ganxiously

[ganxiously]

Remember how in the first Narnia movie, during the last battle, the white witch had hordes and hordes of soldiers and magic while the other side was basically desperate hopes and dreams bound together by prophecy and duct tape and a mythical, magical beast who had been suddenly taken away through trickery. and while this side had all the reason to give up, they were determined to hold on to hope and face the battle with grim determination to make it to the other side no matter the result? yep, no guesses for which side I feel like right now.

[ganxiously]

what do you mean there is a dog named Bear and he is going around wearing Buck's turnouts?? i definitely have read this fic before

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Not me obsessively checking for news about the new episode all the while knowing that everyone on that side of the globe is fast asleep and that if they do drop anything, it will be only after I have gone to bed.

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https://www.tumblr.com/ganxiously/778424849725095936/i-replied-to-this-post-by-bidisasterevankinard?source=share

No one thought Abby would work in canon either, I must have missed the part where Tim cared about any of it 🙄

If you're gonna write a long post about why people shouldn't spec, why their headcanons are not acceptable for you at least put a discourse tag/negativity tag so those of us who are here for what spec actually is (having fun, not being right) can filter them out.

To start off with, it's not exactly right to compare the Abby thing to the fwb thing - mainly because Abby was context to the plot, fwb is the plot itself and I do agree that Tim cares about nothing and is likely to pull off whatever batshit insane thing that comes to his mind.

And I never wrote a long post about why people shouldn't spec. What I did write was a long post about why I believed this plot would not work out. If you do read through the post, you'll see that nowhere have I said that I find the headcanon unacceptable - I have not made any moral judgements, I have not insulted anyone. I have merely posited my views on the matter.

And before you make a snide comment in the future, I would suggest you take a moment to consider your words. because isn't speculating just guessing what will/will not happen based on what little information you have? that is all I have done. And I do believe that if people are allowed to speculate about why this will happen, I am also allowed to speculate about why it won't. This was also in fun (someone asked people what they thought, I replied, they liked it and asked me to make a rebloggable post so I did) and there was nothing judgemental or the need to be right about it.

As for the tagging, I really was not aware that that was the etiquette so sorry for that. I'll add the tag immediately and ensure it doesn't happen in the future. But next time, you want to call someone out, do them the favour of actually reading through the post beforehand. If you don't want to do that, consider just sending out a polite 'This might be discouraging to people. Can you add this tag?' and I believe anyone would do so right away. Have a good day.

[ganxiously]

i replied to this post by @bidisasterevankinard about what people think about the potential fwb arc and she requested that i make a post about it so here it is -

fwb as a plot is something we mostly see in movies, between main characters of tv shows and most commonly for fandom people, in fanfics. these work because of the time and depth that is given to the story. especially fanfics which is all about the couple and what they are thinking and feeling at every given point. this is crucial for a fwb story because while the characters misunderstand, the audience/readers never do. they know exactly where the story is going. and this is the very reason why fwb would not pan out the way people are expecting it to in a show like 911.

first of all, logistically, it isn't possible because there is not simply enough time for it. 5-10 minutes of screentime in a period of 3 or 4 episode does not a fwb make. you cannot have the characters hook up a couple of time over a couple of weeks and then call them friends with benefits. the characters need to marinate in their wrong decisions and showcase both their suffering which is simply not feasible for a recurring character like Tommy.

now even if we assume that they manage to do it, what the plot will do to the relationship is make it superficial. the time constraint will ensure that we never get the full picture on where these two stand feeling wise like even right now, a lot of what we are taking as fact is still conjecture. Tommy can bubble all he wants and Buck can speak in circles for eternity but in fiction, no one is in love until they say they are. so when the confession comes, it will feel like it came out of nowhere. (and before you say something, being fwb is very different from hooking up and then at some point have a calm discussion about the situation. the latter is a mistake rectified while the former is a misstep negotioated and committed)

furthermore, it will also turn everyone's concerns into conrete reality. Tommy's concern that Buck doesn't know what he wants, Buck's concern that Tommy didn't care about him enough to take a risk and the audience's concern that they are so self-centred in their own hurt and insecurities that these two don't even want to communicate. and even when the love confession does happen, 3 episodes down in the middle of a disaster, there will be a doubt marring their every milestone that these two would not communicate unless they are forced by circumstance, that they are talking but not really talking.

so yeah, read as many fanfics as you want but i honestly think, a fwb arc would turn out to be a be careful what you wish for situation.

[ganxiously]

for your information, when someone writes something like 'Tommy had a picture stuck to his dashboard – his boyfriend smiling brighter than the sun at the camera', this is what I am imagining

[ganxiously]

buck finally getting to meet his grandparents 🥹

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if nothing else, I, at least, deserve another BuckTommy make out session just so that I can finally update my pfp.

[ganxiously]

wind finding

buck/tommy

8x14/8x15 spec fic

I wrote this right before my first morning meeting, so if it's rushed and makes no sense, I'm well aware. Enjoy!

+

The very second Tommy went with helicopters, people came crawling out of the woodwork to offer their two cents on everything from industry politics (all dangled carrots and empty promises) to what constitutes a good operator (whoever's actually signing your paycheck at the time) to which jobs would bring in the most money (ditching helicopters entirely in favor of planes) to the best ways to manage stress (avoiding utility altogether).

But the one piece of advice Tommy has never forgotten came from one of his first operators in Afghanistan, who had a face like a mountain crag and every word that came out of his mouth had to first find its way around the wad of dip permanently attached to his bottom gums.

"Being able to find the wind is the only skill you need to nail down, or else you're gonna frag out faster'n you can say 'high as bat pussy'. The odds of being able to see the leaves on a fuckin' tree are less'n nothin' out here, never mind spottin' a fuckin' windsock, Kinard. The second you get in the air, you just listen to your bird; she'll tell you point blank where the wind is, so long as you've got your ears on."

Then Warrant Officer Harold hocked a loogie the size of a crow at the ground and stormed away, shouting, "PRIVATE KEATON, IF YOU DON'T STOP FONDLIN' THAT REFUEL PROBE I'M GONNA SHOVE IT IN YOUR DICK HOLE!"

Twenty years later, Tommy's in the cockpit of his favorite AW139 with the mouth of a glock pressed right above his brain stem, and the second he achieves optimal altitude, he finds the wind.

"You make it look so effortless, like it's just something your body does. Like breathing," Evan had said during their one and only legal flight together, like he wasn't furious that Tommy had woken him up at 3:30 in the morning on his day off to go for a joyride. Even as the sun peeked over the horizon to see if the coast was clear, it couldn't hope to match the sheer brightness of Evan's smile.

If being able to find the wind wasn't practically part of his autonomic nervous system at this point in his career, Tommy'd have no business being in the air at all.

"Remember," the guy with the gun, Remo, murmurs into the headset he'd forced Tommy to give him. "Top of the Aon. We're making the switch there."

"Nakatomi Tower would be better for this sort of thing," Tommy mutters.

Instead of being whipped with the gun, the speaker in his ear crackles with Remo's laughter. "I was more partial to the second film."

Tommy grips the cyclic a little tighter. "That's the worst thing you've admitted to so far."

It's not. Bombing multiple police stations was bad enough, but one of them was right next to a school. The last thing that came through the comms before Remo's buddies hacked it was the 118 being called to 309 Lucas Ave in Westlake North for fire containment and emergency medical assistance.

He glances at the dashboard. Tucked right above the radar is a little photo he'd printed out at his local CVS on a whim while he was getting a 'Happy 80th birthday, grandma!" card for Sal. It's barely anything: a portrait forced to inhabit a 4x4 square, so the quality is extra shitty. But the man in it is smiling brighter than a sunrise over the ocean, and Tommy's heart gives a pitiful thud just looking at it.

Melton would've shit a brick if he'd known about it. Despite what Hollywood would have the general populace believe, having pictures of loved ones on a pilot's dashboard can be a hell of a distraction. It goes against LAFD regs.

But having spent the last month reacquainting himself with Evan's smile and the wild hope that they could have a future together, it felt right to tack the photo up. He was professional enough that he wouldn't let it get in the way of the job.

He thinks of Evan watching him from the bed this morning, tangled up in sheets that smelled like the both of them. He thinks of the blurred, sleep-damp smile on Evan's face as Tommy hid the evidence of what they got up to the previous night.

"You're covering up a masterpiece," Evan had said, voice a little blurred with sleep. "That's some of my best work."

"Let me guess: if I connect all the hickeys, it's gonna turn into a dolphin or something?"

Evan had thrown back his head on the pillow and cackled, and Tommy had thought, We could build a life on this.

Except Evan is pulling tiny bodies out of the ruins of Gratts Elementary, Tommy's got a gun to his head, and Remo's little cell of opportunistic assholes are using the bombings across the city to distract from the 51% blockchain hack they pulled off two hours ago. Tommy doesn't understand crypto for the life of him, but what he got from Harbor's newest probie was something something a blockchain’s distributed ledger was changed and double spending was enabled. At the time, it seemed like a lot of bullshit that boiled down to "they now control the invisible internet money conveyor belt," but at least 200 people are dead, and according to Remo, there are still 70 bombs wired and ready to explode on his say-so.

Unless Tommy flies him and his weird, silent friend to the Aon, where someone's going to be waiting to whisk them away to all points nowhere. Tommy knows exactly how this is going to shake out: the second he lands the bird, Remo's going to bury a bullet in Tommy's brain before disappearing into the wind, leaving the world in shambles. But it won't be enough. Remo will get bored before long—the smart, psychotic ones always do—and then pop back up at some point to do even worse if he has the opportunity.

Ten years from now, they'll make a documentary series about all this. Evan will watch it, because he's contractually obligated to seek out things that will hurt him for some reason, and it'll probably be like cutting open a just-healed wound. He'll spiral until Maddie or one of the others forces him to stop. The series will be called something stupid, like Finding Remo.

That is, of course, if Remo has the opportunity.

Swallowing, throat clicking, Tommy glances at the photo on the dashboard. Evan beams at him from where he's posing like the dorkiest Greek god in the pantheon on top of a boulder somewhere on the Temescal Canyon Trail. That had been a good day. It seemed like the start of a lifetime of them.

He looks away and out the windshield where, up ahead, the Aon stands tall against the sky. But standing taller, and closer, is Library Tower.

Exhaling, Tommy keeps his eyes straight. "Listen, you can put the gun away. It's not the threat you think it is."

"No?" Remo presses the glock harder against the back of Tommy's head, and Tommy stifles a wince. "You think I won't shoot you?"

"Oh, I know you're gonna shoot me," Tommy says, almost cheerfully. He refuses to look any closer at that. "I just don't think you're gonna do it while we're hanging 900 feet above the city."

The pause that follows is probably only a second or two, but it feels like a decade. Finally, the press of metal disappears, and Tommy hears the safety clicking back on.

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Remo says, curiosity making his already light voice positively airy.

Tommy shrugs. "Last year I stole one of these to fly some friends into a category 5 hurricane, then landed it on a capsized cruise ship. This? Doesn't even break a 6.5 on my Crazy Shit-o-meter."

Remo laughs, and Tommy hears the tell tale rustling of the gun being holstered. Thankfully the rotors completely drown out the sound of his heart pounding, which would otherwise be audible from space.

"Let me just say that of all the pilots I could've kidnapped, you're by far the most entertaining."

"Thank you," Tommy says seriously.

Below them, the Walt Disney Concert Hall is lit up for the night's show. They'll be passing the BoA Financial Center, and from there it's only a couple of minutes until their destination.

"Hey, uh, since this does end with me getting shot," Tommy ventures, trying to keep a lid on the massive amounts of adrenaline that are being dumped into his bloodstream. He must be visibly vibrating. "Could I... could I make a call?"

Remo snorts. "Let me guess: 9-1-1?"

Okay, that's kind of funny. Tommy cracks a grin. "Not quite. I have someone... I have someone, and there's something important I need to say."

One of the drawbacks of a helicopter's cockpit is there's no rearview mirror, which would really come in handy right now. He has no idea what Remo's face is doing. He has no idea if he's looking at his silent companion and having some kind of wordless conversation, if Remo is the kind of guy who would grant the last wish of someone he's using.

Finally, after what feels like years, Remo says, "You get ten seconds. You'd better make them count."

He's done more with less. "That's fair. But I'm either going to need you to call it for me or let me hook into an open line."

The air inside the helicopter seems to squeeze inward. "An open line?"

"My... my boyfriend's LAFD." He bites down on the inside of his cheek as they pass the BoA Center on the left, and hopes against all hope that Remo isn't too much of a homophobe to deny the request.

But surprise, surprise. Remo only laughs and says, "How romantic. Urs, get him on an open line to his firefighter boyfriend. It's the least we can do after everything he's done to help us."

Tommy can't see what Urs is doing, but his headset crackles with the familiar static of a live comms line.

"Ten seconds," Remo reminds him. Below them, the roof of Library Tower seems both miles away and impossibly close.

It's all he needs.

"This is LAFD pilot Tom Kinard. Evan Buckley, if you're listening, look in the drawer to the right of the microwave. There's something in there for you." He quietly undoes his harness and kills the engine. "It's yours. It's always been yours."

Just as the AW139 is about to clear the roof of the tower, Tommy shoulders open the door and kicks off into the sky.

The wind is blowing southeast.

+

"N-No, no, no, hey, it's okay, don't fight it, you're okay—hey, I need some help in here! He's waking up! Tommy, they're going to take it out, just wait."

There's a tree trunk growing out of his throat, but trying to move it is impossible, and the effort takes everything out of him. So he gives up, gagging and drifting in and out, then decides to just climb the entire length of the tree to get a look at the view. From there, it's just a matter of finding the wind and floating away with it.

The next time he surfaces, there's something hard over his face, warm and humid, and when the clouds clear from his vision he's able to see two things: Evan's wide-eyed expression of relief, and a giant orange poster board in Lucy's familiar, blocky handwriting that says 2 DAYS SINCE KINARD LAST TAUNTED GOD.

There's a 1 in front of the 2, but it's crossed out.

"Hey!" Evan breathes, and the mattress at Tommy's hip dips a little under his weight. "H-Hey, there you are. Morning! Well, not, uh, morning exactly—it's like 8 o'clock at night—but you're awake!"

"I am." It's muffled by the oxygen mask.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" Evan leans in, blocking Tommy's view of anything else. He hasn't shaved in a bit, and the hair at his temples looks a little greasy. He's the most gorgeous thing Tommy's ever laid eyes on.

"No pain," Tommy rasps. "M'body's full'f cotton."

Evan smiles a little. "Yeah, they've got you on the good stuff. I can't tell you how many bones you've broken, because it seems like they're still finding them. The doctor did say he'd never seen a pneumothorax quite like yours before, though. He keeps bringing other doctors in to look at your scans. I think a couple of them cancelled their surgeries so they could watch yours yesterday. You're like a celebrity. You've got, like, four tubes in you sucking the excess air out."

For a second, Tommy has no idea what he's talking about. Pneumothorax? How'd he manage that? Lucy's gonna give him shit for the next year.

Then, like a breeze kicking up from the west, it all comes sweeping in. Something starts beeping a little erratically. "Did—did he... he didn't... did... R-Remo...?"

The words are slow and thick, like they have to climb over the broken branches the tree had left behind, but understanding lights up Evan's face almost immediately. He thinks Evan must be holding his hand, because there's pressure on his fingers that feels like it's coming from another room.

"He didn't," Evan says softly, but there's a sparkle of brutal satisfaction in his eyes that Tommy can't look away from. "The helicopter went down like a sack of bricks after you ditched it. It took out the coffee shop in the library. Before you ask: they close at 2:30, so no one had been in there for hours. No one was hurt. Except, well, what's his name."

Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in the canned, almost metallic stuff they're feeding him through the mask. It's so pure, it makes him a little dizzy.

"Good." His sinuses prickle hotly. "Good. That's..."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Evan coos, and Tommy opens his eyes just in time to see Evan press his mouth lushly to the curve of the oxygen mask. Despite whatever they're giving him, Tommy's lips ache with the need to feel that kiss.

"Evan," he whispers.

When he pulls back, Evan's got a wide, almost gleeful grin tugging the corners of his mouth to his ears. He looks like he's about to blow up a Gotham City school bus to try and draw out Batman. Instead, he lifts his left hand.

The lights in the room are low, so the ring on Evan's finger doesn't really glint as brightly as it should, but the light in Evan's eyes is almost blinding.

"Drawer to the right of the microwave, huh?" He laughs a little, like it's bubbling out of him, like he can't stop it. "How long had that been in there?"

It takes a moment for Tommy to pick through the cobwebs in his brain. "Mm... got it... after we did that flight over... hm... Channel Islands."

Evan stares at him, then his bubbly laughter morphs into maniacal cackling.

Tommy glances down at his hands to see if they gave him a button for the pain meds he's on. He's going to dilaudid himself into oblivion.

"That was four months into..." Evan uses their joined hands to wipe away the tears beading on his lashes. "When I asked you to move in, you ran away so fast you left a trail of dust behind you. But you bought an engagement ring four months into dating me?"

"In my defense," Tommy says, suddenly very jealous of Remo for dying a fiery death in the LA Library coffee shop. "I knew... you were it for me. You, on the other hand, had no idea... hm... what you wanted. Asking me... to move in wasn't—it wasn't about me."

Pursing his lips, Evan ducks his head and doesn't deny it, but when he tilts his chin up, the only thing on his face is bare, earnest truth. "I knew I wanted you, Tommy, any way I could have you. I didn't know what that looked like, and not knowing made me... I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to cling when I panic."

Tommy thinks back over the last month—how every time he showed up on Eddie's doorstep, Evan practically threw himself at Tommy, clutching at him like he was afraid Tommy might go back down the walkway and leave; how getting up to take a piss or grab a Gatorade meant leaving the bed, and the look on Evan's face every time was like watching a car crash—and squeezes Evan's hand. He thinks he does, at least.

"Do you... know what it looks like now?" It takes almost all his strength to get the words out. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him, and he pinwheels a little with it. Kicking his way back to the surface takes concentration.

Evan lifts his hand again. The ring fits his finger perfectly. "It looks like you, about to fall asleep."

Another wave bowls him over, and he fights to keep his eyes open. Lucy's stupid poster blurs like someone's upturned a can of Sprite over it.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and so will half the LAPD and a bunch of people from the FBI. You're the hero of the day," Evan murmurs, and Tommy grumbles a little. "But, hey, Tommy. Before you—how did you know? How'd you know I was it for you?"

Even as he's being pulled down into the dark, he looks up, and he sees the surface roiling, dancing with the light of an old sunrise that couldn't hold a candle to the phenomenon of Evan Buckley's smile.

"Found th' wind," Tommy mumbles, drifting down, down, down. "'s easy. Like breathing."

[ganxiously]

I was thinking about it and it actually makes a lot of sense for Tommy to appear in 8.11 or at least 8.12 if he is going to play a big part in the upcoming big disaster. We in the fandom have been yapping over him for months now and whether we like it or not, the prevailing fanons about him have coloured our perception and understanding of the plot. But the GA does not have that. For them, Tommy disappeared in ep 6 and since then we have had no information on what is going on with that man beyond the fact that he, at least once, briefly considered texting Buck. For all the audience knows, it could have just been a text to tell Buck to return his things.

So right now, all we have is Buck's perspective and while that is fine for a moving-on plot, if they were to get back together, the pain needs to be on both sides and for the audience to believe in it, the pain of both the parties need to be visible on screen. The GA needs to see both of them hurting and missing and loving each other for a few scenes in order to be sold on them being endgame. If Tommy just appeared out of nowhere and saved the day and boom! love confession and happily ever after, forget the GA, even I wouldn't believe in it. Especially given how their relationship ended previously. You can't have a climax without rising action.

[ganxiously]

Tommy having a spine and not putting up with Buck when he's in the wrong

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At this point, I am just as curious about the pornbots in the tag like what is the process here? Is there a single someone behind all of them or like a guild made of individual pornbot accounts that is holding nightly meetings to settle on the kink of the day? What checklist are you following to decide whether we are to be bombarded with trans women or boobs or femdom that day? What data do you have on our demographics that is making you send female-centred porn to a fandom that is all about shipping two very male characters and is obsessed with getting either or both of them pregnant. and more importantly, can I have access to that data?

[ganxiously]

I don't want to piss on anyone's parade but I would like to remind everyone that even if Tommy is back, we do not know in what capacity. So knowing Tim Minear's mess of a mind, Tommy can -

a. have a brief appearance and they never talk properly but Buck decides to move on.

b. they do talk and they decide to move on.

c. Tommy comes back and suddenly he is a jerk (and/or with a bf) in order to justify the breakup to the audience

d. they meet, they talk, Tommy dies

e. they never get to talk and Tommy dies and Tim shanonizes Tommy

f. they start a fwb arc that ends with them becoming too toxic to work

g. they start a fwb which is milked for ages before Tim let's them be together

h. they start a fwb and they get together in a reasonable amount of time (maybe in 3-4 episodes)

i. they talk, they figure it out and build a healthy relationship and move in by end of season

[ganxiously]

Me: So is Tommy really back or are we just clowning?

The entire BuckTommy nation: Yes.

[ganxiously]

inside me there are two beasts:

[ganxiously]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard Additional Tags: POV Outsider, Fluff, Social Media Summary:

Inspired by the MeetcuteNYC videos.

[ganxiously]

pspsps, now the graveyard truck scene please. thank you.