#reblogs r appreciated for this

[uzi-x33]

sincerely, get the fuck out of the bsd fandom we do not want u in here. please report, block and move on

[chestnutroan]

neanderthal girl and sapien boy reunite after a long winter kept them apart

[kalofi]

5 seconds without nanami’s attention he starts blowing shit up

extra:

[seeker-ophelia]

This is a love letter to all the tumblr artists who got us through 10 years

10 Years of Hurt and Angst and Pining and Loss

Sincerely, you artists are da real MVPs

Everyones tagged below the cut

fenharel shame - @rainhol

rook & solas - @fideox

chibi Cole - @sincaotic

adoribull - @orientalld

lounging solas - @an-established-butt-dent

leliana & nug - @doodlownick

kieran & OGB - @thejaguar9art

morrigan - @girl-gwoe

fenris - @fridgemeats

isabela - @milton-chamberlain

varrics phone - @haverdoodles

stressed out varric - @dailydadoodles

rook face - @larkoneironaut

tiny solas - @nikyu0

Target solas (&spiderverse solas/rook) - @pinacoladamatata

spite - @loustica-lucia

manfred - @themaybug

assan (&Alistair w/ cheese) - @olessan

varric - @milton-chamberlain

DJ solas - @chromunist

merrill - @thedragonhermit

puss-in-boots (aka lucanis) - @gormlessboy

anders - @pinkfadespirit

tired soals - @greypetrel

cass/lily/josie - @briccko

Sincerely, thank you guys so much.

7 Sleeps. 168 hours left.

[bratdotcom]

Oh, Honey

( college!Ford Pines x reader || second- not first date jitters )

Ford's eyes were trained on the paper slipped into his newly bought electric typewriter, he adjusts his glasses with his palm as he types. Unsurprisingly, having six fingers on each hand helped a lot when trying to reach an essay word count. 

Ford somewhat wishes he went to the library to type out his paper. His fingers were starting to cramp from making contact with the keytops of his typewriter. Maybe asking Fiddleford to tweak with how the keytops were fixed would help with the spacing? He'd have to ask later. 

Ford hears a knock on the door.

He almost falls out of his chair, something under his sleeve makes a loud beep sound. It was his watch. It was supposed to remind him of something. He couldn't remember what.

"One moment!" He calls out to whoever was at the door, adjusting his glasses again. He stares at himself in the reflection of his window to check if he at least looked somewhat presentable. Ever since he woke up at nine, he's been working on his paper. 

He messes with his hair to make it seem like he actually brushes it in the morning, running his fingers through it to make it look nice. "I-I'm coming!" He looks away from his reflection at the door. Whoever it was, they seemed impatient.

Surely, it wasn't that serious, the knocking seemed to get louder and louder and- oh. 

He forgot about you. He also forgot that it was a Saturday. And that the paper he was working on wouldn't be due until next month. 

Ford almost trips over his untied shoelace as he scrambles to answer the door.

"G-greetings." Again, Ford adjusts his glasses. This time, because he was embarrassed. He can't believe he forgot he agreed to a date. A date with you. 

He smiles awkwardly, already feeling his face heating up in embarrassment.

He's red by the time you make eye contact with him, while he's trying his best to avoid making eye contact with you. "You look great." He says, not having looked toward you once. Not like he had to. He knew you probably looked better than him right now. He was still in the clothes he wore yesterday- he was too busy working on equations to change into his proper sleeping clothes. His fingers tug on the cuff of his button-up sleeve. 

"And you look," you look him down from his head to his shoes. Which he most likely, also, slept in. "Comfortable." You say with slight amusement. Ford could hear the smile in your tone.

"Thanks." He replies, looking down at the floor. Ford then realizes that he's wearing his dress shoes. And that one of his laces was untied. 

To avoid embarrassing himself more, and to avoid looking at you, he immediately kneels down to tie his shoe. He can feel the sweat build up around the collar of his shirt. He mentally slaps himself in the face for wearing white. 

"Were you powdering your nose or something? I heard you struggling in there." You look over his back and into his dorm. You see papers sprawled out on a desk, three questionable-looking coffee mugs, chewed up pencils, and sticky notes. Everywhere. Like he was trying to remember everything. 

Ford gets up, you both hear his knees crack loudly. Which wasn't normal. At all. Good grief. He needed to go out more.

"You...you can come in, if you'd like." He says, unable to stop himself from stumbling on his words. He steps to the side, once again, almost tripping on something he forgot he had put on the floor. This time, a stack of textbooks he placed next to his dresser. 

"Thank you." You say in a pleasant tone, looking around the room. You couldn't tell which side of the room belonged to Ford or to his roomate. Both sides were equally messy and somewhat neat.

"My bed's uh, right there." He points to your left, to a bed with a book laid face-down on the comforter. "Don't mind my roommate's side- he's working on something right now so don't touch anything- please.”

You smile along to his words. "Sir, yes, sir." You pretend to salute him as you traverse through the room, making sure to be careful where you step. 

You were going to be the death of him. And you didn't even know it yet.

"I'm going to the washroom! Uh, please excuse me!" Ford says in a tone louder than he wanted to say. He quickly turns around and makes a beeline to the bathroom. You snicker to yourself as the bathroom door closes behind him.

"I will, don't worry." You say loudly enough for him to hear over the sound of him turning on the bathroom sink. He felt stuffy. And sweaty. 

"Get. Yourself. Together." He points at himself in the mirror, glasses off. He needed to calm down. He desperately needed to calm down. How did he get the second date? How? 

This wasn't even the first date. He passed that base! Like what Fiddleford said! Why was he still nervous? 

He splashes cold water onto his face to wake himself up, stray droplets splash onto his shirt. Looking in the mirror again, he bares his teeth at his reflection. 

Ford brushes his teeth- just in case. You haven't kissed yet. But it wouldn't hurt to brush. He couldn't remember the last time he brushed his teeth. Or if he did this morning.

He wipes his mouth on his towel before looking in the mirror one last time. He looked presentable. He hoped that in your eyes, you thought the same. 

Opening the bathroom door, he's met with the sight of you sitting on his bed. Looking around at all the posters he and Fiddleford hung up. Sometimes, he forgot they were even there. 

"Do you like the decor? You can take a poster if you want." Ford had no idea why he was offering you one of his posters, but that's what people do on a date, right? Give each other things? Gifts? 

You chuckle as you turn him down on his offer. "No thanks, I think my roomie would kill me for messing with the decor back at my dorm." Come to think of it, Ford's never actually been to your dorm before. It was always you going to him, not the other way around. Ford laughs along, not knowing what to say. 

"So, are you ready for our little field trip?" You ask, watching as he stepped around the room to search for something. Ford wasn't actually looking for anything in particular- he just wanted to seem busy, so you'd think he was cool. "Field trip?" He repeats with a raised brow. "Yeah, we're going to that café with the good pumpkin lattes, remember?”

"So we're going into town, then?" He asks, slapping himself on the forehead mentally when he realizes how stupid his question must've sounded out loud. Ford could do fifth dimensional calculus but couldn't be smooth for the life of him. "Yes, we're going into town." You reply, leaning your elbows against the foot board of his bed.

"Let me grab my coat." He says, playing with the collar of his shirt as he opens his closet. To add insult to his multiple figurative injuries, several hat boxes and shoe boxes fall straight out of the closet and onto his face.

"Oh shit!" You exclaim, quickly getting up from his bed to help him.

Ford tries to angle himself in a way that wouldn't get his face squished between several hat boxes and shoes. He's never done anything this physical in years.

"Uh, here. Let me..." You carefully pull off his glasses so that they wouldn't get in the way. Carefully, you pull each box off of his person in a way that wouldn't hurt him and place each one onto the floor. 

It was a silent exchange, Ford couldn't see, and you didn't really know what to say to make this feel any better.

You try your best to slip his glasses back onto his face. You almost poke him in the eye. "Sorry." You both say in unison, which makes Ford's face go red. For a man who prided himself in being an overachieving genius, he surely felt stupid now. 

He stumbles back, almost falling over the boxes you set aside earlier as he reaches for his coat. "Let's go, then?" You say, watching as he folds his coat onto his arm. "Y-yes. Let's go." 

For the first time ever in his life, Ford extends his arm out for you to hold onto. He keeps his fist closed as he does so. He hopes he's doing this right.

[dykesevika]

Sleepover !! :3

Men DNI

[xnodivinity]

meeting karl but pixel rpg style

this took a while but i'm pretty happy with how it came out in the end ^_^

[eph3merall]

18+ content, smut, stalker!matt / don't proceed to read if stalking is a triggering concept to you.

☆ . . . matt knew it was wrong. gaining your trust was just so easy, though, he couldn't help himself. really. you were sweet and naïve, and how could he not take advantage of that when you were just the prettiest thing ever as well?

it's why he finds his tongue prodding his cheek as a big ringed hand slides one of your drawers open to reveal the pretty laid out panties. cute pastels, neutrals, some flashy, lace reds as well. he's biting down on his tongue to stop the groan suddenly clawing up his throat.

matt wasn't in a rush, no. he'd driven you to a party earlier with your girlfriends, albeit a little reluctant since there would be guys there. worse comes to worse, he can track your phone anyways.

sliding the black backpack off his shoulders and letting it drop to your carpeted floor, he unzips a smaller pocket to fumble for the pairs of panties he bought a few days back. two pink and white pairs in the exact brand and style, because he couldn't have you finding out what he was doing, right? that'd be such a shame.

sure, it's freaky and creepy and some people would call him psychotic.

swapping out the neatly lines up pairs in your drawer with the ones he bought just a few days ago, he stashes them in the pocket of his backpack—not before bringing a pair up to his face to sniff them though.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip to stifle the groan building up, even though he's alone in your room. taking a few steps towards your bed, matt sits himself onto the edge of it.

soon enough though, his cock is straining hard against his boxers and sweatpants just from the smell of your sheets and pillows. once his junk is free, a tortured groan leaves his lips once he's starting to pump at it—pre cum already leaking from his slit.

he can't help his free hand reaching for a pair of your panties, pressing them up to his face to sniff at them. his hand works in fruition for the release he's suddenly craving so badly.

god, he's crazy.

yeah, it's wrong and all but fuck matt feels so good. without a second thought in his head he's bringing your panties down to shoot his load into the crotch area of the fabric. chest heaving and tongue swiping over now dry lips, he's sighing heavily.

blue eyes come into focus some more, and he's quick to clean his hand up. washing them and making sure he didn't get any of his cum on your carpeted floors or his own clothes—then stuffing the messy scrap of fabric back into a pocket of his backpack.

slinging both straps over his shoulders, his hood finds placement back on the mess of brunette curls on his head. he's leaning over your bed to fix it—replicating the wrinkles and messy corners. fluffing up your pillows and making sure everything is in place and all perfect.

even if you wouldn't notice, he shouldn't risk it. after how far matt's come? yeah, no. blue eyes take a sweep over your room to make sure nothing is in the wrong place or order, nodding to himself and running a hand through his hair as he slips out of your room.

walking to his car he parked in your driveway, he slides his phone from his pocket once he's in the drivers seat of his car. he just couldn't help but scroll through the album of photos he had saved of you, a slow smile spreading on his face with each scroll. you were so pretty, it made him sick. and also a little hard again.

starting his car out of your driveway, matt pulls up your number.

"hey. y'ready for me to come pick you up yet or nah?"

fun fact. this wasnt gonna be the og writing, draft ended up not saving the first time and i was SO mad. bc the first draft (in my own opinion bc no one else has read it) was so good and UGH am i horribly upset it didnt save. this vers is a lil shorter i remember but hopefully its enjoyable!! after that vers not saving i wanted to give up on writing this but.

stalker!matt prompt/idea (?) lowkey from @sturnioz (pretty girl please lmk if you dont want me tagging you <33)!!! sort of? maybe??? idk. its 3 am im really tired :/

do we fw stalker!matt bcs im thinking of writing him a fic lols.

not proofread as always... i wrote this while listening to faye webster, mac demarco, n the smiths n idk how to feel about that bc this was filthy

—

©eph3merall 2024

[ahalliance]

qétoiles n qbagz’ convo about his code arm + fun banter from last sunday :] english subs + transcript below da cut

[Video transcript:

Etoiles: But yesterday when he [Forever] talked to me, he was so frightened, basically he was like, ‘But one day won’t you lose your shit and want to kill the Eggs with the Code, and everything?’ Though I was telling him, ‘But the fact is, I know the Code very well’—

Baghera: Oh, so you told him you joined—?

Etoiles: No, no, no, not at all. It’s just that he has these assumptions that I’m really allied to the Code because—

Baghera: I think it’s due to your Code tattoo, also, it gives off the impression you’re in the process of transforming into a Code, Etoiles, let’s not lie.

Etoiles: That’s it, that’s it. But, basically I told him that I’ve had it since—

Baghera: But you don’t give a shit? You’re taking it well?

Etoiles: Well, yeah, I don’t give a shit because I know he’ll never beat me. Basically I—

Baghera: But you don’t give a shit about the code literally popping up over your body?

Etoiles: Well, yeah, because it’s a part of me now. It’s normal.

Baghera: How?

Etoiles: Well, after— after fighting someone 17 times, you start— you start creating links. But those links—

Baghera: But— you know that’s not how things work. Like— look, we cross paths. Right now we’re crossing paths. You see? We’re crossing paths. I kick your ass. Like, for free. You see? I see you, I’m like, ‘Bro, I don’t like his face,’ so I kick your ass.

Etoiles: But no! Because if you tell me ‘Good fight’ at the end—

Baghera: I see you again— wait, I’m not finished. I see you again like 12 times, and I tell myself, ‘Hey, I’ll do it again,’ I kick your ass again. After a while, Rayou, I won’t get diabetes!

Etoiles: Well, maybe you will, huh.

Baghera: Yes, but it’s not— it doesn’t work, like— there’s no correlation, you see!

Etoiles: You know you won’t have those cells anymore, you know, it’s possible.

Baghera: But— no— what I mean is— Etoiles! That’s now how it works! It’s worrisome! It’s normal for us to worry!

Etoiles: Well, yeah, but, uhhh. Basically, you’re all used to talking with me on the island. And you understand very well that there’s nothing able to corrupt me.

Baghera: That we don’t know, Etoiles! Because— if it’s— I know that your morality, and your enormous brain, and your big body, won’t get corrupted. But if there’s suddenly— well, what I mean is that we don’t know what all the possible systems of manipulation on the island are.

Etoiles: It’s true. No, it’s true. But for the moment I’m doing well.

Baghera: Yeah, well, so much the better. But—

Etoiles: For the moment I’m doing well!

Baghera: If you feel any change, Etoiles, mention it, okay?

Etoiles: Oh, I’ll talk about it. But for the time being I’m doing very well.

Baghera: So I can understand peoples’ fear upon seeing you LITERALLY transform into a Code and who tell themselves, ‘Oh, strange, maybe there’s a thing with the Codes.’

Etoiles: It’s true but who can better know the dangers of the Code than someone who’s confronted it his whole life? Instead of someone who—

Baghera: I’m well aware.

Etoiles: No but it’s— it’s— it’s for that reason that I told Forever. I totally understand the fear and everything, it’s normal. You see a dude turning into a Code, you ask yourself, ‘What’s the guy who sent him doing?’

Baghera: Well, yeah, there you go.

Etoiles: Like, ‘Who sent him?’

Baghera: But you don’t feel any different? Nothing?

Etoiles: Absolutely not, no. Everything is going well. I still hate the Code whenever I see him, I still want to kick his ass. Everything’s fine. Even if right now I want him—

Baghera: But you join up with them when he suggests it, yeah. Well, it’s to get the shield back.

Etoiles: It was just for the shield, believe me. Believe me, if I run into them again- if I run into them again and they don’t offer me things to save the Eggs and everything, it’s goodbye. And considering what I’ve prepared— considering what I’ve prepared, I objectively think that 5 Codes won’t be enough to kill me. There’ll need to be 10 of them.

Baghera: They might bring 10, huh.

Etoiles: Yeah, well, then again, we have time.

Baghera: Well, in any case, they don’t want to kill you anymore since you’re working with them.

Etoiles: Well, in fact, we’re not really— actually— I don’t really know what he’s thinking. Because the last time we talked I told them, ‘But if you lay even a finger on the Eggs, I’ll kick your fucking asses, you sacks of shit.’ And they left, and they didn’t answer me.

Baghera: Then again, they’re a bit cryptic, the Codes, you know.

Etoiles: Yeah, but normally they— I managed to talk with them a bit, so— so I don’t know. Personally, I’m telling you—

Baghera: Okay, no, what I mean is that I understand why when people see you they think, ‘Maybe it’s possible he’s getting a little bit corrupted by the Codes.’

Etoiles: No but yeah, yeah, I totally get it. But honestly, never. Never in a million years.

Baghera: I believe you! I trust you. But if there’s— if once you feel any difference or something of the sort, you mention it, okay? To whomever you want, but you mention it.

Etoiles: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (10000x)

Baghera: You know you’re not very reassuring when you say that, as an answer.

Etoiles: That’s true. But I’m telling you there’s no problem. And— actually. The moment I start feeling strange, I’ll put numbers. And so you’ll have to come get me.

Baghera: Okay, okay. I’ll remember that.

Etoiles: Just that. But I— I— yeah. I whisper in the Code’s ear.

Baghera: The day you start talking to me in binary, there’ll be an issue, basically.

Etoiles: The day I say, ‘10001’, that’s it. But actually, I’m telling you, I could never be corrupted because I have AVAST, my wool block which blocks viruses.

Baghera: That’s real, that’s real.

end video transcript.]

[imerian]

✷ Pedroscar matching phone charms ✷

[jilatos]

c♡mms open!! fcfs, 8 slots open dm/email me if youre interested!

[r0b0t1me]

ko-fi requests open 8/31 - 9/11

5$ for 1 character, 10$ for 2. fanart + OCs are both OK. they will be drawn traditionally with ink + minimal shading, similar to THIS POST. more details can be found on my ko-fi page

https://ko-fi.com/r0b0t1m3

[cuttlegrem]

if you run around in tall grass long enough you may randomly encounter a squidtok user who thinks salmonlings are real the same way they believe theres a secret menu at starfishbucks

[gallusgalluss]

HEY, I'm temporarily opening these $25 Headshot Commissions!

$25 USD is the base price, +$10 per extra character

Information about contact + more commission info can be found through this carrd link!

If you'd like to support me monetarily but can't get a commission, my Ko-Fi's open for donations!

[bratdotcom]

Froyo to Go !

( Stan Pines x reader || taking Dipper and Mabel to get froyo )

You try to hide the smile on your face as you look out the window at the passing scenery. It was a slow day at the Mystery Shack. Stan decided to be nice and take you and the twins out to beat the heat with froyo because the freezer broke.

You look at the twins in the rear view mirror. Mabel was absolutely over the moon, talking almost everyone's ear off about which flavor she was going to get with corresponding toppings while Dipper seemed to be talking to himself on how to get the most frozen yogurt without overfilling it to the brim.

Stan pulls El Diablo into the parking lot.You gaze up at the giant, visibly sun-bleached cup of froyo in a perpetual spinning motion on top of the shop's roof as the car roars to a stop. You can hear Mabel gasp in awe as she spots the giant spinning froyo cup from the passenger's seat. Unsurprisingly, because of the heat, there was a small line forming right outside the door.

You all collectively step out of the car, Dipper retches, clutching his mouth. He must've gotten carsick from reading while Stan was driving. Mabel rushes to grab onto the man's arm. He smiles playfully at her when he raises his bicep up to carry her a couple inches off of the ground. You knew he'd probably complain about the joint pain later, but it was worth it to see Mabel smile. "Twenty dollars's all I got. Take it or leave it." Stan holds up a crisp, twenty dollar bill in between his fingers like a playing card as he speaks to his great niece, lowering her back onto the ground as you all group into the line.

"You really give it your all for those kids." you say quietly to him, cocking your head to the side slightly as you speak into his ear. You both watch as they play fight each other, Dipper flips his sister's hair over her back to cover her face as some sort of way to block her punches. "Our kids." he corrects, holding you close by hooking his arm around your waist.

You stumble against him at the sudden pull, making him chuckle to himself. "But you ain't wrong about what you said." he adds, adjusting his glasses against the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to soften as the glare of the sun reflected off of the lenses of his glasses.

"Remember when you made me pour all my beer cans out back?" he asks, already knowing the answer to his question. "Yes, I remember it clearly, Stanley." you reply softly, poking his beer gut. "You probably got a soda gut now, huh? Mr.Pitt soda Pines."

Stanley snorts to himself, playfully slapping your wrist away, which makes you laugh as well. "Will you two hurry up?" Dipper's voice cracks slightly as he calls out for the two of you. "The line's already moving, c'mon, people!" He says, as if he was the one who drove the car all the way here.

"You got two senior citizens breakin' their backs for ya, kid. Don't try your luck." Stan says as he holds you close to him, making you move forward as he does the same to catch up with the kids.

You're hit with the cold air of an AC above your head as you go inside. The amount of neon colors used to decorate the frozen dessert shop hurt your eyes badly.

Stan pats the small of your back, letting go of your waist. "Make sure they don't go crazy or somethin'. I'll find us a seat." He says gruffly, allowing you to follow and watch over the twins.

Stanley clutches his hip as he sits down with a sigh.

He leans his weight against the table, with a perched elbow he watches as you talk to the kids, making sure neither of them felt left out as you helped them pick out froyo flavors and toppings.

"Grunkle Stan!" The twins say in unison, Mabel turns around to look for the man himself. With a small heave, he uses the table for support to lift himself back onto his feet.

"Alright, alright. You don't need to holler to get me, y'know. I'm not that old." Stan says, making you stifle a laugh. He pulls out his wallet, handing a twenty dollar bill to the cashier.

"Uhm, sir," the cashier's strained voice makes his words somewhat hard to hear for both you and Stan's ears. "You're one dollar off." He says, pointing at the customer display, which showed that he owed exactly twenty-one dollars. Which he did not have.

Stan gives you the look that you were oh-so-familiar with. "Listen here, kid." He leans the side of his arm against the counter.

Stan was trying to impress you. As if he hadn't won you over for almost a decade.

"How about I give you a couple of Mystery Bucks? Get ya a couple dollars off whatever you buy from the Mystery Shack. How's that sound?" He does his signature smile, pointing a finger gun at the cashier.

Judging by the cashier's almost dead-eyed stare, he wasn't buying it. "...do you have the dollar or not?" He asks, waiting for Stan's answer.

"No. I don't." Stan's smile never falters as he speaks. Oh. You knew where this was going now.

Subtly, you grab a couple of spoons from the cup near the register. You stuff them into your pocket as you slowly drag the cups of froyo off of the weighing scale. You could tell which cup belonged to who, by the weight of each cup alone.

Stan slaps a couple of coupons onto the counter. "Go! Go! Go!" He quickly says, bolting for the door.

He holds the door long enough for the three of you to run out as well. Stan slides over the hood of his car, hurriedly opening the driver's side and jingling his keys into the ignition.

He pops the passenger’s side door open from the inside, letting you in. Mabel, followed by Dipper, jumps into the back seat with a bounce.

Dipper is completely out of breath as the car screeches out of the froyo shop parking lot. He murmurs a breathless thank you when you hand him his cup.

You weren't even surprised to see Mabel not affected in the slightest as you passed the girl her froyo cup. You had to use two hands to give it to her. She gives you an enthusiastic grin and a thank you as well. She buckles her brother's seatbelt on as he catches his breath.

As the car stops at a red light, Stan slouches forward in the driver's seat. "I think I'm gonna be bedridden for a couple of days." Stan says, rubbing his back with a groan. You rub his back with a chuckle as he begins the drive back home.

[morieli]

“Tu es comme les vautours qui attendent la faiblesse.”