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sometimes I wonder why y'all are obsessed with specific characters and I'm like "why them" but then I remember that sometimes its literally not your choice you just look at them wrong and all of a sudden they're taking up your every thought forever

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Buck looks at the ingredients on the kitchen table.

He wasn't joking when he said this kitchen wasn't a chefs kitchen. There's basically no counter space and only one usable outlet, so he keeps having to move his stand mixer around any time he needed another appliance.

It's funny how spacious it looked just a few mornings ago, covered in a full breakfast spread.

He sighs.

He could go bake something at Maddie's again but then he'd have to talk to Maddie, and he knows her first day back at work didn't go great, she doesn't need to be worried about him as well.

"Learn how to be alone." He mutters to himself, tapping the bag of the flour and watching little white puffs escape, like ill-thought out words you can't take back.

Not that he got a chance.

No, Tommy all but left a Wil-E Coyote shaped hole in the door on his way out this time.

He's been alone most of his adult life. Maybe he's never been at ease with it, maybe he clings too tightly and scares people off.

There was a song about that, that Tommy liked. How did he go?

"Hold on loosely. And don't let go. If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control." He sings under his breath, as he sets out his bowls and measuring spoons.

He's pretty sure Tommy explained flying was like that. You have to be in control of the chopper, but you can't actually win a fight against physics. You have to work with it.

Falling into Tommy again felt like giving up all resistance. It was so easy, so effortless, buoyant. He hadn't felt that like in months.

He's not sure what he's feeling now.

Other than mildly annoyed that no one seems to believe he's not in love with his best friend.

Setting aside the almond flour he was in the middle of measuring out, he wipes his hands on his apron and picks up his phone.

Do you think I'm in love with you?

There are immediate bubbles. The typing goes on for a long, long time, long enough that Buck has chewed through his thumbnail by the time a single gif comes through.

You had to have Chris show you how to send a gif didn't you.

The bubbles only last for a second this time.

Worse. My dad.

Buck laughs despite himself.

That's the saddest thing I've ever heard Eddie. I knew you were a technophobe but this is tragic.

He sets the phone when Eddie starts typing, and goes to move things around the counter, just keeping his hands busy. He's arranging the ingredients by size when he phone buzzes again.

When d-day happens, you'll regret this.

But what's going on?

I highly doubt you've suddenly unearthed new feelings for me after this long.

Buck thinks about what he's feeling, what has been said to him. Considers how much to edit.

I hooked up with Tommy the other night. Ran into him at a bar. He implied. Well no, he outright said that he thought you were competition for my feelings.

And then Maddie thought it made sense.

He sends the texts before he can think about them too hard. Picturing Tommy's face, the way it went guarded, the walls slamming into place behind his eyes still makes his stomach clench.

He jumps when his phone vibrates in his hand.

And what do you think?

Have you secretly been in love with me this whole time?

He thinks about. Really sits with the thought. He knows everyone thinks he's impulsive and that he never really stops to engage his brain, but he does still go to therapy regularly.

I love you like I love Maddie. Like I love Bobby and Hen and Chim. You're my family and I would do anything for you

I dont love you like I

He stops the text, feeling frozen. He almost wrote I don't love you like I love Tommy.

He backspaces and sends the first bit instead.

Yeah the fact that none of my girlfriends ever needed a crutch or an ankle boot was my first indicator.

He snorts.

They were already dating you, why make it so they can't run away.

He wonders if that's too harsh, the second after he sends it. Eddie's been doing work on himself bit sometimes he still retreats into a place where his consequences can't find hi.

Har har.

But seriously, we've always been brothers

And I think you're pretty aware of what and who you want, even if you aren't always sure how to get it.

Safely anyway.

Tommy's an idiot if he can't see that.

He's right, Buck realizes. He knows what he wants. He's gotten so used to second guessing himself, assuming other people know better, because he's sometimes a little unwise.

But no one can know what he wants besides himself.

He starts putting his ingredients back in the cabinets, typing out a quick thanks to Eddie.

You're right. BTW your kitchen sucks.

He's just closed the last cabinet when the text comes in.

Stop baking and call him then.

Buck smiles, closing his texts and thumbing over to his contacts.

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Thank you for tagging me in WIP Wednesday @aspecbuddie @bidisasterevankinard @mustlovelou! I couldn't post Wednesday but here is a snippet from Chapter 2 of These Ruptures We Make Right.

Hopefully I'll update soon! I'm just slow at writing lol (:

When they arrived at the location of the fire, a few other houses were already present. He hopped out of the truck, his boot-laden feet landing with a heavy thud, and sought to find the Incident Commander. He didn't have to look very far. No sooner than he exited the truck, he was greeted by a familiar face that made his heart plummet into his stomach. "Thank you all for being here, station 217," Captain Bobby Nash said, smiling at all of them but nodding his head toward Tommy. "Kinard." His voice was firm and direct as always, but pleasant. Tommy had been expecting anger or resentment or derision, but found none in his tone. "I'm Captain Nash, the Incident Commander for this fire. We've got a quick-spreading fire on the west side of the hiking trail. We've located what we believe is the location the fire started but are still searching for the cause, so if you see something, say something." Captain Nash quickly handed out assignments, and the 217 got moving. All Tommy could hope was that Bobby had sense enough not to send him to the same location as Evan.

@edmundo-noches-buckley @theotherbuckley @thatmexisaurusrex @herrmannhalsteadproduction @whatwouldeddiedo @frogsinflannel @cliophilyra @weewookinard @rdng1230 @acesartemis @sleepywinchesters @queermccoy @911varietyposts @miriellesandthegiantpeach @dark-alice-lilith @laundryandtaxesworld @daniwib @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @bruisedandbuckley @firehose118 @hippolotamus @brassm @salty-autistic-writer

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“The hookup and morning after in 8x11 didn’t make sense because why would they want to try again when nothing has changed since the breakup” friend, what changed is they were broken up. for months. and they were both miserable about it. for months. what changed is they tried being apart and it sucked so much that as soon as they each realized there was a redo button they knocked each other out in a mad dash to push it as quickly as possible

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shoutout to slow growers, late bloomers, people whose plans got derailed by circumstances beyond their control or their own choices, people who never had a plan to begin with, people who have had to start over when theyre too old to feel like theyre supposed to be where they are, people who cant pretend theyre built for the environment theyre in, and everyone who's not living the life they thought they would. im proud of you for making it this far and i hope you keep going until youre happy ♡

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there have been some really good things from both seasons 7 and 8 but the one thing that’s been lacking are the interactions and relationships between the 118. it’s like they don’t really talk anymore about anything and I miss so many of their dynamics

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Tim won’t do it but I crave Buck and Tommy arguing while held at gun point

They don’t stop, and like bad guy pushing one of them with the tip of the gun to get them moving and the other snapping at him to stop pushing Tommy/Buck before going back to their arguing

The bad guys just being over it and end up playing mediator and therapist for couple

But also low key scared because yeah these guy argue virulently yeah but if you touch one the other is ready to jump on you in a blink

Anyway just give me bad guys that are so over BuckTommy that they need it back together asap so they can proceed with their plan

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my friends r so talented. rb if ur friends are talented

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Happy One Year Anniversary to our boys and their first (and not last☝️) kiss 🫶🏻💜

(Never made an animation like this before so go easy on me🫢)

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ATTENTION

If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

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garak being a kind and soft person at his core, while still being able to kill people and sleep at night are important, coexisting parts of his contradictory personality and are big reasons for why he's so compelling, but so difficult to write

garak can feel guilt and shame, garak can premeditatively kill without thinking twice about it after the fact.

garak can feel legitimate regret in empok nor for actions that werent really his own, and he can sleep like a baby after destroying vreenak's shuttle.

necessary deaths don't mean a thing to him. not even when that death is his own. (broken link)

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"Weightless"

[wc: 1481]

Tommy can still remember the feeling. At six years old, he pumped his legs as hard as he could, twisting and bending with the creaks and groans of the swing set beneath him. His heart raced, his chest aching with anticipation, lungs pressing against his ribs with every desperate breath.

When he finally reached the apex, his legs kicking past the anchoring beams, he felt a smile curl across his lips, one unlike any he’d ever worn before. Joy rushed through his veins, warming his cheeks. He felt proud – weightless, untethered – as the swing held him, and for a moment, gravity ceased to exist.

His feet soared toward the sky, his smile stretching wider, fingers tightening around the metal chains that kept him tethered to earth. His heart leapt in his chest as his hips and legs followed, and in the peak of the swing, he jumped, pressing against the weight of the world.

Tommy can remember that feeling.

It was the day he learned how to fly.

And from that moment on, he knew exactly what he wanted.

At nine, he and his cousin built a treehouse. It was sturdy enough to hold them through blustery winds but not strong enough to bear the weight of Tommy’s heart when his cousin moved across the country. The distance stretched wider each year.

He’d sit, dangling his feet, staring down past the frayed soles of his worn Converse, the rips in his Levi’s, the scrapes across his palms, his knees – marks across his skin as familiar as the sun in LA.

From the branches high above, a whisper of wind barely reaching the back of the house, he learned truths about himself. His father’s stench of stale whiskey and tobacco; his mother’s absence, a ghost in the house, leaving only a suitcase behind when she couldn’t bear to be a mother anymore.

Tommy was twelve.

He had his first crush – a boy named Ryan – and he rebelled against the way he’d dream about their lips connecting in the locker bay. He still remembers Ryan.

The treehouse was high, but not high enough. It couldn’t keep the crushing loneliness at bay. The gnawing emptiness in his gut, the way it twisted and thrashed across his ribs, up into his chest, consuming his heart.

And it only grew as he did.

In high school, Tommy turned to extreme sports. Skateboarding, mountain biking, snowboarding. The hills and waves carried him higher, closer to the stretch of sky that seemed always just out of reach. The wind thinned, offering a fragile barrier between him and the ground, and for a moment, he felt detached from the earth, free.

When he joined the army, he competed against men twice his size, tearing his arms across ropes, boulders, his legs pushing him higher and higher, his confidence wilting as the earth tugged him back down.

Always competing with gravity.

Always battling the words from his father. A failure. A loser. A nobody. A nothing.

But Tommy would close his eyes, breathe – inhale through his nose, exhale through his mouth – and he would remember being six. Of jumping from the swing, of fighting against the gravity that wanted to keep him grounded, his body yearning to break free.

He learned to quiet his mind, to find peace in the fleeting moments of flight, to drown out the fear, the worry, the dread – the pit in his gut that threatened to consume him like a boiling cauldron.

For a while, it worked.

But time carried the weight of blood, loss, and grief, and when he left the desert behind, joy gave way to darkness. The anger, the exhaustion – it piled on, raw and relentless – and he channeled it.

Into burning buildings, climbing higher and higher, pushed by his own fury, his body driven by the fire that mirrored the ones he fought. He became pieced together by jagged staples, grotesque and raw.

Until he flew.

A helicopter carried him higher into the clouds – his mind offering respite from distant memories of a war below. The earth receded, and with each passing moment, the distance between him and the ground grew. For a brief, beautiful moment, he and the sky were one.

And flight in the fire department – the purpose to rescue and support his community rather than supplying it with bullets and bombs – was an opportunity he thought he’d never get a chance to have.

And as he soared higher, his confidence rose with him, untethered from gravity. He came out, transferred houses, made new friends, he built a new community.

And he was happy – finally happy – because he’d found his purpose.

But then, he met Evan Buckley.

And nothing had ever made him feel like this. Not the rush of the swing, or reaching the summit of a rock wall, or flying through LA in a helicopter.

Meeting Evan was like a breath of life he never realized he’d been missing – a hidden treasure on a winding path he’d never thought to look for. He felt like he’d struck gold, and it terrified him.

He made mistakes. Twice, in fact. He turned his back on Evan, walked out a door he hadn’t even known he was heading toward. When it closed behind him the second time, the world shifted back into neutral. A void, empty and cold, loomed just behind him.

At work, Tommy found it harder to focus. Days that used to be easy felt like a struggle, and it didn’t take long for his crew to notice. He was ready to pull back to ground crew for a while, to find his footing again.

Then came the call.

On a flight with his co-pilot Brad, Tommy lost focus for just a moment – just a breath, a flicker of a heartbeat – but that was all it took. Something hit the helicopter – a bird, maybe? – and suddenly they were falling. The earth’s pull was relentless.

As dread coiled around him, he glanced at Brad. Their hands brushed across the controls as they radioed in a mayday. The ground grew closer, faster, as the world tipped and spun beneath them.

Tommy took a breath, and the world stopped. For a fleeting moment, he was six again.

Weightless.

Leaping from the swing.

His heart racing as he soared into the sky.

He thought of Evan. Of the golden glow of his apartment, the sparkle of awe in his eyes after a kiss. Of their time together, their time apart – of everything he didn’t say, of everything he did. Of love and the lost chance to tell him, to admit to something real for once in his fucking life.

And then, everything crashed. The helicopter collided with the earth. Tommy was unconscious before he had a chance to take a breath.

He wakes feeling like a lead balloon, heavy and thick, pinned to the bed. His limbs are exhausted, his head thumping with a dull ache, his lungs crackling with each inhale.

Somehow, he survived.

He’s alive and he’s in a hospital room, lights brighter than the pits of hell, the smell of sanitizer and plastic sickeningly unpleasant. He groans, his ribs pulling as he adjusts slightly, bruises formed in places he didn’t know could bruise.

“T-Tommy?”

The lead lifts, and he floats – Evan’s voice is like a spark, like the sun itself recharging him. With effort, he opens his eyes and finds Evan sitting there, eyes tired and worn as he leans closer.

“Ev’n,” Tommy’s voice cracks, dry and withered, like a plant in need of water.

Evan stands up, offering him an ice chip and it feels like the first sip of water he’s had in his life, refreshing in a way that makes him feel human again.

Tommy turns his hand, and Evan grasps it, his other hand brushing through Tommy’s curls, his touch gentle on his cheek.

“I-I thought – thank God you’re okay, Tommy,” Evan whispers, his eyes brimming with tears, his lip trembling as he fights for control.

And Tommy can’t help but feel weightless again – to be here – with Evan. It isn’t until he steadies himself, taking a deep breath which Evan mirrors, that something clicks. Tommy laces his fingers with Evan’s and offers the smallest of smiles.

“I love you,” he murmurs. And he means it, though that’s not what he intended to say. He doesn’t take it back all the same.

It brings his heart to new heights when Evan softly replies, “I love you, too.”

Evan makes him feel weightless – makes him feel like he’s soaring high above the clouds, to the place he longs to be.

And Tommy – he realizes, finally – makes Evan feel grounded. Connected. Rooted to something beyond himself.

That knowledge settles him, eases his racing mind, and as his eyelids grow heavy, he lets go, allowing the weight of love to pull him into a restful, quiet sleep.

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it absolutely kills me that buck assumes the responsibility of being dumped by tommy because tommy's entire case for the breakup was the predetermined notion that buck would do something to break his heart. that's all. all his argument for breaking up with buck was that while buck didn't do anything wrong yet, while tommy wanted this for the time being, ultimately buck would fail somewhere, even without wanting to. how does "you're not scared anymore that i'll break your heart?" not kill you, like, that's his prompt when he's checking what changed tommy's mind. not whether tommy's sorry about the breakup or regrets it or even if he missed buck; all he's checking is if tommy trusts him enough that he won't fuck this up, if he believes him enough now when he says they can be each other's last ones. and what tommy gives him is again not believing his words when he says eddie could never be a factor. and i'm supposed to believe it's buck who fails tommy in every part of this interaction? not just the end when he gets mean, because he's justifiably hurt, but that he "throws tommy's feelings in his face"? i wish he threw something in tommy's face, like his abrupt, baseless leaving. i wish he was petty about the breakup instead because it would hurt less but buck'll never never perceive or process his hurt feelings like that and that is just so heartbreaking to me

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Bucktommy coffee date scene, you will always be so, so special to me.

The way Buck chose a spot out in the open, in the middle where everyone can see—it’s sunny, he’s not hiding. Tommy looking so vulnerable and cautious, dressed down as to not put any pressure on them. How sure and joyful and earnest Buck is. How soft, sweet, and understanding Tommy is. The way he’s enchanted the more Buck speaks, becomes less guarded, and the way a smile breaks across his face when he says yes to him. The way Buck’s shining so bright as he reaches over to cover Tommy’s hand on his and Tommy places his other hand top. it’s not adrenaline-fueled, there’s no big emergency or dramatic event. It’s happy and hopeful and who they are to each other in the soft, quiet moments.

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happy belated valentine's day 💘

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Good morning! Thank you for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba @annoyingcloudearthquake @carlossreaders @bonheur-cafe 💕

When Jonah’s dressed in his Bluey pajamas and ready to be tucked into bed, he crawls into Carlos’s lap and demands a reading of The Monster at the End of This Book, complete with all the goofy voices that Jonah and TK have decided Carlos does best.

He makes a game of trying to convince Jonah not to turn the pages, that the closer they get to the end, the closer they get to the monster. Jonah laughs, reaching for the pages and turning them quickly, cackling when Carlos amps up his animated reading, pretending to get more and more panicked about the monster at the end of the book.

He tickles Jonah’s tummy when they get to the final page, eliciting a happy, high-pitched squeal.

“What a brave boy,” he praises. “You weren’t afraid of the monster.”

“He’s a FRIENDLY MONSTER, Papa!”

“You’re right, mijo,” he agrees, kissing Jonah’s head. “It’s just lovable, furry old Grover. Who could be scared of him?”

He allows himself a moment to soak in this new life of his, in his cozy yet slightly impractical home, surrounded by his beautiful family.

He loves the way he feels with Jonah curled in his lap, giggling at his words and clutching at his shirt with a tiny fist. Loves the way Jonah loudly demands more books while TK crowds up next to them on the couch cushion, lightly teasing him and joining in with Jonah’s demands. And he thinks, maybe, he hasn’t fucked up this whole dad thing as much as he feared.

Tagging @ironheartwriter @carlos-in-glasses @everlastingday @my-beloved-lakes @welcometololaland @basilsunrise @henrygrass @iboatedhere @hereghostslive @laelipoo @chicgeekgirl89 @ladytessa74 @alrightbuckaroo @literateowl @the-126-family @firstprince-history-huh @eclectic-sassycoweyes @captain-gillian @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @sapphic--kiwi @herefortarlos @filet-o-feelings @tinyluminaryzombie @kiwichaeng @guardian-angle22 @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @never-blooms @decafdino @rangersoup @futures-tense @tellmegoodbye @orchidscript @thisbuildinghasfeelings @emsprovisions and OPEN TAG 🏷️