#im so fuckin tired of this

[apomaro-mellow]

murder and regular ole torture aint enough i need to put this bitch in a fuckin' saw trap

[magnificentmicrowave]

songtember day 13: BROCKHAMPTON - J'OUVERT

[cynicallyneutral]

sasuke wants his new year's kiss :kissing_heart:

[revitalizationrat]

Headcanon: Cassandra is TERRIBLE with names

(Shitty quality, click to see clearly)

It's THE dumb idea I was talking about few days ago...

I'm losing sleep over that, but anyway, enjoy🧡

[sanjiaftersex]

Whole cake textposts but it's just blackleg sanji

bonus : sanji and his boyfriend

[maikamaika-art]

Happy pride month.

(reference under read more)

[superbellsubways]

the star of the show

[sketchy-doge1]

This how that one scene shouldve gone like

[goldenhallas]

what if the power of each of the Evanuris is what's keeping the veil held up, and Solas' ritual was drawing upon their power and binding them to their idols (or just stealing their power?) in order to tear down the veil and keep them contained at the same time? he did say in Inquisition that he had contingency plans for the gods, to deal with them at the same time as tearing down the veil

i think he's doing tbe ritual here because the idols are directly linked to the Black City/Golden City where the Evanuris are trapped. see how the idols look like they're in a ritual circle that once belonged to a grander city? the Solas idol lights up when the cutscene starts, probably because he's imbued his power into it

it looks like he manages to get all the idols to light up except for one, the one Rook knocks over and destroys to stop the ritual, which frees two of the gods

so by stopping the ritual you may actually have just made everything worse, because now there are two really powerful, really angry elven gods on the loose...

[seraphsfire]

any other spoonies or people with fibro/chronic fatigue/myalgic encephalomyletis/adhd/etc start just *trying* to think of the steps to a complex mental task have an immediate brain shutdown and get sleepy/fatigued/feel drugg/ed and physically exhausted immediately after doing so bc i feel like im going crazy and googling/duckduckgo-ing yeilded only like, mayo clinic articles defining chronic fatigue so. lol

[deoidesign]

Thinks about my next series again... I drew the icon for it!

I'm planning to have it launched within a year! I'm hoping for summer 2025. I want to make a prelaunch page before Time and Time Again ends so people can subscribe if they're interested, but I'm worried the series return would be too early...

[logicpng]

an extremely spontaneous and subtle tweak to aster's design for some reason

born out of the first doodle in the batch the rays are now slightly more expanded in volume and are connected to each other. it just feels better. also allows me to connect the "brow" to the crescent half of their face in a spiral

i actually already edited their refs to match some other recent changes...

i'm not gonna reupload the whole thing again just look at my neocities page. i'll upload them to artfight shortly too. which. i might participate this year again!

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 3 - honeymoon

graves x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 800 words, money and financial stuff, tradwife vibes, established relationship, dry humping, implied clothed sex, fingering.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

Your wedding had been a simple affair. A few family and friends on your side and some work colleagues from his had met at your shared house for a small do after your court house nuptials. Drinks (beer), a grilled dinner, and a bonfire that led long into the night. It was cheap and satisfied all involved. 

Not that Phil was tight with his money, anything but.

“Your money too now, baby,” he reminded you over the phone on one of his rare calls while on the job. You had been worrying about the cost of tickets, especially after all the money you’d already spent on luggage, swimsuits, and other clothes for the two of you. You didn’t even want to think about the hotel yet. “Set up that joint account for a reason. Pick us out something nice,” the connection crackled, threatening to break before fading back in. “-and your pretty ass in that bikini on the beach. Fuck-” You heard him tip the speaker away from his mouth to groan.

You bought the plane tickets while shoving down the feeling that everyone would see you as some sort of gold-digger. You could almost read the comments from your family on your future pictures. The ones that passive-aggressively cooed over how “nice” it must be to marry into money, to not have to work, to go on expensive vacations and sit in that big house alone all day.

You hated it. Hated that they would never know the truth. You didn’t even know what your now-husband did when you met. In fact, it took him a full month to get around to it. Even then, he was more concerned if the constant distance of his military life wouldn’t work for you. Nothing about the morality of it all, the violence, the fact he had a very real chance of dying while away and you would be the last to know. 

No, you had told him. You didn’t mind. You liked him.

So you waited, because you didn’t just like him. Not that you wanted him to think you were that serious this soon, but you were. You were falling hard and fast and he did nothing to stop you. Your little nights out quickly developed into nights in: the weekend at your place, staying at his for days at a time. How naturally you slotted into each other's lives. It just felt . . . right.

You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when he proposed. 

“I know it’s sudden,” he had said reading your shocked face. It was the middle of a long, lazy summer week. You had gone out to the shore to beat the heat, spending the afternoon walking the cool tide-line, watching the sandpipers and seagulls. It was peaceful. As you sat, wrapped in his arms in the soft grass, watching the sunset, that was when he’d asked you, “but I trust you. Love the shit outta you,” he added with a smirk pressed to your forehead. “Want to come home to you. Wake up next to you. Start a family. All that.”

Everything had led up to this moment, tumbling into your private cabana, both exhausted after a long international flight and an even longer taxi ride. Both you and Phil let your bags fall to the floor. You heard Phil kick off his shoes while you face-planted into the fluffy white duvet. Your husband groaned in relief, relaxing over top of you.

“-room fer you over-” you said, face smashed into the sheets, trying to get Phil to roll his tense, muscled body over onto any part of the vast, unoccupied space available. He was the one who had wanted the king suite. 

He shushed you, rolling his hips up against your ass. “Been waiting for this all day,” he sighed, breath ruffling your already messy hair. 

His hands pried apart your thighs, just enough to flip up your dress to press the stiff front of his shorts to your warmth. You whimpered as he groaned. You had both been on edge the whole trip and unable to comfort each other with anything more than the squeeze of a hand or a pat on the shoulder. You both needed this. Needed some release. 

Phil rolled you to the side, hungrily palming your breast with one hand. You followed him, pushing yourself up against his chest. You grabbed back for him, needing to feel his lips on yours, bucking your hips against him in the process. 

“Fuck baby,” he whispered, pulling you around to kiss down your face. “This how you want it? Want me to make you my wife like this? Fuck you for the first time like a fuckin’ animal against the bed? All our clothes still fuckin’ on?” he babbled, hand trailing off your breast, down your body, past your panties to play with your clit.

“Yeah . . . yeah,” you whined, turning your head to arch into the kiss you’ve been aching for. 

You heard his shorts drop to the floor and him press his cock to your pussy. “Tell me,” he huffed, rocking once against your tight slick before restarting, “tell your husband how you want him to fuck his wife.”

[cynicallyneutral]

who’s got you blushing like that?

(hint: it’s sasuke)

[sailor-tri]

Beach time (sketch)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.