do it while the ground falls out from under you; do it while everything you loved goes up in smoke; do it while the dream of your future is still burning embers around you; build anew on the hot ashes of everything you worked for; keep going, keep loving, keep living, even as all you want is to turn back (there is no turning back; it is gone already); do it through grief, which feels like fear in the body
The tag I have seen most often on this post is "I needed to hear this," and I am so, so grateful to have said something that was needed. These words came out of the depths of my own grief, and I am so grateful to have made this small connection with others in the midst of it. Grief is isolating and indescribable, but none of us are alone.
That said, these tags were what I needed to hear:
we're all gonna make it
it's okay if you can't see how yet. you don't have to believe in better. for now it is enough to just keep going, and eventually the path will emerge. you are not alone. you are not lost in the woods forever. keep going. I love you.
It's the Royal Academy of Art Young Artist's Summer Show. One of my favourite exhibitions of the year. Like. Not only are the older kids insanely talented, the younger ones' artist statements will just punch you right in the face.
we still don't talk enough about jonah being hen's (and chim's) perfect foil. we've talked about it three times. it was the three times I told it to crickets at length. please we gotta talk about the jonah arc more it was so good
#it WAS so good#hen is everything he wants to be and nothing at all like him and he wants her approval as much as he wants to show her up#and he LOSES not just because she's better than him#but because she and chim love each other so much and work together so seamlessly and wordlessly as partners#it's great @glorious-spoon
yeah YEAH! partly, because I think there is an element of her being like him and that's what makes it good. the thing that makes it delicious, imo, is he's not entirely wrong when he says they're the same. that's what makes it such a good foil, the foil has to be similar enough to make the difference sharp.
Jonah's origin is a dark twisted funhouse mirror version of both of theirs. Chim got into firefighting because he enjoyed being a hero when the bar caught fire, and specifically he was shown enjoying the positive attention. Hen found purpose in saving a woman's life, bringing her back from the dead, having control over that, having the power to save a life. and those aren't inherently bad things. Chim and Hen, though, like you said, have love, and Jonah has only ego and hunger. Their love for each other and their partnership gets them through, like you said, but they also have love for their patients, and that's why Jonah could never hope to be them.
YEAH, yeah, like - that moment when they're first working together and he points out the risky hero things she's done with such admiration, and she's so visibly put off by it because he's not WRONG, but he also doesn't GET IT, and worse, he thinks he does.
#it would have been cool of the show to go into the jonah-chim parallels#chim explicitly got into firefighting bc he wanted the glory#but that stopped being what was important to him#and for jonah it stayed the only important thing @pairofraggedclaws
yes! so important in chim's story that he has become so humble. from his time in the vomit trenches with eli, but even since s1, when he was still attaching his worth to glory a bit.
I think the bit in the hospital was meant to be about that, because his hand defeated jonah, but he is giving praise to hen and happily calling himself comic relief. he could've been bragging about his part in taking down jonah, but that's not chim anymore.
i firmly believe that one of the reasons tumblr latched onto project hail mary so hard is because we're all so obsessed with the dead wife trope lately and grace is his own dead wife. half of the book/film is grace experiencing a dead wife montage about himself and that's beautiful to me
sometimes i have to pinch myself because there was an emergency where the victim said 'save the boy. she's the love of my life, he's the love of hers' in the same episode where buck was ready to die to make sure christopher made it home to eddie.
and then in s8, buck gave up his home to make sure eddie and christopher could be together.
and then in s9, buck was ready to give up his identity and remain in capativity in order to make sure eddie made it home to chris.
six years later, and buck would still give up everything he has to make sure eddie and chris make it home to each other.
okay im gonna be honest im tired and overwhelmed with work (which proves the point of the post i guess) but my employment is archaeologist and i thought this said Ur as in the ancient southern mesopotamian city like op was urging us all to rp ancient sumerians on the internet in the middle of night
I mean all respect to 𒀭𒋀𒆠 but I just don't think the city need to be spending so much on this zuggarat. Like, he's got the moon! Does he really need a holiday cottage at our expense?
nothing can break the bond between a friend who loves spoilers and a friend who just watched an amazing show and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
alternatively: nothing can break the bond between a friend who doesnt read and a friend who just read an amazing book and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
nothing can break the bond between a friend who cannot and will not watch horror but is still interested and a friend who just watched an amazing horror movie and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
Last year, I befriended a Catholic seminarian. We've gotten to be pretty decent friends. Seeing as he was staying in town for the summer and I wasn't, I entrusted him with caring for my plant.
He did a wonderful job, but as he was returning my plant to my custody, he explained "I watered her every other day, I gave her new dirt, moved her into the sunshine, prayed the rosary-"
"What?"
He looked at me, confused. "Isn't she a plant you pray with?"
"No," I said slowly. "She's a prayer plant. That's the... colloquial name of the plant."
Upon seeing his stricken face, I realized something went wrong. Turns out, this entire time, he's been including my plant in on his prayers and leaving her near icons.
Listen, totally cool. My plant becoming Catholic is a great deal for her not dying over the summer. But now I must navigate this interfaith household. Keep me in your thoughts.
honey and milk (gen & buddie, 1k, for eddiediazweek2026 day 1 - sweet tooth)
When Eddie is very small, he gets a cavity.
He remembers the pain, the ache, his mother sighing and watching him while he wails alone in the dentist's chair. His father's indulgent pat on his head when he stands up from the plastic chairs of the waiting room.
"No more crying, mijo," his dad tells him, as he hiccups through a swollen jaw in the backseat of the car. "This was because of you stuffing yourself at your abuela's house. We told you that this is what would happen if you ate too many sweets."
So, here is the lesson: you deserve pain when you accept too much sweetness.
So, here is the portrait: Eddie Diaz, a man who does not like sweets.
He does not abstain from sugar, of course. Not completely. A single slice of tres leches on his birthday, handed to him by his abuela, looking at him with soft eyes. A milkshake shared with Shannon, their feet knocking under a diner table, the taste of her lipgloss before they can finish the whole glass. A cookie with his six-year-old, sitting side by side in a house filled with moving boxes, breaking his own cookie in half and handing the larger piece to Christopher when he devours his own too quickly.
Small, acceptable tastes. Dessert, when he is allowed. Water, instead of juice.
Twenty-some odd years of this, and then, of course, Buck.
Buck, who doesn't particularly like sweet things, but who walks into their house on a warm summer day and tells a giggling Christopher that they were gonna learn how to make homemade ice cream. Who buys caramel creamer from the fancy grocery store to stock in the station, because it's Chimney's secret shame. Who babbles to a smiling, indulgent Bobby about cupcake recipes, who then brings said cupcakes to the Wilson's for a dinner, grinning ear to ear watching Denny and the other kids descend on them even as Hen swats him for the incoming sugar highs.
Buck, who watches Eddie carefully every time he brings something to the station, hope so bright in the corners of his eyes that Eddie can't help but take a bite, to indulge.
He tries to keep it careful, restrained. A bite here, a taste there. But as the years go by, cookies are shoved into his hands, cakes are sliced and waiting on the counter. At some point, without noticing, the passionfruit-guava juice from the farmer's market stall they'd helped on a call years ago started finding its way into Eddie's fridge, innocuous and ever present. Eddie doesn't pour himself a glass, not unless someone offers.
Buck always offers.
It happens so gradually that Eddie doesn't really notice when he starts taking more than one cookie, cutting himself extra slices of cake. But one day, sitting in the loft and eating a slice of Buck's chocolate cake while scrolling through his phone, he hears it:
"C'mon, man, leave some for the rest of us!" Eddie blinks up as Harry slides over to the counter, grabbing a plate from the surface before beginning to cut himself a slice.
Buck, on the other side, flicks Harry's forehead, making him grumble. "Eddie can eat as much as he wants," he says, hands on his apron-ed sides.
"Favoritism," Ravi mutters, grabbing his own plate. Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Chimney gets there first.
"Don't whine, Ravioli," he says. "You should be grateful that Buck keeps our resident cookie monster fed."
Eddie splutters. "What the hell, Chim?"
"You know--" Chimney waves a hand vaguely. "You, entire trays of cookies. Or brownies, or whatever cavity-inducing food Buckley decides to grace us with on any given day."
"I don't have entire trays," Eddie protests. A beat of silence. He looks around for help. Nobody answers. He looks at Buck, who winces.
"...it's fine! I always make at least two trays!"
Eddie stares at him, horrified. "You haven't mentioned it to me when I eat full trays of dessert?"
Buck splutters. "I- it's- you like it! I'm not gonna stop you!"
"And besides," Hen says, eyes glinting with mischief behind her glasses. "God forbid anyone gets between you and your sugar."
The words are teasing, kind, but it makes Eddie feel strangely vulnerable anyways. This tucked-away piece of himself, this part of him that he had thought was hidden for so long-- displayed.
Or, not displayed. Seen. Seen, and not at all a surprise to anybody.
Eddie looks at her, who grins back, like she's said nothing surprising at all. His eyes shift to Buck, who shrugs, slides over a glass of juice.
"There's nothing wrong with having a sweet tooth, Eddie," he says, and in his mouth, it almost sounds like benediction.
Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, feels a familiar urge to retreat, to leave the cake on the table and dump the juice in the sink and sit in the corner until his teeth stop buzzing with sweetness.
But then Chimney points a fork at him: "Just eat your cake, Diaz," he says, mock-stern and all cheer. "Or Buckley'll be insufferable for the rest of the day."
"Hey!" Buck yelps, little-brother annoyed. Hen slides into the seat next to Eddie, nudges her plate against his.
"And besides," she says, grinning at him, warm and easy. "I don't blame Eddie-- this is some damn good cake, right?"
Eddie thinks about toothaches and heartaches. The sweetness that comes before, or perhaps in spite of, pain. He thinks about sitting in the dentist's office alone. He thinks about going to the dentist's with Chris, his little hands balling in Eddie's collar as he cried, how they'd had popsicles the next day anyways.
He looks around, and wonders how long they've known, in the casual, unthinking way love allows you to know someone. He looks at Buck, years of taste testing and aluminum trays and the scent of butter and sugar behind him, and wonders how long he's known. He's pretty sure it's been a long time.
He realizes, with chocolate on his tongue, that the thought doesn't frighten him at all.
"Yeah," he grins at Hen, scooping up a forkful of cake and tapping it against her's. "It's pretty damn great."
My doctor recommended not checking my phone before 10 (I wake up at 7), because of how cortisol production works and affects your body. I rarely manage it, but it's nice to know there's a medical possibility that doesn't involve ignoring things or being in denial.
god I'm such a slut for Chinese eggplant in garlic sauce *decides it’s inaccurate to refer to myself as a slut in light of my minimal sexual activity* if The Enemy discovered my ardor for Chinese eggplant in garlic sauce, they would gain a significant strategic advantage
Mid-Wilshire's Hottest @magnoliamica - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
