madneywhre

[madneywhre]

JJ: Luke, you're an asshole, man.

Luke: You are what you eat JJ.

[madneywhre]

They should invent lesbian representation for lesbians

[madneywhre]

I miss you weewoo show.

[madneywhre]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRbd3RdT/

This is a need. Not a want. A NEED

#taylor swift #our song forever <3

[madneywhre]

[madneywhre]

Emily Prentiss - 16x04

#emommy #emily isn't a bitch

[madneywhre]

Buck, talking to Eddie, lying face down on his couch: And then I called him Dad.

Bobby, talking to Athena, on the verge of tears: And then he called me Dad.

[madneywhre]

I don't think I've seen anyone talk about this at all on Tumblr, which is very lax of us all, so I suppose I shall do it myself.

Last week Elon Musk broke European law so badly that the lawyers who will finally put the case to rest have yet to be born.

I'm not exaggerating. Here's the thing: America has terrible data privacy laws. A solid technique for an American website owner in times of financial hardship, such as accidentally buying a loss-leading debt-ridden social media platform to avoid going to gaol, is to take all the data harvested from users and to sell it to third parties for lots of money. It is fun and breezy and lets you pay off at least one lawyer for the month. What a lark.

However, the European Union has an even more fun and breezy law called GDPR.

And the thing is, the EU really, really care about GDPR. Like... they really care. This is not one of those grey area laws like jaywalking where it's basically ignored unless you do it in front of a police officer who is having a midlife crisis because his wife left him and the dishes are piling up and he's down to his third day of wearing the same pants and yesterday a man in the pub laughed at him for getting a football term wrong. This is the sort of law that, if you break it, grey men in grey suits with worryingly little humour will get in touch and unroll terrifyingly long scrolls of legal text and then you are in gaol for the rest of your life. This is a big law. The big one. Big boy law. Do not break.

So, if you're going to be a website owner in times of financial hardship who needs some quick money to cover your many billions of dollars of debt who decides to sell the private data you harvested from the user base, the most important thing you absolutely MUST remember is, you can only use the American data, and never the European.

But.

I mean.

Hypothetically.

If someone were to own an American website in times of financial hardship, such as an accidentally bought loss-leading debt-ridden social media platform to avoid going to gaol... but that someone didn't know the difference between American and European law.

Well then. That person would sell the wrong data.

And if that were to happen, on the scale of a global social media platform, with users ranging from the megalomaniacal Uber Rich to literal world governments...

The ensuing court cases would last for decades, as lawyers began the lawsuits at the richest end of the list, and worked their way down.

***

Also he posted a Twitter poll today about whether he should stay in charge of Twitter and he lost lol

[madneywhre]

paramount+ you leave my emotional support milf alone do you hear me 🔪

#this

[madneywhre]

[madneywhre]

[madneywhre]

‘tis the damn season | 7.5k buddie fic | ao3 link

Eddie asks Buck to be his date to the Holiday Fireman’s Ball. It goes so much better than he could have imagined. 

xmas gift for my bestie @justlovehimanyway

It’s too early for this.

Eddie rubs at his temples, the pre-caffeine headache setting in as the sound of the coffee machine rumbles quietly in the kitchen. It’s nearly six in the morning and the loft is mostly empty. There’s a few people on the couch watching the morning news and a few less milling about the bay finishing off some chores from last night. Eddie is seated at the table, pointedly ignoring Chim’s insistent stare from the kitchen where he’s cracking eggs into a bowl for Bobby to make French toast. Hen and Buck are still asleep in the bunkroom, unsurprisingly considering they took the brunt of the last call the hardest. Eddie remembers re-adjusting Buck’s covers just before he slipped out, half of the blanket on the floor where Buck must have thrown it off in fitful sleep.

“So,” Chimney draws out the o as he leans forward, wiping his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder.

“So.” Eddie responds childishly, leveling Chimney with an unimpressed stare.

“There’s no one at all you want to take to the Fireman’s Holiday Ball?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling up in the corner of his mouth.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mutters, willing the coffee machine to be finished sooner. “Is taking a date a requirement or…?”

“No,” Bobby comes to his rescue, smiling, “it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Chimney adds, still smirking, “but—”

“Chim, please,” Eddie practically begs, “at least let me get one cup of coffee in before you harass me about my prospective date options.”

“So you have thought about asking someone.” Chimney grins victoriously.

Eddie wants to smash his face into the table. 

The thing is. 

Chimney isn’t wrong. 

It’s all Eddie’s been thinking about the past few weeks since Bobby announced they were invited to Los Angeles’ Fireman Holiday Ball as a thank you from the city for all the hard work they’ve done this year. There’s only one person that he wants to ask. The one person that nestled into all the cracks and crevices of Eddie’s heart. Has held it in their hands —  carefully, delicately — for years now. He’s buried it deep within his marrow. Too terrified to look at it head on because there was never a right time. He selfishly, greedily stole a glimpse of it when a bullet ripped through his shoulder and his vision tunneled on the only thing he’s ever wanted, his hand reaching out…

Never the right time, but all of the sudden Eddie was out of time.

And then he’s graciously given a second (third, fourth? he’s lost count) chance. Except then he’s confronted with the Ana and Taylor of it all. So Eddie swallowed it down again and again and again. But now. Now. Now there’s nothing, but space. Endless, endless space that forces Eddie to look and look and look. He can’t turn away from it. Can’t go back to letting it slip out on the nights when he’s feeling brave or maybe just lonely. Or both. 

And maybe, just maybe, Buck wants it too. 

Eddie thinks of the well. Of Buck clawing at the mud like he could dig Eddie out with his bare hands. The piece of paper sitting in a safe that legally ties Buck to him and Christopher. He thinks of Buck crawling underneath a firetruck to save him. Pressing his hand onto Eddie’s bleeding wound like it’s the only thing keeping them both alive (it was). He thinks about Buck running without hesitation when Christopher called and breaking down Eddie’s door to get to him. How he stuck by Eddie’s side and showed him that at the end of the day what they do matters. 

That Eddie matters. 

So, yeah, Eddie’s thought about asking Buck to be his date for the Holiday Ball. Because Eddie is finally ready to choose Buck. To be all in forever (god willing). It’s just so much fucking easier to think about than actually do. And Eddie is not a coward, but this is the rest of his life he’s talking about here. Buck is it for him. 

read the rest on ao3

will also tag @shortsighted-owl @ajunerose @elvensorceress @scifiromance7 @mumucow @colonoscopys

hopefully i got everyone that wanted to be tagged?

#read later

[madneywhre]

Twitter jut banned mentioning any of your other social media platforms on Twitter. Which is fucking hilarious.

But they didn't include Tumblr.

Tumblr is now one of the only social media platforms you are allowed to talk about on Twitter.

This is fucking hilarious.

#fuck twitter

[madneywhre]

Bobby: Yesterday, I overheard Eddie saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Buck replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life

[madneywhre]

guys what’s a gender neutral term for a parent

#no.

[madneywhre]

trying to keep the porn bots away from my blog like

[madneywhre]

#moms #stef x lena #stef foster #the fosters