises out of him.

In the end Tommy comes apart almost silently, gasping, shivering and clenching hard around Buck’s cock. 

He only gets in a couple more thrusts before he’s coming, hips snapping forward until he knows nothing but pleasure and satisfaction. Then he slumps against Tommy’s sweat-slicked back and kisses his neck again.

Tommy lets out a pleased hum, and for a moment Buck wishes they could stay like this. A puddle of sweat and come, fucked out and loose-limbed.

At least Tommy rewards him with another low groan when their bodies separate, and Buck can’t wait to do this again. Not just because it feels fantastic, but because he wants to hear all the different noises he can fuck out of Tommy. 

[agoldenblackbird]

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

[agoldenblackbird]

Some of Kinard's finest. Part 1.

[agoldenblackbird]

12 for the micro prompts!

12. candles

Their second time around, they celebrate their six month anniversary very differently. They discuss it beforehand and decide on a quiet night in at Tommy's house: Korean takeout for dinner, baked alaska for dessert, and a bubble bath in Tommy's big soaking tub after.

Tommy always takes care of Buck, always kisses him—always shows him affection and makes him feel loved—but sometimes Buck forgets that Tommy is, at his core, a romantic. Day-to-day, he's a bit of a bro, a bit of a sarcastic ass, but as Tommy lights candle after candle that he'd carefully arranged around his bathroom before Buck came over, it hits Buck all over again. This is the soft underbelly that Tommy spent so long trying to hide from the world. Buck feels lucky to be trusted to see it.

Buck climbs into the tub while Tommy finishes lighting the candles. He leans back and holds his arms open for Tommy to fall into. Tommy hesitates. He looks like he's going to suggest they switch spots. After a moment of consideration, he just smiles shy and excited. He climbs into the tub and lays back against Buck's chest. Buck wraps his arms around Tommy; the warm water almost as soothing as the feeling of Tommy against him.

Tommy sighs contentedly as he relaxes against Buck's body. Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head and keeps his lips there; breathing in the smell of Tommy over the fragrant soap he'd used for the bubbles.

"The candles were a nice touch," Buck murmurs into Tommy's hair.

Tommy hums. "You have a nice touch."

Buck laughs and tightens his arms around Tommy. In the flickering candlelight, he sees Tommy smile.

"Much better anniversary than our last one, huh?"

"Don't say that yet," Tommy deadpans. "It's only nine-thirty. There's still time for things to go wrong. You could tell me you're married. A candle could fall over and we could die in a fire."

"You know I'm not married," Buck says with a smile, "and I would bet actual money that you stashed a fire extinguisher under the sink when you set up the candles."

"I did," Tommy says serenely. "But it would take a lot more than a housefire to make me leave your arms right now."

Buck presses another kiss to the side of Tommy's head as a burst of love surges through him. He feels so extraordinarily happy. This is the feeling, the kind of relationship—soft and loving, still with gentle ribbing around the edges—that Buck has been looking for his whole life. There's a reason he's fought for Tommy in a way he's never fought for anyone else.

"I love you," Buck says simply. It's far from the first time they've said it. Still, the depth of emotion in his voice surprises him, even as he feels the truth of it resonate in his chest.

"I love you too." Tommy's hands find Buck's under the bubbles and he squeezes. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

[send me prompts!]

[agoldenblackbird]

buck never knew how much he would love being pampered and wooed until tommy came into his life. the first time tommy gave him flowers he forgot how to form words, marveled at them, feeling cherished. he scrambled around his loft looking for something that could hold them. as the days passed and the flowers began to sag and wilt buck would stare at them like a sad puppy. eventually they died and he had to throw them out, and the next day there was tommy with more flowers and a gift and a sweet kiss. maybe buck swooned and started to fall in love.

tommy never knew how much he would love being treated like he was precious, cradled in someone's arms, cuddled in bed, being the little spoon, a treasure. he'd known physical intimacy but not like this, not as the one receiving all of one person's attention, focus and energy. his exes assumed that just because he was bigger, a firefighter, that he always wanted a specific role. buck didn't assume like that, and when he wanted, when he was craving it, buck was always there, able to hold him, pin him, ravish him. the first time buck picked him up and threw him on the bed he saw stars, it would've been embarrassing had buck not kissed him about it, telling tommy he was the cutest thing ever. maybe tommy dragged him back down for another kiss and fell in love just a little bit more.

[agoldenblackbird]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3206 Ι Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Panic Attack(s), implied pow

Buck wasn’t sure what was worse: the stifling heat pressing down on them or the way Tommy’s breathing was turning erratic by the second. This was a catastrophic building collapse, the kind that mobilized every station in the area—and the moment their paths crossed, the nightmare only got worse.

They’d both been in tight spaces before. It came with the job. But this? This was different. The ceiling had given way, leaving them trapped in what felt like a box barely big enough to fit them both. Their turnout gear made it worse, adding bulk to an already suffocating situation. The air was thick with smoke and dust, and every shallow breath Buck took felt like inhaling sandpaper.

Tommy, who’d been quiet—too quiet—suddenly pressed his back against the debris behind him, his helmet knocking against the wall as his breathing became audible over the comms.

“Hey, this is awkward, huh?” Buck tried to inject some levity, his voice muffled by his mask. “Just being crammed with your ex in the world’s worst escape room.”

Tommy didn’t respond. His gloved hands were trembling slightly, and Buck could hear his breaths coming faster, shallower.

“Tommy?” Buck’s tone shifted, the humor fading. “Hey, you with me?”

Tommy’s head jerked up, but his eyes—visible through his mask—were wide, unfocused. He shook his head slightly, muttering something Buck couldn’t catch over the hiss of air tanks and the distant sound of fire crackling.

And then it clicked. Buck had seen this before, though never from Tommy. Panic. Real, gut-wrenching panic.

“Tommy, hey, it’s okay,” Buck said, his voice steady but urgent. He reached out, resting a hand on Tommy’s arm. “You’re okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

Tommy’s hands shot up to his chest, fumbling with the straps of his oxygen harness. “I—I can’t—” His words broke off into a choking sound, his breaths coming in short frantic gasps.

“Tommy, stop!” Buck grabbed his hands, keeping them from ripping the mask off. “Listen to me. You need to breathe. Just focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

But Tommy wasn’t hearing him. He was spiraling, his body starting to shake as the panic took over. Buck’s heart was racing now, but he forced himself to stay calm. Tommy needed him to be calm.

“Tommy, listen.” Buck leaned in closer, their helmets almost touching. “I’m right here. It’s me. Evan.” He hadn’t called himself that in months—since before the breakup—but it slipped out now, instinctive and raw. “Look at me, okay? I’ve got you.”

Tommy’s eyes darted to his, wild and desperate.

“That’s it,” Buck said, his voice softer now. “Just keep looking at me. We’re in this together. You’re not alone.”

Tommy’s hands clawed at Buck’s turnout coat, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I—I can’t breathe,” he choked out.

“You can,” Buck insisted. “Your gear’s heavy, I know, but you’ve done this before. You’re the strongest guy I know, Tommy. You’ve got this.”

Tommy was shaking his head, but Buck kept talking, his voice steady and even. He reached up and adjusted Tommy’s straps, loosening them just enough to take the pressure off his chest. “There, that’s better. Just take one breath at a time. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Match me, okay?”

Buck exaggerated his breathing, drawing in a long, slow breath and letting it out just as slowly. “See? You can do it.”

Tommy’s breaths hitched, uneven at first, but slowly matched Buck’s rhythm. The seconds stretched unbearably, but Buck held his focus. One breath. Then another.

“That’s it,” Buck murmured. “You’re doing great. Just keep going.”

Minutes passed—though it felt like hours—before Tommy forced out “I—I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Buck shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Even as Buck reassured him, Tommy’s hand remained clenched in his turnout coat, his grip unwavering, almost unconscious. The space around them felt smaller with every passing second, the air pressing in like an invisible weight. Sweat trickled down Buck’s spine under his turnout, but he ignored it, focusing on the man in front of him.

“Tommy,” Buck said again, louder this time, as if sheer volume could break through the haze in Tommy’s mind. “I need you to focus on me. Look at me. It’s just you and me here, okay?”

Tommy’s hands fumbled again, this time clutching at his helmet as though it were suffocating him. His shoulders were heaving, and Buck could hear the sharp, staccato gasps of his breathing echoing in the small space.

“Shit,” Buck muttered under his breath. He placed both hands firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, grounding him. “Listen to me, baby.” The name slipping, but neither of them noticed, “You’ve been through worse than this. You’ve done this a hundred times. You’re the guy everyone counts on. You can do this.”

Tommy’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Buck’s for a brief moment. There was no recognition there—just raw, unfiltered fear. “I can’t,” Tommy whispered, his voice breaking. “It’s… too much. I can’t breathe.”

Buck’s heart twisted at the sheer vulnerability in Tommy’s voice. This wasn’t the stoic, unflappable man Buck had known—the man who flew them into cat-5 hurricane with no hesitation. This was someone who was unraveling, someone who needed him now more than ever.

“You can breathe,” Buck said firmly, refusing to let Tommy slip any further. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right here, yeah? I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy’s grip on Buck’s coat tightened, his gloved fingers digging into the thick fabric. “I can’t… I can’t do this. Not again,” he said, his words barely audible over the crackling of distant flames and the muffled sounds of the world outside.

Buck frowned. “Not again? Tommy, what do you mean?”

Tommy didn’t answer, his breathing accelerating again as his eyes darted around the confined space. It hit Buck like a punch to the gut—this wasn’t just claustrophobia. This was something deeper, something rooted in Tommy’s past.

The army. The PTSD Tommy had never really talked about.

Buck’s mind raced as he tried to piece it together. He didn’t have all the details, but he didn’t need them. What mattered was getting Tommy through this.

“Hey, listen to me,” Buck said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. He leaned in, his helmet almost touching Tommy’s “I don’t know what you’re seeing right now, but you’re not there. You’re here, with me. This isn’t the past. We’re going to get out of this, but I need you to come back to me first. Can you do that?”

Tommy’s breaths were still ragged, but something in Buck’s words seemed to reach him. His eyes flickered back to Buck’s, and for a split second, there was a glimmer of recognition.

“Evan,” Tommy rasped, the name tumbling out like a lifeline. “I—I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Buck said, his heart squeezing at the sound of his name. “And you’re doing great. Just keep trying. We’re in this together.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense, broken only by the distant sounds of the fire team working to clear the debris. Buck shifted slightly, trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space, but it was impossible. The walls were too close, the heat too oppressive.

He noticed Tommy’s hands trembling again, tugging weakly at the straps of his harness again. “It’s too tight,” Tommy choked out. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Buck acted quickly, loosening the straps just enough to relieve the pressure without compromising the seal of the mask. “There,” he said. “That’s better, right? Just focus on breathing with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got this.”

Tommy tried to mimic Buck’s exaggerated breathing, but it was still uneven, shaky. Buck didn’t let up. “That’s it. One breath at a time. You’re not in this by yourself, Tommy. I’m right here, and I’ve got you.”

Tommy’s grip on Buck’s coat didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, like he was afraid Buck might disappear if he let go. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke again. “I thought… I thought I’d moved past this. I thought I could handle it.”

“Hey,” Buck said gently, “there’s no ‘handling’ something like this. It’s not a weakness, Tommy. It’s just something you go through, and you’re not going through it alone. Not now.”

Tommy’s head dropped forward, resting briefly against Buck’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell Buck that he was breaking through the panic, bit by bit.

“You’re doing great,” Buck repeated, his voice steady and calm. He adjusted his own position slightly, ignoring the discomfort as he stayed close to Tommy. “Just keep breathing. We’ll get out of this soon.”

The sound of shifting debris and distant shouting pierced the heavy silence in the confined space. Buck froze, straining to hear. The words were muffled at first, but then they grew clearer.

“Kinard! Buckley! Can you hear us?”

It was Tommy’s team. Relief flooded Buck, but it was short-lived as he glanced at Tommy, whose breathing was still ragged, his wide eyes darting around as if the walls were closing in again. The panic hadn’t fully released its grip on him.

“They’re here, Tommy,” Buck said firmly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re getting out. You’re going to be okay.”

Tommy barely reacted, still trapped in his own mind, his hands twitching slightly where they gripped Buck’s turnout coat.

The rubble above shifted again, light spilling into the tight space as the team above worked to clear the debris. A voice called out, clearer now. “Kinard! Buckley! Respond if you can hear us!”

“Here!” Buck shouted back. “We’re here! We’re okay!”

“No, no, no…” Tommy was mumbling, his voice trembling as his head shook violently. “No, they can’t find us. They can’t. They can’t.”

Buck froze for a moment, the words hitting him like a gut punch. “Tommy, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice careful but laced with confusion. “They’re here to help us. They’re our team. Your team.”

Tommy’s eyes darted around the confined space, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head again. “No, if they find us… if they find me—” His voice cracked, and he clamped his mouth shut as if he’d already said too much.

“Tommy,” Buck said slowly, trying to keep his tone steady, even as alarm coursed through him. He reached out, gripping Tommy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. This is your team, Tommy. They’re not here to hurt us. They’re here to pull us out.”

Tommy flinched at the contact, his head jerking back to look at Buck. His eyes were wild, unseeing. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice raw and desperate. “You don’t know what it’s like—what happens when they find you. You think it’s over, but it’s not. It’s never over.”

Buck’s stomach churned, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in, though the full meaning remained just out of reach. He didn’t need the details–the pain in Tommy’s voice said enough.

“Tommy, listen to me,” Buck said, his grip tightening. “This isn’t that. This is now. And now, they’re pulling us out, okay? It’s over. Whatever you’re thinking about—it’s not happening again.”

Tommy’s lips parted as though to argue, but no words came. His trembling intensified, his breaths growing more frantic.

“They’re calling for us, Tommy,” Buck said firmly, leaning closer. “And you’re going to let them find you. This time is different, Tommy. You’re safe, and I’m right here with you.”

A few seconds later, hands reached down through the gap. “We’re pulling you out!” one of the firefighters yelled.

At the sudden movement above them, Tommy flinched violently, his panic hitting a breaking point. Instead of clinging to Buck, he shoved him away, pressing himself back, but there was nowhere to go.

“No!” Tommy choked out, shaking his head in wild denial. “No, they can’t—don’t touch me! I can’t—” His voice cracked as he pushed harder against the debris, trying to disappear into the unyielding surface.

“Tommy!” Buck said sharply, shifting closer despite the cramped space. “Stop! You’re safe! They’re here to help us!”

But Tommy wasn’t listening. His hands scrabbled at the debris as though trying to dig himself further into the confined pocket of space, his eyes darting frantically. “No, no, no… I can’t let them—don’t let them take me!”

“Tommy, listen to me!” Buck urged, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly. “You’re not there! You’re here, with me. They’re pulling us out—”

“Buckley!” a voice barked from above. Buck’s head snapped up to see Melton, leaning dangerously over the gap. His face was tight with urgency. “There’s no time! We need to get out now, or none of us are walking out of this!”

Buck swore under his breath, his gaze darting back to Tommy, who was still caught in the throes of panic. There was no time to coax him out, no time to reason with him.

“I’m sorry Tommy,” Buck muttered, his voice low, before grabbing Tommy’s arms. With a grunt of effort, he forced Tommy upward, pushing him toward the waiting hands of the team above.

Tommy struggled weakly at first, mumbling incoherent protests, but the team didn’t hesitate. Melton reached down, gripping Tommy’s gear and hauling him up with the help of another firefighter. “We’ve got him!” Melton yelled as they pulled Tommy out of the gap.

“Shit! their tanks are bone dry!” Lucy yelled, her voice sharp with alarm. “They’re hypoxic—we need medics now!

Buck watched for a split second to make sure they had Tommy, then yelled, “I’m coming!” Hands reached for him next, and in a matter of moments, he was pulled free of the suffocating debris.

The rush of fresh air hit Buck’s lungs, but it didn’t do much to clear the heaviness in his chest. The medics were already waiting, their gear ready. Hen and Chimney were among them, both moving with purpose. Eddie stood nearby, his sharp gaze flicking between Buck and Tommy as the team ushered them toward the ambulances.

“They’re hypoxic!” Lucy shouted, sprinting to meet the medics. “Both of them were trapped for too long.”

Hen was on Tommy instantly, guiding him to sit on the bumper of an ambulance. “Tommy, stay still,” she ordered, securing an oxygen mask over his face.

Chimney grabbed Buck before he could sway too far, steering him toward another ambulance. “Sit. Down.,” Chimney demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. He pressed an oxygen mask toward Buck. “You need this, like, five minutes ago.”

“I’m fine,” Buck muttered, pushing the mask aside. His eyes locked on Tommy, who sat hunched over, his shoulders rigid and his breaths shallow, even through the oxygen.

Chimney waved his hand in front of Buck’s face. “Nope. Not happening. You’re not pulling the ‘I’m fine’ routine when you look like you just wrestled a furnace.”

“I’m fine,” Buck insisted, standing abruptly. “How’s Tommy? Is he okay?”

Hen glanced over, catching Buck’s movement. She stalked toward him, her tone sharp. “Buck! Sit back down and stay on oxygen. Tommy’s fine. I’ve got him.”

“But—” Buck started, his voice tight with worry.

Hen sighed, cutting him off. “He’s stable, Buck. He’s not going to collapse on us, but he’s rattled. Let me handle it.”

Eddie, who had been watching quietly, frowned as he took in Tommy’s stiff posture and far-off gaze. Without a word, he walked past Hen, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached Tommy.

“Tommy,” Eddie said softly, crouching in front of him. “Hey, you doing okay?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered to Eddie, but his gaze didn’t hold. He shook his head slightly, his voice muffled through the oxygen mask. “I froze,” he muttered, barely audible.

Eddie tilted his head, his voice calm and understanding. “You’re out now. That’s what matters.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s not that simple,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “It’s never simple. When you’re found… it doesn’t always mean you’re free.”

Eddie didn’t need more. He’d seen that look, heard those words, and felt that fear. It lingered, even now, in the quiet corners of his mind. He understood exactly what Tommy wasn’t saying.

“You’re not there anymore,” Eddie said gently. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

Tommy glanced up briefly, his lips pressing into a tight line. For a moment, it looked like he might say something more, but then he turned his head away, retreating into complete silence.

Eddie let out a slow breath, standing and stepping back. As he returned to Buck, he kept his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes carried a weight that Buck couldn’t ignore.

“He’s fine,” Eddie said quietly. “You should talk to him. Just… be patient.”

Hen sighed as Buck started to move again. “Fine,” she said, exasperated. “Go. But if you don’t get back on oxygen afterward, I’m hauling you to the ER myself.” Buck didn’t argue. He crossed the distance to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Buck said softly, crouching in front of him.

Tommy’s head jerked up, and his eyes found Buck’s. They were still glassy, his breaths still uneven. “Evan… I…” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the faraway look in his eyes betrayed his words then he chocked “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Buck said quickly. “We’re both okay. That’s all that matters.”

Tommy’s hands twitched where they rested on his knees, his fingers curling into fists. “No, it’s not… I don’t know what happened. I thought I was fine, but then… the collapse… it just happened so suddenly, and I was pulled into another place. I couldn’t—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, ashamed.

“Tommy, look at me,” Buck said, his tone firm. He reached out, resting a hand on Tommy’s knee. “It’s okay. You were scared. That’s normal. You’re human.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, and he let out a shaky breath. “But I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m supposed to be able to handle it. What if—I could’ve gotten us killed!”

“You didn’t,” Buck said firmly. “You didn’t get us killed, Tommy. We made it out because of you. You kept coming back, even when it felt impossible. That’s what matters.”

Tommy’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what could have happened if you weren’t there,” he admitted in a broken whisper.

“You don’t have to know,” Buck replied. “Because I was there. And I’ll always be there. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Tommy let out a shuddering breath, some of the tension in his body finally easing. For the first time since the collapse, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Buck gave him a reassuring nod, staying by his side until Hen returned, her hands on her hips. “Alright, Buck. Oxygen. Now. Or I’m dragging you to the hospital.”

Buck raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m riding with him anyway,” he said simply, nodding toward Tommy. Finally, he took the mask, but his eyes stayed on Tommy, making sure he was okay.

[agoldenblackbird]

buffy summers: i love you and don't want to see you hurt. also my mother is deadly ill.

riley finn: by god i have never been treated so badly. time to get pseudo-sucked off by a vampire

[agoldenblackbird]

Listen, I'm having fun playing with the ultra patriotic voice, but after a couple years in blue-collar landscaping jobs, you really do need to phrase things like that.

"I'm pretty sure that fella ain't here legally."

"Well, that ain't your business Chip, it's his."

They hate being preached to. If you pull out words like 'gender wage gap' they'll tell you you're brainwashed by the far left media.

"He's one of them transgenders."

"He got freedoms too, Jimmy."

[agoldenblackbird]

northern hemisphere babes we made it to the longest night of the year. we made it. for the next 6 months, every day will give us a little more daylight than the last. let's go. take my hand. climb out of the darkness with me

[agoldenblackbird]

newbie asked if we're supposed to look out for 'red flags' in interlibrary loan requests in reference to a request a patron had made for a book about cannibalism. she was looking expectantly at me like she was expecting me to be equally aghast at this........girl why would you work at a library if you want to play book police

[agoldenblackbird]

NASA advertising "do you want to be an astronaut" to tumblr users surely means something. What have you found out there, NASA? What have you found that you believe tumblr users, specifically, are best equipped to handle?

[agoldenblackbird]

Santa is on strike due to global warming.  All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger.  Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.

[agoldenblackbird]

If I could reach into the show and pull out one single thing from the canon, it would be that one line in Normal Again. "Back when I saw my first vampires...I got so scared. I told my parents ... and they completely freaked out. They thought there was something seriously wrong with me. So they sent me to a clinic." I'm not usually one to care about "retcons" - my general belief is that if you need to change or ignore some continuity in order to tell a good story, you should absolutely do that and damn the consequences. I'm pro-retcons. But this is not a good one. It's a line that totally recontextualises the first two seasons of the show into a much worse light.

If we are to accept this line as true, then that means that every time Joyce casually dismisses Buffy's angst as standard teenage nonsense, she is doing that to somebody she deemed mentally unwell enough to be insitutionalised. When Joyce expresses anger an disappointment towards Buffy, it's not because she doesn't have enough information and thinks Buffy is acting out for no discernible reason, it's now disappointment and anger towards a child she believes is mentally ill and suffering hallucinations. When Buffy makes jokey sarcastic-confession references to vampires and Joyce brushes it off, she's not just reacting as a normal person would when somebody mentions fighting vampires - she's actually her daughter exhiiting signs of a mental illness she previously deemed so concerning she had her locked up.

Look at this exchange from Bad Eggs and consider it under the context of "Buffy once told Joyce that she thought vampires were real and Joyce had her institutionalised for it".

Joyce: A little responsibility is all I ask. Honestly, don't you ever think about anything besides boys and clothes? Buffy: Saving the world from vampires? Joyce: I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes on in your head.

Suddenly, an entirely normal conversation where everyone is acting fairly sympathetically given the information they have becomes a highly disturbing example of a neglectful and almost gaslight-y parent. A parent treating their child's mental illness in this way is horrible on its own, but there also arise disturbing connotations in the metaphors the show uses. The show consistently hits the "slayerhood as queer metaphor" button very hard with Joyce - for example Buffy's "coming out" to her mother in Becoming being very obviously coded as a queer person coming out to a misunderstanding parent ("Have you tried not being a Slayer?"). So under this metaphor, Buffy being institutionalised by her parents becomes a fairly direct allegory for being sent to conversion therapy. That's honestly a more upsetting thought than I want to consider.

It totally redefines Buffy's story too. We watched two seasons of her struggling with this secret, trying to balance these two sides of herself, and eventually realising that she can't separate them and admitting the truth to her mother. This line changes that story, from "I don't know if I can tell this secret" to "I told this secret before and it went really badly". Which is an entirely different story. It becomes deeply upsetting to watch Buffy in the first two seasons in the context of Buffy having this trauma of being institutionalised that is just being completely unacknowledged by the text.

And it's just so deeply unnecessary. It's inserted to lend credence to Buffy's paranoia over which world is real, and that's pretty much it. There is no effort to address Buffy's trauma going forward, no extra consideration of what these revelations mean for her. It's in service of what I think is the least interesting part of one episode - the idea that maybe the mental institution is the real world. The more interesting part of that episode is Buffy struggling with which world she wants to be real, and I don't think that this line is necessary for that idea.

Again, as a rule I really do not care about retcons. Being a Doctor Who fan made me immune to that I think. But I think this is the worst kind of retcon. Something like the soul canon, which becomes very vague and contradictory in the latter seasons of the show, doesn't bother me because I think those contradictions ultimately service a more interesting story. You can view the earlier seasons through the lens of "yes, actually, soulless creatures can be good" and gain a lot from viewing it that way. This line is something that I think makes viewing the earlier seasons actively worse. A lens of "Buffy was institutionalised by her parents" makes the first 2-3 seasons unecessarily upsetting for the reasons I've gone over, and for little discernible benefit.

I don't often like to be purely negative, but I realy don't like this line, and I will probably die on this hill.

[agoldenblackbird]

what i'm really realizing about giles as the course of the show goes on is that he is -- at his core -- just as irresponsible as spike but hides it out of guilt i think? (i don't remember the whole story of why he left the chaos cult and became a watcher.) when left on his own for like two seconds he's like 'ok time to brood'. so expecting giles to consistently be the cool voice of reason -- especially when emotions are involved -- does not work.

i dunno if i'm making a lot of sense here haha. i feel like i'm circling around a good point but can't hit it. c'est la vie