Saw Bastille last night (YAASSSS!!) and Florence + the Machine tonight. While both were amazing and gave me such a high, I can’t help thinking that I’m getting old. Two nights in a row has wiped me out. How do I get my stamina back…
Due to September 26th is my birthday…so I want to make gray scale oc portrait giveaway.
like and reblog this post once.
I’ll choose 4 random persons.
deadline September 26th, 2018. 6 PM my local time (GMT+7)
When his eyes meet hers, she suddenly understands how an animal of prey feels caught in the gaze of a predator. Maybe it should frighten her, but she can see his heart beneath the stern stare and the mischievous quirk of his lips. She feels perfectly safe in the God of Chaos’s hold. She only wonders if she’ll last through his teasing when she’s already feeling impatient.
I’ve been so delayed in posting this, but the wonderful @nsfwfrosch blessed me with this image of Loki and Dale. She seriously can do no wrong!!
I haven’t been able to stop staring at it. Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!
Hello, everyone! I’m opening up commissions; before asking for an art piece, I would suggest checking out my other art examples found here and her.
Transcribed Prices:
Sketches:
★ Head Bust: $10
★
Half Body: $15
★
Full Body: $20
★
$5 per additional person
Line Art:
★
Head Bust: $20
★
Half Body: $25
★
Full Body: $30
★
$10 per additional person
Flat Color:
★
Head Bust: $25
★
Half Body: $30 ★ Full Body: $35 ★
$10 per additional person
Full Color:
★
Head Bust: $35
★
Half Body: $40
★
Full Body: $45
★
$10 per additional person ★ Detailed Background an additional $5
Tarot Cards:
★
$60
★
$15 per additional person
Inquisition Battle Icons:
★ $70 (Two Icons: One Healthy, One Injured) * We can discuss making the icons into a mod for your game but please realize I am somewhat new at modding and DAI is a tempermental game, so it might give us some trouble.
Anyone who knows me knows I hate asking for help, especially with this sort of thing, but I’m running out of money for my bills and as much as I would love to think I’ll be getting a job offer any day now, I can’t keep leaving things up to luck here.
If you’re in the neighborhood looking for commission work, please do consider one from me. I also have a ko-fi where if you buy me a coffee, it’ll get you a sketched headbust, while two coffees will get you it flat colored. If you need more examples of my art before deciding, please feel free to head over to my art tag. As usual, if you want to talk about commissions, please feel free to contact me on my tumblr messanger or at my gmail. Otherwise, if you can’t buy anything, I would be very grateful if you reblogged this (but only if you can) and spread it around. Thank you for your help, everyone. Love you~
It’s not as though their lives are devoid of laughter, but this … this unbridled, ridiculous, carefree laughter is rarer than Flynn likes and witnessed only in private moments. He takes full advantage of the ticklish skin on Dorian’s body, his kisses followed by nuzzling his face against the spots he loves. Dorian’s protests and claims of hatred for his scruffy, unkempt jaw are lost amidst the joy that fills the room in the notes of their discordant voices.
His name echoes in the darkness, though it takes far too long to recognize the concern in the tone, the light feminine melody lost under the echoes of a malicious purr in his waking mind.
Her cautious touch causes a flinch, which in turn brings her limbs around his, her smaller body curling over his as if she can protect him from his nightmares by sheer will alone. Back to her chest, arms cradled in her hands, legs anchored by her smaller ones tangled through his, he follows her touch back to the present and away from the shadows haunting his steps toward freedom.
Breath hitched, heart frozen, her scars are laid bare to the man her love has endangered both as a gruesome reminder and warning all in one. He ignores the barrier she’s attempting to put between them, bends close and brushes tenderness across the ruined skin as if he can soothe the fear and anger thrumming underneath.
The kisses are fleeting, soft, nothing against the atrocities carved there, but their gentleness still sinks beneath, flooding her veins with him and his promises to keep their love strong in the face of whatever may come.
She had wanted to be angry, still wants to be angry, but her need overrides it. The whispery touch of his magic around her wrists is a comfort, as is the harsh press of his body holding her up.
Breath rattling in her ear, he thrusts into her. His strokes are punishing, drawn out. They steal her breath each time his hips crash against hers, only to wind her tighter on every slow, dragging retreat. Her heels press against his legs, nails clawing at the air where she’s bound.
The thunk of her head against the wall draws a chuckle, even as he mouths at her throat. A hint of teeth on her vulnerable skin sends a thrill through her, thighs tightening against his hips and cunt clenching around him. His rhythim stutters.
“Well,” he breathes.
His fingers trail teasingly upward from her sides to replace his magic at her wrists. Their lips meet briefly before he pulls back. Warm, harsh breaths mingle in the space between them as their eyes lock. She leans forward and catches his bottom lip, teeth digging in hard enough to draw blood on a human. A shiver runs through her as his pace quickens.
“I wonder–”
“Stop talking,” she gasps.
He gathers her arms in one hand. The other scratches down her shoulder, long red marks left in its wake. A whine escapes her as he pays the same rough attention to her breast, the nail scraping across her nipple just this side of painful. While her attention is distracted, he adjusts his position so that his thrusts hit that spot inside her. A litany of prayers and curses falls from her lips.
“Wrong god.”
She’s going to kill him.
His mouth replaces his hand, lips sealing around the already sensitive bud. Whatever nonsense she’s murmuring is cut off when he bites down, an embarrassingly high squeak filling the air.
“Wrong. God,” he growls against her breast, laughter lurking at the edge of the admonition. “I might let you come, if you can get it right.”
She bucks against him, forcing him deeper. His breath hitches and he freezes, but only for a second. He grasps her waist and slams their hips together. The breath is knocked from her lungs. It’s not enough, not enough.
“Say my name,” he murmurs.
“Please.”
Her hands are finally free, but it comes with a slap to her clit. Her nails claw at his shoulders. Every breath is a groan, her toes curling and sparks shooting up her spine.
“Say it.”
Oh, G– Loki! Please!”
His kiss invades every one of her senses. It all blurs until there’s only him and his fingers circling her clit and his growl to let go as he pounds into her. He swallows her cries as her walls clamp around him and his own invocation of her name whispers across her lips.
Maker's Breath 