#need this man to suffer

[useless-moss]

MMMMM angsty thoughts about the adjustment period after Viggo got burned.

Adjusting to not having full vision. Fucked depth perception. Trying to grab something and missing it by an inch or so because of said fucked depth perception and feeling embarrassed even if no one saw. Missing steps when going up or down stairs and tripping.

Hypervigilance and constantly turning around to make sure nobody is sneaking up on his blind side. Adjusting to just having a blind side in general.

The pain of the burns themselves. Having to make sure the blisters don't get infected and that they just generally heal okay. FUCKING FEELING UNATTRACTIVE AND I SAY THIS BECAUSE THAT MAN WEARS EYELINER AND IS ONE OF THE MOST PUT TOGETHER VILLAINS WE HAVE. HIS FUCKING SWORD IS BEJEWELED. YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT HIS APPEARANCE.

Feeling alone! He lost his brother, half of his sight, the dragon eye, and the temporary partnership he'd managed to get with Hiccup all in one day pretty much. Bro no doubt felt like a complete FAILURE for a while afterwards. That man SUFFERED and I wanna SEE IT.

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

“If there is anyone here, who were to finish the job—put me down….i remember thinking: I hope it’s Seedling. I hope it’s Orym.”

[viperra1]

tw: blood, suicidal ideation (? probably ? it's Boone we're talking about so. yeah)

so make it one for my baby and one more for the road.

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[crengarrion]

edit: please read my additions at the bottom before reblogging this post. please do not reblog this post without also reblogging the others i've linked!

if you saw my reblog(s) of ahmed's donation posts in which he includes his crypto wallets (and my links to those posts), anyone else's posts explaining how to donate to him using those wallets, or any aid post that mentions his ability to accept cryptocurrency and decided to villianise him and accuse him of being hamas for it... you are repulsive. you are not welcome here.

people are dying. paypal and ko-fi take percentages. paypal has a monthly withdrawal limit. i'm the first to admit i know nothing about cryptocurrencies, but ahmed has said it goes directly to him without a service taking a cut. i assume there are fewer or no withdrawal limits. it is harder to track and less regulated, which, in this case, provides an additional layer of security for people being precision targeted. get over it.

anyway. donate to ahmed's ko-fi. donate to ahmed's paypal. follow ahmed @90-ghost for updates on how to help him, and check his ko-fi and tumblr posts for updates. send him a nice ask. reblog his posts depicting he and his family's life in gaza. read tumblr user neaeach (naoual sahe)'s interview with ahmed. bring hope. listen to palestinians, don't speak over them.

ahmed's reblog of his interview, with a link to it:

direct link to the interview:

edit: i don't need reblogs, but palestinians, muslims, arabs, and other people suffering directly due to zionism and islamophobia do! please reblog their posts!! @el-shab-hussein has also made a post about these accusations against ahmed, which @fairuzfan added onto. and please reblog this post with ahmed's latest ko-fi update and all the ways you can DIRECTLY donate to him! thank you

[rcmclachlan]

Heard this was the place to come if we wanted to know about pregnant Buck talking to the baby about the station tasks 🤔

@dadvans is a dirty enabler. He's also the one who came up with the idea of Buck calling the kid "probie" fyi

+

When Tommy walks into the 118, it doesn't feel quite like a homecoming, but when Bobby catches sight of him and smiles as though Tommy's presence isn't just welcome, but expected, something inside him relaxes as though it were twenty years ago and he's about to walk up the stairs to sit down for another incredible family dinner. 

"You guys get called to the thing with the Aon?" Grinning, he shakes Bobby's proffered hand as a matter of course, and part of him can't help but glow under Bobby's approving gaze.

It feels a bit like he's cheating on Captain Salazar, who took Tommy under her wing the second he got to Harbor and has given him free rein to do whatever he damn well pleases when he's in the air, but she doesn't cultivate the familial aura that cleaves to Bobby like a shadow. He likes and respects the hell out of her, but he probably wouldn't steal a helicopter and fly into a hurricane for her.

Some people were meant to be parents; Bobby Nash is definitely one of them. Tommy's working on it. 

Bobby gives a sporting but ineffective swipe at the soot smeared across his forehead with his wrist. "Normally falling space junk knocking over a skyscraper would take the cake, but since twenty million bees weren't released into the city, I'm calling it a ho-hum sort of day."

There's something severely wrong with them that the third-tallest building in LA breaking in half like a Kit Kat Bar doesn't rank above bees, but Tommy had to fly through that shit storm, so he can't disagree. The next person who says 'bee-nado' is getting thrown off the Santa Monica pier.

Speaking of. Tommy throws a quick glance at the three engines parked in their usual spots in the hopes of catching a glimpse of movement, and he's either losing his touch or never had it to begin with, because he's clocked immediately.

Bobby gives him a knowing look.

Caught, Tommy chuckles. "At the risk of sounding patronizing, how much did he overdo it?"

"Buck didn't mind being on winch and hose duty," Bobby says wryly. At Tommy's dubious look, he adds, "Okay, he did try to sneak into the thick of it once or twice, but he complained only a little when I threatened to hogtie him and chuck him in the back of the ambulance."

"Only a little? That's unlike him." Tommy can perfectly picture the mulish pout on Evan's ridiculous lips because someone forbade him from running into a building that was hanging at a 240° angle. 

"Hen may have also hinted that she'd break out The Powerpoint again if he didn't stop whining," Bobby admits. The capital letters are audible.

Tommy gives a low whistle. "That was diabolical of her."

He unfortunately hadn't been there when Hen presented You're Living For Two: A Comprehensive List of Things Buck Will Avoid for the Next 8 Months or Hen Will Have Him Committed (With A Foreword Written By Maddie Han) to Evan and the rest of the 118, but Eddie had texted Tommy throughout the whole thing like he was live tweeting a football game. At slide 40, which had five charts demonstrating the rates at which acute physical stress increased the risks of miscarriage and low birth weight, Eddie sent him a picture of Evan's cowed expression. Slide 43 ("Deli Meat A No-No"), on the other hand, got him a video of Evan in a heated argument with Hen, Howie, and Bobby about the merits of that. 

It ended when Bobby shouted, "It's not just you that you're risking, Buck! Every time you deliberately put yourself into harm's way, you're also risking my grandchild!" and Evan burst into tears and sobbed, "You can't say things like that when you're taking hot dogs away from me!" 

When Evan came home that day, he announced that mentioning The PowerPoint—and anything to do with Microsoft in general—was verboten for the next thousand years. Tommy couldn't help but quip, "It looks like you're upset about your family wanting you to carry this pregnancy safely to term. Would you like help? Yes, no, or cancel?" 

He was forced to sleep on the couch for three nights. He regrets nothing.

"Where is everyone?" The station is eerily quiet for a day spent trying to get ahead of a falling building.

"Burrito run. Buck volunteered to stay behind. He still getting carsick in traffic?"

"Let's just say we've been putting the emesis bags Howie gave us to very good use. Is he busy?" Tommy lifts the bag in his hand so Bobby can see the grinning face of the Colonel himself. "I come bearing gifts."

Bobby laughs the laugh of a man who knows firsthand that Evan's insatiable cravings for KFC's mashed potatoes are the only thing keeping the lights on at the location on W Pico Boulevard. He gestures past Tommy toward the engines. "Last I saw him, he was giving a class on proper hose maintenance."

"Appreciate it, Bobby," he says and starts heading in that direction.

"Tell him he'd better not be promoting bad coupling habits." Tommy turns around, wide-eyed, but Bobby's already got a hand up to forestall the laughter he must know is inevitable. Bobby's grimacing so hard it looks like he might severe his carotid. "I regretted it the second I said it. Do me a favor and phrase it a little better?"

"I make no promises." Snickering, Tommy turns back to the engines and swings the KFC bag cheerfully as he goes, making a mental note to mention this in the OG 118 group chat. That ought to give Howie enough ammo to last through Christmas. 

As he rounds Engine 3, he hears the susurrus of voices, which he expected, but as he gets closer he realizes it's just one voice, which he didn't. He comes to a stop right where the engine's rear strip on the storage compartment ends and ducks behind it a little to try and figure out exactly what he's looking at.

Bobby had said Evan was teaching and Tommy figured that meant he was holding court with the station's two newest recruits, but he's kneeling on the floor and carefully re-rolling a hose while he talks to an audience of precisely zero.

"Now this is called a straight roll," Evan says, voice modulated to be slow and easily understood. It's textbook perfect pacing. Tommy has no clue who it's for. Maybe he's filming a video? "I'm folding the male coupling over and then rolling it to the female coupling, which are unnecessarily gendered terms, but I wasn't in the room when they came up with the names, so."

Tommy's so distracted by how the muscles in Evan's arms strain against the sleeves of his uniform as he methodically rolls the hose that he almost misses what Evan says next.

"Now Daddy wants to do a Dutch roll, because it takes about five seconds and it's hilarious, but Grandpa Bobby would slaughter Daddy if he ever found out. Apparently letting the couplings drag on the ground is the eighth deadly sin." Evan rests back on his shins and pants a little, then pats the planetary curve of his belly with a grin. "Hope you're taking notes, probie. There will be a test."

There are two things in Tommy's life that he will never be able to forget, even if he had a full-frontal lobotomy; even if he wanted to:

The first is the way Evan's shoulders curled inwards as if bracing for a blow while he haltingly apologized about goading Tommy into fucking him after the condom ripped, about how Tommy didn't have to worry because Evan was relieving him of all responsibility, and that he didn't have any expectations because Tommy never asked for this and he hoped someday Tommy would forgive him for keeping what they'd accidentally created together. 

Tommy isn't a violent man, but sometimes he fantasizes about going back through Evan's life and beating the shit out of everyone who ever made him feel unwanted, or treated him like a consolation prize. Even in the early days of their relationship, when Tommy's respect for certain boundaries or simple acts of kindness would make Evan visibly recalibrate, Tommy had to stop himself from demanding a list of names. He has one now, and part of him would like nothing more than to start with Evan's parents and work his way down.

The second is the teary, disbelieving grin that broke across Evan's face like a sunrise when the sonographer pressed the ultrasound wand to his belly and the room filled with the jackrabbiting whup-whup-whup sound of their kid's heartbeat. Evan had looked over at him, laughed wetly at the struck-dumb expression Tommy knew he was sporting, and said, "Sounds like the Bell 206." 

When he reached out for Tommy, the fluorescent lights had glinted off the engagement band Tommy'd bought like a complete lunatic four months after Evan kissed him in the lobby of First Presbyterian. He'd kept it hidden in his toolbox until three months later, when Evan put on a brave face and tried to let him off the hook. 

But he didn't have far to go, because Tommy was already reaching back for him. The metal of the ring was warm where it pressed against his fingers. And if his heart was so full of love and wonder that he cried a little, no one commented on it. Well, Evan did when they got in Tommy's truck after their appointment and then went straight to KFC, but that was to be expected. He'd taken the ribbing like a champ. 

Watching Evan—now in the second week of his third trimester, the hem of his shirt fighting for its life where it stretches around his belly—earnestly teaching the kid still cooking inside him about proper hose care, Tommy knows he'll never forget this one either. He's pretty sure his life is going to be one unforgettable moment after another from here on out.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he walks out from behind the engine and gets a hand under Evan's elbow to help him get to his feet. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stand back and let Evan carry the hose over to its compartment and attach it to the main connection site himself. He's learned to grit his teeth and give help only when it's asked for. He has no desire to start up that argument again.

"So?" Tommy happily takes Evan into his arms while Evan happily takes the KFC bag out of his hand. "Is our kid going to graduate from the Academy or wash out completely?"

Evan grins at him. Tommy knows at least 45% of the love in his eyes is reserved for the mashed potatoes. "I'm calling it now: they're gonna be fire chief by the time they're twenty. Youngest in the entire country. What do you think, probie? You up for the challenge?"

Tommy places a hand gently on Evan's belly and immediately feels movement against his palm. Their kid hasn't given Evan a moment's peace since week 15; at any given moment, they're flipping around in there like they're doing zero-gravity training for a space mission. The familiar fluttering feeling makes his heart cramp. 

That's their kid in there. They made that.

"I think that's a yes," Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple, then hanging there for a moment, breathing him in. Breathing them in. "Love you."

"God, I love you so much, you don't even know," Evan says, cracking open a container with a pleased hum.

Tommy smiles dopily, then reality trickles in. "You're talking to the potatoes, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Evan lies through a mouthful of KFC's finest spuds.

[lokh]

(ch 40 spoilers) au where qifrey erases olruggios memories one too many times and he forgets qifrey and ONLY qifrey

sometimes using forbidden magic that no one really knows how to wield anymore comes with unintended consequences!

eventually qifrey comes upon a solution, but it will return ALL his memories to him. will he risk it...?

[sovamurka]

YEAH, THANK YOU, FORTICHE, I NEEDED MORE OF THIS

SEXY CROP TOP MUSCLES OUT EKKO LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

caterpillar? more like cu. more like cunty. cuntypil. um.

[localcryptic]

sidestep doodles for todayyy <3 putting ripley into the torment nexus

[aphemera]

shipping braime is so embarrassing because why am i giggling over jaime complimenting brienne’s eyes even though he literally insulted her a few sentences ago

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised:

[r-aindr0p]

GLORIOUS MASQUERADE FOR THE MONTH OF MY BDAY ???!! And by extension living rug yuu’s bday as well !

Finally, after 6+months he will get back his stolen uniform and even a piece of cake

[luciferscowgirl]

Making love to a mic stand in red light makes so much sense…

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Aran knows how to keep his head. He'd go as far to say one of his skills is keeping it together under pressure. Not that this situation counted as keeping it together under pressure but he needs the reminder.

Because there you are, standing in his house and cooking dinner. You've got an apron on and everything—he's almost overcome, truly. So when his younger brother comes barreling down the hallway towards him, Aran lets himself be bowled over and thoroughly winded.

"Hey, watch the roughhousing!" You call out, not looking up from your place at the stove. "I'm not takin' the blame if somethin' breaks."

Aran pads into the kitchen, ignoring the smaller boy climbing him like a jungle gym. "Thanks for this again. I know you've got yer own stuff."

You finally look up at him and you smile. "Ye should know that the money is too good to refuse."

It's true—the Ojiro's pay you at the same rate one would a professional nanny. Most of the money is being squirrelled away into a savings account so you can pay for university. Hence why you went to a cheap public high school (nearby but in the opposite direction of Inarizaki so Aran never has the chance to walk you to school).

"Is that all I am to ya? A source of income?" He places a hand over his heart, feigning being fatally wounded as he plucks his scrambling little brother of his shoulders and onto a chair.

You swat him on the shoulder. "Have ya showered yet?"

"I did at school."

"Go change then. Dinner will be ready in 'bout five."

He does so, a dutiful charge. As he descends the stairs, he can hear you singing the theme song of a children's cartoon with his brother. You sing with gusto, not technique, mimicking different voices as you go to the delight of the ten year old acting as your audience. Aran pauses—his grip on the railing tightening as he forces himself to focus, to commit these sounds to memory.

At first it was a little strange to be looked after by someone his age. But as the demands of volleyball grew, he started to look forward to hearing your voice calling out, "Welcome back!" He savors the way you ask him how his day was or how his teammates are or even if he wanted to do homework with you because, "Ya go to that fancyschmancy private school—figure you'll know how to do it." He loves his parents, but a traitorous part of him is disappointed when it's not your voice who calls out to him when he walks through the door.

Aran had once confided his feelings to Kita but the guy just shrugged as if such a thing were a forgone conclusion. A natural result of your presence being a part of his every day life.

Is it any wonder that he wants to take care of you the same way?

Aran could give you stability, if the volleyball scholarship pans out (and it should, Aran made the National Youth Team for goodness' sake). He would be a paid athlete by the ripe age of nineteen, all of his expenses covered by the university willing to throw the most money in his direction.

"Aran! Dinner's ready!"

"Comin'!"

All he's gotta do is convince you to attend the same university as him. His parents are already basically paying for your education anyway—Aran could claim it's just paying your salary forward. Or maybe even a wedding present.

"Thanks for the food!"

"Dig in, boys!"

He just needs to get around to asking you out.