#I love you so much guys omg

[mimimar]

i've been completely charmed by witch hat atelier♡

(art prints)

[homkamiro]

LET'S GOOOO TEAM FORTRESS 2 × MY LITTLE PONY AU!!!!!

Scout - pegasus (just like his mom, his talent is super speed)

Pyro - dragon (their cutiemark was actually drawn by them to fit in + they think it's cool)

Soldier - earth pony (he doesn't need pegasus wings to fly, he got rocket jumps)

Demo - zebra (I thought about kelpie, since it's Scotland's folklore, but I think zebra fits him more)

Engineer - earth pony (his prosthetic arm helps him build stuff!!)

Heavy - earth pony (just a really big one)

Medic - unicorn (a fucked up one)

Sniper - hippogriff/seapony (IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE if australians are griffons and new zealanders are seaponies IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!!!)

Spy - changeling (disguised as a unicorn)

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.

[louthelost]

Lothal is my home

Ezra Bridger, the character that you are...

(progress shots under the cut)

[scentedinksandwhackedseals]

julien photobombing a fan!!! 😭 (and then taking a picture with them)

via sprainedankless on twitter

[d1sapp01ntm3nt]

I’m not a crook

[wish-i-were-heather]

what if we've met? the world is so big, but its also only so wide. there are only seven continents, only seven seas. so what if we've met? think about it. it's not likely, but it's not impossible. what if you were one of the kids i met on vacation? what if we swam in the pool together, too young to care about each other's names? what if we've made eye contact through the car window on a road trip? what if we were in the same city at the same time? what if you're in the background of one of the pictures we took on a trip somewhere, and now you're hanging on my wall? what if we ran into each other at the airport once? what if we've met?

[spearxwind]

Happy 10th birthday to Cercerion!

OUGHHH UR RIGHT CERCIE IS 10 YEARS OLD NOW !!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOY BELOVEDEST DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HIS WHOLE LIFE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[https-lxtus]

One of my favorite things about the dead boy detectives fandom is that regardless of if you ship Crystal and Charles or Edwin and Charles the ship names are absolutely hilarious

Cryland & Payneland?? I mean, come on.

I think those say a lot about us as a fandom

[thunderstomm]

The writers at Nickelodeon are obsessed with a very specific brand of enemies-to-friends atm

[temeyes]

psa from our favorite sergeants!!

[dustykneed]

fem or not, spock totally has a thing for jim being casually buff as hell. ("It is merely logical to desire a capable mate.") bones calls bullshit.

(that's because bones knows from personal experience ;))

but also i'm curious lmao.

[ask-october-fox]

Happy birthday! Call this “fan art”, if you will; I’m not sure what else to call it, haha.Sorry this is a bit late, had to deal with some technical difficulties along the way. I had a video for you as well, but I didn’t realize Tumblr didn’t let you upload video directly (or, it would seem, more than one photo at a time as a submission), so I’ll have to show that to you later.I hope you like!

[peppermintmochafem]

butches who like to be little spoon

you mean good boys? Butches who get their hips held in place while I casually grind into and tell them ~ I'm not even doing anything ~ when they whine for more. Butches who get head scratches (and maybee their hair pulled). Butches who get occasionally felt up as they cuddle into me. Butches who get held softly like my teddy bear as they fall asleep. Butches who get gentle kisses across their shoulders. Butches who get sweet nothings and reassurances whispered onto their ears before bed. Those Butches <3

[smoshmonker]

look, a family isn’t just a mother and father. sometimes it’s a little goblin with a constant need for validation, alcohol, and his heroes to just look at him, a wizard blade singer trying way too hard to be cool with the power of god and anime on his side, a himbo warforged druid who knows what sex is who chooses his family but not his friends, and a halfling with thunder thighs, smushed pie in her purse and an innate desire to adopt them all

[aphelionwrotes11]

Little bird: part 1

Retired!soap x maneater!reader (afab reader, MDNI, slight dubcon if you squint)

Includes: descriptions of blood and gore, alludes sexual assault (not described), light stalking, fluff/comfort, soft soap, sub soap, dry humping, fingering/cunnilingus, PiV penetration, light masochism - soap receiving ofc, he can’t help that you look so pretty when you’re mad :(

Note: no smut yet guys!! fantasy fic, Reader is a maneater in a genuine sense. Don’t worry guys they love each other lots and lots !!

Need a male wife like him

1.3k words (not edited)

Soap who was forced into early retirement after his close encounter with death and a real shitty brain injury (he swore up and down that he was still fit for the military, his debilitating migraines said otherwise).

Retired soap who moved into the deep woods of a lush mountain, an hour out from any towns or stores. Nobody knows who he is, doesn’t visit town enough for anyone to even remember his face. The only people who know where he’s at are the 141 and laswell, who told him once his migraines settled down he could join the team again. They check in on him every now and again, a call twice a month, visiting him when on leave, dragging him out for drinks and such.

He doesn’t mind so much after the first few months, growing fond of waking with the sun, the fertile soil that grows a bountiful harvest at an unusually fast rate, fishing in the late evening and watching the sunset kiss the lake a short walk from his new home. His brain fog and migraines clear up a bit not too long after the move, but he decides he likes his new life a bit too much to leave it behind.

Retired soap who, despite the efforts of his old team, still suffers from loneliness. Never had the time to find himself a girl during the time he spent in the military, and considering that time was nearly half the years of his existence he was bit out of touch with women. So, he spends his time in his too big house, gazing at the open space in his too big bed. Wishes he had someone there with him, someone to love and care for. Would go out on the town and find himself a girl on his own if leaving the mountainside and entering the nearest town didn’t trigger a migraine that would leave him on his ass for days.

Finds himself on his front porch most afternoons, munching on a sandwich and glancing at the empty chair beside him. That’s when he feels it for the first time, an unmistakable heat boring into the side of his skull. After so many years in the forces he knows the feeling of being watched, it’s like a sixth sense to him now. He looks out into the woods beside his house, tracing the outline of each tree, scanning for any signs of life. Nothing greets him but the soft breeze, luscious brush, and thick trunks topped with green leaves. He decides it’s nothing, but can’t help to notice the rush of a different feeling, one he can’t quite place, but it leaves a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After a week, he realizes that he definitely has a visitor. The feeling of eyes on him is near constant every time he steps foot outside his house, he’s yet to decide if it’s unwelcome or not. His logical side tells him to investigate, whatever is watching him feels almost predatory in a way, hungry. But a small voice in the back of his head leads him to decide that no matter what it is that’s taken a liking to observing his stocky form work in his garden is better than the heavy feeling of loneliness that’s been plaguing his space like a sickness. After a short walk in the woods one evening, he finds a set of foot prints settled at the edge of the woods facing his home, human prints, too small to be those of a man.

Retired soap who somehow forms a friendship with his little prowler. Notices some vegetables going missing from his garden, a carrot here, a squash there, some greens missing a large chunk of leaves. He chuckles when he finds a hole in the dirt where a bundle of potatoes had laid wait to be plucked. Takes note of which vegetables are taken the most and soon starts leaving a basket at the entrance of his garden once a week with said vegetables neatly placed and washed, waiting to be taken. The first time he leaves the basket he tries (and fails) to catch a glimpse of his prowler, stayed up till dawn beside his window before falling asleep and waking to a basket barren of any vegetables. What laid at the bottom was a shiny piece of agate from the nearby lake.

“Like a little bird.” He chuckles to himself, rolling the stone between his fingers. That’s what he calls you from then on, treats you to the tasty vegetables in his garden and is gifted small shiny rocks and soft flowers.

Retired soap, who found himself wide awake one cold night. Too cold for late summer, a kind of bone chilling cold only found in the winter. He settles himself on the front porch after lying awake for hours. Sips on a cup of lukewarm coffee and waits for dawn. That’s when he hears it, small choked cries followed by the sound of a loud splash in the lake. He sits frozen for a moment. it’s the scream that’s gets him to his feet, running through the trees towards the lake.

And that’s when he sees you for the first time. The moonlight bathing your wet skin as you sat on the bank of the lake, your white dress and long hair clung to your body, locks of hair sticking to your face as tears rolled down your cheeks. Blood pooled down your chin, dripping from your maw, watered down from the lake. Remnants of red clung to your dress and arms, caked your nails and fingertips. God, you looked like a fucking Angel. A painting he’d dreamt of more times than he could count. You looked at him from where he stood, brows furrowed and eyes angry as you cried.

He took a step closer to you, and you let out a cry that made his stomach tighten. He raised his hands, letting out a shaking breath as he stepped closer again.

“i’know ye know me, birdie. Not gonna hurt’ye none, lass.” He whispered. Feeling a fire ignite as you give him a tentative look, the anger leaving your eyes.

He takes a few more steps to you, taking off his coat and slowly bringing it over your shoulders. Bringing himself down onto his knees beside you. He’s real close to you now, can smell you. Metallic, earthy, the faint scent of a candied perfume stuck to the skin on your neck. He had to physically restrain himself from sticking his face against your throat to catch a deep whiff of you. He felt drunk, dizzy just from your presence. His little bird that’d been watching him for a month now right in front of him looking more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

Your eyes meet and he swears his heart stops. He has to take a beat before he speaks.

“Come on back with me birdie, let’s get ye cleaned up. S’too cold out here.” He coos, a small smile on his lips as he rubs his hands up your arms, a poor attempt at warming you. You wait a moment before nodding, letting him pull you to your feet. He’s careful, can sense your skittishness, doesn’t want to scare you off when he finally has you.