#most intimate thing ever

[gojoest]

standing in the kitchen naked eating cold pizza in the middle of the night with satoru bc you’ve starved each other so bad (multiple rounds, multiple orgasms) but he makes you step on his feet bc the floor is cold and you’re barefoot <3

[tyciel]

i hate them they should have died more miserably (reference below the cut)

i don't watch k dramas or really tv at all. but i saw this picture of these guys from love mechanics? or whatever its called

[gjatheshroom]

Anniversary celebrations

[vaguely-concerned]

just had the thought 'in the end the most important thing varric taught rook was how to make a home for, with, and in other people' and then I had to go lie down on the floor and clutch at my head in unceasing agony for a few hours, as you may well imagine. hawke and the kirkwall crew........ in the end you kind of saved the world a bit in the most characteristically indirect and chaotic of ways. not by anything in particular that you did or achieved or accomplished (lmao imagine!), but just by -- having existed, and by the love that was always there, despite it all, in all its imperfections, even when no one was saved by it in the end. you're not here right now and you're not quite haunting the narrative but I hear your voices bickering and arguing and laughing from the other room. (and so, I think, does varric. all the time.)

'did you think you mattered, hawke? did you think anything you ever did mattered?' yeah actually, varric says with da2 and keeps saying through the series. you were here. and I loved you. and as it turns out that mattered more than almost anything in the world, no matter how long it lasted or how fucked up it was at the time or what else happens, because varric manages to pass that feeling, that intangible... home, that echo of you all as you were together, that love, hopefully the best parts of it, on to someone else for them to bring with them on their journey, with their family. and maybe the world will be kinder this time. you never know. merrill's line of 'Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends.' varric's greatest fear of becoming his parents. even through the wreck and the ruin of the world, ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts of love -- malcolm hawke, who we never even see, but his life touched hawke's and hawke's touched varric's and varric's touched rook's and rook is passing it on to the family they're creating. the unbroken legacy of love shines through in ways that are stronger and stranger than any magic. help

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

the blur around their mouths and lower part of their faces like it's leaving everything open to interpretation... the way their eyes are so intense and more in focus but still vague... the gaze being so intimate it feels like we shouldn't be looking... their hair shielding them from our view...

[theorangepdf]

hearing someone describe me gives me an unbelievable amount of happiness yes being perceived is horrifying but also being perceived makes me feel so human and loved

[sallymew4]

do yall think like

sorry got a yoohoo

anyways do yall think teru like went to the barber. or got his hair cut by a professional . cuz i can totally see him doing that and (pre-mob era) just showing the stylist something new n trendy so his friends r like ah teru youve done it again you cunty bitch .but also

what if he just does it himself

ten year old teru in the bathroom with his ipad on the sink, playing a “coolest boy haircuts and how to get them” youtube video while he haphazardly snips away at his locks with a regular old pair of scissors. because it just started to get too long and he couldnt stand it anymore.

i mean yeah he could just go to a salon or something but imagine being a worker at one of those places and seeing a young child waltz in, hand over like a debit card or whatever and be like your finest haircut please. youd be weirded the fuck out like wheres yo mommy lil thang ???? would anyone have even done it without asking for a guardian first ????? maybe by a certain age its be less concerning but he would definitely get some looks for a while

anyways thats really it . i was just thinking about teru.. . ….i wish that Boy the best

[good-beanswrites]

An 0309 drabble for an anon ask I got a bit ago :) Thank you for being patient, I really enjoyed writing this!! It's actually a little moment I've wanted to write since I started Milgram fic, but never got around to it. (I mention his injured eye, but don't actually describe anything)

“Stop moving around so much.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I mean it. You’ll make things worse.”

Mikoto watched as the intensity in Fuuta’s gaze flickered between fire and fear.

He had a doctor’s kit laid out on his lap. Recently, Shidou had his hands full with Mahiru’s treatments and having intense conversations with Haruka, so Mikoto wanted to give him a break. With none of the injuries actually healing as they should, the prisoners were caught in an endless loop of changing bandages and checking for complications.

Shidou was grateful for the help. Many of the others tolerated Fuuta in the same way they spent only the necessary time around Mikoto. They smiled and placated him, acting like he’d gone mad all of the sudden. Whatever was making the others avoid the two of them, it drew the pair together. Mikoto was finding he enjoyed Fuuta’s company. Something about him was rather… charming. 

“Me? You’re the asshole that will make things worse. You’re no doctor! Fuck you.”

Eh, maybe he had gone mad. 

He took comfort, at least, in the knowledge that Fuuta was growing more comfortable with him. He sure had a special way of showing it, but Mikoto didn’t brag about being a people-person for nothing – he picked up on the way Fuuta sought him out during the day, pretending to be involved in his own activities. The way he struck up a conversation, then acted as if it had been Mikoto’s idea to come over and bother him. 

Therefore it was exciting, though not surprising, when Fuuta allowed Mikoto to help treat his injuries. They had only done it a few times, but today brought a whole new challenge. 

“I’m not performing surgery or anything. Shidou said it just needs some basic disinfecting.” He flashed his usual grin. “I have a steady hand – I’m a photographer, you know.”

Aside from Shidou, Fuuta hadn’t allowed a single person to look under his eyepatch. 

He remained unamused by Mikoto’s smile. For better or worse, he could always tell when it was forced. “It’s not like I have any proof of that. You could be awful at it, for all I know.”

“First chance I get, I’ll request a camera and prove it. Want me to take a picture of you first?”

“If you haven’t already messed up my face…” Fuuta’s focus was glued to the hand carefully reaching towards him. 

Mikoto pouted his lips. “Shidou trusted me enough with this. And you must have, because you agreed earlier. So If it’s not about me… You’re not scared, are you?”

There were some things that Fuuta didn’t stop to see through. He sputtered in surprise. “Hell no!” He lifted his chin, finally taking his attention off Mikoto’s hands. He stared defiantly. “I can take it.”

Mikoto felt a bit guilty for resorting to foul play. But not that guilty. “Good. Now hold still...”

He got right to it. One hand held ginger hair out of the way, while the other pinched the corner of the eyepatch. Fuuta’s good eye darted nervously around the room, avoiding the other's close-leaning face. Mikoto peeled it away swiftly, gently

As a horror movie buff, the injury didn’t faze him in the slightest. As someone who’d grown close to Fuuta recently, he felt a wave of anguish at the sight.

Fuuta squirmed. “It’s nasty, isn’t it…”

Mikoto reached down for some supplies. He considered mustering up a smile and saying there was no need to worry so much, but it would have been pointless. Times like these, it was kind of a relief when someone else could see right through him for a change. 

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Tch, I don’t need any pity from you.”

“I was going to say, you hide it well. You’re tougher than the warden gives you credit for.”

His cheeks flushed red. “I – I don’t need any flattery from you either!”

“Don’t need anything from anybody, huh?”

Before he could come up with a retort, he hissed through his teeth in pain.

“Ah, sorry.” Mikoto immediately retracted his hand from where it had been dabbing alcohol onto the injury.

Steeling his expression, he muttered, “it’s fine.”

Mikoto tried again. He made sure to move with even more steadiness, his face drawn up in concentration. He saw Fuuta’s features flinch when he touched him, but he stayed still. The two were silent, now, as Mikoto worked. Leaning his face so close made the short task feel much longer. The reddening in his cheeks didn't subside.

He expected Fuuta to snatch the fresh eyepatch away the moment he unwrapped it – he was shocked that Fuuta let him adjust it into place without a word.

“Alright. You’re all set.” He started packing up the kit.

“Listen, don’t tell the others. About my eye.”

Mikoto squinted. He gestured to the right side of his face. “I hate to break it to you, but the big patch kinda gives you away.”

“You idiot! I just mean, don’t tell them what it looks like.” He pulled his hood down over his hair. “I don’t need everyone trying to steal a look at it like I’m some sort of freakshow.”

“Hey, of course.” Mikoto gave him a smile, the kind they both knew was genuine. “I’ve got you.”

Fuuta nodded. He turned his face away, his fingers lingering over where Mikoto’s had just been. “... And… thanks.”

[d4rkseid]

how having deep conversations at 3am feels like

[rotisseries]

everyone debates about elmike like oh they're the best of friends no they would never hang out on their own they don't even know each other, when the true answer, much like everything else about them, is that there is so so much and also nothing at all

[prettyinpunk]

oh abso XX is out? no way...

[pandora15]

life is cruel.

it's tragic, horrific, and unfair. it gives us the worst of things, causes us to feel and experience things that are so unspeakably painful that sometimes I can't even. I can't even.

and it seems even more cruel in those moments of pain and grief and loss when you see something beautiful, like fall colors, or the color of the sky at sunset, or how the holidays typically are meant to bring joy to people but all you can think about now is that every year when this time of year comes, you'll just think about how tragic it is.

and cruel.

and horrific.

and unfair.

and beautiful.

[necromycologist]

gotta say i love the sheer bitchiness of everybody in lockwood n co. im SERIOUS.

[tickle-bugs]

BUGS YOURE ALIVE!!! Could I bother you for some McKirk? Maybe some bed sharing?? For uh...mission related reasons? Accidental cuddling?? If it's not too much trouble?? Do these emojis help?? 🛏🤣🪶💘

Anything for you beloved!!!!

Suite-Hearts

Bones thinks defecting might genuinely be better than this. 

He’s not twenty anymore, the sight of his best friend shirtless doesn’t fluster him the way it used to, but it’s still…a lot, given the circumstances.

Circumstances being the honeymoon suite in one of the most notorious casinos in the galaxy, a room that couldn’t possibly be big enough for all the feelings that Bones had to fit inside of it.

The room is beautiful, granted—the entire far wall is a floor to ceiling window onto the glittering city lights below. Every inch of the place is plush in a way Bones can appreciate, even if it reminds him vaguely of a padded cell. Stocked mini bar, soundproofing--even a built in white noise stereo. The hotel had been sweet--they’d decorated the place with little hearts and champagne bottles, committed to celebrating the newly engaged couple they’d checked in as. 

But again. The circumstances. 

“Are you gonna glare at me over there all night?” Jim huffs and crosses his legs on the bed. He plays with his hair, still stringy from the shower. 

“I hate this.” Bones clenches and unclenches his fists to stave off the urge to pace. He tears down one of the paper hearts from the ceiling and crumples it instead. 

“Yes, you’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Jim sighs and leans forward, balancing his chin in his hands. “Honestly, Bones, I don’t bite. This isn’t much different than the Academy.”

“Uh-uh. We had bunks in the Academy.” 

“Bunks that we rarely slept apart in, usually. What’s up with you?” Jim drifts over, pretty eyes sloped with concern. The full brunt of the hotel’s fancy pine soap hits Bones. 

“Nothing.” Bones keeps his gaze on the floor. 

“If you hate sharing that much, I’ll try and swing a separate room for you. We can pretend we had a fight or something. I’m sorry.” Jim squeezes his bicep. Bones’s mouth sours at the apology. Jim isn’t apologizing for the room, he’s apologizing for his presence. Bones knows that tone of his and he despises it. 

“It’s fine. I’m just…not the best for these kinds of things.” Bones pinches the bridge of his nose. Guilt swirls and claws at the base of his stomach, making swipes at his throat to try and close it. 

“It’s just for a few days. You’ll never have to do another espionage mission again, scout’s honor.” Jim fumbles his way through the boy scout salute. 

“You were never a scout.” Bones huffs, but the promise soothes him some.

“Semantics.” Jim tries to crack his back a few times. “Want a drink?”

“Your back.” Bones furrows his brow. Jim makes a dismissive noise, scoping out the selection of whiskey and gin on the bar.

“Lay down.” Bones shoves Jim onto the bed with a eyeroll he doesn’t bother to hide. Jim squeaks as he hits the mattress and bounces higher than he expects—gravity’s just a little weird here and Bones can’t figure out how to work the in-room controls. 

He climbs up after Jim and settles heavily on his thighs. Jim grunts a little and Bones affectionately swats the back of his head. 

“M’fine. Really. I’ll go to the spa or something.” Jim hides his face, suspiciously shy, but Bones doesn’t press. Jim talks when he wants to.

“I’m not letting you waste money on that frilly shit. You want a free massage or not?” Bones gives his arms a fond squeeze. Jim nods, then deflates. 

“Where?” Bones reaches for the massage oil. He makes a face at the gaudy and suggestive label before pouring some into his hands. He rubs his palms together to warm it, breathing in the notes of lavender, sandalwood, and something else he can’t quite place. 

Jim makes a noncommittal noise into the mattress. Bones chuckles and smooths his hands up Jim’s back.

Massage therapy had been an optional Academy course but it had always been one that Bones enjoyed. It took a certain amount of trust in a stranger to allow them to know your body in that way. Bones wanted to be that stranger for people, he still does. 

And with Jim, well—what isn’t better with him? That’s comically, cosmically, the problem. Bones knows nearly every atom of Jim’s being, even the ones Jim hides from himself. That’s their deal. They are bonded halves, binary stars, and they care for one another. Even when they drive each other insane. 

“Pressure okay?” Bones hums, working into a stubborn knot near Jim’s shoulder. Jim moans and dissolves into the bed. 

“Quiet down. You’ll make people think we’re really getting a use out of this room.” Bones’s face grows painfully warm as Jim makes another terribly distracting noise. It dissolves into a chuckle. Bones squirrels the entire thing away into a private corner of his brain. 

“S’rry. Feels good,” Jim mumbles, pressing his face further into the mattress. Bones chuckles and continues his work. 

“Stop squirmin’,” Bones huffs, working his way up the back of Jim’s ribs. Jim wiggles around a bit but doesn’t say anything. 

“If I’m hurting you, you gotta say somethin’.” Bones leans down and murmurs, stilling his hands. Jim makes a string of noises, attempts to shake his head into the mattress, then settles on waving his hand around dismissively. 

“Whatever you say.” Bones snorts and smooths his palms over Jim’s warm, soft skin. He finds his lower back and starts over, working his way back up, then down, and up again. The rhythm of it takes them both.

“Doin’ ok?” Bones hums, leveraging his elbow into Jim’s lower back. 

“I’m in love with you,” Jim sighs, then groans, nothing more than a puddle of captain. Bones swallows the surge of emotion in his chest and concentrates on maintaining appropriate pressure of the elbow. 

“Sorry. For the next few days, I’m a taken man.” Bones skimming his fingers slowly up Jim’s back. Jim shivers and grabs fistfuls of the blankets. He traces patterns between mottled scars and freckles, a little lost. 

Jim twitches again, muffling something high-pitched into the mattress. It does, admittedly, take a minute for Bones’s brain to catch up, but once it does…

He slides his fingers ever-so-gently up Jim’s sides, over the back of his ribs, taking great care to wiggle against the ridges of his shoulderblades. Jim jumps, turning to admonish him, but Bones is back to the charade. He works his thumbs into Jim’s shoulders, then squeezes--just above the collarbone. 

“Well h-he’s a lucky guy--holy shit--”

Jim shrieks, high-pitched and frantic, and totters off into a flustered flurry of giggles. Bones has never in his life heard him make such a sound, not even when drunk. 

“What--”

“Bones--” Jim flips over and levels a threatening finger.

“--was that?” Bones smothers his laugh in his fist, but it bursts free when Jim’s face flushes adorably pink.

“You surprised me.” Jim crosses his arms and pulls a face. Bones raises an eyebrow. 

“I surprised--c’mere.” Bones starts tickling him in earnest now, nipping fingers chasing each sensitive spot he’s come to learn over the years. Jim dissolves in his hands, giggles quickly graduating to full-on laughter. 

“B-Bohohones!” Jim shoves lightly at his shoulders as he laughs, bright and bubbly. Bones uses the opportunity to slip his hands up to Jim’s collarbone again, giving another squeeze into the muscle just above. Jim flails, his knees slamming into Bones’s back--ow--and and descends promptly into a highly-entertaining octave of desperate laughter.

“How on earth are you this ticklish and alive?” Bones muses, skittering his fingers back to Jim’s stomach for something of a break. Eventually, he just pats Jim’s stomach and swings off of him. 

“I’m never letting you forget about this. Every time you’re being annoying I hope you think of my hand right here,” Bones grins, resting his hand on the spot. He tries not to read too much into the clear giddiness on Jim’s face. 

“Oh, you bastard,” Jim gasps, eyes positively sparkling. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

Yet, Jim does nothing but flop back against the bed. The extra high bounce shakes a few stray giggles loose. 

“I’m sure you will.” Bones pats Jim’s head. Jim shakes him off, grumbling under his breath. Bones snorts, squeezes Jim’s shoulder, and trods off towards the bathroom, ignoring the indignant screech behind him.

…

Bones wakes up warm, beautifully so. Jim’s arms wind around his torso and keep him close, strong and secure. Some soft and content part of him wants to lean back into it. He’ll never get tired of waking up like this. 

Bones turns slowly so he can see Jim’s face. He looks so different asleep. Younger, maybe. 

Bones allows himself another thirty minutes of drifting sleep, letting Jim’s gentle snores guide them into the late morning. The room chimes a soft tone around ten or so, warning them of their impending loss of breakfast privileges. He has half a mind to ignore it, but he doesn’t really know what they eat on this planet. Jim can be picky as hell when he puts his mind to it, and they’re both useless when they’re hangry. 

Bones starts breaking Jim’s hold, maneuvering him gently. The sleepy whining is par for the course, but the fingers worming into his sides? That’s certainly new.

“J-Jihim.” Bones clears his throat. “Let go, ya sleepy lug.”

Jim makes a soft noise and cuddles closer, decidedly not following instructions. Bones keeps tugging, but the more he pulls, the more Jim decides to tickle. Jim finds a spot on his stomach that makes Bones choke back a squeal, shaking both of them with unreleased laughter. 

“Damn pehest. Two can play at that game.” Bones huffs. He starts poking at his ribs, still gentle, as he wiggles closer to the edge of the bed. Jim smiles and starts chuckling, his hold loosening. Bones worms his torso out of the octopus grip and starts slowly untangling their legs. He gets about halfway there before Jim grabs his leg and starts reeling him back in. 

“Jim--”

Jim smirks and opens his eyes. Oh. Oh no. 

“Gotcha!” Jim cackles, pinching at Bones’s thigh with reckless abandon. Bones screeches, his voice cracking hopelessly. Jim flops on top of him and starts tickling wherever he can reach, taking extra care to revisit his stomach. 

“Y-You absolute—“

Thump. 

Bones’s back collides with the plush carpet, along with a few throw pillows. Jim catches himself at the last minute with a yelp.

“Are you okay?” Jim laughs and peers at him over the edge of the bed. He offers a hand to help Bones up. 

“I hate you.” Bones glares up at him. His lips twitch as he tries to resist the smile that’s already consumed him. He swats Jim’s offered hand away, then smacks him with a pillow for good measure. He goes to get ready for the day--someone has to be the adult here--but Jim grabs him by the waist and pulls him back into bed. 

“I love you too.” Jim gazes down at him with an unbearably goofy smile. Bones rolls his eyes, but his face is warm, so embarrassingly warm. Bones goes to get up, Jim shoves his hands under Bones’s arms, and round two sufficiently costs them any hope of breakfast. 

[stuckinapril]

i guess i just wanted to say that i love the profound fleeting glimpses when i get a post notification from you but then it's later removed. idk, they remind me of early-morning zephyrs.

anyway, hope you are keeping well <3

oh my gosh... can i kiss you

[there-will-be-a-way]

You ever think you have a casual friendship with someone and then they ask you if you would be willing to accompany them to the hair dresser if their upcoming cancer treatment makes them lose their hair