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Sooooo.... Just finished reading the newest chapter [4/5] of Darkness Settles In by NeverlandPoet, aka @do-androids-dream-ao3acc 🥳 And... I love everything about it! 🫠🤧

It’s a bit more Buck-focused this time, but if you can handle topics like grief, depression and unhealthy coping (currently well) — and also think our sweet Golden Retriever needs someone to knock some sense into him: Give it a try! Warmest rec!

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Darkness Settles In

BuckTommy | Chapter 1

I've started a new multi chapter BuckTommy fic, first chapter is out now. Please mind the tags!

Character Study | Implied/Referenced Character Death | Depression | Grief/Mourning | Post-Episode: s08e15 Lab Rats (9-1-1 TV) | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Major Character Injury | Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley | Emotionally Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

The days were empty after Bobby’s death. 

There was work, of course: after a spell of numbness, Buck reported back for duty, not surprised to find Chimney and Ravi back on site, too. Hen needed a little more rest, but Buck suspected that Karen wouldn't be able to keep her at home much longer. It was as if they all had to return to the fire station because only there could they comfort each other, even if there was no real solace to be found. 

They were still one man short, Eddie hadn’t been replaced yet. Buck felt sympathy for the poor fellow the chief had sent: a temporary worker nearing retirement who would probably have preferred to spend his last days on the job behind a desk. But perhaps it wasn't such a bad choice after all. Anyone joining the team on a long-term basis would have had a tough time. By now, they were a close-knit community. They were friends, family even, bound together by years of experience–and now, also by grief.

Gerrard was back in the captain's role, albeit that was also, thankfully, temporarily. Buck had no doubt that Hen would be offered the position of head of the 118 after a reasonable period of time. Until then, however, they remained calm and obedient to orders; they didn't care how stupid Gerrard was behaving or how suspiciously he was eyeing them. Surprisingly enough, his actions remained mostly harmless, which didn't make him any more likable, but it did make him a little more human—the loss of a comrade hit every firefighter hard, and Bobby hadn't been just any firefighter. 

His passing left a deep mark, a crater between Buck and the outside world. Even having Eddie around couldn’t fill the void of Buck’s days. He arrived for the funeral and only stayed for two days, seeming like a foreign body in his former home, and when he left again, he looked relieved. It must have been nice to be able to escape from it all, in a way. Just drive away, into a different life. Buck didn't have that chance. He spent most of his free time lying motionless on his couch, and when the freshly painted ceiling no longer offered any answers, he drove to the beach. He’d sit there for hours, his bare feet buried in the sand, his mind replaying Bobby's last words to him over and over again like a broken record. 

“I love you, kid.”

Buck understood those words exactly as Bobby had meant them, and that was precisely why it was so hard. Maybe it was unfair to constantly compare Phillip to Bobby, but being a father meant more than just a biological connection. The ties that had bound him to Bobby had been so much stronger. With almost his final breath, Bobby had told him that he’d loved him. Like a son, like his own kids. And Buck would have given his right arm to go back to that moment, as painful as it had been. Having to leave Bobby, leaving him alone to die, had felt like being buried under a thousand tons of steel. As if it had been himself dying in that cold and insignificant lab, or at least a part of him. If he could turn back time – and he’d replayed that very moment in his mind, his own merciless time machine – he’d tell Bobby that he loved him, too. Not having done that felt so wrong, even though Bobby had always known how Buck felt. But now he was dead, it was too late, and Buck experienced guilt, for so many reasons. Partly because this felt like actually losing a father, and partly because he knew that one day, when it happened to his parents, he would feel a much less complicated grief. 

So he buried himself in work, even if he was actually entitled to days off, or even vacation. 

They all did. Ravi was quiet and withdrawn, as if he wanted to prove once again that this was only his coworkers, not his family—even though he had demonstrated the opposite back in the lab. Chimney showed up to work with deep worry lines on his forehead. He worked extra hard, as if he had something to prove to himself or to his late captain. They all did, somehow: Chimney was compassionate and patient even with the most trivial calls, Ravi checked every room, every vehicle, and every piece of equipment multiple times, and Buck... he threw himself onto every job that seemed vaguely risky. Chimney tried to replace Hen, and Ravi strived to never to overlook anything again. Buck, however, was looking for opportunities to hurt himself so he could feel something. 

Of course, it didn't work. After his shifts, when he unlocked the door to Eddie's house—it still hadn't really become his home—he often didn’t turn on the lights or opened the curtains, depending on the time of day. The house was always in a state of darkness, and Buck welcomed this darkness because it was also within him. His extended family, as he called them, did their best to ease the pain, to be together in their common grief. Karen invited Athena and Buck over to dinner, keeping them busy to prevent Hen from helping in the kitchen. Maddie stopped by Buck's with a cake, which felt strange after all the baking he’d done for weeks. They all gathered for a small private ceremony at the fire station a few days after the funeral, where they toasted Bobby with apple juice and vowed to carry on in his honor. But every time they met, there were tears, and even though that was normal and maybe even therapeutic, Buck eventually got sick of it. 

He was tired of waking up every morning with a headache, his eyes burning from all the tears he held back so he wouldn't walk around with a swollen face all the time. He was tired of looking at Athena's strong façade, knowing that she was going through it even worse. Every single one of them seemed to only barely be holding themselves together these days, like mugs that were filled to the brim and would eventually overflow. Even talking to Eddie, who now called almost every day, was exhausting. He kept asking Buck how he was doing while appearing so distant; Buck sometimes wondered if he didn't feel anything either. 

Often, Buck felt exhausted, not from his twelve-hour-shifts but from sadness. He lay on the couch watching his own chest rise and fall, just to make sure he wasn't already dead. Eddie explained to him on the phone that these were possible signs of depression, to which Buck replied that he was surely an expert on that. He had barely hung up when there was a knock at the door. Getting his body to stand up and actually walk to the door was like wading through water: somehow unreal and surprisingly difficult at the same time. Part of him loathed the idea of getting up just to pick up a parcel, or even worse, receive another visitor, asking him how he was feeling. 

Buck sure wasn’t ready for it being Tommy. He stood there on the doorstep, tugging at his chin as he always did when he wasn't quite sure of himself. It didn't happen often, but apparently quite frequently with Buck, and he couldn't blame him for that.

“Hey,” said Tommy softly.

Buck thought the serious face didn't suit him—what a contradictory idea. He couldn't even find the slightest hint of a smile on his own face, as if it hurt to lift the corners of his mouth. As if it were a betrayal of Bobby that Buck's ex-boyfriend still looked outrageously good even when he was grieving.

“I left a few messages, and I was kinda worried because you didn't answer. Didn’t even read them, as it seems.”

There was a strange shadow of uncertainty on Tommy's face, just for a brief moment. As if the concern he spoke of was encompassing more than Buck simply not reading messages. 

“I've got my phone on silent,” Buck replied, running his hand wearily over his face. “Sorry, I completely forgot. Come in?”

“You sure?” Tommy eyed him cautiously. 

Buck pushed the door open further. “Of course. I-I should have contacted you long ago.”

“You had a lot on your mind,” Tommy said as he entered, pulling the door shut behind him. “And I really don't expect any thanks, Evan, that’s not why I’m here. As far as I know, none of us are in any serious trouble.”

“Then why are you here?”

Apparently, the words came out of Buck's mouth much sharper than he intended. Tommy seemed taken aback, almost offended even. Or... no, there was a different expression on his face. Those furrows at the corners of his mouth, that vulnerability in his eyes, just for a second—what did it all mean? 

For a moment, Buck noticed his surroundings with crystal clarity. The house was a garbage dump, and he hadn't even been aware. He’d been living in the middle of takeaway leftovers for days, between carelessly discarded beer cans and a pile of clothes, from which he selected something as soon as he got home and slipped out of his outdoor garments. He mechanically did everything that was necessary to function outwardly, and only now did he realize that he was apparently not much different from Athena in this respect. Except that her home, as he knew very well, did not look like this.

“I'm sorry,” he said, unsure for what he was actually apologizing.

Tommy stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by chaos, frowning as if he had expected—not without reason—that the apology would be followed by an explanation. His shoulders slumped as he watched Buck with growing confusion in his eyes, when the latter bent down, manically picking up stuff from the floor. He didn't really care what the house looked like; he wasn't expecting visitors and didn't want any, but at least this way he didn't have to look at Tommy. Buck was fed up with looking at sad people, as ridiculous as that was. And he certainly didn't want this sadness to be directed at him.

Maybe Tommy didn't want that either. He bent down, picking up bags from a Chinese takeaway while saying, “I like the place.” Seeing Buck's skeptical look, he added, reading from the bag, “New Shanghai. They serve a good chow mein.”

Buck gave a snort, more surprised than amused. But somehow, it helped: Tommy, making small talk; the ultimate icebreaker, always making others feel comfortable. Always putting others first. Was that the real reason why he hadn't been in touch after all that, the funeral and the numb days that had followed? Not because he was waiting for Buck to make the first move—which he would have been perfectly entitled to do, since Buck had called him just to ask for a favor, stumbling and stammering, practically begging Tommy to come over and save his ass again. No, was it perhaps because he feared that this time, Buck was too damaged? Too broken to put back together the pieces?

“I missed you,” Buck said softly as he continued picking up things off the floor without really looking. “I should’ve called, b-but… I didn't know what to say. Except thank you. Because...”

“Because in the end, it didn't help.”

Tommy sounded as if there were a lump in his throat. Buck could well imagine that—his own throat had been constricted for days, almost as if he were hoarse from smoke inhalation. But then, you could at least cough, even if it was painful, you could let it out. Buck couldn’t. The grief inside of him was still too deep, still too much a part of him.

“It's not your fault,” Buck said.

“Well, it's not yours either.”

“Is it, though?”

Buck’s voice was bitter now, and he knew why. It's not because he believed the chain of events that lead to Bobby's death were actually his fault, or anybody's really, except Moira’s. It's because he wished he was to blame. It’s bad enough he’d have to live without Bobby now, because there was nothing he could do about it. Punishing himself was easy, it was healing in a way, at least for Buck. Even when he knew nothing he could have done would have prevented Bobby’s death.

“You did everything you could,” Tommy firmly claimed, almost as if he could read Buck’s mind. He’d always been so good at that, at knowing what he needed.  

“All I did was call you, and you actually came.”

“Of course.”

“But that's not a given,” Buck returned, his hands clenched tightly around foil containers. He didn’t even have a trash bag, so why was he rummaging around on the floor? Nothing made sense. Except Tommy. 

Tommy with his curls, which he hadn't hidden since they’d been together. How long had it been now? They’d only spent half a year together, and Buck had been so happy. Happiness seemed so far away now, a concept of the past. Now, there was only hope of forgetting; oblivion, just for a moment. 

“You always came when I called you,” Buck said slowly, as if all the little pieces of the puzzle were only now falling into place in his mind. 

Tommy's expression was so soft, so indulgent, as he repeated, “Of course.”

“You always came, and I always felt better,” Buck remarked, almost talking himself into a rage, his face hot, his whole body tense. “Can you do that now? C-can you do that for me?”

He may have sounded desperate, but that didn't matter. He was desperate. It was deeply ingrained in him, as if a piece of him had been cut out. There was no replacement for it, but perhaps a bandage that could keep the wound under control for a while. Tommy looked confused.

“Evan,” he said, “what…”

Buck dropped the trash he had just picked up. In two steps, he bridged their distance. 

“I need this now,” he stammered,  “I need you now.”

When his lips sought Tommy's, he found no resistance. 

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Weil du Probleme hast, die keinen interessieren

Weil du Schiss vorm Schmusen hast, bist du ein Faschist

Du musst deinen Selbsthass nicht auf andere projizieren

Damit keiner merkt, was für ein lieber Kerl du bist ... —

Because you have problems that interest nobody,

because you have fear of intimacy you are a fascist.

You don't have to project your self-hate on others,

so nobody notices what a lovely man you are ... —

Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe

Deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit

Du hast nie gelernt dich artizukulieren

Und deine Freundin, die hat niemals für dich Zeit

Your violence is only a silent cry for love,

your combat boots long for tenderness,

you have never learned to articulate yourself,

and your girlfriend never has time for you.

Arschloch!

Asshole!

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a ghost can call 911 but bobby can’t come back from the dead?? smh

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So..... When apparently Harvard is the somewhat ‘last bastion’, while more & more streaming services cave in (which is understandable in a macabre, terrible way) — we should probably be happy and grateful that e. g. ABC/911 is still on air. Still as diverse as it always was...

And before anyone says: “Lino, there are really worse things happening because of this...” I know. I know!

But: it’s exactly these little things that make you realize that nothing, absolutely nothing is spared! And that ‘playing along’ will always have consequences to face afterwards. #simplytired #sofvckingtired of this world....

Don’t get me wrong: It’s okay to lay low! It’s okay to stay quiet sometimes. Your safety always comes first! But keep looking for outs! Stick together.

Don’t let them fuck up your mind.

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Canon: So.... here’s a pilot.

Fanfic: Uuuh. PILOT. [instant vise-like grip]

Canon: Funfact: He’s the ex of character B’s ex

Fanfic: Cool! Let em be brassy and fuck...ahem, fall in love about it!

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Canon: Look, these two [dorks] have a deep spiritual bond with each other.

Fanfic: Spiritual, huh? All just a question of perspective, y’know...

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Do me a favour and reblog this with a show you like that was cancelled after only one season. I don't mean shows that were always meant to be miniseries or shows that work perfectly well as a standalone story, or shows that might still get renewed. I mean shows that are and will forever remain unfinished. The more obscure the better.

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Oooh, Bex, this is good! You’re the deity of size — I’m the deity of... drawer. Huh. Drawer like artist? Naaah, there are way better candidates for that 🫶🏼

Drawer like actual top/bottom drawer? Yeay, that’s more likely (hehe) Deity of neurodivergent chests of drawers (Please tell me I’m not the only one w/ an ‘one for everything’ drawer 🤭😅)

@anotherobsessedsomething @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @heikemika41

here's a random word generator--whatever word it gives you is now the thing you are the deity of

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24 icons under the cut.

4 screencaps, in 6 colors.

all are 150x150.

please like or reblog if you save or use.

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Ich (lese nichts ahnend mein Buch): “Eine Doktrin ist hochgefährlich, wenn sie zum Credo eines dummen Volkes wird...” Pip Williams, Die Buchbinderin von Oxford, S. 91— Nun ja, dem ist nichts hinzuzufügen...

I (unsuspectingly reading my book): “A doctrine is highly dangerous when it becomes the credo of foolish people.”* Pip Williams, The Bookbinder of Jericho — Well, where’s the lie, nothing to add...

*freely translated, cause I couldn’t find the quote online

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Thoughts about Eddie not being in the picture (yet)

Look, I’m not a fan of off-screen either 🙈 (depends). Anyway: they’ve done it before (w/ main), so on one hand, No Eddie isn’t a real surprise.... On the other hand, there are still 3 episodes left that could include flashbacks, etc. The only thing we can do is wait another week 😔

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Holy shit, how couldn’t I catch that?🤯

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oh ok...hey anyone remember what happens in the sequel to Star Trek: Wrath of Khan, Star Trek: The Search for Spock?

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If I had a nickel for every time a father figure character named Bobby died in front of their basically adopted son(s) who previously had shitty parents, I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

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I put my rating for the ep on imdb and the score is at 4.4 rn. Wtf? That is lllooooowww. Pretty sure the lowest of any of their eps. I get that people did not like what they did with that ep/how they did it. Like I've said on other posts, I'm very torn myself. But that low? This episode is not worse than the Spn finale. Be for real.

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Hot Take: I don’t want Season 9 to be their last one. (Quite apart from the fact that it is an odd number ugh)

Chances are slim, and maybe ABC is about to say goodbye, too... I know that.

And it’s still ‘just’ a show.

But. I want them to do helluv more now! They’ve already managed to bring back the silly calls more — they can pull off, if they want. So please, please, please, make us (or at least many of us) end up saying, “It still sucks, but it’s okay now”

Make us want to know how it can work without Bobby — and, for god’s sake, MAKE THEM TALK about him in S9!

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[911 spoilers]

I haven't seen a creative decision THIS BAD since Arrow killed off Laurel Lance/Black Canary in season 4. They BARELY survived that.

This may be controversial — and I would be devastated by the loss of Bobby and Peter Krause regardless — but my issue was how it happened, not that it happened.

I do agree with Tim that after 8 seasons of a show, killing off a main character who is connected to everyone can shake new life into it, because it rocks your characters in ways they haven’t been rocked, it can form unlikely bonds, it can break others, a lot of story can come from this across the board.

My issue is that if you are going to kill off your LEAD (co-lead with Bassett ofc), you should do it justice? It would have been one thing if the death was instant, but they chose to have it slowly unfold so Athena and Bobby could say goodbye. I get that, and the twist was heroic, but it was also rushed. This was a two part event that spent way too much time on things that did not matter, when it could have given even a 10 minute extra window to Bobby’s death.

I know this sounds like a crazy comparison, but remember when Alaric “died” in TVD? How everyone showed up for him and said goodbye, one by one? And then he glanced outside, and saw everyone standing together for him? It was and remains one of the most gut wrenching TV death moments ever (even though he ended up being awful and also coming back, the strength of that moment remains).

Why could we not do this here? Have Bobby say goodbye to everyone, and hold a steady shot on the 118 as they look at Bobby from the other side of the glass as he fades away. And as the life leaves Bobby, the 118 breaks down. Eddie gets a call, we see him break down (all over music, we don’t hear the cries, but we see them). Still poignant, but it gives every actor — especially Krause — more to chew on. It was a two-part event. There was SO much time.

And why not give Bobby more story leading up to his death? Hes barely been in this season, coming off a season where he had been fired. I think he deserved one more major story before going out. If it was a “we’re slowly fading him out,” I don’t agree with that choice.

Krause/Bobby was the beating heart of this show for 8 seasons. I think his goodbye deserved better, and more, and the opportunity was right there for the taking. I think the goodbyes we did get were BEAUTIFUL, which is even more of a gut punch knowing what we could have had.

I know the next three episodes will likely bring Bobby back in ghost form to give each person a goodbye, and that’s smart to not have this be the season finale, but it won’t hit the same. It just won’t! Let us remind the world how to this day, the Dawson’s Creek writers speak on how badly they regret how they killed off Dawson’s dad. Not that they killed him, but HOW they did it. It matters.