#or how the drawings get progressively worse

[punmster]

open for better quality <3

for my fic, "Draco Malfoy's Sudden Memory Gain", based off song "Fight or Flight" by Conan Gray (despite not actually relating to the whole infidelity thing in the song...)

[sappho-rose]

toxic kaisagi yuri my beloved

[arkiwii]

hghhggrgrrr everytime i remember that lone trail exists i get hyped af but then i remember it will be in a while and i cry

[valkyurii]

i love spending hours writing only to read it back the next day, cringe, and then delete the whole thing

[cosmobrain00]

well🙂

[retiredcultistredux]

(long post)

Void Termina turned around to face Prince Fluff, frowning. This was that one angry blue guy with the big eyebrows who got his arm ripped off, right? ...That could be a problem, and not one he wanted to deal with.

In fact, Prince Fluff had already rushed forward, only to completely miss Void Termina, instead rushing beneath where he was floating. ...So that wasn't a great attempt on Prince Fluff's part. Not to mention Ester and Javez were there looking like they'd just kill him if he tried anything else. ...So what was there to do?

Well, Void Termina answered that question.

He then floated up into the air, beginning to glow brightly. There was a flash of light followed by two separate lights forming around Ester and Javez, bright enough that they couldn't even be seen through it. Everyone had to shield their eyes once more.

[...Meanwhile...]

After flying through a rift, dealing with the dizziness that came with it and drifting through space for a bit, Magolor, Flamberge and Francisca had made it to Jambandra. They started to make their way through the halls, each having a different demeanor.

Francisca was calm and determined, Flamberge was a little more impatient and loud, floating ahead of the others, and Magolor was moving a little slower, his anxieties starting to creep up on him again.

Magolor: "...I know, but...n-now that we're here, I...f-feel this...dread...s-something b-bad is h-happening..."

Francisca: "Well, we need to be strong. For the sake of Hyness and everyone else."

Flamberge: "Yeah! And we'll back you up if things get dicey!"

Magolor: "...Th-Thanks, you two. I appreciate it."

[The focus has shifted back to Magolor, Flamberge and Francisca for a bit as they make their way through Jambandra.]

[toofypigeon]

huhhh?? oc posting!?!? whaat!?!? no way !

im always so scared to post my ocs because thats kinda cringe LMAO /j /lh

but i do love seeing and getting to know other people's ocs :P

[non-un-topo]

At the crossroads between wondering if it's worth it to basically completely rewrite all my WIPs or just take a break from writing for the rest of the summer

[babyloniastreasure]

oh cool im getting tremors in my good hand

i sure hope this isnt the beginning of something permanent,

[ejsuperstar]

prev idk exactly you were thinking when you tagged this dicey dungeons but this is what I thought

i once went to vegas as a child pre smart phones and there was a store in one of the hotels selling gold and diamond phones and i walked right in and pointed at one and said hey can i hold that i might be interested in it and the worker looked at 10 year old me and asked if i could afford it and i told him well ma has been extra generous with the lunch money lately and i've been putting a little away each day and i hadn't checked interest in a bit and he said the phone cost $50k and i stood there and thought for a moment and said well i'll have to do a couple extra chores around the neighborhood but i could handle that if i could do a payment plan and he asked me what kind of chores i did to make so much money and he did not like me answering "burglary"

[phagodyke]

venting sorry... don't want to just delete it bc it helps to get it out just ignore this post pls 👍

haven't slept much at all and feeling so sick andstressed and in pain bc my period is due and so tired its making me dizzy but i cant sleep more or ill just feel more sick and I want a hug and to cry so hard into someones shoulder but no one cares or will even come near me it makes me feel diseased they think things about me that aren't true bc I struggle so much to communicate and thry all make assumptions insteqd and no one wants to give me space to talk to them about it so I cant undo that now and its all my fault and I'm so. exhausted :-(

[sabertoothwalrus]

make a farcille fankid. im a fankid fan and i think that adding to the whole complicated situation is great. the political ramifications of EVERYTHING about laios's country are fantastic and making it worse by adding more interspecies kids (shoutout to chilchuck's grandkids) is fascinating

great cause I already started drawing adjkfghdjfg

PLEASE READ THIS POST TO UNDERSTAND MY THOUGHT PROCESS BEHIND THIS

but yeah I !!!!!! really like the political implications of 1) having a half-elf (which the queen of elves doesn't recognize as people) as a royal court mage who is 2) gay married to King's sister who is 3) a chimera

additionally!!!! I think Laios would pick his niece to be his successor, for several reasons:

I think he's gay. maybe aro-spec.

I don't think he'd MIND marrying a woman. He had a fiance (which ended when he left home, meaning he was engaged before the age of THIRTEEN) so I think he just always assumed he would get married at some point, regardless of his personal feelings about it

haven't decided if I think he would get gay married, get comphet married, or stay single. I think it depends on How progressive he thinks Melini should be, other countries' feelings be damned. (unless Kabru says no, actually, that's a little too risky.)

point being IDK if Laios would have any kids of his own

He LOVES Falin. He loves Marcille as well. He'd fucking LOVEEEEE their kid my GOD would he spoil her!!!!! Best Uncle In The World

He probably thinks any chimera traits she'd have Fucking Rule and would think it's badass for someone like that to have the throne

yeah so. uh. enjoy farcille fankid

[malachitezmeyka]

Do you know how fucking hard it is to have your art skill level not match up to your ideas because it’s been sending my unstable ass into hysterics for like 3 months now and I’m so tired

[mephisto-reporting]

Take A Break

About: You’ve been pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion. Someone needs to step in and help you rest before it takes a serious toll on your health—or worse. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

XAVIER

You could feel exhaustion creeping into your bones, but your hands still worked, fixing up your equipment, mindlessly checking and rechecking everything.

“You should take a break.”

Xavier’s voice, calm and devoid of inflection. He was seated at the table, eyes half-lidded as if he could fall asleep at any moment. His usual expression didn’t waver, but you’d been around him long enough to recognize the care beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed the truth. You kept busy, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

Without saying anything, Xavier reached into his jacket and pulled out a deck of Kitty Cards, placing them on the table between you. ��Play a round with me.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Now’s really not the time for games, Xavier.”

He shrugged, his expression unchanged. “You won’t rest, and there is time until the next mission, so this is the compromise. Besides…” His eyes glimmered with the smallest trace of mischief. “I want to win this time.”

Xavier’s boyish charm peeked through his usual calm, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly how to get to you, and this was one of those moments where he wasn’t above using it.

“Fine,” you said, reluctantly setting down your tools. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

His lips quirked up. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if I win, you listen to me and get some rest., Deal?”

Knowing how he usually was in this game, you confidentally accepted his deal. There was no way you would lose. As the game commenced, Xavier’s focus was unwavering. He played his cards methodically, and before long, he had amassed a considerable lead. You frowned, desperately trying to catch up. Just as you were about to make a move, Xavier leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Xavier!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed as he dozed off, completely unaware of the game progressing without him. You couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. The sudden quiet felt oddly peaceful, allowing you to relax for just a moment. You noticed how the soft glow of the lights illuminated his serene expression.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, feigning innocence, though you could see the way he fought back a smile.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but fatigue was making it hard. Xavier’s hand was steady as he played his next move, drawing the game closer to an end.

He was winning. “Looks like you’re distracted,” Xavier commented, his voice still soft, though there was an edge of teasing in it. “Maybe you're too tired to concentrate?”

You glared at him playfully. “You’re just lucky today.”

Finally, with a quiet triumph in his eyes that didn’t quite reach his face, he played his last card. "I win."

You exhaled, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside. “Alright, you got me. What now? Another round?”

He shook his head, leaning forward just slightly. His gaze softened, his unreadable expression giving way to something more sincere. “No. Now you rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Xavier cut you off. “You’re exhausted. I can see it. If you keep pushing yourself, you won’t be able to fight the Wanderers. You won’t be able to protect yourself. this is my win. You rest.”

You blinked at him, a warmth settling in your chest at the unexpected care behind his words. Xavier, the one who barely showed emotion, was looking out for you in his own way. You couldn’t deny it any longer. You were tired, so incredibly tired.

“Alright,” you conceded, leaning back into the sofa. “I’ll rest.”

Xavier gave a slow nod, his eyes softening further. “Good.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt him reach over, the deck of cards disappearing from the table. The familiar sound of shuffling filled the air, and though he didn’t say anything more, the steady presence of Xavier nearby was all the comfort you needed.

He had won, but in that moment, so had you.

ZAYNE

The makeshift hospital buzzed with activity, filled with the low hum of hurried footsteps and murmured instructions. The air was thick with exhaustion, tension from the recent attacks on the area palpable. You’d been at it for hours, taking on shift after shift without a break, ensuring that everyone in the hospital remained safe. Your body ached, your limbs felt heavier with every passing moment, but you pressed on.

There wasn’t time to rest.

Zayne was nearby, performing triage on the injured, his face as stoic as always. Despite the weight of the situation, he remained calm, moving with precise efficiency. His hands—deft and careful as ever—made sure each patient was stabilized, patched up, and prepped for whatever came next.

You caught his gaze for a fleeting moment, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the concern beneath his composed exterior.

“Still standing, huh?” Zayne said, his voice low as he approached you, eyes scanning over your fatigued form. His tone, as usual, carried a hint of dry amusement despite the serious situation. “Or at least trying to.”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s not like you’ve been up for nearly 24 hours or anything.” He sighed, his lips twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to smile.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off his words. “I’m not the only one working without rest.”

Zayne gave a short nod, acknowledging your point. “True. But there’s a difference between pushing yourself and running yourself into the ground.” He glanced around the ward before turning his full attention back to you. “Come with me. You’ve done enough for now. I’ve got something that might help.”

You hesitated, but Zayne’s insistence was always hard to ignore. “What, now?”

“Yes. Now,” he replied, his tone firm but not without warmth. “I’ll even make sure it doesn’t take long.”

He didn’t give you much room to argue. Without waiting for a reply, he placed a gentle but guiding hand on your arm and led you to a small side ward, one reserved for staff members to take quick breaks. You gave him a quizzical look, but he just waved off your concerns with a simple, “Trust me.”

There, on a nearby table, sat two sealed containers of food. It wasn’t anything extravagant. “Eat,” he said, his voice calm, but there was an underlying firmness that told you he wasn’t asking.

You frowned, stubbornness rising up despite the exhaustion. “I don’t have time to eat, Zayne. There are still—”

“Eat,” he repeated, cutting you off. This time, his gaze softened, a rare show of tenderness slipping through his usually stoic exterior. “You can’t protect anyone if you collapse. This isn’t a negotiation.”

With a sigh, you took the container, too tired to argue further. You sat on one of the nearby beds, picking at the food slowly. Zayne stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching you with what seemed like affection. After a few bites, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you more than ever. You leaned back, letting the exhaustion creep in despite your best efforts to resist it. The bed beneath you was far too comfortable for your sleep-deprived mind to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Zayne quietly removed the empty container from your hands.

“You’re done,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. His touch was firm but soothing, and you found yourself slipping further into the comfort of the bed. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “I wasn’t planning on resting…”

“Of course not,” he said dryly, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you are now. Doctors orders.”

Before you could protest, Zayne’s hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a gesture so tender it left you speechless. “And if it gets you to rest, I’ll take a break too.”

Despite your determination, the exhaustion finally won. Zayne’s gentle touch and the warmth of his words lulled you into a peaceful surrender. You felt his presence nearby as your eyes fluttered shut, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting sound in the otherwise chaotic hospital. “I’ll be right here,” Zayne added softly, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep overtook you. “Get some rest.”

And with him by your side, for the first time in what felt like forever, you did.

RAFAYEL

You hadn’t seen Rafayel in days—not since your latest string of missions had taken you deep into the conflict with the Wanderers. As much as you tried to keep up with everything, exhaustion was catching up to you. Your movements felt sluggish, but you pushed on, determined not to let fatigue show. After all, you had work to do. Rafayel had a mission for you.

When you finally stepped into Rafayel’s space, his studio, he greeted you with a pout. "Well, look who finally decided to show up." His tone was bratty and haughty. "I was starting to think you forgot about me, Miss Bodyguard. "

You could hear the petulance in his voice, but you knew better. Beneath the teasing, there was always something softer with Rafayel, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He took a slow, deliberate look at you, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was annoyed by what he saw. He noticed your exhaustion.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“I’ve been...occupied,” you replied with a tired smile. “I’m sure you’ve been managing just fine without me.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, turning his head dramatically. “As if I’d need you around to keep me entertained. But—" He paused, his voice dropping into a more playful, roguish tone, "It is terribly boring without you. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “So, what’s this mission you’ve dragged me here for?”

Rafayel hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then, with a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed whatever real task had brought you here. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned forward slightly. “Ah, the mission? Well, I’ve decided I need a muse for my next painting,” he said smoothly. “And you, my dear Miss Bodyguard, will do just fine.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you over to a plush chaise lounge, his touch light but insistent as he maneuvered you into place. "Lie down," he ordered in his typical, half-commanding, half-teasing way. "You’re far too stiff to inspire anything worthwhile."

“What? A painting?” you began to object, trying to sit up. "Rafayel, I don’t—"

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and gave you a lazy, charming smile, as if you were the one being unreasonable. "Don’t move. You’ll ruin the masterpiece.”

Despite the flirtatious teasing, there was a strange warmth in his tone that had your heart skipping a beat. He made it impossible to argue, his words dripping with that roguish charm of his. Before you knew it, you were sinking into the softness of the chaise lounge, your limbs too heavy to resist.

"Now stay perfectly still,” he instructed, settling down with his canvas and brushes. “I want to capture you just like this.” His voice was almost a purr, amused by your protests but not letting you get a word in edgewise.

“Rafayel, I don’t have time to—” you tried, but he waved you off with that same infuriatingly relaxed smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk. I’m the artist here, remember? You’re just the subject,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to pretend like this was all part of some grand artistic vision. “Don’t ruin the vibe.”

You couldn’t help but scoff softly at his antics, but your exhaustion was winning. Between his teasing words and the comfortable softness of the chaise, your body was betraying you. The fight to stay awake was quickly becoming a losing battle.

Rafayel's voice was a soft hum in the background as he began to paint, each word drawing you further into a haze of warmth and comfort.

"See? Isn’t this better? I’ve always preferred my muses to be calm...and peaceful.” Lies. He knew it. He glanced up, his lips quirking in a knowing smile as he saw your eyelids drooping. “Don’t worry, Miss Bodyguard. You’re perfect just like this.”

As your consciousness started to slip away, the last thing you felt was Rafayel’s hand brushing against your hair in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. His bratty, teasing nature had softened, just for a moment, as he watched you drift off to sleep.

When you were fully asleep, he set down his brush, a satisfied smirk still on his face. He pulled a soft throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over you, his voice low as he spoke to your resting form.

“You really shouldn’t overwork yourself like this, you know?” His tone, for once, was gentle, almost affectionate. “I might not say it, but…I miss you when you’re gone.”

SYLUS

The small town was quiet as you finally made your way back, the distant hum of your motorbike in sight. It had been a grueling week spent battling through the Metaflux high zone and clearing out the Wanderers. The mission had taken its toll—your body was heavy with exhaustion, your muscles aching, but you had pushed through. You always did.

Reaching for your comms, you were about to check the latest updates when you noticed a shadowy figure leaning casually against your bike. The unmistakable silhouette made your pulse quicken. Sylus. He was dressed as sharp and intimidating as ever, his hair tousled just enough to give him that rogue-ish charm. His signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was amused by your surprise, but his sharp gaze gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not hiding the confusion in your voice. Even though he wasexactly the type to show up unannounced without a reason. And his reasons were rarely straightforward.

“Business,” he replied vaguely, the smirk never leaving his lips. He made it sound like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Had to deal with something. But… I seem to have found something else worth my attention.”

Before you could react, his hand reached out, gently but firmly taking hold of your wrist. His touch was surprisingly warm but assertive, and with a deft flick of his thumb, he shut off your comms.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, leaving no room for argument.

“Sylus, I don’t have time for—”

But before you could finish the sentence, you felt the familiar tug of his Evol—his will imposing on yours. In a swift, almost effortless move, he guided you onto your motorbike, positioning you behind him as he took control. The engine roared to life under his command.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said over his shoulder, that smug confidence radiating off him as he drove you both away.

The ride was fast and purposeful. You tried to protest, tried to convince him to stop, but he was always a step ahead. His control never faltered, and your words fell flat against the rush of the wind. Sylus didn’t let go of the reins until the bike finally came to a stop in front of a lavish hotel on the outskirts of town.

“Really? A hotel?” you muttered, incredulous.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead using his Evol once again to guide you inside and straight into a large, opulent room. Everything about the space screamed luxury—the soft lighting, the plush velvet furnishings, and the enormous bed that took center stage.

Still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, you tried to stand your ground. “Sylus, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back, there are Wanderers—”

“They’re being handled,” he interrupted smoothly, crossing the room with a lazy, confident stride. “Luke and Kieran are on patrol. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for the past week. It’s time for you to stop.” He gestured toward the bed. "Sit."

“Sylus—” you began, but before you could argue further, you felt that familiar pulse of his Evol, urging you toward the bed. His power wrapped around you, persuasive and unyielding, as if coaxing your tired body to comply with his silent command.

Your legs betrayed you, and you sank down onto the soft mattress, glaring up at him as he stood over you, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of triumph and something more difficult to place.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled.

“Me?” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk finally softening into something closer to amusement. “I’m not the one pretending to be invincible, sweetie. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and we both know it.”

You scowled, but deep down, you knew he was right. The exhaustion clung to your bones, and the idea of resting—even for a moment—was becoming more tempting by the second. Still, giving in to Sylus felt like losing a battle you hadn’t agreed to fight.

“Look,” he said, leaning down, his voice dropping to a softer, more persuasive tone. “Let’s make a deal.”

You eyed him warily. "What kind of deal?"

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly grin. “You rest—just for a little while. Take the next few hours off. In return…” His voice lowered, taking on that smooth, almost dangerous quality he used when he knew he had the upper hand. “I’ll let you decide what you want from me afterward. Something I can’t say no to.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the offer. Sylus never relinquished control easily, and for him to offer anything in return… well, it was enough to give you pause.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, kitten” he replied, his smirk widening just a fraction. “Think of it as a rare moment of generosity. You rest, really rest, and I’ll owe you a favor. Deal?”

You hesitated, trying to weigh your options, but the exhaustion gnawing at you was impossible to ignore. You’d been running on fumes, and Sylus—infuriatingly—was giving you a way out, even if it was wrapped up in his manipulative charm.

Finally, you sighed, giving in. “Fine. Deal.”

He smiled, that smug, triumphant smile that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he moved to the edge of the bed. “Now rest. I’ll make sure nothing happens to this town while you do.”

Before you could protest further, he covered you with a soft blanket, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. His hand brushed against your cheek for a moment, his fingers gentle—almost tender, though he’d never admit it. “You don’t have to play the hero all the time, you know,” he said quietly. “Let someone else handle things for once.”

“You... really owe me a favor?”

He chuckled softly, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “I always keep my promises... especially to you.”

Before you could say anything else, your exhaustion finally overtook you, and the last thing you felt was Sylus’s hand lingering on yours, his thumb tracing a light, almost affectionate circle against your skin. You realized—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind letting Sylus win this one.

Just this once.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[chocopriski]

JAYVIK DOMESTIC HEADCANONS!!

Who’s more dominant:

In terms of who takes more effort to soften up: Viktor. Jayce will happily display affection towards Viktor publicly. Whether it's something as simple as holding hands or something like a kiss. Viktor prefers to keep that in the privacy of their home. Snuggling up against Jayce whenever possible. Fixing his hair or just holding his face.

Who’s the cuddler:

Jayce lays himself on top of Viktor like a corpse, resting his head on Viktor's chest until he's asleep (or until Viktor tells him to move because he can't breathe). Viktor will happily return the embrace. Also laying himself over Jayce, most of the time asking Jayce to caress his hair in order to fall asleep quicker.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon:

Jayce loves to be the little spoon, but they switch. When Viktor gets cold, Jayce has no other choice but to be the big spoon. Sometimes suffocating Viktor with the way he tightens his hold on his partner.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity:

Cooking together. They might not be the best chefs but they surely do make some great cookies whenever they're bored. Viktor needing to stop Jayce every time from eating the raw cookie batter.

Who uses all the hot water:

Viktor. This guy's muscles ACHE. He deserves all the hot water in the world.

Most trivial thing they fight over:

Jayce moving Viktor's things whenever he cleans the house. Viktor has everything meticulously organized in his pile of chaos. Even though it looks like a mess, he knows exactly where everything is. And whenever Jayce cleans up the house and organizes Viktor's things. Suddenly he can't find anything.

Who does most of the cleaning:

Jayce. He prefers to do the more physically straining chores so Viktor doesn't overwork himself even further.

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:

Viktor. Jayce believes he can fix the problem. When, in reality, he either has no clue and does nothing or makes the problem even worse.

Who leaves their stuff around:

Viktor. His 'organized chaos' spreads all throughout the house. The kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. He has stuff everywhere. Weirdly enough, when he explains why he leaves his stuff in such specific places, it makes sense.

Who remembers anniversaries:

Both, but in different ways. Viktor remembers the date. And if he sees that day is today, he'll just remember. Jayce has it on his calendar. Big, red, bold letters, a circle and arrows on the date. Not only yearly but monthly. It's their anniversary every month.

Who cooks normally:

Viktor. While Jayce cleans the house, Viktor cooks. He's somewhat of a good chef. Not the greatest but the grandma kind of good. Home-y.

How often do they fight:

Rarely. And most of the time it's the smallest thing that becomes a huge problem because they both happen to be stressed from work. Apologizing profusely at each other the moment Viktor says "I'll sleep on the couch tonight". Jayce being unable to make his partner sleep on the uncomfortable living room couch.

What do they do when they’re away from each other:

Viktor just works, works and works. Hextech reminds him of Jayce. And he wants to show him all the stuff he's done while Jayce has been away. Also as a means to distract himself.

Jayce mourns like someone just died. The slightest mention of anything remotely related to Viktor? "Oh, I wish he was here". He draws his partner on his notes much more often than usual, which is already pretty often. And if he sees something Viktor might like, he buys it and wraps it nicely, waiting to give it to him when they reunite.

Nicknames for each other:

Jayce to Viktor: V, Vik, sweetheart, honey, love, genius.

Viktor to Jayce: Jay, sweetheart, man of progress (teasingly), handsome. Even though he prefers to just call him by his name.

Who is more likely to pay for dinner:

Jayce 100%. "Oh, I have the money for it." "Oh, I ate more than you, I'll pay." "Oh! Who could've paid already?"

Who steals the covers at night:

Viktor. This guy will wrap himself in a cocoon (no pun intended) of blankets and fabric. Jayce doesn't care at all. He's the type of guy to be in shorts in the middle of December. "Is it hot in here or is it ju-" It's just you, Jayce. Jayce is like a woman going through menopause. And Viktor, aside from his lack of bodily fat making him cold, likes to avoid the cold as much as possible. Since cold makes his joints ache even more than they already do.

What would they get each other for gifts:

Jayce gets gifts at stores. Cool pens he finds, clothes, books... Viktor makes them, whether it's random origami he hands Jayce every once in a while, handwritten notes or small little artifacts.

Who kissed who first:

Viktor. Even though Jayce was the one to lean in. Viktor was the one to close the gap between their lips.

Who made the first move:

Jayce. Once Jayce started liking Viktor, who had been liking Jayce for longer, he started over-analyzing every gesture Viktor made. Eventually coming to the realization that their feelings were mutual. After a long day at work, it was night time. And Jayce, naturally, came into Viktor's lab to plead and beg so Viktor went home and didn't work until passing out. As they chatted while Viktor finished up whatever he had his hands on. Jayce told him something between a giggle "You know? It's funny, I've had people telling me we're like... a couple. Wouldn't that be crazy?". Viktor glanced at him and looked away, not laughing, not even a smirk. It looked almost like embarrassment. That's when Jayce was 100% sure and he made his move: "Would it be crazy to you?"

Who remembers things:

Both and neither. Jayce has his mind on a million different things. And Viktor's head is either foggy from working or from pain. They remember the stuff the other doesn't.

Who started the relationship:

Jayce, he needed to pry the words out of Viktor.

-"Would it be crazy?"

+"..."

-"Viktor?"

+"Maybe"

And after minutes and minutes, Viktor finally confessed. With a lot of work.

Who cusses more:

Jayce and Viktor both don't cuss very frequently. Both when they cut his finger or something like that. Jayce says is out loud, on the other side, Viktor says it under his breath.

What would they do if the other one was hurt:

Anything. ANYTHING. I mean, have you watched the show? Jayce is more used to acting whenever Viktor is hurt though. He worries a lot whenever Viktor shows the slightest sign of discomfort. Overthinking and thinking his condition is worsening.

Who is the dirty talker:

Jayce. He's way less subtle about it. He'll say anything just to get a reaction out of Viktor. He'll say it confidently, a grin on his face and his chest puffed out. On the other side, Viktor says it completely relaxed. Making Jayce wanna go to pound town whenever God enlightens Viktor and makes him talk to Jayce that way.

[whiteraven90]

What are the redlines from your warmup doodles? How do you do them and how do they achieve their purpose of correction?

Context, from my original post about it: "I do the redlines after i finish each sketch to gauge my accuracy, and to see if i can find any specific areas i’m weak at.

They turned out neither better or worse than usual, but i was satisfied with them. I wanted to shake off my hyperfocus on line quality (it was obstructing my progress with other stuff), reset my observation skills (i was consistently getting specific things wrong from imagination), gain more sketching speed, and lose the performance anxiety."

I pull up a reference photo on my second screen and draw it on my primary. I typically set a time limit. I may sometimes ignore the limit on the first attempt if I feel like I'm really struggling. Or - when solving performance anxiety is important - on any attempt that I unexpectedly like/enjoy. The 8 minute ones I probably wanted to make in 5 minutes. I mark how long each attempt took next to them. When time is up, I put the reference photo under the sketch, and red blueline the parts where I think I deviated too much from the photo. Small errors are fine.

I check if there is a pattern/logic to the errors. If I get something consistently wrong, next time I'll know to pay special attention to it. Like if I consistently drew the legs or the torso too long or too short. I try to theorize on why I make the errors. The first most obvious theory may not be the correct one. There could be multiple reasons. I'll see if I got it right the next time I do the exercise. Maybe it's that the refs are on a flat screen and aren't live models. Maybe I should close one eye every now and then. I don't put my pen up to the screen to measure anything, I just eyeball the lengths and angles. Maybe it's ok to use the pen sometimes to measure. Maybe my brain insists that legs are a certain length in comparison to another body part and I subconsciously "correct" the photo. Maybe I don't triangulate body part coordinates accurately enough and need more practice. Either way, if I feel like I've done enough warming up, I get down to business. I don't wait until perfection, just until I feel ok to proceed. ✌️