#these are fun! thank u friend

[comradekatara]

ily king on god we’re gonna get u a razor

[yookikiku]

when someone sends u a nice thing ❤

[leenfiend]

perhaps keith and lance winding down for the night and getting ready to go to bed? a little kiss goodnight for your crush frenemy wouldn't hurt :)

This set them back weeks I just know it

[lochlot]

this show sure loved its blue and green filters may it rest in peace

[kimbureh-but-its-only-the-art]

It's the beginning of a wonderful friendship. In case you don't know Clone Trooper Fancy Pants yet, check the tag.

[puppyeared]

modern au ft @crow-cap's oc sailor <3

the wood markings on xins face were inspired by @zah-likes-tea's art of them hehe

[buddie-buddie]

be the lightning in me (strike relentless)

co-writer: @princessfbi 6x12 coda - 1.3k - g - read on ao3

“You died, Buck. You’re gonna feel a lot of different ways about that. Sometimes all at the same time. I found the best way to process it is to… allow yourself to feel it.”

“How do you feel about that?” The question’s been burning at the tip of Buck’s tongue since he first woke up, since he came out of the coma. Since he first saw the darkness hiding beneath Eddie’s relieved smile– lingering in his features, clinging to the shadows beneath his eyes and the stubble across his jaw. 

Ever since, the question’s been swimming in his mind, itching at his skin, begging to be asked. To be answered. 

Eddie sighs, suddenly very much occupied with trimming the crusts off of Christopher’s sandwich. “Buck–”

“No, I– I’m serious,” Buck presses. He has to know. He can’t bear it any longer. “E-Everyone keeps asking me how I feel. But who’s asking you?”

Eddie sets the knife down on the counter with a small huff. He walks over to the fridge, completely dodging the question. “You think Chris would rather have blueberries or grapes?”

“Grapes,” Buck doesn’t miss a beat. “Eddie.” Buck pushes because Eddie is the one person who pushes back and Buck doesn’t know why Eddie won’t even look at him. 

“Don’t ask me that, Buck.” 

It isn’t a request. 

Buck’s breath hitches, trapped somewhere in the back of his throat because it isn’t a request. It isn’t a command. It isn’t anything more than a raw, unfiltered plea from somewhere deep in Eddie’s chest. 

Buck doesn’t move. Moving feels dangerous. Like he’s waiting for lightning to strike again, but instead of him, it’s Eddie up on that ladder. 

But he needs Eddie to push back. How else is Buck supposed to remember that any of this is real? 

“Why not?” He asks, just as raw. Just as much of a plea. Maybe even a little more desperate.  

There’s something unreadable in Eddie’s expression. His voice is quiet when he speaks, rough in a way it only ever gets when thick with emotion. “Because I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Then don’t.” He swallows around the dryness that’s suddenly appeared in his throat. “I died.” Saying it out loud, saying it seriously , for the first time makes his heart slam into his ribcage. 

“Yeah.” Eddie draws in a long, shaky breath, He scrubs his hand over his face, his chest rising and falling slowly. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. A moment Buck clings to because he’s starting to understand just how much can be missed in a moment. Eddie braces himself against the countertop, fists clenching so tight his knuckles turn white. “It felt like a part of me died, too.”

The push. Buck feels it as the words nudge against his chest and find their way in between his ribs. The words are frank, strong. But they feel like they could shatter any second anyway.  

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Buck holds his breath. “Pretend I don’t.”

“Because when your heart stopped so did mine.” Eddie says, brave and heartbroken all at once. His gaze cuts to Buck and it’s like being struck by lightning all over again. “I love you.”

Eddie’s never said that before. Not without man or dude tacked onto the end of it. And never with such a softness to it. Never with the words dripping with reverence. Never like this. It sends Buck into a tailspin, his chest squeezing and his heart pounding as he replays the three words over in his mind. His pulse hammers in his ears. 

“Eddie,” he breathes. 

Eddie’s chin trembles before he bites his cheek and looks away. “You were just hanging there and I– I couldn’t pull you up.” His voice breaks.

“I’m sorry.” The shaky edge to Buck’s voice wasn’t there a minute ago. 

The sound Eddie barks out is harsh and catches in his nose as he shakes his head. “You don’t—”

He stops himself with a hand to his mouth, pushing away the bite of his words. Eddie curls his arms around himself like he’s trying to hold himself from splitting in two and it makes something in Buck ache. 

“You don’t have to apologize for being struck by lightning, Buck,” Eddie says, softer, gentler but just as certain. There’s forgiveness in his eyes all the same. 

Buck rises from his barstool, walking around the island until he’s closed the distance between them. He reaches for Eddie’s hands, taking them in his own as he meets Eddie’s eyes. “And you don’t have to blame yourself for what happened to me.”

Eddie’s gaze drops and Buck knows what Eddie’s instincts were telling him. He knows because his own are screaming at him to do the same, begging himself to stop exposing the throbbing live wire of a nerve they’d bandaged and pretended wasn’t hurting. 

Eddie barely gets the space to swerve before Buck is grabbing onto the first thing he can reach. Eddie’s hips are warm and soft beneath the harsh fabric of his jeans, giving to the slight pressure of Buck’s fingertips as he holds on. 

Eddie swallows, trying to back away, but Buck follows because if he doesn’t, he doesn’t think he would be able to find this moment again. The counter keeps them pinned and Buck dips down to catch Eddie’s eyes again. 

“Eddie,” he breathes. He’s too close. Close enough that he can count the number of endless lashes framing those hazel eyes. Close enough he can see the heartache swimming behind them. The hope, too. “I’m right here.”

Eddie’s mouth trembles. “But you weren’t.”

“I know,” Buck says. He has the sore chest and the bruises and the lightning branded into his skin to prove it. 

“Three minutes, Buck,” Eddie says, his words wet and thick with emotion fighting to break free from his resolve. “For three minutes you weren’t here. And I-I-I can’t…”

“I love you,” Buck says. Pushes because maybe that’s what they both need. Eddie’s eyes flutter closed as he exhales and Buck pushes again. “I love you, too.” The words roll off his tongue effortlessly, like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for the chance. Maybe they have been.

Eddie’s face twitches before he opens his eyes again. Strong, shaky fingers tangle in his t-shirt, holding him there like Eddie doesn’t want Buck to float away. 

Not even a hurricane could’ve made Buck move then. 

Eddie’s eyes shine as his fingers brush against Buck’s cheek. He touches him like he’s special, not like he’s fragile. Like he’s something precious. 

Buck presses his forehead against Eddie’s and a small breath from Eddie ghosts across Buck’s lips. The moment stretches between them like infinity and Buck breathes through the tension of it. 

“Please,” Buck manages, the word hanging between them in the space between their lips. 

Eddie kisses him and everything settles. The uncertainty snapping like static at the base of his spine softens and the low hum that’s been buzzing beneath Buck’s skin goes quiet. 

His blood sings as he melts into Eddie’s touch. 

A low sigh escapes his lips as Eddie pulls away too soon and Buck can’t help but chase after him. 

“I love you,” Buck murmurs. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of saying it, doesn’t think he’ll ever lose sight of the wonder that comes from being in love with Eddie and from being loved by Eddie in return. 

Eddie kisses him again and Buck’s breath hitches, warmth exploding behind his chest. He makes a tiny, contented noise in the back of his throat. He’s never felt more alive. 

Buck was dead, but Eddie brought him back. In more ways than one. 

Eddie breathes life into him in a way he hadn’t realized he so desperately needed, clinging to the inside of his lungs and permeating his soul on the deepest level. They’re two halves of one whole. 

Eddie brings their joined hands to his lips and lets his lips ghost across Buck’s knuckles. And with that, the last of the ache in Buck’s chest ebbs away like the tide beneath a full moon, his heart called home to Eddie’s like waves to the sea.

[medicalunprofessional]

juggalo nemesis (…evil augustus) and horror punk butcher. Very important i think

[petitcanard]

✨Coco & Richeh comm for @vohtaro ✨

[stealingpotatoes]

Hi I love you and I'm obsessed with your art but calling your family motes and brotes is THE most cursed thing I've seen today. Thank you, 0/10, I hated it,

what else am i supposed to call them!! theyre the mother and brother of potes!! ∴ they're motes and brotes!!

[rottingraisins]

Elle a chaud au cul (+ a funny)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

HOW DO YA LIKE THAT DARK DOG??

BEEN REAL ENAMORED BY THE 'SORRY' BOYS AND THEIR ODD ESCAPADES LATELY. I THINK THEY COULD DO A LOT OF GOOD THINGS WITH THREE GALLONS OF 'FAKE' BLOOD.

[halothanic]

some little fanarts for @wispstalk since his work "idle in their thrones" has absolutely captured me. i'll be so sad when i finish reading, it's been a daily treat for me for the past week or so. i love tanis so much lol, but i just had to draw coradri too!

my bestie @ieillorien got me into TES by osmosis last year and i just haven't been able to get oblivion (OR MARTIN) off my mind, especially their interpretation of it, along with their oc. it's been a true treat swapping gay star-crossed high fantasy love stories (whew, what a mouthful) and i'm so glad they pointed me in the direction of this work. i'm convinced having summits on this stuff is one of the finer things in life and i never take it for granted

[babeypigeon]

cheryl mason u are the girl ever ❤️‍🔥

[puppyeared]

i love augustas radiation/flea collar, especially how it matches her eyes!!

thank u!!!! it was either that, or the Cone of Shame lol

[cashmere-caveman]

My Country: The New Age, Episode 16 & Leonard Cohen's final letter to his dying muse Marianne Ihlen