#their names are so extra I love them

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

No scarier words have ever been spoken

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

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[dustbunsinspace]

Part of 🟢 Leo gets Overwhelmed au🟢

Aah, I’m so happy I made it in in time! 💙✨ Merry Christmas, tumblr nation! Here’s a little comic about 03 Usagi and Leo going so see the Rockefeller tree after the events of the Christmas Aliens episode.

Little post about events earlier that night

Also this is literally how maskless Leo looks to me, he’s so moomincore ;

[skipblebee]

I was rewatching Twisted while working on some projects and this scene reminded me of them lol

I love Twisted SO much u guys should totally check it out :]

[kurjat]

if you're still accepting doodle requests, how about 2 and salamander meeting?

Doodle requests always open allthough I don't promise to always fullfill them!

I feel bad this feels so mean 😭😭😭 All the things Salamanders picking on him on are like some of my fave things about two SO. <3 I think its so cute that Twos first reaction 2 Salamander was to call him handsome & question peoples judgement on him- so as his foil, I guess Salamander could do the opposite... so... Alternate meeting for these two! Ive missed doing comics i need 2 do more...

[existentiol]

something that pisses me off in RA is that Flanagan will occasionally hype up Pauline as this super important and prominent figure in Will’s life, even treat her as a proxy for the mother he never knew, and yet will just refuse to show it beyond the like. two or three (personal) conversations that they have in canon. I get that he was attempting to make her an important person in Will’s life but why not do that by actually making her an important person in Will’s life

[foxqueen-katarian]

Something about the early joke of 'We lost two' explaining why there are only seven members of the Nein hurts, because they did lose two of them (Molly and Yasha (and it being the circus kids who were lost/taken is a whole separate conversation)) but the remaining members fought tooth and nail to get them back, and they did, so at the end there were truly nine members of the Nein, and it all being improv and unplanned makes me completely feral.

[spacepunksupreme]

Passed by a middle-aged man in the grocery store just now who was playing Shape of My Heart by Sting aloud out of his apple watch, I was also listening to this exact song on my earbuds like a minute ahead of him, so I stopped and was like “omg are you listening to Sting right now? I’m listening to that exact same song right now too :D I love Sting he’s like my favorite.”

Mistake; this man looked down at me with the most awe-struck, love-filled eyes Ive ever seen, introduced himself to me, asked me what my name was (I told him my name was Adam. Second mistake because he said “Wow! That’s so unique of you, I love that, you seem so special”) and started trying to tell me other things about himself/ ask me questions about myself and I had to just be like “haha cool” and speed-walk away.

I can only assume this man has been playing Sting out loud in grocery stores just waiting for his weird girl sugar baby soulmate to recognize Sting and talk to him or something. I believe she’s out there, John. But I’m not her. I’m sorry, John, keep looking for her in the grocery store. Lmao

[riddlerosehearts]

vil/idia valentine's day headcanons 💜💙

(as usual this post ended up more detailed and lengthy than i originally planned it to be, but i hope someone will enjoy it because i love this silly little ship of mine.)

idia has never liked valentine's day. it always seemed so pointless and frivolous, and there's so many people out talking and holding hands and kissing. probably all judging him for being alone. the only reason he cares at all about it is because many of the games he plays have limited-time valentine's events, so he usually just stays in his room all day playing through them.

and sure, idia loves a good romance anime, and he has more than a few favorite ships he thinks should totally be canon, but that's all just fiction. it's an escape from a reality where true love doesn't exist.

or so he used to believe. he never thought he'd find someone he really wanted to be with, or that they'd want him in return. not until, somehow, vil became that person. all the dating sims in the world couldn't have prepared him for this.

he knows he can't just hide out in his room on valentine's day when he has someone so important to spend it with now. but how can he give vil the happiness he deserves?

he could build a high-end custom laptop from scratch for him, or buy him a bouquet of his favorite flowers and take him to the fanciest restaurant in all of twisted wonderland, even though the latter idea utterly terrifies him. he could use his tech skills and his family's money to give vil the world, but if he knows his boyfriend at all, he knows that he probably doesn't want anything that extravagant.

(and besides, if the vil schoenheit tried to go out in public with his partner on valentine's day they would just get swarmed by paparazzi and idia is sure he'd roll a 1 and fail the stealth check required to avoid them. yeah, that's a quest path he will not be choosing anytime soon.)

idia knows it would be best to get vil something simple, but still thoughtful enough to make him feel special. and in the shoujo manga he likes, people always give handmade chocolate as a gift. but his cooking skill is stuck at level 1, and even if he could grind it up to 100, vil wouldn't want a box of chocolates loaded with sugar and calories. it can't just be some normie thing either--it has to stand out from the flowers and candies and love letters he gets swamped with by his fans.

remembering how vil has praised his gear designs for ortho before, he decides to buy some purple and gold beads and string them together to make a necklace. in the middle he places a small heart-shaped bead, adding an LED light inside that makes it pop with a subtle glow.

he also makes a handmade card that with a design that lights up at the press of a button. i imagine he'd put a pixel heart inside of it similarly to this zelda themed pop-out card i found:

they're both very simple projects for idia, but he feels certain that vil will love them.

and as for vil, he thinks valentine's day is a lovely holiday. it's an opportunity for people to celebrate the beauty of love, and to relax and take better care of themselves. even if you're single, you can still pamper yourself and celebrate with a friend. vil always tries to take the day off from any obligations if he can, though sometimes there are things he just can't slack off on.

this year, though, he absolutely will not be doing any photoshoots or interviews. this year he has a boyfriend, and yes he knows that idia hates the holiday but in his mind that's even more of a reason why he needs to be there for him. he won't allow idia to spend even one more second feeling lonely and unloved on valentine's day.

he initially has no idea what he should get idia, and ends up getting laughed at by cater who catches him googling "valentine's gifts for gamers" on his phone. look, just because he's acted in a few romance films and is considered a teen heartthrob by countless people who don't even know him, doesn't mean he automatically knows everything about dating.

cater and idia are friends, though, and cater knows enough about what he likes to be able to help vil pick a couple things out.

the first thing vil settles on is a lego building set that depicts a bouquet of roses. it would be fun for the two of them to build them together, and he wouldn't have to worry about idia inevitably forgetting to water them.

he also gets a card that's even dorkier than the one idia made for him--i'm specifically picturing this:

he tucks a note inside of it, with a short list of just a few of idia's best qualities. he hopes it can remind idia of why he likes him and wants to be with him and not someone else.

and lastly, he purchases a pack of bath bombs made to look like colorful D20 dice--relaxing, good for the skin, and aesthetically in line with idia's interests.

when valentine's day comes, they exchange gifts in vil's dorm room at pomefiore, where they've planned to spend the day. vil thinks the things idia has made for him are beautiful and he tells him as much.

but when idia recieves his gifts, he starts mumbling something about how a weirdo shut-in otaku like him doesn't deserve to be seen as a viable love interest and how vil must have had a confusion status debuff on him this whole time.

vil: "excuse me? you're not insulting my SSR boyfriend, are you? you don't think that i would try to max out the affection points for your route if i wasn't sure you were the perfect option for me?"

idia, who just knows the tips of his hair are turning pink: "s-sorry... i ran into a glitch that triggered the wrong dialogue. what i meant to say was, of course you picked a genius like me to be your player 2 instead of some lame normie who you'd have zero percent compatibility with! how could anyone but me match up to your top-tier stats?"

vil just smiles and rolls his eyes.

idia then reveals that he actually did get vil something sweet, but originally felt too nervous to give it to him.

it's a pack of candy flavored lip glosses. vil laughs and insists that they'll have to kiss enough times to taste test each flavor. idia's whole head of hair turns pink.

they spend the whole day together, doing things like watching an old romcom that vil adores or playing a co-op game that idia picked for them, and of course putting the lego rose bouquet together.

they also eat a nice meal together in a private place that vil set up for them in pomefiore--and all the other students know they'll incur their dorm leader's wrath if they dare to bother him on his date.

[burinazar]

Mmph. It’s been a while and I didn’t realize I would still be excessively annoyed/affected by people with negative things to say about my OTP, but I am, I guess.

If it helps to add context, these comments were on a post where an account had reposted (without permission) some sweet gift art of the ship made especially for me, so I may be inclined to take it more personally for that reason. >__>

[spark-circuit]

I GOT MY BOY!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

also got Bride Gregor right before it lmfao. bestie. you brought home the BEST gift possible. <3

[mimimilu]

some quick experimental sketches for my sister

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Quest Continues...

(part 1- part 2)

[good-beanswrites]

🎬: About Es being a past prisoner and the secret 11th prisoner in your AU. But advance apologies if I'm overstepping into your AU!

I had this idea from a story that pretty much did the same thing. Going off there are novels/manga on Milgram and there being another Es and their own prisoners running another Milgram (but differently) I imagine this Milgram projects has been going on for a while, and our Es was from a previous project who might have gotten the worst verdict (or the most spared out of everyone), and was given this final task as a warden for the next group of prisoners. This is why they so readily agreed and had their memories wiped for this Milgram project instead of being weary on a shady project on judging an almost crime, they've already been through this.

(BTW is it bad and worrying for one of our ten fav prisoners to be the next Es if this is legit...)

Anyway, that's why Es is in Milgram in your AU, I guess? And the lore drop that Kotoko picks up on them being the 11th prisoner, I can imagine her also talking to Kazui since he's a policeman to see if she could cross out any theories on who Es is (Did they look familiar. Possible missing child. Any cases to do with an almost crime by a child other than the 10 of them here). Kazui knows Kotoko wants to investigate, but reminds her that, like in their prison while the trial is on, the facilities they're in have high security too. They do have the freedom to move about, but still limited.

If they're trying to investigate Es, maybe Fuuta, Kotoko and Mikoto can try to do the hacking on the comp Mikoto's allowed to use to Photoshop some shots for the MVs and photos (Fuuta and Kotoko seem to be able to search up info they need I think...). Yuno, Mahiru and Muu can work on charming the staff to see if they can spill more deets on Milgram. Not sure how much the group can gather, but oh boy fun times in Milgram can turn into another sort of stress in this AU...

No worries!! Like I said before, this whole au has been a fun collaborative project, so there's no overstepping :) I am sorry I won't be writing a lot on the ending until we get more info, but that's just the perfectionist in me who doesn't want to be proven wrong 😅 Still, I love tossing around and digging into ending scenarios, I really love this!

Because that would make a lot of sense why they're so willing to subject themself to the whole experiment! They remember how tough their experience was, and are confident they can care for the new set of prisoners while doing their job. I'm imagining they get the opportunity to return as guard, and get to have a nice talk with their own guard first. Once they fully understand what it's like, they're know they can handle it and sign up. It adds a bit of drama, too, since they must have been really young committing their crime in order to complete a years-long experiment prior to this one. They would have been like 10? Oof. (Now I wanna see their three trial songs 👀)

And like you said, that also brings up the question of the new warden. Though I think it's based on verdict results, I can just picture Jackalope keeping an eye on everyone during filming. He studyies their interactions and personalities, keeping his own set of notes on who would make a good successor. (I'm not going to go through every character but there are pros to any choice, it's very fun picturing them all taking the job.) Haha, on the other hand, maybe the reason Kotoko keeps bringing up her role as Es' partner/bringer of justice is because she did discover the truth. She drops as many hints as possible so she can be chosen next 😅

Ooh, I love her working with Kazui on an investigation! The fact that eh may know details on recent crimes (and almost-crimes) is super fun to work with. He's the last person who's going to spill a secret, so the group could go several trials without realizing Kazui had actually heard all about their situation this whole time.

(Getting sidetrack for a sec, I'm suddenly realizing that he and Kotoko may have heard things about the crimes in canon, too. They're a bit unclear about how much time passed between the murders and arriving to Milgram, so maybe he heard some things. I don't know how well-connected Tokyo police departments are, but Yuno, Fuuta, Muu, and Shidou are all nearby. There's definitely a chance he caught word of the vigilante nearby, and she heard about the odd policeman's suicide. Both of them could have heard about the tragic housefire, the disgraced doctor, or horrible schoolgirl murder nearby.)

Anyway, I like that idea of Kazui wracking his brain for any similar cases. Though, if he had, Milgram may have had the foresight to wipe parts of his memory, too. Maybe he does end up using his call to reach out to Hinako and have her look into it from the outside. Sadly, Kotoko seems the type to sacrifice her personal call to reach out to a connection who can help as well. I'll have to think about how closely Jackalope monitors those calls, hm.

I'm going crazy over prisoner investigation team !! Kotoko and Fuuta had the online knowledge to find some good info, and Mikoto and Kazui seem like they'd have a huge network of people they can ask for info and favors from. Haha, I'm torn whether Mahiru would have flirting down to a science or if she'd refuse to do it since it wasn't real love 😂 Still, she's very good at reading people and could definitely help the others charm and bribe their way into some restricted areas. Amane and Haruka can also charm with their innocence/cuteness (though I'm not sure Amane would). Shidou seems very organized, he'd have a plan and backup plan and backup-backup plan ready, no matter what happens. I think it's even funnier, then if Milgram had run several experiments prior. Jackalope would think this was just another runthrough, and for the first time the ten subjects decided to organize together and Cause Problems.

I think there's a beautiful irony in a story featuring ten prisoners planning a jailbreak to save the prison guard...

[guiltreservoir]

 as long as there is an ocean ✧ read on ao3

the abyssal plains of tommy's subconscious are littered with the carcasses of his father's favorite adages.

no matter how valiant his attempts have been to pry them free — and despite the meticulous, delicate nature of his methods — it seems that many of the sea-skeletons have been left sitting beyond salvation, now inextricable from waterlogged sediment. they're too far-sunk to extract safely; if lucky enough not to crumple like a sheet of discarded tissue paper on the journey down, he'd explode his lungs to red mist on the way back up to the surface. it's almost easier if he imagines them this way, as broken fragments of corpses too fragile to exhume:

the fleshy tissue of a half-eaten squid — actions speak louder than words. the crushed shell of an unfortunate lobster — beggars can't be choosers. the rotting remains of a clever eel — boys who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. the ribcage and spine of a starved shark — do as i say, not as i do.

one saying in particular has been mummifying for longer than the others, a giant humpback frozen in a state of watery decay, embalmed in the sandy gunk of his darkest trenches — keep your shoulders straight and your head on straighter. oft punctuated with a caustic, kid.

it's pretty ironic, considering the fact that tommy kinard has nary a straight bone in his body. maybe that's why the line burrowed itself so thoroughly into the deepest, slimiest crooks of the substrate of his mind, slow-growing algae coating the slippery crevices of his hippocampus to rankle him perpetually. tommy hasn't spoken directly with his old man in years; these days he couldn't if he wanted to, or at least not without a ouija board and an uncharacteristic flair for masochism, neither of which he cares to equip himself with.

nevertheless, the phantom whale fall of his father's most-reliable phrase continues to nourish the last hungry, lonely fish left scouring the ocean floor of tommy's mind. nearly every move he makes is centered around practicality, every decision sewn together by threads of vigilance and observation.

with nearly four decades of practice and application under his belt, he's gotten good at keeping his shoulders straight, and gay as he may be, he thinks his head's on just fine, although such would be a contradictory and controversial statement upon the ears of one thomas kinard, senior. thankfully he'll never have to hear it.

tommy can live with his own amendment to the man's words because tommy knows himself and therefore knows the truth. his posture is excellent and he's a considerably level-headed guy. he can't be straight; he doesn't want to be. what he can be is pragmatic. he can be logical, he can be useful, he can be rational. he can be quite capable and, as it turns out, even likable. he can be funny, and charming, and vulnerable with the right people. he can be queer, he can be gay, he can be loved, he can love. he can become without becoming unmoored.

for thirty-some good years, tommy kinard does a bang-up job at keeps his shoulders straight and his head on just fine. he's pushing forty when he meets evan buckley and eddie diaz.

───────────────

evan buckley and eddie diaz exist as a singular entity within the confines of tommy's skull. two sides of the same coin, grumbles the detached jaw of an imaginary anglerfish.

it takes some effort to extract one from the other, but tommy finds ways. over mutual interests in muay thai, basketball, and helicopters, he and eddie become fast friends. over mutual interests in each other's inquisitive minds, curious hands, and wanting mouths, he and evan become even faster lovers.

he makes out with one of them, roughhouses with the other; it all feels the same, gets identical synapses firing. he knocks eddie to the mat, steals spit-flecked exhales off of the inches of air near his wild-grinning lips and brings them home for buck to drink down, licking them into his ravenous mouth, delivering him secrets to unwittingly swallow. he smelts himself down to the base and seeps in between them, liquid copper in the nickel sandwich of their clad coin.

it isn't until tommy's got both of them sprawled out on his couch one night, months into his increasingly complex relationships with each of them, that he truly starts to grasp how evan and eddie might exist as a singular entity outside of his skull, too.

top gun's ending credits march, sans serif ants, to the glowing edge of tommy's television screen. fuzzy, synthetic white-blue haze pours into the room and across the skin of buck and eddie's limbs and faces in a manner that makes tommy think of marble hewn painstakingly into handsome statue, of rock tumbled smooth by a patient, perpetual stream, ever-flowing towards the sea.

tommy thinks, i could be a sculptor. i could be a river.

copper in the nickel.

the two men are draped across his sectional like lions in the sun, impenitent and unabashed in the way they take up space, in the way they take up each other. buck's legs are long, stretched out along multiple cushions, his head heavy on tommy's lap. eddie, on the opposite end of the couch from tommy, started out the evening upright, but the drone of the movie — combined with tommy's easy laughter and the literal and figurative warmth pouring off of buck — had helped to coax a more relaxed posture out of him. now he slouches deep into the pillows, legs spread wide to knock up against buck's bare feet where his sweatshorts ride up his quads. tommy almost expects the point of contact between the pair of them to spark, start a blaze that would surely incinerate the three of them in spite of their résumés.

his heart's been a tinderbox for long enough that he can usually recognize flint even when it's disguised as water; the thirst that parches him convinces him it's worth attempting a sip without regard of probable risk.

he lets out a long exhale and drops a hand to card through evan's hair, half-listens to eddie babble on about how the shots of the F14 fighter jets are still so cool all these years later. he's beaming like a kid the whole time, sunshine-ray of a smile gleaming straight at buck.

tommy watches as buck can't help but smile right back, and god, if the energy radiating off of them could be harnessed for physical usage, tommy would never have a utility bill again in his life. he watches, enraptured, as buck flexes and curls his toes against the soft dark hairs of eddie's thigh, pressing dents into his skin. watches as eddie presses back.

eddie falters in his warplane musings when buck's foot skids over and catches in the edge of his shorts.

buck says, "sorry," not convincingly.

eddie clears his throat and drags his gaze from the arch of buck's foot resting against his leg up buck's calf, to his knee, to where the exposed pale of his thigh disappears behind them hem of his shorts. he takes his time wandering up the rest of buck's body, lingering especially at the relaxed curve of his dick under loose cotton fabric, the relaxed curve of his gently parted lips. finally he meets buck's answering stare and blinks, languid, like he's searing something into his memory, buck-shaped sunspots in his retinas. he says, "no big deal," not convincingly.

before tommy's eyes, water transmutes into flint and back into water and over again, metamorphosing in a churning lazy whirl. it dizzies him, blurring his vision until there is no difference between the two; there's just a murky charcoal pool, molten obsidian shimmering like glass, rippling like the surface of an ocean less haunted than the one sloshing in his cerebrum.

an ocean glinting with the reflection of two incandescent stars careening towards each other at a devastating rate, a spectacle to behold.

relaxing his shoulders, tommy orders them to, "kiss," more certain than ever. when they hesitate, he adds, "each other," bracing himself for the likelihood of a stellar collision.

when eddie clambers on top of buck and leans down to crush their lips together, pushing his head down against tommy's thighs, pushing tommy out of his own, it feels more like the calm soar and twinkling glitter of a shooting star against the navy velvet sky, the soft crash of a wave against the edge of a silky coast.

there's no threat of unkind flame, no exploding celestial dust.

it feels like water.

tommy kneels at the sacred place where the luminous sea laps at the heavenly shoreline and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

───────────────

drinks become shots become wandering hands in the generous backseat of a stranger's car, an obvious cocktail to use as a scapegoat for the hammering beneath tommy's breastbone. the depths of his mind bubble up with, trust your gut, not your heart.

he has mixed feelings about that one, but at present he's not sure he can trust any singular part of his corporeal form, so at least it half-applies.

hearts and guts aside, tommy is starkly aware that things between buck and eddie may be escalating a bit beyond his feasible reach. he'd come into the evening equipped with the knowledge that he's successfully constructed his own internal witch's cottage of cake shingles and sugared windowpanes in this questionable "date" night between the three of them, however mutually agreed upon the night may be. he's self-aware enough to understand that he's destined to walk himself straight back into it, naïve as hansel and gretel without the excuse of not knowing better.

he just hadn't realized how famished he's become, and how tempting his own makings would look.

with buck seated comfortably between himself and eddie, tommy has no real access to eddie outside of the smush of knuckles-on-upper-arm from the hand he's got slung around buck's shoulder. as per usual the concept of space does not seem to exist between the other men, and tommy's fingertips get wedged so tightly between their limbs that it feels like with just a little more effort, maybe they could do some damage. the sick, private, bourbon-drenched gutters of his mind surmise that maybe he'd let them.

he watches as they exchange a heated look and a hotter liplock, uncertain as to whether he'll ever get used to witnessing them like this. in the weeks following the fated night of their little home movie screening, tommy's been lucky enough to encourage and initiate several more exchanges of both kisses and conversation among the three of them.

"i... still want to be with you," evan had mumbled against his chest, as they laid in bed together the morning after their tag-team makeouts with eddie to the soundtrack of top gun's menu screen music on a muffled loop.

"i had hoped," was tommy's response. after a beat, "and eddie?"

buck had peered up at tommy, eyes so earnest and open and stupidly fucking blue. "yeah, yes, eddie," he'd said, almost apologetic. "i— i do want to be with eddie," like he had to.

"i know," tommy had told him, the organs in his abdomen heaving tumultuously. "it's okay, evan," he'd said, his heart a hummingbird fluttering frantic. like the idea wasn't sending his ribcage collapsing in on itself, he'd even managed, "i can leave whenever you're ready for me to go." he'd assumed all along that he was on borrowed time; couldn't be a beggar and a chooser.

buck, with love bursting forth from every single inch of his being, with more than enough to go around, had admitted to wanting tommy to stay, if tommy would be okay with it. he pitched the idea that they could talk to eddie, try this together, give it an honest shot.

tommy had flashed back to a childhood history lesson on the u.s. mint where he learned that certain coins aren't made in layers, but instead by melting all of the metals together to become a solitary slab. his copper edges fuse further into mirroring ponds of nickel.

three sides of the same coin, he'd thought to himself. imagine that.

"god, eddie," buck rasps now, voice low, clandestine enough to stay in the backseat. "want you so fuckin' bad."

eddie's answering, "jesus, buck, i— want you, too," honest and shameless, snaps tommy fully back into the present moment in perfect timing.

their rideshare driver whips into the driveway of tommy's house, personified stress wearing a thin windbreaker of customer service as he vocally ushers them out of the car — ahem, looks like we're here, have a pleasant rest of your evening, goodbye. as eddie and buck tumble out of the passenger's side rear door in a picture of resolute gracelessness, tommy, clutching stubbornly onto an ounce of awareness, pauses to give a rearview-mirror nod of thanks to the weary-eyed dude white-knuckling the steering wheel. he promises a significant gratuity for bearing with their shenanigans and lets himself out on the driver's side of the car.

while he steadies himself on his feet, gravel crackles under the wheels of the gratefully retreating sedan, headlight beams fading to shadow. tommy observes the silhouette of the inelegant, eight-limbed, two-headed harbinger-creature making its way to his home's front entrance in a clumsy tangle and waits for his innards to spike with fear, with reluctance. he meanders up the drive and overturns every stone lining the path to his warranted doom, expecting to find the tattered shreds of his decomposing clarity, or maybe a colony of vicious fire ants. all he finds is fertile, loamy earth, rife with potential.

he stumbles up his porch stairs and unlocks the door when he gets there, opening it for the lot of them to fall through together.

───────────────

together on tommy's mattress, buck and eddie writhe and moan and curse. they haven't been able to break apart since toppling out of the backseat. they kiss like it's the very thing keeping them alive.

from where he's snuggled up to buck's back, tommy's got a front row seat for the premiere screening of his most-likely demise. he can see the saliva bubblling on the edges of eddie's tongue as he smears it from buck's throat all the way to the cap of his shoulder, a glistening snail trail scattered through with blooming bruises he'd sucked into buck's skin minutes before. he can hear every wet catch of buck's breath in his throat, every soft grunt eddie lets out into against it, every exhale shared between them.

tommy's head spins, so god damn far from being on straight. he feels like a balloon released into the wind, miles above the cold and familiar waters of his deep-ocean, stranded somewhere in the high desert of his psyche. loose dry earth kicks up in a vortex around him, carried by the tempest of his culminating untended emotions. when the dust cloud settles enough for him to think, he recalls the term raison d'être.

it's french, that's why it sounds fancy, is what his father had said to teenage tommy, long before he'd cared to even attempt a grasp on the concept. he'd been moody, hormonal, and wildly, spitefully uninterested in all of the things the man he shared a name with held so dear. rolled his eyes at the gruff, translates to 'reason for being.'

"buck, buck, c'mon," is what eddie says as he scrabbles for a good grip on buck's shirt, taking fistfuls of fabric and wrenching it over buck's head in a frenzy. says, "come here," like buck isn't already melded into him, bare torsos flush, thighs slotted close. says, "come here," again, and it registers that eddie is calling for tommy, too.

tommy eyes snap onto eddie's across the naked curve of buck's shoulder to find them scalding. "fuck," he breathes out, "okay," like it's permission enough for all of them.

for now, it will suffice.

the skin stretched over buck's bulky trap muscle is tacky with eddie's spit when tommy sets his mouth against it, bursting salty-bitter on his tastebuds. buck whimpers into eddie's mouth and grinds his ass back against tommy's crotch; eddie's hips follow after them in a sinuous roll. into the blushing hollow of his ear tommy asks buck if he'd like to feel eddie inside of him, makes sure it's just loud enough for eddie to hear, too. he feels eddie's ankle hook around his own, overlapped with buck's.

"please, yes," urges buck, fervent and wanton, lust and liquor fraying the last threads of his hesitancy. "i've been wanting that."

"you have?" eddie asks, as tommy says, "he has."

"god." context aside, eddie's tone is reverent. he says it again, as though the word is synonymous with buck's name. then, like it's still a secret to himself, admits, "i've been wanting you, too."

buck groans and shifts, or maybe it's eddie — as tommy's faculties render off in the burn of both the top-shelf whiskey in his bloodstream and buck and eddie's immediate intimacy, it becomes progressively more challenging for him to distinguish the fine details. it all feels the same, gets identical synapses firing.

he tracks eddie's movements as he smooths a hand down buck's side, sure and attentive, as natural as breathing. when he keeps moving south to bump his fingertips up against the waistband of buck's jeans and the boxers beneath, buck's breath hitches, hips jerking. tommy tilts against them in pursuit.

eddie asks, "can i?" and it's double the approval he's seeking.

"yeah, eddie, please," buck begs again while tommy nods, delirious with overwhelm.

in an uncoordinated jumble, eddie gets buck flat on his back and makes himself a home between his open-lolling legs. right away his palms return to the broad planes of buck's chest, the curves of his strong stomach, the slight slants of his hips. he makes constellations out of kisses on buck's collarbone, his nipples, in the divot of his sternum.

it looks as close to worship as anything tommy's seen.

tommy wonders if it's worth telling eddie how he'd taken his time working evan open that morning, fucking him deep and thorough so he'd be easier for eddie to push inside of now. if it's worth telling eddie how he'd come, sudden and hard and so fucking good, from thinking about buck taking him so readily.

when eddie's devout, trembling fingers struggle to unclasp the button of buck's jeans, tommy decides to backburner the dirty talk. instead, he rests a hand on top of eddie's, gentle yet authoritative, and says, "let me help."

buck's hips lift for tommy's hands without second thought, making it simple to shuck the pants off of him as eddie shimmies out of his own. before he can even process the sight of evan buckley and eddie diaz naked, together, on his own mattress, tommy's met with twinning expectant gazes and understands that he's meant to strip, too.

"i—" thought i would stay on the sidelines, he tries to say. but as seconds pass under the scrutiny of the other men, the reluctance dies in his larynx, and he jostles around a bit until the denim of his pants is bunched down low enough to free his dick.

he's too preoccupied by the fact that he's got both objects of his affection directly in front of him, touching and loving on each other and spilling all of it onto him, to truly comprehend the magnitude of the moment. his head is so far into the atmosphere that he almost misses eddie say, "tell me what to do, tommy."

re-tethered to the earth by the string of eddie's voice, tommy doesn't miss buck's impatient, "aw, c'mon, eddie, just get in me." his desperate, "need you," is clear as day, clear as his afternoon sky irises, brighter against the rosy blush ruddying his cheekbones. he's always so damn pretty when he pleads.

tommy glimpses down at buck's dick, finds it stiff and pink and already leaking a mess onto his belly; he flicks across to the heft of eddie's where it rests heavy in the lax grip of his own hand. it's a beautiful cock, flushed dark and filled out, not quite as thick as tommy's but a nice, proportionate size. tommy knows buck will unfurl for him at once, a blossom to the morning sun.

meeting the bonfire of eddie's anticipative stare, tommy decides to say, "it won't take much, i got him ready for you this morning. right, baby?"

if buck could nod any more vigorously, he might snap his vertebrae. he adjusts the angle of his hips a little to make more of his ass visible, scoots onto a pillow so that he can prop himself up enough to get a better hold on eddie's waist.

"jeeesus," drawls eddie — a rare slip of his honeyed-rye texas lilt — and then, like he can't help it, "christ." his eyes rake down buck's body, idling on his twitching dick before trailing further, like he'll be able to find evidence: tommy was here.

that makes tommy smirk. he wishes he could keep his instructions ambiguous, left up for eddie's interpretation, something like he can handle whatever you're willing to give him. instead, mindful of the fact that this is largely uncharted territory for eddie, he suggests, "start with your fingers, you won't hurt him."

tommy's trusty bottle of nightstand lube is within convenient reach, making it no trouble to squeeze and slather some across eddie's fingers with a lewd jerk. a bit of extra coats the side of tommy's hand and he uses it to rub along the cleft of buck's ass, prompting a shiver out of him.

"there you go," tommy rumbles, "nice and wet."

the synchronous broken moan that the two let out when eddie finally finds the courage to nudge his fingers into buck is one that will most likely play like a broken-record loop within the walls of tommy's skull forever from this moment forward, for better or for worse.

buck promises, "i can take more," with the bleeding edge of a prayer still present in his tone. "i want more, want you, eddie, come on. it's alright, you can fuck me, you're not gonna break me."

eddie asks, "are you sure?" dually directed.

"never been more sure," buck affirms, as tommy says, "trust him, he knows his own limits," all the while knowing he can't make the same claim about himself.

regardless, he casts himself into the riptide, plummets into the undertow and captures buck's lips in a greedy kiss. he licks behind buck's teeth and drinks up his whines as eddie rides his dick along the slick valley of buck's asscheeks. before he even pushes inside, buck's making these fucking tiny wounded noises that make tommy's heart swell and cock throb.

when eddie lines up and sinks, at last, into the place inside of buck that tommy has come to learn and know and adore, buck breaks away from tommy's kiss with something close to a genuine sob. one of his hands finds one of tommy's, the other still firm on eddie's waist, keeping both of them close. he's got a leg hitched up over one of eddie's hips for better leverage, and his toes curl when eddie starts to move, shallow and slow.

eddie's name has never sounded better to tommy's ears than it does falling out of buck's lips now.

"buck." eddie's tone is reverent. he says it again, as though buck's name is synonymous with god, the two a singular entity within the confines of his skull.

tommy nearly has to look away from them, they blaze so brightly. evan buckley and eddie diaz, starfire contained in terrestrial form, crashing and combining and dazzlingly white-hot.

───────────────

white-hot aftershocks zap through tommy's nervous system as he sits at the edge of the mattress, back turned to the two other men. his fingers are gooey with spatters of buck's come mixed with his own, his softening dick sensitive and sticky as his entire body pulses from the dopamine spike of his orgasm. being a spectator to eddie and buck's otherworldly connection — and a helping hand in their ridiculously hot, intimate sex — has him feeling triply unmoored.

he's supposed to be getting them something hydrating to drink; he'd been the one to offer after eventually peeling himself free from the gordian knot of their bodies. evan always gets thirsty after, in particular when he gets a little teary from the pleasure overload, so tommy figures he could use a glass of cold water. they all could.

he tries to will his legs to stand; he finds his knees locked. impulse turns him inward and sweeps him cliffside on the tallest peak of his high desert mountain range. there, he can stand with his shoulders in repose and head in the clouds, squinting far into the distance where he can decipher the unmistakable expanse of an ocean that glints with the reflection of two incandescent stars careening towards each other at a devastating rate. a ghostly whale breaches the surface for a flash, a mere speck on the horizon from here, vanished before its presence totally registers.

his heavy eyelids flutter shut and he mulls, achingly, over the term raison d'être.

he can hear buck and eddie behind him exchanging lazy, smacking kisses and sweet murmured praises.

"you made that so good for me, thank you."

"mm, you were pretty fuckin' good yourself. now come kiss me some more."

the sounds and sentiments soak into tommy's soul like they're meant for him. his lips tingle as though the press of another mouth is against them; his ears warm as eddie waxes on about how fucking glorious that all felt. his heart swoops at evan's quiet, bashful laugh.

upon opening his eyes the fog in his line of sight clears, and even through a blur of unwanted tears he can clearly recognize that he is no longer in the desert but in the sacred place where the luminous sea laps at the heavenly shoreline. the call of the waves isn't far off at all — the surf is actually rippling at his toes, splashing at his knees and calves. he's been here since the night that eddie diaz kissed evan buckley in his lap, feet sunken into silt, warm tides rising and falling around him.

translates to 'reason for being.'

"come back to us, tommy," summons eddie, as evan's hands reach out and welcome him back down to their mess of rumpled sheets and sweaty limbs.

tommy thinks, i could be a river, and lets himself melt into the embrace of their current, stream into ocean, copper into nickel.

[july-19th-club]

one thing that is so genius on a craft level with the broken earth books is that the derogatory for 'orogene' is - That Way - on 100% purpose. you're supposed to feel like it's not a word to say out loud, it's supposed to be uncomfortably similar to words you've already heard and know as cruel slurs in the real world. it's a direct fucking parallel designed to deliberately give the reader that crawling feeling and it works so well i dont even feel right typing it up for a post