#911 you're better than this

[fiona-fififi]

Wait. I'm sorry. Tommy doesn't know who Athena is? And Buck is still referring to her as Sargeant Grant with him? After 3+ months?

[housewifebuck]

[cafecitoeddie]

you’re not supposed to just walk in here like you’ve been here for years inspired by this post by @trashendence

[glitterylittlesapphire]

Me when the BuckTommy fics I read turn into Buddie fics

I'm as much of a Buddie shipper as the next guy. I've been here since DAY ONE. Me and my mom wait patiently each week for these gay firefighters to kiss.

Now I'm not saying cut Eddie out. In fact, I'm saying cut Tommy in. MORE POLY FIREFIGHTER FICS. Get my boy and boy and boy in there. Let them fuck.

[warpedpuppeteer]

All these BT stans who harass Buddie stans because Buddie is not canon or Eddie is not canon queer are so fucking stupid. Clearly they have not stepped a foot in the chinese bl/danmei show/movie fandoms (or they're pretending not to) because BITCH NONE OF THEM ARE CANON QUEERS IN THE SHOWS EITHER. You don't know pain until your beloved queer character calls their lover brother in a show to escape censorship.

Or let's talk about anime shall we?? How about Toya and Yukito from Cardcaptor Sakura being bi and gay respectively with an on-screen confession scene (Yukito tells Sakura) which was censored so that noone knew for YEARS that they were supposed to be star-crossed lovers!! (Also Syaoran, a boy, has a crush on Yukito and Tomoyo, a girl, was supposed to have a crush on Sakura. Sakura was confirmed to be pansexual/queer retrospectively by the writer).

How about characters who couldn't be confirmed as lovers/queer due to fear of backlash when the show/movie aired (or for any other reasons) and were retrospectively confirmed by the creators that they were meant to be lovers and/or queer-coded??! Ryan from HSM?? Lando Calrissian?? Mass Effect?? Loki and Lucifer never label themselves on the show but they are not straight.

Get out of here with that "they're not a canon ship and he's not queer" nonsense. Not everything queer is canon. If you truly know and respect the queer culture then you know that part of it IS the fact that a lot of it is not canon.

They're out there talking nonsense about non-canon ships and writing fanfics about their 10 minutes screen time ship when modern fanfiction was popularized by Spirk shippers which btw *checks notes* NOT CANON.

Also funny how BT stans argue till they turn red that Eddie is straight and is not queer so that invalidates our ship. Completely forgetting that Trolldemort was also straight (only queer-coded which btw Eddie is far more queer coded in canon than Tinsel ever was) until he was confirmed to be gay this season. Buck was straight until he was confirmed bisexual this season.

BOTH CHARACTERS OF YOUR FUCKING SHIP WERE NOT CANON QUEERS EITHER YOU FUCKS.

[lovecolibri]

No, sorry, actually I'm not done. Being daunted by "extensive and oftentimes overwhelming lore"??? It's literally your fucking job? Get a lore keeper like a normal person to keep things on track? You have a billion people on staff and no one to remind you Buck has an allergy to certain meds, or how old literally anyone is?

Also talking about going back and pulling from history when this is the "sweep characters actions under the rug so we can make them LIs" show? The "pretend the kids were in the wrong and forgave their parents so we don't have to deal with it" show? The "gave an interview after the fact saying this plot resolved off screen so we don't have to deal with it" show? Okay 😒😒😒

[dandelioncasey]

I really hate when they make Athena do police brutality, like I know she's a cop but you could at least pretend there's one decent cop in the entirety of this fictional universe -_-

[queenrinacat]

I work in emergency medicine, and I can tell you that a sense of doom is something we take extremely seriously. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of doom is a symptom of an imminent heart attack. When I worked 911 on an ambulance and a patient reported feeling like the world was about to end, or like they were going to die, even without any other symptoms? We rushed them to the hospital as fast as we possibly could.

I'm saying this from a place of genuine care: if you are seeing ghosts or shadows or having nightmares... and sageing, eggshells, Crystal's, and psychics arent cutting it..

Please.. please... check for things like gas leaks, water damage, vermin. I'm not saying your house isnt haunted, I'm just saying that carbon monoxide poisoning looks a LOT like being haunted.

[jontheketeld]

well you're not wrong.

[idyllcy]

office hours - professor!simon riley x professor!reader

"Professor Riley, do you—"

You look up from your laptop, head tilted as you poke at Simon. He doesn't react, knocked in your lap with his legs kicked up over the other arm of the couch, and you sigh.

You offer a sorry smile to the student. "Sorry, sweetheart. He seems knocked out. Did you have a question about class?"

"He offered office hours for almost everything... So I was wondering if he could... um, give me a little help with which faculty is better than others in our department?"

"Oh, yeah he'd be more of help than me." You sigh, poking at him again. "If he'd wake up. He's quite the boulder."

"Shall I come in some other time?"

"Did he confirm your office hours?"

"He did."

"Then it's his fault. I'm supposed to be out by now, but you know." You nudge at Simon, earning a grunt and a 'five more minutes'.

"Don't call 911." You move your laptop to the side, pinch Simon's nose, and cover his mouth. You wait a handful of seconds before he reaches up at your eyes with his thumbs. You dodge out of the way as panic flashes in his eyes.

"I told you not to—" He looks to the side, catching the student. "Oh, I'm so." He sits up as you swing your legs from the couch to put your slippers on. "So sorry. The nap was supposed to be five minutes."

You wave bye to the student as you skip out, and Simon resumes his position on his chair. "You needed recommendations with classes?"

"..." The student pauses to stare at Simon. "Was that the wife?"

"Don't worry about it." He mumbles. "Yeah, that was my missus. Keep it on the low."

"Safe with me." She grins. "I wanted to gossip about faculty."

"That's so inappropriate—" He sighs, reaching for his glasses and into his drawer. "Just give me a second. Which classes did you want to take?"

He's sure to close your forgotten laptop and leave it on your desk for you. He'd have to check his phone later to see if you're asking if he wants some coffee.

Well, not that people would really know who you are. He hopes.

[fiona-fififi]

Okay, but why does it feel like nothing has really happened this episode?

[newobsessionweekly]

The Rookie Masterlist

Tim Bradford

One shots

You will always be my boot

The one where you return home and Tim waits for you all these years.

To protect and to love

The one where you unintentionally make Tim jealous and it ends up with nothing good but a confession.

Stolen moments

The one where you and Tim can't have a moment for yourselves.

Secret signals

The one where you didn't know your best friend feels the same way about you.

A night to remember (Secret signals pt. 2)

The one where you find out your best friend feels the same way about you.

She's my wife

The one where Lucy finds out you are Tim's wife.

She's my wife (part 2) (coming soon)

The one where everyone finds out it's not the right thing to mess with Tim's pregnant wife.

Lost and found

The one where Tim confessed during a nearly-dead experience.

Breaking boundaries

The one where you are Sergeant Grey's daughter and dating Tim.

Long sleeves

The one where Tim is replacing your TO for the day and he doesn't hesitate to give you a hard time. But in the end it's worth it.

Rays of hope

The one where your son is kidnapped and you and your husband, Tim, do everything you can to get him back.

Broken Blue

The one where you and Tim fight, leaving him after his words are too harsh. Despite his attempts to make things better, your stubbornness wins until an accident forces you to realise you need Tim and love him, more than you want to admit.

Let me fix this

The one where you meet Tim again on his first day at Metro, two years after he broke up with you.

Matchmaking

The one where you and Tim turn everything into a competition, including hiding your feelings.

Puppy

The one where you visit Tim at the station and you are way too nice to a teenager he just arrested.

Fire and fight (Buckley!reader)

The one where Tim finds out about the illegal fight and the complicity of your brother, Buck and your best friend, Eddie.

Series

The rules are made to be broken Series (18+)

The rules are made to be broken

The one where you and Tim are friends with benefits and establish 7 rules for your special friendship.

One rule down

The one where Tim breaks one rule after you got hurt on a call.

Three rules down (coming soon)

The one where you break two more rules after you meet someone at the bar.

Five rules down (coming soon)

The one where you and Tim break two more rules when you got caught after an intense shower at the station.

Six rules down (coming soon)

The one where you and Tim break one more rule after catching feelings for each other.

One rule standing (coming soon)

The one where you and Tim manage to keep one of the 7 rules.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue Series

Something old

The one where you and Tim have been best friends for as long as you can remember, but that friendship tore apart when you caught feelings for him and Tim tells you he wants to propose to Lucy.

Something new

The one where Tim's confession about his feelings for you changed everything and made room for something new between you.

Something borrowed (coming soon)

The one where you are there for Tim when he needs you the most and he borrows you his favourite LAPD t-shirt.

Something blue (coming soon)

The one where you and Tim have an official first date and you gift each other something blue to shield your relationship from harm.

Crossovers

The Rookie x 911

Under the radar (Buck x Bradford!reader)

The one where your brother, Tim, finds out you're dating Buck in a not so pleasant way.

Diamonds and dreams (Tim x Buckley!reader)

The one where Tim, your boyfriend, teams up with your brother Buck and plan a proposal.

Fire and Fight ( Tim x Buckley!reader)

The one where Tim finds out about the illegal fight and the complicity of your brother, Buck and your best friend, Eddie.

[rcmclachlan]

FIC REC: Looking for a Buck/Tommy fix-it fic? Here's something better.

*Car salesperson voice* Hey, I see you're looking for a BuckTommy fic that is written well, has great characterizations, explores Buck's queerness through a well-constructed lens, and handles Tommy's fears about being "the test-drive boyfriend" with more nuance, grace, and aplomb than the 911 writers could ever conceive.

You're in luck! We've got exactly what you're looking for in stock: What Are Your Intentions by @screamlet.

This is a complete story (141,782 words on the odometer) that starts at the very beginning of Buck and Tommy's relationship in season 7 and reimagines what comes next, following their journey of actual hurdles to a beautiful, satisfying conclusion.

Some of the bells and whistles on this model include the funniest dialogue you'll ever read, Tommy's incredible circle of friends, a lot of talk about couches (the couch is a metaphor), insanely hot sex, and a future that they both can see.

If you buy now with zero down, you'll lock in the promo price of Free.99!

Read What Are Your Intentions by screamlet on AO3

(Disclosure notice: I'm not making commission from this sale)

[joeloverture]

fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'. warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n] word count: 2.1k a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j

You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dad’s combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. You’re still in your pajamas — a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you — when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate. 

The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dad’s out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. There’s the tstststststs of the Adler’s sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.

You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, you’re blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.

You’re about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.

You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joel’s not a threat – at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. He’s just your dad’s buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. He’s also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? He’s just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, ‘play wrestling’ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.

You deserve to give him shit about it, too.

After all, he’s the one ferreting around in your dad’s garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dad’s pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, he’s dressed like a slut.

His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. He’s bent over your dad’s tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.

You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until you’re right behind him. You can’t help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He must’ve been outside for a while now with all of the stains he’s accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he can’t hear you as you reach out and — smack!

Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. “You little shit,” he huffs, still scratching at his head. You don’t miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

“Me? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dad’s garage at, like, the asscrack of dawn–”

“Nine in the mornin’ ain’t the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,” Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. “Mower shit the bed. I’m thinkin’ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasn’t fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.” He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.

“I think the mower is the least of your worries,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “You reek. Shower shit the bed, too?”

“You try doin’ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap you’re usin’.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised you don’t see the back of your skull. “Rosemary eucalyptus,” you correct under your breath.

“Hmm, what was that?” Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. “Gotta speak up.”

“Rosemary eucalyptus,” you say. “But I bet you wouldn’t know. What do you use? 18 in 1?”

Joel grunts. “Real funny.” He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. “How ‘bout you find out?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he means – he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. “Mmmmph!” you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair that’s spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.

Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. It’s enough to make your thighs clench. “You’re a little freak, huh?” He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.

“Youuu dick!” you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.

Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. “Come on, huff ‘em. Practically fuckin’ asking for it earlier, all ‘a that mouthin’ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fair’s fair, kiddo.”

Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.

It’s only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing – for escape or pressure, you’re not entirely sure. “Unless you wanna go over my knee instead?” Your face sears with humiliation.

Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit – he’s been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.

“Yeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.” You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.

Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joel’s leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. “Gettin’ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?” You mewl, reaching for Joel’s sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.

“Since you’re so eager to complain about it, how ‘bout you clean me up, huh?” He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You can’t see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. “You got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.”

Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that you’re scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you don’t want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.

You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor you’ve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.

You’re panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you can’t do anything about it. You can’t even grind against Joel – you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when he’d shoved you there in the first place.

You’re so preoccupied with pleasing him that you don’t even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.

And maybe it’s the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, “Kiddo,” in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, it’s how he says, “Mmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet it’d feel so good on my cock,” that breaks the dam between your legs.

You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joel’s arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you weren’t so underwater, so far gone, you’d be able to hear him saying, “Fuck – whoa, whoa, whoa,” trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and you’re still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. You’re wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didn’t know you could be.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. “Fuck.”

Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he can’t get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, you’ve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. You’re not sure you’ve ever come so hard even with someone’s hands all over your. Joel’s glistening with even more sweat, and it’s impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. “Oughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.”

You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joel’s lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. “Y-yeah,” you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. You’re so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of sh–

You’re immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.

You’re not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joel’s mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you aren’t surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.

[loulovingho]

Tommy and Eddie's Wild Adventure

**If you start reading and feel a bit concerned, please scroll all the way to the bottom for tags/spoilers. Otherwise, enjoy the ride!** (read here or on ao3)

“I'm gonna get us an Uber,” Tommy said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He was a slightly off balance, the couple drinks he and Eddie had hitting him harder than usual tonight. Before he could get his phone unlocked, it slipped from his hand and directly down the drainage grate underneath him.

“Damn it!” He bent down to try and reach through the grate to get it. It was useless though. His hand was too big, plus the phone had already sunk beneath God knows how many feet of water and sludge.

“It's fine,” Eddie said, tapping his back. “We'll use mine.”

He started feeling around for his phone, then paused, his lips pursed together.

“What's wrong?” Tommy asked, standing back up.

“I don't have my phone. I must've left it at home.”

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Great! So we're stuck here then. We're gonna have to-”

“Tommy, shut up!” Eddie whisper-yelled, eyes wide as he gripped onto Tommy's shoulder.

“What? Eddie, what are you-”

“Shut. Up!” He demanded. He pointed behind Tommy. “Look!”

At the end of the parking lot there was a dumpster, mostly hidden out of view. There was a small amount of light that glowed from a nearby lamppost, just enough for Tommy and Eddie to see two men tossing what appeared to be a body into the dumpster.

Eddie nearly pushed Tommy behind a tree before hiding behind him, both boys holding their breath until the men drove off and they were alone in the parking lot.

“Oh my God,” Tommy said, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

“Go, go!” Eddie pushed Tommy forward, following behind. They carefully but quickly made their way over to the dumpster, where a body laid on top of boxes and bags of garbage.

“We've gotta get her out!” Eddie said, already pushing himself up and into the dumpster. Once inside, he checked for a pulse. “She's gone,” he told Tommy.

He shook his head. “Damn it.”

Eddie hoisted the woman over his shoulder. Tommy reached out and grabbed onto her, pulling her out and onto the ground. He took Eddie's hand next and helped him out of the dumpster.

“What do we do?” Tommy asked, staring down at the blonde-haired woman.

“Call 911.”

Tommy huffed out a breath. “We don't have a phone, Eddie!”

“Well we can't just stand here,” Eddie replied. “The killers might come back.”

“Why would they come back?!”

“Have you never watched a Dateline? They come back to like admire their work, you know, like it's a trophy or something.”

Tommy looked around the area, searching for any possibility that someone was watching. “We've gotta go get help.”

“We can't just leave her here.”

“We don't have any other choice!”

“Shh!” Eddie waved his hands, getting Tommy to quiet down. “We- We'll take her.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Take her?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah, we take her with us. To the police station.”

“Just... We just carry the body all the way to the police station? That's like ten miles!”

“I think it's only eight.”

Tommy shook his head. “You're insane, Eddie!”

“You got a better idea?”

*****

“You know they've killed people for less than this,” Tommy said, gripping the woman's legs tightly.

“What? They have not.”

“Oh, yes they have! We get caught carrying this poor woman down the street and next thing you know, we're on death row being asked what our last words are.”

“Whoa!” Eddie exclaimed, his hand slipping from underneath the woman's arm. He adjusted her before continuing. “What would they be?”

“What would what be?”

“Your final words, Man. What would they be?”

“Jesus, Eddie, I don't know. Who thinks about that?”

“I know mine! Watch your step.”

Tommy looked back and took a step left to miss some trash on the ground. “So what are they then?”

“'La muerte es segura, pero su hora es incierta.' It's a Spanish proverb. At least, I think it is. My abuela used to say it.”

“What's it mean?”

“It means death is certain, but its hour is uncertain.”

Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, causing Eddie to nearly topple over the body.

“What the hell?” Eddie shrieked.

“Eddie, that's the stupidest last words I've ever heard.”

“What?! It is not!”

“Yeah, it is. First of all, you're about to get a lethal injection-”

“I'm choosing the electric chair.”

“Whatever. They're literally giving you an exact minute of your death, so your hour is very certain.”

“That's not-”

“And second,” Tommy continued, speaking over him. “You really want that to be the last thing Christopher hears coming out of your mouth? Before you're electrocuted in front of him? Really, Eddie? Think this through.”

“Christopher is not going to be at my electrocution, Tommy. I'll talk to him the day before.”

“Oh, he'll show up,” Tommy replied with absolute certainty. “He will show up.”

“Okay, fine, if my last words are so terrible, then tell me yours. Also, start walking again. She's heavy!”

Tommy rolled his eyes but resumed his walk. “I told you I haven't thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking. Final words. Go.”

“Okay, fine. First, lethal injection, because who the hell chooses electrocution, Man, come on! Second, Evan would be there, so I'd probably look at him and tell him he gave me the best years of my life.”

“Ew!” Eddie gagged. “That sucks. You suck!”

“It's better than your stupid proverb that doesn't make any sense. Okay, I gotta put her down for a second.”

They moved into a little alleyway and placed the woman down gently, then Tommy ran his arm over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. “There's gotta be an easier way to do this.”

Eddie peeked out of the alley, turning back quickly when he spotted people coming their way. “Act cool, act cool!” he exclaimed, leaning against the brick wall with one leg crossed over the other.

Tommy took a couple steps back, plastering himself against a dumpster with an elbow resting over the top.

The people passed without noticing them and they resumed their discussion.

“Okay, let's think, let's think,” Eddie said, bringing a hand to his chin. “Your phone is down a drain, mine is at home. We've got a body here that we can't leave behind, but it's too risky to keep walking along the street. Also, too painful.”

“Excellent recap,” Tommy deadpanned. “Can we start the episode now?”

“You know this attitude your giving is not helping,” Eddie said with a glare. “Why don't you come up with an idea?”

Tommy took a deep breath, then looked past Eddie out toward the street. “Taxi.”

“What is this, 1982? Come on-”

Tommy pointed behind Eddie, making him turn around. There was a taxi parked across the street, a group of women laughing and fixing their dresses as they exited.

“You distract, I'll put the body in the trunk,” Tommy decided, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?”

“Go, Eddie! Before someone else gets the taxi. Go!”

*****

“And what's that button do?” Eddie asked.

“That's the button for the radio,” the taxi driver replied, giving Eddie an odd look. “Are you sure your friend doesn't need help with his luggage?”

“Oh, no, no. He's got it.”

Just then, the trunk slammed shut and Tommy was getting into the taxi. “Could you take us to-”

“Fountain Avenue,” Eddie interrupted. “Anywhere on the street is fine.”

“Sure thing.”

They settled into their seats as the driver headed off, Tommy staring over at Eddie. “The police station is two streets over from Fountain,” he whispered.

“I know. Going right to the police station will look suspicious. We'll walk there from Fountain.”

“They'll see Lillian before that.”

Eddie looked over at Tommy quizzically. “Lillian?”

“Yeah. Lillian.”

“Who the hell is Lillian?”

“Eddie,” Tommy gritted out, eyes darting back and forth from the driver to Eddie. “Lillian.”

“Oh! You mean the dead girl?”

Tommy gave Eddie a punch to the shoulder. “Lillian is our friend. That we're surprising. With the gift. In the trunk.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie rubbed at the spot on his shoulder, leaning in closer to Tommy. “It's a codename. Got it.”

“Anyway, I think we should get closer to the station.”

“No. We'll deal with Lillian from Fountain. It'll be fine.”

“We're gonna get caught.”

“Then we'll explain.”

“I don't know how you explain that.”

“We'll tell them,” Eddie said in an annoyed tone, “the truth. That we found the bod- Lillian and didn't want to leave her.”

“O- Okay,” the driver interrupted, coming to a stop. “We are a- at your location, sirs.”

“Great!” Tommy clapped his hands together, smiling at the driver through the rearview. “Pop the trunk for me, please. Eddie, pay the man.”

“Oh, no! No payment necessary. I- It's my gift for the night.”

“You sure?” Eddie asked.

“Mhm. Please, it's fine.”

Eddie shrugged. “Alright. Thanks! Have a good night.”

*****

“I'm never going out with you again,” Tommy said, back in position with his hands under Lillian's shins. “I should have stayed home with Evan. My back will never recover.”

“Oh please, when did you become such an old man? I'm carrying most of the weight here anyway.”

“You are not!”

“I am too!”

“Okay, I'll just let her go then. You can carry her the rest of the way yourself.”

“Don't you dare, Thomas!”

“Don't you Thomas me, Edmundo! What the hell are we gonna say when we get to the police station?”

“I'll go in first,” Eddie said. “Explain everything. You stay outside with the body until I get you.”

“Me? Why don't you stay outside with the body?”

“Because you asked me what we were going to say when we get to the police station, which means you obviously have no idea what to say, and I can just bat my eyelashes and get the lady behind the desk to listen to my every word.”

“Assuming it's a lady behind the desk is very sexist.” Tommy pulled a hand away to wipe the sweat from his hand onto his jeans, then switched to do the same with the other hand. “It could be a very handsome gay man.”

“Okay, so I bat my eyelashes at the man behind the desk. For the love of God, walk faster, Man!”

“I've been the one walking backwards this whole time, you try it! Also, no offense, but I've seen your game with women, I do not trust your game with men.”

“Don't be an ass,” Eddie glared. “I could've gotten you if I wanted you.”

“Ha! Don't flatter yourself.”

Eddie stopped, mouth agape and clearly offended. “You're seriously trying to tell me that Buck could get you by injuring me and moan about trying to get your attention, but you think I have no game? You're crazy.”

“And you're chronically single.”

“Take that back!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Tommy, I swear to-”

The sound of a siren cut Eddie off. Bright, flashing red and blue lights pulled up beside them. They froze in place.

It took a couple of seconds, but soon enough the driver's door opened. They both had to squint to make out the figure coming toward them.

Athena.

The passenger door opened as well, and there came Buck, his hands tucked inside the hoodie he was wearing.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Athena asked. “We have been chasing your behinds half the night.”

“You're not gonna believe this-” Eddie started as Tommy spoke over him.

“Evan, I swear this isn't what you think-”

“Both of you, quiet!” Athena demanded.

“It looks like you're, uh, trying to carry a body to the police station,” Buck offered.

“Then... Then it's exactly what it looks like,” Tommy breathed out in relief.

Eddie, still holding the body from underneath her arms, moved closer to Buck and Athena, forcing Tommy to move as well. “We saw her get dumped and we didn't know what to do because Tommy lost his phone and I don't have mine. We couldn't just leave her there so we decided to bring her to the station ourselves.”

“You don't have your phone, huh? And it didn't occur to either of you two walk right back into the bar and ask to use their phone?” Athena questioned. “Any phone?”

Eddie lowered his head. “Can't say that it did.”

Athena took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “That body you're holding,” she said, pointing toward it. “That's a sex doll.”

Both Eddie and Tommy's eyes slowly turned to the doll. It took a few seconds for the realization to hit, but once it did, they both dropped it to the ground with a simultaneous, “Ew!”

“I gotta say,” Athena started, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don't usually see men your age getting drunk and pulling these types of dumbass stunts.”

“We're not drunk!” Eddie protested. “Just had a couple beers. Maybe someone drugged us!”

“I don't think so,” she answered, pulling a small memo pad from her back pocket. “We went and spoke with the bartender and he informed us you two started with a couple beers, then moved onto shots, then decided to try some specialty drinks and ended with something called a Fruity Tutti, which you apparently made up yourselves.”

“That... That does sound vaguely familiar,” Tommy said, his hands going to his hips.

Eddie smacked a couple times. “Is that why mouth tastes like an entire packet of lifesavers?”

“How did you guys find us?” Tommy asked.

“Eddie's phone.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. “I told you I don't have my phone.”

“Yeah, you do,” Buck said with a nod. “It's how we tracked you.”

“Guys, I'm telling you, I do not have my phone!”

Tommy moved toward Eddie, peering around him to look in his back pocket. He reached around and grabbed at something before holding it out in front of Eddie.

“Well look at that!” Eddie smiled as he took his phone from Tommy. “My phone!”

“You butt dialed me twice,” Buck explained. “When I overheard you two talking about finding a body and trying to carry it to the police station, I figured I better give Athena a call.”

“And as it turns out,” Athena continued, “the driver from the taxi you two were in also called the police, because, and I quote, “Two men were in the backseat of my cab, loudly whispering about a body they had put in my trunk.” Poor man was too scared to call the police until you had left.”

“You two were also carrying the doll through the streets of Los Angeles on a Saturday night,” Buck informed them. “Dispatch got lots of calls from concerned citizens.”

Eddie sighed. “I didn't think anyone saw us.”

“Oh no, the majority of the county did,” Athena replied. “Come on, boys,” she said, taking a step back and waving them toward her car. “This'll all have to be explained again in the morning. Let's get you home.”

“Can I go to you guys' place?” Eddie asked, pouting. “My home is so far.”

“Your home is ten minutes from ours,” Buck reminded him. “But it's late- or early- and I'm tired, so yes, you can. Athena's gonna take us. Let's get in the SUV.”

“Oh, Evan, can we snuggle?” Tommy asked, moving toward Buck and draping an arm over his shoulder, leaning in close. “I love to snuggle.”

“Gross,” Eddie whined. “I get shoved in a guest room while you two get it on two doors down.”

“Nobody will be getting it on tonight,” Buck assured him.

“Hey, if you want snuggles you can bring Lillian,” Tommy said, gazing down at the doll. “She will give snuggles.”

When Eddie stared down at it for a bit too long, Buck reached over and gave him a smack to the back of the head. “You're not bringing the doll. Come on, let's go.” He grabbed at Eddie's shirt, pulling him away from the doll. “Now!”

*****

When Athena pulled up to Buck and Tommy's place she got out and helped bring the boys into the house. Eddie leaned on her while Tommy leaned on Buck.

They headed for the guest room first, Eddie plopping onto the bed with his shoes still on.

“Absolutely not,” Buck said, helping Tommy to rest against the doorframe so he could go over and pull off Eddie's shoes.

Once they were off, Athena helped Buck maneuver Eddie so they could pull the comforter down from under him.

“God, I'm tired,” Tommy mumbled. He toed off his own shoes and walked over the other side of the bed, falling down face first against the pillow.

“Tommy!” Buck exclaimed. “This isn't our room.”

“Sleepy, Evan,” Tommy murmured into the pillow. “So sleepy.”

“Okay, well, you can go to sleep in our room,” he replied, pulling on Tommy's arm.

Tommy groaned, causing Eddie to open one eye and glare over at Buck. “Just leave him. God, he's so whiny!”

Tommy threw his arm out, shoving over at Eddie. “You're whiny!”

Eddie reached over and shoved back. “You are!”

“Boys, I have a gun!” Athena yelled, causing them to stop immediately. They both drew their arms in and away from each other, but refused to move otherwise.

Athena looked over at Buck. “Should we try to get Tommy up?” she asked.

Both boys breathing had already started to even out, clearly falling into a deep sleep.

“Eh, leave him,” Buck decided, tossing the comforter over them. “They can puke on each other.”

.

.

**tags/spoilers: there is no actual death involved in this story. the boys are very drunk.**

[darcylindbergh]

I’m a queer minor with an unsupportive Republican family and I feel so fucking helpless about the election. What can I do or at least how can I stay safe?

listen to me. i am taking your face in my hands. i am looking into your eyes. listen. your second question is the right one. your safety is your priority. have you ever been on a plane? and they do the little safety routine? and when the masks fall down, they say, "put your own oxygen mask on before helping others?"

as a queer kid, this is a put your own mask on before helping others situation.

there are things you can do to get involved but first and foremost, you gotta be safe. if that means you don't come out and you don't talk about politics and you don't get involved in activism until you can be independent, that's what it means. i know it sucks to hear. it really sucks saying it, tbh. i want you to be big and out and loud and proud, and i never want you to have to make yourself small, but more than anything i want you to be safe.

so everything i'm about to say is with this caveat. safety first. your own mask before helping others.

here's a link to the lgbt national youth talkline. this service won't call outside agencies (like 911) on your behalf, unless you're making a credible threat to someone else.

the Trevor Project also has a hotline and chat services. they do call outside agencies on your behalf to report imminent harm to yourself or others as well as reporting child abuse. i'm not saying one is better than the other. i just want you to know what each service does.

the Trevor Project also has trevorspace, which i guess is like social media for lgbt youth? i am not a youth so i didn't sign up to check it out but it could be a good place to find folks to talk and connect with. connections are so good.

here's some things you can do. i tried to include a bunch of things with different amounts of involvement so you can pick your safety level.

read. read so much. read about people who are like you and who are not like you. read fiction that celebrates queer joy and read nonfiction books about antiracism and intersectionality and the history of queer people in the US. do you know who has a cool amount of information on queer history in the US? the national park service. watch queer movies, even (especially, tbh) old ~problematic stuff, look up what people say about it now. read through the articles on decolonizepalestine.com. watch interviews about Black joy. know your rights. read banned books. if you can't do, learn. read. just because it's happening inside your head doesn't mean it's real work.

check out scarleteen, which is a fantastic resource for queer sex ed and relationship information. a lot of their articles are older now, but still 100% great reads.

watch what your family is watching - debates, news stories, whatever - and ask yourself how would i respond to that? look up how to respond to that. you can use this time to start learning how to dissect political speech and how to respond to it. both sides do this! read news from both sides and see how it compares.

make your daily 5 calls. they give you scripts and everything. if you don't want to talk to a real human person, calling in the evening will usually get you a voicemail. talking on the phone is a hugely important social skill - if you don't have it, the 5 calls are a great way to start and to start addressing your discomfort with phones.

20 states allow 17-year-olds to vote in the primaries.

Pre-register to vote if you're eligible.

Vote Forward puts on a letter writing campaign you can participate in.

NextGen America has in-person volunteer opportunities in 8 states, and virtual opportunities globally. Although they target voters 18-35, volunteers can be any age. (hey adults - you listening?)

here's even more information on phone or text banking! for most of these, you don't have to be 18.

Organize a voter registration drive at your high school. the Civics Center has a free, one-hour online workshop that will walk you through how to host a drive and they'll even send you swag for it. check out their "for students" tab - they have sharable graphics, workshops, lots of stuff.

in some states, people under 18 can sign up to be poll workers. (hey adults - we can do this too)

CIRCLE is a civic engagement center that focuses on getting youth out to vote, but also educating folks. check their website out. listen. politics are so boring like, 99.9% of the time. the more you know about how it works, the more effective you can be when you want to get involved.

look up your local political body, find out when they meet. attend the meetings. in my county we have a board of commissioners that meet once a month, and a couple of committees as well. i don't go every time but now that i can log into the meetings via Zoom, I do about every other month or so. did you see that video of violet affleck speaking at the LA board of supervisors meeting? that could be you, babe.

so there's a lot you can do actually! here's some more stuff you can do!!

know, with 100% certainty, in your heart of hearts, that there are so many people who want you to be out and proud and loud and yourself. and there are so many people who are fighting for you to be able to do that. there are so many adults, queer and non-queer, rooting for you, standing up for you, putting ourselves between you and a future where you have to keep making yourself small. and you will get older and i know it's trite but THINGS REALLY DO GET BETTER, and someday you will be the queer adult on this side of the screen protecting kids like you. you gotta keep on keeping on and keeping yourself safe so you can do that someday.

log off. LOG OFF. doomscrolling is a form of self-harm. deliberately seeking out endless articles and tiktoks and whatever about news and information that will upset you is not activism, babe! it's harm! you aren't helping anyone by being hurt. there's a difference between being informed and hurting yourself. find the line. hold yourself to it.

stop using chat gpt. it's terrible. forget you ever knew about it. that's not related to activism its just like, general health, and also climate change. while i'm here, switch to firefox and duckduckgo.

go outside. it turns out touching grass is actually important for our mental health. go find some.

pick up a hobby that does something with your hands, if you're able to. i cross-stitch and play piano (badly). pick up drawing. cooking. embroidery. underwater basket weaving. it's important to find something that shows you what YOU can do with YOUR two hands. you can do so much.

find your people. online, in person. find your people. when i got this ask, i - not a parent - threw it to my people and they helped me find some resources. we're doing this together.

this is kind of silly but i love doing it. find the marriage license announcements in your county or township or whatever and look for gay people. you'll be guessing by names, so watch out - we love trans people who have and haven't made the legal name change! - but GOD. i've looked at the marriage license announcements literally every two weeks (which is how often they're published in my county) since Obergefell v Hodges 9 years ago, which is when we got gay marriage in my state, and it's so fucking healing. in the last 9 years, i have seen hundreds of gay people make this announcement. every two weeks, there are four or five gay couples in my community out of maybe 15, 20 (i live in a pretty small county). look up why marriage rights have mattered so much to our community. these marriage license announcements are just such a small, bright spot of joy and seeing the names - real people! in my real community! - cradles my heart. find what cradles your heart.

this has gotten long enough so i'm going to set it free. i'm sure there will be people in the notes adding things. for you parents out there, leave your love in the comments. for the rest of us extremely cool and suave adults, pick something off the list and volunteer too, and look at this anon and think yes, this is why we do it. kids like us who are kids now, who will be us later. for you Youth out there, put your oxygen mask on first and then help others.

i love you.

it gets better.