#ABC Conversations

[5oclockcoffees]

We humans use our large brains to make and store maps of our environment; maps we then use everyday for getting around and for recalling where we’ve been. But we are nothing special – many other animals are capable of using spatial memory to make life easier.1

And while many animals have this ability, spatial memory has so far only been described in animals with brains to store the memories in. Until now.1

Researchers from the University of Sydney and the Paul Sabatier Université in Toulouse found that the unicellular slime mould Physarum polycephalum, which lacks a brain or even any semblance of a nervous system, uses an ingenious mechanism to remember where it has been, and to escape from difficult situations.1

A colony of Argentine ants have found the shortest path between there three nests. (https://www.tanyalatty.com)

Scientist Tanya Latty studies the behaviour of ants and bees. She's particularly interested in their ability to work effectively as a team to achieve a common goal. But her pet project is focused on a creature that defies classification.2

Slime moulds are neither plants nor animals. They can move, but they don't have legs or wings. They appear to make complex decisions, often motivated by the promise of food. Yet they don't have a stomach or a brain. Despite slime moulds' unique biology, Tanya was struck by their apparent intelligence and by similarities in their patterns of behaviour to ants and bees.2

The brainless slime mould leaves a trail of slime behind it everywhere it goes, which it can then detect later to recognise areas it has already been. The organism prefers to avoid previously explored areas, to prevent wasting time in its search for food.1

In essence the slime mould is memorising where it has been, storing this memory in the external environment and recalling the information when it later touches the slime-coated area.1

Tanya believes the knowledge gained from studying the behaviour of slime moulds and insects could help to solve complex organisational problems in the human world.2

1The brainless slime mould that remembers where it’s been, by Chris R. Reid.

2The secret life of slime mould, on ABC Conversations.

[buddiesbuddiess]

“You heard the whole thing?” Eddie feeling uncomfortable about other people (his CLOSE FRIENDS mind you) listening in on his facetimes with Buck. They weren’t even having a particularly private or secret conversation, they were just talking about Chris. Chimney is even a parent, he could give sound advice. But Eddie was having his Buck Time. He wanted just to talk to Buck and Buck alone. He goes to only Buck for support, and he doesn’t want to involve anyone other than Buck in those conversations.

They are emphasising over and over again how Buck and Eddie’s relationship is DIFFERENT to their relationships with the other members of the 118.

[buddieroommates]

tommy/maddie: how long have you been in love with eddie?

buck: what?? that’s disgusting. and wrong. I've not been in love with anyone anywhere. you have…the nerve, the audacity! eddie is a renter, technically. and he is straight. and frankly, how do I know you’re not in love with him??? maybe you are and you’re trying to throw me off. Check and mate.

[straightmundodiaz]

Which could mean nothing

[sadgayeddie]

3x09 / 8x16

[its-not-nothing]

This is the kind of Eddie/Tommy interaction I would eat up. So imagine at the funeral, they were all together, and now Buck is talking to Hen for a bit and Tommy watches him from a distance. Eddie noticed how he had been acting around Buck all day and decides to finally say something.

"He really doesn't need this right now."

"Oh, you're talking to me again?" Tommy says with a dry tone.

Eddie chooses to ignore the remark. "Look, man... He's in a very vulnerable place. Maybe you should... back off a little. Just- leave him alone, okay?"

Tommy scoffs. "You're not the only one who gets to be there for him, you know?"

"What? You dumped him, Tommy. You broke his heart. I don't even know why you did it, honestly, or how you could even let someone like Buck go. And now you're trying to slide your way back in after he lost..." Eddie can't finish the sentence.

"Actually, I was already back in his life. We hooked up a few weeks ago, almost got back together."

Eddie feels his heart sink.

"I'm guessing he didn't tell you? That's not surprising. Seems like he would do anything to avoid facing..." He stops.

"Facing what?"

Tommy sighs. "The reason why I broke up with him in the first place. And why I was ready to get back together once he told me you were gone."

Eddie is now confused. "Huh?"

"God, Diaz. Don't tell me you're as oblivious as him?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Okay, I can't do this again. You know what? You won. Go be his knight in shining armor or something. I'm out."

Tommy walks away, and Eddie is left feeling stunned. What the hell was Tommy on about, and why did he sound jealous of him? He then shakes those thoughts, it's not important, and walks up to Buck, putting a hand on his shoulder. I'm here. I'll always be here, if you need me. Buck looks at him. They don't need words to communicate, Eddie can read everything his eyes are saying. Thank you. I need you. I love you. He gently squeezes Buck's shoulder. I love you. Eddie notices Buck's sad blue eyes slightly start to sparkle again. He gets a warm feeling in his chest. Doesn't matter what stupid Tommy thinks. No one can understand Buck like he does, no one can be there for him like he is, that's his job. Always has been. Always will be.

[ponytailcoby]

Do Buck and Eddie know they were screaming each other's names like that?

[justbuddiethings]

[stevenrogered]

How's he feeling? I don't know. I haven't really talked to him. Like at all? Well, I'm guessing he doesn't want to hear from me. I'm sure that's not true. I'm sure it is. I'm the one that did this to him. It was an accident on a basketball court. It happens. He knows that you didn’t do it on purpose.

[hardly-an-escape]

sweet | Buck/Tommy | 1750 words | rated T

let's go back to a simpler time, when we were all thinking about what might happen after their coffee date. this was originally intended to be a prequel to my fic dance with me (I want my arms around you) and at least twice as long, but the second half has been fighting me for months so I figured I'd just share what I have.

“Okay.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Okay, great.”

~~~

Evan insists on throwing away the coffee he’d gotten for Tommy and buying him a new one, one he’ll actually enjoy, which is both wholly unnecessary – Tommy has drunk a lot of subpar coffee over the years – and very endearing.

“Let me treat you to something. Please,” Evan says, and he’s so sweet, so sincere, that Tommy relents. Tells him his coffee order – not that it was some big secret – and accepts the replacement cup with a smile. And if their hands brush, when Evan hands it over, and if Tommy lets their fingers linger against each other, well. That’s fine. That’s more than fine.

They talk for the better part of an hour, about everything and nothing: people they both know in the department; the crazy calls they’ve responded to, and the handful they realize they may have been working from opposite sides over the years; shows they’ve been watching and books they’ve been reading. Tommy is strangely delighted to learn that Evan is more of a reader than a watcher – that when they get on the subject of murder mysteries, he knows all about Agatha Christie’s mysterious disappearance in 1926, but takes a minute to remember what Law & Order is. It makes Tommy feel like maybe the ten years’ age difference isn’t such a big gap after all.

Evan doesn’t stop smiling the entire time.

When their coffee cups are empty he glances down at his hands. He’s still smiling, but he looks a little nervous all of a sudden.

“So, uh, what are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” he asks. “Because th-there’s this farmer’s market a couple of blocks over, I was thinking about swinging through? If you wanted to check it out?”

Tommy’s sure his grin back is almost embarrassing in its enthusiasm. He gently lays a hand on top of one of Evan’s, a mirror of their earlier touch.

“I’ve got some time,” he says. “Let’s go.”

The farmer’s market is almost painfully charming. The coffee shop Evan had chosen, despite the bougie LA vibes of the patio, was a real hometown neighborhood kind of place, and the market is no different. There are local bakeries and sandwich shops with booths; abuelas selling pickles on card tables and a church selling honey from the beehives that apparently surround their community garden. There’s a kid with an honest-to-god lemonade stand.

It’s absolutely delightful. Evan flits from booth to table, utterly in his element, making friends with kids and abuelas alike. He buys a jar of local honey and one of pickled kohlrabi – a vegetable Tommy is fairly sure he had a vague idea was a real thing that exists – and lingers in front of a display of romanesco broccoli for a while with a speculative look that’s starting to make Tommy almost apprehensive, before something else grabs his attention and he’s moving down the row, asking questions about someone’s backyard flock of chickens.

Tommy learns a lot about Evan in the hour they spend wandering the market. He hears a lot about his cooking adventures, of course; Evan is cheerfully unembarrassed about how disastrous some of his kitchen experiments have been, but seems to genuinely treat everything as a learning experience. He hears a lot about the other members of the 118, especially Captain Nash, and starts to form a picture of just how fundamentally things have changed there since he transferred out.

He’s so glad, in wistful kind of way, that the satisfaction and support Evan clearly gets from his work and his firehouse family was never quashed by questionable leadership. He wonders what things would have been like for him, if he’d had someone like Bobby Nash in his corner from the beginning, like Evan has. If he’d be as joyful, as unselfconscious.

If he’d have been able, like Evan, to grab a man he was interested by the elbow to excitedly point out someone selling fresh donuts from a cart on the corner, and slide his hand down his forearm, and tangle their fingers together in order to tug him down the street.

Tommy looks down at where their hands are interlaced. Big hands, firefighters’ hands; calloused and scarred and hairy. At first he thinks Evan hasn’t even noticed what he’s done, and then he looks back up and catches those blue eyes, the hint of a smile in them. Then Evan squeezes his hand and raises it deliberately, just a little, just enough that the message is clear: Yes, I’m doing this on purpose. Yes, I like you. I want to hold your hand and buy you donuts and make you smile in this perfect sunshine.

Tommy is beginning to realize that he might be in the best kind of trouble.

They do get the donuts, which are made by an ingenious and frankly hypnotizing little contraption that squirts out perfect circles of dough, floats them down a river of hot oil, and automatically flips them, at which point the vendor scoops them out, sprinkles them with cinnamon sugar, and hands them over in a paper bag, piping hot.

Eventually, Tommy glances regretfully at his watch.

“I hate to say this, but I’ve got an appointment at 4:00, so I should probably get going.”

“Oh, no worries!” If Evan’s disappointed, he doesn’t let it show in the tone of his voice, or in his smile as they turn to head back to where their cars are parked.

“Hey, uh, before you go.” Evan ducks his head and looks up through his eyelashes with that shy smile he has that absolutely slices through every one of Tommy’s defenses like a hot knife through butter.

Tommy’s pretty sure Evan genuinely had no idea how sweetly flirtatious he’d looked the first couple of times he’d aimed that smile in Tommy’s direction – but he might be catching up, if the way he slouches back invitingly against the door of his Jeep is any indication. They’re standing so close together that Tommy can get just a whiff of some kind of herbal-smelling aftershave or cologne that Evan is wearing.

“Before I go?” Tommy prompts.

“Just, real quick,” Evan says, and hooks one finger between the buttons of Tommy’s henley, and tugs him gently into a kiss.

Sweet, is all Tommy has time to think before his eyes flutter closed and he’s leaning in, one hand still in his hoodie pocket and the other coming to rest on Evan’s hip. God, he’s sweet.

The kiss is gentle. Soft. Just lips, and their noses barely brushing together, and the sounds of birdsong and traffic in the background. Tommy pulls back to take a breath and Evan is beaming at him, eyes so bright and blue that Tommy can’t help but lean in and kiss him again.

And okay, maybe this kiss is pushing the boundaries of what’s appropriate for a coffee shop parking lot, because it only takes about half a second before Evan’s tongue is teasing at Tommy’s bottom lip, and then Tommy learns that Evan’s mouth tastes like coffee, and like the donuts they’d shared.

It’s their third kiss, technically, and Tommy realizes he already can’t wait to find out what Evan’s mouth tastes like on their fourth kiss, and on their fifth. He can’t wait to lose track of the number of kisses he’s shared with this man, who is earnest and kind and who flexes one hand against Tommy’s chest like he wants to dig his fingers in and stay there. Who chases after Tommy’s mouth when he pulls back to breathe again, who makes the tiniest little noise of disgruntlement, of longing, when they separate.

For a heartbeat they just look at each other. Then:

“Wow,” Evan says, mostly under his breath, and clears his throat, and smiles like the sun. “I, uh. I really like kissing you.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tommy says. “Because I really like kissing you, too.”

“Good. That is good.” Evan grins at him. “You know, it’s – it’s kind of stupid, but after I fumbled our first date I just kept thinking, ‘Damn, I didn’t even get the chance to kiss him again.’ So, uh, thanks for giving me another chance.”

“Thanks for asking for one, Evan,” Tommy says.

For another several heartbeats they just look at each other, and look some more. Tommy can feel the smile blooming across his face, and he knows he must look like a fool, and he cannot bring himself to care.

“I really do need to get going,” he says after a minute.

“Yeah! Yeah, don’t let me keep you,” Evan says. Keep me, Tommy thinks. “What are you up to for the rest of the week? I mean, do you want to get together again before the wedding? I’m throwing Chim a bachelor party, you definitely should come to that at least.”

“Got a long run of shifts coming up,” Tommy says. “One of our guys is out on parental leave, so I’m pulling overtime. But text me. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll text you.” Evan’s smile is so wide that his dimples look deep enough to swim in.

Tommy can’t help himself. He darts back in for one more swift peck, but ends up mostly missing Evan’s lips and clumsily kissing the corner of his mouth instead. It doesn’t even matter. They’re both smiling so hard it wouldn’t have been much of a kiss anyway.

He manages to restrain himself and only glances over his shoulder at Evan once as he walks across the parking lot to his truck.

Okay. Maybe twice.

Twenty minutes later, he’s halfway to his appointment – only running a little late – when his phone chimes where he tossed it on the passenger seat.

He picks it up after he’s parked. Three texts from Evan Buckley.

so is it too soon to text u or…?

I had a really great time today

I’ll be thinking about you all day, hope that’s ok

Tommy smiles to himself, alone in his car. It takes him a minute to figure out what he wants to write back, but eventually he taps out:

Me too. And that’s more than okay. In fact the feeling is mutual ;)

He should feel embarrassed; he’s really not a smiley face kind of guy. But when Evan texts back a simple :D about two seconds later, he’s pretty sure he’s floating on air as he jumps out of his truck and shoves his keys in his pocket.

[5oclockcoffees]

"The commercial race to space has been picking up speed in the last few years, as people like Elon Musk are rushing to develop the rocket technology to ferry human beings to Mars, to live there.

It's an exciting prospect, and one that has captured the imaginations of writers for decades.

But what would life on Mars look like? And is it even possible?

Dr Kelly Weinersmith has written a book with her husband, Zach, to answer those questions and more - like, how would humans procreate in little to no gravity? And what on earth is a snuggle tube?"

Sex, law, and life on Mars.

[blue-bird1967]

*in old lady voice* having kids would've saved him

[louferrignojrofficial]

tommy must have been so confused.... he's like this man called me for a tour of the place but he doesn't want to leave the 118... and is he flirting with me or...??

[hunybody]

the heart tells the truth even if the mouth lies, eddie diaz!!!

[limitedanomalies]

7.10 8.08 // The parallel between Buckley-Diazes and Wilsons (2/2)

A child who has an abandonment issue.

A parent who misses them so much.

And the other parent who is upset but supports their partner.

[Part 1]

[sadgayeddie]

buck and eddie talking at the graveyard in 6x15, background music removed (x)