#so many numbers there lol

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

OPE those guns o.o

Yeah that does not look good xd

Hmm who are we telling that we're referring to them as Captain Nash and his wife?

Oh gosh them all 😭😭 they all look so worried :(( 🥺💔❤️

Understandable xD

Uhh is that a bomb o.o

Yeah that's very Bobby

Uhh ohh y'all 😬😬

🥺🥺 BOBBYY

Yeah of course he is xD an icon lol <3

UHH OHHH 😭😭😬

Y'all when I tell you I am NERVOUS

STRESSED AND STRESSIN xDD

This better all end up okay lol

Including their relationship because that's one I'm most scared for xD

Okay, that's the last of my last thoughts, so now it's time for the. . .

REVIEW

AAAHHHHHHH I'm so glad to have my babeys back :D.

Now, given that I'm writing this part on the day of episode 3 and I haven't watched episode 2 yet lol, this will be very short. I might come back and edit later xD.

BUDDIEEEE!!! I'm telling you they're a family. Why are they such a family? I don't know. Anyway poor Chris 😭😭💔❤️. That scene at the end, with the letter, was so good <33. And oh my gosh don't even TALK to me about Buck talking to Christopher and then it planning to Eddie in the hall 😭😭. I was not okay over that and I'm still not <3. Also, a callback to Eddie's panic attacks by having him use a strategy to help that woman was so cool :'DD. He slayed <33. Also the joke after?? They're so in love, your honor <33.

Hen! Don't remember much of what she was up to but she slayed :)). And she's doing great as Captain 🥰🥰! Also her not feeding into Athena's delusions xD (although we of course find out that they aren't but yk it's just a funny moment lol).

Chimney and Maddie! Chim stressing was a mood lol xd. And honestly, making sure you make time for yourselves amongst your jobs, child, and wedding planning is a good idea! But don't try that hard lol. Like y'all figured out, you don't need to :). But yeah, I'm glad they just decided to relax <3. Love them 🥰🥰.

Bobby and Athena! I be slightly concerned for them o.o. I'm sure everything'll be fine in the end relationship wise, but it's stressful xd. And poor Bobby 😭. I promise it's not something you've done Bobby xd. Anyway, SLAY on the investigating though lol :D. And even though I feel for him I'm glad Bobby set aside their issues and had his priorities straight lol xD. Anyway, hopefully all goes well with those pirates 😬.

Overall, I really enjoyed this episode! It's so good to be back :D. I think the cruise ship is a really unique disaster - as are the issues with Bobby and Athena's relationship lol. By that I just mean, it's interesting/nice (even though it hurts) to see some struggles for them (that aren't external) :). There were also really great moments with everybody else, and I'm glad we got to see home ans the ship! Plus, there was a good spread of focus today :). Anyway, I'm a little nervous about the next episode, but I'm sure everything will be alright. It better be lol. Also, the calls were really cool today :O.

So, yeah! I loved this episode, I thought it was great :D. It was lovely seeing my babeys again :). I'm so excited for the next episode! This has been my review of. . .

9-1-1, Season 7, Episode 1: Abandon Ships

It was amazing! I'm interested to see how everything's gonna go down on the boat, and people's reactions. I'll be back here next time with my review of. . .

9-1-1, Season 7, Episode 2: Rock the Boat

See you then!

[notherpuppet]

I just love the idea of Lucifer having to deal with this fucking guy every time he wants to see Charlie

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[venriliz]

did @birdietrait's random cas challenge again °-° yeah... they're quite random lol. rolls/prompts are below the cut! :]

Marius/Sim 1: punk, fantasy, blonde hair, no makeup, gap teeth Nylah/Sim 2: favorite tv show*, bratz (completely missed that one i think lol), brown hair, long hair, gap teeth Sachiko/Sim 3: cyberpunk, prom, red hair, white eyes, gap teeth

-> * ok ok ok! for favorite tv show i picked The Tribe bc i've been obsessed with the show since my early teens BUT... why have so many ppl never heard of that show? v.v it's literally so good, it's basically the first time i experienced media abt post-apocalypse/dystopia and it became my comfort tv-show to watch. °-° rant over.

[rillils]

🌸 post-catws stucky + lovers’ kiss

one.

The thing about grief is, it has a habit of dropping by every once in a while, unannounced and insistent like a nosy suburban neighbor.

It’s a contrary little creature. Some days it strikes hard, and crushes Steve’s chest with the brutal force of a frothing waterfall. Sometimes, though, it comes in droplets; little pills that get stuck in his throat for a minute, until he can swallow them down.

Steve doesn’t mind those too much: sure, the aftertaste is bitter – but there’s always a spoonful of honey at hand to help wash it down.

two.

There’s a morning ritual Steve is particularly fond of.

When the coffee has been made, and the first sip taken, he nudges their mugs to the side, and crowds Bucky back against the kitchen counter, arms braced on either side of him to box him in. Bucky watches him come with a knowing grin, a gleam in his eyes that says, well, all right, he’ll let Steve believe that he’s leading this little dance here, just this once.

But it’s Bucky who pulls him in the rest of the way; Bucky who sets his hands low around Steve’s waist, and brings their bodies flush together from hip to knee, delight written in the pretty curve of his lips.

“Hey there, sailor,” he teases. His morning voice is a dark, rich thing, rough around the edges but soft at its core, sweet with that old Brooklyn drawl that brings Steve right back home.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he chuckles against Bucky’s smiling lips, their breaths warm between them. “Fancy meetin’ ya here.”

It’s a ritual. Aren’t all kisses a ritual? Well-learned steps and a worshipful heart, the motions so ingrained they come naturally to your limbs.

Their mouths brush together, easy. Unrushed, like time will slow down for them if they’ll just deign to ask.

Bucky’s head tilts just so in Steve’s hands, and the kiss opens up, spilling its molten heat on Steve’s tongue, stroking inside to taste him, easy, easy.

It’s a long-practiced dance. If Bucky pushes, Steve will give; if Steve strays to flutter kisses all over Bucky’s bristly cheek, Bucky will grin and chase after him, and steer Steve back towards his lips.

It’s lazy. Uncomplicated. It’s their first conversation of the day, and Steve can just make out the words in the whisper of Bucky’s hair running through the gaps between his fingers; in the hushed rustle of his own t-shirt, when Bucky’s hand slips under the hem and slides warmly up the dip of Steve’s spine, leaving a trail of pebbled skin in its wake.

You’re here, Bucky’s touch says, awed and reverent.

Always, Steve says back, and kisses that vow to Bucky’s lips for Bucky to find later, when he’ll brush his fingertips against it, and the well-loved flush of his mouth, red and sweetly sore, will remind him of this. Of always.

Parting from him is agony, but breathing is an unfortunate necessity in life – so Steve pulls back, though only just enough to drink Bucky in, his arms wrapped snugly around Bucky’s waist to hold him close.

He’s a sight to behold, all soft and loved up and ruffled from Steve’s own hands, his smile like a ripe fruit framed by the fullness of his beard. His eyes crinkle with it, each little crease a testament to his happiness – and Steve knows he’s gonna have to take his time kissing each and every one of those later, or he’ll simply be driven to madness.

He should get to have a whole lifetime of this, Steve thinks – a lifetime to dedicate just to this little pleasure. Seventy years at least, to make up for the seventy years gone by that could have seen them grow old and gray together, but were stolen from them instead – and then seventy years more, ninety, a hundred, as many as his old withering body will stand and breathe for.

This will be his only job: the worship of Bucky’s laugh lines, of the curling wisps of his bedhead, of his eyelashes fanning darkly against the pad of Steve’s thumb. Cherishing this treasure he holds in his hands – the one he once thought gone forever.

There it is now: a little pill lodged in his throat. The cold hand of grief squeezing around his heart again, just for a moment.

Bucky’s palms cup his cheeks, drawing Steve’s gaze up to meet his.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gentler than before, his thumb stroking soothingly over Steve’s cheekbone. “You’ve got your thinking face on. What’s wrong?”

Steve covers Bucky’s hand with his own, turning his mouth to it to kiss the warm, unyielding metal of Bucky’s palm.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he promises, leaning in to nudge to tip of his nose against Bucky’s, like a puppy. “Just busy coming up with an excuse to kiss you some more.”

Bucky’s breath puffs warmly against his lips. “Yeah? Had any luck yet?”

Steve hums pleasantly, “Mm-mmm”, locking his fingers together just above the small of Bucky’s back, and gently sways the two of them from side to side. Bucky snorts, amused, but he allows it; dropping his hands to rest on Steve’s shoulders as Steve rocks them slowly, left to right, right to left.

“Here’s what I think,” Steve rumbles. “I think I ought to give you one kiss for each day we were apart since 1945.”

Bucky stares back at him, his lips parted slightly in surprise. He takes Steve in, wordlessly, studying him from the arch of his eyebrows, to the half-crooked slope of his nose, to the hopeful smile Steve knows he must be sporting right now. There is much left unsaid, Steve can feel its weight hanging in the air between them, recognizes it by taste and sound.

But Bucky’s gray eyes shimmer, nearly crystal-clear, and they fill with the kind of big, heart-twisting emotion that cannot fit under a single label; one that is equal parts ache and tenderness, and Steve understands – his chest feels too-tight around that same ache, too.

“That’s a lot of kisses,” Bucky rasps softly, and his hand skates up Steve’s shoulder to curl over the nape of his neck, herding him one inch closer into Bucky’s space.

“Yes,” Steve whispers, leaning in the rest of the way to mash their foreheads together. He can feel his own heart beat inside his chest, a quick and steady rhythm, and a rushing sense of victory bubbles straight up to his lips, sweet and light as air. “Exactly.”

Bucky laughs, a little wetly, and laughs ever harder when Steve tries to kiss him and gets all teeth and half a nostril instead – his head thrown back and his whole body shaking joyfully, while Steve ducks in to kiss what bristly portion of Bucky’s neck he can reach.

A treasure, Steve thinks.

A treasure in his hands, and forever to hold on to it.

three.

He sits himself down at the table with a sheet of paper, a pen and a calculator, a bunch of dates marked down and circled over and over in the topmost corner.

Bucky watches him from across the room, amused and – Steve believes – a little bit impressed.

“You’re really gonna do this?”

Steve smiles up at him, throwing in one teasing wiggle of his eyebrows for good measure.

“I’m a man of my word.”

It takes nearly a whole hour of focused scribbling before he looks up again, a wide grin lit up like Christmas on his face and a torn piece of paper held up in triumph. “I have the number.”

25109.

Seventy years’ worth of daily kisses.

It’s quite the commitment. It requires dedication. But good things are always worth putting in the work, Bucky tells him, eyes dancing with laughter; and when he settles in Steve’s lap, heavy and warm in Steve’s arms, and brushes their mouths together to claim the first of what he was promised, Steve can’t help but agree.

four.

25109 kisses Steve owes him, and he initiates quite a few; but mostly, he lets Bucky ask for them, when and where the mood strikes him to do so.

When he’s right on the verge of sleep, his face half-swallowed up by his pillow, and he can’t even peel his eyes open long enough to receive his kiss – he just tips his chin up and waits for Steve to scoot closer and find his mouth, drowsily humming in satisfaction.

When he lets Steve slip into the shower with him, and slides his hands up Steve’s chest, sweet and proprietary, and their breaths mingle with the hot steam.

When he’s got his head in Steve’s lap while Steve reads, and Steve’s fingers carding through his hair at leisure; and Steve catches Bucky watching him from under his eyelashes, and trying to hide that private little grin of his, because apparently Steve was silently mouthing the words again without realizing it.

“Kiss me special, Stevie,” he’ll croon, and Steve will know.

And he’ll be all too happy to comply.

five.

Steve is supposed to keep score. He does, too. For the most part.

Once every couple of weeks or so, though, he’ll just so happen to conveniently lose count.

He’ll roll out of bed with singular purpose, and break the tragic news to Bucky over their morning coffee, barefoot and forlorn. Bucky never buys his little sob story, but that never stops Steve from batting his eyelashes at him all prettily, either.

He’ll guide Bucky’s arms to loop around his neck, luring him in, soft and stealthy like a thief, and he’ll mumble real close to Bucky’s lips, “Let’s start over again.”

And Bucky, sweet, merciful, long-suffering Bucky, will accept his fate and be kissed breathless once more, right in front of their placidly steaming mugs.

“There,” Steve will murmur, again, and again, and again. “One down, 25108 to go.”

Oh, one life won’t be enough to see the end of this, no.

And that’s exactly Steve’s plan.

***

little sidenote nobody asked for lol: obviously the number of days/kisses varies depending on when you think the boys were reunited; my wishful thinking headcanon for this specific fic is: post-helicarrier, they find each other again sometime in the fall, 2014. the ficlet is set sometime in late spring 2016, and ignores everything that comes after catws.

[fandomsnrambles]

Huh, found an older art piece of the FSM as a child

My anatomy is meh here but oh well. The eyes around him are basically the onis and the dragons. Its the pressure he felt when they were making him chose sides in a war… yikes.

Rambling below cut (and sketch!)

I hc he ran away when he was 14-15. This is him as a kid, basically 14. Also, i thought it’d be fun if he looked like both his sons hence the two toned hair (personally think he made his kids asexually btw cause its hilarious)

I also like to think hes a lot like BOTH his sons personality wise.

ANYWAY that moment when trauma hits you like a truck. As a child soldier, you are robbed of your childhood (lloyd parallel fr) and then you run away making 16 realms, 2 kids and possibly humans as well. You ingrain it into your everyday life and never realise your coping methods are unhealthy until you suddenly realise you’ve hurt your sons, but its too late by then.

My angst material is focusing on the generational trauma here btw

I mean FSM runs from the pressure from everyone around him -> Wu and Garmadon feel pressure to uphold their fathers expectations and everyone elses -> Lloyd trying to uphold expectations from everyone around him…

(Also, so fun cause my lloyd design looks like his grandfather, OOF think of the parallels is what i’m saying)

This family makes me crazy…

Bonus,, sketch

[ichijokaoru]

one of my favourite kuuga scenes (Tsubaki and Ichijou, episode 38) and then, it’s bestie (Tsubaki and Godai, episode 47) which I think are interesting to watch back to back…

neither of them feature both Godai and Ichijou, but, espeically put together, they’re two of my fave goichi moments… I have so much I could say about them, that I don’t even know where I’d begin

[solradguy]

I thought the early 2000s "strong yet naked/mostly naked woman kept in her place by stronger, bigger, beast/monster or gang of racist caricatures" trope* was known by basically everyone but I mentioned it as a criticism of this older art book I'd flipped through recently to a friend and it turns out it isn't lol Maybe I've just read too many Heavy Metal issues... It used to be HORRIBLY inescapable in any sort of mature art scene back in the day lmao

*This trope is different from the pre-2000s one because the women usually look like they COULD fight back for at least a little bit whereas the previous trope had them be completely helpless damsels in distress

[timetravelingkayak]

okay, was anybody going to tell me aabria's parents were both marines or was i just supposed to find out that crucially relevant piece of worlds beyond number lore through an old episode of dirty laundry myself?

[spacenintendogs]

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[xxplastic-cubexx]

reading Krakoa era out of order bc reading lists online make it confusing and my local library only has so many books

just as god intended right on my friend you're doing everything right and don't let anyone tell you otherwise

[ricopop]

mini oscillo ref aahh what EVERRR dies @superbellsubways @cephalonheadquarters

[quaranmine]

i just went to bed, then 15 minutes later got out of bed and turned the lights on, grabbed a pencil and sticky note, and began frantically calculating my total possible annual leave between now and December 2025. Again.

just in case anyone is wondering just how meticulous and obsessive i am over future travel and time off

[hero-of-the-wolf]

listening to the botw ost be like—

[slyandthefamilybook]

I think we need to have a serious re-evaluation of what "leftist" means bc there ain't no fuckin way authcoms are on the same left as me lmao

[themissingnumbers]

Y'know what- That's fair. Glitch City wouldn't be a very comfortable place to be in, would it?

But now I'm kinda curious... If you're in Gen 1 Viridian City like you said, then how is the Pokemon Center not all broken and corrupted? Is Glitch City like- I don't really know how to phrase this- Contained??

I've always had this idea in my head that Glitch City wasn't just one corrupted city but like a Kanto-wide thing. But, if you're safe in Viridian, then maybe it's not as widespread as I think it is... Sorry Green, I know I'm making a lot of assumptions, but could you tell me how the Gen 1 world works? If you want to, of course.

"Hoo boy, well, I'll try to explain all I can, Also, Don't worry 'bout it, make as many assumptions as you want, hell you can even be assumptive about me if ya want, I'm just here to entertain you after all, Aren't I?"

"Anyways, Lets take these in chunks!"

"No, no, you're right, The Gen-One Kanto was broken into rotting pixels and bits.

Buuuuut, as ya know, there's more than one cartridge- more than one game for the first gen too. Did'ja think every version of Kanto was like that buggy mess?"

"Nah.."

"Just two!"

"Though, technically I would say yes to this, it is at least somewhat contained. Hell every god's gotta have a couple handfuls of eternity prisons where it keeps its least favored. Some get mountain, some get graves, some get depressed, Some get Bitrot."

"If ya want more info on the world though, you're gonna have t' ask fer more specifics, can't just dump a mile-long history lecture."

"Yes, I'm referring to Reddo, though you're right, there are many rejects 'round here."

"I disagree though I think he is little. Sure he may be tall but he's practically a skeleton. I can break him like a twig. And have broken him like a twig."

"Nah, as I said, not gonna spend my time in a bitrot hell prison if I don't gotta.

My Kanto's just empty and abandoned for a different reason. Last time I saw a person here was.."

"It was...er..."

"hm. Maybe it was when I..."

"Yeah.. Yeah, it was...."

He shrugs.

"Oh nah they're just some part of me or somethin or other. I don't think I got the like. carving-painting-other skill bull to do that anyways. I just take the textures and my sprite does its work for me."

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