"character deserved better" (but they were never going to get it that's the stuff great tragedies are made of) vs "character deserved better" (but the writers really blew it)
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I also think that the strength gap is at least partially manufactured women would in fact be stronger overall if little girls were encouraged to do physically taxing games and activities and eat their fill while they’re growing vs having to constantly diet and be sedentary indoors (or god forbid do intense cardio while under-eating). The amount of adult women honestly afraid to lift weights bc they think they’ll get bulky as though bulking isn’t a full time job that athletes have to spend all their time on and anyone on earth gets shredded from just using their adult muscles for their intended purpose, girl your bone density 🥀
if you say women are intentionally nerfed from birth in 2026 people look at you like you’re insane and start condescendingly telling you about how women are just better at different things (but not during their periods haha) but this was a completely basic feminist talking point I grew up with like “girls can do it too! [shot of little girls climbing and running with boys]” nickelodeon commercial tier base level I hate it how is everyone suddenly dumber than the average 7 year old
“Put him on his knees give him something to believe in” has the exact same energy and depth of meaning as anything Hozier puts out on the regular but since it’s sung by Megan Thee Stallion no one takes it seriously. In this essay I will-
To flesh this out a little bit more: both Megan Thee Stallion and Hozier write and sing really sexual songs, but they’re different in that Hozier’s music is typically “let me worship you” while Megan’s is usually “I’m worshipping myself,” which makes all the difference because it’s an acceptance of power rather than the giving of it. He’s the sinner, she’s the saint. However, taking their difference in genres out of it, people don’t usually seem to take Megan Thee Stallion’s music seriously in comparison to Hozier because a) her lyrics are more overtly and blatantly sexual and b)she’s claiming her sexuality for herself, and that scares a lot of people. The secret, no-one-wants-to-talk-about reason is that she’s a confident black woman, which terrifies people way than sex does. In conclusion, Hozier and Megan Thee Stallion are two sides of the same poetic, sexual coin, but people just don’t want to admit it. Which is WHY a collaboration between Hozier and Megan would be so powerful that it would change the timeline as we know it yes I will elaborate
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If you feel like it, five facts AU about an alternative first BuckTommy meeting when the 118 has to respond to a call at Tommy's house.
Thanks for sending the prompt! I know it's been a while (and there's a few more in my inbox I'll get to eventually). This would be set sometime after Buck starts at the 118 but before he meets Abby.
1. Tommy cannot believe that he got himself into a situation that required calling 911. He knows that if it had happened to someone else, he would also find the whole thing hilarious. He can feel blood spilling down one of his legs and another attempt at getting himself out just makes something dig into the other one. He’s lucky he’d been holding his phone in his hand, what he doesn’t know is how long the floor/ceiling will hold. He’s also trying very hard to convince himself that the issue is not termites…but when you buy a house in “as is” status anything is possible.
“Paramedics will be with you in ten,” the dispatcher, someone whose voice was very reassuring and calm said and Tommy was also glad that it wasn’t Abby or anyone else he knew personally.
“Not the 122, right?” Tommy asks.
His main concern had been making sure that Sal did not see him. He would never let Tommy hear the end of it, that was sure, and he’d already known that his own house wouldn’t respond since they were a bit farther out.
“No,” the dispatcher says, but doesn’t tell him who is going.
Considering he’d been working for LAFD for as long as he had, Tommy knew a lot of firefighters. There was bound to be someone he knew no matter what house it was. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t take pictures to pester him with afterwards, but he wasn’t going to be hearing the end of it.
2. On the way to the call, Bobby gives them the rundown. Male. Early 30s. Legs went through the floor on the second floor during home renovations and wound up stuck. It seems pretty straight forward to Buck.
On arrival, they have to break into the house because the front door is locked. Buck kinda feels bad about it because it looks like the door was just recently installed, but there really was no other way. They also see the dangling legs in the ceiling right away. Bobby instructs Chim to head up and he immediately yells back “Hey, guys, it’s Tommy!”
Buck is all “who’s Tommy?” feeling a tad jealous as the others start to talk and joke around.
Tommy is trying to downplay everything even as the floor creaks from Chim’s weight. Bobby is trying to figure out if they should try to get Tommy out on the second or first floor.
“Floor’s pretty unsteady,” Chim confirms.
“I think I got termites,” Tommy complains as Bobby decides it will be safer to bring him down.
At some point while they work to get him out, Chim and Hen tell Buck that Tommy used to be at the 118.
“You actually replaced him,” Bobby adds.
“And why did you leave? To flip houses?” Buck asks, not sure if that’s actually working for Tommy.
“He’s a pilot at Harbor,” Hen supplies.
Buck immediately starts asking questions about it. Bobby doesn’t stop him because it’s keeping Tommy talking and distracted while they work to get him out and stop the bleeding. Hen suspects a bad cut and is hoping that it wasn’t a major artery.
So, Buck gets to hear about Tommy flying and his transfer and how he came to be a pilot in the first place and Tommy asks about Buck’s time at the 118. They’re flirting a little in a way that goes over Buck’s head entirely and that Hen has gotten used to from Buck with guys and girls alike. Tommy though is very intrigued by Buck even more so when he finally gets a look at him because while he looks a little younger than what Tommy usually goes for, he’s also eyecatching.
3. It’s after convincing Tommy he has to go to the hospital because he has splinters in his leg and the cut is deep and needs stitches that Chim asks about the house.
Tommy explains he purchased it on a short sale for a third of its value because of all the repairs it’s in need of. He figured if he did everything himself over several years it would make sense financially. His idea was to make it livable. The kitchen he’d already tackled and it wasn’t done exactly but he had water and gas and the old appliances that came with the house were still somehow working. His full bathroom on the second floor was also in working order even though the tile was atrocious and he hated the tub. But he’d been sleeping in what was supposed to be the living room because he had wanted to get his bedroom ready before he moved in there so there’d be one place that was actually finished.
“That sort of makes sense,” Hen said.
“Aren’t you going to end up spending just as much money renovating as you would if you bought a house that didn’t need this much work?” Chim asked.
“Doing it myself, Chim,” Tommy explained. “I’m not paying anyone for the labor.”
He’d done the math. His mortgage was tiny and he would pay it off in ten years give or take instead of thirty and as long as he could also live there then he could renovate as slow or fast as he could. It felt lofty, but Tommy also liked the idea that he’d end up with a house that he built with his own hands…a house that was how he liked it, where maybe one day he might meet someone that he could invite to live with him. It had three bedrooms. Maybe that future included a kid? Two?
“That’s actually pretty cool,” Buck supplied. “And that means you’re also picking out your own materials and aren’t using all the stuff that won’t actually hold up for long.”
“Yeah, but now I might have termites,” Tommy said as he was put into the ambulance.
“What do you know about home renovation?” Hen asked Buck after the doors closed behind Tommy and Chim.
“I worked construction for a while,” Buck informs them.
4. They leave Tommy at the hospital and Bobby forces them to go back to the station to finish out their shifts. Buck asks about Tommy. Hen and Chim fill him in and Buck is a little (a lot) fascinated by him. But that’s basically the end of it, until a few weeks later when Buck has to go to the hardware store because one of his roommates left the bathroom door locked and in an effort to unlock it, they messed up the lock. Buck somehow ends up being the one tasked with buying and replacing the doorknob/lock and he runs into Tommy.
“So, was it termites?” Buck asks.
“Thankfully not,” Tommy says. “Just some old rotting wood. So now I have to figure out how to rebuild the floor and ceiling. This is way more than I know how to do on my own.”
“I can help,” Buck offers and explains that actually he does know what he’s doing from months spent working construction.
Tommy is reluctant to accept the help but he does because Buck is hard to say no to.
5. They become fast friends and between the two of them they get a lot done around the house. Tommy is constantly asking for Buck’s opinion on things. They text all the time about paint colors and moldings and tile. It takes up so much of Buck’s time that he doesn’t need to sleep around as much and that he doesn’t take up with Abby. He’s at Tommy’s house during any of his days off even if they don’t coincide with Tommy’s.
They bond while working together. Talk about everything including how Tommy came out recently and is finally living his true self…but how hard dating as a gay man had turned out to be. Buck in turn tells him about how hard he’s found it too and that’s when Buck realizes that he hasn’t gone on an app or even gone into a bar/club to meet a girl in ages. They talk about being each other’s wingmen and going out, but they never go through with it because they both secretly feel weird (jealous) about doing that.
That leads to realizing how much more fulfilled he’s been working with Tommy and how valued and how all the times he’d gotten caught up in watching Tommy might mean something more than admiration for the work Tommy has put on to get his arms as muscular and also how good his ass looks. Eventually, he realizes that he has feelings for Tommy and that scares him almost as much as it excites him. He starts to act a bit weird and flustered and Tommy calls him out on it and then he catches onto why and he kisses Buck and then asks him to go out on a date.
6. When the house is finally finished, a couple of years later, Buck has already been living with Tommy for a few months. Tommy didn’t ask him to move in, it just sorta happened a few months into their relationship and the house had started to feel a lot like theirs due to all the parts they built of it together. They get a dog to celebrate and also for practice for the eventual future where they adopt a kid. Buck also thinks that their backyard will be perfect for their wedding.
-
Send me a prompt and I'll give you five (or more) facts
Okay here's my 5+1 take on this prompt from @v88sy ! Thanks for putting this out there!
“You're always leaving!” Buck gasped. Tommy's face was ashen. Empty. “Why won't you stay with me, Tommy? Why won't you ever stay? Please!” His words were rasping, exhausted things. Somewhere dimly, in the back of his head behind the desperate panic and the habit-trained professionalism that were working in tandem to give Tommy CPR, some part of him wondered if his angry, broken begging could ever tempt Tommy back from wherever he was going this time. He brought his mouth to Tommy's and pushed air into his lungs. Please, Tommy. Please.
The first time. It will come to him later that Tommy probably didn't have a shift to get to at that time of night. None of the houses did split shifts like that. But Buck was too dazed to think of it in the moment, his brain (and body) too warm and syrupy to consider much of anything. For a long time he just stood in his kitchen, his fingertips brushing over his half-smiling lips. He felt like he was thirteen all over again, getting a kiss from Deborah Rollins who was fifteen and much too cool for him. Only this was better because instead of asking him for change for the snack machine and going off with giggling friends and a handful of Buck's quarters, Tommy had asked him on a date. In the space of one kiss, his bewildered obsession with the cool pilot had clarified. A crush. Buck had a crush. Not just a ‘you're hot, want to come home with me?’ sort of thing. A can't-stop-thinking-about-him-crush. A holy-shit-there-better-be-more-kissing crush. A why-isn't-it-Saturday-yet crush. It was probably a good thing he left, probably a kind thing that he left, because it must have been obvious that Buck's brain had been taken entirely offline by that kiss. Buck couldn't wait for more.
The second time. Except it didn't seem there would be any more because he'd been an idiot. Why had he gotten so flustered about Eddie? Okay he knew why. Buck wasn't used to having people close, having people who cared. Was it so wrong to worry about what they thought? Only he hadn't thought about what Tommy would think, had he? What Tommy would feel. Tommy was kind of right, Buck wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to watch Tommy's Uber drive away. He wasn't ready for all the hope and possibility and excitement and longing he'd felt since Tommy kissed him to just be over.
The third time. How was Tommy walking away again? How was Buck once again standing in his kitchen wondering what the hell had just happened? Only this time instead of feeling like he might float away from the lingering tingle of Tommy's lips, Buck felt like he might crumble, like the world he thought he knew and all the facts of it had just vanished and the gravity holding him together had become too powerful and would crush him. God. Crush. He'd had a crush and now he was crushed.
The fourth time. There was a small, distant part of Buck hidden somewhere deep inside that registered that he'd fucked up, that had clocked the emotions on Tommy's face before the wall came down behind Tommy's eyes and he walked away again. But right at the moment it was drowned out by anger. No, something worse than anger. Something ugly and vicious that had wanted to score a hit and was delighted to see he'd drawn blood. He'd been confused for a moment, confused by Tommy and confused by himself, both. But then Tommy was gone again and the anger took over. The fury. How dare he? How dare he?
The fifth time. There were words echoing in Buck's ears, words he hasn't stopped hearing for hours. Bobby’s voice, over and over and over. Buck was sleep walking through a nightmare, barely aware of the things and people around him. Bobby was gone. Bobby was gone. Bobby would never call him kid again, never… never do anything again.
“Where are your keys, Evan?” Buck looked up, blinked at Tommy. He looked down at himself. He wasn't in his gear anymore. When had he taken his helmet off? The thought dissolved into Bobby taking off his helmet, blood running from Bobby's nose, Bobby saying…
“I'm going to check your pockets, sweetheart. I'm sorry. We need to get you inside.” Tommy started patting him down but the sensation was coming from a million miles away. Buck couldn't feel it, not really. He was too far away. He was drowning. He was underwater and no one could even see him, he was so far down.
He was walking. Sort of. When had they gotten inside? Keys. Tommy had wanted his keys.
“Keys,” Buck murmured.
“I've got ‘em,” Tommy promised softly, still escorting him down the hall. “Let's get you comfortable and I'll go back and lock up.”
Buck nodded but he'd already forgotten what Tommy had said, had already forgotten Tommy was there. All he could think of was Bobby. Bobby turning away from him. Bobby ignoring him as Buck screamed. Bobby's resigned acceptance.
Buck was in bed. There was light coming from the window and he didn't know if it was morning or afternoon. He turned on his side and pulled the blanket over his head.
“I've got it,” a familiar voice said.
He heard the scrape of the curtains and then the glow beyond the blanket went away.
“Better?” Tommy asked. Buck didn't know if he answered. He meant to but then it was Bobby's voice in his ears and he hadn't answered Bobby. Not like he should have. Not like he meant to.
“Bobby…”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Then there was warmth. Then there was darkness. Buck slept.
He woke up again, the room blessedly dark and cool and for a moment he didn't know. He didn't remember. He just blinked into the inky blue of the room, catching the shapes around him.
“Evan? Can you drink some water for me?” The voice was so soft and patient and gentle but Buck startled.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But you need to replace some fluids, sweetheart. Please?”
A big thermal spill-proof cup was pressed into Buck's hand. He drank. “Thank you. That's good. That's so good. Do you think you could eat?”
Buck shook his head and burrowed back under the blankets. He slipped back into sleep with a warm hand rubbing his back.
The next time he woke there was light again. “Evan? I'm sorry to wake you but I need you to drink something, please.”
Buck shook his head. He didn't want anything, not food or drink or to even be a person.
“I know, baby. I know. I'm sorry. But just drink a little please? I have to go but I need to see you get something in you first. Just a little. Half, okay? Half a protein shake?”
“You're leaving?”
“I'm sorry, I swear I wouldn't but if I don't, they'll probably come arr-”
“Go,” Buck croaked. “Just go.”
“Evan…”
“Go! Leave! Everyone leaves! Especially you!” Buck threw himself out of the bed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Tommy was saying something at the door but Buck couldn't hear it over Bobby's voice in his head and the sound of his own dry heaving.
Eventually he heard a car engine turn over in the driveway. He fell back into a fitful, nightmare sleep, curled on the tile by the toilet, tears leaking endlessly down his cheeks.
“Everybody leaves,” he whispered. “Everybody fucking leaves.”
The last time. “Tommy, please,” Buck gasped. “Please don't leave me again. Please. I'm sorry. I did it all wrong. But please don't leave me again.”
He already had though. Because you don't do CPR on a living person. You do it when they've stopped breathing. When their heart isn't beating. You do it when their body has quit. You do it to try and convince that body to go a little more. You do it to show the body how to keep going. You do it to circulate the air and blood and give them a chance to come back.
“Come back,” Buck begged instead. “You always come back. You've got to do it again. Please. Please, baby, please come back.”
Time was meaningless. Buck kept going. His arms were burning but he didn't care. He'd do this forever. He'd do this as long as it took. Help was coming. Help was coming and they'd shock him and make Tommy come back. But only if Buck kept going. Only if Buck kept him close enough to return.
Chest compressions. Breaths. The cycle continued and Buck kept begging when he could spare the words. Then he was being pulled away. He flailed, fighting.
“We've got him, Buckley!”
Lucy. It was Lucy. She pulled Buck back as someone - Donahue? - called “Clear!”
Buck's voice failed. All he could do was watch, whispering again and again, “Come back. Come back. Please come back.”
“We got a pulse!”
Buck scrabbled forward, tearing loose of Lucy's grip. “Stay with me,” Buck demanded, grabbing Tommy's hand. “Don't you dare leave me.”
“Not…” Tommy answered, his face scrunched tight with pain. “Not if I’cn help it.”
Sobbing, Buck squeezed Tommy's hand. “That's right. Be the stubborn jackass I know you can be. You fight like hell, you hear me? You fight like hell or I'll never forgive you.”
“Yeah…” Tommy breathed.
Lucy pushed in close and worked a collar around him to stabilize his neck, murmuring instructions neither of them paid attention to.
“Hate when you're mad at me…”
“Then don't you dare leave me again.”
“Never…”
It was all he got out before they were getting him ready to load on the helicopter. The uncrashed one Lucy and maybe-Donahue arrived in.
“Come on, Buckley. We gotta get you looked at, too. I'd check you here but I know how you and your husband are.”
“Yeah,” Buck agreed. He scrambled up into the helicopter as soon as they had Tommy secured. “I'm right here, babe. I'm right here.”
*grabbing mlm shippers by the shoulders* guys nobody needs to be the twink. nobody needs to be the sub. nobody needs to be the femboy. they can both be big fat hairy men who bask in each others masculinity or they can both be unspeakable monstrous creatures with inhuman genitalia it’s okay I’m holding your hand. Let me show you the way
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The thing is nobody at pride is evaluating you to determine if you’re queer enough to be there because they’re too busy thinking “it’s so hot out” and “why is this lemonade 12 dollars?”
the thing is like men and men really cant be friends because the sex part does always get in the way like thats true. and i mean that like im actually dead serious about that
like have you ever seen two straight men attempt to be friends with each other but the gay sex they arent having is literally preventing them from the transformative healing power of friendship. this is real
i dont even mean this in a "they want to fuck each other" way (although many of them do and will never know it) i mean that like the fact that gay sex is even hypothetically possible between them makes it loom over their friendship like it genuinely haunts them that they could be having it. gay sex is the elephant in the room every time they attempt to be emotionally vulnerable with one another, every time they let a hug linger too long. they cannot address its existence and so there is always something in their way, preventing true connection. and that something is the gay sex. that they are not having. the elephant of gay sex
what if you were in love with a guy and he was in love with you and none of your issues in your relationship were insurmountable but you only existed within a narrative that punished you for trying to break out of the narrow story format that your creator had bound you to? and you were both firefighters?
when I was in high school my dad was speeding like crazy because I was running late to my job at the cemetery. and the cop who pulled him over gave him three whole tickets because who the hell goes 95 in a 25??? but then, when my dad went to court the cop didn’t show, and so the judge looked over at the charges and just couldn’t believe it. he thought the cop must’ve been so racist that he made it up because who the hell goes 95 in a 25? so my dad got all 3 tickets dismissed bc of racism. that he didn’t even experience because he was in fact going 95 in a 25.
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open tumblr, see something that pisses me off, write a snarky post, delete it, write a slightly more earnest post, edit it for 5 minutes, delete it, close tumblr
some people really do need to start reminding themselves that the answer to "why didn't the character just do [something entirely different]" is often simply "because then there wouldn't be a story"
But me? I vibe, Archivist @beanyowl - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
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