#100+ ep
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Tumblr media
If you haven't heard of it then idk. comment the post or send a DM and I'll count it. Also where were you the past 20 years
226 notes · View notes
wasabi-gumdrop · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
35K notes · View notes
captainswan618 · 8 months ago
Text
I'm actually convinced this is peak comedy, I can't stop rewatching it
1K notes · View notes
mistymonster · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
my first and final orders
994 notes · View notes
denkilightning · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
everyones staring so pissed at him except jay whos like ':(((( i wanna do that too :(((('
756 notes · View notes
static-quo · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Not certain these clergy can do anything about cleansing my sins- ówò
2K notes · View notes
lunacias · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
these are the silt verses, and I name our disciples thus
1K notes · View notes
msmimundo · 18 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Canderemy screenshot redraw I actually did in november :3
269 notes · View notes
nessa007 · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
flotsamii · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
10/10 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY REIGEN !!!
A piece i started a few months ago to practice fun poses and anatomy :) finished it up last night for the birthday boy !
3K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Not to be confused with Hunter x Hunter (1999)
64 notes · View notes
julianavalds · 24 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I guess you'll have to make this for me more often. Would the rest of my life be enough? I don't know. I guess we have to find out.
NAMTAN TIPNAREE & FILM RACHANUN as AI-OON INGSAMAK & MAY METHAWI PLUTO (2024) 1.09 | "Overnight Trip"
Tumblr media
230 notes · View notes
quillthrillswriting · 7 months ago
Text
i'm sorry, but the atla fandom is the only place where i've ever seen people unironically use a 12 year old telling his friend that killing someone out of grief is maybe a rash decision and not healthy to argue that that same 12 year old is being controlling and is an unhealthy partner
you guys know that murder is like....a bad thing....right? especially for a 14 year old? you guys know that revenge murder isn't a healthy strategy? you guys know that anyone who would encourage that is probably actually the unhealthy one in that scenario...right??
584 notes · View notes
theartsynoodle · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
hold on for just a little bit longer
its almost over
5K notes · View notes
soonhoonsol · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
going seventeen out of context :)
going rangers #2
529 notes · View notes
burnthatbridge · 3 months ago
Text
8x01 misery missing scene
post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer
They stick around long enough to help clear up. 
The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 
“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 
“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.
Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 
“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 
“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 
Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 
Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 
“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 
“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 
Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 
At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 
Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 
Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 
They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  
“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.
Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 
“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.
And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”
“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”
Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 
Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 
Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 
Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.
He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 
Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.
The agony in his gaze is palpable.
Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 
“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 
“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 
“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”
“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“
“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 
Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.
Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”
“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”
“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”
“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”
“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”
“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.
He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 
“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”
“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”
Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.
As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 
237 notes · View notes