#@arneyblay2

[reynaruina]

Free sketch requests I did during December for the festivities!! It was a real fun time and a nice change of pace for a few streams <3

[reynaruina]

Got tired of seeing all those sad orphan mini crewmate pictures going around, wanted to give one a happier ending c:

Made a video of this!! Voices provided by my friend Mark :D

[reynaruina]

REYNARUINA’S REDBUBBLE IS OFFICIALLY OPEN!!!

Finally went ahead and (remade) one. There’s lots of designs there, from IZ related merch to original exclusive designs. Take a look, and let me know if you’d all want anything else added :D!!

[reynaruina]

For all of y'all who haven't come to this month's streams so far (and those who have as well), I've made a little wip of what i've got done so far for the "And Your Friend Keef" animatic video. Please keep in mind this is all very early work in process footage and most likely subject to change in the future, but you can mostly see the timing I'm going for :D

[reynaruina]

Ponytail Dib Au Fanfic: The Illness

Check it out now on AO3!!!

Had to stuff it in there cuz it was wayy too long for Tumblr sgdhjfdsfsd

[reynaruina]

Ponytail Dib AU: Dib crashed way too hard this time.

(WARNING: dub-con themes and content ahead)

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“Human, wake up.”

No response. Zim sighs softly, plopping down on the floor next to the couch and poking a sleeping Dib on the arm with a finger. He’s been like this for five hours so far and Zim knows he will be late to his human job, but he had come in last night looking especially battered and crashed shortly after arriving, not even giving Zim a chance to smuggle in a sandwich into his hand and...frankly... even Zim can see the man needs his rest.

Even more so Dib seems to agree: he wouldn't move under the covers, breathing even and body limp. He more resembled a sack of potatoes haphazardly tossed into his couch than a human at this point.

Zim observes for a while. There’s a strange peace in the way humans slept, he has to admit. They let themselves drift into unconsciousness like the world wasn't out to get them, and expect to get out alive every time. It was a brave thing to do, even if also very stupid. Zim finds it weirdly alluring to watch them do it, too... or at least watching Dib do it is enjoyable.

There’s something else he couldn’t pinpoint, some other strange feeling arising at the sight of his nemesis resting, so vulnerable, in front of him. Like a missing piece of something very dear to him laid right there, occupying the same space as the sleeping figure, yet he couldn't really recover it. It feels almost like longing, like wanting to go back home, but to a home he’s never had.

Still, he mustn’t dwell. He knows how much getting fired from another job would affect Dib, and he doesn’t want it to happen again so soon if he can help it. Antennae perking up, he pokes the man on the side.

“Dib-thing! It is time for you to awake!!! GET UP!!”

Nothing. Dib remains still, unperturbed. Zim frowns a little, prodding Dib in several places, trying to elicit a response. A sudden, chilling idea makes Zim tense up, his antennae immediately closing up onto Dib’s mouth, focusing on the sound of his deep breaths.

“He’s not dead, just…asleep.” Zim says, wanting to ease his own worry. He ponders for a second. “Is this what deep sleep is?”

His computer comes alive, not wanting to leave him without a response.

“According to my research, some humans are prone to fall into deep slumber after withstanding a lot of stress and having consumed large quantities of alcohol. It can be difficult to wake them up in this state.”

“But…he will wake up, correct? Eventually?” Zim inquires, trying not to let the panic overtake his voice. It’s never good when he lets the impulsive feelings guide him; he learned that a long time ago.

“Eventually, yes. Just not for a good while,” the computer answers. Zim ponders some more.

“Humans don’t… normally have any memory of what happens around them when they sleep.”

“They don’t.” It isn’t a question, but the computer confirms it still.

Zim nods to himself. Something inside him tosses and turns, eager. His eyes blow wide, however, as he remembers.

“Computer, where is GIR?”

“In the pig room. Doing inventory of his rubber pig collection.”

Zim relaxes.

“That’s…”

“Gonna keep him entertained for a good while. He’s just started.”

“And… computer, are you recording right now?”

“Always.”

“Good. Turn recording off. And… leave this area until I call for you again.”

“Understood.”

A few beeps, and then, silence. Zim feels alone, even though he isn’t. To be fair, that’s not anything new for him to feel while in Dib’s company.

He turns to stare at the sleeping face.

“Hey…Dib… can you hear me?” he asks, hands fidgeting in his lap.

Dib just breathes deeper. Zim begins to relax a little. A heat manifests inside him, adding to the rattle in his bones.

“I hope you don’t get mad at me for letting you miss work,” he begins, as if Dib were awake. “Zim tried waking you up. It shouldn’t be my responsibility to do so, yet you always come here hoping for Zim to provide what you lack.” He stares at the sleeping shape, longingly, painedly. “I don’t know what’s worse: you coming to your sworn nemesis for care every night…. Or Zim, being always eager to provide.”

Hesitant, he pulls a glove off his hand with his teeth, reaching out to softly land his naked palm on Dib’s face.

He’s not ready for the whole body shiver that overtakes him. A trembling breath escapes his lips.

“Foolish human… ” His voice, barely a whisper. “You have no idea what you do to Zim…”

The small hand wanders now, over every feature of the bony face. The thumb lingers on the lips, tracing them with need. Zim’s breathing spikes up.

“You’re so clueless… So clueless and so blind… And so broken… ”

He brings his face close, staring at little imperfections, giving his eyes the chance to linger on every detail like he never can but always wants to. Dib looks so much older than a human his age should, and very much worn down, and yet Zim can’t help but want him. Not even his breath on Zim’s face, laden with the stench of booze, helps deter him.

Zim bites his lips, freeing his other hand from the glove as well before bringing it up to continue stroking Dib’s cheeks. The shiver returns, heat in his body spreading and toes curling inside his boots.

“I want you to get better, I want you to stop desiring death, I… want to fix you, I’m just… not sure how to do it…”

Zim’s face goes to rest against the sofa, teeth biting down on his lips yet again. It’s getting harder to hold back.

“I’m doing all I can, all I know, and I’m te-teaching myself everything I can about human health but n-nothing I do seems to work like I want it to. You just keep going back to…to this,” he glances at an empty liquor bottle on the floor with seething hatred, kicking it away. “Every time, no matter what I do, you always go back to that horrible poison of yours,”

He stares at it, rolling away, for a while.

“But…at the same time…if it weren’t for that poison I wouldn’t have you here right now.”

He turns his attention back to Dib’s face, longing stare ever present. Both hands now have stopped on Dib’s cheeks, and Zim’s eyes don’t move from Dib’s lips. They’re parted, just a little, booze breath still present but almost intoxicating now. Zim feels like he’s about to dissolve from the inside. He gets up on the couch and carefully sits atop Dib, whole body shaking and he can’t stop, can’t…STOP…

“I wish I could tell you how I really feel.. I wish… you’d believe me… ” his voice, hoarse and thick, face getting closer to Dib’s. “H-how much I hate to see you suffer every day trying to fit in with all the… all the other disgusting Earth monkeys.”

The desire in him rages. It’s too much to contain anymore.

“You don’t belong with them, you’ve never belonged and never will. You… you only belong with me…”

Zim closes the distance between them, lips tightly closed in a last-ditch attempt to hold himself back as his body presses into the one-sided contact. But the floodgates can’t hold for long and soon he’s parting his own lips, breathing into Dib, tracing the humid shape with an unstoppable need. Zim’s tongue emerges too, grazing the inside of Dib’s lips for a moment while a long repressed moan escapes him…

Dib lets out a small snore, and Zim almost breaks the ceiling with his startled jolt. The kiss is broken and he’s left staring at Dib’s face, hands shaking, away from him.

“D…D-Dib???!!”

No response. Hesitant, he examines Dib’s face closely. He looks deep asleep still, and Zim lets out a trembling breath.

He touches his own lips, a strange kind of electricity running through his body. He feels pulled back down to Dib again, sighing with frustration.

Zim had hoped that, by finally kissing Dib like he’d been wishing to do for so long, his thirst would be quenched, if even for a little while. But if anything, he feels even thirstier.

“What are you doing to Zim,” he whispers, hovering over Dib’s face once more, antenna lightly fluttering over Dib’s hair. “How dare you do this to Zim…”

Hands travel down Dib’s face to his neck, softly touching the strange shape of the Adam’s apple. Zim’s lips find Dib’s again, but this time the touch is much more measured, more cautious. He lingers for a moment before landing his lips again and again over Dib’s cheeks, nose, forehead, pulling his glasses off to kiss his eyelids as well. The warmth inside him feels less biting now, yet just as demanding.

His face lowers to Dib’s neck now, tracing the jawline first with his lips before savoring the rest. He dares a tiny bite and, after noticing no response, a bigger one as well.

The need keeps growing, and he wants to obey. Despite that odd pain inside, that feeling of something being very wrong, the need won’t take no for an answer. And Zim’s composure, the little he ever had, has been worn down through months of frustration and hurt.

This is the best he has felt in over two years, and he is desperate for more.

He pulls Dib’s shirt collar down with a finger, exposing more skin, which he promptly lavishes with wet kisses and tiny, suckling bites. Dib tastes like salt and grime and sweat and Zim knows he should be disgusted, he is a disgusting man, but now that he’s tried his flavor he can’t get enough of it.

A rumble in his chest. Zim pulls Dib’s covers off, staring at the slowly expanding and contracting pectorals as he breathes in easy and relaxed. He notices a tiny red mark on Dib’s neck, right where his teeth had landed, and groans with lust.

What would he give to have him like this, every day, under him. What would he give to have Dib awake knowing who left that mark, and wanting more where that came from. To have him know, have him be okay with it all, want it all, just as much as Zim wants him.

But it isn’t to be. Not for the moment at least. It will happen someday… someday….

And oh well, Zim thinks as he lifts Dib’s shirt, a little early taste never hurt nobody.

The sight of the body beneath always brings up mixed feelings in him. It makes the urge flare up, for sure, and all the little (and not so little) scars from battles past spread over his form are such a treasure to find every time. He can recognize each one, remember where it’d come from, how he was the cause of almost all, and feel so incredibly satisfied with them. They are marks of belonging, of property, like how you’d brand a freshly captured slave for a newly conquered planet. This is Zim’s human, and no one else’s.

And yet, at the same time, the outline of so many bones underneath pale and bruised skin is a cruel reminder of how futile his efforts are. Dib’s chronic deterioration isn’t something that some pizza and sandwiches every other night, or scattered fruit during the day, can really fix. Even the occasional “nutrient therapy” kidnappings hardly make a dent and, all in all, it almost feels like he’s just delaying the inevitable.

And just the thought of that being the case makes Zim’s entire body shudder with pain. Because under his hands, now exploring the expanse of skin and stray body hair, is all that he has in the universe. This sack of bones and organs and self esteem issues is all he has left to live for anymore, and he can’t​… won’t let go of it.

Zim loves him so much, issues and all. He loves him like he’s never loved anything else. Not even himself.

Lifting the top of his own uniform up, he lays on Dib’s chest, arms outstretched as far as they could go and hands barely dipping under the edge of the couch beneath him. He has grown so big, and so wrong, and Zim once more wishes he were little again. Little enough for him to fit in Zim’s embrace, where he’d be safe from the world and its relentless cruelty.

The feeling of Dib’s nude skin against his overwhelms him quickly, however, and soon their shared heat is all he can think about. He rubs himself on it, biting his lips hard to try and contain the noises threatening to erupt from deep inside his being.

After a while, a kiss lands on the battered skin, and then another. Soon enough he’s lifting himself above Dib, outlining the scars with kiss after needy kiss, antennae greedily fluttering all over. His tongue joins the fray as he dares flick a nipple, Zim’s eyes lifting to stare at Dib’s sleeping face every other moment to make sure he stays still and unperturbed. The inner fire grows huge as his lips trace down, past the belly button, lingering around the edges of the pants.

Zim’s teeth dig once more, right in the softest flesh under the belly, but this time he feels the muscles under his lips tense up.

And a groan, coming from Dib.

He lifts his head in a jolt, body quickly pulling away but with a pain similar to ripping a bandaid off. Zim barely manages to get Dib’s shirt down along with his own uniform and jump off the couch before Dib’s eyes slowly begin to open.

His hand searches around as he regains consciousness, finding his glasses on the side, and Zim’s never found it so difficult to hold back from pouncing on him before.

“Ngh…uhh..” Dib groans again, a hand covering his face as the now usual hangover pains begin to take hold. Zim can see Dib’s not even aware of his surroundings yet, but he can’t stand his presence any longer. If he lets the man stay, he won’t be able to keep holding himself back. And now that Dib is awake, the charade should go on.

Pak legs spread from Zim’s back quickly rip Dib off the couch and onto the floor, where he lands with a loud ‘thud!’ and an even louder “Ouch, what the f—?” He’s then quick to awaken and notice where he’s lying and who is standing beside him.

“You again??? How many times do I have to pry you off my couch in the mornings before you learn to KEEP OFF IT?! Leave Zim’s lair AT ONCE or face his WRATHFUL RAGE, pitiful human!” His voice echoes.

“Aghh!” Dib scrambles up the best he can, holding his head between his hands. “Stop screaming! I’m fucking— I’m leaving, alright!” he says, approaching the door and still trying to get his bearings. “What… what time is… OH SHIT!” he yells after glancing at the sun outside. “GONNA BE LATE!”

Zim watches him clumsily run down the street with a spooked expression, scratching the spot on his neck where Zim had left a mark, and his hand closes around the door frame strongly enough for his claws to scratch.

“AND YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK TONIGHT!!” Zim yells after Dib, before slamming the door shut, entire body shaking as his hands ball into fists.

“You better not come back,” Zim whispers to himself, looking down at his incipient erection. “For your own good…”

———-

[reynaruina]

Ponytail Dib AU scene concept: Zim trying to distract Dib from going on about depressing shit by speaking of his past life on Irk, safe in the knowledge that Dib won’t remember anything that could be used against him come morning:

———-

Dib, sitting against the couch in Zim’s house yet again, legs splayed open on the floor as he lazily eats a slice of pizza. Zim’s sitting right across him, legs resting on Dib’s, his back against a large machine. He’s adjusting a piece of the tech attached to it and running his mouth.

Zim:… And that’s when Zim knew he was being SABOTAGED!! But after gathering my evidence and bringing it to my supervisor, she had NO CHOICE but to see that I was RIGHT! VICTORY FOR ZIM!!

Dib, snorting: Wow, so you weren’t always a screwup? That’s a surprise.

Zim, offended: Excuse me?! I am NOT nor was I EVER a screwup! The NERVE to even SUGGEST—!

Dib, chuckling: C'mon, you gotta admit you’re not the best at what ya do. I mean, maybe nowadays your…your plans are more…better put together, but back when I was a kid? Half the time you’d sabotage yourself

Zim, gasping with indignation: Would NOT!

Dib: Would too!

Zim: LIES!!

Dib: Bro, c'mon, I’m wasted as fuck right now and I still can remember that shit.

Zim, blushing at the nickname: W-well.. maybe! But it’s not my fault!! I wasn’t given any proper briefing on this mission before arriving, there weren’t even any scouting notes for me to look at! Had to figure everything out on my own!

Dib, smiling mischievously: That still doesn’t account for like half of your screwups.

Zim, groaning: Oh quit it already! You wouldn’t do this any better than me, mister Judgy McJudge!

Dib: You don’t know that. Bet I could take over the world way faster than you if I wanted to.

Zim, grinning as he noticed the chance: Well, why don’t you try then? Cuz I’m starting to think the reason you don’t wanna take me up on my offer to join forces is because you think you’re not cut out for the job.

Dib, hastily swallowing more pizza, noticing the bait and refusing to take it: S-so you said you’d…that you were... an…Elite Soldier… before?

Zim, immediately distracted by the chance to talk about past achievements: Oh yes, one of the best ones in fact! Graduated with honors despite my height!

Dib: Oh yeah, I remember you guys had some kinda hang-up around heights… And you say you were one of the best? Despite how much you screw up? *he chuckles*

Zim, hurt but not wanting to show it: Well, Zim has always been a huge asset to the Empire! My superiors could clearly see that, whatever… drawbacks I might have had were nothing compared to the benefits of having a GENIUS like me around!

Dib, reaching for his flask: I thought most of your people hate…hated you.

Zim, ignoring another sting: Well the envious ones sure do, but not all of them are blinded by my achievements! Some of them valued me for who I am, I even had admirers!

Dib, almost spitting his drink out: You had…you had admirers??

Zim, surprised by his reaction: Yeah, most any Elite Soldier had some kicking around at least. We’re the best the Empire has to offer, others do well on looking up to us!

Dib, chuckling: Not sure how many can actually look up to you though *he mumbles*

Zim: What was that?!

Dib, walking back on his words: So, when you say you had admirers, you mean like…one? Sm… smeet?

Zim, utterly offended: Excuse me?? A smeet can’t be allowed into an Admirer Circle, that’s for adults only!! And for your information I had twelve of them! Thirteen, even, if I recall correctly.

Dib, trying to wrap his head around the number: Thirt—… thirteen…*counting with fingers* That’s over ten, correct?

Zim, almost tempted to laugh at his inebriation: It’s three plus ten. Most other Elites had more… a couple thousands each *he whispers in a cough, trying to mask the number* but I had enough with my lot! They can be annoying in too large a group!

Dib, grabbing more pizza, unable to believe Zim would be happy with a tiny group of admirers: Annoying how?

Zim, groaning: Ugh, they would follow around on my off days, ask for autographs, try to polish my shoes, buy me food, sing me praises… Don’t get me wrong, Zim’s always happy to accept praises, but they could get overbearing at times… *he sighs, nostalgic* The sex was nice though.

Dib, eyes growing wide, almost choking on his pizza: SGSGJKGS..JHHAH…!! *pounds on his chest, coughing* Did you…D-did you just— …Sex????

Zim, a little worried at his performance: Yeah? Why else would we let them be all over us on our days off? It was nice to have something casual, get to top for once. They were all very eager to please…

Dib, red like a tomato, brain suddenly bombarded with questions about Irken sex: I…uh… I always thought you…you were…a… virgin?

Zim, frowning: Virgin… Virgin… Oh! Is that the word humans use to describe someone who’s not been initiated in sex, despite being of age?

Dib, nodding, feeling a tightness of shame inside: That’s… that’s the word.

Zim, smiling: HAH! There’s no such thing as a “virgin” in our race! We all practice among each other during our formative years. We may all be birthed by cloning and unable to lay on our own anymore, but sex is still fun and serves many social purposes.

Dib, feeling suddenly down: S-so you…how…how old are you?

Zim, antennae flopping in annoyance: Well that’s a rude thing to ask. I’m over a hundred, that’s all I’m gonna say.

Dib, overwhelmed and depressed: Woah… You must have had lots of sex throughout your life then.

Zim shrugs: Yeah, guess so.

Dib sighs: You’re actually less of a loser than I am. That’s… encouraging.

Zim, gears turning in his head: Wait, so you…*antennae perk up as his eyebrows raise* You’re actually still a “virgin”?!

Dib, face red and full of shame, just nods.

Zim, cackling: Oh wow, you are! Of course you are, I’ve followed your every move for years now and never found you with a playmate. That’s… is it normal for humans to be… “virgin”?

Dib, taking another swing of his flask: Not at my age it isn’t.

Zim, gears still turning as he recalls what he knows about human sexuality and Dib’s sexual history (or lack thereof): So… Being a “virgin” in your society is looked down upon, correct?

Dib just scoffs and looks away: Ugh, look, I just… I just never… It was never a priority… All my classmates were always such dicks and like, scared of me n’ shit, and I don’t have time to so…socialize at work… And I’m too broke to get a h-hooker so… It don’t matter much to me *he says, looking like it mattered a lot*

Zim, suddenly realizing his chance, feeling the blood in his veins run hot: Well if that's how you feel then so be it, but in the case that it did happen to matter… maybe there could be a way for Zim to help you…stop… being a “virgin” *he finishes, reaching for Dib’s groin with a foot and starting to gently massage the area.*

Dib, confused, not yet registering what is happening: Uh…h-how?

Zim just smiles, pressing his boot a little more and gesturing to it with his head. Dib lets out a surprised little gasp, finally looking down at himself.

Dib: …the fuck are you doing.

Zim, frustrated: You know, I think I’m starting to understand how is it possible for you to still remain a “virgin” *he presses yet again, trying to get a response. Dib’s legs seem to part a little more, making him want to jump out of his skin in excitement*

Dib, chuckling, growing a bit tense: Uh, I’m sorry but I don’t think you’re gonna get it awake. I’m not… My… dick doesn’t get hard when I’m this wasted. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Zim, antennae flopping, motion of the foot slowing but not stopping: Should I bring this offer forth once you’re sober, then?

Dib, chuckling even louder: If you tried this when I’m sober I’d probably… probably… ram your head against a wall. Wouldn’t believe you wanna do anything but attempt to kill me in some way.

Zim, a little taken aback, boot slowly stopping: And you don’t think I’d attempt that now?

Dib shrugs, taking another sip from his flask: Yeah, but right now I don’t care about the risk of death. Might as well get that over with, honestly.

Zim, frustrated, not wanting to lose the chance: Well if the problem is that you can’t…“get it hard” then maybe we could do it another way? *he begins to massage again, scooching closer to Dib and landing a hand on his thigh* You don’t have to top for it to still count, right?

Dib, blushing hard as Zim begins to close the distance: Uh…wah?

Zim, stroking his thigh as well now, antennae vibrating reflexively: You heard me.

Dib, growing anxious, body beginning to shake from the prolonged stimuli: You’re… joking… right?

Zim, breathing heavily, pressing his foot and bringing his hand higher up Dib’s thigh: Absolutely not. *he gets his face closer to Dib, eyes looking deep into him* Please. I can help you. Let me help you.

Dib, frowning, suddenly tensing up: H-help me? Wait…a…are you…is this…? I d-don't... *he groans, shoving Zim’s hand and foot off him* I don’t need your PITY!

Zim, falling back on his machine, confused: W… what? You think I…pity you??

Dib, trying to get up but failing: Of course that’s what this is! It’s what.. what this all is!! * he gestures at the two empty pizza boxes, kicking them away* You think I’m some… kinda…loser! Who can only get anything if it’s handed to him!!

Zim, growing angry, standing up and not even trying to hide his hard-on: What?! REALLY? You think a mighty Irken Invader like Zim can stoop so low as to PITY a HUMAN?!

Dib, grunting, trying to crawl up on the couch: The fuck else could it be, then?! I come… come here like every night and you fucking…buy me food and let me hang and…*he stares at the neatly folded bed sheets and covers on the couch, along with fluffed up pillows, and groans further* bring me all THIS?! *he angrily shoves everything to the floor* Who the fuck does that for his enemy?!

Zim, fuming: I do all this because it ANGERS me to see my biggest NEMESIS bring himself so low! I REFUSE to fight you when you’re made a mess of yourself, but you’re just…so good at doing that! If Zim didn’t let you in when you come knocking at his door at night, you’d wander off to some alleyway to get hurt in some dumb way…or worse, you’d try to find some rooftop again!!

Dib, finally crawling up onto the couch, curling into himself and showing  his back to Zim: That’s what pity is, you idiot. You fucking pity me, you think…you think I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Well, maybe I would, and maybe that’d be a good thing!!

Zim, feeling a heavy pain on his chest: NOT FOR ME IT WOULDN’T!

Dib, voice growing annoyed: Well, you’re literally the only living thing in this planet that gives a fuck about me dying. And you’re my enemy, so excuse me if I don’t care about breaking your poor widdle heart.

Zim, falling back on his machine, pain in his chest growing: …we Irkens don’t have a heart, you stupid.

Dib chuckles, hugging himself: So you think I’m stupid, and yet you wanna keep me around. You’re the more stupid one.

Zim sighs, looking down at the boner that wouldn’t go away: … maybe I am. *he begins walking to the kitchen, trying to ignore the heavy pain inside*

Dib, noticing that Zim is leaving his presence:…h-hey, where are you going?

Zim, walking up to the toilet elevator: I need some time alone to…think. I’m sure you’ll survive a short time without adult supervision. You don’t need my pity, after all.

Dib, annoyed, turning around on his spot: Are you… going to plan something evil? I will… I’m… what are you gonna do down there?

Zim, smiling smugly at him as he enters the toilet: Nothing good, that’s for sure. You can try to follow, if you want *he adds, before disappearing down the elevator*

Dib, trying to sit up on the couch to no avail: Wait! Zim! Don’t…ugh…* he stops trying, noticing a pillow on the floor near him. He extends his arm to reach, but can’t get to it*

Dib, groaning as he turns around on his spot and hugs himself once more: God fucking damnit…

——————–

[reynaruina]

DUDE YOU'RE SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER like the feelings, THE FEELINGS. that ponytail Dib fic was beautiful and I can't wait to see what else you have in store AAAAAA I can't express how good it was. what a fucking great job. you're doing amazing sweetie.

I’m so super happy yall enjoyed it so much sdghdfsaj I haven’t dared write anything that long in English before and I have so much anxiety about it being bad shjdkshmfds so i’m really happy this pain delivery method works so well <3 and regarding to what’s coming I mostly have more comics in line, which are gonna take a while, but they’ll be worth it I promise :D