#anyways! trying something out with my art

[nyaruelle-designs]

🦄 Mane 6 + Family Redesign! 🦄

aaaaa this took so long, but it's finally done 😭 here's some art of mane 6 with their families. If you haven't seen my first redesign for the Mane 6, click me!

Keep reading below for design notes! (most of them are very small tweaks to get the palettes to look close to the Mane 6 hahaha)

OK! starting off with twilight's family, I tried to keep her parents' colors close with her own colors, I took both twilight's and shining's colors to match along with their mom and dad. I think Night Light is the most noticeably different of all the parents so far??

shining's colors are quite good but I guess I make it a point to give some siblings matching coat patterns to relate them to each other haha

also I had to add spike. He is apart of the family after all <3

For Rarity's family, I really took a lot of creative liberties haha

I kept Sweetie Belle's colors quite similar but yeah, tweaked it to match more in her sister's color scheme and gave her shared coat patterns with Rarity.

Rarity's parents also underwent some tweaks HAHA (i swear, every time I give the mlp character a unique coat pattern, they turn out looking so different but good??)

Fluttershy's family still looks relatively the same just with a few tweaks to the colors. (Fluttershy definitely gets her soft wings from her mom hehe)

I gave Zephyr a tattoo which I imagine he got in his youth while figuring himself out, thought it would complement his 'surfer?? chill bro' character

Also, fun detail: the tips of Fluttershy and Zephyr's wings compliment/relate back to each other which I think is really neat

Rainbow's family is quite self-explanatory, not a whole lot of difference HAHA

I think I let myself have a little bit of fun when redesigning the Apples. Idk why I thought it'd be interesting to add a bit of green to Pear Butter but ye??

I also kept Pear Butter as having a more petite frame as my personal handcanon is that while she did do farm work, she mostly did the less intensive work like watering the crops or something ahaha

neat detail: Applebloom inherited her eye color from granny smith, thought it'd be interesting to link them together

And last but not least, the Pie familyyy

As Pinkie and Marble are twins, I modelled Marble directly off Pinkie's desaturated form but gave her a longer mane. Other then that, I tried making them look as similar as possible

It's not very noticeable but I also gave Pinkie's dad a bit more pink in his colour scheme to show where she could've gotten her pink genes from. (I want to believe that in the past Igneous Rock had a pink mane before it turned grey from age)

also out of topic but I have this personal headcanon that the pie sisters are actually quadruplets with pinkie being the only one out of the 4 having her recessive pink gene, thought it would be fun to share.

Anyway, congrats on making it to the end! Thanks for reading all my design notes :’D I’ll definitely be drawing more. (next I'm gonna try to draw the secondary characters and hopefully not take too long to get it done-)

[identitty-dickruption]

I talk about living a diverse life a lot because honestly it's one of the most important things I've learnt about since moving out of an abusive household and recovering from alcoholism. I was raised not entirely knowing who I was or what I wanted. and I figured out pretty quickly that it can cause a lot of problems if you don't let yourself have needs + desires anddd that the first step to letting yourself have those things is to figure out what they are

it's a process that can take a long time to figure out and it's something that a lot of us need to be deliberate about. this year I set myself ten goals for the year that all relate to trying new things. small things like making + eating new food, going to new cafes, and going to art exhibitions. exposing myself to environments and situations that are unfamiliar so that I can find out who I am and what I like. there are still heaps of things on that list that I haven't come anywhere close to being able to tick off, but hey it's only june

anyway. it's okay to be deliberate about learning who you are and in fact I would recommend doing so. as I used to say in my youth. #yolo

[neosaidwhoa]

In terms of love, it was always Iruka for Naruto.

Relevant quotes from Naruto manga chapters 535-536:

“ENOUGH! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TO ME?! You’re one of my most important students. And… …you’re as close to me as a little brother.�� -Iruka to Naruto

“Our enemy is seeking you out to kill you. How am I going to stand here and let that happen?” -Iruka to Naruto

“Why should you continue to bear the burdens of everyone else?” -Iruka to Naruto

“Come back alive!!!” -Iruka to Naruto

“Forgive me Naruto. I’m weak. I think of myself as your big brother, but I’ve never actually been able to protect you.” -Iruka

“Killer Bee? I need something from you. Keep Naruto safe, please sir!!!” -Iruka to Killer Bee

“You’re part of Naruto’s private clan. Naruto needs you. Whatever you done. To Naruto you shine like the sun.” -Killer Bee to Iruka

“Naruto listens to all you say. He’ll owe you his life till his dying day.” -Killer Bee to Iruka

“You’re the first person to ever acknowledge me, Master!!” -Naruto to Iruka

#he truly loved Naruto the person

#the boy

#the troublemaker

#the orphan

#the person

#he didn't love Naruto the demon or Naruto the savior of prophecy

#he loved HIM

#he cared for HIM

#he saw HIM

#Iruka and Naruto are the most healthy and powerful depiction of love in Naruto and its truest depiction of what real love looks like

#canon found family, iruka’s literally in Naruto’s private clan

#Iruka and Naruto as a depiction of brotherhood, in contrast to all the other depictions of brotherhood in the story of Naruto... a powerful contrast fr

#the truest form of love

#to love is to act

#to love is to heal

#to love is to act compassionately

#to love is to change

#Iruka changed for Naruto. He changed how he thought about Naruto, who was the feared vessel of the monster that killed Iruka’s parents and a disruptive, troublemaking, poor student.

#Iruka changed in order to love Naruto like the kid deserved, or is it that Iruka was changed by loving Naruto? Both. The answer is both.

#Naruto changed by being loved by Iruka. Everyone else was comfortable in inaction in regards to Naruto’s childhood. Iruka took action to love Naruto. Iruka’s love healed Naruto.

#Naruto is changed forever by being loved by Iruka, he is a different person before and after Iruka starts loving him.

#And Naruto goes forward in life sharing this love with others. That’s the whole show, that’s the source of every Talk No Justu.

#Naruto was loved powerfully by someone when he was ‘hard to love’ and resistant and lonely and damaged and troublesome, he knows how life changing love and compassion is to someone who is suffering from a lack, so he’s determined to help them.

#Naruto intimately understands that giving love to people who need it most can be difficult. He knows that love requires patience, consistency, effort, empathy, listening, and understanding.

#It’s why Naruto never stops trying to reach Sasuke. Naruto knows how it felt for everyone in the village to be okay with his suffering.

#Naruto knows it only took one person deciding to take action and take responsibility despite what everyone thinks of him.

#Naruto is about the transformative power of love.

#Naruto is about how love breaks cycles.

#It’s about how love bears fruit and its fruit bear fruit.

#Kishimoto wrote this so well. You can tell that the power of love and relationships between people are what Kishimoto cares most about exploring through his art.

#So beautiful that Iruka felt inspired to love Naruto because Iruka was shown love by Hiruzen back when Iruka was a troublemaking orphan.

#Compassion begetting compassion.

#Naruto is a love story, in that it’s a story about love.

#It’s not just about love despite suffering, it’s about love especially because there is suffering. It’s about suffering because of a lack of love, to which the only antidote is love and understanding.

#Naruto is about people who are difficult to love and understand being loved and understood anyways, and how this completely transforms the narrative.

#Naruto is about the people who are determined to do the work of loving and understanding someone despite all the forces against them.

#Naruto is about how the rotten work of love breaks generational curses, quite literally.

Manga pages:

When people list the persons who 'impacted' Naruto the most, they often mention Jiraiya and Hinata but completely overlook Iruka, which annoys me to no end.

I know Iruka doesn't appear much in the manga, but he was the first to show care and love for Naruto. He was the first person to verbally acknowledge him—not just the first adult, but the first person overall. Iruka is one of the people Naruto loves the most. From the very beginning to the end, Iruka is consistently mentioned among Naruto's precious people, with Sasuke being second.

Iruka is Naruto's family, and the fact that people 'forget' this is really upsetting. Iruka is the person who was always there, always. No amount of retcon (yes, I'm talking about the last movie) will ever change that.

While we're on the topic, Hinata didn't give Naruto a family; they founded a family together. That's actually quite different. And anyway, he already had a family. Their names are Iruka and Sasuke. 'Naruto Gaiden' heavily emphasized the idea that blood isn't necessary to have a family, at least for Naruto.

[musingsofheaven]

FRENCH 75.

summary: wherein your girlfriends say “one more drink, baby,” and next thing you know, you’re being held open and fucked by both of them.

pairings: mtf!art donaldson x afab!reader x tashi duncan

warnings: 5.7k words. mature themes. strap-on use. oral sex (cunnilingus, face-sitting, throatfucking). threesome (f/f/f). rough sex. nipple/tit play. choking kink. degradation kink. praise kink. brat-taming. somnophilia-adjacent tones. manhandling. overstimulation. double stimulation (pussy, mouth). objectification. ownership kink. age gap. throat training. alcohol consumption. intoxicated sex. dubious consent. free use dynamics. read & consume responsibly.

note: this might be one of the horniest things i’ve ever written and kicking my feet like a little pervert. tbh i might’ve wrote this in my notes app while half-humping a pillow but you will literally never know that for sure ;) like i’m actually so jealous of reader. why do i wanna be sandwiched between two hot older women like a little slutty capri sun. like i don’t wanna be the writer anymore. i wanna be the drunk little cum toy they carry out of the bar and ruin til she cries. anyway thank you for reading 🥰 i love women

You never planned to be blackout drunk this weekend. “No way in hell. I won’t get drunk, promise,” you said - especially to them, especially when they told you the three of you were going to a jazz bar. Tashi said she needed to destress from work, and Art agreed too, saying the mood would be nice. They looked at you quickly when you sounded like you were against it. Just a little sound, not even real disagreement, but still, they raised their eyebrows at you. Not that it’s bad. You are not just used to a calm mood… chilling vibes when you drink. Maybe that’s where it shows - the difference in age between you and them.

Art didn’t stop trying to convince you, but not in an annoying way. She was like, “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun, okay?” You just shook your head. Said you weren’t in the mood. What made you say yes in the end was when Tashi said, “If she doesn’t want to come, let her. Go ahead. Stay in this house and act miserable.” Like she was trying to use reverse psychology on you. Or maybe not even trying. Maybe she just meant it.

So now here you are. Sandwiched up between the two of them in a booth. One of Art’s hands on your right thigh, and Tashi’s hand on your left - stroking your lace stockings, casually playing with the hem of your skirt. They just keep you between them with a French 75 that Tashi ordered for you and you’re sipping it while they talk about something you don’t even know. You nod along, hum like you’re following, even though your head’s a little fuzzy already and all you really feel is their hands.

You’re not even sure when you finished the drink. One second the glass was cold in your hand, the next your fingers were empty, and your head felt floaty - you’re giggly now. But not the embarrassing kind. They keep you in your place, hands always somewhere on your body. You never order anything yourself. It’s always Art or Tashi who stands up from the booth and tells the bartender what you’ll be drinking next. Their fingers feel like heat, steady and grounding, and you let your lashes flutter low, not quite ready to admit how drunk you are.

And the hem of your skirt keeps riding up, and no one’s fixing it while the three of you keep drinking. But maybe that’s because it can’t be seen - your legs are tucked under the table, half in shadow, half hidden by their bodies. You think maybe you should fix it yourself, tug it back down, cover the lace. But your hands feel slow. So you don’t. And when you shift a little in your seat, you realize your thighs are damp. You know they can feel it too. Their hands are already there, resting on your inner thighs, so close to your panties - too close not to notice.

You don’t say anything when they don’t move their hands. Your body hums- warm, slow, too tired to resist. You lean in without meaning to, cheek brushing Tashi’s collarbone, lips grazing her throat. She doesn’t stop you. Just exhale, hand heavier across your thigh. The booth feels too warm. Their voices are slow. You close your eyes- just for a second. Long enough to miss the way Art glances at Tashi. Long enough that when Tashi tilts your chin, your body doesn’t respond.

You don’t say anything when they don’t move their hands. Too comfortable with them. They're your girlfriends so you let them. Your body pliant- warm, slow, too tired to resist. You lean in without meaning to, cheek brushing Tashi’s collarbone, lips grazing her throat. She doesn’t stop you. Just exhale, hand heavier across your thigh, and squeeze the flesh. The booth feels too warm, too crowded for you even though it's just the three of you there. Their voices are slow. You close your eyes- just for a second. Long enough to miss the way Art glances at Tashi like she's saying something to her. It's long enough when Tashi tilts your chin, but your body doesn’t respond.

You don’t stir when they leave the bar and carry your body. Don’t feel Tashi adjust your skirt, or Art curl her arm beneath your knees. You sleep through the keys, purse, and the way to the stairs. But you know when you’re home. Softer sheets. Your shoes are gone. Your head sinks heavier than usual. Their voices drift nearby. Like you know they're talking but it's gibberish and just whispers to you. The room is dark. You should open your eyes. You don’t. You can't.

Art is the one who touches you first. Just a brush to your calf to test the waters. When you don’t move, she keeps going- fingers tracing lace, breath shaky. Her sweater slips down her arms. She rolls the lace down from your hips until it's off. Kisses your knees. Behind her, a zipper slides. A belt unbuckles and a tug on the floor when it drops there. Tashi moves in silence- shirt on, rings flashing. She pulls the strap from the drawer like a ritual. Art doesn’t look. She doesn’t need to.

Tashi walks towards the bed and steps in. Art is kneeling between your thighs, her hands more certain now. She parts you gently and yanks your skirt up. Stare at it before her breath hitches. Still wet. She hums. Then bends low to lick- once, slow, carefully before her lips touch the bud. A kiss to the altar before he slides a finger inside. Tashi undresses while staring at the both of you. Shirt lifted, strap now buckled, panties on, chest bare. Art doesn’t look. She already knows. When Tashi walks past, thumb grazing her jaw, Art shudders. “You’re not putting her to sleep,” Tashi murmurs. “You’re waking her up.” Art’s fingers still- then curl deeper. Your hips twitch. Your body remembers.

Art stays knelt-bent low at the bed’s edge, arm hooked under your thigh, mouth buried like scripture. She licks slowly, steadily. Her fingers curl patiently and wet. She doesn’t hear Tashi move- only feels her hand in her dress, tugging gently until she arches. Her panties slide down by Tashi. Feels the coldness of the air. Then Tashi’s warm hand. Then the strap- warm, thick, pressed between her folds but not in. Just grinding. Slow. Cruel. Art moans into you but doesn’t stop. She gives even as she’s taken. “Keep her open for me,” Tashi murmurs. “Or I’ll make you watch.” Art whimpers, kisses your clit goodbye, and leans in again- cheek to your thigh, back arched, ass offered, slick dripping down her legs. Tashi grinds against her, measuring. “You’re dripping,” she says, smiling. “Already?” Art bites your thigh to muffle her moan. Her fingers never stop. Then Tashi enters her- no thrust, no force. Just reading. Steady. Deep. Art shudders, forehead to your skin, mouth whispering sweet girl like a prayer. Still, her fingers curl inside you. Always. Still preparing you for Tashi.

Every motion is restrained. Calculated. Tashi moves slowly, deep- each thrust a drag meant to be felt. Her hands grip Art’s hips, using her like leverage, and Art takes it silently- moaning into your thigh, not the air. Mouth open. Breath caught. Your head turns in sleep. A soft breath escapes. Tashi stills. Art freezes. Then- softly- your body relaxes again, and Art resumes. Gentler. Softer. Like she’s thanking you. Tashi fucks her harder- when you go back to slumber but still quiet. Still careful. Art’s fingers move in tune with your breath. But Tashi’s hips threaten to undo her. The strap pushes deep, claiming her inch by inch. She bites your thigh... more like teething and grazing to the skin when it builds. Tashi knows. Of course she does. The tremble in Art’s knees. The arch of her spine. The grind of her clit. Every breath. Every tell.

Tashi fucks her just a little deeper. “Don’t stop,” she murmurs- not to Art, but to the rhythm of her finger between your thighs. Art comes like it hurts. No sound. No cry. Just a sharp shiver against your thigh, lips parted around a moan she never lets go. Her fingers don’t leave you, even as she jerks- slick pouring down her thighs. Her breath stutters. Her eyes flutter shut. She holds still. Tashi doesn’t move either- not yet. She just breathes with her. One palm gliding up her back. “You’re okay,” she says, rough and low. “You did good.” No pressure. Just a pause. Then they move- not to fuck. Not yet. But to touch. To see.

Art lifts her head. Kisses your thigh. Her hand slides out, fingers trembling, stroking once more like an apology. She rises, standing in front of the bed- undressing slowly. Her sweater dress. Her panties. Her bra. Stays in her thigh highs. Always does, like feeling fuzzy. Tashi kneels, tugging your skirt down. Art unbuttons your blouse after she undresses. Quiet. Careful. Her hands still shake. She kisses your ribs. Pushes your top aside. Your bra. Her thumbs trace under your breasts, lifting them free. You’re bare- except for the flush on your skin, the previous marks they left by their mouth, the glisten between your thighs.

Tashi exhales- clearly turned on by the sight. Her palms stroke your thighs- rougher than Art’s. More certain. She holds them open. Just to look. But she's dying to touch them. To open those lips. “She’s so wet already,” Art nods, humming before whispering. “She’s ready,” Tashi answers.

You are. Even in sleep. Blacked out drunk. Open. Soft in the way only trust allows. Tashi lifts your leg over her shoulder. Her thumb drags lazy circles through your slick slit. Not pressing in. Just spreading the line. Watching you twitch faintly, even now. “You’re soaking, baby,” she murmurs- not to wake you. It's more than just for herself. Art kneels beside you, naked. She kisses your breast- then the other. Soft. Careful. You stir. Barely. A shift. A breath. A furrow. Then stillness. She sucks gently at your nipple, tongue flicking slow, while Tashi slides the strap along your slit- gathering slick to make it wetter despite it just came from Art's cunt. Not in. Not yet. Just rocking. Your lips part. A sigh. Then, groggy, slurred: “…‘m not in the mood…”

Art stills, gasping. Her nose brushes your sternum. Her hands hesitate. But Tashi doesn’t pause. She only hums- low and amused. “You don’t want to help me and Art?” she murmurs, voice velveted and pitying. Like she knows how to get you. The strap drags again, pressing between your folds- a statement. “That doesn’t sound like our girl.” Art says nothing, but her grip tightens. Want. Agreement. Hunger.

“You’re so warm for us,” Tashi adds, lower now. “So wet, baby. I think you do want to help.” You whimper- maybe protest, maybe not. But your hips tilt. Reflex. Memory. Like your body remembering who you belong to. Tashi smiles. “That’s better.” Then she slides in. Still moving. Still inside you. Tashi watches her. Slow, like a hush. Her eyes flick down to your face- flushed, lips parted. Then back to Art who's already looking at her with those adorable eyes like she's begging for something. Something like... can I sit in her face? Yes, your face. Tashi smiles. Not kind. Not cruel. Just knowing. Then nods.

That’s all Art needs. She rises, wiping her mouth. Her sweater’s long gone- only the thigh highs remain. Her skin is flushed. Her breath was ragged. She climbs up and her hands are placed on the headboard. One hand slides under your head, tilting your face. Your hand that was placed on the headboard is now on your cheek just to steady herself. Then she swings her knee over and settles. Her cunt hovers above your lips- slick, flushed, needy. Tashi’s pace never falters. Hips rolling, strap dragging deep. “Go on,” she says, voice like velvet on smoke. “Sit on her mouth, sweetheart.” Art shudders. Then obeys.

You finally become conscious of the taste of Art. Not fully- just enough to whimper, a soft, muffled sound caught between her thighs as your lashes flutter open. Shock at the sudden weight and slickness on your lips and cheeks, basically on your face. Everything’s hazy. Wet. Warm. Your mouth parts instinctively beneath her, tongue twitching, and Art exhales- shaky, stunned- fingers tangling in your hair like she’s clinging to a dream. Behind you, Tashi doesn’t stop. Her grip on your hips is steady, strap rolling deep in that same punishing rhythm your body already knows. The rhythm that hits back on your walls. “There you are…” Art breathes, hips stuttering forward. “Hi, baby.” You whine again- more reflex than language- and Tashi laughs low behind you, a sound like silk splitting at the seams. “See?” she murmurs, snapping her hips hard enough to make your thighs jolt. “Didn’t even need to ask.”

Art rocks against you, gentle but desperate, her slick cunt grinding against your mouth as if it’s instinct, not choice. You lick like it’s the only thing you’ve ever been taught- slow, soft, open- and Art moans, broken and breathless, hips stammering forward in gratitude. Your eyes can't even fully open but you just lick, suck, and kiss her cunt. “She’s so good like this,” she gasps, her thighs trembling. “So soft. So- fuck- eager.” Tashi leans in, cock driving deeper as her voice spills low and cruel into your ear. “She’s ours. Even half-asleep, she knows what to do.” And you do. God, you do. Because your mouth stays open. Your tongue keeps working. You let them use you, take from you, fill you- because you’re theirs. You always have been.

The room hums with it, this rhythm, this reverence- slick sounds and shaky breath, the holy weight of bodies shifting above yours. You’re barely awake, but your mouth knows better than your mind, moving with that aching, learned hunger. Art trembles as your tongue curls, her breath catching in her chest. Her thighs tighten. It almost suffocated her and she crashed her head into those thighs. Her hips rock. She grinds like she can’t help it, seeking more. Tashi doesn’t let up- she drives into you steady, cock slick, hands firm as she spreads you open like something sacred. “That’s it,” she breathes, her mouth brushing your ear. “Taking cock like you’re supposed to. Don’t lie to me about being ‘not in the mood’ when your pussy’s this wet.”

You whimper into Art and she gasps, fingers flexing hard in your hair. “She’s right,” she pants, cunt grinding low and slick over your lips. “You woke up dripping, baby. You were dreaming about it, weren’t you?” Tashi grins- sharp, mean, proud- and thrusts again, harder now. “Dreaming about this cock splitting you open. Filling you up so good you forgot how to think.” You try to protest- moaning something soft and muffled- but your body gives you away. You’re wet. Open. Needy. They’re everywhere- inside you, around you, above you- and all you can do is take it.

“That’s it,” Art moans, voice cracking. “Tongue out, sweetheart. Keep it soft. She’s so good- Tash, fuck- she’s so good- ” Tashi’s eyes stay fixed on where she disappears inside you, voice rough with pride. “She’s our little pillow princess. Always ready. Always willing. Look at her- fucked dumb and still trying to please.” Art shudders above you, her thighs twitching as her hips chase the pleasure. “She’s licking me like she means it. Like she wants to be good for us.”

“She is,” Tashi growls. “She’s ours. She always will be.” She says it again, quieter this time- almost to herself. “Ours.” Art gasps, cunt grinding harder against your mouth as she starts to lose control. “Feel her tongue- she’s so soft- God, she’s licking like she’s starving- ” Art’s voice cracks, thighs shaking, caught on the edge of it. “She likes it messy,” Tashi says, thrusting deeper like a reward. “Don’t you, sweetheart?” You can’t answer. You just moan against Art’s cunt, licking harder, sloppier, like devotion made flesh. Like prayer. Tashi groans behind you, fucking you harder, cock dragging wet through your cunt as she claims every inch of you. “This pussy’s mine,” she says- not to Art, not to you, just to the room. A truth.

Art nods, breath ragged. “I know it is. Just look at her- she’s not even thinking. Just taking you. Sucking me.” Tashi leans in and spits between your shoulder blades- slow, deliberate- and you cry out against Art. Her thighs jump at the sound. “She’s not gonna come until I say,” Tashi says, drawing out until only the tip remains, then slamming back in. “But you can. Go on, baby. Use her. I know you want to.” Art gasps, stunned- but her hips move like instinct, like she’s waited for permission. “Can’t help it,” she whispers. “She’s so soft. I want to come all over her mouth, I want- ” “Then do it,” Tashi growls. “While I fuck her. She’s full and quiet and obedient. Let her feel how good she is.” And you do. You feel all of it- the heat, the weight, the praise. Their voices wrap around you like silk. Their bodies are like chains. You’re owned. You’re used. And you don’t say a word. You don’t need to.

It happens slowly. Not all at once- but in waves. A soft unraveling. Like your body already knows how to come for them. Like you’ve already given everything. Art breaks first. You feel it in the tremble of her thighs, the flutter of her breath, the sharp gasp that punches out when your tongue catches her just right. She doesn’t even mean to, maybe- doesn’t mean to grind so hard, to moan that loud- but she’s losing it, right above you, and there’s no hiding it now. “Oh- fuck,” she chokes, hips jerking. “I’m gonna- I’m- ” You moan into her, helpless, to give her more, just to feel her ear from the sound. Her body seizes; she clutches your head, rocks once more, then goes still, panting through her teeth as she gushes across your tongue.

“God,” she breathes, wrecked. “She made me come. Tash- fuck- she licked me until I came- ” It makes you ache, the way she says it like a confession, like she’s been made holy in your mouth. “I know, baby,” Tashi murmurs behind you, smug and fond in equal measure. “She’s perfect.” Her thrusts never falter- still steady and cruel, cock dragging through your soaked cunt with humiliating ease. You can’t move, can’t breathe; limp, boneless, fucked open and wet with everything. Your face still buried between Art’s thighs. Still licking- slow now, weak and sloppy, like it’s all you’ve got left. Tashi strokes your hair once. “You can come now,” she says. “Go on, sweetheart. Show her how good it feels to be used.”

You come like it’s been stolen from you. Not loud, not wild- just a breathless shudder that empties you out. Your breath stutters against Art’s cunt. Your thighs seize around Tashi’s waist. Everything goes white, hot, slick. You don’t cry out- you just whimper, soft and slurred, as your cunt flutters around the strap, dripping like you’re trying to prove you need it. “There she is,” Tashi groans, hips stuttering. “There’s our good girl.” Art’s shivering above you, fingers feathering your cheek. “She’s still licking,” she whispers. “She’s still trying.” And that- God, that- breaks something in you, or maybe builds something new, something sweetly wrong. You don’t know. You just know this: you’d die like this. Like a mouth that won’t close. A body broken open and shared. Something they both decided to keep. “She’s always trying,” Tashi says, slow and proud. “Even when she’s full. Even when she’s spent. That’s why she’s ours.”

They don’t move. Not yet. Just stay close, curled around you like you’re precious, like they’ve earned you. You lie there, dazed and leaking, lips slack against Art’s cunt, Tashi’s cock still buried deep. For a long, golden second, no one speaks. Just breathe. Just heat. Just that holy quiet in the space between three people undone. They let you have it- just a moment- before they begin again.

Your legs are trembling when Tashi pulls out. She does it slowly. Too slow. Her cock drags against your walls like it knows you’ll miss it, like it wants to leave an echo behind. Your cunt clenches on nothing, fluttering, aching open. You make a noise- soft and wounded- and Tashi watches the spill drip from you with a pleased groan. Her hand sweeps your back like she’s proud of the mess. “Aw, I know,” she murmurs, mock-sweet. “Empty now, huh?”

You can’t answer. Chest heaving. Jaw slack. Too far gone to think. But you feel it when she shifts- arms sliding under you, lifting you onto your back like you’re made of glass. You go pliant. Boneless. And then Art leans in to kiss you. Soft. Sweet. Devastating. Her mouth brushes yours even though she knows what’s coming. Even though your lips are already parting around the phantom shape of a cock. Her kiss tastes like her. Like you. Like hunger and ruin. “Good girl,” she breathes, just as your lashes flutter, just as Tashi kneels beside your head and brings the strap back to your mouth.

You see it- still slick from your cunt- swinging heavy above your chest as she spreads her knees and claims the pillow on either side of your head. That same lazy confidence she fucks with, like your body’s hers to perch on. It looms, flushed and thick, your throat tightening before it even touches you. Tashi strokes herself once, slowly, then angles it toward your lips. You’re still glossy with spit. Still parted from before. But when the cock presses close, your face flinches, breath hitching. Your eyes flicker up pleading, wary- and your voice barely crawls out. “…N-no,” you whisper. “Don’t want that.”

Tashi just stares. And smiles. “Mmm,” she hums. “Funny. You liked it inside you a second ago.” Her hand cups your cheek, unbearably tender, fingers cradling your jaw like something fragile. Her thumb strokes your mouth once- then presses in, slow and firm, easing the tip just barely past your lips. You whimper, turn away, and try to resist. She sighs, disappointed. “Stop pretending,” she murmurs. “I just fucked your cunt open with it. Don’t act shy now that it’s your mouth.” You shake your head, breath stuttering- but your body gives you away. Your hips twitch. Your thighs flex. That needy heat still pulses in your gut. And that’s when Art moves.

She’s already sliding between your legs, one thigh slotting between yours as she straddles you, palm braced flat on your stomach, grounding you while the other dips low to guide her hips into place. She starts slow- grinding down in a smooth, heavy roll- and moans softly when the slick of your pussy kisses hers. Her cunt catches on your own, your folds messy and warm where they slide together. “She’s doing that thing again,” Art murmurs, voice velvet and mean. “You know. Where she pretends she doesn’t want it. Just to see if you’ll make her.” Tashi growls. Her hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back into place. “Oh, I’m gonna make her,” she mutters darkly. You gasp, body arching, hands reaching weakly for her thighs like you’re trying to stop her, but it’s already too late- her cock is back at your lips, smeared with your own come, nudging insistently like it belongs there.

“Open,” she says, low and commanding. “Or I’ll make Art do it for me.” You whimper- fragile, desperate- lashes fluttering, lips trembling. But then you feel it: Art’s cunt grinding into yours, her clit dragging in slick circles as her hips start to move. Her moan breaks softly above you, the sound curling around your ears like silk. “Go on, sweetheart,” she purrs, teasing and cruel. “Be good. Or we’ll both get mean.” Your head shakes. But your mouth opens anyway- just enough, just for the tip- and Tashi groans, deep and low, when she feels it. “There it is,” she mutters, sliding in a little further, cock thick and steady. “Always so mouthy until there’s cock in it.”

She feeds it to you slowly. Not rough- not yet. Her hips roll gently, just enough to push deeper into your throat inch by inch, your lips stretching pink and wet around her, spit already starting to leak down your chin. Your throat flutters helplessly, instinctively. Art moans again- louder this time- grinding harder, her clit catching on yours as the friction builds. “God,” she gasps, voice trembling. “She’s fucking soaking.” Tashi stays slow, controlled, savoring every reaction. Her eyes flick down, sharp and hungry, as she watches your face twist around her cock. “You hear that, brat?” she murmurs, sliding in just a little deeper. “She’s using you. Just like I’m about to.”

Tashi doesn’t fuck your mouth. Not yet. She owns it. Train it. Makes it hers. The cock that ruined your cunt- still swollen, still slick- presses past your lips in a slow, deliberate stretch. Not thrusting. Not plunging. Just… resting. Like it belongs there. You gag. And she still doesn’t move. Just holds you there- deep, weighted, far too thick- anchoring you by your throat. Your breath stutters. Your nose flares. Your body goes rigid, desperate for air, for mercy. Your palms twitch, flail, press weakly against her thighs, trying to push, maybe hold, maybe just survive- but she doesn’t budge.

Her thighs are solid, caging your head, muscles flexing as she sinks a little deeper into the pillow beneath her. Her cock stays rooted. You slap at her- but it’s pitiful, barely even lands. “Don’t fight it,” she murmurs, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, her voice cruel and calm. “You’re gonna learn to live with it in your throat.” You sob around her. Eyes wet. Spine locked. One wild kick shoots out sloppy, desperate- and hits something soft. Art hisses, laughing. “Oh, she’s pissed,” she says breathlessly. “Baby kicked me.” Tashi smiles. She pulls out just far enough to let you breathe- a gasp of spit-slicked air- before sliding right back in, deeper, slower, crueler. Not fast. Just… corrective. Another warning. You gag again. She rests it there. Again.

And that’s how it goes. Pull out. Breathe. Push in. Gag. Rest. It’s a rhythm. A ritual. Your body stops resisting the way it once did- your fists still slap, still twitch, but there’s no force left in them. You’re stretched wide, gasping between thrusts, spit trailing from your chin to her cock to your chest. Every inch of you trembles. And then you try to kick again- worse this time, weaker- and Art catches your leg easily, pins it back down. “Don’t get bratty now,” she murmurs, mouth warm against your belly. “We’re being so gentle.” You don’t believe her. Not with your throat choked full and your cunt rubbed raw. But then she shifts- lower, hotter, wetter- and you feel the heat of her sex kiss yours again.

She grinds down slowly. Hungry. Her slick folds catch and drag on yours, her clit locking with yours in a perfect, filthy kiss. You whine. You can’t stop it. You’re gagging on cock and whining into it at the same time, the noise a wet, garbled mess in your throat. Your hips twitch- trying to pull back, trying to chase the friction- and Art just keeps going. Her hips roll with slow, steady intent, fucking you with obscene, velvet pressure. “She’s soaked,” Art moans, voice cracked. “Her clit’s throbbing. She’s kicking, but she’s loving it.” Tashi laughs low. Her hand tightens in your hair, angling your face better so she can watch every little twitch.

“Let her kick,” she says softly. “She always gives in.” Then she slides deeper, hips flexing with steady control. Your throat stretches. Your lips go glossy and red. You try to cry out, but it’s only a broken little choke, bubbling past the thick girth stuffed in your mouth. Your fists beat weakly at her thighs. Nothing changes. Her cock stays buried, heavy and pulsing against your tongue, coated in slick and spit and helplessness. Art moans again- louder, needier- her cunt grinding into yours, her clit dragging over yours in sloppy, filthy friction. Her nails bite your thigh. “God, she’s perfect like this,” she gasps. “All full and fucked and flailing.”

You twitch again- leg jerking, throat clenching- and grunt helplessly around the cock choking you. Even your protests sound like praise. Tashi groans low and starts the cycle over: pull out, gasp, push in, gag, rest. Your throat adjusts. Your cunt throbs. The fight drains from your limbs, replaced by tears streaking hot down your cheeks. “Good girl,” she murmurs, watching your lips stretch around her. “You’ll take it all. You always do.” Below, Art kisses your clit with hers- soft, sweet, merciless. And then suddenly, everything shifts. Tashi stills. Her cock stays buried. She growls- not playful. Not amused. Pissed.

She moves- fast, brutal. Her hips snap back, spit-webbed cock sliding wet from your throat, and before you can breathe, she slams back in. No warning. No mercy. You gag hard, whole body jolting. One hand clamps your jaw wide, the other grabs your breast, rough and possessive. “Oh, now you’re crying?” she snaps. “You had your chance to behave.” Her rhythm turns punishing- cock battering the back of your throat like your resistance is something to break. Each time you choke, her grip tightens on your tit.

Art doesn’t stop either. Her cunt stays pressed to yours, slick and frantic, rubbing harder now. Your clit screams, raw and twitching, but she keeps going, hips grinding like she’s chasing something she needs. “Fuck,” she pants, “she’s still soaking. She’s fucking dripping, Tash.” Tashi groans and drives deeper. Your eyes roll. A pitiful gurgle bubbles up, helpless. Art leans in, breath hot on your stomach. “You gonna come like this, sweetheart?” she whispers. “All full and crying?”

You can’t answer. Your body’s strung out, aching, soaked. Tashi pulls back only to slam deep again, nails digging into your breast as she growls, “You’ll fucking learn. You begged for this.” You twitch. Try to kick. But Art moans and grinds harder, her clit catching against yours with every roll. “She’s gonna break,” she gasps. Tashi doesn’t stop- fucking your throat with cruel rhythm, her hand mauling your chest like she wants bruises blooming there. You choke. You cry. You come.

It’s sudden. Violent. Like a snapped wire. Your hips jolt off the bed, thrashing under Art’s weight. Your throat tightens around Tashi’s cock as you try to scream- but nothing comes. Just broken gags and spit. Tashi groans, pulls out fast and wet. You collapse. Mouth open, sobbing, trembling. Spent. But Art keeps going, grinding her cunt against yours, clits dragging, friction brutal. “Can’t- fuck, can’t- ” you sob. “You can,” Tashi breathes, suddenly soft. “You will.” She leans in not to soothe, but to play. Her mouth closes over your tit, teeth sinking deep. Her hand grabs the other, thumb pinching until it peaks in her palm- and the cycle begins again.

You sob, shuddering beneath her. Art moans low- then she comes, folded tight against you, mouth to your belly, her cunt trembling where it grinds yours to ruin. Her nails dig into your thigh. Her whole body locks and shakes. “Fuck,” she gasps, rutting through it, “fuck, baby- ” but she doesn’t stop. She rides it out, clit throbbing, slick soaking into yours until the heat between you turns feverish, endless. Tashi hums against your breast, then sucks- slow, deep- like she’s drinking you in. Her other hand rolls your nipple between her fingers, soothing and claiming at once. You twitch. Cry out.

You don’t know if it’s a second orgasm or the first still cresting. It blooms again, sickly and sweet, like rot taking root. Your hips jerk, pussy spasming under Art’s grind, your body alight. Tashi pulls off with a pop and smiles, all teeth. “You’re twitching,” she says. “Such a good little mess.” Art slumps against you, her breath hot and ragged. You’re soaked. Wrecked. Still coming- or caught in it, helpless. You sob again, hoarse and shaking. Tashi leans in, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face to hers. Her eyes glint. “Good girl.”

Art stays pressed close, her thigh draped over yours, cunt still warm on your skin. The desperation has faded, replaced with something slower, hungrier. She lifts her head, finds your breast, and licks- not greedy, not rough. Reverent. Her tongue follows the bruises Tashi left- bite marks, flushed skin, fading indents. Like she’s jealous. Like she wants to taste what isn’t hers. Tashi watches, hand resting easily on your stomach. “Didn’t think you’d be the clingy one,” she murmurs. Art doesn’t answer. Just flicks her tongue over your nipple, slow and possessive.

“Oh, I see,” Tashi says, tilting her head. “Still catching your breath, but your mouth’s on my tit.” Art looks up, lips wet. “Yours?” she echoes, biting lightly. Tashi smiles, smug. “I fucked her mouth,” she says. “Seems fair.” Art glares. “Yeah? I fucked her too. So share.” You groan, breath thin and shaking. “Hello?” you rasp. “It’s my body. I just got fucked. And now you’re fighting over my tits?” Neither replies. They glance at you- briefly. Dismissively.

Then Tashi brushes your nipple again, slow and teasing, while Art sucks another mark into your chest. You sigh- loud, exhausted- but don’t stop them. Not really. You let your head fall back. Let them claim you again. This time it’s quieter. Slower. Not lust but aftermath. Not fucking but keeping. Tashi palms your other breast, thumbing it idly while Art traces what’s left. Her gaze stays on your face- tracking each flutter of your lashes like you might fall asleep beneath them. “She’ll knock out if we keep petting her,” Art murmurs. “Good,” Tashi replies. “She earned it.” Then softer- like a secret, like a prayer: “She’s perfect when she’s quiet.”

Your lip twitches. “Fuck both of you,” you whisper. Tashi smirks. Art licks again. And you stay there- naked, aching, soft beneath their mouths- as they settle in to touch what they just destroyed. Not to start again. Just to keep.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[ot3]

in the past i have been incredibly clear about exactly when, where, and how i have employed any amount of ai image generation in any of the art i have made and i definitely don't plan on ever just generating and posting ai images in lieu of drawing shit because i do find a ton of value in the actual act of working on a piece. i have long been a proponent of the idea that an outcome-based approach to art is the quickest way to become disillusioned with your own work and that you're always better off trying to hone your craft by developing a process you can enjoy even when it produces final products you're unhappy with, rather than trying to force a process that produces a specific final product.

anyway with that preamble out of the way, it always feels like suuuuuch a slap in the fucking face when some piece of shit decides to come on to one of my posts and tell me that if artists don't make their work via accepted practices they're depriving themselves of Important Life Experiences that their craft and perhaps even the fabric of their being suffer for. there's no way to genuinely advocate for the idea that some specific processes for bringing your ideas into the world are more "enriching" than others that doesn't come at the expense of disabled people. who the hell are you to get to decide for other people whether or not what they're doing is enriching their life? who are you to tell someone that they aren't "engaging fully" with what they're making or doing just because they're not doing it in the way you personally value!

the truth is being disabled absolutely does rob you of a lot of meaningful enriching experiences and it fucks suuuucks. really the last thing anyone needs when dealing with that is to be told the things in their life that they are doing to enrich themselves don't count because they're cutting too many corners. a lot of life as a disabled person involves corner cutting. stop automatically correlating the amount of effort something takes with the amount of value it brings to people's lives. or go kill yourself, one or the other, i don't really care which.

[suddenly-frankenstein]

an aftermath

[spectrolitha]

My Fate phase goes on 😌

Featuring a bunch of characters from all over Fate universe because I cannot be contained apparently

Starting with my favourite Disney princess, Robin Hood.

And then Gil and Hakunon from Extra CCC. Gil somehow has all of my favourite sprites from any Fate media. I try to redraw them and I fail miserably, but at least I'm having fun. And Hakunon is too precious to be left out. So here they are.

And then Diarmuid being treated like the babygirl he is. And Artoria living her best life as well

And then switch to something more moody incomes... Yeah, this artdump is all over the place. Anyways, I really like Sanson. A lot. I'm weak to bright blue eyes, long coats and characters deeply intertwined with death.

And now, ❗cw: blood❗

I saw that one post about a hawaiian shirt covered in blood again and immediately thought of Cu.

That's it. Thanks for viewing my art :]

[thefaiao]

I love your shape language so much!! it’s inspiring me to try new things with my art, i was wondering if you had any suggestions for breaking the shapes down in character designs or how the characters relate to the colour palettes used in your pieces!!

God this is a tough question... I'll try my best to answer. This is somewhat basic but when drawing, think not only about the space the character occupies, but the space they don't, the negative space. Sometimes poking wholes into those large masses, if it is by stretching their limbs or body in some way, which most artists do to better communicate poses or make the drawings more dynamic, can help distinguish the shape and bring forth the character that much more.

Experimentation is also important, though it shouldn't stop you from starting and finishing something so to speak. Like I have drawn Rando many many times in different somewhat laborious illustrations, but instead of trying to get him perfect, I finish what I started and move on to try again. My first Randos are far from perfect, but isn't it nice that you can go back and see them anyway? It's important to finish things, even if it'll be inconsistent later. It's inconsistent because you are human, not only you can't figure it out without practice, perfect is the horizon. You can never reach the horizon, it can only exist far away from you, and that is fine. Trying to get there is what truly matters.

Now for color I'm not sure... I don't have a good grasp in color theory, at least not one I could put into words. I just kept painting until it looked good, and many of my old color schemes were awkward, though I still was very attached to them because I wanted to believe there was more ways to do things than what I was seeing. How about this tip: my coloring after picking the more base colors that underline the illustration is simple, you should not feel daunted and see what I do as impossible to achieve somehow. I tend to pretty often work with single layers and just making colors decay in a pleasing curve to represent shadows, mostly by becoming darker and more saturated, but it depends on the mood. If you wanna get good at colors, try that, try just drawing on the same layers and sculpting things with color. It's awkward at first but I think it pushes you to live with your decisions and not get too attached to one piece or another, which I think is one of the biggest traps you can fall in with digital art.

Now of course I pick my colors thinking of how I relate to the characters and all. In a way when I draw I am reflecting on what that particular character means to me. With a known game I also think about their place in the history of games I suppose, and online culture. At the same time I wanna capture all the aspects that I like about them. For Susie for example I wanted to capture her more teenage side, as I feel it is lost with the drawings. Mostly it comes down to shapes and how the character presents themselves, but I suppose the colors also reflect the mood of the situations I imagine these characters in, behind the more superficial aspects of my style like the fact it's generally vibrant.

I could probably meander on, but I'm sure you get the picture. I hope it shed at least some light on what you had in mind.

[icanexplainwhythisnameisbad]

DUMB@$$ DELTARUNE 3&4 (really dumb) WHAT IFS

these are in no way directly related but basically dumb thoughts I had that since I have poor story writing skills (like I can conceptualize a story but I can’t describe an environment or write dialogue which is 2/3rds of any good story (only half if you include art as well I mean I have decent art skills… but it’s a kindergartener’s drawing in comparison to most art on here )

the point is I’m putting ideas here (some of which others may have also come up with but I’m putting my own spin on it )

spoilers ahead (while most who see this probably have played both new chapters and don’t care. Just in case.)

-Toriel wakes up early in chapter 3. V1:

this version has her wake up during the Tenna boss fight and that’s a whole confrontation as the tv with abandonment issues is losing his mind

-Toriel wakes up early. V2:

this one has her wake up relatively early in chapter so The $#@* Squad/Fun Gang/Lancer Fan Club & Tenna (separately but they both do it) kinda try to keep the whole “end of the world / the knight wants to kidnap you + your divorce & abandonment of me has caused me a ton of issues” thing(s) away from Toriel (meanwhile literally everyone else there (anyone who isn’t the 3 heroes & Tenna) doesn’t care and tells her anyway ) meanwhile Toriel is just confused, curious & kinda worried that her own TV got issues from her (and the others but they aren’t here right now )

-Tenna burns a woody doll (expy) at the stake.

-Gerson ends up in castle town:

(the old man is too powerful to be bound by death & a mere meta video game’s depressing story progression )

-Susie takes Tenna “home” with her instead:

(I know I know Mettaton & Tenna is a whole thing but while we haven’t seen Susie’s house in canon yet. it can’t be a good place from the context clues hidden in some of her actions & dialogue throughout the chapters (as faking calling home isn’t normal (plus a bunch of other things but this isn’t about that (well this part is but not this whole post ) so that’s a thing and a half alone let alone if a fan made dark fountain appeared

-Jackenstein shows up again/survives:

(as from what I saw after he disappears he doesn’t show up again but isn’t directly stated to have died and while this could be a thing in a later chapter … 🤷)

-the soul ditches kris to possess noelle instead:

(as in a pacifist or neutral route the soul wouldn’t like being beaten up for trying to prevent the end of the world & everyone in it & just being curious in general. or for a snowgrave version, the soul decides it’s a better course of action instead of using kris (sure there’s the whole “your choices don’t matter but the game itself talks about you as if your kris and kris is you. so what if it’s “Kris’s choices don’t matter “ & not “the soul/player’s choice don’t matter” ) )

-noelle decides for whatever reason to visit Kris’s house in the middle of the night:

and therefore ends up in TV world (aka a reason for Tenna to get depressed again & dess is mentioned )

-Susie stumbles upon something she shouldn’t have…:

aka she ends up unintentionally watching kris play the hidden game and sees the snowgrave route portrayed (especially the “used up” scene ) and/or sees kris rip the soul out at the end of chapter 2 and is too stunned/shocked to do anything about it and doesn’t bring it up directly

-ralsei & Toriel meet and that’s pretty self explanatory

-Toriel wakes up early V3: she wakes up somepoint early in the chaoter but separate from kris, Tenna & the others & ends up going on her own adventure (kinda like the second one but without kris & the others there to give even more focus on Toriel meeting the tv world darkness (minus Tenna)

-the soul copy pastes Kris’s code into a genocide route in undertale to let them kill sans:

(meanwhile frisk+chara+the undertale player (its a mix of players being legitimate players in a game + being outerworldly beings so yeah. Multiple ) are just watching in confusion as a teenager kills sans on their own as another soul just floats there menacingly )

-since Gerson is technically a lightner reborn as a darkner he doesn’t have a theme… so potentially like ralsei couldn’t he potentially go anywhere (ignoring what ralsei said about reborn lightners turned darkners needing very specific conditions to even form cause gersons just too OP for that):

so basically (ignoring what I said in another post about something keeping the dark sanctuaries separate from the other dark worlds ) Gerson gets to be OP everywhere in every chapter

-Queen sees noelles search history:

(technically a chapter 2 one but I’m surprised nobody else had this idea) basically queen ships Susie & noelle meanwhile berdly is berdly & ralsei is confused by most of berdly’s even saying (meanwhile meanwhile kris is eating moss in a dark alley )

-asgore shows up in chapter 3 when he finds Toriel left something of hers behind (technically another attempt but she did legitimately leave something at the church (before chapter 4. I know it’s at the church but -) (this one would technically have to wait for chapter 5 as that one’s implied to be the asgore chapter but it’s mainly chapter 3 so 🤷

-something something Elnina & Lanino (and potentially roulxs) related:

no explanation needed here (well maybe one is needed but assuming this gets atleast 7 hearts/likes/whatever tumblr calls em. in 2 days I’ll reblog this with the explanation added )

(;

[qhideduo]

If you trusted me so much you would've given me the knife, not him 🙄😒

(Based on this clip)

[clumsypuppy]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[journey-to-the-attic]

"karasu search how 2 cheer human up"

"karasu search difference between sad human and zoning out human"

"karasu search how long is it safe for humans to zone out for?"

(+ a longer look at each scene:)

[nuclearanomaly]

Spite Loves...

[rin-rin-kururin]

do you too look at your travel companion with silent longing or you're normal

i have this urge to crop my image this particulare way and leave it as it is. but I feel bad so here is a full image

anyway sifdile stay winning and I actually did normal drawing of these two wow

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

... I have a lot of thoughts about Draxum.

[pineapple-frenzy]

Are you taking prompts?? I abso-fuckin-lutely live your art and I would do a lot for some more book 2 AU art. You do pretend-relationship-but-we-are-hot-for-each-other better than anyone else!!!!!

Wahhh thank you anon!! I'm not really taking requests right now but here's some book 2 au doodles~~

I'll probably open requests during christmas break, I'm really going through it with my finals right now