#and i will draw him as much as i want because is my comfort characters and i have no shame

[totalswag]

podcast therapuss ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors notes first time writing influencer!reader, i like it so far. this idea popped into my head the other day after watching one of jake’s episodes. there's no face claim for influencer!reader, i added this picture for the ideal theme.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary joining jakes podcast talking about various topics then mentioning not getting the chance to meet drew starkey. clips of you talking about him goes viral which leads him to reaching out to you.

warning(s) none!

About a month ago, your manager texted you about doing a podcast with Jake Shane, and you quickly said yes. You contacted him shortly after your managers confirmed it, expressing your excitement. Since then, you've grown closer and spent the night before the episode was filmed.

The two of you went out to dinner and got to talking about various of topics. It was a great way to get to know each other. You consider each other as friends now.

You've used social media since you were fifteen years old. You began by posting YouTube videos, and you continue to do so. Tiktok became another source of content to promote, including daily vlogs, hilarious content, and so on. Nothing would make you change it.

Everyone was getting settled before filming began. Jake started off by talking about a few topics then you came in. You were super excited about doing this.

“Welcome to Therapuss! "We've got the incredible Y/N here today," Jake says, gesturing toward you as you relax into the comfortable chair across from him. You flash your characteristic smile, which your followers enjoy. The cameras roll, but it feels natural—just another day in your life, sharing your thoughts and experiences with the world.

"Stop it!" you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, Jake, thank you very much for having me. "I am a huge fan of the podcast."

"You're too kind," he replies, smiling. "So, let us dig in. You've experienced an unimaginable rise on social media. Your vlogs are really addictive, your TikToks are continuously trending, and everyone adores you. "How does it feel?"

You enjoy answering questions like this. They are your favorite because you don't always get to discuss what inspired you for doing this.

"It's surreal, honestly," you acknowledge. "I started YouTube my freshman year of high school because I wanted to look back on the moments I made. I never imagined it would turn out like this. It has been a whirlwind, but I am grateful for it."

Jake takes it all in, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Based on what I've seen, your content is incredibly diverse in your vlogs, TikTok, and lifestyle tips. Tell me, how do you balance all of that?" He asks, intrigued by what you do.

You respond to the question by explaining how you learned to draw boundaries over time. You prefer to keep a lot of things private that do not affect the outer world. As your audience grew, you formed a unique bond with them.

"Do you have a show you've been obsessed with lately?" Jake asks you while laughing and raising his eyebrows.

"Duh, Outer Banks pookie!" Before you laugh and toss your head back theatrically, you smirk. The statement, "I love all characters, Rafe is my favorite," leaves Jake speechless.

"Let me explain, his character is so interesting and yes, he's a psycho," you huff, putting your palms up in defense.

Jake and you keep talking about the show and his favorite show.

Jake nods in agreement. "Totally. Okay, switching gears to Pougelandia. Tell me everything."

You giggle and lean back in your chair. "Oh my goodness, that was incredible! The Outer Banks cast is as cool as they appear on television,” You gush, your excitement is evident.

Jake’s face lights up hearing you talk about the cast, “stop it that sounds so sweet, tell me more!”

You quickly point at him, “They’re so down to earth and so sweet. I got to meet practically everyone except for one person,” pouting then covering your hands with your hands.

Jake shrieks in surprise, "bitch who? "You must tell me!" He exclaims excitedly, settling into his seat.

“Drew Starkey. I was very disappointed since I'd heard he was the sweetest person, but our schedules didn't work out." you confess with a hint of disappointment. You were excited to meet him and start a conversation like you did with the rest of the cast.

Jake, of course, teased you about it, saying, “I feel like we’re setting up a rom-com here. Drew, if you’re listening, the universe is waiting.”

The remainder of the podcast you two continue to talk about various topics and even did the infamous NAME—someone will send in a question or mention something for Jake and the guest to answer the question on the podcast. There were lots of interesting questions.

A few days later, the episode is up—fans are talking about you talking about Drew and you wanting to meet him. TikTok is overloaded with clips of you talking about Drew, and your comments are full of hopeful hints about a possible meet-up.

You'd just completed editing your most recent YouTube video for your next vlog, and you were drained enough to fall asleep at your desk. The buzz of your phone buzzing from your bed, frowning but curious in who it could be.

You scream. Literally scream.

Drew Starkey followed you.

Drew Starkey sent you a message.

"Am I being punked?" Am I dreaming? "What the fuck is happening?" You ramble while holding your phone in your shaky hands and looking at the two notifications on your lock screen.

Allowing yourself to relax and compose yourself. You unlock your phone, tap on instagram, go to the messaging tab, you’re sure your jaw dropped to the floor.

Drew Starkey: Hey, I recently watched your podcast with Jake. We should get together sometime—finally make up for not meeting in Pougelandia!

What do you say?

How do you come off calmly?

Yourusername: Hi! Yes, it sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re free.

Fast forward two months later, you feel you’re still in a dream. Drew and you hung out together at a local coffee shop then went back to your place to talk more. Once you started talking you two couldn’t stop.

After hanging out the first time came more meeting ups. Drew asked you to be his girlfriend three weeks ago—you were shocked and excited all at once.

One day, while scrolling through TikTok in your kitchen, leaning on the counter, you came across the trend—wait they don't love you like I love you. You thought the trend was silly, so you decided to participate. 

You did a couple tries and posted your favorite one out of the four—not realizing Drew was in the background on his phone, unfazed about what you were doing. Your comments started blowing up.

Bestie you got some explaining to do 🤨

Causally dancing in your kitchen while Drew Starkey is walking around at the same time? Interesting

When worlds collide fr 😏

Alright where the cameras at...

I fucking knew it!!!!

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[angelltheninth]

Hi there, I was wondering if you still take requests ( If not that’s fine) I was thinking if you could do a fem-reader with my boy marcus or thieram ( thieram is the bartender jinx calls chuck) !! Thank you for your lovely writing, And keep up the good work !

One Marcus fic coming right up! Although Chuck is an interesting request, might write something for him at some point.

Pairing: Marcus x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, under the desk blowjobs, teasing, fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, office sex

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Are taking the "fuck the police" thing a little too literally in this one? I guess in this case it's suck the police but whatever.

Marcus loved to talk a big game, to act tough, to be looked as authority among the Enforcers. It was a role he played well, at least as in public. In private though, in his office he was all yours to command.

As much as he tried to deny it he couldn't help but fall apart under your skilled hands and mouth.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you as you wrapped your lips around his leaking cockhead, your hand rubbing and twisting along the base, "We don't have much time." He groaned trying his best to keep still in his chair as you took him in deeper, licking along a vein running down the underside of his dick.

"You're the one who asked me to come here. Besides it's still early, there's no one here yet." You were very intent on drawing out more of his moans and whimpers as you shifted your hips, making sure he has a good view of your two fingers slipping inside your pussy.

"But you're the one who got under the desk at your own accord. I don't even have to ask for your mouth anymore, you just offer it freely." He reached one glowed hand to the back of your head and pushed you closer. His cock twitched as you took him deeper in your mouth, sucking hard and then deliberately stopping. You closed your eyes and hummed, your eyes searching for him.

You liked what you saw there. Desire. His eyes shining with want, his mouth parted just a little and his breathing ragged and labored. "Why did you stop?"

Your chuckle made him groan, his hips twitching upwards resulting in you pulling away, leaving just the tip in your mouth. You focused on the head, giving the little slit a tentative lick before pressing a kiss on it, then downward and then licking your tongue all the way around it. "I like that expressing Marcus. You should wear it more." You smile against the side of his cock as you drag your tongue painfully slowly back to the tip and taking his length back into your mouth.

"Good Gods. Your mouth is..." Marcus shut his eyes tight for a few moments, opening them as a whine escaped his lips, "Heaven. My love, you're heaven. Go faster. Show me how well you can suck my cock."

Deciding to show him mercy this once obliged with his request, taking his cock deep until it hit the back of your throat. One of your hands clenched his uniform tight while the other was still busy fingering your cunt. Getting Marcus to fall apart for you, because of you, in his office, where he should be the one holding all the power send such a surge of power through your body.

"Fuck, I'm gonna, oh fuck. Swallow it, don't let a drop go to waste, please love." Marcus surged forward, half folding over his desk as he flooded your mouth and throat with his cum. You kept swallowing, gulping it all down with gusto until he was done.

There were multiple white strings of cum connecting his cock and your tongue when you pulled away. "Not let it go to waste you say? Well then don't mind me." He barely arched an eyebrow at you while you pushed yourself up, your sticky, wet fingers falling away and replaced by his softening cock. "Much better." You mumble against his jaw as you settle comfortably on top of him.

"I think so too." He wipes your mouth with the pad of his thumb while grasping your hand and bringing your fingers to his lips, licking them clean one by one. "We have to clean up soon." You wiggle your hips in response, "A-Alright. A few more minutes. Oh and expect to get called in here again sometime today, I'll have an oral report for you."

"Oh? A special one just for me? Aren't I a lucky girl." Marcus smirked back at you and grabbed both fistfuls of your ass, dragging you closer to him.

"Very lucky." He murmured against your cheek. Honestly at times like this it was hard to tell whose who's bitch.

[missheavenfield1215]

Xeni & Paula Human Version + mini headcanons Part 2

This is a sketch of Paula, a little more "realistic"... Because in the series they make us understand that she already has much more experience than Xeni, so she rejects all the ideas that he wants to share. Unless those ideas are to her liking...

Here's one more sketch of Xeni annoying Paula, perhaps reminding her that she's much smaller. Or by reminding him that his aunt is the CEO... Her Boss.

I know I already made a drawing of Paula with the original concept and making her look older... But I still love the idea of ​​her being just a couple of years older than Xeni, that he still knows it and that he still teases her anyway and even harder...

(I had already published this drawing, but it was not painted in its entirety)

(hell, only I could make Xeni's ugly sweater even uglier)

This is another sketch of Paula

And here are my personal favorites...

Here, Paula asked him for a photo without the glasses, (because they were going to move or something)

And he's like: Ugh, whatever...😒

And I swear the latter didn't look so bad... I swear it's because of the angle of my camera, but it doesn't matter anymore... 🥺

And here I tried to make a comic based on my Headcanon that I made in my first post.

That Headcanon said that Xeni was a fervent admirer of Paula when he was very young... And that over time, he decided to stop admiring her because her work declined.

And after having carved out a career based on his cold and distant character to what is not risky or "Indie". In addition to having a reputation for being contemptuous of what is popular, generic and what is not unique... Even of being much rougher with Paula, (casually, the only director who still has that fame).

Therefore, it is terrible that "someone" would have shouted what he did not want to confess.

He LOVED Paula's work. And it is still his guilty taste...

My Headcanon of this post is: Xeni is the kind of friend who will let you know if you are wrong about something, he will correct you (many times with the intention of annoying you), sometimes he will appropriate your personal space, if he scolds you often it is because he is worried about you, the line that separates YOUR THINGS from HIS, it DOESN'T exist... He will take away your sweets, coffes or desserts, just because he wants... Anyway, it's not that he minds bothering you about everything.

And Paula's Headcanon is that she would be the kind of friend who will almost be your caregiver and almost a second mother. She doesn't usually get upset that often, but when she does, she'll act on impulse... She's the one carrying candy, wipes, and paper in case anyone needs them... She's going to comfort you until you stop crying, she's going to hug you and tell you that everything will be okay.

*And here's a little sketch of Xeni's embarrassed face, realizing that everyone on the set, heard that cofession...*

Well, this is all sketches I have of these two because, I love them and I want them to be happily ever after and things like that... 🥰

Dang it!! I think I ship them ❤️❤️

Here is the first part

[anizscheri]

Mommy issues type of beat

[sysig]

How is skeleton shaped (Patreon)

[hana-bobo-finch]

I know I JUST said that I would be too busy to make art in the coming days but I. did it anyway. guys looks it’s lethia I love him so much. look he even has little bug-person symbol flags he’s so cool (HE DOES NOTHING) (SERIOUSLY HIS ENTIRE PURPOSE IS THAT HE DOESNT DO ANYTHING AND NOBODY REMEMBERS HE EXISTS) (HE WAS RELEVANT FOR ONE MINOR INCIDENT AND EVEN THEN EVERYONE FORGOT HE WAS THE START OF IT ONCE A WIDER CONVERSATION ABOUT THE INCIDENT STARTED)

[thethingything]

sir I see that you're having a hard time rotting in bed but could you please put a shirt on

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[mayspicer]

Girl help I really need to do the test tasks for a new job or else my life is gonna get very bad real soon, but all I want to do is draw ttrpg characters.

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[hooffuloftootsierolls]

Almost always feel like this but it's hitting stronger than ever today bc I remember back in February staying up til 5 am and getting to the bottom of the 'adam hazbin hotel' tag while listening to a specific playlist, now it's late at night and I'm listening to that playlist again and feeling that immense wave of grief over this stupid fucking man again.

Like, I don't think Vivzie will bring him back but even if she does I feel like she's gonna fuck up the potential he has one way or another so the only thing that really helps is fan content.

also adamsapple sure as hell isn't gonna be canon and i feel like i need to be hooked up to that ship with an IV so

Adam better come back, I can't stand grieving for this horrible fictional man

[cybrasigilism]

NSFW alphabet with Player 388 (Kang Dae-ho)

warnings: smut and all things of the like | not proofread! | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from yours

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: you already know the second i got a request to do a NSFW alphabet for my fav, i had to do it. sorry for the spam, i just have way too much free time right now :’) anyways, as always i hope you enjoy! trust this is only the beginning of the dae-ho works i plan on writing

MDNI! 18+ content ahead, reader discretion is advised

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ if dae-ho isn’t the king of aftercare, then i’m santa clause. he will cuddle, draw you a bath, offer you a massage, the whole nine yards. he wants to make sure that you’re not only comfortable, but that you also know how grateful he is that you felt you could be vulnerable with him.

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs and of their partner’s

↳ his favourite part of his is easily his arms, mainly because of how many people tell him how good his hugs are. as for his partner, he would ask how he could choose one favourite thing about someone who he loves so much. he’s a thigh man

C= Cum anything to do with cum, honestly

↳ would much rather to cum inside mainly because this man 100% has a breeding kink, but if his partner specifically says they don’t want him to cum inside, he will gladly oblige and pull out

D= Dirty Secret a dirty secret of theirs

↳ likes to be edged I MEAN WHO SAID THAT—

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what their doing?

↳ he’s definitely not got a massive body count, but trust he does know what he’s doing. you guys aren’t finishing until you cum twice

F= Favourite Position this one speaks for itself

↳ for him, it’s a tie between missionary and reverse cowgirl, it all depends on who wants to take charge in the moment

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.

↳ he tries to be light hearted about the whole thing, especially if it’s your first time together. he’s still serious about sex in the sense that he’s determined to make you feel good, though

I= Intimacy how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect

↳ he’s big on praise, so he’s super intimate, kissing his partner all over and telling them how perfect they are are both staples in the process for dae-ho

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ he’s tried to use porn to masturbate before, but he finds it too artificial and performative and it actually takes him out of the mood rather than get him in it. he’s the kind of guy who thinks of his partner to get off

K= Kink one or more of their kinks

↳ breeding, praise, back scratching, overstimulation

L= Location favourite places to do the do

↳ the bedroom of course, and the shower x)

M= Motivation what turns them on? what gets them going?

↳ confidence. he loves it when his partner knows their worth

N= No something they won’t do

↳ hate sex, no explanation necessary

O= Oral preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

↳ he loves getting head just as much as the next guy, but face-sitting? he’s happy for you to just sit on his face the whole time, no penetrative sex needed

P= Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

↳ he is a firm believer that sex is more than just the action itself, but it’s about being as close to the person you love and trust most as physically possible, so of course he’s gonna take his time with his partner. after all, why rush a good thing?

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often?

↳ he’s down if you’re down, but again, he would rather take things slow

R= Risk are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

↳ again, he’s game to experiment if you are. however he is still solid on his limits, and he wants you to be firm with yours too. he would never forgive himself if he felt like you only did something because he wanted to

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

↳ as previously stated, dae-ho will not be through with you until you cum twice. he will go as long as he needs to for the job to get done, whether he’s already finished or not. the training in the marines has certainly helped his stamina, so this is no trouble for him

T= Toys do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves

↳ i doubt he has toys of his own, however he has no problem with using any toys his partner chooses to bring along

U= Unfair how much they like to tease

↳ jokes on you, he’s actually the one getting teased double jokes on you, he’s really into it

V= Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

↳ he’s not obnoxiously loud by any sort of means, but he definitely does moan. remember though, he will praise his partner and assure them that theyre making him feel great. think something along the lines of “yeah, making me feel so good baby” or “that’s it, that’s right..oh god yeah, right there.”

W= Wild Card a random headcanon for the character

↳ i’ll say it once and leave it here: he talks you through it

X= X-ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ thanks to the marines training, he’s got quite the muscular build. when he’s hard, he’s above average, somewhere around 6 1/2 - 7”

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ he doesn’t have a crazy sex drive, but when he’s in the mood it completely shifts

Z= Zzz how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

↳ he refuses to fall asleep before you do. he will do whatever it takes to stay awake, because he feels it’s rude to fall asleep before his partner does

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

thanks so much for reading! you know the drill, advice + constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing are appreciated and requested! hope you guys like this as much as i had fun writing it :)

[skyenish]

| Diasomnia Harpy Hare animatic 🐉🦇⚔️ 🐊 | Book 7 spoilers |

——

This was one big project, but I love how it came out! I’m fairly new to coloring and rendering, so this was quite the task for me. I’ve discovered that Diasomnia isn’t as hard to draw as I thought (except you Silver, you were very difficult to draw). Shoutout to @soleilthedeity (currently banned) for helping me come up with ideas! I hope you guys enjoy the animatic :)

——

Malleus is an interesting character, because let’s be honest, he has the emotional maturity of a teaspoon, and I say that affectionately. He’s got a superiority complex, but can you blame him? He’s the crown prince of Briar Valley, naturally he’d at least subconsciously believe that he’s better than others! He pushes people away, not on purpose of course, which leaves him feeling very lonely. People are scared of him, but I feel like Malleus doesn’t completely understand why, what he’s doing wrong. Lilia was never scared of him though, and when he met Yuu, who wasn’t scared of him, he found them amusing, and that amusement slowly grew into affection. He grew attached to them. When he got the news that both Lilia and Yuu were leaving him soon, he felt like that new happiness Yuu gave him and the comfort of Lilia was all going to be ripped away. He doesn’t want to face the idea of things ending, of being alone. But nothing lasts forever.

Worse even is that as prince of Briar Valley, he’s incredibly powerful. His powers are supposed to keep his subjects happy, and he’s used to being able to do pretty much anything with his powers. But he can’t save Lilia, he can’t make him younger, make him healthy, make him stay. In a sense, his overblot kills three birds with one stone! Lilia doesn’t die, Yuu doesn’t leave, and he won’t ever be alone. Plus, they’ll all be “happy”! Except Malleus’ understanding of happiness is shallow, he doesn’t quite grasp it properly. Of course, like all the others, what they did was wrong, but like all the others, I empathize with them and understand why they did what they did. I can relate to Malleus, his desperation, his fear, because at the end of the day he’s still just a child who is going to outgrow everyone he loves.

(Since I play English and read the spoilers, my information/analysis might be wrong! If that’s the case, definitely let me know in the comments. This is all also just my interpretation, so if you disagree with my takes I’d love to hear your interpretation and thoughts!)

[somerandomcockroach]

25. 25 CHAPTERS THAT I'VE BEEN READING NON-STOP BECAUSE THIS FIC IS A FRAGGING PIECE OF ART THAT I COULDN'T FIND FOR DECADES AND IT JUST DROPPED ON ME WITH BLESSING OF GODS AND IT STILL HAS SO MANY CHAPTERS?????? I COULDN'T EVEN DRAW BECAUSE I JUST. READING. WOW

I NEED TO SCREAM SOMEWHERE. OKAY SO. AHAHA, I CAME AFTER JAZZ/PROWL, YEAH? AND THE FACT THAT IF TO GET JAZZ/PROWL'S WHATEVER THEY HAVE RIGHT NOW DESTROYING YET FINDING PLEASURE IN EACH OTHER'S COMFORT OR WANTING TO BE "ME AND HIM AGAINST THE WORLD", I STILL WILL LOVE IT SO MUCH (I will not turn caps out, I scream) BECAUSE EVERY CHARACTER. EVERY FRICKING CHARACTER, THEY WAY THEY ALL INTERACT. OOOOHHHH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDDDD. I LITERALLY CAN'T PUT IT DOWN IN WORDS, THIS FIC LITERALLY RUSHED IN THE TOP OF MY FAV BOOKS WHICH IS VERY, VERY SURPISING SINCE THERE ARE NOVELS ABOUT CULTIVATION/REBORN/GODS STUFF AND AHAHAHA. "MISTAKES ON MISTAKES" : WHAS'UP BOYS?? WHY NO ONE TOLD ME I WILL LOVE THIS JAZZ TO DEATH??? DESPERATELY WANTING TO LIVE WHILE ALSO BEING READY/EXPECT TO DIE ANY MOMENT. THIS BOY NEEDS THERAPY AND EVEN PROWL TRIES HIS BEST TO GUESS IN ADVANCE WHAT HE CAN DO WITH HIS TRAUMAS? AAAAAAAAAAA. THIS FIC HAS SO MUCH TASTY THINGS HAPPENING, YOU LITERALLY CAN TAKE ANY OF THEM AND BAM YOU WILL GET THE WHOLE DAMN ANIMATIC/ANIMATION BECAUSE. EVERY ONE OF THEM. CONNECTED ONE OR OTHER WAY OR DESCRIBED IN SUCH WAY THAT I JUST "HHHHUUHHHH" *INHALE-EXHALE*. LET ME IN IDIOT BOX TOO

[notartisticdraw]

OKAY NEW PJS DAYCARE 10 YEARS LATER REFERENCES OF SOME OF THE KINDER!SANSES

Greaser and Epic are the only new additions to the cast, while Fresh and Cross just have redesigns since I couldn't stand their old ones :(

also don't mind Epic's lil chullo, I thought he'd look hella adorable with one while designing him and kinda sorta kept it

ALSO ALSO

(this lil document lowkey looks ugly) this is my little cheat sheet showing all the characters that will be in my PJs Daycare au. as you could tell, several characters are gone

for the caretakers, I replaced Gradient and Blue Screen with Lux and Cil since I honestly don't know a single thing about them and didn't want to butcher their characters in comics (plus I would die for Lux and she's never included in anything)

for the sanses, there are SEVERAL characters gone. this isn't because I disliked them, I actually love most, but for what I'm going for, I need a smaller cast to focus on if I want to actually flesh everyone out and give them time to shine. i also didn't choose favorites---primarily just characters that had a much bigger focus in the original comic to keep it recognizable and comfortable

anyways sorry for the jumpscare flashing you with "its" art. i think id rather die than remake every single reference sheet for the cast, so for now, it just looks like a weird blend of styles (especially since PJ looks like a child due to "its" art style lmao)

urgg anyway i want to get started on art for this so bad and its almost winter break, so pray it all ends quickly so I could go back to drawing I HATE SCHOOLLLLL