#Tsunami watch

[tsunami-watch]

Outrunning Karma

Main Story: 1 

Summary: V meets Nathan, the beginning of our adventure. 

Ships: (Nathan Bateman x F!V!Reader) 

Word count: 1767

“This could be big for you, don’t fuck it up.” Rogue’s warning rang in V’s mind as she entered the conference room.

The room was monochromatic with minimalist decor, nothing really clueing her in to who this “Nathan Bateman” guy was. No personal effects or awards, just some plant that looked fake in the corner and a geometric table with two chairs. She scans the room, finding nothing of note, just a security panel and a thermostat. She shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs, tapping the table under her fingers. She had gotten from Rouge was that this guy was “Unlike any other corpo.” and that could mean anything. She sighs and leans back in her chair as she looks up at the paneled ceiling, after a brief moment of pretending to play tic-tac-toe with its gridded pattern she’s startled by a low voice.

“Anything interesting up there?” She jumps slightly and turns quickly in her seat about to curse out whoever scared her when she’s face to face with him. She’s surprised by  the man in front of her, not a scrap of visible chrome on him. She starts up her scanner for a habitual scan, but before she can even get a glance at the info, he vanishes from her field of view in the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of wind whipping across her face from the movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan’s voice comes from around the corner. 

V instinctively flexes, Mantis blades springing into action, she takes a defensive stance, anticipating the worst.

“Woah, chill honey. Not gonna hurt you.” Before she could even react, her blades retracted, plates shuffling and closing back to their inactive state.

“What the- How did…?” She felt significantly less chill. 

“So, can we talk or are we gonna keep this back and forth going for a while longer?” Nathan asks. 

“I’m happy to talk, I don’t know why you vanished in the first place.” She stands up straight again and leans on the table, Nathan comes back around the corner.

“Trust me, you don’t want to randomly scan me like that, just might end up another fried corpse in a trash heap if you’re not careful.” Nathan stands in front of her and relaxes slightly. “Now go ahead.” She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask anything further as she proceeds to scan him. As she's skimming over his NCPD file she's surprised to see his middle name vanish from the file in real time, glancing back at him it appeared he had been following along her reading. 

"Much better." He mutters

"Hamlet? Really?" She chuckles. 

"We don't talk about it." He crosses his arms with a sigh.

“Noted.” She looks around the room again, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, what's the deal? You’re definitely not like the other CEOs of megacorps, pretty sure most of them don’t even look the mercs who do their dirty work in the eye, much less invite them into their freakishly minimalist space.” Nathan laughs.

“I guess you could say I’m not like the others.” He walks past her and sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. She sits down, her eyes still trained on him. Rogue wasn’t wrong, he was different from any other corpo she’d ever met, Ditching the expensive restricting suits for a soft waffle-knit white sweater and some dark slacks, his head shaved, and a full well groomed beard. After a longer examination she could tell he didn’t have any optic enhancements either, somehow wiring the typical display functions of cyberoptics to the silver wireframe glasses perched upon his nose, leaving his eyes a natural deep brown, which was almost unnerving, she was so used to the bright artificial colors and slight glow that most had, seeing pure natural eyes, she understood what all those old poets meant by the eyes being the windows to the soul. Nathan gives her a slight smirk, leaning forward in his seat with interest. “Not every day I meet someone who knows nothing about me.” 

“Sorry, don't mean to bruise your ego.” She says leaning back in her chair, keeping a comfortable distance between them. 

“No, No…I quite like it. You have no expectations, you aren’t expecting some genius bullshit that blows your mind. It’s nice, no performance, no need to please or meet some expectation of grandeur.” Nathan also takes the time to examine her more closely. Sure, she was here to do a job for him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It's not often someone who looks like that waltzes in, toned muscle and soft skin fading into the harsh telltale lines of combat cyberware, fire in her cybernetic eyes. He blinks lazily, taking a second to refocus. “Alright, the gig should be easy enough. I just need you to get something for me, and if necessary, zero the choom who has it.” She’s slightly taken aback in his casual choice of words but nods. 

“Okay, what exactly am I looking for?” She asks, her eyebrow raised slightly. 

 “Long story short, a Braindance. I got drunk at a party and a doll got a BD of a conversation I had, where I gave up some information I shouldn’t have. I can’t have that getting around, top secret shit.” She watches Nathan talk, as much as she was listening to the details of the gig she was amused by the way he talked with his hands, the expressions he makes, she couldn’t help but feel at ease with him, not something she had felt so easily with anyone in a while. Nathan had picked up on that feeling, her body language going from tense and on edge to seemingly relaxed. Her shoulders lowered, her head tilted to the side a bit, ankles crossed in front of her. She had let her guard down just a little bit, the corners of his lips turning up slightly in a smile. “It should be simple, get the BD, by whatever means necessary.”

“Seems easy enough, who am I looking for?” 

It was jarring to have information transferred without seeing the familiar blue flash from the optics of the transmitter. “Amethyst Bronte.” Her NCPD database file didn’t have anything notable to speak of besides a tie to The Mox, which was not unusual for a doll. 

“Sure it’s her? She seems remarkably…unremarkable in her records for an NC citizen.” V did another once over of the squeaky clean file. “Only offense was trespassing…to feed stray cats on private property. This upstanding citizen if NC’s ever known one, snagged a BD of you giving up classified info? Choom-”

Nathan quirked a brow at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Another tab appeared in V’s view, the ice blue backdrop and text looking oddly familiar, as she skimmed through the extensive file including images, video, and audio attached that did not seem like they were recorded with the subjects’ knowledge. This file painted a very different picture of Amethyst, a data broker who sold information to corps and gangs alike for the highest offer, the file even included insights into her personal life, broken family, little to no friends to speak of, just trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. “Thought you’d know better by now than to judge a BD by its title, choom.”

“Where- The fuck? How did you even get this much information? I know the place this was taken, there’s no cameras-” He silently stared, waiting patiently as realization dawned upon V. “No, no, they’re real? Those fucking, conspiracy theories about Tsunami?”

“Tsunami Watch.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair, expression only describable as with the pride and arrogance of a man who thought himself to be God. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from other corpos after all. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about all that, just enjoy the extra deets.” Nathan waves dismissively, she doesn't know how to feel about the sharp contrasts of emotion he’s made her feel in the short timespan she’s known him. She shakes it off with a hesitant nod, she needs to focus on the job, get through this and get home. That's what matters. 

“Sounds good, I’ll keep in touch.” V says calmly as she stands up and gets ready to go.

“Oh and V, be careful. You never know who's watching.” 

~ 

It took over a day to track down this Amethyst character even with the additional deets provided, despite having her life in a neat file she posed more of a challenge than V initially expected. When V finally found her, it was in amongst the pounding beats and sweaty bodies of the most popular club in Night City, Riot. As she entered the establishment she was greeted by the familiar sound and sight of Johnny’s engram flickering into existence, leaning against one of the lobby’s brutalist concrete walls.

“You should try taking me somewhere this nice sometime V.” He snarked with his usual tone of arrogance-riddled sarcasm. V rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing past as he flickered out of view. She decided to observe Amethyst from afar, having spotted her bright purple streaked hair through the crowd, chatting with someone as she moved to the beat. Calculating her next move, V carefully moved to the bar flagging down the bartender, watching out of the corner of her eye as Amethyst approached the opposite end of the bar. Perfect timing. 

“A shot of house tequila, neat, and whatever she’s drinking.” She said tilting her head in the direction of the other woman. The bartender silently nods in acknowledgement, pouring and setting the drink in front of her with the flourish of practiced efficiency before turning to get Amethyst's order. V knocks back the shot, letting the familiar feeling of the burning amber liquid ignite upon her tongue as it slides down her throat. It was only a moment before Amethyst approached, holding her own drink of a dreamy pink and purple hue.

“Thank you for the drink Miss V, I think I have something you’re looking for.” She smiled as she slid what looked to be a metallic cigarette case across the table, motioning for V to open it. V cocks an eyebrow at her before cautiously popping the case open to find a datastick and a handwritten note, a mix of shock and irritation crossing her face as she reads the note.

“You passed. Congrats. -N”

~

Masterlist

Credit: @winniethewife @burymesanti

[arrimorr]

Whatever the hell Bill and Ford have going on in the books is so funny to me because, like, we have Journal 3 where Ford spends some time one-sidedly pinning over that asshole and the Book of Bill has Bill one-sidedly moping over Ford AND IN ANY OTHER, NORMAL SITUATION that would make this weird clusterfuck of a relationship mutual but somehow it still always stays one sided, if you get what I mean

[a-deep-ocean-of-secrets]

Home Is Where I Want to Be (But I Guess I'm Already There)

Summary:

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Read below or on AO3 (3.8k words)

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Those first few giddy weeks and months (like bubbly champagne buzzing through his veins every time he saw Tommy’s smile, kissed Tommy’s full lips, found himself tangled in Tommy’s bed sheets) of staying over in his boyfriend's cozy, Venice bungalow have him living almost exclusively out of his trusty duffle bag. Which isn't a big deal. He's used to lugging that ratty thing back and forth from the firehouse to his apartment. 

Can it be annoying sometimes? Sure. His clothes are constantly wrinkled (which majorly sucks when he's trying to dress to impress on date nights) and he's always forgetting or running out of one toiletry or another. If it’s not his deodorant then it’s his mouthwash. If it’s not his aftershave then it’s his moisturizer. Minor inconveniences, really, but worth it every time to wake up in Tommy's king-sized bed with Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him and Tommy's hot breath on the back of his neck.  

It doesn't take long for that to change. Like a seed beginning to take root, Tommy, as he’s done since the very beginning, makes room for Buck in his life. Just as he opened his helicopter to Buck and his friends and flew them headfirst into a raging hurricane on nothing more than an outlandish hunch. The same way he took time out of his busy schedule to grant Buck a private tour of Harbor Station and answered all his jumbled questions as Buck nipped at his heels like an overeager golden retriever, tail wagging a mile a minute, wanting nothing more than to be closerclosercloser to the cool guy with a megawatt grin, who called him ‘Evan’ and had his heart skipping a beat even if he couldn’t identify the why of it all at the time.  

So it’s not a surprise at all when he carves out precious space in his closet and lets Buck's colorful and patterned button-ups and polos blend in with Tommy's neutral henleys and shackets. They’re two big guys with a penchant for working out, so their wide array of tank tops, sweatpants, and basketball shorts become indistinguishable from each other. Their LAFD-issued shirts are so interwoven that they've given up trying to tell them apart and frequently go to work wearing the other's name branded on their backs, much to their coworkers’ loud and endless amusement. 

Buck’s grapefruit shampoo and citrus body wash relocate to the shower niche alongside Tommy's own sandalwood and frankincense-scented products. On the vanity, Buck's red toothbrush is a companion to Tommy's green one. 

All these minute modifications to Tommy’s home are simple and understandable ripple effects of Buck regularly spending a few nights a week there. 

The offshoots of that single seed deepen into winding vines without Buck even noticing. 

First, it's Buck's lucky set of boxing gloves hanging innocently alongside Tommy's Muay Thai gear in the garage. After a frustrating and tedious shift, he enjoys nothing more than a few vigorous rounds with Tommy’s punching bag. Then, Buck's large and varied assortment of books (ranging from biographies on famous figures such as Marie Curie to The Book of 10,000 Incredible Facts to the new YA fantasy series that is all the rage among Christopher and his friends) slowly but steadily find a home among Tommy's WWI & II aviation history collection on the shelves of the reclaimed redwood bookcase Tommy crafted by hand. 

His favorite cast iron skillet and Instant Pot take up permanent residence in Tommy's kitchen, alongside his garlic press and waffle maker. His 'Buck Off' coffee mug (a gag gift from the 118) is always ready to go for lavender and daffodil-colored mornings spent on Tommy's front porch overlooking the canal as kayaks and paddle boards drift by in the early morning light. The sinfully soft, ocean blue afghan Carla knitted for him during the pandemic is draped over the back of Tommy's unfairly comfortable sectional. Christopher’s US History textbook is lying open on the coffee table, left behind after a pizza and study session. The newest season of The Bachelor (the combined forces of Maddie, Chimney, and Josh got him hooked. What can he say? He loves love.) is TiVoed on Tommy's flatscreen TV. His Jeep has its own designated spot next to Tommy's ’71 Bronco. 

The roots of their budding relationship grow deeper and extend farther than the eye can see. 

Buck's most cherished brand of coffee is readily available in the kitchen cabinets. His all-time favorite blend just so happens to be named The Beast. A fun fact that never fails to stop him from leering at Tommy and waggling his eyebrows every time he brews a cup. His favorite cereal is stocked in the cupboards and his favorite yogurt is in the fridge. The same fridge that is currently plastered with Jee-Yun's vibrant crayon drawings alongside pictures of Tommy’s nieces and nephews in Chicago. A true collage of sparkly princesses and menacing dragons beside Polaroids of beaming faces on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan and sitting in the stands of Wrigley Field with messy hotdogs and giant foam fingers. 

Even food Tommy turns his perfect, aquiline nose up to but Buck loves (like quinoa and chirimoya) are now staples in his pantry. His most treasured cookbook, battered with stained, dog-eared pages with the margins filled in with his own corrections in his scratchy scrawl, holds a place of honor on Tommy's countertop on a wooden stand Tommy scrounged up at the local flea market. 

He has to rack his brain to remember the last time he spent a night at the loft. The last time he had been there, to pick up some clothes from his rapidly depleting wardrobe, it had looked even emptier and barer than usual with hardly any food in the fridge, the bed sheets stale and unloved, and a thin layer of dust on his kitchen island. The industrial, modern space had felt cold and clinical and nothing like a living, breathing home. 

It lacked the wooden floors Tommy had spent weeks refinishing as he lovingly sought out the perfect stain. It lacked the extra-long, extra-wide hammock hanging off Tommy’s back patio where Buck delighted in taking the occasional catnap on sunny afternoons. The loft hadn't inspired even a fraction of the warmth that Tommy's home did every time he walked through the door with the key Tommy had given him three months in, dangling from a helicopter keychain that made him grin like a dope whenever he pulled it free from his pocket. 

Buck doesn't realize any of these very important and essential truths until one morning when he nearly trips over his running shoe that was lying discarded by the front door. At the sound of his clumsy stumble, Baron, Tommy's five-year-old Shepkita ("That's not a word, Evan. He's an Akita Shepherd.”), raises his head from where he's lounging on his overstuffed dog bed, exhausted from their early morning run at the beach. 

At the sight of Buck being Buck, Baron lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and puts his head back down to resume his beauty sleep. Kicking the offending sneaker out of the way, Buck stops dead center in the living room, hands on his hips and wearing Tommy’s faded USC sweater that’s been worn soft from years of washings and smells tantalizingly of Tommy’s laundry detergent, and can't help but survey the terrain and take stock of how much of himself is residing in Tommy's space. He's visible in every nook and cranny. 

He has completely, and totally, infiltrated Tommy's home. 

The thought instantly fills him with indescribable joy that blossoms like radiant sunflowers inside his chest. For all of ten seconds. He then remembers the last time he unknowingly moved in with someone and the heartbreaking consequences of it.

Abby.  

She had been so terribly sad and broken in the wake of her mother's death. It had been as easy as breathing for Buck to step up, to prove himself, to try and do everything in his power to fix her with his love and devotion. So he stayed with her day and night, and his things had steadily trickled into her apartment. It had been easier back then to do, he had had so little to his name other than the Jeep and his clothes. And he can't lie, it was a relief to get out of that glorified frat house filled with Connor and the others. 

It had seemed natural to move in with Abby (even if she had been unaware of it). He thought they were building something special together, something made to last. He hadn't known at the time that while he saw a new beginning, she saw entrapment. For her, she would be trading one role of caretaker for another. Going from a sick mother to a young punk (at 26, he had still been a kid) who was stumbling like a newborn giraffe through his first serious relationship. Had she stayed, there would have been so much handholding on her part as he continued to figure out all the volatile nuances of life and commitment. And that hadn't been fair of him to ask that of her when she was so vulnerable, he understands that now with valuable time and distance. She had been so lost that the only thing she could do to find herself again was travel halfway across the world and leave him behind in the process. 

He had lived (however briefly) with Abby. He was living with Tommy, even if he hadn't clocked it until just now. 

And he wants it, he realizes with a jolt not unlike the bolt of lightning that had struck him. He wants to live with Tommy. He wants to wake up with him every morning and come home to him every night (demanding schedules permitting, of course). He wants their high-energy workout sessions that always turn into a different kind of workout and their sunset strolls through the canals with an enthusiastic Baron (complete with goofy selfies in front of David Hasselhoff’s house from Baywatch). He wants their weekends at the Venice Farmers' Market. He wants their monthly meetings of the LGBTIQA+ book club that Hen and Karen started and that Tommy and Buck have hosted twice now inside this very house. 

He wants Tommy. Plain and simple. He always wants Tommy. Tommy, who has the world’s worst fake mouth static, but jokingly brags all the same about winning a medal for it. Tommy, who acts big and tough on the job and up in the air, but he never fails to shed a tear whenever they watch the climax of a romantic comedy. Tommy, who always has a heating pad and massage waiting on standby for rainy days when the pain in Buck’s bum leg flares up like relentless flames. 

Tommy, who has no idea that they're living together. 

An icy sliver of fear sluices down his back at the terrifying thought that once Tommy learns they're essentially playing house with each other he might turn tail and run away, just like Abby did. Or, perhaps, even worse, he won't run, but he won't want Buck here anymore either. He can already see it in crystal clear HD: Tommy's handsome face shuttering to stone as it does when he's uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it. His blue eyes darting away and his lips thinning into a brittle line as he tells Buck that this is all moving far too fast, that maybe they should take a step back and put some space between them, and then Buck will be banished back to his sad, pathetic loft that doesn't have Tommy waiting for him in it. 

He cuts the catastrophizing off at the knees before it can spiral into something far more treacherous. Tommy, for all his flaws — he drinks orange juice straight from the carton like a Neanderthal and he doggedly believes that his directions are better than the GPS ("I spend most of my time in the air, Evan. I know all the shortcuts throughout Los Angeles County.") — isn't the kind of man who runs away from a fight when the going gets tough. He's the kind of man who digs his heels in and comes out swinging the next round. And he's been nothing but kind to Buck the entire time they've known each other. He enforces tough love when he deems fit, but it always comes from a place of kindness and gentleness. 

They love each other. And they live together. It's time Tommy knows it. 

So, screwing his courage to the sticking place (Jee-Yun loves Beauty and the Beast), Buck shuffles his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend is manning the stove and making their breakfast. In the oven, a frittata bakes away in Buck’s cast iron skillet and on the stovetop, turkey bacon sizzles as it fries. Tommy, hair curly and wet from his earlier shower, flips crispy pieces while humming along to The National playing softly in the background on the radio. 

God, Buck adores this man with everything in him. 

Tommy catches him out of the corner of his eye hovering there like a massive dweeb and flashes a dazzling smile his way. 

“Hey, babe. What was that noise I heard?” 

He can feel an embarrassed blush rapidly bloom across his cheeks until his face is as pink and splotchy as his birthmark. “Oh. That was just me. I, uh, tripped over my running shoe,” he lamely explains. 

“They can be quite the menace,” Tommy says with his usual brand of wry humor. He chuckles quietly to himself as he turns his attention back to the mouthwatering bacon. For a tempting moment, Buck just wants to forget the stunning revelation he’s had and instead stay in this blissful, domestic bubble that seems to exist whenever the two of them are alone together. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, there’s just an undeniable ease to the two of them existing in the same space, breathing the same air, hearts beating in tandem. 

But, alas, he’s a man on a mission. 

Reaching up and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, Buck thinks through his options. He’s come to learn, through many a messy trial and error, that honestly truly is the best policy. The last time he had so thoroughly ignored the elephant in the room was when he had asked Taylor to move in with him for all the wrong reasons. 

That had been a train wreck of epic proportions, even for him. He had well and truly bucked that situation up beyond repair. 

But that was then and this was now. And the only things Tommy and Taylor had in common were their initials and their partiality to cruising around LA in helicopters. His feelings for them were night and day as well. He had loved Taylor, but by the exhausting end of their relationship, he hadn’t genuinely liked her anymore as a person. They were too different, their morals too misaligned to exist harmoniously together. It isn’t like that with Tommy. He both loves and likes practically everything about his fellow firefighter, even the traits and bad habits that annoy the ever-living shit out of him. 

“So, hey, I, uh, kinda just realized something…pretty important.” 

Smooth start. And to think, before he met Tommy he had honestly had game. But something about the self-assured pilot, from the moment they met on the tarmac at Harbor and he introduced himself as Evan instead of his standard Buck, had him tripping over his tongue in both the best and worst ways. His foot-in-mouth syndrome had ruined their first date and nearly all chances he had had with Tommy, but it was that same unfiltered nature of his that had Tommy granting him another shot and scoring him as his plus one to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that never was. 

Which reminds him: he owes Tommy a dance. He files that tidbit into his mental to-do list for another day. 

Tommy looks at him with a quizzical raise of his brow as he lazily twirls the spatula in his hand. “What? Found some more facts about that jellyfish? What’s it called? The spotted—“

“Chriodectes maculatus,” Buck corrects automatically. “Or more commonly known as the spotted box jellyfish. Only the rarest jellyfish in the world, I might add.” 

The corner of Tommy’s lush lips curl up into a fond half-smile. “Yeah, that’s the one. I thought you exhausted all knowledge on it last night when we watched that documentary.” 

“In the words of Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, ‘Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite.’ So, no, I’ll never know enough about jellyfish, rare or otherwise, to exhaust myself, Thomas.” 

Tommy mouths ‘Thomas’ to himself and looks to be gearing up a quippy retort of his own when Buck realizes with tightening dread that he’s on the road to derailing this potentially monumental conversation with talk of jellyfish, of all things. Honestly, he can’t even believe himself half the time. 

Time to pivot. 

“Forget about the jellyfish. They’re not important right now.” 

Swiveling his broad-shouldered body, Tommy gives him his full attention as his eagle-eyed gaze slowly sweeps over the entirety of Buck’s 6’2” frame. Buck, for his part, staunchly fights the urge to fidget as he knows it would give him away in an instant. There’s something almost surgical in the way that Tommy, without ever saying a word, can expertly peel back all the layers of bone and marrow of Buck’s psyche down to his bleeding center where his festering insecurities and crippling self-doubt reside. 

If it were anyone else it’d feel violently invasive. But Tommy has only ever treated these undesirable parts of him with the tenderest of care, delicately stitching up invisible wounds Buck hadn’t even known existed until the moment Tommy kissed him in his kitchen and completely shook the bedrock of all his pre-conceived notions about himself. 

“Sounds serious,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound in the kitchen is the hiss of the bacon roasting away on the stove. Through the window over the sink, a beam of sunlight shines in and bathes Tommy in its golden rays. 

Buck heavily exhales a breath out between his teeth. “It is. Or, it could be. Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it, I guess.” 

“Look at what?” Tommy asks, even-keeled as ever. It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t such a damn turn-on. 

It’s now or never. 

“Look at the fact that… We kinda, almost…sorta, seem to be living with each other?” 

Tommy freezes to the spot, his eyes going wide as he blinks, coming off as a perturbed owl for a moment before he schools his features back into his usual calm facade. He looks back down at the bacon and quickly flips some pieces before they can turn into a charred mess of meat. 

Composure regained, he asks, “Was that a question or a statement?” 

He’s always lightning-quick to toss the proverbial ball back into Buck’s court. Always willing to let him take the lead in their relationship and set the parameters and boundaries. Without fail, where Buck goes Tommy follows. It had been a sweet relief in the early days of their relationship when Buck was stumbling around blind, but nine months in and Buck needs Tommy on equal footing with him. It’s the only way forward. 

“It’s, uh, a statement.” Damn. That didn’t sound convincing at all. Closing his eyes and centering himself the way Dr. Copeland taught him, he slowly takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more for good measure, opens his eyes, and looks Tommy square in the eye. “It’s a statement. We’re, for all intents and purposes, living together. And I want, no, I need to know what you think about…that.” 

Tommy’s gaze slides away and catches sight of Buck’s mug already topped off with his second cup of coffee for the day as swirling mist rises off of it. He sees Buck’s LAFD hoodie hanging off the back of one of the stools situated at the island. He spots Jee-Yun’s drawings on the fridge, giving the stainless steel appliance so much color and joy. He spies the Fokker Dr. I triplane chew toy Buck specialty ordered for Baron lying on the floor near the dining table. 

Tommy’s home hasn’t just been Tommy’s home in quite some time. 

He spots every single change that Buck has brought into his house with his very presence, and he gathers them to him like they’re the most precious of jewels. He turns to Buck and smiles at him. 

It nearly stops Buck’s heart for a moment. 

He loves all of Tommy’s smiles. He loves his smirk when he’s said something particularly snarky or deadpan. He loves the closed-mouth grin he does when Buck is batting his eyes and pouting and Tommy is steadfastly pretending he isn’t endeared by the silliness. He loves the smug curve of his lips when Tommy moves just right inside of him, hitting that elusive, perfect spot that has him seeing stars and clutching Tommy tighter to him until he can’t tell one limb from another. 

But this, this is his favorite Tommy smile by a far-flung mile. 

It is simply radiant. His smile is wide and open, with his straight, white teeth brilliantly on display. It stretches broadly across his rugged face, exposing his deep-set dimples on either side of his ample mouth. His nose adorably scrunches and his eyes are squinty with unbridled happiness. At the corners of his eyes, his crow’s feet spread like tiny estuaries spooling into the grooves of his tan skin. 

He looks boyish and carefree. And so very in love. 

All because of Buck. He was the cause of such boundless euphoria. No one has ever loved him the way Tommy unashamedly does. 

“What I think is,” Tommy says clearly and concisely, “I think we should make it official. What do you say, Evan? Will you move in with me?” 

Buck feels like he was socked in the gut, but only in the very best of ways. His breath is stolen from his body and he doesn’t even know if his feet are still on the ground or if he’s simply floated away with how incandescently lighthearted he feels at this very moment. 

“Y-You really mean that? You want to live together?” 

It never hurts to double-check. He does that every time with his faithful clipboard. It is truly the only way to be efficient. 

Tommy’s smile only widens further. “Evan. You’re my favorite person in the world. Of course, I want to live with you.” 

The sunflowers inside Buck’s chest come to full bloom. 

He and Tommy live together.

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[batcavescolony]

911: we're mostly fine? Need some therapy, we fight but it's ok, we're family!

911 lone Star: This show started with all but one firefighter dying and people haven't stopped dying since. It's only pain. everyone gets their houses blown up! But we're also a family!

[hereforthe911buds]

Buddie shippers be like "this is my favorite episode ☺️" and it's the most traumatic, heartbreaking episode there is

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Buck and Chris are gonna be in danger together - I’m calling it now.

That line is foreshadowing and loaded af…

[nerdy-frog98]

I’ve gotten teary eyed a couple times during this show, but I am SOBBING rn. Buck trying to explain to Eddie how he lost Christopher and Eddie looking heartbroken- then Christopher appears with the lady who’s like “Are you Buck?” 😭😭😭

AND AT THE END OF THE EPISODE, EDDIE DROPS CHRISTOPHER OFF AGAIN. The TRUST, the amount of love and forgiveness and 😭😭 I am not okay!!

These last two episodes were genuinely the best of the entire show so far. I don’t want to move onnnn

[galaxyseclipse]

it's here! I can share what I made for @alternazine

go look if you haven't yet

my assignment was the stage "Octohoppers Don't Have a Sense of Humor(and They Hate Puns!)"

commissions

[ssseashell]

guys last night i dreamed of a newtmas jurassic world au 😭😭😭😭 i loved it

[tsunami-watch]

Name: Nathan Hamlet Bateman

Age: 30

Occupation/Association: Founder and CEO of BlueBook | Corporate

Status: Alive

Short Bio/Backstory:  

Nathan was born and raised in Night City, Grew up with a mix of corpo and street influences. He was always very intelligent and is one of the few people in Night City to have an education. After creating BlueBook and quickly surpassing, and absorbing, Tsunami Defense Systems, he found himself a very popular name, and yet he wasn't nearly as well known as some of the other leaders in the industry, he uses his anonymity to his advantage, Keeping very little of his personal life out there, and keeping himself a mystery to the public, preferring to let others speak publicly for the company.

He has very minimal cyberware, practically a ‘ganic, only a cyberdeck and sandy both developed/altered by himself. Typical cyberoptic functions are wired to his glasses, (rightfully) does not believe in such a thing as bulletproof software security but still has an impressive array of protections for himself such as Anti-Personnel Black ICE. 

some wonder if his reluctance to be known in the city is really for the best, only those closest to him know him as he is. many assume he is a narcissistic, self focused man with a god complex, is that all an act or is he just as self centered as the other corpos? only time will tell.

Iconic Weapon/Item: Deus Ex Machina (Cyberdeck): if you have a good relationship with him and run a netrunner build (high Intelligence attribute), he’ll make you a deck, same model as his own. Iconic modifier: Reduces/Eliminates enemy quickhack resistance, preinstalled with his custom Anti-Personnel Black ICE that automatically consumes a certain amount of RAM to inflict lethal damage on enemy netrunners attempting to quickhack V.

Masterlist:

[laneofpennies]

Every time 911 is trending I always check the tag like did those gay firefighters kiss yet? are ya winning son?

[poughkeepsies]

sorry it just occurred to me that buck is aware of what's happening around him in the coma and he's probably gonna watch christopher beg him to not leave at his bedside and it's gonna be the first time since they met that christopher is in distress and buck can't comfort him

[dangerpronebuddie]

It's not gonna happen, but it would be so good (heartbreaking) for the next season opener to be water related again and Buck and Eddie get separated so instead of Buck finding Chris' glasses, he finds Eddie's St. Christopher medal. Bonus points if Chris isn't back home yet.

[moonylouwho]

y’all know that one scene/montage of madney in 6x01 that leads to them getting back together?

yeah i demand those vibes for buddie finally going canon

[honestlydarkprincess]

i still can't believe that "there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you" exists like this show ugh it gives me so many emotions