#and then it exploded

[6qubed]

so I finally stopped procrastinating and finished Dying Light 2, and I gotta say, whoever thought "hey, how could we make Virals worse without making them Volatiles? OH I KNOW let's make them soggy suicide bombers!"

well that's a hell of a way to improve on the formula, but I have a different suggestion for improving things, it's called "get in the woodchipper"

[its-arson-time]

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[cronchy-baguette]

caitlyn's garden of violets

[riacte]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

[soaptaculart]

The cat and the dad she said she "didn't want"

[introvert-slushie]

Currently thinking about how much Ford tries to hide his hands a lot when he can…behind his back with this stance. Due to how often he’s been bullied for it.

And also, how Mabel is one of the ones who Ford feels happy about showing his hands to because she thought they were cool looking upon first shaking his hand, instead of him being judged for his six fingers.

[ID: Gravity Falls screenshots. The first three are of Ford with his hands crossed behind his back. The last two are of him shaking hands with Mabel, and letting her paint a turkey on his hand. He's smiling in both. End ID.]

[jumpdriveproject]

[so-many-ocs]

sex is fine but have you ever thought about all the ways you’d rewrite a flawed piece of media that shaped your life and holds a special place in your heart despite its unfulfilled potential

[fernsnailz]

strong contender for my new favorite tee k.o. shirt

[slightlyartist]

Tate deserves to punch Ford so I drew it, felt really therapeutic <3

[donothello]

click for better quality/enlarged images!

and they'll be together forever! :]

foreshadowing

[pigswithwings]

HEARTBREAKING: this character understood their fate and decided they deserved it ‼️

[its-arson-time]

inside of you there are two intestines.

one of them is large, and the other is small.

[greelin]

it feels like it’s fucking 11pm. and it’s not even 7

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that kisses you. no, not on the lips, but nearly everywhere else. some days it’s small, walking up behind you in the kitchen and resting his hands on your hips - not fully, just ghosting his palms over you like you might shatter if he fully held you. he does it when it’s early, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he dips down, lips pressing to the nape of your neck. he mumbles a ‘good mornin’’, mutters something about what you’re making and how he wants some

Roommate!Simon Riley who kisses the crown of your head when you’re cuddled on the couch together. from dawn to dusk, if you’re cozied up with Simon his lips are stuck to you. nose nudging your hair, he’s not really paying attention to what’s on - Simon’s more focused on breathing you in, eyes closed and appreciating the scent of your shampoo. his lips drift, head tilting to kiss behind your ear when you comment on your show, “Mm, tha’ right?”, he murmurs, gravely voice whispering to you

Roommate!Simon Riley who kisses you from your knees to your ankles. a shit day, after you’ve come in through the front door Simon is leading you to bed. you can’t put up a fight when he makes you lay down, sitting on the edge of your bed. you can’t argue when he drapes your legs over his lap, mumbling something about your boss being a prick. all you can do is close your eyes and relax when he rubs at your legs, massaging the meat of your thighs and calf, working his way to your feet. you don’t say a word when lifts your leg up slightly, peppering featherlight kisses down it, “Should let me ‘ave a word with ‘em.”, he mumbles, smiling when you chuckle

Roommate!Simon Riley that all but tackles you to the floor when he comes home from a deployment. he’s roughed up, aching and sore, a mess of a man - but he’s alive. he moves on autopilot, strong arms pulling you against his frame, a bear hug, a death squeeze, his embrace secure. before you can ask him if he’s okay, if he’s hurt, his lips are pressed to your forehead. chapped and dry, but Simon’s. his chest rising and falling into a steady rhythm knowing you’re safe and sound. he’s moving on autopilot when he slumps down, lips pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, “Missed you, sweet’art.”