#thank you all for writing it

[eatmyson]

this one's inspired by @cringefailvox's time has changed the metaphor!

It was such a good read and I couldn't stop thinking about these three ever since.

[magicicephoenix]

i finally finished reading I see you, Sundrop! by @shirajellyfish and IT'S SO GOOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO FINISH IT RAAAAAAA

i will be gushing about it in the tags but here's a lil animation i made based on the below paragraph in chapter 6 that gave me such a strong mental image that i had to make it real :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[dxckgrxsonx]

hi you have broken my brain and i am now irrevocably obsessed with jason todd (and especially the way you write him 🥹💕) thank you so much :’))))

thinking so hard about wet soapy jason in the shower and the fact that neither of you would ever be able to shower alone bc as soon as one of you realized your love was in the shower you’d HAVE to join <3

i love how sweet this is.

everytime you grab your towel or switch on the shower Jason appears in your line of sight, shirt already halfway off, an excited little smile on his handsome face.

he’s already telling you—rambling really—that he’s washing your hair first and he needs to condition his because he didn’t have time before and he wants to use the fruity shower gel you love because he likes the way it smells and you both have just this sigh of relief when you press together because of course you feel right at home under eachothers palms.

it doesn’t matter where he is, the second you switch on the water he’s there. you pick up your towel in his general vicinity and his head snaps up, watching you until you head into the bathroom and he’s immediately trailing at your heels.

or, you get home, hear the shower running and before you even enter the bathroom your pants are hanging from one leg. Jason thinks it’s hilarious when you fumble your way into the shower with him, hands already reaching out to touch his soapy skin, all warm and soft and safe.

you both write stupid little messages and make silly drawings on the mirror when it gets all steamy and more often than not it’s a simple ‘I love you’ or ‘let’s fuck later’ with a horrible picture of two stick people laying on top of each other, (you tried your best, okay?).

you know that joke about dads and knowing when you touch/go near the thermostat?? yeah. that. but it’s Jason and his shower sensing ability.

he’s out on patrol, you start the shower and all of a sudden you get a text message from him saying ‘don’t you dare shower without me.’

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[keferon]

…..SO. AHAHAHAHAH. I finished reading Mistakes on mistakes until (technically I finished chapter 68 which is the last one currently~)

What a ride OH MY fuckINg god

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[whump-in-the-closet]

weak in the knees for situations where a stoic whumpee allows someone to help them. they don't say a word of acceptance but they don't protest either. Too injured to say no and too tired to deny they need it. Just grudgingly letting a gentle hand guide them to a bed or to wrap a wound. Then a quiet, "thank you." in between sharp breathing as they try not to break down in front of someone else. Love love love shielded vulnerability

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

[newttxt]

and thats a wrapppppppp!!

from the 10th and final chapter of utilities included

masterpost

[bunnieswithknives]

Thanks.

Prev

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

I love this picture for a couple of reasons

for one:

"ladies, is it gay to stare lovingly at your wife?" -Dehya, every hour of every day

and two:

the fact that Kaveh was the one setting the self timer on the kamera but Alhaitham is in the outside position means Alhaitham was canonically saving Kaveh's seat for him. again, very gay behavior.

[skullfacedlady]

Happy birthday, @fanaticsnail 💙

Happy birthday, my dearest Snail. How glad I am to be able to call you my friend and do this for you. I am glad for all the times I managed to get to know you better through our messages. And I am glad for being able to wish you a happy birthday and gift you this Cora pic I drew just for you. I drew it quite a while ago always with the intention of gifting it to you, but when I found out when your birthday is, I decided to make it a little bit more special. I love you, Snail, and I'm happy to have you in my life. With all that said, once more, happy birthday, and I hope you have lots of fun. Enjoy your Rosi like this, peaceful.

[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

[celestialwrites]

saying ‘i love you’ without saying ‘i love you’ dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “to me, you are perfect.”

♡ "don't you realise? you are my world."

♡ "you brought me back to life."

♡ "the only way i know how to describe what i feel around you is home. i feel at home."

♡ "it's as if my entire life i have been sinking in a storm and you came and pulled me out."

♡ "you know i stayed for you, and frankly, i don't regret it one bit."

♡ "with the whole of my heart, i believe that together we are infinite."

♡ "i never intend on leaving you. you hear me? never."

♡ "thank you for being the shoulder i always needed, even when you hated me."

♡ "i can't live without you!"

♡ "never leave me, my heart couldn't bear it."

♡ "i've spent my whole life waiting for you."

♡ "consumed in darkness, you darling, were my light."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Normal boy spotted.

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