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We have moved! This blog is now ARCHIVED! Please find us over on the NEW BLOG!

All threads, memes, etc. will be continued on the new blog! Please consider reblogging the updated promo post!

See you there! ♥

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humans literally only want one thing. dogs 

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Lakshmi Menon for Elle December 2010

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love finds me tracing the details in your fabric, memorizing the woven fibers of your being.      the casual, miraculous light in your eyes is the only force on earth i find worthy of worship.

j. rees (via thesewordsiofferyou)

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when i was a lad i ate four dozen eggs every morning to help me get thicc

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You are not dead, but not alive, too. You’re a ghost with a heart that beats.

Wintergirls (via allhopeisgon-e)

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A Family Portrait.

Set well in the future, Séaghdha and Alarik ( @ingxni ) with their daughter Renata, and Sacha and Cyrran ( @virassxn ) with their son Rae. The kids are around 16-17, which has Sacha pushing 50. Lots of nice crows feet and salt & pepper hair.

Anyway, this took forever but I’m very pleased with it, even if I never want to draw lace ever again.

Some details:

Keep reading

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(@exnobis) Sacha wants a kiss pls.

meme // always accepting

@exnobis — just look at all these

If anyone was persistently obnoxious, the prize had to undoubtedly go to Sacha. Cyrran could hardly believe anyone had the will and patience to exceed his own level of obnoxiousness, but he’d quickly learned his match was met with Sacha. That fact presented itself with pristine clarity in the late morning as a scruffy face found its way into the crook of his neck. A devious ploy to finally get him to move if ever there was one, and it was succeeding with each hard-won giggle that escaped the Inquisitor’s mouth.

❝Fine, fine—!❞ Sleepily groaning, he rolled himself atop his lover, lips soon finding that same bristly cheek as he began to trail kisses across Sacha’s face. He took his sweet time making his way to the main point of interest, of course, contenting himself with delivering as many pecks as possible.

Naturally, he soon found his mark to bestow one very, very satisfactory kiss to one pesky giant’s lips. And against them, a cheeky murmur: ❝Good morning, my darling.❞

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you’ve always been like          b r e a t h i n g.

          erendriel × vittore simone                 ( @ingxni | @exnobis  )

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in another universe i’m able to save you

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Poetry is a sort of inspired mathematics, which gives us equations, not for abstract figures, triangles, squares, and the like, but for the human emotions. If one has a mind which inclines to magic rather than science, one will prefer to speak of these equations as spells or incantations; it sounds more arcane, mysterious, recondite.

Ezra Pound (via palingenesis144)

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I have never found religion in paper and ink, carved and stained  skin. I have found holiness in the silk of his voice, the tips of his limbs, the depths of his soul. This. This is religious. This is godly.

Michelle K., This Lover. (via michellekpoems)

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you want a man with a strong jawline so you have a sturdy place to sit

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❣ last but not least, désiré from mavis ;)

@ingxni | random kisses | not accepting

❣ From Désiré — #5. A neck kiss

The Hawke estate was the only place Désiré was ever out of his armor; even at his crew’s home base, even in the cabin of his ship while at sea - the man was never exposed. And, there were those that would argue this paranoid protection extended far beyond the physical. Walls, Désiré had so many walls, and indeed he wore them like armor, too.

Yet Mavis had bypassed them all like there was a shortcut to the smuggler’s heart even he had not known about. He made him vulnerable, but Désiré was comfortable with that. He felt safe. There was no need for the armor - mental, or physical.

Plus he could hardly get so very close to his Hawke if he was wearing his leathers.

Désiré had been enjoying the peace of Mavis’ presence for some time now, pressed close to his side with head resting on his shoulder. One of his curls was being twisted absently around his lover’s fingers, and their legs were twined and helplessly twisted up in the sheets of the bed. He’d dozed in and out, a smile curving his lips each time he opened his eyes to see the Champion’s face still stuck in a book. Moments like this made it easy to forget the troubles outside the bedroom. But they couldn’t last forever, not with time steadily ticking away.

Shifting, touch moved across Mavis’ chest with a confidence that finally pulled him from his book. Désiré wasn’t ready to put the armor back on, not yet, and his eyes must have said it even more clearly than his hands if the boyish grin blooming across his lover’s face was any indication. 

He opened his mouth, presumably to tease him in his gentle way, but Dez pressed a finger to his lips to hush him. ‘Not yet,’ he mouthed as he pushed himself up, rolling partially atop the younger man and bringing their faces together. Mavis leaned forward for a kiss, but Désiré pulled away just enough to deny him, speaking a little chastisement against his lips while his fingers drifted across his jaw. Mavis pursed his lips in adorable protest, and now Désiré grinned, nosing him affectionately before gently encouraging the turn of his head.

The first kiss was light against his lover’s jaw, but each increased in intensity as they moved slowly, slowly down. Désiré’s confident touch moved again as well, traveling with the same salacious intent as his kisses as it massaged its way across the Champion’s torso. The press of Dez’s lips against the curve of Hawke’s neck turned to heat and teeth, and fingers slipped beneath trousers where the smuggler proved the skill of his hands.

A stroke, a kiss, a bite, and the sweetly indecent sound of Mavis’ breathing; no, the armor would not be put back on for quite a while.

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insp. — All I can say is that this is extremely fitting. Vittore Simone is mine, Erendriel and Cyrran belong to @ingxni / @virassxn

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take off your armor, crawl into bed bare  and fall into a kinder tomorrow. you'll still wake up with your name- no one will take it,  no one will take you.

the moon will watch over you || O.L. (via poetbitesback)

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like for quality freckles