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My Oc - Blog Posts
Daisy's are frequently associated with purity, childbirth, new beginnings, and cheerfulness. Daisy petals symbolize innocence and are commonly associated with childhood memories of collecting wildflower bouquets.
Pairing: Marcus Perez (oc) x AFAB! reader
(general) Warning: age gap (he's 50, reader is in mid/late twenties), virgin reader, inexperienced reader, daddy issues™, marcus is a dilf, daddy kink, angst, lots of food/baking, size difference, reader is not overly described but is implied to be skinny & small breasted, able bodied reader, hair length is not defined but will be mentioned, reader is feminine and AFAB but gender is undefined, Marcus drinks and smokes, eventual smut, slow burn-ish, series fic
Authors note: as always do not trust old men who wanna get in your pants! Keep sex safe and always consensual. This is purely fictional and just an expression of sexual fantasy. This chapter is just the beginning so it'll just be establishing the setting and what's going on.
I hope y'all enjoy! Idk when I'll be posting updates as this kinda me trying to grit through writer's block so I'm sorry if chapters are not consistent! Kinda just shouting into the void with this if I'm being honest 🙈 comments, reblogs and likes will always be appreciated!
Moodboard |Part 1 |
For years, Marcus lived in an empty nest, a single man trapped in an unchanging routine. Marcus quits his small-town life and heads to the city, but it's certainly no glamorous ride. Movies painted an enticing picture of freedom—packing up one's life and leaving behind the shackles of monotony, as if shaking off cobwebs layered over dusty memories. Yet, for Marcus, the reality felt more like swallowing cotton balls, each memory sheathed in layers of bubble wrap and tape, heavy boxes straining his weary back as he huffed and grunted. His work buddies rallied around him, lending their arms to help load the cramped pickup truck, but the weight of the moment lingered in his chest.
Though everyone urged him to seize this fresh start, he couldn't abandon that itch to remain in his cycle. He was set in his ways, hesitant to dip his boot-clad feet into new waters, yearning for a life with a touch of difference without completely overhauling the comfort of his past. A constant contradiction of wanting more but unable to muster the greed to take it with unyielding hands. After much contemplation, he settled into a modest apartment above a bakery, cheesily named "Whisk Me Away." Nestled not too far from the city's sprawling park, a purposeful spot he sought out. Marcneededing to venture beyond the habit of staying indoors—something he had lately become all too familiar with. Tucking himself in his solitude, waiting at the phone or rotting his mind with uninteresting TV. Exhausted from work and devoid of friends outside his occasional drink, he dreaded the thought of spending yet another night in the stench of stale beer and listening to another pointless argument or the screams of grown adults outraged by the favorite team losing.
Despite the insistence of his friends that this was his chance to step into retirement, he found it laughable. He never planned to retire. He couldn't. What would he do with himself? After a week of steady toil with boxes, however, he marched into a part-time handyman role for the bakery’s owner. They struck up a friendship, the connection based on the similarities of two middle-aged men sharing dry laughter and nostril-stuffed grunts about sports games that Marcus had little interest in. Or a comment here and there about the youth of today.
Yet, amidst the bustling streets and the chaos of the city, what truly captured his attention wasn’t the sprawling skyline or the rigorous life around him; it was something sweeter, far more delicate. As if biting into a tender sponge of a cupcake. Icing much too sweet for his aged pallet but the rush reminded him of his youth. How he ached to drag his tongue along the creamy sugar that coated this pretty treat. Curling his tongue until he lapped every last bit and got to the true flavor beneath. Untainted and heavenly.
A temptation that should have never crossed his mind at his age. He often scoffed at the very idea of a fling with someone so much younger, dismissing the notion with fierce disapproval. His friends had joked about having a young, pretty thing latched to their hip, and Marcus had rolled his eyes. Perhaps given a pal or two a smack around the head. He considered himself wiser than that—better than that. Or so he thought.
The change within him began quietly. Invading defenses the day he settled into his new life. The difference between him and his little truck and city-slinging people. It lacked the polish of the sleek vehicles roaming the city. The contrast between his humble truck and the flashing, modern cars of the city just screamed ‘fresh meat’ to the scowling, slimmer city living was looking for a bakery with a big fancy bay window - or Italia, Nate as his buddy said. Whatever the fuck that meant wasn'tsn't like he had to Google what it was, s and it wasn't like he was drifting along the busy road, phone propped up on the dashboard, threatening to fall over if he didn't grumble and keep it still, peering between the image and the buildings around him.
He parked awkwardly, the truck’s tire nudging the curb more than he would have liked, but he'd been edging back, and forth, forth trying to spot any space to park, and this was the only one that seemed to work. Cars blaring their raging horns at him. Taking a moment, he stared at the building, suddenly aware of the labor that lay ahead: unloading his entire life into a narrow s; this time, there was no team of buddies at his side.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he pressed his forehead against his palm, feeling the weight of fatigue and apprehension tug at him as if the city itself conspired against him. He glanced at his watch—still an hour until the moving crew arrived—and silently cursed. Always early to everything. That's how his parents raised him to be. But now and again it bit him in the ass just like now. His truck couldn’t possibly contain everything he owned, but he had clung onto those precious few keepsakes he couldn't bear to part with. The sheer price of it all ate into what spare funds he had on the side, meaning he'd be behind a while on groceries and emergency money. The tho ht hung in his mind like a fleeting shadow, provoking a frustrated click of his tongue.
Finally mustering the resolve to abandon the vehicle, Marcus trudged around to the back of his truck, retrieving a few boxes one by one, only to falter when he searched for an alternative entrance—be it a back or side door—anything but the front. But there was none in sight, and he didn't trust leaving his truck unattended in a new place. He's heard all the stories of what kind of hooligans we're skulking around in cities like these. With a resigned grunt, he slammed the truck door shut, trudged towards the bakery, and pushed open the front door, the chime announcing his arrival. Another curse leaving him.
He saw photos of the bakery and its interior but entering the space was a whole experience on its own. Greeted by a large square dining space with tables rowed at the walls most having four wooden chairs snuggly tucked in. All the chairs have a cushion on the seat with ruffles framing them. The tables were light wood and circular with a doily cover draped over it. Two menus in small stands on either side of each one. In the middle were small glass vases filled with daisies and baby's breath, pale yellow ribbons tied into bows at the neck of each vase. The floor creaked, covered In wooden panels. However, it was fake as it didn't have the same squeak he's used to hearing. At the windows there were white lace curtains and shutter blinds rolled and tucked out of view to let the sunlight pour in and soak the building in its natural warmth.
The rays of light bounced against the hanging ceiling lights; each one glass with various flowers engraved on a petal-like base. A turned-off bulb perched in the middle. At the edge of the dining space was a curved counter with a cash register, and a glass display case filled with various baked goods such as pastries, bread, and cakes, though it seemed to be half empty still. Behind the counter, there are shelves stocked with more baked items and different types of porcelain plates with flowers printed on them. A door sealed shut between the many cupboards and shelves.
To his relief, the bakery was empty—until a man appeared from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a faded, threadbare rag, surprise flickering across his face, soon giving way to a light-hearted chuckle. With a playful shake of his head, he approached Marcus.
“Let me help you with that! I didn’t expect to see anyone for a while,” he said, his voice laden with an unexpected warmth.
Marcus raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing his voice as he shifted his grip on the precariously balanced boxes. “You’re the owner, right?” He knew he shouldn't be so stereotypical, but the man before him didn't seem like the type to enjoy a much…dainty interior.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Randal,” he replied as he took a step closer. “And you must be the new neighbor. If you had texted ahead, I could have given you better directions.”
That just made Marcus grunt. Shrugging one of his shoulders. Randal effortlessly plucked one of the heavy boxes from Marcus's arms, letting out a small grunt as he did, a look of approval crossing his features as he assessed Marcus's strong arms. A flicker of respect for a man able to keep his strength up.
“There’s an alley behind the building. If you don’t mind, I can drive around back and help you out. It’ll save you from getting honked at all day,” Randal suggested, his eyes twinkling with knowing. He's been listening to the chorus of honks since the other man's arrival.
With another sigh, Marcus hesitated but nodded. He tightened his grip on the boxes. “That would be helpful. My keys are right here,” he replied, albeit with a lingering twinge of wariness. Yet, considering Randal’s age there was a certain level of reliability. He was put in some faith another man his age would be true to his word, especially considering he'd be living above his business. With a slight pop of his hip, he revealed the keys dangling from his belt loop, which Randal deftly took after putting the box he had taken onto a nearby table.
“Oi! Honey, mind being helpful? The neighbor’s here!” Randal hollered out suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he peered expectantly at the back door, as if willing it to swing open.
A moment of stillness hung in the air, broken only by a muffled voice drifting through the closed door. At last, it swung open with a loud creak, held wide by a stout stopper. You stepped into view, cradling a tray overflowing with an array of delectable treats, the faint scent of fresh-baked pastries wafting through the air. A displeased huff escaped your lips as you expertly slid the tray into the display case at the cashier, a light dusting of flour still lingering on your fingertips.
As you looked up, your eyes finally met those of your new neighbor. A radiant smile broke across your soft features as you hurried around the desk, eager to assist him with the heavy box he was struggling with.
“Grab the one on the table,” your father commanded from behind you, his voice firm, almost dismissive he retreated further into the back.
Your arms fell, swerving around to grab the box, and let out a noise of surprise at the heavyweight. Another huff escaped you. Of course. You looked back at Marcus, and the smile returned to your features. “Let's get these up.” adjusting the box in your grasp as you began to walk to the corner of the bakery where a staircase was tucked away. You already began trudging up as the matching wooden steps became less cared for and rustic compared to the dreamy softness of the bakery.
Marcus followed behind you, his heavy footsteps echoing through the bakery as he lugged the boxes. He couldn't help but notice the way your hips swayed as you climbed the stairs. He didn't mean to stare at your ass but it was right in front of him. Nicely rounded and snug in pale blue jeans. Or at least, that was his excuse until he pried his eyes away to watch his step. Though with the two boxes clutched to his chest, it wasn't the easiest task.
"I really wish they had an elevator." You joked, hoping to clear the stiff silence between you two.
"Yeah, I bet. It would definitely make this a lot easier," he replied, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement. He shifted the box in his arms, feeling its weight pressing against his chest. After a few steps, he spoke again, glancing back toward the dim light of the building that faded into the shadows of the staircase walls.
"So, your pops owns this place?"
"Yeah," you said, your voice trailing off slightly as you nodded. "He handles the numbers and works the cash register, but the bakery is meant to be mine. It just helps to have him manage the stuff I'm not so good at." You shrugged your shoulder as you forced yourself up a few more steps with a large stretch of your leg. The box was already making your arms ache, but that could also be due to hours of mixing and the grocery crates you had hauled in that morning.
"Ah, right. Makes sense with all the—" He cut himself off and cleared his throat. "He just doesn’t seem the type," Marcus muttered hastily as he tried to maintain the good manners that had been drilled into him since he learned to talk.
Following your lead, he hurried up a bit, knowing he still had plenty more boxes to carry. These stairs were going to be well acquainted.
He couldn't help but feel a twist at the bottom of his belly. He worked as a maintenance technician before coming here. I always get calls and texts for even the smallest of issues, like a slow coffee machine. Not exactly a business his Eliana was ever interested in. God knows she wasn't even interested in staying in town once college hit.
“good that you two can do something like that together.” he tried to put a smile in his voice but each word was like a bitter tar coating his tongue.
"yeah!" You agreed but there was a strain to your voice. Finally reaching the top, there was a narrow hallway with two doors on either side and another staircase leading to the people just above. You put the box down outside his door, which was on the right. You patted around your pockets and let out a surprised noise as you felt the bulk of keys in your front one.
"Dad gave me the keys to hold onto, wasn't sure if I still had them." You breathed out, pulling them out and unlocked the front door to his apartment. A singular small window illuminated the hall.
"Thanks, kid," he muttered, stepping into the apartment. The space was small, but it was clean and well-maintained. Though he could tell it was recently gutted of most of what furniture was in it from the streaks on the floor here and there. The walls were a soft beige, and the floors were covered in a worn but comfortable-looking carpet. A small kitchenette was tucked into the corner, and a narrow hallway led to what he assumed was the bedroom and bathroom.
He set the boxes down on the floor, stretching his arms above his head. His muscles ached from the exertion, but he welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that he was still alive, still capable of hard work. He didn't like to laze about for too long. Just the drive to the city made him itch to just do something. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth down the unruly strands that had come loose during the move. His heart was racing in his chest, and he couldn't quite figure out why. Maybe it was just the exertion from carrying the heavy boxes up the stairs, or maybe it was something else entirely. The daunting loom of this was it. He was really starting fresh.
You handed him the keys, a bit surprised by the rough scrape of his palm against your fingers. The hands of heavy labor were worn and built with a protective shield. You quickly retreated your hand back to your side, mouth opening to say something but then a call from downstairs echoed through.
"Hon! You up there still? C'mon! Am I doing all this lifting myself?" Your dad yelled with the sound of something heavy being smacked into.
"Shit- you get yourself sorted, we'll help you with the boxes." You were already making your way out of the apartment, switching between turning to him and the staircase. Another call from your dad made you spin back around and trot down the stairs with thunderous steps. "Yeah I'm coming-!"
Marcus watched as you hurried down the stairs, your footsteps fading away as you disappeared from view. He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at your abrupt departure. Your presence would have been a nice distraction to the acid threatening to burn at his throat. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. But he just shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Empty nest syndrome or whatever they called it, that's all. Just wanting to cling to anything familiar. Anything that reminded him of who he once was.
He marched down the stairs not long after you. "My boxes, your handling, can't have you doing all the work." He called back and heard a chuckle from your father. A mutter of ‘I like this one' just caught in his ear as he marched down the steps.
And that was his day; at some point, he had to take over completely as the bakery opened u,p, and both of you had to turn your attention back to your business. The moving guys arrived 30 minutes late and well, they made up for it by their speedy rush and getting his furniture set up. And then, he was alone one more. He turned back to the boxes, unpacking them methodically. He had a system, one that he had perfected over the years. First, he would unpack the essentials - toiletries, a change of clothes, his coffee maker. Then he would move on to the more sentimental items - photos, mementos, his wife's old perfume bottle. Lastly, he would tackle the miscellaneous items - books, tools, knick-knacks. It was a process that he found comforting and familiar. It grounded him and reminded him of who he was and where he came from.
Everything was new, unfamiliar. Even the smell of the apartment was different - instead of the comforting scent of his over-burnt wood and spice candles, there was a faint whiff of vanilla and cinnamon, a remnant of the bakery below. It was disorienting, unsettling. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.
He paused, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath. His heart was pounding, his palms sweaty. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He had done this for a reason, he reminded himself. He needed a change, a fresh start. He couldn't keep living in the past, couldn't keep clinging to memories that only brought him pain. He had to move on. He couldn't take staring at those empty seats at the dining room table.
He looked at the inner pocket of his jacket and sighed. Unable to bring himself to have the energy to attempt to scold himself. The nasty habit he was unable to kick. Lighting up the cigarette with practiced ease and placing the stick between his lips. Inhaling slowly as he slumped against the wall. What a fucking day.
Pairing: Marcus Perez (oc) x AFAB! reader
(general) Warning: age gap (he's 50, reader is in mid/late twenties), virgin reader, inexperienced reader, daddy issues™, marcus is a dilf, daddy kink, angst, lots of food/baking, size difference, reader is not overly described but is implied to be skinny & small breasted, able bodied reader, hair length is not defined but will be mentioned, reader is feminine and AFAB but gender is undefined, Marcus drinks and smokes, eventual smut, slow burn-ish, series fic
Plot: Marcus seeks out a fresh start living the city life, renting an apartment above a small business bakery. That's where he met you. His sweet temptation.
Note: update schedule currently unknown.
Sunshine and whiskey:
Part 1 | ??? | ??? | ???
I've made a new header image for my vk art blog
New/Old
A year gap between them
guys I accidentally made Jason Dean a ginger furry
this is my OC Preston (image from @maetheellen on picrew
he's literally Jason dean as an adult lion hybrid (with different colors and design tho obv)
he's part of a book I'm writing so if you want to see more on that, just tell me maybe I'll post it to Wattpad or smth lol
I'll tell a little about Hime's the cursed technique. She inherited the Sealing Technique, which is inherited in the Amaterasu Omikami clan.Noriko Hime uses dance to use her cursed energy to create and seal the curse. The stronger the seal, the more difficult and longer it is to put on the curse.T his is the reason why she needs the support of others sorcerers. Hime will not be able to fight against strong curses alone, because the main disadvantage of her technique is that she needs time, which may not be enough in battle. Basically, she doesn't fight, but creates talismans, endowing them with cursed energy and seals that can help other sorcerers. The talisman on her chest is her strongest talisman, which is imbued with the energy of her soul's power and gives it back to her body. It turns out to be a kind of barter between soul and body. I'll write down some more moments about my girls later >< It's kinda hard for me to do this on eng :"")
First drawing of 2018! Of course I drew my evil oc. This year I'm going to try to post more drawings at least once a week.
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH OMG OMH OMY KSKAMAMAMAMM hoLY CRAP AAAAAAA
HES SO BEAUTIFUL OMG I LOVE HIM SO MUSH THANK THANK U SMAMAMAMAMMAMMMMM ######> <###### HE LOOKS SO GOOD
I love ur artstyle so much it’s absolutely beautiful and I’m looking at this going “AAAAAAAAAAAAA” internally #> <# thank u so much this just made my whole entire week
Fancy little guy for @spookys1fan I love this funny little guys design, it’s so silly
Baby banana and his lil bug>>
Here is Hummingbirds full-body ref! ^^
Like I said, a lot more colorful and skinnier than most Fruitwings, not really inspired by any real fruit either, (she kinda looks like one of those rainbow tiger pictures you see on the front of kid coloring books - -*). I didnt really feel like making her scales shiny like how they usually are, partly bc I need her ref colors but mostly bc I was lazy ^^* overall I hope you like her!! I sure do! #> <# <3
This is hummingbird, my new Fruitwing oc!! (She’s actually a recycled oc but eh-)
She is trans-female, which you can see in her coloring, and is a somewhat strange dragon. She’s thinner than most Fruitwings and her tail is particularly skinny and longer than normal. To most other Fruitwings she looks sickly at first sight. Her name itself is also quite strange, “hummingbird”, it doesn’t go by most fruitwing naming conventions, and many she meets have trouble remembering her name, some more traditional dragons refuse to call her that at all. Though some dragons have trouble first meeting her, it doesn’t stop her from forming good connections with her tribe, and she is actually considered quite beautiful to other fruitwings.
Her scales and horns are her pride and joy. She cleans the twice a day-daily and avoids damaging them as much as possible to keep them from fogging or dimming. Her scales have a beautiful shine to them, almost opal like in appearance. Colors shift across her body depending on what angle you look at her from. Her horns are almost like ivory, gleaming like pearls. She cleans and oils her beak regularly and she never eats messily.
Almost contradictory to that, she works at her villages only daycare, doing arts and crafts with the dragonets there. She is immensely patient with them and wants to have her own dragonets one day. But she struggles with her perfectionism, and can get quite firm with them is they mess up any materials, leader forbid her scales. As desperately as she wants a mate and dragonets, she doesn’t think she’s ready for it. For now, the daycare is enough for her.
I hope you guys like her!! I had an absolute blast experimenting with a more painterly style for her!! And her colors were so fun to mess around with ^^
She’s actually a lot more colorful in her full-body, but I haven’t had a chance to get to that yet ^^* I hope to tho
I hope you guys like this, @Insert-name for the species inspiration, and I’d love to see any of y’all’s ideas for the tribe, or possibly ocs?? 👀 but anyway, love yall, hope you have a great rest of your- er- year, week, day, night? whatever
See yall hopefully soon! ^^ 🫶
Hey yall, I wanna make another dragon puppet and use clay on it, and I made up a concept but idk how to color it, so I made up some color pallets for u to pick from! ^^
Which one do you guys like best? I’m leaning toward 1 or 3…
Tell me in the comments! ^^
Here’s some more nana Banana and her grandson content! I love them soo much aaaaaahh
I loved experimenting with the colors for these two and trying to show their feelings through colors! I had a blast! ^^ I loved doing their poses, though it was a LOT of work ^^* and the expressions were so fun! Hope you like it yall
If yall wanna hear more abt nana banana and her grandson, feel free to let me know! ^^
(And if yall have any suggestions, I still don’t have a good name for her grandson ^^*, he loves bugs tho! ^^)
HEYO I DID IT @iobsesswaytoomuch here is ur man leeeooo! ^^
I made him a seawing ofc, he prob wouldnt go in water very much, if at all but he is quite skilled with his his swords(which are animus touched ;P)
Hope you like his design! ^^
Hi!!!
Uh. If- if you’re still doing the turning-characters-into-a-dragon drawing challenge thing…. might I suggest Leonardo from rottmnt? (Or just any of the other turtles from rottmnt lol) :3 👉👈
Obviously no pressure at all, and take your time if you do decide you want to do it!!! ^^
I hope you have a wonderful day/night <3
yyyyyyYYYYEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS AAAAAAAAAA-
Ok why haven’t I seen any kangaroo fursuiters? Like anywhere?
I’m sure there are some but I haven’t seen any!
And there are so many benefits!
1. Big enough to be human sized but not too big to in plausible so that it’s accurate.
2. Tail to lean back on if ur tired. (If u can figure out the mechanism sit the suit)
3. Kangaroos are plantigrade which means they have the same standing pose as humans and you don’t really have to change ur pose with padding as much and you get to have big ass clown feet heheh
4. They are from Australia. Boom. Instant inspiration, accent, and design ideas. (And Australia is just a awesome place in general (if u don’t count the giant bugs))
5. Last and arguably most importantly, BUILT IN STOMACH POCKET! You can store anything in there! Your drinks, books, pens, small animals, stickers, ID, and CHILDREN.
overall I think kangaroos would make the best fursuit type and are overall one of my favorite animals. I hope this inspires yall for ur own fursuit if ur having trouble because if I were to make or buy a fursuit a kangaroo would definitely be my first pick.
Have fun yall, hope you liked this! ^^
Here’s a design for @pagesofnotes who asked for a leopard gecko design! ^^ I hope u like it! I certainly do and I loved making it #^ ^#
He is actually a sea/mud hybrid with mostly seawing features and mudwing coloring and traits! I genuinely had a blast coloring this and I hope it shows! ^^
I might just yoink this design…
Im gonna do a lil challenge where I turn characters/ppl into Wof dragons! ^^ what do y’all think I should do first??
ANYONE ELSE DARE CHALLENGE ME!?!?! HEHEHE-HA
Im gonna do a lil challenge where I turn characters/ppl into Wof dragons! ^^ what do y’all think I should do first??
I will prob make all 3 anyway but I wanna hear form all y’all! ^^
New lil human friends
Cocky little bastard and a grumpy old man
Literally my first time drawing a full body human in like, 2 years give or take??
Honestly I don’t even know how I got here but I love her so much-
Her hairstyle!? How did that happen!? And the only reason I haven’t drawn a human in so long is because I can never get their faces right! And she looks amazing!! And her eyes! They look even!! And pretty!!
Anyway, what’s your favorite thing to draw? Why? What is your least favorite thing to draw? What should I name this little lady? I’d love to hear what y’all think! ^^
Actually had to redo it after my old sketch cuz I hated it ^^*
New bs old
Heheh… but anyway this art trade was awesome! Plusultrayokai is amazingly understanding and was extremely patient with me ^^* even when it took so long to get my art back to them. I’d love to do it again and you should check them out! They are an amazing person and artist and I loved this art trade!
Art Trade with @spookys1fan Hummingbird
^Art I did for @spookys1fan's OC Hummingbird
^Art @spookys1fan did of my fursona, Yōkai
Thank you @rainyjays so much for this amazing art! I'm so happy to have people like you to talk to and stuff! I genuinely can't thank all of you guys enough for supporting me on my artistic journey and just responding to me in general. I had an amazing time drawing for rainyjays and they are an amazing artist and person in general. Go and check their page out they have genuinely amazing art.
Here is their character for my end of our art trade!
Here is their character Smoke! I had a great time drawing her! Hope you like this art!
My half of an art trade with @spookys1fan !!! I had so much fun drawing them and spooky was an amazing person to work with :D their wings were definitely my favorite part to draw and color <3<3
Thank you @snake-veil-of-fire! There is their character for my end of the art trade!
Their art is absolutely beautiful and I hope you guys go over to check it out and support them! They are one of the best artists I've ever seen!
My end of an art trade for @spookys1fan !
This is their character Toucan! They are a lovely artist so please check them out! They did a wonderful piece of Quetzal ^^
A plague boy I quite like. might do stuff with them. 16th Febuary, 2022
A background and an OC, both done within the span of a day. I kind of like this one - the colour palette and digital painting worked quite well. (feel free to use the blank as a phone background - just tell people where you got it if they ask. Please and thank you.) 28th March 2021.
I still love the designs and possibilities in League of Legends characters, and all the things you could do when making one. 26th April 2021
What’s better than a clockwork man in casual clothes? A clockwork man in a suit. What’s better than a clockwork man in a suit? A clockwork man rocking a ballgown, of course.
17th April 2021