#surrounding skin

[acepumpkinpatrick]

It took a white man burning himself, for the media to tell the truth.

It took 7 white people to be killed for the UNHRC to pass a resolution to ban selling arms to Israel.

The level, to which this world has dehumanized us, is incomprehensible to me.

[ink-ghoul]

Reasons why hermits should have custom elytras:

-PLEASE

-IT WOULD BE SO COOL

-IMPULSE ALREADY HAS ONE AND HE LOOKS SO COOOL

[worldsewage]

I like to think inkfish kid forms skin tones actually tend to tread into greenish or grayish colors, but it’s more common to have more human-esque skin colors.

[valeriianz]

had thoughts about Dream being able to sleep, how soft and human he would look. for your consideration:

Hob announced his arrival from work with a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and leaned into the door as he opened it and stepped into his flat. He dropped his keys in the little bowl and toed off his shoes. He had just shrugged off his messenger bag when he noticed a pair of large black boots in the living room, stark against his off-white rug. They were about a meter apart, like they’d been kicked off or tossed aside without a second thought.

With one brow raised, eyes scrupulous, Hob deposited his bag on the couch and bent down to pick up first one boot, then the other, tucking them together and neatly placing them on the wooden floor next to a bookshelf.

“Dream?” Hob called out, straightening up and casting his gaze upon the room. It wasn’t like Dream, when he paid surprise visits, to not immediately be within eyesight of the door, let alone leave his shoes haphazardly on the carpet.

Hob’s eyes landed on the entryway of the hall, spotting Dream’s thick, long coat in a heap on the center of the floor. Worry began to creep in as Hob slowly stepped up to Dream’s mystical coat, his pulse thrumming under his skin. He stooped down, grabbing it by the collar and brushing it off with his other hand. The material felt luxurious in Hob’s hands, soft like cashmere or shahtoosh, but also durable– something akin to wool or even canvas. Hob’s fingers caressed the fabric, feeling the lip of the tall collar between his thumb and fingers. 

Gently folding the coat over one arm, Hob continued down the hall, stepping softly, carefully. 

Hob’s bedroom door was open, the rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window and lit up the entryway, revealing more dark clothes in a jumble leading into the room.

Swallowing, lips parting, Hob bent down once more to collect Dream’s t-shirt, his pants and, following the line of mayhem, his socks, taking them all into his arms. Hob wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he finally straightened up and turned, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Hob almost dropped all the clothes he had spent carefully collecting, his mouth going dry. 

There was a considerable, person-sized lump in Hob’s bed, buried under his thick gray comforter. The only indication that it was indeed Dream laying in Hob’s bed, was the mane of wild dark hair poking out from the mass of linens.

Hob took a step forward, then another, crushing the pile of clothes to his chest as he walked around the bed, his gaze transfixed to the top of Dream’s head– a smattering of black ink spilled on his white pillow. He held his breath as he finally came to face Dream, the only part of him sticking out was his nose and eyes, Dream’s impossibly long lashes draped down, threatening to brush the tops of his cheeks.

Hob felt his jaw drop, lips parting in wonder at this ethereal creature in his bed.

Dream was sleeping.

Or… it looked like he was sleeping. The shape of him steadily rose and fell, imitating breath that Hob knew Dream didn’t need. Hob didn’t think Dream needed sleep, either… or was even capable of it. Was Dream sick? Had he been injured?

Hob quietly deposited the bundle of clothes into a wicker chair in the corner of his room, turning back to Dream and leaning over him, slowly pressing one hand into the mattress next to him, and bringing the other up to lay it against Dream’s forehead.

Hob immediately felt foolish, of course Dream didn’t get sick, he’d nearly beaten it into Hob by now, how Endless never fall ill (not in the way humans do, apparently), but Dream did actually feel quite warm. Hob moved his hand from underneath Dream’s soft fringe, grazing his fingers down the side of his head, brushing the shell of his ear, cheekbone, and across his pointed nose, unable to get any further with the blanket folded up tight around half his face.

With his heart lighter than it’d felt in a long time, Hob couldn’t resist carefully hooking his fingers around the edge of the comforter, leaning in close as he pulled it down to expose Dream’s lips and chin. He looked softer, like this– human and vulnerable. There’s a trust here, Hob knows, his chest tightening, as his knuckles caress down the line of Dream’s jaw, free of blemishes and marble smooth. Hob swallowed again, his eyes flicking down in unrestricted interest at the line of Dream’s concealed body, cocooned in creamy grays. He looked back up, focusing on plush lips that are too red for Dream’s alabaster skin, like they’d been bitten.

Hob’s own teeth pull on his bottom lip, moving his hand to press a thumb against that mouth, barely touching, like a paint brush, dragging it from corner to corner.

“What are you doing?”

Hob huffed a surprised laugh, but didn’t remove his hand. Dream’s voice was lower than usual, thick, and rumbly, pulled from a deep slumber.

“Checking your temperature,” Hob answered in a whisper. His breath caught in his throat as Dream’s eyelids fluttered open, crystal blue eyes focusing right on him.

Christ almighty, he was gorgeous. Hob still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he was allowed to see this, to be regarded by such beauty, such a divine entity. That he could call Dream his, and be confident in the knowledge that he was Dream’s, too. Hob felt himself begin to shake, his thumb was still at Dream’s lips, which had parted slightly when he’d spoken, his hot breath hitting Hob and causing something both carnal and pure to race through his blood, something devotional.

“You’re quite warm,” Hob tried again. Dream hadn’t spoken, only watched him, like he was waiting for something.

“Yes,” Dream’s voice ran over Hob in that velvety way of his; a warm tide crashing over him and lifting Hob up.

“I was seeking warmth. You weren’t home, and I know how pleasant you are after a long rest.”

“Pleasant?” Hob’s lips curled in a smile, distractedly pressing his thumb a little harder against Dream’s bottom lip.

“Tepid.” Dreams amended, parting his lips and allowing Hob’s thumb access.

Hob gasped softly as Dream bit down, his eyes blazing now, the black of his iris growing so there was no more blue. Hob hummed, his fingers curled around Dream’s chin, tilting it up.

There’s a tongue that swipes the tip of his thumb and Hob knows he’s lost, feigning nonchalance was never his strong suit when it came to this entity in his bed. His heart crashes against his ribs and Hob’s sure Dream can hear it, can hear the desire there.

A bare arm slips out from the pile of gray and latches onto Hob’s bicep, pulling him down. Hob goes along with a smile, getting one knee up on the bed, then the other, dislodging his fingers from Dream’s face to steady himself.

They lift the comforter together, allowing Hob to crawl in next to Dream. The shock of the sudden temperature hike against Dream’s bare skin makes Hob’s breath catch, desperately wishing he’d taken his clothes off first.

“Christ, Dream it’s like a furnace under here.” He’s never felt Dream radiate so much heat before. He truly was learning something new about this man– Endless, every day.

Dream’s long arm pulls the blanket back down, going around Hob’s middle and tucking it under him, coaxing Hob to be flush against his sinew body, usually firm with restrained strength, now soft from sleep. Dream’s chin tilts down, lips brushing Hob’s forehead.

“Could be hotter,” he murmurs, lips traveling down, his sharp nose nudging against Hob’s face, encouraging him to meet him evenly.

Hob is already panting, he’s sure he’s already sweating too, but he meets Dream’s mouth eagerly, pressing hard, getting his hand back on his face to cup Dream’s jaw.

“Well,” Hob pants as Dream wetly breaks the kiss, pressing his lips instead up Hob’s face and into his hairline. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this today.”

Dream hums, the sound reverberating down his body and tickling Hob’s senses. 

“I’m pleased I can still surprise you.”

[tesnuzzik]

(Unseelie) Faerie Court Twisted Fate skin concept

My take on what the Unseelie court might look like. I hope we’ll get some dark/goth faeries too and it’s not gonna end up looking too similar to the Seelies :)

[therats-alter]

the ppl in the hades fandom arguing abt the race of gods and characters are so stupid y’all it’s a fucking game..

we have real issues going on in this world a literal genocide is happening, innocent people are dying, who cares about the skin color of an avatar in a game.

anyway go support families in Gaza

And do your daily clicks

[wellthebardsdead]

Changeling Tav: Durge don’t do it! She’s Orin not me!

Orin: No! I’m Tav she’s Or- *gurgles up blood as Durge cuts her throat, dropping dead on the spot*

Durge: that’s taken care of, you okay?

Changeling Tav: yeah.

Astarion: How in the sweet hells could you tell them apart?!

Durge: Tav doesn’t smell like a rancid sewer. They smell clean, like soap… and flowers.

Changeling Tav: naw~

[buddiesmutslut]

Saw a post that Tommy is Abby 2.0 & that feels SO REAL (older & more mature, introducing Buck to a different way of thinking, knows the job intimately, not quite as into him as he is into them 🫣).

I just hope Tommy leaves in a much better way, bc he gives off good vibes and I ADORE LOU.

[bonefall]

how did hallowflight even manage to run and swim so fast. i don’t imagine riverclan swimming fast unless they absolutely have to and they definitely don’t teach their warriors how to run faster than windclan

-Leaftail, continuing to be salty that a RiverClan cat's got zoomies

[bookshelfdreams]

.

[justme-again04]

I’m like if an avatar of the corruption was a non-binary college student majoring in entomology

[winemom-culture]

Lrt speaking of frogs during more yard work over the weekend I sent my mom this pic of this toad on our ac unit like haha look at the toad and she responds back like oh that’s the bastard of the earth, you should kill it two ways

[clown-eating-pig]

one of the more random things that disturb me about tma is simply the existence of the gorilla skin. like..........why. what was up with that.

[m4rs-ex3]

She was so quick to think wedding you just know she’s dreaming of her own

real she tries her darnedest to maintain the grizzled warrior persona but bbg has fluffy journals and glitter gel pens. she plots government conspiracies and her wedding in the same notebook. trust me i know these things

[zxal]

God made yuya and yusaku not exist in the same universe because he knew they would be unstoppable as canon best friends

[estarion]

Circe. "You are actually alright. I can at least have a conversation with you."

it’s funny. he was thinking something along similar lines about her recently. she is a lavish, commanding mistress, with a prodigious hunger and a contempt for fools. he doesn't know a lot about her, but already it seems they share a good amount in common. “thank you. likewise, too. your company has been a delight.” astarion’s hands are elegantly poised at his back as they promenade the courtyard of her palace, right fingers encircling his left wrist. he is only afforded the chance to experience things like this at night, but the way lanterns and candles have been arranged makes certain parts appear almost sunlit. he glimpses his mystical companion from the corner of his eye, touch of a smile on his lips. a rarity indeed to find anyone he could deem a friend these days, particularly a fast one. “also, i must say! the pangs of boredom have not struck once my entire stay. i ought to thank you for that, as well.”