31. T1d. 💙 BSBA. She/her. Christian. Ally🏳️🌈 (but not the Evan Buckley kind). Fandoms: 9-1-1 verse (BuckTommy. Buddie. BuddieTommy. Tarlos. BlueRyan/Bryncest. EddieSal. EddiePriest.). The Rookie. Hawaii five-0 (McDanno). Brilliant Minds. High Potential. Top Gun: Maverick (hangster, floydsinshaw, icemav). Psych. Supernatural (wincest/j2). Cobra Kai (LawRusso). Gilmore girls. MacGyver (MacDalton, DesRiley). There’s more but those are where I’m most active.
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we made it to the end! this has been an amazing experience, it feels like a community endeavor, i love each and every one of you <3
part one, part two, part three & part four.
-> also on ao3
The lasagna was still in the oven, when Tommy arrived, so they were enjoying the view from one of the balconies. Buck had stuck the magnetic timer to one of the outside chairs, so he'd hear it and the food wouldn't burn.
”You're definitely paying for the view.”
Buck snorted. ”I think I'm paying for everything.”
”The sunset must look unreal from here, with all those windows.”
”The sunrise isn't half bad either.” Buck turned and pointed up to the loft, where his bed was. ”Waking up early is pretty great, when you don't have to get out of bed to see it.”
Tommy regarded the loft. ”Alright, I'm starting to see the advantages of not having walls.”
Buck looked up as well, then back to Tommy. ”It's not about the walls, it's about the windows.”
”Having a lot of windows doesn't matter, if you have a lot of walls.”
”What are you talking about–”
They both jumped at the sound of the timer. Buck rushed to get the oven. He was extra careful, pulling the dish out of the oven. It would be just his luck to drop the thing, after spending all afternoon making it. He heard the timer magnetise onto the fridge, before he felt Tommy at his shoulder.
Tommy whistled. ”Looks delicious.”
”Yeah?”
”Very.” He patted Buck on the hip. ”Need help with anything?”
”If you could,” he gestured to the sides still sitting on the island. ”I'll get the drinks.”
As they sat down, Buck took in the spread before them. He was pretty happy with his efforts, even though he could think of a few things he could've done better. He hadn't asked about Tommy's preferences ahead of time. He waited to dig in, until Tommy did.
Tommy pointed to his plate with his fork. ”This is incredible.”
”Thank you,” Buck preened, relieved.
”I remember Bobby's lasagna. This is not that.”
”He's probably improved it, since you had it last.”
”Oh, no, baby, this is all you, I'm sure of it.”
Baby. The spine tingles persisted.
”I try,” he blushed. ”Bobby is a great teacher.”
”And you're a great student.”
His fork halted halfway to his mouth. ”Oh.”
”Doesn't matter how great he is. This,” Tommy gestured to the food, ”takes skill.”
He almost felt a lump in his throat. ”Th-thank you.”
Tommy smiled and kept eating. He loved everything and wasn't too shy to say so. It was the restaurant all over again. They kept talking.
They took a break between dinner and dessert, to go watch the sunset from the balcony, only to come back inside, and keep talking. Buck was running out of snacks and drinks to offer, but he didn't want Tommy to go. Buck had had his fair share of intense friendships over the years, but this was something else. The conversation was still flowing easily, and Tommy had made no indications about heading home, yet all Buck could think was don't leave.
Tommy was beautiful. When he laughed, it beamed out of his whole body. Even at rest, it was so clear on his face how much he'd smiled in his life. He followed everything Buck said so closely, taking all of it in and responding.
His chest felt tight, when he thought about how he wanted to do this every night. He wanted to listen to and know all of Tommy's stories. He wanted to call him when work was slow. He wanted him to breathe down his neck, while he read every plaque, at every museum in all of LA. He wanted to know every offensive hat Tommy owned.
They were already sitting at the corner of the table, right next to each other, but Buck scooted his chair back, to get the table out of the way. ”Come here for a sec?”
Tommy scooted back, too, then angled himself toward him. ”What's up?”
”I just need to–” His fingers clutched uselessly at the air, before he committed. His hands found the sides of Tommy's face and pulled him close. Tommy kept his eyes open, until the last second – maybe longer. Buck closed his eyes. Tommy's lips were warm and a little wet.
The kiss wasn't deep enough to taste him, but deep enough to make a small sound when they parted.
”Oh.”
”Oh?”
”Oh,” Buck said and dove back in. This was the part that was missing. He would've fallen off the chair, in his quest to get closer, if Tommy hadn't grabbed the legs and hitched it forward. Buck's weight made the chair screech across the floor. He wound his arms around Tommy's shoulders, holding on tightly, as if Tommy was going somewhere.
The position was awkward, their knees kept them apart. The only place Tommy's hands could comfortably go, was on Buck's thighs.
Buck broke the kiss, to take a breath, but didn't move away. His fingers found Tommy's bottom lip, needing to touch. ”Sorry, was that– was that OK?”
A smile bloomed across Tommy's face. ”Yeah, baby, that was OK.”
”I love when you call me that,” Buck said, more than a little dazed.
”I can tell.” Tommy nuzzled the side of his face. Buck was helpless not to chase it.
”Is that– is that why you do it?” His fingers trailed up the side of Tommy's face, to touch the smile lines around his eyes.
He could feel Tommy grin against his cheek. ”Well, we can't both be Boyfriend. That would be confusing.”
”You're not funny.”
”I'm hilarious.”
Buck giggled, and squirmed at the feeling of Tommy's scruff. ”You're not, I just smile a lot.”
”Get over here and smile some more.”
Buck abandoned his chair, and sat across Tommy's lap instead – this was not a straddling situation. The chair creaked and they both sat carefully still for a second. As solid as Tommy's lap felt, the chair didn't seem to be.
”I think we're good.”
”You sure?” Buck asked, hand reaching behind him for the kitchen island, just in case. Tommy wiggled, but there were no additional ominous sounds. ”This is not a problem I've ever had before,” he muttered.
Tommy laughed and buried his face in the crook of Buck's neck. Buck dug him out so they could kiss again.
Kissing Tommy was … well, it wasn't the kiss itself, it was his arms. They were so strong around him, it didn't feel like he could move, unless Tommy allowed him to.
This was what was missing. This was how all of their dates should have ended. He should have kissed Tommy after they got coffee, after they closed out the restaurant. He should have kissed him infront of the dire wolves, and after the aloe in the parking lot. He should have kissed him when Tommy held his hand at the Pollinator Meadow. He should have shoved Tommy into one of the helicopters at Harbor.
The only time he was happy about them not kissing, was at the club. If they'd kissed at the club, Buck wouldn't have remembered it, and not remembering his first kiss with Tommy would have broken his heart.
Their first kiss, was right here, in his kitchen, and he was going to remember that for the rest of his life.
”You OK?” Tommy asked softly.
”Yeah,” he smiled. ”Yeah, I think I just needed to catch up.”
”Catch up?”
”To you.” It was a little nonsensical, but Tommy seemed to understand.
”I'm glad you did.” Tommy nuzzled him.
They fell quiet again, for a moment. Buck tried to take it all in. What it felt like to be kissed by Tommy, how the breadth of his shoulders felt under his hands, how safe he felt. He touched his fingertips to Tommy's facial hair, and wondered at the fact that it didn't matter. Tommy being a man wasn't a factor at all.
this video deserves at least three views per viewer, because there is no following both the belly dance and the added text at the same time while still giving either one the attention it needs for full appreciation, but watching only one or the other will miss more than half of the artistic intentions here
I have a BMI of 35. I am the cutoff for most of medicine.
My size or larger, we can't access:
Fertility treatment
Gender affirming surgeries
Most surgeries, in fact
bc we can't donate our bodies to science and drs don't study on larger bodies. Medications aren't made for us bc we're often excluded from scientific studies. We're systematically excluded and then blamed for poorer outcomes.
I don't care whether you 'like' looking at me or bodies like mine; we deserve equal access to healthcare [all caps].
Imagining Jake and Bradley chatting on Grindr during The Mission, Brad and Jake, common enough names. They're flirting and sending pictures. No faces, but they're sending messages back and forth, they make each other laugh.
Then Bradley asks if he wants to come over (post Ice's funeral, and Bradley just needs out of his head) and Jake really wants to fuck someone because he is pent up even if he's been jerking it off to the photos Brad's been sending him.
And of course Jake gets a taxi to 'Brad's' house, it drives off and as he walks toward the house he sees the Bronco and he freezes, because of course he fucking recognises it. He has the element of surprise, at least he hopes he does, and he takes the stairs two at a time, raps his knuckles on the door.
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no you don't understand you CANNOT make me hate dean you CANNOT make me hate cas and you CANNOT make me hate sam they MAKE MISTAKES AND THOSE MISTAKES HAVE GENUINE PLOT-CHANGING, WORLD-ENDING CONSEQUENCES BUT SO WHAT I LOVE THEM ANYWAYS
"Sweetheart," Tommy says, "you can pout all you want," — Evan's bottom lip is fully deployed — "but I told you the chocolate's better than the cherry. It's not my fault you don't trust me."
Tommy pops the last bite of cheesecake into his mouth. He smirks when Evan narrows his eyes — and gets bowled over when Evan launches himself across the couch to kiss him.
Evan sticks his tongue into Tommy's mouth with a total lack of finesse. Tommy pushes him away, shouting, "Gross, Evan, oh my god!"
Evan's pout has disappeared. He licks his smiling lips with a chocolate-stained tongue.
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There are going to be days (or weeks, or months) where you sit down to write and feel... disconnected. From your voice, from your characters, from your ideas. Like the person who used to write your stories just packed up and left.
They didn't. They're just tired. Here's how to keep writing anyway:
Lower the bar (Until it's on the floor)
You are not here to write something brilliant. You are here to write something. A paragraph. A sentence. A single line of dialogue. Movement matters way more than quality.
Write around the story
Don't force it. If you can't write the scene, try:
⋆ A character ramble / journal entry
⋆ A conversation that won't be included in the final draft
⋆ A list of things the character would never admit out loud
⋆ A messy summary of what should happen
Engage with the story from a different angle.
Borrow a voice until yours comes back
No, not with AI. Read something that feels close to what you want to write, or watch a scene that captures the tone, then write immediately after. Not to copy, to reignite your instincts.
Write the emotion, not the plot.
What is your character feeling in this moment? What are they afraid of? What do they want but won't say? What's being kept from them? The emotion leads, the plot catches up later.
Stop trying to "feel like a writer" first.
You don't write when you feel like a writer. You feel like a writer because you write.
You are still a writer, even on the days it feels distant. Especially then.
in the midst of capitalism, fanfiction and archive of our own are always unconditionally and endlessly free. love, joy and passion, shared among human beings, are always unconditionally and endlessly free
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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