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purge of 2002? of 2012? what ARE those?

Oh, how quickly the past is forgotten. 

They are part of the reason A03 is a thing now. Not the whole reason, but part of it. 

The Great Purges of 2002 and 2012 are when ff.net got a wild hair up their ass about THINK OF THE CHILDREN and nuked any fic posted on there that was explicit. Thousands upon thousands of nc-17 smutfics were lost.

It’s what led to the creation of alternate hosting sites for smutty fic…AdultFanfiction was the one I went to…but thousands of fics would never be recovered. 

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for @buckweek 2025 - day 5: "glass doors" ↳ the 118 breaking the glass doors rule for buck

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pink pony eddie 🎠

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I have some news for members of the united states armed forces who feel like they are pawns in a political game and their assignments being unnecessary.

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flirty fun idk

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Snippet Saturday (eh? It's Saturday where I am) for the @911fanworksfestival

~500 words of Madney, set during the timeskip between Maddie's kidnapping and her throat being healed

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Maddie follows up that eventful first breakfast back home by changing into a green turtleneck sweater. It’s one Chimney hasn’t seen since they were dating the second time around, after Doug, and he doesn’t appreciate the reminder of the first time he’d seen Maddie in a hospital bed.

Jee doesn’t cry or say anything else about the now tucked-away scar for the rest of the day. She does stick to Chimney’s side like she’s been zip-tied there, and her eyes never really shrink to their normal size whenever she’s looking at her mom.

On day three of the turtleneck, Maddie rips it over her head as soon as she comes into the bedroom in the evening and flings it into a corner.

“I hate that fucking thing,” she says, twisting her arm behind her back in a way reminiscent of a circus act so she can unhook her bra.

Chimney puts his book aside. “Don’t you mean ‘fudging’?”

Maddie kicks off her jeans like they’re personally responsible for weekday LA traffic. It’s not a new revelation, but Chimney could really get into the unimpressed stare plus striptease combo.

She steps out of her panties in the middle of the room, leaves them there to be tripped on in the morning. Determinately, she slides under the covers. Burrows into Chimney’s side, tugs and pulls until he shuffles down and turns to the side to be wrapped up in his wife’s limbs. She’s running hot. His fingers find their way to the molten skin of her back, tracing the indentations left by her bra strap.

For several minutes, that’s all that happens. Chimney doesn’t push. She’ll talk when she wants to, and he’ll listen when she does; that’s always been the deal.

“I hate turtlenecks.”

He almost jumps at her lips dragging across his collar bone.

“Yeah? I almost never see you wear them, that’s right.”

She shifts in his arms. Sneaks a hand under the waistband of his sweats, scratching softly across his lower back with a singular nail.

“I used to. A lot. They’re very practical for-” With dreadful clarity, he knows what she’s going to say. Tries not to brace himself in a way she’ll notice. Does it anyway. “When I was with Doug.”

“Ah.”

He’s never learned how to respond to her when she talks about Doug. Not outside the carefully curated setting of therapy, not even after all these years.

He settles for running his thumb up the muscle behind her ear. Softly. She’ll never know his hands as anything but gentle.

“I don’t want to have to wear them for Jee.” Maddie buries her nose in the junction of his neck and shoulder. Her very measured breath still shudders on the exhale. “She’s so good, you’re, you’re both so- so-” Her nails dig into the meat of his back. “I don’t ever want to hide again.”

He holds her, and holds her, and cannot fathom the concept of letting go.

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reblog with the worst words to refer to a cunt in a smut fic

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“if you’re sensitive to sounds when sleeping, just use earplugs!” i cannot stress enough that the sensory feeling of having my ears fully blocked AND now being able to hear my own heartbeat and breathing and every other sound that’s happening inside my own body is a million times worse than whatever ambient noise may be keeping me awake

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I never fit in (or felt home in my skin)

trans!Eddie, introspection, gen, w/c 2.3k

You wake up exhausted, and you force yourself to get up and start the day. You make yourself look into the mirror, and you don’t wince, instead you make do. You have to. (The moustache is a joke with yourself, you tell yourself, even though you’d never admit it out loud.)

You make and eat your breakfast mechanically, and maybe you pick the boring choices, because it doesn’t matter, and your son’s favorite cereals go stale in the pantry, but you can’t bring yourself to eat them alone, and like, it’s fine, this one has more nutritions anyway, and it doesn’t matter.

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or: Eddie tries to find joy

this is a fill for the following prompt on the @weewookinkmeme : Eddie as a trans woman

warning for second person narration

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Snacks + nap = 💖

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evan buckley + ADHD

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Pre-orders now open!

Sneak peak for 2 of my contributions to the @bucktommyzine2025 (pre-orders open soon!)

I've had so much fun doing these, can't wait to see them alongside everyone else's work <3

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i’ve been wanting to write an eddie-centric fic lately. one where he reflects, and apologizes, and he and buck talk like adults. then i read a post about friendship and this poured out.

eddie knows buck has been avoiding him. they don’t hang out after work anymore - buck stopped saying yes, so eddie stopped asking. buck doesn’t share fun facts while on calls or when they’re in the lounge. they don’t hang out during downtime at work either, not unless someone else is there too.

eddie didn’t mean to let it happen. didn’t mean for them to drift apart like this. they still work well together, but they’re going from best friends to strictly coworkers fast.

buck’s instagram carousel that includes baby robby, hen, even may and ravi is what made eddie admit it to himself.

he’s a bad friend.

a real fucking bad one.

eddie sets his phone down on the couch cushion and buries his face in his hands.

the feeling has always been there, like an uncomfortable rock in his shoe. when he didn’t apologize for his attitude during buck’s lawsuit, all the little quips he’s made at buck’s expense.

he’s always bitten down on the regret that compels him to apologize.

“get over it, edmundo,” was practically a trademark phrase throughout his childhood. he never got an apology from his dad. or his mom. they’d go off on him, critiquing and yelling, then act like nothing happened the next morning. like his feelings were reset when the sun came up because theirs apparently were.

eddie never got to that particular aspect of his youth in therapy. how he learned to let things go because if he brought it up the next day, it would start a fight all over again.

that’s another reason he and shannon didn’t work. she wanted to keep the talk going, and he refused.

footsteps approach, and eddie rubs his face roughly before picking his head up and turning over his shoulder to see it’s buck.

“hey,” buck murmurs, going for the cupboard that has the mugs.

eddie’s chest aches. his throat feels full, words fighting to get out and past his tongue.

“hi,” is what he says. he gets up and goes to lean against the counter as buck looks through the stash of tea. he picks out chamomile, and wordlessly grabs a second mug and the peppermint tea, eddie’s favorite.

murmuring in thanks, eddie gets the kettle going. they recently got one of the fancy ones that boils quickly, so it’s not long before buck is pouring water into their mugs.

“how’ve you been?”

“why are you asking?” is buck’s response.

his throat feels thick with words racing to escape past his tongue.

"because i haven't asked, and i'm a shit friend for that."

buck doesn't say anything to that, just blows on his tea and tilts his head for eddie to follow him. they make their way to the couches and eddie's glad it's the middle of the night and there's no one to disturb them.

when they sit down buck sighs, rubs a hand on his bad knee. eddie takes a sip of his tea and waits. when buck looks up at him, he has a sad expression on his face. "you're right. you haven't been a good friend, let alone a best friend in a while."

eddie nods, takes it on the chin because that's all he can do.

buck continues, "i've been really fucking mad at you, you know? got back into therapy since bobby... and i've stuck with it, past the mandated appointments. i'm spending time with maddie and my nephew. i even talked things out with tommy, and we’re trying again. and you don’t know any of that. which sucks, because i - i want to talk to you about it.”

eddie silently wraps both hands around his mug, leeching the warmth that seeps through the ceramic. he’s a mess of regret-guilt-fear-shame-shame-so-much-shame.

“and you know what?” buck asks rhetorically, “i asked my therapist if i’m selfish because i ‘always make things about myself’ and she asked - she asked me, ‘well if you don’t, who will?’ and i didn’t have an answer. because you, hen, chimney.. i get it. you have kids, other shit going on. but fuck eddie, you really know how to kick people when they’re down.”

that hits him like a blow to the ribs.

eddie doesn’t notice he’s crying until a tear plops onto the back of his hand.

“buck, you don’t - thank you.”

a glance up shows buck is surprised. eddie roughly wipes his eyes, sniffs, and says, “for telling me all this. for giving me the truth. i know i’ve been a bad friend, worse than ever before. and i’m so fucking sorry because i’ve been the selfish one here. to tell you the truth, i’m back in therapy too, with a new therapist. only four sessions so far, but it’s a start.”

“that’s great eddie, keep at it.”

eddie holds buck’s eye contact and nods. he plans on it.

“look, what you said to me in your kitchen still plays in the back of my head, it still hurts. but i’m not gonna throw that in your face, because that’s not what friends do. just wanted you to know because.. i don’t want that to be what ruins us entirely.”

clearing his throat, eddie replies, “i don’t either. i’m gonna work on myself, be better.”

the look buck gives him is guarded even as he smiles. “don’t go making promises, just do the work, you know?”

“yeah, yeah you’re right,” eddie clears his throat again. “no one likes an empty promise.”

the smile buck gives him is a little more genuine this time. it doesn’t do anything to assuage the ever-present shame, but that’s okay. that’s not buck’s responsibility. eddie’s self-aware enough to know that much.

tagging some frands: @wearethecyclones @firehose118 @lesbianchim @hipsterdarcy @hippolotamus

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henren in limited color palette 🩷🤍🧡

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Pre-orders are up! This Pride Month, why not get your fix of some canon queer firefighters with this zine -we've got everything from fluff to filth!

(And if, like me, you're not in the US and international shipping would cost several times more than the zine itself: recommendations for local printing companies will be available. So if you purchase a PDF, you'll be able to get a physical copy printed without all those pesky tariffs getting in the way.)

Pre-orders are Open!!

Physical copy purchase link: https://www.paypal.com/instantcommerce/checkout/MHDQGNVUQGBJU

Digital copy purchase link: https://www.paypal.com/instantcommerce/checkout/F4DPCNACEUBHW

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✍️ 🫠 drawing is rough but i do it for u guys and this damn ship i love.

All of my current work in progress (heres to hoping i finish em all before making any new ones).