#idk they cute anyways

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[noodles-and-tea]

!!!!

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Big bird protecting his baby bird :3

[0fps]

JIYAN ❖ THROUGH THE DARKEST OF NIGHTS

Jiyan, leader of the Midnight Rangers, acts with swift and resolute righteousness. He possesses the formidable ability to conjure a powerful Qingloong from the winds, making him invincible on the battlefield.

[remxedmoon]

triplets! cute!!! they must have some difference between them… but i can’t see any…

greyscale versions under the cut!

[yuukirita]

He's doing hand talk :'D Cute and Sad.

[kitsalami]

in another timeline

[svampira]

snack time🤤

[teddybeartoji]

toji being all bundled up in his winter coat with a pretty green scarf around his neck (that you gifted him btw). his nose is red and his cheeks even redder as he taps his foot on the crunchy snow. he's waiting for you.

with his hands stuffed into his pockets, he hides from the cold bite while eyeing the passersby with furrowed brows, and even though the scarf hides the lower half of his face, you know he's wearing a sort of scowl. it's closer to a pout more than anything, but you won't mention it. his ears perk up at the sound of your voice calling his name and you feel warm at the sight of his face lighting up just a bit. it's cute. it's cute that he's so excited to see you.

he meets you halfway, his hands reaching for you as you close the distance between you. it's a quiet greeting, a very simple 'hi' accompanied by his scarred lips pressing against your temple as you hug him. in his arms, you feel safe. you feel at home. when he pulls away, he takes a second to look at you – the stars in your eyes, the bashful smile on your lips. toji thinks you look pretty as ever.

but his cute little daydream doesn't last.

a gasp makes its way out of the depths of his throat the second your hands cup his face, your frozen fingers sending shivers down his back.

the look on his face makes you giggle and the sound makes him furrow his brows again in return. he clicks his tongue. "you'll freeze to death."

"you'll save me."

he shakes his head with a sigh but takes your hands into his nonetheless. while keeping his, now very determined, eyes on your fingers, he brings them up to his face and gently blows warm air on them.

you hum. "my saviour."

the tips of his ears burn – his nose, his cheeks, but surely it's just because of the cold and because of his teasing lover. surely.

you see the grin he's so desperately trying to hold back and laugh at him once more. "my hero."

he grumbles. "be quiet."

he's still holding your hands, he's still warming them up. there isn't even an inkling of thought about letting you go, about letting your poor little fingers freeze. he will hold onto you for the entirety of the walk that's ahead of you. so he can keep you warm. and not because he so desperately wants to hold your fucking hand. it's not that. no way.

you lean up your toes while intertwining your fingers with his, and with no questions asked, he bends over to close the gap between you again. this is how it works. love.

a pair of cold lips meet the tip of his nose and toji lets his eyes fall shut at the sweet touch. he lets out a relieved sigh, a content one, and savours the way you smile against him. a kiss, and then another. a haste one to his lips before pulling back with that very same grin on your face that he adores so much. the kind of playful one, the one that tells him that you're going to be throw snowballs at him very soon. he loves it.

"are you going to get hot chocolate with me today, toji?"

he lets your glued together hands fall, only for you to start swinging them side to side. he doesn't tell you to stop.

"no."

"liar."

toji rolls his eyes, tonguing at his inner cheek as he does so.

"with marshmallows."

he loves you.

"with marshmallows."

[blewsee]

they make me so sick in the head it’s actually unreal

[qiinamii]

quite the poet, quite the inspo

[kijeu]

happiest birthday, christopher chan ♡ 1997.10.03

template credits: x x

[petrichorium]

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

[solarpunkani]

sometimes spite is a powerful motivator and today its motivating me to crochet

long story short I saw a cool bag on pinterest while I was looking for crochet patterns but there was no fucking pattern but one of my friends found a pattern for a similar but not quite bag so I watched an hour long video, transcribed it into text, and am now gonna make a wholeass backpack just because Sunflower Vibe

Wish me luck I guess

Also this is the bag

[qualityrain]

[spocks-kaathyra]

experimenting w making little trek dolls for the STLV craft swap :))