ahoy there!! it’s been a while since i did a fic rec post but i saw a few floating around in honour of reaching 50k buddie fics on ao3, and it occurred to me that i’ve got 800+ 9-1-1 fics bookmarked and haven’t screamed about them nearly enough. so this is a mere handful of my fave 9-1-1 fics just for you!! they aren’t ranked in any particular order but they do all occupy a very special place in my heart <3

when the universe screams by @bucksbelly. notes: girldad!buck and accidental baby acquisition??? chefs kiss

one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving by pinkpeachtea. notes: buddie and cats and fluff fluff fluff!!!

when it’s no longer little or broken by theazara. notes: 9-1-1 / lilo and stitch au!!!! every part of this series means so fucking much to me, it’s incredible

in love with every song you’ve ever heard by @timeshareindestin. notes: hard of hearing!buck my beloved <3 made me sob like a fuckin baby because it’s my exact experience of hearing loss and i got v emotional about it

not so far fetched by @fallingthorns. notes: the empress is my new fav character

does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes? by @zashizawa. notes: this is an angst buffet and i am FEASTING

hot ghost problems by ebjameston. notes: i am a sucker for any and all ghost aus

without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin? by champagne_for_breakfast / @darlingboydiaz. notes: the rituals are intricate and these boys as insane

everything at once by orphan_account. notes: buck spoiling his loved ones give me so much damn dopamine

all that we need by not1_2write. notes: see above!!

golden by not1_2write. notes: angst!! fluff!! found family!!! werewolves!!!!!!!! literally bury me with this fic

what a heart can do by @bvckandeddie. notes: this fic truly changed my brain chemistry

never really cared until i met you by @chromatophorica. notes: can you see i have a Type when it comes to fics

we found love right where we are by polish_amber / @the-amber-raven. notes: maybuck siblingism you mean everything to me

you are, you are, safe with me by donnyphantom. notes: autistic!eddie i will die on this hill

a leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things / @iimpossible-things. notes: this one hit different ngl i WEPT

everything around you is lovelight by @lizzybizzyzzz. notes: eddie and his fluffy nemesis i love you sm

benign fatality by @etoilegarden. notes: will never recover from this one. emotional damage x 1000

scratch and burn by jessicamdawn. notes: werewolf au + tsunami = one of my fave fics

like any unloved thing by @hmslusitania. notes: this is so lovecraftian and unique i fuckin adore it!!!

waking the witch by @lesbianrobin. notes: magic eddie and navigating guilt and sense of self i am being FED

what’s (who’s) in your head? by thesightlesssniper. notes: immaculate 100/10 no notes

operation: keep eddie diaz busy and annoyed by giselleslash / @gigi-gigi. notes: i reread this fic all the time it is BRILLIANT

and this is his life by @shyaudacity. notes: i’ve read many many takes on this concept but this is just. fantastic.

always, all ways by ashavahishta. notes: this au ate my soul

the romantic stylings of roger the ostrich by buddiefication / @911onabc. notes: this had me cackling out loud in an airport and if you know me you know that does Not Happen

collectively unconsciously composed by rianne / @rianneeyre . notes: the magic! the pining!! beautiful

the tortured poets department by colonoscopys / @colonoscopys. notes: stunning stunning stunning

by act of grace by @hattalove. notes: lucifer the chihuahua you are a Star

firefighters of a feather by louserwrites / @thedykenextdoor. notes: we’ve seen catdads, dogdads, even turtledads, but have you ever seen chickendad!buddie

i’m hearing secret harmonies by chash. notes: everything about this fic. everything.

once more (with feeling) by strawberrywaltz. notes: oh my god. i think about this fic all the time. it lives in me now.

gay eddie. kiss buck. by paleredheadinascifi. notes: gay eddie, kiss buck <3

sweet child, you are a blessing (poor child, you have been cursed) by dumbdpaus / @ayotofu. notes: still weeping over this. will never recover.

and i fell (like a dead body falls) by fearofgod. notes: if buddie’s first date doesn’t go like this i’m suing

can you see what we are? (it’s all there written down) by kabnd. notes: i reread this fic whenever i’m sad, it’s so goofy and fun with a healthy dose of angst thrown in there <3

i won’t get vulnerable, don’t you dare get comfortable by elgney. notes: highly recommend both fics in this series but this one has a certain je ne sais quoi

who’s that? by buckasagirl. notes: give buck a baby just so that baby can put buck in this exact saw trap <3

spark by @breakaway71. notes: eddie being the absolute best, this fic gives me all the feels

hector the wonder cat by phreakycat. notes: hector. hector, my beloved. buck and his fuck-ugly cat against the world <3

higher than a soul can hope by @ansohura. notes: bucktaylor bestieism AND accidental baby acquisition??? i’m winning

god help him (what can we do?) by @not-blonde-yet. notes: sobbing forever. these are the found family feels we deserve.

every step of the way by angelwithwingsoffire and daniwib. notes: deeply traumatising but also one of the best fics i have ever ever read.

pta “coup d’etat” by bookworm0303 / @insertlovelyperson. notes: the author’s note sums this up best. eddie: lalala i love my boyfriend. buck: *kill bill sirens*

buck day afternoon by bookwork0303 / @insertlovelyperson. notes: truly just. an iconic fic.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

Non-animated:

Jesus, sternly: he who lives by the sword will die by the sword

For the third year in a row, I'm offering you the Reading Challenge Destiel edition!

The goal, as always, is to have fun and discover new fanfics. There's no obligation to do all the prompts, if you don't like something, just ignore it.

Let me know if there's a prompt you're excited to read!

You can find here the pdf