planetesastraea

[planetesastraea]

Growth is listening to old heartbreak songs and just enjoying the music.

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tagged by @ambernotember for several sentences sunday smonday

They'd been unloading and unpacking Buck's belongings for several hours when Tommy flops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. 

"I'm starving. Want to order from that pizza place we love?"

We. Tommy says it as casually as he'd said 'our kitchen' and 'our garage' as he moved things out of the way and gave Buck his own spaces alongside his. Buck's tongue sticks to the roof of his dry mouth and all he can manage is an affirmative hum.

"What are you in the mood for? Veggie or supreme?"

Buck couldn't care less about pizza toppings. He opens his mouth—a reflexive 'you choose' on the tip of his tongue—before clamping his lips shut in fear of something else coming out. He knows he should be grateful—he is grateful—that he has somewhere affordable and safe to live while he looks for a permanent home. 

But the ease in which Tommy invited Buck to live in his house—the effort he's put in to make sure he's comfortable and at home—pours salt into the wound that never healed. That Buck is allowed to have this now—now that they're ex-boyfriends, now that they're some facsimile of friends—feels like rejection all over again. 

Tommy looks up from his phone and frowns. "Evan?"

Buck clears his throat and turns back to the box of books he'd been unpacking. "Whatever you want."

Np tags: @fake-mouthstatic @maybeitsmay @thegingerparty @thefixations-ofmine @just-barrow

[planetesastraea]

wip wednesday

tagged by @rcmclachlan and @buckevantommy ! thanks guys! this is from something that started out inspired by a prompt about a bucktommy domestic moment at home but it took on a life of its own. it's already 4k and they haven't even gotten back together yet lmao. buck has to fix up the new (old) house he bought before they can get back together and then have that domestic moment

Buck knows construction. He knows demolition. He has a pretty good handle on plumbing. Electricity, however, is an unexplored realm. 

So, of course, the light fixture over the dining room table won’t turn on. Buck replaces the light bulbs but nothing happens. He thinks about eating his pizza—sue him, it is a tradition when you move—in darkness, or over the sink like a real sad bachelor, but instead, he pulls up the contact before he can second guess himself. 

Tommy picks up on the second ring. 

“Evan, hey.” 

“Hi, Tommy,” Buck says. “Do you have a sec?” 

“Of course. Do you need another helicopter or are you calling for a plane this time?” His voice is too warm for how Buck has treated him lately, too affectionately teasing. 

“Neither,” Buck smiles. “But it’s good to know I haven’t used up all my helicopter stealing points yet.” 

Tommy hums like he’s thinking about it. “I think we could do one more before they take my license away. Maybe two, if we’re stopping another pandemic. What do you think?” 

God, Buck fucking misses him. 

“Oh, definitely two. You, uh, you got a medal for stealing a helicopter, after all. You’re the best around. They have to let you keep going.” 

Tommy laughs easy and bright, like they’re right back at the beginning, like nothing bad has happened between them. Buck’s heart aches at the sound. 

“What can I do for you, Evan?”

tags under the cut

tagging: @panikkarscurls @devirnis @epiphainie @lavenderleahy @leashybebes

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listen… I kinda like the show suit a little bit and its inspired me to draw again

(first post ever on tumblr… hi hello, the @ signature is my twt)

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DUDE PLEASE HE’S UNREALLL RUAKFBKAHFKWF

THE MESH TOP???? SIR PUT EVAN BUCK BUCKLEY IN THAT ON THE SHOW LIKE OH MY GOS????

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what the french call baveuse

9-1-1 (TV) :: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard :: 1.7k :: E

"I have long believed that it is only right and appropriate that before one sleeps with someone, one should be able—if called upon to do so—to make them a proper omelet in the morning. Surely that kind of civility and selflessness would be both good manners and good for the world." Anthony Bourdain, Medium Raw

Tommy doesn’t fully wake up at first when he feels the bed shift just so, Evan getting up to presumably use the bathroom. Sleep licks at him like waves, and he blinks in and out of it a few times to only really wake up when he realizes that Evan has been gone for more than a few minutes and is banging and clanging around the kitchen.  The sight downstairs that greets him is a good one: Tommy had the wherewithal to grab last night’s briefs off the floor and pull them on, but Evan is turned toward the stove, glorious bare ass hanging out under the loose ties of a crossback apron. The last stair creaks under Tommy’s foot and then Evan is peeking over his shoulder back at him, smile blooming wide across his face.

[planetesastraea]

Sending love to everyone who is just... tired. Life is a lot, and sometimes the answer to it all is to just be still and silent for a while. Give yourself space and grace. Whether it’s decision fatigue, anxiety fatigue, information fatigue, routine fatigue, getting life back together fatigue, career fatigue, social fatigue, financial fatigue, or physical fatigue—take a moment to breathe and recharge. You deserve it.

[planetesastraea]

They look at each other like this, and they're not supposed to be together forever? Crazy...

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i love adding em dashes to a sentence i really love to em my dash #MyEmDashes

[planetesastraea]

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling

Evan had called, so Tommy had come. It was as simple as that.

He hadn't been expecting the call, not so soon after- no, he didn't want to think about that.

Well. He hadn't been expecting the call. But it had come, so here he was, walking into a coffee shop he'd never heard of, much less been to, while Evan waved him down. He certainly hadn't thought Evan would be seated at a bar in front of the window, situated so that they wouldn't even look at each other. Maybe no feelings actually meant can't stand the sight of you, despite the fact Evan had been the one to call.

Tommy slipped into the open seat and took a sip from the cup waiting for him. It was perfect.

They sat in silence for a while, watching people hurry by outside. Tommy hadn't been the one to ask for this, so he didn't want to break the calm - maybe this is all Evan had wanted, all Evan had needed. And if it was, well, Tommy would provide.

But then, after a stressed-looking woman with a triple stroller walked by for the second time, Evan spoke up. "If you were writing a book about our relationship, what would you call it?"

(read more on ao3, or under the cut)

Tommy looked over, hoping to get a read of Evan's emotions, but Evan was staring out the window. A slew of titles passed through his head. Maybe Best Thing I Ever Had. Ending This Was My Greatest Mistake. Maybe even Times with the Love of My Life, if he was feeling brave. But he wasn't. "I'm not sure. Done Too Soon, or something like that."

Evan took a long drink, still not looking at him. Then, "Do you think I'm exhausting?"

"In what context?"

That earned him a quick glance, at least, though a heartbreaking one. "So that's a yes."

Evan sounded so dejected, so small. Tommy could never live with that. "It's not a yes, it's a clarifier. Because did you tire me out? I can think of a few times." He bumped Evan's shoulder playfully, remembering it - him sprawled on the mattress, completely sated. Evan, somehow still ready for more above him, guiding him into lazy kisses while thrusting gently between his thighs.

Evan didn't seem to be remembering the same, still lost in whatever thoughts were behind this line of questioning.

"No, Evan. I don't think you're exhausting. Not at all."

Evan sat with that for a moment. Rolled his cup between his hands. When he spoke again, it was quiet. Much too quiet for his Evan. "Do you think I make everything about me?"

"No," Tommy said forcefully. He didn't hesitate. Partly because he could tell Evan needed it. But mostly because he didn't second guess for a moment. How could Evan think for even a moment that he made everything about himself? They had met while he was risking his life to save his captain. Time after time when they were together, Evan put Tommy first. And when he hadn't, it wasn't that he was putting himself first. No, it was Eddie or Chris or Bobby or Maddie or Jee or any one of his family. Rarely, if ever, Evan put himself first.

"Are you saying that just because you feel bad for me?"

"No, of course not. Evan, where is this coming from done?"

Evan drained the last of his drink instead of answering. "I'm gonna-" he pointed toward the counter over his shoulder. "You want anything?"

Tommy rested his hand on Evan's arm before he could stand. "We can get more in a minute. But first, I want to know why you're thinking these things."

Evan looked at him then, finally. Stared into his eyes until Tommy could feel himself falling into the pools of blue looking back at him, until Evan blinked and settled back on his chair, turning back to the window. Then, out of nowhere, "The Trials and Tribulations of Evan Buckley, a Tragedy in 97 Acts."

Tommy felt his eyebrows furrowing, despite his best attempt to keep his face neutral. "Who said that nonsense?"

"You don't think it fits?"

"In that you've been through a lot? Yes. In that you make things about you when they're not? No."

Evan sat with that.

"Evan. You don't, and I hope you don't believe anyone who says you do. I can't think of a single time you've done so. Hell, think of how we met!"

"He said I'm making Bobby's death about me."

He? Howie or Eddie then. "Hmmm. Well, have you talked to anyone else about how they're feeling about it all? Been there to support them?"

"Huh? Of course."

"And I know Eddie has been staying at your house, so your actions certainly aren't all for yourself."

Evan shut down completely. It had been Eddie then.

"I'm sorry. I just want you to see, you're not making everything about yourself. You're giving yourself to others, like I've always known you to do. And I don't for one minute want to tell you how to live your life, but I don't think it's worth your time to spend it with people who are telling you things that are both untrue and hurtful."

Evan took a deep breath, then another. Hunched in on himself, then straightened his shoulders too much, unnaturally. Sank back into his normal posture. "I-" Stopped himself and took another breath. "I don't think I want to be friends with Eddie anymore."

Tommy stood at that, unable to stay still. He went slowly, making sure to give Evan time to protest, but nothing came. So Tommy moved behind him, hand trailing up Evan's arm as he did so Evan wouldn't mistake the action for leaving. Once there, Tommy leaned heavily against Evan, just how he knew he loved. He rested his head on his shoulder, wrapped his arms around him, hugged him as best as he could with Evan still seated at the counter.

Evan tensed, and Tommy almost backed off, but then he relaxed and grabbed Tommy's arms tightly, keeping him there. "I just don't know what to do." In their reflection, Evan looked an inch from crying. "He means so much to me, and god- Chris, I can't leave him, I just-" His head dropped.

Tommy gave him a minute, letting them breathe together while he held him tight. Then, after loosening his grip, he said, "Evan, look at me." He waited until Evan turned around. "You don't need to figure everything out right now."

Evan gave a little laugh. "They're staying with me. It's not like I can get away from it."

"That's not what I meant." He took Evan's face in his hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his cheekbone. "We're here, not there, and you can take a moment to breathe. We can get more coffee if you really want to, and if not let's get something to eat. Then let's go sit in that open corner booth so we can look at each other, and we can sort this out. Or, if now's not the right time, we can talk about literally anything else. That sound okay?"

Evan nodded, keeping his gaze on Tommy's eyes while he did.

"Okay. Why don't you go grab the booth, and I'll go order. Did you want more coffee? Maybe tea?"

Evan swallowed once, twice, before he rasped, "Tea sounds good."

"Okay. I'll be right over." Tommy gave in to his impulses and pressed a kiss into Evan's hair. "We'll figure this out, together."

[planetesastraea]

here’s a little 7x05 post-coffee date missing scene i couldn’t stop thinking about—you can guess which lines were my starting point in the comments! (references to buck’s Tendencies 😏 but nothing more on-screen than smoochin’ and a few handsy what-ifs, for the sweet stuff)

one goodbye kiss, a shy little thing on the corner of his mouth, turns to two, to three, to five, and without really realizing it, buck has tommy pressed against the rear passenger door of the jeep—a far cry from the fumbling trepidation he felt on their failed first date just a few nights ago. this is not the place for this, his burgeoning craving for coarse stubble against his lips and fingertips, and for the hands that dwarf his own (how?) to shed their shyness by the second and grab at his waist. they’re in a very public parking lot, and even though it’s their day off, buck has somewhere he needs to be. he huffs out a laugh and dives back in, obligations be damned, muffling what might be an oh my god from tommy into a soft grunt that he can feel through both of their chests.

“ev—evan,” tommy manages, sliding one of his strong, absolutely giant hands up buck’s back, from his waist to the back of his head, then gently along the line of his jaw. “don’t you—”

“don’t care,” buck retorts, managing to inhale tommy’s neck in through his nose and mouth at the same time. how did he not know, until now? he presses closer, and it takes a second for the high-pitched teakettle noise he’s hearing to register as a sound he’s making. tommy’s hand slides up into his hair, and as far as buck can tell, it feels like he can’t decide if he wants to pull buck back from his neck, or tuck him in closer. it’s—thrilling, witnessing this minute tremor in tommy’s control, because of, of evan.

(he doesn’t know if he wants to get used to that, to how good it sounds for tommy to say his name, or if he never wants to get used to it, so it never stops feeling special when he hears it.)

but, as it turns out, the decision is made for them, by the vibration of buck’s phone in his pocket, and the screeching horror movie sounds of the alarm tone that chim had picked out for this specific purpose. he barely draws back from tommy, staying close as he sticks his hand into the pocket of his jeans to pull out the offending device and silence the reminder alarm.

”shit,” tommy hisses, breathless, and buck has to agree, once reality rushes in: how close he is to tommy, how tommy really has nowhere to go, between buck and the unyielding vehicle behind him; how tommy’s hips hitched and stuttered slightly when the alarm went off; how Buck could put his hand back in his pocket and—

“evan,” tommy groans again as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the jeep. he sounds exasperated, but judging by the smile dancing at the corners of his mouth, the little twitch of his cupid’s bow, he’s not. “we are not getting arrested for public indecency.”

well. if tommy meant that as a deterrent, it…did not serve its intended purpose. instead, it sends a greedy thrill down buck’s spine. he isn’t quite sure what his face is doing in response, but judging from the light in tommy’s eyes, it’s doing something.

“yeah?” he asks, squaring his shoulders and settling back into his stance a bit. tommy licks his lips and buck feels his entire everything zero in on the detail. “you, uh, you aren’t into that sort of thing?”

tommy gets this dazed, glazed look on his face, a bit like his cells have gone all soft focus as his eyes draw down buck’s body and back up to his mouth. he swallows, hard. “probably not on the second date,” he rasps.

“oh, well then, is that what this is?” buck counters, draping his arms over tommy’s shoulders and around the back of his neck. “a second date?” he can feel the familiar creep of his cockiest smile in his cheeks and lips, and watches tommy smile back, almost like a reflex.

he likes that, he realizes, and realizes too that’s not the first time he’s thought that. it’s one of the first things buck noticed about him—how tommy smiles not just with his mouth (but very well with his mouth), but with his eyes, the storm of his eyes lightening playfully, and the skin around them crinkling into happy little pleats. down into his shoulders, relaxing them, and even into his hands, with a carefree fidget.

those hands that are now resting at the sides of buck’s waist, a thumb creeping absentmindedly to seek out the edge of buck’s ribcage through his shirt.

he wants far more than this parking lot can give them. from the way tommy’s other hand is flexing gently at the waistband of buck’s jeans, he thinks they might be in agreement.

tommy searches buck’s face for a moment, eyes flitting across, and from chin to brow. “it’s whatever you want it to b—”

both of them startle as tommy is interrupted by loud honking, far too close to be coincidental, and then, of course, a few short whoops of a police siren.

“aren’t you supposed to be picking your parents up at the airport?” athena calls from about seven feet away, through the open window of her cruiser. “not making out with—oh hey, tommy!”

buck is frozen in place, but he can feel tommy shift nervously as he gives a goofy little wave. “hi, mrs. bob—i mean, hello, mrs. nash. sergeant. sergeant grant. nash. sergeant gr—”

“stop,” she waves with good-natured impatience. “just call me athena.”

tommy nods. buck can’t help but be amused, and even a bit, well, turned on by this new fumbling side of tommy he hasn’t seen yet. tommy clears his throat. buck is jealous of his tonsils.

“yes, ma’am,” tommy finally says, a bit of pink growing across his cheekbones.

“this one’s trouble,” athena says, looking over her glasses pointedly at buck.

tommy’s hand spasms on the side of buck’s waist. “i’m—i think i might know what you mean,” he stammers, just as buck protests half-heartedly.

athena stares at the two of them for a few more seconds before nodding decisively. “you two be good, now,” she says seriously, before she smirks. “don’t do anything bobby and i wouldn’t do!”

“ok, thank you, sergeant,” tommy says, clearly confused. athena points at him. “athena,” he corrects, while buck tries not to choke on air, because, against his will, he remembers some of the things she and bobby get up to, and it’s—oh god, did he just come out to athena? by accident? but he has a plan—

athena waves out the window as the tires of the cruiser begin to crunch forward against the loose globs of rock and pitch scattered around the paved lot. “go to the airport, buck,” she says with one last wave. “good to see you, tommy.”

as athena drives away, tommy pulls buck gently so his back is resting against tommy’s front, then wraps his arms around buck’s waist. “you ok?” he murmurs against the side of buck’s neck, which quite effectively distracts buck from the spiral developing in his thoughts.

“yeah,” buck sighs as he leans back a bit and holds tommy’s arms with his own. he thinks for a moment, feeling the steadiness of tommy’s breathing in the line of his body. athena knows. athena knows, and it’s—it’s fine. it’s good, even. buck realizes that he has more anxiety about picking his parents up at the airport than he does about athena knowing, even if she found out in a way that was not according to plan. “yeah, it’s good. i’m good.”

tommy hums, gentle and amused. “so, no hot chicks this time?”

“ugh,” buck groans, tilting his head back to be better able to stare directly into the sun. “i’m never gonna live that down, am i?”

tommy laughs into buck’s neck, then gently kisses the spot before patting buck’s belly. “‘fraid not.”

“yeah, that figures,” buck grumbles.

“what time do you need to leave for the airport?”

“probably seven minutes ago.”

“evan!”

even exasperated, buck loves hearing how tommy says his name. he turns around to face tommy, even though that means he’ll have to break the hold.

“thank you for—for—” it’s not that he doesn’t know what he’s thanking tommy for; it’s that suddenly he realizes there are many things, and if he stays to list them all, then he’ll really be late. but before he can scramble too much about it, tommy smiles softly, and says, “of course,” in that way of his that buck is realizing is just—how he is.

of course.

buck’s never had such a soft, kind, generous of course before.

“call me?” tommy interrupts buck’s thoughts gently, smiling almost…hopefully, if buck had to put a name to it.

“yeah?” he can’t quite believe his luck.

“yeah,” tommy nods. “if you want.”

it probably doesn’t make much sense, how buck breathes “please” in response, but it earns him one last gently-seeking kiss before tommy pulls away, nudging buck’s hip gently.

“go get those parents,” he says, stepping back, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

buck gulps nervously, and nods. he fishes the jeep’s keys out of his pocket. “they’ve got a wedding to run,” he agrees.

a smile twitches at the corner of tommy’s mouth. buck hasn’t told him much yet, about his parents, about anything, but he knows the nervousness and residual everything probably comes through anyway, even in a few short sentences about picking them up at the airport.

buck knows he needs to get a move on. he’s just not sure how to leave. or if he even wants to.

“i’ll—i’ll see you at the bachelor party?”

buck’s phone shrieks again, the second backup alarm he had set making itself known. he fumbles with the phone, just managing to turn off the alarm, when he feels tommy press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“of course,” tommy says again, and—what are the chances buck could get him to say that for the rest of their lives?

“good, that’s—that’s good,” buck replies around the grin he can’t hold back. it’s probably too much. it’s definitely too much. but it’s so good.

three and a half more goodbye kisses later, buck is about to turn the jeep out of the parking lot when he loses the battle with his willpower and glances up to the rearview mirror.

and it’s as if tommy, who’s standing next to his own truck in the lot, knows buck has chosen that moment to look back. he gives a little wave, and smiles a little bigger, and buck has to squeeze his eyes closed and take a deep breath for a moment to compose himself before he merges into traffic, so he’s not carried away by butterflies.

just—wow.

he was right, earlier, so right, when he told tommy he wasn’t sure what he was ready for, but he was ready for something, and he thought that something could be with tommy.

he—he wants it to be with tommy.

he hopes it’s with tommy.

even if that something is being late to pick his parents up at LAX.

[planetesastraea]

What the flock?! such smart names!

Science should let more cartoonists name things. That how we got the thagomizer and the Rube Goldberg machines. Anyways! SHERLOCK CROWMES!!!!!

Check out my stuff!

✧Read Namesake✧ ✧Read Crow Time✧ ✧Store✧ ✧Patreon✧

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just a heads up to my fellow writers out there that AO3 is currently fighting off bots commenting on people’s works to tell them that AO3 will delete their fics “due to the works being deprecated”, and the deletion will affect their accounts unless the authors delete the fics themselves first. IT IS A SCAM. AO3 will NOT delete your works. please do NOT fall for these bots!

I’ve been told the reason why these bots are doing this is due to copyright infringement issue where they’re trying to steal your works (possibly to train AI but this is just a guess) ‼️‼️‼️and once you deleted your fics, it will be either very difficult or impossible for you to claim ownership of your own fics when they were already deleted.‼️‼️‼️

a reminder that AO3 will never contact you through your comments section (in case they claim to be one of the moderators). AO3 will only contact you through your email address which you use to register your account, and it will be from AO3’s official handle. not some sketchy ass @

so if you get a comment telling you you should “delete your works to protect your account because AO3 is doing blah blah blah” report that comment. don’t delete your works.

PLEASE DO NOT FALL FOR THESE SCAM.

AO3 IS NOT DELETING WORKS.

DO NOT DELETE YOUR WORKS JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE CLAIMS THEY KNOW SOMETHING.

[planetesastraea]

I hope Murderbot gets more seasons. It'll be fascinating to see how they try to adapt the rest of the series. Most of Artificial Condition is just SecUnit and ART watching TV and/or arguing, and then a third of Rogue Protocol is SecUnit hiding in corners and stuffing itself into lockers while it texts some robot somewhere. Exit Strategy is a relatively easy one except how the FUCK are they going to show that killware attack scene? What a challenge holy shit.

[planetesastraea]

greta thunberg, liam cunningham, rima hassan, and everyone else on that ship, thank you, and i hope you succeed. i really hope you succeed. you know what you are risking, and i wish for you to come back safely, having done what you set out to do.

[planetesastraea]

Buck: *Speaks* Bobby : 👀😒🤨