Can You? - Tumblr Posts

Hi~

Can you send me an audio of you cumming? Sorry audios of you moaning? Ssorry audios of you cum-—-? Shit i mean audios of you cumming- shitttt

Thin Red Line (bucktommy, 6x11 missing scene)

Me: I'm rewatching "In Another Life" and had a thought. What if Buck met Tommy during his coma dream?

@dadvans: RC I’m going to kill you

+

Between leaving Christopher to wander the hospital hallways like a ghost in search of Eddie for all eternity and doing absolutely nothing to stop Bobby from popping pills like they’re Flintstones vitamins, Buck’s going to single-handedly bankroll every renovation project Dr. Copeland has over the next ten years. 

He wonders what she’ll say when he tells her about this during their next session. She’ll probably just sit back thoughtfully and muse, "You say you were trapped in a world where your biological family loved you but your chosen family had no idea who you were. Tell me more about that, Evan."

It's a moot point unless he manages to get out of here, so he swings the axe up, throws a sneer in his evil doppelgänger's direction, and is about to bring it down as hard as he can when his right arm is suddenly jerked behind him like someone’s trying to pull it out of the socket. 

Startled, he whirls around, but there’s no one there. Even Bizarro Buck is gone. 

An odd pressure tugs at his fingers. For a second, he thinks there’s something wrapped around them. He looks down but he can’t see anything. He can feel it, though. He tests the tensile strength of it by bouncing his hand back and forth, and whatever it is pulls taut when his hand gets close to his body. 

It reminds him of playing tug-o-war on the playground as a kid, except instead of deliberately allowing himself to be yanked off balance so his parents could later fuss over the bloody state of his knees, he begins gathering the palpable nothing in his palm and, with a last look at the tableau of the real him lying in the hospital bed waiting to die, follows it out of the room and back down the hall. 

He comes to a stop in front of a door that looks like all the others. He must’ve missed this one, although he can’t feel dumb about it, because there’s no way in hell he would’ve guessed this was the exit. 

"Take me home," Buck murmurs, opens the door, and walks out—

—onto an outdoor patio. 

He drops his head back with a groan. "Oh, come on."

With the wicker chairs and mind-numbingly navy umbrellas, it looks like every cafe’s outdoor seating situation in the state of California, right down to the almost oppressive number of ferns in beige planters shoved in between the tables. The only difference is that the place is completely empty. 

Correction: almost empty. 

Through the crush of the basic bitch jungle, he sees a solitary man seated at one of the tables, idly sliding a to-go cup from side to side with his big hands. As he draws a little closer, he’s able to clock the guy’s deep blue flight suit and what looks like the LAFD insignia on his arm.

Everyone who’s made an appearance in this weird-ass dream has been someone he knows. Even Daniel, who died before Buck ever met him, still made something stir with some kind of primordial recognition in Buck’s marrow the second he woke up and clapped eyes on him. He'd taken in the gray hair at high temples, the same nose Buck sees every time he looks in a mirror, the confident smile, and had just known who he was.

Buck has no idea who this guy is. He’s pretty sure he’d remember someone who looked like he bench presses actual benches in the morning and rushes off to be photographed for Men’s Health by lunch. 

As Buck comes up to the edge of the table, the man looks up at him, and the light of the sun catches his eyes. For a second, Buck’s back on the pier, gazing out into a cloudless sky stretched over the sea, but there’s no inhale of the earth, no oncoming wave. Just deep, Pacific blue. A slow smile spreads across the guy’s face, which takes him from unfairly handsome to utterly striking. 

"Hey."

A shiver starts from the very bottom tip of Buck’s spine and travels upwards like ripples on the surface of a lake, spreading out into all of his limbs until he can feel the eddies lapping at even the smallest arteries. For no cogent reason he can think of, his resting heart rate picks up until he’s flirting with full-on tachycardia. Maybe he’s about to code in the real world.

"H-Hey," Buck stutters, feeling caught out. "I—sorry, I’m—I’m a little turned around here."

The man gives him a look that’s both amused and commiserating, then picks up the drink cup he’d been playing table hockey with and holds it out. There's something thin and red tied around his ring finger, but Buck can't concentrate on it for some reason. It fades completely out of view every time he tries. "Want a sip? It’s the worst coffee you’ll ever taste."

It's said around what is clearly a laugh, but Buck doesn't feel like it's at his expense, plus it's so infectious that he can’t help but crack a grin. The muscles in his back, which feel like they've been locked for days, are finally starting to relax.

“If it’s so gross, why’d you get it?” Buck asks, genuinely curious.

The guy shrugs. "I didn't."

Nodding as if that makes any kind of sense, Buck looks around to see if the ferns are hiding anyone else, but it really does seem like there's no one else here. He turns back to the man, who's watching him with that deep, placid gaze. 

It's so strange. He'd been so desperate to find a way out of here, psyching himself up for a battle he was prepared to fight to the death in, but all he wants to do right now is grab the chair across from this stranger and just… let the clock run out.

He reaches for the back of the chair closest to him, but it jerks away with a screech. 

The guy unhooks his foot from the chair leg and, staring straight into Buck's eyes, shakes his head gently. 

Buck swallows around a suddenly dry throat. Under his feet, the patio stones tremble. "D-Do I know you?"

When the man smiles this time, the corners of his eyes crinkle, digging lines that run down his cheeks. Buck thinks of the picture Jee-Yun gave him last week of a beaming sun. She'd drawn deep yellow lines coming off it. Sun rays. 

"No," the man says, his voice as warm as a crayon drawing made with unconditional love. "Not yet."

He lifts his hand and this time Buck can see the little red string tied around his finger, and the long tail of the other end of it draped over the table top, which Buck follows the trail of, heart pounding, until it comes to a stop. He looks down to find the other end is tangled around the fingers of his own right hand. 

When he looks up, shaking and exhilarated, there's a door in the middle of the patio that swings open in obvious invitation. 

The man is no longer at the table, but there are suddenly lips at his ear. "See you soon, Evan."

Before he can close his eyes and sink into the hot wash of breath over his cheek, a large hand slides up to the middle of his back and shoves—

+

Buck knows he's being an absolute creep and Eddie won't stop giving him weird looks about it, but he can't help it. The pilot who's about to steal a helicopter for them has been nothing but friendly and confident, and he's currently wiring Buck up to his headset with brisk, competent hands, and all Buck can do is stare at him like he's got tonight's winning lottery numbers. 

Tom Kinard—"Tommy, please. Tom is my father, who I hate."—looks up from where he's bent a little at the knees, trying to get the microphone adapter to hook into Buck's belt, and shoots Buck an awkward grin. 

"Is there a spider in my hair or something?"

He hadn't realized how much tension he was putting into the air until Tommy cuts through it with that. Buck ducks his head and laughs, feeling like a dumbass. "Sorry, man. It's just—do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Tommy says, all good humor.

For Men's Health, maybe, Buck almost replies, then has to clench his teeth so it doesn't slip out by accident. What a weird thought to have. With his luck, Tommy would've taken it the wrong way and then abandoned the mission altogether. But even thinking it feels like a lie. Buck's known the guy for all of five minutes but he's oddly sure Tommy wouldn't leave them in the lurch because Buck feels the need to share every dumb thought that crosses his mind. 

"All right." Tommy stands up straight and steps back, but not before he gives Buck a friendly pat on the arm. "You're good to go."

Feeling oddly bereft, Buck says nothing as Tommy steps around him to where Chimney's been not so patiently waiting for his turn. 

"Sorry about him," Chim says, jerking a head in Buck's direction. "He was struck by lightning last year and hasn't been the same since. I mean, he was always annoying, but now he's just weird."

Buck deserves an Oscar for the fake outrage in his voice when he shoots back, "The view must be great from your glass house, Mr. I'm Dressing My Kid Up As A Ceiling Fan For Halloween," because the rest of him feels like he's in a tailspin. Every atom in his body is positively screaming for some reason. It's probably because they're all going to die. That makes the most sense.

When Tommy laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

Sun rays, Buck thinks nonsensically, and tangles the headset wire around the fingers of his right hand. 

+

Now on AO3!

ALL LOOPiN PROMOTED TITLE TRACKS ( 2019 - 2021 )

“Our goal as a group has always been to build an ever changing image. We keep up with what’s trendy and ask ourselves; ‘How can we add our own spin to it? How do we make it unique [to LOOPiN]?’ And if we decide that what’s popular doesn’t suit us, we go for the opposite and make it work. That’s why rather then focusing on doing exactly what the general public might want, we want to surprise ourselves with our music and stay true to LOOPiN’s own color above anything.”

Seungsoo for LOOPiN’s ZIP Magazine interview, August 2021.

woah, art. wild