#so i'm optimistic!

[hegodamask]

delicious. finally some good fucking food.

why is the acolyte getting an artbook, visual guide and two spin-off novels while andor has had hardly anything since its release nearly two years ago 🙃

[sciderman]

How did your meeting go with the surgeons?

it was memorable

[winter-parrot]

for @911whatisyourpride week 3: family. took this prompt a little sideways but the idea hit me like a truck like two hours ago and then i typed this entire ficlet directly into the tumblr post dialog like a madwoman, so.

buck doesn't exactly try to adopt a dog, and fails anyway. tommy picks up a dog and an (ex?)-boyfriend. | bucktommy (duh) | post season-8 | 2.4k

now on ao3!

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Buck keeps thinking about Blaze. Not Bingo, who went back to his family and is probably spoiled and happy and exactly where he belongs. But Blaze, whom for that single day had belonged to Buck. Who had been a friend when he and Eddie were on the outs, and everything was falling apart, and he had nobody to talk to because everyone thought he was overreacting. Someone who was happy to see him, who looked at him adoringly, who took joy from Buck's mere existence and gave joy in return.

Now, his life is a hundred times the mess that it was back then, but the parallels aren't escaping him.

And yeah, yeah, he's always got Maddie. But she's not his, not really; she's got more important people in her life. Her own family. Chimney, and Jee, and newborn baby Robert-who-he-still-cannot-call-Bobby. Chim's got her and Jee and Robert, in return. Eddie's got Chris, and Tia Pepa. Hen's got Karen and Denny and Mara too, now. Athena's got May and Harry, and anyway he's not going to impose on her, not now, not after everything.

Point is, everyone's got someone who's theirs. Everyone except him, that is. For a minute there he thought he might have Tommy, but well. Shows you how much he knows about love, about building a family.

So instead he's sitting all alone--in a shitty little Airbnb he's got for the week, because apartment hunting in LA is anything but fast--thinking about Blaze. And looking up dog rescues, just to dream about holding them all, and bringing one home, and having someone to greet him and be excited to see him when he gets home.

He knows it's pathetic--knew it even then, when he was clinging to Blaze and ignoring Eddie--but the one thing more pathetic than having a dog for your only friend and source of love, is having no one for a friend and source of love. Although, dreaming about having a dog for his only friend and source of love, when he can't even get a dog because he doesn't have a home address and anywhere with a pet deposit is going to be way out of his price range, is probably more pathetic than both.

The thought doesn't stop him from scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling past the little squares of photos and blurbs. There's a five-year-old beagle named Dot that reminds him a little too painfully of Blaze. A six-month-old mutt of a puppy--they think it's maybe a boxer mix--with bright blue eyes called Frankie. A massive ninety-pound Doberman named Sergeant with a noble air to him--and behaviour problems, apparently. A tiny yorkie, by far the teey-tiniest dog he's ever seen, called Mini.

And then, at the bottom, a raggedy three-legged lab mix called Tres. He's the longest-running resident of the shelter, according to his bio. Lost his leg in an accident, while wandering in the streets. Seven years old, old enough to have trouble being adopted even without the missing leg. He's also got the biggest, most soulful brown eyes Buck's ever seen on a dog. Ever seen period, maybe.

Before he quite realizes what he's doing, Buck has the address memorized and the keys to his Jeep in his hand. No, that's not entirely true. He sort of halfway realizes what he's doing, but refuses to let himself recognize it all the way. Because if he did, then he'd have to acknowledge that it's insane, and then he'd have nothing to do but sit there and think about how pathetic he is, and how sad Tres looked in the photos.

The shelter is almost halfway across the city, because he wasn't exactly paying attention to the location when he started down this impromptu spiral. But that's alright; he's on day one of a four off, so he's got the time to kill. It's early enough, too, so traffic won't even be that bad. (He Does Not think about why he was up so early on his day off. That way lies grief and pain and danger, and he does not want to end up accidentally wrapping his car around a power pole.)

Still, this is LA, and "not that bad" ends up being nearly an hour instead. Plenty of time to think about what the hell he's doing, and all the million reasons it's a stupid, impulsive idea. But he's started this already, going Full Buck as they'd say, and he's determined not to turn back. Maybe he can't take Tres home, doesn't even have a home to take Tres to, but that doesn't mean he can't go see the dog, right? Maybe he can't be enough for anyone in his life, can't make them happy or hold them together, but surely he can be a bright spot in one sad dog's day. He can be good for this one thing.

The shelter's open, but just barely, when he gets there. No cars in the tiny parking lot, thank God, because most sane people don't show up to animal shelters at--he checks his phone--8:17 in the morning. The tiny bells above the door chime a happy little chorus as he walks in. A woman behind the front desk looks up, seeming startled to see him there. Fair enough.

"Hi, u-um, I saw this dog on your website?" Buck says, uncertainty tilting his sentence up into a question.

"Are you looking to adopt?" the woman--Miranda, according to the name tag Buck's now close enough to read--asks, already rummaging for some forms.

"U-um, not-not yet. I don't, um, I don't currently have a pet-friendly place," Buck says. He doesn't have any place, of course, but that's a lot to unload on this poor woman at barely eight in the morning. "B-but, um, but I'd like to someday. When I'm in a- a better place." Winces at the phrasing; apparently he's so chock full of death euphemisms these days, it's leaking out everywhere. "I just, um, I just wanted to see the dog for now? Maybe play wit him for a bit, if-if that's something I can do?"

Miranda looks at him for a long moment. It feels, oddly, like the way Bobby used to look at him. Piercing and uncompromising, but not unkind. Like she was looking at him, really looking, past his shell and right down to the core of him--not to judge, or find him wanting, but just to see. To understand. To maybe even help. The moment stretches like gum, and Buck's not even sure he's breathing. Not until she nods once, sharply, and says, "What was his name? The dog you were looking at?"

"U-um, Tres," Buck says, somehow surprised by this turn of events despite literally showing up here for it. "I was looking at Tres."

Miranda's face turns apologetic. "Oh hon, someone already put in yestereday to adopt him."

Something inside Buck stretches past breaking point, snaps into overstretched pieces. Of course he can't even do this right. Too late and not enough. Forces his lips into a smile that feels far too brittle for how practiced it's become, these past few weeks. "R-right. Okay. That's, that's good for him, right? G-going home to someone who can love him." Love him better than Buck ever could. Who probably has a yard for Tres to play around in, and a cozy fireplace for Tres to curl up in front off, with a fluffy dog bed all set up and waiting.

Miranda nods, but she seems distracted, chewing at her lip. Looks down at her desk. Shuffles through some papers, looking for something. Squints down at one sheet, running her fingers along the lines. "Pick up time, pick up time... ah! Yeah, that's what I thought." She looks up at him, still holding the paper in her hand. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy--the people who come here for the saddest dogs usually are. You can see other dogs, of course, whichever ones you want. But if you've got your heart set on Tres, The owner's out back right now, picking up Tres and his stuff. I can go and ask if he'd be okay with you at least say hi to Tres."

Buck nods, mumbles out a thanks that may or may not come out intelligible past the growing knot in his throat. He can't explain it, why meeting Tres feels so important. Maybe it's because he felt like they were kindred souls, in some terribly pathetic way, forgotten and left behind and waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to finally want him. Maybe it's because he thought that he could save someone, even just one sad dog, from the terrible loneliness eating him up from the inside--and be saved in return. Maybe he just wanted to be good for something, anything, and this was the one tiny thing that felt maybe, possibly, within his reach.

Or maybe he was just a sucker for a sob story and big sad eyes and abandoned dogs. It doesn't have to be that deep.

Miranda pops her head in from the back door where she'd disappeared to. "He said yes, of course. Come on and meet Tres. It'd be good for his socialization anyway, to meet some more people."

Well. At least this whole insane trip wasn't a total loss, then. He can go meet Tres and his new owner, play with a dog for a few minutes, and then drive back to his sad Airbnb so he can keep searching apartment listings. Buck makes his way across the lobby, towards the door that Miranda's holding open. Ducks out through the gap. Steps into a little back yard, lined with straggly grass and patches of sand. Looks around for Tres.

Finds himself looking at familiar blue eyes, instead.

"Evan?" Tommy says, staring right back at him like he's seeing a ghost. His eyes are wide, and so blue, and rimmed faintly red with exhaustion. Buck's pretty sure there's new lines in their corners, stupidly wants to reach out a run a gentle finger over them, to learn their new shapes. Clenches his hands into fists in his pockets to stop himself.

"T-tommy," he says, more breath than word. Has to swallow twice and clear his throat awkwardly before he tries again. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know you were in the market for a dog."

Tommy shrugs, a little awkward. Something about the motion somehow makes those strong, wide shoulders seem small. "House was feeling too quiet. Thought a dog might help liven things up. Plus, I've always been weak for the puppy eyes." The last sentence comes out with the weight of a confession, too heavy for the back yard of an animal shelter with a soon-to-be-spoiled three-legged dog sniffing around by their feet.

Buck makes his lips curl up at the corner, pretends he doesn't notice it feels more like a grimace than a smile. "You've got good taste," he says, jerking his chin towards Tres. "I had my eyes on him this morning, too."

"Sorry," Tommy says, and it feels like he's talking about more than the dog. "Didn't mean to steal him from you."

It's Buck's turn to shrug, this time. He tries not to think about other things Tommy's stolen, not from him but for him. Tries to hold on to the fading memory of how he felt that sun-drenched morning in Eddie's kitchen, in that helicopter still full of hope over the LA skyline. Tommy's going to be good to Tres. Buck knows, because he was good to him, too. Besides, Tommy's got a solid house, big back yard and a fireplace just like he'd been picturing.

Buck's got no house, and no dog, and no one to go home to. He leans down to pet Tres instead of thinking about that. Lets Tres lick his face and slobber all over him. Pretends that's why dampness weighs down his lashes.

"I was just gonna take him home, get him settled in," Tommy says above him, after a few prolonged minutes of silence.

Buck get up, because he does know how to take a hint, sometimes. Time to get out of Tommy's hair, let him take home the dog he wants without the ex-boyfriend he didn't want. Doesn't meet Tommy's eyes as he turns to leave, because even he's got a limit for how pathetic he's willing to be in one day.

"Do you want to come with me?" Tommy says, the words uncharacteristically rushed.

Buck looks up with surprise. Tommy's got a hand rubbing against the back of his neck in a gesture Buck hasn't seen in ages.

"D-do you want me to?" Buck says. Tries not to feel like he's asking about more than just Tres. Fails. It's like they're having a whole second conversation--except they're not, because they haven't said more than maybe fifty words to each other and neither of them are actually saying it. So maybe it's all in Buck's head; maybe he's gotten so desperate that he's reading signs into innocent

Tommy's wide-eyed again, breathing a little fast and shallow. For a second, he looks almost panicked. Doesn't quite look at Buck as he reaches down to clip a leash onto Tres's collar, and lingers to pet down the line of Tres's spine with a huge hand.

When he stands back up, something in him has straightened. He's steady, looking Buck straight in the eyes as he nods firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want you to come home with me." Glances down at his feet, where Tres is sitting patiently with his tongue rolling out. "You and me and Tres."

They're still not talking, not really. Not about the them of it all But it's the closest they've come since the helicopter--no, since before that. Since that morning, maybe.

It feels like an invitation. Like a closed door, reopened. Like a second, third, fifth chance at something.

Buck leans down to give Tres one last pat--for luck, for hope, for gratitude, for courage. He takes the hand Tommy opens to him. Him and Tommy and Tres. It feels like a good place to start.

[edgerunnr]

real cinema has a chance again and it's all thanks to "sinners"

just in case you don't realize how insane of a moment this is:

"sinners" dethroned the "minecraft" movie at the box office over easter weekend. "minecraft" was expected to top the box three weeks in a row since it's established ip, a meme movie, and largely being attended by families. "sinners" is an r-rated horror that is not based on pre-established work.

this weekend, it held. it beat out a sequel and a movie based on a video game, as well as the re-release of a "star wars" movie, and none of those movies was unpopular. "sinners" was just way, way more popular.

not only did it hold, it only experienced a 6% drop in ticket sales. the last time a drop that small occurred was 16 years ago with james cameron's "avatar." these days, you can usually expect a weekend two drop of at least 50%. for example, "minecraft" lost 52% in weekend two. lots of movies are losing 75% or more week over week.

it earned the first ever A score for a horror movie from cinemascore.

it's the highest grossing original movie since 2019 and it's not even anywhere near the end of its theatrical run.

i don't say this because of the money. i say it because it illustrates that audiences really do still want films like "sinners," and that studios need to invest way more in original content to get slam dunks and special moments like this. warner bros have the most popular original film in years and almost certainly have an oscar sweep on their hands, and it's all because they trusted ryan coogler's vision instead of turning him down for more sequels and slop.

i haven't been so hopeful about the future of filmmaking in a long time. this is really exciting!

[scoliwings]

"What if you were cured?"

This is a question I get a lot, usually after sharing that I am deaf and I do not speak English. Deaf people get this in general. We've likely been asked this thousands of times in our lifetimes.

Most people treat it as a casual, sometimes playful question. Like it's something that would have a "why, yes, I'd love to be hearing!" answer. As if it's obvious that everyone who's ever deaf or disabled should simply choose to be abled. As if it's even remotely easy to get that kind of treatment, to simply learn a language you've never even heard, to simply have your ears altered to take on a small, artificial fraction of the full range of hearing people have.

I've been asked that question so much that it all sounds like "Why don't you just die?" to me.

I'm used to shrugging it off and I constantly educate people about deaf culture and accessibility and why these kinds of questions are wrong. Now, I'm surrounded by people who defend me if this is asked. It's a nice balm to the decades of isolation and pain I've been through, particularly when I rarely find any deaf people online or in person.

[slyandthefamilybook]

In the one month following the publication of Portrait of a Jew, while people were telling me that I was exaggerating, several events occured which unfortunately confirmed my doubts. In Argentina the swastika was carved on the thighs of a few Jewish students. In England neo-Nazi meetings were held in which "Jews get out" was heard again. In America they continued to pillage the synagogues: twenty-five in two years. Here and there the Fascist International was being brought to life. And in North Africa, one of those great historic migrations of a Jewish community in its quasi-totality began. Of course, they were in a hurry to explain that all that was without significance and of no importance. Moreover, the English Fascists were, it seems, dispersed by the country people themselves; the Argentine government promised to punish the guilty parties; the African refugees were welcomed. What did we have to complain about? Of not much, effectively, except this: in the final analysis Jewish history in the Diaspora continued to repeat itself to an astonishing degree...

—Albert Memmi, The Liberation of the Jew

[canisalbus]

I've had Ludovicas girlfriend on the brain for months and finally sketched her out. I see her as the opposite to machete in that she has dark colours and softer shapes. Her ears and facefur kinda blend together and she gets big soft browneyes..

.

[blueskittlesart]

*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?

tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.

[astriiformes]

Diving back into my old transmasculine werewolf essay as preparation for the symposium talk I'm giving tomorrow and god. I vividly remember a harrowing evening nearly four years ago spent poring over Rowling's blog post in which she railed about "rapid-onset gender dysphoria" as research for this paper, and it's harrowing in a different way to read it (the essay, not the blog post, I don't hate myself) this week of all weeks.

Really just... everything about the context of this paper feels so different now. I'm going to have an uncomfortable amount to talk about. At least it's ultimately a talk about how to find comfort in the monstrous, but still. What a time to be giving it.

[ducktracy]

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER SAID ANYTHING NICE TO ME BTW.. i mean this goes without saying. but i've tried and failed many times and many years to keep a list of compliments people give me, and i decided to pick it back up again since i'm trying to be a bit more proactive in being nicer to myself--been nabbing some nice tags and reblogs and asks and replies and messages i've remembered from people on here, as well as making sure i have all the drawings saved that people have drawn for me (going all the way back to 2017!!) and i'm just SO overwhelmed by everyone's kindness and support... it means the world to me but i struggle immensely with internalizing it, so i just wanted to spew a word of THANK YOU! thank you for supporting me and being here, regardless of for What or for How Long. even if i don't respond right away (and i've been trying to get better, thank you to everyone still waiting on DMs from me 🙏) i read absolutely everything and while it can be difficult to drill into my own head, the support and love and grace i feel from ya's is not lost on me. so thank you! do something nice for yourselves today

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about reyes vidal and the fact that if you turn down his offer of a drink in your first meeting with him, he just shrugs gamely and slams both drinks back himself before talking business. and crucially, magnificently, he still runs off leaving you with the bill at the end. hmngh. I miss him like one would air and sunlight

[nabi-unveiled]

I've Got a Puzzle for You!

I've written something like 15 different (way too long) meta posts about When It Rains, It Pours. That's not counting the non-meta. (Someone asked me in a DM for a masterlist. I might make one at the end of the show. For now, just search the "my when it rains meta" tag on my blog.)

But if you only read my posts, you are missing out. People more poetic and brilliant than me have written quite a bit too.

We've obsessed over sweet coffee, sizzling sounds, feet, and so much more. We've analyzed all four of our main characters (multiple times and ways) and the people on the periphery. So what's left?

A WHOLE FREAKING LOT!

There's seemingly infinite tiny details that reflect their relationships like Kaori leaving Hagiwara to dry her own hair whereas Fujisawa dries Sei's hair for him (and then leaves). But there's big things left too.

I have at least 5 potential posts in my drafts (like why I think it didn't start at the museum for Hagiwara) and a mockup for a fanvid (that will probably never get made). But alas, I want to watch the show tomorrow which means I MUST write about space history instead of these beautiful men tonight.

So I'm leaving you with a puzzle - something tickling my brain that I haven't figured out yet.

The show already established that food is symbolic.

Hagiwara makes fried rice. Rice carries a lot of cultural symbols. At a minimum it is often a symbol of life and genuineness. It is warmth, home, and sustenance. He's offering Kaori himself and a home.

Kaori doesn't want the rice. She doesn't want Hagiwara's affection.

Hagiwara DOES eat the rice balls that Kaori makes for him, because he does want her affection.

Hagiwara refrigerates the rice. He's putting his affection on ice.

Fujisawa offers Sei yogurt.

Sei doesn't want the yogurt Fujisawa prepares.

Just like Hagiwara did, Fujisawa puts the food in the refrigerator.

Kaori gets and eats her own yogurt. Hagiwara isn't eating it.

But what does the yogurt represent?

Rice was easy for me. But every symbolic meaning I know of yogurt (balance, health, nurture, safety, worship), NONE of them make sense in the context of this show. So anyone want to try? Anyone want to help me out while I wait for the fight?

@respectthepetty @babyangelsky @iguessitsjustme @benkaben @dribs-and-drabbles @delesaria-blog Any thoughts? Anyone know a different meaning for yogurt?

EDIT: If you stumble on this version, I STRONGLY encourage you to check out the reblogs! The yogurt has meaning!

[orgasming-caterpillar]

Bought a science quizlet to keep me from relapsing and it's so helpful because every time my brain tells me to cut myself I solve five physics equations like get to work you wrinkly little cunt I don't keep you here for being a pessimistic asshole

[yuseirra]

a family bigger than 4! part 4. part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Gorou and Sarina are both alive here and Aqua and Ruby are not related to them(they do feel a strange sense of attachment-connection when they see each other though!)

When I make fanworks, I often use references from the original piece. For example, this one used some from 129, 141, 163, 166, 136, 106, and 161(and more~)

[lunar-system]

Edward Teach: The Star. Izzy Hands: The Moon. Stede Bonnet: The Sun.

From the soul searching of the Star through dark moments of the Moon all the way till the brilliant light of our Sun, my tarot trio is now finished, covering cards from XVII to XIX! 🌟🌜🌞

Enjoy ✨

Individual posts with symbolisms explored: Ed, Izzy & Stede. Ed & Stede combo post here.

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.