her-chest

I am doing an art piece for a client who I have been video chatting with for several years.

Client: I am looking to get a picture of this specific character in a particular pose.

Me: Ok, the character looks easy enough. What pose did you have in mind?

Client: Laying down. The view is from the back but you need to be able to see her face and chest at the same time.

Me: So like…. bent backwards or something?

Client: No, like she is on her stomach and the camera is behind her, but you can see her face and chest at the same time as her back.

Me: Tell you what. You still have that full length mirror in your room? 

Client: Yeah, why?

Me: You go to it, assume the pose you are looking to get, find a way to get it to work without shattering your spine, and then get back to me on how I need to draw it, ok?

A bit later.

Client: Yeah ok I get it now. Just do what you think works.

Me: Thank you. I’ll get back to you in an hour with the rough sketch.

4

Hold my hand as I’m lowered.

He had been born a daughter with the name of Marie-Claudette, and he had never understood his parents’ insistence on this fact. He had known as long as it was possible to know oneself that he was not a daughter, but a son, and had never shied away from taking action to let them know this.

How many times can an only daughter be caught tearing up expensive petticoats and wrapping them tightly across her chest before her parents show concern?

Apparently, thrice. The first time, his mother had been horrified upon the discovery, stuffing his ruined petticoat into the fire so his father would not find out and swearing him to secrecy. The second time, the maid had caught him and informed his mother, and once again, she had expressed her dismay. She’d sent him to confession for the sin of denying the body that god had given him, and he had gone and paid lip-service, all the while planning how to go about it again without being caught. A strategist, even then.
The third time, when he was seventeen, it was his father who stumbled upon him in the act of binding his chest, pulling the ripped fabric so tightly across his breast that it brought tears to his eyes. He had not been half as forgiving as his mother had.

Figured I should promote my fic properly. Canon-era trans boy Enjolras. 

There’s no one else” she said, as she held him.
“I can’t sleep without you” she moaned, as she dreamed of him.
“I need you” she whispered, as she walked away.

She bled words from her mouth in her screaming,
hopes and dreams full of need, but sparse meaning.
And my tongue was a spear I thrust gleaming
into her side.
And she ignored every open wound.
I felt the funeral in her fearful pleas,
tore the tragedy from her chest, and hoped her heart would heal its own hurts.
Because I couldn’t find the key to unlock her ribcage, so her shackled bones still held her closed and cold.
And she kept stumbling on alone.

“I miss you” she mumbled, as she cried.
“I love you.”
She meant it as she lied.
“I loved you.

—  giraffevader - “I’m sorry we wasted each others’ time”
"Daryl has no sense of love for Carol whatsoever."

Okay. But remember when he was the only one putting flowers on her grave and hitting the wall with her knife when she was presumed dead??? Or that one time when the group was possibly being chased by cannibals then Daryl saw Carol and ran to her, grinning for the first time, and hugged her, picked her up, and laid his head on her chest, and when they finally broke apart, he was crying. Those were the first tears of joy he’s ever cried. Would you care to say it again??

anonymous asked:

Pipabeth, hogwarts AU

Everything’s a blur after Piper catches the snitch. 

She’s vaguely aware of Connor Stoll giving out the final scores, of the Ravenclaws screaming from the stands, of the small cold ball in her hand, of the dull throb in her stomach from that stray bludger earlier in the game. 

She touches down with her team and they swarm her, lifting her up and parading her from the pitch, all the while chanting ‘Piper! Piper! Piper!’

The next thing she knows she’s in the common room, the walls decked out in blues and bronzes and banners. When was the last time Ravenclaw had won the house quidditch cup? Piper doesn’t know. Butterbeer is shoved into her hands along with an assortment of snacks she certainly can’t carry. She’s still holding the snitch. The rush in her chest during her game-ending dive has not left her. She’s still in her quidditch robes, her hair as wild as her housemates.

She’s spots Annabeth leaning against a wall and the world comes back into focus so fast Piper’s sure she has whiplash. She tosses the snitch into the crowd, who fight over it like the bouquet at a muggle wedding, and makes her way over, trying to keep her features as nonchalant as possible. If her cheeks are red, she’d blame it on the game. 

“Piper,” Annabeth says. Her arms are crossed. She isn’t wearing her quidditch robes. It’s like she was never in the game, scoring point after point after point. 

“Not ‘McLean’?” Piper says. She’ll blame her breathlessness on the game too. She crowds in closer than is really appropriate. She’ll blame the ruckus of the common room if need be. There was always an excuse, if one was quick enough to think of it. Annabeth taught her that. “Head still in the clouds?”

Annabeth smiles and Piper’s sucks in a breath. “You were great out there,” she says, pulling Piper in closer. There’s a certain level of pride in her voice as she says it. Piper can’t decide if it’s for her. “You were amazing to watch.”

Piper’s hands flutter against Annabeth’s shoulders. She can smell the cold wind of the game on Annabeth, clinging to her finer than any perfume. “What ever happened to keeping your eyes on the task at hand, Captain?”

“Unlike some people, I can multitask,” Annabeth replies, moving in for a light kiss.

anonymous asked:

Congrats! And CS + 29, if you want. I really love your writing, even if the angst is very painful. ily <3

Thank you! Ily too anon <3

So this is a sequel to 44. If you die, I’ll kill you

29. I thought you were dead

Whale sighed heavily and looking at Emma’s shocked and tear stained face came beside her. He patted her shoulder soothingly as he said,

“Time of death 8:03 p.m”

Emma froze, her hands gripping the side of his hospital bed as the nurses started to dispatch his medical equipment.

A sharp pain sliced through Emma’s heart and she felt her entire body shiver. She was shaking and her chest was physically hurting as Whale stood beside her, hugging her from the side and running his hand soothingly over his friend’s shoulder.

Emma wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything, but the only thing she could do was stare at the lifeless body of the devilishly handsome Killian Jones.

I can’t lose you too. Her worst fear came true – he left her just like everyone else did. But it had never hurt this much; she had never felt so hopeless and devastated beyond repair. As if she could never move on.

He was gone.

No more smirks, no more words that touched her heart, no more kisses that scorched heat throughout her body, no more innuendoes, no more shy smiles, nothing. Just absolutely nothing.

I never told him I loved him, not once.

Well, she eventually had. But somehow it didn’t feel enough now – she wanted everything with him. Rings on their fingers, his last name joining hers, a house by the docks, maybe little blond hair and blue eyed children, and finally them both dying when their old and gray – still bickering about his age and flying monkeys. Everything.

But now all she got was nothing.

Suddenly something in Emma’s head clicked.

If one of you cast the curse, how are you both here?

Emma separated from Whale and placed her hand on her chest, wishing Regina was here to do this. With a quick this better work, Emma pushed her hand where her heart is supposed to be. Once she felt it, she held it and pulled her hand out, biting her lip to not scream in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” Whale asked her, horrified.

Honestly, Emma didn’t even know what the hell she was doing and why she wasn’t scared or have any doubt about this. All she knew was that this had worked for her parents and it better work for them.

Killian was her True Love, which had been apparent when he saved her from going dark and restored her title as the Savior from the Dark One. They had been kindred spirits since the moment they journeyed to that beanstalk, so surely they could be halves of one heart?

She grasped her bright red heart and squeezed it lightly, just enough to separate it. Once both halves were in her hands, she pushed one half into his chest, and the other back into hers.

She waited, her eyes widening in anticipation and hope but nothing happened. Killian still lay motionless on his bed.

Maybe we aren’t as powerful as Snow White and Prince Charming.

She lowered her face till it was inches apart from his, “I love you Killian” she whispered before she kissed him. A breeze of air and a white light surrounded them, pushing Whale and the nurses backward as the lights flickered in the room and the ground shook slightly for a moment. Apparently the half heart procedure needed to be activated with True Love’s Kiss.

“Ah, love, I don’t think that quite worked. Shall we try again?” his voice came, a smirk forming on his face, but his eyes were crinkling with happiness.

Emma burst into tears as she let her head fall to his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair, whispering assurances in her ears. Once the tears stopped flowing she turned her face, her chin still resting on his chest.

I thought you were dead” Emma whimpered, her lower lip trembling from the few moment of utmost despair she went through.

“How many times do I have to tell you, love, I’m a survivor” Killian said, smiling at her as he brushed her tears away and bringing her lips up to kiss her again.

Not only were their souls made of the same galactic material, but now they truly were two bodies and one heart.

Send me a number and pairing and I’ll write you a drabble!

spockoandjimjim asked:

imagine Chapel and Uhura in the academy together as roommates and poor chapel doesn't know how to deal with her giant crush on uhura

Chapel struggled with all the Latin words in medicine and biology so she posted a notice on the student’s board asking for help. Someone named Uhura replied and though she’s taking the command line she is credited with several language merits too so Chapel accepted. They agreed to meet in the library the next day.
The Academy’s library was an open, airy room with several small study cells along one side. When Chapel arrived the small, black skinned woman sitting at the table looked up at her and smiled and suddenly Christine found couldn’t breath and her heart was pounding loudly and painfully in her chest
“You’re Chapel?” the other woman asked. The sound of her warm voice only made things worse.
“Last names sounds so formal,” the other woman said as she stood and held out her hand. “I’m Nyota.”
“Christine.“ Somehow she managed to say it without her voice breaking, but she’s sure Uhura - no Nyota- had seen her hand shake when she took hers.
“Shall we get started then?” Nyota asked and was all Christine could do to nod.
Afterwards Christine couldn’t decide if the session was magical or a disaster. It had been so hard to focus on anything but the sound of Nyota’s voice that she could remember almost nothing of what the woman had said. And she was certain the Uhura considered her a complete idiot, incapable of even the simplest thing. In fact it felt like a genuinely good idea to cancel their next date.
Appointment, she immediately corrected herself. It wasn’t a date.
She didn’t cancel though, she needed the help too badly. And the thought of not seeing Nyota again made her heart beat painfully once more.
She kept the lessons strictly on subject though – or tried to – but a little by a little they started talking about other things, once they were done with that days work.
Nyota would tell about how humid Mombassa was in summer and how lovely swimming in the ocean felt then. Christine started to talk about what a relief it was to get off the colony where she’d grown up and away from her family and she told about the festivity they would have when the harvest was done, about the only time they celebrated anything. Nyota in return told about how her grandmother always insisted on making the same dishes for every Eid al-Fitr they celebrated and after the old woman passed her parents carried on the tradition.
One day they went to a café after they were done, their conversation carrying on and on and Christine found she didn’t want it to ever end.
“You know,” Nyota suddenly said looking up from the her plate of spiced shrimps. “This is taking too long.”
Christine frowned.
“What is?”
“Looks like it’ll be up to me then,” the darker woman said with a smile.
The blonde woman frowned even more deeply.
Putting down her fork, Nyota rose halfway from her seat, reached out as she leaned over the table and put one hand on Christine’s cheek before kissing her softly on the lips. Christine could taste shrimps, garlic, lemon and vinegar.
“You, Christine Chapel. You are what’s taking far too long. I’d have thought you’d have done something long ago.”
“Erm,” was all Chapel found she could say and she looked into her plate.
“Or was I wrong?” Nyota’s voice carried a note of uncertainty.
Christine looked up.
“No! No, you’re right. I just.. didn’t know if…” Picking up her courage she continued. “You know? What about we go back to my rooms and talk. My roommate is out for the night, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Uhura said with a smile.
As they made their way along the wide, tree-lined streets of San Francisco Chapel found her heart beating loudly in her chest again, but it didn’t feel painful any more.


(I meant to make this short, but plotbunnies ran off with me)

Austin & Camila

[Ryleigh lays in the hospital bed with no movement but her chest moving up and down indicating that her breathing is still slow and steady.]

SQ - 108 Word Ficlet #2

It has been 17 days since Emma disappeared.

No one knows Regina has it, or even that it is missing. There was so much chaos that night in the street when everyone left no one saw it just sitting there draped over a chair.

The jacket was worn in around Emma’s frame and had long lost its traditional smell. Now it was a special blend of the blonde woman’s fragrance mixed with the harsh smell of leather.

Regina gripped the red jacket tightly, bringing it to her chest. She breathed deeply and began to tremble.

“I miss you,” Regina whispered into the material and tears began to fall.

MAW: Day Four- Alt Streamers! (Alyssa)

Okay, I just had my first game as catcher, and I think I’m more dirt than human, but Mianite Anniversary week rolls on! Today is alt-streamer day, which means that I have to somehow pick my favorite alt. I think I’m going to go with… Nah, I’m kidding, I’m not going to pick. Same as yesterday, I’m going to go through each alt-streamer and write them a fic. First off, Alyssa! When Mot first came through the portal, I had an idea for a flip-fic. This one is an AU (of an AU) in which Alyssa comes through instead. Andor just happens to be there. Feels ensue.

-~-

Alyssa’s everything hurt. Her back was aching, her chest was refusing to rise and fall the right way, and she was 99% sure she had a concussion of some sort.

What had she been doing? She’d woken up early for a training session with Jeriah and Mot, who was grumpy as he usually was around the Mianitee. She had visited Ianite again, who’d been helping her with her most recent growing pains. Skipper Redbeard had taken her sailing briefly (Alyssa liked him a lot- she had begun to think of him as an older brother), and then she and Spark had worked on the book of adventures. The book from her childhood had gone a long way- the stories that she, Alva, and Andor had created were being rewritten with Spark’s help so that when Alyssa next saw the twins, she’d be able to show them a much better version of the book, complete with the adventures of her ten years in the realm of Mianite. After that, she’d been heading to the castle she shared with Mot, when a group of pigmen had escaped from their nether portal. Jeriah and Mot were fighting off a handful of them, and she’d ran to help. Mot was about to be hit by a pigman when she’d jumped in front of him, getting knocked through the portal.

The next thing she knew, a man who looked like Spark was standing over him.

“Ow,” She whimpered, clutching her head. “Spark, why are you so young?”

“CountryBat!” He exclaimed loudly.

Alyssa winced at the noise. Everything was still sensitive, but it was wearing off. Above her, the windmill turned in the wind. “The windmill…?” She trailed off, thinking of her home land. There, the windmill was where they went to play their games and write their stories.

Could she be home?

She propped herself up, rubbing her eyes and looking around. She almost didn’t believe her eyes. After long last, Dagrun stood before her eyes. Of course, much of the city was destroyed and changed, but she still recognized it. Much to her dismay, the castle where her best friends had lived was no more.

“Is this Dagrun? Where are Andor and Alva?” She asked.

The not-Spark looked confused. “Alva? But she’s…”

A young man stood behind not-Spark, staring intently at Alyssa. He looked slightly upset. Despite his much changed appearance and completely different wings, Alyssa knew her friend anywhere.

“Andor!” She cried out, wanting to run and hug her friend, but noticed that he was upset and kept her distance.

Andor looked up at her, his face filled with surprise and confusion. “You… Know me? You’re real and… Alyssa?”

The lack of uncertainty in his words broke Alyssa’s heart. She struggled to keep it out of her voice, saying, “Yeah! I know it’s been ten years, but come on, man! We’re best friends. Speaking of, where’s Alva? You two never used to be apart.”

“Alva…” Andor trailed off. “Alva’s gone.”

“Gone? When is she coming back?” Alyssa asked, not getting what Andor.

“She’s dead,” Andor said in a small voice.

“What? No, Andor, stop joking around. Where is she?” Alyssa asked again, more serious this time.

“She’s dead! She’s been dead since you left!” Andor cried, starting to lose his cool.

Andor had been struggling with his memories as of late. After learning that his mind had been manipulated and that he was made to forget the fact that Ianite was his grandmother, he had been trying to piece together what was true and what wasn’t. Alyssa had been so tangled up with Ianite and what his father referred to as ‘false gods’ that he hadn’t been able to remember her in years. He did now, but he hadn’t been fully sure that she was even real until that very moment. Everything he had known for the past ten years was coming apart all at once, and he was on the verge of breaking down.

“No,” Alyssa whimpered in a small voice. She was blinking back tears.

“After you left, everything changed. My… Ianite lost control of the taint, and my mother and Alva… They were killed. After their funeral, my father changed everything. He became a Mianitee and made me… I’m still not even sure…” Andor struggled to explain. “I forgot everything, Alyssa. I forgot about Ianite, Spark, a lot about Martha, and you. I didn’t remember you. It’s still hard, and I still have trouble telling what’s true and what’s not. The only reason I even remember at all….”

The not-Spark tried to comfort him. “It’s all right, Andor. You’re safe.”

Andor tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’m glad you left, Alyssa. If you’d stayed, you would’ve got broken too.”

Alyssa was tearing up. “Come here,” She whispered, almost tackling Andor in a hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, Andor. I’m so so sorry.”

Andor hugged her back. He was crying. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

-

Later, after Alyssa had returned to her former home and visited Alva’s grave, she decided to go to the windmill for old time’s sake. She still had the book in her bag, luckily. Maybe if she read it in there, she could pretend everything was still okay.

Andor was already in there when she arrived in the upstairs part of the building. “Oh, hello, Alyssa,” He greeted.

“Hey, Andor,” She replied.

Both of their eyes were tinged red from their tears. Andor was sitting on the hay bale he, Alyssa and Alva would spend hours sitting on while writing their stories.

“I have the book,” Alyssa told Andor, sitting next to him and pulling the ancient thing out of her bag.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” Andor admitted, taking it from her and flipping through it.

“The first part is all what we wrote when we were little, but the last part is a memoir, as Spark called it. It’s a bunch of our best memories from we were younger, as well as some of mine from the other world,” Alyssa explained. “Maybe it will help with your memory?”

“Yeah, it will,” Andor agreed. “Thank you.”

“It’s as much my book as it is yours,” Alyssa told him.

She eyed his wings, noticing how they were small and white. Andor’s wings had been purple before, and she knew that his wings should have grown with him.

“Can I…” She began. “Can I ask about the wings.”

Andor looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to tell the story. He figured the best way to tell her was to just go for it.

“While you were gone, my relationship with the king, I mean, my father got really bad,” Andor began. “He gave me the title of 'family disappointment’, and for a while, I thought I lived up to it. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but I had always been terrified to speak up. Then, these other-versions of you came here. Jordan was one of them. He became a really good friend, and gave me the confidence to speak up for Ianite. I did. You should’ve seen me. I gave this whole speech, proclaiming that I’d forever believe in Ianite and such, and as I did, I was able to form a sort of force field around me, pushing back the lieutenant that was after me. That was the first tip off that I was a demigod. It didn’t last long. I got tired really quickly, and fell. The lieutenant took me prisoner and brought me to the Inertia.”

Alyssa gasped. “The Inertia? That was Dianite’s factory. Why would he take you there?”

“Things have changed since you were gone,” Andor pointed out. “Mianite took it over and converted into a prison camp. It’s bad, Alyssa. So bad. There were kids younger than you there, some barely even able to walk. There were people everywhere, being tortured for only not following Mianite. It was sick. They tried to break me with excessive work, beatings, starvation, and solitude. At first, it didn’t work. But then…” Andor trailed off, staring out at the wall.

Alyssa took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. You’re here.”

Andor smiled weakly and squeezed her hand in return before continuing.

“My father came to my cell one day and ask me one last time if I’d accepted Mianite as my one true god. I screamed at him, asking him why he’d done this to his only living child. He ignore it. He told me what was about to happen had to be done and then they brought me to a new room, with a saw on the table… They… They tied me down and cut off my wings. It was slow and oh, gods, it hurt. I kept screaming out, but they wouldn’t listen. My father was THERE! Watching me get stripped of the one thing I had left and he just STOOD THERE AND WATCHED!” Andor had begun to sob, screaming in random intervals. “HE WAS MY FATHER, AND HE DIDN’T STOP EVEN WHEN I SCREAMED FOR THEM TO JUST KILL ME INSTEAD! It hurt so bad, I thought I was dying. I broke. I lost my fight. Jordan and his friends freed me, and Jordan gave me new wings, but… It’s the only… It’s the only memory I have that is crystal clear. Funny how that works.

Alyssa was crying as well. She wrapped Andor into a hug, and whispered to him, "It’s all right, Andor. You’re broken, but that’s okay. You’ll heal stronger. You can do this, all right? You can soar and prove to them that they can’t clip your wings.”

“Gods, I missed you so much,” Andor cried.

“I missed you, too.”

THIS IS LONG IM SORRY

everythin that rly stood out to me

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-48#post-669834 voice and how expensive voice coaches can be

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-48#post-670761 more voice critique; note the part about the inflection being “perfect”

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-48#post-671956 old photos from five years ago

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-49#post-673935 more photos from five years ago; note the chest binding (seemingly counterintuitive to presenting as female)

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-51#post-679984 a reply to said post, pointing out that the DA series was called “playing a boy”… would that not trigger dysphoria in AMAB individuals?

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-50#post-678786 long post, she says that she never bound her chest and then changes her story; under the spoiler are asks from deepsky28, and then the part about her “dick” - she says that she had to rub her “dick” for “30 mins” and it made it: red, chaffed, and raw… which is impossible to do, even with sensitive skin.

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-50#post-678937 more on the above, as well as commentary about very unusual breast development

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-52#post-686808 another comment about the masturbation post

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-50#post-678810 an interesting post about her age

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-56#post-697788 nudes.

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-56#post-697818 commentary on said nudes

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-56#post-698288 more nudes. someone points out the lack of rigging that could keep her tucked in the photo; someone also pointed out that apparently idcp has never had surgery, which would mean that the flatness is all natural

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-60#post-714182 this. just this.

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-60#post-714291 also this. it’s call penile tissue

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-64#post-717505 differences between afab and amab breasts

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-65#post-724387 also this

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-65#post-724441 hmmm

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-67#post-738698 more old selfies, more binder pics

https://kiwifar.ms/threads/idislikecispeople.8018/page-52#post-686659 long post, under the spoiler is her taking several pictures of her insulin, but apparently taking pictures of her estrogen is very hard (probably bc it doesnt exist)

okay that’s rly all i have rip

jayce-piltover
“Thief!”

Alice ran as fast as she could, bare feet padding the cobblestone. She held a cloth sack to her chest, full of her prize.

She spared a glance behind her, seeing several officers push through the crowd. Then she ran into someone and there was a sickening splat as the peaches were squashed. Pulverised fruit covered them both and she squealed, tumbling backwards.

anonymous asked:

((url: ema-slender )) -the tall black heared girl wandered around as if lost. Her eyes glowed a soft purple and the scar on her chest revealed a proxy symbol. She was of course the daughter of thr SlenderMan - hello is anybody here?

*I looked down from the tree, upon hearing another I’m my forest. I sighed, and hoped down from the low branch I was on.*“I am here.”*I told the person, looking towards them. They must be lost, I thought to myself. I met her eyes, before I glanced down, and saw the symbol on her chest. A proxy had found their way into my home.*
(I’m sorry if this is late, I just got home, and checked my messages, @ema-slender )

uchihainurhead asked:

There are 2 possibilities for me: 1st. Sakura being pregnabt during meeting. 2nd: Sakura gave birth just a while ago thats why her chest looks so big (like the Sasuke family portrait)

Oh, that is a possibility! She could have been in her new/post-baby body.

Either way, both theories don’t cross out the fact that Sasuke was there during Sakura’s pregnancy. So am I the only one hoping for a SasuSaku pregnancy scene wherein he kisses her pregnant stomach? ; u ;

relaxjustletgo asked:

The female Chain Warden snuck behind her old friend and hugged her by her hips, "So I hear my little kitty has become rather successful without me~" she teased, pressing her chest against Kondraki's. // Konny-munnnnn!!!~~

“Thre-thresh is that you?!” She blushed and squirmed, looking to the Chain Warden in surprise. “Wha-what do you mean success?” 

[[HELLO FRIEND ]]]