#dodger <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[eggyrocks]

missing eggy hours rn <333

MISSING AND LOVING DODGER HOURS ALWAYS

[daisy-room]

I believe I have broken dodger-

[bakery-anon]

Seeing Dodger and Hea make moodboards for their self-ships makes me want to do that….

[mollyrolls]

missing molly hours rn <33

uno reverse!!! but with crabinem

[bakery-anon]

@nectardaddy

ghostface choso commission on twt

[chososcamgirl]

new theme!!! love love love!! <333

dodger!!! thank u sm :’) <3

[etoilesdeglace]

"If you think it can be done. And it is what you want. Then I will try."

[candyheartedchy]

Hello Chy! Love your art!

What would Bella be like if she was in Duck Dodgers?

Hello and thank you! :D

Sorry if this looks a little messy, but I like to think Bella would look like this and is called “Ursa” in this AU!

[bakery-anon]

Finally, time to read.

Suga…I love how whipped you are already. “Oh I can keep getting you coffee it’s def not out of the way 🤭🤭” like just you say you love her already and move on /j

Yn getting tempted by a cat is so real. Like cat??? Okay, I’m sold.

I love how organized yn is. Her also being overwhelmed at how much she has to do is a whole mood. Like Yn I see you, thinking too much about the things you have to do makes it seem much worse than actually do the things you need to do </3

I love him sitting by her to make sure she’s okay omg. Like that’s so soft and I love it. Like yes, love me when I’m freaking out but don’t want to tell anyone. Love me in the silence <33333 Aaaa I’m in love with this Dodger <333

Yn I’m gonna need you to stop saying the quiet thoughts in my head out loud thanks <3

Dodger you can’t make me cry. Stop it. I’m legit tearing up. Omg. Stop. “They’d drown together.” Omg dodger. I’m legit gonna cry at this omg.

Dodger I’m in love with this story. In love with how they interact with each other. They’re literally so <3333 you know??? I mean of course you know, you’re writing this but omg. It’s so good Dodger.

-love bug <3 🍪

wild youth

one | trash can

masterlist

track one . . . crystal

cw/notes : ignore timestamps, hurt/comfort (my bread and butter yum), anxiety attack, feelings of panic, feelings of nausea (no throwing up), someone get me a suga asap fuck I love him so bad, ignore any typos I tried my best

The swirling sensation in her stomach never stopped even after she had sent everyone on their way. In fact, it got worse as her eyes tracked over the calendar she had on her desk. Little boxes filled to the brim with colorful ink, each color holding a significance that was important to only her.

Red was urgent, meetings she couldn't miss, or she would never hear the end of it. Blue was content, what subject matter she should be on week by week - which she was behind on. Green was tasks listed out in bullet points for science and math - to make a study guide, to redo a failed worksheet, to get supplies together for an upcoming lab, to make calls regarding a field trip in the near future. 

Orange was personal. 

Orange ink littered every Friday - ‘after school w/ K.S.’ (Abbreviated in case anyone came up to her desk with prying eyes. Already learning the hard way - last month - when question upon question was asked of “oh my god what do you and Mr. Sugawara do after school?!?” And “is Mr. Suga your boyfriend?! Is that why you have that on your calendar?!”)

Orange ink that scrawled underneath every box labeled Friday made her heart squeeze but wrench all in the same breath. Holding onto the feeling so hard she felt it crush and shatter in between her fingers. She had the tendency to hold onto things too hard, and never did find it within herself to let go - fractured or not. Always finding herself picking up stray pieces that fell here and there, leaving a trail behind her wherever she went. 

The amount of colorful ink, some smeared and some barely legible, threw her into a spiral if she looked at it too long. Too many things to do, too many calls to make and meetings to attend, and simply not enough time in one school day to complete everything. The swirling feeling that started in her stomach began to move, forcing its way to her throat and she took a deep breath. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, fighting the nausea and overwhelming need to spill her guts right then and there. 

In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

She remained like that a moment, focusing on her breathing and taking deep inhales of air only to let it back out again. But she gripped the orange pen she had in her hand tightly when she heard someone step through the threshold of her door; the sickly feeling returned to her throat immediately. She kept her eyes closed and took a shaky breath, determined to focus herself onto one thing rather than the person who came in.

She knew it was Sugawara. 

Knew the moment she heard long, relaxed strides and the soft squeak of chucks onto the horribly waxed floor. Knew as soon as she heard him walk through the door without a word - silent and all too ready to listen, to help. She knew he looked at her in worry, brown eyes swimming with an emotion she had yet to pinpoint. She knew he wouldn't dare leave until he knew she was alright.

Sugawara knew that she was losing her grip on remaining calm.

“Do you need the trash can?” 

A simple question, asked in a soft voice near her. She only screwed her eyes shut tighter and shook her head. “I'm ok.” Lying through gritted teeth, hoping he would turn to leave, but to no avail. 

“No you're not.” Another whisper of a reply. 

“I'm fine.” 

She heard him hum before the screech of a chair hit her ears, making her flinch and a ‘sorry’ followed quickly after. 

And that's when she felt him. 

His presence radiated next to her that she couldn't ignore - warm, caring, and selfless. Not a single off hand comment to say as he pulled a chair next to her and sat down without a word. She could feel his arm brush against her own, a simple accident as he got comfortable in the plastic chair. But a tingling feeling that made her heart stop; a proximity she couldn't tell was intentional or not. 

“Then I'll be here to make sure you stay fine.” 

She hated that answer. 

Loathed it even, for the sole fact it caused the sickly feeling to arrange itself into a lump in her throat. A lump that made her swallow hard, as to try and fight it, but only made it worsen as it became bigger. Growing until the feeling hit her chest painfully, overwhelming her with a sense of panic. One hand still held onto the orange pen for dear life, and the other death gripped her pants leg. 

“Suga,” the name spoken in a whisper, but voice cracking all the same. It dawned on her she had no control over how the situation went anymore, realizing she would ultimately drop her façade in front of the man only made the burning pain in her chest worse. The mask would reluctantly be long gone if she started to cry; and it hit her hard as she became acutely aware of the fact she couldn't stop herself if she did.

Her face felt hot and her heart pumped violently in her chest, hearing every thump within her ear drums so loudly it drowned out the rest of the world. She took one last deep breath - but that was the start of the complete collapse of her mind.

The inhale was labored, fighting back every instinct to let tears flow freely - she couldn't, she wouldn't, not in front of him, anyone but the man beside her. 

But she did.

The exhale was a choked back sob, one of which made her drop the orange pen completely and cover her mouth to muffle the sound. A cry for help that sounded too desperate to let anyone else hear, too pained to allow the man next to her bear witness too, too raw for even herself. Even with her eyes screwed shut, squeezing them so tight the corners of her eyes began to hurt, the tears fell anyway. It wasn't gradual, it wasn't a wave that pulled her down slowly but surely - it was the sudden, violent collapse of an, otherwise fine, structure. The chaos of watching a building fall, watching as brick by brick it all came tumbling down on itself. 

She couldn't register what happened, as the time from his statement and her crying was nothing but a brief pause. She only knew she was crying, her fingers sore from grabbing at the fabric of her pants, that her throat felt hoarse, and the hand that covered her mouth was now wet with tears. But a new sensation was thrown into the mix that made her jump in her skin and hold tight to the last thread of sanity she still had. A warmth on the back of her hand completely sent her to the deep end and lurched her off.

His hand atop her own. 

She couldn't explain why she flipped her palm over in that moment, couldn't place why exactly she interlocked her fingers with his without a second thought, and she surely didn't know why she removed her hand from her mouth only to open it. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Suga?” A wrenching question asked through broken cries and hot tears, “why can't I think, for just one goddamn second, that I'm not drowning? Why can't I think I'm good enough? Why can't I think I'm not a complete failure with everything I do?”

There was a long pause, one that only made her tears flow a bit harder. Because his silence felt cold to her, his silence felt like an answer all in itself. But he squeezed her hand in his own and looked over to her; if she had glanced, even briefly, to him she would've realized she took his heart right out of his chest. Held it in her hands unknowingly and dug her fingers into it, leaving marks that would linger for the rest of his days. 

“You’re the farthest thing from a failure,” he whispered. "And I’ll tell you every day that you’re good enough, because you are. You’re more than enough - you’re perfect.”

She wished she had said yes to the trash can.

“I am failing miserably,” she choked. “They won’t fucking listen, they won’t stop talking, they keep asking me the dumbest things imaginable after I tell them what they’re doing, and they look at me like I’m stupid constantly. And I have to pretend that everything is okay, and smile and laugh. Even when I just want to slam my fucking head into the wall and cry. I-” 

“Hey.” She felt him squeeze her hand once more as he cut her words short. “Breathe.” Another squeeze, this one tighter than that last, and he kept the tension. He held her hand like her life depended on it, interlocking fingers between his own and remained firm. He refused to watch her drown - or at least, they'd drown together. 

She took an uneasy breath in, and hopelessly failed at holding it as another sob wracked her chest again. To this, he didn't say a word; only watched as she tried to inhale and hold it. Brown eyes swirled with a concern she wouldn't even bear witness to, holding her hand as it was the only thing he could do. Failed attempt after failed attempt until she was finally able to the fifth time around - holding it and releasing a shaky exhale. 

“It's ok to not be ok,” he assured, to which he squeezed her hand once again. 

She finally found it in herself to open her eyes, and she looked over to him in sorrow. Blurry, tear stained eyes locked with his own and he felt his heart sink even farther in his stomach. How long has she felt like this? Thinking himself an idiot for letting it get to a peak such as this one; ridiculing himself within the chasms of his mind for not noticing sooner. On the contrary, she felt her stomach surge upward. A squeamish feeling that made her swallow harshly, and a bitter taste at the back of her throat that made her look away from him completely. 

She most definitely should have said yes to the trash can.

Her eyes had only met his own for a fraction of a second, but that was enough for her to feel embarrassment wash over her. So she kept her eyes glued to the orange ink that littered the calendar on her desk. Orange was consistent, never changing, caring - adoring. And she watched as, now slowed, tears dripped onto the paper. Drops created small, circular splotches that bled through to the pages underneath. Watched as the ink started to scatter and feather out from hot, salty tears; and for once, she didn’t care. Didn’t care that her handwriting began to be illegible, didn’t care that red ink started to blend with green. As long as the orange ink was still there, if it still remained intact - it was fine. As long as the orange ink would always remain there, it was ok.

“But I have to be ok,” she whispered, negating his statement as she closed her eyes again. “If I’m not ok then everything will go to shit.”

“Says who?” 

“Says my brain.”

“Well,” he began, and she heard the faintest of a chuckle sound from beside her. “Don’t listen to your brain. You don’t have to be ok at all.” And in that moment, she became overly aware of the fact he was holding her hand, because he squeezed it again. Pale fingers locked with her own, holding tightly, and she felt a heat rise to her cheeks. Muddled with the already warm feeling of being overwhelmed, she felt herself thrown to the deep end all over again. “Honestly, we can not be ok together.”

Together. 

One singular word felt crushing, but relieving all in the same breath. While it took her by the ankles and yanked her downward, it also grabbed her by the wrists and surged her up. A head spinning feeling that didn’t help her nausea; it only made it worse as now she felt torn asunder. Friday after Friday of being together but so, god damn, far apart. Together felt like a curse. A god awful, caring, loveable curse she couldn't get enough of.

She kept her eyes closed and lips sealed shut at his words, humming them over in her mind as seconds passed. Burnt out, foolish, embarrassed, and hot, she still noticed the yearning feeling that pulled at the back of her mind. An ache that never went away, only nagged and pined as it only continued to grow as moments became minutes. And minutes became a crushing weight to finally say something - anything. 

Together. 

“Do you want to get hammered tonight?” An off kilter, frankly off color, question she blurted out to him as she reopened her eyes. Looking over to him in anticipation, but a deep rooted fear swimming in her eyes, and she finally squeezed his hand back in response. 

She saw the smile form on his lips the second the question was asked, watched as the smile turned to a chuckle, and the chuckle became a silly, joy bringing laugh. “What kind of question is that?” A rhetorical question asked between chuckles, “obviously I want to get hammered.” 

“I still don't want to go to the bar though,” tagging on the statement quieter than the last and she saw him shrug in response.

“My offer still stands. Do you like shitty, cranberry vodka?” 

“Yes?”

“My place it is then.”

taglist (open, send an ask)

@19calicos @yoshit-he-dinosaur @sandwhitches @bokutoko @wyrcan

@darling-eos @mitskicain @cherrypieyourface @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @cupidsblonde @honeekyuu @s1ckntw1st3d @causenessus 

@maeflowers653 @crispchocolates @moucheslove @staygoldsquatchling02 @phoenix-eclipses 

@ji9sstar @zumicho @keeboismine @cloudybillows @kameyyy

@strawberryuri

[marlahey]

"sorry, is this alright?" "i don't see how else you'd fix it." aka dr. jack "dodger" dawkins touching belle (aka the love of his life) for purely medical reasons aka hands hands hands for @missgoalie75

Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Maia Mitchell The Artful Dodger (2023–)

[taxlthomas]

i feel that i should share this i apologize

[fuck-yeah-pierrelepew]

how we rating tha husbando chart 🔥🔥🔥

[yourdrugisafartbreaker]

Man. The Phillies are fucking KILLING the Dodgers right now… Need a good video to eat my pizza to… Wait just a second…

DOGS IN LOVE 3 CAME OUT??!!

For those that have no context, this sentence means nothing to you. And yet, it has all the meaning to me. Dogs in Love is a series, now officially a trilogy, on the JelloApocalypse channel. If you know him, cool! If you don’t know him, he’s a variety YouTuber best characterized by the art and opinions in his videos, although this doesn’t describe all of his videos. His best known series are probably his Welcome to, So This Is Basically, and Marathon Reviews series. He’ll at the same time also play various video games, drink a lot of lemonade, and play an eBay edition of The Price Is Right with his friends. He even has like a little show on his YouTube channel called Epithet Erased! I need to actually watch that sometime… Oh, and yeah, he does good voice acting work!

So, what is Dogs in Love? Basically, they are edited highlight videos with a lot of drawings of Jello and his friends taking the lore of Pokémon Colloseum and Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness and throwing it out of the window during playthroughs for those games, with the group instead deciding to take the characters (Both the Pokémon and the humans) and playing with them like Barbie dolls and action figures.

The original Dogs in Love video focuses on Pokémon Coliseum, following the player trainer and his terrorist Pokémon, with the main focus around a edgy Umbreon who actually turns out to be a dumbo softboy and his partner Espeon who is smart and stressed out of his mind and needs more coffee. As you can guess, they are the dogs in love. In Dogs in Love 2 and 3, both of them focus on Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness, with the logical tie in between the two games being that the Jolteon the player trainer has is the sweet and kind demonic child of the two dads of Umbreon and Espeon. Yeah. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.

I cannot fully explain the humor of it for myself. The voice acting as well as the improv comedy done by Jello and his friends makes the whole experience dumb, weird, and hilarious in a brilliant way. The dynamics and relationships of all of the characters are comedically sound, and yet, I feel genuine emotion for all of them. It knows exactly where to scratch my back when I have an itch. And, the thing is, the waits between each of these videos was about a year! Sure, the full streams are right there, but it’s hard because the videos are so good. (I rewatched both videos at my older sister’s wedding!) However, it’s worth the wait, and the videos show that the excellence needed time to cook. Dogs in Love has meant so much to me, but with the trilogy now completed, I look back at these three videos in marvel and with love.

[bakery-anon]

BAKERY ANON OMFG I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHHHH

It’s so weird for you guys to infiltrate my inbox 🧍🏻‍♀️ I LOVE IT THOUGH!!!

WELCOME TO THE BURNER ACCOUNT SO I CAN STAY ANONYMOUS UNTIL I’M READY TI REVEAL MYSELF! THERE WILL BE MUCH CHOAS AND REBLOGGING <3333

Did you get my ask rambling about ‘88 Ford or did Tumblr eat it? 🧍🏻‍♀️ (no rush on answering if you did-)

[ducktracy]

Duckman is good

[sortasirius]

Can't get the baseball AU out of my head, so I'm making it y'alls problem too lmao.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie shook his head, pushing away from the railing in the dugout and making his way onto the field, his footsteps muffled by the grass and soft red dirt, "Security's gonna come out and find us, and then they'll send us back to the minors. All that work to get to LA just to end up back in Oklahoma."

Buck grinned at him in return, his arms wide open as he looked up at the night sky, breathing in the smell of the city around them, but before Eddie could really get close to him, he said,

“They'd have to catch me first,” and took off around the bases hearing Eddie laugh before tearing after him.

They thundered around second base before Buck took a sharp right, sprinting towards left field.

His lungs were burning, but he couldn’t help the smile that had stretched across his face, borne from the chase of it all, of Eddie running after him.

His few seconds of reflection made him slow down a hair, and he felt Eddie’s hand catch the back of his shirt, and they were crashing down in the outfield, sprawling out on the grass, both of them breathing hard.

“Caught you,” Eddie panted, his hand still under Buck’s back.

Buck made to get away, but he had barely moved an inch before Eddie was rolling on top of him, pinning him down with his hands and his thighs.

“Not so fast, Buckley,” he looked down at him, triumph curling his mouth, “and to think, you said you were the fastest on the team. Looks like I have you beat.”

Buck twisted, trying to break the grip he had on his wrists, pushing his hips up to try and throw him off balance, but Eddie held him fast, leaning down so their faces were only an inch or so apart, matching grins on their faces.

“Give up,” Eddie said, voice low, and Buck flailed desperately, unable to move an inch.

“No,” he said, trying to wrench his right wrist out of Eddie’s grip, “Never.”

“I’ve got you, Buckley,” he leaned even closer, “You’re not getting up unless I let you.”

And Buck couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help that he looked at Eddie’s mouth.

Their eyes met again, and it felt like they were teetering on the edge, each waiting for the other to make the move.

Buck could feel Eddie’s hot breath on his face, both of them panting even though they had already caught their breath.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he had stopped trying to get away, instead focusing on how Eddie’s thighs were bracketing him down, how he liked the feeling of his hands wrapped around his wrists, how close they were.

Buck decided to take the leap, and arched his head forward, angling towards Eddie’s lips, just as Eddie rolled off of him and sprang up to his feet, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his next, facing away from Buck.

And Buck was left cold, still panting, looking up at him, willing him to turn around and not run away, even though the moment was broken.

“I ah,” Eddie cleared his throat, still with his back to him, “I gotta get home.  Make sure Chris is-  Make sure he’s in bed.”

“Yeah,” Buck cleared his throat in his turn, “Right.”

He watched Eddie shift on his feet, like he was considering sprinting back to the dugout and away from Buck. Finally, after what felt like a year, he turned around, sticking out a hand and heaving Buck to his feet.

“Come on,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, and his eyes fixed on a point just above Buck’s right shoulder, “I can give you a ride home if-”

“That’s-  That’s okay,” he was sure this aching in his chest was normal and perfectly find, “I have the Jeep.”

Eddie nodded, chewing on his bottom lip before clapping Buck awkwardly on the shoulder, and leading the way off the field and into the locker room.