#in part because of buck

[desteelcannibal]

[bixels]

In the past, people in the Animal Crossing community would make fun of Tom Nook as a sleazy landlord. Since then, he's really rehabilitated his image as this 'heart of gold' businessman (he's the one who puts bells and furniture in trees for you to find! he adopted orphans! he donates to charity!), but New Horizons genuinely paints the most devious version of him.

He's successfully privatized settler colonialism: you pay HIM to move to a "deserted island" (which apparently the oceans in the AC world are just full of) and start a colony that he is directly invested in. At best he's running a weird vacation package scam (you arrive on the island with no money and in debt for "using his services"). At worst, he's using you to set up company towns. For god's sake, he literally has his own fake currency that he forces you to use to pay off your debt. But don't worry, he's repackaged it in a way that definitely doesn't sound like an MLM scam: the Nook Mileage Program!

You're no longer just his tenant or his temporary part-timer, you're his business lackey. The entire tutorial section of the game has you spending actual weeks running around completing tasks and doing hard labor to set up his colony. You're even tasked with preparing his properties and finding buyers for them. No, you aren't a tenant anymore. You work for the landlord. You are directly responsible for finding tenants for him. And he doesn't even fucking pay you. Not for setting up town hall and museum, or his nephew's shop –– which is the ONLY store on the entire island that sells necessities –– or bringing KK Slider to town, or helping populate his town. Not a single cent. No, actually, you have to pay HIM to BUY infrastructure like bridges and stairs and park benches. And all the while, he's telling you're the "resident representative"; you get to call the shots! That the reward is the community's progress. That what you're doing is in everyone's best interest (but most importantly, his).

Since NH's release, people have done a lot of legwork to say that Tom Nook isn't a capitalist while the game shows him at his very worst. He owns the only general store in town. You're forced to use a phone that he modified and branded as his own. Buy Nook-branded furniture and merchandise at the self-serve kiosk in the town hall, a governmental building! There's no conflict of interest here!

But hey, if you're tired of being the landlord/business mogul's goon, you can also find work as a deluxe resort home designer for a company that also pays you in their special company currency that can only be used to buy their products instead of a real salary! Because that's what the Animal Crossing franchise needs! More vacation homes!!!

[aunmenosheteroenespanol]

2.12 Chimney Begins - 2.09 Hen Begins - 2.16 Bobby Begins Again - 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

Tommy's family arc

[mmso-notlikethat]

here my last try to make amends 🥺 Part1, Part2, and ao3

The knock on Buck’s door came late, just as he was gearing up for his shift. He still had about an hour before he had to leave, but the last thing he expected was a visitor at this time of night. He frowned, tossing his phone onto the couch and padding barefoot to the door.

When he opened it, Tommy stood there.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Tommy’s eyes were tired but clear, his posture almost tentative, like he was waiting for permission to speak.

“Hi,” Tommy said softly, his hands buried in his hoodie pockets.

Buck crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Tommy’s lips twitched, a faint attempt at humor slipping through his guarded expression. “Well, if it helps, I thought about not showing up. For a while, actually. But then I remembered how charming I am.”

Buck raised an eyebrow, his expression flat. “Yeah, that’s definitely the word I’d use for you right now.”

Tommy tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Dashing? Irresistible?”

“Annoying,” Buck snapped, his voice clipped.

Tommy’s faint smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. “Yeah. That one, too.”

Buck stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked over Tommy’s face. Finally, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Forget it. Come in before my neighbors start wondering why I’m glaring at you.”

Tommy stepped inside, his movements careful, like he wasn’t sure he was welcome. He stood near the stairs, glancing around the loft like it might give him clues about how to start.

“So?” Buck prompted, crossing his arms again. “You’ve had days, Tommy. Why now? Why not a call, or a text? No, you just show up and... what? Wing it?”

Tommy hesitated, then smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I figured if I winged it, you’d yell at me less.”

Buck’s glare hardened, and Tommy flinched under it.

“Evan—”

“Don’t,” Buck cut him off sharply. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you didn’t rip me apart and walk away like it was nothing.”

Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to say, okay?”

Buck’s laugh was bitter. “That’s a first. You had plenty to say when you were walking out the door.”

Tommy winced, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That’s fair.”

“No,” Buck shot back, his voice sharp. “It’s not fair. Nothing about what you did was fair, Tommy.” He paused, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the victim of your own choices.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it again, visibly gathering himself. Finally, he looked Buck in the eyes and spoke. “You deserve the truth, Evan.”

“Yeah, I do,” Buck said, his arms tightening over his chest. “So why don’t you start there?”

Tommy hesitated, his jaw tightening as though the words were physically painful to say. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking away for a moment before nodding slightly, like he was convincing himself to go on. “Uh...” He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me.”

He stopped, the words hanging in the air before he forced himself to continue, his voice quieter now. “For one reason or another—my fault, their fault, circumstances...” His voice dropped almost to a whisper, “death—it doesn’t matter. It always ends the same. I’ve watched people I cared about walk away, and every time, it felt like they took a piece of me with them. Until there was almost nothing left.”

Buck’s chest tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

Tommy’s voice cracked, but he pushed on. “And then you came along. And you—you were this... this light. You made me feel like maybe I could have something good again. Something worth holding onto. But the thing is... I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust myself not to ruin it.” He stopped, the words catching in his throat as his gaze flicked to Buck, then away again. After a beat, he added, softer this time, “And I didn’t trust you... not to leave.”

Buck’s eyebrows shot up, disbelief flashing across his face. “So you decided to leave first?” His tone was flat, but the hurt in it was unmistakable.

Tommy nodded, shame flickering in his eyes. “It wasn’t about you, Evan. It was about me trying to protect myself from the kind of pain I wasn’t sure I’d survive again.”

“And you thought that would hurt less?” Buck asked, his voice breaking on the question.

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and then his voice rose a, a rare flash of frustration breaking through. “You know you didn’t come after me that day, Evan!” The words were sharp, cutting the air between them like a knife. “What does that tell me? That I’m right?”

Buck flinched, his face breaking in a way that made Tommy’s stomach drop. The anger drained out of him instantly, replaced by regret.

“God, Evan,” Tommy said, softer now, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“No,” Buck said, his voice low but trembling. “But you did.”

Tommy let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You told me that day that you wanted me to move in with you.” His laugh turned bitter, self-deprecating. “God, Evan, you really didn’t think about me at all when you asked me that, did you?”

Buck’s expression faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Evan, I—” Tommy gestured around the loft, his voice softening as he tried to explain. “I own a house. One I worked hard on. This,” he said, gesturing again toward the space around them, “this is pretty. It’s lovely. I love your loft, Evan. But this isn’t a place for two grown men to live in, is it?”

Buck blinked, his posture stiffening. “You could’ve said something.”

“I didn’t know how to,” Tommy admitted, his tone weary. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I knew that saying no... it would’ve felt like rejection. But Evan, that day? I panicked. I thought, if I said no, maybe you’d see it as me not wanting to be with you. And if I said yes...” His voice broke slightly. “I didn’t know what to do. So I ran.”

Buck’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of Tommy’s confession settling heavily between them. “You should’ve told me,” Buck said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You should’ve let me in. I would’ve stayed, Tommy. I would’ve fought for us.”

For a moment, Tommy’s eyes flickered with something Buck couldn’t name—relief? Regret? It only stoked the fire in Buck’s chest, the ache shifting into something sharper, hotter.

“You didn’t trust me, Tommy,” Buck said, his voice rising now, shaking with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “You didn’t trust us.” His hands clenched at his sides as the words spilled out, jagged and unrelenting. “You just—” He jabbed his finger toward Tommy, his voice breaking with anger. “You just ran, because that’s what you do. You’re a damn coward—”

Tommy flinched at the word, his breath hitching audibly. Without a word, he turned away sharply, his face angling toward the wall. His shoulders tensed, his hands gripping the edge of the armchair like he was bracing himself for a blow that wouldn’t come.

“What, can’t even look at me now?” Buck snapped, his anger spilling over. “You were so eager to leave, Tommy. So eager to run again. Go ahead, just run—”

Buck stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as something caught his attention. Tommy’s hand jerked upward, brushing quickly at his face, but not fast enough.

“Tommy, wha—” Buck’s tone shifted, his anger faltering as concern flickered in his voice. He took a hesitant step forward. “Are you—?”

Tommy turned back before Buck could finish, his face streaked with tears he’d been trying—and failing—to hide. His jaw was tight, his lips trembling as he sucked in a shaky breath, but the tears kept coming, betraying him. His eyes burned, glassy and raw as they locked onto Buck’s, and there was a flash of something in them that made Buck falter completely.

“Don’t,” Tommy said, his voice trembling but sharp enough to stop Buck in his tracks. His hand trembled as he wiped at his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His chest heaved as he fought to speak, to keep it together, but the fight was already lost.

And then, suddenly, he snapped. “You think I wanted to run?” he choked out, his voice breaking. “You think I don’t hate myself every second for leaving you? For breaking this? Do you have any idea what it’s like—” He gestured vaguely, angrily, his voice climbing with every word. “—to feel like you’re going to lose everything, again and again? Do you have any idea how it feels to be so fucking scared of losing someone that you rip your own heart out before they can do it for you?”

His words poured out in a flood, raw and unfiltered, as the tears kept falling. “I left because I thought it would hurt less if I was the one to walk away. But guess what? It doesn’t! It hurts like hell, Evan. Every goddamn day, it hurts.”

Tommy���s hands shook as he scrubbed at his face, but it was useless. The tears kept coming, streaking his cheeks, his voice trembling under the weight of everything he’d been holding in. “You think I ran because I’m a coward? Fine. Call me a coward. Call me whatever you want. But don’t stand there and think I didn’t care. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Buck stared at him, his chest tightening as the anger drained from his face, replaced by something softer. Something unsure. He wanted to say something—anything—but his throat felt too tight, the words sticking like stones.

Tommy let out a bitter laugh, his voice trembling. “You think I don’t hear your voice in my head every day? You think I don’t regret every second of it? I hate what I did. I hate that I hurt you. But I didn’t know how to stay, Evan. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good without being terrified it was going to get ripped away.”

He gestured toward himself, his movements jerky, unsteady. “This—this is me, okay? This mess. This broken, pathetic, scared piece of shit who doesn’t know how to hold on to anything good because everything good always leaves. And I thought maybe if I left first... maybe it would hurt a little less. Maybe I could keep some piece of myself this time.”

The room was thick with silence, heavy with the weight of Tommy’s words. He shook his head, his breathing still uneven as he looked away again, his hand dragging roughly across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know it’s not enough. I know it’ll never be enough. But I am so goddamn sorry.”

Buck finally stepped forward, his movements slow, tentative. His hand hovered near Tommy’s arm before he pulled it back, his voice soft but steady. “Tommy... I didn’t know.”

Tommy let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Well, I see you now,” Buck said quietly. “And I still—” His voice wavered, but he swallowed hard and pushed on. “I’m still here, Tommy. You didn’t lose me... Not completely.”

Tommy looked at him then, his eyes glassy but searching, like he was trying to find the truth in Buck’s words. His lips trembled, his jaw tightening as he nodded once, the tears still clinging stubbornly to his lashes.

Buck’s chest ached at the sight of him, so raw and open, and he let out a soft, shaky breath. “I’m not saying it’s okay,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not saying I can just forget about what you did. But I get it now. At least... I think I do.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, his hands still trembling. “I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Buck’s gaze softened, though his tone remained steady. “That’s not for you to decide Tommy,” he said firmly. “We both made mistakes. But if we’re going to do this, it has to be together.”

Tommy’s breath hitched. “I know that now. And I’m here because... because I want to fight for us, too. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their words filling the room. Then Buck shook his head slightly, his voice softer but no less firm.

“You don’t get to do this to me again,” Buck said, his tone laced with exhaustion. “If we’re going to do this, it’s all or nothing. No running. No excuses.”

Tommy nodded, his jaw tight as tears threatened to spill again. “I’m not running, Evan. Not this time.”

Buck let out a shaky breath, his eyes scanning Tommy’s face. The raw vulnerability there made his chest ache, but the weight of the moment pressed down on him, leaving him unsure of what to say next.

He huffed a soft, almost nervous laugh. “You know, I should probably be throwing something at you right now… A pillow, maybe.”

Tommy blinked, a faint crease forming between his brows. “A pillow?”

“Yeah, nothing too dangerous. Just something to get it out of my system.” Buck’s lips quirked upward, but his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions still churning beneath the surface.

Tommy let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well...” Buck shrugged, the small smile fading as his gaze dropped to Tommy’s hands, trembling slightly at his sides. His own hand twitched, the urge to reach out tugging at him, but he hesitated. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should. If he could.

And then he looked up—really looked—and saw the streaks on Tommy’s face, the glassy sheen in his eyes, the way he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. Something in Buck softened, the edges of his anger and hurt giving way to the undeniable pull of the man standing in front of him.

Without overthinking, Buck closed the space between them, his movements slow, deliberate. His forehead came to rest gently against Tommy’s, their breaths mingling in the fragile silence.

“Ask me, Tommy,” Buck whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself feel the closeness, the weight of everything unsaid between them.

Tommy’s breath caught, his eyes glassy as he whispered back. “Evan... will you give me a second chance? A second chance so I can prove to you how much you matter to me, how much I love you?”

Buck kissed him softly, his hands coming up to rest against Tommy’s shoulders. When they pulled back, he smiled faintly. “Only if you trust me this time. With your heart and all of it.”

Tommy let out a watery laugh, their foreheads still pressed together, their noses brushing. “We’ll make this work,” he said firmly, his voice thick with emotion.

Buck nodded, kissing him again, deeper this time. When they finally pulled apart, Buck whispered, “I have a shift.”

Tommy chuckled, his hand lingering on Buck’s arm. “Really? And... should we meet on Saturday?”

Buck laughed, shaking his head as he pulled Tommy into a tight hug.

---

Sunday morning, a knock echoed through Buck’s loft. He opened the door, his hair tousled and his shirt still wrinkled from sleep.

Tommy stood there, holding a bag of groceries and wearing a tentative smile.

“Can I make you some pancakes?”

Buck stared at him for a beat, then grinned, stepping aside to let him in.

[little-pondhead]

Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

-

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and started hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

-

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

[fiona-fififi]

Just over here thinking about just how much trust is implied in the way Eddie let loose at the bachelor party. And I know this isn't news, that Eddie trusts Buck implicitly, but there's just something so beautiful in the idea that Eddie Diaz—master of control and compartmentalization and putting everyone else first—was not only willing, but eager to let loose with Buck. Even after the safety of the rest of their group was gone, even after Buck had invited dozens of strangers into their space, Eddie didn't hesitate for a moment to let go with Buck because of course Buck is safe and of course he can trust Buck to let go right beside him without judgment.

And there's just something really beautiful in that.

[because-evans]

in rewatching season 1, i have been reflecting on two things:

a) that it becomes easy, in later seasons, to forget that the 118 was not always a found family, didn’t always show up for each other in hard times, didn’t always view each other as a natural extension of blood family. they had to start somewhere.

b) we specifically see the 118, in hen and chim begins, where there is a complete lack of the kind of culture that leads to a found family dynamic. people don’t experience camaraderie and safety with each other, there are little to no easy jokes. people do not accept attempts at connection and friendship.

with this in mind, i’ve been rewatching season 1 very intentionally and mentally pointing out all the acts that create a found family. when characters show up for each other, it’s because they chose to show up, to prioritize each other. when someone cracks a joke, it’s an intentional act of building community and making others more comfortable. it’s a bridge reaching across to say Let’s be comfortable with each other. let’s laugh together. when hen and buck show up to bobby’s bare apartment because they haven’t heard from him in 48 hours, it’s not because the dynamic of buck and bobby is well established. it’s not because that’s just What They Do. it’s because they have intentionally chosen to care for bobby. when bobby pushes and doesn’t want help, they push right back because they have decided this relationship is worth investing in, not because the relationship already exists.

like it sounds stupid to say “i’m paying attention to a tv show” like it’s. abnormal. but i always go back to the kinds of sexist and racist jokes cracked when hen and chim started at the 118. they aren’t jokes to bring someone into a circle, but to firmly establish its boundaries and determine who Isn’t in the circle. or when chim has just lost his brother, and he tells tommy to Name what he’s into. whatever tommy likes, chim can do that. he can work with that. he’s extending this olive branch, saying I want this to work. and he gets so wholly rejected because tommy isn’t interested in building friendships. at all.

so then it’s so important when buck and hen play video games together. it’s important when chim wakes up in the hospital and the 118 is right there. it’s important when bobby talks to tatiana and asks her to be at the hospital. it’s important when bobby is getting ribbed about his dating profile, but without the intention of alienating him. all of this firmly establishes the kind of environment where these characters are allowed to share in their joys and sorrows together. where they can lean on each other. where they can joke and poke fun and not endanger these relationships. because the foundation was built with care and intention every step of the way.

[pricetagged]

The usual from me, I'm afraid. I'm back at my nonsense, typing up wife-hunter John while I take a break from tidying my apartment (: Here's part iii! (there will be more reader/john in part iv )

Masterlist l Previous

Content: More stalking, manipulation, voyeurism & marital sabotage. John's a bad man and I want him viscerally <3

----------------------

It tears at him, rends flesh from bone with sharp little teeth. Corrugated. Rusty. It poisons his bloodstream, boils blood to madness and burns to feverish pitch.

It's a trap of his own design, and he just had to poke at it. He set it up, jaw wrenched wide and trigger taut and, god, he had to touch it. Had to feel the bruising pleasure bloom then give to something sharper. Sweeter.

In his more reflective moments he wonders if setting up the cameras was a good idea. He's a possessive old bastard and he's torn; not because of any hand-wringing morals, no. No, but rather that he's left himself licking along the knife's edge, close enough for it to cut if he presses hard. He can touch it. It's in his grasp, but he's not fully confident that he's the only one wielding it.

There are too many variables still.

And it's left him here, testing the pressure of the razor-sharp rim and wanting to dig deeper. (He fisted at himself harder than usual that night, flesh aching and engorged and throbbing as the cold metal of your wedding ring bit at the veins and ridges of his length).

The screen is his most hated ally. Pixels and light; the blue sheen. The static blur that raises the hair on his arms as he caresses your image. It's the sweetest torture, watching you boxed in by the four corners of a machine. Gazing on only the impression of you, shadowy and reflective, pacing the monitor. It's peiskos, but wrong. He has you in his home, but can only see and touch you in artificial impotence. It drives him wild, makes his throat ache and his head hot watching you, but not knowing how you taste.

That's not him, he thinks, having something that he can't fully possess. Even the bottle of 1926 Macallan locked in his cellaret has been cracked open, rolled around the palate and savoured before returned to the shelf. Locked safe behind glass, yes, but within reach.

He has to see you again. The trap is tightening, and isn't it funny that it's caught him too?

(His hand moved faster, pleasure simmering as he watched your wide eyes turn glossy and your voice grow thick. 'I don't know where it went! It must have fallen off in the garden, I swear!' Even being unable to taste it, to lick at your tears and feel you tremble-

-it had him tensing his thighs, body clenching in anger and heat as he listened to your apologies. As he listened to your pathetic, half-hearted moans. The way you gave in so sweetly, so eager to please and make good. Your husband's disgusting, breathy grunting. Weak. Unsatisfying-

-But it had his palm tightening around the tacky, swollen flesh at his tip. Slit leaking as the rage boiled his blood and sent it south in a paroxysm of rapture).

He sees Buck before he sees you. It's a necessary evil. No, that's not quite right. It's inevitable; it's reasonable. He needs to lay the bait, shuffle the leaves over it and let nature take its course.

It's a classic pub. A real boozer, where the floor is always slickly sticky and the walls are a cheery, tobacco-stained yellow. The kind of place that serves only pork scratchings and pints.

Your husband didn't expect to see him there. Fox in the henhouse, only he's too stupid to realise that he's the bird.

"System is running well, mate! Thanks. This round's on me," he claps at John's shoulder and does admirably well at hiding his nerves.

It has him smiling into the pint glass, schadenfreude as your husband subtly stretches his aching palm and paints on a wary smile.

(Foot hovering just above the spring; steel teeth ready to -)

"You here alone?" John sips at his drink, eyes scanning the dingy room until - yes, there in the corner he sees a familiar Union Jack cap. Good lad.

"No, no. My mates have just left. Like to linger, you know, for the company," he sends a wink to some pretty thing nursing a G&T by the window.

"Not enough company at home?" he tries to make it light, hoping that the gravel in his tone could be mistaken for interest. And it is, really, if prey drive could count as mere 'interest'.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in a way that looks a lot like rolling belly-up. 'Tell me I'm a real man, look at me! I've got the pick of the flock'. "You know how it is. Gets boring, fishing in the same hole all the time, eh?"

"I wouldn't know," he hums, eyebrows drawn low in faux-consideration. Meets him dead in the eye, lets the mask drop for a just a second. Let's the words come out flat and dangerous. "I've never had a problem reeling in what I want."

The words linger, settling heavy and awkward in a way that has him licking his teeth. Tension so thick he can chew it, feel the fat and gristle rend under the strength of his jaw. It's heady watching the way your husband flounders, not sure how to react until the pack leader backs up and loosens the canines at his nape. Lets him breathe. It's a joke, really. Go on. Laugh. And he follows suit so easily. It's almost boring, he thinks, with eyes cold and muscles frozen under his fake smile as he watches the man chuckle.

"You've gotta stay, Price, that's a good one. One more drink, c'mon." Funny. He thinks that it's his right to give orders. He thinks that John's staying at his command.

John taps twice at the foamy rim of the glass. Catches his sergeant's eye from across the room. "Sure, why not."

It's time.

It's masterful, really, how well Gaz slips over. Greets Buck like an old friend. Drops hints and in-jokes that have the man chuckling along as his eyes flit about with confusion.

"Can't believe I've run into you, here. I thought I'd seen the last of you when you moved house, what, a year ago?" Kyle slides into the barstool on the left. Boxes him in, piggy in the middle. "Still with that finance company?"

"Yeah, yeah it's been a while," he trails off. Too proud to admit that he doesn't know Gaz. Has never met the man. John can feel the way his eyes keep flicking towards the side of his face. Needy. Histrionic.

"You lads catch up, have fun. I'm away for the night," he sets the empty glass at the bar with a soft thud. Makes a show of introducing himself to Gaz and waving the two of them off.

In the cool air of the smoking area he has a moment of fika. Cars roll by on a distant road. The muffled sound of laughter and murmuring filters through frosted pub windows. The rich, heavy smoke of his cigar swirls around and around until he's closing his eyes in the haze. It's slow, calming, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the hand that he's about to play.

He thumbs over the smudged screen of your husband's phone. Only 2 missed calls and 1 text.

>>Sorry to go on at you, but you said you were finishing work at 5 today. It's nearly 8 now. Can you at least let me know where you are? We were going to start that series tonight and I've been getting worried waiting for you :/

Poor, sweet thing. Polite, too. All love and care wasted on the pathetic, juvenile lump slumped over the bar right now. 

(It whets his appetite, seeing how well-trained you are. How you toe the line, defer to the farcical rules set out for you in your relationship. 'Stay at home. Don't blow up my phone.'

Would you come to heel for him? If a weak, useless hand could shape you so well, what could a strong one do?)

<< Sorry, baby. I goty caugtht up at the pub w some friends. HAd a few drInks. Cmome and get me? [LOCATION SHARED]

He flicks the stub of the cigar away as he pockets the phone.

Curtains up; show about to begin.

He settles into his seat, a well-worn booth. Threadbare, stained upholstery and faded coasters. It's shadowy here, tucked away in the corner but offering a perfect line of sight to the door. And right by that very door is Gaz, your husband, and the pretty thing from earlier.

The bell jingles; wind whistles in.

Gaz lets his grip slip, lets your husband slump in the seat until his head is resting against the neck of the woman he was chatting up. Fingers inching up her thighs as she laughs and flirts back.

"What..?" it's too noisy in here to hear you, but he's listened to your voice over and over. He knows just how your pitch is rising. The slight crack on the final consonant.

You stand, face screwed up as you try to make sense of the situation. But two plus two can only ever equal four, and your husband's hands up a skirt can only ever equal- 

"Hi, gorgeous. Here to meet someone?" his sergeant grins up at you. Plays the charmer so well. "Got an empty seat with us, if you fancy it."

There's a little bitterness cutting at the furl of your lips. You're holding it in so well but, god, the words must burn, coming out like bile. "What, sure that I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, no. He said he's just having a little fun. Said he wants something warm before he goes home to his bitch wife," Gaz chuckles, leaning towards you like he wants to whisper a secret. "Bit sick of hearing his complaining, if I'm honest. Makes her sound like a right harpy. But you could take my mind off it."

"Not sure about that," he sees the way your chest hitches. Sees the sob that you swallow down as you steel your expression. "I am the 'bitch wife'."

And it's magnificent. Kyle's played his part so well; stuck to the script like he's performing at The Globe. An ad-lib here, an improvisation there. He hands you a napkin, rubs at your shoulder as he looms over the treacherous tableau he fashioned for an audience of two. You, and John. Ache and Hunger; betrayal and mastery. He maneuvers you, keeps you from causing a bigger scene as he hauls your husband by the scruff of his jacket. Choreographs the steps so that John can see every last microcosm on the universe of your face.

It's his set, his design. He's the architect, director, and audience all in one.

(And that foolish, stupid player of yours tugged at the lure. Found himself swinging, tied up in the string).

--------------------------

Ik reader wasn't really present here, but had to get the ball rolling (: Also I've been stressed and not sleeping so forgive me for this being a bit...

And yes. John stood there and put all the typos in that message on purpose. Unhinged.

[iammatthewfritz]

I find the basketball scene in 7x04 Buck, Bothered, and Bewildered to be quite funny as someone who has played basketball for 10+ years.

The main thing I find funny is, why are Eddie and Buck guarding each other?

Not only is Buck a little bit taller than Eddie, he’s also quite a bit more built than his best friend. Eddie, if we take into consideration Buck’s “you’re the fastest runner” line and that he must of been playing for years as he’s been asking Buck to join him to this basketball pickup game since he’s moved to LA, would be quite a scrappy player with experience. Meaning he would be quite difficult to guard. As with Buck having enough distaste for basketball, and doesn’t play at all means his skills are low.

Not to mention with Buck’s built and height, he should be playing post (down by the hoop), not point guard (bringing the ball up and demanding the offensive moves for the team). Whereas Eddie would be more of your point guard/guard player.

Usually before the ball is in play, teams will discuss quickly who they are guarding so no player is left open for easy basket on the first play. This will lead to guards usually choosing another guard player to guard and post players will guard a post player.

Making this clip pretty interesting because why is Buck, an inexperienced player, bringing the ball up (yes I know it’s a silly little pickup game but usually sports players are a competitive bunch 9 times out of 10) and trying to maneuver the ball with a behind the back move?? And Eddie just swoops in with easy because oh, I don’t know… he’s actually good at basketball and his ball handing skills. (Stop with you dirty thoughts folks)

If anything, Buck and Tommy should be guarding each other as they match up in built and height. Making them an equal match up… but they aren’t?

Which leads me to think…

What if as the new subs are brought in during the time out (Chimney and Buck), Eddie was like “Aye I got Buck!” immediately, and no one fought him for it.

There isn’t even a single scene where they are being guard by anybody else. Even after Buck gets screened by Tommy, he still caught up the slack to continue to guard Eddie instead of the smart decision of switching players with whoever was guarding Tommy.

But those two just need to be together even if it’s playing opposite of another. Getting all sweaty and up close with each other- don’t get me started on if we got a boxing out scene (which is when you use your butt and push it into you opponents front as you continue to push them backwards for a better shot at retrieving the ball after a miss shot).

All in all,

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz really wanted to guard his best friend Evan “Buck” Buckley which is the gayest thing a “straight” guy could do.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about Eddie learning Buck will be there for him off the job, even without Chris being in the equation.

Something something about that being an important realisation for him to finally make because he’s always hidden behind his son when it comes to Buck (and his love life more generally - even Shannon in reality was for Chris not himself) but he won’t be able to this time.

Something something about that realisation being the key to giving himself permission to examine his heart and feel his true feelings.

[beastologist]

One other reason why I'm more inclined toward Buck & Tommy? They understand each other's line of work, but they are NOT working in the same firehouse. They WON'T be constantly attached to the hips all day at work and outside of work. Just like Hen, Bobby and Chimney do have their significant others outside the 118 firehouse, I would prefer for Buck to have a significant other outside the 118 firehouse, too. Remember how Hen basically said Buck doesn't have anyone outside the 118? That's a potential difference and improvement Tommy could make for Buck.

[bigfootsmom]

tease/tidbit tuesday

No one tagged me but I’m still gonna post something anyways cause the laws of this land mean nothing to me. Have some more of buck’s oof ouchy broken ears:

The weight of a hand suddenly settles on Buck’s shoulder, sending a jolt through him as he jumps just about a foot in the air, heart pounding in his throat as he whirls around. He hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him. That’s probably not a good sign.

Eddie is standing in front of him, arm still outstretched with his hand hovering in the air between them. From what Buck can make out of his face, Eddie’s brow is knotted with concern. Buck squints, willing the world to stay still for a second.

Eddie’s mouth forms the familiar shape of Buck’s name, his eyebrows drawing together to form a question. Buck can’t tell if he actually heard him, or his brain supplied one of many memories to fill the silence. Well, not silence, more like a buzzing so loud Buck has a half serious thought that somehow some of the bees had managed to crawl their way into his head.

“What?” Buck asks, his voice startling him as it bounces around the confines of his skull.

Eddie’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and his mouth moves again, his lips and teeth moving almost too fast for Buck to parse out the words. The mustache doesn’t help much either.

Tagging:

@usersiren @honestlydarkprincess @swiftietartt @holdmygum @maygrantgf

@lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @devirnis

@giddyupbuck @princessfbi @homerforsure @mellaithwen @bisexual-buck

@boykisserbuckley @shyaudacity @eddiebabygirldiaz @thequeenofcarvenstone @smallandalmosthonest

@eowon @iinryer @try-set-me-on-fire and anyone else who has something they want to post!

[daniclaytcn]

ykw i'm just gonna say it. "it must have been awful for tommy to be closeted under gerrard's captaincy" and "tommy had a privileged position due to his gender and race that he actively benefited from and failed to utilize to openly advocate for chimney and hen—particularly chimney—who didn't have the privilege he did" are two statements that can and should coexist

[supercalime]

Just thought about sharing this frame right here

Do with it what you will

[mischiefbuckley]

why did buck say this in season 7 like insanity pure insanity

[epiphainie]

i can't with all these "the show is highlighting tommy's jealousy, they're planting seeds that it will cause problems" takes like bffr. he mentioned being envious over the 118's dynamic twice, sure, but in what world (literally how?) would that cause a relationship problem? do yall expect him to be in cahoots with gerrard behind their back and murder buck to take over his life or something?? like even with the hyperbole aside, i genuinely cannot see how they can turn this into relationship drama without going against everything they showed us with tommy so far