Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think
Do me a favour and reblog this with a show you like that was cancelled after only one season. I don't mean shows that were always meant to be miniseries or shows that work perfectly well as a standalone story, or shows that might still get renewed. I mean shows that are and will forever remain unfinished. The more obscure the better.
Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.
Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.
Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.
(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)
It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.
She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.
But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.
She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.
"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.
---
She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.
Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.
Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.
He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.
"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.
Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.
"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."
Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -
He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."
She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.
"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"
Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."
"And if I hadn't asked?"
She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.
Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.
He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.
The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.
"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.
"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"
"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."
That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.
"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."
His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."
Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"
Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.
"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.
___
She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.
Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.
"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."
Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.
"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")
Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -
Love is love, and all that.
"We, uh. We've been talking about it."
Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.
"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."
It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...
It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.
Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.
Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.
Quietly losing my mind over the fact that Elon Musk has straight up orchestrated a coup of our executive branch and like....I don't even know what, if any, system we have in place to fix this. Like... He's just taken control of the money and locked out the actual appointed officials. What the fuck.
Nazis are taking over my government, and like, not even just the Nazis we fucking elected! And I'm...making hamburgers? Because somebody has to make dinner? I just feel completely unhinged.
If you're wondering, there is plenty to be done about it, and plenty being done about it already, even if it's not happening instantly in a way you can perceive.
Reblogging because this is an excellent article that both tells you about some of what's being done and breaks it down in a way that will help you understand and think about future action. Please read!
I am fucking BEGGING people to stop treating the EOs like they’re foregone conclusions because they aren’t but they fucking WILL be if people keep quote tweeting news articles and adding quotes from fucking handmaids tale!!!!!!!!! like ENOUGH of that garbage!!!!!!!!! because like I get it!!!!!! it sucks!!!!!!! It’s scary!!!!!!! It’s all extremely bad!!!!!!!!! It’s illegal and unconstitutional and racist and transphobic and xenophobic and dangerous to national security and dehumanizing and deeply deeply cruel and all the rest of it!!!!! but you need to NAME it as that and then FIGHT back against it!!!!!! And I’m SO TIRED of people saying “well we can’t, what do we even dooooooooo, it’s too haaaaaaaaaaaard” like idk, lots of things bitch!!!!!! Are there grassroots organizations in your community? Are there protests happening? Can you write your reps? Do you have money to donate anywhere? Are there places that support vulnerable communities where you can volunteer? Get the fuck out there and find a place where you can help, and if you’re not going to do that then you quite literally need to shut your fucking mouth about how we’re all doomed because although you may be happy to seal your own casket I will not be joining in, thanks!!!!!! Like GODDAMN!!!!!!!!!!
like I have straight up seen people say shit like “I can’t believe the department of education is gone 😢” and MEAN IT!!!!!!!! when it is NOT!!!!!!! it DECIDEDLY is not!!!!!!!!! AND IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE!!!!!!!
(like even putting aside that it’s actually a very unpopular position, only congress can get rid of it and that would require a supermajority aka multiple democrats would have to vote in favor, which will almost certainly not happen, and I can already hear some of y’all jamokes being like “he’s just going to do whatever he wants, you’re sooooooo dumb to think anyone can stop him, you’re so naive, democracy is dead” and like I MEAN YEAH IF WE ACT THAT WAY IT SURE AS FUCK MAKES IT MUCH EASIER FOR HIM TO DO THOSE THINGS.)
to use an example from history: like do you genuinely think the Act Up movement really thought Reagan was going to change his position on AIDS???? I doubt it!!!!!! They stood up and took action and took to the streets and made themselves seen and heard to make it that much fucking harder for people to look away from what was happening
AND AGAIN i can hear some of y’all about to be like “okay but lots of people DIED during the AIDS crisis you know, and so many people won’t survive this too!!!!!” as if that’s a reason to not fight, as if accepting defeat is somehow noble, as if the greatest way to honor people who’ve died at the hands of tyranny isn’t fighting back relentlessly against that tyranny, battered and bruised and spitting blood onto the ground and still standing back up for more
WASHINGTON—A mass protest, which grew in just over an hour from one hundred people to thousands stretching over three city blocks in downtow
This is the exact way should all be responding, like we’re mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore. As people have pointed out in the notes, a major pillar of fascism is obedience in advance. Do not fucking let them do what they’re trying to do without fighting tooth and nail against it
Just a normal fan @heartofironman - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
