#I'll tag the rest too

[wanderingmind867]

What secret project is the Professor and Jean working on? Considering he fakes his death in a few issues, I wonder if we'll learn what it is (X-Men #40):

[crabsnpersimmons]

"Slow down, Sunshine. You're not falling behind and you are loved for more than what you do for others."

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[icantdothistodaybruh]

some silly doodles to take my mind off of things🕊

ref

[xxplastic-cubexx]

if i said i picked up this issue for anything but drunk erik i fear i'd be lying

(Wolverine (2020) #3)

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[martyryo]

Bitches always like "I am Tyler's broken heart 💔" and never be an actual organ 🙄

Alts

[tee-dohrnii]

Here's Gale practice I did yesterday! Challenged myself to capture his likeness with only 4 colours and with as little detail as I could while looking at a reference photo.

[aingeal98]

Ranking the best batman because I'm bored.

Honorary mentions: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Azrael. May you never go near that cowl again for your own mental health <3 Congrats to Damian for handling it in one au without killing people unlike the other three but most of your family was dead in that universe so yeah. You deserve better.

5. Bruce Wayne. Most iconic sure but also the one with the most questionable acts. If I saw his batman coming towards me I simply wouldn't trust it as much as the others.

4. Dick Grayson. Better than his dad although he'd have a bunch of complex emotions if I ever told him that. He's a good Batman but he thrives more as Nightwing so it never felt like a good end point for him.

3. Helena Wayne. Earth 2 Bruce's daughter as Batman with Dick Grayson in a wheelchair as her Oracle and Dick's son as her Robin? Yeah the entire concept rules. I love legacy stories so much. Plus her Batman outfit is my favourite aesthetic wise.

2. Helena Bertinelli. The best Batman Gotham has seen so far. You didn't deserve Bruce's disrespect when you were fighting every day in no man's land while he was off sulking in his money. Carried the no man's land story on her back before Cass showed up to help.

1. Cassandra Wayne. Come on. Look at my blog. There was never going to be a chance of anyone else being number one. There's like 5 million posts here about why Cass is the best Batman but to sum it up: Everything most interesting and engaging about the previous Batmans rolled into one character.

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[shrublee]

erm- im just gonna leave this here-

[psychotic-nonsense]

< || >

"Eddie...?"

"I'm sorry. No. Not quite."

"The hell does that mean-" Steve doesn't get to finish. His body reacts on its own again, wanting to surge and face the evil head on. All it does is strain everything in him again, makes him hiss in pain and struggle to remain upright.

The hand that he didn't even realize left returns, and the other holds a wet cloth. It dabs at his forehead, lukewarm and comforting. Everything is as cold as the Upside Down, these days.

"Not important. It really is best that you stay in place." That tone is monotone again, the brief moment of clarity gone. It's back, the... thing using Eddie's voice, his body, his face like an amateur puppeteer. How brutally ironic. "You must heal."

Steve, ever stubborn, bats the hand above him away. It's just a limp wave in his state, but the thing backs off. The hand behind him remains though, surrendering to help Steve find his way up. It's tough, considering how swollen one hand feels and the lingering phantom pains that Steve's body endured but Eddie's did not, but Steve gets himself into a sitting position.

"'Not important,' my ass." Probably not the best threat when Steve hacks up a lung immediately after. The thing doesn't respond, and when Steve faces it again, it's face is painfully blank. Wide, yellow glowing eyes stare at him, a bare hint of white at its center, so utterly familiar yet simultaneously foreign.

"If you're not Eddie, then what are you?" Steve spits, full of emotion compared to the husk beside him. He brings his left hand up to his chest, rubbing softly along the wrist with his other and wincing at the feeling.

The thing takes in a breath, eyes flitting off to the side briefly before returning. Still with that infuriating lack of emotion. "You are not in a good state to have this conversation."

It reaches for Steve's hands with the rag, and he pulls them out of reach. Too quickly, as well, his jaw instinctively clenching with the motion, resulting in an even more embarrassing groan of pain. "You don't know that," Steve forces out.

"I do."

"How so?"

"You are injured, weak. And this is a complicated matter."

"You just don't want to tell me."

"Because it will be too hard for you to hear."

Damn, it's got him there. As much as Steve wants to know, he's not sure he could bear the answer. Everything rubs so raw, everything having happened in such quick succession to him, and he feels like a live wire.

It reaches for his hands again, now frozen on his lap. Steve doesn't fight it, lets it carefully take his hands in its own. "Rest, let yourself calm." The thing says. "Then I will tell you."

Steve, begrudgingly, welcomes the still damp rag it wraps around his swollen hand. Doesn't do more than flinch when it's warm hands begin carefully massaging his through the cloth, thumbs circling around the wrist in a barely there pressure Steve feels in pulsing waves.

He takes the time to study the thing beside him. Human, definitely, an exact replica of Eddie at its core. Same clothes, same hair, all the same from the last time Steve saw Eddie alive. Except this thing glows like a faint light bulb, the light seeming to come from its entire being rather than one place. Steve already knows it's eyes, wide and unfeeling, pure gold but for a pale shape at the center.

Then there's the scars. When Steve last saw Eddie's body, there was a huge gash along it's left cheek, deep and bloody. Now the mark remains, but it glows the same damn bright gold as everything else. No blood, no tears, and this thing seems to have no problem talking with it. He wonders what that means for the wounds that took Eddie.

A slightly stronger pressure is applied to his wrists, and Steve groans again. The hands stop, let him breathe through the pain. Sprained, at best, and the doctors lingering around Hawkins have more to deal with than one possibly broken bone.

They've been sitting in silence for who knows how long now, the rag in their shared hands already cooling. The massage and quiet have done their job for Steve's brain, allowing him to come down from the panic. He's still pretty raw, but he no longer feels so in danger.

"Can I ask you something else then?" he asks carefully, voice raspy and soft.

The thing doesn't respond right away, and doesn't look up when it answers. "Yes."

"Where'd you get hot water from?"

It almost seems to relax at the question, as if it was expecting a different one. It still hasn't moved, still cradling Steve's hand. "Your bags had water and matches. This place had pots, and we are in the woods."

Fair enough, Steve supposes. "Why bother? Water is water."

"It is cold, and you are weak. We assumed the heat would help."

There it goes with the 'we' thing. It referred to itself that way earlier too. But Steve knows he should be wary with what he asks, so he ignores it for now, in place of something far more important.

"Is Robin okay?" His voice cracks a little there. Neither of them talk much louder than a whisper, but Steve still glances over at his best friend. She remains asleep, unmoving in every place but the one that matters.

"You both have similar injuries. You have woken, so she will too. She will be okay."

Steve sighs, put more at ease by that than he thought he'd be. Yet the response only creates more questions. He gently pulls his hand away, turning back to face the thing beside him. It does the same. Confusion to blankness.

"How'd you find us?" Steve asks slowly.

It blinks in response, pausing. "I found you in the Other woods." It says 'other' like it's a title. "I don't know what happened to you."

"Why did you bring us here?"

"It was empty. Close to the Gates."

Steve's coming up on the point of no return. He can feel it. He doesn't ask the more obvious, important question, but he can't stop himself from toeing that invisible line. "Why take us in at all?"

The thing finally shows its first sign of emotion in a while, eyebrows furrowing just slightly. Guilty again. "This is your home. You weren't safe there."

They stare at each other for a while after that. Steve holds back every impossible question he has. It watches him, face falling just a tiny bit more, waiting for him to break.

Steve cracks. His voice shakes, fighting to keep himself in control. To stay calm enough so he can finally get answers. "You apologized for bringing us... here earlier. How did you even know about that- about any of this? The boathouse, the medical supplies, how to start a fire. What-" He stops himself before he goes too far.

Its eyes search his expression, flitting between the injuries across his face. Still just the barest hint of guilt in the slight furrow of his eyebrows. Eyes still wide and inhuman. "I was told."

Steve doesn't ask, 'By who?' Doesn't let it come out in the desperate wail it wants to. Because he already knows. So he gives that plea to another question, puts as much emotion into the pathetic whisper that slips past his injured jaw.

And he breaks. "What are you?"

[danwhobrowses]

What's this? My skin, cleared? My crops, watered!? My heart, soaring!!??

Callowmoore softness, comfort and sleeping beside each other my FUCKING BELOVED!

[astranauticus]

you 🫵 go watch my animatic now

[princyvish]

uhhh the kobylu furries/minks designs in a screenshot redraw... with a side of helmeppo :]

original screenshot:

I think I took one look at the rocks I drew and went. Yeah I'm going to wing it because the rocks in my redraw are NOT accurate to the screenshot 😭😭