"But it can never be a lapdog"
|Punky|33|she/her|
|Fangirl|Writer|Fandom lurker|
|Just another Vessel|
Expect mixed fandoms, writing, ocs, yelling into the void. Not spoiler free, but always tagged.
Tracked tag: punkythera
(Mobile header by: capriciousgentleman)
yeah hey by the way.. I have been gone for like three years in the graphic novel trenches BUT I return very briefly for fantasy graphic novel lovers:
My debut graphic novel comes out in less than two weeks and it would help me out so much if you pre-ordered it! And ordering from these stores means you get free art and signed copies!
This is a reminder for those who handmake Christmas presents that now is not too early to start. It may in fact be a good time to start if you have a lot to make/your craft takes a long time. You should maybe start it now, whether that's brainstorming or actually doing the crafts!
Every time I have seen Hadestown - on stage or in the movie theater - people gasp when Orpheus turns around. I just love how it's so old and yet everyone is still always hoping that this time
hello hi hello i heard it was torturing tommy kinard hours. he’s trapped in a hot elevator with his ex (buck) and his ex’s ex (dealers choice) for hours with nothing to do but talk about their feelings (he’d rather die) (seriously he’s literally in hell)
It has to be Taylor, doesn't it? Because they match. This is Tommy's POV, and Evan and Taylor match. They've got the eyes and the smiles and the cheeks. They look great together, they look like the heterosexual dream. Both kind (he's assuming here about Taylor) and driven and passionate about their jobs. (Tommy is making a lot of assumptions about someone he has only seen on TV, but the elevator is really hot and he's also maybe having a little break from reality, seeing Evan for the first time in a long time.)
The smiles are awkward, but it doesn't make them less gorgeous, and Tommy keeps thinking their children would never stop smiling. They would come out smiling and well adjusted, and Tommy is for some reason imagining Evan as some sort of house husband, even though Evan wouldn't like that at all, and their jobs don't exactly allow for the picture in Tommy's head, where Evan has dinner ready, when his hot wife comes home from the office, but whatever. This is the future he has imagined for Evan. He doesn't have to deal with the gay stuff, he gets to live a normal life, that maybe veers a little bit too hard into the kind of world those assholes on TV keep trying to force everyone to do, but it's easy, right? If you do what society tells you, you get rewarded, and if anyone deserves to be rewarded, it's Evan.
The two of them never sat down and discussed their exes at length, but Tommy has heard about Taylor a few times – and never the bad stuff, so surely, they could get back together. Evan introduced her as his ex, but it didn't sound like it meant anything. Evan introduced him as just Tommy, so maybe they're skipping the whole ex thing.
But Evan gets nervous and doesn't stop talking, and suddenly Evan outs himself to his ex, who doesn't look surprised at all. (I don't think you can have adventorous sex with someone and not notice certain things.) Suddenly Taylor is interested in him and sweat starts pouring down his back.
Taylor asks why they broke up and Evan explains it to her, but he explains it wrong, and Tommy is going to die here anyway, so he might as well set the record straight. Evan and Taylor are going to survive this, they're way too pretty to die. But then Evan gets upset, because he thinks Tommy is in the wrong, and OK, they're good at bickering. Fighting? Less so. The elevator is too small to contain their emotions, which, at this point, Tommy would like for the cables to break and plummet them to their deaths. It would be a novel way to go for a firefighter. Nothing is even on fire.
But then he looks at the number above the door and they're only on the fourth floor and there's no basement, so they probably wouldn't die.
Suddenly Taylor Kelly's hand is on his arm and Taylor Kelly's face tells him to breathe. Which is probably a good idea. Seems like he stopped doing that. She's a very pretty woman, no wonder Evan is into her. Not all that dissimilar to Abby, actually. With the hair and the eyes.
And Tommy isn't that. Tommy isn't a beautiful, redheaded woman with small hands and a good attitude.
When Tommy's vision clears up and the walls stop closing in, he sees Evan sitting in the opposite corner, looking upset.
”Are you OK?” Evan asks him and Tommy can't exactly be honest, can he? Tommy has aged approximately twenty years, since he walked away. Everything hurts, he doesn't remember what happiness feels like. Evan has aged in reverse, looking more beautiful than ever. He's bigger than before, which looks like a healthy mix of fat and muscle.
The kind of body kids would love. Soft for cuddles and strong enough to throw them around – nevermind the fact that Evan told him he has no desire to become a parent. Tommy had helped babysit Jee-Yun one time – only the once – and Evan had leaned into him and told him how exciting it was to hold her for the first time, and how ecstatic he was that he wasn't taking her home; that she wasn't his.
But that doesn't fit the narrative in Tommy's head, and he's managed to convince himself that half the memories of their relationship are fake anyway, and it wasn't actually as good as he remembers.
Part of him wants to be honest, since he doesn't expect to see Evan after this (whether he dies or not), but he can't tell his ex and his ex's ex that he's regretted the breakup since the moment the door to Evan's loft closed behind him. Or maybe the moment the words left his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew he didn't mean it.
”I'm fine,” Tommy says.
”Right,” Evan nods. ”Because you look fine.”
And OK, Tommy has a type, and a lot neuroses, and Evan being catty always gets him going, even now, apparently. ”I get claustrophobic.”
”No, you don't.”
”It's hot in here.”
”You're a firefighter.”
Tommy is not a patient man. He shoves down all the nicknames that would probably hurt a lot and puts on a grimace, that could maybe pass as a smile, and says, ”I'm uncomfortable. I'd like to get out of here.”
Evan calls dispatch again, but the situation hasn't changed. There are several big emergencies going on at the moment, and they're safe, so they're not currently a priority.
They sit in agonising silence for a while. Taylor is by far handling it better than the two of them. Evan is still pouty and upset, but seems to be behaving, beacuse of Taylor. As much as he's telling himself he wouldn't, the way Evan is looking at him tells him that Evan would be so far up his ass right now, if they were alone.
And maybe he longs for that, a little bit. Maybe it would be nice if Evan lost it a little bit and got demanding. But Taylor seems nice and maybe she never found out she was dating a crazy person.
Tommy misses dating a crazy person. He misses Evan like a limb. His life is so fucking boring and empty. They're too far from Harbor, but Tommy knows at least two people currently on shift, who'd go rogue if he called. It was his first thought, when no one answered the emergency button, and 911 said they were on hold, but Tommy is also a crazy person, who wouldn't mind figuring out what would happen, if he got locked in a room with Evan. Too bad his nervous system is a little bitch, who can't handle the heat.
It's so hot in the elevator, Tommy can feel his eyeballs sweating.
”It was me, OK?” Tommy blurts, when Evan won't stop pouting. ”I broke it off, because I thought you weren't fully in it.”
”I asked you to move in!” Evan explodes.
”We don't know each other! But I wanted to. I wanted to know you, Evan. I wanted to keep getting to know you.”
Evan's lip wobbles for a second, before he bites down on it. He glances at Taylor, and tucks himself more tightly into the corner. ”I wanted that, too.”
Taylor is sitting in the third corner, trying to do the math and figure out what the hell happened, because so far, it sounds pretty stupid. She asks how they met and Evan tells her about the hurricane. Tommy clocks the professional interest immediately, but she probably can't sell the story so long after the fact.
Taylor is kind to Evan, tells him she's not surprised he would like someone like Tommy. Which is a crazy thing for your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend to say, even if Evan doesn't seem to think so.
Nothing gets solved in the elevator. They talk in fits and starts, all three of them, but nothing gets off the ground. When it's finally their turn to get rescued, they're like three cats in a pillowcase.
As they get checked for heat stroke, Evan has reached peak pout. Tommy is worse off than the other two, and spends a long few minutes sitting in the ambulance, until Evan comes over and tells him, ”She dumped me, so stop looking at her like that.”
”Like what?”
”Like I'm about to get on the back of her motorcycle.”
It takes Tommy entirely too long to understand that the motorcycle isn't literal.
”I dumped you, too.”
”Yeah, but you didn't mean it,” Evan huffs. ”She did.”
Tommy's whole body is drenched in sweat and he's pretty sure he's going to pass out, if he attempts to stand up. ”I didn't mean it?” Evan is standing in the worst spot, with the sun right behind his head, and Tommy thinks he might throw up.
”No,” Evan says firmly. ”You're dumb. And mentally ill. And … And I should've called you.”
The medic passes Tommy a bottle of water, which he gulps down. He reaches out for Evan's hip and pushes him to the side, so he blocks the sun better, and Evan grabs the chance to hold his hand. His clammy, disgusting hand that has been touching the floor of an elevator for the better part of a day.
The medic hands him a second bottle, cap already off. Tommy sips this one. Maybe the hospital would be a good idea, but he's really not in the mood for it.
”Did you drive here?” Evan asks.
”I did.”
”Let me take you home? I'll make sure you don't die.”
Tommy turns to the medic and tells her, ”I'm not as old as I look.” She doesn't care.
”Come on, old man. You can complain all the way home, if you want. Or pass out. Whatever you're in the mood for.”
”And then what?”
”And then I'll corner you in your own home, where you can't escape.”
yarrow i have a completely random out of nowhere prompt from my friend yarrow:
lebron to philly. buck remembers the lakers are a thing and he reaches out:
“hey tommy I know you like the lakers I was just wondering what you think about this lebron free agency stuff?”
tommy is like “I’m actually packing my truck to move.”
Hey, Tommy, Buck types. He backspaces and then retypes it. Stupid way to start a message. Oh well. He’s always been stupid when it comes to Tommy. Heard about Lebron’s free agency and it made me think of you. (Made me think about missing my shot at signing a deal with you, he wants to say, but that’s too stupid.) What do you think about it?
Tommy bubbles him, and bubbles him, and bubbles him some more. Can I call, he finally sends.
Buck beats him to it. “Hey,” he says when Tommy picks up. “What’s going on?”
“It’s kind of funny,” Tommy says. God, Buck has missed that voice.
“What’s funny?”
“That you’re texting me now,” Tommy says. He laughs. Buck can’t be sure, but it doesn’t sound very happy. “I promised myself I would block your number, but I never did.”
“Oh,” Buck says. “But you answered.”
“I did.” Tommy’s quiet for a moment.
Buck scratches the itch on his back on the brick of the back wall of the station. The sky is darkening, a soft bruise above him. Nobody followed him outside.
“I’m going to tell you something and you’re going to feel bad,” Tommy finally says. “You’re going to take it badly and get all guilty over it.”
“Uh-oh,” Buck says.
“Don’t, okay? It’s only, like, three-quarters your fault.”
“Uh-oh,” Buck repeats, his face growing hot.
“I’m packing my truck.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. That’s not true. I think Philly.”
The heat quickly turns to ice. “Why—why Philly?”
Tommy sighs. In the background Buck hears a car door slam. “So I had a little bit of a mental breakdown last year,” he starts, and the thing is Buck knows Tommy, still, and he knows when Tommy is obfuscating the truth, and he feels like someone has slammed their fist full-force into his solar plexus.
He starts moving, his feet working without his input to steer him towards his Jeep. He needs privacy.
“I, uh, I don’t have my job anymore,” Tommy says. “My house is on the market.”
“You love your house,” Buck says.
“Sure. I love a few things,” Tommy says.
Buck picks at the leather of his steering wheel. “Like the Lakers.”
“Yeah,” Tommy says. “The Lakers. Yeah, I love the Lakers. But a lot of the things I love, they don’t… I don’t know. They don’t seem to love me the way I love them.”
“Maybe they could,” Buck says. “If they had a chance. If they could, um, if they had a little bit of time to realize how much you meant to them, and how much they loved you, even before they realized what that meant. Even when their lives were falling apart and they couldn’t focus on anything.”
Tommy snorts. “My life was falling apart, too. Still is.”
“Maybe, um, maybe the Lakers didn’t know that. But they’re realizing, now?”
“Yeah? The Lakers noticed I’m selling my house?”
“They drove past it just now.”
“Did they see me outside in my fucking ratty old shorts trying to strap this antique chair on top of my boxes?”
“Yeah, they think you need to give it a wiggle and everything will fit,” Buck says, and Tommy’s bark of laughter is a relief. “So why are you taking the chair to Philly?”
“Well, apparently the arena the Sixers play at has giant flame cannons.”
“No way,” Buck says. He puts Tommy on speaker and googles it. Sure enough: the flames come right out of the giant screens. “Wow. They probably need people who know about fire to deal with that.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Tommy says. “There’s an opening, actually. Safety lead.”
Buck drops his head against the window. “Are you applying?”
“No,” Tommy says. “I don’t know what I want to do. Not that, at least.”
“Oh,” Buck says.
“But I think I know someone with the credentials for it.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“That guy from the Lakers who thinks he loves me,” Tommy says. Even the dryness of his voice can’t hide the tender vein of emotion underneath. “I could even give him a ride, if he wanted.”
Buck stares at the Bobby Nash memorial firehouse. He stares up at the Los Angeles sky. “What kind of a breakdown?”
Tommy breathes, in and out, nice and deep. “One I’d rather explain in person,” he says.
“While driving?”
“Sure,” Tommy says. “I could do that.”
“How soon do you want to leave?”
“How soon can you get here?”
“Will you tell me about the basketball team we’re going to be rooting for?”
“If you tell me about all the weird shit that’s happened in your life, yeah.”
“Okay,” Buck says. He puts the Jeep in reverse. Nobody notices. “I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Thanks,” Tommy says. Buck hears the other thing, three implicit words. There’ll be time to talk about that, too.
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