#please this is haunting me
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magentasnail Ā· 2 months ago
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one thing you should know about me is that I'm a little insane
all of the new bill cipher stuff and euclydia had sparked a lot of discussions about the nature of a 2D dimension, so now I have a very strong one sided beef with anyone trying to claim that "we, as 3D beings, can only see/perceive in 2D" and as a 3D being myself I have to disagree and if I don't voice my opinions in public I will lose my mind
so welcome to "magenta's trying to explain physics without actually knowing physics to anyone who's willing to listen"
so first of all, one major key of this debate is the difference between "see" and "perceive", because that can lead to some confusion
in my opinion there are basically 3 stages to "sight" (and any other senses): 1. the information the eyes gets (our retinas?) 2. the image our brains create from interpreting that information 3. us comprehending what we see
I personally think of "seeing" as at least level 2, but for the sake of this argument let's refer to seeing as level 1 and perception as 2 and 3 (separating them to perception and comprehension doesn't add much to the discussion) however I still think vision encapsulate the entire thing, so keep that in mind
if that's the case, I do understand why people claim that we can only "see" in 2D, because in a technical sense: one eye can only see a flat image
for example, if we have these 2 balls in front of us in a 3D space, we wont really be able to tell anything about their distance and size with just one eye
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HOWEVER, and that's the thing I'm mainly getting at: we do have the ability to tell size and distance in real life! by this great thing calls "depth perception"
now this is not really a concept I can explain with images since they are inherently flat, but you probably know it already just think 3D glasses, VR, or even just look around in your room! our two eyes + our brain gives us the ability to tell the distance of things from us! you can theoretically map the objects around you on a 3D grid just from looking at them, and if that's not 3D vision and perception idk what is
well, actually, I did see a thing being argued that "3D vision means seeing all sides of an object + inside of it, which is what 4D creatures will see" so lets think about that for a second
this argument stems from the way we interact with the 2nd dimension
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as all the flatlands lovers here know, when we look at a world of 2D creatures, we are able to see all of their sides, and their inside, so supposedly a 4D creature would be able to do the same for us
but that's where things gets interesting, so let's go deeper!
this usually comes up in order to say "this ability to see around and inside of an object defines what 2D vision is, and thus only 3D being can see 2D, while 2D beings can only see 1D" however, I don't think it has to do with sight at all! but rather with point of view and existing in a higher dimensional plane !
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the special thing about us really is our ability to move on the Z axis and separate ourselves from the 2D plane, and thus get a fuller view! so this doesn't have anything to do with us "being limited to 2D" but rather with us being 3D creatures in a 3D world and 3D perception!!! so supposedly, a 4D creature would be in the same situation, having 3D retinas and an overall 4D vision and perception!
if we were to be on the flat plain along the other shapes, our vision isn't going to serve us much better than it does for the 2D creatures, the only additional thing we will be able to see is the Z axis, which isn't really relevant to 2D beings
so now raises the question: can 2D creatures see in 2D? don't they only see 1D? ( - a line ?)
I'm going to jump through some loops here so I need you to hold my hand and bare with me
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lets say we have this triangular fella with one eye, the light information they are getting is linear, so basically a line (which is represented on the right)
now this is where I'm making a bit of a leap: will their vision have 2D depth? like we have?
think for a second of the way we see, technically, even the flat image our retinas see is based in some 3D: specifically, objects appear smaller as they are far away, lines wrap into a vanishing point in the horizon, stuff like that!
the 3D world around us is getting compressed into a flat image with perspective, which we can later decipher back into 3D using both our eyes !
and as you might have noticed, a similar thing is happening in our triangle friend's vision! even though both circles are the same size, the light blue circle is closer, and thus takes a much larger portion of their field of view!
unfortunately, as we have established before, while this is a result of depth, this isn't equivalent to depth perception, as our poor triangle cant tell anything about the distance of the circles! is that circle close to him? is that a giant far circle? who knows!
this is where having 2 eyes might help!
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our other friend, the 2 eyed triangle, should in theory be able to have depth perception similarly to us, and thus perceive 2D visually!!
how specifically their brain interprets that information is beyond me, the changes in distance, size and angles/curves might be visible as color changes or even width
it's important to remember that since there's no defined "width" to the "line" of their vision, it's actually filling their entire field of view and perception of sight, so it's not like it's a line within a black void but more of the definition of everything, so when compared to our perception of sight it's something more like this:
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and if you want to incorporate the idea of closer objects appearing larger in their perception, it might be something like this (for a bunch of random circles in different distances):
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the main thing is, when we are trying to say 2D creatures can only see 1D, it's usually just because we think of "2D vision" as a matter of height and width, when it can actually just be depth and width, both of these are valid ways of representing 2 dimensions! because there are 2 dimensions represented ! it's just a matter of point of view!!
I don't think our ability to see 2D objects from all their sides at once is defining what counts as 2D vision, it's just a way to see it from further away, and without relaying on perspective I guess?
so I guess that's the thing really, the core of this discussion: does perspective count? I mean perspective is what makes the axis that's "forwards" accessible, distorting the size to substitute distance. supposedly, when we step back to look to look at a 2D world, we don't need any of that distortion, and we can easily see both the accurate size and the distance of objects, so does that mean our vision is superior? that it's actually true 2D?
in my opinion, the distortion of perspective doesn't take away from our vision, it's just a way to represent the forward axis! no matter how many dimensions you have, forwards is always the first dimension to exist, and while you are looking straight ahead at one dimension lower than you are, your over all vision consists of a stack of "straight ahead views" along the additional axis, which I consider as giving it it's missing dimension!!
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trying to argue we can't perceive the world in the dimension we exist in doesn't make sense to me, we are 3D beings in a 3D world which we intuitively interact with! just like we can move around the 3D space and hear the direction sounds are coming from, I don't understand why vision should be limited to any less, and definitely not perception!
well that was fun! this is basically just a matter of semantics, but thinking and trying to analyze vision and different dimensions was just really interesting! and I hope it was interesting to read for you dear one person who read this! have a candy! šŸ¬ hopefully now that I release these thoughts into the world they won't hurt me as much !! time to dissolve i guess !
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ir-dr Ā· 5 months ago
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Day 3639 - 15 June 2024
"-the yellow one that doesn't appear in Mesmerizer"
.//projectTiGER
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anna-scribbles Ā· 1 year ago
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doodles from the last few months
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nipuni Ā· 1 year ago
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"All in all, not all that bad - being born I mean. Because I could hear music, and I heard Christine."
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saintaviator Ā· 8 months ago
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something something gman tommy something something gordon in stasis. you know how it is.
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kekisu Ā· 10 months ago
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get out of that dusty attic and have a sleepover with your sister idiot
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misperceived-monotreme Ā· 6 months ago
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these bitches got bad luck ions out the wazoo
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souenkun Ā· 4 months ago
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I need the pokemas anniversary to come soon so we can hopefully see volo go batshit crazy again for the second time!!!
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voidheartkisses Ā· 4 months ago
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ok so I saw this cloud formation this morning and I might be going crazy
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burnthatbridge Ā· 7 months ago
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if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know)Ā 
pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place
ā€œCan I get you another beer, man?ā€
Eddie checks his watch. Itā€™s only a little after nine thirty. Heā€™s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but heā€™ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime ā€” not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now heā€™s sixteen. ā€œSure, thanks.ā€
Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. Theyā€™ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck ā€” well, Buck and Tommy ā€” to have Eddieā€™s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesnā€™t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible.Ā 
ā€œI wanted to talk to you about something.ā€
Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommyā€™s tough childhood, Eddieā€™s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But theyā€™ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.
Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his ā€” probably Buckā€™s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg ā€” grey sweats. Heā€™s not tense, but heā€™s not smiling, and thereā€™s something about his expression that Eddie canā€™t place. Itā€™s not that he hasnā€™t seen this look before, because heā€™s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But heā€™d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesnā€™t now.
ā€œ'Course,ā€ Eddie says, when Tommy doesnā€™t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like itā€™s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.Ā Ā ā€œAnything.ā€
Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesnā€™t want to speak, even though heā€™s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.
ā€œIs everything okay?ā€ Eddieā€™s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasnā€™t said anything. Not that heā€™d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buckā€™s concerned about someone, and he hasnā€™t picked up on anything, not at all.Ā 
But maybe this isnā€™t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommyā€™s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed.Ā 
ā€œIs Buck okay?ā€ Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled.Ā 
Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not aĀ no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief ā€” not humor ā€” contained in it. ā€œHeā€™s fine.ā€
Itā€™s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since heā€™d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopherā€™s insistence he didnā€™t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress.Ā 
ā€œBut,ā€ Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddieā€™s muscles tightening once more, ā€œIt is Evan I wanted to talk about.ā€
Again, Tommy doesnā€™t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticenceā€“ it doesnā€™t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddieā€™s neck prickling.
ā€œAlright,ā€ Eddie says, a feeble prompt. ā€œSo, Buck?ā€
Tommy nods, like heā€™s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. ā€œI want to ask Evan to marry me.ā€
Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesnā€™t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buckā€™s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. ā€œThatā€™sā€“ thatā€™s great,ā€ he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isnā€™t smiling back, like this moment should call for. ā€œDid youā€“ā€ he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, ā€œDo you want help planning the proposal?ā€ He wishes he could take the words back the second theyā€™re out. Because this ā€” just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck ā€” is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesnā€™t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul.Ā 
ā€œNo.ā€ Tommy shakes his head. ā€œNo, I want to ask him to marry me. But Iā€™m not going to. At least, not now.ā€
Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but itā€™s not exactly surprising. Eddieā€™s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years theyā€™ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesnā€™t understand what Tommy is saying, doesnā€™t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. ā€œWhy not?ā€ Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and hisā€“ best friend marrying each other. ā€œYou guys are serious. I mean, you live together.ā€
Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. ā€œHis lease was up.ā€
ā€œRight. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,ā€ Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it.Ā 
ā€œHe was never going to renew it,ā€ Tommy tells him.
And thatā€™sā€“ thatā€™s something Eddie didnā€™t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buckā€™s boyfriend, of course heā€™s going to know things about him that Eddie doesnā€™t, know him in a way that Eddie doesnā€™t.Ā 
ā€œWe hadnā€™t spoken about living together,ā€ Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. ā€œBut heā€™d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasnā€™t on shift. Or at yours.ā€ Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. ā€œHe said he wasnā€™t going to renew it, that heā€™d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.ā€
ā€œAnd he said with you,ā€ Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.
But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyesā€“ his eyes donā€™t match. ā€œHe said heā€™d crash on your couch, actually.ā€
Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didnā€™t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadnā€™t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission.Ā 
ā€œI said he could stay with me, instead. That heā€™d be able to sleep in a bed here.ā€ Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldnā€™t be. ā€œAnd then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.ā€
While itā€™s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head ā€” Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldnā€™t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together ā€” it still doesnā€™t explain what Tommy has said. ā€œAnd he did stay,ā€ Eddie says. ā€œSo, why arenā€™tā€“ Does Buck not want to get married?ā€ But that canā€™t be it, that canā€™t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only heā€™d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else.Ā 
ā€œNo, he does,ā€ Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. ā€œWeā€™ve spoken about it, discussed it. And heā€™s told me heā€™s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.ā€ Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasnā€™t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buckā€™s family. ā€œAnd I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. Butā€“ā€ Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddieā€™s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. ā€œYou know how much heā€™s always wanted to belong somewhere.ā€
He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity.Ā He belongs with me. Except, he doesnā€™t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.
ā€œAnd I want that for him,ā€ Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddieā€™s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. ā€œI want to be the one to give that to him.ā€
EddieĀ wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need heā€™s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he canā€™t, he wonā€™t. Buck is with Tommy, heā€™sĀ happyĀ with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buckā€™s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently wonā€™t.
Eddie doesnā€™t understand. ā€œThen, if you want to, why wonā€™t you ask him?ā€ he questions, trying to.Ā 
ā€œIf I ask him now, heā€™ll say no.ā€ Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like itā€™s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him.Ā 
Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. ā€œBut he loves you.ā€
Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had saidĀ I want to ask Evan to marry me. ā€œI know he does.ā€ Tommyā€™s tone is sure, but wistful. ā€œBut he loves you more.ā€
Itā€™s likeā€“ Itā€™s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe itā€™s like everything heā€™s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommyā€™s words to be true maybe more than heā€™s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they canā€™t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie.Ā 
ā€œWeā€™re friends. Best friends,ā€ Eddie points out. ā€œOf course, heā€“ he loves me. But notĀ more. Not like he loves you. Heā€™sĀ in love with you.ā€
Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when heā€™s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. ā€œEddie, heā€™s in love with you.ā€
Eddie shakes his head. Itā€™s everything heā€™s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buckā€™sĀ boyfriend, oh god. ā€œHe isnā€™t. Tommy, he canā€™t be.ā€Ā 
But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what heā€™s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it.Ā 
ā€œHeā€™s not,ā€ Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesnā€™t love him. He doesnā€™t. But Eddieā€“ Eddie lovesā€“ ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Eddie says, almost a gasp. ā€œTommy, Iā€™m sorry, Iā€“ā€
ā€œItā€™s not your fault,ā€ Tommy cuts him off. ā€œI knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I justā€“ā€ Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. ā€œI didnā€™t expect it to get this far. I thought weā€™d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didnā€™t expect it to go like this. I didnā€™t expect to feel like this.ā€ Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddieā€™s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, ā€œBut I donā€™t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.ā€
Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesnā€™t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesnā€™t know when it started; doesnā€™t think it will ever end. ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy ā€” hisĀ friendĀ ā€” to hear them.Ā 
Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. ā€œDonā€™t apologize for it. Iā€™m certainly not going to. Iā€™m never going to be sorry for loving him.ā€ He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. ā€œBut it is a problem.ā€ He smiles, rueful. ā€œI thought Iā€™d be able to break up with him, if he didnā€™t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.ā€Ā 
Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. Heā€™d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadnā€™t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures heā€™d left it too late, but most of the time he didnā€™t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. Itā€™s a knife sliding between Eddieā€™s ribs to thinkĀ maybe. Maybe.
ā€œBut I didnā€™t.ā€ Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping.Ā 
ā€œWhy are you telling me this?ā€ Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck.Ā I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship.Ā So why is he only bringing it up now?
ā€œBecauseĀ I didnā€™t. Because I canā€™t. I canā€™t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesnā€™t know for sure that youā€™re not an option, heā€™ll say no.ā€
Fear freezes Eddieā€™s insides. ā€œSo, whatā€“ what are you asking me to do?ā€ Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.
Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. Heā€™s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. ā€œIā€™m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.ā€
Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings heā€™s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buckā€™s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buckā€™s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heartā€“ his heart is in revolt. Itā€™s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?
Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddieā€™s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. ā€œOr,ā€ he says, somehow even more serious, ā€œI am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.ā€
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thesummerestsolstice Ā· 7 months ago
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One of my favorite Elrond headcanons is the idea that he starts out looking very much human and elvish. He has ears too pointed to be a man's, but not nearly long enough to be an elf's, his father's (grandfather's, really) blue eyes and brown hair that shines like an elf's, but gets tangled far too often.
Sure, some weird things happen around Elrond as a childā€“Ā the birds that seems to follow him, the way some injuries mysteriously resolve in his prescense, the unusual flowers that bloom outside his windowsā€“Ā but really, it's easy to see those as distant remnants of an ainuric power that Elrond clearly didn't inherit. When he comes to Gil-Galad's camp, it's much easier for them to see Tuor or Beren in him than it is to think he's descended from Melian.
But then time passes. The changes are slow enoughā€“ happening over decades or centuriesā€“Ā that no one really notices at first. Elrond's hair darkens until it is as black as the night skyā€“Ā as black as Luthien's was. His eyes leach color until they are grayā€“Ā not Noldor gray, mind, but a strange, starry gray that some of the Iathrim whisper about. His voice changes, almost seems to take on an echo of itself, sometimes.
The strange things that happen around him only get strangerā€“Ā the trees bend to shelter him, during storms, and sometimes when he sings, the birds sing with him. Elrond got a cat, right at the start of the Second Ageā€“Ā a gift from Gil-Galad. Somehow, it never seems to grow old or die. The parts of Lindon Elrond most often visits always seem to be in full bloom, no matter what season it is. His healing abilities surpass what is to be expected of a manā€“Ā an elfā€“Ā eventually, of what seems possible at all.
At the end of the First Age, it would've been hard to believe Elrond had more than a trickle of ainur blood in him. By the beginning of the Third Age, many have started to whisper about Rivendellā€“Ā a new Doriath, ruled by a Maiarin lord with all Melian's grace, and her eccentricities.
Elrond doesn't realize just how much he's changed until the day, late in the Third Age, when he finds Maglor wandering on the shoreline. Nothing he says will convince Maglor that he isn't Luthien's spirit, returned from death to haunt him.
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yurtletheturtlehenderson Ā· 1 year ago
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these stupid shows won't let me rest
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moon-warlock Ā· 8 months ago
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Save me Hexbuds, Hexbuds save me
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jeyneofpoole Ā· 9 months ago
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rat king
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ilovemesomevincentprice Ā· 28 days ago
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Vincent Price and Lon Chaney Jr. -
The Haunted Palace (1963)
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arabella-strange Ā· 16 days ago
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One more for the endless post-it note mosaic of the Dorym breakthrough:
Dorian says pretty early in his confession, ā€œAnd if it were up to me, there would be no responsibilitiesā€”ā€
And Orym broke. The palpable relief in his deep sigh there, his posture just folding on itself like the literal weight being lifted off his shoulders. And the ratcheting tension of these two finally speaking about their feelings suddenly deflated in the best wayā€”became not so daunting or so scary, because, chuckle, sigh, ā€œWouldnā€™t that be something.ā€ ā€œWouldnā€™t it.ā€
Just the depth of care in speaking to the perennial leader, perennial defender, perennial shield at the front of the partyā€”telling that guy that the fantasy is nothing more than being free to live and love at peace? Itā€™s to stop having to be brave because the world has finally let you live for you?
Fucking off the charts, 100/10, a gift and definition of love
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