#the simon is good tho

[chibishortdeath]

Ya know what I think is really sad? There’s so many artists who have worked on Castlevania that either don’t get credited, have incredibly little information about them, or aren’t appreciated nearly as much by the fandom as others. It’s to the point where while I was looking up information for this post, Google was only giving me Ayami Kojima as the answer for “who painted the Castlevania 1 cover art”. Which is so sad because! like! I love Ayami’s artwork!!! But she is not the only artist for the series! And I love everyone else’s artwork too!!!!!!!! :(

Anyway, the only information I could find about the art of CV1 and CV2 is that Noriyasu Togakushi was the character designer for the games, as well as for CV3. But I’m not sure which artworks he did for these games. Some sources claim that he did the cover art for the first two games, others (updated just as recently) claim that the cover artists for both games is completely unknown. And I’m not sure if he did the cute little manual doodles and concept sketches either, but I’d say those are probably more likely his since cover arts were commonly outsourced at the time and concept sketches like that seem more in line with the work of a character designer, but I could be wrong. Sadly, many websites have a habit of crediting an artist and then not specifying what works are theirs. And judging by how little information there is regarding everyone involved with working on those games, even the main writer/director, it’s also possible that we might not actually know which works are his.

Regardless, I wanna thank this guy for probably having designed Simon Belmont, the man I draw or want to draw almost every day of my life :)

I hope that the images show up correctly cause I’ve been having some weird issues with images lately. When cropping the image, it shows the correct one, but the thumbnails aren’t showing up right at all on my end. I was initially going to make this a larger multi artist appreciation post, but I don’t wanna have all the images switching for no reason with that many images ugh. So uh yeah ok bye—

[journen]

So, I have a couple artworks I did for a fic I wrote / am writing. Au where Simon leaves the army to raise his nephew Joseph. In this installment ahaha Soap, who is still in the army, is visiting for the holidays, and so here is Simon and Jo picking up Soap from the airport, and Joseph giving Soap a hug! Both are of little scenes in the first chapter. 😊🧡

I'm so weak for uncles Simon and Johnny!!!!

[mochii-derogatory]

drop what movie u think they're (not) watching in the tags

[temeyes]

I feel like Ghost would be too powerful if he had Nanami’s cursed ability. Take from that why you will, I just think it’s a super cool idea

(Soap with Sukuna’s flame arrows would be hot pls ignore me)

you're so real for that!! + his military training would enhance the ratio technique by a TENFOLD i think, he would've gotten rid of Makarov and his army in one hit LMAO

meanwhile, nobody will ever convince Nanami to join the dang army (mfer hates working overtime saur bad ASHAHSAHHA)

[diimaria]

Free labor from the little elves 🎁💕🎄

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 6 - Sadism & Masochism

Ghost x Soap - 1.2k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost appreciates all the things he's done to Soap and thinks about all the things he'd like to do. (Ghost POV)

cw: rough sex, bondage, degradation, spitting, belly bulge, dacryphilia, description of cutting someone during sex, somewhat unhealthy (but consensual) bdsm dynamics, ghost wants to hurt soap very badly and is restraining himself, violent thoughts about hurting someone while having sex, the sex is consensual but ghost fantasizes about forcing johnny, please hear what i am saying and do or don't read accordingly

note: i didnt reread through this one bc it's out of my comfort zone, so pls forgive any glaring mistakes lol

Ghost snarls as he fucks more harshly into the bound body beneath him, Soap’s whines and moans echoing off the walls as he squirms in his bindings. The ropes are tied too tightly – not so much that they’ll cut off circulation, but enough that Johnny’s wrists are red and irritated and will be for days.

Simon’s lips peel back from his teeth, expression twisted into something mean as he drags his nails down Johnny’s chest, irritating the cuts he’d spent hours on earlier. Each one placed so they blend in among his other scars, deep enough to drip steadily but not so deep that they’d need stitches. The dark red trails against Johnny’s tan skin makes Ghost’s pale hands look even more out of place, reminds him that he’s out of place above Johnny’s body, doing something he shouldn’t be.

It only makes his cock harder, the thought that Johnny doesn’t deserve this, that he’s only putting up with it for Ghost. It doesn’t matter much either way – if Johnny didn’t want to give, that wouldn’t stop Simon from taking – but Ghost knows Johnny’s nowhere near as much of a masochist as Simon is a sadist. Knowing that Johnny’s forcing himself to endure what Ghost wants, just so he can get fucked…

“Whore,” Simon spits, forcing Johnny’s knee flat to the bed when he starts kicking out in defense. “You’re just a whore for me, huh? That all you wanna be?”

Johnny arches his back, degradation always quick to get him begging for more. “Yeah, yeah, just for you, L.t.”

Ghost twists one of Johnny’s nipples far past the point of pleasure, watching avidly as Johnny’s mouth pops open into a perfect o, the pain shocking him quiet. Ghost leans forward as much as he can without forcing himself to stop fucking the stretched hole beneath him, and spits onto Johnny’s face.

“Mine, yeah?” He rumbles, gathering enough spit to do it again, making sure to hit Johnny’s cheekbone this time. His eyes are bright and dazed, too fucked-out to care much about what’s going on if it doesn’t include him getting off. Simon grabs him by the jaw, smearing the spit over his face with his free hand and shaking him roughly.

“Sir, fuck,” Johnny gasps, hips working to try and push himself further onto Ghost’s cock. Ghost knows that’s all he cares about, knows Soap would let him do just about anything as long as it meant a fat cock in his ass and at least one orgasm. 

“Gonna let me do whatever I want to you, then?” Ghost goads, big hand still pushing at Johnny’s face. He smacks him soundly a few times, relishes in the way his skin goes from pink to red, backhands the other cheek to make it match. 

He grips Johnny tight by the jaw again, pushing his lips out into a pout that he can bite, drawing another whine from Johnny’s raw throat.

He pulls back again a moment later, holds himself up with a hand placed over Johnny’s chest, gives him enough of his weight to make sure it’s a little harder to breathe. He trains his eyes on the bulge in Johnny’s gut, the outline of his cock visible.

Ghost wants to slam his fist there, listen to Johnny choke as he keeps fucking him, maybe see him struggle for breath. He’d be able to feel his hand on his own cock, could give himself that spike of pain that always makes his orgasms last longer.

He doesn’t, though, and manages to keep his fingers spread flat instead of tucked up into a fist. There’s a line for how much he can make Johnny take every time, and he has to push it forward slowly if he doesn’t want Soap to crumble to dust beneath him.

He wants to hurt Johnny, but that doesn’t mean he wants to break him. 

He knows that he’ll probably never be able to do everything he wants with Johnny – for as kinky as the Scot is, even he would back away if he could see the fantasies Ghost dreams about. But no one’s ever let Ghost do as much as Soap has, and that’s enough for him.

Johnny squirms beneath as Ghost fuck him, and Simon’s sure he’ll be limping tomorrow. He’d stretched him as little as he could get away with, using as little lube as he could to make sure it would sting when he slid inside. Johnny had cried until Ghost was buried hilt deep, and then he’d traded the crying for sobbing.

His face is soaked in his own tears and Ghost’s spit, and it makes his suffering that much more pronounced. Johnny’s dripping in evidence of what Simon’s done to him. 

He wants to make things ten times worse. He wants to bend Johnny over the sink and shove him face first into the mirror, wants to refuse to reset his broken nose until Johnny makes him come, wants to watch the tears on his face mix with blood – he’d lick the cuts when he was done, get a taste right from the source and listen to Johnny whine about the sting. He wants to brush his teeth every morning and look into a mirror he broke with Johnny’s face, knows Johnny would blush every time he washed his hands and had to see it.

Ghost runs his nails down sensitive skin, leaving behind pink streaks in his wake and thinks about standing on Johnny’s chest, making him hold his full weight. He’d wear his combat boots, the ones with rough soles that could leave red marks for hours. He’d jack off on Johnny’s face, watch him desperately try to get a deep enough breath to beg. Maybe piss on him a bit – Soap hates that, hates the stench and the taste, but that just makes Simon want to do it more.

He’s already gotten Johnny used to the knife. He could force him to his knees, fuck him from the back with a hand wrapped in his mohawk and another keeping the blade steady at his throat. Johnny’s tender headed, gets bitchy quick when Ghost tugs him around by his dumbass haircut, and Ghost can imagine just how he’d panic when he realized leaning away from the hand in his hair meant leaning towards the knife. 

Ghost wants to hurt Johnny. Wants to kick him and hit him, tie him up in ways that make his joints scream then whip him until he bleeds, wants to bend him in half so Johnny can watch as his cock wrecks his hole. Wants to share a bed and listen to him bitch and moan all night about how he can’t get comfortable because of the pain, then beg for more when he wakes up hard the next morning. 

He settles for this, for now – for streaks of red from shallow cuts, for swollen nipples and lips and a cock so red and achy that it can’t be anything but painful. 

Ghost can be patient. For Johnny, he can go slowly. He knows that they’ll get closer to what he needs someday, that he can make Johnny stretch enough for the both of them.

[gomzdrawfr]

continuing my lotr brainrot but this is more like just them cosplaying for fun

[buttdumplin]

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's word count: 2.1K

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

~

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

~

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

~

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

[alliwantistowearcomfypants]

What the fuck is happening to me?

These twinks and their adorable boyfriends have completely taken over my life, and I can't stop collecting them. I find a new couple to lose my shit about weekly at this point.

[moeblob]

Markus and Connor are stressed five feet away for the record.

[naivegh0ul]

i had a vision of cockwarming ghost while he's in a meeting and had to write it

(warnings: smut, fem reader, cockwarming, exhibitionism, degradation, choking, public sex, rough sex, PiV)

(word count: 1,111)

You don't exactly remember how you got here, snuggled up on Ghost's lap, your arms wrapped around his neck and his cock plunged deep inside you.

You can hear the team talking, something about an illegal arms deal, but you're not really listening, your mind too fuzzy to pay attention. A sigh escapes your lips as you sit still and rest your head on Ghost's shoulder, feeling his chest vibrate as he talks.

After a while of this, sitting on Ghost's lap as he and the team talk business, you find yourself getting a bit restless. You squirm just a little, hips wiggling as you scoot forward on Ghost's lap.

Ghost's cock jostles inside you as you move around, his tip bumping into your sweet spot and making you whine. Ghost's voice hitches slightly but he continues, choosing to simply ignore you.

You pout at this and tilt your head upwards, looking up at Ghost with a needy expression. "What?" He grunts, looking back at you annoyedly. "You want my attention? Is that it?" Ghost asks.

Nodding your head, you hear Ghost let out a sigh and he plants his hands on your hips. Suddenly, he raises you up, leaving only the tip inside before he slams you back down harshly, his thighs slapping against yours.

You cry out from the sudden mix of pain and pleasure, your cunt tightening and gushing slick all over his shaft. "Oh, is this too much for you, baby?" Ghost asks meanly as he continues to raise you up off his cock and drop you back down, his tip kissing your cervix painfully as his broad hands dig into the meat of your hips.

"That's too bad. I'm busy, so either take what I give you or you don't get anything at all." He sighs, turning his attention away from you as he listens to the Captain, leaning back in his seat and giving his opinion as if you're not even there.

You try to keep quiet so as to not disturb the men any more than you already have but it's hard. Ghost's cock is filling you to the brim, making you release little, breathy moans, and the lewd squelching of your cunt can be heard any time there's a lull in conversation.

It's embarrassing and you can't help but whimper, your eyes wet and teary as "uhn"s and "ah"s escape your mouth . "Ghost..." You mewl, hands clawing at Ghost's shoulders as you shudder and tighten around him.

"Quiet, sweetheart. The men are talking." Ghost shushes you with a hand over your mouth. You just have to sit there and take it, thighs sticky with your juices and your body limp as Ghost uses you like a toy, blatantly ignoring you.

It doesn't take much for that familiar coil to curl in your gut, for the heat to build and make your moans become louder, although slightly muffled from Ghost's hand over your mouth. Ghost is only using one hand to pick you up now, making it more of him lifting you up slightly and grinding into you.

You attempt to warn Ghost of your impending orgasm by tightening around him and reaching up to remove his hand from your face. "Shut up." Ghost hisses as you pry his hand off of your mouth and whine up at him, your words jumbled as you pant and moan.

"But- I'm gonna- I... I..." You stutter out. Ghost seems to snap, standing up out of his chair and bringing you with him, still buried deep inside you.

"You can't follow simple fucking orders, can you? I tell you to be quiet and you think that means 'be louder'." He growls as he swipes papers off the table, letting them flutter to the floor as he drops you on to the wood.

His hands wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you choke, your legs kicking as your brain goes fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. Ghost's hips pull back and thrust forward at a brutal pace as he starts to fuck you again, his balls slapping against your ass as the meeting table rocks from the force of his thrusts.

"You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up, isn't that right?" Ghost says as he releases his grip on your throat for a moment, watching as you suck in a big breath of air and cough, your pussy tightening around him with each sputter.

"Yeah- ngh, yes. Yes, sir." You nod your head obediently, not entirely sure what you just agreed to but happy to agree nonetheless. You lay there helplessly as Ghost thrusts into you harshly and your tits bounce, your hands coming up to tug on your sensitive nipples as Ghost ruins you.

"You're not even fucking listening, are you?" Ghost chuckles as he sees the cockdrunk, delirious look in your eyes. He doubles down on his efforts at that revelation, determined to fuck you stupid.

"Uh-uh." You shake your head from side to side with a cheeky smile on your face, giggling mindlessly. Your silly laughs trail off into loud moans as Ghost tilts his hips upwards slightly, hitting your cervix with terrifying precision.

"That's what I thought. Just a stupid slut with an eager pussy." Ghost hooks your legs over his shoulders as he speaks and wraps his hands around your throat once more.

Soon enough, that same heat is returning. Your thighs shake as you look up at Ghost with wide eyes, lips parted as choked moans escape and overwhelmed tears spill down your face.

Ghost removes one hand from your throat, keeping the other wrapped firmly around the column of your neck and he rubs your clit with his thumb quickly, drawing tight circles on the sensitive bud.

Your back arches at the sudden stimulation, hands slapping down onto the table as you struggle to find purchase on something, anything. You don't get time to consider more options before you're cumming, cunt clenching as you cream on Ghost's cock.

Ghost growls out a low, "Fuck." before he's spilling inside you, staining your insides with his release. He pants over you, catching his breath as you lay lifelessly on the table, thighs twitching slightly and your eyes shut in pure bliss.

"So that's what it takes to shut you up, huh? A quick fuck and some guy's load? Whore." Ghost picks you up off the table, carefully lifting up your sore and sweaty body as he sits back down in his chair, keeping his soft cock inside you for the time being.

"Sorry about that, lads. Continue." Ghost grunts, getting right back to business.

[anatomical-puppet]

started dual destinies yesterday! love that big goth cunt

[journen]

Sketches for a fic I wrote. Domestic SoapGhost and Uncle Ghost with Joseph. 👀

[basketobread]

(haima belongs to @percexe !!!)

drew these a few nights ago i like them a normal amount 👍

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Simon meets Fiddleford

[justfriendsbestthings]

Simon’s Month Day 25: Soulmates

@youngroyals-events