A Tragedy With Tits

Crossover Appeal Masterlist

9-1-1

Rating: E

Pairing: Bucktommy

Chapters 19/19

America’s Sweetheart and Grammy nominated pop star Evan Buckley finds himself in need of an emergency drummer less than a week before his World Tour. Luckily for him, several of his crew know just the guy: technical death drummer Tommy Kinard.

NOW COMPLETE

Extras

Send me some Kiss Prompts!

Returned from the dead kiss. Diabolical request (:

I’m being purposefully vague so not to spoil what actually gets him. Not under a cut because this is not canon to Crossover Appeal and therefore not technically a spoiler.

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Dag’s parents left an hour ago to go change and shower. Tommy promised he’d call as soon as Dag actually wakes. He’s technically woken up a few times already, but he wasn’t lucid, and his eyes closed again almost immediately after opening. But he’s alive. He’s breathing. There’s the steady beep of machinery in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Tommy doesn’t want to think about the alternative.

It’s cold outside and it’s been snowing on an off. Lars is on his way, no doubt with something he’s going to try and convince Tommy to eat. Tommy sits in the chair next to the hospital bed and barely blinks. Dag inhales and exhales, but aside from that he’s terribly still. Reaching out for the arm not connected to the IV, Tommy carefully takes his hand again and squeezes. Dag’s fingers twitch in response. His eyes sluggishly blink open, and they’re more alert than they were the last two times.

“Hey,” Tommy says quietly. By a miracle his voice doesn’t break. “You’re in the hospital.”

Dag looks at Tommy uncomprehendingly, because Tommy’s a moron and speaking in English. Tommy repeats the words in Swedish. Dag squeezes his hand. Tommy stands up, fumbles one handed for the cup of water with a straw.

“Slow,” Tommy instructs, still in English, but Dag must understand because he complies.

“What happened?” Dag’s speaking in Swedish, voice hoarse and weak. His eyes are closed again, dark circles under both of them.

“No idea,” Tommy manages to respond in the correct language this time. He puts the cup down, and drops a kiss to Dag’s forehead. His left eyelid. His left cheek. “You parents understand the doctor more.”

A lot of the medical staff speak English fine, but there had been way too much going on for someone to stop and explain everything in detail to Tommy. He honestly doesn’t mind. All he’d been told is that it was bad, but that Dag was going to be fine. He can figure out the rest later.

Anon! I got your message with the link to the clip of Archspire covering APT by Rosé & Bruno Mars. I'm not responding to it publicly out of an abundance of caution, because the link you sent does connect back to your instagram account with your irl face attached.

I have seen the video, big fan of Archspire. Jared lemme step on your dick. Here are some youtube links! (Link 1, Link 2)

So, thank you for teaching me some basic metal facts! I never expected a fanfic to make me more knowledgeable about metal, but here we are 😄

(Fic in question)

Send me some Kiss Prompts!

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Ryland knows it's a bad idea before he leans in, but he does so anyway. Over the years there have only ever been a handful of people he's thought about kissing. The worse they can say is ‘no’. Ryland is tipsy enough that his desire for an answer outweighs any fear of rejection.

Carl's mouth is just as soft as the noise he makes into the kiss. The bristle of his mustache barely brushes against Ryland’s lips. For a few, surprised seconds, Carl kisses back. Then he shifts and pulls away. Ryland's pretty sure he knows the answer.

"That's a bad idea," Carl says quietly.

"I know," Ryland shrugs.

Ryland doesn't move in for another kiss, but he doesn't move away either. Carl stays exactly where he is. They're close enough that they've both gone cross eyed looking at each other. Carl's eyes are dark and striking. Ryland wonders if he needs to explain. If he even should. It’s just that he wanted to, so he did. The worst they can say is 'no'. There are many, many worse things than 'no' right now. The launch date is looming closer and closer. The hope attached to it fees dangerous.

“Maybe after,” Carl says.

Ryland perks up. He wasn’t expecting that.

“After when?” he asks.

After the night, when Ryland’s sober? After the launch, when all of their eggs are in one basket?

“Just after,” Carl says.

Carl is, generally speaking, a very stoic man. He’s serious. Dry. It’s one of the things Ryland likes about him. He feels… steady. Right now there’s an uncertainty in his eyes that Ryland isn’t used to seeing.

“Okay,” Ryland nods. “After.”

The uncertainty in Carl’s eyes lingers. Carl leans back in and presses a brief, chaste kiss to Ryland’s mouth.