#OriginalWork

[vigilant-insomniac]

Immediately thought of Luffy and sanji hanging out

(psst, I got more)

[r0yalqueen]

Lucy Heartfilia 💖

[natalya24]

[harucat-official-blog]

Luce's Friend

✨Twitter✨ https://twitter.com/HaruCatOff ✨Twitter+18✨ https://twitter.com/HaruNekoFur ✨FurAff✨ https://www.furaffinity.net/user/haruartsoff Follow and Share to support!

Posted using PostyBirb

[darkmoorwood]

I was thinking about giving my monster character a tail! I didn't want a wolf- or cattail or a tail from a hooved animal like a bull or deer, so I chose something otter-like, because Juka already is quite the chimera of several animals and even plants. I'm still not quite sure if I will keep the tail, but I kinda love how it changes his silhouette a bit.

[madameducyberversailles]

Ode (Any M Character X AFAB Reader)

Warning: female anatomy description using vulgar language

He's made to please you. He's convinced of it.

His lips aren't plush and soft, and admittedly they're chapped (even with that lip balm you give him, you sweet thing) but they're pink. Like the flowers on the sidewalk you enjoy looking at and picking, with stars in your eyes. Like the pink of your cunt, sweet, wet, and so pink, the prettiest, juiciest of fruits.

His body is worn. His skin has protrusions, scars from childhood and adult injuries, some hyperpigmentation, some spots that just exist, and stretch marks that come with puberty, from his growth in time that led him to you. His body is worn but it is strong, it carries you and makes you laugh when he spins you for a hug, his body shaped to fit into your embrace perfectly, just right to melt into you and wrap around him like a koala when you're both being playful. He's proportioned and shaped for your pleasure, body ready to please and continue to please you, made for your love and safety.

His hands are not soft, roughened by years of labour, grip firm and tight, sure of force. But they are tender for you, and their history marks them for you to know that this roughness is complementary to yours. His rough hands are perfect for cupping your face for a kiss, to give you a cup of coffee in the morning, to hold your things for you or keep them above your head when he's teasing. His hands encircle and embrace you, their most sacred treasure, as he makes you fall apart, showing you an infinite world of pleasure and holding you to his heart when you finish, his hands are made to please and serve you in all ways.

Whenever he looks in a mirror, and wonders what you see in him, why others may look at him differently, you remind him his purpose is not living to please others, that he exists for himself. He thought it was true, but he knows better now.

Home is not a place but a person. He is not a celebrity and never will be a model, he is an ordinary man that you somehow treat like a king, when you, his goddess, are all he needs. He lives for you, to worship and adore you. His body, his face, it didn't matter what others thought of as attractive or undesirable in him, no one matters. But he is molded in the image of what you like, of what Heaven believes you would find lovable, and when he looks at you, he knows his being is built for you, because you're everything he has wanted, and he feels divinely enjoined when it is his eyes you stare into with such love.

He's made for your pleasure, and he will live up to what you deserve.

[littlehatofhorror]

｡･:*:･｡･*☆ INTRODUCTION ☆*･｡･:*･｡

Welcome, ladies and gentlethem!

You can call me Hattie, I'm a genderfluid artist and 3D animator.

I make Queer creations that involve humans and monsters, which aren't always the enemy in my stories.

My main themes are the supernatural, dark fantasy, sci-fi, fictional past and future... And of course, questionable romance.

This blog will be my break room, where my ambitious projects will be put on pause so I can "play" for a bit, share creations (original and fan content) with no pressure on myself and interact with communities.

Thank you, and enjoy your visit!

Keep reading if you want to learn a bit more about those big ambitious projects! ⬇️

Website (Soon 🙏)

All social platforms

AO3

Patreon

Shop

Kofi

I will make another introduction in the future, where I will share my project(s) with more depth and show what I'm actually talking about. Right now it's a lot of work behind the scenes, and the concrete work will be exposed during the spring. My full time job eats my time, so until said project becomes my new full time job, the pace will be slow.

But in the meantime, a brief summary about Chapistro.

My new brand.

Chapistro is the name of a cosmic circus, owned by Hatticus (any pronoun), an eldritch creature who is the ringmaster and a storyteller. They have traveled through many worlds, witnessed many events. Their objective is not only to entertain, but also to share the experience of living beings, so they can inspire others and help them becoming their best self.

During the day, Hatticus and his team will entertain humans, monsters, entities, demons, spirits-- the circus is open to anyone, so long as their heart is wide and their mind is open. Intolerance is unacceptable.

But at night, when the curtains are closed and it is only the ringmaster and a candle, a new show takes place. Le spectable de la nuit. A moment to slow down and listen, as Hatticus weaves stories too wild to be believed, but they swear they are as real as they are sitting before you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this,

Stay tuned.

Magic, Monsters and Metamorphosis

[fmn-emi]

You are as bright as a star

That I can see from afar.

You have a beautiful heart,

Which is a true work of art.

You are worth the wait

Even though the path is not straight.

You deserve the best,

But it will put you to the test.

This short poem may be plain,

But there is something to gain.

"Plain, But True"

.

.

.

.

.

I wrote this short poem almost three years ago when I became so active in reading books. So bored and unproductive at the time, I decided to try writing poems and share them online. Although a few people liked it, I was still happy and it gave me the motivation to continue writing. As I write my poems, I developed my own style of writing while integrating some of the rules of poetry writing. Some of the poems that I've written might be a bit odd, but I just love the way they sound as I think of words that are befitting for them. Anyways, I'll be uploading more of my old works and some new ones if I ever have the time to write. Also, I would like to thank those who have suggested some themes for my poems and short stories. As for the short stories, I have so many ideas in mind that I cannot choose which one to work on first. I must confess that I'm disorganized most of the time and I can be quite indecisive. But I will stick to my words and make time to write again.

[demonbloodpal]

Patreon rewards batch! PATREON

[vigilant-insomniac]

One piece Meme redraw #2!

Why does it feel like they are co-parenting

[r0yalqueen]

[natalya24]

Happy New Year 🎈 ©️ Helen Breznik

[shutired]

The Tell-Tale Heart Reimagined

Amidst the door of the dilapidated house, the lights go out. The iron scent of fresh blood lingers in the air–a fellow unwelcome guest. With every creek of the warped floorboards, dust scatters like startled wildlife.

Spiders and moths emerge from each cranny–desperate for the shallow warmth of the lantern he held. The fuzzy cocoon of cobwebs around my face kept the secrets of the house confidential. Only x-ray vision could reveal what lay beneath the polished aspen.

I jolt not at the candlelight approaching or the low breath, but at the pitter-patter of nearing footsteps. I feel boots press into my limp body. I feel the wounds in my chest deepen as if impaled once more.

The mites underneath my flesh rush to the scarlet ooze. Each speckle of dust tickles my skin. Every piece of flesh severed aches as though I were in eternal fire: one which only he between us banished.

No amount of penance, no pint of blood from stigmata could ever atone for this sin. This transgression, all in the name of greed. Liquid gold, a pool in which I am stationary.

“Peccavimus,” he pray in vain.

Yet as spirit slips from my head, no forehead left to anoint.

[darkmoorwood]

More forest creature!

Normally, he wears more clothes tho. His home is very chilly, so having rather thin fur he wears a black, thick coat made out of pelts he harvested himself (he was a skilled huntsman before he got turned into... this).

[shadow-the-musical]

🎭Character Spotlight: Hesione!

Hey everyone! As I continue working on my musical, I wanted to share a bit about one of the key characters, Hesione, Teucer's mother.

She's a woman caught between the Greeks and the Trojans, her family, trying to survive in a world that doesn't give her much agency. Hesione's story starts off as one of hardship, but as Teucer’s journey unfolds, she becomes an integral part of his story, even when she's not physically present. Her connection with Telamon and the consequences of their relationship echo throughout Teucer’s life.

What I love about her is that she's more than just a mother figure – she's a symbol of strength, sacrifice, and hidden strength beneath the surface. I can’t wait for you all to hear the songs I’ve written for her!

🎶 (Bonus: The first song I’ve written about her touches on her pregnancy with Teucer and the moment she’s confronted by the goddess Eileithyia, announcing her pregnancy with an illegitimate son… talk about a wild moment, right?)

Do you have any questions about Hesione, or thoughts on characters from Greek mythology that have been overlooked?

[chokiechips]

The Lake

   Every night in her childhood,  Haruka’s mother would cradle a half-asleep, dainty little Haruka into her quaint bedroom, the moonlight shining through the window, where the bridge over the lake was.

  She would be carefully laid on the soft mattress on the bed, just above the straw tatami mat, as a gentle flame burned atop the candle by the mattress. 

Haruka loved these moments. Akane would drape the silken comforter over her small body, tucking her in, before cuddling close to the girl in the cold darkness, and whispering the usual tale of the Akuma no Kenshin . As Haruka slowly drifted off into her everlasting wonderland, where she would play with Akane in the very same lake that glimmered and rippled under the horrified watch of the moon.

 As stars would twinkle their warnings.

 As the traitorous clouds camouflaged the slimy creature that slithered between the rocks at the bed of the lake they splashed happily in.

A bedtime tale passed down from mother to daughter in the Norowareta family, generation to generation.  Of the siren sent down from the heavens, equipped with a gleaming, warm smile, radiant eyes that shined with an indescribable gentleness, and her multichrome scales that shined with the sun. The great Akuma no Kenshin. That’s how the Norowareta’s family lake came to be known as the Tengoku no Shonin. “ The Heaven’s Prize”. 

        Haruka would spend every waking moment in the sacred lake, lotuses floating lazily across the crystal waters, the cherry blossom flowers dropping from the overhanging tree into the deep waters, and koi fish, a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and yellows playing mischievous games under the water. She would kick up a torrent of waves, giggling as the flowers moved aside for the grandeur of the current. Sometimes rode it. 

Akane loved it. As they soaked their legs in the cool water, she would share stories from the beginning of time with her beloved daughter. She would do anything. For Haruka.

        However times change. Haruka’s sparkling blue eyes that shined with curiosity and intrigue darkened over time, now a muddy hue, burdened with knowledge. Her coveted locks of hair chopped off the minute she turned 16.  Time spent with her mother growing less and less.

         Akane couldn’t juggle the misery with her role as mother and wife. Loneliness crept over her features over the passage of time, taking the form of wrinkles and ashen hair. The lake had withered with age along with the pair.

           On a dry afternoon in the present, Haruka sat, poised and graceful, atop the chair in the pavilion, reading through manuscript after manuscript. She had enough of her mother’s playfulness and childish behaviour. Haruka wasn’t a dreamer or some poet. The siren was a myth, but the exam that she was to sit for to enter the school of scholars wasn’t. Akane peeked through the thin sliding door of her bedroom, a worried expression on her face, a letter in her hand, addressed to her.

A soothing voice broke through the endless silence. “Haruka- please, I need to have a word with you.”

Silence. The brushing of fingers against parchment halted.

“It’s your father, Haruka”

Haruka cut sharply through, cold. “So?”

“You’re to-”. She froze, tears slowly brimming in her eyes, her throat closing up. She could feel her weary, spotted hands shaking slightly. Would her daughter even look at her after this?

“To be wedded off.”

A pause could be heard, the soft whooshing of the wind bringing only shivers through Haruka.  Akane  slid open the door, in hopes of letting her daughter cry in her arms, and rekindle their lost friendship, and reassure her daughter with pats on her back that everything would be alright, and she would do everything possible to protect her.

Instead, she was met with a shaking girl, tears brimming in her hatred-filled eyes, her mouth curved into a snarl. The parchment lay across the floor, the wind blowing roughly outside, tugging at each blossom on the tree to fall into the clutches of the water regardless.

      Akane could feel her face drop. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Shouts and screams echoed throughout the household, the screeching inhuman voice and a weak voice, trying to console and soothe the rage. Hands were thrown, insults shot back, a relationship choked and drowned in water, koi slipping past, their heads bobbing in pity.

Darkness soon enveloped the land of the rising sun, bringing forth drafts that swept the leaves off the grass, letting it drop into the muddy lake. Among the gentle chirps of grasshoppers chattering the latest gossip, to the gentle rustling of the flowers of the sakura blossom tree above, the aggressive  sound of slippers against stone could be heard, as Haruka stormed onto the bridge over the lake.

Holding her shaky breath, she peered into the water below, unable to see the devastated look on her face, the way her eyes were red with tears, her tear-stained cheeks now red from the cold, and her rumpled yukata. 

Holding her breath, she paused, pressing her eyelids tightly together, as far as she could. To bid away the bad dream. Her reality. But no matter how she pressed, she knew that it would do nothing. She was to face her nightmare alone. Her mother proved to be a pushover, a simpleton from the village. She would never know how her “dear” daughter felt. If mother even thought of me as a daughter, Haruka thought.

Thought after thought. Tear after tear. Heartbeat after heartbeat.

The knuckles of the hand that held the bridge’s railing turn a ghastly white.

Finally, she screamed, all her withheld pain and struggling, the pressure and torture into the silence, wailing for hope. For the warmth of her childhood.

The vessels in her throat and forehead strained, her voice cracking with misery as she cried, a torrent flowing down her cheeks.

Through her vision, blurry with tears, she peered down onto the rippling surface of the withered lake to see the image of a disfigured girl staring back at her from the water. The reflection frightened her, the way she had wrinkles already forming on her forehead, the way she no longer looked like her mother’s child, a new being in itself.

The water started to ripple more, all of a sudden. A hand pierced through the water, as if grasping the air, followed by a majestic being.

   Her long, damp, luscious hair, unlike Haruka's, clung to the bare of her back. Her eyes shone a burning, radiant maroon, the colour of blood. She held a beaming smile, emanating an indescribable warmth.

        Haruka couldn’t feel the world around her blur, as she bent over the edge of the bridge to take a look at the majestic creature. Nor the desperate cries of warning coming  from the pavilion.  

Was she hallucinating? Maybe so. Maybe not. But if this creature was the answer to her fears, her misery and her pain, she would gladly give herself up.

Akane’s screams of terror grew, as she watched from the pavilion bend over the edge of the bridge, peering into the water. Her eyes glazed over, mouth gaping, as if in a trance.

Akane gave up screaming, and ran to her daughter. Her beloved. She didn’t care if her daughter no longer acknowledged her, she would face the screams later.

Haruka could feel her heart beat faster and faster, in awe of the creature.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

One footstep off the bridge.

Thump.

The sharp claws of the siren reached for Haruka’s hand.

Her eyes glimmered with greed. 

Skin of scales, a smile belonging to a ravenous shark. Bits of rotting flesh sticking to the teeth.

Haruka stopped, realising. Eyes growing wide, she took in a breath to scream.

Before being plunged into the cold dark waters.

The splash echoed throughout the courtyard, and Akane increased her speed, horrified. She ran onto the bridge, peering into the lake’s murky waters for any hint or sign of her daughter. Nothing.

Akane couldn’t have this. With what little energy she had, she jumped into the lake, and searched for her, a desperate look in her eyes, her mouth uttering the same word, over and over again.

“No”

Nothing was left of Haruka, except for the telltale bubbles of air that escaped to the surface.

______________________________________________________________

Hihi- this was my first original work- i don't know if i'll make a series on the akuma no kenshin. Maybe? idk. Also- i hope you liked it! I'll start making more soon! :3