after Disney UK, Disney Ireland and even 911onabc, now this...
and this...
what is happening?? đ
trying on a metaphor
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
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@jarengomez
after Disney UK, Disney Ireland and even 911onabc, now this...
and this...
what is happening?? đ

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Canon divergent AU. Maddie and Doug never got together or are broken up the summer after her senior year. She meets Tommy who is attending training in a nearby military base or in town on the way too/out on liberty from training. They hit it off, they write, have a long-distance long-term thing. Maddie moves away to follow Tommy, not Doug, but Tommy never meets the family because he's deployed for most of this time and/or maybe the Buckleys approve of them as a couple less. Maddie/Tommy were engaged or married until Tommy ends it and heads to LA for a new life. Nobody knows that Buck's hot pilot is also Maddie's ex until he arrives at the wedding. [Maddie is in Abby's place, but Tommy isn't in Doug's - whether Maddie/Doug story in canon still happens some other way is up to you.]
I did not expect to have as much fun as I did working on this one...and it is a long one with way more than just five facts...
Maddieâs best friendâs boyfriend has been gone for basic training and sheâs been missing him something fierce. Maddie has had to hear about it ad nauseum. So much so that Maddie has complained to her own boyfriend, Doug, about it so often that Doug is sick of hearing about it. This gives Maddie a small glimpse at Dougâs anger. On top of that, Evan has been a nuisance to Doug by constantly calling Maddie while theyâre on dates and a few times Maddie has even cut dates short to go see to her brother. And Maddieâs parents donât like him. So, as much as Doug does like Maddie, he decides sheâs too much of a hassle and breaks up with her. Maddie is devastated. She thought she was in love with Doug and maybe she even tries to get back together with him, but he tells her heâs going to school in Boston and gives her an ultimatum and she would need to go to Boston with him and leave everything and everyone behind for good and for some reason, Maddie realizes that that would entail leaving Evan and her best friend, letâs call her Sarah. So, she says no and off Doug goes.Â
â David Levithan, Every Day
Tommy's version / Buck's version
YARROW
If you still would like prompts...
Buck and Tommy have been penpals since Buck was in high school, but never made the move to meet up until the night of the helicopter rescue when they realized who each other was.
Dear Tommy, hi my name is Evan Buckley I'm in Mrs Gerlich's 8th grade social studies class and we are writing letters to guys in the war in order to understand different viewpoints and get extra credit which i need becuase i got a freaking 68 on our last quiz not even a 69! i guess you're not all guys but she had us pick names out of a hat and i chose yours. i'm 14 years old and i play football do you play any sports? or did you in school? my mom is an english profesor my dad teaches history in harrisville i live in HERSHEY PA have you ever been there? i think there chocolate is bad. pensylvania is a boring state but its better than living in afganistan i guess ha ha. It says your adress is in germany are you doing a confidential mission is it classified? Dont tell me any secrets! Well if you do you can trust me i won't tell. I never told anyone that Shayla Connor was smoking pot behind the dugouts at the end of seventh grade except i guess I just told you ha ha! MAybe don't trust me with your state secrets! okay thank you for reading my letter please write back because i will get an extra extra credit if we keep up a corespondence. sincerely, Evan Dear Evan, Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about Shayla Connor. Where did your teacher even find my name? My address is Germany because I'm in the army hospital because I crashed my helicopter (difficult to fly through rocket attacks). My "different viewpoint" is that you shouldn't join the Army, it [REDACTED]. Football's okay, I did play it but I didn't like it much. I played basketball and baseball, too. I'm 23. I've never been to Hershey. Don't they have a theme park there? I'm happy to write you as many letters as you need to pass your class. I can't really leave my hospital bed right now and this is slightly more exciting than watching paint dry, which is what I've been doing for the past couple of weeks. Please tell me all the 8th grade gossip. Thanks, Tommy
AU where Buck has a girlfriend when the cruise ship disaster happens so Tommy keeps a respectable distance but him and Buck are definitely vibing as â¨friends⨠and his girlfriend can definitely sense that something is up and it causes a bit of friction
Buck ends up bringing it up in an offhanded way to Tommy after heâs been arguing with his girlfriend, saying something like âYeah, sorry, weâre kind of going through something right now. She thinks you have a crush on me or something đâ - expecting Tommy to laugh it off, and instead Tommy goes quiet and red and says âIâm so sorry Evan, I never meant to make you or her uncomfortable, I thought I was hiding it betterâ
Tommy makes his excuses and leaves while Buck tries to piece together what just happened and why his heart is going crazy

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Saw a lot of people doing it and wanted to throw my hat into the ring
Sorry, they'll never gaslight me into thinking that Tommy wasn't the kind of person who loved Buck freely, without expecting anything in return; Tommy was there for Buck, to take care of him and help him when he needed it, even when he was still hurt by what Buck said.
Yes, Tommy was insecure and imperfect, but even (while)after the breakup he tried to show Buck that he was so good that being rejected by him in the future would have destroyed him.
Yes, Tommy was an idiot, but that never stemmed from a place of not appreciating Buck or reducing him to his "bad" moments. Tommy knew how much Buck was worth and it hurt him to think that he didn't have the right to want that future with Buck.
The French Mistake
hahaha i'm in even more danger :) (part 1)
I don't know who needs to hear this, but it's time to move the frozen champagne to the fridge.
Happy 2nd Tevanniversary everybody đžđĽđ¨đťââ¤ď¸âđâđ¨đťđ

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that was better than fake mouth static...
laptop overheating?? pour water on it to cool it down!
i trusted you
Do not trust people like me. I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people
THE ORIGINAL?!?!?!?!?!

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Tommy who sees that a meal-train is being requested for Firefighter Evan Buckley in the 118 so he makes some stuff and sends it despite thinking Evan won't even notice or realize it's from Tommy; but he still loves him, he wants to be there for him, but this is all he can do.
Buck who realizes that the spaghetti is from Tommy immediately because Tommy can't fucking make tomato sauce to save his life and so Buck heats up the shitty spaghetti and eats it and cries a little but laughs a little too and thinks
I need to call him and tell him he still can't cook
[okay couldn't stop myself]
there's a noticeably lumpy texture to the pasta when buck dumps it on the microwavable plate. heating it does nothing to lend the form something closer to "spaghetti" (instead of "pudding"). buck can cut a slice with the side of his fork--trying to twirl a forkful of strands against the dip of a spoon would've been actually impossible. his suspicions had been raised from the moment he pulled out the stained-but-clean grocery-store brand container. when the acid bite of the tomato sauce squidges across his tongue, it's confirmed.
"you okay there, buddy?" asks chim when buck lets a few tears slide shamelessly down his cheeks, already rough from rubbed in salt and exhaustion, while he enthusiastically makes his way through one of the worst examples of the easiest dish in the world to make he's ever experienced. "yeah," he croaks, slicing straight down through the hot spaghetti-in-quotes brick. "it's just," he sighs, letting himself linger in the way-too-much-garlic-powder, the horrible tang insulting the memory of a tomato, "it's just so bad."
"well you don't have to eat it, buck," says chim gently.
"no, i know," says buck. he continues eating. "i just. it's real spaghetti. not an instant noodle."
"it kind of looks like albino worms in ketchup."
buck laughs, wetly. "no, no. that would at least be interesting."
chim nudges the grape juice closer to buck (it'd been maddie's idea to make sure he always had a special beverage to indulge in to accompany his meals). "interesting, definitely. also, super gross."
buck takes another bite. and his chest is a sudden valley, yanked into a new caving shape.
"it's like he takes pride in it," says buck, happy-sad and pinched and hungry. "not learning how to properly cook things."
"who?"
"tommy," says buck, slicing again at his spaghetti loaf. "i think he's got a chip on his shoulder about fresh veggies and perishable food. if it's not boxed or frozen food, it's like he can't respect it."
"tommy?"
"ugh," says buck. the noodle has absolutely zero chew. "it really is horrible."
"you know tommy sent this?"
"the tomato sauce is the worst part," says buck. "he hates the idea of having fresh garlic. look at this--that's a whole clump of garlic powder."
"again, there's no obligation to eat this."
but buck can't stop eating and the tears keep falling and whole vales are being carved into his torso so that if he looked close enough he could see julie andrews spinning around on his sternum, singing to the hills, and it was so strange to be here now, having lost what he lost, and realizing how much a tomato can be ruined, can be genuinely elevated, by a hand that cares.
he's reaching for his phone before deciding to. "i gotta thank him," says buck. "tell him he can't cook. god, this is horrible."
"sure, i guess that's a great way to start a conversation."
"he has to know that i know."
"how are you so sure he made this?"
buck wipes a grin on his face with his palm, taking a few splatters of tomato. "i just know," he says, and it's an even stranger thing to know because he doesn't--it's a comfort, now, to not know, and he falls into that beautiful uncertain embrace of uncertainty, his hands cramping from holding onto to so many edges for so long. he doesn't know with the greatest confidence that tommy sent this to him. he doesn't know that tommy alone could be so inept or sincerely-trying over this sour-blend of a tomato sauce. he knows tommy is particular about food, though, and if he sent over that particularity to buck, in this moment of giving-in, yielding to more and a biting sense of helplessness, then buck will eat and munch like someone capable of making a sauce from fresh-tomatoes had made this meal instead. he's grateful in chest and bones and by the tips of his fingers and there is as much love in the overcooked pasta as he ever tasted in bobby's perfect to-the-teeth chew. he can hope, with good evidence, this is from tommy.
so he texts him: you know you can sprinkle the garlic powder instead of dumping it.
and it turns out hoping isn't idiotic because tommy responds within a minute: seems like a great way to skimp on the garlic.
buck, breath heaving, tasting fruit, gets to say, believe me. you're not in danger of that. and mean it in more ways than one.
Tommy Kinard is nine years old and his mom is sick. He doesn't know exactly what's wrong but what he does know is that his dad is gone for the next four days, hauling a load of fruit up north somewhere.
Tommy remembers the last time she was sick, back when his grandmother was still alive. He remembers how she came and stayed with them during another of his dad's trips. He used to work a lot more back then and the house was sometimes free from his rages for weeks at a time.
Tommy's grandmother had arrived with huge brown sacks of groceries. He watched her pull things out of them like a magic trick. Huge red tomatoes that she lined up on the counter like an army. There were onions and garlic and bundles of herbs. He haunted the shadows of the kitchen, wary of her but too curious to hide completely. She was nothing like his mother. She wasn't like his father either, not exactly. But the way she was so silent kept him off balance. His father was the most dangerous when he was silent.
Tommy watched her prepare all those ingredients and get them cooking in a big pot she'd also brought. The smell of her sauce had slowly invaded the house and his mother had come out of her bedroom for the first time in days.
The three of them had eaten in silence, sitting at the little dining room table that Tommy had never seen not piled up with mail and tools and his dad's magazines. It wasn't a happy memory exactly. But it was a good one.
So nine year old Tommy takes every wrinkled dollar and stashed quarter that he has and walks to the store. There aren't any bundles of herbs at this little corner store. That's okay, he figures. When there was no jelly, you just made the sandwich with peanut butter.
He spends long moments studying the tomatoes. There aren't any as big and red and perfect as the ones he remembers his grandmother lining up with such military precision. These are smaller and a little yellow. When he picks one up, it gives under his fingers with an unpleasant squish and he quickly drops it and rubs his fingers on his jeans.
For the first time, Tommy doubts his plan. But then he notices someone walking past with a grocery basket hanging on her arm. More importantly, he spots a big, perfect, round red tomato just like the ones in his memory.
It's on the label of a can.
Tommy winds his way up and down the small aisles until he finds the one with shelves crammed full of cans. After checking carefully, he picks the one with the biggest and reddest tomatoes on the label. They are two dollars a can and Tommy figures he needs at least two cans. His hand clutches the money in his pocket.
Tomatoes. Noodles. What else does he need? Can he afford enough ingredients to make something close enough to his grandmother's meal to tempt his mother out of her room?
Garlic. He remembers his grandmother standing over that simmering pot and muttering something about needing more garlic. "Good for the blood," she'd said. He's just as mystified by that now as he was then but that doesn't matter. He picks up the cans of tomatoes and tucks them into the crook of his arm and goes hunting for garlic.
Eventually he finds powdered garlic. He doesn't remember his grandmother having a jar like this but it's the best he can do. And at three dollars, that'll be most of his money gone on two ingredients. And he still needs noodles.
He's relieved when he finds the boxed pasta because this stuff is cheap. He can get two boxes of it and still be confident he's got enough cash to pay for everything.
Tommy brings his little bag of groceries home with more pride than he's ever had. That pride takes a beating as he struggles to find a pan for both the sauce and noodles, as he fights to get the can opener to catch, as the noodles boil over, as the result looks and smells nothing like the stuff his grandmother made.
Then he hears a noise and looks up. His mother is standing in the doorway, her robe wrapped tightly around her, her hair lank and her face pale. But she gives him a smile. "I thought for a moment your grandmother was here. What did you make, my Tommy?"
Tommy Kinard is a long, long way from nine years old now and he's skilled at a lot of things.
But he still makes 'his grandmother's spaghetti' with whatever cans have the biggest, reddest tomatoes on the label. He still douses in the garlic extra hard and thinks 'good for the blood.' And when he cooks the noodles, he's just glad when they don't boil over.
And when he sends the food, he hopes it gets Evan up out of bed and feeling better.
[TOMMY KINARD]
I'll have you know that that Spaghetti has gotten me through most of my life
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
So that's why you've got the heartburn of a 75 year old, huh?
[TOMMY KINARD]
You're talking a lot of shit for a guy who prefers velveta Mac and Cheese over any other kind. INCLUDING Bobby's
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
Tommy Kinard I told you that in confidence!
[TOMMY KINARD]
And I'm confidently telling you that you're insane
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
We are losing the plot
[TOMMY KINARD]
What?
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
You're trying to get us way from point
[TOMMY KINARD]
And what is the point?
[EVAN BUCKLEY] ...
[EVAN BUCKLEY] ...
[EVAN BUCKLEY] ...
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
That I really want to eat your shitty spaghetti for the rest of my life
[TOMMY KINARD]
Evan
[EVAN BUCKLEY] 1 New Message
What are you doing Saturday, Kinard?
Had to add a little something something since @chemistry66 requested one of my text fics last night!
And happy to add on to the work of @fastterrain and @capitalnineteen !!!
5 Tiny Writing Tips That Arenât Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips Iâve seen floating around writing communities â the kind that donât get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put âhe/she/theyâ at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
âShe walked to the window,â
try
âThe window creaked open under her touch.â
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Donât describe everything â describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2â3 objects that say something.
âA half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the tableâ
sets a way stronger tone than
âThere was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.â
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird â future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: âWhatâs the most fun thing that could happen next?â
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesnât have to stay â but chasing excitement can blast through writerâs block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
Whatâs a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! đ