#like. ok! i can handle that!

[leemarkies]

if i pass this deposition group project i shouldn't have to take the bar they should just give me my license bc i had to deal with my dumbass groupmates

[hajihiko]

Picking people for his gang like rotten apples off the ground

[buddie-buddie]

you'll find that you were never not mine

5.1k - explicit - buck x tommy - read on ao3

In his thirty two trips around the sun, Buck has done plenty of things he’s proud of. He’s run headfirst into burning buildings. He’s saved lives. He’s reunited with his sister and survived being crushed by a ladder truck and been named the legal guardian of the coolest kid in the world. 

He’s felt pride before. But never like this. 

This is different. It’s intoxicating and addicting and everything Buck never realized he could have. Everything Buck never realized he deserved. Not until now. 

Not until Tommy. 

The swell of pride behind his ribs, the warmth flooding his chest and beating through his body, it isn’t foreign, not entirely. But he’s never felt it all quite like this. It’s never consumed him like this. It’s never been so heady, so dizzying, so absolutely electrifying. He wants to bottle it up and carry it around in his pocket and take hits from it when no one is looking.

It’s a high he’d gladly spend the rest of his life chasing, if he could only be so lucky. 

Never before has he felt so alive, so proud and worthy and good. There’s a deep, intoxicating pleasure to it, tiny bursts of ecstasy skittering across his skin and dancing up his spine as he looks down at Tommy. 

Tommy, who’s lying beneath him, with his eyes sparkling and a wild, sated grin stretching across his face. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, his heart hammering beneath kiss-bitten, come-covered skin. He has one hand still fisted in the sheets, the other splayed across Buck’s chest. 

“C’mere,” Tommy says, voice rough and heavy. He sounds absolutely destroyed. And that alone sends sparks flying across Buck’s skin, electricity crackling behind his chest as he realizes it was because of him. He did that. 

The pride flares in his chest as he lets Tommy pull him in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. 

“S’that good?” Buck mumbles against Tommy’s mouth. 

Tommy pulls back, just enough to give Buck a look of absolute bewilderment. “Was that good?” he echoes, eyes wide. “I haven’t come that hard in–– I don’t even know. I–Yeah,” he says, huffing out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, Evan. It was good.”

Buck’s breath catches in his throat, pride swelling in his chest as Tommy’s praise sets him ablaze. As does the way he calls him Evan. A name Buck usually hated now makes warmth bloom behind his ribs when it falls from Tommy’s lips. 

Buck can always hear the smile behind it, can feel the fondness as it settles over him, grounding him in a way that still feels just as exciting as the very first time.  

Buck just…. well, he never corrected him. He’s usually pretty quick to ask people to call him Buck, but for some reason he never did when it came to Tommy. Buck used to think that his nickname was reserved for the people who know him, but then along came Tommy with his sparkly eyes and his adorable nose scrunches and his kind heart and his fingers beneath Buck’s chin and well– Buck is starting to think maybe Tommy knows him better than he thinks. 

It was only a month ago that Tommy had kissed him and his world exploded. Everything was suddenly a little bit brighter, a little bit warmer. Nothing had changed, per se, and yet everything was better. So much better. 

It reminds Buck of that part in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy steps into technicolor. When the sepia tones disappear and there’s nothing but bright, beautiful color. It’s not that Buck’s life before this was bad. It was just… sepia toned. And now that he’s had a taste of technicolor, he can’t believe he ever lived without it. 

He’d be lying if he said part of him doesn’t mourn the fact that it took him three decades to get here. But now that he’s arrived? Well, he’s making up for lost time. 

Tommy pulls Buck back in for another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the one before it. And yet, it still sends the same zip of pleasure up Buck’s spine, the same rush of desire thrumming beneath his skin. 

Initially, Buck thought that the night Tommy kissed him for the first time was the moment when all the pieces clicked into place. But he was quick to realize that wasn’t the case at all. It wasn’t all the pieces that night, not really. More like it was the edges of the puzzle, the corner pieces that guide the rest of the journey. It was the moment when you press the edges together and have a real perimeter, and for the first time, it all feels possible. It was the realization that something will come of all the jumbled up pieces scattered in front of you. Something real. Something beautiful. 

And the more time he spends with Tommy, the more the pieces fall into place. 

A few days after their coffee date, Tommy had taken him for a flying lesson– the first of many, he had promised. The flying was fun, not to mention how hot it was having a front-row seat to watch Tommy in his element, this time with permission to stare. But the best part of the day was when they left the airstrip and Tommy reached down and took Buck’s hand in his. 

They walked to Tommy’s car hand in hand, and Buck didn’t miss the way his mind quieted the second Tommy’s fingers intertwined with his own. Being with Tommy settled something deep inside of Buck, it eased his mind and quieted the noise he hadn’t realized had once been so loud– not until Tommy smiled at him and suddenly, everything wasn’t so loud anymore. Everything wasn’t so hard anymore.  

Buck likes being with Tommy. He likes the weight of Tommy’s hand in his and the brush of his stubble against his chin. He likes the feel of Tommy’s lips on his and the way his skin sparks each time they touch. He likes being on the receiving end of raised eyebrows and nose scrunches and a quiet, fond, “Evan.” He likes it all. 

Never before has Buck been in a relationship where he’s felt so good and settled and safe. Which isn’t to say he felt unsafe with any of his exes. It’s just…. it’s different with Tommy. Buck feels safe to explore, safe to not know things, safe to not be the guy with the answers all the time. Safe to figure out who he is, what he wants, what he likes. Safe to just be.

He feels safe with Tommy. Proud, too. God, he’s so fucking proud to be with Tommy. 

He still has hard days— occupational hazard, and all. But even when his days are hard, they’re still good. Any day with Tommy is good. 

Today, though? Today is the best of them all. 

Today, Buck has Tommy in his bed. Laid out beneath him like a fucking god, looking like he’s been cut from marble and sent from the heavens just for Buck. He’s perfect, so perfect, with his kiss-swollen lips and lust-blown eyes and bruises starting to bloom beneath the trail of dark hair leading down his chest. 

Buck swears he’s dreaming. It would make it the longest, most vivid dream he’s ever had, but it’s the only explanation. There’s no way a human being can feel this good– there’s just no fucking way. He must have the flu– or maybe that nasty virus Eddie had mentioned was going around Christopher’s class– and his temperature’s climbed so high that he’s started hallucinating. There’s just no way this is real life. 

It’s not like Buck is a stranger to sex. Kind of the opposite, actually. He’s had his fair share of it, all of which was blown clear out of the water the first time Tommy got his hands on him. It’s not that it was necessarily bad with any of his exes. Sex with Tommy is just… better. Much like everything else with Tommy is revealing itself to be. 

At first, Buck thought it was the newness of it all. Like there was a honeymoon phase of sorts, something that would vanish the next time he found himself lucky enough to be in bed with Tommy. He wondered if it would pop suddenly like a balloon that’s floated too high, or if it would slowly ebb away like the tide from the shore, gone before he realized it was. Or maybe it would melt like the wings of Icarus from flying too close to the bright, dazzling radiance that is Tommy Kinard, and he’d come crashing down, cushioned only by the memories of what they once had. 

Except it didn’t. It didn’t pop, didn’t ebb. It hasn’t melted, or vanished, or even dimmed for so much as a fleeting moment. It’s been a month since the first time they got their hands on each other, and it’s still just as electric, just as intoxicating. 

In fact, it’s only gotten better. 

Granted, the first time was a rush of hungry kisses and frantic grinding and come-stained jeans against the door of Buck’s loft. So really, it was only up from there. 

The second time, Tommy got his mouth on Buck and Buck swore he was next in line to meet Jesus. There was the time that Tommy had jerked them off together, both of them in one hand, as if that wasn’t the single hottest thing Buck had ever experienced. And the time Tommy blew him in the shower and then stood up and stripped his own cock until he came on Buck’s abs with a shout. And then there was today. Today happened to be the first time Buck got Tommy off all by himself, and it was… transformative. 

Buck has never, in all his life, known pride quite like he has today. 

Earlier, they had stumbled into Buck’s loft after dinner at his favorite place around the corner, barely through the door before they were on each other, swapping heavy, frenzied kisses.

“Upstairs,” Buck had breathed, punctuating his request with a kiss. “Please.”

“So polite,” Tommy hummed, and Buck could feel his lips stretching into a grin beneath his. He followed Buck up the stairs, their fingers laced together the entire time. Buck dropped backwards onto the mattress, fisting his hands in the lapels of Tommy’s jacket and pulling him down with him. 

They made out for a while, grinding and rutting against each other fully clothed like teenagers, rather than two thirty-something men with all the time and space and freedom to take each other apart properly. 

Tommy pulled away just long enough to tug off his jacket and toss it on the floor behind him. Buck whined at the momentary loss of touch, chasing after it with an arch of his back that had Tommy swearing beneath his breath before diving back in and kissing Buck again. 

“You need to use your words, baby,” Tommy said between kisses, his voice low and breathy in a way that had heat zipping up Buck’s spine. Tommy’s mouth trailed a line of hot kisses across Buck’s jaw and down his neck, nosing at his pulse point and relishing in the way doing so made Buck’s breath catch in his throat. The pet name lit him up, made him feel warm and sparkly all over, like live wires were crackling beneath his skin and setting him on fire in the very best way. 

It was exhilarating and absolutely intoxicating, and Buck wanted to live the rest of his life feeling this happy, this floaty, this good. 

“Please,” Buck’s voice was hoarse, thick with lust and desire as he pushed the word out past the arousal climbing up his throat and threatening to consume him. 

Tommy’s warm breath ghosted across the shell of Buck’s ear as he all but purred, “That’s it. Tell me what you want.” 

“I–” Buck froze for a minute, suddenly unable to form words. He didn’t know where to begin. 

He wanted it all, whatever Tommy would give him. Whatever he could be so lucky to have before this beautiful, delicate bubble popped and the magic disappeared and sepia tones began to bleed into technicolor and the jig was up. Because really, it all felt just a little too good to be true. 

“A-Anything. Whatever you want.”

Tommy made a tsk sound under his breath, but there was no malice behind it, no shame. Instead, just warmth and patience and a fond, familiar sparkle in his blue eyes that made Buck’s chest ache. “Evan,” he had said, his thumb ghosting over Buck’s birthmark before coming to bracket his temple. It was a gesture so simple yet so intimate, it nearly split Buck in two. “What do you want?”

Buck stopped for a beat, letting Tommy’s words settle over him. He felt the fondness behind them all the way in his bones, and something about that made him feel whole, made him feel seen. The words were out before Buck could stop them. “I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” Tommy assured him without so much as a second’s hesitation. He stole another kiss. “You’re perfect.”

Buck’s instinct was to duck away from the praise that settled over him like a balm, soothing the rapidly-fraying edges of his sanity and warming him from the inside out. But Tommy didn’t let him. His fingers hooked beneath Buck’s chin, tilting it back up until their eyes met and Tommy said, “None of that.” His voice was so warm, so gentle and fond and soft, it made Buck’s chest ache. “You can have what you want,” Tommy told him. “Just gotta ask for it.”

Buck’s breath stuttered, his heart hammering against his chest. “I wanna get you off,” he said, barely recognizing the heady rasp in his voice. “Want to take care of you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

Tommy’s eyes were wild as he bit back a groan, as he closed the distance between their lips and kissed Buck for all he’s worth. Without breaking the kiss, he sat back, pulling Buck with him. He tapped Buck’s thigh, humming in appreciation as Buck got the memo and slung a knee over Tommy’s thighs. He settled in Tommy’s lap with a slow, experimental roll of his hips that had both of them seeing stars and struggling to catch their breath. 

Buck loved this, he fucking loved it, being manhandled like this. Tommy’s hands are big and strong and Buck’s never felt better than when they’re on him. He loved that Tommy could take him, that he can hold him and move him however he pleases. It sent a rush of heat dancing across his skin, lust and desire pooling in his belly.

“You’re so good,” Tommy told him, and the words danced up Buck’s spine, heat licking at his skin as he felt a flush creep up his neck. “The best boy.” 

Holy fuck. Tommy knew exactly what he needed to hear, exactly what to say to drive Buck past the point of crazy and all the way to borderline hysteria. Buck whined against Tommy’s lips, rocking his hips as his fingers dug into Tommy’s waist. 

Tommy’s fingers pushed up beneath the hem of Buck’s shirt, splaying out across the warm skin of his lower back. Buck arched his back in a silent invitation, one Tommy accepted instantly, tugging Buck’s shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor before doing the same to his own. He dropped back against the pillows, looking up at Buck with a happy, hungry grin. Tommy’s hands settled on Buck’s hips just as Buck rolled them again, grinding down on Tommy’s lap before dropping down to his forearms, bracketed on either side of Tommy’s head as he kissed him again. 

“Fuck,” Tommy panted into Buck’s mouth. He rocked up against Buck, his grip on him tightening as his eyes raked over him with a look that could only be described as insatiable. “Look at you.” Tommy’s voice was low, thick with arousal and something that sounded a lot like awe. 

Buck blushed, heat rushing up his neck and burning in his cheeks as he dipped his chin, dropping his gaze with a shy smile. “Hey,” Tommy said gently. It was just one word, but it was unmistakably fond, so much so that it left Buck swallowing past a lump in his throat and pushing down a rush of emotion. Tommy’s fingers were beneath Buck’s chin again, tipping it up gently until their eyes met. “No hiding,” Tommy whispered.

Buck found himself relaxing almost instantly, shyness fading away as he held Tommy’s gaze. Buck’s mind instantly quieted as he stared up at bright, piercing blue that was somehow still soft and kind, gentle in a way that made Buck feel warm and safe. Tommy’s eyes are flanked in tiny, nearly invisible tan lines, courtesy of the way his skin crinkles when he smiles. The lines are barely visible, but Buck already knows them by heart. He’s kissed them and traced them and seen them when he closes his own eyes, in those heavy, floaty moments right before he falls asleep. 

He sees Tommy’s eyes in his dreams, and in the ones when he’s awake, too. He loves the way they sparkle, the mischievous glint behind them that only Buck seems to earn. He could lose himself in them, could drown in the warm, wild, cerulean seas that set his heart on fire and his mind at ease. What a way to go.

Tommy smiled, leaned in and kissed him. It grew heavy quickly, breaking only when Tommy pulled back to draw in a shaky breath. “How d’you want me?”

Jesus Christ. 

Buck’s throat ran dry, clicking as he swallowed and let Tommy’s words hang in the air between them. He placed a hand on Tommy’s broad chest, his fingers splaying out across the smooth skin shrouded in a smattering of dark hair. Tommy’s eyes flitted between Buck’s eyes and his hand, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyebrows raising as Buck pushed him back until his head hit the pillows. 

“Just like this,” Buck said. He took a deep breath, shaky on the exhale as he looked down at Tommy laid out beneath him, drinking in every inch of him, melting into every point of contact where their skin met. Eagerness and a sudden, unwelcome flare of uncertainty burned in his gut, a killer combination that had Buck’s head swimming and his breath catching as he swallowed nervously. “Tell me if I— if it’s not—”

“I will,” Tommy assured him, his hands skating up and down Buck’s flank reassuringly. “Won’t need to, though, cause you’ve got this.” He tipped his chin up, meeting Buck in a kiss that was slow and gentle and instantly chased away the waves of self-doubt rising in Buck’s throat. 

Buck nodded, brushing his thumb over the apple of Tommy’s cheek before trailing his fingers down, his touch ghosting over the heat of his neck and the soft, dark hair on his chest. He got to work on Tommy’s belt, despite the way his hands were trembling with some combination of anticipation and restraint. 

Tommy noticed, because of course he did. It’s what he does. He notices things. Because he’s so tuned into everything Buck does, every breath he takes. His hands left the spot where they’d settled on Buck’s shoulders in favor of covering Buck’s own, curling his fingers around Buck’s. 

Buck opened his mouth to apologize, but Tommy must’ve picked up on that too, because he was leaning forward and kissing him again before Buck had the chance to get the word out. Buck– though, really, it was the self-doubt monster inside him rearing its ugly head– half expected Tommy to nudge Buck’s hands out of the way and unbutton his pants himself. But he didn’t. He just let their fingers sit tangled together as he kissed Buck for a minute, slow and steady and everything Buck hadn’t realized he needed until it was happening. He didn’t rush him, didn’t brush him off, didn't make him feel anything other than good and safe and perfectly capable. 

He doesn't think he’ll ever get over it– how Tommy’s so in tune with him, how he’s able to read Buck so well. Not only does he know what it is Buck needs, but he gives it to him any time he can. Buck’s never felt seen like this before in a romantic relationship, and it’s all so much, so good, but so much. He didn’t know what to do with it other than sigh into Tommy’s kiss and pray he'd never wake up from the dream that his life has become. 

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed, and finally, Buck started moving his hands again, this time with a certainty and a deftness that wasn’t there before. He got Tommy’s jeans unbuttoned, and then he was murmuring “Up,” against his lips, urging Tommy to lift his hips enough that Buck could pull the fabric down. 

Tommy did as he was told, and Buck tossed his jeans and briefs to the floor before stealing another hungry kiss. He trailed a line of hot kisses along Tommy’s jaw, down his neck, across his chest. He had his hands on Tommy’s hips, holding him down as he licked at his nipples and Tommy all but writhed beneath him. “Evan,” he gasped, wild and desperate in a way that had Buck fucking floating. 

He sucked and nipped and kissed his way down Tommy’s chest, leaving small marks and bruises that started blooming as he made his way down, down, down. And then he was face to face with Tommy’s dick– his beautiful dick, flushed red and glistening with precome that had beaded on the tip and was starting to drip down the underside. 

The heady rush of pride and delight that came with the realization that Tommy was wet for him nearly knocked Buck over. God knows Buck himself had soaked through his fair share of boxers in the past few weeks thanks to Tommy, but having a front-row seat to the role reversal was almost too much for Buck to handle. 

He pressed a hot, wet kiss to the tip, his tongue dragging over the slit. Really, he was helpless to do anything else, having given himself over entirely to the lust simmering his veins and thrumming beneath his skin, chasing after the heady rush that came as the salty, musky, irresistible taste of Tommy exploded on his tongue and lit him up until he felt like he was high on it. 

Tommy let out a broken moan, and it was everything. Buck could gladly spend the rest of his life in this bed, coaxing that sound out of him over and over and over again. He wrapped his fingers around Tommy’s cock, relishing in the way Tommy’s breath stuttered and his eyes grew heavy. He gave an experimental stroke, focusing on twisting his wrist in the way he knew feels good when he does it to himself. He was rewarded with a punched-out sound that lay somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and then another as he did it again. 

Tommy was leaking steadily now, and Buck gathered more precome and used it to slick him up. “Oh, fuck,” Tommy panted. His voice was raspy and breathless, and it did nothing but spur Buck on even more. “Just like that, yeah, just like that.”

“Yeah?” Buck hummed, confidence building with each passing second, with each delicious sound that fell from Tommy’s lips. “You like that?” Buck asked, pleasantly surprised to hear the rasp in his own voice. He didn’t sound quite as fucked-out as Tommy did– not yet, at least– but his breath was starting to come a little more ragged, his heart starting to hammer a little harder in his chest. 

Tommy nodded, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he dropped his head back against the pillows. “Yes, yes," he practically chanted, the word punched out of him as Buck doubled down, wrapping his free hand around the base, twisting it opposite his other hand and earning himself a filthy, drawn-out moan. 

Buck’s own dick strained against his jeans, harder than he thought he'd ever been as he watched Tommy fall apart beneath his hands. His hands. He was the one doing this to him, making him feel this good. That alone was enough to have Buck teetering on the edge, his skin hot and his mind hazy.

He dipped his chin down again, pressing another kiss to the head, before running his tongue down the underside as his fingers trailed down to Tommy’s balls. 

Tommy jerked beneath him, his back arching and his hands fisting in the sheets so hard it was a miracle they didn't tear. 

“Good?” Buck asked, pulling back just enough that Tommy could hear him, but not enough that the vibrations from his voice didn't send a jolt up Tommy’s spine. 

Tommy’s toes curled and his breath stuttered as he nodded. “Good, yes, good,” he promised, his breath ragged. “Please,” he begged. For what, Buck wasn’t entirely sure. But he’d be damned if he stopped before he figured it out. “Please, baby.” 

Buck loved it, couldn’t get enough of the way Tommy– one of the calmest, coolest people he had the privilege of knowing– lost his composure like this, how he started to babble and beg, his words slurring together as he gave himself over to the ecstasy rushing through his veins and started to come undone. 

Buck kept one hand on Tommy’s cock, long languid strokes that were just shy of enough to get him off, but still enough to have him moaning and whining a litany of broken sounds beneath him. Buck took his other hand back, drinking in the strangled gasp that fell from Tommy’s lips as he watched Buck stick two of his fingers in his own mouth, licking and sucking at them as his eyes locked with Tommy’s. 

There was fire burning in Tommy’s eyes, an insatiable hunger as he watched Buck, completely transfixed. 

Buck released his fingers with a wet, filthy sound and wasted no time before slipping them between Tommy’s ass cheeks, grinning at the way Tommy absolutely whined. One of Tommy’s hands flew to Buck's shoulder in an attempt to anchor himself, the other staying where it was, twisted up in the sheets. Buck shifted his weight, keeping Tommy’s thighs locked between his knees so he didn’t arch off the bed. 

It was something Buck never could have done with any of the women he’s ever slept with— he was always very conscious of his own strength, too worried about being too much, too strong, too powerful. But not with Tommy. Tommy’s big and strong, broad and muscular just like Buck is. They’re evenly matched— even if Tommy’s hands are bigger than Buck’s, something that still makes heat pool in Buck’s belly when he thinks about it. Tommy can hold his own, can handle himself. What’s even more, Tommy can handle Buck, too.  

So Buck kept Tommy’s thighs in a vice grip, and Tommy’s breath hitched and his cock jumped in Buck’s hand, and Buck had to breathe through the wave of pure, unadulterated pride that swelled in his chest and broke over his skin. He felt like a glow stick, cracked open and glowing from the inside out for anyone to see. 

He teased Tommy’s rim with the pads of his fingers, drinking in the tiny punched-out moans and broken gasps that were falling from Tommy’s lips as he did. And then he dropped a kiss to Tommy’s jaw and pushed one finger in, enveloped by warm, slick heat up to the second knuckle. Tommy cursed, spilling over Buck’s fingers and onto his chest as his orgasm rushed over him. 

Buck was mesmerized, completely transfixed with the way Tommy’s back arched, the way his lips fell open on a silent sob, his fingers digging into Buck’s skin hard enough Buck found himself hoping they would leave bruises. Tommy’s beautiful always, but especially like that– coming undone beneath Buck’s hands, skin flushed as he rode out his orgasm with ragged breaths and tiny, uncontrollable jerks of his hips. 

Tommy blinked slowly, his smile syrupy sweet as he came back to himself and saw Buck leaning over him. He reached up and cupped Buck through his pants, grinding his palm against the bulge where his cock was straining against the front seam of the denim. 

“Good boy, let go,” Tommy practically purred, the words shooting straight through him. Buck felt like he was on fire, absolutely glowing as the praise washed over him and his orgasm built. He was helpless to stop the whine that fell from his lips, though he was so far past the point of holding back with Tommy, he didn’t even try. He still had a finger in Tommy’s ass, and when Tommy clenched around him, Buck’s vision whited out as he came with a strangled cry.

It took a minute for Buck’s brain to come back online, for him to relax into the sweet kisses Tommy was peppering across his jaw and his cheeks and his neck, to ease his finger out and take a deep, sated breath. 

“Hi,” Buck slurred after a beat, his voice heavy in a post-orgasm haze.

Tommy grinned, tugging him back in as lazy kisses turned hungry, then lazy again. Buck pulled back to catch his breath, warmth exploding behind his chest as he sat back and took in the sight of Tommy before him. And a few minutes later, when he asked, with just a hint of trepidation creeping into the edges of his voice, if it had been good, he was instantly settled by Tommy's immediate and genuine assurance.

And now, as Buck lays on Tommy’s chest, he doesn’t feel the tackiness of the come cooling between them. He doesn’t feel the wet spot in his own pants, or the faint burn in his wrist. He just feels happy. And good. And proud. 

And when, a little while later, Tommy will mumble “C’mon,” and ease Buck up to guide him to the shower, Buck will go easily, without hesitation. He’ll go anywhere Tommy asks him to, would follow Tommy anywhere he wants to go. Maybe that's how it was always destined to be. Or maybe not. But it's where they are now.

They're together, and nothing has ever made Buck feel quite as proud as that. 

[llamahearted]

like it's no big deal at all

songs on repeat

[yashley]

Say something true!

[pixipoxi]

transparency is so sexy. I don’t wanna have to guess if you actually want me around or not

[moeblob]

I think the only other time I have drawn Stelle has been seen by like two people. Because it was part of something really stupid I put on hold. And never finished.

SO YEAH! Have the Blazers.

[purplink8]

Can I be real for a second? I don't think L giving a foot massage to Light was very in-character of him. Like manga!L would've totally scoffed at how pathetic anime!L appeared when he did that.

I like the rain scene bc it's really pretty (also Light MOANS bc of L? *sighs* yeah i ship lawlight) but I'm always so ?? at anime!L's behavior? The anime made L way too melancholic and y'know self-deprecating kinda guy. In contrast, manga!L (whom I love to death) is so so confident in doing what he's doing and has the time of his life during the Kira case as he's intellectually challenged (by Light) as he figures out the case little by little.

I don't get where the anime creators got the idea that L is a very sad character who cares about justice so much so that he's actually Justice itself? Manga!L enjoys solving cases. I'm not saying that L doesn't care about justice at all- just that he cares more about winning.

So, the anime creators looked at a character who cares about winning (& his own ego) than everything else and decided to... make him give a foot massage to his nemesis (surprise surprise bible symbolism featuring L as Jesus *🤮* coming up) apparently due to accepting Light's (boy's first debut as Judas) 'betrayal' how can there be betrayal when there was no trust between them in the first place and saying "It is the least I can do to atone for my sins"...

The only way I could've made a little sense of this is if L was mocking Kira with that line but the anime just had to go above & beyond to make it (L's actions) seem too genuine for that to be true. which is. so. FRUSTRATING

Manga!L wouldn't have done anything like that. Not even ironically (he'd have thought it to be below him for pretending to be accepting his defeat mockingly to Kira). Even Manga!L's not enough of a bastard to try to compare himself with Jesus (and just after knowing (god knows how) that he's going to die)- like that's too stupid omg: even for a mockery.

Does he actually think that Light would pick up on the (him as Jesus) symbolism and be like 'oh no! L is too noble like Jesus to die by my betrayal i'm such a bad judas how come i NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE'... and decide to spare L's life? Or embrace his inner Judas like the bad bitch he is and finish L for that godawful mockery of Jesus?

Whenever I think about Anime!Light's in-character reaction I crack up as it would be smth like 'wow this guy who graduated summa cum laude from torture university is pretending to be Jesus? lol what a real piece of work. would've expected better from you L: so pathetic lmao i hope rem kills you soon i'm so done with you rn- rip 💀'

Manga!L (if he knew he were going to die (don't know how that's possible in the anime; still we're talking about how the anime creators seem to see L as Jesus so ~anything is possible~) that is) would never go 'guess i'll die' accept his defeat offering a foot massage to his enemy and inwardly throw a pity party being all "… It'll be lonely, won't it?" GIRL you were the one going on & about how you'd EXECUTE Kira once you catch him on live tv (also saying that you'd bring Kira's head to the task force) I REALLY doubt you'd feel lonely if either one of you were to die- that (killing each other) was the point!!

Manga!L is a selfish character: he values his victory above all else so the anime making him accept defeat that easily + gracefully doesn't sit well with me.

[airenyah]

happy to announce that ohm pawat made it through yet another show without being grazed by a bullet despite the fact that he had a gun shoved into his face on multiple occasions

and with that the gay romcom continues to be the only series in which ohm pawat ever ends up with a gunshot wound

[collieii]

i'm sure it's been said but i do love how trimax handles wolfwoods death. i've seen so many stories that have characters die and they just go away after. i'm really used to stories where the other characters aren't allowed to grieve, the story keeps going and it feels like the other characters aren't really affected or get over it really easily. but in trimax wolfwoods death is so important. we see other characters grieving him. vash protecting the orphanage, expanding his power when he really shouldn't, because it was wolfwood's home, even though wolfwood is already gone. he gets an actual burial. vash and livio eating their way through the grief, which is more comedic but still shows us how important he was to the two of them, sets up how in many ways they're fighting in his memory.

even after he's gone he's still present in the story in such a strong way. we can see how he's affected the other characters, even when they don't explicitly mention him it's obvious that they're thinking about him. what he did when he was alive, and his death itself, are so important to the story even after he's not there. not just in a really abstract "this is someone we lost" way (though there are a lot of times his death and sacrifice motivate vash and livio to fight harder!) he's present in the finale in a material way to livio, who uses his serums to help fight against elendira, which ofc also ties into the way wolfwoods choice to ally with vash and fight against knives gave livio strength to do the same. wolfwood showed him that there are things worth fighting for, things worth protecting. that your body is a weapon, but you can choose what to do with it, use it for something meaningful.

and the way vash kills legato in order to save livio? vash outright says that he did it to protect what wolfwood fought for, sacrificed his life for. it's tied to the ongoing arc between vash and wolfwood, their conflict over the necessity of killing others. wolfwood pushed vash into having an understanding of his views when he was alive, demonstrating the necessity of that violence. simultaneously, vash inspired wolfwood to follow his path, a kinder one. vash remembers what wolfwood said to him, and his death gives those words added poignancy. wolfwood well and truly sacrificed everything to protect what he loved and fight for what he believed in. how can vash let that go to waste? he sacrifices something just as meaningful to himself, and he pulls the trigger. it brings him closer to wolfwood in a way he never was before. he understands now, fundamentally, what motivates people, motivated wolfwood, to act as he did when he took lives. there are so many other ways wolfwood is present in the story after his death i can't talk about all of them but it makes me so crazy

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

I may get canceled for this but

I don’t mind discord’s UI change

[tricoufamily]

tried to make my middle school ocs as sims to heal my inner child and completely overhauled them. so here they are, before and after The Events

lore time! trigger warning for like. everything like just go ahead and block their name tags if you have basically any triggers at all sorry

facts about hinnry (right)!

born into an incredibly isolated cult that's existed on a commune completely detached from the world since the 1890s. no one knows they exist, and it would be incredibly difficult to even find the commune.

that's why his name is spelled that way. they've been isolated for so long that their spelling and dialect have almost developed into their own language. like hinnry morphed from henry, jime morphed from james, merthy morphed from martha, etc.

everyone on the commune has the last name skrinniwk. none of the historians who studied the remains of the commune could determine what this used to mean.

you can spell it henry or hinnry. ilya (left) spells it henry. whatever

he has like 17 siblings (his father has multiple wives)

his father is the leader of the cult. they believe that their leader has been the same person since the 1890s, and he transfers his soul to one of his children when his physical body dies

on the commune there are bunkhouses for sleeping, a chapel for worship and school ('school') for the kids, a mess hall/kitchen kinda thing where they all eat, and then all their farming and livestock stuff

hinnry's job is slaughtering the animals

he's 18, almost 19, and has no wives or children yet. the men basically conceive children until they can't anymore (his father is an old man), but it's still strange that he hasn't done it yet at his age.

none of them besides his father and his father's brother have ever left the commune (he has a secret car. the rest of them don't even know what a car is, they think he has divine abilities and that's where they get things from)

a plague has been killing them like crazy. they've been locking bodies in the barn and burning them at night. this is not a good sign for their religion.

they believe all the death means it's time to leave their physical bodies. a mass suicide is coming. this isn't why hinnry runs away though. he would have had no hesitations about it.

facts about ilya (left)!

r̵e̷d̵a̷c̴t̴e̴d̶

r̵̅͜é̶͉ḍ̷̉a̵̲͝c̴͎͊t̵͓́e̵̤͆d̸̰̚

r̶̛̟̞͉̝̪͇͇̳͇̫̖͓̥͍̼̬̪̠̻̝̜͎̙̙̫͉̩͕͇̦͑͑̊̇̓̆̅̽̀̌̈̑͋̊̈́̌̈́͗̆͛̐̀̄̏̂̌̇̊̕͜ë̶͚̲͈͚͉̘̞̉̀̈́́̓́͗͐͌̃̌̌̂̈̄ḑ̵̨̟͓̣̲͎̤͔̑̑́̊̎́̉̉͌̋̓͒̅̀͂́̐̃͛̉̂̊̉̃̈́̋̑̀̈̕͝͝ã̸̧̛̪̼̩̦̜̙̳̦͊͛̄̓̔̈́̃̏̅̊̅́̾̔̆͗̈́̇̾̆͊̎͆̍̓͂̕̕̕͝͝ͅc̵̛̛̰͈̩̥̩̭̹̤̙̟͔̬͖͔̗̰̙̹̎̿̑̀̏͋͆̒̔̎̄̐͛͘̕͜t̸̡̰̖̥̱͈͎͍̙͙̤͍̟͈̦͈̻̺̮̳̗̱̫͋̑̏ė̴̢̡̛̥̱͔͉̩̱̬͇͇̪̖̰̻͉̞͈̩̭̪͚̮̞̠̰̩̦̝̽͆̆̔̄̊̑̑͆̎͌̍̀̈́̔̈́̌͘̚͠ḑ̴̨̪̖̞̙̭̖͔̠̯͙̭̺͔͖̖͙̪̐͛̄̉͛͜͝͝

ṛ̸̑̚͝e̸͉͒d̴̮͚̗͑́a̴͖͎̥̾ć̶̦͈t̶̰͇͚̾̉̕e̷͈̰̾͗̎d̵̾͜

r̷̡̛̻̹͙͈̖̺͛̾̇̋͂̊̑͂̈́̓̎̄̍̆͐̕e̴̡̨̝̜̻̞͍͔͍̲̯͕̹̭̱̩̘̝̳̅̉̈́̇̉͋̑̅͂̋̅̆̿̀̄̉̌̂͑̕͜͝͝ͅͅd̴̥̖̖̗̮̯̦̖͖̄͆̍̊̂̔͆͌̒͘á̸̡̨̠̺͓̠̯̼͚̬̘̪̻̜̠͍̱̿͒̃̌̆̅͊̃̈́͑͑͑̽̈͒̂̓̍͌̿̀͊̃͘͠č̴̺͇̒͑̑̈́̉t̴̨̧̨̡̖̩͕̙̪̰̠̳̬͔͈̬̞̝͈̠̮̭̍̏͛͋͊̊̑è̸̡̧̡̨̛̫̪͔̘̞̜͙̥̝̙͎͙̺͉̭̭̱͍̺̓ͅd̶͖̄̂̈

ṟ̴̟̫͊ë̴̠͇̟́̅͠d̸̼̬̘̕͘ą̴̱̜̈́͒͝c̸̺̫̑̓̕ţ̶̣̅̋̈́é̵̛͍͍͝d̸͖̥̬͗̓

oh yeah he'll have all the hair colors in the poll at some point he dyes it a lot

r̸̢̨̢̛̤̘̪͉̘̥̦͍̙̫̖̣̼̟͖̦̪̯̼͓̙̮̬̞̳̞̺̭͈̥̮̪̝͎̻̩̩̣̬̿̍͐̐̓̔̊̂͂̐́̎̊̍́͑̾̓́̊̒͋̇̐͑̈́͒͐̕͝͝ͅͅe̶̡̧̢̡̥͍̭̪͖̟̘̮̬̤͚͚̤̗̯͚̱̻̜͔͈̞̻̫̙̪̜̬̘̼̦̣͖͔̪̝̣͖͕͚͐̽̍͜͜ͅͅd̵̢̧̨̟̝̦̜̹͎̜̻̬̤̝̣̣̭̤̣̪͙̖͉̼̼̜̻̮̬͕͕̤͓̭͍̹̥͉͚̥͆͋̆͗̆̂̑̍̑̒͗̾͂͗̆͗̒̐̈̈̃́̔͊́́̿́̎̿̕͘̚͘͠͝͝ͅͅa̸̢̨̛͔̰̺̙̖̪̟͎͎̬̹̪̭͙̗͕̬̞͍͍̠͚̩̺͓͍͙̋̍̒̑̊͐̍̈̆̊͊̂̂̋̎̈́͗͆͋́͌̏ͅc̵̖̟̦̺̼͈̀̐̓̒̃͆̌̑̽̈́̃̓̎͛̎̅̏̈́̿̃̔͋̓͝͠͝͝͝͝͝t̵̨̢̼̹̜̹͚͖̫̤̫̺̳̞̣̗͚̫̬͉̤̠̫̫̘͔̫͓̠̙͉̲̠͙͈̭̗̻̎͛̑̊͊͒̎͋͗͜ͅę̴͈̟̖̜̄̇̃͌̉̈̆̍͗͒̿̆̀́͑́͋͌̃̈́́d̵̡̧̢̛͙̝̲̗̼͕̟̱̼͍̦̤̙̹̼̯̹͍̭̟̖̠̣̝̝̳̣̣̥̫̰̖̎̓͛̂́̓͋͗͋̾̎́̎̓̿̿̌̓͛́̓̈́̓̚̕̚͘͜͜͠

[hellothereiplaygames]

Some thoughts on Asra's route...

Replaying Asra's route after having played Muriel's really hits different...

In one of the other routes Asra and Muriel appear to start a romantic relationship, and in Asra's route it's very clear that Muriel cares very deeply for Asra and dislikes the Apprentice. He mentions in one of the paid? dream scenes that he's worried about Asra and the Apprentice fading into their own world and leaving everyone else behind (again, apparently), and that he's determined to stop this from happening. His concern for Asra and initial hostility toward the Apprentice may be rooted in jealousy, not only because his oldest (and only) friend was more or less taken from him, but perhaps with romantic connotations as well.

In Book XI: Justice, Asra and Julian stage a mock trial by combat against Muriel. Though he apparently agreed to participate and is implied to have returned to the Coliseum of his own volition, presumably out of concern for Asra, who has been accused of being Julian's accomplice... he is still more or less backed into a corner and forced to play along with Asra and Julian's plan to stage a fight.

Now, to be fair to Asra, he states after everything goes wrong that it wasn't supposed to end this way, and it appeared that he was attempting to not only exonerate himself and Julian from their charges but somehow help Muriel overcome his past (he does disintegrate Muriel's chains during the fight no matter what choices you make). There was a point during this that I thought I could guess what Asra's plan was regarding Muriel's past, but being refreshed on how it actually pans out, I can't remember it now. Something about making the people of Vesuvia realize how barbaric the Coliseum was under Lucio.

The thing that stands out to me throughout this whole ordeal is that Asra knows about Muriel's trauma. He knows he was enslaved to Lucio and forced to fight and execute people in the Coliseum. He knows that Muriel is terrified of hurting other people, especially those he cares about. In Asra's route, the only person Muriel cares about is Asra, so hurting him is triggering for him. He literally is in a stupor after the board he was using as a weapon splinters off and hits Asra in the mouth, making him bleed. This is clearly meant to make the reader worried about Asra, but Muriel reacts as well, and appears hypnotized by the blood. I remember the first time I read this I thought he was going to have some crazy berserker-Hulk sort of reaction, but having read his route, it's way more tragic.

Though Muriel did seem to return to the Coliseum of his own volition, it does seem that Asra took this as a sign that he was coming to terms with his trauma. He was willing to exploit Muriel's care for him in order to save his own skin so he can be with the Apprentice. Though I recognize Asra's other toxic traits to some degree, I also have similar ones myself so they don't really stand out to me. This, however, where he more or less disregards Muriel's feelings on the matter, is actually really crushing. In Muriel's route, his whole thing is that he DOES NOT want to fight, he DOES NOT want to even spar with the Apprentice with blunt sticks out of fear of hurting them, so why would he willingly go along with this unless he was more or less in the same position Lucio put him in? Fight in the arena, or something bad will happen to Asra.

Asra knows this, and puts him through it regardless. During the whole fight, Julian's actions are written so as to make it seem like he's the one messing things up--he takes the "finishing blow" that Muriel was going to deal to Asra and gets knocked unconscious. Asra spends most of the entire time doing flashy, dramatic magic tricks that get the crowd cheering for him. After he "wins", he and the Apprentice are carried out of the Coliseum like heroes. Though Asra will try to soothe Muriel if the Apprentice so chooses right before the end, and he does look for Muriel in the crowd, he seems otherwise unbothered or unaware of the impact this may be having on his oldest friend. Which is pretty shitty.

Of course, Asra, Julian, and Muriel are all playing characters during their fight--Asra is the flashy magician, Julian is the rogueish BDSM dagger guy, and Muriel is the Scourge. Asra obviously can't show his concern even if he wanted to because he's supposed to be fighting Muriel. But putting his bro into this situation in the first place says a lot about his character. Though Julian is the one whose route is based around self-loathing because he believes he hurts everyone around him, Asra is the only one who gets what he wants out of this ordeal, and he even says so right before the chapter ends. Muriel was forced to relive his trauma and didn't get the resolution that was intended, and Julian gets KOed by a punch that literally sent him flying across the arena (though he probably enjoyed it tbh, he's a nasty little man like that lmao).

I wonder if this dynamic between Asra and Muriel was intentionally written this way in order to further amplify his tunnel vision when it comes to the Apprentice. Is this is how he acted in the past, causing Muriel to hate the Apprentice as he does and remark that he won't allow it to happen again? Maybe (probably) I'm reading too much into it, but as a survivor of abuse and trauma it rubs me the wrong way much more than Asra's obsessive, clingy nature. Of all of the reversed ends, Asra's is the one that actually scared me and kind of haunted me, because it hits a little too close to home.

These are all just thoughts that I wanted to spill out because I thought it was interesting and I wasn't sure if anyone else has talked about it before.

[bokatan]

coastal cottage

I like the idea of having my oc Mercy stay in the Commonwealth long-term rather than leave after the Institute’s handled, so I played around with some ideas of where she’d be living at. In the scenario where she’d be staying, she establishes herself as a ghoul-centric doctor and later offers specialized care like medical implants, vaccines, rare chems, unique syringer darts, and potentially induced mutations if her research gets to that point.

details + interiors under the cut

home interior, first floor: living room, treatment area, & kitchen

home interior, second floor: office/workspace, bedroom

home interior, attic yes, this is a joke about the wireless fuse box mod that i use

garage:

mushroom garden:

[cham0mil3]

first break at my minimum wage job guys!!!

[whentherewerebicycles]

three small joys/victories from yesterday:

I made my first Big Parenting Decision on my own despite pressure/guilt from my (beloved but at times overbearing) family. I feel secure in my choice and I spent a lot of time thinking about the underlying reasons for it, which was a good values-defining exercise. and you know I love a values-defining exercise.

I don���t know many lullabies but I discovered that he really likes it when I sing “but daddy I love him” to him slowly and with dramatic facial expressions. you can tell this kid was subjected to a lot of tswift in utero lol

pip is being almost unbearably sweet and gentle with baby 😭 he’s my velcro dog and loves to sit in my lap so I was worried he’d get territorial about me holding the baby all the time. but he’s just seamlessly adapted and now he curls up next to me or by my legs when my lap is occupied. he’s also been a lot calmer in general, which might pass once the initial shock of A New Arrival wears off but is helpful right now as we settle into routines.