#IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY
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therewithinthestars · 23 hours ago
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whoever at DE that came up with the glitter ephemera, i am kissing your forehead tenderly and wishing you nice and cool pillow on both sides
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housemdork · 3 days ago
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this is me every time someone leaves “yeah i see it” in the tags of my comphet wilson posts. thank you all for hearing me out and seeing the light. it’s only up from here.
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chaoparty · 1 year ago
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gigisriley · 17 days ago
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is anyone else’s morning alarm getting reallllllly fucking annoying or is that just me
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thekeineryn · 1 year ago
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This was gonna be a quick practice, but then I started coloring it and now we’re here
Mikey with hair is just so cute to me. I bet April would help him style it
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allastoredeer · 3 months ago
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Drawing up some fem!Alastor’s 🙌
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krafterwrites · 4 months ago
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Silver using his psychokinesis to bring everyone into a group hug is so cute and awesome
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yourlegacysnotyourstosee · 2 years ago
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Just watched Jons tgwdlm watch party and in the last 5 minutes he was like “yeah I think Pauls probably bi” SIR YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THIS INFORMATION ON ME??????
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beegs-bugs · 8 months ago
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He’s just a little guy
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tongue-twists · 16 days ago
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I am always so happy to see trans women posting about lactation stuff. it's both hot af and also just awesome.
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as soon as Mokuba sees his brother he runs to hug him
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pirategirl · 1 month ago
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idk guys, this hits different. sanji aging arts are like emotional fanfiction in 2 panels.
he doesn’t even look like he’s searching anymore for his dream.
he looks like he found it.
and i fall for it. every. damn. time.
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emakataken · 2 months ago
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Part Two
Pairing: Sal/Buck/Tommy
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Part 1
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Sal stepped out of the locker room and almost ran straight into Tommy.
The hallway was dim, lights low, most of the station already turned in for the night. Tommy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one foot propped flat against the tile. He didn’t say anything at first.
Just looked at him, Sal held his stare. Tommy’s eyes flicked past him, toward the locker room door, then back.
So we’re really doing this?
He didn’t speak the words. He didn’t have to. At Sal’s nod, Tommy exhaled through his nose, tension rippled across his shoulders, but then he gave a single, sharp nod in return.
Alright.
No fist bump. No back clap. No promise spoken out loud. Just two firefighters, choosing a kid neither of them had expected to matter.
Sal started to walk past him, but Tommy’s voice stopped him. “I wrote up the report earlier, Dennis attached the audio file. Sent it in.”
Sal paused, lip curling upward as pride surged through him.
“What Gerrard said about Hen was disgraceful,” Tommy added, voice steady. “And I filed a second one. About the hazing. It’s time someone did.”
Sal nodded. “I’m gonna make a smoothie. Want one?”
"Yeah, give me ten, gotta shower and hey make one for the kid." Tommy waited a second longer, then pushed off the wall and stepped inside.
Buck was still there, rooted by the bench, shoulders tight.
Tommy didn’t say anything. Just reached out and tapped his fingers once against the back of Buck’s arm as he passed, light as a nudge. He kept walking, letting trust be laid down one action at a time.
Tommy stepped out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling around him in the hazy light. He froze for just a second, eyes landing on Buck’s back.
The kid stood across the room, toweling off, turned slightly toward his locker.
The scars caught the fluorescent light.
Shrapnel, unmistakable. Twisting up from his right hip, curling across his ribs, branching out over his stomach and back in angry pink and white. Beneath it all, ghosted into his back, were the faded remains of belt marks.
Buck, unaware, tugged his compression shirt down over his torso in one clean motion, dragging it into place. He ran a hand through his damp hair and grabbed for his pants.
Tommy waited, stepping back into the shower stalls. He gave it a solid minute, just standing there with his jaw tight, before moving again. He stepped into view, “Yo, Probie,” he called, voice light. “Sal’s making smoothies. You’re not gonna want to miss out.”
Buck glanced over, blinking like he’d forgotten anyone else was there. Then nodded, fast, like always, big grin splitting across his face. “Yeah, okay, cool.”
The kitchen was dim, only one light on above the stove.
Sal moved with lazy efficiency that came from years of half-asleep cooking. The blender whirring low as he added protein powder, banana, oats, a splash of almond milk. Tommy leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a glass of water in hand.
Buck sat at the table, wearing a t-shirt that might have once been black but had faded to soft charcoal. His skin was pink from the heat of the water, and there was a drowsy kind of softness to him now, looser, the exhaustion finally dragging him down to earth.
His eyes tracked Sal and Tommy's conversation like a dog waiting for scraps, hopeful, too alert for someone who hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours in the past two days.
“So you’re telling me,” Buck said, half-laughing, a hand loosely curled around his smoothie glass, “you set fire to your toaster trying to make a grilled cheese?”
Tommy didn’t look up from peeling a banana. “I was twenty-one and I tripped the breaker. Sal lost his mind. Thought I gonna burn down the entire base apartment.”
“I did not lose my mind,” Sal muttered, back to the counter as he poured. “I calmly responded to the smell of melting plastic and an electrical outlet making popping sounds.”
Tommy gestured toward Buck without turning. “Don’t let him near a grill, either. He’s got a vendetta against propane.”
“I’ve never set fire to anything,” Buck said, grinning, fingers tapping absently against the table. “I’m becoming a pretty decent cook, gotta love YouTube. There’s this little old lady, real sweet, wears these giant glasses, anyways she taught me how to make a whole roast chicken."
Sal set a peanut butter sandwich in front of him, shaking his head. “God help us all. Drink, eat, Probie.”
Buck obeyed, taking a long pull. He hummed approvingly. “This is actually really good.”
Sal leaned back against the counter, towel still slung over one shoulder. “Also, Gerrard asked me to get your emergency contact info. You know, who to call if you’re unconscious.”
Buck faltered mid-sip. “Oh.” His brow furrowed, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. “I guess, umm.” He shrugged, shoulders curling inward. “Do I have to have one?”
Tommy’s eyebrow slowly lifted.
Sal didn’t move. “You live in a house with six dudes. Some you don't even know their names. I’m not calling one of them.”
Buck scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal. I just… I don’t really have anyone. Not for that. I got a sister, Maddie, but I haven’t seen her since Danny’s funeral…” He wrinkled his nose, "and I was like ten. And I think she lives on the other side of the country.”
Tommy pushed off the counter. “That all you got?”
Buck gave him a lopsided shrug. “I usually write down my own number.”
Sal blinked. “That’s not how that works, kid.”
“I know,” Buck said, soft. “But it makes it look like I filled it out.”
There was a silence that followed, not uncomfortable, not angry. Just quiet. Like the kind you only get at midnight, with the fridge humming and the world outside finally quiet.
Then Sal reached into the junk drawer, pulled out a pen and an old sticky note, and slid it across the table. “My number, you can list me.”
Tommy added. “Mine, too.” He plucked the pen from Sal and added his own number to the yellow note.
Buck blinked. Looked between them.
Sal raised an eyebrow, thumb bouncing lazily between himself and Tommy. “Alright kid, pick your emergency daddy.”
That earned a real laugh, startled and shaky. “Jesus Christ.”
“Language,” Sal said, smirking over the rim of his glass.
Tommy shot him a look, one brow lifted at the boldness. Then his eyes slid to Buck dazed, blinking like the joke hadn’t quite landed, or maybe had landed a little too hard.”
His gaze went to Sal who gave him a grin. Tommy rolled his eyes, voice dropping with warning, “Sal.”
Buck blinked, still catching up, “Wait, do I get a third option? Like… emergency cousin or something?”
Sal snorted. “It’s us or one of the six guys whose names you don’t know. Your call, Probie.”
Tommy reached for the peanut butter dipping a disposable knife into the container. “Just list us both. Let the nurse figure it out.”
Buck grinned, the curve of it soft and a little too honest. “That’s the most family drama I’ve had since I ended up in foster care."
Sal’s smirk faded, not completely, but enough for the warmth in his eyes to sharpen with understanding.
Tommy stilled, his hand halfway to the bread.
Buck blinked, like maybe he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Sorry, that was dark,” he murmured as he ducked his head.
“Nah,” Sal said, voice low but even. “It was honest.”
Tommy picked up Buck’s empty plate. “Hit the rack, kid. I’ll clean up."
Part 3
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bloodydeanwinchester · 1 year ago
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saw this yesterday and like….they really have both always been kinda insane about their characters haven’t they?
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thewalrusespublicist · 2 months ago
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That Ringo and Paul talk all the time and meet up whenever they can is just so… No matter the tragedy, the infighting and everything that happened they made it, the rhythm section made it.
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god-i-love-opossums · 29 days ago
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I don’t think I’ve ever loved a trend as much as I love “with mama”
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panic with mama
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