setmeatopthepyre

[setmeatopthepyre]

Evan Buckley and Tommy Kinard 7x04 - Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

can't believe it's been a whole year since that first kiss

[setmeatopthepyre]

Hullo. I dunno but today I thought a lot of your selkie! Au

It must be the dreary weather and the waves in the sea lol

Ough, I wish that were me, it's been So Hot here this week. Though we did get some rain today so to celebrate, here's a lil more selkie!Tommy AU, thank you ☺️🦭

Buck's hands still as he finishes casting off the bow line, glancing over his shoulder at where Tommy had hesitantly stowed himself near the stern. "What?" Tommy's eyes flitted pointedly away from where Buck was still spread out across the stern, right leg hoisted up onto the edge of the boat as he coiled the line in his hand. Buck quirked a knowing eyebrow. "Nothing. Just. Feels weird being on this side of the boat," Tommy says after a beat, gaze drift over the relatively calm water lapping the hull before landing back on Buck. Buck rolled with the gentle rock of it, settling himself in the boat proper before moving to sit next to Tommy next to the boat's tiny engine. "What's it like? You know uh, swimming around everywhere?" It was still strange sometimes, when Tommy mentioned things like that so casually. Buck wasn't sure he could imagine it, travelling in the ocean like that. It sounded… Lonely. Buck could only imagine the huge, dark expanse of it. Cold and heavy pressing down. Could only imagine Tommy drifting through it alone. "It's kind of like flying," Tommy says softly, his voice nearly lost to the hiss of the wind across the water, the thunk of waves against the hull of the boat. "You can go as fast and far as your own body will let you, nothing else to dictate what or where," Tommy shrugs, his smile seemed genuine, but his eyes looked sad. "Well, we're only going as far as that buoy over there," Buck says, waving at the nearby buoy marking the channel, "But you can go as fast as you want till we get there, if you like. Well, as fast as the engine will let you- Which admittedly, isn't uh, isn't very fast- But still!" Buck's stomach swooped when Tommy's answering laugh was a lot more genuine.

[setmeatopthepyre]

Here’s a possible prompt: Maddie and Tommy interacting. Does she need his help for something? Run-in at the grocery store? In the kitchen together at a 118-adjacent gathering? Maybe she doesn’t like him and is reluctant to even talk to him or maybe it’s just an awkward happenstance.

Good luck writing! 💚

so I saw this gifset and realized tommy wouldn’t know that maddie’s throat was slashed. this made me revisit this prompt bc I could see tommy’s reaction to that so clearly! also a reminder that this is what maddie’s hair will look like in s9

Read on ao3 or below!

Tommy had known that there would be consequences for stealing a helicopter a second time. 

The first time, he’d gotten off with a slap on the wrist. Hen had gone through the trouble of forging papers and the Chief had publicly announced that the mission was sanctioned. Tommy had been well enough protected by other people’s lies that his captain had given him a stern Never do that again and left it at that. 

This time, he’d led the Army and the FBI on a very public helicopter chase in the skies above downtown LA and landed on the grass of the Coliseum. He’d literally committed treason. A two month suspension felt like a laughably lenient punishment for that. It’s a miracle he’s not in jail. 

Instead, he’s at the supermarket on a Sunday afternoon, which sort of makes him wish he was locked away somewhere that had limited contact with the general public. This time of the week, the produce section turns into a combat zone, wall to wall with bodies and carts. Tommy tucks his basket into his side, bobs and weaves around elderly women and screaming children, baffled Instacart shoppers and young couples being far too affectionate for what a head of broccoli could ever possibly call for. 

He heaves a sigh of genuine relief when he’s finally spat out into the seafood section, dazed. He takes a moment to look at the pre-sliced fillets he knows he won’t buy, using the cool air wafting from the refrigerators and the relative lack of other bodies in this section to calm himself back down. 

Tommy hates the grocery store. He views it as a necessary evil, and even then, barely worth it. The only times he’d ever enjoyed it were when he’d gone with Evan. Seeing the place through Evan’s eyes had been like seeing a master artist in a craft store, or a well-trained puppy moments away from being allowed to sink its teeth into something meaty. Evan was always excited, hungry; bursting with meal ideas backed up by a precise knowledge of the best and right ways to make each and every ingredient sing. 

It had been endlessly endearing, watching Evan bounce from limes to avocados to tomatoes, listening to the fun facts he had about almost every item in the store. Did you know that strawberries technically aren’t berries, but bananas are? Crazy, right? Dimples cratering, perfect teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting that suddenly didn’t look quite so haunting, eyes falling half-lidded and cheeks pinking up sweetly when Tommy asked what else he knew about bananas. God, Evan had been so adorable that Tommy’s heart had ached right there in the grocery store—right there in the middle of the war zone. 

So okay, maybe sometimes a head of broccoli does call for some midday public fondling. Tommy gets it. 

He recovers enough to move on to the aisles. Brown rice, beans, chickpeas. A refill of his garlic powder, dried basil. There’s a sort of ancestral guilt he feels buying dried basil instead of fresh, but he knows himself, he knows his lifestyle. Fresh basil will go bad before he gets the chance to look at it twice. 

Evan always kept fresh herbs, probably still does. They’re like two dollars at the farmers’ market, Tommy, who cares if half of it goes bad? 

Remind me of your credit score, Tommy would deadpan back. Evan would roll his eyes but push in closer, catch Tommy’s hand in his, and promise to make Tommy see the error of his ways once Tommy tasted his cooking. 

He wasn’t wrong, is the thing. Tommy was just too stubborn to listen. The dried basil rattles against the sides of its plastic container as Tommy tosses it into his basket. 

Tommy turns down the cereal aisle and makes a beeline for the raisin bran. He has recently come to accept that he’s an old man, and is doomed to be one for the rest of his life. He stubbornly ignores the siren call of the sugary, chocolaty, turns-your-milk-blue kinds of cereal. Not that he ever really allowed himself to have the sugary cereals when he was young, either; too worried about his body image and how unmasculine it was to eat fruity cereals past the age of six. His dad always had a comment along the lines of You are what you eat ready with a mean little smile whenever Tommy tried to add it to their cart as a kid. 

Well, Tommy thinks. Maybe his dad was onto something with that one. 

He puts the bland old man cereal into his basket. It doesn’t matter if it’s the one he wants or not. It’s too late. You wait too long to let yourself have the things you want, and suddenly the thought of having them becomes terrifying. He missed his window. 

Further down the aisle, there’s a woman with her back turned to Tommy. She has medium length reddish hair. For a moment, Tommy gets a flash of Abby, but this woman’s hair isn’t the right shade of red, that gorgeous natural strawberry blonde. He would run his hands through it for hours while they watched tv, untangling knots and adding little braids, enraptured by the color. She’d compliment him on how nice it was that he took care of her like this, that he tended towards these gentle forms of physical intimacy, that he never pushed for sex, but never made her feel unwanted. 

The memory flips his stomach. The guilt he has long since pushed down bubbles up in the back of his throat. It does this sometimes. That couch was another war zone. 

The woman in the aisle is not Abby. Her hair is obviously dyed, the red cascading down from dark brown roots. She stands in front of a cart with two small kids inside: one around five years old, the other a newborn. She’s up on her tiptoes trying to grab a box from the very top shelf, but she’s not nearly tall enough to reach. 

“Here,” Tommy says without thinking. He grabs the box that she’s reaching for with ease and puts it into her grasping hand. 

“Oh, thank you!” she says, voice bright and relieved and familiar. 

The woman turns around in what feels like slow motion. As her face comes into view, Tommy realizes two things about her with dawning horror. One: this is Maddie Han. Two: her throat has a long line of scar tissue across it—like it had been slashed, like she had been in a horror movie. 

He tries to greet her when he realizes who she is, but the force of his surprise and fear makes his voice shake. It comes out as, “Hey, MaAAAddie,” and is accompanied by an instinctive step back. His right hand has come up in front of his chest defensively, as if the mere sight of a scarred-over injury could mean his neck was in danger of being slashed next. 

Maddie startles when she recognizes him too, the box of cereal audibly shaking in her hand just once before recovering almost disconcertably well. She doesn’t quite smile, but she doesn’t frown either, doesn’t close off. Neutral: a brick wall disguising itself as an open book that just so happens to be blank. Tommy has the sudden sensation of looking in a mirror. 

“Tommy, hi,” Maddie says. “Thank you, for…” 

She shakes the box again, intentionally this time. 

Tommy shrugs, nods. “No problem. I have the wingspan.” He clears his throat, can’t take his eyes off of hers. “I’m so sorry about- Evan, he mentioned the abduction. He didn’t mention the, uh…” 

Tommy makes a motion across his throat. Her eyes fall to the cereal box she’s denting with the force of her grip. Instantly, he knows that he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. Par for the course, especially where Buckleys are concerned. 

Maddie shrugs, overly casual. “Why would he?” 

“Of course, yeah. That’s fair.” 

Maddie lived through a horror movie. She lived through her own war zone—more than one, from what Evan has told him. Why would he remind her of that? 

There’s an awkward beat where neither of them say anything. In the cart, the five year old coos over the newborn. Jee-Yun, Tommy realizes belatedly, kicking himself for not recognizing her. In his defense, he hasn’t seen her in the better part of a year, and only ever in context. She’s so big now. She’s a sister now. An entire person has been created and released into the world since Tommy last saw Jee-Yun, and still he can’t shake Evan from his mind. 

Tommy wants to run. He needs to figure out how to get out of here. The aisle is closing in, the shelves are pushing closer together. 

Tommy takes a step back. 

“I should, uh-”

“Wait!” Maddie calls after only a few steps, voice urgent. “I never... I never got the chance to thank you.” 

Tommy’s eyebrows pull together. “You just did. Twice.” 

Maddie waves that away. “Oh, no not- not for the cereal. For, uh, for what you did that night. For saving Chimney.” 

“Oh.” Tommy shrugs, flashes an embarrassed smile. Needs to run. “It was no problem. Just doing my job.” 

When Maddie tilts her head, she looks just like her brother. 

“Mmm, from what Buck told me, it very much was a problem, and it definitely fell outside the scope of your job. So thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be raising these two little monsters all on my own.” 

Her voice turns playful and motherly at the end, teasing her kids. Jee-Yun squeals with laughter. Maddie’s smile almost reaches her eyes. 

Tommy rarely feels all that good about himself, but looking at Maddie and her kids, knowing that he helped put those smiles on their faces… this is one of those moments. He relaxes a little. The walls stop closing in. 

“I’d do it again,” Tommy says, a wave of earnestness rising in him; a decade of working side by side with Howard Han and knowing in his bones that the world is a much better place with him in it. “He saved my life first, in more ways than one. What’s a two month suspension compared to that?” 

Maddie looks at him, assessing. It’s clear that his punishment is news to her, and why wouldn’t it be? She’s taking it in, taking him in, and biting her lip, deciding if she’s going to say what’s on her mind. 

“You haven’t met the new baby,” she settles on, inviting him to step closer again. “This is our son, Robert Nash Han.” 

Tommy freezes. 

“Robby!” Jee-Yun yells, delighted. She leans over and pets her brother’s cheek softly, clearly keeping in mind an instruction to be careful with the new baby. She pets him like he’s fragile. 

Bobby. Baby Bobby. Christ, Howie. 

Tommy can’t think of anything to say. He can feel his eyebrows high on his face, knows it’s rude, but he has no idea how he feels about this. He has no idea how anyone is supposed to feel about this. 

“Wow,” he says, trying to save the moment. “That’s, uh… Congratulations. He’s adorable.” 

He is, in the way that all babies are: small and smooth, breakable and precious; pulling at something deep and strong inside of you that says protect. But the name… 

Maddie sees right through Tommy, but she isn’t upset. Her eyes have a twinkle of amusement as they fall to her son. 

“Don’t worry,” she says. “Everyone reacts like that. It seemed like a good way to honor him, to thank him, but already it’s… heavy. Buck doesn’t know what to do with it either.” 

Tommy’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Yeah, I bet.” 

Evan didn’t just lose his captain but his father figure; the man he loved more than his real flesh-and-blood dad. Tommy had seen him break down in that hallway, had watched through the monitors as Evan screamed himself empty. Tommy had seen him during the funeral, face unusually blank, fists clenched tight, big eyes wet but never spilling over—keeping himself together by sheer force of will. 

Tommy hadn’t comforted Evan. It hadn’t looked like it would’ve been welcome—either by Tommy or by anyone else. It had looked like the smallest soothing touch would shatter him to pieces, would have brought him back into his body and the horrible reality of Bobby’s death. 

But god, Tommy had wanted to try anyway. 

“For what it’s worth…” Maddie says slowly. “I think if you called him, he would answer.” 

Tommy wishes. He aches for that to be true. That one night in the spring, having Evan under his hands again, against his body again, laughing into his mouth again—it had made him think, just for a moment, that Evan could want him back, that maybe he hadn’t destroyed any chance of happiness between them. 

Evan had brought him swiftly back to reality the next morning. 

“My window is closed,” Tommy says with a shrug. “The last time we talked about it, he said he didn’t have feelings for me.” 

Maddie raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, and then he came to my house and told me how bad he felt for letting you think that.” 

Tommy just looks at her. When he sees how serious she is, something dangerously close to hope shakes inside of him like dried basil, like high shelf cereal. 

“Are you sure it’s not… the wrong time?” Tommy gestures to baby Robby. 

Maddie shrugs. “It’s the 118. Is there ever a good time?” 

Tommy laughs. I feel like you guys at the 118 should have your own dedicated wing at the hospital. Maybe she’s right. 

“Besides,” she continues. “He could use something good in his life.” 

So could Tommy. He’s just not sure if he’s brave enough to let himself have it. He’s not sure if he’s the kind of person who would raise Evan up instead of pulling him down. 

Tommy turns to leave, flashing a small smile. 

“It was nice to see you, Maddie.” 

Maddie’s smile reaches her eyes this time. “You too, Tommy. I really hope this isn’t the last time.” 

Tommy nods and gives her a little wave. He starts walking down the aisle towards the checkout. 

This time, when the fruity cereal sings its siren song, he grabs it. The cereal inside the box shakes enticingly as Tommy throws it into his basket. 

Fuck it. He’s not that old. He feels a breeze against his face when he exits the aisle, heads for the express lane. Maybe the window is still open, just a crack. Maybe there’s still time to reach out and take the things he wants.

He sends the text before his cowardice gets the best of him again. The worst Evan can say has already been said. What’s one more disappointment in a lifetime of disappointments? What’s one more grasp towards the high shelf? 

Who knows. Maybe Tommy will get lucky this time. 

Evan sends three texts in quick succession, messy and enthusiastic. Fruit, bright and sugary, bursts across Tommy’s tongue. 

He has a date.

[leave kudos here!]

[setmeatopthepyre]

wip wednesday thursday

The biggest votes were for piano & post-s8! tagging @screamlet @hubcaphalo @beanarie @rcmclachlan @chemistry66 @liminalmemories21. love to @weatherwaxed as always

here is an excerpt from piano:

Tommy pressed call and got up to pace the deck. “I find it really annoying that my oldest friend and my partner are acting like I’m a child who doesn’t know what he wants.” Tommy said, the minute the call connected. 

“Chara played until he was forty-five,” Sal said, in that fuck-you-I’m-reasonable tone of voice that had won him so many contract negotiations. “So sue us for thinking you might still have gas in the tank.” 

Tommy hung up. He felt—furious, and incoherent, and helplessly angry. 

Evan came out onto the deck tentatively, as Tommy’s phone lit up with an incoming call from Sal. He declined it. 

“Do I not express myself clearly?” Tommy asked, instead of throwing his phone into the pool. 

“What?” Evan said, blue eyes wide and confused. 

“I’ve been working on my communication skills, but maybe I haven’t been working hard enough. I’ve said, very clearly, that I’m done playing. Did you think I was lying about that?” Tommy thought he might be about to cry. As Evan opened his mouth to respond, he was sure of it. 

“It’s just—everyone says you have more time, and I just thought if–if you knew how many teams were interested, you would—” 

“Sign up to play another season in what, Sweden? The Czech Republic? Try my luck in fucking Slovakia?” 

“I don’t understand how you can love the game so much and be mad that Sal found you opportunities to keep playing it, even though you quit the team.” Evan said, mulish as always. Normally, Tommy loved Evan’s stubbornness, his refusal to back down from what he thought was the right thing. But he couldn’t find it adorable this time. 

Tommy thought he might have a stroke. All this time, and Evan still somehow thought the game was the only thing in Tommy’s life? Could be the only thing? 

“I do love the game, and I’m fucking done playing it!” Tommy was for real shouting now, tried to rein it in. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be! And that’s all we were trying to do!” He felt like they were on one of those trains they had at the zoo, revisiting all the same scenic spots. 

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t have to be, I want to be. And it sounds like this was a little bit less spontaneous than you wanted me to think.” 

Evan had the good grace to look a little embarrassed, but not enough to stop. 

“Pardon me for looking out for you,” he said. 

Tommy clenched his eyes shut. “That’s not looking out for me, Evan, that’s you not respecting my wishes. I had twenty-one years in the game. I want to fucking—figure out who I am outside of it.”

A horrible suspicion crept in. “But maybe—maybe that’s not what you want. If I’m not Enforcer Tommy, maybe I don’t do it for you anymore.” He swiped a hand over his face and opened his eyes. 

“If that’s the case, we gotta call it, right now.” 

Evan wasn’t saying anything, just standing, hands open and slack at his side, his jaw clenched. 

“Good talk,” Tommy said. “I’m going to stay at Eddie’s tonight. If Sal calls, tell him I said fuck off.” 

He pushed past Evan and went inside, packed a bag, and made sure Rotor had food and water, scrubbed at his eyes a few times. He glanced out the back door—Evan was still standing there, staring at where Tommy had been standing. 

He got in his car and got to Eddie’s as quickly as he could. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

and here is an excerpt from the post - s8 fic! it's moving day!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tommy surprised him on moving day with Lucy Donato in shorts and a tank top. “Salutations, Buckley,” she said, snapping a Dodgers cap onto her head. “I’m the muscle of this operation, clearly.” 

Next to her Tommy rolled his eyes fondly. “I figured you wouldn’t mind the extra hands,” he said.   

“I don’t,” Buck said. “Hey, Lucy.” He hadn’t seen Lucy since she transferred to Harbor, outside of the odd scene where they overlapped. 

The three of them made short work of his stuff—Buck helped Tommy load the larger pieces of furniture onto the bed of the truck and Tommy secured them with bungee cables he’d brought along with him. Lucy loaded boxes and framed stuff into the Jeep. It took three trips and six hours, but by three in the afternoon, they were clustered around Buck’s new kitchen island eating pizza straight out of the box. 

“Thanks for helping me,” he said, during a lull in the conversation. 

Lucy gave him a sardonic look. She’d grown out her hair a little—it was pulled into a tiny ponytail and strands of it were falling into her face. “The chance to one-up the 118 in helpfulness should never be passed up.” 

Buck winced, unsubtly, and Lucy absolutely clocked it. “Is everything okay over there?” she asked, shoveling pepperoni pizza into her mouth and still somehow looking concerned. 

“It’s fine,” Buck said. Tommy and Lucy looked at one another. “Come on, guys. It’s fine. Things have been tough, but—it’s fine.” 

He didn’t have the words in this casual post-move hangout to explain that he was hanging on by a thread. Bobby said they’d need him, he wanted to say—but no one does. 

“Okay. I won’t push, but if you ever want to talk about it, as a former inmate of the 118, you can always call me.”

Lucy left first, and when Tommy was ready to leave he lingered in the doorway. He seemed to be gathering his courage to ask Buck something, so Buck tried to relax and look as open as possible. 

“I go to trivia, sometimes,” Tommy said. “It’s drag trivia, down at Julius. Would you like to come sometime?” 

“Is this the famous karaoke trivia that Eddie went to?” Buck asked. Hard to believe he’d been so jealous of Eddie back then. 

Tommy laughed. “Yeah. Hard to believe he didn’t know I was gay until you told him.” 

“He’s a Kinsey zero if ever I met one,” Buck said. Tommy smiled fondly. 

“Yeah, for sure.” 

“Yes, I’d love to come to drag karaoke trivia. That’s two things too many for an event, but it sounds fun.” 

Tommy laughed. “Okay. I’ll text you the details.” 

Buck held his arms out and reeled Tommy in for a tentative hug, there in the doorway of his new apartment. Tommy hugged him back, then said goodbye with his awkward finger gun salute, and then Buck was alone.

[setmeatopthepyre]

THE GREEN KNIGHT (2021) dir. David Lowery

[setmeatopthepyre]

Buck + that smile

[setmeatopthepyre]

fic: light my nights, bucktommy, e, 7k

it liiiiives!

It had never occurred to Tommy to tell Evan about this the first time around. Honestly, it had never occurred to him to tell anybody. It wasn't always about shame—it hadn't been about shame for a really long time, actually. It had just been…his thing. It wasn't about sex, or even getting off, so there was just no need for anyone to know. But it does…it does matter to him. It is, in a weird, low key kind of way, a part of him. It's as much a part of him as muay thai and flying and tinkering with run down machinery: it's something he does, so in some small way it's something he is. or: The one where Tommy enjoys wearing lingerie, and they both have feelings about that.

[setmeatopthepyre]

A lot has been said about how daddy issues is a requirement to be a member of the 118, but apparently so is sleeping with your ex and we don't talk enough about it.

[setmeatopthepyre]

wip wednesday

me: i'm going to write something fluffy next :) me thirty minutes later: so let's talk about this arson investigator au tagged by @hereghostslive and @rcmclachlan and @ambernotember and @screamlet. tagging @setmeatopthepyre and @beanarie and @apollabarnes and @trombonechurchill and anyone else who wants to...

this wip is still untitled

-

He likes the workspace, a lot, and he likes his new teammates well enough. Arne's a piece of work, always glowering at something or huffing at being interrupted, but Jim Wagner truly embodies the adjectives "affable" and "genial" and "earnest". Not a single day has passed this week where Jim hasn't brought a box of donuts or crullers in. And Buck always loved working with Athena in the field; this is no different. She looks right at home in her little office. It's different than what Buck pictured, but it suits her.

It's Tommy who's the wild card.

They spend most of the first couple of days awkwardly dancing around each other, until Buck nearly walks into Tommy on his way back from the bathroom and they both have to face the music.

"You look like you're having fun," Buck says, nodding at Tommy's three giant monitors. "With the, uh, the GIS stuff."

Tommy shrugs. "Yeah, I like playing around with it," he says. "I found a toggle for a flight tracker layer."

"I wanted to say sorry," Buck says, words falling out in a rush before he can take them back. "Since you're here because of—us. Me."

Tommy stares at him, then shrugs again. "It was my choice, really. I didn't have to answer the phone."

"No, you didn't," Buck says, but he's glad Tommy did anyways, even if—even if. "How long are you grounded for?"

"My license was suspended for six months," Tommy says, and Buck cringes. "I figured desk duty might be more restful than ground crew. And I'm sure the brass want to keep an eye on me."

"I'm sorry," Buck repeats. "I wish I could've done something."

Tommy's stare turns incredulous. "I invited you to the disciplinary hearing," he says. "I asked everyone at the 118. None of you showed. None of you even answered."

That—that can't be true. There's no way. Buck digs his phone out of his pocket and finds his text thread with Tommy. Sure enough:

Tommy: Just checking in, how are you doing? Tommy: Hey, Evan, just wanted to see if you need anything. I can always swing by if you do. Tommy: Wanted to reach out and see how you were doing Tommy: Hey, I know everything's kind of a mess right now, but I have to go up in front of the LAFD command for the lab incident. I'll have a union rep but they said I can invite people to help plead my case. It's the Tuesday after next, if you're available. Tommy: Hey Evan sorry I haven't reached out this week I just wanted to ask if you got my last text? Union rep asked if anyone's going to come act as a witness Tommy: Hey, you doing okay? Tommy: Just checking in

"Oh," Buck says. The worst part is that he'd clearly read them all at the time and then, for some reason, ignored them. He knows he has read receipts on. He looks back up at Tommy, face flushing with shame. "We had a lot going on."

"I know that," Tommy says. "I did, too."

[setmeatopthepyre]

I’m in Vegas and in order to avoid being overstimulated my spouse and I are pretending that we’re showing Oscar Wilde around, and tbh? It’s working. He loved Magic Mike Live

[setmeatopthepyre]

BUCK IN 4x12 - TREASURE HUNT

[setmeatopthepyre]

God bless all petty thieves With tins of oysters up their sleeves

Feast when you can And dream when there's nothing to feast on

Attach the C-4 where you must Disappear in a cloud of dust But spare a thought for what it covers up Pour a triple and raise your cup

We were here once, me and my friends But we destroyed all of the evidence And vanished into the night At least we got that one right

God bless us, all of us We who learn to shun the light God bless all vampires every night

Feast when you can Feast when you can Feast when you can Feast when you can

[setmeatopthepyre]

thank you so much @o0anapher0o <3

@setmeatopthepyre

Welcome to the Kinley (Cat) Café! Someone ordered “Meow Spumoni?” & FirePilot Pumpkin Waffles for you! Enjoy!

😘 - anapher

[setmeatopthepyre]

[setmeatopthepyre]

On this season of 9-1-1: Tommy’s tiny emotional support pumpkin becomes a giant pumpkin terrorizing the citizens of LA

[setmeatopthepyre]

The UK government did an investigation into the porn sites that haven't yet implemented the age verification measures and they...I shit you not, they published a list. A LIST of all the porn sites. That you can still access without having to verify your age. They made a government employee make a list of all the porn sites and check if they have age verification and then they published a list of those that don't. For all the public to read.

[setmeatopthepyre]

I’d be really interested in a fic where S1 Buck finds out about Tommy being also a firefighter from the 118 while dating Abby and feels kinda weird and used about it

(I’m not an Abby-hater but I think the Abbytommy reveal did her character dirty in retrospect and would love to have seen Buck realise at the time that he was pretty much Tommy2HeterosexualBoogaloo)

Also you could have his curiosity about Tommy get the better of him so he goes to meet Tommy and things develop from there