#and i typed this on my phone in the dark

[localapparently]

/ orv epilogue + sp identity spoilers , cw blood

!! Please do NOT reupload my comics / works anywhere !!

(Read right to left)

[imagine-shenanigans]

Hands on my knees.

Now I'm thinking of an au because of the nasty coworker soap hidden camera thing. AU where some prick you slept with left a hidden camera in your apartment for a live stream on the dark web (shut up i know its cliche let me live) and its a 24/7 stream of your bedroom with audio.

And one of the boys is a frequent viewer, watches a stupid amount of the time they're on leave. Eats dinner while watching their favorite show, etc etc.

(Dark stuff and NSFW ahead warning.)

Soap is the one who is the most impulsive about it. He's the one who feels guilty about it until he covers his own hand in his cum while watching you play a game on your phone. It's an insatiable need at this point. Can't cum without thinking of the bonnie little thing on his computer screen. You said the word Soap out loud once while talking to a friend on the phone or going through a list and he came so hard he saw stars. Went back and clipped the audio, he has it saved on his phone with other words, just so he can hear you say his callsign. He feels just a little guilty after he cums to you doing stretches.

But that's the allure of it, the taboo, knowing he's a fucking freak but doing it anyway. And god does he love it. Honestly the guilt fades REALLY quickly when he realizes how long the camera has been there, bordering on months. Such a poor thing you are, so vulnerable, so sweet. You just need someone to protect you from the nasty men in this world. Need someone even nastier to do it.

He makes the impulsive decision to go to the pub you mention on the phone with a friend. He waits until you're just a little drunk and "accidentally" bumps into you. Makes himself as charming as possible, smiles and laughs with you, until youre bringing him into your home. He positions you just right so the camera can see (he's recording the stream at home) and makes you as loud as possible, tongue laving over your inner thighs, leaving searing bites anywhere he can reach like he's claiming you.

(He is.)

He makes sure the camera gets a perfect shot of him cumming inside of you without protection. Hooks his fingers into your mouth so you can't stop the sounds you're making. He licks the drool from your chin and up into your mouth. Spends hours making you cum your brains out when he's not using you, well past the point of overstimulation by the time he settles, leaving you a hiccupping and sobbing mess as he rubs soothing cream over you, cuddling you to his chest so that this time, the camera can't see you at all.

He gives a peace sign to the camera after you fall asleep, and says "Alright ye bloody animals, shows over." before breaking the thing. Shoves it in the middle of your kitchen garbage before washing his hands and crawling back into bed with you. He sets up a new camera by the next morning, this one just for himself.

(and, if he releases clips of you two fucking online, that's between him and the rest of the god forsaken fucks on there.)

//

Price is shameless about watching you.

He knows he's going to hell, what's one more sin along the way? He indulges himself far more than any of the others. The silence gets to him when he's on leave, and what better way to fill it than with a pretty/handsome thing going about their life? He spends pretty much every waking and sleeping minute with his laptop open to your feed, watching you go about your day. It's mostly mundane, really, sick in nature but not a sexual thing for the most part. Of course, he gives his cock slow, languid strokes when he watches your hips eagerly buck into the vibrating toy you're using, whimpers falling from your pretty lips that John just wants to swallow whole. Too impatient for your own good, you need to be held down and edged for a good hour.

It's that thought that sends him spiraling.

How much better oof you'd be if you just had him to take care of you. Such a shame a nasty, terrible man put a camera in your room - he'll fix that.

He ends up moving into the flat/house next to yours when it mysteriously comes available. He really wants a cute little spouse to come home to - really wants to sit them on his cock until theyre crying and begging him to move. (And if he can get them to call him daddy, well, wouldn't that be a sight?)

He takes the longest out of all the boys, ends up being the model neighbor, coaxes you out like a feral little animal until you're spending more time in his place than your own. He hates that so many people (mainly men, his main issue is the men) can see you at any given time. Can take what should be his. So he waits until you're out for work one day and he uses the spare key you gave him (so trustingly, honey you shouldn't give things to strange men like him. He'll bend you over his knee until you learn your lesson.) and he sneaks into your room and moves the camera just a bit after disabling it. Just enough so its more noticeable in the light.

(If he steals a pair of panties, well... he does.)

And when you come crying and shaking to his doorstep later, he breaks the thing in his hand, and chucks it before he ushers you into his place and coos at you as he fingers you in his lap, edging you as you work through all those big emotions :( Poor baby, he's got you now, no need to be so scared, he'll get you nice and needy and then fuck you until you're brainlessly drooling into his pillow. He'll even be so kind as to slip his ring on your finger too, just to make sure you know he's not going to let anyone else have you anymore. That he'll make sure you're safe from now on, isn't that nice pumpkin?

//

Gaz I'm still trying to figure out how to write but I think he'd see the stream by accident, he's not gone looking for it, and he feels sharp revulsion when he figures out what it is while looking for some other information. And he's taking note of all of the things in the room, desperately trying to piece together where you live so he can do the right thing and figure out how to tell you about the stream. Definitely not because he's interested, and sure it's taking him a few days and repeated visits and- well, okay, you have this cute thing you do and- okay he's not... well he knows he's being a creep, but he's doing it for the right reasons. Totally. He's not... he's not being weird for no reason like some of these other creeps. And yeah, okay, he jacks off to you now and then, it's not that big of a deal, he's a little lonely and he's a little desperate okay?

He tells himself he's gonna quit, that he's not going to do anything, but then suddenly he's in your town on his leave, and he's putting himself in your path at every given opportunity. Of course, by then he's long since accepted he's being a real fucking freak by what he's doing, but doesn't he deserve something nice? Don't you?

And sure, okay, it's a huge ego boost when you do look at him and flush, when you try to collect your thoughts when you hear his voice. He smiles prettily at you and it all sort of spirals from there, until he's well and truly charmed you. He drops hints about the camera, but nothing directly implied. He finds a story on the news app on his phone about something similar and cringes, pretending like he isn't STILL watching the live feed of your apartment when he's in his own. Says something about how only a real freak would put a camera in someone's house. Good thing you've never done that to his place and he laughs, because he's never been to yours yet so you take it as a joke.

Weeks later, when you're doing a clean of your apartment, you find the camera and call him, and he comes over and hugs you, coos that it's probably not even plugged in, just some dick trying to scare you. He helps you run through who it could possibly be that did it, until he's given the dude's full name and address online.

He gives the camera a shit eating grin over your shoulder, looking directly into it even though you haven't pointed it out yet.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and offers you stay at his place for the night (when he really means forever.) He makes sure there's no cameras around you ever again.

//

Ghost is... the worst of them. In his own special way.

Assuming he isn't the one who put the damn thing in your room, he's definitely a regular on some of the grossest sites known to man, half out of sheer morbid curiosity, and half because he sometimes does end up finding things he likes. Your stream isn't the first he's watched, but it is the first he stays for. There's something about you that mesmerizes him. He ends up visiting the stream more and more until he's pieced together where you live and what your general schedule is. It takes a few months, but he wants you for himself - nothing else will do.

There's no preamble, no game that's played like the others. He forges a passport and documents and gets everything set up, and you don't even know that you're about to go tumbling into his net. He's quick about it, when he gets into your apartment. Ends up tying you up nice and neat, arms behind your back and ankles to your thighs while you sleep. Leaves the gag for last, just for the thrill of you screaming (so he can punish you) when you wake up. He blindfolds you, and moves the camera for a better view before flicking the lights on. He wakes you up with a slap to your ass, feeling himself grow hard as you panic. He cuts your clothes off with a knife, tells you not to squirm, and when you do and he knicks you, he just tuts and tells you that you shoulda known better.

Licks the blood from your skin with his mask rolled up before he pulls it back down (just a plain balaclava). He ends up hoisting you up so you're on your knees, positions you perfect for the camera to see, and fingerfucks you nice and fast, one hand on your throat to keep you upright, the other pitoning in and out of your hole. He makes sure to hit your g-spot/prostate every single time when he finds it, sets an absolutely brutal pace that has your tears leaking through the blindfold. When you get close, he bullies your clit/cock, moving fast and hard until you're screaming and you collapse. He tells you this is your fault, for trusting some prick and not even checking your own home.

Lines his cock up with you and doesn't prep you any further, only one orgasm and a little bit of finger fucking not nearly enough to prep you for what he's packing. He ends up fucking you hard, and fast, and brutal, still pumping your cock/rubbing your clit through the whole thing, not caring for anything but how you cry and squeeze so tight around his cock. He lets you heave sobs when he finally cums inside, no protection, and he pinches your nipples painfully hard to get your attention. When he's sure he's got it, he warns you not to let him drip out of you. Never tells you to stop crying, but tells you if you scream or try and get away, you will not like the punishment. He takes the gag out and you try to wriggle away, so he puts the gag back in while you try and apologize, ask for a second chance, and he just puts you on the floor, angles the camera just so, and takes the blindfold off. He tells you exactly how long he's been watching, how many people he sees in the stream at any given time, and then he ties a vibrator to your clit/cock and sets it on the highest setting it can go. He tells you to give the boys a good show before you retire from your acting career, and presses a kiss to your forehead through the mask.

He gives you an hour alone with your fans while he packs your stuff into the boot of his rental car.

[detentiontrack]

Happy day 10 of this migraine. Should I throw a party when it inevitably gets to 14 days?

[sionisjaune]

Fuck it—Mick/Nico (kind of) fantasy AU that has been freeloading in my brain for months:

There are… secrets underneath the castle, Sebastian had told him. History that the King has hidden away. Be careful. Mick held Seb’s words tightly while he descended the narrow and roughly-hewn steps beneath the castle. With the King gone and magic leeching from the kingdom by the second, time was of the essence. He hurried until he could hasten his steps no more, toeing trepidatiously from step to step by the thin, blue light of the witchfire sparkling in his palm.

He couldn’t see more than a metre in front of his face once he was halfway down—he assumed he was halfway, at least—and resorted to walking with his hands in front of his face to feel for obstacles. The underneath of the castle was cavernous and odd, closed off and yet chilly with some eerie breeze, water dripping from the walls. The witchfire in Mick’s hand sparked brighter the further he descended, the flames curling deviously, as if magic was more plentiful down here.

He arrived at the bottom of the stone staircase, nearly stumbling when he tried to step down again, and paused, one hand extended to cast light as far as it would go and the other resting over the hilt of his sword. He scanned the cavern.

Stalactites hung from the roof of the cavern, spiked like the teeth of some giant monster’s maw and dripping sparkling droplets of water. A shiver coursed up Mick’s spine when a droplet landed on his bare palm. He closed it instinctively, and his witchfire went out. Darkness swallowed him.

He snapped his fingers, desperately trying to summon his witchfire again, but it wouldn’t come. He felt for the wall closest to him and pressed against it, the mail of his armour scraping damp rock.

“Don’t be scared,” said a sweet voice. It sounded close and far away, weirdly doubled.

It had the faint, flat accent of the hot, coastal provinces in the south.

“Hello?” Mick called, taking an abortive step towards the voice. “Is there someone down here?”

Whoever was beneath the castle with Mick snorted. Then they snapped decisively and the cool light of Mick’s witchfire flared on the other end of the cavern. Mick was momentarily blinded, stunned by the brilliance of his own magic. When his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he saw that it was flaming in the cupped hands of a young boy.

Mick’s hand left his sword and he raced towards the boy, flinging himself to his knees. There was a boy down here. What was he doing down here?

“Are you lost?” said Mick. “I know the way out—“ He glanced again at the witchfire in the boy’s hands. “How are you doing that?” he asked.

“Your magic?” said the boy. The flames jumped, as though listening to him, the light reflecting in his cornsilk hair. He pinched his full lips, and the flames settled, burning close to his skin. “I’m just borrowing it. I don’t have much of my own, you see.”

“How did you get here?” said Mick. “Are you alright?” He reached for the boy’s shoulder, garbed in a fine, white cloth. Silver stitching adorned his collar. It was familiar, somehow. His hand closed around the boy’s arm, and the boy’s face twisted into something sulky and mean. “Fuck,” said the boy, pouting. And then—

The light went out again. Mick’s hand travelled through the space where the boy had been, and he collapsed over his own lap. He reached for his sword again and this time drew it immediately. There was something wrong, here. The darkness felt silty and thick, and the eerie breeze rankled like cold fingers on his neck.

“I can’t hold a glamour for shit anymore,” someone grumbled, from far away. There was the same accent, but none of the youthful sweetness. The tone was weaker, flatter, older.

“Show yourself!” Mick roared.

“I don’t think I will,” drawled the voice. “Not until I get a good look at you. Take another step closer. You were heading in the right direction.”

Some force outside of himself compelled Mick to haul himself to his feet and trudge towards the source of the voice. There was the distinct sound of a snap and then a faint, turquoise light illuminated the cavern. Mick squinted, resituating himself.

He was facing a wall of iron bars melded to the floor and ceiling the cavern itself. The bars wrapped around a corner of the cavern like a cage for giant-sized birds. He firmed his grip on his sword. The new witchfire was shining from the other side of the bars.

Mick peered between the bars, his stomach sinking to the floor. Even though he was slumped against the cavern wall, hair lank and skin dirty, there was no mistaking the Betrayer.

“You look like your father,” said Nico coldly, pushing himself off of the floor and slinking towards the bars. He looked thin. He could probably slip right through— “I can feel you worrying,” said Nico. He pushed his hair back over his scalp, toting the dim spark of his witchfire in his hand. “I can’t do anything to you in here. I used about a week’s worth of magic pulling that stunt.” He gestured loosely at the outcropping where Mick had nearly fallen prey to his glamour.

Mick stepped unconsciously away from the bars, and Nico laughed flatly.

“I remember when you were only small,” said Nico. His mouth twisted. “Your father’s angel, tugging on Sebastian’s robes in the courtyard.”

Mick clenched his fist at his side and bit the inside of his cheek. “You were banished,” he said. “You aren’t supposed to be anywhere near this castle.”

Nico laughed again, his witchfire sparkling in his eyes. “As if Lewis could stand to send me away. He needs me here. You know, he used to come down here to gloat.” Nico smiled to himself as if recalling a fond memory, and Mick took another step back. “Come to think of it,” said Nico, affecting a thoughtful face. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“The King is gone,” said Mick, bravely.

Nico lifted a hand, appearing to inspect his cuticles. They were probably in awful condition like the rest of him, and yet every one of his movements was loose and insouciant, like a spoiled courtier.

“Gone where?” said Nico.

“I don’t—“ Mick faltered. “Just gone. Sebastian doesn’t even know where he is.”

Nico’s mouth twitched subtly and his turquoise eyes narrowed. Then he collapsed back against the wall of the cavern, shaking.

He was laughing.

“I see,” said Nico, shrewdly, once he had completed his fit of laughter. Mick reminded himself that this was the person who had nearly levelled the kingdom with his dark magic. “I’m the only one left. You need my help.” He laughed again, rubbing his eyes with sooty fingers.

Mick set his jaw. As soon as he’d seen Nico, he’d known that was why he was here too.

Nico picked himself up again and approached the bars, gliding like a cat. He wore the same white garments that the boy had been wearing, silver stitching tarnished and everything else tattered.

“Let me guess, the magic is gone again. It isn’t gone but it’s going. Lewis has disappeared and Sebastian is characteristically useless, and everything falls on the shoulders of the young Schumacher.” Nico pressed against the bars of the cage. There was enough space between the bars for him to reach an arm out, but he didn’t, hands wrapped around the bars. “You were probably prophesied, weren’t you.”

“I wasn’t,” said Mick, tightly. “But I need to do something anyways.”

Nico pouted. It wasn’t nearly as appealing on an adult man. Even still, Mick could see the shadow of handsomeness beneath the grime and sallow complexion, cheeks that might have flushed if they weren’t sunken and hollow, and lips that might have curved attractively around pretty words. According to rumour, he had been the King’s lover once upon a time.

“Let me out,” said Nico, with the air of a gambler who had good cards in his hand. “My power isn’t drawn from the kingdom, so my reserves won’t be depleted. And I can teach you too.”

“Your magic is foul,” said Mick.

“My magic,” said Nico, a smile sliding across his lips. “Is the only magic you’ve got. Now get me out of this cage and I’ll show you how useful I can be.”

Mick shook his head. “You’re the Betrayer,” he said. “How could I ever trust you.”

The flame in Nico’s hand jumped, darkened. “Is that what they’re calling me?” He wrinkled his nose. “If you won’t take my word for it, let’s make a deal, you and I. Or you can leave me and run back to Sebastian’s arms to mourn your dying kingdom.” He grinned. It was an awful, brilliant grin. The wind kicked up inside the cavern, ruffling Mick’s tunic. He had the sense that Nico’s prison was only just strong enough to contain his power. Once he was out, all of it would be unfettered and brought to rein against Mick like a blade to his throat.

“I guess it depends,” said Nico, tilting his head, “how much this means to you. Tell me, how desperately do you want to save Lewis’s kingdom?”

[phuuca]

No actually, I cannot shut the fuck up about the detailed analysis I did on how every housewarden and upperclassman has failed their freshmen in some way, shape, or form.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[avatardoggo]

I HAVE FEELINGS FOR A BOYMAN

[battle-subway-aftershow]

the most important thing about that roto leak image is actually revealing that Liam is an Iphone user

[calico-kiwi]

the beginnings of a new phone layout… is finally being enacted… i started this plan quite a while ago… and i have so far to go… the planning stage… is not yet complete… I know i can make this look so much better… gAHH…

[mariana-oconnor]

You know, all these helpful ways to set up your new phone and transfer data, they're really cool. And I bet they work just fine when the screen on your old phone is still working. I bet they're great.

[oblivious-troll]

Having sad little Jalim thoughts rn so I figured I'd share :)

Growing old and dying under cut

Imagine them growing old together, Salim happy with every day he gets to spend with Jason, trying to end each night on a good note. He knows he will pass before Jason, he's ten years older after all, and he just wants Jason to be happy and content with the life he will live after he has gone. He doesn't want to be a regret, and he doesn't want to leave him too heart broken after his time comes...

But it's not him who dies first.

It's peaceful. It happens in his sleep. Holding Salim's hand, a content expression on his face. Salim doesn't believe he's dead at first, shaking him, trying to wake him up, "This isn't a funny joke" he says- and it's after he says that he realizes it's not a joke at all.

Salim had been so convinced he would die first, so sure of it that he's never tried to prepare himself for the alternative.

He's old now, early nineties if he can recall, it stops being so important to remember at a certain age and he's long past that point. He's not sure his heart can take losing Jason, and he's right.

He pushes through symptoms he can recognize as heart failure, warned of it by doctors more and more as he aged- he tells no one, searches it up on his computer that Jason and himself used to need help him with.

He almost laughs at what he finds. Poetic and cruel all the same.

A few days after the funeral, Zain finally returns to his baba's house, a final goodbye. He bumps into the computer, the mouse moving enough to wake the screen where Zain can see the last thing his baba ever searched.

He dies four days before Jason's funeral, found curled on Jason's side of the bed by Zain, who's been checking on him each day since Jason's passing. He manages to rearrange some things in time for his baba so Jason and Salim can be buried together.

"Is it possible to die from heartbreak" and the confirmation of yes. Rare as it may be, Salim had known it was how he was going, and he'd been right.

If soul mates were real, Jason and Salim were certainly a pair. Following each other even to the afterlife, Zain was sure they were both in Paradise now.

Finally, in each other's arms again.

[nekokabuuuri]

🌕 Pokémon Aimé and Umbreon! 🐈‍⬛

[theetwinkleboy]

Alternate 423 just for funsies:

Okay so first things first a bit of setup to make this specific scenario work: let’s establish in previous chapters that the quirks of the vestiges still exist and tomura is still able to use them. So let’s say he uses smokescreen and danger sense to obscure himself from izuku. But—almost as if they have a psychic connection—izuku can find him anyway and they end up in tomura’s mindscape.

And after they get out of the mindscape, and all for one takes over, have him try—and fail—to summon any vestige of one for all. Oh well, he’ll get back to that later, time to kill some randos.

So in the aftermath of izuku midoriya rising, izuku reaches all for one possessing tomura’s body.

Kuroboro jumps in the way to plead all for one to give back his son tomura

All for ones face twists and he reaches out to blast kuroboro

Izuku shoves kuroboro out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blast himself, and then his eyes widen with understanding as he looks at afo

We’re momentarily confused until we see a glimpse into afo’s mind, where yoichi’s whisp is there all of a sudden, doing his thing and being a great distraction

Specifically, yoichi says that he was woken up again by their new holder/the strength of emotion from the one they’ve been protecting, reframing tomura’s emotions as a source of strength now, rather than an avenue for afo’s manipulation

So then we get the shot of tomura reaching out of the vestiges, but crucially there’s a bit of fiery unformed vestige energy taking part in the protecting—a surprise tool that will help us later!

And then we get the two way punch because this IS a shonen, and between their two efforts, afo is blasted into dust

And then we’re launched into a white void with tomura alone. He looks around, but it’s just him here. Alone. For the first time in a long time.

He walks for a while. Calls first for kurogiri, then for his other friends—spinner. Toga. Dabi. He even calls for magne, thinking ‘hey, maybe I did it. Maybe I self destructed after all.’

He finds this thought…not as comforting as he has in the past. He wishes he could see if kurogiri survived.

After a while, he sits down. Screams at the void, “there’s nothing here! What am I supposed to do?!”

His fingertips are fading. His arms. Maybe this is just—what oblivion is, he reasons. He lays down and closes his eyes.

Then, a shadow passes over his face. He squints in confusion and opens his eyes to see a ghostly, fiery, ill-formed figure leaning over him. A short figure, flickering green, reaching out its approximation of a hand.

“Of course you’d be here,” Tomura says. The figure doesn’t reply.

“I’m not sorry,” he tries. The figure keeps reaching out a hand.

“I’m a villain,” he says. “My friends are villains. What are you even doing here?”

No reply. Just a hand, reaching out.

“You heard me earlier. You can’t change me into your perfect—whatever you want. I’m going to keep being a hero for the people who actually need me.” As he speaks, he feels, suddenly, more solid. He looks down and his fingertips have reappeared. He looks at them, then up at the figure.

He smiles wryly. “You’re really not going away, are you?”

He reaches out and takes the figure’s hand and pulls himself to his feet.

As soon as he’s back up, the figure starts to dissolve, and tomura is momentarily startled, until he realizes, the energy is flowing through their connected hands, wrapping around his limbs like ropes, turning black and staticky, and—

Tomura opens his eyes. Huh. So he’s alive after all. There’s a pressure on his chest—on his whole body, really, but especially around his chest.

He looks down. Midoriya Izuku is hugging him as tight as he can, and ropes of black whip are pressed flush against every inch of tomura’s arms and legs.

It takes him a moment to realize that he’s the one in charge of the black energy, but the moment he goes to dismiss it, midoriya squeezes so tight that tomura’s ribs creak a little.

“Don’t!” The kid says frantically. “It’s holding you together.”

Huh. So the kid gave him one for all to—to break him? To save him? Both? Was he manipulating him? Was he trusting him?

Tomura doesn’t understand why he would do something like that. It’s so stupidly—idiotically kind, it doesn’t make any sense.

Tomura—doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do now. But he doesn’t dismiss blackwhip. Or shove the kid away.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[blind-radio-waves]

I will be sprinting at you in your dreams may Zeus strike me tf down 🫶

AND HE FUCKING WILL I KNOW HIM PERSONALLY FUCKWAD

[dawntheduckrb]

I don't wanna fight exporting a half done picture so here's a picture of my tablet I took with my phone (very scuffed lol, I know)

Long post 🦆

Alright, I do not like moping for long time when physical ailment strikes, so today I:

went and got a brace to keep my thumb still when I'm not using it

looked up a couple extra stretches for my wrist

set a timer on everything I did to be no longer than an hour

finally applied that "drawing from the shoulder" thing my professors try to hammer in

And, as of right now, I feel much better than I did 24 hours ago :D it's definitely still hurting a little, but I don't think I'm gonna have to take more than the recommended amount of ibuprofen and drown my hand in ice just to go to sleep now haha. I'm still very mad this even happened >:( buut freaking out about it last night made me extra proactive about it today, so all is well (relatively)

I was able to work on that project today, I'm very excited to show it off so here's a progress picture :3. I'm only just now realizing I made the left eyebrow/hand shorter than the right lol. Ran out of time for the feathers on the coat, but I think it's in a good spot right now. I only had the face drawn when I picked it back up today, so I made a decent amount of progress. I can't make any clean lines right now (see above), so this is really still just a draft. Hopefully I'll get it done by Monday night!

Last thing; I learned that clip studio can actually record time lapses for you, and doing it this way didn't freak out my computer, so voila (flashing lights cw, I flashbang myself a lot by accidentally removing the background):

It took me so long to draw out the top lol (I made his face really fluffy, and idk yet if I'm gonna keep that change or not)