The Moral Menace

And (I know it’s complicated) but Amara got this

Right and Lyris got this

Of course Galen had their mermaid (merperson?) form!

Right. Like…. Do you see the vision… a big rack of gilded antlers covered in thorns for my thorn princess…

aut: https://t.me/lena_gitelman

Thanks @manicpixelwench for such a gorgeous woman

you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

It’s Detective Caitlyn Day over on X, so obviously… I had to lose my mind a little and paint her solving a mysterious Louvre-level heist 😅 I really wanted to play with the dramatic lighting and that “ma’am please stop being this hot in a museum” energy.

I couldn’t choose just one pose because apparently I enjoy suffering, so here are some black-and-grey alternates too. And since I love when artists show their messy baby sketches, I’m sharing mine as well 👀

Anyway… enjoy Caitlyn in a trench coat being the the absolute Paris finest!

My name is Abdulmajid.

I got married one month before the war. Those were beautiful days — full of hope, love, and simple dreams. I dreamed of a small home, a quiet family, and a baby girl I could hold without fear.

But the war came… Suddenly. Brutally.

My mother was killed. My brother was killed. Children in my family were taken by the bombs. My home was destroyed. And my work stopped completely.

Then… in the middle of this nightmare, my baby girl was born. A tiny soul, innocent, unaware of the war. She cries from hunger, from cold, from the sounds of bombs shaking what’s left of our walls.

Today, I’m a father with almost nothing… Fighting every day to find flour, milk, or even a small meal to feed my child.

Prices are sky-high — a single 25kg bag of flour can cost $800. There is no work. No income. No safety. No stability.

I write this from under siege, hoping my heart will reach yours.

Even $1 can make a difference. It can feed a child, buy milk, or bring a moment of peace. Be the heart that reaches Gaza. Be the hand that saves.

📌 Please share this post. Let our voices be heard — not buried under rubble.