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i know people want injured tommy with buck comforting him (who doesn't?) but I can't help but think about tommy, injured, laying on the ground and the moment that a teary-eyed buck comes to his side and holds his hand, tommy starts to comfort HIM like 'I'm okay, baby. It's okay. I'm gonna be fine.'

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is it too much to ask for buck and tommy to slow dance in our screens?

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With Buck being kinda distant from the 118 right now I think it would be a great time for him to get kidnapped (and then rescued by a certain helicopter pilot 👀)

Especially if at first people just assume he’s off being dramatic somewhere

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I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook

I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat. 

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contributor spotlight!

@harmonic-intervention

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oliver: “i didn’t realise during the scene that ryan was gonna grab hold of me and lunge at me but during the duration of the show, we’ve kind of built such trust between myself, him and the rest of the cast. um, so you have that kind of sandbox to play in, a high level of trust, so if somebody wants to try something, you feel like you have the space to do that. and i love the way the scene came together.”

ryan: “this scene, it had so many great textures, again, thanks to tim minear. and oliver’s right. so we rehearsed it one time, but i did it super bland and mellow as can be. then the director pulls me off to the side ‘it seems like you wanna hit him right now, do you wanna punch him?’ and i go i don’t know if i wanna punch him, but, you know, let’s play with that. and lo and behold, i started elevating the, uh, the pushing. let’s say that.”

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Manifesting for s9: Characters treating Buck like they actually like him 🕯️

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who wants a sneak peek of my piece for the upcoming @bucktommyzine2025? there's some great stuff brewing and i'm so excited to see the finished product! all proceeds are going to SAGE, a nonprofit headquartered in NYC that provides advocacy for and services to lgbtq+ elders!

all that said, here's a little bit of what i've been working on...

April 4, 2029

"You packed the-"

"I swear to god if you start rearranging that bag-"

"Hey, hey, okay." Tommy sets the duffel down and walks over, straightening Buck's jacket sleeve and helping him into it, ending the one-sided battle Buck had been losing. Tommy adjusts Buck's collar with an affable little smile.

"Why are you so calm right now?" Buck asks. His heart is galloping in his chest like it wants to break free. "How are you so calm right now?"

Tommy laughs, momentarily distracting Buck with his scrunchy nose and his laugh lines and his awful, beautiful face. "I think my panic saw yours and took a vacation, it knows it can't compete."

"Tommy," Buck pleads, whining. Tommy just grins and uses his grip on Buck's jacket to pull him into a kiss. Buck tries to hold firm, but Tommy waits him out; before long, Buck's melting against him, the simple contact of their lips keeping him upright. Only then does Tommy pull back — and still, he stays close enough to nudge their noses together.

"Hey," Tommy says. He kisses the corner of Buck's mouth and smiles. "Let's go meet our baby."

a million thank yous to @buffaluff for the header art; @bangpop91 for putting the header together for me; and last but not least @thepinkcrayon for organizing this whole thing!!

wip wednesday tagging: @gaytommykinard @aringofsalt @wikiangela @scuderiadebauchery

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in another universe Tommy owns a bakery after retiring from the army and Ravi is still a firefighter that just happens to keep going to the same bakery because the bread is just that good ;)

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15 and @racerchix21 for Several Sentence Sunday but we're doing it today as a WIP Wednesday. Enjoy a little something I started working on today ❤️

****

As Buck steps onto the elevator, he feels happy, settled, and more grounded than he has in months. Bobby's death is still painful, a void that can never be filled, but seeing his nephew has warmed something inside him, rekindling a small flame of hope.

It doesn't last long.

As the doors open, there's a flurry of activity. Buck manages to make out the words "40-year-old male... critical injuries... helicopter crash," as the medical team flies by. His knees buckle. "Tommy," he gasps.

He runs to the desk, catching eyes with a familiar nurse. "T-Tommy... Tommy Kinard. Is he? Was that?" he asks frantically, his voice breaking.

"I can't tell you anything, Buck," the nurse says, looking sympathetic. "You're not his emergency contact."

"Oh God. It's him," Buck says, the color draining from his face.

Her answering silence speaks volumes.

"Who is his emergency contact? Can you at least tell me that?" Buck asks, desperately hoping he can extract some information.

The nurse nods and types into the computer, the clicking of keys unbearably loud in Buck's ears. "Looks like it's a Robert Nash," she says, glancing up at him.

NP tags for @typicalopposite @sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction @rdng1230 @salty-autistic-writer @unhingedangstaddict

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Me to Tim as he starts coming up with ideas for season 9:

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no peace in quiet

The ghosts never bothered Tommy Kinard, until Bobby Nash died and there wasn't anything Tommy could do to comfort the man he loved or the family Bobby had left behind.

The ghosts never bothered Tommy Kinard, or they hadn't, at least. He'd seen them since he was a kid; the first ghost he remembered seeing and interacting with was his nonno who had passed a few month's before. He'd been six at the time, and hadn't truly understood death as a concept, or that Nonno wouldn't be around anymore, especially because he kept seeing glimpses of the man in other rooms as he was shuffled from place to place. His mom had set him down at Nonna's house one Sunday, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, told him to be good, to listen to Nonna, and not to stir up trouble while she was at work, and then she'd gone. Nonna had been making soup in the kitchen, and had forgotten Tommy had even been there at all, because he'd been playing with Nonno, building an airplane model with his guidance, his wrinkled hands slightly see-through but the old people in his life had always been a little papery and translucent, so he hadn't considered it strange.

Until Nonna had come out and screamed, because Tommy was touching her late husband's prized building materials. Tommy had tried to explain that he had permission, that Nonno was there to help. She'd put him in time out for the rest of the day until his mom got back from work, only letting him out to eat and go to the bathroom.

He'd tried to defend himself, but no one would listen, or they said that it was mean to play pranks on his grieving grandmother, saying that he was playing with his dead grandfather. He didn't understand, Nonno was right there, and he could hear his voice, see his soft brown eyes, the lilt of his Italian accent.

"No one thinks you're funny, Thomas," he'd been told with a twisting grip on his arm, and when he'd met Nonno's eyes, Nonno had shaken his head slowly, as if to tell him it wasn't worth the effort to defend himself.

He'd learned very quickly to keep his ability to himself after that, and avoid eye-contact with the ghosts. That got harder during the war, of course, with innocent lives that had been snuffed out wandering the base where he was stationed, haunted eyes staring straight ahead, and then when he'd been discharged, returning home had brought it's own hauntings. California wasn't free of its ghosts, either, from natural disasters and pandemics; he was just glad he didn't live closer to one of the old sanitarium buildings that they used for tuberculosis patients.

If he didn't notice them, they didn't know he could see them, and as long as they didn't know he could see them, most of the time he could tune out their murmurings. They made a lot of noise — wailing and pleading to be let free, talking to themselves, telling themselves stories to remind them of who they had been when they were alive — and if he weren't careful, he'd lose himself to it.

Being around another living, breathing person helped, and quieted the noise and made the specters fade to something manageable. They got worse when he was alone. When Nonna died and left him her house, and the ghosts that came with it, he'd dove into an ill-advised relationship that put him so deep into the closet, he could hear wedding bells instead of ghost cries.

"This isn't funny, Thomas," Abby had said when he had come out to her finally, explaining that he'd been denying it for so long that he'd almost convinced himself he could love her the way she deserved, but he couldn't, and when he made eye contact with a beautiful drag queen who had lived in Abby's apartment before her and had been killed by their boyfriend, he found sympathy, but no ally there.

Nonno and Nonna were gone when he moved out of Abby's apartment to the house he'd systematically gutted down to its studs. He was grateful that they'd found peace and moved on, but he wasn't sure what was worse some nights, the sounds of the dead moving around or the quiet that they left behind when they were gone.

[read the rest on ao3]

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Just a little bucktommy/Buck does what's best for him/Tommy is the #1 Evan Buckley defender drabble for you on this Wednesday

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

Hey Tommy, sorry to bother you with this but any chance you've heard from Buck?

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

He told us he was still transferring and also taking a week off and now no one has heard from him in days.

Tommy looks at the text messages, coming in quick succession, and snorts harshly.

[TOMMY KINARD]

That sounds like a lot. Did you check his house?

Tommy knows they didn't check his house, because they have absolutely no clue what had been going on in Evan's life for at least a few weeks, probably closer to a month.

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

Uh. Well.

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

We kind of don't know where he moved to.

Tommy rolls his eyes, mutters "Jesus Christ, Chimney," under his breath.

[TOMMY KINARD]

You don't know where your own brother-in-law lives? Dude.

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

Come on man I just had a baby

[TOMMY KINARD]

I thought your wife had the baby

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

You're a comedian.

[TOMMY KINARD]

I'd say I'm here all week, but I'm actually on vacation.

[HOWIE HAN]: 1 New Message

Yeah, yeah, I'll take the hint and stop bothering you. Even though you have no sympathy for the fact that my wife is going to be very disappointed with me when she finds out I lost her brother and she's going to look at me in the way that makes me feel very sad and also guilty.

[TOMMY KINARD]

Well, if I see him I'll let you know. Good luck with all of that I guess.

Tommy chuckles again, the face pushed into his stomach bouncing a bit with it. Evan rolls, sleep-bright eyes blinking up at Tommy in confusion.

"Whatsit?" Evan mumbles, a hand coming up to wipe away at what is definitely drool in the corner of his mouth.

Evan had been napping with his head on Tommy's lap, spread out across the couch in the cabin they're borrowing from a friend of Tommy's for a weekend getaway. They'd spent the last three hours hiking (and maybe some of it making out against a tree) and Evan was still in a bit of a sleep deficit from trying to quickly get all of his stuff moved out of Eddie's house two days ago.

"Nothing, sweetheart," Tommy tells him warmly, his torso curling down towards Evan as he runs a hand through slightly sweaty but impossibly soft curls. "Just texting Chimney."

"Mmmok," Evan says, rolling back into Tommy's stomach and kicking a knee out to stretch farther down the couch. It accentuates his long, long legs which are currently wrapped in hiking shorts that are honestly just sinfully short and leggings; and Tommy is also maybe drooling a little. He's going to let Evan sleep for a little longer, knowing if he lets it go on too long Evan's sleep schedule will be ruined.

But also beacuase Tommy is more than happy to pick up where they left off against the tree; this time in the plush bed waiting for them, with enough time and sunlight leftover to then grill the steaks they had bought for dinner.

Tommy shakes himself out of the daydream that's going to end up disturbing the man impersonating sleeping beauty right over something that will give away exactly what's going through his head and looks at the text conversation again. He sighs. He doesn't think that Howie and the rest of the 118 deserve much right now, but he does sympathize with a woman who just had a baby and who has access to another woman who won't hesitate to launch a manhunt for his boyfriend.

He sighs and pulls up Maddie's phone number, but then thinks of something much funnier.

[TOMMY KINARD]

Image

[TOMMY KINARD]

Oh shit man you'll never guess what I found

[HOWIE HAN]:

Tommy what the FUCK

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That last kiss, I'll cherish until we meet again

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My perhaps unpopular opinion is that I think Buck should have actually transferred. Not permanently and not because I think the 118 are terrible to him, but it would have been an interesting s9 start point to see him have to work with another station, to see the firefam realize that Buck could make not only new colleagues but also potential new friends, and then to have to actually work to bring him back. What Buck felt as a huge void and absence after Bobby's death is still a real thing and shouldn't have been resolved simply by Chim's words when everyone there seemed to be avoiding dealing with Buck directly after everything that happened.