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creatureheart.bsky.social
creature heart
@creatureheart.bsky.social
140 followers 200 following 130 posts
pandora
they/it
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31 | queer | indigenous | australia
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nonhuman space for my nonhuman self
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about + contact + byf
>> https://creatureheart.carrd.co/ <<

icon by https://www.artstation.com/vickcarel22
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creatureheart.bsky.social
creature heart @creatureheart.bsky.social · Oct 25
🏷️Tags

▫️ Text Posts > #CreatureTheVoice
▫️ Art Posts > #CreatureTheArt
▫️ Journal Posts > #CreatureTheMind
▫️ Vent Posts > #CreatureTheWrath
creatureheart.bsky.social
Made a self/oc x canon ship blog back in August and thought I would share it here. 🥰

pandorasadoringheart.tumblr.com

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#CreatureTheVoice | #selfship | #yumeship | #yumesky | #ocxcanon
November 5, 2025 at 10:08 AM
Reposted by creature heart
gavrannn.bsky.social
табун скетчей

#sketches #horses #horseart #animalart
November 4, 2025 at 3:36 PM
Reposted by creature heart
wetlandresilienceresearchgroup.com
Exiting to see the #peatland at Cope Hut, on the Bogong High Plains, Australia is now no longer snow covered (just a small patch in the background!)

📸: taken on 2nd November 2025 by a member of the public

#PeatColours
November 4, 2025 at 9:40 PM
Reposted by creature heart
trashbambi.bsky.social
2025 Furry Species Census Servy

Once again I bring you a furry species census!

The last time I did this in 2023 y'all submitted over 10,000 characters! I wonder if we'll beat that this time?

Survey: docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1F...

Formatted Results: docs.google.com/spreadsheets...
2025 Furry Species Census Survey
October 4, 2025 at 7:11 PM
Reposted by creature heart
ccacoldcloud.bsky.social
Poppy field #sketch #commission for user in Discord <3

#horse #horseart #digital #artist #oc #equine
October 5, 2025 at 11:33 AM
Reposted by creature heart
fluffdrgn.monster
BEST FORTUNE EVER
A fortune cookie fortune that says "Always be yourself. Unless you can be an animal, then become an animal."
October 4, 2025 at 9:52 PM
Reposted by creature heart
shimi.bsky.social
New zine: “Look Into My Eyes One Last Time”

A final love letter to the self I shed
A prayer for the creature. Becoming
A reckoning, a surrender. Homecoming

This is my deepest wish laid bare—needle, fur, breath, & mercy. Being held with a care I never found.

#AnimalHRT #Therianthropy #ShortStory
A hand-drawn black-and-white cover image in a sketchy ink style. At the top, large stenciled type reads: “LOOK INTO MY EYES ONE LAST TIME.” Below the title is a syringe and a small medicine vial labeled “LUPINEX – Therionyl – 5mL,” with a stylized eye logo on the label. The vial and syringe are crosshatched with vintage texture lines. Below the drawing, in handwritten script, is the phrase: “Homecoming, not vanishing” and the signature Shimi & Critter. [Art on Page] A detailed graphite drawing of a wolf’s eyes. One, the left is more formed than the right — indicating a near but not complete transition. The fur around them is dense and wispy, rendered in fine pencil lines that suggest softness and depth. The eyes are highly realistic and expressive, staring directly outward with intense, soulful focus. They seem alert but ancient—wide with instinct, watching as if waiting for something to begin. The drawing fades at the edges into blank white space, giving the eyes a floating, disembodied presence. Look into my eyes one last time Look into my eyes. Hold them close until you can see the last scrap of me — the part that counts thoughts in lists, that weighs choices against rules, that folds shame into tidy, human-shaped pockets. Watch it loosen. Watch the corners of doubt unhook themselves like small animals from a net and dart away. There is no melodrama here, no violent yanking; it slips. The human mind peels like old bark, and underneath, the thing that always was settles warm and terrible and simple. They give me the last injection in a room that smells faintly of cedar and lemon. No needles, no cold clinical lecture — only the careful hands of doctors, veterinarians and nurses who know which bones to cradle and which stories to leave untold. I breathe. I lost the ability to count days back. I let the bracing liquid be a gate, not an instruction manual. I do not want to name it; names are the thin net that caught me for years. The burn is a rumour. It goes through me sideways — a quiet rearrangement, like a convent bell that signals not death but a calling. My limbs answer first. They stop thinking of movement and begin to remember it: how to fold, to coil, to push. Tendons unlearn the polite phrasing of two-legged steps and curve toward the old, fourfold geometry of running. My hands tighten and flatten; the knuckles find a new logic. Fur prickles along my forearms as if a thousand small moths take flight together and settle again. Each hair is a note in a chord I’ve felt… no… known in my bones since childhood. Look again. See how the pupils widen, how the whites retreat like a shy moon. My last maps of metaphor — the maps that turned hunger into lists and longing into projects — dissolve. Where there had been a ledger of self, there is now only the immediate ledger of scent and sound and the earth’s exact tilt beneath my weight. I do not mourn the maps. I never used them as well as the human world predicted and as I pretended. Sound changes. Those little, trivial noises of the room condense into a chorus: the slow tick of breath in the person beside me, the whisper of fabric, the distant wet confluence of gutters. And underneath that: a low, patient life-frequency — root and soil and river. It is not music so much as an acknowledgment. I find I can hear the insect conversation inside the walls, the sap walking up the birch, the small, stupid heartbeat of a mouse two blocks away. There is an intimacy to it that is almost rude. Breath becomes work and worship at once. My ribcage narrows, then widens in ways I know but cannot name. Milk memories — a thing to shame into silence when human — rise like a tide: the cadence of suckling, the doctrinal simplicity of being called to feed and to protect. A swelling around my belly that is not fat but purpose. I think of my children who never were, of the packs I have loved in mute pieces. The notion of motherhood is larger than gender; it is a compass with teeth. My children! You are my children and you are my all! My jaw shifts. I feel the slow, inevitable rearrangement — a socket loosens, a hinge finds its voice. A tooth erupts where an organised thought had lived. The smell of iron, rain-damp soil, and sleeping bodies that have waited for me — flooding my mouth like saliva. Tears come and I do not know if they are human or creature; they taste of salt and release. There is a tenderness in my own trembling that I have never allowed before. Outside the window, someone whose scent I knew laughs and it sounds to me like a distant bell. The handlers murmur: careful, gentle, let her and her pack decide. My mouth forms the shape and bark of guttural assent I could not voice when I was wholly human. Somewhere a crate opens as if the world is taking a breath with me. They will test me further, yes. They will see whether my newness walks toward the wild or clings to the small, safe hands of fosterers who will teach me boundaries, how to pass in a world of paved things. I do not fear them. I am no longer wrapped in that ledger — of consent, of cost, of consequence. I am wrapped in appetite and mercy. The choice, if there is one, feels less like an argument and more like a direction: toward den or home, toward the kill lovingly taken or the bowl lovingly given. Look once more. There is no human drama in my eyes now — only depth, like a riverbed where stones remember every footstep. The last scrap of thought, the tiny librarian of my life who loved lists, things and order, exhales and steps back through the doorway we are leaving open. I feel it go, and where it is gone there is fullness, a pulse that answers the creature’s call without translation. This is not a loss. It is not my obliteration. It is the solving of a long, clenched equation. I am not lessened. I am finally the shape I have been learning. Look into my eyes, one last time. I am awakening. — Shimi & Critter @shimi.bsky.social
September 26, 2025 at 1:47 AM
Reposted by creature heart
tcfischer.bsky.social
Leg study for the evening
September 10, 2025 at 4:30 AM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
Controlled Burn, Ganache's papa! She gets her seal bay from him, and her sabino from her mama.
September 10, 2025 at 2:47 AM
Reposted by creature heart
peripendrake.art
Hagatha for @bog-mom.bsky.social ! 🌊🌿

A delight to get to revisit some old Kelpie themes :-)
August 19, 2025 at 3:00 PM
Reposted by creature heart
smolldin0.bsky.social
A cute warm-up done while live on Twitch, it was interesting to draw Hyenas

[ #art #smolldin0art #sketches #procreate #twitch #stream ]
white sketches on a purple background of differents hyena species done 5 and 10 minutes
August 19, 2025 at 12:48 PM
Reposted by creature heart
lakehounds.bsky.social
i'm just puppie

#TFTuesday
July 25, 2023 at 5:02 PM
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vibestrike.bsky.social
Finished comm for @laughlikenos.bsky.social ! 🍖💥

LOVED drawing this cool critter! 👀

#furryart
August 12, 2025 at 5:42 PM
Reposted by creature heart
cryptotheism.bsky.social
The unsavvy talk about furries like they're some hypersexual excretion of modernity, but drawing animal-people is one of the top 10 neolithic human activities. It's up there with collecting berries and producing clay figures of fat women.
August 12, 2025 at 7:59 PM
Reposted by creature heart
vermstudio.bsky.social
For Hatari!

[ #furry | #furryart | #hyena ]
Banzai the hyena, grayscale
August 12, 2025 at 5:00 AM
Reposted by creature heart
berneri.horse
Fields of Gold
#art ✧ #horse ✧ #procreate
Digital art piece of a yellow field with teal and green plants that are different shaped and orange horse that has long mane and tail. The horse has yellow and red eyes and whitish details in the coat. It is just standing in the middle and staring at nothingness.
August 11, 2025 at 7:43 PM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
Study!!!!!!! Ref: www.pexels.com/photo/vibran...
August 7, 2025 at 4:18 AM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
This horse gave me brain worms, shes so fun to draw
August 4, 2025 at 5:44 AM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
stares at you
August 2, 2025 at 8:49 PM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
Him <3 (game is Horse Life on roblox)
July 31, 2025 at 2:53 AM
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skatan58.bsky.social
One of my RDR2 horses. His name is Katla. I named him after the dragon from Bröderna Lejonhjärta. #rdr2 #horses #horseart
August 7, 2025 at 9:53 AM
Reposted by creature heart
jackthevulture.bsky.social
Equus ferus
Digital art of a stocky dark colored horse with splashes of white with dark spots in it across its back. It is jumping to the left. Behind it, a stone wall has cave drawings of horses with similar markings running towards the right.
August 7, 2025 at 5:54 AM
creatureheart.bsky.social
tfw you’re tempted to start selfshipping with a character or two but it’s been so long since you even thought about stuff like that so you don’t even know where to start/what to do lol

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#CreatureTheVoice
August 5, 2025 at 9:02 PM