#my precious darling

[toreii]

“A dark colored robe, and a golden, twinkling star ornament…I look like a wizard from an RPG.”

“You really like congratulate the seniors from other dorms…Well, I don’t mind being celebrated.”

[fortpeat]

I AM IN LOOOVVVVVEEEEE 💕💕

I am so proud of this baby CEO 🥹😍❤️

[ehlnofay]

I figured I would draw out Pax’s tattoos as I don’t know if I’ve talked about them in the past :) explanation of each tattoo’s significance, and my ideas about the culture surrounding tattoos in the Nibenay part of Cyrodiil, under the cut

tattoos are not particularly common in Cyrodiil, and they don’t exactly add to one’s respectability in certain fields, but they’re far from unheard of, and they grow more common further south into the Nibenay Valley. especially around Blackwood and closer to the borders of Elsweyr, they grow more frequent; while still hardly prevalent in the general population, they’re pretty accepted, and often used as shorthand symbols and identifiers for various groups or representative of an individual’s beliefs and values.

(relevant headcanon I may write up more formally at a later date: the Nibenay Valley has historically had a lot of religious variation, and though this has not officially been the case since the formalisation of the pantheon of Divines, worship of other, older myths and deities remains, most particularly in groups on the fringe of society... like, for example, bands of outlaws.)

Pax has had the hand and neck tattoos since they were a child of about ten or eleven. The lines on their index and middle finger go all the way around, effectively like rings; they denote skill in archery and, according to some superstitions, fortify it. The eye on the back of the neck originated a long time ago, as an emblem of a Nibenay goddess of stealth and cunning (who modern scholars associate with, and often believe is a variation of, Nocturnal). Worship of this deity has all but vanished, but her symbolism is still used by those involved in the Niben’s criminal underbelly as a mark of recognition.

the row of lopsided suns running from the inside of their elbow to their wrist is not related to the religious and/or criminal culture of the Niben; that tattoo comes entirely from being fifteen, grieving, and having nothing better to do.

[horcrux-collector]

i got a new cat, her name is darling

[timeskip]

Really rough Ry doodles!! (he/they pronouns)

[secretivemessenger]

Rayyyyy

You're such an amazing and kind person, i can't believe someone such as you would let people have the honors of being near you let alone talk to you, your smile is gorgeous, you're so talented. Your beauty rivals noones', everytime i think about you, i get flustered and so does many others. You should be sang praises about you as a whole, your eyes are as bright as the stars, so pretty and glowing<3

Woah woah woah woah where did all of this come from- omggg louis my love 😍🥹🥹🥹

[deardhiarry]

viggo / aragorn

[softshuji]

Hmm it's not you?

-Hanma

.... I don't know what you're talking about. I'm at home with izana so no it can't be me. Aren't you still waiting for Koko? Who...by the way.... SOMETHING BAD HAS HAPPENED TO. Something very bad has happened, someone who isn't you has gotten to him.

[frnkiebby]

two pixel sewer rats for you guys~🎃

[marzipanandminutiae]

Lucille Sharpe truly is one of the characters of all time

she's a lost girl. she's a monster. every single thing she does is motivated by love and loneliness. she has destroyed innocent lives and feels no remorse for it. she should get to heal from her trauma and be happy. she should be hanged for everyone else's safety. she would die for the person she loves most, but she wouldn't stop manipulating him and trapping him in the darkness with her. she loves beautiful, fragile things so much she has to kill them about it. she's Probably Queer but would never admit that. she's the Victorian "angel in the house" archetype, but an angel of death.

and of course her aesthetic sensibilities slap

[daisiesonafield-blog]

I love this man so much I can’t even explain it

[kaciidubs]

AYWAYS. On a scale from 1-10 how easily could kitty felix cum from playing woth his tail or hos ears?

OOOHOHOHOHOH, WHAT A QUESTION!!!!

❣ Pairing; Kitty Shifter! Felix x Reader ❣ ❣ Warnings; slight Dom! Reader, coming untouched, slight overstimulation, kitty Lix is a mess for you ❣

Kitty Felix is a sensitive little bean, if you so as run your hands through his hair in a passive motion, he's rubbing his head against your hand begging for more, his tail swaying eagerly.

So, when you decide to test just how sensitive he gets, it's no surprise that after a minute of massaging your fingers at the base of his ears, he's a pouty mess; mewling and pleading for you to touch him everywhere else.

Everywhere else must have included his lower back, the area where his tail was - the part of his body that interested you the most - because that's where your right hand decides to go.

Having him seated on your lap was a perfect decision because it gave you a front row seat to the best sight in the world; Felix dressed in only an oversized t-shirt, bunched at his hips and exposing his leaking dick - twitching and begging to be put to use.

The instant he felt your touch at the base of his spine he nearly fell backwards from the way his back arched, your firm hold keeping him steady despite the way he shook.

"P-Please! Why- It's so- I-" He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on hos own spit, "I-I'm gonna- I can't-"

His hips bucked into the air, his cock throbbing as a steady stream of precum drooled from his untouched tip, staining your pants.

Your fingertips danced around the fine hairs at the base of his tail, while your left hand continued to rub his soft ears - and when your fingers accidentally pinched the base his world stopped, a high, broken moan shooting from his mouth.

His body jerked as streaks of cum shot from his dick in seemingly endless webs, landing on your shirt and the space between you; his choked breaths melting into sobs of relief.

You moved your hands to his waist, gently cooing words of praise while he came down from his high, "Good boy, breathe for me kitty, deep breaths - did such a good job for me, kitten, such a good job."

After a minute, he was calm enough to open his eyes, glossy with unshed tears yet shining with raw adoration and love.

"I told you, you could come just from me touching you, pretty." You hummed with a smile, bringing a hand up to cup his freckled cheek.

"Y-Yeah," he pouted, leaning into your touch, "but I like being i-inside you, better."

Mirroring his pout cutely, you nod in understanding, "Okay kitten - let me treat you for letting me do this, then, okay?"

So uh, to answer your question? 10 - but poor baby would rather feel you wrapped around him in some sense!

[canisalbus]

Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3

The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.

It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->

They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!

-

I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.

"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!

"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.

"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.

-

At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.

"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.

He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."

"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".

I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.

How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Big fan of Tall and Lean Danny combined with even Taller Amazon Jazz. Just this 6’7” twunk being teased by his 6’11” buff sister about how tiny he is compared to her and their 7’3” dad.

[lunarlivs]

in -83 alice and cissy buy a cottage by the beach in cornwall and move there with draco, to give him a calm childhood filled with swimming in the sea, growing vegetables, food markets, story times and so much love their little home is bursting with it. here’s some of alice’s drawings of that <33

i hope you see the vision because this was so much fun for me