#{ please and thank you! }

[buddie-buddie]

Buck drums his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Jeep, his left knee bouncing as he waits out the red light in front of him. His shift ended half an hour ago, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t budged. He thought the drive across town to Tommy’s would help— windows down, music blaring— but it’s done nothing to quiet the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin.

The light turns green, and Buck presses the gas pedal a little too hard, the Jeep lurching forward. Driving through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Tommy’s neighborhood usually settles him, quiets his mind in the way that only the promise of strong arms and that warm, familiar smile can. But tonight, even the hum of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights can’t soothe the unease twisting in his gut.

He pulls up in front of Tommy’s house and sits for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. He stares at the front door, watching as a couple of moths flutter around the porch light Tommy always leaves on for him. It’s something so small, yet it hits him right in the chest every time. It makes Buck’s skin flood with warmth, makes those three little words rise in his chest until he can practically taste them on the back of his tongue.

In every other relationship, those words felt like a lifeline— something he had to cling to, something that had to be said and something that had to be heard, just to make sure he wasn’t standing on shaky ground. He found himself constantly waiting for that reassurance, always needing to feel wanted. Even when the words came, they didn’t bring the safe, steady feeling he was so desperate for. Instead, they left him restless, chasing a sense of belonging that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

It’s different with Tommy.

He doesn’t feel rushed, doesn’t feel pressured. He doesn’t feel like there’s a countdown ticking in the background, waiting for the moment those words will finally fall from his lips or Tommy’s. He’s content to let it be what it is, for as long as it takes.

Because with Tommy, it doesn’t have to be said. He can feel it.

He hears it in the quiet moments that hang between them on slow mornings, when they’re curled up together in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten. He feels it when they’re in the car together, when Tommy’s left hand rests on the steering wheel and his right hand settles on Buck’s thigh like it belongs there.

It’s in the small, thoughtful things— like the porch light, glowing softly and guiding him home. It’s in the way Buck’s favorite coffee quietly appeared in Tommy’s cabinets, how his fancy, hard-to-find body wash showed up on the ledge in Tommy’s shower one day.

It’s in the way Tommy leans in close, steadying him when his mind runs too fast, grounding him without a word. How he always remembers the little things— like Buck’s complicated coffee order from the cafe down the street from the loft, or how he always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. 

It’s in the glass of water that’s always on the nightstand next to Buck’s side of the bed. It’s in the feel of Tommy’s hand on the small of Buck’s back when they’re out, a touch that says I’m here without needing to say anything at all. How, when Buck has had a hard day, Tommy makes space— quiet, gentle space— for him to just be, without asking for anything in return.

It’s in those little moments, tucked away between heartbeats and breaths, where words aren’t needed. 

Tommy leaves the porch light on. And even if they haven’t said as much yet, it feels like love, all the same. 

Buck leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly through his nose. The knot of unease in his chest hasn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it’s loosened just enough for him to get a deep breath and turn the engine off. 

He finally gets out of the car, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. He walks up the path to the front door, the sound of his boots quiet against the brick. The porch light casts a warm glow over everything, and Buck finds himself smiling, just a little.

Before he can dig out the key Tommy gave him a few weeks ago, the door swings open, and there’s Tommy— hair mussed, barefoot, wearing one of his old threadbare t-shirts that’s too soft for its own good. Buck’s heart unclenches just a little. 

“Did they let you out early for good behavior?” Tommy says by way of greeting, his mouth curling into that little lopsided smirk Buck loves so much. He steps to the side, his back against the open door to let Buck through.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Buck mutters, pausing as he steps inside to meet Tommy’s lips in a soft kiss. While Gerrard didn’t technically let him out early, it was the first time in the last few weeks that he didn’t approach Buck in the last twenty minutes of the shift to saddle him with a ridiculously tedious task–– the kind that takes at least an hour–– and tell him he wasn’t to leave until it was finished. Which meant that Buck actually left the station on time for the first time in the better part of a month. 

“Hi, baby,” Tommy murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit as he leans into Tommy, chasing the kiss for a moment longer. His hands come to rest lightly on Tommy’s hips, grounding himself in the familiar feel of his steady, solid warmth.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his voice low and tired. He lingers there, forehead pressed gently against Tommy’s, letting the moment stretch between them. 

Tommy pulls back slightly, his thumb brushing along Buck’s jaw in a way that feels like both a comfort and a promise. “Rough shift?”

“Uh,” Buck toes his sneakers off, leaving them beside the door next to Tommy’s boots. “Weird one,” he says, trying and failing to suppress the weariness that pulls at the corners of his voice.

He lets his bag drop to the floor beside his shoes as Tommy turns to close the door with a quiet click. Buck watches as he locks up and flips the porch light off, a quiet confirmation of Buck’s suspicions that Tommy turns it on for him, a 60-watt beacon guiding him here, guiding him home.

The realization settles deep in Buck’s chest, spreading warmth through him like a slow-burning fire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of being cared for like this— so subtly, so consistently, without any sort of fanfare or obligation. It’s not something he had to ask for or fight to get. It’s just here, waiting for him.

Buck swallows hard, the tight knot of exhaustion and frustration from his shift loosening just a little more. Tommy catches the look on Buck’s face, his expression softening as he steps back into Buck’s space.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmurs, his hand finding the small of Buck’s back, the same familiar touch that grounds him every time. 

Buck leans into the touch, letting Tommy steer him toward the couch. He slumps onto it, dropping his head into his hands with a low sigh. Tommy sits beside him, close enough that their knees bump, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s good at that— letting the silence sit until Buck is ready to speak.  

“Gerrard hugged me,” Buck blurts out, his hands tugging at his hair. 

Tommy goes still for a second, and then— “He hugged you?” There’s disbelief in his tone, and when Buck lifts his head to meet Tommy’s eyes, he sees that crooked smirk forming again, fighting to stay serious.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Buck mutters, voice tight with frustration. “He— He told me he’s gonna take me ‘under his wing.’” He tears his hand from his hair long enough to make air quotes around Gerrard’s words.

Tommy blinks. Then snorts.  

“Under his wing?” Tommy echoes. “That’s where all the love and joy of life go to die.”  

Buck huffs out a laugh. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “You’re not helping.”  

“I’m not trying to help yet,” Tommy replies, smirking again. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own. “I’m trying to make you laugh so you don’t spiral. Looks like I’m halfway there.”  

Buck shakes his head, but the small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth anyway.  

“Okay, seriously,” Tommy continues, his voice softening. “What happened?”  

Buck sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I– I don’t know. He had us line up at the start of shift. Went down the line and was his… usual self to everyone else. And then he got to me and– and…” Buck’s voice trails off, discomfort curling in his gut as he relives the moment. “He– He told me I saved his life and then he hugged me.” He drags his hands down his face. “And now, suddenly, I’m his pet project.”  

Tommy’s brow furrows. “He really hugged you?”

Buck makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah. A hug. Not, like, a friendly slap on the back, but a full-body, completely awkward, get-in-here-son hug. You should’ve seen everyone else’s faces. I thought Eddie was going to keel over.”  

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “That’s... something.” He leans back, resting an arm along the top of the couch behind Buck. His fingers slip into Buck’s hair, running through his curls as the silence hangs between them. Buck relaxes into the touch, tipping his head toward Tommy, leaning into the warmth and steadiness of his hand.

“Under his wing,” Buck mutters again, almost to himself. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re officially his new favorite. Congratulations, babe. You’ve leveled up.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky me,” Buck deadpans, dragging his hands down his face. “Just what I’ve always wanted—mentorship from a guy who makes my skin crawl.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers still threading gently through Buck’s curls. The silence between them stretches, comfortable but charged, like Tommy is waiting, watching, reading Buck the way he always does. The humor fades from his face, replaced by something softer, more careful. “Okay,” Tommy murmurs after a moment, his fingers brushing lightly along the nape of Buck’s neck. “What’s really going on?”

Buck freezes for a second, caught between wanting to say it and wanting to shove it down. Tommy always has this way of coaxing things out of him without even trying. He approaches him with equal parts gentleness and insistence, like peeling back layers until Buck has no choice but to lay it all bare.

“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, voice thin.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is low, steady, patient. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the back of Buck’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Buck blows out a breath, frustrated more with himself than anything. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair as if it might shake the thoughts loose.

“I don’t even know that I meant to save him,” Buck admits, his voice tight. “I can’t... I can’t tell if I pushed him because I heard the blade, or if I just— snapped.”

Tommy stays quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Buck’s words settle between them. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Buck’s neck, fingers still working in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Both?” Buck glances at him, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugs, his expression steady but kind, his gaze warm with quiet understanding. “You’re not exactly known for your patience, Evan. But that doesn’t mean your instincts aren’t solid. Maybe you snapped, and maybe you also saved his miserable life at the same time. Those things don’t cancel each other out.”  

Buck lets the words sink in, his jaw tightening as he rolls them over in his mind. He exhales slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I– I don’t know. I keep thinking, what if– what if it wasn’t instinct? What if it was just... me losing control?”

Tommy’s thumb strokes a slow path along the back of Buck’s neck, and he leans in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re human,” Tommy says, his voice gentle. “You get angry. You hit your limit. But you wouldn’t have let him die, even if you wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Buck huffs out a wet laugh, shaky but real. “I definitely wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Tommy grins, brushing a kiss against Buck’s temple. “Rightfully so.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the warmth of Tommy’s presence, the steadiness of his voice, the way his hand stays firm and reassuring on the back of his neck.

“I just don’t want him anywhere near me,” Buck admits, well aware of how petulant and childish he sounds— and yet, he doesn’t care. Something about Tommy makes it easy for Buck to drop the mask he wears everywhere else, to let the frustration and helplessness spill out without fear of judgment. With Tommy, he doesn’t have to be composed or tough all the time; he can just be— messy, tired, and human. Tommy’s presence is like a safety net, one that will catch him no matter how ridiculous he sounds or how tangled his emotions get.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You will,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Keep your head down, lean on all of us who’ve got your back, and wait him out. He's going to burn out or screw up sooner or later. You’ve just gotta outlast him.”  

Buck huffs a tired, bitter laugh. “I’m not good at keeping my head down.”

“I know,” Tommy murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Buck’s hair in a soft, steadying touch. “But you’re good at the important stuff— like saving people. Even assholes who don’t deserve it.”

Buck closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy, the familiar weight of his hand still resting on the back of Buck’s neck. The knot in his chest loosens just a little more, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under the warmth of Tommy’s words. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m getting tired of being good at that.”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, pulling Buck closer. “That’s okay, too,” Tommy says simply. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, low and steady and full of quiet, unwavering conviction. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Buck closes his eyes, sinking deeper into Tommy’s embrace. This time, when those three little words rest on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t swallow them down. Even though he knows they won’t ever be enough, he can’t think of anywhere better to start. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, the words slipping out like an exhale, simple and unforced.

For a moment, Tommy stays perfectly still, as if letting the words settle between them. Then, slowly, a smile curves against Buck’s temple. 

Tommy presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s birthmark, soft and reverent. “I love you, too.” 

And just like that, everything feels lighter. Not perfect. Not fixed. But it’s enough.

It’s quiet between them, the kind of silence Buck used to hate. The kind he used to scramble to fill with words, desperate to bridge the gaps. But here, in Tommy’s arms, the silence feels different. It feels easy. It feels safe. 

It feels like home.

also on ao3

[vinelark]

on the subject of stomach-drop angst pangs, please drop your fav pangy fics! tim fics especially, but i love all the bats and supers too. i’m padding my fic to-read list before my trip 🤲❤️🙏

[laf-outloud]

Remember at Dragon Con after Jared was announced for FC and he insinuated that he would be riding a horse on camera again soon? And we thought that maybe he would in FC but we're 2/3 eps down and not yet... Obviously still a chance in the 3rd ep, but if that doesn't happen then I am going to be very curious what he meant!

Reminder what I'm talking about for those who forgot:

tweet with overview of his comment: https://x.com/PigNaPoke69/status/1830087778496917955

the end of this clip: https://x.com/PigNaPoke69/status/1831024085905666532

Oh yes, I remember! If someone at the convention wants to remind Jared about his comment and maybe get an update... I wouldn't mind! LOL!

[wolffe-makes-art]

Aight. the big school breaks are coming up, so send me some fandom characters to draw!

(Preferably fandoms I know/am in. If you're not sure which fandoms I'm in feel free to ask or just dig through my fandom blog: @/afandomroom)

[impulse-control-not-found]

I know theres an archive or post somewhere on here that features the civilian outfits Bart wore in his comic runs,, can someone help me find it?

[cilil]

Alright friends, throw some Silm rare pairs at me!

[elwolfen]

God... Steven Universe is so good

[hp-confessions]

To the user/blog: mrose2000

Hello! Thank you for coming to my blog and making confessions, I love to see it, but, I have had some complaints made against you constantly harassing other bloggers, and that is something I don’t like, and that no one wants to or should ever experience.

I would really appreciate it if you would stop with all the harassment, and bringing up topics that don’t relate to the original topic at hand on peoples confessions. It’s making people uncomfortable, and it’s just creating an un-fun and negative space, where people are hesitant to even confess, out of fear of constantly being judged and degraded.

If you would like to have conversations and discourse on certain confessions, do it in a respectful way. If someone doesn’t want to hear what you have to say on a topic, then they don’t want to hear it, and it’s best to just leave it alone and move on. There is no need for all that negativity, and all that drama.

[charliextea]

as an aro person charles/edwin is “my ship and let ship” notp. i want them to be deeply platonic actually. i want edwin to meet literally any other person, fall in love with them and be like “oh romantic love feels different from what i feel for charles” and then they live happily ever after but their friendship STAYS the most important relationship in each of their lives. I want them to be be platonic soulmates with other romantic partners. I want them to know that they are IT for each other, and maybe they have romantic relationships pass in and out of their lives, but for each other, they are Everything. Best Mates. Literally forever. The End.

[northern-passage]

does anyone have any decent stand-alone (as in, One book) fantasy recommendations?

[discodiscodemon]

idk about the rest of yall but personally, my favorite kinda bullet train fan art is just the super casual "home"-y kinda art if you get what i mean

like.. not even straight up photography, just losers sharing a house/visiting each other's house and hanging out or whatever! i don't care if they have a record of literal murders i want to see them be really really normal

[orangesand-lemons-234]

yall. you realise how many newsies were in cats, right? why are we hating on cats when so many newsies were in it too! let's go over a few i can name off the top of my head!

Anthony Zas!

Lindsay Atherton!

Mukeni Nel!

Joshua Burrage!

Chaz Wolcott! (i literally could not find a better picture of him in full costume-)

Giuseppe Bausilio!

and probably many more!! let's not hate on cats when sooooo many of the newsies performers were in it as well!

[legendofrhythm]

Hello Rhythm Heaven Tumblr I have a quick question

Does anyone know if anybody has ripped the little character sprites from the cast roll after the credits in Rhythm Heaven DS? Some of the sprites there are just so cute and I want to make them out of perler beads and stick them to my wall :] I've checked The Spriter's Resource but I don't think they're on there.

Thx :>

[princesslocket]

COMMISSIONS OPEN!

Please check out the link in my card for more info regarding my general TOS, commission form, and extra examples!

If you have any questions or are unsure of something, please don't hesitate to either leave a comment in this post or send a DM!

If you're unable to commission me but would still like to support me, maybe consider reblogging this post please!

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Dead Friend Forever ep 2

Let's goooooooo!

Documenting my observations and speculations because of the ongoing mystery. (small comments in brackets are things I've gone back to after the ep ended).

I do like this opening music. It sets the scene well for this being a spooky mystery but also speaks of the youthful innocence - and then the breaking of it - of the friend group.

I know not every character needs to be colour-coded but they all seem to have a distinctive style, so for my satisfaction here's my interpretation: White is either blue or has coloured edging to his t-shirt (or both); Tee is either tie-dyed or red (or both) (White and Tee are the only actual couple and we all know blue and red are a common pairing...and Tee's tie-dyed vests have had both of their colours so far); Fluke is purple (duh); Por is maybe green; Phee is maybe orange, Jin could be dark, Tan could be light, and Top is either embroidered shirts or yellow (or both). Let's see if this continues throughout the rest of the series.

Of course it was Tan in the background of the film, he was missing from the scene when they were recording the film.

I literally said White's line aloud before he did 😂

I wonder if someone is putting something hallucinogenic in their food or drink rather than some of these 'supernatural' things happening to/around them.

HELP! 😱 That mask is super creepy 😭 *pauses and breathes for ten seconds* Ok, focus on something else - it looks like the person in the mask is using a crutch on their left side, so maybe has an injury to their left leg, and has the axe in their right hand...let's remember that for later.

If the masked person wanted Top dead, he could have killed him there and then in the bathroom. So if the masked person is real, why didn't they? And if they're not real, then does Top really believe what he saw? Or is Top lying to instil fear in the rest?

And so I also need to wonder if Por is actually dying or if he's acting to stir up fear in the group. Make up and prosthetics can look very realistic... Hmmmm 🤔

One of my biggest questions is, are we as an audience being shown The Truth?

That was A Look from Fluke...was he not part of whatever it is that Tee, Top, and Jin did to Non? (It seemed in a later scene he does know so probably was...).

I'm leaning more into the theory that they're hallucinating, and the 'drug' is playing into their fears. White obviously cares about how he looks, with all his skincare products, and as soon as he's used something on his face (has that been tampered with? Or did he accidentally ingest something when he handled the 'drug' for the others if this is all his plan?) he sees blotches on his skin. Top is scared there's a ninth person in the house, so hallucinates the attack in the bathroom replicating the scene from Non's film. Let's see if there are any other instances which will back this up.

Floppy discs! 😂

Do they really have to add those squelchy sounds for Por's wound 🙉

OMG NOT THE EYES 😩🙈😩 PLEASE!

Yes, definitely something to do with hallucinating and maybe Por is faking... Is the hallucinogenic drug airborne or absorbed through the skin?...

Something I can't work out...in the photo Top found earlier there were 6 people, so I assume Tee, Top, Jin, Fluke, and Non, but who is the 6th person? Should I have been able to see in the photo? Or will that be revealed later? (edit after watching ep 5: I realise I forgot to include Por, so that's the 6th)

Oh god it's That scene...not looking not looking not looking... Why are Top and Tee riding off the way the Uncle came, surely IF the wire was across the road it would still be there...so maybe it's not and maybe the uncle's head wasn't detached from his body...maybe it's more hallucinating...? Or if they're in the woods now then maybe they didn't go down the road at all...and the Uncle's death is real...

(I'll say this quietly because this is personal to me but I'm also having trouble watching because I don't think I like Jet's acting. It doesn't feel authentic and it takes me out of the story a bit because I don't feel like he's acting well. I don't believe him. And it's not like he's playing it so that the audience doesn't believe the character, I think it's Jet just not being as good as the others. It's like he's demonstrating that he's acting, if that makes sense, rather than just embodying the character of Top. It's a bit overdone for me. Sorry to Jet who I presume is working hard but it's just not landing for me).

THE TATTOOS ON THIS MAN!! 😮😅 UNCLE DANG...MORE LIKE UNCLE DAMN!!

Wow. I'm still hooked. I'm still side-eying Phee because I know he knows Non, and I'm loving that I feel like I can't believe anything that anyone says or does 😂 THEY'RE ALL STILL SUS. RIP Uncle Damn Dang though. The first real victim of this situation. If he really is dead.