#i am natural at round and soft shapes!

[katyspersonal]

OMG YOU FINALLY CHANGED YOUR PFP AFTER 84 YEARS WHAT IS THIS NEW ERA???

Hahaha, well, not quite new era! Rather, a regress xD I just decided to use 'glitchy' aesthetic for a bit, since I keep comparing myself with a malfunctioning robot anyway and think the world is a simulation... Don't worry, your regular lake/stars vibe will return someday xsdjhfs

^^^ This is my fanart from long ago, like, 2017, for a different fandom. 'Tabeleine' is a concept I liked, where character Adeleine (yep that's her name xd) would get roped into being an employee for HolyNightMare corporation! She is a magical artist girl that can make paintings made on an easel alive; here though, she would instead use a tablet! Here, check out this BITCHIN fake screenshot I doodled:

So yeah, I was looking for a new icon but nothing from my current art felt fitting. (or maybe I do not value my 'new' art enough...) I really loved exploring unusual concepts back then! ...I still do, but it is harder with BB, because you have to hold 500000 lore bits in mind at the same time and they consume all the RAM.

Also! The guy in glasses is not a human xD That's why he is so 'low'. But I used to absolutely admire this type of appearance. You could probably tell which design that obsession influenced in the end... >:3

[pearl-tarotist]

* ༺ Your beauty ༻ *

In this tarot reading I will describe the beauty that you have and I will mixed it with some poems, things, feelings and situations that remind me of you.

Disclaimer: I do not consider beauty only as physical attributes.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...

PILE 1

Dear Pile 1,

Your beauty is sweeping and easily strikes the eyes of others at first glance. Your presence is strong as a furious river, people enjoy the scene and they are in awe at it. But the strength that the river has dissolves when they try to cage the water.

Your beauty is natural and pure as the liquid that gives us life; it cannot be replicated or forced at the will of others, it just comes from you, your presence and your soul. It's not the material but the energy that shapes it.

You are passionate, energetic and pure, what in the words of Sylvia Plath would be translated as “I am too pure for you or anyone", from the poem "Fever 103°.

In the same way as the damsel in distress when sad or overwhelmed, you hide yourself in the highest tower or in the lowest cave. Your beauty can just be encased by your own hand...and you do. Your fear that the show of your real self to the world will end in a lose of stability. You hide because you feel that showing your true nature and sweet but passionate soul will destroy your own world and the relationship that you have with others.

You hide under the presence of a basic person, fashion-like or behaviourally-like, but you beauty shines in the unconsciously curves of your cheeks and lips. There's something pleasuring and round about your lips that make your words sweeter and gentler than average. There's something about your back and position that could be beautiful too, stand straight and let other see you.

Your passionate and in that passion you are sweet and cute, just like the childish heroine of a story that never gives up.

Long legs, baby-like face, pouty lips, soft skin, limitless strength, adventures that you want to live and the passion when you speak half-baked of them. I'm not going to lie, for some, your beauty resides in your bad states, when they can take care of you as if you were something to fix or defend, but I do not think that's your beauty but what others find themselves attracted to.

Your beauty is not equalled to their attraction.

Stuff that reminds me of your beauty:

A Poem: My head a moon /Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin / Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. (Poem fever 103).

The flowing of a mighty river surrounded by grass.

The shaking pale hand of someone that has fought and won.

The elegant makeup of the Geishas.

The warm caresses of a loved one.

Knight of wands/5oW/The Chariot/10oC/5oP/4oS

PILE 2

Dear Pile 2,

You get things done. You are full and complete on your own, independent and capable. There's nothing that you can not resolve, you are efficient, strong and powerful. A scopio, pluto dominant or 8th house energy on your natal chart?

You are so beautiful on your own, so successful and victorious. Your willpower and your resistance towards adversity have created the most polished part of yourself, just like a diamond. If I have to be honest, it's not just your resistance but also your search of fights for truth and new adventures. The need to discover new things.

You are openminded and know that with a simple and small discovery, the perception of your reality can change in seconds, that's why, often, you feel that you do not belong to places or "homes" but that you are your own home. Your ideas and mental world is the only place you should be comfortable with.

There's also a characteristic of foreigner to your beauty, you could travel a lot or be "exotic" to others, in the sense of being different from them, physically and mentally. You are not a copy of the current societies but a mix of everything (past, present and future) and that's why others are intrigued by you, they want to learn about this composition. I would bet for a little bit of aquarius is in your natal chart, I guess.

You are clever and curios about everything what makes other being intrigued by you as they do not know what to expect. They can not tag you in one social group, you are way more than just that.

You do things with security, your hands do not shake in front of others and I would say that you are also quite social as you want to learn about everything, like a bee that goes from flower to flower, you go from person to person.

Piercing eyes, beautiful eyebrows, a nice chest, some of you could have a voluptuous body, an accent when speaking, and knowledge that extends for miles.

Stuff that reminds me of your beauty:

The sword of Arthur Pendragon, Excalibur.

The satisfaction after a job well-done.

The mist of the forest before the faes appear.

“For she had eyes and chose me.” (William Shakespeare, Othello)

"fuck it I love you" by Lana del Rey.

The World/ The Chariot/ The Fool/ Knight and king of Wands/ King of Swords

PILE 3

Dear Pile 3,

I fear that some of you are unable to see your own beauty. The cards that I got are unpeaceful and represent fights and loses.

Nevertheless, let's start with the reading. Your beauty is different from the rest, I like the way that you do not want to be exactly like the others. I applause you for not following the trends, the viral products and the fast-clothing industry. Your best quality is the uniqueness and respect for your natural state. Somehow, I believe that this is also one point of hurt for you, because you are not like the others, so you feel less...but, in my opinion, it lifts you higher than others.

To have an opinion of your own under a society that push us more often to have a single mindset is of respect and admiration.

Following the last idea, you are someone with spark, with cleverness, someone that has great ideas and potential that you can develop endlessly. You are a pool of ideas full of different points of views that need growing and development, a little bit of Gemini/ Sagittarius energy on your natal chart, no?

These ideas are not developed to the end, I think you jump around and start a lot of ideas that do not end up in a solid project, but that does not stop you from enjoying it nevertheless. I feel that there's two types of people: the ones that focus on just one thing and the ones that know a bit about everything. You are the second one, and in it resides your beauty.

Curious, fighter, powerful, with potential and creativity. Soft and uniform skin, probably short height but with a good posture, hands that are warm and search for the touch of others, lover of animals, young but wise. You may decorate your hair with caps, bows or similar. That's your beauty.

Stuff that remind me of your beauty:

Jeanne d'arc - Albert Lynch

The soft fur of animals like a horse or a deer.

The coldness of a knife close to the neck of the main character carried by their "enemy". (Enemy to lovers AU fr).

The endless routine of the sun (sunrise and sunset).

The smell of an old book.

5oS/2oW/The Tower/ 8oS/7oW/Page of Pentacles

This reading belongs in exclusivity to @pearl-tarotist.

[bestanimal]

Round 1 - Phylum Mollusca

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The second largest phylum, Mollusca contains over 76,000 living species and somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 extinct species, including the ammonites and helcionelloids. Living groups include the chitons, solenogasters, caudofoveates, cephalopods (octopuses, squids, cuttlefish, nautiloids, etc.), scaphopods, gastropods (slugs and snails), and bivalves.

Molluscs are highly diverse, living on land, in freshwater, and in saltwater, where they comprise over 23% of all named marine organisms. The most diverse molluscs are the gastropods which comprise over 80% of known molluscs. Due to their high diversity, the only things most molluscs have in common are a soft body composed almost entirely of muscle, a mantle with a significant cavity used for breathing and excretion, the presence of a radula (bivalves excluded), and the structure of their nervous system.

Many molluscs are endangered due to collecting and killing individuals for their meat and/or decorative shells.

Propaganda under the cut:

Cephalopods are one of the (if not the) most neurologically advanced of all invertebrates and are capable of using tools, solving puzzles, and play.

Masters of camouflage, many cephalopods can change color, shape, and texture to hide from predators, sneak up on prey, and communicate with each other

The largest molluscs are the Giant Squid (Architeuthis dux), with 12–13 m (39–43 ft) long females and 10 m (33 ft) long males, and the Colossal Squid (Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni) which is estimated between 10 m (33 ft) and 14 m (46 ft) long. The Giant Squid has much longer tentacles, but the Colossal Squid is heavier, reaching a mass of at least 495 kilograms (1,091 lb). The largest specimens of Colossal Squid, known only from beaks found in sperm whale stomachs, may perhaps weigh as much as 600–700 kg (1,300–1,500 lb).

Mollusc shells make up most of the “seashells” washed ashore, and are created by the animal via secretions of chitin and conchiolin from its mantle edge. Not all molluscs have shells (ex: nudibranchs) and for some, the shell is internal (ex: cuttlefish). Mollusc shells come in many beautiful colors, shapes, and sizes.

Most molluscs have eyes, and all have sensors to detect chemicals, vibrations, and touch. Of the phyla we have covered so far, their senses are the most developed.

Conchs can look at you like this:

(Source)

All cone snails are venomous, and some of the larger species are some of the most venomous animals in the world. Even though some species’ stings are fatal to humans, their sophisticated venom has saved lives through its use in neurological research.

Humans don’t just use mollusk meat and shells, but also luxuries like pearls, mother of pearl, Tyrian purple dye, and sea silk. As stated above, many species are now endangered due to human use, but some are farmed for their meat, pearls, and shells. The farming of bivalves is more ecologically-friendly than the farming of chordates as, rather than create waste, bivalves like mussels and oysters actually clean the water.

As filter-feeders, bivalves are natural water filters. A single 5.08 cm (2 inch) clam can filter up to 10-12 gallons of seawater a day. They can even filter microplastics out of polluted water.

The largest bivalve is the Giant Clam (Tridacna gigas) which can weigh over 200 kilograms (440 lb), measure as much as 120 cm (3.11 ft) across, and have an average lifespan in the wild of more than 100 years.

Cover your ears, kids. Terrestrial slugs, which are hermaphroditic, have some of the most intimate sex on the planet. A pair of slugs will suspend from a chord of mucus, heads down, and intertwine their bodies in a tight spiral. They will then evert their penuses and entwine them as well, exchanging sperm while hanging in midair. Slug porn, narrated by Sir David Attenborough, for your viewing pleasure.

[cutiepieloves131]

Sidereal Vedic Beauty Indicators Pt.3

~{🪻}~Vishakha: I have no words to describe how divine and picturesque these folks appear that have this placement. Vishaka's beauty is the type that will have you looking for hours or even have you fully captivated and nobody can change my mind about their heavenly and enthralling beauty! They look like porcelain dolls with a delicate effect on them! Vishaka is the "Cherubic Beauty", so these people facial features includes emphasized and broad mid-face, cheekbones which grow outwardly to a strong extent, large, and very defined cheek apples which are slightly low-set, foreheads that are generally medium to tall in height, with a more narrow and short jawline, eyes are most typically small to medium in size, and sometimes generally widely-spaced, and their gaze/natural expression can appear distant, detached, or cold, their noses are plump (wide in the bridge and tip), a horizontally-elongated cupid's bow, and small (often generally spacey) teeth.

Vishakha Women {Left to Right}: Dove Cameron, Cindy Kimberly, Jessica Lowndes

~{🪻}~Swati: Oh. My. Gosh! Ugh, I am so in love with people that have this nakshatra in their charts! Swati individuals beauty is so dazzling and jaw-dropping! Not only that but their eyes are so mesmerizing to many and myself appearing hypnotic due to Rahu's influence. Swati men and women definitely have me in choke hold, you just can't help but to fall in love with their otherworldly visuals! Also I've noticed that they look photogenic and glowing in photos but mostly attention is drawn to the eyes. Swati is known to be the "Bug Pretty", so their features contains protruding eyes with prominent eyelids and medium to close spacing, thin to medium, with a more de-emphasized upper lip, cheek bones that' are on the small side, but high and gently defined, with medium sized cheek apples, contrasting typically shorter, square (to rectangular) face shape, and sometimes with a prominent and pointed chin.

Swati Women {Left to Right}: Glow Princess, Lisa, Eva Marcille

~{🪻}~Ashwini: My oh my!~ Y'all these natives are so fine!~ Ashwini's beauty tends to be youthful and appealing! You'll always see an Ashwini person that never looks their age, or might mistake them for being a kid, teen, or in their early 20's! It's really amazing how they maintain their beauty even at old age, to me Ashwini folks strike me as the one to have their visuals praised by many online and in real life, especially in the Kpop industry. Ashwini represents the "Raven Pretty", their looks consist of full and large cheeks, which are rounded and prominent in the buccal area, face shape tends to be round or gently squared, full and soft fleshy lips that's very succulent, nose is also soft and widened, upturned, and with quite broad nostril wings and rounded nostrils, eyes are typically small to medium in size, almond-shaped, medium to wide-set, and neutral to upturned but have also light vibrant undertones having minimal eyelid spacing, brows that are long, and straight to lightly arched, and shiny hair in dark and ashy tones.

Ashwini Women {Left to Right}: Meika Woollard, Challan Trishann, India Eisley

~{🪻}~Ardra: I had to add another Rahu nakshatra in this post! Ardra beauty is incredibly splendiferous and fetching to me! I'm not joking like Ardra had to be on the list because they can't go unnoticed including their electrifying eyes that's a little protruding and medium to close-set, just like other Rahu nakshatras their eyes are a prominent feature on their face that can't be ignored. Their beauty is one of a kind and rare almost alien-like or dreamy to a lot of people! They tend to outwardly appear celestial in pictures, try brighter, sparkly, and bling filters on your phone, I promise you the results will turn out beautiful! Last not least Ardra natives beauty that's "Diamond Pretty", are made up of a pointy & pinched lower face resulting in a inverted triangle face or ovalish because of the ruling symbol which is the "tear drop", stronger mid-face area, emphasized cheekbones, long medium to large size nose and low-set like the yoni animal (female dog), and lips that are thin to medium.

Ardra Women {Left to Right}: Ariana Grande, Yodit Yemane, Kaya Scodelario

[tyunni]

🦢̼ࣳ 10:36ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ( you're just a warm body to hold , at night when i'm feeling all alone )

Genre (𝐈): heeseung x fem!reader , angst , exes 2 nothing. Warnings (𝐈𝐈): toxic relationship , y/n is overly obsessed with heeseung , mentions of somewhat making out? not properly proofread so there might be grammar mistakes ! Word Count (𝐈𝐈𝐈): 1k+;

𝒜uthors note: 2 may posts in a row is absolutely mind boggling! this is for @jlheon 's bea event, very fun to write! (i'm not quite sure if I'm past the due date, if i am just consider this a normal drabble! today is my last exam so i was busy all day yesterday ㅠㅠ)

Laying in your bed at 10:36 PM, your eyes brimmed to the top with hot tears that feel almost as heavy resting atop your bottom eyelashes as the feeling of your sinking heart is when you finally realize that love is, indeed, pain.

You think about him. He and his beautiful, round, chocolate eyes that once looked at you so curiously despite the bags under weighing them down, how his slanted nose turned red when the cold air hit his face, how soft he felt under your fingertips when you traced each and every one of his features. Back then you felt as though every dent and imperfection in your fingerprints fit perfectly against the texture of his skin, connecting like puzzle pieces every time you stopped the motion of your wrists and rested your palm against his cheek, your own curious eyes greedily taking in every little detail about the boy in front of you. His ravishing, charming smile that would make its way onto his face when he caught you admiring the shape of his lips was far too alluring for you to notice the slight twitch of his eyebrows, a saddened expression replacing the one of mischief and genuine desire of fun.

That’s all you were to him, fun. But to you, he was everything. The way he would smile against your skin, his big hands resting on the small of your back as his guidance towards his lap ended victoriously, with you situating yourself on his thighs and giggling at the ticklish feeling of his dark locks dancing against your sensitive neck. The thought of that, back when Heeseung was still yours, usually made your heart flutter and your knees go weak, but now that it’s nothing but a memory, the same butterflies that would roam around your stomach happily now gnaw at the enclosure and slowly climb up your throat, your palm swiftly slapping against your mouth to stop them from escaping. Dizziness and nausea came naturally after your mind would get flooded with the thoughts of Heeseung, you felt every symptom of food poisoning in the wake of swallowing Heeseung’s rotten heart with a proud smile on your face. You felt sick, love sick.

After an hour of laying in bed, trying to drown your sorrows with your own tears, you decide to call him. The past month you had had your ex, if you could even call him that, on dial almost every night, his warm embrace like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. Your shakey digits press against the numbers on your screen, and with just one click you were officially crawling right back to him. Heeseung decline your call, which means he’s on his way to you, again. You need him, again. He’ll come over and lull you to sleep with his soft touches, again. Next morning you’re going to wake up to an empty bed and pretend this never happened, again.

After a while you can hear the creaking of your door, indicating Heeseung has entered your room and has returned to you.

“y/n,” you feel your bed sink as he sits right beside your balled-up form, letting out a deep sigh at the all too familiar situation. “We can’t keep doing this, y/n.”

He had said those exact words the night before, and the night before that too, but this time it feels different. This time you know he’s right.

“I know…” your croaky voice seems to be only tugging at your own heartstrings this time, only you feel sorry for yourself. Sorry for the sad, depressing joke of a human you had become after corrupting and molding yourself into nothing but a heart that beats for another, lungs that breathe for someone else, and a mind that slaves away only thinking about one person.

Heeseung kicks his shoes off, climbing into your sheets, body facing you, “this is the last time, okay?” his finger finds its way under your chin, tilting it upwards for you to face him. You look into his eyes, you see nothing. It’s empty, he has lost all feelings for you, even the feeling of pity that you were so desperately clinging onto, disgusted with the shell of a person you had become in the process. You had lost him, completely this time.

“‘Kay…” you sigh, the breath you let out a mixture of relief and sadness as you sink into his arms and feel your skin bleed into his own for the last time. For once, you don’t melt under his touch, for the little warmth he secretly held for you has now completely evaporated and instead replaced itself with the ice-cold wall he had put up between you two despite your bodies remaining pressed up against each other.

He kisses the crown of your head, leaving a light peck on your forehead right after. “Goodnight, y/n…”

You look up at him slightly, The lovey-dovey nicknames he once called you had completely left his vocabulary tonight, instead your name fell past his once-red lips that seemed to have turned blue under the low illuminance of your nightlight. You feel alone, even with the one you desire right in front of you. His arms wrapped around you hold no weight to them, only your blanket keeping your body warm. Yet you still hold on. You clutch onto him dearly, sobbing into his chest, your hands that had the hem of his t-shirt balled up into a fist now roam around his back as you pull yourself impossibly closer to him, your lips find their way towards Heeseung’s to capture them for the last time, desperately swiping your tongue against his lower lip for him to let you in and dance his tongue against yours, but he doesn’t.

And now you know, you understand, that you’re holding onto a pale, ghostly, blue corpse.

You pull away from him after you feel his almost bony fingers gently stroke your hair. He shushes you, pulling you closer to him and humming a soft melody that can only be described as the requiem of your love, with no one but you to adorn yourself with the color black, cry and pray for it, and watch its casket get buried six feet underground.

©tyunni please don't copy, translate or repost any of my work!

[singsangseung]

Public

Hi besties! I am bringing you the first installment of my Valentine’s Day collab with @numberonejeonginstan! This idea has been festering in my head and i am a little too excited to bring it to fruition! 

Summary: Hard launching your relationship with Chan was always in the plan……but not this way

Warnings: taking of a sexual picture that gets uploaded on chan’s instagram, rough sex, multiple rounds, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex( doo not!), creampie, reader is a tease, Afab!reader, hair pulling, slightly traumatizing the band mates( you’ll see and I am sorry), mention of JYP( NOT SEXUAL AND AGAIN IM SORRY), Chan being on the phone with jyp while fucking you senseless, degradation, mention of spitting, dacryphilia 

!!MDNI!!, BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKES!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years, that is how long you and Chan have been together. Shockingly, you had managed to keep your relationship well hidden and away from the public eye. 

Two happy years of blissful memories and tear jerking earth shattering orgasms. Naturally, you loved being able to gatekeep a side of him that only you knew. The side of him where he pulled your hair and spat in your mouth calling you his “dirty little secret,” his “pretty little cumslut.” 

But, he also had a sweet side, when in the bedroom.  Some days, he would hold your hands, your ankles settled on his slender waist ( right above his plump juicy voluptuous ass) as he so gingerly, sensually, precisely rolled his hips into yours. Those nights you were his angel, his pretty girl. 

As much as you loved keeping your relationship a secret, you both knew that eventually you would post or release a statement about your long term relationship or one of you, probably Chan, would slip up and word would spread like wild fire.

That’s when you came up with the idea of a post, a simple captured image of the two of you that would announce your relationship to the public world. Dating an idol was hard, but you and Chan had lasted two years already, even through all the dating rumors— Chan and Jimin— and tours, promotions, schedules, late nights in the studios.

So, you ,being the ever gracious partner you are, mentioned it to Chan. “Baby, why don’t we just post something to announce us?” You perched, curled against his chest one night in bed. “A post? Where, my love?” He yawned out, placing a soft kiss to your hair.

“Your instagram. The caption doesn’t;t have to be anything magnificent, and neither does the picture. Just something to say ‘ hey i have a partner.” You mumbled, your manicured fingernails tracing shaped along his defined chest. 

“Baby, are you sure?” He felt uncertain. It was so public, and once it was on the internet, it could never be removed. It was permanent. Gazing up at him , you nodded, “yeah. It doesn’t have to be some super spectacular picture, channie. Just us, it doesn’t even have to fully show our faces,” you consoled, sensing that he wasn’t too keen on the idea. 

But ……he was a little too keen…..and had sinister ideas in his head

That’s what got you to where you are now. Chan had completely stripped you and himself of all layers of clothing except underwear. Your sleek black push up bra and an accompanying thong–that was ruined by how wet you were– and his black Calvin klein boxers–that were holding his painfully hard dick. 

“S-so wet chan, please,baby.” You mewled out, feeling yet another surge of wetness ooze from your cunt. “Oh? You're so wet and I haven't even done anything yet,doll?” He teased, with a seductive lilt in his voice and tilt of his head. 

Laying on the bed, you drew your eyes closed and hissed as you felt the slight chap and plushness of his lips sucking at the juncture of your jaw and neck. “A-ah Chan. Fuck, so good,” you whined, your hands finding purchase at the hairs resting at the base of hips neck, pulling and tugging.

Little did you know, Chan had secretly grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of him sucking your neck. The picture only showing the lower half of your face. 

That was what he was going to post

Chuckling, Chan bit his teeth into the skin, hard enough to draw a hickey to the surface of what was your paled skin. “Yeah? Feels so good, honey? Bet your poor cunt is so drippy and wet for me, huh?” All you could do was nod your head quickly, as he slithered his hand down the plane of your torso and into your thong. 

“Poor doll, so fucking wet. You want my fingers?” Chan chuckled, leaning his head in to suck another hickey onto your skin. “Yes, yes please. Hhhnnnngggggg-fuck- please.” The words fumbled out of your mouth. Rubbing his calloused fingers along the slit of your cunt, he pressed them against your clit causing your body to jerk and your head to roll back.

“Oh my fuuck! Chan chan please,” you had all but managed to whine out before he rubbed brazen harsh circles and finger 8s on your clit. “Please what, doll? I'm giving you my fingers.” He laughed,haughtily. He knew what he was doing and he also knew he could make you cum from just rubbing your clit. 

As good as his fingers on your clit felt, and trust me it was good, you needed more. Closing your eyes, your hips bucked up and you cried. “Please more more! Hhhnnnngggggg! Want them in me, please chan!” You cried, hot tears of pleasure rolling down the plump apples of your cheeks. 

Chan loved seeing you cry when he was making you feel so good. It was one of his favorite sights, something he could write a song about. Hell, he already did but it was going to be unreleased.

With a dark chuckle, his fingers let up on your clit and he used his other hand to grab onto the fabric of your thong and pull it down your thighs. “Fuck, doll. So fucking wet. Poor cunt is all drippy for me.” He groaned out, once he saw the clear sticky string of your nectar connecting itself to your thong.

How could you not be wet? You bit your lit harshly and spread your legs further, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Ah-ah! Fuck! So wet for you, channie!” You cried out, feeling his lips connect themselves with yours as he pushed 2 of his fingers into the wet walls of your cunt. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He breathed against your lips, slowly building a rhythm as he pumped his bulbous fingers into your cunt. “Pretty cunt sucked my fingers right in, doll.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shuddering, you let out a ragged breath and moan, to which he swallowed both. 

“Yes, yes. Hhhhnnnngggg feels so good, channie. Love your fingers!” You choked out, your breathing ragged as your chest rise and fell quickly. “Yeah?like my fingers, doll? Do they fill you up?” He snickered, the pace of his finger's quickening.

Soon enough, he was alternating between harsh pumps, slowed drags and just pressing on your g-spot with small vibrations. It was delicious, delirious and addictive. 

Going back to his fast harsh pumps, the palm of his hand was smacking against your clit with every push in. You were close, the coil of your orgasm tightening with every passing second. “Fuck fuck fuck! Channie! Close, close, ‘m gonna cum!” You sobbed, chest heaving and your legs fidgeting. 

Spitting into your mouth, chan fastened his pace and held your hips down. “Yeah? Wanna be a good little cumslut and soak my fucking fingers? Do it, do it so I can fuck you full of my big cock, doll.”

At that, the coil snapped and your vision went white. “Yeeeeeeesss! Hhhnngggg-fuck fuck fuck! Cumming!” You choked in broken sobs, your orgasm ripping through your body as you soaked his fingers. 

“Good girl, that's my good girl. Soaking my fingers like a dirty slut.” He cooed, venomously. Pulling his fingers out of your cunt, he pushed his boxers down as he hard and dripping cock sprang free. 

“All fours, doll.” He told you, which you somehow managed to hear. “Fuck, okay.” You whimpered, raising yourself into your limbs even though your arms collapsed, leaving only your ass in the air.

“Look at you. Offering that sweet cunt to me,” he chuckled, swiping his red and leaking cock head through your slit. “Please, channie. In me- need -” was all you managed to get out before he was pushing his cock in to the hilt. 

On the typical day, he would inch his cock into you. Sometimes even going as far as to count out each and every inch of his deliciously long, girthy, veiny cock. Hissing out, through bated breaths. “One inch in, doll. Stretching out so pretty around my big fucking cock.” The groans and grunts falling into the air, through his plump lips, into the room whose air smelt of pure unadulterated debauchery and sex. He’d inch another in, the grip your velvet walls on his girth almost suffocating.” Two in, doll. Fuck me.” Another inch, practically half way there. It felt never ending. But, when all 7 and half inches of his cock were sheathed in the warm, hot, suffocating,soft walls of your pussy it felt as if you didn’t know where you started and Chan ended.

At the moment, the base of his pelvis and his neatly trimmed pubic hairs were pressed so hotly smug against the crack of your ass. Slowly, he drew his hips back, eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull as a wet squelch sound echoed along the walls. As slowly as he withdrew his hips, he plunged his cock back into you. “Hnnnng! Oh my fuck! Channie!” You hiccuped, the breathing knocked out of your chest, at the force and precision of his thrust. 

“Fuuuuuuck, me. Pussy is so fucking wet, doll. What, does it get you hot and bothered all creamy in your pathetic little thong to know the world knows you belong to me?” He seethed, his breathing ragged. Picking up his pace, his hips snapped against yours, thus leaving a wet ring of  your arousal at the base of his cock. The most you were capable of doing was gripping the bed sheets around you and crying out in sheer, earth shattering pleasure. “Hnnnnngggg! A-ah-ah! Oh my god!” 

Yes. Yes it did, get you all hot, bothered and creamy to know the world was aware of your relationship—well not yet, at least.

“God can’t help you, doll. Now answer my question.”he barked, only continuing the brutal pummeling of his cock into the warm cavern that was your cunt. Smack. One sharp slap delivered to your ass cheeks, for each passing second you didn’t answer his question. “Answer the fucking question doll!”

Through your cries and hiccups, you nodded your head, feeling yourself get floaty. “Yes! Yes-fuck! Yes, I like knowing the world knows you’re mine and-“ another sharp thrust, his red mushroom cockhead bullying your g-spot. “Yes, it -fuuuuuck- it makes me hot and bothered and so fucking wet!”

While you lay there taking whatever Chan gave you, Chan reached to his bedside table to grab his phone. Opening the instagram app, he clicked the ‘make a new post’ button and threw the phone by your head. “I bet you fucking do, doll.” Snap, his pelvis collided against the swell of your ass, your ass cheeks rippling from the force. “Go ahead, post that fucking picture we took, doll. Let everyone know, I’m taken.” He sneered, a venomous laugh tumbling from his lips as his pace went from hard and brutal to deep and precise rolls. 

Incredulously, you peeked your eyes open, throwing a semi-horrified but mostly shocked face at him. “What!? Post the- hhhngg fuck I’m close- picture?! Are you fucking crazy, Chan!?” You argued, your eyes rolling back, as he punctuated his rolls to hit your g-spot with every punch in. Bending over your back, he sucked a hickey on the sweet spot behind your ear.  Chuckling, he panted, “yeah, crazy for you. Crazy in love with you crazy for this sweet fucking cunt.” He kissed the back of your neck, snapping his hips against yours.

Well. It’s his idea. 

Biting your lip, you moaned and took his phone into your hands, selecting the photo of you two. His plump luscious lips sucking the juncture of your neck and jaw. It was erotic, to say the leases, and definitely confirmed that Chan was in fact in a relationship. Swiping through the motions, you arched your ass into chan’s hips. “Fuck me, Chan. What should the caption be?”

02.14 

Valentine’s Day . This would be your third Valentine’s Day together. Each previous one being celebrated with lavish gifts, romantic candlelit dinners, making love

Which is a stark contrast to your current day. The feeling of chan’s hips ramming against yours, his mushroom cockhead leaking precum as he precisely hit your g-spot, the stretch of his cock in the tightness of your walls( no matter how many times you’d made love and fucked), the sounds of his groans and grunts. 

It was the polar opposite of your past shared valentines days. Chan could tell you were getting close. Man, he always knew. The way your warm wet walls would suffocate his cock in its vice like grip, leaking even more arousal to build at the thigh base of his cock wetting his pubic hair.  

Your breathing becomes shallow and broken with your desperate cries and begs and what he calls “pathetic princess pleas” for him to let you cum. Of course, he always did.

But, he had a little trick up his sleeve.

Sucking your earlobe into his mouth, he could feel every pulse and clench of your cunt as he bullied and abused your cunt with his ,magnificent, cock. “Hhhhhnnggggg!oh my fuuuuck! Chan Chan Chan,” you spilled, eyes clenching, the begs pouring from you like a faucet.

Cute. He thought it was cute. His own orgasm was creeping up on him, his balls full of hot thick cum waiting to be painting your walls. “I know, doll. But …..I need you to do one thing,for me,okay.” 

His rolls and thrusts and the gyrations of his hips never stopped, all the while. “Fuck-yes yes! Anything,channie! I’ll do anything, just let me cum please! I’m so close.” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as your throat burned from the amount of use it was going through.

“Post it,” he breathed into your ear. Post it? Post what— fuck. You had completely forgot about the post; that was to be uploaded on his instagram. That very instagram where he posted ‘boyfriend coded’ pictures that were taken by you. The instagram that had 7.1 MILLION followers— some of them being his own band members. 

The pleasure full abuse of his dick on your pussy had made you forget the post. The picture captioned a simple yet effective ‘02.14,’ “post it…..post it and I’ll give you my load, pump you full until you’re leaking and gasping for air, doll.” Chan slyly smiled down at your shaking form. Nodding, you shakily grabbed his phone, unlocking it with your Face ID; yes you had Face ID on his phone. 

With all the strength you could muster, your orgasm about to rip you to shreds and wreak havoc on your body, you hit the button. Posted. You cried, and curled your toes, hot cries leaving your body as you flashed him the screen, his post showing on the feed. 

Crying, your body seized and spammed, the hot white release pulling your body to the brink of reality. Damn was this orgasm strong. “Aaaaaggghhhhh! Hnnnggggg, fuck! I’m cumming fuck,Chan! Your vision was white, your release thoroughly coating the entirety of his cock. You came a lot. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of announcing your relationship in such an erotic way or the way Chan was fucking you so addicting lay well or both. 

Probably both.

“Fuck. Good fucking girl. Take my load, like the good doll you are.” He groaned, fully bottomed out as spurt after spurt and ribbon after ribbon of his viscous hot cum filled your walls. “Yeeaahhhhh. Taking your boyfriend’s cum after posting that picture. My good girl,he spat, a tinge of venom laced in his husky voice. 

Regaining your breathing, you collapsed on the bed, Chan collapsing by your side.”wow……..happy Valentine’s Day,baby.” He smiled, placing a kiss to your hair. “Wow, indeed. Happy Valentine’s Day,my channie.” You giggled, still out of breath. “Can’t believe we just hard launched our relationship,” you giggled out, suddenly remembering the post.

He chuckled and nodded, “I know..what do you think they’ll say.” Oh boy did people have a lot to say, you knew they would and you didn’t need to check the post. But, you hadn’t even checked instagram yet. His phone had been tossed somewhere on the bed when he came and yours was charging on your nightstand. That and the fact that your body had been practically turned into a pile of mush and goo with the way Chan was giving it to you. You were just too lazy. 

Pulling you into his side, he placed a delicate kiss on your temple. “Kinda feels good to be out about it, though.” That was true, you wouldn’t have to be so secretive, always hiding and being cautious and careful about being seen together in public. “Agreed, channie. It feels nice, but i know you and you’ll still be flirting with stays on the bubble. “You laughed, patting his toned chest with your hand. “What? I don’t flirt, with them.” 

Lies. Lies lies lies. Lies and he knows it. “Oh shut it, mister “teasing mrs.Bahng is what i live for,” You snorted, the recollection of his bubble messages playing through your head. 

The atmosphere had made a 180 degree turn, hearing the familiar ring of his phone. “Huh?Who could be calling me?” He mumbled, sitting up and perching himself on the foot of the bed, checking the caller ID.

JYP PD-nim

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Shitting bricks. Crying. Throwing up. That was how he felt. You could sense the change of his mood, by the way his eyebrows rose and he cleared his throat. Raising your eyebrows, you crawled until you were sitting behind him letting your cheek rest against his toned and muscular back. 

“Hi, JYP pd-nim.” He chuckled out nervously. Oh fuck……it was his boss. “Hello, Bang Chan. I saw your recent post.” He replied, dryly. Uh oh. “I-I’m so sorry, pd-him. I’m- I don’t know how to even explain it,” Chan stuttered out.

All of a sudden, a devilish idea popped in your head. Mess with him. Resting your cheek on his back, you slid your hands around his front and guided them around his chest. What were you doing, he thought. He was literally on the phone with his boss, for fucks sake. And you want to play games with him?

Dangerous. A dangerous game indeed. “Well, Bang Chan, I will have to release a formal statement and apology,” JYP sounded through the phone. His voice was calm but Chan's voice wouldn’t be. Slowly, you meticulously dragged your hands down to his softening cock. “I- i understand, pd-him.” He admonished, slightly choking on his saliva when your soft hands wrapped around his girth.

Muting the phone, he turned to you. “Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? I'm talking to my boss. Sit on your pretty ass and behave!” Chan barked at you, causing a gush of wetness to escape from your cunt, as you slowly jerked his cock.“ What if i don’t want to?” You giggled. Oh, you were in for it. RIP your pussy, again.

“Hello? Bang Chan are you still there? This is a very important conversation.” You could hear the words come from the speaker, your chin on chan’s shoulder as your lips sucked love bites into his tanned skin. “Yes! Yes, i’m here pd-nim.” He replied, swatting your thigh in warning.

A warning you did not heed, only fastening your hand causing a dribble of precum to spill from the slit of his now hard, again, cock.  Choking back a groan, he covered it with a cough and a “sorry, my throat is a little dry.” Another lie. Softly, you giggled and watched as his breathing hitched and he panicked. 

The conversation continued, as did your teasing. Your manicured fingernails leave scratches on his chest, as your body pressed against his back. He was going to snap, soon. “Listen to your boss, channie.” The whisper crossed his ears, as your lips were against the shell of his right ear.

Oh, he had enough of you and your games. Squishing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he turned to you and pressed you into the mattress. Once he muted the call, he pushed your legs into a mating press. “Wanna be a naughty doll and play games, huh? Well, I’ve had enough,’ and with that he was pushing his cock into your cunt and setting a brutal pace. 

Unmuting the call, JYP was still going on about what if dispatch put an article out, that some stay are young and impressionable, he should’ve talked to JYP about confirming your relationship to the public. 

At the moment, it was falling on Chan’s deaf ears.  he knew this was an important conversation which he should’ve been present in, paying attention because the post was suggestive and slightly erotic and could have big implications. Yes he should have been paying attention to what his boss  was saying.

But, how could he when your cunt was sucking him in and was so tight and snug around him, especially when he had fucked you not even 10 minutes ago? He couldn’t.  What was JYP going to do, anyways? Fire Chan? No, not in a million years. Put him on a hiatus? Shit, that’s mean he’d get to spend more time with you and fuck you more. He wouldn’t be complaining.

“Hello? Hello? Bang Chan?” He heard in one year, the wet squelches of his cock driving into your cunt playing through his other ear. With foxish eyes, you bit your lip. Moans and pants falling from your lips. “Aaaaah…hhhnnggg. So good, channie. More, give me more.”

If more was what you wanted then more was what you would get. Delivering a harsh thrust, his cock was fully bottomed out in you as he withdrew a couple inches. Pushing back in, his cockhead was fully pressing around your g-spot. He knew its location so well. “Yeah? Like that, doll?” He chuckled, his boss still spilling words about the post and blah blah blah.

In all honesty, Chan couldn’t care less. But you wanted to poke the bear some more. “Chan-ah. Pay attention to him,” you breathlessly giggled, feeling your toes curl. Your second orgasm of the night approaching. “Pay attention? How can I pay attention when your tight little pussy is sucking me in, doll?” He punctuated his question with a hard thrust.

“Ah! ah ah fuck,channie!” You moaned, reaching up to tug on his ebony hair. He had a point. If you were on the phone while he was balls deep inside you, you definitely wouldn’t have been able to pay attention. “See, doll? Can’t pay attention when you feel so good around me,” he chuckled out, his lush lips pressing against the swells of your breasts. 

“Chan-fuck! It’s your boss,” you helplessly cried, as he only continued to delve and plow his cock into you. “No, just focus on us, doll. I know you want to cum again. And i know you want me to fill you up again, yeah?” He chided, phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder. 

Rolling your eyes back, you nodded. Damn, he was right that you wanted him to fill you again and that you wanted to cum again. “I can feel you getting close. Your little cunt is all gushy and squeezing me, doll. Give me one more,baby.” He coerced, rolling his hips into your, your thighs perched high on his. “I know you want to,” and damn did you.

As close as you were, you needed just a touch more, a nudge, a push. Something, but you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Tongue. That was what you needed. “Moaning, you pulled Chan down for a hot kiss. Immediately, your tongues fought for dominance. 

That beloved second orgasm was getting closer and closer. “I can tell you want to cum. Come on baby, one more.” Chan breathed in your mouth. His lips swallowed each and every one of your cries, pants, hiccups, pleas. Tearfully, you cried into his mouth, hands pulling his hair. “Right there, I’m right there. Fuck! Hhhnnnggggg channie!” You pleaded, your muscles spamming and twitching again as your back arched from where it laid on your bed. 

“Let go for me doll. Soak me good and I’ll fill you up.” He bargained, the pace in his rolls and thrusts faltering. His own second orgasm on the brink of grasping his conscience. He couldn’t hold out much longer, so he reached a hand to rub quick calculated circles on your clit. 

 “I-hng! Fuuuuck! Yes yes, like that! I’m gonna cum!” You wailed, sobbing as your head tipped back and the band of your orgasm snapped. For the second time that night, your vision went white and your body was made mush. Pliable for whatever Chan wished.

But, all he wished was to cum in you, fill you with his seed. And that was exactly what he did. Pinching his eyes shut, his hips staggered before stilling against your own. “Yeeeeah, taking my cum again. Juuuust like that, squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned out,voice husky and raspy.  He came a lot, leaking out of your abused hole and onto the bedding below your now sweaty bodies. 

Those sheets were absolutely ruined, but it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last. 

Cynically, Chan unmuted the phone call and held his phone to you. “Want to say hi to JYP pd-nim, doll?”

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

tags; @straykeedz : @straykeedz-recs : @kaciidubs : @itsnotmydejavu : @linosssss : @hyunsvngs : @jinnie-ret : open <3 reblog, comment or dm us to be added <3

<3 reblog to show supoort<3

-please do not, repost, translate, copy, steal, paraphrase or claim my works , on any website- ©️SingSangSeung 2023

[inubaki]

Adam’s Pride Au

-story section by @rainforestakiie. Was kind enough to write this while helping my develop the design. Please check out their stuff. ——

Adam felt undeniably diminutive, a mere wisp of his former self. He was far smaller than he had ever been in his Edenic days and, naturally, infinitesimally tiny compared to his celestial form. He barely grazed the shoulder of his angelic self—how utterly disheartening! His new form seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. Although he was uncertain of the full extent of his new body's powers, his present concern was more with its appearance.

His face was heart-shaped, softly feminine, with a nose that curved gracefully like a bird’s beak but lacked its sharpness. His lips were plump and tender, featuring a subtle, secretive dimple at one corner. His skin was the colour of delicate ash on fresh snow, milky-white and sprinkled with grey freckles that cascaded down his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and back. These freckles meandered down to the lush, pastel green and blue fluff that framed his thighs and extended to his dainty, delicate hooves. Though he lacked the long, arrow-like tail of Lucifer, his tail resembled a delicate spring of blue feathers, starting close to his backside and arching upward like a plume worthy of Hera.

His hips were rounded and plush, akin to the fanciful Barbies Adam had once seen the young Winners chatter about. His arms were slender and cushioned with tender flesh, his fingers long and delicate, tipped with the same blue and green hues as if bruised. His hair was a cascade of soft brown tufts, interspersed with genuine blue and green feathers that sprouted from the sides of his head, two of them curving like horns. Resting serenely between them was a sweet, sinuous snake, coiling gently and floating above his head like an ethereal halo.

Adam's cheeks were rounder than he had ever imagined, blushing with a faint pink tint. He winced, pinching his right cheek and hissing in surprise. It was far more sensitive than he remembered and disturbingly reminiscent of Lucifer! His wings were long and plush, cascading down his back and sweeping along the ground behind him. He inspected them with curiosity; they weren’t gold but a mesmerising gradient of green and blue, interwoven with hints of orange.

He wondered if he could lift them—and if they could lift him. With a determined squint and an arched back, he watched as his wings began to unfurl, nearly causing him to have a heart attack. They didn’t resemble typical wings but rather the majestic plumes of a peacock, stretching around him and fluttering softly. The eyes embedded in the feathers shimmered in gold, purple, and orange, framed by gentle greens and blues, echoing the feathers sprouting from his hair.

Adam's eyes widened in shock as he gazed at his reflection.

“What the fuck am I?” he exclaimed, his voice echoing with disbelief.

A soft gasp fluttered from behind him, drawing his attention. Adam turned slowly, his gaze squinting against the soft, shadowed light of the hotel room.

There, standing in the doorway, was Lucifer, eyes wide and mouth agape in astonishment. “You’re… beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and admiration.

Adam's heart sank.

Fuck!

He’s even shorter than fucking Lucifer?! The pint-sized King of Hell?! How did this fucking happen?!

———

The concept idea was what if Adam’s sinner punishment was to look like Lucifer.

The face of everything he thought as evil and through him excused his own horrid deeds. All that he took pride in and suffered through vanity is stripped away. Leaving a shorter, more ‘ delicate’, even feminine version of himself. He retains his wings but they barely hold the strength to lift himself. His halo becomes a snake, one he later names after constantly trying to chase off. (Though being separated, gives him migraines.). Adam keeps those hips though! Cause damn boy!

Watercolor pencils and @m-d-tr1 was kind enough to color one as well. But all drawn by me. I wanted to test out the colored design.

[engeorged]

Awakenings I

A series of short stories describing someone’s gainer or feeder awakening. 7 days and 7 stories. Reblog and share and if you hear yourself in them let me know!!

The Sculptor

Oliver had always prided himself on his artistic vision. A misunderstood, bohemian soul, he spent his days in his cluttered studio, surrounded by half-finished sculptures, the smell of clay and paint always in the air. His life was a blend of carefree creativity and chaotic energy, reflected in his abstract sculptures—pieces that were bold, unconventional, and, unfortunately, not selling.

For a while, Oliver managed to scrape by, doing odd jobs and selling the occasional piece. But as months went on, it became clear that his dream of being entirely self-sufficient through his art alone was slipping away. The reality was harsh—his abstract works weren’t drawing in buyers, and bills were piling up. Reluctantly, he turned to something he’d never wanted to do: sculpting people for money.

Etsy became his lifeline. Oliver’s profile offered custom sculptures—tasteful, realistic, but still with that touch of his artistic flair. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but the commissions paid the rent. The clients came and went, each one wanting a perfect replica of themselves or a loved one. But nearly all of them had the same request: “Make me look a little better,” they’d say. A trimmer waist here, more defined muscles there. Everyone wanted an idealised version of themselves, a polished image they could display with pride.

Oliver found it frustrating, even soul-crushing at times. He longed to sculpt what was real, what was true, not some airbrushed fantasy.

Then Ethan walked in.

Ethan was different from Oliver’s usual clients. He was in his early thirties, broad-shouldered and fit, but with a small but rounded belly that was impossible to miss. As Ethan stepped into the studio, Oliver noticed how the fabric of his shirt stretched slightly over the curve of his stomach, how it moved subtly as he breathed.

Ethan had seen Oliver’s ad and wanted a sculpture of himself—“as I am now,” he said with a laugh, patting his belly. Oliver was taken aback; here was someone who didn’t want to be trimmed or perfected, but simply wanted to be captured as he was, without shame or pretence. The request was so unusual, so refreshing, that Oliver agreed almost immediately.

They began the process right away. Ethan stood shirtless in the centre of the studio, the afternoon light streaming in through the large windows, casting shadows over the soft curves of his body. Oliver approached the block of clay, hands ready, and began to mould. His fingers pressed into the cool, pliable material, shaping and sculpting, bringing Ethan’s body to life in the clay.

As Oliver’s hands moved over the clay, something strange began to happen. He found himself drawn to the curve of Ethan’s belly, the way it gently protruded, firm yet soft. His fingers lingered there longer than necessary, shaping and reshaping the roundness with a careful touch. The more he worked, the more he found himself fascinated by it.

Days passed, and Oliver found himself looking forward to Ethan’s sessions. The casual conversations they shared were pleasant, but Oliver’s mind was increasingly preoccupied with his body, with the way it filled out Ethan’s frame in such a natural, almost mesmerising way. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt something stirring inside him—a kind of attraction he hadn’t anticipated, an awakening of desires he’d never explored before.

It wasn’t just the way Ethan looked, though that was part of it. It was how comfortable he seemed in his own skin, how he embraced his body as it was. This confidence, this ease, captivated Oliver, and as he sculpted, he found himself slowing down the sculpting to spend more time with him.

One night, unable to sleep, Oliver found himself sneaking down to his studio. The unfinished sculpture stood in the centre, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. Oliver’s eyes were drawn immediately to the belly, the way it jutted out just slightly more than it had in real life.

His hands itched to touch it, to mould it further. He moved closer, his fingers tracing the contours of the clay, feeling the smoothness, the subtle curves. It felt almost forbidden, this desire to make Ethan’s belly bigger, more exaggerated, but Oliver couldn’t resist. There was something intensely satisfying about adding more clay, seeing the belly swell in size under his hands.

He worked in a trance-like state, his breath quickening as the belly grew larger and larger. Each addition of clay brought a new wave of excitement, a thrill that he hadn’t felt in years. This was more than just sculpting—this was discovery, an exploration of something deep within himself that he’d never acknowledged before.

When he finally stepped back to admire his work, the sculpture was different—Ethan’s belly was now much larger, rounder, almost impossibly so. The rest of the figure remained true to life, but the belly had taken on a life of its own, dominating the sculpture in a way that was both surreal and intensely alluring.

Oliver stood there, breathing heavily, his mind racing with thoughts and feelings he couldn’t quite understand. What had he done? And more importantly, why did it feel so right? Why did it feel like he’d finally tapped into something real, something that resonated with him on a level he’d never reached before?

As he stared at the sculpture, the answer began to form in his mind. This wasn’t just about Ethan or his belly. It was about Oliver, about the desires he’d suppressed, the parts of himself he’d never fully explored. Something had awakened in him, a new passion, a new direction for his art and his life.

And as he looked at the oversized, rounded belly on the sculpture, Oliver knew he couldn’t go back to the way things were. This was his truth now, and he was ready to embrace it fully.

For the rest of my stories click here

[dasnercaret]

i had so much fun drawing this guy it's unreal. please observe siffrin from @protectorcraft's fic a bell chimes somewhere!! what a dude. what a lad. what a weirdo (positive)

some more details under the cut! (spoilers for isat and the fic under the cut as well!)

i imagine that since siffrin's creachur form has something to do with wish craft, it wasn't too far-fetched to say that his eye would be colored too, especially given how the sky kid focused on it. however since this isn't his wish to stay with his family, i thought it would be nice to make it a different color... something representing the universe........ Sky Blue It Is

it helps that i am also obsessed with shades of sky blue AND the line from the fic that the sky kid said that it had "everything" in its eyes

i didn't illustrate it, but i think it would be extra cool if creachur siff's eye color changed as per time of day. just because. he's like the eye color version of that one 'do you love the color of the sky' post

i like to imagine that siffrin still has a strange Light in his eyes even when in his human disguise. can't remember if the fic mentions it or not but he has a sky blue highlight in those eyes now in my design. because i can :3

speaking of human disguise, i like to think that even with his transformation he's still not that subtle. mirabelle picks up immediately that he's weird but also that he's friendly and VERY good at survival, and so isn't too bothered by his... quirks. this might end up being canon to the fic honestly but i just wanted to trot out my two cents regardless while i'm here

i'm hoping i managed to communicate some of that off-putting nature in his face! especially his eyes. they're almost unnaturally gray aside from that strange highlight

i originally wanted to make his eyes even weirder but then i thought that being Too Weird would kind of defeat the point, and the point of this is that siffrin kind of has to pass as a normal human which means no glowing pupils, unfortunately. i can totally Give Him Pupils though. gotta get that subtle horror/ creepiness in :3

he gets glowing pupils / tapetum lucidum in the dark though. or when he's angry (see top left). as a treat

didn't draw his in between state (between human and dragon) but i imagine it looks kinda fucked up ! his horn and ears grow, his tail gets longer, teeth get sharper, his whole face sort of. Distorts. in a distinctly uncanny valley way. the blue highlight starts bleeding into his eyes (and his pupils start transforming from round to slit to star-shaped)

continuing, this in-between form in my head is sorta like the dragonkin soldiers from elden ring, just in terms of 'this is a weird hybrid of human and dragon and it just Doesn't Work'. like human, cool, dragon, cool, in between? fucked

siffrin is INSANELY floofy. even with the fact that he hasn't bathed in ages and his floof is all matted and tangled from lack of care he's still crazy soft. i think his fur also has similar insulating properties to his cloak so he never overheats or gets too cold. always the Perfect Temperature

if i were more confident in my skills (and which way this fic is going to end up going) i would have drawn a big hero 6 style moment where everyone is just lying with their face buried in siffrin's fur, like how everyone lays on warm marshmellow baymax.

i originally meant for siffrin to be more cursed and body-horror-y, and then i was looking at the fic descriptions for him (as of chapter 7, so there may be more detail later that i didn't get to see as of writing this) and was like 'wait... he kind of looks like the dragons from BOTW doesn't he' and then the inherent majesty kind of. just. Happened.

i like the fact that he looks kind of majestic though! i think it's a good representation of siffrin's terrible body image issues in this fic where honestly he looks awesome but he just doesn't realize it because, hello negative self-worth

didn't color the last doodles of human siff at the top left. apologies. i got sleeby

in another life mirabelle rides his dragon form into battle and it is exactly as awesome as it looks like it would be

kind of shoehorned my own oc into here as well but i SWEAR aleph is so absurdly similar to this design it's actually kind of hilarious. if i had a nickel for the number of space dragon designs i've made i'd have two, which isn't a lot but

and the full page of doodles! just cause

[starry-bi-sky]

Ugh im writing this on mobile but i’ve been thinking about it nonstop for an hour and I’m just- mmmmm thinking about Clone Danny and his wardrobe choice as Phantom. Cuz like, he doesn’t have any powers, right? He has no built-in secret identity and suit that he can change into in a flash of blinding circular light. If a ghost shows up he’s just got what he’s got on, and whatever he has in his bag.

And I’m just. I have a lot of thoughts about him and his canon self, thoughts that i dont think i can all fit on my phone and im. Thinking about the dichotomy between him and his canon counterpart. From an in-universe perspective, the halfa Danny Phantom looks remarkably human-like. Especially compared to the ghosts he fights, all of whom are unnatural colors, shapes, and sizes. From flaming hair to glowing eyes and pointed claws, there’s nothing about them that doesn’t scream “ghost!” “Inhuman!” “Unnatural!”

And then you look at Danny Phantom, the ghost boy fighting them. And he just… looks like a glowing human boy. The only unnatural thing about him is his white hair and green eyes - and green eyes is a natural human color. Maybe not the shade it’s in, but it occurs in human genetics. He’s about as close to human as he can get.

Think about that from an in-universe perspective, and then think about it with the idea that ghosts take pride in their ‘ghostly’ look. They pride themselves on looking scary; unnatural; inhuman. It’s a showcase of being unique, of their own individuality, of their interests and wants. Looking ‘scary’ is part of ghost culture, and if not scary, then unique and ‘inhuman’. They don’t want to fit in, they want to stand out.

And you look at Danny Phantom, as his canon self without any of the fanon customizations, and he’s none of that. He’s about as human-looking as a ghost can get. He’s got human-like skin, hell he’s even tanner than he is as a human! His hair is normal, his eyes are green but normal, his hands? Soft and round, not a claw in sight, and his teeth are blunt and ears are round.

His suit is all black, it doesn’t even tell you anything about him other than he probably died in a lab accident, and he looks like he’s straight out of a b-rate comic book. There’s no story to tell about him, he’s a book with the pages all blacked out in ink.

His name, if you take it as him only calling himself “Phantom” isn’t even all that unique. It’s a generic ghost term that you can find by googling ‘ghost’ and looking at its synonyms.

And then look at his behavior: yeah he fights ghosts, and fighting is all about ghost behavior. Its one of their social activities- but its clear from Phantom that he’s not being social. He’s being aggressive, he’s doing it for the sake of the living (which while fair, doesn’t make him look good in the context of everything else). Then he comes into the ghost zone, he doesn’t do much to integrate himself into the culture, and yeah he makes allies but it still doesn’t feel enough. He’s not participating in anything, he’s alienating himself.

All in all, Phantom looks like a ghost trying to pretend he’s human, that he’s still alive. And for a ghost culture that prides itself on not being alive? It’s insulting.

And then let’s circle back around to that human thing, but from a different angle. Probably one that’s more mindset than outside looking in. But Danny’s alienated by the rest of the town for ages despite helping them. And while him looking human likely has to do with his own mindset of viewing himself as “living, but with ghost powers” and thus reflects back as a ghost, it also makes it look like he’s trying to fit in with the humans.

“I am not a ghost” he says, with his human skin and blunt teeth. “I am human like you, see? See? I look like you.”

He’s making himself look approachable, friendly. ‘You can trust me, I’m not a ghost. I’m not like them. I’m not scary. I look just like you. I’m different.’ He looks about as harmless as a human child could be. He’s trying to be relatable. And in turn he’s giving his fellow ghosts a cold shoulder - i’m not like you, i’m better. I’m different. I’m not ghost. I may be dead, but I’m no ghost.

Danny is trying to tie his ghost self in with the living as much as possible - he wants them to think he’s almost human. The same way he wants to think that himself. He’s distancing himself from his ghost half and the ghostly qualities the others have. Whether intentional or not, he’s doing it.

He shows his face and goes ‘see? See? I’m just like you.’

And then lets look at clone Danny, mister not-a-halfa. Who doesn’t have his canon offensive capabilities, who only has his ghost sense and the ability to hit ghosts without gear, his scary eyes and pointed ears, and the ability to see weaker ghosts not visible to the mortal eye.

He has no ghost form, no powers. And yet the first time he goes out as Phantom, he wears a mask that looks like a skull. Instead of distancing himself from ghosts, he’s distancing himself from humans. And at first it stems from the need to be unrecognizable, the last thing he wants is for his parents to find out that he’s ghost hunting. To do that, he needs to hide his face. That’s the first step.

The next step is to act in such a way that people couldn’t possibly tie him back to Danny Fenton. He’s not distancing himself from ghosts, he’s distancing himself from humans. To do that, he acts inhuman. He wears his mask and wears baggy, shapeless clothes - his hoodie and his pants - and he learns how to act unsettling. His eyes glow green, unnatural and shining through his sunken-in, skull-like mask. But it’s not enough on its own. He must do more.

He wants to be the thing someone sees at night and turns the other way. See me and run, he says, crouched on all fours and crawling across a beam like a monster you see in a movie. Twisting his body in unnatural, fluid ways, like he’s not quite sure how having only four limbs work.

Run. He says, dead green eyes glowing through his mask, piercing through black night from the rooftop. I am wild thing. Come no closer, look no closer. I am not like you. I am not your friend. I bite. Run.

You cannot see my face. This is my face, I am not alive. I am not like you. I am an animal about to pounce.

He doesn’t want people to think he’s human, he doesn’t want them to think he’s anywhere close to it. Anything to prevent his parents from figuring out its him.

And the thing is, he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to appear ghost-like or inhuman to keep his identity safe, wearing a mask and wearing unidentifiable clothes is enough. But he’s choosing to act ghost-like; unsettling; scary.

And in doing so, he unintentionally participates in ghost culture. And while his clothes are not anything unique, or outstanding, his mask is. His clothes don’t tell anything about him, but that’s okay.

Imagine meeting this boy from a ghost perspective. This annoying, fleshy human boy who jumps into fights to stop you and catch you. You’ve heard stories of human ghost hunters, you know there are hunters on the other side. You have heard the horror stories, you have seen the scars.

And then this boy catches you. This human, fleshy boy who yells quips at you, who puns and insults you, who wears an unsettling mask and acts ghosty. He catches you, and you think you will be the next one on the chopping board.

And then you end up in the ghost zone, untouched. Unharmed. And you tell someone about it. You were caught and released by a human child who feels touched by death. And then you hear that the ones who’d been caught were freed by a fleshy human boy who was touched by death, and a boy who they call “Phantom”.

And, isn’t that the name of the child you fought?

And he talks to you, but then he’s in the daytime. There are living around. He doesn’t speak to them - he ignores them outright. He keeps his distance, he stays away. If he talks, it’s with his hands. They will not hear his voice.

I may be alive but I am no human.

And its just — ????? So good to think about. I’ll reblog later with more thoughts when I have my laptop, but god i just needed to get that out there.

[phantomyre]

It is time... to obsessively hyper analyze Vincent. Come on. You knew it was coming.

So first off, while there isn't a lot to glean per se, there are a few interesting design choices that I'd like to go over. One thing that I was surprised about is the complete lack of round shapes/edges. Vincent looks overall a lot more 'sharp', 'edgy', whatever you want to term it. Take his buckles for example. The round edges have been replaced by sharp edges. Artistically speaking, these design choices are meant to depict the character's personality. For example, if you have a soft character, you use soft colors, soft edges, round shapes, etc. If you want a more harsh character, you give them dark or vivid colors, lots of squares, triangles, etc. In Vincent's case, they've virtually removed all of the round/soft edges he always used to have. We will delve further into this as we scan down his body *cough*. Edit: Forgot to point out that he has double the spokes on his buckles, so instead of 4 prominent spokes, he now has 8, which is the symbol of Chaos.

Anyways.... speaking of Chaos.

Continuing to analyze his upper body, the most obvious are his eyes (or single eye). It's hard to tell, but judging by the few clips we've seen along with the still images, it looks as though only his left eye is glowing. Nevertheless, he does have the Chaos inner-glow. While he's always had a touch of yellow/orange in his eyes, it looked more like natural eye reflection rather than an actual glow. This is likely the change the dev team hinted at during an earlier interview. His pupils are also notably very small compared to all of the other characters with the exception of Sephiroth's cat-eye slits. Overall, they've made it a point to give Vincent predatory eye(s) this time around, leaning more heavily into the fact that he is no longer fully human. The material that makes up Vincent's cape and headband seem to be of slightly different material, and the colors are even slightly different. His headband looks to be made of a very thin cloth of fine thread. His cloak, though also seemingly thin and light, is only slightly thicker. His cloak looks to be made of either felt or very fine linen which looks to be heavily worn out (of course). Also, Vincent seems to have snake-skin on his gun-wielding arm which I've only seen the Turks and Sephiroth wear. In general, this luxury material seems to only be worn by those connected to Shinra. Thus, it is likely this is meant to coincide with Vincent's past as a Turk. But in terms of his role as Turk, I will get to that a little later.

I think we can all agree that the weapon he is currently wielding is Quicksilver. It would make sense that he would start off with the same weapon he has in OG, though I and many others were surprised he wasn't wielding his most iconic weapon, Cerberus. While it isn't confirmed, and with the inclusion of many DoC elements, this makes me think that we could get an origins story for how Vincent obtained Cerberus in the first place. We are getting an origins story for Sephiroth's Masamune in Ever Crisis, and we already know the Bustersword's origins, so it's not out of the question. (And there are a lot of parallels to be drawn between Cloud, Sephiroth, and Vincent). Side note: I didn't write this in the graph but you can also see Vincent's left eye glowing through his bangs yet again even from such a distance. Natural white room bounce-light wouldn't have this affect on normal eyes. Rebirth Vincent seems to be sporting his OG button-top which is a design that we haven't seen since OG. It too has a little bit of snake-skin accents. A few other not so important changes are the alterations of his buckles, and the fact that it looks to be more obvious that he is wearing a two-piece set instead of a single piece jumper. Makes it much easier to remove, am I right?

Going down to those luscious DoC hips, some belts are shifted around or missing, but then we have the thigh guard which was responsible for giving Vincent that unusually thick hip appearance. However, he is still sporting that gorgeous slutty tiny waist we all love from DoC. Thank you, Squeenix. The armor on his side is an odd choice, though more than likely it is meant to protect those birthing hips from that extra dangerous looking set of claws--- which I would like to remind is also lacking in round edges. Yet again, all of the round shapes/edges have been replaced by sharp ones. Take the knuckles for example. I will miss his AC/DoC claw. It was less of a bitch to draw. The gauntlet looks to serve not only for offense but for defense as well. It is heavily armored for impact, and as we will see going down the rest of his body, heavy protection and sharp edges continue to be a theme for his new Rebirth look.

Once again, we can see how thin and light the material is on his cloak. It is in contrast to his very elaborate and possibly expensive gear/suit. His cloak and headband seem to be the only things that clashes with the rest of his gear in terms of quality and practicality. While there are signs of use on his armor, it pales in comparison to the possible age and wear of his cloak. As a matter of fact, it almost looks like it is about to fall apart... like it was hand-made years ago. Very different from the heavy material we see in AC and DoC. And then of course there are the sabatons/greaves. While I cannot pin-point it, his armor design seems reminiscent of the Ancients/Minerva for some reason. That aside, the heavily layered armor makes it seem like he will be doing a lot more damage with his claw and legs going forward, on top of being heavily protected. The design on his shin reminded me of an army symbol, but that's neither here nor there. ....And I'm so happy they kept his tiny ankles. In general, Vincent's Rebirth design seems to lean into a Vincent that is much more guarded, 'edgy', and ultimately a lot more reserved, albeit self-reliant. We've seen as much in his room where it doesn't appear that he has only been moping in a coffin all these years. What's more---

--He points a gun at Cloud and threatens the group. This did not happen in OG. Vincent appears to be even more distrusting and hostile this time around. This yet again is depicted in how he is dressed in the heavy armor and ample sharp edges.

And what's with a vending machine and protorelic(?) dispenser in his mancave? Vincent boss fight, maybe? Please? Sure seems like Vincent hasn't been lacking anything... But back to Vincent being a lot more distrusting this time.

Unless this is merely for the audience and new FF7 fans who know nothing of his character, this implies that Vincent doesn't divulge his connection to the Turks and instead calls himself "Security" guard. And not only that, it's spoken as if it's current tense. Not past tense. So yet again, if Vincent is indeed avoiding the term Turk and doesn't even tell Cloud and Co that he used to work for Shinra, this adds to the idea that his level of distrust is much higher than before. At this point, it wouldn't surprise me if joins the party much later, even after learning who Cloud's foe is. And since his connection to Sephiroth aka Lucrecia/Hojo is the mystery factor, he may not even divulge this to Cloud and Co when they first meet until much later. Either way, Vincent might actually prove to be a much tougher egg to crack this time around, along with more layers to uncover. (take that last phrase however you'd like)

[evangelinesbible]

THE ASTROLOGICAL BEAUTY OF…

SYDNEY “EVANGELINE” MYKAH

FAREWELL POST

In celebration of 3,000 followers and this being my last Astro tumblr post. Loved all of the support and the crazy ass times we had 😭🫶🏽

VIRGO RISING

I am a Virgo rising. Although a lot of you guessed Capricorn and Scorpio, and there’s some explainations to that, I’m a pure Virgo rising. Virgo risings tend to have a lot of fullness to them. Full lips, eyebrows, and cheeks. They have a seemingly innocent look to them which they get because of their eyes. They tend to have round almost owl like eyes with a bit of a feline flare. With their foreheads/top of their heads being very prominent and there chins to be typically very small in comparison. Virgo risings tend to have angular faces but they still appear soft and delicate. They tend to have a very attentive and focused look to them and their faces tend to be even/symmetrical.

VIRGO JUPITER 1H

Jupiter 1H people tend to have prominent thighs and/or a very attractive butt but it can honestly expand any part of the the body since Jupiter naturally rules over expansion period. And Virgo Jupiter’s tend to have a very attractive waist line/stomach.

TAURUS VENUS 9H

Taurus is ruled by Venus so having it be my Venus signs means that I have a natural earthy and Venusian look to me. (That and I’m a Venusian) Taurus Venus people typically are seen as conventionally attractive. I would say all earth afflicted venues (house or sign) have faces that are so naturally beautiful, literally just Mother Nature vibes. Venus in the 9H can mean that my legs are very attractive as well. Everybody online thinks I’m 5’7 and up but I’m actually 5’3 🚶🏽‍♀️ In some pictures I appear taller than I actually am.

VENUS - JUPITER

(Bestie @d4rkpluto gave me these)

I specifically have Venus trine Jupiter which can make someone have a lot of natural beauty/blessed with beauty. People with this placement can have beautiful eyes/large eyes, attractive/long legs and can make some rn look like a fairy or even an elf lol

ASC - MOON

Moon - ASC people have something very soft about them I’m their face. And usually it’s their skin that gives off this soft look because it appears shiny/ dewy. Especially in a bare face. These people can have plump faces or cheeks as well. (I for sure did when I was younger)

ASC - VENUS

Of course Venus touching the asc will give someone some sort of beauty that the general public find very attractive. People with prominent Venus can have a pouty look to them and symmetrical faces.

ASC - MARS

This placement can indicate someone being seen as sexy and/or active. Might have an angled and shape looking face or body. Similar to Pluto these people have a seductive stare but it can be more aggressive or dominating. Striking or laser eye like eye contact. These people can look very striking and attractive in more “masculine” apparel.

ASC - SATURN

Typically these people age very well. They tend to be late bloomers and grow more into their faces with age. Face shape/ structure is very prominent, especially as they get older and they tend to be on the skinnier side most of time.

ASC - PLUTO

People with this aspect tend to have a bit of seductiveness and darkness to their appearance. Literally and figuratively, since I think most of these people who have brown eyes are a really dark shade. Naturally dark features also incidental hair. They have a heavy lidded almost bedroom eye stare to them.

VIRGO BELLA CONJ. ASC 1H

Having the asteroid that simply means beautiful conj. the ASC/ in the 1H can make someone be perceived as very beautiful. Virgo Bellas tend to look younger than they appear. This will accentuate a more innocent look. Since Virgo rules over the stomach/ waist bella Virgos might have an attractive stomach/waist

NYMPHE CONJ. SUN 7H

Very flirty and charming stare with this one. Nymphe rules over youth so having it conj. a personal planet can indicate being blessed with a youthful look in your older years. It being conj. Sun can mean that I’ll have a glow/shine to me even in old age

ARIES APHRODITE - ASC 9H

Having Aries touch the ASC can obviously make the native have some sort of aphrodisiac look to them. A mixture between beauty and seduction in the face. Aries Aphrodite trines my ASC so the sharp sensuality is softened. Aries Aphrodite people tend to look their best when they’re wearing warm colors reminiscent of a fire and wearing bold, and more “masculine” fashions. 9H Aphrodite can give someone an attractive curvy or thick figure around the thigh area.

And that was the Astrological Beauty of Me,

Sydney Evangeline Mykah 💋

Big ole X’s and O’s to my astrological babes and my best friends on here and irl 🫶🏽 a giant thanks to anyones who’s supported, followed, liked and shared my astrology content it means the world. Thank you for being in this chapter, on to the next one with @sydneymykah

💜����💜🩷

- ⚜️💫⚜️

[owlespresso]

bedtime stories I. Dan Heng. tags: fluff, literally sleeping together thank you to @yinyuedijun for peer reviewing this as an expert in the dan heng field. please go check out her work including 风月 | wind, moon

Puddles of artificial light glisten off the tiles which surround Dan Heng’s futon—or the mess of a thing it’s become.

Pillows and blankets bundle around him as he splays out on his stomach, tablet held in one hand, chin cradled in the other. He’s visibly rumpled, messy hair and worn expression at odds with the otherworldly beauty. He’s slipped off his mortal guide like a well-worn robe, tail snaking out onto the bedding from underneath a pillow that’s landed on the small of his back.

The robe he’s actually wearing has been shrugged off his shoulders, pale flesh exposed to your wandering gaze. Inky dark strands of past to expose the back of his neck, where healing bruises in the shape of your mouth mar his otherwise flawless skin. You only feel a little bad when you press your cold hand to his nape. 

He jumps, and glares. To offer him anything other than a smug little smile would be a lie.

“You look so sleepy,” you coo.

“I think I am plenty awake now,” he grouses, chiding. He lifts the duvet for you to climb under. anyways. 

“Don’t be mad at me—you’re just so sexy. I can’t keep my hands off of you,” you wheedle, settling against his side like an oversized cat. He runs a little cool, but you find it to be yet another charm point on the endless list. He smells good, too, recently out of the shower. You shamelessly press your face into his flank, right beneath his armpit, and nestle your cheek into the velvety down of his robe.

One of your greedy hands reaches over his thin waist to squeeze. You inhale him without remorse, practically purring as your fingers toy with the material of his robe, squeezing and rubbing the spot just above his hip. He huffs, but the sound is shaky, and he wraps an arm around you regardless, cradling you tight to him.

This, naturally, delights you to no end. There is no better place to be than hoarded close, huddled tight to him like a chick hidden beneath mother’s feathers. 

Unfortunately, even with your eyes closed, you can still detect the intrusive glow of the his screen. Peeking an eye open, ou see the artificial seaform light wobbling on the ceiling tile.

“Dan Heng,” you groan. It’s hell to extricate yourself from your cocoon, but you brave it, hefting yourself up on an elbow, shifting from your side to your stomach. Your touch glides up the smooth flesh of his forearm, and your forehead knocks into his shoulder.

“Just another minute, and then I will be done.” he promises.

“That’s what you said an hour ago, baby,” you murmur, thumb rubbing at the inside of his wrist. “All that blue light is bad for your eyes.”

Dan Heng, you know, is usually quite conscious of his health. Even should he remain awake through the graveyard hours, he’s sure to get an adequate amount of rest. Avoiding sleep, throwing himself into his research—it all points towards a single, dreadful conclusion. Something is bothering him, and he’s distracting himself in the most constructive way he knows how. 

And you could call him on it, but accusations have no place in his bed, among the soft duvets and the comforters he’s gradually filled the space with ever since the first night you slept together.

“Talk to me,” you murmur into his forearm, right beneath the round of his shoulder. You gently squeeze his wrist, urging it away from the tablet. 

Dan Heng considers you, but his eyes have gone soft in a way that lets you know you have won. A silent thrill of victory rushes through you when he powers it off and places it on the nearest counter, rearing out of his nest to do so, stood on his knees. It’s for only a moment, but he ducks back inside like a sunscorched wanderer dives for the shade. He wraps you both in pale blue and plush pillows, eager arms dragging you to his chest. You go willingly, happily, pressed to his bosom. Beneath you, his weary heart thrums a traveler’s beat. His tail, cool and gentle to the touch, twines around your thigh, then your calf.

Hands cramped from a long day of endless scrolling and searching settle, in the end, on dip of your lower back. 

“So,” you begin, once all of his fiddling and fussing has come to an end. “Have you been in the archives all day?”

“March and Caelus invited me to the dining car for lunch. I stretched my legs—and my hands every hour, before you ask.”

“Your hands are almost as important to you as they are to me, so you must take care of them well,” you declare solemnly, turning your head to admire his fine features. He gives a halfhearted eyeroll.

“I’m sure,” he says, curling his fingers against your back. He gazes down at you through half-lidded eyes, pale features washed by the starlight, illuminated by pale neon and blinking light. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you eat well today?” he asks, softer this time. “You forgot lunch yesterday,” he reminds you pointedly. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, eyes narrowing. “A bag of chips is not a suitable lunch.”

“I ate well! Welt and Himeko were nice enough to help with dinner.”

There’s a pause, then. Something dissatisfied but otherwise unreadable flickers across his face, quick as a minnow. 

“I’ll help, tomorrow,” he says, more a vow than an offer. His expression brokers no room for argument. You hold in a laugh, shutting your eyes with a smile. 

“Only if you really want to,” you murmur, pressing your ear to his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe the day’s leftover tensions and aches. “You’re not obligated—”

“I want to,” Dan Heng repeats, slower this time. More purposeful. His hands stroke up and down your back, thumbs spreading to squeeze your waist. You jump, just a little, and laugh, suddenly sheepish. 

“I’m glad,” You burrow your face into the crook of his neck, ears hot, cheeks ridiculously warm. You feel set adrift when you close your eyes. The waves are the steady rise and fall of his chest, his presence the depths, cool and clean. “ What would you like to make?”

“I had a few ideas—” Dan Heng begins. His voice, lastly, is the life preserver. You cling to it with warm hands and sleepy eyes. The waters lull you, but you keep your head above the beckoning grey, guided by the mere promise of another long conversation with him about nothing. "Tanghulu, maybe..."

[pink-roxxes]

Manifesting Challenge

This is a 30 day challenge that I start today I’ll using the 3roe method which is just repeating each affirmation 3 times while putting regardless of everything before it

info:

Height: 5’2

Weight: 111

Skin condition: in even with many dark spots despite the rest of my skin being very pale also freckles r light and barely noticeable with acne scars

Measurements: waist 25 and hips 35

Hair: dyed black and shoulder length

Nails: short and chipped

Lifestyle: always messy, never look put together and clean, difficult to stick to a schedule, insecure, can’t clean, can’t cook, no hobbies, no school or job or money, messy room and no style

Goals:

Height: 4’11

Weight: 90

Skin: clear even smooth and pale with visible and cute freckles

Measurements: waist 19 hips 45

Hair: my natural strawberry blonde hair, long and wavy reach my hips in length, thick and healthy and soft growing fast

Nails: long, healthy, strong, even, always done

Lifestyle: put together, clean, well mannered, sweet, don’t curse or have attitude, disciplined and follow routine, clean and cook well and often for fun, always take good care of myself and upkeep beauty maintenance, always look pretty and feminine and done up, going to beauty school, have a job and money to buy lots of cute things, room is always clean and I have a nice little girl group of friends and read and go out to the beach and stuff also modeling career and get scouted by elite model agency

The affirmations:

🎀Regardless of everything I am now 4’11

🎀Regardless of everything I am 4’11 feet tall

🎀Regardless of everything I love being 4’11

🪽Regardless of everything I am now 90 lbs

🪽Regardless of everything I weigh 90 lbs

🪽Regardless of everything I love being 90 lbs

🫧Regardless of everything my skin is clear & pale

🫧Regardless of everything I love my even clear and pale skin

🫧Regardless of everything my skin is clear healthy even and pale

🧘🏼‍♀️Regardless of everything my waist is 19 inches in circumference and my hips are 40 inches in circumference

🧘🏼‍♀️Regardless of everything I have a tiny waist and round large hips

🧘🏼‍♀️Regardless of everything my proportions are so feminine dainty and pear shaped

🦢Regardless of everything love my long healthy strawberry blonde hair

🦢Regardless of everything I love that my hair has grown so fast and now reaches down to my hips

🦢Regardless of everything my hair is so thick healthy and long and beautiful strawberry blonde and wavy

🩷Regardless of everything I am so well mannered disciplined and feminine, I never curse I am the ultimate good girl

🩷Regardless of everything my personality and aura is so brilliant and loving I am the embodiment of the color pink

🩷Regardless of everything I am so sweet and lovely, I always clean and cook for fun I always look so pretty and put together with my nails and hair done, the cutest girly outfits and the prettiest face that everyone falls in love with

🍵Regardless of everything I am always eating healthy and working out and taking care of myself

🍵Regardless of everything it is easy for me to eat healthy, workout, and take care of myself

🍵Regardless of everything I love to workout, eat healthy, and take care of myself

🕊️Regardless of everything I love my freckles

🕊️Regardless of everything I have so many cute freckles on my face

🕊️Regardless of everything people always love my adorable natural freckles

💗Regardless of everything my face is perfectly symmetrical and harmonious and beautiful

💗Regardless of everything I have flawless facial symmetry and all my facial features are perfectly harmonious to each other and beautiful

💗Regardless of everything my facial symmetry is perfect and my facial harmony makes me incredibly beautiful

🌸Regardless of everything I got scouted into the top modeling agency in the United States

🌸Regardless of everything I am the worlds top super model safely and successfully

🌸Regardless of everything I am naturally talented and have the best model walk and face in the world

That’s all loves see u in 30 days

[romvnova]

the most loyal breed

i wrote a thing; i'm definitely rusty and haven't ever written it in second person, present tense before so please be gentle with me. tagging/warnings: consensual but unprotected sex, f!reader x john "soap" mactavish, shifter!soap, breeding kink, swearing, implied ghoap ( if you squint ). part 1 of ??? just pure filth. please read at your own discretion! i am not responsible for minors reading this mature material when you've been clearly warned!

a storm howls as it rages outside your small log cottage concealed high in the forested mountains. the land had belonged to your forebearers and though the trips into town were long and rough in your beat up old 80’s ford ranger, it was worth it for the peace.

usually.

thunder ricocheted above like the crack of a thousand cannons and it was followed by the bursts of light as lightning touched down. it must be close, you can’t feel the heat, but you can hear nature’s electricity sizzle as it scours through the air to the earth.

it makes gooseflesh rise on your arms, fingers once wrapped ‘round your steaming coffee mug as you watch the rain and the wind and the lightening from the comfort of your front porch. or maybe it’s the dark, hulking shape half limping, half lumbering up the gravel drive, from around back of your truck.

for a moment there is a flash of fear, before instinct has you reaching for the shotgun propped against the wall of your home. you’ve never had to actually use it on an animal — or things more sinister — but you had been taught to shoot since before you could walk. coffee mug is set down slowly, carefully to avoid making noise.

shotgun is pressed against your shoulder, finger hovering over the trigger.

“get outta here!” you yell over the storm, moving away from the chairs, away from the wall. last thing you wanted to be was cornered.

the shape lets out a low kneeing whine and continues nearer. your finger tenses over the trigger, pausing only when lightening chases away the shadows: it’s a few seconds. but long enough to realize it’s a dog. the largest belgian malinois you’ve ever seen, sure — about the size of a full grown wolf — but a dog all the same.

the thought that it might be rapid crosses your mind as you lower your weapon and slowly approach the malinois with a tentative hand outstretched.

“hey there, big boy.” you coo, watching as the dog lets out a low whine and butts his muzzle up against your hand. the dynamic immediately changes and you’re coaxing him up the three small steps onto your porch with bits of bacon you’d cooked up to crumble in a pasta dish. he’s weary, hesitant at first. but not of you. he takes the bacon offered to him in a gentle way that makes you confident that he has an owner. or had.

the second confirmation as he stands dripping muddy water all over your freshly cleaned hardwood floors was the wide, dingy army green collar ‘round his neck. faintly, you could make out ‘SARG’ in bold, black stitching.

“sarg?” you ask, the muddy, soaked dog who plops down on his haunches like he’d forgotten he had an injury only to shift his weight with a pained whine. but bless his heart, his tail still wagged furiously behind him.

“where’s your owner, huh?” you ask, making a soft noise in your throat that you hope he understands to make ‘follow’. you aren’t sure what his command words are … but he pads along, nails clicking against the floor.

you give him a bath, using dawn dishsoap in lieu of any sort of dog shampoo, remembering that it was frequently used to clean animals that were covered in oil slick. surely, it could work on mud.

he’s patient and obedient, staring at you with eyes that spoke of an awareness and understanding that felt very un-dog like. but when your heart started to beat faster in your chest, teeth worrying your bottom lip — the thought of him being a skinwalker was almost enough to freeze the blood in your veins — his ears flutter back and he looks at you with eyes the size of saucers, his tail sloshing bathwater too and fro, clicking his teeth and chuffing. beneath the grime, he was not a typical malinois fawn but a dark charcoal color. a mutt, if you had to guess.

it thaws your veins, calms your heart. and you are giggling as you scrub behind his ears, forming the soapy loam into a mohawk atop his head, laughing so hard you had tears as he ‘grins’, showing his sharp teeth in a way that could not be described as threatening in any manner. very unusual for a dog.

and you tended his wound: a nice splice of flesh on his left thigh. even and clean. you had some knowledge of tending to dogs: your grandfather had kept plenty of hunting hounds during his life. 

you had felt sure that someone would come looking for him, or ‘LOST DOG’ posters might show up around town. you asked at the local hotspots, even the police station. belgian malinois were working dogs, high energy. destructive when they didn’t get the proper exercise and territorial. you take him with you when you go to town, letting him ride shotgun. he’s highly trained, staying pressed right up against your right thigh the whole time. stepping so that he’s never in danger of being stepped on by you or tripping you.

“well if it ain’t the witch of the woods, come down to grace us with her presence.” drawls one of the locals, loitering outside by your truck at the grocery store. you scowls and put the bags in the truck bed, content to ignore him. sarg’s hackles bristle, upper lip curling from his wicked sharp canines.

“Whats this? got yourself a companion? how sweet.” the condescending tone suggested it was anything but. “you need rescuing from her, huh boy?” harry reaches down to pet him and the very real snap of sarg’s jaws has your teeth clenching, afraid that you would hear those massive teeth crunch through the bones of harry’s hand.

your hand goes to his faded collar — though it was almost laughable. if sarg decided to take off harry’s hand for trying to touch him … there wasn’t anything you were going to be able to do to stop him.

“i’m not keeping him.” though you wonder if you shouldn’t have said that. harry’d always been a bit creepy, though fear of what dwells in woods, old folklore passed down through their generations, kept him at bay. until hunting season. but even then: the time was scheduled and they all stayed clear of your land. and while you’d definitely heard of and believed in the cat distribution system you knew that the dog distribution system wasn’t a thing. 

especially not for a working dog like sarg.

“he’s not mine. he has an owner out there somewhere.” but it’d been weeks and there’s been no attempts to find him. “but i’m taking care of him until they come looking for him.”

sarg snaps his teeth again, feigning a surge forth and harry recoils back with a small whimper. you have to hide your laugh as he mumbles a ‘see ya’ and hurries off, almost sprinting across the parking lot.

“hey harry, didn’t your papa ever teach you not to turn your back on a predator?” sarg starts barking then, salvia flying from his jowls; hamming it up. in a way that once again, fills you with a strange sort of suspicion that he was more than he seemed.

but one month weaves itself into two and no one’s come to claim him. 

and for the first time since he’d shown up on your doorstep, you left him alone. not long. just long enough to run the few errands you needed to get done. the town had gotten less lax on his presence, afraid that his protectiveness over you might get one of them bit.

it was a valid fear, you knew. you hadn’t raised him, weren’t exactly sure how to handle him.

you are surprised and worried when you aren’t immediately greeted by sarg. it doesn’t feel right considering that the dog walked, lived, breathed in your shadow, always pressed against your thigh anytime you so much as twitched a muscle in movement.

absent. but not just absent. absent with no hint of the destruction you might expect form an high energy breed left alone for the first time since he arrived, limping on your door step; attaching himself to your hip from that very breadth of a second.

but you are surprised to hear the shower, to see the warm glow of the bathroom light seeping through the cracks, following the furling steam.

your family is long gone. none ventured out this way, and the doors and windows were all locked: you check them quickly just to be sure; heart in your throat the entire time.

your steps falter, hesitate at the low moaned “fook, fook, fook—!” as you draw nearer.

you grab the shotgun, and open the door, barrel raised, stock against your shoulder.

“what the fuck—?”

“dannae shoot! dannae shoot! i can explain i —” the man in your shower is clearly struggling to keep his composure, with his hand fisted tightly ‘round his thick, heavy, hard cock. you press the barrel of the shotgun to his temple; watching as his eyes squeeze close.

from fear or the ecstasy as it tips him over the edge to his zenith you couldn’t be sure.

“fookin’ hell.” he raspily pants around the words; voice low, honeyed ( your toes curl and heat pools in your abdomen, stomach swooping and then there’s your outrage, your fear that, that could elicit such a response from you when a strange man was in your shower ! ). he’s haunching in on himself, hips hips bucking up against his hand, thick ropes and virile streams of his seed mess on the shower wall, door and all over his hand.

“what the fuck?” you whisper again, this time quieter, meant for yourself as he pumps his hand a few times, somehow, impossibly, coaxing out more pearlescent spend.

“where the fuck is my dog?!” so many questions vying for their time in the spotlight, burning against your tongue which has grown thick as he scrambles for a towel. your towel, using it to cover himself as if you hadn’t just given a front row seat to his exhibition. you are disgusted and angry and afraid and your nostrils are flaring, taking in the thick scent of musk and your vanilla bean barsoap.

oh gods, he used your soap!

you think of the man versus bear debate and understand why you’d choose the bear as you grit your teeth so tightly they begin to ache.

so, why can’t you shoot?

“it’s — i’m …” he pants as he steps out of the shower, broad freckled shoulders gleaming with water. “lil fox it’s me.” the words tear themselves from his throat in thick scottish brogue as if they physically pained him to say.

he’s bigger than you thought: thick thighed and large. he takes up so much space in your small bathroom; towering over you like a fjord carved titan.

“what?” you ask dumbly, heart still sprinting like a rabbit giving chase.

“ack,” he makes a hurried, almost impatient noise in the back of his throat, one hand clutching the towel to his front as if in the name of decency, and the other running through the short shorn hair atop his head. “it’s me.” he repeats, desperation nesting in his tone, making it’s home. “sergeant. sergeant john “soap” mactavish.” 

“sarg.” you whisper, a miasma of emotions surging through you as you stare at him, trying to decide which one you should allow to make its home within your chest, which feels like it’s being constricted; quite painfully.

“aye,” he murmurs morosely, shoulders loosening some now that he was not in danger of his head being blown off, for the shotgun barrel has tipped low in your shock, in your struggle to wrap your mind around what should be impossible.

“you — i —! you. you watched me shower! you —” your cheeks grow heated, breath coming out in rapid and shallow gasps as you careened closer to hyperventilation, glimpsing at the thigh that you had tended to, to find a scar matching sarg’s. accusations stain your teeth. it was a startling confirmation that leaves you feeling a bit out of body. you’d heard the stories of shape shifters. lore was heavy in these mountains, among the people that called it and the town nearby home and though you’d believed enough to make you suspicious you hadn’t thought —

john snatches the shotgun from your numb hands then. you let him.

“you humped my pillow.” you eek out the words, almost tumbling over them. john at least has the decency to look ashamed at that, cheeks flushing; sloe-eyed as he looks anywhere but at you.

“aye,” he swallows thickly. “ye were in heat. i cannae… it’s … in dog form it’s a lot more primal.” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

“humans don’t go into heat.” you tell him numbly.

“ye do,” he counters with a heavy look that leaves gooseflesh along your arms. “once every month right before yer eh, y’know. ‘s when yer most fertile. humans cannae smell it but animals can. i can.”

why does that send another rush of heat to your abdomen? as if snapping out of a daze you do the quick mental math and let out a small noise.

 “i can smell it on yer skin, on yer hair.” he murmurs, voice pitching low. a whiskey croon that has your lips parting as his voice slides over your skin like a caress. the heat radiating off him, works to suffocate you and he’s so close but not close enough. saliva pools in your mouth and you swallow and his eyes, intense and focused follow the action with a low growl in his chest. hungry. needy.

“you need to leave.” your words lack the conviction you are aware they should have. a pocketful of lies.

“i cannae leave,” he murmurs heatedly, lips hovering. “i’m yers lil fox.” there is a deeper meaning to those words beyond their face value, his breath twining in your hair, reverberating in your bones. his nose brushes your cheek and you shiver, lashes fluttering as you look down at the strong curve of his collarbone.

“if you were able to change… why didn’t you…?”

“yer consent,” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you were silly for not thinking about it. “and i was weak at first,”

“and then?”

“and then ye were comfortable with the dog form. i didnae wanna scare ye. dinnae wanttae break yer trust.”

his heat is intoxicating, his scent like a siren song coaxing her in now that she was so close. on the precipice of falling into the dark abyss looming below. what beasts awaited her, she could not see. but she knew they were there. and yet, he is like the gravity of a planet and she a solitary moon caught in his orbit. 

“and now?” you ask softer still.

of course his supernatural hearing picks it up.

“now, i want tae taste your lips, eat tha’ deliciously sweet cunt until ye be but an incoherent mess and balm the ache with my cock. and stuff ye fit tae burstin’ over and over again with my seed until yer womb quickens with child.”

your mouth is dry; cottony. your fingers aching to touch: yourself or him you couldn’t be sure. both, you think.

if you touch him, you know whatever is left of your veil thin resolve will be rendered useless. torn away so effortlessly by him. by the sirens lilt of his voice, by the burn of those oceanic blues, by those lips parted. your flush grows feverish as you imagine them everywhere, kissing and sucking and those sharp canines marking your flesh.

something very real and palpable tethered you to him, what your grandmother had called a mating bond you think. you’re not sure how you know it so deeply in your soul, in the marrow of your bones but you reach out with tentative fingers to touch his left forearm, tracing the vein from wrist to elbow.

it is you giving consent. john lets out a low growl that immediately melts into your skin, warming you until your clenching your thighs together. the towel is discarded and he is kneeling down, large calloused fingers tugging down your shorts, your panties and shoving his face against your cunt.

a high pitched keening noise leaves your lips, grasping the sink for support, your other fingers finding purchase in the damp hair of his mohawk as he kisses and licks and slurps. one hand holds your thigh tightly, fingers digging into your supple flesh to keep you still, as one finger curls inside and then another when he thinks you are ready, joined soon after by his tongue.

the sloppy noises as he eats you out like a man starving are some of the most filthy, unholy noises you think you’ve ever heard, but you’re moaning and keening and mewling, legs quivering from his ministrations, from the gaelic he purls against your cunt, the praises in english until you are coming all over his tongue, his fingers.

and he’s looking above you like an old god, half forgotten but still very much thrumming with life, lifting you up, hard cock straining against your thigh as he plops you on the small vanity; mindful of his girth as his cock fills the ache of your swollen cunt.

“that’s it… that’s it. fook,” he pants ‘round the word, pushing deeper inside, stilling as he sinks to the hilt as your legs wrap ‘round his waist. his lips are on yours, tongue pushing inside your mouth as he thrusts slowly at first but pace quickens until he’s rutting up and into you, the slap of sweat slicked skin, the breathy and panting kisses: to your lips, your neck, your collarbone where he bites down.

he is surprisingly unvocal now, hand wrapping lightly ‘round your pretty throat as he ruts and rocks into you, staying deep and your breath drags itself from your lips in heavy, desperate pants, hands clinging to his shoulders as the pressure of something foreign both causes pain and equal amounts of pleasure as you can feel him begin to throb within you.

“i ken lil fox,” he croons, thrusts growing shallow but harder; a groan pushing past his lips as he knots tightly within,, balls and cock throbbing against your flesh, within your cunt which fills you with spend with each thrumming throb of his cock. again and again. “nae a drop can spill.” he murmurs against your lips, thumb rolling your swollen clit as he empties himself within you. “that’s my good girl.” he growls against the shell of your ear, licking the side of your sweat slicked face.

it would become your norm, this. johnny, a fixture in your life, your husband. preferring human form but always slipping into dog form when you went into town.

two years later, your toddler, a girl named wren clings to johnny’s leg squealing with undiluted joy during playtime as you make pancakes, a hand rubbing your swelling baby bump.

time freezes when a pounding sounds at the door; an oncoming storm that has finally reached their shores. johnny stills, face paling. violet whines, tugging at his jeans, not understanding before he scoops her into his arms; stiff backed and tense.

“ssh baby bird,” you watch him as he coos to her, opening up the door. the kitchen blocks your view of who’s at the door but you hear his voice meld into your bones like the fires of hell. you picture cerberus, slavering jaws and vicious teeth and cloaked in shadows. “hello johnny.”

“ghost —” your husband’s voice is strained; a low warning threaded in that single syllable. you twist off the stove and move ‘round the kitchen’s island, hand cradling your abdomen, to see the grim reaper at your door cloaked in abysmal shadows and a skull face mask.

[ryuichirou]

How do you draw Idia’s hair so good?? I struggle with the basic shapes so much!

Sorry for the late reply! Your ask got us excited because Idia’s hair is such a pain to draw, but also such a fun detail, and I’m very happy that you like the way I draw it <3

Katsu suggested to me to record a speedpaint, and uhh, here it is. Please, don’t mind the wonky anatomy and me horsing around with zooming in and out randomly. As you can see, I struggle with Idia’s hair myself and constantly redraw it until I’m satisfied or at least tired enough to say “eh, that’ll do”. In case you’re wondering, it took me ~25-30 minutes to do the hair, and the original video was 59 min long lol I always spend a lot of time moving, reshaping and redrawing details when I draw Idia…

I’ll also list some tips and thoughts about it based on the way I draw it…

The shape of Idia’s hair is not at all consistent. Even in Toboso’s art it looks slightly different sometimes, which makes sense, because Idia has magical fire hair and technically you could do whatever you want with it.

But some rules tend to apply each time. For example, even though Idia’s hair is long and seems naturally “heavy” because of it, the individual strands tend to be turned upwards, like fire would. Not every single one, but the shorter ones and the ones closer to Idia’s head tend to do so. 

It’s wavy, but not too wavy. If the hair starts looking too “soft”, add sharp edges, random strands sticking out, rough shapes, etc.

Oh, and it’s important to remember that it floats. This means, it doesn’t just go straight down, it does this weird “S” shape. It’s also hella long, I always forget just how long Idia’s hair is. If the magic fire logic didn’t apply to it, it would reach the ground easily. The volume of his hair is much bigger than I tend to remember too: it's quite thick and luscious lol So please give him lots of hair!

Tiny little flames + “holes” in the main ehh body of hair (wow there must be a way to phrase it better) make everything look good and more believable. Have fun with it. You might’ve noticed, I draw and redraw and move them around a lot in my speedpaint.

Obviously, I am no expert, and every artist I know draws Idia’s hair a little bit differently. The speedpaint doesn’t show it, but I always have some of Toboso’s artworks of Idia open when I draw him, just to make sure his design is not too off. I would definitely recommend looking at refs while drawing Idia (or anyone), and maybe even trying to redraw the hair from Toboso’s artworks once or twice as a study, it’ll probably make it easier to understand how Idia’s hair works.

You haven’t asked about the colouring, but I love colouring Idia’s hair, so I’ll talk about it a little. Colouring Idia’s hair is simultaneously the most fun and the most tedious part of drawing him lol 15 minutes of my hour long video is just me filling Idia’s hair with the base blue colour with a lasso (I refuse to use a bucket tool…)

But once you’re done with the base, this is where the fun begins. Because at this stage you can be pretty rough, just add in darker and deeper blues near the middle/core(?) of the hair mass. It doesn’t have to be very even or pretty, add some smaller dark spots; we personally really love it when Idia has this round little blob on his bangs. In the video you can see that I added it later on because I forgot about it lol

After the dark part is done, erase the ends of it a little bit with a soft brush. Not too much, we should still be able to see the shapes.

Then, on a separate layer set on overlay mode, with the same soft brush add some additional brighter spots, to make the hair look glowy. I used the same light blue as the base colour, and the overlay gives it a pretty hue.

And finally, add some white highlights at the ends of the strands. This is the stage when everything stops looking wrong and weird and starts looking like Idia, at least to me.

Phew, I think this is everything I wanted to say… I hope it was at least somewhat helpful.

Sorry for the long post, I just love talking about the drawing process. And about Idia too!

Once again, thank you for your kind words; I’m very happy that you like my art.

Have a good day!