#ive had it for ages

[stonechatting]

do we fw werecat eddie !? i have an au cooking up about this

[gyuswhore]

i wanna change my theme

[astronnova]

yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[planefood]

this is how the cold war ended

[saewokhrisz]

sometimes i think im funny

og under cut

[just-bee-lieve]

IT’S MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR—-

AND YOU BETTER NOT KILL THE GROOVE!!

[foodcu-be]

sketches

[ruushes]

😈🌚💜🌑 / 🌞✨☀️💛

[parisoonic]

Oh please! This'll be fun! (1/2)

[isjasz]

[Day 296]

Ok i really dont know how to explain this one uh. this was an impulsive decision just take it thumbsup LMAO

[suntails]

winter

[phier]

The idea for this piece has been simmering in the back of my head and in some sketchbooks for YEARS, so I finally bit the bullet and actually painted it. It's also influenced by Paramore's song Misguided Ghosts, which has always been one of the main songs I associate with Mahariel. It fits the Dalish Warden Origin so well. 💙

[morimhe]

i saw young lucanis fanart (by @/raoneven) and my brain has been rewired.

i also never read tevinter nights so its probably ooc but whatever.

what if destiny existed and i met you before?

[hoemainexpansion]

Satoru Gojo + L e g s

[cruximee]

Repost cause my other post didn't show up :/

[heavenbarnes]

(tw allusions to murder and violence)

your older bf!simon who’s more accurately described as a gun dog.

trained to the sound of a gunshot- where you tell him to go, he’ll follow.

loyal like a hound, too. whatever heinous little mess you find yourself in, he’s there to clean it up.

lick the blood right off your hands.

“i didn’t mean to, he was being so awful- i just pushed him- i didn’t know his head would hit the curb!”

the tears in your eyes were doing less to convince him and more to make him harder between his thighs.

big thumbs, rough pads and blunt nails, pressed to your cheeks to wipe away the tears that were trailing off them.

“don’ worry, sweet’art- i’ll ‘andle it”

tells you to go inside and make a tea, let the kettle whistle long as you want. turn the telly up full tilt and put your feet up.

if you hear anything, don’t come looking.

so you do as you’re told, you curl into his side of the couch and you tune out the sound of the garage door opening, the distant sounds of dragging.

you don’t even flinch when you hear the first swing of an axe.

you forget, you’re free of thought when he takes you to bed and turns your brain to mush. lets it leak out your ears like-

anyways.

gun dog, retriever- picking up kill and dropping it at his master’s feet.

just once. he doesn’t like seeing you get dirtied by what he feels more aptly fits him.

after that, attack dog. hound waiting to be released, will bare his teeth if you so much as whistle.

“you should’ve seen the way he looked at me, simon”

his teeth could’ve shattered with the force in his jaw behind his bite.

“looked at me like he wanted me, thought that he owned me”

a visible shudder ran through him, visions behind his eyes of you with anyone else.

“told him i had you but- well, he said you didn’t matter”

so you stay inside and you forget, don’t even flinch when you hear simon get his keys and lace up his boots.

“i’ll be ‘ome soon”

you forget, isn’t till he’s kissing your forehead and laying you back on the couch that you even remember he was out.

long fingers wrapping around your ankle to sling over his shoulder. you don’t pay attention the the dried blood under his finger nails.

disregard the scratches down the length of his chest. replace them with your own.

“anyone ever gives y’grief, jus’ tell me and i’ll ‘andle it”

there’s a symphony of “yes, yes, yes” slipping off your tongue and you could blame it on clever fingers of his but-

you like being the hand that holds the leash.

fighting dog, ring dog- lay money on him and he’ll make you rich.

lay a finger on what’s his and he’ll make you pay.

“sweaty hands, tried to grab me when i walked past”

ignore the blood in the tread of his boots.

“called you weak, said a real man would’ve been out with me”

ignore the bite marks on the shell of his ear.

“called me a filthy slut- kind of the same way you do”

ignore the new wood chipper behind the house.

simon’s a big dog with loyalty in spades, born to serve one master.

you never ask so he never tells. play ignorant, blissful and unaware about what grows from the seeds you plant.

seeds scattered to the wind that happen to catch within him, seeds that take and grow gnarled and angry and looking for an excuse.

any excuse to show what he’s made of.

you know he’s always been a mean dog, you know he’s always had bite.

but you, of course, never worried your pretty little head.

not even when an ugly one turns up on the doorstep.

bad dog.

plays with his food.