#it’s all about Buck at the end of the day

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[authorbriannarae13]

Mind of Mine // i just want to watch you take it off - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read on AO3 here.

summary; "You got 'nother one, sugar?"

Joel knows exactly how to get you wetter than ever. or this is the work you get when the author listens to the song 'TiO' off of the album 'Mind Of Mine' on repeat. for five hours.

warnings; smut (MDNI); unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel, so much praise

word count; 1.3k (it's my first joel fic, ok?)

-

You’re swaying to the music while Joel’s behind you, cooking as always.

He usually ignores you – not because you’re necessarily a distraction – but instead, because giving you the attention you crave doesn’t end well. For either of you. Last time he gave you attention, your wrists were secured to the headboard as he fucked your brains out, giving you too many orgasms to count and forgetting about the food.

Oops.

You live to be a tease, though.

It excites you too much to stop.

Mainly because it lets him plan how he’s going to punish you. Or praise you.

Whichever he’s in the mood for.

Based on his current mood – which is subject to change – he’s most definitely going to praise you.

And after the day you’ve had, it’s definitely what you need. Working for a publishing house can be stressful. And today was one of those days.

Good thing Joel loves to make you feel light – weightless, actually.

Not to mention how safe you feel. And when you feel safe, the softer side comes out.

Like all relationships, you just need to feel safe to show it.

“Darlin’,” his rough, Southern drawl interrupts your music, and you turn it off.

“Yes?” you ask, teasingly. Trying to rile him up.

But you never succeed. He knows you too well for that.

Turning away and holding a hand out, he murmurs a simple, “C’mere.”

So, you take it, letting him drag you and lift you up – right into his arms. Bridal style, of course.

You groan as your thighs clench, trying to hide your soaked cunt.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“Fuck off,” you mutter while he carries you to the bedroom. Since he insists, he needs his fill of you before he can think about anything else – or dessert, as he likes to call it.

He kicks the door open and lays you down, playing with the hem of your skirt.

Your hips buck into his touch. He’s teasing you – you realize.

“Joel,” you moan as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your skirt down, and revealing the soaked black lace covering your cunt.

He pulls the lace aside, running his fingers against your swollen pussy, and he groans deep in his throat. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, pretty girl.”

Your brain goes blank as his index and middle finger both sink inside you, curling towards your g-spot.

“Fuck, sir.”

“N’ne of that sir shit tonight, baby.” He grabs your ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up to your swollen - and aching - clit.

Your head falls back as your eyes roll into the back out your head. “Fuckk.”

You’re so close. If he would just curl his fingers against your g-spot just one more time, you’d be there.

He lets out a gruff chuckle that reverberates though your body as his other hand finds you shirt, pushing it up to find your nipple, pinching it.

That sends you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel,” you moan as the orgasm hits, crashing you into waves with each one more intense than the one before it.

His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your clit even as you try to buck him off. “I can’t. I can’t- “

He cuts you off before you can repeat it again, “You can and will give me ‘nother one, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you groan as he pulls his fingers out, thrusting them back in while your back arches.

In. Out. In. Out. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

His fingers thrust faster as your thighs start to wrap around his head, trying to keep him there.

The second orgasm is faster than the first. You let out a silent scream as the waves rush into you for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“Good – fuck – good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, his tongue still swirling around your clit as the waves subside.

The strength from earlier leaves you almost immediately, making your legs fall. You’re boneless, but you also know he fucks you regardless of just how boneless you feel.

“You got ‘nother one for me, sugar?”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth, “Taste yourself.”

You happily oblige, opening your mouth to take his fingers and tasting your cum mixed with his skin in a fucked up symphony.

His groan reverberates off the walls as you suck on his fingers – the same way you always have his cock. That’s when he starts to pull your panties down your legs, giving him better access.

Since that’s what this is all about, of course. And better access usually means better orgasms.

Speak of the devil – that shit must hurt. He looks painfully hard.

He interrupts your staring. “You like what you see?”

You slowly start to nod, but he slowly pulls his hand away, fingers leaving with a pop.

He leans down towards you, as you lean up and play with the hem of his shirt before you decide to pull it off.

Next is his belt as you hurry and rip it off, trying to get to his jeans.

“Woah,” he lets out a low chuckle, “’u’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t ya, beautiful?”

“No,” you whine as he starts to stop your frantic hands. “Just need you,”

“Where ya need me?”

“You know where,” you sass with everything you can muster.

“Need to hear ya say it, baby.”

“Fuck,” you moan as his jeans lightly graze your cunt. “Need you in me – fuck – now.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, pulling his jeans and boxers down – as fast as he can. “’U’re g’nna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“I – fuck –“ His thrust cuts you off as he bottoms out. “I live to please.”

“So I can tell,” is the hiss you get back while he waits for you to adjust.

“Move already,” you whine before you can stop yourself. “Break me for all I – fuck –care.”

He slowly finds the pace you’re accustomed to – hard and fast.

“Look at ‘cha. You’re takin’ me so well.”

Your cunt clenches around him as he continues. “Aw, does my good girl need to be reminded of how good she feels?”

“You-“ you start, “you keep doing that and I’ll finish faster than I ever have.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Is that a promise?”

“B-better be,” you stutter as his thumb finds your clit. Again.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back again. Everything is sensitive.

You’re not even expecting the orgasm when it washes over you.

“Good – fuck. You’re such a good girl f’r me, sugar,” he praises, not taking his thumb away.

“Fuck.” It’s somewhere between a moan and groan. “Fuck, everything’s so sensitive.” Now that’s definitely a groan.

He ignores you, continuing his praise. “Fuck. Good girl. God, Good fuckin’ girl.”

You softly whine as he slowly speeds his pace up, trying to find his own orgasm.

After more futile moans, whimpers, and whatever else he can pull out of you.

“Fuck, you’re g’nna make me cum so fuckin’ fast, pretty girl. Goddamn-“ And that’s when you feel his orgasm crash into him – violent and unforgiving.

The orgasm lasts so long that neither one of you can keep up with how much time has passed. It isn’t until he flips you two over, so you’re on top and he’s not crushing you, that you know it’s done.

“Fuck,” you softly laugh, pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as he holds you tightly. You kiss his chest while he hums.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs kissing your forehead, “u’re all fucked out, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe,” you tease while he gives you a look.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

Eventually, after Joel made sure you were okay in every aspect, you two make your way back into the kitchen, attempting to get your appetite back after all that.

You’re standing behind him with your head laying on his back when you murmur, “I love you forever and always, baby.”

You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he says, “I love you more than anything else, darlin’.”

[puckinghischier]

What do you think Quinn would do for a grand gesture when he was missing his girl?

seeing as he’s a sentimental sort, considering the gift he gave luke, i know he’d do something so over the top in the best way.

he’d already have bought you every long distance gadget in existence. the bracelets that vibrate when you touch them to let the other person know you’re thinking of them. the smart fridge he can leave notes from his phone on for you to wake up to in the morning. the lamp that glows a certain color when the other person misses you. the iphone widget he can draw pictures of flowers on before the real thing is delivered to your door.

he’d make sure he had every opportunity to make sure you knew he was thinking about you, even when he’s busy and on the road. sometimes a message or a vibration from a bracelet is all he had time for, but it was enough for you.

for him? nothing could ever replace being in your presence. he needed to see you, touch you, hear your voice. this past season had been rough. being away from you for so long, he was miserable. he found himself being distracted by thoughts of when he could get back home to you during practice or while warming up for a game. he was rushing post game media so he could call you before you fell asleep. he was skipping team bonding to facetime you and catch up on your day.

so, he started putting a plan into motion. he hoped it wouldn’t scare you off or freak you out, but he was too deep into it now to back out.

you had noticed he’d been spending a lot of time on the phone with his agent lately, assuming it was some negotiation for a brand or sponsorship. you knew it couldn’t have anything to do with his spot on the canucks, both the team and quinn loving the other too much to part ways.

but he started acting weird. he started being jumpy when you’d ask him about his conversations with his agent, curious as to what’s taking up so much of his time lately.

“just contract stuff. you know, i have to renew it soon and there’s all kinds of stuff that goes into that. brad’s just trying to get me the best bang for my buck,” he’d nervously chuckle, changing the subject quickly.

you were cleaning up the kitchen one day after making lunch, quinn having had to go to the rink for some kind of business meeting, he told you. you hear the door open and his keys fall into the bowl on the dining room table, a soft call of your name ringing through the space.

he walks into the kitchen to find you finishing up the last few dishes, making small talk until you’re finished and join him over at the end of the long island.

“whatcha got there, q?” you question curiously, noticing how he hasn’t let go of the paper once since walking through the door.

“oh, this? well, we need to talk about it, actually.” his nervous tone makes you nervous, worried about what’s on the piece of official looking paper.

“okay…” you trail off, not enjoying the nervous energy engulfing the room.

he clears his throat, running his fingers along the edges of the paper repeatedly, forcing himself to keep looking you in the eyes.

“so, you know how i bought you all those things to let you know i’m thinking of you when i’m not on the road? the bracelet, the lamp, the new fridge, the flowers and notes?” he lists off all the heartfelt things he’s given you over the course of your relationship, a smile taking over your face as you nod at him.

the smile on your face gives him a bit more confidence, more sure of his decision than he was just a few moments ago.

“okay, well, i can’t do that anymore. those bracelets? the lamp? the messages on the fridge? they’re not enough. they’re not cutting it anymore.”

your heart sinks. what does he mean it’s not enough? if it’s enough for you, why isn’t it enough for him? he’s the one that’s gone all the time. you’re the one who has to stay here and wait for him to come back. is this paper a new lease? is he kicking you out? breaking up with you?

you take a step back from him, your head filling with all kinds of negative thoughts as to what’s on that paper in his hand.

“quinn, i-i don’t understand. what do you mean-“

“please, just let me finish. i need to get this out and then you can ask me all the questions you want. and yell at me, if you feel the need,” he interrupts you, putting a hand up in between the two of you.

your mouth snaps shut, tears threatening to spill any second.

“like i said, the superficial stuff just isn’t enough anymore. if i can’t have you with me all the time, i don’t know if i can keep doing this. all of this. it’s killing me. i know it’s my fault i’m gone, but my god i miss you so much it hurts me,” he continues his speech, not picking up on the shake in your hands.

“quinn, you don’t have to do this. we can…figure something else out. i miss you too when you’re gone. so much,” your shaky voice tries to reason with him, not wanting to hear him say the words out loud.

he holds a hand up to silence you, effectively stopping your words.

“my mind’s already made up. already signed my name and everything, even if brad did think i was crazy,” quinn keeps going, confusing you even more.

what did his agent have to do with him breaking up with you and kicking you off of the lease you just signed together?

you don’t have time to ask him, because he lays the paper in front of you, sliding it towards you. “here, just read it for yourself.”

you pick up the thick paper, noting the canucks emblem stamped into the top of the document, your eyes falling to the long paragraphs taking up the majority of the page.

there’s one section that’s highlighted, marked to stand out specifically for your eyes.

“the canucks organization, in agreement with quintin j. hughes, hereby provides transportation, accommodations, and admission to 10 (ten) away games of his choice during regular season hockey, and every meeting of post-season playoffs if necessary, to one person of his choice, contingent of his reporting to canucks sponsored activities such as: games, practice, training camps….”

it takes your brain a few moments to catch up to what you’re reading.

he…rewrote his contract for you. he, somehow, convinced an entire organization to write into his contract a clause to be able to take you with him to games during the season. you look up at him, his nervous stare meeting your eyes.

you start laughing.

quinn was nervous for a lot of things. he was worried you’d freak out and say he was crazy for this. he was worried you’d be mad at him and tell him you didn’t want to go on road trips with him. he didn’t know if you’d cry or jump with joy or walk out on him.

but he never expected you to laugh at him.

you can’t control your laughter. you try, but it just keeps coming, every attempt at containing it only making you laugh harder.

“i don’t understand. what’s so funny here?” quinn manages the courage to ask, voice shaky and embarrassed.

you manage to calm your fit enough to gain a fraction of decorum back, taking a few deep breaths before responding.

“quinn, i thought you were breaking up with me.”

quinn’s eyes widen, not expecting the words out of your mouth at all.

“no, i- why would you think that?” he rushes out, walking towards you.

you wipe the tears from your eyes, trying to calm yourself even further.

“well, i don’t know. the way you worded it had me convinced you were bringing me a new lease you’d signed without my name on it or something. thought you were kicking me out,” you chuckle only slightly at the end of your explanation.

quinn grabs your face in his calloused hands, gently forcing you to look at him.

“i hope you know, i would never break up with you. not by kicking you out of the apartment, much less. if anything you’d be the one kicking me out.”

“well i sure hope not. according to your contract, we have eight more years of roadies in our future. think those accommodations would be real awkward if you kicked me out. wonder if petey would let me bunk with him?”

[inawickedlittletown]

Oliver's road trip post made me think about what if after the break up Buck, instead of baking, just tells Bobby he needs some time off and he just packs up his Jeep and starts driving.

It's a little like when he left Pennsylvania except that this time he's going to come back...he just needs the time. He just can't be in LA where he's just constantly reminded of Tommy.

So he's out there camping and sleeping in his car and sometimes getting a hotel room. Along the way he finally starts to think about what it means for him to be bisexual. He stops at LGBTQ spaces and is even tempted - since he is single - to hook up with someone. He doesn't. Maybe he picks up a book to read when he stops places and maybe he meets people that give him perspective. They hear Buck's story and tell him where he went wrong with Tommy.

He winds up at some point picking up a doggie friend because a stray just started following him around and so at least he isn't alone. He names him Pilot.

He winds up extending the trip a couple of times and Bobby doesn't mind. Not like Buck ever took time off before so he has plenty of PTO accumulated. Along the way Buck does help some people out...he can't not. It's who he is.

When he talks to Eddie he doesn't ask about Tommy. Maddie tries to make him come back early by telling him that she's pregnant. Eddie tells him he might not be in LA when Buck returns, he's thinking about moving back to Texas.

Maybe Buck ends up all the way in Pennsylvania and he goes home to his parents. They think his dog is menace but they let Buck bring it inside the house anyway and Buck doesn't stay long but he also tells them about Tommy and they tell him he needs to just go home already.

He makes the drive back to LA, stopping at places and sight seeing and even visiting old friends. Maybe he even runs into Abby and so they get talking and Buck brings up Tommy and Abby finds the whole thing hilarious and then she shares a little about Tommy...stuff that he never told Buck but that he'd told Abby because they were engaged at one point so she had known him pretty well. And Abby maybe even admits that she turned a blind eye to who Tommy really was because she wanted the happy ending.

It gives Buck a lot to think about on the drive back and then when he gets to LA, he doesn't go to his apartment. He goes straight to Tommy's house.

Buck is a mess. He's been driving for hours and the last shower he took was at a run down motel. He hasn't shaved in days. His car smells like dog and dirty laundry and take-out. Actually, it's also flashing a whole bunch of lights at him and it's started to make a weird sound.

Tommy is shocked to see him, even more shocked to see the dog, and he's definitely concerned by the noise he heard the car making.

Buck tells him they need to talk and Tommy just nods and Buck tells him about the trip and about everything he discovered about himself and then he talks about his parents and then he talks about Abby and then he talks about Tommy and he talks about the two of them and he asks Tommy for a second chance.

Then, he asks Tommy if he wants a dog because technically speaking his apartment is no pets allowed.

Tommy says yes to both and then also demands Buck stay because Tommy wants to look at his car in the morning.

They eat dinner together and talk more after they give the dog a bath and Buck gets a shower. Buck feels like the whole thing has been too easy. When Buck asks Tommy what he's been up to the whole time Tommy just sighs.

"Waiting for you, apparently."

Because as it turns out, Tommy was just a little late to catch him before he left and then he figured Buck would come back. It gave him his own time to think and yeah some nights he worried about Buck out there on his own and he wondered if maybe he wasn't alone. He hated that he had no right to be mad if Buck did find someone else, but he couldn't help the jealousy that rose up and he couldn't help how angry he was at himself.

But he waited. He let himself have a tiny bit of hope because he'd realized within days of walking out of the loft that he'd made a huge mistake.

That night, they both take some time to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies and they wake up tangled up with a dog whining for food. Neither of them would have it any other way.

[osterby]

So the flavour of the day is Bad Fandom Stats, and it turns out that not only is centreoftheselights using a wildly inaccurate method of counting ship popularity during a given year for the Year In Review fandom stats, but also that nearly every column on the chart is a lie. @5ummit exploded the whole methodology issue last year, so I'll just link their post and dive into other stuff.

One would think, looking at a list of popular ships with their fandoms listed next to them, that the named fandom is simply the one within which the ship exists.

The ship at the top of that list is "Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)" and the fandom is listed as "9-1-1 (TV)"; that's pretty straightforward, there's only the one TV show and those characters are from that show.

But then we get down to ships with characters that exist in multiple versions or subsections of a canon which have their own fandom tags on AO3, and things start getting janky

One of the first things I noticed was weird about this year's chart (aside from the numbers themselves being just straight up wrong) was that the fandom for Kirk/Spock was listed as "Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)", the AO3 tag for the reboot movies. That felt wrong, because while I know the reboot movies are big on AO3, most of the K/S stuff I've seen recently has either been expressly original cast or not specific to any one cast or iteration of canon.

I thought that the list might have been saying that Reboot Kirk/Spock alone was big enough to make the list while Generic and Original Kirk/Spock were separate fandoms that hadn't gotten onto the list. That would be absurd for new fic count, but there are stranger things on this list and the methodology favours newer ships, so I went digging.

A search for Kirk/Spock fic posted in 2024 and a glance at the sidebar gives us this, out of 2,255 total fics

Searching for Kirk/Spock fics updated, rather than newly posted, in 2024 also puts the All Media Types and Original Series tags above the Reboot Movies.

But searching the entire unfiltered ship tag gets us this, out of 22,426 fics

This means two things.

1.) Despite the listed fandom on the year end chart, Kirk/Spock (and by extension, all the other ships from fandoms with more than one iteration of canon [and some Batman ships are on there, so we've got far more complex things than simply reboot movies and TV/anime adaptions of novels/manga]) is a generic ship tag.

2.) the fandom listed was taken from the unfiltered tag, not from this year's data.

And centreoftheselights confirms that this is indeed her methodology.

The fandoms are, quite simply, wrong.

--

Since we do not have access to her data and her methods are not replicable, we can't check how many of the ships might have been struck with a mismatch between which version of their canon is most popular overall vs this year.

I can't even be certain that there is a mismatch for Kirk/Spock. It's possible that the fics that actually make up her numbers have more reboot movie fic than otherwise. No one will ever know.

--

It is interesting to dig into the differences. I find it utterly fascinating that Kirk/Spock had a period that pushed the reboot movies to the top of the list overall and has since settled into Original Cast being more popular, all while the ships remained consistently popular enough to regularily end up on Top Ship Lists.

Centreoftheselights' data does not allow us to dig into those differences, or even to meaningfully speculate about them.

--

And yet more! As I explained in this reblog, the "type" column is not harvested from the data itself, but is a subjective interpretation of what centreoftheselights believes the characters' genders is or could or might be. So not only are all the columns wrong, they aren't even wrong in the same ways.

Over the whole sheet, the columns are: ⚠️Rank: Well, it accurately lists the order of the inaccurate counts, so I guess the column technically isn't inaccurate ⚠️Change: This is indeed the change in rank from last year's chart. It accurately lists the difference between two different inaccurate ranks ✔️ Relationship: accurate! This is the ship tag on AO3 ❌ Fandom: Inaccurate. Actually a top tag within the ship tag, not the fandom the ship is from ❌Works Gained: Inaccurate. see @5ummit's debunk ✔️Total Works: accurate! this is indeed the size of the tag on AO3 ❌Type: Inaccurate. OP's best guess, subjective interpretation, or headcanon ❌Race: Inaccurate. Same as above.

--

Tagging @olderthannetfic and @5ummit since you two have kind of been doing the heavy lifting on this one :)

Also plugging the more accurate chart by Randomist1031, which, in addition to having accurate fic counts, also lists fandoms by generic names rather than top tag, which increaes both accuracy and readability. https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/158271001

[peppermintquartz]

Evan Buckley was made to save lives.

Literally.

Selected to amplify the healing abilities that had already manifested in his sister, Philip and Margaret Buckley allowed Manifest Bio Tech to harvest the necessary cells and tweak them.

But nature or fate still had a say, and Evan didn't emerge a healer.

++++

Evan was made to heal, but the only person he could heal was himself. He still got hurt, but his recovery time was four to six times faster than regular, unaltered humans.

They tried harvesting his bone marrow to replicate the effects but it didn't work.

Daniel still had to die, the cancer in him too resilient against even the harshest of treatments.

When they buried Daniel, Evan had barely begun to learn to walk. If he hurt from the extractions, his parents didn't know or care; Maddie's tears would ease the physical pain anyway.

++++

When Evan ran away from home to get Maddie to flee with him, Doug flipped out. He needed Maddie's tears. They were the secret to his success as a doctor.

She didn't run. She didn't even meet him to tell him why.

Evan drove away, full of a helpless fury at his sister and at himself.

++++

Across the world, Tommy Kinard was gaining a reputation for surviving unlikely odds. But when the options were death, maiming, disfigurement and merely broken bones, there was only so much Tommy's ability could do. But that tiny spark that danced up and down his spine got him to bank sharply just before they were hit, so while they crash landed with injuries, they were not blown up to smithereens.

He received a medal and promptly shipped home to the States to recuperate, and he insisted on remaining in Los Angeles where his grandmother lived. Since he needed a job, he decided to join the LAFD.

Because of Tommy, Nonna had another eight happy years with her beloved grandson. On her last birthday (not that either of them knew that), she bought a lottery ticket and had him check it.

The effect of his ability was dampened slightly since she was the one who made the purchase, but it did make Tommy's life after Nonna a lot more comfortable.

After Nonna died, Tommy felt that little tingle that said something unlikely was about to happen. The very next day, an opening in Harbor Station for a trained pilot opened up.

Tommy knew that was for him.

++++

Evan ended up in Los Angeles, and after a series of gigs, decided that he might as well risk his life and limb for good reasons than bad. His accelerated healing stood him in good stead, too, though he had to choose a different name.

Fire, falls, explosions, water, lightning; Buck survived them all.

And then he met Tommy.

++++

The moment he saw the three from the 118, he felt that telltale zing running down his spine.

Unlikely odds.

Not Chimney, that was for sure; they had encountered each other often enough.

Soulful Eyes shook Tommy's hand. Nothing. "Eddie Diaz."

"I'm Evan, Evan Buckley," says the pretty guy with the kissable lips and fingerprint-sized splotches of wine pink on his left eye and brow.

"Tommy Kinard, hi," said Tommy. He braced himself for the moment they made skin contact, and there it was - the spark, racing from the point of contact over his skin all the way up and down his spine.

Unlikely odds.

++++

They still broke up.

Before he drove over, he had felt the telltale tingle along his spine, and he should have known that it was only for the parking spot, and not for Evan to say, "I am falling in love with you."

There was nothing his ability could do in this case.

++++

Buck didn't know why his healing abilities refused to heal the hurt or fill up the emptiness in his heart. He baked and baked and baked, and each time he was done, he wanted to call Tommy and tell him about what he made.

And he would bake some more.

Maddie who hardly cried nowadays gave him a vial of her healing tears, to be added to any recipe of his choice.

He added it to a simple brownie recipe. It didn't help.

++++

While he had sort of vaguely wished he had healing abilities that could have helped Daniel, Buck never cursed his abilities more than when they raced to rescue Tommy and the patient he and his partners were transporting.

"I don't need to heal me," he begged the fates that had granted him his power. "Heal him. Save him."

Tommy smiled, feeling consciousness about to slip away. "Evan, what are... the odds for me... to have you as my last?"

"You know what's less likely?" Buck demanded through his tears. Droplets fell on Tommy's upturned face. "That you make it through this unscathed and we get back together and we have a happily ever after. Focus on making that happen!"

A tired tremble raced over Tommy's skin and down his spine. He smiled to himself and murmured, "As you wish."

[bunnyinvanilla]

okokok new idea 🤭

ovulating around John- you’re too nervous to bring it up but he KNOWS (or at least he knows something is eating away at you)

i’ll go crawl back in my hole now hehehehehe

he’s so perceptive he can read you off with a single glance, and don’t be surprised if he mentally memorizes your period cycle, he’s a man of habit, like a big, brown mountain bear… ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

🍥 | warnings: sugar saddy!price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, price is in his 40s and reader is 21, reader is soft and feminine n sweet and price is like the hunter from snowhite, ehehe

it’s a lot of things — the new cologne he’s been wearing, that gorgeous watch around his thick, muscular wrist that makes you literally go insane, when he sits and parts his thighs widely, smoking his cigars, when he bucks his hips upwards, when he tilts his head and twitches his mustache, when he calls you princess, angel, babydoll…

well it’s basically everything he does that has been making you heat up — you’re ovulating and it seems like every single thing captain john price does makes your body go up in flames, mind sink into sub space.

poor bunny you’re in heat :(

he doesn’t do that on purpose, he always wraps his arm around your waist when walking past you, he always calls you good girl the entire day, so what’s wrong now? you try to ignore the feeling, the fire that blooms in your belly, that twists every time you hear his deep, low, rough voice.

you want to stay home all day long and let him have his way with you, but you’re working, squeezing your thighs together when he walks by — and it makes you moody, you feel bad, gosh why is your mind thinking about him dominating you so roughly, harshly, pounding into you in the meanest way ever and manhandling you like a rag doll? It’s embarrassing :(

”are you alright, doll?”

you get startled, almost jump when you hear his voice, cheeks burning bright practically on flames, goosebumps sparking down all over your bare legs. “mmhm, yes, everything’s fine sir” you chirp almost too quickly for his liking.

he raises his brow up, watching the way you begin to rub the tablecloth faster against the bar’s countertop, noticing how you seem to try and stay as distant from him as possible.

and then it hits him — you were on your period just a few days ago, which means…

he starts walking closer to you, until he stops to stand right behind you. He places both hands on the table surface, caging you between his large, muscular body and the countertop — stretching his arms on both side, he leans his head over your ear, his hot breath making you freeze your rubbing motion. Your eyes fall on the side, catching that darn watch on his wrist that has you hyperventilating and nearly collapsing.

“if you want something, doll” he punctuates the word something with a slight, imperceptible buck of his hips, pressing himself against your lower back. “you just have to ask nicely, love, need to use big girl words, mmh?”

you’re overheating, the temperature of the bar has dramatically increased, and you just hope this cycle ends soon. oh, girlhood..

“you’re mean sir..” you whisper, referring to the fact he knows you’re too shy to ask for basically any thing, wether it’s something you like, a cup of water or even a sense of relief.

“im not mean, sweetheart, im simply still training you, need to learn how to ask for something without whining or begging daddy with your eyes. Use your words, and then daddy will give you whatever you want, deal?”

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Start from the beginning on ao3, or read today's entry below.

Day 4: My Heart is Racing in a Weird Way

Tommy wasn't sure what was happening as Buck led him through the bar. Eyes lingered on them as they passed by each table until they reached a door that read Employees Only.

“Evan, what are we doing?” Tommy asked, scooting in closer to his boyfriend as people passed behind him.

“Hang on, you'll see.”

Buck knocked on the door and waited, glancing back at Tommy with a nervous smile.

“Did you get a job here?” Tommy asked. “Babe, are you hurting for money? I can-”

Buck pulled Tommy to his side and patted his chest. “Tommy, relax. Let's just... just wait.”

After waiting a few more seconds, the door opened just a crack. A man wearing far too much glitter, in Tommy's opinion, peered out. “Password.”

Buck grinned. “Paradise.”

The man eyed them both, then opened the door and let them inside, leading them down a hall.

“No touching unless given permission, although looking is highly recommended,” the man began to recite like he was giving a college tour, “use condoms, clean up your mess. No kink shaming. Sharing is caring.” He opened a door at the end of the hallway and moved to the side to let them through. “Have fun, newbies.”

“Ev- Evan, what are-”

“I do have a couple rules,” Buck interrupted, moving so he was directly in front of Tommy. “I really don't want anyone else touching you, and I don't want them touching me either.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Tommy mumbled, barely audible over the music and the moans. He cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder. “I don't want that either.”

Buck nodded. “Okay... Okay, good. I guess, um, we should f- find a spot then, right?”

“Um, oh, sorry,” Tommy moved as far into Buck's space as he could as a man in head to toe leather walked behind him with another man following him on a leash. “I, Evan, I don't know if there's any space here.”

“Sure there is!” Buck replied with a nervous laugh. “We don't take up that much space. Come on.”

They continued through the room, and Tommy couldn't help but feel far too overdressed in his blue jeans and black henley. He was sweaty, a bit panicky, and- “Is that... is his whole arm in there?” He froze, eyes wide at the sight of it.

Buck leaned in close to Tommy's ear. “No kink shaming,” he muttered.

“I'm not shaming, I'm impressed... and having some sympathy pains,” he added with a grimace. “Damn, he's going hard. I hope that man has good health insurance.”

Buck tugged at his arm, moving them along. “What about back here? Not too crowded. We c-”

He was cut off by the sound of a whip cracking nearby, followed by a yelp and a moan.

“Oh, Evan, my-” Tommy brought a hand up to his chest, flinching as the whip struck down again, “my heart is racing in a weird way.”

Alarmed, Buck held onto Tommy's arm, looking around until he found an exit. Making his way through the maze of bodies, Buck led them out of the building.

Tommy took the opportunity to take in a deep breath, the cool evening air hitting his face. “Sorry,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, “I know you wanted to do... whatever in there, it's just- that's not really for me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “Tommy, I don't care about any of that stuff. I thought it's what you wanted.”

“Hmm? Evan, why would I want that?”

“The movie!” Buck exclaimed, as though that explained everything.

“The movie? What movie?”

Buck groaned. “The movie we saw a couple weeks ago. They had a scene in the back of a seedy bar where all kinds of kinky shit was happening. You popped a boner in the theater!”

“That's because Cheyenne Jackson did full frontal and I'm human!”

Buck put his hands on his hips. “S- So it didn't have anything to do with the, uh, the chains or the, um, the other stuff?”

“God, no,” Tommy replied with a shake of the head. “I mean, sometimes things can be hot in theory, but it doesn't mean I wanna do it. This, however,” he said, pointing back toward the bar, “scared me more than war.”

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

Tommy held his arms open, waving Buck toward him. Without hesitation, Buck wrapped himself up in Tommy's arms. “Okay, maybe it didn't scare me more than war,” Tommy admitted, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple, “but it did leave me with some phantom pains. Did you see how hard that fist was-”

“I saw, I saw,” Buck interrupted with a shiver. “I know I always say I want to feel you the next day, but I'm not sure I'd want you rearranging my organs like that.”

Tommy laughed, tapping at Buck's side until he leaned back enough for them to look at one another. “You spent the last two weeks researching this place, didn't you?”

“It was the only one with five stars,” Buck whined. “And I wanted to go somewhere that I knew no one would just start touching you, or me.”

“I will say that, in the forty-five seconds we were in there, they were all very respectful,” Tommy admitted. “I just don't think I'm the fuck-you-in-a-room-full-of-people type. I also hated how they were all looking at you like they wanted to eat you.”

“Oh, please!” Buck huffed. “They were looking at you like that, not- not me. I was so close to jabbing some eyes out.”

“I disagree. Not about jabbing eyes, but about where the eyes were focused.”

“Agree to disagree.”

They were silent for a moment. Tommy looked off to the side, lips pursed.

“What is it?” Buck asked.

“Can we just talk about the fact that the place cannot be sanitary? I know they say to clean up after yourself, but God, Evan, there's no way-”

“I know, I know,” Buck soothed, running his hand over Tommy's chest. “I thought about that too.”

Tommy eyed Buck briefly before reaching up and cupping his face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his thumbs stroking Buck's cheek.

“What?”

“Next time you think there's a kink I wanna try out... ask me.”

“You mean you haven't loved my surprises?” Buck joked.

“Oh, they're great,” Tommy answered sarcastically. “I am afraid the next one might actually kill me though.”

With a smile, Buck took hold of Tommy's hands and pulled him away from the wall. “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yeah. Can we get in bed and do none of the things I just witnessed in there?”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “You mean you don't wanna shove your arm so deep inside me you could pull out my heart?”

Tommy shivered. “Evan,” he whined, “I'd almost forgotten about it.”

“Honey, there are some things the mind will never forget,” Buck replied as they reached the truck. “That was absolutely one of them.”

[burdsandwurds]

so, i want to preface this with a disclaimer by saying i’m not a financial advisor of any type. certified, uncertified, hobbyist, or anything of the sort. i’m just a scrub who barely knows his left hand from his right. if you’re thinking about getting your retirement accounts set up, do your research, talk to a financial advisor or two, talk to your hr rep, get some help in this area.

that all said, i’m seeing a couple of comments to this post such as ‘i don’t have a job that has retirement accounts options’ or ‘money is really tight these days.’ i can’t stress enough that that’s totally understandable. i get that and i personally feel that. i want to say you’re not completely stuck though. if your employer doesn’t offer a 401k or a pension or something similar, you can always get an ira set up. they work a little bit different from a 401k, but they let you save up for retirement in similar ways. there’s a ton of businesses that offer them too, from banks and credit unions to brokerage firms. once again, do your research before getting one.

but let’s look at some math now. ask yourself, can you find a way to save $3 a day? i can. all i have to do is kick a habit like a daily red bull and i’m already there. chances are almost everyone reading this can find a way to save three bucks a day. that’s $20 a week right there in our pockets. if we saved that each week, at the end of the year, we’d have $1,040 leftover.

now let’s take a look at some math. if we save that $20 a week for 15 years, we’ll have $15,600 to show for it. if every five years though, we find a way to add an additional $10 to what we save every week, we’ll have $23,400.

here’s how the math plays out so far . . .

that’s not a ::ton:: of money, but for a few bucks a day, that’s not bad.

now, let’s see what happens if, instead of parking that money in a savings account, we open up a retirement account and park it there instead. for the sake of simplicity in illustrating my point, i’m just going to pretend that our money grows steadily at 8% every year. that’s not how things work in reality, as some months it’ll grow faster and some months it’ll grow slower and during periods of corrections, the value of our retirement accounts will actually drop. our retirement accounts purchase stocks and bonds, so they’re at the whims of the stock market, global economic sentiment, bank behaviors, and the sort. as a result, during rough economic times, we’re gonna take a hit. in general though, we’re assuming the markets are gonna continue their trends of long term growth. if they don’t though, the economy will be in such hot water that our retirement funds won’t matter anyway.

but let’s take a look at what happens to our money every year, over the course of fifteen years, assuming a steady 8% growth.

that $23k and change? it becomes almost $42k. it almost doubled.

to make it more dramatic, i added five more years saving $50 a week.

my point is, this stuff adds up over time and the anonymous commenter behind this post is right. the earlier you start saving, the more power your money has to grow.

now, are you gonna be able to retire on $78k? no. but that’s certainly gonna come in handy in later years. and of course, the more you save and the sooner you save it, the more your account will grow (hopefully).

once again, to end this, this is ::not:: professional advice. if you want to set up a retirement account and have questions, definitely talk to a professional who can help you. i’m just a faceless man on the internet and we all know, you have to take what we say we skepticism and caution.

edit: and because i couldn’t leave well enough alone, i added one more decade of saving.

This isn’t a fuck managers or customers or anything of the sort, but I view you as a labor rights kind of blog so I was hoping you could share two things with your readers for me?

First of all, tell anyone and everyone who is willing to listen to take retirement seriously as early as possible. I’m entering into my 40s with less than $30,000 in my retirement funds because I just never cared. I did some rough math and figured that if I had started contributing to my 401ks when they were offered to me in my early twenties, depending on how much I put away I’d have anywhere from $300-750,000 by now. I fucked myself sooo hard not taking this shit seriously and now I’m playing catch up. 401k, 457b, IRA, what the fuck ever. Tell people to get then and get them early and fucking slam money into it whenever they can.

Second, those employee feedback surveys? They can make a difference. A bunch of people in our company complained that our competitor’s starting pay was $2 an hour more than what we got paid. A few months after the survey we all got notified by HR and our store managers that there was a “mistake” in how payroll was calculated. Across the board everyone got a raise with two months back pay. We didn’t get $2 an hour more, but depending on numbers of years worked it averaged from $.50-1.50.

So yeah. I don’t know. Fucking tell people.

Posted by admin Rodney

[sweetfictionalworld]

Im not sure if you accept request but...can you make rick flag with a male reader? (Or trans male reader) 👉👈

Thanks for the request! I hope I don't screw this one up 🙈 I haven't written a male reader insert before.

"Yes, Sir" (Rick Flag SR x Male Reader Smut)

Summary: Rick invites you to his home.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. PWP!

"You wanted to see me, Sir."

General Flag turned around where he stood in his office, looking out the window, giving you a smile that always made you weak in the knees.

"For how long have you been assigned here now, y/n?"

"Almost two years, Sir."

"And for how long have you wanted me to fuck you?"

Your face turned hot and your heart started hammering against your ribcage. "S-Sir, I-I don't know what you're talking about," you managed to blubber out.

General Flag smirked. "Well, if you do happen to know what I'm talking about, come to my apartment at 8 o'clock tonight. You're dismissed. For now."

Your face was still hot and flustered when you left Flag's office. What the hell had just happened? Yeah, of course you had wanted to fuck him since the first day you laid eyes on him. Who the hell in their right mind wouldn't?

You didn't know how you got the courage to go home to him. But here you were, naked on your knees with Flag's cock in your mouth. His hand was gripping the back of your head as he slowly bucked his hips, matching the pace of your sucking.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so wet and warm," he mumbled between grunts. "Such a good boy, taking my cock like a champ."

His praise did something with your body you didn't expect, those few words going straight to your core and making your cock twitch and harden. Flag noticed it and smirked as he thrust deep down into your throat, making you choke and drool around his thick girth.

You tried your best to take all of him, wanting him to feel proud of you. You looked up at him as you continued to take all of him, watching the pleasured expression on his face and admiring his well-toned, muscular chest and the abs on his stomach. Damn, how could a man in his late fifties look better than the guys your own age?

"Fuck, come here. I want to taste you too," Flag grumbled and and pulled you up, positioning the two of you in the 69 position with him on top of you.

You stared up at his cock bobbing above you, opened your mouth as he lowered himself down onto you. Then you felt his hand around your length and the tip of his tongue flick across the head of your cock, and you lost it. You gasped around his cock, greedily bucked your hips as he stroke your cock in his hand and gently sucked on the head. Then, he went deeper and you cried out when you felt the back of his throat against your cock. It only took a few thrusts and then you came with a gasp, shooting your load into Flag's mouth. Flag swallowed it all and chuckled as he licked you clean before he stood up.

"I believe it's my turn," he said with a grin and positioned himself at the end of his bed where your head was. You stared up at him, understanding what he wanted. You slid yourself further down, so your head hung down the edge of the bed. Flag smirked and grabbed your head as he pushed into your open mouth.

He clenched his jaw as he held your head in a tight grip, thrusting into your mouth faster and faster.

"Such. A. Good. Fucking. Boy!" he growled with each thrust until he came, filling your mouth with his cum.

You swallowed every drop he had to offer with a satisfied smirk on your lips.

"How about we rest for a while, then we'll make that ass ready for my cock," Rick said mischievously and gave your ass a slap. You grinned up at him and gave him a playful look.

"Yes, Sir."

[cavevulpis]

Me writing kind eyes, it’s all good (about all of Buck’s past relationships, with a Buddie ending) without villainizing any women (and while actively avoiding the fandom’s misogyny).

I am a woman defender until the day I DIE!

[inawickedlittletown]

Had such a random thought...I probably will not write this so if anyone wants to feel free.

Doppelgangers exist in the 911 universe as proved by the whole Kim being an exact lookalike of Shannon. So if 9-1-1 and SWAT take place in the same universe...

So Buck and Tommy are broken up as in canon and Buck is not over it even months later and he's still baking like crazy and he can't get Tommy out of his mind but he's finally decided he should start dating again. That same day they're on a call and SWAT is involved and Buck thinks he's seeing things when he thinks one of the SWAT officers looks like Tommy. Nobody else sees it...but Buck is sure. He knows that ass. He knows that nose.

Anyway, a week goes by and he runs into Rocker at a cafe or something but Rocker ignores him and Buck is kinda hurt over it because why would Tommy ignore him like that...so he goes home and bakes a bunch of stuff. Something makes him take it over to the SWAT HQ building and he thinks he sees Tommy again but no Tommy wouldn't be there, why would he?

This goes on for weeks where Buck keeps seeing Tommy everywhere and he looks good and happy and healthy and not like he suffered at all from breaking up with Buck. Buck thinks it's a sign that he can't move on and that he should try and get Tommy back.

Then, he sees Rocker out with his wife and he sees them kissing or something and enough is enough so Buck goes over to confront them. Makes a whole scene of it because why is Tommy lying to this woman about his sexuality like he did to Abby and Rocker is like WTF.

Maybe Buck throws something at him or slaps him and Rocker's wife is like "that's assault...you're assaulting an officer" and Rocker arrests Buck.

So Buck ends up talking to Rocker and explaining himself and he shows him pictures of Tommy and it all gets cleared up somewhat except that Rocker takes Buck home and decides to give Buck a chance to say everything he wanted to say to Tommy at him in an effort to allow Buck to finally move on and Buck finally sorta gets where Eddie was coming from with the Kim stuff.

Maybe Tommy heard through the grapevine that Buck was arrested by an off duty SWAT officer so he's going to check on him and instead he finds Buck in tears and Rocker sitting in the chair that Tommy sat in the night of the break up.

And Rocker just kinda looks him over and just says "yeah, I'm more attractive...also that's your problem not mine and he loves you" pointing at Buck.

[hardly-an-escape]

Hope, Actually | Buck/Tommy | 2100 words | rated T

on the last day of Christmas, this writer gave to you... some BuckTommy holiday fluff! Buck watches Love Actually and gets an idea. tags: makeup fic, christmas, love actually, tooth rotting fluff, egregious overuse of italics

Buck gets the idea three days before Christmas.

He and Tommy have been talking again, is the thing. Trying to be friends. It's tentative and a little stilted sometimes and it's… fine. Talking only makes Buck want to jump Tommy's bones about 20% of the time, and peel his own skin off an additional 30% of the time. So that leaves 50% normal conversation, which is fine.

The fact that he's still painfully in love with Tommy is maybe a little less fine, but whatever. Can you even still be in love with a person if you never said you love them in the first place? Can you love them more? Because that's what it feels like. Every time he grabs a beer with Tommy and Chim and laughs for an evening over their latest ridiculous call, he loves him a little more. Every time they text, every time they end up at the same scene or the same bar, he falls a little harder.

But they're trying to be friends, trying to be cool; so Buck takes all that love and puts it away, smashes it down and swallows it and pushes it deep into his belly, and when he feels like it's going to overflow and turn into words he takes the excess and puts it in an imaginary box and shoves it deep inside an imaginary closet. There's probably some kind of irony there, a man taking these feelings he has for another man and putting them in a closet. Buck doesn't want to think too closely about it, to be honest.

And then three days before Christmas he's over at Maddie and Chimney's house. Jee-Yun has finally gone to bed, and they're flipping back and forth between random Christmas movies and drinking wine. Well, Buck and Chim are drinking wine, and Maddie is drinking sparkling grape juice and making a face after every other sip.

"Ooh, Love Actually!" she says excitedly as Chimney channel surfs. "Buck, have you ever seen this one?"

"No… Tommy and I were going to watch it together. I guess it doesn't matter now. He said he wanted to wait until after Thanksgiving, that's why we didn't. Before," Buck says heavily.

"I remember he told me once that it was his favorite movie," Chimney says neutrally. "That was a long time ago, though."

"Yeah, he said… he said it comes across as pretty dated. He said he probably wouldn't see it the same way if he watched for the first time now," Buck says, the words suddenly tripping over themselves to get out of his mouth. He can feel the glance his sister and her husband exchange over his head. "It's like junk food, you know, like… you don't eat a Big Mac because it's a good burger, you eat it because it's what you want, because it's the same every time and there's something comforting in that, even if it's objectively not great. Tommy said… he said he thought there are better Christmas movies, and way better rom coms, but there'll always be something kind of perfect and comforting about this one…" he trails off.

"Do you wanna skip it tonight?" Chimney asks, surprisingly gently.

"No. No, it's okay, we can watch it. I don't mind," Buck says. "But I'm going to open another bottle of wine."

"God, now that you mention it, I could kinda go for a Big Mac right now," Maddie says reflectively.

Later, a little too drunk to drive home, Buck curls up in the middle of the guest bed and lets the movie swirl aimlessly through his thoughts. Tommy was right, he thinks, about it being pretty dated – he can see how some of the stories, which might have hit romantic beats in the mid-2000s, just come off as clunky, or even creepy, 20 years later.

But Buck can also see how it got under people's skin – can guess how it got under Tommy's skin. Even in the clunky stories there's a thread running through, a bigger idea about the diversity of love, about all its imperfections, about the way it can grab hold of you and surprise you whether you're at the beginning, the middle, or the end of your own story.

There's an idea there, tipsy and unformed, about him and Tommy and about what he can do with all the love he's been packing up and hiding away like the hoodie buried at the back of his drawer that only barely smells like Tommy's sweat now. By the time he wakes up and finishes making everybody breakfast, the idea has solidified into a plan.

He has to visit two different office supply stores to get what he needs, and it takes him most of that afternoon to figure out what he wants to write, saving draft after draft in the notes app of his phone before he ever puts marker to paper. At some point he remembers to text Lucy to ask whether Tommy's on duty Christmas Eve or whether he'll be at home.

He's not on the duty roster but I don't know if he has plans, she texts back. Want I should find out?

yes please, he sends. I'm gonna do sthg stupid and i need him to be home for it.

Thank God, one of you idiots needs to figure your shit out before I'm subjected to his sad breakup playlist one more time.

he has a breakup playlist???

An hour later Lucy texts again to let Buck know that she told Tommy she had some stuff to drop off for him, and he said he wasn't planning to leave the house. So the plan is a go.

On Christmas Eve, Buck waits until after dark to drive over to Tommy's house. He's got three dozen thumbprint cookies in tins, a carefully ordered stack of poster board, and about a thousand butterflies in his stomach. This is either going to go really well, or really poorly, and he's honestly not sure which outcome to expect. But he has to do something – he has to try.

He wishes it were snowing. It's barely cool enough to need a jacket. But that's Los Angeles in the winter for you.

Tommy has this particular smile. Buck saw it pretty often when they were first together. It's not his favorite of Tommy's smiles; it's too restrained, starts out wide and then gets reined in, tamped down, as if he suddenly remembered that he's not supposed to be that happy, or not allowed to show it if he is. Buck is pretty sure it's the smile of someone who'd spent a long time being more or less punished for joy, and whatever else happens between them, he's glad that he saw it less and less over their months together.

But Buck sees that smile again when the front door swings open, when Tommy reflexively smiles big, the one that reaches his eyes, when he sees Buck on the porch – and immediately schools his face into something more reserved, more professional. Friendly, but not too friendly.

"Hey. What's up? What –" he trails off as Buck hits play on his phone and Christmas music comes from the Bluetooth speaker at his feet. He picks up his stack of poster board cards and shows Tommy the first one.

Say it's carol singers, it reads in Buck's uneven chicken scratch handwriting.

"Buck, nobody else is here," Tommy says.

Buck frowns and brandishes the sign again. Tommy's smile softens into something wistful, almost sad. "It's carol singers," he calls exaggeratedly over his shoulder to the empty house and turns back to Buck with an expectant look.

Buck flips to the next sign. I watched this movie the other day, it says. I didn't think it was that good TBH.

Sign number three: But I think I understand why people still like it so much.

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

Buck flips to the fourth sign. I think it's a movie about hope. That no matter how much you fuck up there will still be a way for love to find you.

He had to write pretty small to fit all that on one sign, so he holds it up a little longer and watches something flash across Tommy's face as he reads. He waits until Tommy looks up again to go to the next card.

And now it's Christmas, it says. And at Christmas you tell the truth.

The playlist is on a rendition of "Joy to the World" that couldn't possibly be performed by anything less than a professional eight-part a cappella group. Buck flips to the next card.

You're not perfect, it reads in big letters. The "not" is underlined multiple times. Tommy laughs a little bit, and Buck doesn't think he's imagining the fact that it sounds a little wet, like maybe Tommy is choking up a little.

The next sign: (And neither am I.) We've both fucked up + I'm sure we will again. He's not happy with how this one looks. He'd tried about seventeen times on various pieces of scrap paper to get the damn ampersand right and eventually had to settle for the stupid little plus sign like a middle schooler.

But I still have hope. I have hope for love. I have hope for us. Almost to the end now.

The second-to-last card is a simple one. And… I'm hoping you have hope too. Merry Christmas Tommy.

Buck bends down and takes his time stopping the music and turning off the Bluetooth speaker; straightens up slowly, poster board clutched to his chest. He can't quite meet Tommy's eyes, too afraid of what he might see there, so he looks down at his own shoes until the toes of Tommy's house slippers shuffle into view.

Two gentle fingers tip his chin up. It's so familiar, Buck almost expects a kiss, but instead Tommy just looks at him, soft and tender and achingly open.

"Thank you, Evan," he says, and it doesn't escape Buck's notice that he was Buck when Tommy first opened the door, and he's back to being Evan now.

"It's really not a great movie, Tommy," he says, a little helplessly. "I liked the story about the dad and the kid, and the one with the naked people was pretty good, but this guy?" He shakes a sheet of poster board and it makes that little wooby wooby sound. "Total creeper. And the prime minister is an HR violation waiting to happen, and I don't know if they even have HR in England…"

He trails off, because Tommy is chuckling. Tommy is laughing at him, and his smile is big again, spreading over his face from the corners of his eyes all the way down to the cleft in his chin, and it's one of the more beautiful things Buck has ever seen.

"You're not wrong, Evan," he's saying. "I think I told you, you know, it's like junk food, you don't eat it because it's good, you eat it because it's –"

"It's what you want." They're standing close together, now. Almost close enough that Buck can feel Tommy's breath against his cheek. He can still feel the ghost of his fingertips under his chin.

He's really not sure what to do now. His plan hadn't developed this far, beyond a kind of half-baked daydream of Tommy immediately falling into his arms and passionately declaring his love, although actually neither of them is quite that kind of guy. But luckily, Tommy seems to have an idea where to go.

"Do you want to stay for a bit?" he asks. "Maybe watch a better Christmas movie? Maybe… maybe talk some things over?"

"Yes," Buck is saying before the last sentence finishes emerging from Tommy's mouth. "Yes, please. I brought you cookies. They're in the car, I couldn't – I couldn't carry them and hold the signs at the same time."

"How about I take these," Tommy says, taking the stack of posters from Buck's suddenly nerveless fingers, "and you go get the cookies, and you come inside for a while?"

"Okay," Buck says, and does that.

Just under a year later, when they're decorating for their second Christmas together, Tommy unearths the signs from a plastic tub of fake garland. Evan laughs at himself while they hang ornaments on the tree, still a little embarrassed. I can't believe I thought that would work, he says. I can't believe it did work.

I can, Tommy says, and holds up a plastic sprig of mistletoe, and reels him in for a kiss.

read on AO3 >>>

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I'm having a truly terrible birthday trip and it's not even my birthday yet can I please have some angry blade 😭🙏

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

Jumping the queue <3 Hope it gets better and happy early birthday!

120 or 1k for ⚖️:

---

The rest is a history Buck already knows. The way Eddie and his parents have quietly battled over Christopher for years. But he sees more. Shitty interactions with Shannon. Digs that made her feel like a bad mother. Constant critiques of Eddie’s sisters. All careful. All so small that they can’t be a big deal, but sharp enough to hurt. To etch away at a person’s self-worth. 

He sees her accuse Eddie of dragging Christopher down. She sees her quiet delight when, years later, Christopher calls and asks to come to them. She thinks she can do a better job than Eddie. And if she does, she thinks she won’t have to feel bad about his childhood. Not anymore. 

Buck sees it all. He wishes he hadn’t. It seems like a violation. A glimpse into a wretched wound of Eddie’s. 

At least, Buck thinks, what Chris needs and Eddie wants might match what Helena deserves. And Ramon. Just because he’s only looking at Helena right now, doesn’t mean Ramon isn’t just as complicit. 

He’ll have to pick something that suits them both. 

And he thinks, in the end, he does. A future where they’ve lost Eddie. Where their relationship with Christopher fades to almost nothing, as he ages and learns more and more about his parents’ past. As their youngest daughter moves across the country. As their middle daughter becomes closer with her husband’s family than theirs. And as a grandchild is born, somewhere out there, that they don’t get to meet. Buck doesn’t know whose. He can only see their reaction to the news. But he wonders about Eddie. If he ever becomes a father again. If he gets to do that, knowing they won’t be around to interfere. 

He chooses the future, and he doesn’t feel any regret. Christopher is with Eddie. Christopher leaves them behind. And maybe that light, the one that faded from Eddie as a child, the one Buck thinks he’s always been able to see anyway, will come back in full force. 

Buck snaps back to reality and takes a large step away from Helena. Helena, who is seething, glaring at him. Fair enough. 

“We’re going,” Eddie says confidently. “Call whoever you want.”

Oof. Well, let’s not encourage them to call the cops. Hopefully they know they don’t have a leg to stand on. 

“Thank you for helping him when he asked for it,” Eddie continues. “I appreciate that. But it’ll be the last time.”

Eddie turns around and stomps towards the truck. Buck withholds a smirk, and turns to join him. 

⚖️

They drive until just outside Phoenix. No one pursues them. There is no Amber Alert. Obviously Eddie’s parents thought better than calling the police. They find a hotel, and by the time they arrive, Christopher is dead asleep in the back seat. Eddie carries him like he’s a little kid still, despite him being closer to the size of a man. Chris doesn’t wake the whole time, like the emotional exhaustion of the day has knocked him flat. Buck thinks Eddie looks like he’s almost at that point himself. 

The hotel room has two beds, just like the last. But now they have three people. Eddie lays Christopher on the bed farthest from the door. For a moment, he sits there, beside his sleeping son, just staring at him. He runs a featherlight hand through Christopher’s mussed curls before taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand. He bends to kiss his forehead, and murmurs a quick love you, before rising to look at Buck. 

“Can we share?” Eddie whispers. “I don’t want to wake him.”

“‘Course,” Buck mumbles back. 

They both strip down to tee shirts and boxers and move to their separate sides of the bed. Buck near the wall, Eddie on the side closer to Chris. After a second, Eddie reaches to turn off the lamp. 

“Night, Eddie,” Buck whispers. 

“Goodnight, Buck,” Eddie replies, just as soft. “Thank you. For everything today and… And Always.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Eddie,” Buck says. “You know I’d do anything for you two.”

“I know, but…” 

Eddie trails off. The room falls deadly silent, save for the sound of Christopher’s heavy breathing. 

“But what?” Buck prompts gently. 

Instead of answering, Eddie rolls over and, in a move Buck isn’t at all expecting, practically rolls onto him. For a minute, Buck doesn’t know what the hell is happening. But then, Eddie’s arms are awkwardly thrown around him, and his head falls onto the pillow, face down beside Buck, tucked into his neck. Thrown off, Buck moves nervous arms to hug Eddie back. To hold him in place. 

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck’s heart lurches. 

Then I’d probably kiss Buck, like, a lot. 

Buck has no idea what to say. It’s been an emotional fucking day. And he doesn’t want to read into anything says right now.

So, he can only find a simple response.

“Back at ya, Eddie.”

iii. 

Buck gives Chris and Eddie a few hours the next morning to talk. Just the two of them. He drives into a suburb of Phoenix and finds somewhere to grab coffee and breakfast for himself. It’s good to have a moment to himself. Not that he’s ever tired of Eddie or Chris. That’s impossible. But, it’s been a long two days. Emotionally charged and stressful. Even if things have turned out for the better. Buck could use the breather. 

He’s eating a breakfast sandwich at a cafe with, frankly, fantastic coffee, scrolling news on his phone, when he hears a chillingly familiar voice behind him. 

“I hope this seat isn’t taken?” 

It’s not asking for permission. Not really. 

Buck looks up to see her. Nemesis. Not in a dream. Not in his head. She’s real, she’s in front of him, and she’s smiling smugly, taking a seat across from him at his little two-seater table.

[buckandbobbyweek]

FAQ

What is Buck and Bobby week?

This is a week dedicated to Buck and Bobby from 911 and celebrating their father-son relationship. While a popular relationship, it's not a relationship that people often write about. So, with this event, we make sure there are plenty of new fic for us Buck & Bobby lovers!

What is the schedule?

Today (January 4th) the poll to vote for which month to fo Buck & Bobby week went up and goes for 7 days.

After there will be a poll to determine which week it will be, also running for 7 days.

Once we have a date, I will start working on a form where you can submit prompts and share this. This will be open for around a month. Less depending on how much time is left until the chosen date.

Once the form is closed, I will make a new form where you can vote for your favorite prompts. In the end we need 21 word/trope prompts (example: hugs, navy seal buck, hurt/comfort) and 10 sentence prompts (example: "did you steal my hoodie?", "what do you think you're doing?", "have you eaten yet?")

Depending on how many prompts and the results of votes, there could be a third form with the winning prompts to narrow it down more.

Then I'll make a post with the winning prompts and you can start writing!

And then we'll have Buck and Bobby week :)

Are there any rules?

AI is NOT allowed. Use of AI will end with your posts removed from the AO3 collection and being blocked on Tumblr. AI is theft.

This is to celebrate the father-son relationship between Buck and Bobby, NOT romantically. Romantic fics between them will not be included or reposted.

No abuse or SA taking place between Buck and Bobby. You can for other characters, but PLEASE tag accordingly! Use warning in both the warning section and the tags. I also recommend putting these warnings in an author's note and while posting on Tumblr. These are topics a lot of people want to avoid.

If a fic includes bashing of other characters, please tag accordingly as well. And, obviously, no Buck or Bobby bashing. (It would be preferable no bashing at all, but I'm not going to forbid or restrict you from writing it if you want to.)

No stealing, duh

I can't think of anything else, I try not to limit things. If you have a suggestion, let me know.

Do I have to sign up?

Nope. You can just post when it's time. Of course it's fun to let people know you're participating, but that's completely your own choice.

Can I be anonymous?

Sure! I do have to say a lot of people avoid anonymous fics because a lot of times they're very triggering or hateful to people. But if you don't feel comfortable using a username, it's a great way to still share your work. And I'm sure plenty of people still read anonymous fics.

Do I have to do all days?

Nope. While that is the most fun, if there's only one day you have time or inspiration for, that's amazing as well. You can skip days you don't want to do. It's completely up to you.

Is it limited to fics?

It's not! You can use any form of creativity. Think of:

Art

Playlist

Video edit

Picture edit

Moodboard

Podfic

Poetry

Anything else creative you can think of.

Is there a minimum or maximum word count?

Nope. No restrictions here either. This means you can also submit snippets. Or a full on novel with 100k+ words. Every number is allowed :)

How do I get it into the AO3 collection?

The collection isn't created yet and will be around a month before the event. Once it's created you can find the option 'post to collections / challenges' right underneath 'associations'. In this you search for the name, which I'll post on here once it's created. Once your fic is posted it'll be added to the collection.

I've never posted on AO3 before and don't know how.

I'm planning on making a quick tutorial soon, either on here or on @911buddieweek in which I'll explain the meanings of each parts, like ratings and warnings and the most used meanings behind them. Keep an eye out! If you want to know before I post, you can send me a message.

I have a different question

Don't be afraid to send an ask or message! I'll try to get back to you ASAP. I don't have tumblr notifications on, but I'm chronically online so I'll hopefully see it quickly. (I do like in Europe so if you're not European we might have a different timezone. But you can send it any time you want and I'll see it when I wake up.)

I hope this is enough info! And I'm very excited :)

[obitez]

After the Fire

For @bucktommywinterfest

Round 6: Post-holiday Blues

Rating: G | Word Count: 702

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Established relationship, Fluff

Buck liked to keep his place clean - nice and tidy. Everything was organized and everything had its place. It was one of the first things Tommy noticed about him, after his beautiful body, his charming personality and deep caring heart, that was.  It wasn’t that surprising, Tommy thought, considering the very open-concept layout his loft had and the fact you could see his bed from the front door. Anyone who lived in a place like that would need to clean up after themselves constantly.  When Halloween had come around, Tommy had noticed the lack of Halloween decorations around the place and managed to convince Buck to put some up. The same thing happened come Christmas time.   By the time Christmas Eve came around, Buck’s loft had a nice, relaxing, cozy Christmas theme going on with Christmas lights, window stickers, stockings, some throw blankets, and a little Santa napkins holder on his table. Tommy had worked hard to decorate his boyfriend’s place with Christmas decorations, and if he had to say for himself, he was successful in doing so.  Which is probably what made the sudden clean up so jarring to Tommy.  It was three days after Christmas that Tommy went back to Buck’s place after he just finished his shift to find that Buck had pulled out the storage boxes they had gotten for the Christmas decorations they had bought for his place last month.  “What’s this?” Tommy asked as he watched Buck scurrying around the apartment.

“Hey!” Buck smiled at him from where he was reaching for the lights they had strung up around the kitchen. “Just cleaning up.” “Cleaning up?” Tommy repeated, slightly confused until he noticed that by ‘cleaning up’ Buck was taking down most of the Christmas decorations. As his gaze traveled to the living room, Tommy noticed that most of the decorations over there had already been taken down and put away. “As in… putting the Christmas decorations away?”  “Yeah,” Buck shrugged, as he pulled the last bit of Christmas lights down and started winding them up in his arms. “Christmas happened three days ago, so… should clean up now, right?”  Tommy blinked, and he felt like he almost had to take a step back. It seemed his boyfriend was one of those people that took down all of their decorations right after Christmas. He needed time to process this information.  “But… it’s only been three days,” Tommy said, still in somewhat of a daze.  “Yeah,” Buck shrugged as he set the string of lights in one of the storage boxes. “What’s that look for? How long do you leave your Christmas decorations up?”  Tommy blinked, and then blurted out. “Until New Years- at least!”  “What do you mean by ‘at least’?” Buck asked.  Tommy was silent for a second, his right hand fidgeting with the fabric of his pocket. “Until like… mid January.”  Growing up, Tommy’s grandmother was a devout Catholic who always insisted on keeping the Christmas decoration up until Candlemas with the argument “the Christmas season only starts on Christmas, before that it is still Advent.” Tommy had accepted that reasoning growing up, and didn’t put an argument with the very opinionated woman. But as an adult who hadn’t been to Church since he was nineteen, he thought leaving things up until February was a little excessive and always ended up taking them down sometime around mid January. And all that being said, Tommy thought the people who removed their Christmas decoration on the 27th or 28th of Decmber were absolutely insane.  Tommy guessed he would need to put his boyfriend into that ‘insane’ category now. Shame. Tommy looked up from where his gaze had traveled down to the floor, looking up at Buck’s face that had a mix of shock and disbelief painting it.  “Evan?” Tommy said his name tentatively.  Then Buck sighed and dropped the Christmas lights onto his kitchen countertop. “Fine,” he said.  “Fine?”  “The rest of the stuff can stay up until New Year’s, but then it’s coming down,” Buck said as he walked over to Tommy and wrapped his arms around Tomm’s torso in a hug.  Tommy smiled as he wrapped his arms around Buck as well. “Okay, deal.”