#but not really for me to judge

[chipthekeeper]

Andor S1 Rewatch Commentary - Episode 3

end of arc 1. next week i get way more annoying

Okay, episode 3. Hopefully the sound of the dishwasher will not affect this recording too much. But it's long past time that I do my dishes

I'm cold as fuck. I'm also very sleepy, so hopefully—I just yawned my face off—hopefully I'll actually have something to say during this

Next week we get to start with stuff that I really really like. I'm going to be very annoying for that. Maybe by next week we'll have a trailer *laughs for a full minute* oh I crack myself up

This opening shot is just slightly not level and that kind of hurts my brain. But it's fine

Kassa’s little boots, they’re so cute. But that can't be comfortable. His hair, though, that's kind of how I feel these days when I work out

I’ve been so mentally locked in on the Aldhani arc today, I feel like I don’t remember where I left off with this rewatch

They're all so yellow. Oh Kassa, I wouldn't keep poking them. Nothing good happened to the last girl that did that

I'd be pressing ALL the buttons

Makes you wonder what the level of technology was on this planet before whatever disaster happened

All the Ferrix shit is so dope. AT Hauler! No, that's not what that is, I'm kidding. Ha ha….But that's such a...god it's so cool how big this all is. The fucking scale! Also the scale of Brasso

Cassian, you should probably put on a helmet. Everyone else is wearing a helmet

Chicken walker in the background? That's a good feature

Bus. STAIRS DROID!!!!!!!! What a star!! "Mind your wallet!"

LUDWIG HOPPER!! Man we got two of my favorite weirdos back to back

They only use three of the…five? tac pods. Excuse me, the paddy wagons. Hehe it's like a fun ride…..Tight though, you really gotta enjoy your time with the boys

Look at shiny old Beeeeee, look at him! He's so cute!

Clem, the only guy with half a brain cell around here

I do love Cassian just being fundamentally someone who likes to break shit

I feel like West Team is missing one of its guys? I don't see that one pasty dude. Oh I'm just kidding, there he is

Why did you just park right in the middle of the fucking scrap yard? That's pretty stupid. It's just so Brasso could see them, I know, but that's a weird spot to put them

*gasps* Nine minutes? We timed it? I'm not reading into that, but it's interesting

"It'll be open season here," even though it was a bunch of children who killed this Republic officer? It's all just very convenient, I don’t know

Yeah Syril, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Don't mess with Bee, don't!!!! *perfect Bee voice* "Nooo"……Alright tough guy, look at you bullying droids and old women

Maarva wash your windows, good god

“Andor?” that's how I’ll open up all the doors from now on, peeking in, asking for Andor

Never noticed how weird Luthen's coat is

"What in the name of Chobb has he done this time?"....Timm you fucking rat. Oh god I love Bix’s murder eyes. Kill him!!! Timm. Everyone hates you

Luthen’s always counting choices…..

"Rings in the ear, doesn't it?"..."They’ll think about us soon enough" and he knows that his Aldhani operation is popping off in a couple days. Well….I guess he was gonna fucking…call it off…..luckily he met this dude

"Don't you wanna fight these bastards for real?" Gives me chills every time

Time to bang!! Done workin’ for the day, time to bang. "Bluff ‘n bluster"

“Give it to me now. Give it!!” me demanding the trailer

*audible keysmash* That guy very meekly tapping hahahaha

He didn't brace himself…..This whole falling heavy objects thing was so scary the first time. Still makes me nervous honestly

Just….some wonderful screaming. Ohh! and the crunch *empathetic groaning*

You broke your thing

I caught a kitten. Hi boy. You sit, be good please—aaannnd he’s gone

Oh Bix. I love you but that was never going to work

Hi Timm….Bye Timm. Oh nooooo the Leopards Eating Faces partyyyy, they ate my faaaaace…

Oh North-3 you stupid pathetic idiot

Hey don't shoot those little chicken nuggets in tracksuits!!!

Brasso you fucking badass. God! That's what—okay I can't believe I was saying that shit earlier and I completely forgot that them parking there give him the…yeah

Seriously Maarva you've got to turn your heat on

Oh Syril you got the yips…..oh no…..unfortunately he and Vel...really do have too many parallels

*cassian cocks his gun at syril’s head* Gotcha bitch

*North-3 voice* yay time for my great heroic flight, oh…oh no, oh no, just put her down, just put her down North-3—oh dear. Oh dear

“Shit” aaand thank you Linus Mosk for your contribution to Star Wars Cursing Canon

Just two dumb idiots looking so happy, bye

They're not…they're not going to come in Linus. They're dead, they got toasted. Ha, he's calling for bacta

Syril saying that Luthen's coat was gray-green later on…total shit, that thing is so yellow. Yellow-green, it's ugly

This fucking song, man

I remember this shot of Brasso hit so hard the first time, I was thinking about it for days

So can anyone just whistle and open up the ship? I guess so. I guess that's how Cassian got on it. But that's a spoiler for later……Egg slicer lights

Maarva, put the sun visor down this is ridiculous

And this was the first time I got to go “what the fuck do you mean I have to wait another week to see more of this?”

I don't think I have anything to say about the rest of the credits. But next week we're going to have so much fun

Yooooo! Snow day tomorrow. What up? Ok, signing off

[havi-fart]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH YAAYYYY

to fight my artblock i decided to redraw some gerard p donelan comics as ds9. but once i started i could not stop....

so heres all deep space 9 of them. lol. again the poses and captions are lifted straight from his comics all i did was put space guys on there! please enjoy

(id in alt text btw!)

[peach-moths]

listen when you lose an online art competition against your art rival sometimes you just gotta be mean about their art and not be judged for it and thats what big brothers are there for

[mellific]

FASCINATE, a new minicomic that i will have at SF ZINE FEST this sunday (9/3)! come to table 38 and pick it up along with uhh slkfjsd books that will hopefully have arrived at my house before friday! i guess!!

[pookienatalie]

Make Me Choose | @slayernat asked Natalie Scatorccio or Robin Buckley

[vantablackdraws]

Doodled Delilah during class today

[spibblebees]

It took me a few interactions and a bunch of nectars but.. i gave into Nemesis hype

[wardinespurrit]

redid my hms designs. i go on a ramble in the tags beware

[wyverncult]

judge of hell.jpg

[lovetommyactually]

this is a mess, written directly into the tumblr app lmao, but it wouldn’t leave my head so here... have it. post 8x15, cw: grief, canon mcd

It was past midnight. Maybe closer to two. That hollow hour where the city curled into itself—too late for night, too early for morning—and even the birds hadn’t begun to stir.

He sat slouched on the couch, shoulders caved in, like he could fold himself small enough to disappear. The beer in his hand—fourth? fifth?—had gone warm, but he held it anyway. The TV played something pointless, volume low, just enough to fill the room with something that wasn’t silence.

Not that it helped. The real noise was in his head.

Bobby’s voice hadn’t left him. “You’ll be okay, Buck. They’re gonna need you.” Said like it was simple. Like Buck’s world didn’t collapse on itself. He’d replayed that moment so many times it burned behind his eyes. all He could think was—how do you stay standing when the person who kept you grounded is the one who’s gone?

Maddie’s voice followed after, soft, pleading, “You don’t have to be okay right now, Buck. You just have to let yourself feel it.”

But he didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Because feeling it meant naming it. And naming it meant breaking apart.

Too much.

Everyone felt like they were slipping, like the world had tilted and no one knew how to catch their balance again. Buck didn’t either. So he didn’t try. He sat. He drank. He told himself he was fine. Numb was easier. Numb was safe.

But even that was starting to splinter at the edges.

So he stayed still. Let it all swirl inside—grief, guilt, confusion, anger—tangled so tightly he couldn’t tell one from the other. He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream—not again, not yet—He just sat there, breathing in static and beer fumes, whispering the same thing over and over in his mind,

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll try again.

Tomorrow he’d be better. He’d hold it together. He’d be who Bobby believed he could be. Tomorrow, he’d show up for everyone again.

But tonight—tonight he just needed to hold it together long enough to survive the quiet.

Too much. Too loud.

Until a knock shattered it.

Not loud—just enough to cut through the fog.

He blinked slowly toward the door. Didn’t move.

Another knock. This one didn’t ask. It forced him to get up.

“…Tommy?”

Tommy stood there, jacket zipped, windblown, eyes soft, worried.

“Hi,” he said, breathless. “Thank god… I tried calling you, Evan. A lot. You weren’t answering.”

Buck stared. Not surprised. Not upset. Just… tired. He looked at Tommy like one might look at a dream they’d almost forgotten.

All he could think was how badly he wanted to crawl inside Tommy’s ribs and stay there—where it was warm and safe and beating.

But he didn’t say that.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stepped back, left the door open, and leaned against the back of the couch.

Tommy lingered a moment before asking, careful, “Can I come in?”

Buck shrugged, eyes flicking away. Voice too thin to use.

Tommy stepped in, shut the door behind him, and slowly made his way to Buck’s side. His gaze fell to the cluster of beer bottles on the table. He didn’t comment.

Instead, he asked, “How are you doing?”

That made Buck laugh—a hollow, breathless thing. “How am I supposed to answer that?” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Tommy nodded, didn’t press, but stayed near.

Buck gave more shrugs. One for every question.

“Have you eaten anything?”

Shrug.

“Are you sleeping at all?”

Shrug.

“Did you even talk to anyone today?”

Another shrug. He didn’t even bother pretending to think about it.

Buck didn’t look at him. Just let the words hang in the thick air between them, one hand tightening around the neck of his beer like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Tommy exhaled slowly, like he was trying to hold something in—something fragile and fraying.

“I gave you time,” he said softly. “Told myself maybe you needed space. But, Evan…” He stepped closer, just a little. “It’s been days. You weren’t answering anyone. I-I had to come.”

Tommy’s next breath was sharper. Pushed to the edge of fear. “Will you answer me instead of just shrugging everything away?”

Buck’s jaw twitched. He looked up at Tommy like the question was too sharp to forgive.

“Why?” His voice cracked, low and bitter. “What do you want me to say?”

He gestured vaguely—at the room, the bottles, maybe even himself.

“Of course I’m not okay. But I’ll get over it, right? That’s what people do. They move on.” He shook his head. “What do you expect from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hand half-lifted, like he was going to reach for him. Then dropped.

“I want you to talk to me. I’m trying, Evan. I’ve been trying to reach you, and you keep running.”

Buck scoffed. Bit down the anger rising under his skin. That sting blooming behind his eyes wasn’t anger—it was something worse.

“…Ironic, huh?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile.

“Evan... I’m worried.”

That. That broke something.

“No…” Buck said, shaking his head, almost childlike.

Buck slid down the couch, spine curling, breath hitching—like the act of staying upright had finally become too much. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, like he could shove the feeling back in before it escaped.

Tommy followed him, kneeling, close but not touching.

Waiting.

“No…” he whispered, barely audible. “I have to be strong. They need me.”

Tommy moved closer, voice low and warm. “Sweetheart, you are strong. That doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel things.”

Buck shook his head, sharp and frantic. “No, Tommy. No. If I…” His breath hitched again. “If I let myself—i-if I feel this, I won’t be strong. I won’t be anything.”

He looked up at Tommy then, glassy-eyed and terrified. Not of what had happened. Of what was still inside him, waiting to be felt.

Tommy's expression broke. He reached out, just to offer.

“Oh, Evan,” he said, voice catching. “You will be. I swear to you, you will be. But right now? At this moment? I don’t need you to be strong. You don’t have to hold it all alone. You can let go if you need to. I’m here. I’m right here.”

There was a long silence. One that stretched between them, breathless and trembling. Like Buck had seen some kind of opening—like he wanted to step through it.

But instead, he squeezed his eyes shut again. Tighter. As if doing so might stop everything from spilling out.

“No…”

And then, finally, like it cost him everything

“I can’t,” Buck whispered. “If I lean on you… if I let myself break… and you leave—if you leave me—I won’t be able to pull myself back together.”

Tommy’s breath hitched.

Buck’s eyes were shining now, glassy and unfocused. “You show up, and I’m so thankful—so damn grateful… but Tommy—” His voice broke around the name. “I need someone to stay.”

His voice cracked then, thin and trembling, every syllable held together by the last thread of his strength.

Tommy reached out, hand resting gently on Buck’s arm.

“I won’t leave.”

Buck looked at him, disbelief painted in every line of his face.

“Yeah?” he asked, so quietly, like he barely dared to hope.

“I promise you, Evan,” Tommy said, firm, no hesitation. “If you let me, if you allow me to stay, I promise I will never leave.”

Buck wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. He needed it.

But he shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut like the hope itself was too much.

Tommy’s hand stayed firm.

“Evan… I never made promises before. Not to you” He swallowed. “But I’m making one now.”

And maybe it was that—the honesty. The raw, trembling truth in Tommy’s voice. The fact of it.

Maybe Buck believed him.

Because he didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

His fingers loosened around the bottle without realizing it. The beer slipped from his hand, hit the floor with a soft thud, and tipped—its contents spilling, seeping slowly into the rug.

But Buck didn’t look down.

A tear slipped down his cheek. Just one. Quiet. Unnoticed, maybe even by him.

Tommy saw it.

He moved gently, carefully—like he was stepping into a space sacred and fragile—and slid closer. Then, without a word, he reached out and pulled Buck into him.

Buck didn’t resist.

Didn’t hesitate.

The second Tommy’s arms wrapped around him, Buck collapsed.

Head pressed against Tommy’s chest, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. His breath caught—hitched—and then shuddered out of him in one long, broken exhale.

Tommy could feel Buck’s heartbeat—too fast, too loud—pressed against his chest. Like even Buck’s body wanted it out, didn’t know how to hold this much pain.

And then another breath.

And then he cried.

No sobs. No wails. Just quiet, shaking grief—like something finally cracked open and couldn’t be closed again.

Tommy held him tighter, one hand moving slowly up his back, the other cradling the nape of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice breaking with him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s what undid him.

Buck's fingers clenched tighter in Tommy’s shirt as the words tore out of him—small and cracked and soaked in pain.

“He told me I’ll be okay, Tommy…” His voice trembled, catching on each syllable. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I never will be.”

His body shook with the force of it, like admitting it made everything real.

Like the grief had finally found its voice—and it came out sounding like him.

Tommy didn’t speak right away. He just tightened his hold, one hand steady against the back of Buck’s head, the other splayed between his shoulder blades, grounding him.

“You will be,” he murmured, barely above a breath. “Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow… but you will be, Evan. I promise you.”

Buck shook his head, a broken, desperate motion, forehead still pressed against Tommy’s chest.

“I didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t say anything.”

“He knew, Evan,” he whispered. “I promise you—he knew.”

Tommy closed his eyes for a second, like the weight of it hit him too.

But his arms never loosened.

Tommy tightened his grip slightly, one hand smoothing up Buck’s back in slow, steady strokes.

“And you still can. Whenever you’re ready... he’ll still hear you.”

But Buck was past hearing reason.

He tried again, but nothing came out except noise. Raw, aching noise. Grief in its purest, most helpless form.

His breath hitched hard, a sob catching mid-throat before it forced its way out—ugly and sharp.

“I c-can’t—” he gasped, and then the words stopped working.

And still, Tommy held him.

He pulled Buck tighter, cradling the back of his head, rocking him just slightly—not enough to soothe, just enough to stay.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, over and over now, like a mantra. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eventually, Buck went quieter. The sobs thinned to uneven breathing, but his lips kept moving—mumbling something, soft and broken, over and over.

Tommy leaned in, trying to hear. Couldn’t. His brows drew together.

“Evan?” he whispered, pulling back just a little, just enough to see his face.

Buck’s face was wet, flushed, crumpled with the kind of pain that didn’t know how to hide itself anymore. His eyes barely opened.

“Stay,” he said, voice hoarse, barely there. “Stay tonight and tomorrow, and just… stay, Tommy. Please.”

Tommy didn’t answer with words.

Buck curled in closer, folding into the space between Tommy’s legs, cheek pressed against his chest, body trembling but held.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the birthmark above Buck’s eye, tender and reverent.

Then he pulled him back into his arms.

The floor beneath them was hard. Unforgiving. And Tommy didn’t move.

He kissed Buck’s hair. Then again. And again.

Soft. Reassuring. Steady.

“I’m not going anywhere, Evan.”

[moralsofanalleycatsposts]

Embroidery test. Had a fight with French knots. Remind me in future that sparkly thread is a bitch. Also remind me not to try & make tiny Aziraphale on cream fabric.

[cherry-mash]

zeff had planned a mother's day breakfast in bed for sora with SOME help from the boys, mainly help from reiju, then planning for the boys to meanwhile draw sora pictures, but, uh... there was some confusion, it was early, baby boys still tired

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! :D

ps here's their apartment's floor plan should anybody be weird like me and feel they 'need to know' (it was fun)

first / previous

[blaithnne]

Remember this post where I talked about how funny Host!Vic’s gender neutrality is? Well now it’s even funnier because this episode seemingly confirmed something I have suspected to be true for a while now, which is that fictional Vic Michealis SOMEHOW DIDNT REALISE THEYRE BI?????

[anjelia3]

2x22 ➔ 3x03

"Angel was cured... When I kiIIed him, Angel was cured. Your spell worked at the last minute, Will."

[inzuinzudesu]

Some simple Tobi/Sukea sketches, as I don't really have a lot of time lately. Color really changes the mood, huh? I can't quite choose which one I like more tbh 🙉 Translations! Red one: "Let us save the world. I will follow you till the end, Tobi." "Hmph, is that so." White one: *happy humming noises* "I~yan! You're so naughty, Sukea~!" Sfx: *lots of squeezes* Note: They refer to eachother as "Tobi-san" and "Sukea-san" in my mind, cuz I thought that'd be in character for them?? As for "saving the world", you can interpret that in whichever way you want 💀 And I'm gonna yap now! I can't hecking write organic conversations yo, like I'm cringing help 😭😭 What even is thissss And that's why I really appreciate all the talented writers out there over at ao3 okay, y'all doing good stuff! I'm struggling to find Tobi/Sukea fics though, I actually think I've read most of them, at least on ao3?? I went to pixiv, but usually it's just a lot of jounin-ifs over there (not saying that's a bad thing haha). I really love identity porn?? Like you're falling in love with a person and then you find out that he's your childhood rival that you hold (very) bitter feelings for??? And you have to fake that you don't know who he truly is, while dealing with your own complicated feelings????? Then plot happens and he has to go back to the village, but you don't want to let him go, but you do??????? Yes, I am describing The New Recruit series by butter_peanut. I adore that fic, I actually cried during some parts darn it 😭😭 Like how do people make such amazing works 😭😭😭😭 I just love to read fics in general, really gets my brain going.

[mr-jammed-toast]

see the reason why solangelo holds a very special place in my heart is actually the fact that they're canonically dating. i think not only because i came from fandoms where queer ships were atmost only implied due to censorship, but because i adore queer couples, especially teenagers (since theyre around my age and it feels more realistic to me) navigating through their relationship.

sure, nico and will havent known each other as long as percabeth, and some might even say that they rushed dating each other too easily. and because of that, maybe nico and will arent on the same level of trust and understanding a couple like percabeth has, maybe they still have a shit ton of issues that they need to deal with, especially those that are obstacles to their relationship.

but does that stop them from loving each other?

tsats shows us that despite the misunderstandings and the conflicts, will and nico are willing to overcome those- to try and understand the other better, to fix the rift between the two of them- because they simply love each other so much. they enjoy being in other's presence, and they embrace their similarities and differences like it's a part of them. that it's never too late to apologize, to give a second chance, and to change, when you know you love someone that deeply.

i never believed in a perfect solangelo, where they are soulmates who automatically understand each and every part of themselves just because fate says so. and although tsats wasn't perfect, i'd honestly rather take a flawed relationship between two deeply traumatized teenagers than the former.