#some call it 9

[buppkizz]

a very small engiespy moment...

[kowroo]

really looking forward to season 2: patrolling the mojave

[halorvic]

The danger is clear and present: COVID isn’t merely a respiratory illness; it’s a multi-dimensional threat impacting brain function, attacking almost all of the body’s organs, producing elevated risks of all kinds, and weakening our ability to fight off other diseases. Reinfections are thought to produce cumulative risks, and Long COVID is on the rise. Unfortunately, Long COVID is now being considered a long-term chronic illness — something many people will never fully recover from. Dr. Phillip Alvelda, a former program manager in DARPA’s Biological Technologies Office that pioneered the synthetic biology industry and the development of mRNA vaccine technology, is the founder of Medio Labs, a COVID diagnostic testing company. He has stepped forward as a strong critic of government COVID management, accusing health agencies of inadequacy and even deception. Alvelda is pushing for accountability and immediate action to tackle Long COVID and fend off future pandemics with stronger public health strategies. Contrary to public belief, he warns, COVID is not like the flu. New variants evolve much faster, making annual shots inadequate. He believes that if things continue as they are, with new COVID variants emerging and reinfections happening rapidly, the majority of Americans may eventually grapple with some form of Long COVID. Let’s repeat that: At the current rate of infection, most Americans may get Long COVID.

[...]

LP: A recent JAMA study found that US adults with Long COVID are more prone to depression and anxiety – and they’re struggling to afford treatment. Given the virus’s impact on the brain, I guess the link to mental health issues isn’t surprising. PA: There are all kinds of weird things going on that could be related to COVID’s cognitive effects. I’ll give you an example. We’ve noticed since the start of the pandemic that accidents are increasing. A report published by TRIP, a transportation research nonprofit, found that traffic fatalities in California increased by 22% from 2019 to 2022. They also found the likelihood of being killed in a traffic crash increased by 28% over that period. Other data, like studies from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, came to similar conclusions, reporting that traffic fatalities hit a 16-year high across the country in 2021. The TRIP report also looked at traffic fatalities on a national level and found that traffic fatalities increased by 19%. LP: What role might COVID play? PA: Research points to the various ways COVID attacks the brain. Some people who have been infected have suffered motor control damage, and that could be a factor in car crashes. News is beginning to emerge about other ways COVID impacts driving. For example, in Ireland, a driver’s COVID-related brain fog was linked to a crash that killed an elderly couple. Damage from COVID could be affecting people who are flying our planes, too. We’ve had pilots that had to quit because they couldn’t control the airplanes anymore. We know that medical events among U.S. military pilots were shown to have risen over 1,700% from 2019 to 2022, which the Pentagon attributes to the virus.

[...]

LP: You’ve criticized the track record of the CDC and the WHO – particularly their stubborn denial that COVID is airborne. PA: They knew the dangers of airborne transmission but refused to admit it for too long. They were warned repeatedly by scientists who studied aerosols. They instituted protections for themselves and for their kids against airborne transmission, but they didn’t tell the rest of us to do that.

[...]

LP: How would you grade Biden on how he’s handled the pandemic? PA: I’d give him an F. In some ways, he fails worse than Trump because more people have actually died from COVID on his watch than on Trump’s, though blame has to be shared with Republican governors and legislators who picked ideological fights opposing things like responsible masking, testing, vaccination, and ventilation improvements for partisan reasons. Biden’s administration has continued to promote the false idea that the vaccine is all that is needed, perpetuating the notion that the pandemic is over and you don’t need to do anything about it. Biden stopped the funding for surveillance and he stopped the funding for renewing vaccine advancement research. Trump allowed 400,000 people to die unnecessarily. The Biden administration policies have allowed more than 800,000 to 900,000 and counting.

[...]

LP: The situation with bird flu is certainly getting more concerning with the CDC confirming that a third person in the U.S. has tested positive after being exposed to infected cows. PA: Unfortunately, we’re repeating many of the same mistakes because we now know that the bird flu has made the jump to several species. The most important one now, of course, is the dairy cows. The dairy farmers have been refusing to let the government come in and inspect and test the cows. A team from Ohio State tested milk from a supermarket and found that 50% of the milk they tested was positive for bird flu viral particles.

[...]

PA: There’s a serious risk now in allowing the virus to freely evolve within the cow population. Each cow acts as a breeding ground for countless genetic mutations, potentially leading to strains capable of jumping to other species. If any of those countless genetic experiments within each cow prove successful in developing a strain transmissible to humans, we could face another pandemic – only this one could have a 58% death rate. Did you see the movie “Contagion?” It was remarkably accurate in its apocalyptic nature. And that virus only had a 20% death rate. If the bird flu makes the jump to human-to-human transition with even half of its current lethality, that would be disastrous.

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[hellhoundmaggie]

Shane StardewValley developing a novel ornamental chicken breed with rare blue pigmentation from common stock without any loss in egg production

[catocappuccino]

Her favourite colour is yello w

[silverview]

reece characters getting called little ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lubnabowsandpoetry]

I accidentally deleted my work on ao3 and it felt like burning down the library of Alexandria.

Anyways here's the prologue while I go ahead and re-release it. Reader is a firefighter (I watch too much 9-1-1) and Ghost needs therapy.

Prologue (I didn't start the fire!)

The late-autumn air, harsh and unrelenting, seeped through the thin sweater of the lieutenant. Despite his stature his steps were quiet, his boots making little to no sound. His eyes on these streets were always darting around, observing. With his hand clenched in fists in his pockets, his right one wrapped around a combat knife, he started to walk more confidently. He was almost where he was supposed to be. The weather forecast in Manchester predicted heavy rain, yet there was no sign of that. Just the usual cold wind.

When the lieutenant finally reached the address that was written on a note in his hand he took in the abandoned residence. The roof looked like it was about to collapse, the door was barely attached to the hinges and outside walls were littered with graffiti. He payed no mind to the tiny garden gate and walked up the path leading to the front door as if he owned the place. Technically speaking, he did. Kind of.

Just to let out the smallest bit of frustration he kicked down the door. Unnecessary, but it did the trick. He stood in the foyer of the house as if he were a guest expecting someone to greet him and offer him a drink. The remaining furniture looked like it would explode to dust any second. His entire life was being a soldier, and maybe also some of his comrades. He was really beginning to enjoy Soap’s company. He’d never admit it though.

His old life taunted him whenever he came from another mission. There is no distraction that lasts long enough to make him forget.. His past ghost haunting his chambers. Therefore, he decided to dig up the grave of his youth himself. Since the spirits of his past were going to release themselves anyways.

Ever since he saw you.

You who reduced him to nothing but a teenage boy. Reminding him of the childish joys, making him feel giddy at the sight of you.

He just had to see you again.

Carefully pouring gasoline in every single corner of the house. Making sure the outside had its fair share aswell.

He grabbed his lighter out of the pocket of his jeans, the same one he had used countless of other times to light up a cigarette.

Then he set his past aflame.

He watched as the fire started to lick at every inch of his childhood home. He lived there until the age of six. No tasteful memories really resided there. Just an empty shell. He grabbed his phone and entered three digits.

‘’9-9-9, what’s your emergency?’’

‘’Send the fire department.’’ Preferably a specific firefighter

PS: It is out there again. 5th chapter out!

[the-spoopy-ghost-of-raejin99]

I hate gamers so much man.

[anders-holmvik]

ok need to talk about doomed bucktommy from 7x05 to 8x06 now. up top this is NOT a BT positive post and i dont want to hear any arguing rn so just scroll on by #peaceandlove

i said it in this post too but the theme of buck and tommy's relationship is "you don't know me". their relationship began in that episode and that's been the throughline the entire time. i'm gonna try to take the buddie hat off here and just talk about buck but you know its probably gonna creep in anyway

buck is a huge flirt, but he's passive in his romantic pursuits because he has abandonment issues. so he'll flirt until the other person makes a definitive move like asking him out or kissing him. once they do, he clings and overcompensates because he's deeply insecure. they deviated from this pattern with natalia but i consider that to be special circumstances bc logistics behind the scenes got in the way. and buck did break up with taylor but he clinged to her first with asking her to move in after he kissed lucy.

so we have tommy, who is NOT different at all! buck likes tommy because he's cool and confident. buck acts out and is possessive over eddie, who buck also clashed with because he was cool and confident and acted out toward because he was possessive over the 118. buck flirts with him (albeit unconsciously), and tommy kisses him. buck feels chosen, he clings. tommy is interested. tommy abandons buck when he realizes he "doesn't know him" after buck lies to eddie in front of him about their date. (EVEN THOUGH HE JUST TOLD HIM HE'S NEVER BEEN ON A DATE WITH A GUY BEFORE AND ISN'T OUT. OKAY fine) buck can't stop thinking about tommy because, again, he subconsciously thinks that being with him will allow him to absorb his "confidence." when they go for coffee, tommy points out that the two of them don't know anything about each other. they agree to start their relationship and do it "right."

they continue to misunderstand each other through the entirety of their relationship. tommy can't wrap his head around why buck wants him to dress up for the bachelor party. tommy points out buck's father is alive when he opens up about bobby. the two fundamentally dont get each other. but buck doesn't let tommy in either! he lets him call him evan (false intimacy), likely because he's too insecure to stand up for himself. until masks, when buck begins to push back.

buck brings tommy to family events, but he doesn't actually include him. tommy is quite literally not in the group chat. masks was SUCH an interesting episode about their dynamic through the billy boils story and maybe i'll make a post on it sometime but whew...

moving onto confessions...

this part has been pointed out tons but i feel the need to cover the whole ep so right up top in the episode we have buck, known gift giver in all of his relationships (freaked about getting taylor a sweater for xmas in s5, got kameron and connor a onesie for donorbaby, once bought eddie a $500 coffee maker as a "PRANK") does not get tommy a gift for their 6 month even though he's the one who brings up that it is the date. fascinating stuff there. of course then we have a callback to the basketball game when tommy gets him tickets.

like okay sure! maybe tommy just wanted to connect with him over something he's more interested in, it's a weird move to get your partner what is essentially a gift for yourself for your six month but it's not unheard of.

then the woman comes over and asks buck to take the photo, saying they're celebrating a divorce. buck does kinda check the lady out. i've said this before, but buck is usually pretty oblivious to flirting until someone crosses the line of physical contact. it happened with tommy, and it happened with the lady. once he realizes, he just becomes really uncomfortable and awkward. on a personal note i'm kinda mad that they cut tommy checking out hot waiter/making a comment about it but Whatever.

again, you dont know me: being 6 months in without having the exes talk is bonkers. they told us it was excusable on tommy's part bc of the heterosexuality performance of it all (still not a good omen for intimacy in that relationship). but buck??? that was his first real relationship, his "most transformative". it was obviously a fun coincidence that the writers realized they'd set up but if you look in universe it's crazy that they were together that long without buck bringing it up. so in the end their lack of communication is what kills them!

buck is correct about tommy being cruel/dishonest bc it turns out tommy knew for six months that their relationship wouldn't work and stayed anyway. josh misunderstood the convo and made it about performing heterosexuality. Hopefully this was just a segue-way to tip off audience to gay eddie struggle. god knows buck will not remember pre glee post glee but he will remember tommy's "i can't be your last because i'm your first".

so we cemented tommy kinda as buck's male "teacher" relationship. "i'm so comfortable with you because you're comfortable with you" buck thinks his bisexuality is wrapped up in tommy's approval of him. and the crazy thing is tommy is not comfortable with himself. but neither him nor buck ever opened up to each other enough to explore that!

Buck is gonna grieve hard because he's the Clinger but also because being with tommy made him feel confident. but not because tommy uplifted him, because he perceived tommy as confident, and that made buck feel closer to fully realizing and understanding himself. this is why coming back from s7 buck got a full gorgeous girl makeover and was totally on his game in those first few eps despite gerrard-- he felt confident. what buck needs to realize post breakup is that he can be all of that without tommy!!!

putting my buddie hat back on for a second there's a meta here about the parking spot line. it could be callback to basketball game bc after eddie's injury there was discussion of tommy's "i drove eddie and i parked close" versus buck "ill bring my car up to the court". or the parking spot out front is the easy close serendipitous option (as in tommy presenting himself as a surprise relationship for buck by kissing him) but either way tommy was the easy choice. eddie is not. but buck was willing to pull his car up to the court for eddie. buck was willing to be AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT IN THAT RELATIONSHIP. that's a break from his pattern. crazier too when you think about how buck attached himself to eddie because he seemed cool and confident but committed harder once he actually got to know eddie and his flaws. just sayingggg..

either way i want buck to explore his sexuality by himself for a little bit because i think that's what he needs as a character in order to actually get an understanding of who he is and what he wants. and also selfishly because i want a buck speed dating montage set to girls & boys by blur.

[nevermoorsource]

It’s been 3 years since we first learned the title for Silverborn: The Mystery of Morrigan Crow! The book will release in 2024/2025 depending on location.

[fauvester]

can you imagine cardassians being introduced to kotatsus.. keiko invites garak over to use it and he refuses to leave. that's HIS cozybox now

[goldenhand9107]

being a bucktommy and buddie shipper is so difficult, im in such a state right now, im fucking heartbroken that it ended the way it did, desperately in denial that they'll come to some amicable resolution and/or get back together somehow, even though I know this show well enough to know it's not going to happen

and also SQUEALING and SCREAMING at Eddie getting repeatedly flirted with and finally feeling okay with himself and his life and how when Buck is feeling down, he's the FIRST person he goes to, and how they're CLEARLY setting up something more for the two of them

I JUST. I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO BE HAPPY. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK

[koka-mi]

Oh my gosh whyyyy am I so obsessed with numbers I don't like it at all this is driving me INSANEEEE😭😭IT'S GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS THE DAYS GO BY AAAA

[lots-of-janus]

This doodle dump in order of least to most cursed shitpost sides is brought to you by some trivia

If someone can guess what species of snake I’ve been drawing Janus as I will post a drawing of yet another snake janus but ball python

[twnj]

Re-draw of my first sketch from this fic. I cannot find the post.

'Elbows on the wooden surface, Shikamaru leaned forward, pathetically gesticulating floppy fingers as he spoke to the barman. His sharp nose jutted out of his profile, reddened with what seemed to be sunburn, and a little ball of hair sat knotted at the base of his neck. Stray hairs, not long enough to reach the hair-tie holding it in place, fell out to frame his face and ears, and below the little silver hoops in them hung a small pair of orange-padded earphones. Their colour was striking against his pale skin and dark hair, and Temari followed their cord down to his jacket pocket, where it disappeared entirely.

[...]

As quickly as it had hit her, the image of the little boy faded, and in its place stood a man: a fully grown man ordering a drink at a bar and plucking a cigarette from the pocket where his headphone cord disappeared. [...]

Shikamaru had grown up. When exactly, she couldn’t pinpoint — maybe when his father had died, maybe during their first night in Rome, or perhaps even before — but the fact remained that he had. There was stubble on his chin, stubble that was neither patchy nor short enough to suggest he’d just forgotten to shave.'

Grandmaster ao3 by @notquitejiraiya